#love drawing him so so much i love looking directly at the model sheet and disregarding it

[sector-i-closed]

Caught

Requested by anon

Model au + photographer!Hongjoong

Mingi x Reader x Yunho

Warning: Exhibitionism, anal fingering, double penetration, orgasm denial but reader comes, spanking one time

The day at work was not favoring you well in the slightest.

Already you had unwittingly succeeded in getting into a cat fight with a fellow model and your skin was also a mess after a breakout of acne littered your face and created chaos for the makeup artists who fussed over your appearance.

You were extra anxious today and wished that you could relax, trying to find comfort that the steroid that was used to control the inflammation of your acne that your dermatologist tried to console you but the best they could do was prescribe the steroid for you.

"Focus, focus on the camera, Y/N!" Hongjoong barked out, knowing that he could get a better face from you as he remained behind the camera lens, snapping away.

You were struggling to zone into autopilot, which was where you functioned the best for both photoshoots and fashion shows.

Part of the reason why you were more distracted then usual was this particular shoot required you to be partly exposed for the fashion spread of the upcoming issue of the magazine that you modeled for most of the time, though what made it awkward was that you were paired with two fully dressed male models that made you feel smaller than you really were and the attractiveness of the pair was enough to unnerve you, let alone the humiliation of being exposed and posing with them was enough for fire to rush directly to your face and awaken every cell of your body.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" The male model that you had came to know as Mingi spoke near your ear, his low voice prompting you to involuntarily shudder beneath the other male model known as Yunho's fingertips where his large hands held your waist.

"I'm- I'm fine... Just camera nerves..." You bit down hard on your lower lip, hating how you trembled at the effects of the male's that surrounded you.

"You've got this sweetheart. We all do..." Yunho encouraged as he tried to convince himself that everything would be alright as everyone moved their forms in front of the camera.

You wanted to sob in frustration, feeling a sense of arousal in your system and you chided yourself for feeling such a strong, intoxicating sensation around your coworkers.

"Hongjoong, it's time to go lunch!" The fashion coordinator who was named Yeosang called out to the photographer.

"I'm not leaving until I'm finished with my subjects." Hongjoong muttered sternly at the fashion coordinator.

"You'll leave if I bring Seonghwa to get your ass taken care of! Your fatigue is showing and to put it mildly you look like shit because it's apparent that you're not sleeping." Yeosang folded his arms across his chest and you watched the scene unfold before you with your coworkers.

"Don't bring my boyfriend into this!" Hongjoong scowled, "And this is what happens during fashion week.

Pack fashion shows to photograph into your schedule and the ad campaigns for the following season and that equals little sleep but I'm not complaining about it." Hongjoong shrugged, returning his attention to you, Yunho and Mingi.

"But it still doesn't give you the right to burn yourself out. I'm calling Seonghwa so he can get you to at least eat something." Yeosang threatened, visibly worrying for his friend.

"Alright fine! Fuck it! I'll go for lunch and come back to my project." Hongjoong growled irritation while the fashion coordinator smirked in response to the photographer leaving quickly.

Yeosang followed after him and other personnel left, leaving you and the two male models alone.

"Should we go?" Mingi voiced his question to Yunho as he took notice in your extremely flustered appearance.

"We don't have to! I brought my own lunch! I would love to share it if you two are interested!" Yunho replied cheerfully.

You groaned quietly at your own state of undress, promptly plodding to the bed that was being used as a prop for the photoshoot.

"I'm good..." You replied, bringing the sheets to your chest and lying down on your stomach.

"I'm willing to share!" Yunho pouted, whacking your ass playfully with his hand. A far more erotic sound then you intended to release drifted from your lips and immediately you froze in place, regretting your vocalization immediately.

"Uhm..." Your eyes were wide with fright as you looked up at Yunho who looked equally as alarmed as you did.

"Shit... That sounded so hot." Mingi quirked an eyebrow at you as he carefully drew closer to you, supporting himself by leaning against a bedpost and proceeding to gaze down at you from where he stood.

"I'm- I'm..." You stuttered out, feeling embarrassed by your vocalized actions as lust involuntarily clouded your vision. Mingi immediately recognized the look in your eyes, leading him to move closer to you as he gauged your reaction.

"'m pathetic..." You mumbled under your breath, clinging to the sheets as you desperately tried to reel yourself in from losing yourself to the feelings that ran rampant in your body, fighting an inner war with yourself regarding weather you wanted him to get closer to you or for him to stay as far away from you as possible when he was eyeing you so dangerously.

"You've done well to resist this long. It's up to you baby if you want to continue resisting or taste what you're wanting to experience." Mingi touched your back with a firm touch, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned out loud without attempting to restrain it this time.

"She's so needy for us. I wonder how she got this way!" Yunho cooed while touching the other side of your back.

"She was squirming at the way that your crotch would occasionally brush against her backside and her body was so hot..." Mingi's hand languidly moved along the warmth of your skin, sensing the smoothness of your flesh beneath his fingertips.

"Hngh...~ p-please...~?" You whined, drawing a blank as to what you were begging for. Arousal freely seeped from between your legs and the intense craving to be filled was overwhelming your sensibility to preserve your dignity.

"I'm not going to do anything unless you tell me what it is that you want." Mingi smirked as he stopped his hand at the small of your back, feeling goosebumps form beneath his hand.

"W-want to be f-filled up..." You moaned out reluctantly, turning onto your back to seductively gaze up at the two males that stood above you.

"Filled up by whom?" Mingi was enjoying dragging it out, even with the risk of the staff returning to the photo studio was adding to the excitement of the moment. You looked at Yunho then at Mingi, "Both."

~~~~~~~

"Come here, doll." Mingi beckoned to you from where he lied down on the bed, his pants down to his ankles as his feet rested flat on the floor.

You had stripped off your jeans and was now fully naked and you felt little inhibition in the present moment as you sauntered over to Mingi and straddled him.

Heat flooded your body when you sensed Yunho moving up behind you, "You're beautiful as you are in every way imaginable." Yunho murmurs softly and reached between your legs to pet your pussy, gathering your slick on his fingers and moving on to massage your perineum and then your anal entrance with slow circles that gradually gained confidence with each desperate mewl that you uttered while on top of Mingi.

"Just like that, babygirl." Mingi growled as he cupped the back of your head with his hand and pulled you in for an aggressive kiss, easily blurring your consciousness as his tongue invaded your parted lips with a needy ferocity that left you weak in the knees as he brought you down on his hard cock with his free hand.

You whimpered vulnerably from the firm intrusion of his cock pushing inside of your dripping pussy, feeling pleased from how well he stretched you with his girth.

Yunho was groaning from the feeling of your entrance greedily sucking his fingers deeper inside of your ass.

"So good and tight. I wonder if anyone has ever done this to you before?" Yunho asked curiously, withdrawing his fingers from your stretched entrance and shortly afterwards replacing his fingers with his cock.

"A-ah~" You whimpered, being unable to speak because of the pleasurable sensation of Yunho stretching your ass with his length.

"Shit I can feel you, Yun! So tight for us, princess." Mingi groaned as he sucked amarking at your sensitive pulse point.

"I can feel you too, it's amazing! Her ass is perfect, taking my cock so well." Yunho slammed his hips into your body, following the same rhythm as Mingi had set which was a rough impatient one.

Sweet, sexual wails left your lips as you closed your eyes from the overwhelming bliss of your body being filled by cock and used for pleasure.

Your eyes slid shut as you felt your orgasm approaching after several moments of being stimulated beyond your wildest expectations and Mingi's cock was twitching erratically with each thrust that was growing sloppier and sloppier beneath your body.

His moans mixed with your high pitched cries and Yunho's erratic breaths as he gripped your hips and chased his climax.

"C-can I cum pl-please~?" You begged, uncertain as to who was responsible for giving you the go ahead as you helplessly took the pounding that both of their cocks were giving you.

"No, let's get back to work. You three can play later~" Hongjoong's amused tone froze the male models in their tracks and you felt your orgasm rip through you at that moment, the humiliation of being caught pushed you over the edge and both Mingi and Yunho were astounded just as much as the photographer was.

"F-fuck..." You whimpered as you shakily removed yourself from the males.

"You may rest a moment to calm yourself, Y/N. Then we're back to work." Hongjoong nonchalantly remarks as he converses with another staff member who seemed to be shaken by walking in on the three of you.

"Can we continue this later?" Mingi asks near your ear as he held you to comfort you after your unexpected climax.

"S-sure..." You smiled at him weakly and giggled when Yunho nuzzled into you.

"I'm glad! I wasn't ready to say goodbye!"

Tagging @yunhoes-twancings-nsfw and @hanatiny my lovely people I love you sm 💖💘💓

#ateez scenarios #kpop scenarios #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez mingi #ateez yeosang #ateez yunho #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa

[katyatalks]

Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

---

*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What’s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

---

Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange -  at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

---

Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

---

Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

---

Crossposted on twitter here.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #anime visual 2017 #Kameda Yoshimichi #interview #sg!dimple middle age man rights

[coldwind-shiningstars]

ok ok prompts!!! so, I would be Delighted by some more qinxiyao family fic (deleted scenes or things you might have wanted to include in the big bang fic but didn't get to?), or, alternately, anything in the modern tcgf au? anything at all; they're all so excellent <3

both of these are such excellent prompts I started working on both of them, but the modern au got finished first! I’ll probably both a) do a lot of edits on this and b) do the qinxiyao family fic in a week or so, but here this is for now. Also, for those not in James and my brains, this is a very small part of a very large AU! Small note, all characters appearing in this fic are trans; however, He Xuan is still very much an egg and so they are referred to throughout the fic as “he/him,” although SQX at least is aware of this and wondering when to bring it up with her. She is, however, unaware that “Ming Yi” is a stolen identity and He Xuan is actually the eco-terrorist who’s been blowing up her brother’s fish hatcheries. It’s a long story. 

If Xie Lian was being honest, he didn't much like the internet. It was so bright and everything moved too fast. People used a bewildering array of slang and images. It was surprisingly difficult to avoid spending hours reading upsetting news stories. People spent days arguing about pornography. 

Also, his phone didn't really connect to WiFi very well. Even by the loosest definitions of the word, he hardly counted as a netizen.

People were usually shocked when he told them this, though, because Xie Lian's best friend was one of China's most popular beauty influencers.

Xie Lian's face appeared on her Weibo with some regularity. She talked about him often. He'd gone viral three separate times on Douyin, entirely accidentally. 

What Shi Qingxuan was most famous for, however, was makeup tutorials. He had never actually appeared in one of these, but, since there were very few people in the world capable of saying no to a very determined Shi Qingxuan, this was about to change. He was used to being in her charmingly decorated little apartment but not quite used to becoming a decorated thing himself. He'd even put on one of the outfits Hua Cheng had designed and sewn for him, based on some of his old dance costumes and a few frantic weeks of historical research, and kept swishing the skirts around his legs.

Shi Qingxuan started setting up, chattering away to Xie Lian as she did. "You need anything before we start? Bathroom, water, a snack? I edit my videos pretty heavily, so we can always take a break, but it’s good to be comfy." 

"No, I'm fine," Xie Lian said, and then had to close his eyes when she clicked on the ring light.

He fiddled with the makeup compacts laid out on the table.

Shi Qingxuan adjusted her light, scootched Xie Lian’s chair a little to the left and a little back, and then fiddled with the camera. It was quite the involved operation, Xie Lian thought; he knew a lot went into making videos, but he hadn’t realized it took this much effort before the camera was even on. Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup before, of course, but mostly just for fun, or something she could take a picture of and post on Weibo. It had been so long since he'd been filmed.

He watched Shi Qingxuan press record on her camera and then sit back and flash it a smile, putting on her Influencer Face. She squeezed his hand under the table.

“Hi everyone, welcome to Feng Shi!” she said, chirpy. “I’m Shi Qingxuan, and today we’re doing xianxia makeup with my good friend, Xie Lian. Now, for this look, we’re going to need…”

When Xie Lian was little, the makeup artists for his dance troupe had known he took about twice as long as anyone else did to get his makeup done. He was the darling of the company, though, so this was tolerated with fondness.

He didn't like the way the foundation felt on his face when it dried. His eyes watered when they put on eyeliner. He liked to spin his chair from side to side. 

He'd had much worse things on his face than paint since then, and had learned how to be still.

Shi Qingxuan patted his hand cheerfully as she pulled out the setting powder. 

"You're always one of my favorite models," she said. "You're so photogenic and so patient!"

"Thank you," Xie Lian said, and held still while she brushed it in his face.

Ruoye, probably noticing the warmth, slithered out of Xie Lian's robes and curled up on top of his head so she could get the full blast of heat from the ring light. She flickered out her tongue to scent Shi Qingxuan when she leaned in with a liquid eyeliner pen.

Shi Qingxuan made little kissy sounds at her, which only confirmed Xie Lian's certainty that he had good taste in friends. Most people were startled by Ruoye originally, but how they responded to her after Xie Lian introduced them was a good litmus test.

Ruoye settled in, and Xie Lian reached up a finger to stroke her scales. 

He was feeling good, content and warm, happy to sit still. Then the apartment door clicked open, and Xie Lian stiffened.

"Ming-xiong? Is that you?" Shi Qingxuan called.

Ming Yi mumbled something back and shuffled into the room, buried deep in his black hoodie. As always, Xie Lian's first thought upon seeing him was wondering how he could see through all that hair.

The hoodie had a fish skeleton painted on it that he recognized instantly as one of Hua Cheng's drawings; it made Xie Lian smile, thinking of how insistent San Lang was that they absolutely weren't friends, no way, there was no particular reason he would make custom hoodies for Ming Yi. The fish were a coincidence. He’d even made Ming Yi custom salmon breakup boots while proclaiming it meant nothing. 

Xie Lian, wearing an elaborate hanfu Hua Cheng had designed, sewn, and embroidered himself, even making him a period-appropriate duduo to flatten his chest, absolutely did not buy any of these excuses. Hua Cheng covered people he cared about with his art. 

Ming Yi grunted a greeting and wandered off, probably to raid the fridge. Shi Qingxuan winked at Xie Lian.

“I’ll edit most of this out,” she said, conspiratorial, “But my viewers love Ming-xiong. Especially when he’s out of focus in the background. They’ve made memes. I haven’t told them anything about him. It’s good to keep a little mystery! It keeps people watching.”

Xie Lian, having no real idea what she was talking about, smiled and suppressed his instinct to nod. Shi Qingxuan began painting a flower on his forehead with red pigment.

Finally, Shi Qingxuan gently removed Ruoye from Xie Lian’s head and shoulders and settled a wig cap over his hair, then the wig she’d pre-prepared. A few bobby pins, a few tucks, and then she stepped back, grinning.

“Ta-dah! How do you like it, taizi dianxia?”

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian said, honestly.

“We’ll end the video here, I think,” she said, “But I’ll get some posed photos of you to edit in here if that’s alright. Oh, tilt your head back and forth a little? Good. Smile at the camera!”

Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fingers at the camera in a wave; Xie Lian waved too, a few seconds later. As she leaned forward to click off the camera he straightened his legs out to try and loosen them up. His knees made terrible crunching sounds as they stretched. 

“You can take a little break if you want,” Shi Qingxuan said. “I’ll set up the area where we’ll take photos, but I’ll try to make it quick. You’re a darling for sitting through all this, you know?"

She was already bustling around again. She seemed to have an endless fountain of energy; Xie Lian found it admirable. He laid flat on his back on her bed, careful to not get makeup on her sheets or wrinkle his clothes. Ming Yi sat next to him, eating shrimp chips. He put a few directly into Xie Lian's mouth, feeding him like a little bird, and Xie Lian felt warm. Like Hua Cheng, it could be hard to know when Ming Yi liked you, but there were ways to tell.

He let Shi Qingxuan pose him until she was satisfied with the numbers of pictures she’d taken, trying very hard not to feel like the chuunibyou teenager he’d once been. He felt himself mostly immune to embarrassment at this point, but he supposed there were always exceptions.

Eventually, they cleaned up, although Xie Lian had promised Hua Cheng to show off the full look, so he didn’t get changed or clean his face. 

“I’ll buy dinner,” Shi Qingxuan said. “We deserve it. You too, Ming-xiong!”

She herded them both out of the apartment and down the street to a small noodles stall. They all ordered (in He Xuan’s case, three bowls) and Xie Lian was fumbling for his phone when he heard Shi Qingxuan cheerfully tell the clerk to put it all on the same ticket. She tapped her phone to pay for it all before Xie Lian could protest.

A few people asked Xie Lian for pictures as they ate. He posed obligingly, hoping he hadn't spilled any sauce on his clothes while eating. When he was done, he packed up his leftovers, let Shi Qingxuan nag him into calling a Didi instead of trying to walk home, and bid both her and Ming Yi farewell. Ruoye, who had spent most of the time they were eating in Xie Lian's backpack, made a brief appearance too like she wanted to say goodbye as well.

Xie Lian clicked his own apartment door closed quietly and tiptoed over to slide his leftovers into the refrigerator. Down the hall, a light shone out from underneath Hua Cheng's studio door.

There was an old picture of the two of them on the fridge; it was them in a hospital pediatric ward group room. Xie Lian, age fifteen, was beaming at the camera, his "FIGHT! JUVENILE SLE" shirt a bright red and his pants an immaculate white. Next to him, Hua Cheng, his right eye patched with patterned tape, bald and tiny, stared up at him with devotion. 

Ruoye bonked her head gently on the freezer door. Xie Lian pulled out one of her mice and slid her gently into her tank before giving her the treat; she was swallowing the mouse as he left the kitchen.

Hua Cheng turned to him as Xie Lian opened the door to his studio. His eye got wide, and his face looked like it did sometimes when he looked at Xie Lian, like he was seeing something holy. He slid his headphones off his ears.

Xie Lian did a little twirl for him, letting him see the way the fabric moved, and then tilted his face up for a kiss when Hua Cheng came over to him.

“Gege, you look beautiful,” he said.

“San Lang,” said Xie Lian. “It’s all you and Qingxuan. I’ll get her to send you the pictures later.”

Hua Cheng kissed the top of his head. He was dressed down, in a soft shirt and pants, not wearing his prosthetic eye. Xie Lian leaned his head into Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Gege seems tired,” Hua Cheng said. “Would you like to get ready for bed? Do you need dinner or your medicine? I can help you take all that off.”

“San Lang, you’re working,” Xie Lian said. “I already ate, so I think I’d like to sleep. But you don’t have to help.”

"Gege is more important than commissions," Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian let him bundle him off to bed.

post about prompts! 

#replies #my writing #body in abyss heart in paradise #paradife-loft

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o being an artist

❦ Genre: Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 12k4.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG

It’s been 3 weeks that you were painting his jacket. You bought it last month for your boyfriend: Hongjoong. But something was missing. You couldn’t find the perfect details for him. Hongjoong was known to be a fashionista. Every time, he had a free day, he would hang out with you or let his creative mind customize his clothes. So, after a long time thinking about the perfect gift for him, you rushed to the store to bought all you needed as paint, brush, sparkles, patterns, etc. You were happy that your art lessons were useful, finally. Being an artist was not your dream job, but you wished you could draw or paint more.

When Hongjoong arrived at the dance practice room, he was surprised to see you there, sitting on the couch, probably waiting for him. “Oh, what are we doing here?” he asked. “Hello to you too Joongie,” you stood up holding his wrapped gift on your arms. “Sorry,” he giggled, “hello Y/N!” He pecked you slightly. “Better,” you said, smiling like an idiot. He pointed at the pack, “what is it?” You handed your gift to him, being nervous a little bit more every second, “it’s a gift for you.” He smiled and rushed next to the desk to open it properly. You stayed still, looking at any reactions. “Wow, Y/N…” he said amazed by your artwork. He looked at the back and was shocked to see your signature at the top, near the collar. “You can be honest with me! If you don’t like it, I will buy something else for you!” You walked up next to him. He shook his head and faced you,” no it’s more than perfect! Why you hadn’t told me earlier that you were an artist?” “I’m not a real one… I just enjoyed my art lessons a lot.” You smiled. He tried the jacket and checked his back on the mirror, “this is beautiful Y/N! I feel like a beginner now next to you!” he laughed. “Happy that you like it,” you giggled, happy that your artwork paid off. “Promise me that we will customize or paint together now?” he asked, holding your hands. “Promise.” You nodded, satisfied that he loved the jacket so much.

SEONGHWA

You were enjoying a day off with your boyfriend: Seonghwa. He offered to spend the afternoon on the rooftop of their dorm. The weather was warm so with snacks and cuddles it would be more than perfect. Since you got there, you talked about everything. You felt like you hadn’t talked like that (without being interrupted by his teammates) since a long time. As the sun was warming both of you and without looking at Seonghwa, you knew that he fell asleep next to you. How you knew it? The little sound he does when he’s sleeping. With the light and the flowers blooming around him, you couldn’t help but to find it pretty and aesthetic. Without thinking twice, you quietly left the rooftop to the dorm. You looked for a paper and a pen. Of course, you find it in Hongjoong’s bedroom. You climbed back on the rooftop, hoping that he was still sleeping. Bingo, he was even snoring. You sat down next to him and started to draw the beautiful features of your boyfriend. You respected exactly how the sun light was illuminating his face. After 10 longs minutes, Seonghwa cracked an eye to look what was the strange sound next to him. When he saw the smile on your face, he was confused but he noticed the paper and the pen on your hands. “Are you studying?” he asked, sitting properly, ready to help you. You shook your head happily and showed his portrait. He blinked and stared intensely at the sheet, “d-did you drew it?” You rolled your eyes, “no it was a little Leprechaun who came just to draw you.” You said sarcastically, “of course it’s me babo*!” Too amazed by your talent, he didn’t react at you calling him an idiot. “This is incredible Y/N! I didn’t know that you were drawing so well!” You winked, “there’s many things you don’t know about me yet!” “But the thing I know is that you need to draw me a lot more! I look so good!” You scoffed and snatched the paper off his hands. “I don’t know if your ego deserves it.” “Pleaseeeee,” he begged starting to tickle you. “You are too talented to hide it!” You knew that you wouldn’t resist at his ministrations. But you would love to have him as a model.

*babo: idiot in Korean.

YUNHO

You were invited at “ATEEZ game party”, like every Saturday when they’re not promoting. Each time they were playing a game the whole night. Tonight, they choose the Pictionary. Your partners were Wooyoung and Jongho. “It’s not because you are my girlfriend that I will let you win Y/N!” said Yunho, cockily. “Yes sure,” you said smirking. You were dating for 2 weeks now and you never told him yet that you were pretty good at drawing. You couldn’t wait to see his reactions. After several rounds, Yunho and Mingi were winning but you hadn’t draw yet. “Seems like we know the winner already!” Hi-fiving Mingi. “So, this is my turn?” You stood up, grabbing the marker on the table.” You smiled at your teammates and asked, “are you ready boys?” They nodded and focused directly on the board. When you heard the countdown biped, you rushed to draw the first hint. Wooyoung instantly yelled, “An angel!” “Correct!” Waisting no time, you continued to draw. “A horse!” Another point. “A university!” Yelled Jongho. “Yes!” you smiled.” “BIBIMBAP!” said Wooyoung. ”No?” “OH BULGOGI!” corrected the maknae. Yunho’s jaw dropped every time he saw you drawing so easily, pulverizing his score. “Crazy in love!” Answered Wooyoung at the last second. He stood up and clapped, “you are drawing so well. It’s impossible to not guess!” Yunho nodded and added, “he’s right! I didn’t know that you were such an artist!” “I keep some details private,” you stuck your tongue out. When you sat down, San ordered, “first to be in Y/N’s team at the next round.” “She’s my girlfriend! I need to be in her team!” “I will choose San as my teammate.” You smirked. “W-What? Traitor!” claimed Yunho. “You were the first to say that you wouldn’t let me win, traitor.” You winked. He rolled his eyes and smiled. I will take my revenge Y/N!”

YEOSANG

“You? An artist? I don’t believe you,” laughed Yeosang. “Why? I can draw properly!” you tried to persuade him. Yeosang was your crush since the high school, and he got one for you too but none of you confessed. Why? Because you were 2 cowards. Plus, even if you knew each other since a long time, you never told him that you wanted to be an artist. Next to his dream of becoming an idol, you find yours ridiculous. You never showed him the artwork you made even if you really wanted to. “I never saw you drawing anything in 3 years,” he said boldly. “But I do.” “Then show me some and I will tell if you are a real artist,” he smirked. You weren’t okay with that at first, but it was just Yeosang and you would get another advices and critics on your art. “Okay,” you sat on the couch and looked for the little diary you are using when you have a sudden inspiration. He raised a brow, “is it your secret diary?” You rolled your eyes and opened randomly a page in front of him. There were portraits, sketches or even human representations in the real life. Yeosang was paying attention to everything, turning every page consciously. It made you a lot more nervous. ‘So?...” You finally asked, waiting any reaction. “You are really… talented Y/N,” he answered, not leaving the diary. “Really?! You like it?” you said happily. “Yes! Now, I’m mad that you hadn’t showed me this well before today! This is incredible!” You giggled, a bit embarrassed, “thank you.” Yeosang was still looking at every page when he noticed that this specific one was surrounded by his his portrait. “Am I your model number 1?” he asked arrogantly. “Huh- probably…” you simply replied, blushing lightly. He smirked and put his arm around your shoulder, “than if I’m your model number 1, I’m your fan #1! You are so talented.” He confessed, smiling at you. You didn’t reply, too focus on hiding the blush on your face but you knew that it was useless. If you knew, you would show him a lot earlier than this.

SAN

“What? Are you serious?” asked San. Your friend nodded happily while you were hiding your face from embarrassment. “An artist? I know you were good at painting, etc. but being an artist was your dream job?” You sighed, “yes in high school.” “And she was determined till we graduated!” “Yes… but it’s so hard to start from nothing, I just gave up.” “I can’t believe it!” Said San, visibly shocked. “And she wanted to expose her artwork in a gallery! Like a real artist!” You sighed again when you friend revealed your secrets. “Y/N! You need to follow your dream and achieve your goal.” You smiled at your boyfriend, “I can’t do that San-ie. I have another job now-“ “That you hate!” he said straight. “Yes, but I need money to live.” “Quit your job and I’ll help you to promote your paints or something else!” He ordered enthusiastically. “San… I don’t want to take advantage of your popularity to-“ “You are not! He’s offering to help you!” said your friend. San nodded and said, “exactly! I want the entire world to know how talented you are.” You were really hesitant but one part of you really wanted to give it a try. “But what if nobody likes what I do?” “They will like it for sure!” he said holding your hand to reassure you. “Come on Y/N! We all know that you want to do it.” Said your friend. “You took a deep breath and finally agreed, “let’s go give a try then!” Both of them shouted a big “Yes”, finally relieved that you will achieve and follow the path you really wanted to take. “But I have only one condition.” Said San, seriously. You stared at him, waiting his explanation a bit confused. “You will need to paint me and add it on your gallery.” You laughed and nodded in approval. Of course, you could do that, he’s the one for what everything would be possible.

MINGI

Mingi and you were walking to your apartment. It was your first date, and everything went well. You ate in a casual and not too luxurious restaurant and ended by a little walk at the Han River. It’s been a long time since you had so much fun. When he offered to take you back at your home safely, you accepted and even proposed to eat an ice cream there since it was hot tonight. He didn’t take too long to accept. “Who would refuse a vanilla ice cream?” he said. Just in front of your entrance door, you stopped and faced him without saying anything. “Something’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s probably a mess inside….” You bit your lips. “Maybe I should clean a bit first.” He smiled, “don’t worry, I’m living with 7 boys and only one is cleaning the dorm.” You scratched your head embarrassed but you turned around and unlocked the door. You hesitate a second to turn on the lights, but you couldn’t stay on the dark for the rest of the night. Mingi followed you calmly and looked around him. “Yes… I know this is messy.” You said, ashamed by yourself. “It’s pretty clean… I’m just surprised to see that you are an artist.” “Oh.” It’s true that you never talked about your passion with him yet. “I’m drawing since a long time now.” You simply replied, looking at your artwork in the corner of the room. Mingi pointed at the pain on the wall, “you did this?” You nodded, “yes and this is my favorite.” “You are amazing Y/N,” he shouted. He was looking at every details of the frame. The way you painted every classic dancer as with swan’s elegancy was incredible. “You should have told me earlier! I would organize a better date for you!” You giggled, “it was already perfect!” “I will do better next time!” you smiled. “Then okay,” you replied happily. An hour later Mingi and you were talking about each other dreams and childhood. The whole night, while you were eating this ice cream, he begged you to gift one of your future paint. That was a successful date.

WOOYOUNG

You were laying lazily on your bed. Outside the weather was terrible: it was raining and windy. You were supposed to visit an outside art gallery, but the rain ruined your plan and your mood too. “Come on Y/N… you can visit it another day.” “Yes, but I wanted to see it today…” “Why?” he raised a brow. “Because I knew I would get inspiration!” He laughed, “ I didn’t know that you liked art that much.” You pouted. He noticed that you were really disappointed so he thought about something to do which can replace the gallery. But you came out with an idea before him. “Wooyoung-ie.” You whispered shyly, “Can I draw you? As a special model?” He raised a brow, “what do you mean as a ‘special model’?” You smiled awkwardly, already regretting your request. “A nude model…” you said shyly. He choked with his saliva at this unbelievable request. “Y/N!” “Oh please! I never tried to draw someone before!” “You can draw me WITH my clothes!” he said outraged. “Oh, come one… don’t be so shy! I already saw you naked!” He stood up and get away from you, scared. “I said no! Can’t you be a normal artist!” You laughed at how shy he was, “come on… or at least topless.” He stayed quiet. It was not a big deal anymore. “Okay.” “YAY! I will grab my stuff!” You rushed to the living-room. “And why you never told me that you were an artist! And not only a “simple girl who likes to draw,” he mimicked you. “What a supportive boyfriend,” you shouted from the next room. “Everything for my lady,” he giggled, “except being a nude model.”

JONGHO

You were in Jongho’s arms, laying on the couch. He was rubbing your hand slowly while you were looking at your phone, scrolling on your Instagram feed. He noticed that many paintings, potteries, illustrations or graphics design were surrounding your feed. “You like art that much?” he asked. You just nodded on his chest. “You should give a try.” “I did but I’m not that talented,” you said. “Show me some of your artwork.” You nodded again lazily and cliqued on your phone gallery. You went on the “art” album and showed some pictures at Jongho. “You really did this?” he said pointing at your phone. “Yep, but… this is nothing special when you look at other art accounts.” “Are you kidding me?” he said straight. “This is incredible Y/N!” “You said that because you are my boyfriend.” “No! You have your own graphic identity!” You smiled, Jongho knew so many things even if it wasn’t related to his domain. “I just like blurry thing.” “For real baby! You should post at least one of your painting.” “But what if people mock me?” “He rolled his eyes and grabbed your phone, “I will upload it.” “W-What?” you freaked out. “You are an artist! An artist is always promoting her work!” You bit your lips. You knew he was right, but you never thought you would share your little secrets publicly. Jongho uploaded his favorite paint and pottery that you did. He added tags and a caption to show that you made it. “What a professional. Being an idol and communicating with his fans was helpful,” you thought “I’m pretty sure you will get nice and advised comments!” he smiled rubbing and messing your hair, happily. “I hope…” Waiting for a comment or a like, Jongho rubbed your cheek and said: “I like how we still learn about each other every day.” You nodded, “Yes, I’m living for this. I feel like you are a complete stranger but the person I know the most in this earth too.” You were dating for 3 months only but nothing was boring with the maknae. Like if everything was possible.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez requests #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #Ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez fluff #ateez cute #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #ateez x you

[petersspidey]

Art Class

A/N: Just another quarantine fic.

Summary: the four times Steve drew you, and the one time he didn't…. (except that's not a good summary. It's really just five times steve drew you,)

Warnings: Ok so… Pornographic pictures linked and you'll literally understand why when you read it and yes I did have to dig through (what's left) of the porn side of Tumblr… and smut lmao - also if the pictures didn’t link I'm rly sorry. I tried to make them :( 

Masterlist 

You were sitting in the lounge of the Avengers compound mid-quarantine. It had been weeks, and you were still inside. None of you had really gone out despite the fact that most of you were super-human in some way, Others of you were not. You, Tony, Pepper, and Natasha were all human, and didn't have any immunity to the virus.

You were sitting in the lounge reading your book when Steve came to sit down with you. You smiled at him when he sat down.

He shuffled awkwardly in his seat for a few moments.

"Panties in a twist?" you laughed, looking up from your book.

"No,"

"Well then what's up?" you asked

"I have to favour to ask you…" he said, still shuffling around in his seat

"What is it?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm-I-I am taking a class at Columbia and because of the quarantine classes moved online obviously and I was just wondering if you'd be free to help me with an assignment…"

"What class is it?" you asked

"W-well it's a life drawing class and I was hoping you'd be able to model for me. Usually a model would come into class and we'd draw them, but since we can't do that…."

You thought for a second, "Sure, Steve. I don't really have much else going on," you joked

You moved to go back to reading before Steve continued, "There's one more thing though…"

"What is it?"

"I-it's a nude life sketching class…."

You froze for a moment. Taken aback.

"Nude…?" you asked

"Yeah… l-look if you d-don't want to do this you don't have too. I-It's just t-that we have to sketch a woman and I figured that between the three women in the compound you would be the least likely to hit me when I asked,"

You laughed… "I can definitely see Nat hitting you, but I don't think Pepper would hit you if you asked her…"

"Yeah but Tony would…" Cap pointed out.

You sighed, and thought hard for a moment, "Look, Steve…"

"I'm sorry I asked, Y/N, I can just find images online or something," Steve said, cutting you off.

You laughed, "Steve, if you google images of naked women you're just going to end up finding porn, so…"  you took a deep breath "I will help you, as long as you promise not to make it awkward."

"I promise. I really appreciate it Y/N,"

You sighed, "Just let me know when you need me to strip for you Steve,"

Steve blushed, "T-thanks, Y/N,"

The first time Steve drew you, when he opened his bedroom door it was more than awkward.

You stood in front of him, still fully dressed.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

Steve scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Uhm...get undressed…"

You nodded, and began taking your clothes off. You could see Steve out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious you were staring.

"I didn't realize you had so many tattoos…"

You nodded, "Uh, yeah, I have 8. They're not really in places you can see them unless you see me naked,"

Steve smiled.

"Where do you want me?" You asked, standing in front of him, completely unclothed.

"Uh, if you don't mind I was going to get you to actually sit on my bed, and lean against my headboard,"

You nodded, and turned to face Steve's bed. HIs bed was messily made, with his all white sheets gently strewn across the bed.

Steve stepped in front of you and moved the pillows out of the way. You sat down, and leaned your back against the headboard.

"Can… can i touch you?" Steve asked

You were taken aback for a moment, "Uh...What?"

Steve stopped, "Oh god. I meant can I touch your legs to move them?"

He was blushing.

You nodded.

Steve lightly touched your leg, bringing it up so it was folded up against your body. He moved the other so it was crossed in front of you. He lightly grabbed your arm, and laid it out on the pillows beside you. He lowered your shoulder of the arm resting on the pillow.

(I tried to describe this as best as I could, but please look at this post for reference).

"Can you stay exactly like this?" he asked

"Yes," you said softly.

Steve moved away from you, and sat on a chair that he has seated at the very end of his bed.

He sat there and just stared at you for a moment, before looking down at his sketchpad and began sketching.

You watched Steve intently.

His eyes never really met yours, he just looked between you and his sketchpad for what seemed like hours. It was hours.

When Steve was finally done, he smiled down at his image, and then looked up at you, finally making eye contact.

"So can I get dressed now?" You asked

Steve chuckled a little, "Yes, you can get dressed now,"

You climbed off his bed, and grabbed your clothes from where you had placed them.

"Can I see it?" you asked.

Steve stood from his seat, and walked toward you holding his drawing.

He handed the book to you, and you stared down at yourself.

You had never seen anything so well drawn. You could see every shape and curve of your body. Every line, every stroke was of you. Your hair strewn over your shoulder, and the tattoo on your ribs, it was all there. The softness of your face, and the few freckles on your nose that everyone claimed not to see, Steve drew them.

"Steve… this is amazing,"

"Thanks, Y/N," Steve said, smiling down at you.

"No, Steve, I mean it. I don't think I've ever seen anything so amazing with my two eyes,"

Steve blushed again, "Thanks, Y/N, it means a lot."

The second time Steve drew you, it was in his room again. He got you to lie down on your stomach on his bed. You used your arm to prop yourself up, so you were almost on an angle. You were completely naked again. Steve's white sheets covered your legs, coming all the way up to the bottom of your butt. Your long hair was strewn on the pillow behind you.

You couldn't see Steve. But you wished you could. You liked the focused look on his face the last time he looked at you, and the small blush that came across his cheeks every time he looked at your breasts.

When he was finished, he came over to show you. He sat down beside you on the bed, as you sat up and took the drawing in your hand. He had done it again. It was beautiful. You saw every wrinkle in the sheets, the small curve in your spine, you could almost see the texture of your skin.

"Steve, this is beautiful. You're really talented," you smiled at him, handing him back his drawing.

He felt proud of his work, "Thanks, Y/N,"

You sat beside Steve for a moment, leaning on his arm, the two of you admiring his work.

The third time Steve drew you, he avoided the bed. He got you to stand in front of him. Once again, completely naked. It was less awkward this time. You were almost used to walking into his room and stripping.

He got you to stand rather close to him. He positioned you to look down, your hair falling in front of your face. He placed your hand across your chest, resting just above your breasts. Your other hand placed gently on your face.

You were afraid that it would be hard standing this way for too long. Steve assured you that you'd be fine and you could take a break if you needed.

You watched Steve draw. He was so focused. It was odd watching him stare directly at your bare breasts. But it didn't feel wrong. You smirked, seeing Steve blush while drawing your nipples. Maybe it was weird for him, you thought. While you always had thought you would get naked for Steve one day, this wasn't exactly what you had expected.

When he was finished drawing, you raised your hands high above your body, stretching. You were sore from standing in the same position for so long. But this time, when Steve was done drawing, he didn't look away.

You sat down on the edge of Steve's bed, still completely naked. You saw Steve shift in his seat, uncomfortably. He leaned over and handed you the drawing.

You smiled, looking at it. It was just as beautiful as the last two.

"I have to say, Steve. I never really think of myself as looking beautiful, especially not while I'm naked. But when I look at these drawings, I don't know how you do it, but it makes me look beautiful," you said.

Steve looked at you, "What do you mean y/n? You're always beautiful,"

You blushed, "Thanks, Steve."

The fourth time Steve drew you, he got you back on his bed. You lied on your side, using one arm to prop yourself up on your pillows. Once again you rested your hands on your chest, just above your breasts. One of your legs was crossed under the other, and one out straight.

Just like the other times, Steve moved you into position. Lightly touching you, always making sure not to touch your boobs or butt.

This drawing took particularly long. You had to take breaks through this piece, it was hard to keep yourself propped up on one arm for so long. During your breaks, the two of you would chat like it was nothing that one of you was naked.

When Steve would go back to drawing, you couldn't help yourself. Your eyes always trailed down to his pants. Everytime he drew you, you couldn't help but wonder if it turned him on just as much as it did you.

It was sometimes hard to tell though. Often enough his sketchpad was resting on his lap. And, Steve's pants were always kind of tight, you assumed it was due to his large package, and it was always hard to tell if he was hard. But, with every chance you got while he was drawing, you looked anyway. And from what you could see, he was hard the whole time. Just like how by the end of the drawing sessions, you were wet and knew for a fact that if your panties were still on, they'd be soaked through.

"Steve this is amazing,"

"Thanks. I really appreciate your help, Y/N. My professor has really loved my last few pieces. I'm on track to get an A in the class,"

"Steve! That's awesome!" you smiled

"It helps having a such a beautiful muse,"

You somehow always left each other blushing.

The fifth time Steve drew you, Steve had you stand in front of him again. This time, your back to him. Your head tilted slightly to the side, looking over your shoulder.

You were sad you couldn't stare at him. Especially since this was the last drawing he needed for his class. You watched him draw you out of the corner of your eye. You didn't want this session to end. Knowing that you were not going get to be this intimate with Steve again.

You felt as if this was the longest session yet. Steve took his time drawing you, making sure to catch every detail of your body.

When he finished, Steve came up behind you to show you the complete sketch. He stood towering behind you as you held the drawing in your hands.

You admired each stroke of his pencil. Seeing yourself in these images gave you a new perspective. Each drawing was how Steve saw you. Beautiful.

"You're so talented,"

You knew Steve was smiling behind you. He was an amazing artist, but didn't show off his work often and enjoyed getting the compliments.

"Means a lot, Y/N,"

You turned to face Steve, handing him his book.

"I have to say, I'm kinda sad I won't get to see anymore drawings of me like that. I loved everything you drew the past few weeks. It really did make me feel beautiful,"

"Like I said before, Y/N, you're always beautiful,"

"Thanks Steve, that means a lot coming from you,"

You leaned down to grab your clothes that you had left on the floor. You slipped your panties back on and sat on the edge of Steve's bed, turning your shirt back right side in.

"What do you mean it means a lot coming from me?" Steve asked.

"I just mean, you're important to me. And your opinion is important to me. I'd rather you think i'm beautiful than some random guy on the street,"

"Well why else would you think I ask you to do this for me? You're the most beautiful person I know. It'd be hard for me to ask anyone else, knowing there was someone more beautiful that I could draw,"

You smiled. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

"I thought you picked me because I was the only one who wouldn't hurt you for even asking," you joked

'Well, that too," Steve smiled back at you.

You were silent for a moment. You slipped your shirt over your head. And moved to put your jeans back on.

Steve moved to stand in front of you, and grabbed your hand. Letting you gently drop your pants.

"I did mean it though, Y/N. When I said you're the most beautiful person I've ever known,"

You looked up at Steve. He had a soft look on his face. You could see the yearning on his face. You stood up, not looking away from Steve.

The look he had on his face in this moment, was how you always looked at him. You yearded for him since you met him. Your heart ached every day you weren't with him.

You stood on your tip toes and placed one of your hands on Steve's cheek and pulled his face closer to yours. You closed the gap between the two of you, and gently pressed your lips against his. Steve hesitated for a second before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him.

He held you so tight, as if he never wanted to let you go. You pressed your lips tighter against one another. You were so happy in this moment you wanted to cry. You imagined every day Steve wanting you, and loving you. You imagined your first kiss so many times, and this was perfect.

Steve held you against him, and pulled his lips off of yours. He rested his forehead against yours. Both of you were smiling.

"I can't even tell you how long i've wanted to do that," you said softly,

"I'm so happy you did," he smiled.

You placed your feet flat on the ground again, just looking up at Steve.

"I was dying the past few weeks. I can't tell you how hard it was with you in front of me, naked, and I couldn't even touch you. I really didn't know you felt this way about me too,"

"You can touch me now," you said, moving Steve's hands from your waist to your ass.

Steve laughed.

He leaned back down to kiss you softly, his hands only trailing away from your ass to lift up your shirt. He pulled away from the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

Two could play at this game, you thought. You began lifting Steve's shirt, letting him pull it the rest of the way off. Your hands trailed down to his belt, undoing it from his pants. Steve just watched you as you unzipped his jeans, and pulled both his pants and underwear down his thighs. Steve kicked them off. He stood in front of you completely naked.

"Sit down," you said.

Steve obeyed, and sat down on his bed. You slipped off your panties. You moved to straddle Steve, your wet pussy rubbing against Steve's hard cock. He wrapped his arms around you, as to not let you fall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips against his.

You moved your lips against each other's. Deepening the kiss. His tongue entering your mouth. You continued to rock your wet pussy against his dick, teasing him.

You pulled away from the kiss. You looked at Steve as you grabbed his hard cock in your hand. You slowly raised your body, pressing his cock at your entrance. You slowly sat down, his hard dick entering you. He felt huge, despite how wet you were, you were still tight. You weren't sure if you would be able to take him all in.

Suddenly, you felt yourself open up. Both you and Steve moaned as you took the rest of him in. You both sat still for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of Steve being inside of you.

Steve pulled your tighter against him. Your chests were pressed together. He closed the gap between your lips once more, moaning into your mouth as you began rocking back and forth on his cock. The feeling of Steve filling you up, already made you want to orgasm.

His hands were pressed tight against your back, holding you close to him. His mouth moved against yours. Your tongues brushing against each other. You continued to rock back and forth on his dick. Nearly every movement caused him to moan into your kiss.

You kept one arm wrapped around his neck for support, but moved the other down to your clit. As soon as you touched yourself, a shock went through you. You rubbed small circles around your clit, as Steve thrust into you, while you continued to rock on his cock.

You moaned into your kisses. You bit Steve's lip as he moaned your name.

Your breathings became heavy, as you both neared orgasm. You felt like you were sitting on Steve's lap, rocking on his dick forever. The moment felt like it would never end.

You felt like you had never been so intimate with someone during sex before. Never been so vulnerable.

You could feel your orgasm building as Steve began making harder thrusts inside of you, and you started making faster circles around your clit. Your mouth never left Steve's, continuing to kiss as you came.

You moaned loud into his mouth as you felt your wall come crashing down, contracting around Steve's dick. Second later, you could feel Steve's dick twitching inside of you.

When you both same down from your orgasms, you silently rested your foreheads against one anothers. All you could hear was your heavy breathing and your hearts beating quickly.

Steve let himself fall backward, bringing you with him. The both of you laughed as you slipped off of dick and fell beside him.

You rested your head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. Steve ran his hand along your back and kissed your forehead.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

#stever rogers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #Captain America smut #Captain America imagine #captain American fanfiction #Captain America fluff #petersspidey #Peter parker #mcu #mcu x reader #Captain America x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #this was something I didn't know I needed until I wrote it

[micheleblack]

I’d Tap That

WeakRevolution’s entry for #altober Day 8: Diagon Alley is a full one-shot fic, that’s so richly smutty and wonderful. But it is NC-17/Explicit. You have been warned.

@altobers-blog @clemandben @eleonorapoe

Tonight starts out like so many others before it. 

James removes his robes quickly, cock already hard and tenting his boxers, before climbing onto the bed. He lies down on his back and spreads his legs. The needy look on his face propels Teddy to action and he pounces, pulling James in for a hungry kiss while removing the last of James's clothing. James's hands are all over Teddy, trying to rid him of the barrier, needing to feel the touch of skin, but Teddy has other plans. Pinning James’s hands above him, they kiss, swiping at each other’s tongue.

Teddy grinds himself down onto James, feeling the hard flesh through many layers of clothing. He sucks on James’s neck, leaving a bruise next to another faded hickey. James is so responsive tonight. Teddy continues the assault of sucking and teasing thrusts, waiting for James’s resolve to crack.

"Please," James begs, right on schedule, "more. I need more." His skin already looks flushed, the rosy color undiminished despite the number of times they'd been in a scenario similar to this.

Leaning down, Teddy swipes his tongue over the pre-cum glistening on James's tip. "You're positively leaking right now, babe. What's got into you tonight?" he asks before taking the whole length into his mouth.

"I'm- ahhh," James moans, hands gripping the sheets to keep from weaving into Teddy's beautiful blue locks. "N- ahh, n-no fair!" He takes a deep breath but the much needed air is lost as he lets out another loud moan. He goes quiet and the only sound in the room is that of Teddy's sucking and humming. A minute passes before James tries to speak again. "C-can't th-think-"

Teddy pulls back, giving his boyfriend a break while he enjoys how far gone James already looks. Nothing ever compares to the amazing sight of James Potter, hot, hard, and heaving for breath. "Well if you can't think, then just lie back and I'll take you on a journey. Sound good?" James responds with a whimper. Teddy chuckles to himself.

He gives the head of James's cock another lick, more pre-cum already collecting there in just the brief moment. "Since you're already leaking this much, I guess we'll start our journey at the Leaky."

James could do nothing but moan. He shuts his eyes and follows Teddy's every word.

“I’m not the type of wizard to stay in the Leaky Cauldron for long though. As fun as a pub can be“—he pauses to give James’s cock a few strokes, causing James to squirm and buck into his hand—“right now I’m more interested in the entrance to something more magical.” Teddy sits back on the bed and looks down at James. “Ready?” He loves seeing James like this, eyes already starting to cloud from lust. Loves the look of frustration when he pauses the lazy strokes along his cock.

“Yes!”

"I thought so. Be a good boy and help me work out the sequence that parts those cheeks, so I can see that beautiful sight,” Teddy says playfully. “I think I know where to start at least.” His hand takes hold of James’s sack and begins playing with his balls, rolling them between his fingers. The action draws another moan from James and his knees draw up just a bit. “That’s a start.”

“L-lick them,” James demands in a breathless voice.

Teddy is all too willing to get back down there. He first runs his nose along the soft skin around the orbs before taking the first one into his mouth. James’s knees rise and part above Teddy. For good measure, he runs his fingertips in the space just below James’s balls and pushes against the flesh. He knows that he’s found the spot when James’s jerks above him.

Satisfied, Teddy stops sucking on the ball in his mouth and splays his hands on each of the round and glorious ass cheeks in front of him, squeezing them tight. “I can see your alley, Jamie. Diagon Alley sure looks like a wonderful place. Wouldn’t you agree?”

James doesn’t say anything, but when Teddy looks up he can see James, eyes tightly shut, nodding. James isn’t usually this quiet, but things have never quite gone down this road before. He seems completely lost to Teddy’s words and actions that Teddy can’t help but keep things going.

“I know where I always go first. The ice cream parlour.” Teddy stares at James’s pink hole, fully exposed but still tightly closed. He blows lightly across it and watches as it twitches. “I better start licking before this melts.”

From the moment Teddy’s tongue touches the hold, James’s voice is alive again. Not words, just sounds, pants, groans. The sounds are exciting and spur Teddy on as he starts to lose himself in the act as well. As the rosebud begins to yield to his tongue, James gets even louder.

“That’s it, babe. Be as loud as you want. I want my ice cream to scream.” He dives back in, hungry for everything James was giving him. As much as he loved rimming James, there was still more to the journey so after another minute or so to say goodbye, he leaves the slice of heaven and sets his eyes on James, who had thrown his hands over his face, still lost in his imagination. He leans his head right beside James’s ear and whispers, “My ice cream is all soft and warm now. Let’s head to the Apothecary. There are some supplies we need to pick up.”

James's body shivers at the proximity and the words. It’s clear what supplies Teddy needs.

Accio Lube.

“This one looks good, but what do you say we give it a try before we buy?” Not even waiting for a response, Teddy coats a finger then sinks it partway into James’s hole. James clearly isn’t expecting the move and he gasps. Teddy stills his hand and begins nibbling on James’s ear. “Do you need more time?” he asks caringly.

For the first time in a while, James opens his eyes and meets Teddy’s gaze. “No. Keep going.” A wave of hunger rolls over Teddy as he begins pushing his finger deeper into James’s heat. “Feels good,” James moans into his ear.

“Yeah? How about now,” he asks as he adds a second finger. James is still so tight, but Teddy knows him by now, knows his boyfriend’s body in ways he doesn’t even know his own. With his two fingers deeply embedded, he curls them up and presses against James’s prostate.

“Gah!” James always reacts this way upon the first press. They call it James’s ‘G(ah)-spot.’ Teddy stifles a laugh at the thought and distracts James with a particularly wide spread of his fingers. He knows that James enjoys the burn. “Next-” he begins, right as Teddy gives another hard jab against his prostate, “ahh, next stop. Teddy, please.”

“As you wish,” Teddy says, removing his fingers from James, despite the other man’s protest. “I suppose prep work is all the Apothecary is good for anyway.” He looks down, sees James’s bare skin, flushed and damp with sweat, sees James’s cock and the line of pre-cum that has leaked from the top and down the shaft, sees his own still fully-clothed body, and knows where they will be headed next. “I seem to be in need of an outfit that matches yours. Madam Malkin’s?”

James catches the hint and immediately reaches out to tug on Teddy’s shirt. His eagerness is adorable. Teddy helps him and soon their bare skin is touching from thigh to shoulder, James’s muscles feel as hard as his cock under Teddy. Lost in the sensation, he almost forgets his place in the story.

“So... Madam Malkin’s, right? Let’s see. I think there is something left for me to try on, wouldn’t you say?”

James chuckles, the break from constant stimulation allowing him a chance to clear his mind of the sexual haze. He reaches for the lube and then grabs Teddy’s cock, trapping it between his hand and his chest. Teddy moans, not in control for the first time tonight. James doesn’t want control for long, and soon pulls his knees all the way to his chest before leading Teddy’s cock between his cheeks, the thick head of his cock resting against the loose pucker.

“Feels really warm, Jamie. I can’t wait to try it on.” He can’t believe how cheesy some of these lines are sounding, but as he presses in, his every other concern falls away.

“So big!” James moans. He craves this feeling, Teddy knows it.

“Big? I was going to say that this might be a tad too small. The fit is pretty snug.”

“You love it that way,” James replied cheekily and Teddy laughed. As fun as blowing James’s mind always was, having him here to quip with is what he wants right now.

Slowly he's swallowed until finally Teddy’s balls are resting against James’s ass, fully sheathed inside the younger man. As soon as he feels James loosen enough, he pulls back and gives a quick thrust back in. The sudden action causes James to wrap his legs around Teddy’s waist and his arms around Teddy’s shoulders. Taking that as an open invitation, Teddy begins to thrust in and out. James is now uttering a constant stream of moans directly into Teddy’s ear. “You’re right. The fit is perfect,” Teddy moans back to him.

Teddy could happily keep up this pace until he comes, but James has other ideas. Suddenly James goes from totally pliant in his arms to strong and solid as his muscular arms grab his hips and stop Teddy from thrusting on his own. James pulls them together, forcing Teddy as deep as he can go and holds him there. The change in dominance makes Teddy’s knees weak. “I think you’ve done enough shopping.” He laughs in his cocksure way and nibbles on Teddy’s ear, and suddenly Teddy is the one gasping for air. “Why don’t we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies. I want to try out some new brooms.”

“B-brooms?” Teddy’s mind tries to keep up.

“Yeah, I hear there’s a new model that I simply must get a ride on.” A knowing smile spreads on James’s face as he flips their positions. “Now let me work,” he says and rises up on strong legs, Teddy’s cock slowly being revealed.

Teddy looks up from his position under James and it finally sinks in just as James sinks back down on his cock. He fists the sheets to keep from grabbing at James’s soft inner thighs. “Fuck! You are so good at this,” he moans.

“What did you expect? I’m a pro.”

Teddy isn’t even sure if James is still playing their game or if he is just that confident in himself, either way he isn’t lying. Teddy has never been this turned on by James in his life. He can feel his toes starting to curl and knows that as fun as this is, the end of the road is coming.

James’s eyes are closed as he rides Teddy using just the strength in his legs. His hands are playing with Teddy’s chest, tweaking a nipple, brushing against that sensitive spot on his ribs, playing with the rainbow colored happy trail, whatever he could reach.

“James! I’m not going to last.” Teddy finally admits.

“I’m close too. Have we visited everywhere?” James asks, keeping up the constant up and down rocking of his body.

Teddy looks down and is mesmerized by James’s cock as it bobs along with his motions. The tip is shiny as ever and this time with a trail that has been dripping onto Teddy’s stomach for several minutes. The need to hold it overtakes him. “I think I’m going to pop over to Ollivanders and try out a new wand.” He’s barely gotten the line out before he reaches out and fists James’s hard cock. It’s gone untouched for so long and it’s hot and slick against his palm.

“Ahh! Wait, Teddy-“James moans before his insides clamp down on Teddy and cum shoots from the tip, landing in white hot lines across Teddy’s chest. James’s arms fall on either side of Teddy’s head for support as he continues to ride him, despite still going through the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

The sight and the feel of James, it’s all too much and Teddy is cumming too. As the desperate moan leaves his throat, he feels James settle fully onto his cock and accept the flood of hot cum that is rushing into his ass. He continues to play with James’s cock, which must be extra sensitive at this point but James isn’t complaining. “So, does this mean I found my wand on the first try?” he asks, out of breath and drifting in the glow.

James collapses on top of him and soon they are both shaking with shared laughter. “What a pair we make, huh?”

“I happen to think I’m a great tour guide. Did you enjoy your trip to Diagon Alley?”

James raises his head and Teddy is struck by the intensity in those brown eyes. “Of course, but we have one more stop.”

“Where?”

“Gringotts, obviously.”

Teddy reaches a hand down James’s ass to feel the point where they are still connected, though he is slowly going soft. “I don’t want to make a withdrawal just yet.”

“I don’t want that either, but it’s not for you. I want to show you my vault.”

“Your vault? You don’t have to pay me.”

“No, silly.” James takes Teddy’s hand and rests it against his heart. The heartbeat beneath James’s skin is still erratic. “My heart. I’ve been keeping it in there for you.”

#altober #altober2020 #day 8 #diagon alley #smut #jeddy #jeddy smut #jeddy fic #James Sirius Potter #teddy lupin #teddy/james #jamesXteddy #james sirius x teddy #teddy x james #smut fic #HP Next Generation #hp fanfic #next gen hp #hp next gen #cursed child #hp next gen fic #hp next generation fic #amazing work

[fourletterworld]

Letting Go - Was a Big Brother

He didn't know how to stop, but we had a plan. I held onto the handlebars alongside him and guided him before letting go. He went forward, steering on his own, pedaling and balancing. He'd taken flight, and I was watching something I'd affected. He was laughing. He wanted to look at me but he couldn't take his eyes away.

"Dust! Look!" he called out. I laughed and clapped at him.

I watched as he ran his bike into a large pile of soft dirt. His wheel sunk in and the bike gently tilted on its side. He stood away from his bike and looked directly at me. His smile was as unwilfully brilliant as the sun and my heart bloomed. I didn't know it at the time but the brightness pierced a hole in my young consciousness and grafted onto my memory like silver nitrate. Feeling it now, as a man, I sense the texture of it all the same beneath my fingers. I was a growing boy raising a growing boy. Responsibility and joy had never known each other so well: the way a sober man falls asleep with a pure heart.

And man, sometimes I think, if only I could do it over and have my little baby brother back. If only I could have had some time to become a man so I could have truly guided him. I could have focused if I didn’t have the obstacles of my own adolescent mind hedonistically drawing the curtains over what was happening to that little kid.  

I think if I had a little boy now, that I was to take care of, a powerful resoluteness would overwhelmingly usurp any other color in my life. My son would think I was a warm heart born from stone. I would be the definition of dedication and love. He'd never know a single wild story of my life, and my circular conflict would straighten itself in opposition to my son's unbeaten path. I'd show him how to tackle his obstacles head on, with honesty and thought. I'd teach him how intellect isn't soft, and that it can challenge you toward self-destruction. I would teach him, that the depression he inevitably inherits from me, isn't a black hole to get lost in but a darkness in which to contrast the worlds vast beauty.  I would demonstrate what it is to be a gentleman so that the world won't misguide him, and I would hug him after I lecture him on a hard truth. I would teach him how to throw a punch, and elaborate on the ugliness of hatred. I would show, by example, tolerance. To live within one's own principals, and to illuminate in his mind the intuitive fine lines that sanctions them. I'd teach him that others may cross these boundaries with steam in their eyes, and to always guide them away with equal force. I'd also teach him that some may walk through his borders innocently, and others with intentional love, and that being disarmed by a woman is the most beautiful thing in the world. That her placing her hand on your most painful burn might not hurt, and that in time her touch might cool it into the past. Though if it doesn’t, the touch can make you forget for a moment, and that something new can grow in that tranquil silence.  And I'll also temper myself, and my fearful control, and trust in that organic thing we call unconditional love to unfold and open the rest of his soul toward the sun. I wouldn't be his friend, but his protector, mentor, model, and still, as I was with Cody, an endless summer of love. A pair of strong arms to lift him from the ground or to hold him until I've drawn as much of his hurt into my astonishingly endless threshold, as long as I can, until he will not let me anymore because he has become his own man.

but I think about Cody, and how I don't want to have a little boy in his honor. What a disgrace that could be, like attributing the old name to the new family pet.

No, his story is over, and I still have this muscle memory that springs alive at night to catch him.

Maybe that's all it is. I just have potholes throughout this road that has ran through my whole life, and I'm looking to fill them. I'm holding onto the handlebars and steering him away from falling in even though the little boy is no longer on the seat.

I'd walked into that same paternal quicksand again, but suddenly amidst this dream I see red brake lights in the snowy night.

"Jesus Christ" the electric jolt in my chest screams. I'm suddenly driving a car.

I jerk into the reality of it like I'm falling out of bed. I hold the wheel and cut someone off to avoid a collision and I'm thankful for not slipping on the ice. The windshield is filled with blinding snow, and the falling sheets pass by like light years of stars. It must have lulled me into this daydream. Everything around me is beautiful, but I feel so ugly inside I might as well be taking the scenery in through a motel television.

My adrenaline is going and I use it as an excuse to pull over, but really, I just want to do something unordinary. Chaos seems to work like that. You want to surround yourself with the unusual so you don't feel so strange. It's like giving your weirdness company.

There was a long period of time during the last year I had kept myself company with alcohol in my studio/shed after Bridgette went to sleep. I'd hold my guitar in between long pauses of not playing a single chord with my eyes open and my head full. I hadn't even cared about the gentle ride into drunkenness that beer provides, so I'd started pouring myself whiskey into Tupperware filled with ice so that I could quickly evaporate into some synthetic cloud of euphoria. I grew accustomed to the taste of straight whiskey, but who the fuck would drink it if it had no alcohol? People do it, I guess.

Through my cynical lens I find it depressing thinking about the shells of sobriety trying to salvage their spirit with non-alcoholic drinks. The desire never leaves you, does it? It's always there touching you in that empty space. God, will that be me someday? Always bored, living in forced contentment toward a lower threshold of fun? What about escaping into mental wilderness? What about living through great stories? I worry without the escape I'd turn into something like the Tin Man rusted shut from sadness, having watched my personality fallen asleep from the numbing perfume of adulthood.

Anyhow, these escapes of mine keep me lucid enough to keep doing this thing we all do.

So maybe I should understand Cody’s choices better. I’d sincerely asked him one day to never go down any road that I can’t follow him on, but what example was I setting? I drew a line but I'm no better. I steer toward the same cardinal point but to a lesser degree.

I often go through good days, riding creative highs and getting into the snap of productivity and exercise, but I always have it in the back of my head that there is that escape somewhere whenever I say I need it. Actually, I think part of what I enjoy is the rise and fall. I enjoy the facade of the healthy days. I brag about them like I mean it.

"I feel great, I haven't chewed on my stitches in days!" and I still buy it when I hear it come out of my mouth. I mean, I think I do believe it when I'm in the throes of a really healthy lifestyle, and I even start to think I'm normal, but even then, that's not entirely true.

Normal people don't exist while being overly conscious of not hitting their head on the ceiling. Sometimes I wonder if I'm more normal when I'm drinking because I can be so present, but even that doesn't sound right because normal people rarely look like they're having fun.

Christ, the things people will laugh at. It’s like we all come equipped with canned laughter to put adult tension at ease.  I know because I do it too. It just comes out of me to smooth over oddity.

Then there’s the other kind of eager laughter that wants out so bad we’ll convince ourselves that something amusing is actually funny. I’m guilty of this one too. I just want out so bad that I constantly look for those pockets to howl into, but it never leaves me satisfied.

What I really want is to feel out of control. I want my feelings to have nonsensical company. I want to let go of the handlebars of mind, spirit, and body, and for something overwhelming to take me over completely.

But, is it normal to want every laugh to be the kind that makes you momentarily crazy? Because that is how I want each laugh to be.

I want each laugh to make me lose my fucking mind.

#nonfiction #confession #grief #griefjourney #brothers #brother #loss #writing #biography #autobiography

[prorevenge]

Hell hath no fury like a teenager scorned...

It's a long story, spans years of time. ~~~Cue hazy flashback to 1997/8~~~

Growing up, my family ran a business dealing with water and wastewater pumps. By the time I was in high school, I worked for them outside of school as needed, and I'd grown up around the industry. At the time of this story I was 16, maybe 17. I got a few funny looks out in the field sometimes, but normally wasn't a problem, this time, it was.

Many sales they make do are bids. You go to the builders exchange, which is basically a library for plans and blueprints. You pull the plans, get to the part applicable to you, and see what they want or need. Then you submit a price you think will win you the job.

Many times the plans will actually specify a model that meets their needs, in which case you bid that or a comparable one. Other times, they will give specifications and selection and matching is up to you, going through books and software for curves (chart that shows how it flows under load).

This time was the former. The job is a retrofit/expansion on the city plant. The engineer had specified a model of pump he wanted, and I'd matched it's specs. Put in a submittal for approval on the substitution as required. It gets approved and we are cleared to enter a bid.

We proceed forward putting together the bid. At one point, I have the plans in front of me and I'm looking at the drawings. I don't like what I'm seeing, which is a lot of pipe and a lot of distance. I check and recheck and come up with the same result. The total head (head is how far you're pumping, calculated by distance and including losses from the pipe) is too much for the pump that was specified, way too much. This puts the pump way outside it's curve, it's going to be deep into overload.

I used my corrected numbers and found a proper match, but not only was it significantly more expensive, but physically different, would require large revisions. So I put together a revised submittal with the numbers I ran, and the recommended pump. It included the math from the drawings and the curves. Faxed it over to the engineers office, then I called him.

It did not go well. Not only did he not listen to me, he was more than happy to lecture me. How dare I, a kid, tell him how to do his job. No, he would not accept any revisions or resubmittals, I had no idea what I was talking about and I, personally, was no longer to have contact on this project. He did not use nice words.

This couldn't stand, it was going to cause serious problems down the line. So I did the only thing I could think of, I found the contact for city planning and told him. Made it about three minutes into trying to explain who I was and why I was calling before he cut me off and told me to refer to Engineer and not to contact him again. Tried again for someone else later, did not make it past receptionist.

As. You. Wish.

I took the revised submittal and filed it in the back of the job file and moved on. (I wasn't needed for the rest and I had other things to do, plus school)

Fast forward almost two years, now going to college, still working for my folks as needed. Construction complete, get called in for startup. Goes smoothly as it should, and the countdown to destruction begins.

I think the first one went after about three months? Only made it that long because those pumps are very well built. Emergency ship in a replacement. Second one a week or three after, then another, and another, then the replacements start failing. The whole time, these are being invoiced including emergency shipping, and having to run out to start them up every time. They have no choice, THIS is the model the pads were cast for and the piping run for. You can't directly substitute something else, like, say, the correct pumps.

Then it gets really fun. They start returning the burnt out units for warranty.

The factory starts receiving these and tearing them down for failure analysis. I told our rep straight up that they were being run way outside their design point knowingly, he was not amused. Warranty is denied and they are billed for the diagnostic time and shipping. Manufacturer was in Germany by the way (shout out to the fine folks at KSB, love ya). These units are neither small, nor light. Plus these are being shipped as emergency orders. It's not cheap.

Warranties officially denied to the buyer. We tell them in no uncertain terms that this isn't a problem with the units. (this is now almost a year after the plant was due to come online)

Now the shit has really hit the fan. City council gets involved, because this is a municipal plant. Lawsuits are threatened, and a council meeting is scheduled to discuss further action.

I marked the day, and arranged with my teachers to take a few days off (didn't live close to home). Drove 3 1/2 hours to see my parents, and, to visit their filing cabinet. Right where I left it. Out came the revised submittal, and a quick trip to Kinkos (local copy shop) provided some wonderful blown up posters of said submittal as well as the proofs behind it.

The next day, I drove another 2 1/2 hours up to said City, had a lovely meatball sandwich at a restaurant right across the street from the council building and showed up to the council meeting. I even dressed up nice for the occasion.

I didn't say anything to anyone, just sat in the back in my chair with my rolled up posters next to me and waited. Took about forty minutes.

The council finally brings up the plant. Guess who comes up to testify in front of the council? It's Engineer.

He goes on for about ten minutes talking shit about our company and how we are denying the warranties. Basically states that the problem is due to the substitution and that our pumps were substandard.

This is a loss now counted in the millions between the downtime and replacement costs and rejected warranties, labor etc. Council swallows his bullshit hook, line and sinker. He sits down and the council starts discussing among themselves. This is my cue.

I stand up, approach the podium, and wait for them to notice me, doesn't take long as I'm a teenager in a city council meeting. I introduce myself and unroll the posters.

Me: Hi! I'm Crispy Silicon from Goingtoruinyourfuckingday! Before you proceed any further, you should probably have a look at this, which is the revised submittal I sent to Engineer prior to the initial bid. You'll note the date. Also attached you'll find the supporting calculations, relevant drawings from the original plans, and the recommendation of a larger suitable unit. You'll also see the fax acknowledgement sheet, showing it was received by his office.

Me: Immediately after sending that, I contacted Engineer directly and advised him of these issues. He declined, I was told outright to keep my nose out of things I didn't understand and to leave engineering to the adults. He was well aware the units would self destruct if run at this point.

Me: After that I called your planner, who refused to listen, and referred me back to Engineer.

Me: If you'd like, I'd be more than willing to contact our phone provider, so they can verify that fax and those calls were placed?

I'm grinning like the Cheshire Cat at this point and I'm not holding back the evil one bit. I'm sure I looked like a psychopath, couldn't help it, also didn't care.

Dead. Fucking. Silence.

Me: So yeah, the warranties are void as all of the units were operated well beyond their design point. I still stand by the revised submittal, so feel free to call when you're ready. I'll leave these here.

Still completely silent. The entire council looks like I just dropped my pants and mooned them. Then after a few seconds, one of the ladies on the council gave me a "Thank you Mr. Silicon. You can go."

I left my posters on the podium, turned and walked, made full eye contact with Engineer as long as I could with that same grin. He looked like he was probably going to vomit, didn't stick around to check.

Stopped by to give my folks a hug on the way back to school and that was the end of my involvement.

No idea what happened to Engineer or Planner, but the City paid every invoice in full without another peep. They had continue to purchase replacement after replacement to limp it along while simultaneously trying to re-refit the plant. They finally got it fixed after about another year, but by that time, I can't even imagine how far over the projected estimate they were.

(source) story by (/u/crispysilicon)

#prorevenge #by /u/crispysilicon #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[mrsbhandari]

Artsy as Fuck - Paintbrush

Author’s note: HIIIII i decided to post pretty much all of my writing on here, just to make it more accessible!! I hope you like it!!

Word count: 1483

Warnings: language

Summary:  Colt goes back to the studio to help out the class some more. Unfortunately, he's hot.

Masterlist

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Before he could lose his nerve completely, Colt thought of the money and walked into the studio to be greeted by the professor and bright, natural light of the room. Outside of the money offered, Colt could feel another reason tugging at the back of his mind for being here, but he shut it away and focused on what the professor was telling him about the assignment at hand.

“You were highly requested by my class, so I hope you don’t mind being on call a little bit more,” he was saying, and Colt shook his head to prompt him to continue. “They’re painting today and I want to focus more on the shoulders and face, so you can keep your pants on.” The professor offered a calm smile and Colt returned with a laugh.

“Good to hear, I think your students would get tired of seeing me naked eventually.”

“Wouldn’t be too sure about that one, Colt. A lot of my students were particularly pushy about getting you undressed again.” The professor let out a low whistle as he prepared the sheet Colt would be posing in front of for the students. Colt remained neutral but found himself wondering if Roze was one of the students he was talking about. When he realized what his mind was doing, he shoved the thoughts down and shook his head, willing them away. Luckily, students came pouring into the studio, armed with brushes and some of their own paints if they decided to bring them. They all said their greetings and took their seats in the large semi-circle of chairs and easels set up around a stool that Colt would pose on in front of the sheet. Roze sent him a curt nod before settling into a chair directly in the middle of the set-up. Colt barely held in a scoff and took a seat on his own stool.

“You all knew we’re painting today, but we’re going to be focusing on the face; shadows, highlighting, and shading are a big part of today,” the professor instructed, clasping his hands together and excitedly glancing around at his students, who had all found their seats. A girl, who introduced herself as Ingrid last time he was in the studio, leaned around her easel to address Colt.

“Thank you so much for modeling again, Colt. We love drawing you.” She ended with a smile and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She was situated on his left side, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roze frown and knit her brows. She seemed to be busying herself by examining her brushes, but she was staring too intently to be believable. Colt decided he didn’t like Ingrid, but he didn’t know why; maybe, she was too obvious with her crush on him or maybe, she was too loud about her ass-kissing. Either way, he wanted to...not talk to her anymore.

“Is there something wrong with your eyes?” he asked, barely holding back a smile at Ingrid’s face contorting into an expression of bewilderment and embarrassment. Was it petty as hell? Yes, but it was also worth it for that look. He heard a snort and turned to see Roze snickering behind her hand, still studying her brushes with too much attention. Ingrid’s face flushed (Colt decided he liked it better when Roze did it) and she turned her own attention to her easel, trying to seem like the giggles from her classmates didn’t bother her. She sent extra glares to Roze, but the professor seemed completely oblivious to the exchange that just happened. He clapped to calm the class down and turned to colt.

“You can undress now.” Colt took his shirt off, smiling at some whistles that erupted across the room. The students were definitely getting more comfortable with him, and he found himself not minding as much as he usually would’ve.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he joked, prompting laughter from the class. He noticed Roze didn’t laugh, only gave him a look of angry confusion, and he ignored the slight twinge of disappointment that popped into his mind. He waited for the students instruction before striking a pose.

“Hey, can you look ahead and slightly to the right?”

“Put your hand around your neck, loosely. Raise a finger--yes, perfect!”

“Raise your chin a little, please.” He did everything he was told and soon leveled his breathing. Since they were painting him, he knew that he would be sitting there for way longer than he had when they were just sketching. Luckily, he had an interesting subject to study for himself.

Roze sat in front of him, straddling her easel as she leaned close to the canvas to sketch. His eyes bored into her, studying her and taking her appearance in. Her hair was held back by a bandana and loose, which only emphasized just how long it was. Thick waves caressed her shoulders, revealed by a sleeveless top that looked like a ripped up t-shirt with a large flower printed in the middle. Her leg bounced and he wondered if she was nervous. She seemed to be intensely concentrated, eyes never wavering from the easel.

I wonder how long she can go without looking at me, he thought, slightly amused at his game. He noticed that the other students would look up at him in intervals of, at most, a few minutes, but he counted ten before Roze looked back at him. He met her gaze, unwavering, as if daring her to draw him inaccurately. It was strange; when she stared back, he felt even more exposed than when they first met. Her eyebrow twitched, a quick movement that would have been easily missed had Colt not been studying her with everything he had. She broke their contact to continue her artwork, moving on to paint his likeness. Glancing around, he noticed that everyone else was still sketching.

How fast is this girl?

He knew that art was hard; he didn’t have to actually be an artist to appreciate the heavy amount of skill it must take to create. But she must’ve been superhuman to be able to move on that fast! He had seen the stuff she did and knew that she was talented. He would even go as far as to say that she had a gift.

Would he say it to her face though?

Never.

He could acknowledge that she was good at art while also admitting that she was kind of a bitch. His limited impression of her wasn’t a great one, and it still came to mind as he watched her work. Her tongue did its thing again, sticking out in a cartoonish expression of her concentration and total focus. Suddenly, Roze let out a small grunt of frustration. Riya, Roze’s friend who was sitting next to her, leaned over to look at her easel.

“What’s wrong?”

“Collarbone.”

“Mm,” Riya hummed with comprehension. “You can ask him to move, you know.” Roze pulled her lips tight and nodded.

“Colt, sorry, uh...can you move your right shoulder down just a hair?” He moved down for her. “No--Professor?”

“Hm?”

“Can I move Colt?” A fresh splash of red appeared on her cheeks when the professor nodded and continued walking around to critique his students’ works. She stood from her easel and walked the short distance to where he was sitting on the stool.

He didn’t dare breathe as she gently held his chin in place and moved his shoulder to where the light hit it perfectly. Looking at her, he realized that she was holding her breath, too. The pressure on his chin got him for some reason and made his face completely fill with color. Posing naked he could do, but enduring the barely there touch of a haughty and guarded art student was apparently too much for him. His skin burned where she moved his shoulder, and up close he realized that she had a mole directly next to her left eye. As she pursed her lips, he also saw a small dimple form high up on her cheek. He wondered what she saw when she was moving him, eyes roving over his face and body as she gently guided him into the pose she wanted. Ingrid scoffed as she watched.

“Alright, lovebirds,” she huffed, immediately shrinking when Roze’s steely glare fell on her.

“Pardon?” The professor’s eyes widened as he watched the two girls face off, finally paying attention to the tension of the room. Riya gently pulled his arm when he tried to move forward and intervene. The two students continued.

“Flirting with him isn’t going to make your art much better. Not that he would ever actually go out with you anyway,” Ingrid challenged, raising her manicured eyebrow. Roze opened her mouth, but without thinking, Colt beat her to responding.

“Actually, we’re dating.”

#colt choices #colt x mc #colt kaneko #fanfic #fic #fiction #fanfiction #playchoices #ride or die #choices #choices rod #artsy as fuck

[rosegardentwilight]

For the drabble challenge: 14 :)

I apologize that this took so long to do, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 

Prompt 14: Fire! Fire! Fire!

“Fire! Fire! Fire!”  Chat bounded across the kitchen through the thick smoke. How did everything go so wrong? Tom had offered to help him make some chocolate croissants from Ladybug, but from the start, everything had failed miserably. At a certain point, Tom was doing most of the work. He must have done something wrong from the transition to put the dough into the oven. How could Ladybug fall for him, if he couldn’t do something as simple as following directions?

“What happened?” Tom demanded after the small flame extinguished.

Chat’s ears drooped. Tom had boasted that the Dupain-Cheng bakery hadn’t experienced a fire in years. The fact that he broke that record when Marinette was upstairs made his heart race. Not that he couldn’t have rescued her, but the guilt would have weighed on him for years.

Thankfully, the fire was quickly contained with no damage done. He should never have been left alone with his bad luck; It’s not like Chat had any baking experience.

“It’s ok,” Tom’s reassurance tipped him out of his gloom. “It could have happened to anyone. We still have some dough; we can try again.”

Chat sunk on his stool and released a sigh. “This whole thing is pointless; I don’t know what I was thinking.” He had been foolish to think Ladybug would fall for him over a croissant; he deserved whatever came to him.

“If you love Ladybug as much as you say you do, nothing is pointless.”

Chat winced again. He couldn’t help who he loved, but judging by how M. Dupain-Cheng acted, he wished a relationship would have bloomed with his daughter.

Not that Marinette wasn’t his type, she was strong, independent, hardworking, kind—but his heart was lost for the last year over his lady. If Ladybug hadn’t free fallen into his life, Marinette would be a serious contender. He had meant his words when he said she was an everyday Ladybug.

“I’m sorry I caused so much trouble,” Chat apologized not sure if he was referring to breaking Marinette’s heart or the fire anymore.

“I had just hoped”— Tom’s voice faded softly. “Marinette liked this boy, but by her behavior, he is too blind to see it.”

“Marinette likes someone?” Heat rose to his cheeks springing color. For once he was thankful for the mask, he had no reason to blush at that news. Marinette was free to like whomever she fancied, but he couldn’t believe he didn’t pick up on any hints with all the time they spent together. He picked up a glass of water and began to drink.

“When I saw you two on the balcony and heard Marinette confess her feelings, I was so proud. She was moving on from her crush to be happy. As much as Adrien is a nice kid, that model can live in a world of his own.”

Chat’s drink was interrupted by a coughing fit.

Marinette liked him?

His mind began to race, his mouth losing control over what was said. “You mean Adrien, as in Adrien Agreste.” He could barely process the news. “She can’t like him—they’re just friends.”

“Well he might think so, but my daughter is head over heels for him. All the pictures on her wall are proof”-

“I just thought she liked fashion.” That’s what she had told him. She was a fan—Chat could feel his mind turn to mush; if this was the truth then-

“She does love fashion, but I’ve seen her drool over his picture on more than one occasion.”

Overwhelmed described him perfectly. The information that Marinette had feelings for him didn’t change the fact that he only loved one girl- but how was he supposed to face her now? He knew her secret. “I had no idea,” he replied mostly to himself.

“No idea about what?” Marinette’s voice lit up the room with its airiness causing Chat’s eyes to jump to the doorway.

He felt his mouth run dry as he saw Marinette’s hair down just grazing her shoulders. She wasn’t in her regular clothes he usually saw her in. Instead, she wore some black leggings and a red tank top. He allowed his eyes to wander over her form once over before scolding himself.

I love Ladybug.

Somehow the statement was less confident in his mind. Nevertheless, Marinette closed the gap wandering into the kitchen, and the longer he made her wait for an answer, the higher her eyebrow arched.

“I had no idea how hard baking was, you and your family are a real talent for Paris.” Although not the topic from earlier, the statement was true. He would be totally lost without M. Dupain-Cheng.

“I can see that,” Marinette shot back amusingly holding up a burnt-to-a-crisp croissant. “I don’t suppose these are for someone special?”

For a split second, he saw it; a face that Ladybug was prone to make as she teased him. Adrien thought he imagined everything because the smirk disappeared as fast as it came.

“You wound me; those are my badges of shame.” The timer for the oven beeped, and he rushed over to retrieve the second batch. Chat realized that Tom had slipped out of the kitchen to leave him with Marinette once he placed the cookie sheet on the counter. To comment on the fact would bring more attention and awkwardness than he cared to endure.

“So can I have one?” Marinette asked peeking over the superhero’s shoulder before reaching for one of the chocolate treats.

Chat swatted her hand away playfully. “No, they’re for Ladybug.”

“But surely you need to test them? They are going to the love of your life after all.”

He swore she was trying to fluster him, and he deserved anything she threw at him. Announcing his love for Ladybug only gave Marinette more tease-worthy information. If he were honest, seeing this side of Marinette was refreshing. The banter only spurred him further, but in the end, Marinette stuck a piece of croissant in her mouth, her features mirroring the delight of fresh buttery flakes melting on her tongue.

“So?” He asked eyes intently locked on Marinette. If he were to lose this war to her, the least she could do was provide feedback.

“They’re a good start, Chaton.” That nickname.  It was what Ladybug called him. “I think you’ll need more than fluffy pastries to win her over.” With little room to question why she used that name, instead, what was said.

“Like what?” Chat tilted his head to the side.

Marinette’s lips split into a grin. “For every 30 macaroons you help me make, I’ll reveal one thing about wooing the female population; Ladybug included.”

Chat’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “If you wanted me around more, Princess, all you had to do was ask.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the comment, “anymore comments like that, and you’ll get no girl advice from me.”

Chat quickly fell into line, doing exactly what she said. He did catch a smile playing her lips as time began to ease by. Baking with Marinette was fun, talking with her made the time go by faster. He had suspicions that she allowed the icing bag to burst—mostly all over him. But the laugh that he got in return made the disaster worth the cleanup. Things were going back to normal, and he liked seeing this side of her. While Ladybug would always own a piece of his heart, he couldn’t ignore the fact that wasting time with Marinette all afternoon left him in this high. He was lucky to have her in his life—in and out of the mask.

“Tom,” Sabine’s voice made him freeze in his observation spot. “What are you doing?”

He stepped away shooting her with him not to draw attention from the teens in the kitchen.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly and a pair of laughs lingered out of the kitchen.

Sabine placed her hands on her hips. “Are you meddling again?”

Not directly, his mind answered for him. Chat had to come to learn how to bake, which he had. Any extra time he spent seeing how wonderful Marinette was only a bonus.

“I just can’t bring myself to believe that boy has no romantic feelings towards My little girl. You should have seen the way they were interacting; there’s hope yet.”

“Tom, we talked about this. They are just friends, and you need to respect that.”

“We started as friends, and look where that got us,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively earning himself an eye roll.

“That’s different.”

“I just want our girl to be happy, and if Chat Noir can keep her that way, then I see no harm entertaining the idea that something could bloom between them.”

Sabine sighed giving into her husband’s antics.

“Alright, our bet is back on,” she made a few notes on nearby paper. “But I’ll have you know; the odds are stacked in favor of Marinette ending up with Adrien.”

“I don’t mind being the underdog.” Tom’s gaze wandered back to the kitchen watching the banter unfold in front of his eyes. “That boy will become part of our family if I have anything to say about it.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #marichat #Chat Noir and Marinette #drabbles #rosegardentwilight #miraculous fanfiction

[destinywillowleaf]

Part 3 of 3 for @greentrickster 's Lifeswap AU doodles! Featuring approximately 13 designs an explanations for most of them! This is gonna get long, so I hope this read more works.

1) Simple suit

You gotta start somewhere simple, and where better tht just a suit? I honestly don't know that much about suit design but I still tries based on a few references and some notes from vvvvvvyeah on the suit design throughout he series. Also how does one draw an attorney's badge because I have _no_ idea.

2) Closer to home

This is much closer to one of Nahyuta's concept designs (as in, it's nearly the same to he far left one on the third page of concepts on the wiki) because hey, it's easy to pull from what already exists to make something new. The main difference is the coat being longer and a lack of earrings (which I'm keeping consistent, IDK if he should have pierced ears)

3) Vest Boy

From that one weird design whee Nahyuta had an orange vest and and suit. He reminds me of Apollo. Also, hair's down! The pic between 1 and 2 is a rough reference for the length(ending like right around his hips). Also an excuse for posing because I know I need the practice.

4) Jacket and Clasp Under

Honestly my favorite design? Like I could probably change the shirt around some more to be more in line with American/Japanifornian fashion but stilllll

Maybe this is what he wears post-SoJ or something. I don't want to completely toss this design aside.

5) Casual Clothing

This is a two for one deal and the only reference was from a piece of clothing that I own that's like a hoodie sweater but extra dramatic in the back (more material). Still messing with hair styles. Let is basically just putting him u to stuff I own, right is a simple t-shirt over turtleneck. Maybe he's gonna import Plumed Punisher shirts.

6) Peak Lapel

Hey look, something I know the name of! It's very similar to design 1, with peak lapels and more braided hair. There's a few little pieces that still get out, but there's nothing deliberately in front. Probably a case of "I'm having a lot of feelings and anything loose will reveal that".

7) Concept Again

Again taken near directly from concept art. Probably gonna be used with Apollo more than Nahyuta, but I figured I could still doodle it real quick.

8) Apollo style

NOW he really looks like Apollo. Just in a vest and the undershirt with a tie o tie it all together. Probably not gonna go with it but at least now I kinda know how he'd look i his bro's clothes.

9) Causal, mk 2

Well, and some beads too. I don't know what the name of the type of shirt he's wearing(some sort of long sleeve sweater polo) but dang it he looks good in it. And the first appearance of the beads in this sheet, too. I think they might just be wrapped around his right arm under his sleeve most of the time so they're out of sight, but also it was another "pose practice" thing.

10) 6 Again?!

Yeah yeah, it's basically 6 again, but that's cause I figured that'd make sense for him to go around wearing in court. Also I made it bigger. Might just use hem as separate color testing spots to see what looks nice. Also he's not as stressed cause his hair's down.

11) Short Edition

Shortened up the coat a bit and went shoulder braid. Nothing super ridiculous here, honestly it looks pretty casual even though it's not.

12) Dhurke's Coat

Feels time.

He's got Dhurke's jacket a it feels weird to him, wearing it after all his time, but he's got it nonetheless. It's the right size for him, too, since he's the same height as his dad. Maybe this is another post-SoJ look.

13) I don't even know

He looks ten but he's not. He's completely off model but it's like a larger custom version of Dhurke's jacket. Also beads in the neck for once because that's an important part of his design.

And then off to the left we have some quality Trucy ad Nahyuta bonding time. Since Nahyuta doesn't have the perceive powers, he and Trucy and much more of an investgative tag team. She's his assistant that states as you and will sometimes speak up out of nowhere to call you out on lying to he court. They're such a cute tram though, especially because Nahyuta is like a foot taller than her, so sometimes it's easier to just carry her around.

Oh, and the badass boast pose cause I want him to have a moment where Ga'rab wants to know who this person thinks he is so she asks and he just [insert epic reveal here] at her ya feel

Uh... Last thing for now, I feel like tht even if Nahyuta can't channel spirits, he can sort of feel when they're around or (more relevantly) when someone's being channeled. It's a back if the mind sort of thing unless he's right on top of them which makes investigations... interesting, to say the least. How long it is before he picks up on the fact that Dhurke is being channeled, I dunno.

Don't expect anything new for a bit, I have lots of Apollos to make. I have no idea how they're gonna turn out.

And thank you to Greentrickster for continuing to give me information to work with for this lovely AU!

#nah #ow my fingers #auta sahdmadhi #greentrickster #trucy wright #is here too i guess #i spent the time typing this listening to cake decorating videos causevte music is pretty good #and then i got sidetracked with pokemon #i do love te potential Nahyuta-Trucy dynamic #also my phone despite the fact that I've only had it for like a day and a half alreay knows to go to Nahyuta if i type so that's fun

[kirigaya-art]

Round Robin Ch 5

SIMON

I bite my lip, glancing around the room as I tug on the collar of my jumper-- no. Of Baz's jumper. I'm still wearing his bloody jumper, feeling like the biggest knobhead in the world. Honestly, Baz was right. What kind of mage can't even hold their wand the right way round?

At least now that classes are over for the day and I'm back in my own room, I can grab some fresh clothes that aren't singed, including the jumper I didn't put on this morning. The only problem is I'm still not sure what to do with Baz's.

He said it was okay if I just put it on his bed, right? I wanted to come during lunch, but time got away from me, and Penny was rushing me to our next class together before I could even think about returning the jumper. I ended up wearing it all day.

It was kind of distracting. The smell, I mean. It reminded me of when he and I were curled up so close to each other, after I spelled the room cold… like he was laying on top of me all day, drenching me in his rich earthy smell. Like his arms were still wrapped around me. Like I could still hear his teeth chattering, feel him burrowing his face into my hair. I nearly fell asleep like that in class, resting my head on my arms and breathing in the scent.

But now I'm done with the jumper, and I'm not sure what to do. Just throwing it on his bed seems like something that would actually make him angrier. He'd probably throw a fit over how I'd let it wrinkle, or how I hadn't put it on just the right part of his bed, or any other excuse to start a row with me. (Some days I think he likes fighting with me.) It's enough to make me hesitant and paranoid, and I'm scared to even slip the jumper off until I know where to put it. He usually doesn't come back to our room for a few hours, so I can't ask him either...

"If I were Baz, where would I put my jumpers?" I mumble to myself, lifting a hand to my chin (and subsequently slapping myself with the extra-long sleeve).

I throw open his wardrobe first, squinting around. It looks like he has mostly blazers and shirts in here, but not jumpers. He must not hang them up, which means they're folded in a drawer somewhere. That makes this hunt a little more difficult.

Kneeling between our beds, I pull open the first drawer on his bedside table. I'm surprised to see how neat it is, used to my own drawer full of gum wrappers, crisp packets, and other assorted necessities. His is tidy, with a few things in perfect little rows: a wand case, a small container for hair clips, and a couple of pens in different colors.

Satisfied there are no jumpers, I close the drawer and move on to the next one. This one seems to be designated for school things. There are folders, stacks of paper, and textbooks. I rummage for a bit, checking to make sure there's nothing underneath it all.

I open the third drawer, hoping I won't have to look through the many others in the room. This one is a little less neat than the others, filled with loose sheets of paper and what look like art supplies. Charcoal pencils sit in little tins, and a metal box labelled watercolours is sat on top of some. I suppose Baz is an artist, then. I rummage about, grabbing his artworks to look. It’s mostly unfinished sketches-- I recognise his younger sister from the background of his mobile. (He’s still got it, even though the Mage instated a new rule this year saying we couldn’t have them on campus.) There’s a few coloured drawings, too-- a closeup of a blue eye, a profile shot of someone with just the dirty blonde hair detailed, a study of a mouth with lips bitten pink. He’s not bad, actually.

And then I see it. A hard corner, poking out below the drawings. I push the sheets aside and reveal the true secret of this drawer: a notebook with little hearts and flowers outlined on the cover. The largest heart is in the middle, and written inside it is From NP. His girlfriend, I assume, though I can't seem to remember any girls at Watford with those initials. (A Normal, maybe?) (How scandalous for a Pitch.)

I sit back, peering at the book in my hands. Surely it's filled with romantic poems, or sappy love songs, or otherwise vile expressions of passion, from both him and the unlucky lady. Prime blackmail material.

I try to open the book, eager to see what's written inside, but it won’t budge. It must be spelled shut.

“Open sesame,” I hiss. The book springs open in my hands, and I lean back against Baz’s bed, admittedly proud of my spellwork.

The first page has a date written at the very top, one that's not exactly recent. I have to do some mental math to recognize it as just before our first day of classes at Watford. Intrigued, I start reading.

Being back at Watford is not nearly as cathartic as I had hoped it would be.

I frown. Is cathartic a good thing or a bad thing?

I wish you were here.

'You'? Does that mean the girlfriend?

I miss you. And I don't know if I can stand being here without you. I feel like I'm the only sane person here. You wouldn't believe who the Crucible just paired me with.

So this is from the day when Baz and I became roommates. But who was he writing to? Maybe it was a Normal girlfriend after all-- a tragic story of lovers who couldn't see each other because she wasn't allowed at Watford. I'm just surprised he was dating so early. And if he still has the book, does that mean he still loves her?

I continue.

Simon Snow is the most beautiful idiot I have ever met.

I think that's actually the nicest thing he's ever said about me.

And the Mage is insufferable.

I pout. What does he get out of complaining about the Mage so much? And what girlfriend would want to read his rants?

I skip to a later page.

Today, Snow forgot how to spell demolish when writing me what was supposed to be a threatening note. I couldn't stop laughing.

Flushing, I turn to another section.

Snow fell right on his face when--

Skip.

I can't believe Snow actually--

Skip.

And when Snow was--

Skip.

He was gorgeous.

I freeze, stopping to reread the sentence. Surely that doesn't say what I think it does?

Snow cried last night. He was gorgeous. How does he do that? Even when he’s yelling and sobbing, he still looks like a bloody model. I can't stand it.

I swallow hard, glancing at the top of the page. It's from a few days ago-- the day after the chimera.

It's like he's trying to make me soft. How could I not comfort him? I think I would have died if I'd had to see him so upset any longer.

I know he already told me he comforted me that night. He admitted it when we were stuck in here. But it feels different, reading his perspective directly.

I hate seeing him upset. But I'm usually the reason he's upset. It's all a damn self-destructive cycle that makes me want to

and then there's something frantically scratched out, standing out from his neat handwriting. I wonder what it said, but I'm also not sure I want to know.

I'm in too fucking deep to stop now. But for just one night, I wanted to be there for him, as backwards and asinine as that is. I wanted him to

More scratched out writing.

I just wanted to

Scribbles of ink again.

I hate that I know exactly what he looks like when he cries.

The rest of the page is blank, but that sentence doesn't feel like a proper ending.

He doesn't like seeing me upset? He wants to comfort me all the time? He hates seeing me cry? It doesn't sound like Baz. And I'm getting the feeling this isn't meant for a girlfriend.

I go back a few pages, scanning for something, anything, that might explain all of this. Why he can’t go a paragraph without mentioning my name. Why he’d make me cry when he doesn’t really want to. Why he goes from attacking me to comforting me to pushing me down the stairs to holding me as I fall asleep.

I’m so in love. And I hate it.

In love?

I would do anything if it meant I didn’t have to be in love with

“Snow.”

My head jerks up, and I meet Baz’s gaze.

“What in the World of Mages do you think you’re doing?” He asks. His eyes are cold grey, like impenetrable steel.

“I… uh…” Well, I’m reading his diary, aren’t I?

He stalks towards me, and I can see him starting to lose his grip. His expression is slipping out of its calm disinterest into something dangerous.

“Give that back,” he growls. “It’s not yours.”

For some reason, I hold it tight, like I have a reason to protect it.

“Don’t test me, Snow.” But he doesn’t look like he’s going to bite my head off. His face is all red, but it’s blotchy, and his eyes are shining. I think he’s going to cry. “Just-- just give me the damn book.”

“You love someone?” I ask, like an idiot.

His hand shakes as he grabs the book, trying to tug it out of my grip. “That’s none of your business.”

“Who’s N. P.?” I insist. “Your Normal girlfriend? Is that why you can’t see her?”

He takes a deep breath, expression shifting a few times. I think he’s trying to calm himself down. “N. P. for…” He shakes his head. “For Natasha Pitch.”

My stomach drops to the floor, and my grip on the book loosens enough that he’s able to snatch it away. He clutches it to his stomach like it’s made of glass.

“She was going to give it to me when I started school,” he mumbles. “To celebrate, and so she could be with me all the time, even when she was busy.” He won’t meet my eyes. “Obviously she… she’ll never really read it. But I write to her.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I mean it.

He glares at me with a passion I’ve never seen before. “How much did you read?”

“Not much,” I lie. “The first entry.”

“You asked me if I was in love,” he reminds me. “How much did you read?”

I swallow. “I… didn’t see who.”

He grits his teeth, pulling his wand from his sleeve. He casts a spell I don’t hear, and the book glows for a moment. He shoves it under the artworks and slams the drawer shut. The sound echoes in my mind for a few seconds.

“Give me my damn jumper,” he hisses, and my face flushes as I remember the point of this escapade. I pull it over my head and toss it to him. He throws it onto his bed, still crumpled into a ball, and grunts, “I’m going to take a shower.” I think it’s because of the tears threatening to spill, but I just nod.

He disappears into the restroom with a change of clothes, and I’m left leaning against his bed.

I didn’t see who he’s in love with, that’s true. But my mind is swimming with everything I did see. What he said about wanting to make me happy. How I made him regret everything he did to me. How his causing my misery was a “self-destructive cycle.” And really, there’s only so much that could mean.

I glance to the door of the restroom. I can hear the water start to run.

Carefully, I pull open the drawer again. I pick up the notebook and try again, keeping my voice low. “Open sesame.” It pops open in my hands, and I gently turn. the pages to find my place.

I would do anything if it meant I didn’t have to be in love with Simon Snow.

I’m frozen in place for a moment, gears turning.

I close the book, too panicked to think of a spell to lock it, and shove it into the drawer, closing it quietly. I’m scared he’ll hear how loud my heart is pounding in my ears.

I stand, find one of my own jumpers in my wardrobe, and slip out of the room. I need some time to think.

#kiri writes #fanfiction #carry on #round robin #snooping #secret crush #diary #reading diary #simon snow #baz pitch #tw death mention #angst #snowbaz

[lalunaunita]

Lovesong - an Adrinette AU

I participated in the Left to Write Summer Santa fic exchange this year, and this is my work for @hari-writes. You can find it here and there’s an accompanying Spotify playlist (SFW) here.

Rating: General

Summary: In this AU, Gabriel Agreste becomes reclusive after his wife’s disappearance, but does not seek out the Miraculous or become Hawkmoth. Adrien Agreste finds himself bouncing around a silent mansion with fewer and fewer opportunities to leave. He channels his emotions and frustrations into music, sharing the tracks online under an alias. His biggest fan is a listener named SewSweets, who in real life is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. As time passes and Adrien’s song collection grows, Marinette’s feelings for the mysterious composer do as well. But  will she ever find a way to meet him?

Adrien looked dubiously at the gray coating the sky outside his window. A few fat raindrops pitter-pattered on the glass and confirmed his suspicions. The outdoor photoshoot schedule for the afternoon would be canceled. He grimaced. He'd really been looking forward to getting out of the mansion, even if was only for work. He flopped down onto his couch and sighed. The only thing left on his list for today was piano practice. He eyed the piano over the edge of the couch. Nathalie had left a new sonata on the piano bench; he was supposed to start working on it today and share progress with his dad tonight.

Might as well get started, he thought, but he didn't move. Instead, he grabbed his cell phone from the coffee table in front of the couch and tapped a quick text.

How's school?

A reply pinged back almost immediately. Ugh, boring. You better get over here. Did you enroll yet?

Adrien didn't bother to type an answer. He and Chloe both knew it was wishful thinking. Dredging up a sigh from the bottom of his soul, Adrien got to his feet and slouched over to the piano. He swiped the sheet music off the bench, sat down, and turned on the narrow lamp above the music stand. He studied the paper in front of him for a few minutes, then settled it above the keyboard and got started.

He had to admit that playing piano was something he enjoyed. Adrien let himself get caught up in the complexity of the piece, until one particularly difficult spot caused him to play the wrong chord. Wait, was that the wrong chord? he asked himself. He tracked back to the spot and played it again. Oh, yeah, technically it was. But his chord hadn't sounded sour or out of place. In fact, it was unusually pretty.

He played the chord again as an arpeggio, drawing each note out in succession until they gave him goosebumps. Wow. He took two of the notes down low with his left hand, and played a made-up melody with his right. Adrien glanced at the sheet music and bit his lip. He should be practicing the piece, but he didn't want to forget his chord. In fact, the whole melody wasn't bad, especially as his left hand set a gentle rhythm. He played it, over and over. It felt like it was building to something. He switched chords and felt a sensation akin to a slap in the face. Ouch, no. That was definitely not right. He pressed two or three more chords down, feeling his way into the music, and smiled when the sound reached his ears. That was more like it!

The rest of impromptu piece flowed easily. It wasn't classical, obviously; his dad would frown on it. It wasn't a blaring pop song from a modeling gig either. Realization hit him: the song was his. He'd created this song. Excitement electrified his arms, making his fingers nearly nerveless. Should he... should he share it with Father? No. Chloe, maybe? No, not yet.

He played it through again—there were some subtle changes as he felt his way through the piece, but he genuinely liked it. Adrien pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the voice recorder app. The quality would probably suck, but at least he wouldn't forget his own song. He played it through into the app twice and saved the file.

Nathalie poked her head in the door just as he was locking his phone screen.

"It's sounding good, Adrien," she complimented.

Adrien smiled nervously. Nathalie wouldn't know J.S. Bach from a pounding jackhammer; she always said he sounded good.

"Thanks, Nathalie. Hey, I had an idea. Sometimes I record myself to check tempo and stuff like that—it helps me improve. Do you think I could get a microphone? Or maybe even an electric keyboard? Those play directly into digital files you can put on the computer. Not to replace the real piano or anything—I know Father insists on the grand piano. It would help a lot, though. Please?" Adrien lifted his eyebrows in his most subtle version of puppy dog eyes.

Nathalie might not know music, but she knew manipulation. He kept the pleading look on his face to an absolute minimum as her lips thinned in thought. Stay polite, keep eye contact, he counseled himself as he held his breath.

"I'll ask your father. Finish up what you're doing; dinner is in half an hour," Nathalie replied.

Adrien let out a huge sigh around a smile as his door closed softly behind her. Yes!

---

Marinette groaned and threw herself backward in her office chair, toes trailing as it rolled across her bedroom floor.

“What’s bugging you?” Alya asked, glancing up from her perch on the chaise lounge.

“I can’t find anything good to listen to while I sew. This is supposed to be our work-on-projects day, and you’re all set with your laptop and earbuds and a million ideas to research, but I’ve run out of music,” complained Marinette.

Alya smiled and shook her head. “It’s not that big of a deal. We can find you something. Did you sign up for BirdieMuse like Nino suggested? He said a lot of independent musicians are uploading music there. It’s getting popular.”

“Oh, I did! I forgot about that.” Marinette rolled back over to her desk and clicked her mouse.

The music sharing app loaded up and colorful album covers paraded across her computer screen. Several artists had simple profile pictures in place of professional photographs; Marinette assumed those must be more amateur artists.

“I don’t even know what I like today. My brain is being difficult,” Marinette muttered as Alya came over to stare at the screen with her.

“Try an alphabetical listing. Can’t hurt.” Alya shrugged.

Marinette scrolled back and forth, looking for a name that sounded interesting. The word Fashion caught her eye in the listing for F and she stopped to take a closer look. FashionForte, located in Paris, France, had submitted five tracks in the past month. Well, if this person liked fashion and design as much as Marinette did, then the music would be good, right? The profile picture featured a black cat with green eyes. She decided to chance it.

A sweetly somber piano tune swelled as Marinette adjusted her speakers, filling her room with sound. The girls looked at each other, eyes widening.

“Wow,” they said in unison.

The melody sent a little thrill through Marinette.

“Seriously good call,” she said as Alya returned to the chaise. The pair put FashionForte’s tracks on a loop and settled down to work.

Alya left around dinnertime, leaving Marinette alone in her room. She finally turned off the mellow piano music she'd let play all afternoon. Curious, she clicked on FashionForte's profile. Other than the picture of the black cat and the location of Paris, France, there weren't many details. The Artist Summary read: Just a guy who likes music. Each song had a space next to the title entry for artist notes, but they were all empty. Oooookay, thought Marinette. Her cursor hovered over the Comment box for the page. Why not? She clicked it and started typing.

Hi FF! I'm SewSweets and I live in Paris, too. I love your songs—they inspired me today as I was working. I hope you'll post more! Have a great day.

Satisfied, Marinette sent the message. She remembered to subscribe to FashionForte at the last second, then closed the app and headed downstairs to eat with her parents.

The next morning was Sunday and Marinette relished the chance to sleep in. She finally opened her eyes when soft sunshine filtered down through her skylight. Weightless dust motes danced through beams of light as Marinette laid under her comforter. She groggily counted up things she wanted to do with her day. With a yawn and a stretch, she pulled herself upright and knuckled sleep out of her eyes.

Once she was down the stairs of her loft, Marinette sat down at her desk and wiggled her mouse. An icon in the corner of her screen caught her attention. An update from BirdieMuse? She opened it and found that FashionForte had uploaded a new song. For the first time, the notes section had an entry.

"This is the first song I wrote. I've been working on it for a while and it's finally ready to share. Hope you like it."

The note didn't mention Marinette personally, but somehow she felt like the recipient. She clicked the track title: In the Rain. From the opening chords to the build of the melody, Marinette found herself lost in a swirl of emotions as the short track played. It didn't sound so much like rain coming down as it did the quiet drops that fell from the eaves outside her window. She closed her eyes against the sun streaming in, letting a gentle melancholy settle over her as the song evoked memories of gray days. An image rose in her mind of long fingers pressing piano keys as a rainstorm raged outside. The face of the person in her mind was just a blur, but she could see the confident hands that created a beautiful melody. The piece concluded and Marinette opened her eyes.

She went back to the comment she’d left for FashionForte. Her single statement from yesterday sat there with no response. Nonetheless, she typed one in the new song’s comment box.

In the Rain is beautiful. I like it the best out of all your songs. It's the first one you wrote? You are very talented. Hope you have a nice Sunday.

Marinette backed out to FashionForte’s artist page and played the six tracks on repeat as she got dressed. She grinned. It felt like she’d added a new gem to her collection.

---

Adrien thumbed open the notification from BirdieMuse on his phone. SewSweets had left another comment. Well, he had one fan at least. Probably a retired matron with a candy habit that enjoyed quilting. Nonetheless, now that he’d started writing, he didn’t plan to stop. Nathalie had really come through. Adrien had a keyboard that recorded directly to his computer and a great pair of headphones, so no one in the house could even hear him playing wrong notes and trying out chords. He was keeping up his classical practice too, so he’d probably doubled the amount of time he played piano over the last month.

His dad would almost certainly frown on Adrien writing and sharing music. Adrien had deliberately kept his profile vague so it couldn’t be traced back to him. Even if Nathalie or Chloe or someone he knew came across the BirdieMuse account, which was unlikely, they’d never have a clue. And ultimately, the extra practice was paying off. Adrien could see the tiny approving twitch of a smile on Father’s face when he came in to hear Adrien’s musical progress every week. Now, if only music could solve all his other problems…

Adrien had made a couple of attempts to go to Chloe’s school, but he hadn’t yet made it to the door. Nathalie and the Gorilla were always hot on his trail in his father’s gray sedan, waiting for him at the steps of Francois Dupont. He had no choice but to turn back to the mansion or make a scene, and he definitely wasn’t going to embarrass his father by making a scene on a school sidewalk. He stopped texting Chloe about enrolling after Nathalie and the Gorilla foiled the second attempt. It wasn’t fair to get Chloe’s hopes up. If he accomplished sneaking into Francois Dupont, it would have to be a surprise.

Adrien sighed and sat up. He was perched on the stairs outside the front door of the mansion, taking in the nice weather while doing homework. He wiggled his feet in his sneakers and tapped his soles against the marble. The part of Paris he could see outside the mansion gates was quiet on a Sunday morning. He slapped his textbook closed and tucked his pencil behind his ear, grinning. He couldn't deny it. SewSweets' kind words made him want to get back to the piano. He looked at the comment one more time, then headed up to his room.

---

A month after discovering FashionForte, Marinette was still hooked on his music. He'd changed his profile picture—a single eye, peridot with darker flecks of emerald at the edges of the iris. He'd built a small following too, but never replied to any of the comments. He seemed content just to drop beauty on them every other week. Marinette left a comment on every single song, except for one entitled "Chloe". She tried not to let her nemesis make her biased against the song, she really did. But the tune was as irritating and bossy as the Chloe she knew—full of pecky, short notes. Marinette eventually dropped it from her playlist altogether.

She worked on projects as she listened and daydreamed about the composer. Maybe he was... only about eighteen or so, like, older than her—but not too much older. Maybe he had a beard! Mmm, no, she wasn't ready for a beard. Maybe he had black hair like the cat in his old picture. Marinette knew it was silly, but she couldn't deny she wanted to know more about FashionForte. She worried she was wasting daydreams on a forty-something recluse, stuck up in a tower in a ritzy part of Paris. Nah. The songs felt younger than that. She thought they did, anyway.

Marinette's phone rang and she leaned over to see Alya's face on the caller ID. She swiped the video call open.

"So, how is the hat going?" asked Alya.

"I'm almost done, but I forgot to grab a feather for the brim! I have a little bit of embroidery to finish up for the hat band and then I guess I'll head back to the Trocadero—there were lots of pigeons there earlier." Marinette let her tongue slip to one side of her mouth as she concentrated.

Alya shook her head on the phone screen, curls bouncing. "I'll get the feather. I want to meet you at the school and watch you win this competition. It'll be great for the school blog. And you're about to meet your fashion icon! I'm going to get pictures of you melting into a puddle."

Marinette frowned, but both girls dissolved into giggles.

"I'll do my best to keep it together. I really don't want to embarrass myself, Alya." Anxiety rose up in Marinette's chest and she shook her cramped hands out.

"Chill, girl, you won't. You know I was kidding. And I'll be right next to you the whole time. You're going to do awesome," Alya replied confidently.

Marinette felt some of her tightness ease as she looked at the honest belief on her best friend's face. "Thanks, Alya."

"No problem. I'll see you in half an hour, and I'll bring the feather." Alya broke the connection and Marinette bent her head to get a closer look at the hat band.

Half an hour later, Marinette raced down from her room, tossed a goodbye to her parents, and crossed the street to her school. She was nervous about participating in Gabriel Agreste's derby hat competition, but her feather-based design really was good and she was proud of the work she'd put in. Mr. Agreste had a son around Marinette's age who would wear the winning hat, so he'd likely be there too. Chloe was gaga over the boy, always telling everyone that she was friends with him, but no one had ever seen them hang out. Marinette rolled her eyes. Adrien Agreste looked nice enough in the magazine photos she'd seen of him, but Marinette knew looks could be deceiving. If he was anything like Chloe, he’d be a bratty, entitled nightmare.

She rushed into the open doors and saw Alya waiting, feather in hand. Marinette skidded to a stop in the courtyard.

"Where have you been?" Alya hissed. "They're about to start."

Marinette took the feather and tucked it in. "You got the perfect one. Let's go!"

The girls crossed to the center of the courtyard where several podiums had been erected. She set her hat down delicately on the last open podium, then looked at the competition. There were several good designs, but Alya elbowed her sharply and pointed. Marinette hissed in anger. Chloe and Sabrina stood next to a very familiar-looking derby hat, smug smiles on their faces.

"She stole my design!" whispered Marinette.

Alya's eyes were wide as she nodded. Marinette mulled over whether to say anything or simply wait. Chloe didn't know it, but she was too clever for her own good. Marinette could easily prove ownership, and she didn’t even need to go get her sketchbook to do it. Better to wait until the judging was complete, she decided. If she said anything now, it might disqualify them both or bias Mr. Agreste’s judging. Speaking of, where was he?

Marinette turned away from her cheating competition and looked around. A tall woman with a red streak in her dark hair stood next to Mr. Damocles, primly clutching a tablet. Next to her stood the famous Adrien Agreste. He was tan and good-looking, but didn't seem inclined to smile. He's probably too good for us, thought Marinette, eyeing him up and down.

"Where is Mr. Agreste?" Mr. Damocles asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

Adrien shifted his feet uncomfortably as the woman held up her tablet. Gabriel Agreste's face appeared on the screen, looking perfectly coiffed.

"I’m here," he replied.

Marinette and Alya exchanged glances. He was only looking at the hats through a camera? He wasn’t at the school himself? Crestfallen, Marinette sighed. So much for meeting her fashion hero in person.

"Nathalie, please take me to the hats. I would like to see them from every angle," Gabriel Agreste intoned from the tablet.

"Yes, sir," said Nathalie.

Adrien followed them, rubbing his elbow. Marinette watched as he waved at Chloe, who wiggled her fingers with a saccharine smile on her face. Marinette hoped Adrien didn't get a say in which hat was chosen. Apparently he was friends with Chloe, and Marinette knew she'd use every advantage she could.

They walked around three hats before coming to Marinette’s podium. She had to stifle a smile at Alya’s antsy fidgeting. Marinette could feel her own heart beating a mile a minute, but she tried to keep the emotion off of her face. It was time to act professional.

Nathalie stopped, holding the tablet so that Mr. Agreste was eye level with Marinette’s hat.

“And this is, uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Damocles said, peering down at a note card in his hand.

“Hello, Marinette,” Nathalie and Mr. Agreste said in unison.

“Hello,” said Adrien, holding out one hand with a shy smile.

Marinette blinked. Adrien Agreste's green eyes were electrifying in person. And they seemed familiar, somehow. She must have seen him in more magazines than she'd realized. She shook his hand numbly, recovering from the disappointment of his father's absence.

“Hello,” she said back, managing little more than a whisper.

Alya stared hard at Marinette for a beat before holding her own hand out to shake. “Hi, I’m Alya Cesaire, reporter for the school blog. I’m here to write an article on the winning hat.”

Adrien let go of Marinette’s hand, politely reaching for Alya’s in turn. The spell was broken. Marinette shook her head a little to clear it.

“Tell us about your hat, Miss,” prompted Mr. Agreste.

Marinette picked up her hat with shaking hands, but spoke clearly. “Everything on my derby hat is handmade, from the embroidery, to the weaving of the band, to the stitching on the brim. All done by myself.”

She showed off the features of the hat with a little flourish, then set it back on the podium. Adrien, Mr. Damocles, and Nathalie walked away to the next hat.

“Nice job, Marinette,” Alya whispered, “but what are you going to do about Chloe?”

“Just wait,” Marinette replied, keeping her voice low.

“Is this a joke?” They heard Mr. Agreste ask as he viewed Chloe’s hat.

The tablet swung to Marinette and Alya, then back to Chloe and Sabrina. Chloe timed her waterworks perfectly.

“How could you, Marinette? You stole my design? It’s scandalous!” she wailed as Sabrina patted her arm. Mr. Agreste’s eyes took on a sympathetic cast as he watched the scene unfold.

Time to step in before this goes too far, Marinette thought. She came forward into the camera’s view.

“Mr. Agreste? I’m sorry about the situation, but I can prove that this derby hat is my original design,” she declared, holding her hat with care.

“Oh, really? Go ahead,” he replied.

“There’s a special design element that only the true designer knows about. I signed mine,” she said.

Marinette turned her hat upside down and displayed the gold embroidery in the light. It spelled out Marinette in neat cursive, fanciful enough to be mistaken for embellishment.

The group startled as Chloe’s podium fell over onto the floor. She ran off without another word, still sobbing. Sabrina stood like a deer in headlights until they turned their attention back to Marinette and her derby hat.

So dramatic, Marinette thought, rolling her eyes.

“You certainly have the laboring hands of a hat maker, Marinette,” Mr. Agreste said. “Congratulations. You win the contest.”

His lips scrunched in what Marinette imagined was meant to be a smile, and then the tablet went dark.

Marinette stared at it for a moment, unsure whether her ears had heard correctly. Alya’s whoop of delight brought her back to reality.

“Congratulations, Marinette!” she enthused.

“Congratulations!” Nathalie and Mr. Damocles echoed.

“Congratulations, Marinette. I had a feeling you would win,” Adrien said, coming closer.

“Oh, uh, you did? Wait, aren’t you friends with Chloe?” Marinette asked, puzzled.

Adrien let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, um we’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m sorry she tried to steal your design. So dramatic.”

Marinette smiled at his unconscious echo of her thoughts. Adrien Agreste was actually pretty nice. Too bad he wasn’t attending Francois Dupont like Chloe always insisted he would.

“So where do you go to school?” she asked curiously, but Nathalie stepped in before Adrien could answer.

“It’s time to leave. Miss Dupain-Cheng, we’ll send a courier to your home to pick up the hat in three days. Is that alright?” she asked.

Marinette could tell Nathalie was taking her ‘yes’ for granted. She didn’t even look up from her tablet.

“S-sure. Sounds great,” Marinette agreed, taken aback at the woman’s brisk manner.

They exchanged information. Nathalie swept Adrien out of the school so quickly that Marinette could almost believe the entire experience was a dream—until she saw Alya snapping photos of her derby hat. Marinette packed it up carefully in its hat box, inner elation making every movement a delight.

“I really won!” Marinette laughed to herself.

She thought she’d feel drained, but her mind came up with new project ideas all the way home from school. She grabbed her sketchbook and opened up Birdiemuse on her computer. Marinette navigated to her FashionForte playlist. She had a particular song in mind, an energetic anthem that always got her blood pumping. She typed a new comment on the track.

Today was a huge victory, FF, she began. I’m gonna play Bounce Out Of Here full blast and shake the walls! Thanks for always inspiring me.

Marinette grinned and sent the message, not caring whether FashionForte read it or not. The bubbly, fast paced tune she put on turned her empty bedroom into a victory celebration. She cranked the volume on her speakers and spun around and around in her chair, giggling like a little kid.

---

Adrien was on his final round of Mecha Strike 3 when his phone pinged. He recognized the sound—Birdiemuse had its own tone. He smiled as he fired at his opponent; it was probably SewSweets with something about his latest song. She never took long to listen and make a new comment. He was still smiling after reading her words about Bounce Out of Here. Adrien had gained a decent following in the past months, but SewSweets was definitely his biggest fan. She commented on everything with the exception of his song for Chloe. The absence of text revealed how she felt far more than a negative review, he thought sardonically. Finished with his game, he turned over his cell phone to check the messages.

The smile dropped from his face when he saw SewSweets’ newest comment. She’d gone back to one of his earliest tracks, entitled Solo. Adrien had written it just after his father cancelled a trip to the coast. The days of sun and time with his dad had been replaced with Adrien’s same old lonely view of Paris while his father worked day and night on next fall’s fashion line. Adrien’s disappointment had spilled across the keyboard with a sad, slow melody complemented by quiet minor chords for the left hand.

I think I really screwed up, FF. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to be all alone again. nm, goodnight.

Brow furrowed, Adrien read the comment three times. This was nothing like the ebullient SewSweets he’d gotten used to. She felt alone? He clicked on her profile and opened a direct message.

Hey, are you okay?

He left the dialogue open for a few seconds, not really expecting a response. Surprised, he noticed three dots illuminate the bottom of the screen. SewSweets was typing!

Hey, FF. Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I bothered you. Had a fight with my best friend. It’s no big deal, really.

Oh, Adrien replied. Well, I’m here if you want to talk.

The dialogue box stayed empty for a few moments.

Thanks. I didn’t know whether you even read my comments, came the hesitant reply.

Oh yeah, every single one! Honestly, I would have stopped composing months ago if you didn’t comment on everything, Adrien typed.

Wow, really? SewSweets replied.

I sort of started by accident, and I didn’t know if my songs were any good.

I’m no music critic, but I really like them. As I’ve said before, lol.

Adrien grinned, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Thank you again anyway! So, what was this fight about?

Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll call her tomorrow and work it out. Hey, how old are you?

14. How old are you?

That’s cool. I’m 13. How are you so good at piano at 14??

...lots of practice?

Okay, fair enough.

Adrien chatted with SewSweets for about half an hour, a half-smile tugging at his lips the whole time. He found out that she did, in fact, like sewing and wanted to design clothes. If only there were some way he could introduce her to his father! But that would never work out. He had no intention of telling SewSweets anything about himself that could reveal his identity. Making a new friend was awesome, though. In hindsight, he couldn’t remember why he decided not to respond to the comments on his page. Adrien yawned, ending on a happy sigh. It was late and he was tired.

---

Marinette harrumphed to herself and scrunched down into her movie theatre seat. She and Alya had quickly patched things up the day after their fight. They’d even made plans to go see an old movie on the big screen—one that starred Gabriel Agreste’s wife, Emilie. Unfortunately, now Alya had to babysit her sisters according to the text on Marinette’s phone. Marinette sighed. She hated going to the movies alone.

She looked around and realized she was going to be much more alone than she’d anticipated. There was exactly one other person in the theatre—someone down front, with blond hair.

The previews wouldn’t start for another ten minutes, so Marinette took out her phone to pass the time. She saw a new message from FashionForte and opened it eagerly.

Hope you have a great day! It read.

Marinette felt her heart warm. She tapped a response.

So far, so good. I’m at the movies, but my friend had to bail. It’ll be fun anyway. Her phone plinked as the message sent.

Down below, the blond shifted as a chime sounded quietly. Marinette tsked to herself.

They both needed to silence their phones, but they still had a few minutes. She couldn’t see his screen from her vantage point, but he was clearly typing.

Her phone chimed as a response from FF came in.

Nice! That sounds fun. I’m at the movies, too. Not something current, though. Old romance; I know that’s uncool, but I don’t care.

Marinette stifled a giggle. If only he knew. I’m sure you’re plenty cool, she teased. Friends hanging around your piano, just tripping over themselves to hear your latest composition.

She hit send, and heard the blond’s phone chime again a moment later. The person chuckled as they read the screen. Well, that was weird. Wait—FashionForte… was at an old movie? Texting her? Marinette’s suspicion grew as she watched the blond type, then heard her phone chime.

She opened the message.

Ha, whatever. I’m by myself, too. Needed to get out of the house.

The butterflies percolating in Marinette’s stomach plummeted. She stood up, just as the lights darkened. Crap! She had to know anyway. She stumbled down her row, thankful no one else was seated. Uncertain, she stopped at the row behind the blond and crept along, touching each seat she passed in the near dark.

The theatre’s corny “silence your phone, please” film was playing as she found the seat she wanted and leaned forward.

“Excuse me,” she hissed in a loud stage whisper.

The blond—close to her age, she noticed—looked up, startled.

“Are you—” she started, but he interrupted.

“Adrien Agreste. Yes, I am. Do you mind, though? I’m trying to watch this movie.” He turned back to the screen.

Marinette blinked, taken aback. It was Adrien! She felt her cheeks warm. How embarrassing. There was no way Gabriel Agreste’s son could be FashionForte.

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” she mumbled, sitting abruptly in the seat behind him.

Marinette tried to let go of her disappointment and bewilderment as the previews started. Adrien hadn’t recognized her in the dark, and to be fair, they’d only met once. It was possible he’d already forgotten about her. Oh, and clearly he was at the movie to watch his mother on screen, which explained his curt response. Marinette decided she shouldn’t take it personally.

She looked glumly at the preview reel for the theatre’s summer classics series. She’d been mistaken. But something sparked when she looked down at her typed but unsent message to FF. One eyebrow cocked, she hit send.

Adrien Agreste’s phone pinged instantaneously. Too excited to be embarrassed, she held her breath and leaned in as he lifted his phone. She could clearly see the notification that a message from SewSweets was unread.

Marinette fell back against her theatre seat, sucker punched. It was true! Adrien Agreste was FashionForte, a teen pianist and composer whose beautiful melodies accompanied her on her darkest and brightest days. That the heart of the artist was clothed in such a handsome facade was almost inconsequential. No, not inconsequential. It was the final nail in the coffin. She realized she’d been nursing a quiet crush on her new online friend, impeded only by his anonymity and the possibility he wasn’t who he said he was. Now the truth hit her like a wave of fuzzy soda bubbles all the way to her fingers and toes. Marinette took a deep breath, collecting herself.

She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, movie or no movie, when the screen went dark in front of them. She looked up, only to find the view had been blocked by a mountainous unit of a man. Alarm flared in her stomach and she shrank back into her padded seat. The man’s bushy brows were drawn low and his lips made a frowning half-circle of displeasure. Marinette could almost see smoke issuing from his nostrils.

“Oh,” Adrien muttered as he gazed up and up at the human tree trunk standing in front of them. “It’s you.”

He sighed with a bone-weariness that confused Marinette. Shouldn’t they be screaming in terror? Maybe fleeing? Instead, Adrien meekly put his phone away and stood.

Wordless, the man gestured for Adrien to precede him from the theatre. Adrien shuffled along with his head bowed. With one last, longing look at the movie screen, he was gone.

Marinette stayed rooted to her seat, mind awhirl with all that she’d discovered. She tried to watch the film, but she couldn’t concentrate on it at all. Shaking her head in disbelief, she left the theatre as well and ran straight to Alya’s apartment.

Alya answered frantic knocking to find a wild-eyed Marinette on the other side of the door. Her best friend rushed in and threw herself down on the couch, interrupting the game the twins were playing. Surprised, Alya shut the door and turned back toward the living room.

“Marinette! I thought you were at the theatre.”

Chest heaving, Marinette dramatically threw her arm over her face. “Alya, I met FashionForte at the movie!”

“Whaaa?! How do you know?” Alya rushed to sit beside her.

“We were messaging before the movie started. I saw his phone with my name on it. My username, I mean! 100% positive proof. And Alya,” her voice dropped to a screech-whisper, “it’s Adrien Agreste!!”

“Who’s Adrien Agreste?” Etta asked.

“Snack time! Let’s get you two set up in the kitchen,” Alya announced.

Two snacks and a modicum of privacy later, Alya and Marinette regrouped in the living room, heads close together.

“So FashionForte is definitely Adrien Agreste? Wow, he’s one talented guy. I wonder what else he can do.” Alya had her phone out in moments.

The pair read an interview and bio that listed modeling, fencing, and piano as his main activities, as well as Chinese language studies.

“How can this possibly be the same guy I traded Mecha Strike jokes with the other day?” wondered Marinette.

“Hmmm. Well, as a reporter, you learn that the printed word isn’t always the full view of a person. It’s more important to remember that when you read bad things about someone, but in this case, Mr. Perfect is clearly also into video games. A shame that didn’t make it into the article.” Alya grinned and tossed her auburn hair.

Marinette groaned and closed her eyes. “Alya, what do I do? Do I play it cool? Do I tell him online? I have to meet him—or well, not meet him, I’ve already done that—but I have to get to know him. I was trying to deny it, but I was totally falling for him before I even knew he had a face. I mean, before I knew what his face looked like! And now he’s totally handsome, and that’s great—or is it worse?—and ugh, what do I do, Alya?”

Alya’s grin grew wider. “Wait, you’re crushing on him? How did I not notice this?”

Marinette opened her eyes and shrugged. “There was no point in mentioning it. He didn’t even message with me until you and I fought a couple weeks back. I think he felt sorry for me. But yeah, I was kinda um… romanticizing him from his music? Just being silly. And now he’s real and kinda awesome.”

“He was always real, but I get what you mean.” Alya tapped her finger against her chin. “Wait a minute. This is the same guy Chloe is always gushing about. Doesn’t he want to come to our school or something? And he was kind of okay at the hat competition, too.”

“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he? I never trust Chloe to be in possession of the facts, but that’s right—she’s talked constantly this year about whether he’ll show up, and then he never does. Do you think he’s been trying to enroll? What would stop him?” Puzzled, Marinette rested her chin on her hands.

Alya held her phone outward so Marinette could see. “Um, he literally has a song titled “I Wish I Were at School”. I think Chloe might be right—just this once.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “I thought that title was a joke.”

With a gasp, Alya clapped both hands to her mouth. She stood and grabbed Marinette by the shoulders, dragging her up from the couch. “Girl, I just figured out what we’re going to do! Here, listen to this…”

---

Adrien sidled up to the exterior stairs of Francois Dupont, looking in every direction at once for Nathalie or the Gorilla to appear. Nervous, he rubbed his hands together and mounted the staircase. Other kids were funneling into the entrance alongside him and for once, he wasn’t the center of anyone’s attention. He wasn’t sure if that felt good or not. Chin tucked down into his collar, he crossed the stone threshold.

Made it! He thought, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He darted to the right of the main doors and pressed himself against the wall. A final peek outside revealed none of his father’s employees. Had he really—finally—gotten away with it?

Adrien whipped out his phone and fired off a message. I'm inside the doors. I don't think they followed me.

That's great! SewSweets messaged back. I'm really proud of you, FF. Do you know which classroom you're supposed to go to?

Mme. Bustier, he replied. That was Chloe's class.

Then get going!

Adrien put the phone away, but as he stepped forward a girl with auburn hair and glasses took notice of him.

"Hey! Aren't you Adrien Agreste, the famous teen model?

Adrien backed away from her, but a boy nearby with a red hat and glasses perked up.

"Did you say Adrien Agreste? Here at Francois Dupont?"

The pair advanced toward him. He glanced at a staircase nearby, unsure where to go. A tiny blonde girl and a willowy brunette with streaks of purple in her hair stood up from a bench.

"Adrien? Really?"

"Wow!"

Adrien turned to bolt. If word got out this soon, he'd be back at the mansion within the hour! He started up the stairs, but a hand grabbed his upper arm. A girl with pigtails yanked him along behind her, away from the growing crowd.

"Locker room! Quick!" she hissed.

They ducked into the locker room and found it fortuitously empty.

"Thanks," Adrien huffed. "I only just walked in the door and I don't know my classroom or anything yet."

"No problem, FF. I've got your back."

They stood in silence, Adrien taking a moment to get his breath and the girl just staring him down. Something felt off to Adrien. He shouldn't—wait. She hadn't called him Adrien. She hadn't called him a name at all, at least, not one that anyone knew. He looked at the girl with dawning realization.

"SewSweets?" He asked in disbelief.

She tried to keep a straight face, but her lips gave a funny little wriggle and she burst out laughing.

"I'm so sorry, FF—I mean Adrien! That look was priceless."

"What is going on? You go here? To this school, with Chloe?" Adrien looked all around the room, but the two of them were still the only ones inside.

The girl grimaced at the name, but nodded. "Yeah, I know her."

"How did you know this was where I meant when I said school? Wait, how do you even know who I am?" Adrien found his head spinning a little and he sat down on a nearby bench. SewSweets sat next to him, concern threading the little wrinkle in her brow.

“Let’s start with the movies…” she said.

The pigtailed girl gave him a run down of recognizing him, then inexplicably blushed as she explained how she’d figured out he wanted to go to school and encouraged him to chat about it in Birdiemuse. In hindsight, his wish to join other teens at school wasn’t exactly a mystery, he had to admit. He noticed two of the kids from the courtyard poke their heads in around the time she was done explaining that they hadn’t actually mobbed him— it had been a set-up.

“So once you figured out who I was, it wasn’t too difficult to steer me toward another attempt at coming to Francois Dupont,” he stated, looking at her with new eyes.

The girl blushed even brighter and nodded her head, scrunching her eyes closed.

“I-I should apologize, Adrien. It wasn’t fair of me to push you to come here, but I didn’t know how else I could finally really meet you. I just want to be friends, online and in real life.”

Adrien stared at the small teen next to him. She looked so sweet and innocent. Who could believe such a calculating mind hid behind her pleasant facade? The girl nervously clutched her hands in her lap. She let go when Adrien threw back his head and laughed.

“I needed the push. Coming here is what I wanted! You just coordinated the timing, that’s all. And—hold on, what’s your name?”

“Marinette.”

“Marinette,” Adrien replied, smiling around the word. “I remember now. You won the hat competition. And stood up to Chloe in the process! Yeah, I suppose I can’t actually be surprised at what you can pull off when you set your mind to it.”

He grinned at her and was rewarded with a small smile, but Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes. He dipped his head low, bringing his face close to hers.

“After the way you’ve encouraged me and been there for me, Marinette, I could never call you just a friend. Thank you.”

For the first time, the girl lifted her bright blue eyes and Adrien could see her worry drain away. She smiled and he couldn’t help but reach forward for a hug. Marinette hugged him back, arms wrapped around his ribs. Her hair smelled unusually sweet, like sugar. SewSweets, he thought, privately amused at the connection.

“C’mon, Friend, let’s go to class,” she suggested once they’d separated.

Adrien followed her out of the locker room, feeling the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts and heart. No, Marinette was definitely more than just a friend.

#adrinette #llu writes #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug fanfiction

[wolfyred-ks]

Adrinette April 2019 Day 16

@adrinetteapril

Hello all, here is part 3 of the surprise 4 parter from me. Enjoy! PS there aren’t many beaches in France that are close to Paris! and one with hot enough weather???!!!?!? Found it! And just to note, the whole story actually takes place after season 2 and before 3. No Weredad, no Camelon.

Part 1 - The Valentine

Part 2 - Love rivals

Part 4 - Confesion

Part 5 - In the rain

Day 16 - Beach

It was 2 weeks after Valentines Day and the class was on a full day trip to Rambouillet to spend time at the beach there. It was part biology class and part fun. They had gotten on the bus at 7am for the hour long trip. A lot of the students tried to get some more sleep which was fine by Adrien. He needed time alone with his thoughts after his talk with Ladybug last night.

There had been an akuma attack yesterday morning and to say at best he had been distracted and Ladybug had noticed. She had suggested meeting up that night on the Eiffel Tower to talk about it.

Ladybug had noticed that Chat seemed distracted at the beginning of the past 2 attacks.

Chat had told her that it was just minor problems in his civilian life, nothing to worry about.

Ladybug asked him to talk about it. She didn’t want him to get too distracted in battle and end up getting hurt.

Chat eventually told Ladybug that while he still cared for her, he was starting to have possible feelings toward another girl. He was just trying to work out if he actually liked her or if he was just worried about her as she was going through some problems herself.

Ladybug encouraged him to think about the girl. While he is her partner and friend and she considers him a very special person in her life, with the threat of Hawk Moth still out there they really couldn’t develop a relationship beyond the masks.

Chat ended up agreeing and said that he’d think on his feelings and see if he really liked this girl or not.

Adrien hadn’t mentioned to Ladybug that the girl he might like, liked someone else. That was part of what was confusing him now. He had watched Marinette and despite her saying she was going to give the Valentine card to the guy she liked, he hadn’t seen her paying attention to anyone.

Two things he had noticed was that one, she was stuttering a lot less around him and two, she seemed sad at times. Maybe on the trip today he would have a chance to find out if she had talked to the guy yet.

--------

Marinette and Alya had switched into their bathing suits and were standing together waiting for the rest of the class to change so the teacher could give their tasks for the trip.

“This is the most messed up situation you’ve ever gotten yourself into Mari.” Alya shook her head and crossed her arms.

“It’s not my fault. If you hadn’t taken my card then I wouldn’t have had to get it back and Adrien wouldn’t think there is some other boy I like.” Marinette huffed and crossed her own arms.

Exasperated Alya threw her arms in the air and then put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t have to get the card back at all. That was why I didn’t help you get it. Adrien had it and he would have read it, and would have thought it was sweet and he would have talked to you. At least to thank you.”

“Alya, did you not hear him after he came in. Getting cards like that only made him sad. Having them on the desk only made him think that the girls liked him superficially. Like they couldn’t be bothered to give it to him directly. If I had been able to ‘give’ it to him,” Marinette pointedly stared at Alya before continuing. “Then he would have know it was coming from me personally and would have meant more to him. Just having it on his desk would have been impersonal and not meant as much.”

“Ouch,” Alya looked crestfallen, “My bad. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.”

Marinette looked at her. “It’s fine,” she sighed.

“Well,” Alya brightened. “There is nothing to stop you from saying that things didn’t work out, or he turned you down. It’s like you have turned off a faucet and aren’t even trying with Adrien any more.”

Marinette hung her head, “He deserves to be more then the ‘rebound’.”

“But he wouldn’t be. He’s the ‘ever since the beginning’ guy.” Alya argued back. “And there is no other guy.”

“But look at it this way,” Marinette started pointing out on her fingers, “Right now Adrien thinks I like some other guy. Last week he had asked me if I’ve talked to the guy yet. If he asks again then there is three things I can say.”

“If I say that I couldn’t ask out the other guy then I can’t ask out Adrien because I haven’t resolved my feelings for the other guy.”

“I could say that we are now going out and then we ‘break up’ later. If I ask out Adrien after that, then he’s the rebound guy.”

“If I say he didn’t like me back, then later I ask out Adrien, Adrien becomes the second choice guy.”

“In any of the cases if Adrien finds out that I’ve liked him from the beginning then; I have liked Adrien, fallen for another guy and moved on from Adrien, had problems with the other guy, and then gone back to Adrien. That looks like I’m fickle and who wants to date someone fickle.”

Alya grunted. “All right, those are good points.” She put an arm around Marinette, “What are you going to do? If the sunshine child had just noticed you sooner, all of this would be moot. I think you should pretend that he didn’t like you back. This way you have the heartbreak now, you can start on getting over him now, and who knows, maybe Adrien tries to cheer you up and he falls for you. Then Adrien can’t be the rebound guy.”

Marinette sighed and agreed, “It might be the better idea of pretending he turned me down. However I don’t think Adrien would fall in love with me trying to cheer me up. After a few months I can act like I’m over it and if Adrien is available then maybe I’ll ‘start’ crushing on him, again. Then we’re back to where we were before Valentine’s Day. Me liking him and him oblivious to me.”

--------

The boys arrived on the beach after changing. Nino was in lose blue boxer style swim shorts and an orange t-shirt and Adrien was in a pair of dark green swim shorts with a white button up hanging totally open. They looked around for the girls. They saw them over by the rest of the class.

Nino took a moment to admire Alya in a simple orange and white swimsuit that was cut high on the thighs. It covered her front completely but showed off a good portion of her back.

Adrien looked at Marinette. Her swimsuit was a solid black suit that had a deep cut in the front on her chest but wasn’t so low that it look like she was showing off. The back showed off her shoulder blades but the rest of her back was covered down to her gracefully curved bottom. It covered more of Marinette than he’d seen on some female models but to him is seemed more alluring then other two piece suits he’s seen.

“Dude, pick your jaw up off the floor. You’re gonna eat sand like that.” Nino nudged him.

“What?”

Nino laughed. “You keep looking at Marinette like that and she’s gonna think you like her.”

Adrien blushed and rubbed one arm, “She likes someone else Nino. She’s, she’s just a friend.”

Nino shook his head. He playfully punched Adrien and gestured him to follow. “Come on, we gotta get to the rest of the class.” Nino had heard about Marinette pretending that she liked someone else to get the card back. He thought the whole thing was silly.

They jogged over to the class and the teacher gave out some papers. “Alright, everyone in groups of two please. You are to answer the questions on the paper. There are samples for you to collect, drawings for you to make and notes for you to take. There are envelopes for you to put your samples in and bottles for the water observations over there. This should take you a couple of hours. After you are done you can have lunch. Then we will meet at 12:30pm for a talk and then your are free until dinner at 4pm. Dinner will be set up over by the changing rooms that were set up for us. This is the first time this type of excursion has been organized by the school so after dinner there will be a short paper survey we would like you to do. Based on the answers of your assignment and the survey we will see if this gets to be an annual thing. Go, be back here by 12:30pm.”

Nino glanced at Adrien and made a ‘wanna be partners’ motion. Adrien nodded. Nino then looked at Alya, “Hey I know we are supposed to be teams of two but you girls wanna hang out with us and the 4 of us work together?”

“Sorry Nino, we girls are going to stick together. We want to make sure our observations are correct.” She gave Adrien a look as she stressed the part ‘observations are correct’, and Adrien wondered what he had done to earn her ire again.

Alya took Marinette by the shoulders and proceeded to the water bottles and envelopes. The boys heard hushed talking but couldn’t make out much until Alya said, ‘I can hold it against him if he’s too dense to see it’ before Marinette made a shushing noise and looked over her shoulder at the guys.

“Nino,” Adrien said with a confused look on his face, “I get the feeling that I’m missing something.” Nino just laughed.

--------

The day went well after that. Every one finished the sheet of work, some with better answers than others. Lunch was enjoyed by all. And sitting through the mini lecture about the importance of ecosystems, using the beach as an example, allowed everyone to have time to let their stomachs settle before going to play in the water. While it wasn’t that hot out it was warm enough to make being at the beach enjoyable.

As he had the past two weeks Adrien covertly watched Marinette. As far as he could tell she still hadn’t asked out the guy since he asked her about it a week ago. He tried to see if she might be interested in anyone here today.

He was finding it very annoying that he still didn’t know who Marinette liked. Half way trough the afternoon he made another trip to his bag so he could feed Plagg.

Plagg looked up from the bag as Adrien gave him another piece of Camembert from a wheel that was being kept in a different bag so the little cat couldn’t scarf it all down in one go. “How’s it going?” Plagg smirked.

Plagg fully knew what was going on now. He had found out Tikki was here and they had a short talk about what their charges were doing. (ie being stupid about the situation.) He found the whole thing hilarious and promised Tikki that he wouldn’t tell Adrien a thing about the card being for him and Marinette just pretending to like another boy to get it back.

“Not good.” Adrien signed and sat on his heels. “I can’t tell who she likes. She hasn’t paid any obvious attention to anyone that I can see. It’s just so annoying.” Adrien raked his fingers through his wet hair.

“Maybe it’s bothering you because you like her and want to date her yourself.” Plagg floated up from the bag to look Adrien in the face.

“Plagg,” Adrien gently pushed him back into the bag. “She’s just a friend. I don’t, I don’t like her like that. I’m just worried that she will get hurt if this unknown guy turns her down badly. Once I know who the guy is, it will be fine.”

“Sure.” The tiny black cat chuckled to himself and finished off the cheese as Adrien ran back to the beach.

#adrinetteapril2019 #ml #adrien x marinette #adrinette april 2019

[mayquita]

Pictures of Reality (14/16)

Happy New Year everyone! Thank you so much for all your support and for continuing to give this story a chance.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art.

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5  / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8 / Art for chapter 10 / Art for chapter 11 

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 4100 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12

What to expect from this chapter?  We’ll see how the relationship between Emma and Killian develops now that there is no longer any secret between them. Besides, will Emma be able to forgive The Nolans eventually?

CHAPTER 13

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - May 6, 2018

There was something intrinsic in the fact of dating a professional photographer, any excuse was appropriate to take out the camera and portray the world through it. Whether it was walking out holding hands but stopping every few minutes to immortalize the arrival of the blossoming spring to Storybrooke. Or spending a lazy Sunday morning under the sheets of her (their) bed, taking selfies and competing for who would get the most awful grimace (he always beat her, the dork).

Other mornings, however, Killian felt an impulse of creativity that made him wake up at dawn and grab the camera to satisfy his need to make art. He always told her that she was the one to blame, that she had become his muse and source of inspiration. And that her apartment was located in one of the best places in Storybrooke, at least at that time of the day, when the sun's rays fell directly on her window and made her glow - literally — his words.

From that morning after the first time-make up night, she had learned to secretly love those days. There was no doubt that Killian had become an expert in making the most of her potential and in making her feel powerful, able to achieve whatever she set out to do, whether it was getting a good close-up in a photo or leaving all her inhibitions behind to become a sexy improvised model.

She knew that today was one of Killian's creative days when she woke up alone in bed that Sunday morning in early May.

"Good morning, love. Are you up for a photo shoot?" Killian asked from his favorite place in the room for these occasions, her (their) old armchair.

She ignored him at first, stretching arms and legs, too lazy to leave the bed just yet. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye though, one of his button-up shirts, the black one made of a silky fabric, hanging on the back of a chair. Suddenly, the idea of the soft fabric sliding over her naked torso was too appealing to let it pass. After all, she also had her creative side, right?

She got up right away with a new purpose in mind, grabbing the shirt on her way to the bathroom and stopping only for a second to give Killian a quick peck on the cheek. "Just wait here." She murmured as she winked at him and kept walking without waiting for his reaction.

Once in the bathroom, she put on the shirt, which by chance, matched her tiny panties in color, leaving the buttons open and the sleeves rolled up to the middle of the arm. Next, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, put on her contacts and applied a light layer of lip gloss. Finally, she brushed her hair to add an extra shine to her golden locks. Once satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, she returned to the bedroom, ready to give a show to her boyfriend.

Before climbing back to bed, she cast a sidelong glance at Killian. Seeing him that way, positioned in a corner of the bedroom, camera in hand, as if waiting for his prey, ignited a spark of lust inside her, eliminating any possible previous reluctance as she offered him what he was looking for.

She sat back on her heels with her back to him, letting the shirt slide down one of her shoulders, leaving it bare. She turned her head slightly, giving him a seductive look over that shoulder, while putting the tip of her index finger between her teeth.

"Bloody hell, woman." He growled from behind his camera, making her almost lose her pose in an attempt to prevent an incipient smirk from drawing on her lips.

She let him take a few pictures, staying in that position with only slight changes. Then, following his instructions, she tried a new posture, this time sitting in front of him, leaving the shirt open enough to reveal only a glimpse of her curves.

There was something impossibly appealing in Killian's stance, a mixture of professionalism as he helped himself, holding the camera with his stump and watching her through the lens with a clinical eye. But there was also something more primal, only revealed when his eyes slid from the visor to her body, offering her a hungry look that had the ability to make her skin tingle with anticipation. The fact that he was shirtless and that his pajama pants did nothing to hide his arousal, far from deconcentrating her in her improvised task of posing for him, caused her postures to become much more suggestive and her gaze to be much more provocative.

The photo shoot ended earlier than expected though. Before she could react, Killian was over her, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss with the ability to take her breath away. She resisted, still reluctant to finish the seduction game that she was enjoying too much.

"I wanna see those pictures." She managed to ask as she tried to reach for the camera Killian had dropped on the bed.

"Later." He mumbled pressing even more against her, his teeth playfully nipping at her bottom lip.

Her resolution began to dissolve as she held back a moan bubbling in her throat, her blood running hot and spreading a burning sensation all over her body.

Still, she tried again, distracting him with the first thing that came to mind, while she reached for the camera. "I'd like to choose one of those photos to upload to Instagram. Or maybe I'm not allowed to share photos of half-naked women either?" Although her voice came in a shaky exhale she hoped to have endowed it with enough innocence.

He raised his head looking for her gaze, the blue of his eyes almost gone. "Two things, darling. First, you are allowed to upload whatever you want to the bloody Instagram. And second, I'm really tempted to share the marvel I've got for girlfriend with the rest of the world, but I prefer to keep you to myself."

"Just for the record, you are not allowed to share photos of your naked girlfriend on Instagram. Although maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to the photo with the bare shoulder…” The diversionary maneuver was enough for her to finally grab the camera and sneak out of his arms. "It's my turn, now. So go and pose for me, Jones."

Killian's eyebrows went together in confusion, as if he had not yet processed what had just happened. When he finally seemed to realize what she was planning, his eyes widened. "You can’t be serious, love."

She stood up, moving away from his reach, holding the camera in the most professional way possible. "I assure you I am, buddy."

"Look at me, Swan." He complained through a hiss as he pointed his hand at his more than prominent tent in his pants.

"I learned from the best, professor." A spark of interest appeared in his eyes, while he gave her a predatory look. "Give me your best, Killian, and I promise you will have your reward, later." A wave of heat flowed to her core, in anticipation of what he would be able to do, as she bit her bottom lip and watched Killian through the lens.

She definitely loved her life now.

//

Gone were those times when she had no choice but to share her photos with herself, or when she had to settle for taking selfies or taking pictures of random people in the streets, since no one had stayed around her long enough for her to reveal her passion.

Now photography was present in practically all facets of her life, but Emma wasn't going to be the one to complain, not when the fact of living surrounded by photos implied that Killian's image was always present, even though they were physically separated at some points.

It was not that they were separated for long, really. From the moment they had made peace, resuming their relationship, she had begun to add new routines to her life, in which Killian was always included.

Now, two months later, they spent most of the nights sleeping together in her apartment. That first night of make-up sex had been the prelude to many ardent nights, full of passion, nights where they buried their inhibitions while discovering all the secrets of their bodies and the magic that they were able to create together.

The dark room of his apartment, a witness of his first kiss, now also hid the secret of insatiable encounters, the faint red light causing the flame of lust to ignite at the very moment when the door closed behind them.

But dating Killian Jones not only meant enjoying the best sex of her life, it was more, much more. If she had already fallen for him despite his stormy gaze and the burden he carried in his very soul, now that he was dropping layer after layer, revealing his true essence, Emma's feelings towards him had grown with such an intensity that she sometimes felt a kind of vertigo seizing her.

That feeling could be overwhelming at times, but she had stopped being afraid to feel and express her feelings towards others. It was as if, once she had admitted that she loved Killian (at least to herself as it was still too early to express those words aloud) the walls around her heart had finally fallen down, leaving before her a new and unexplored path, with some dangers lurking, but also full of promises.

For the first time in a long time, she could say that she felt happy, experiencing a normal life, hanging out with her friends, going out with her boyfriend, or going to double dates with the other new couple in town, Elsa and Graham. She had even begun to consider the possibility of not keeping photography as a mere hobby but of continuing to expand her knowledge in an official manner.

There was a small parcel of her heart that still remained closed though, its access almost impenetrable. Her parents. Two months later, she hadn't been able to forgive them yet, the betrayal in the form of a bleeding wound still too fresh.

That was not entirely true, she had indeed forgiven them for having given her up for adoption, even though she hadn't felt strong enough to hear the full story.

What had hurt her most had been their later behavior, the fact that, in the first place, they had taken advantage of Killian's blind loyalty to them, and also that they hadn't trusted in their own daughter to tell her the truth and would have been content to stay by her side as mere friends.

Killian had tried to bring up the subject several times, always tentatively, knowing that he shouldn’t push or he would end up getting the opposite effect.

She appreciated those attempts, she really did, because she was aware that he not only did it for his friends, but also for her because, according to him, she deserved to have all the love in the world - especially that of her own family after so many years without it. But it was as if something inside her, like a protective instinct, prevented her from taking that first step that would bring her closer to them.

But she was frankly tired of that situation, tired of the fact that each time she entered her bedroom, even if she tried to ignore it with all her strength, her gaze inevitably landed for a few seconds on the closet door that hid the box containing fragments of her past in the form of a handful of letters.

She also felt bad for Killian, for the fact that he had to compartmentalize his life in such a way that his girlfriend and his best friends —his family— didn't coincide in the same place. He had not stopped seeing them, she did not have the heart to even think about it, but he clearly proceeded with caution, afraid to say or do something in relation to them that could affect her. It was unfair to him.

Since David's visit to her apartment, she had barely met them, only on occasion had she run into them while walking down the street, or had they met by chance at Granny's, generating such an awkward situation she sometimes ended up crossing to the other side of the street to avoid them, or swallowed her food quickly in a desperate attempt to spend as little time as possible under the same roof as them.

Deep down, she was aware that it was up to her to end this situation once and for all. Sooner or later, she would have to trust them, at least to let them explain themselves. The idea of being able to add another level of normalcy to her life, including her family, was also becoming more appealing. The problem? She hadn't the faintest idea how to do it without getting even more damaged in the process.

Maybe it would be a good idea to start with small steps, such as not running away each time she met any of them.

David Nolan. Storybrooke - May 8, 2018

"How is she?" David asked Killian, knowing in advance that the answer would be the same as the one from the previous day.

"She's fine, Dave." Killian always answered like that, in an almost apologetic way. Then he would go on to tell him some small detail related to his daughter, with the simple purpose of getting him to keep her close, even if it was indirectly.

They had agreed to meet at Granny's for lunch, like every Tuesday since Killian had started the new course. In fact, Killian was busier than ever. It seemed that his talent was beginning to be recognized on this side of the ocean and more and more people were interested in learning through him everything related to the world of photography, expanding to the point that he had decided to start a free online course so that any interested person could acquire the basic knowledge. Art and talent do not understand money , it was one of his mottos, which he put into practice whenever he had the chance.

Even so, he always managed to share moments with his friends. Tuesday lunch had become a tradition added to the already existing ones, such as Sunday lunch in David's apartment, breakfast with Mary Margaret on Mondays and Thursdays and his sporadic collaborations in the newspaper.

It was evident that Killian was making great efforts to keep their relationship intact despite what happened with Emma. He couldn't be more grateful for it, but that also meant adding even more burden to the guilt he endured. His actions should not affect his friend in that way.

"She is seriously considering quitting the job and starting to study to become a journalist." Killian's voice brought him back to reality. The pride evident in the words of his friend, matching the one he felt. "You know that from what happened, her relationship with Regina has not been the same again. If she keeps the job, it's just for Henry, frankly."

"I guess it runs in her blood." David could not help but smile at the thought of his daughter following in her father's footsteps. "And as for Regina, you already know that my relationship with her has always been complicated. But she found our daughter after all, so I guess in a way, I'll always be in debt to her." He admitted, although he was still angry at her for being the one to confess the truth without caring about the consequences.

"It was Emma who found her way back to Storybrooke in the first place. Regina only offered her a way to stay." Killian replied in a harsh tone, not bothering to hide his dislike for the mayor. He did not blame him, honestly. Regina's action had caused his relationship with Emma to nearly end.

The little bells above Granny's entrance door announced the arrival of a new client, capturing the attention of both friends, who were sitting at the counter.

David's heart skipped a beat when he realized that it was Emma the one who had just arrived, as if she had somehow been summoned. When her gaze met him, she remained still for a moment, her eyes wide in surprise.

David could not prevent a sigh of resignation from escaping his lips. He was not surprised by her reaction, it had always been the same in recent weeks. He even anticipated what would happen next. She would approach Killian, murmur any excuse and leave in a few seconds.

In fact, once the initial impact was overcome, she began to walk with hesitant steps towards their position. David cast a sidelong glance at his friend, who also seemed equally surprised at her presence there. He was looking at Emma as if there were no one else in the room, though, with a special glow in his eyes that had only begun to appear since he met Emma.

She barely had time to get to their side when Killian got up and greeted her with a kiss on the lips maybe less chaste than it should be appropriate in a public place. David looked away discreetly, still uncomfortable at such public displays of affection. Killian might be his best friend, almost like a son to him, but, in spite of everything, in his eyes, Emma was still like his little girl.

"Hi guys," Emma said after separating from Killian, a small smile adorning her lips, while she offered him a shy look. "I didn't want to interrupt you, I just forgot it was Tuesday."

This is new, at least she hasn’t ignored my existence, David thought as he tried not to read too much in her reaction. She was just surprised to see them, that was it. Even so, he decided to offer her an escape route so that she would not be involved in any kind of uncomfortable situation.

"I should go..."

"No," Emma cut him off, looking back at him. "I mean... it's not necessary. It's your day together, guys. I just came to grab something to eat... It's an excuse, actually, Regina was especially picky today. I needed a break." Emma was rambling, clearly nervous about the unexpected encounter, but at least it seemed that she was doing her part to keep a civilized conversation, so he was going to grab onto that even if it was the only thing she could offer at the moment.

"I can relate, Regina may be difficult to deal with sometimes." David offered in what he hoped was a carefree tone, but even so, he held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction.

"Just sometimes?" Killian snapped, making an exaggerated grimace of disdain, causing a chuckle on David and a giggle on Emma, who took advantage of Killian's absent-mindedness to steal one of his onion rings.

"Hey, those are mine, get your own." Killian huffed, putting his hand and prosthesis over the plate in a protective manner while making a pout, which caused a new attack of laughter from Emma.

David remained there in awe, observing the scene without even daring to participate for fear of breaking the moment. She seemed so relaxed, so happy, that he had to repress the need to take a picture and immortalize the moment for eternity, his heart thudding in his chest.

After stealing another onion ring from her boyfriend, she caught the attention of one of the waitresses to place her order and then returned to them.

"So, Killian just told me you're thinking about starting to study to become a journalist, Emma." David commented tentatively, in an attempt to make that magical moment last a little longer.

"Yeah. I'd start in September. I guess it's something I've always wanted to do, taking pictures and telling stories." She shrugged, the corners of her sides twisting upward.

"It's a good idea. You know, anything you need, you can count on us." He offered, trusting her to grasp the true meaning of his words.

"Thank you." Emma nodded, her cheeks flushed slightly, while she held his gaze for a few seconds. The moment passed soon, though, as she refocused her attention on Killian.

His friend wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close, as if he, with that simple gesture, was supporting her in some way, making her feel safe. Then Killian gave him an appreciative look, while nodding almost imperceptibly.

David was not sure that he would live long enough to thank his friend for all that he was doing for his family, making Emma happy and trying to build bridges between them. He only hoped that this was the first of many advances that would come in the future.

When Emma left a few minutes later, she turned around just before she reached the exit door, offering David a soft smile, causing the flame of hope in his heart to look brighter than ever. He couldn't wait to tell Mary Margaret.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - May 9, 2018

Killian decided to spend the next morning locked in the darkroom developing photos, taking advantage of the fact that he had the morning off and that Emma would be working, which meant that she would not be a distraction this time.

Even so, he wasn't able to fully concentrate on the task. That room had already witnessed several amorous encounters between them although for him, the most important memory shared with her in this place would always be their first kiss.

Killian grabbed a photograph with the tweezers to extract it from the development liquid and hung it delicately on the rope he had placed for that purpose in a corner of the room. He couldn't stop his lips from drawing a smile when he observed the smiling face of Emma in that image. The memories of the previous day, when she had been relaxed for the first time in front of David came to his mind then, warming his heart.

Just when he was about to carry out the same process with the next picture, his phone started buzzing on the table. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, can I speak with Mr. Jones, please?" A polite, female voice asked from the other side of the phone.

"That would be me. Who is calling?" He replied cautiously while he held his breath. There was something in the woman’s tone that made him uneasy.

"I'm calling from Storybrooke's General Hospital, sir, since you were listed as one of David Nolan's emergency contacts and we haven't been able to locate his wife..."

"She is a teacher, she’s working right now." Killian cut who he supposed was a nurse off. At the same moment he had heard the word hospital, all his senses were on alert, while his heart beat frantically against his chest. "What happened?" He forced himself to ask in a controlled voice, holding the phone tightly against his ear.

"Uh, I'm afraid that Mr. Nolan has been involved in an accident. He was hit by a car..."

No.

A paralyzing panic crawled up his throat while his ears stopped working properly, preventing him from listening to the woman who was still offering him details. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to take a deep breath, letting out the air slowly through his nose in a desperate attempt to keep his composure.

"...he seems to be out of danger, but given that he has lost consciousness..."

"I'm on my way. Thanks for informing me." Killian cut the poor nurse again, feeling bad for a few seconds since she had been kind enough to him, but he could not waste more time, needed to take action before a new wave of panic gripped him.

He clenched his jaw and blocked any disturbing thoughts, burying any memory of the past that could take advantage of that moment of weakness to beat him.

Instead, he set himself a goal - pick up Mary Margaret on his way to the hospital and make sure his friend would be okay. He didn't contemplate any other option.

With that goal in mind, he grabbed his phone and wallet and left his apartment, cursing himself for not yet having been able to purchase an adapted vehicle that would allow him to get to his friend sooner. Instead, he had to literally run to school while wondering how he was going to break the news to Mary Margaret. Only at that moment did he remember that he also had to give the news to another person and his heart sank in the process. He would have to inform Emma that her father had suffered an accident.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what did you all think :)

There are only two chapters to go, the final chapter and the epilogue, so whatever happens to David, it can't be so bad, I'm not that cruel, am I? Also, Emma will read the letters, finally!

#cs ff #cs au #csbb #captain swan #captain swan ff #mayquita writes #my cs writings #pictures of reality #cs au ff #csbb 2018

[tinabritton-photography]

Clean White . . . The Next Project. NOT FINISHED -

Albert Watson

The iconic image below was captured by Scottish fashion photogragher, Albert Watson, in 1973. It was commissioned by Harper’s Bazaar Watson and framing their feature around Hitchcock’s prowess as a gourmet chef and his recipe for a Christmas goose.

There is nothing I don’t love about this image. The stark white background pushes Alfred Hitchcock and his prop (the defeathered duck wearing a bow tie) to the forground. There are no distractions of shadow. It’s purely about Hitchcock and his Christmas bird.

Amazingly, as this was Watson’s first famous subject, and since Watson had basic kit containing 2 lights, he managed this clean white portrait with only a white backdrop (to contrast with Hitchcock’s black suit), one light to the background and 1 umbrella light on Hitchcock himself.

The contrast in this image is amazing. I am a photographer that loves high contast images. This has always been a favourite of mine. It is humorous. It makes me smile (if you can get over the fact that he his holding a poor, plucked dead duck :(. ) There is an unimplied feeling about this image, as it is obvious to me, being a portrait photographer of sorts, that Hitchcock was at ease with Albert Watson. Humourous even. This says a lot about the photographer himself.

The image itself is crisp, the lines unhindered. There is no light spill. Nothing is out of place. As for pattern, there is a ‘gooseflesh’ pattern to the duck. 

1973, Alfred Hitchcock

(Johnson, 2019) (Profoto and stories, 2019)

Irving Penn

Jean Patchett, 1949

Irving Penn’s image depicts Jean Patchett in a dramatic fashion post. I chose this image not only for my love of hats, but for the close-fitting netting on her face that cause the honeycomb line pattern. The stark white background and high contrast really shows off her demur ‘oh my’ pose. There is nothing I don’t love in this image. The negative space has been made just as important as the positive. The eye starts at the top of the hat, moves around and down to the face and décolletage area, traces her fingers around then to her arm and leading back to her hat.

Since I love hats, this is my chosen image for practice in the studio on 1st of October 2019 when we come back from the holiday weekend.

(An American Goddess of Paris Couture: Jean Patchett | Official Site, 2019) (Christies.com, 2019)

David Bailey

Johnny Depp, 1995

David Bailey’s image of Johnny Depp is striking. Liquid blacks are riveting against the white of the background in this high contrast image. Depp’s fingers interlaced into his hair and the rings on his fingers create interest as the eye moves down to his black eyes then travels to his lips, up his arms and back to his hands. 

(Wall Street International, 2019)  (Artsy.net, 2019)

Platon Antoniou -

Was born in London in 1968. He first attended St Martin’s School of Art for Graphic Design and then recieved an MA at Royal College of Art for Photography and Fine art. He has worked for such magazines as ‘George’, Vanity Fair, Vogue, Rolling Stones, Esquire and GQ. Platon has captured images of many Presidents, from Barack Obama to Vladimir Putin. His last Presidential Portrait was of Bill Clinton. (All-about-photo.com, 2019)

Below we have a bold and graphic portrait of Stephen Hawking taken late 2017.  What draws me into this image is all the mechanical detail of Hawking’s chair leading our eyes into the face of the man himself. The perspective of this image, in my opinion, is superb. We are looking straight into the face of this great man. The graphic detail of this portrait, the blacks against the stark whites, and the perspective combined make this one of my favourite images of Platon.

(Platonphoto.com, 2019) (Medeiros, 2019)

Flóra Borsi - 

I’m throwing a wrench into this mix of famous photographers and images. For this brief we were to include 5 clean white images. It did not say the image could not be new, or old, or from only the very famous. Above I have included some iconic images that are some of my favourites.

However, during my research I found this young woman, and her series of white portraits. Flóra Borsi is a young fine art photographer from Hungary. She has exhibited solo in many places including the USA and Budapest to group exhibitions in France. She has been featured in publications from Adobe Creative Cloud and Adobe Photoshop to The Wall Street Journal.

While I am aware, at some point, after capture, that this image, most probably, has been taken into photoshop and added to, I just couldn’t exclude them. That being said, I could see that the image was indeed taken as a clean white, because we can see the slight reflection from the perspex beneath the model (unless of course, that was added as well, but I don’t think so).

This image is part of a series called Des Monstres by the photographer Flóra Borsi. It is fluid, graphic and most striking. Dark Fantasy meets Atmospheric. Everything about it screams motion. It feels alive. The extremes in contrast are eye catching, not only that, it holds the veiwer’s attention as the eye moves around the canvas. The perspective and flowing garment wrapping around this female model transforms the piece into a living artwork. Fascinating.

(Floraborsi.com, 2019)

Below are images of Alex Reilly showing us how to set up a clean white studio.

image from inside the isle we created.

taking readings with the Sekonic L-308S light meter.

Adam is the assistant. Alex is setting up the key light.

My test images Today . . . 12th September . . .

Noticed the red glare in Adam’s glases, so I had him remove them . . . Background grey. Adam’s face, in my opinion is too dark on the right. 

Again, we have the passport image of Adam. The background here is too grey. Adam is not looking into the camera. He was making a face, but it’s awesome because some of his personality is shining through. 

Much better. Here is Adam again. I wish I had noticed the headphones. I need to be more vigilant and aware of extraneous objects that do NOT need to be in the portrait. Again, the background is grey. 

Image of me that Alex took. There is no spill. The background is white. There has been no post processing. Question, Adam and I used the same set-up and took our images right after Alex did. What happened?

MY FINAL IMAGES on First day of Clean White Project With Alex Reilly

In Studio with Alex we were shown the correct way of setting up for Clean White. We used to lights on the background and 2 lights on the subject. We used the Sekonic L308S Flash Meter to insure even lighting of the background. It was at F11. Then we were better able to set up for the image, insuring we were at F8 for the shots. 

Here we have Adam in my 1st 2 images of clean white. We only got to take a couple of images each. He is looking directly into the camera. His eyes are in sharp focus. I took this image and his next into Lightroom. First I changed the settings to monochrome and worked within those parameters. I cropped the image to remove the headphones and bring immediacy to the portrait. There is a real punch to the image now after working with the contrast, highlights, shadows, whites and blacks. Then I moved on to the B&W Mix settings. I took the yellow to +51, the orange to +7, green to +9, magenta +100. I then went into transform change the vertical setting to -10. This brought Adam more in line with looking straight at the camera. I cropped the image further by bringing up the scale and close cropping. I wanted his eyes to be the main event really.  

We took the images into Lightroom with Alex in Imaging class to finish them.

This is a fun image of Adam. His eyes are serious, yet he is pursing his lips. I made the same adjustments to this image as I did with the one above.

This is my passport image I have edited in Photoshop . . . I have taken away the slight greyish tint using adjustment masks. It took longer than using Lightroom with Adam’s images. This is much better. I have cropped the image to the correct measurements required by the UK Passport website. 

2ND Day of Clean White In Studio with Dawn Martin

I feel the second day was more difficult. First of all, we had much trouble with the lights where we were working in the studio. Alex from the store was called in, and between Iain (Alex Reilly was unable to attend the class that day) Alex (store) and John, they helped change out the lights. By this time, 3/4 of the morning class time was gone. We were to get 1 silhouette, 1 low-key and 1 high-key image completed. That wasn’t to be. Our group was not quite as successful as we were the first day. We were shown a totally different way of doing the Clean White, and I felt it was confusing. But as we learned on the day, there are many different ways of capturing clean white images. 

The 2nd half of the day, Studio 2, was also chaotic. As a group, we kept forgetting to check our images to see if the clean white was achieved. So the first half of my clean white images in the contact sheet below were either too blue, too sepia, or had chromatic aberrations. Finally around half way through we were capturing more acceptable images. The images were not in total silhouette however, because of light leakage caused by the close proximity of the nearby ‘studios’ throwing light onto the subjects during flash. 

Contact sheet

In the above contact sheet, you can almost tell, before ever having seen the images up close, which photos were good, and which are not so much. We could have gotten a lot more acceptable images if we had checked often throughout the process. I have learned a lot today.

Final practice shots from 24th September . . . Still need work . . .

Adam . . .

Derek . . .

Hannah . . .

Derek . . .

Aiden . . . 

AL . . .

Johnson, B. (2019). Photographer Albert Watson on getting the stars to pose - Macleans.ca. [online] Macleans.ca. Available at: https://www.macleans.ca/culture/movies/up-close-and-personal-2/#gallery/albert-watson/slide-3 [Accessed 11 Sep. 2019].

Profoto, T. and stories, P. (2019). The story behind the image of Alfred Hitchcock. [online] Profoto. Available at: https://profoto.com/uk/profoto-stories/albert-watson-alfred-hitchcock [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

An American Goddess of Paris Couture: Jean Patchett | Official Site. (2019). Photo Art Gallery - An American Goddess of Paris Couture: Jean Patchett | Official Site. [online] Available at: https://jeanpatchett.com/galleries/photo-art-gallery/ [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

Nationalgalleries.org. (2019). Platon Antoniou | National Galleries of Scotland. [online] Available at: https://www.nationalgalleries.org/art-and-artists/artists/platon-antoniou [Accessed 17 Oct. 2019].

Christies.com. (2019). How Irving Penn ‘changed the way people saw the world’ | Christie's. [online] Available at: https://www.christies.com/features/Guide-to-Irving-Penn-9751-1.aspx [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

Wall Street International. (2019). David Bailey. Stardust. [online] Available at: https://wsimag.com/it/arte/13965-david-bailey-stardust [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

Artsy.net. (2019). David Bailey | Johnny Depp (1995) | Artsy. [online] Available at: https://www.artsy.net/artwork/david-bailey-johnny-depp [Accessed 13 Sep. 2019].

All-about-photo.com. (2019). Platon (Antoniou) Photographer | All About Photo. [online] Available at: https://www.all-about-photo.com/photographers/photographer/377/platon-antoniou [Accessed 19 Oct. 2019]. (All-about-photo.com, 2019)

Platonphoto.com. (2019). platon. [online] Available at: http://platonphoto.com/gallery/portraits/business--technology/edwardsnowden/ [Accessed 19 Oct. 2019]. (Platonphoto.com, 2019)

Medeiros, J. (2019). Stephen Hawking obituary: a life defined by brilliance and mischief. [online] Wired.co.uk. Available at: https://www.wired.co.uk/article/stephen-hawking-obituary [Accessed 19 Oct. 2019]. (Medeiros, 2019)

Floraborsi.com. (2019). Flora Borsi - Des Monstres. [online] Available at: https://floraborsi.com/des-monstres [Accessed 19 Oct. 2019]. (Floraborsi.com, 2019)

#white