#...and i just realized in the final sequence at the artist studio there's an arm on the left of the frame... it is the same shirt pattern?

[alienoriana]

i'm only sleeping

where paul tries to wake up john

#nice touch #i'm only sleeping #the beatles #john and paul #mclennon #x #cant stop thinking about the fact that they gave paul that shirt only for his arm to be recognizable #so we knew #...and i just realized in the final sequence at the artist studio there's an arm on the left of the frame... it is the same shirt pattern?

[writinglizards]

someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary:  Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: teen #reader reviews #Anonymous

[myforeverforlife]

my endless blue.

For @jenmyeons Junmyeon and 117. "Can I do your hair?" + 149. "I just need ten minutes, please." (Thank you for sending this in! I hope you like it! ❤️)

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Word Count: 3,775

Masterlist

You didn't know much about the second prince. 

Everyone in the country knew of the first prince, generous, reticent, humble Crown Prince Minseok. The third and fourth princes were also well-known, both of them praised for their artistic talents in music and dance, respectively. But Prince Junmyeon always seemed to be leaving to far-off lands, never staying at the castle for more than a week or two. He was said to have an agreeable temper, polite to all that he met and yet, he never stayed long enough for anyone outside the castle to truly get to know him. There were a multitude of rumors surrounding him: that the prince was the odd one out scorned by his family, that he was afflicted with a severe rash, that he was jealous of his older brother. 

You knew better than to believe in the gossip. Your art took up most of your attention anyways, many an hour spent in your airy studio with only canvases and a rainbow of paints. Although you weren't born into a high-ranking family, you had garnered fame and renown through your vivid, emotion-filled pieces. 

However, it still came as a shock when you were summoned before the king and queen. 

Donned in your best clothing, each crease and fold carefully ironed out, you made your way to the castle. You were hyperaware of your surroundings, soaking in each new sight and sound as your journey brought you closer to the castle. It was an out-of-body experience, being led inside and walking down the hallways, floors intricately lain with decorative tiles in the royal colors. Even as your presence was announced, you could hardly believe that you were about to lay eyes on the king and queen — in person! 

The doors swung open, your feet automatically taking steps forward. There, at the other end of the throne room sat the king and queen. Your steps faltered for a second when you realized that there was another person beside them, a face you had never seen before. 

You dipped into a low bow once you reached them, gloved hands resting over your stomach. "Your Majesties," you greeted them. "I'm honored to be in your presence." 

"We're thankful that you came all this way," the queen replied graciously. She gestured to the man standing beside her. "The king and I have a favor to ask of you regarding our son." 

Son? Your eyes widened at the sudden realization — this must Prince Junmyeon.  

The man in question was strikingly handsome, hands clasped behind his back as he stood with ramrod-straight posture. Not a single lock of his raven-black hair was out of place, and while his jawline was sharp and sculpted, his round cheeks gave his face an overall boyish appearance. But the prince didn't spare you a glance, gaze fixed on a single point on the floor. 

The king cleared his throat, Prince Junmyeon blinking as if coming out of a stupor. He looked up, eyes meeting yours before dipping his head slightly. 

"Prince Junmyeon, pleasure to make your acquaintance." But despite his words, his voice seemed empty, devoid of any warmth.

"Junmyeon is set to be wed by the end of the year," the king spoke up. "As per royal tradition, Junmyeon will gift his betrothed with a self-portrait as an engagement present. It is an opportunity for him to showcase his talents, as well as to display the most appealing image of himself. However, painting is something that my son has, ahem, never been particularly skilled in." The king shot his son an apologetic look. "And as we had heard of your wonderful artistry..." his voice grew faint. 

"You would like me to paint his portrait?"

"Ah, no," the king said quickly. "That would not be in accordance with the tradition. We would like you to give Prince Junmyeon lessons to help him acquire the skills that he needs." 

"You would be paid handsomely, of course," the queen added. 

The prince was in need of art lessons? You snuck another peek at him, taking in the way his dark brows had a slight furrow in between them, the way his lips were pressed into a thin line. "I've never taught before, I wouldn't want to be a burden to you, Your Highness." Your last words were directed to the prince, waiting to see what his response would be.

Prince Junmyeon flinched as if he had been stung, clearing his throat roughly. "It would be no burden at all," he said stiffly.

The king clapped his hands together, beaming widely. "Then it's settled! We are greatly indebted to you." 

"It is no trouble to me," you replied with another tiny bow. Even when you looked back up, the prince's face was just as impassive as before. You couldn't decipher any emotion on his face besides boredom and what seemed like suppressed annoyance. The prince was a mystery, hiding his true self under the mask that he wore. 

And yet for some reason, you couldn't help but want to find out what lay underneath.

The second prince sat hunched over, one arm resting on his leg as he brushed globs of paint across his canvas. It was an posture unaccustomed to painting, but you held your tongue. 

Before you could even begin lessons, you needed a clear picture of your pupil's current abilities. It was hard not to jump in when he first started painting his nose, much to your discomfort. Personally, you would have done a rough sketch first, starting with the edges of your face and working inwards. The prince shocked you even further when he moved on to paint his ears, facial features appearing on the canvas in an strange sequence. To add onto that, everything was out of proportion, creating a sort of optical illusion for the viewer.

You were itching to speak up, to fix the oddities that you had noticed in the past fifteen minutes. "Your Highness, I think this is fine. We can move on to other things, you've already got your entire face done." 

"Oh, I just need ten minutes, please." Prince Junmyeon looked at you over his shoulder, blinking innocently. 

Suppressing an impatient sigh, you forced a smile onto your face. "Ten minutes, then." 

And so, you waited another agonizing ten minutes until the prince finally set down his paintbrush. "Well? What do you think?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"It's... very unique," you managed to say. "You've used a lot of color in your self-portrait, Your Highness." 

It was true: Prince Junmyeon had used almost every available color provided. Dark green shadows framed the edges of his face, orange highlights running down his nose and lips painted a vivid red. How he managed to even paint blue onto his cheeks, you had no idea.

Prince Junmyeon let out a snort, taking you by surprise. "You don't need to compliment me to make me feel better. It's horrendous, I know." 

"Well... do you like it?"

"What?" The prince frowned at your question.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. While I may not have done a self-portrait in this way, it doesn't matter what I think, as long as your art speaks to you. Do you believe that this represents you the way that you would like to be seen?" 

Prince Junmyeon turned back to his portrait, unable to help the small chuckle that escaped from his lips. "I would hope that no one saw this and thought it was me." 

"Which part are you dissatisfied with?"

"Honestly, all of it." The prince ran a hand through his hair, forgetting about the paint on his fingers. "I didn't even want to do this ridiculous self-portrait in the first place, much less get married." His last words came out in a whisper.

You hadn't thought much of the prince's marriage, taking it as an accepted and natural way of life for him. Not once had you thought that he might have any objection to it, though looking back on it all, Prince Junmyeon hadn't shown an inkling of interest in his marriage. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said truthfully. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be in your position." 

The prince opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it and looking away. "Thank you," he replied after a few seconds of silence. "But it can't be helped. This is what I was born into, and so I must deal with it as it comes." He straightened up in his seat, hands resting on his knees. "Well? Where do we start from here?" 

You gave the painting another once-over, eyes zeroing in on something. Reaching out for his paintbrush and palette, you took a step closer to the easel. "Can I do your hair? You have good, defined strokes here, but they're lacking variation in color." 

Junmyeon watched as you mixed a few colors on your palette, creating one that was a few shades lighter than the one he used to paint his hair. He watched in awe as you added the new color to the painting, effortlessly adding more dimension. 

"Wow," he breathed out. "It looks better already." 

A proud smile came to your face. "It's nothing much. If you would like to do a more realistic portrait, it's important to include light and shadows as well. But  there's also nothing wrong with taking a more abstract approach." 

"Oh no," the prince replied quickly. "I think I'm done dealing with the abstract for a while." A grimace found its way onto his face as he stared at his artwork. "I have a lot of work ahead of me, don't I?"

"If it helps, you only have to do one painting." 

Junmyeon burst into laughter, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed. "It's an unusual way to cheer someone up, but you've succeeded. You're an interesting one, Teacher Y/N." 

You scrunched your nose up upon hearing the title he had attached to your name. "Just Y/N, please. It's so strange to hear my name like that." 

"Then I ask that you do the same for me as well." 

"Your Highness, I couldn't — "

Junmyeon lifted a finger, your words instantly coming to a halt. "Try it. No formal titles, just my name — like between friends."

The idea was ridiculous to you. Friends, with the prince? But you thought of how lonely he seemed, always leaving for trips far away from the castle, alienated by rumors and burdened with a marriage that he didn't ask for. Maybe what the prince needed most wasn't lessons, but a friend. 

"Alright then," you began hesitantly. "Junmyeon." 

The prince's face lit up, chasing away the gloom that had been hanging over him all day. "That's more like it.”

Junmyeon always complained whenever you looked over his shoulder, claiming that he felt even more nervous when he could feel your eyes on him. You always spent the first half of your lessons introducing new techniques and tips, and then gave him the rest of the time to put them into practice. Only at the end of the lesson would the prince show you his work for the day.

You sat in a chair across from the prince and his easel, an easel and canvas of your own set up. 

"What are you painting?" Junmyeon asked, peeking out from behind his easel. 

"It's a secret," you replied with a smirk.

"Ah, don't be like that. You know what I'm painting." 

"That's because you only have one task at hand, Your Highness." 

"Hey." Your head shot up at the unexpected sternness in your pupil's voice. "You're doing it again." 

You let out a weary sigh. "My apologies, Junmyeon." 

Junmyeon set his paintbrush down, the handle clattering against the small table by his side. "Are you really that uncomfortable with calling me by my name?" he asked softly.

You paused in the midst of a brush stroke. "You're a prince, Junmyeon. It's hard to break the habit when I know who you are." 

A somber look came into Junmyeon's eye. "I understand what you mean. I suppose it's one of the reasons why I enjoy traveling all the time." He seemed to forget that you were there, caught up in his own thoughts as he spoke. "Outside the kingdom, even outside this castle, very few people know what I look like. It makes it easy for me to blend in with everyone else, to pretend that I'm another ordinary person."

Junmyeon was far from ordinary, prince or not, but you kept this to yourself. He would only tease you about it, giggling at your embarassment. 

"It sounds very freeing," you said instead.

"Free," Junmyeon repeated. "It is, truly. But my parents argue that I have too much freedom." He smiled bitterly to himself. "They've been wanting me to settle down for years, to stay at home where I belong. I know that they're only concerned for my safety, but still... I love my country, but I love the adventure of traveling to new lands more. At the end of it all, I get to bring what I've learned to the people that I love back home." Junmyeon turned to you with a curious glint in his eye. "Have you ever gone traveling?"

"I've never even left the kingdom," you admitted as Junmyeon's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Never?"

You shook your head. "I haven't had the opportunity to, although I'd love to see art from all over the world." 

Junmyeon was silent for a moment before speaking up. "If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?" 

"Any place where there's an ocean. I've only gone once as a child, but I have fond memories of that day. Sea landscapes are some of my favorite to paint as well." 

The prince paused, nodding to himself before picking up his paintbrush and palette once more, immersing himself in his work. 

You weren't sure what brought on this sudden change, but you were grateful for it. Your mind had already begun straying towards visions of voyaging across oceans, walking along pebble-covered beaches, the prince even making an appearance in one fantasy of you dipping your toes into the glimmering ocean water. 

Shaking your head, you followed Junmyeon's actions and resumed painting. It was silly to even think of seeking out new places with him by your side. 

Junmyeon might have been your friend, but he was still a prince. 

However, even calling him a friend in this past week had awakened a new, fluttery feeling in your chest. You were afraid of thinking too deeply into it, of feeling things that could never be reciprocated. 

After all, he was getting married. He was your student, a friend, and nothing more. 

Or so you tried to convince yourself.  

Weeks passed, every other day spent at the castle with Junmyeon and your paints. 

You tried to distance yourself from the prince, but found yourself falling for him more and more with each passing day. He didn't make it any easier, what with his charming smiles and increasingly playful attitude. You swore that the past few sessions had consisted less of actual painting, and more of playing around and talking about his travels. 

Time was slipping through your hands, and you knew that these lessons would come to an end all too soon. 

Junmyeon didn't object when you came in one day, determined to actually get some painting done. This time, you read a book to keep yourself busy instead of working along with him. The only thing you felt like painting was the second prince, but you would die of embarrassment if he saw you painting him. 

The room was oddly silent, different from the weeks of laughter that had filled this room. You could feel Junmyeon's eyes on you every so often, knowing that he must be at a loss for your sudden shift in behavior. 

Even at the end of the lesson, as you studied his finished self-portrait, a heaviness lingered in the air. It was stifling, almost suffocating Junmyeon as he waited for you to say something. 

"You've improved so much since we first met," you finally said. "Soon enough, you won't need my help at all."

"Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?" Junmyeon shot back, getting up from his seat. 

You stepped back, hand raised to your chest as you tried to calm the racing of your heartbeat. "What do you mean?" you replied lamely. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to say goodbye?"

"We would have to eventually. You're getting married, Junmyeon." 

Junmyeon's face hardened, the sharp edges of his face emphasized as he clenched his jaw. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you — "

"I can't marry a person that I don't love. I've tried in order to make my parents happy, but the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get." Junmyeon's gaze was desperate as he stared at you. "Y/N, I can't marry someone when I'm in love with someone else." 

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped from your lips as you realized what he meant. "Junmyeon, we can't." You backed up as he took a step closer, a pang of guilt striking you Junmyeon's face fell. "The king and queen, they'll be furious when they find out." 

"Give me a chance to convince them," he pleaded. "Meet me here tomorrow, please. I will find a way to make this right, I promise." 

There was no doubting the fierce sincerity in Junmyeon's voice, his earnestness to make things right. As terrified as you were, you still had complete faith in him.

"Okay," you agreed as Junmyeon sighed in relief. 

He circled his arms around you, holding you close to him. Junmyeon was sure that you could hear the loud pounding of his heartbeat, but he didn't care. Never in his life had he cared for someone so deeply, had wanted to be with someone so ardently. No matter what happened, he was determined not to let anything get in the way of the future that he wanted. 

He would run away with you, if that's what it took.

You were a mess of nerves, although on the outside, you appeared as cool as a cucumber. Upon your arrival, you had been led to the throne room — the same place where you had met Junmyeon for the first time. 

Like deja vu, the king and queen were seated at the far end of the room while Junmyeon stood close by. This time, a covered easel was beside him. 

The king spoke up as soon as you came to a stop in front of them, his dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What is the meaning of all this, Junmyeon?" 

"I've finished my portrait, Father — the one for my betrothed." 

You looked over at Junmyeon, puzzled by his words. Dark shadows rested under his eyes, as if he had stayed up through the night. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Junmyeon lifted the fabric off of the easel, revealing the painting underneath. 

Instead of seeing Junmyeon, your own face stared back at you, painted in different shades of blue paint. The colors reminded you of the vibrant open ocean you once saw as a child. Tears pricked your eyes as you realized that this painting wasn't just a declaration of Junmyeon's true affections — it was a vow to take you to the places you had once dreamed of visiting, to go on these journeys together.

"Junmyeon," the queen said. "What do you mean by this?"

"I cannot go through with the marriage that you and Father set up for me." Junmyeon came to your side, his strong, firm hand slipping into yours. "I love Y/N, and I don't wish to be with anyone else. I beg of you, please call off the engagement."

The king and queen exchanged a stunned look, both of them speechless at this turn of events. "Is this true?" the king asked you. "You care for my son?" 

You nodded with certainty, unable to stop the smile on your face. "Yes, Your Majesty. More than anyone else in the world." 

"Mother, Father," Junmyeon ventured carefully. "I know that you have only been doing what you believed was best for me, but I don't want a marriage to keep me confined, to keep me from what I love. I want to travel the world with Y/N, to learn about all there is to see and experience. I'll always come back home, no matter what."

The queen brought her hand to her mouth, eyes almost as glossy as yours. "But what if you were to get hurt?"

Junmyeon turned to you, squeezing your hand gently. "Y/N and I will keep each other out of trouble. Any difficulties that come our way, we'll face them together." 

A defeated sigh caught both of your attention, the king shaking his head with a weary smile. "You're too much like I was, at that age. We should have known better than to try and stop you in the first place. Alright, I shall call the engagement off." 

"But you must come home at least once a month," the queen added quickly. "No more gallivanting and disappearing for months at a time." 

Junmyeon laughed, the sound as soothing as a fresh breeze on a summer day. "Yes, Mother." He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. "How are you feeling?" he asked, voice hushed to give you two some semblance of privacy. 

"I can't believe it," you murmured back. Your eyes were drawn back to Junmyeon's painting, tracing over each brushstroke, each pop of color on the canvas. "When did you have time to make this?"

"I stayed up all night working on it. I don't mean for it to be an engagement gift to you — not yet. But I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, how much you've changed my life already." 

You reached up with your other hand, running your thumb over the smooth skin of his cheek. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before. Thank you, Junmyeon." 

"Of course." Junmyeon leaned down, forehead resting against yours. He giggled to himself as your noses bumped into each other in the process. "Where to now, my love? We have the entire world to see." 

You closed your eyes, soaking in every detail of this unforgettable moment. 

"Anywhere is fine, as long as I'm with you." 

A/N: 3.8k words oh my gosh, someone stop me 😂 the requests just end up being longer and longer than the one before, this is so funny to me omg. but each time I tried to make it shorter, it just didn’t make sense to cut any of the parts out. I was inspired by myeon’s “self-portrait” album, specifically the album cover! 

#exo #suho #junmyeon #suho scenario #junmyeon scenario #suho fanfic #junmyeon fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

[kittae]

Roles Reversed (M)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Side characters: Min Yoongi

Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).

Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.

words: 2240

Warnings: Rated M, graphic descriptions of sexual content, degradation, orgasm denial, foul language, cunnilingus, spanking, filming of pornography

« previous — next »

“I won! Yes!” You cheer, throwing your arms in the air and the controller with them before it lands onto the soft cushions of the couch you’d placed yourselves back in front of.

Taehyung’s thrown off for a second, surprised you’re going completely off script from the very start, but quickly remembers to play along. The crew doesn’t seem as confused, almost as if they’d been expecting it. He decides to pay it no mind, only focusing on his job at the moment.

He puts on a cute pout, eyes glaring at you from underneath their lashes. Since you’re the one who won, he figures he should follow the role you were supposed to play, right? The sore loser.

“Didn’t you just cheat, though? I noticed you using dirty tricks to get a headstart!” Taehyung whines, hoisting himself up on the sofa and crossing his arms and legs.

A low chuckle slips from your lips as they curl in a mischievous smirk. “Dirty?” You join him on the cushions on your hands and knees, purring teasingly into his ear, “How dirty exactly?”

Taehyung keeps his face neutral, though he’s trying very hard not to grin when he realizes which direction you’re taking this. You’re a talented actress, alright.

“Downright disgusting,” He holds your gaze as he tests the waters and holds his breath until you break out a wide grin, silently encouraging him to go on, “Does your brother know you lie and cheat to get what you want?”

“My brother doesn’t know anything… and I’d like to keep it that way,” you murmur, a finger coming up to trace the line between his naked pecs, “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“Tell him what?” Taehyung feigns ignorance, “He’s my best friend, we tell each other everything.”

“I only cheated to win because… Because I was hoping you’d punish me for it.” You confess, big puppy eyes and with your bottom lip between your teeth, looking the embodiment of guilty innocence. Taehyung can’t keep his hard cock from twitching in excitement within the limited privacy of his shorts. The thin fabric doesn’t do much to hide the growing bulge.

“Punish you?” He repeats, long fingers reaching out to gently caress your neck. The touch practically has you keening already, your back arching and undoubtedly giving the rear cameras a golden close-up of your pretty ass sticking out doing so.

“Yes, please… I’ve been such a bad girl, don’t you think?” You ask breathlessly, one hand coming between his crossed legs, your arm grazing his erection briefly and instantly making him shiver. Your soft breasts push against his shoulder when you move to nip at his earlobe, before whispering, “Bad girls should get spanked. It’s what I deserve for deceiving you, hm?”

You smile, genuinely giddy when you pull back only to splay yourself over his lap, ass ready and in the air, waiting. Taehyung’s large hands grope your cheeks, kneading them like fresh dough and coaxing a soft moan from you already. The light blue, flimsy shorts color darker between your legs where you’re getting wet for him in anticipation.

Long fingers hook themselves around the waistband of your shorts, effortlessly sliding them down the roundness of your ass and letting them bunch around your thighs. He selfishly takes a moment to admire the glistening treasure between them; your pretty pussy all slick and swollen for him already. He’d like nothing more than to touch it right now, to drag a single finger through your folds and watch them open up to reveal more of your sticky wetness. Fuck, it takes every piece of willpower in him not to skip the spanking so he could dive in and stuff his face between your legs right this moment. His mouth waters at the sight.

A playful wiggle of your ass tears him out of his trance, a pout marring your pretty face as you crane your head to look at him over your shoulder. “Taehyung, if you don’t punish me for my disgusting behavior, how will I ever learn to be a good girl?”

He gulps, looking at the smooth and beautiful skin of your ass, so inviting. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to smack it, and hard. But he’s never had to inflict pain on any of his co-stars before. Is this really okay?

“Tell me what you did to deserve getting your ass spanked, ___. Why do you deserve to be punished?” He inquires, hand gently stroking your right cheek in circles.

“I’m a cheating bitch, playing dirty to win!” You confess, followed by a gasp when the flat surface of his big hand collides with your soft flesh and a loud slap echoes through the studio.

“You’re a cheating bitch.” He repeats, the words rolling off his tongue more easily than before. You have to suppress the urge to praise him, so you focus on the delightful sting on your skin instead. “What else?”

“I-I asked you not to tell my brother even though you’re best friends. I’m a selfish whore, Taehyung!” You can’t hide the excitement on your face, teeth biting down on your thumb not to cry out in pleasure when a second, more vigorous slap finds the swell of your buttcheeks.

“A selfish whore too, huh? You disgust me, ___, ” He insults you almost effortlessly now, even sounds like he’d dare enjoy it! “What else did you do?”

“Yes, yes! I’m s-so disgusting!” You nod eagerly, arching your back and sticking your ass out further, the burn only increasing with every touch. “I tricked you into punishing me for my own wicked pleasure because I’m a dirty slut!”

It’s quiet for a couple seconds when he gets reminded of his earlier blunder where he failed to call you that. A minor wave of anxiety washes over him, the apprehension of actually having those words come out of his mouth momentarily paralyzing him. This is the moment he needs to gather his courage. He’s already come this far, he can’t go back now!

Not one, not two, but a sequence of three sharp slaps hits your sensitive bottom so intensely it has you shifting forward from his lap and crying out louder with each strike. They sound more like delighted chirps (honestly after your bondage series with Hoseok, a few spanks aren’t going to make you cry), which make Taehyung grow more confident in his ability to pull this off—as well as in his pants.

“I’m not sure a few spanks are enough to punish dirty sluts like you, ___,” He forces himself to go through with it, though it proves to be less difficult than the first time he’d tried.

“Yes, you’re right…” You agree, starting to sit up and shift your weight on your knees, ready to take his cock out of his shorts and finally get a taste of it.

He instantly stops you, a hand coming to grab your wrist. “It’s not a punishment if I let you do something you enjoy, right?”

“W-what?” Your eyes grow wide and he knows you were not expecting him to go off script on his own initiative, nor that he’d flip you on your back to tear your shorts all the way down.

You completely misread his intentions, hooking your legs around his hips and locking him between your legs. “You know, having you fuck me is exactly what I wanted to get out of this so this isn’t exactly a punishment either.” You tease, not particularly minding this turn of events.

Taehyung says nothing, instead he grins and throws your legs over his broad shoulders. This is what he knows he can do well and since you’re improvising, it’s time he’d gain back some mojo.

His face is between your thighs immediately, reversing the roles you were supposed to play. You’d be choking on his gorgeous cock right now, have the head nudge the walls of your throat until he’d blow his load and you wouldn’t swallow anything, saving some to let it drip down your lips and chin for a good close-up. That’s if you’d followed the script. There’s none of that in the way he completely devours your pussy like a starved man, but with the precision of a chef decorating a plate. His tongue knows precisely where to add pressure, his lips sucking around your little nub not too hard or too soft, but just right. His sizable fingers introduce themselves before long, starting with one digit smoothly slipping inside of you to tickle your impatient walls, clenching around it to keep it there. A second joins and you feel the slight stretch added to the heavenly pleasure he inflicts with his mouth, having you see stars in record time.

You’ve had some skilled co-actors, that’s the least you can say. But Taehyung? It’s like his sole ambition in life is to make you come within a minute and with the pace he’s going, you’re damn sure he’s about to succeed. Such skill, you’ve never encountered ever in your entire life.

“C-come, I’m gonna come! T-Taehyung, I–” You gasp for air, your hands desperately tugging at the blue strands on his head, back arching and body thrashing in response to the rapidly approaching climax.

Right before you’re about to let go and come so hard you’re sure you’ll be groggy for some time after, he stops all movement. The orgasm never comes and it quickly ebs away, leaving you with an empty and disappointed feeling. It would’ve been a powerful orgasm and not fake at all!

You’re about to protest when Taehyung shuts you up with his lips on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and making sure you can taste every bit of your sweet juice he’d greedily lapped up before. You feel slightly dizzy, which is quite unlike you. Usually, you don’t let yourself get too caught up in the moment, rather focusing on your job.

He pulls back with a lewd sound, his tongue sliding over his lips to gather spilled fluids. “Such a sweet cunt for a filthy whore. Did you really think I’d let you come?”

A shiver crawls over your spine before you can help it. Not because you feel offended, but because it sparks sheer excitement in your gut.

“If it’s my cock you want, you can beg for it like a bitch. On your knees.” The words he utters are completely vile, yet his voice makes them sound so sweet. The way he smooths his thumb over your bottom lip is so gentle your brain wants to warp the insults into the loveliest compliments.

“Cut! That was incredible!” Director Lee calls, the crew clapping after his example. “Great job everyone!”

You blink a few times, trying to gain back some awareness of your surroundings. What the hell had just happened?

“Oh, we’re finishing here?” Taehyung asks shockingly innocent. “A-alright…”

A few staff members come running with both of your robes, towels and two bottles of water. As Taehyung covers himself, you can make out the tips of his ears turning red again.

“I’m so sorry if I went too far, I don’t– I don’t even remember what I said, to be honest,” He murmurs, almost too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

You’re perplexed for a second, just trying to process how the same guy who looked like he wanted to quit and lock himself in his dressing room only half an hour earlier did a full 180 on his own without much of your help, only to go back to this. He’s an even more skilled actor than you’d already anticipated.

“It was perfect, really,” You shake your head, a big grin going from ear to ear. “You did so great! I’m just… I’m surprised, that’s all.”

Yoongi appears from between the crew, a wide smile on his face as well.

“Taehyungie, I knew you could do it!” He takes the younger’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks. “Told you he’s talented! Now, we should probably retreat because I know for a fact someone could use some aftercare after all of that.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, “I’m okay, I don’t need aftercare for–”

“I’m talking about this one,” Yoongi lovingly pats Taehyung’s cheek, “It must’ve taken a lot out of him to pull that off.”

You suppress a giggle, just because it was too cute to watch your old classmate doting on the actor like this.

“You’re right.” You agree. “Taehyung, you should take a nice hot bath with some bath bombs you like and pamper yourself with your favorite food and a movie or music...or something. That always works for me after a rough shoot.”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “Thank you, ___. I’m okay though, I just need to let it sink in, I guess. Was it really okay?” He turns to his manager, “When will it be published online?”

Yoongi purses his lips like he does when he’s guilty of something.

“...Yoongi?” Taehyung asks again, more suspecting.

“It’s not going to be published online,” Yoongi shrugs, “It’s not going to be published anywhere.”

Taehyung looks completely lost. “What do you mean?”

“This wasn’t a real shoot,” you confess, on your lips an apologetic smile, “This was a testing shoot for the seminars Yoongi signed you up for.”

“Seminars?!” Taehyung gasps, looking absolutely betrayed while Yoongi admires the wall behind him.

You guess you’ll have to break it to him.

Heliotrope masterlist

#bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #bts fanfiction #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #v smut #bts v #bts #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic

[duker42]

May I request a Levi x S/O Modern!AU where Levi, Petra & the reader are all actors so on set Levi pays more attention to Petra and while playing a scene sth happens to Petra (she breaks her leg/hand/etc) and the moment the reader tries to help Levi shouts at her which is why it breaks her heart so badly. She runs into rain leaving everybody. Levi regrets it and they come back together somehow. I would love to read the full ansgt/fluff and then smutty scenario 😁

***Sorry it took so long...This one was a bit difficult for me. But I hope you enjoy!

*****Warning*****NSFW

💜Not Acting💜

Y/N watched as they ran through the scene again. Petra managed to miss her mark again. She growled out in frustration. Scenes involving Levi seemed to need twice as many takes as ones that didn’t involve her boyfriend.

Y/N wasn’t blind, she could see the adoring looks Petra threw his way when she thought no one was looking. The “innocent” touches and the flirty laugh as she endured another one of Levi’s jokes. Levi thought he was funny, not too many other people did.

What really pissed her off was he didn’t seem to mind the petite ginger haired woman’s fawning. She had enduring him rolling his slate grey eyes when she mentioned her issues with the up and coming actress.

They were behind schedule. The film should have already been in post production, but the script changes and retakes were mounting as the days went by. Y/N sat while her makeup artist touched up her look and reset the finishing powder. After two hours of watching Levi and Petra go through the same scene, it was finally time for Y/N’s scenes to be shot.

Having studiously choreographed the scene and attending each of her stunt classes, Y/N knew that she was prepared. Petra, she wasn’t so sure. She had never actually blocked out the sequence with her, even though the fight scene involved her. Levi had been present, but for some reason Petra always need private sessions with the stunt coordinator.

While the set team worked on resetting the room, Levi and Petra chatted, the former barely acknowledging when Y/N walked up to them.

“Hi, Y/N, Levi was just telling me the most amazing story about his trip to Bora Bora last year!” Petra’s smile had just a tinge of bite to it. Y/N seethed, of course, she wouldn’t be so damn cocky if she knew that Levi was with her during that trip.

Notoriously private, Levi and Y/N had kept their romance in the shadows. Unwilling to have the paparazzi hound them for photos night and day if word of their relationship broke. Although, lately, she had been wondering if that wasn’t a mistake. It would certain keep people like Petra from trying to instigate an onset fling with the man she slept next to.

~~~~~

Five grueling hours later, Y/N’s patience was at its limit. Petra was unprepared and every scene had retakes called for. She was tired, hungry and a little annoyed at how willing Levi seemed to be in helping the younger woman. When action was finally called, Y/N grabbed Petra’s arm and twisted, just like the scene had called for. Except the amber eyed girl had not moved her body like she was supposed to. A loud pop was heard throughout the studio and loud cries of agony came from the girl as she clutched her arm and dropped to the floor.

Dropping to her knees, Y/N reached for Petra. While she might have been annoyed at her, she had never wanted to actually injure the girl. Dramatic to a fault, her eyes widened and she backed away as if Y/N was actually trying to hurt her further.

Levi rushed to Petra’s side, his eyes narrowed in anger as hot words spilled angrily from his mouth. “Get the fuck back! Haven’t you done enough?”

She gaped in agony, Levi had never spoken to her like that before. She turned and ran from the building, tears flowing from her eyes as she ran out into the rain.

~~~~~

Levi was pissed. This girl had caused another production delay. He was extremely cranky and needed a hot cup of tea. When he had seen how unprepared she was to shoot the scene he had tried to reason with the director to no avail. All he could possibly do was try and give the annoying girl as much help as possible along the way. When he heard the pop as her shoulder dislocated, he was unreasonably pissed at Y/N for causing the next issue they would have to deal with.

After the on set medic had come up to Petra to begin assessing her, Levi looked around for Y/N. He owed her an apology. It wasn’t uncommon for tempers to run high on set, but he had never snapped at her like that. He felt a little uneasy when he didn’t see her in her normal chair. Walking over to it, he spotted her cell phone sitting the in cup holder.

Her assistant was walking by and Levi grabbed her sleeve to catch the girls attention. She might know where she was, even though she spent most days next to the buffet table.

Sasha, where is Y/N?”

The girl swallowed the disgustingly large bite of the sandwich she was holding before she answered. “I don’t know, she ran out crying after Petra was hurt.”

“Shit.....”

~~~~~

Y/N walked in the rain. Her stage make up running down her face, her hair limp and wet. Her tears had finally stopped, and she just felt numb.

Stopping at the little pond used for filming romantic scenes, she sat on a bench by the water, letting the rain fall on her.

That’s were Levi finally found her, running around the studio searching for her. He had really begun to panic when she had not been in her trailer. But then he had remember that she always loved sitting by the pond.

Approaching her cautiously, he sat down beside her as she continued to stare out at the water. He hated seeing the red rims around her eyes, the trails in her makeup that were carved out by her tears before the rain had touched her. Hated his words were the cause of her grief.

“Go back to Petra.” Her words were small as she wrapped her arms around her torso.

His eyes widened. She thought he was falling for the girl? She believe that his anger was due to him having some sort of feeling for her rather than the annoyance of having another delay? He realized all the time he had spent trying to bring the girls acting skill up to par could have been misconstrued as some sort of infatuation. He had to convince her that it wasn’t true. Levi, the man, only had eyes for Y/N.

“No, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was upset that brat was causing another production delay. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” He turned her head as he spoke, making her look into his eyes. He saw the indecisiveness in her face, she wanted to believe him, but didn’t dare to.

Pulling her to her feet, he marched back towards the trailers, his grip on her wrist tight. He was going to prove to her that she had nothing to worry about.

~~~~~

The steam rose up from the shower as he removed her last bit of cover. Tossing her bra onto the floor, he drank in the sight. Moving her back under the warm spray of water, he ran his hands over her chilled skin.

Cupping her breasts in his hands, he begins to articulate exactly what he feels. “These breasts are perfect. They fit so nicely in my hands. Your nipples are so sweet and responsive when I suck on them.” Leaning down, he draws a taunt peak into his mouth, giving it a harsh pull as his hands wander.

“This stomach. I can’t believe how perfectly toned yet soft it is.” Soft strokes to her skin set her body on fire as his words wash over her.

He grips her hips in his hands harshly, pulling her against him. “These hips, fuck.....You have curves that other women dream of. I love watching these hips move, especially when you’re walking away and I get to see that ass.”

He moves to kiss her neck as he lifts her in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You thighs fit around me so perfectly. I love being in between them.

He ground his length against her. “This....this is the only place I ever wanted to be. In your arms.” Kisses her deeply, he pushes himself inside her velvety core. He groans in satisfaction at having her around him, and enjoys the low gasp coming from Y/N.

He begins to move, slowly. Every thrust accompanying another thing he loves about her. Her hips move in tandem with his as he holds her against the wall. Her hands woven into his hair, tugging on his raven locks as he continues to his loving assault on her body.

Her sudden intake of breath and stiffening of her body let him know she had come, the wave of hot liquid surrounding him. His pace quickened, needing to find his own release as the feel of her around him and against him drove him to the peak. Pressing her into the wall harder, he grunted out her name as his body was overtaken by pleasure.

Stilling, he held her against him for long moments before he would set her down. Holding her head between his hands, he gave her another passionate kiss.

“I’m not acting now, Y/N. I love you.”

Mobile MasterList

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #moder au #levi modern au #levi heichou #captain levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #levi x reader

[starlightshowtimeproductions]

Double Feature Fatality!

Shu-hua Chiu falls out of the sky. Her feet hit the stage beneath her with a resounding thud. She barely sticks the landing, her whole body shaking from the reverb she felt. A less experienced martial artist may have fallen over, but she takes the pain with gritted teeth. She reaches for her cane, only to find nothing but air.

“Alright…” She’d have to stand on her own, then.

It looks as though she’s been dropped onto a stage, right in the center for everyone to see. A large projector screen has been pulled down behind her. Not knowing where to go, she takes an uncertain step towards it.

The lights shut off. The chugging of an old-fashioned film reel echoes in the theater. A video plays on the screen, gray and grainy like something taken out of the 30s with all the cracks and discoloration to match. Black spots dot the footage in random places, but they don’t hurt its legibility. It’s a video of a fight between two women.

Two oddly familiar women...identical to the one watching their duel, save for the gi on one of them. She watches their swings and punches—how they don’t quite seem to hit with full force, how they barely dodge each other’s hits in time. The choreography’s tight without much room for error. As Shu-hua takes it all in, she realizes what she’ll have to do. This is for her to copy.

Light floods the theater once more. She’s not sure if the other Shu-hua walked onto the stage in the darkness or just materialized. It doesn’t matter. Shu-hua mirrors her doppelganger, adopting the proper stance just as she does. Just as in the video, her clone runs towards her. Shu-hua steps out of the way. She spins, bringing out her leg for a high kick that makes her scream from the effort.

At the very least, she hasn’t missed her beat. Throughout it all, she follows the choreography to the letter. She throws punches that bring tears to her eyes, she weaves out of the path of kicks that would’ve sent her to her knees, and she makes it all look good. If she wasn’t fighting to her death, this would be a beautiful performance.

Once their fight reaches its conclusion, the theater goes dark. A new video plays. This time, they’re holding swords and the real Shu-hua’s holding a hand over her heart as she watches. Her breathing is labored, every gasp of air rattling her on the inside. Her muscles ache. Her joints are protesting even though she’s not doing much more than standing at this point. She… Swordplay? Can she handle something like that in her current state?

She’ll have to try. The video ends. The lights come on, like they did last round. Another Shu-hua stands before her, her sword in hand. The same weapon instantly appears in Shu-hua’s hand. It wouldn’t be a fair and accurate fight if she didn’t have one, too. She counts in her head, syncing every number to the choreography she’ll have to complete.

The fight begins. Shu-hua strikes with her sword. She parries. Shu-hua moves her blade away. She goes in for a hit that gets blocked. They’re interlocked for two seconds before trading dodges and blows. It’s graceful, and so much of Shu-hua is agony as she goes through the motions.

She missteps. Her doppelganger’s sword cuts at her side, ripping straight through her jacket and drawing blood. Shu-hua returns with a swing different from the choreography. She needs to gain an advantage here—

Electricity shoots through her. Shu-hua collapses with a yell. Her clone freezes, watching Shu-hua through narrowed eyes. They’ve still got another fifteen, maybe twelve seconds to go.

No deviations allowed.

“I get it…”

Shu-hua gets back up. She points her sword at her doppelganger.

Back to the fight. There’s a couple of times where she’s too slow. She stumbles. But she makes it through. Her clone disappears, and Shu-hua’s left alone on the stage to catch her breath. How many more fights would she have to complete? Every breath she takes feels worse than the last. Everything’s burning now. Her lungs. The slice across her stomach…

The theater goes dark. A new video plays, titled “Final Sequence.” It’s a routine that starts with a cartwheel to the left. Then, more acrobatic fighting. If she focuses, she can do it. She knows she can. Once the video ends and the lights come back on and her doppelganger’s staring her down, Shu-hua gets right into it.

She launches herself into the cartwheel, her arms shaking.

She falls over.

The wound on her stomach opens wide. Her blood spills, but she gets up one last time.

...Only to fall again.

It’s over for her.

Shu-hua dies, under her shadow’s unfeeling eye.

-----------------------

[ SECURE THE PREMISES ]

It happens in the blink of an eye. A new scenery. A new 'set'.

Chopped grass stretches out, as if trimmed to some perfect short height. In front of Alisa is an obstacle course, reminiscent perhaps of something found in a military or police academy. Even from this far, she can see a sign in the distance. Finish. If she makes it... then maybe...

Her first step is shaky, but it moves forward. Where else is there for her to go? What else is there for her to do?

The smooth slope upwards is the first checkpoint. It'll be hard to maintain your footing but it's possible, if she just perseveres. Nervous steps turning into running footfalls as she attempts to scale the arcing ramp. However, rather than the sleek surface one would expect, a myriad of small spikes coat both the ground and the rails. Alisa stumbles and struggles to find her footing as both hands hit the ramp, pricking them both. Still, she perseveres. With a shuddering breath, she digs her fingers in and pulls herself to the top of it, basically sliding down the other side. That's sure to bruise. It doesn't matter. She can keep going.

Next is a net to climb. It's obvious even from here it's snagged with small pointed needles and blades. But the only way is up. Each step up the net is grueling, each one tearing into her skin subtly, knees, fingers, thighs. She exerts herself to stop herself from getting stuck. Still, she perseveres. Her vision dizzies as she stands atop, ready to jump down into ice cold water. With a deep breath, she leaps and sputters upon hitting the surface. She hits it bad, leg in agony, body in pieces, but any screams are muffled by bubbling water. She barely manages to splash her way to shore. Thankfully, it's shallow.

It's not a surprise when the third checkpoint is a sandpit underneath barbed wire. Ragged breaths come out of her tired mouth as she gets onto her hands and knees and prepares to . Does she need to do it this way? Couldn't she just escape? Why go along with a cruel course like this? Honestly, she hasn't thought about it. Maybe that's why she's in this mess. If she could only think critically. Wire cuts and curls around her, further shredding her skin. She bites her lip as she struggles; so many scratches, both deep and shallow have cut into her face so much red is beginning to colour her vision.

Still. She perseveres. Each crawl towards completion has her snagged on another piece of wire. She grabs at the ground, she grabs at the barbed wire as her vision blurs. Disgustingly, bravely, in the most unrefined fashion, Alisa struggles towards her goal, tears pooling in her eyes. Is it regret? Pain? It doesn't matter anymore. The water stings at her wounds as she digs in her nails and completes the crawl, her left leg dragging behind pathetically.

What she's always wanted is ahead of her. The finish line. The police academy exam she failed. The father she had disappointed. The studio filled with people she'd let down. It was all building to this moment. Blood is pouring from her wounds, onto the ground as she limps to the door. Alisa, pulls it open and... a brilliant light... and laughter... she smiles at the thought of succeeding.

Bang!

A shot rings out and goes right through her chest. Ah. Of... course. There was no way it'd end any other way, right? She was stupid for believing anything otherwise. It's all fuzzy after that. Her lightheaded corpse teeters over and hits the ground, blood pool out from the sudden gunshot. Still... she perse...v...

Her hand reaches for something, anything. Any hope. Any support. "I ... j... ju... s... wanted... t..."

It falls to the ground by her side, a pained expression left on her face as the laugh track goes on. The defeated, bruised, broken and bloodied corpse of Alisa Belikova lays there.

For it was a joke, wasn't it?

To think it could end any other way.

#Chapter 3 #Trial Execution #Trial

[spicyhoneyheart]

Hustle

Hello! We've got a bit of a snow-in! My trip to the studio today has been cancelled, but at least it's given me time to refine this post. I have to realize though that I want to offer the sequence of topics up to you again since I'm a hybrid artist with many skills! In-depth explanations of mediums will start next week, so be sure to vote on my stories on Facebook and Instagram to help me decide. I'll just run through my current projects! Glass-/Kilncast-related work is always ongoing when I go to the studio in Aylmer, where I build up my mould library. As I mentioned last time, I'm currently working on a modified clawring of my own. 3/4 of the components have their rubber castings, while the fourth is a bit of a doozy. The pieces have been adorned with symbols relating to death and the Cycle, and I have to work through this last one so that the sculpting is readable. At that size, I have to be very particular of what symbol I end of choosing. So far I have Ouroboros snakes forming infinity, but I'm still brainstorming the middle piece. After that's done I have to sculpt it with a suitable unity within its space, which is shield-like/coat-of-arms-y.​

The end game is to make a gauntlet out of impact beads or pewter. Then I plan (once my nails grow out and I take better care of my hands) to “wear” them and hold varying objects in a batch of alginate. I'd riggle my hand out (theoretically), leaving the gauntlet pieces and object wedged inside. Then I'd pour plaster to take the form of my hand, bonding with the object and pieces as well. It's obviously gonna take some trial-and-error, which is often my favourite part anyway.

I figured out what I'd like to use for my objects: small bottles with hollow-core sculptures! Pretty neat idea inspired by something in a game I play in my spare time. I have yet to work through my cores, but I've started collecting bottles to rubber cast. I've been meandering between thrifts stores scouting for interesting shapes of this size. They have to be a comfortable size to hold but not too small that the cores are impossible to read. At this scale they can be worthy tests!

For other wax/glass-related projects, I'll delve deeper into for the appropriate post. ​My Lonely Hydra project will finally be underway this weekend! I have both the blasted and laser-engraved plates for proofing. I'll be picking up the press from my collective later today when the snow dies down. I'm also hoping to pick up a tripod from my friend to record my process more easily. I considered maybe streaming the process live, but I'm on the fence. My workspace is not really that special and I tend to suffer from interruptions. I might change my mind, we'll see! Again, stay tuned for my stories for that.

With the press in my possession I can also revisit from old prints of mine and replenish my stock. There's something going on April 4th... clear your calendars for that date! Lastly, on the illustration front, which includes both traditional and digital stuff. Traditionally I don't do much except for commissions or my own pleasure, unless it's for a stained-glass project but I'm not putting that on my plate right now. What I have going on (for months!) is a personal ukulele. It's basically just a precious object decorated with my favourite things. The back of it is a bit complex so when I start painting, I can't be stopped or else it takes forever to actually cover ground. Once it's completed I'll string her up and finally start fiddling with it. I grew up playing piano but I did have some affinity with the guitar. A uke would be a nice thing to play with in my down time, too.

Digital stuff is still on the go, basically whenever I have an inclination to sit at my computer all day. I have never been one to run out of ideas, and in fact, I get so many that I have a hard time completing one at a time. That's something I hope to improve on. Online shops have been a bit quiet because of it. I did however play around in Art of Where, one of my store platforms, because I do enjoy its design space. Both “Gafferdite” and “Gurasu Gods” have been renewed, this time in tandem with my shop's name, Spicy Honey Heart. I think they look pretty cool! I'll need to draw up an image logo to go along with it. I have a period of time coming up that'll be perfect for drafting these sketches.

Okay yeah I think I've prattled long enough! I'll post some polls for the next blog topic shortly after this one goes live. Stay safe out there! Take care, Gosia

#artist #glass #print #Illustration #digital #traditional #oddityart #occult #update #medium #facebook #instragram #spicyhoneyheart #willowindstudios #printondemand #onlineshop #news #society6 #redbubble #artofwhere

[theuncurrentdispatch]

“How long did it take to grow that mustache?”: Gender identity in Napoleon Dynamite

This summer marks the 15th anniversary of Napoleon Dynamite, a film so unique and divisive that computer scientists now use the term “Napoleon Dynamite problem” to describe the difficulty of predicting an eccentric movie’s likeability. From thrift-shop chic to nerd culture, Napoleon Dynamite lingers in the millennial identity— for proof, check out the comic book sequel coming this September. 2019 feels like the right time to analyze how the movie portrayed gender and sexuality to a generation that has since navigated high school, pushed for LGBT rights, and championed the #MeToo movement. 

 In this essay, I rely on the fraught, stereotypical terms “feminine” and “masculine”. It’s an imperfect schism-- women don’t have a monopoly on emotional sensitivity any more than men hold a lease on courage. But these terms accent how the adolescent Napoleon forges his adult identity through gender performance and subversion of stereotype, and I wanted to exploit those connotations. Subvert gender stereotypes, and all your wildest dreams will come true.

***********

After the opening sequence of hand models presenting food (MTV insisted the casts’ hands were too ugly), Napoleon Dynamite boards a school bus of children. The ages are uncertain, but the age gap is obvious. (It helps that Jon Heder was 27 during filming.) The gap in maturity is less apparent with the film’s first lines. “What are you gonna do today, Napoleon?” “Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!” Then, in the movie’s framing thesis, Napoleon throws a toy wrestler out the window to drag it behind the bus with fishing line, an adolescent boy exercising a cathartic sadism on the image of masculinity.

Napoleon is frozen in a boyish immaturity, and he is crushingly isolated. At school he’s bullied, taunted and laughed at by various incarnations of that plastic wrestler, until he calls his brother Kip to plead for rescue. Kip is just as important to the film’s point as his titular brother, because his quest offers an inversion of Napoleon’s journey. Kip is Neville Longbottom to his brother’s Harry Potter, his quest foundering in delusion while his brother successfully marries his masculine and feminine identities. The Dynamite brothers embark on separate journeys for the film’s central motifs: companionship and, most importantly, adult masculinity. The two grails overlap frequently in the form of various role models and gender performances the brothers engage with.

While Pedro and Deb are vital to Napoleon’s journey to selfhood (and one wonders whether Kip wouldn’t have gone astray if he’d had friends like them), the critical intrusion into the Dynamites’ stasis is Grandma’s removal. Grandma has been the orphan brothers’ anchoring role model, a sexless matriarch providing shelter in a sea of gender performativity and social isolation. The brothers’ first conversation shows the stark contrast of these two worlds as the wounded Napoleon seeks refuge with the school receptionist (herself a Grandma-type haven) to call Kip at home, where he “chats online with babes all day” and revels in the freedom to remotely assume an identity so far from his real-world grasp. When the hypermasculine Uncle Rico replaces Grandma (an unwelcome intrusion in itself), he reveals that she’s been adventuring across dunes with a secret boyfriend. Now lacking Grandma’s ostensible solidarity, the Dynamite brothers begin their quests to find the companionship and adulthood they’d convinced themselves they were successfully living without.

Napoleon latches onto Pedro. The day after Rex Kwon Do’s emasculating karate demonstration, Napoleon echoes the macho-man and asks if Pedro has his back. Pedro’s confused “What?” evokes a rare moment of vulnerability as Napoleon looks off and breathes “Never mind.” To Napoleon, Pedro is an enviable specimen of masculine maturity, possessing bike pegs, confidence with women, and the ability to grow a mustache. When Pedro says he intends to ask Summer Wheatly to the dance, Napoleon attempts to match Pedro’s masculinity by showing off his made-up girlfriend. “I like her bangs,” Pedro says. “Me too,” Napoleon replies, staring at a picture of a stranger.

Kip’s identity is even less stable than his brother’s. Despite being older, Kip is physically and emotionally weaker than Napoleon. Uncle Rico becomes Kip’s first stable companion and masculine role model. Kip, happy to play the toady instead of the victim (voyeuristically watching the steak hit Napoleon rather than receiving Rex’s slap himself), becomes a tool for Rico’s deluded ambition. Rico’s masculinity exudes the usual toxicity: Self-absorption, disrespect for women, a desire to get ahead. His fixation on his life’s masculine peak as a young athlete is particularly telling, revealing both his worship for manhood and his own stunted maturity. In their first one-on-one hangout, Rico and Kip talk about women, and it’s Kip’s turn to try on masculinity as he describes his own incredibly suspect girlfriend. She has a vague, “pretty good-looking face,” as well as “sandy-blonde hair” that Lafawnduh doesn’t have.

Like so many “Magical Black” characters, Lafawnduh is interesting and underdeveloped, entering the story to provide solutions for White characters. In this case, it’s Black identity itself that offers Kip an answer. Just as Rico’s retro style embodies his antiquated vision of manliness, Kip’s transformation reflects the widespread early 2000’s appropriation of Black fashion and music to express White masculinity: Third wave ska bands like Reel Big Fish, clothing trends like pants-sagging, and white rappers like Eminem all brought Black culture into vogue to an extent unseen since the 1950’s.

Meanwhile, backed by the proper companionship and cultivating a respect for the feminine, Napoleon continues to hone in on his adult identity. Napoleon’s companions, largely devoid of the White (or Black-appropriated) masculinity Kip is chasing, are feminine archetypes, compassionate and artistic. The duo serve as surrogate parents for Napoleon, with Deb demonstrating the power of feminine vulnerability and creativity and Pedro teaching Napoleon that a mustachioed, socially confident man can exude femininity. Pedro’s head-shaving provides a key lesson in Napoleon’s education. The replacement wig, provided courtesy of Deb’s pink-draped studio, exposes gender identity as performance, malleable and superficial. “I think this matches your season,” Deb declares. Pedro responds with a soft smile.

The next day brings another lesson as Napoleon offers a bullied student one of Deb’s boondoggles to symbolize Pedro’s protection-- A feminine craft symbolizing a masculine strength. The boondoggle’s promise is quickly called upon, and Pedro’s cousins chase off the bully. Napoleon witnesses the paradox of masculinity, one that CJ Pascoe observes in her theory of “fag discourse”: Though masculinity offers endless ways to dominate and police others, even the manliest identities are never secure. Masculinity is a never-ending performance, a contest that can’t be won. (Uncle Rico learns this lesson as well, and his broken arm, along with his broken masculine delusion, ushers a female energy into his life that the gentler Rico welcomes with Pedro’s soft smile.)

Napoleon’s perception of Rico and the adult manhood he represents continues to sour as the adolescent realizes what misery and delusion the grown man brings in his wake: Clogged toilets, electrocuted groins, and superficial relationships. Rico shames Napoleon for not having a job, and the subsequent chicken-cooping work earns Napoleon a dollar an hour and a Hamlet-level resentment toward his uncle. He courts Summer’s popular friend Trisha, only to find the relationship with her brand of femininity unfulfilling and unsustainable. When Napoleon and Rico finally come to blows in an impasse that can only be described as Oedipal, two important revelations emerge. Napoleon realizes he has reached his tolerance for toxic masculinity, and that that toxicity is, when elbowed, vulnerable to Napoleon’s own masculine strength. Napoleon is no longer willing to lie about wolverines or supermodel girlfriends to survive within masculine discourse-- now he knows he can harness the power of his emotions. (It’s been suggested that the Tree of Knowledge provides Eve not with a magic apple, but with the indelible knowledge that she has the ability to disobey. Does it seem fitting that Napoleon initiates this confrontation by throwing fruit?)

The identity struggles within Napoleon rise up for a final confrontation at the school election. Napoleon’s relationships with his masculine and feminine pillars, Rico and Deb, have been thrown into jeopardy, and Napoleon realizes which character’s energy is most important to him. With proper guidance from his companions, his masculinity has taken the form of a quiet strength that protects others and knowingly performs gender (i.e., the brown suit he takes off a female mannequin), and his femininity carries an emotional intelligence that can’t be acquired from Uncle Rico’s herbal supplements. And once again, Black gender identity arrives to save a White character, but now Black femininity rather than masculinity supplies Napoleon with the tools for victory. D-Qwon’s dance tape gives Napoleon the feminine power of dance as physical expression (contrast this with Kip’s physical outlets of Rex-Kwon-Do and cage fighting), and Lafawnduh herself gives Napoleon the soundtrack he’ll have on hand at the election. (That said, I’m aware that Napoleon’s dance moves are incredibly White.)

Napoleon’s dance, a triumph of femininity over masculinity, performs a vulnerability that brings the previously blank-faced student body to its feet. The students see themselves not in Pedro’s or Summer’s campaign speeches, but in Napoleon’s harrowing self-expression. Napoleon gambles his physical and emotional self on his friend’s behalf, in an act so free and selfless that Deb realizes this person would never fall prey to a “Bust Must+” brand of femininity. But the fact that the audience connects with the dance, the fact that it wins Pedro the election, doesn’t matter. What’s important is that, like Spirited Away’s Chihiro or Russian Doll’s Nadia, Napoleon confronted a final test and produced a correct answer. The prize is an immutable inner truth that will endure any bullying or masculine taunts.

After the climax, with one at the end of his journey and the other hopelessly lost within it, the Dynamite brothers cross paths one last time. (The wedding was a campy, fan-service ending tacked on after MTV’s acquisition, and I don’t consider it canonical.) Kip, in full hip-hop regalia, doesn’t notice his brother as he and Lafawnduh board a bus (in an ending reminiscent of Ghost World). Napoleon watches helplessly from across the street. This scene always makes me sad, partially because we don’t see Kip telling anybody he’s leaving-- it seems like another confused, uncharacteristic move. These brothers, having started the story together in their sexless grandma’s stasis, have ended in completely different worlds, and Napoleon, after painstakingly forging his adult identity, can only watch as his lost brother continues his own quest for meaning.

This article has been published in Entropy Magazine.

#napoleon dynamite #gender performance #vote for pedro #gender identity #jon heder #masculinity #preston idaho #essay

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Computex 2019: AMD, Intel, Asus Convey the Power Again to PCs and {Hardware}

http://tinyurl.com/y2nmaf4t Computex, the world’s largest laptop {hardware} commerce present, has been in considerably of a stoop for the previous few years. As pleasure has shifted out of the PC {hardware} enviornment in the direction of smartphones and comparable devices, I’ve seen the present scale back in dimension, with smaller and smaller crowds on the present flooring and full halls mendacity empty on the Taipei World Commerce Middle. This yr, although, with each AMD and Intel locked in battle as they put together to launch their next-generation CPUs and GPUs, PC fans had lots to cheer about. Earlier than the Computex present flooring formally opened, the 2 firms set the stage for a sequence of showdowns that can play out throughout a number of market segments over the following few months and years. Even earlier than AMD CEO Dr Lisa Su might kick off the present with her keynote, the very first thing scheduled on Monday morning, Intel determined to try to steal a little bit thunder with a shock preview. Late on Sunday night time, Intel unveiled performance numbers for the upcoming 10nm ‘Ice Lake‘ CPU structure, particularly its built-in Gen11 GPU, and introduced a “particular version” Core i9-9900KS processor that may Turbo at as much as 5GHz. Intel’s Gregory Bryant holding up a wafer of Ice Lake CPUs on stage   Whereas particulars had been scarce and an organization’s personal inside assessments are clearly performed below preferrred situations utilizing beneficial metrics and parameters, Intel’s swagger undoubtedly made us sit up and take discover. After near five years’ worth of delays bringing 10nm chips to market, it is fascinating to see this degree of confidence although many questions stay unanswered. It was then AMD’s flip, and there was a celebratory environment within the air as Su delivered exactly what the audience was there for – particulars of the Radeon Vega GPU series, and the Ryzen 3000 desktop CPU series. We acquired affirmation that Vega shall be primarily based on a considerably completely different underlying graphics structure known as RDNA (for Radeon DNA), and that a number of GPU fashions shall be launching on June 10. Lisa Su introduced the world’s first 12-core client desktop CPU   We then realized detailed specs in addition to costs for among the 7nm Radeon 3000 sequence CPUs, which can launch on July 7. AMD additionally confirmed off reside benchmarks, which is at all times an excellent signal. If there was one disappointment, it was the truth that Su introduced solely a 12-core CPU, not a 16-core model as was heavily rumoured (and is technically possible). Nonetheless, some surprises may nonetheless be in retailer for the precise launch. AMD additionally overvalued its platforms’ help for PCIe 4.0, the following model of the PCI Specific commonplace for inside communications between a PC’s main elements. By doubling the throughput of PCIe 3.0, AMD has stolen a big lead. This is not only a theoretical benefit both; PCIe 4.Zero SSDs had been additionally proven off at Computex this yr, and Radeon Vega GPUs shall be PCIe 4.Zero native with out dropping any backward compatibility. AMD confirmed off a wide range of X570 motherboards from a number of producers   Whereas AMD did not make a giant deal of formally saying the brand new X570 chipset for Ryzen 3000 sequence CPUs, all main motherboard producers had a number of new fashions on show, and I later noticed fairly a couple of PCIe 4.Zero SSDs scattered across the present flooring. Asus, Gigabyte, MSI, and ASRock will all be able to ship these merchandise as quickly because the CPUs go on sale. Again to Intel, and on Tuesday afternoon Gregory Bryant, GM and SVP of the corporate’s Shopper Computing Group delivered his personal keynote the place he formally introduced that Ice Lake CPUs are now shipping to laptop OEMs, and that units will go on sale by the tip of this yr. And whereas AMD largely sat again after making its huge splash on day zero, Intel stored the momentum. On Wednesday morning, we acquired our first look at the new ‘Honeycomb Glacier’ dual-screen laptop concept design in addition to a number of others. We then acquired extra concrete updates in regards to the Undertaking Athena laptop computer initiative, and heard extra in regards to the recently launched Graphics Command Centre software program at an Intel Odyssey gaming neighborhood meetup.   In fact one of many largest names at Computex annually is Taiwan’s personal Asus, and the corporate takes nice delight in unveiling its most artistic and bold efforts on its residence turf. This year’s showstopper was the ZenBook Pro Duo UX581, which together with the smaller ZenBook Duo UX481 sports activities a big second display screen to assist individuals be extra productive. I used to be in a position to spend some time with the ZenBook Pro Duo and ZenBook Duo, and I discovered the implementation of the second display screen to be rather more sensible than last year’s ScreenPad monitor-trackpad hybrid. I feel that is rather more than a gimmick and I can not wait to see how software program builders reap the benefits of it.   Because it seems, Asus is not the one one engaged on such an idea. Intel says loads of firms have expressed curiosity in its dual-screen ideas, and whereas the ultimate type components are prone to range to go well with completely different functions, we will count on to see extra such units within the close to future. Given the constructive responses that Asus has obtained, I feel different manufacturers will quickly get on board — I simply hope there is not an excessive amount of fragmentation when it comes to secondary display screen dimension, placement, and performance. This may very well be the primary main new kind of PC type issue we have seen in a very long time, and we will count on dual-screen laptops to carve out a distinct segment for themselves, identical to there are 2-in-1s at this time. Asus additionally pushed out a slew of recent ZenBooks, VivoBooks, ROG gaming laptops, ExpertBook and ExpertPC units for professional customers, plus displays, routers, headsets, motherboards, and varied different elements. Final yr’s ScreenPad characteristic, unique to the high-end ZenBook Professional sequence, has been improved and enlarged, and shall be supplied even on mid-range VivoBook fashions. In fact loads of different firms additionally had fascinating information and merchandise. Gigabyte and Corsair are main the way in which with functioning PCIe 4.Zero SSDs, however others are displaying off mockups. Nvidia’s Studio RTX laptops are a direct shot at MacBook Professional loyalists, and there is clearly a marketplace for extra highly effective cellular machines. Curiously, the “Super” GeForce teaser that Nvidia didn’t relate to any announcement that was made, and I heard whispers that the product simply wasn’t prepared in time to be proven — although we nonetheless don’t know what that may have been. Gigabyte’s Aorus PCIe 4.Zero SSD requires copper heatsinks on each side of the PCB   Asus is bringing RGB LEDs to the transportable SSD product class   Qualcomm and Lenovo’s idea Snapdragon 8cx-powered 5G laptop will not be coming to India anytime quickly, however reveals some momentum within the Windows on ARM space. Talking of which, ARM itself confirmed off its next-gen flagship core and GPU designs. Dell is among the few non-Asian OEMs to have a serious Computex presence, and the corporate unveiled several new XPS, Inspiron and Alienware laptops. Corsair shall be bringing an enormous new vary of DIY liquid cooling merchandise to India this yr. The Hydro X-series has dozens of components, together with a number of types of stiff and versatile pipes, joinery, fluids, pumps, CPU/GPU blocks, reservoirs, and radiators. Constructing a customized liquid cooling loop from scratch is just not for the faint of coronary heart, and isn’t frequent in India, so will probably be fascinating to see how the fanatic market responds to this. Corsair shall be bringing its Hydro X-series of DIY liquid cooling merchandise for these courageous sufficient to create their very own customized loops   As I walked across the 5 fundamental present flooring and dozens of personal venues, I noticed a couple of fascinating issues, however probably not sufficient to quantity to any main pattern. Smaller manufacturers are clearly getting in on the mesh Wi-Fi sport and Chinese language suppliers are eager to supply ready-made options for firms to distribute. Equally, I anticipated to see plenty of really wi-fi earphones, however there have been only some. USB 3.2 is beginning to make an look, and I noticed a couple of merchandise that explicitly promised 20Gbps switch pace in addition to a number of which may or may not supply that full functionality. RGB LEDs had been in all places as typical, although not less than they weren’t a very powerful new characteristic that any model needed to discuss. I did see RGB LED gaming chairs, in addition to pen drives, SSDs, and arduous drives. Teamgroup’s T-Pressure Delta Max SSD does not simply have RGB LEDs, the complete prime floor is an RGB panel This RGB LED pen drive can cycle via colors and provide you with an concept of how a lot free house is remaining   I noticed loads of China-made wi-fi charging equipment, USB Kind-C and Thunderbolt hubs and adapters, gaming peripherals, and instruments, in addition to elements reminiscent of OLED panels, hinges, and buttons that PC system integrators or importers should purchase in bulk to resell world wide. In all of this, what stood out most about Computex 2019 was how little of the motion now takes place on the present flooring. Each firm desires to have its personal non-public suite in a resort and maintain its personal press convention, fairly than unveiling merchandise on the exhibition itself. Whereas guests may nonetheless see decrease attendance and fewer firms at Computex now than in years previous, they’re nonetheless round if you recognize the place to seek out them, and this yr they had been optimistic once more. Disclosure: Asus sponsored the correspondent’s flights and resort for the Computex commerce present in Taipei. Source link

[seattle-fog]

The sublime Hee Seo. - Free Online Library

AT THE AMERICAN BALLET THEATRE STUDIOS in downtown Manhattan, Hee Seo explodes through the air in a jete, eves flashing, energy shooting through her luxuriously arched feet. Rippling her arms from her lithe back, her Odile gleefully seduces soloist Alexandre Hammoudi's Prince Siegfried, hinting at the elegance that her Odette will possess. In a sequence of renverses en dehors, her leg sails higher and higher a la seconde, soaring still to wrap around Hamnaoudi's body in an exquisitely shaped attitude, "Very good!" exclaims Kevin McKenzie, ABT's artistic director, followed by a slightly incredulous, "You really haven't been working on this?" It's the end of January, and Seo and Hammoudi are fighting the clock, having lost a week of rehearsal time when Seo was bedridden with the flu. It's lost time that they can ill afford. They'll be performing this pas de deux on tour in Asia in just a few weeks; come the Met season this spring, they will make their debuts in the full-length Swan Lake. For Seo (pronounced SUH) it will be the latest in a series of high-profile premieres, many with winning results. Last summer, on the heels of a gut-wrenching turn as Tatiana in Cranko's Onegin, she was promoted to principal dancer. Seo, 27, has long been in the spotlight thanks to her lyrical ability. "Number one, her physical proportions are pretty much textbook," says McKenzie in an interview. "And there's a unique feminine strength about her-it's that woman/child quality that leaves her open to a variety of roles." Seo began dancing recreationally at age 11 in her native Seoul. She participated in a competition at the prestigious Sun-hwa Arts Middle School and was then invited to attend on scholarship. "I don't think I pictured myself as a ballerina," says Seo, her accent only slightly detectable. "I didn't even know what that meant." At 13, another award brought her to the Universal Ballet Academy (now the Kirov Academy of Ballet) in Washington, DC, where she trained under Mariinsky ballerina Alla Sizova. After she won a Prix de Lausanne Award in 2003, Stuttgart Ballet director Reid Anderson invited her to attend the affiliated John Cranko Ballet Academy, where she performed occasionally with the company. That saine year, she won the Grand Prix at Youth America Grand Prix in New York, and John Meehan, then the director of the ABT Studio Company, invited her to come to New York following her year in Germany. The pace of the Studio Company, which demands that dancers master multiple roles quickly, came as a shock. "To her credit, she realized she needed to get her learning abilities up to speed," says Clinton SEO Blog9T Luckett, an ABT ballet master who was then an artistic associate of the studio company. Proving that she could handle what McKenzie calls the "chronic state of rehearsal" took some time. Seo spent a year as an apprentice, and, in the spring of 2006, became a member of the corps, where she performed soloist roles in Ballo della Regina and Tudor's Dark Elegies. In March 2009, on her 23rd birthday, she made her debut as Juliet. Her youthful and passionate rendition of the part, with Cory Stearns as her Romeo, made a powerful impact. A slew of leads--in Bournonville's La Sylphide, Ratmansky's On the Dnieper, and Kudelka's Desir--followed. She also gave spot-on portrayals of two spoiled rich girls: Gamzatti in La Bayadere and Olympia in Neumeier's Lady of the Camellias. But, much to her disappointment, a promotion still eluded her. "One thing I learned being in ABT is the word 'patient,' " remarks Seo. "In the corps, you have to wait. You have to work on yourself. Artistic," she says with a smile, referring to the artistic staff, "they are very patient with me." She continues, "When you hear, 'So when are you going to get promoted?' too many times, you have expectations for yourself." The promotion did come, in August 2010. "That was the happiest time of my life. I think I was a good soloist, meeting the level in how I present myself, in my performance, my rehearsals. If I do it well, 'She's a soloist who has principal qualities.' And if I do bad, 'She's only a soloist, she's young.' So there are excuses." A better "excuse" was that she was plagued by recurring injuries, due to instability in her ankle, preventing her from making scheduled debuts in The Nutcracker and The Bright Stream. To stay healthy and strong, Seo does Gyrotonic and light weightlifting. "But if I think, This is for the ballet, it gets boring. So what I think is, I should make a nice bikini body," she says, laughing. The 2012 Met season saw more breakthroughs: Seo's debut as Nikiya with Vadim Muntagirov, a guest artist from English National Ballet, and her sensational Tatiana in Onegin, a portrayal which she and partner David Hallberg built together. "She has a way of reaching into what feels natural to her, which I think for a ballet dancer, unfortunately, is seen as secondary to technique," says Hallberg. "Along with Osipova and Vishneva, she's the type of artist that you have no choice but to respond to [as a partner]. That, in essence, makes you a better artist." Onstage, the pair blasted through the ballet's final pas de deux, in which Tatiana rejects a repentant Onegin. When the curtain rose for bows, both dancers looked positively spent. Four weeks later, Seo was promoted again. "I didn't really ever have a doubt that she was principal material," says McKenzie. "It was a question of whether she could survive what it would take. I witnessed her able to finally get through a period of time and not get injured, keep her weight steady, keep her energy constant, and keep her concentration." It was an unexpected thrill for Seo. Her first thought? She needed to call her parents, even though it was in the middle of the night in Seoul. "Me and my mom are best friends," she says. "We have rough patches-I can't say I'm always a nice daughter. But she's always on my side, even when what I say is so stupid. Every time I'm upset about things, I'm perfectly normal outside, but when I go home, I call and let it out on her." During the Met season, Seo's mother travels to New York, "to watch my performances and take care of me." Seo's parents were able to celebrate her big promotion in person, as just days later, the company toured to Seoul, where Seo gave three performances as Giselle. She's "beyond excited" to perform Swan Lake this season. She relishes the opportunity to embody the dual characters, and build on her budding partnership with Hammoudi, with whom, lately, she's often been paired. She's also looking forward to Ashton's A Month in the Country, with Hallberg, in large part because of the Chopin music, her favorite composer. She is cast in one of Ratmansky's new creations and will also debut as Aurora, with Muntagirov. She feels lucky to be able to develop these roles with a range of partners. "It gives me a different energy, a different thought process of how I want to get there. And if I work with somebody who is new to the role, just like me, then we grow together." But just as in her Studio Company days, Seo faces the high-stakes pressure of preparing multiple ballets at once. "Even if I rehearsed for two years I wouldn't feel like it was enough time. It's scary. And I ask to other dancers, 'Does it get any better?' And they say no," she says, with a resigned laugh. She tries to view her anxiety as excitement rather than fear, but it can be overwhelming. "I never just feel one feeling: It's happy, it's sad, it's all mixed together. That's why dancers cry so much." She does receive emotional support from the artistic staff, and considers working with Natalia Makarova (who staged ABT's Bayadere) on Nikiya, and the late Georgina Parkinson on Juliet (she was Parkinson's last Juliet) to be highlights of her career. Her coaches, who include, for Odette/ Odile, McKenzie and Irina Kolpakova, allow her to find her own way. "They never tell me it's right or wrong, but always lead me to the right direction. I leave with a lot of homework-I finish rehearsal and then I'm always questioning why it didn't work, what can I do to fix it." Says McKenzie, referring to how she develops her roles, "She will take and observe, but she won't copy." Seo tries her best to strike a balance between work and life, but isn't having much success these days. "At 7:00, once I'm done here, I don't want to think about it at home," she says. "But after I got promoted, I think about ballet all the time, at 2:00 in the morning-what I want to do, how I want to do it." In her precious little downtime, "I don't do anything," she says dryly. "When I'm not working, I'm not moving." She does enjoy going out for a drink with close friends. "After a show or a hard week, I like to go to the spa to get my nails done or a massage, because that makes me feel like a very important person," she says, laughing. She's also thinking about buying her Blog9T first apartment, in Manhattan, and that newfound patience is coming in handy. Seo readily acknowledges that she still has much growing to do as an artist. "I can't say I enjoy myself as much as when I was a soloist. I don't feel the pride I had before. But I know I need to be patient and work on what I need to work on." "Your life changes after you get promoted," she continues, thoughtfully. "Everyone sees you differently, you have your own dressing room, your paycheck is bigger, you're doing more interviews. In a way, everybody serves you. But that's not who I am. That's just my position. I have to make myself a principal." For Seo, self-improvement starts with morning class here at 890 Broadway. "I learned how to be a professional at ABT, which makes this place special to me. I like our studio. I like to warm up with my friends and our pianist. Rough day, I come here, I feel calm. I feel at home." Kina Poon is an associate editor with Dance Magazine.

[princestreetco]

Droga5’s New Uniqlo Ads are a Delicious, Diverse Romp Down Advertising’s Memory Lane

Last year, for its LifeWear line, Japanese clothing brand Uniqlo launched its first-ever global ad campaign. Created by Droga5 New York, “Why Do We Get Dressed?” was an elegant meditation on that very question.

This year, Droga5 London hopes to answer it more concretely. The latest articulation of this campaign, “Because of Life, We Made LifeWear,” features three ads, each exploring a different item of clothing—wireless bras, Uniqlo’s AIRism underclothes and Distressed Denim.

“Uniqlo make some of the best clothes I put on my body. Everything they do is dedicated to improving what they sell,” says chief creative officer David Kolbusz of Droga5 London. “Every iteration of every garment is a step up from the last. What we’ve tried to do here is take the rational reasons you buy their clothes and articulate them in the abstract.”

In a campaign follow-up like this one, you often expect to see stylistic similarities in each spot that tie back to the parent ad, either in turns of phrase or in look. But while it’s true that each spot here ends with the LifeWear tagline, all have a distinctly different spirit.

When Kolbusz talks about articulation in the abstract, he’s talking about something advertising has done since it first realized it could hook people emotionally—but that we’ve perhaps lost track of in this era of justifying your value and attracting likes, shares, comments and clicks.

This work serves almost as a tribute to a lost time, when great ads were mostly TV-based fantasy sequences that didn’t have to work so hard to explain themselves to a socially connected world. Still there’s a thread that unites them—an ethnic diversity that somehow still feels minimalist and uniform, which characterizes Uniqlo’s brand.

“Wireless Bra” has the runaway musicality of Gap’s super-choreographed khaki ads from the 1990s. Directed by Somesuch’s Autumn de Wilde with choreography by Ryan Heffington (think Sia music videos) and styling by Nancy Steiner (who costume designed Lost in Translation and The Virgin Suicides), it shows women in conservative outfits, but in various states of dress and undress.

“Ants” by Starcrawler punctuates the atmosphere. The women leap, moving their arms and shoulders, twisting and bending in ways that challenge both behavioral expectations and notions of how a nicely dressed girl is supposed to behave.

This approach serves the product especially well. Uniqlo doesn’t just promote the bra’s smooth nipple-hiding shells under unforgiving white button-downs, or the lack of constricting, painful wires. It defies an annoying quality about bras in general: Even after tightening, those damn straps always loosen, resulting in the defensive shoulder-slumping a woman engages in all day just to keep them in place. (And don’t get us started on strapless bras, which we spend more time pushing back up than forgetting about.)

The result is a spot that both promises and galvanizes freedom of movement. Reinforcing this, it ends, “Move like you’re not supposed to”—a playful, feminist appeal that speaks to modern bra-burners and resigned bra-wearers alike.

Next comes “AIRism.” An abrupt departure from the frenetic quality of “Wireless Bra,” this is slow-moving, smoky and monochromatic, harking back to the stylish but grainy ads from the ’60s.

Shot on the streets of Santiago by Nick Gordon, a smoky claustrophobia coalesces in the hypnotic plumes of a woman’s cigarette, steam from an iron filling a room, the exhaust from cars in traffic, or the grit and sweat rising off bodies, fogging up windows and condensing into droplets.

In some frames, smoke is the only thing that moves.

This one is narrated throughout by English actress Tuppence Middleton, who explains how our bodies stay cool by releasing heat into the atmosphere. Toward the end, she says, “Our bodies are made to breathe. So shouldn’t our clothes breathe with us?”

The products on show are AIR breathable undergarments, which, without saying as much, vow to keep you as fresh and aerated as if you were naked in a sweltering subway car.

Last comes “Distressed Denim,” also shot by Gordon.

There’s something of old Levi’s love stories to this one, which features two people in a remote gas station meeting eyes and triggering sparks. What we feel are familiar messages about this particular jeans-clad style of youthful, on-the-road American liberty—it is curious, spontaneous, untethered, unerringly casual.

“Distressed Denim. Imperfect, yet perfectly at ease,” Middleton tells us.

The jeans, modeled by the actors, offer a lived-in, comfortably broken quality right off the rack. (The press release says Uniqlo’s Distressed Denim is “engineered to combine the two often opposing forces of comfort and imperfection.” Why wear things down yourself when you can buy them that way?)

The music, “Baby” by Donnie and Joe Emerson, also feeds the ad’s tiny mythology. The Emerson brothers grew up on a remote farm, “with the radio on their tractor as their only source of musical education.” Their father would ultimately build them a recording studio on the land, enabling them to make an album in the late ’70s—a piece of work that gathered dust for decades, and finally emerged into the mainstream in 2012.

“The new Uniqlo campaign is a great example of how exceptional storytelling dimensionalizes the technology-led benefits of our LifeWear apparel,” says president-global creative John C. Jay of Fast Retailing, which owns Uniqlo. “The Droga5 London team’s creativity lifts rational reason to an emotional answer.”

Maybe. Ad wonks know these methods well, and will maybe relish in the approach, which feels refreshingly simple compared with today’s schizophrenic 360° affairs. But even as we enjoy LifeWear’s ability to be varied, universal and nostalgic all at once, we can’t help but remember that Uniqlo also symbolizes the aggressive, globalized uniformity that steamrolls creative subcultures … even in its home country.

Oh, well. If nothing else, this campaign marks both our relentless advancement—and how the past never really lets us go.

The campaign will appear in the U.S., Europe, Asia and Australia, on TV and online in :60, :30 and :15 cuts. You can also expect to see a print campaign.

CREDITS Client: Uniqlo Agency: Droga5 London CCO: David Kolbusz ECD: Steven Howell, Rick Dodds Creative Director: Devon Hong Copywriter: Ulrika Karlberg Group Account Director: Rebecca Lewis Account Director: Michelle Villarreal Account Director: Alex Dousie Senior Strategy Director: James Broomfield Agency Producer: ‘Wireless Bra’ – Chris Watling ‘Denim’ – Peter Montgomery ‘Airism’ – Peter Montgomery Director/ Production Co: ‘Wireless Bra’ – Autumn de Wilde / Somesuch ‘Denim’ – Nick Gordon / Somesuch ‘Airism’ – Nick Gordon / Somesuch Producer: ‘Wireless Bra’ – James Waters ‘Denim’ – Chris Harrison ‘Airism’ – Chris Harrison DoP: ‘Wireless Bra’ – Chris Blauvelt ‘Denim’ – Evan Prosofsky ‘Airism’ – Evan Prosofsky Choreographer: ‘Wireless Bra’ – Ryan Heffington Stylist ‘Wireless Bra’ – Nancy Steiner ‘Denim’ – Lyson Marchessault Editor: ‘Wireless Bra’ – Darren Baldwin / Final Cut ‘Denim’ – Dan Sherwen / Final Cut ‘Airism’ – Dan Sherwen / Final Cut Post Production: MPC VFX: MPC VFX Producer: Sophie Hogg 2D Supervisor: Bruno Fukumothi Grade: MPC Colourists: Houmam Abdallah, Richard Fearon Sound Design: Will Cohen / String and Tins Music: ‘Wireless Bra’ – “Ants” by Starcrawler ‘Denim’ – Baby. By Donnie and Joe Emerson ‘Airism’ – Evaporate by William Doyle English VO Artist Tuppence Middleton

(Source: © 2016 ABN | All Rights Reserved)

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