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glowingbadger · 3 years

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Let's talk "Fertility Saint Cichol" for a bit, shall we?

No one requested this, I just wanted to let my mind wander on its own for once lol.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

cw: cock worship, deep throating, me being a shameless size queen

NSFW 18+

* and spoilers I guess idk

You've only been in Seteth's quarters a handful of times before, and always with him present. Today, however, it seems work has kept him late, and so you meander around his room, trying to occupy yourself without being overly intrusive as you wait to meet him for tea. Truthfully, there isn't much to see. A tasteful four poster bed with curtains drawn, several bookshelves, a work desk- as if he needs more opportunities to work, you think with a bemused smirk.

So, to keep busy, you choose a light bit of reading at random from an uncharacteristically unruly pile on the floor beside Seteth's desk. It appears to be an anthology of some rather fantastical tales centering the saints. As you skim through, you can't help a grin. Evidently, Cethleann was 9 feet tall and her hair was a literal flowing waterfall, while Indech once gave birth to a pegasus (the pegasus later rejoined his physical form somehow- it's rather vague about this point- which is why we've never seen physical evidence of it, so this text claims).

And then you reach a collection of poems dedicated to Saint Cichol. Your eyes scan the page, narrowing as they proceed. With each line, your face warms to a darker shade of red. It's... shockingly salacious. A fertility God? Goddess blessed manhood of awe-inspiring proportion? Virility that fills barren riverbeds?!

You're so consumed by the collage of erotic imagery conjured into your mind that you barely hear the door open behind you.

"My apologies for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting terribly long."

"Oh- not at all!" you say, turning to face Seteth as he enters. The stress of the work day is smoothed over by the warmth of his smile on seeing you. But he must notice something strange about your expression, as his brows furrow in curiosity. Then, he notices the book in your hands.

"Goddess help me- of all of the books you could have-" he quickly strides towards you and seizes it from you, tossing it back to its pile, "Please assure me that you didn't take any of that- that filth to heart." he says, his face twisted in exasperation as he runs a hand through thick green hair.

"Seteth, relax," you say with a gentle smile, "I figured it was all a bit..."

"Baseless conjecture is what it is- and heretical, at that," he says with disgust, crossing his arms and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Clearly I ought to have been more prompt in disposing of these particular texts."

You sympathize with his frustration, to be certain. Still. Your eyes can't help wandering up and down his frame before you and... you wonder.

"So... there's no truth to anything in there?" You step towards him and silently urge him to open his arms to you. He sighs and leans back against his desk with his hands gently at your waist.

"Nonsense, all of it- particularly that part about 'barren riverbeds' or some such." Despite his mood, his face flushes red at the reference to such claims on his own potent virility. You're not even fully conscious of the smirk spreading across your face, but you lean against him and run your hands slowly up his firm chest. Seteth has been rather demure about intimacy thus far. As of yet, you've hardly even seen beneath the starched collar of his robes. Perhaps this is the time to learn a little more about him.

"That book claims that you're the patron of fertility." you prod further. His chest rises as he inhales slowly, and you swear you can feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

"Yes, well- it was a... fringe belief several centuries past. I am- Saint Cichol is the only noted figure in the church known to have produced a child," you hum with interest, and by now, your body rests against his, and your hands have traveled down his torso. Seteth rambles on, glancing to the side and attempting the same tone he would use with a student, "the elemental association with the earth was also a factor, so I- I was... often prayed to for blessings of..."

One gentle hand reaches below his belt, and you gaze up at him for any sign of resistance or hesitation. He doesn't stop you, and doesn't look like he wants to. Your touch travels beneath his outer robes, between his thighs, where you immediately feel the heat of his manhood beginning to resist the confines of his clothing. You palm the impressive bulge, noting that even half-soft, he carries more than most men do at their full size. Seteth's posture stiffens, his eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. With an odd rasp in his throat, he whispers your name. Then, he pulls you close and kisses you with an intensity you'd always suspected he had in him somewhere.

As his lips press to yours, massaging yours slow and firm, your tongue grazes his, tentatively at first. He responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and running his tongue sensually against yours. You moan into his mouth, the friction between your bodies absolutely intoxicating, and your hand begins to stroke his manhood more firmly from atop the barrier of his clothing. His length hardens to your touch, growing in your hand as though to plead for more. Parting from his lips just enough to speak, you murmur,

"How long has it been since someone properly worshipped you, 'Saint Cichol?'"

Seteth's voice catches in his throat as he repeats,

"Worshipped...?"

Before he can question you further, you carefully lower onto your knees before him. Your touch is slow and indulgent as you enjoy the feeling of his now-massive cock straining against his pants. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him thoroughly transfixed by the sight of you prostrate beneath him, and your lips curl into a wolfish grin. Both of his hands come to grip the edge of the desk behind him as you part his robes and tug down the hem of his trousers.

The sight of that tower of flesh springing free to loom over you immediately sends urgent arousal flooding through your burning body, and you fail to hold in an excited whimper. Your pupils grow wide as you size him up with unabashed hunger in your gaze, and you can't even bring yourself to notice how tightly your fists are clenched around the front of his clothes.

"Goddess, Seteth-!" you gasp out, bringing a hand to wrap around his cock at the base, "You're so big...!"

He clears his throat, shyly turning his face away, as though he could possibly hide his conspicuous blush and flustered expression.

"I, er... thank you, I suppose..." he says softly.

"I can't even get my hand all the way around it..." you go on with evident awe in your voice. Slowly, savoring each impossibly thick inch, you slide your hand up the length of his shaft and down once more. Seteth inhales deeply. He must be rather sensitive; in fact, you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with someone intimately in some time.

"Are you... are you certain that you want this?" he asks, finally allowing his eyes to meet yours directly. You almost laugh.

"Seteth," you say as though scolding him, "I'd want to pleasure you regardless, but now that I know you have such an incredible cock, I can't think of anything I want more." He bites his bottom lip, his knuckles white as his fists clamp hard on the desk. Your smirk becomes only wider and more devious. Despite himself, he's clearly enjoying your praise.

"I can certainly see how this gorgeous cock would inspire... devotion, of a kind," you say, your hand traveling his length once more, this time merely to appreciate its shape and size. He groans softly, still fighting desperately to hold his voice in. With a feather-light touch, you run a single finger along the underside of his shaft, tracing a prominent, bulging vein. "I've never seen another that's even come close to yours, Seteth," you say, jerking your hand slightly at its base, "it almost seems a shame to keep it all to myself. Surely there are plenty who would like the chance to worship and adore their beloved Fertility God."

If your blaspheming bothers him any, he can't bring himself to reprimand you for it. Instead, he murmurs,

"I've no desire for any but you."

In reply, you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the crown of his cock. Seteth utters a shaky sigh of pleasure, and his length twitches subtly in reply. You raise your eyes to look up at your Saint.

"Can I taste it?"

"You may." he says softly. His stern brow is deeply creased with intense focus as you begin to work your lips around the head of his cock. It strikes you immediately how even wrapping your mouth around him only highlights how thoroughly this massive pillar puts any other to shame.

Seteth breathes out your name in a low, heated voice you've never heard from him before as you suck at his tip. Your lips seal around the ridge of his crown and you circle and flick him with your tongue, lapping at him all over until you feel his member throb for you. Each twitch and flex of his length is more powerful and more potent than the last, driving you to keep servicing him, to seek out those wonderful affirmations of pleasure.

By the time you dare to try taking him further into your mouth, your body leans against his legs, your hands clinging to his muscular thighs for leverage. Though, perhaps you've become over-eager; as you push yourself onto him, his cock burrows deeper and deeper, hitting your throat and then continuing to fill it. You struggle to open up for him as much as possible, grimacing as you fight your gag reflex. You're just barely past half of his full length, and he's pressing out against your throat enough to create a visible bulge. Seteth's body arches and his head tilts back as he groans your name. Then, you're forced to release him and come up for air.

Panting softly, you mutter,

"Damnit, I can't even reach the base."

"You... should not force yourself..." Seteth manages between strained breaths. As he steadies himself against the desk, you switch your focus for the time being. You begin at the root of his cock and drag your tongue up along the underside, following that same lovely vein you discovered earlier. With open adoration in your eyes, you go on to service him thoroughly with your tongue, licking and kissing every powerful, masculine inch of his rod. Then, when he's well and completely covered in your saliva, you grip the base and lead the tip to your mouth once more.

Dedicating yourself once more to your worship, you suck on his cock eagerly while steadily stroking what amount of it you can't reach in your hand. Your saliva slickens his shaft so that your hand can pump him steadily as your lips and tongue adore his tip in tandem. Seteth gasps aloud, his head leaning back once more to moan out his pleasure into the quiet of his quarters. Just once, you feel his hips buck toward you just a little- but he grits his teeth and holds himself in place, evidently worried for your comfort even now.

You increase your pace, wrapping your mouth tight and warm and wet around his enormous member, ever encouraged by Seteth's beautiful moans. Your tongue presses along the bottom of his shaft, causing him to rub firmly along the top of your mouth with every pass, and by now, you've even surprised yourself with your near obsessive desire to please him. Perhaps there was something to this "Fertility God" angle after all.

"If you... if you don't stop, I-!" Seteth bucks against you once more, and once more he fights to keep himself still, "I won't... be able to hold back...!"

Needing a way to assuage his doubts without pulling away from your sacred duties, you redouble your efforts instead. You take his thick cock into your throat until it hurts, threatening to make you choke each time you force yourself onto him, but you hold fast. The full length swells and throbs from tip to base, and Seteth is crying out your name like a plea. The strength of his grip actually causes the desk supporting him to creak, but you can't be bothered to care- you need him to cum for you, you're desperate for it.

Then, finally, with a tortured groan and a few choice words you didn't realize Seteth had in his vocabulary, his body trembles and his orgasm takes hold of him. Thick, hot cum pours into your throat, and you immediately swallow the first couple of shots, but it's not long before you're completely overwhelmed. Perhaps you should have eased up, rather than continuing to stroke and milk him with your free hand, but the dizzying thrill of his climax seems to be affecting you as well. When you simply can't take any more of him in your mouth, you pull away and allow him to spill the rest across your chest.

You look up at him from your worshipful position beneath him. You imagine you make for a sinful sight, subservient to his cock and now a mess of saliva and cum. And there is a moment- a brief, fleeting moment- when you can see something fiery and animalistic in Seteth's gaze as he regains himself enough to check on you. Yet he quickly suppresses it, and says,

"I- I apologize, I allowed myself to get carried away, and-"

"Seteth, please," you say with a laugh as you shakily rise to your feet, "it's just a bit of cleanup. A small price to pay for the chance to finally pleasure you."

He smiles sheepishly in return, helping to steady you, then placing a light kiss to your lips.

"I hadn't realized that you were so eager for the opportunity," he says, stroking a lock of your hair back into place, "If you will allow, I'd be honored to clean you up a bit and then return the favor."

"That sounds positively divine." you reply, and you're swiftly lifted into Seteth's arms and carried towards his private bath. Your knees still ache from the hardwood floor, but you hardly consider it for a moment. You're already looking forward to the next opportunity to show your devotion to your Saint.

#seteth #seteth x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #not sfw writing #fire emblem smut #seteth smut

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brattyfics · 3 years

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— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes @amorestevens

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

#mayans mc #bishop losa x oc #miguel galindo x oc #bishop losa x ofc #bishop losa x black!ofc

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grimmjowkurosakidrake · 4 years

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My wife

Sumary: Sasuke is everyone’s crush in the animal shelter he works at until they find out he��s married.

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Tamaki, Karin Uzumaki, Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Uchiha.

Relationships: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Uchiha, Everyone/Sasuke Uchiha (Unrquited).

Warnings: Non canon bisexuality.

Notes: This fic was inspired by this tweet! Also I thought about Sasuke being the C.E.O of an important comany but then I thought... What is more heartbreaking, your cold unreachable boss being married? or your kind coworker who shares the same passions as you?

Uchiha-san is not the sort of man you imagine working for an animal shelter. Whit his brooding good looks, his whole tall, dark and handsome persona, he looks more like the C.E.O of multinational business than the kind vet who helps little animals to find new homes and loving families.

For what Tamaki has heard from his grandma, Uchiha-san is indeed the heir of an international company. His father and grandfather are still active on it but his brother is actually the acting C.E.O of Uchiha Inc, now.

The fact that Uchiha-san choose to defy his own family in order to pursue a profession that wouldn’t give him even a third of the money he could’ve easily make as part of the company that belonged to him by right, warms her soul and make her heart leap in ways that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She’s not the only one, though. He is really handsome after all, and Tamaki’s sure that he’s part of the reason that theirs is the animal shelter with one of the highest adoption rates in the whole city and also one of the shelters with the highest number of volunteers.

“Sasuke-kun is just so handsome.” Sighs Karin, one of their latest volunteers this year, as she sees Uchiha-san feed their biggest dogs, his face stoic as ever but soft at the edges. A well-rounded man, thinks Tamaki, kind and mature.

“He’s not just handsome!” She berates the woman, after all, Karin is one of the many girls and boys who came to adopt a cat or something and stayed for the chance of keeping the elusive Uchiha Sasuke for themselves.

Up until now, no one has had the luck, Uchiha-san is not a recluse by any means, he would accept outings and invitations to go for a drink between collages but no one has been able to land a single date ever since he first started working for her grandma’s animal shelter.

Tamaki has been the only one who hadn’t asked, too shy and insecure to even think about the possibility of approaching him with romantic intentions.

But sometimes, late at night, when she’s left alone on her bed looking at her roof in contemplation, she allows herself to think that maybe, just maybe. These four years of working side to side sharing their passion for animals have united them far beyond the professional side of their relationship.

That maybe, he’s been refusing every single invitation and filtration because he’s in love with her.

What would he say if she dared to invite him out to dinner? Would he refuse her even after all these years of unspoken confidence and companionship? Would he treat her like he treats all the girls and boys that can’t seem to see him as more than a rich attractive man?

In the depts of her heart, she suspects that he would not. Late at night, when she dares to hope, she dreams that she’s the woman who would finally keep the heart of the ever kind, Uchiha-san that only she knows.

“I know that!” Complains Karin, holding the little kitten she was feeding close to her chest, “You’re not the only one who sees Sasuke-kun for who he is. You know?” Then, as if she could read her mind, the redhead smirks, “You’re not special.”

Tamaki is about to answer her when Uchiha-san appeared behind them, a little runt puppy on his hands “Are you ready for the meting?” he asks, his voice firm but soft, he doesn’t smile, but there’s no animosity on his expression. “We need to agree in the founding’s for this month and we also, need to plan for future adoption campaigns,” explains the vet.

“Yes!” Exclaims Tamaki, suddenly shy all over again in the presence of the man she likes. “Just wait a minute while I go and bring grandma to the meeting room, please.”

She doesn’t allow Uchiha-san to answer her before she bolts out of the feeding area, leaving Uchiha-san with Karin.

****************

Karin would never say she feels lonely, already on the verge of thirty and as painfully single as she was three years ago when her last girlfriend broke up with her because she didn’t want to date a girl who insisted in being bisexual, as if she could change the way she was born and the way she loved.

Karin is no longer upset about this like she was the first few months in her newfound singlehood, but she would be lying if she said the she came out of this relationship with the same level of trust on her loved ones that she had before the breakup.

Maybe not everyone will be as open minded about her, and maybe she shouldn’t believe that everyone she loves will love her in return unconditionally.

But a kitten will.

That is what she thinks when she enters the closest animal shelter she can find near her apartment, that a kitten will never leave her and will only remain loyal to her as long as she remembers to pet them and feed them.

The first person to greet her is Sasuke-kun. He smiles awkwardly and maintains the safest of distances with her when he asks her about what she’s looking in a future pet. Karin can appreciate this, most men these days wouldn’t even think about giving her the space she needs when talking to a complete stranger.

The first thought that she has about him is not about his beautiful face or the way he towers over her, but the fact that he’s the most considerate man she’s met in a long time.

The days after, even when she sits with her little Hime-chan purring on her legs as she binge-watches the first chapters of The Untamed, she can’t stop thinking about Sasuke-kun.

She can’t stop thinking about his deep dark eyes, about the expanse of his torso or the way his big hands held the little kittens with so much care the poor babies wouldn’t stop purring.

She would purr too, if Sasuke-kun deemed her worthy enough to touch with that much care, she’s sure of it.

Just a few weeks pass before she decides to volunteer to work in the shelter, and even thought she’s not the only one.

Karin is sure she will be the last.

****************

“What can we do about the oldest animals?” Asks Naruto, talking directly to Sasuke and ignoring everyone else as he usually does, his bright blue eyes, searching for Sasuke’s owns dark ones.

“There’s nothing we can do,” grumbles Kiba, maybe the only volunteer in the whole shelter who isn’t awfully infatuated with Uchiha Sasuke, “if the public doesn’t want to adopt the older pets, we sure as hell can’t force them.”

Sasuke frowns at this “Surely there must be something we could…” he tries to argue before his cellphone starts ringing. The huawei, sakura drop tone melody filling the entire room.

Usually, Sasuke would never answer his phone in the middle of a meeting, but he never cancels a call when it comes with that particular ringtone.

“Would you excuse me for a minute?” He asks to the room in general, “I really need to take this call.”

When the whole room allows him to answer, he quickly presses the phone to his ear, “Sakura?” he asks to the person at the other end of the call, “Is there something wrong?”

His coworkers watch immersed on his conversation as a deep frown marries his face, two perfectly sculpted set of brows drawn together in worry as he hears what this Sakura answers him, “I understand,” he sighs. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll come and get her.”

Karin gasps when she hears the word dear, Naruto frowns and Tamaki, whimpers from the back of her throat, but no one is prepared for Sasuke to smile just a little as he ends the call with a clear and warm “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells them eventually, “I have to go. My daughter’s daycare center just called because she has a fever and my wife is in the middle of surgery.” He sounds apologetic for having to leave them, but he doesn’t sound responsible for the breaking of their collective hearts.

Maybe they were wrong, maybe Sasuke Uchiha was really just a cruel man.

*****************

They eventually meet Sakura Uchiha when she comes over to the shelter with five sets of little assorted bento boxes filled to the brim with beautiful wagashi sweets molded to look like sakura flowers in gratitude for them.

“Hi” she smiles, her whole face luminous and clear, making her look like an idol. “I’m Sakura Uchiha and I just wanted to thank you for taking care of my husband.”

They couldn’t deny her even if they wanted. Sakura, with her pink hair and big, green eyes, was just as beautiful and kind looking as her husband.

One look at her and they instantly understood the type of woman who was enough to steal the heart of the ever elusive Sasuke Uchiha. The type of woman who could call him husband everyday and be called wife in return.

They made a beautiful pair, they had to admit. It was as if the belonged together.

#Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #sakura uchiha #sasusaku #sasusaku fic #sasusaku au #sasusaku prompts

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hmel78 · 4 years

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In conversation with Matt Page ...

DREAM THE ELECTRIC SLEEP

In my experiences of ‘new’ music, it’s particularly rare these days to come across an album that makes you stop what you’re doing and listen, just listen; and then listen, and listen again ... This year it has happened to me twice! Whilst not ‘new’ in terms of their formation, Kentucky (USA!) based 3-piece, Matt Page (vocals/guitar), Joey Waters (drums), and Chris Tackett (bass) - collectively known as ‘DREAM THE ELECTRIC SLEEP’ - are indeed new to the European scene, and what a mark they have made on it with their latest release “BENEATH THE DARK WIDE SKY”. The proof is in the listening!

There’s not a huge amount that we can tell you about these guys that isn’t included in the conversation below, so here’s what went down when I caught up with Matt Page recently ... HR : Is a “Prog” band from Lexington, Kentucky, something of a rarity?

MP : Yes! We are like a fish out of water in Kentucky! We never actually set out to be a “prog” band, we just wanted to write music that challenged us creatively as well as the listener. There are no doubt prog powerhouse bands like Rush, Pink Floyd and Genesis who have influenced us, but we also love things way outside the bounds of prog. Of course maybe that is why we fit in with the progressive community. It has been a welcoming space for us where we can write the way we want and have an audience that wants to consider those aesthetic decisions.

HR : Who was the founding member, or was it a unanimous decision amongst the 3 of you to form the band?

MP : Joey and I are cousins and we started to play together 20 years ago at the age of 16. We had various projects over the years but things really clicked when we started playing with Chris. He was in a band called Chum when we were younger and Joey and I loved them. We heard he was moving to Lexington and was looking for a band. We reached out and he liked what we were doing so we started playing together. After about a year of writing new material with him (which turned into our first album “Lost and Gone Forever”) we formed ‘Dream the Electric Sleep’.

HR : You’ve been together for a few years now - how difficult has the road been from 2009, to here in 2016 and the release of your 3rd album “Beneath The Dark Wide Sky”?

MP : In terms of our creative path, it has been exhilarating! We have all grown together and reached for the best of what we are capable of. I am always excited to get in a rehearsal room with Chris and Joey to see what comes.

From a music business and music culture perspective it has been a difficult and lonely road for sure. The music business is a shell of what it used to be. There is a new, wobbly and often-predatory infrastructure that feeds on the dreams of millions of artists who are more than willing to give their time, labour, energy, heart, and soul for free, often losing a lot money in the process. The old music business was brutal for artists but at least there was a structure in place that took risks and funded and developed artists careers. Of course the artists mostly got a raw deal financially speaking. Now the music business is brutal for different reasons. There is a scarcity of resources and everyone involved; labels, agents, managers, bands, clubs, etc are scrambling to stay afloat and keep things moving. I do realize it is easier and cheaper for a band to record an album now and there are so many more ways to connect with fans. The problem is that that it is very difficult to come out on the positive side financially. We have spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to walk the line between being a completely DIY band and a band looking for creative partners to work with. I think we have finally found a kind of balance and have a solid foundation to build from, but it has taken the last 7 years to make that happen!

HR : You looked for a little help outside the band for this release, and it eventually came in the form of producer Nick Raskulinecz (Rush, Foo Fighters ..) - did you end up with the record you envisaged when you cut the demo’s, or is it completely different?

MP : The first day we met Nick it felt like we had known him for years. There is no pretence with Nick. It is all about the work, about digging in together, solving problems, asking questions, trying new things, and really collaborating on making an album. It just didn’t feel like working with a big producer, it felt like working with a master craftsman who was also a partner and friend. He was a pleasure to work with on all fronts. We stayed pretty close to the demos on most songs but Nick did help us refine the overall vision for the album. Some songs we added parts and others we edited parts out. The final album came out better than we actually originally envisioned which was thrilling for us. I remember hearing the final cut of “Headlights” for the first time with Joey and after it was over Joey and both teared up a little. We worked for 20 years to hear our song come out like that and it was overwhelming.

HR : I listen to a lot of new music, but it’s honestly one of only two albums I’ve heard this year that have really made me sit tight and listen - would you care to tell our readers a little more about what they can expect to hear?

MP : Wow! That is so great to hear!

Like our previous albums, it is thematic and each song fits on the album in an intentional spot so it is an album that works best as a whole in my opinion. I also hope a listener can just listen to the songs as individual works that stand on their own.

I would say that listeners can expect something cinematic sounding. I have always wanted to make films, but these albums really scratch that itch for me so I think I am trying to overlay one desire over another and that is part of the soundscape listeners might pick up on.

HR : There’s a great balance of instrumental and ‘songs’ - who is the main lyricist, and where does the inspiration come from?

MP : I write all the lyrics for the band, and on this album, I was looking at a specific photograph for each song as a starting point. Writing lyrics is a lot like creating a collage. They are small snippets stitched together and overlaid on a musical canvas. The lyrics often shape the way we feel about the sounds and the sounds shape the way the lyrics work. It is really a fascinating process!

I wrote a short synopsis for the album to help explain the overall themes:

“Beneath the Dark Wide Sky” is inspired by photographs taken of the Dust Bowl in the 1930’s by American photographer Dorothea Lange. Lange worked for the United States Works Progress Admiration and hoped her photographs could be used to educate the masses (via photo essays in major news publications and magazines) to the poverty and desperate living conditions of thousands of farming families and migratory workers who lived and worked in the drought-struck American Great Plains. Lange believed photographs had the ability to shine an objective light on issues of social justice and environmental degradation and could be used to persuade and motivate social and political change.

Much of what motivated Dorothea Lange motivates me as the lyricist of the band. How does art inform the way we understand the world we live in and can it motivate us to challenge and change our assumptions? I am not sure there is an easy correlation, but I am very interested in those who try to bridge the gap between art and life.

HR : The album is being released in the USA, and also here in Europe - are there any plans to tour? What would be your ideal schedule - anywhere in the world that you would love to play?

MP : We are really focused on doing a European tour right now and we hope we can make it over this fall. The rock/prog scene is very receptive to the work we do in Europe and we want to be a part of that movement. The US has been OK for us, but it is a huge, disparate market and it is very difficult to find or create an underground movement. We also live in a large state with a small population making it even more difficult to create that synergy.

HR : If you now get a major success for DTES, will you be happy to remain in Lexington?

MP : Yes. The world is so much closer thanks to the internet and it is so much easier to stay in touch with our supporters. Being in Kentucky isn’t ideal for live shows, but as a band we have built a process and structure that supports our creative endeavours and to move that would be very difficult. We think we can find a way to tour more and reach out in that way.

HR : One last question - I must admit, at first glance, I read “Sleep” as “Sheep”, and my tiny brain fizzed! Who came up with the name of the band, and have you noticed whether or not you’ve coincidentally picked up an influx of Bladerunner fans?

MP : We are used to Sleep and Sheep getting mixed up! It happens more than you might think …

It is funny.

The name doesn’t mean something specific, but rather tries to paint a mood. We had long lists of words we liked and begin putting them together. We put Dream the Electric Sleep together and it sounded like what we wanted to sound like and that is a big reason we went with it. It is open, mysterious and dynamic sounding to us.

We always get asked about Blade Runner, which I think is fine because it is an iconic film that adds to the imagery of the band name, but I can’t say I have noticed a direct crossover.

#dreamtheelectricsleep #dream #prog #prog rock #bladerunner #lexington #kentucky #newmusic

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alamanyar · 5 years

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through the keyhole; [teen and up audience] character’s pov: martino ships: martino x niccolò summary: five times martino didn’t say I love you and one time he did chapter summary ⟶ you’re (amazing): domestic boyfriends. basically a future version of 'nel mio letto' maybe a bit more angsty (sorry)

chapter word count: 5.985 read below or on ao3 (thank you, if you do) ♡ I "Hm?" Martino was standing at the side of the bed in nothing but his underwear when Niccolò’s voice pulled him out of his trance. The black-haired boy he was entitled to call his boyfriend. He still couldn't grasp it at times.

"What did you say? Sorry." He looked over to the desk where Nico was sitting at.

The latter peered over his shoulder and perked his eyebrows up in amusement. “I wanted to know what you're up to.”

"Well", he grabbed his boyfriend's pyjamas from under the pillow at the headboard, "I was thinking of watching some clips Giò sent me."

“Yeah?”, Nico called back, his voice soft, and yet, clothed in a tremble. It was barely audible, but Martino sensed that something was off. He looked over to the desk again just as Nico turned around in the chair. "What kind of videos?" He seemed to have bounced back already, his voice as clear and jovial as ever. Maybe he misheard, Martino thought.

He decided to let it slide- not every change in tone meant something. “Yeah", his voice merely a shadow as he fumbled through the action putting the pyjamas shirt on, "he wants my opinion on his latest skateboarding skills." He laughed then. Those were his best friend's words, and he wouldn't correct them. After he finished putting the pants on, he pressed his hands to his hips and caught Nico's eyes who seemed to be disappointed that he was dressed again- or so he thought. He shot him a reproving look, his lips forming an amusing smile, however. "And you know, since we’ve studied for a good while now by your parent’s request, I think we've earned a break. You said you wanted to draw, didn't you?” He took the blanket from the bed and shook it.

“I can always draw another time, you know?”

“True. But you also said you were inspired earlier.”

Nico’s lips twitched and he rubbed over the skin above his eyebrows. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” Marti lay down on his side of the bed, wrapping the blanket around him like a cocoon.

It was a few days into the New Year and school wouldn't start until next week. They had spent most of the holiday together. On some days, Martino had merely come over to sleep next to Nico since his exhaustion hadn't completely worn off. Not that he minded at all. If there was a way he could help him coping, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He finished wrapping up and caught Nico's smirk when their eyes met.

“You’ll die of hot flush, Marti", he claimed, removing himself from the desk.

“I’m wearing your pyjamas, remember? It’s fine.”

The thing was, Martino often changed into his boyfriend's pyjamas and he always wrapped himself into a cocoon blanket when he was over, loving his scent, wanting to drown in this earthy, slightly made of cedar wood, dream-like smell that surrounded him with warmth he wouldn't want to miss.

Nico was giving him a side glance as he got rid of his own trousers, and seconds later, he was crawling onto the bed.

“You know, you could just wear your underwear underneath all of this.” He waved his hand over Martino’s posture.

“Your dad is home. So, no.”

“Ah, you’re boring like that, I almost forgot.” Nico chuckled and Marti would have been offended, if his boyfriend wasn’t all adorable laughing into himself.

“You wanted to draw, remember?” He tried to sound annoyed, but he was pretty sure Nico could see right through him. "That's why you got rid of your trousers", he emphasized just for the sake of it.

“Always so bossy.” He shook his head and crawled closer. “Have fun with your videos.” He gave him a quick kiss and was about to move away again, but Marti raised his head so that he could nudge his nose.

“Have fun drawing.”

He gently rubbed his nose against Nico's before he kissed it. Ever since the morning after that eventful night on the school's terrace, it had become their thing. Martino remembered how relieved he had felt. What he had hoped in his heart all along finally became certainty. Nico's feelings were genuine; they always had been. He was positive he'd never forget this moment of liberation that had rushed over him that night. It had carved its way into his skin- as a token, and as an abiding memory. And perhaps Nico's emotions weren't as heightened compared to his owns then, but when he had woken up the morning after their reconciliation, Martino knew that all the suffering had been - and would be - worth it. Such a stupid saying actually, at least, that's what he had always thought, but Nico, despite everything, smiling his sunshine smile that day, made him realize that it was true after all. It basically came down to love having the power to conquer every burden. Both in theoretical and practical terms. He got that now.

So, naturally, he'd never get sick of kissing Nico on the nose since it always put him in a good mood. But he loved getting those kisses, too, and yet, before this thing of theirs could turn into something more, Marti drew Nico close by the collar of his jumper, gave him a peck, just so he could push him away, ever so gently, but not without smirking.

Nico heaved a sigh, but his eyes were shining and the corner of his mouth curved into a delicate smile. And so Marti let Nico collect some drawing materials which he spread out on the side of his bed. He tried not to look at his boyfriend’s bare legs which he had seen more than once, of course, but he still got all flustered when he saw them or any part of Nico’s body, that was. He still wasn't there believing that they were together for real now, even though he’s never felt this comfortable in his life. Naked skin and all.

He plugged the earphones in and clicked play on the first video while Nico started sketching beside him, legs crossed and sleeves pulled up, as per usual. His boyfriend got up from time to time, collecting all kinds of drawing utensils from his shelf. Every time he fetched something, Martino couldn't help but follow his every action. Sometimes it was something of daily use, like a rubber, a pair of scissors or another pencil, and sometimes he came back with a picture book he’d search for inspiration or pages he could use for collages. In the end, he used the sketchbook as drawing pad. Martino suggested that he'd better work on his desk, giving the fact that Nico had hoarded quite some materials which were now lying all over the side of his bed. He also didn't want his boyfriend to suffer from aching muscles tomorrow, but Nico wouldn't have any of that. Instead he came back with his next conquest. It was a kitchen tool Martino had absolutely no clue what use it held, but his boyfriend sketched it with great intensity and concentration.

It did something to his heart. He was positive he felt it flutter while he observed Nico’s aura in these moments. Brow furrowed with wrinkles, tongue sticking out merely a tiny bit, and hands guiding various pencils over the sheets of paper, emptying and filling his mind in equal measure− Martino was sure of it.

There was no doubt that he was far gone for the boy next to him, and in this very moment, he felt the devotion jumping out of his chest. He was aware, because for one, the corner of his mouth started to hurt from grinning, and two, his cheeks were heating up as well as his upper body.

Nico’s mouth moved then, pulling him out of his trance, yet again.

“What? I didn’t hear you?” He paused the video, grinning, probably looking like an idiot.

“I said stop looking at me.” Nico gave him a quick look of disapproval. “You’re distracting me.”

“Sorry, continue.” He pressed play again and chuckled into himself.

He’d be a liar, if he didn’t like the fact that he could hold such power over his boyfriend. Usually it was him who uttered those lines, so yes, this was a nice change for once. He kept glancing at the boy who was sketching in a medley of tranquillity and occasional outburst of passion. With vigorous movement, Nico guided the pencil over his artwork, or as it seemed, into his artwork, becoming one with it, so to speak. And every time Martino saw his boyfriend perform such an act out of the corner of his eyes, he smiled to himself, feeling the adoration he held for him in every fibre of his body. Giò had been right to call him a goner.

After he had finished sketching the ominous kitchen tool, Nico gathered paintbrushes and colours around him. Martino was about to ask him why the hell he’d wanted to paint his sheets, but before he could say anything, the brush in Nico's hand landed on his face. Of course it did. His boyfriend knew he was ticklish and he fully took advantage of it. What a shithead. It didn’t take long though and the utensil was forgotten, and they were making out, exploring each other’s faces thoroughly, getting rid of the blanket Marti was still wrapped in while trying to stay on his side of the bed.

"I could paint you, you know", Nico breathed into his ear.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're beautiful, Marti."

"Shut up."

Maybe he would let him. One day.

Nico was lying on top of him now, working on his neck, holding his face in place firmly. His grip made him feel as if he was something special. Someone special. Martino sighed.

He moved his head then so that he could capture Nico's lips into a kiss. He seemed to know what Marti wanted and started kissing him slowly, carefully even, while stroking his cheek with his thumb.

Perhaps those kisses were Martino’s favourite ones. When their tongues danced around each other, almost lazily, accompanied by his tingling skin and butterflies bustling about inside his stomach. When their hands roamed over each other, when Nico searched for his skin underneath the clothes, when he grabbed the hair at the back of his head, and when he bit down on his lower lip. The black-haired boy sent him to places he didn’t dare dream of, all in the span of seconds.

However, Marti had discovered quite recently that his boyfriend kind of responded every time he kissed the skin above his eyebrows. Oh, sweet revenge. When he rolled them over, that's when he had him. Under him, pressed into the pillow, defenceless. He took his time to tease him - first with feather-like kisses, and then, nuzzling his nose over the skin deliberately, tracing an invisible line – and watched how Nico shivered when he blew air over the sensitive spot. That was one of Martino’s favourite facial expressions on him. Eyes closed and lips formed into a content smile. If he were an artist like Nico; he'd paint him precisely like that. And so he forgot that he actually wanted to keep teasing him. He just melted into Nico's body effortlessly then, putting his hands under his shoulder blades, squeezing him and hugging him tight to his chest. Not wanting to let go. Why would he? This, sharing an embrace with Nico, was his safe haven. He's never really felt like he belonged before, not anywhere in this world, nor let alone to anyone.

Elia would have called him a lucky bastard.

They stayed like this for a while until Marti untangled himself abruptly, Nico protesting vehemently in the process, trying to tug him back to his chest, but Martino was quicker. He kissed the skin right above his elbow and pushed him back to his side before he wrapped himself into a cocoon again.

Nico rolled into some of his materials and they both laughed at that, Martino a bit more maliciously which Nico responded with flipping him off.

He was still grinning when his boyfriend put his trousers back on and continued working on his desk. He already missed him and the diverse sheets of paper beside him, but he was glad nevertheless. Just recently, Nico had told him that his creativity wasn't something that he could summon whenever he wanted. No, it attacked him sporadically. And when that happened, he had to get it out of his system before he imploded. That wasn't something he wanted for him, of course. Just the thought of the possibility made his heart heavy.

When he watched him sitting on his desk, he knew that it had been high time for Nico to get creative. His arm guided the brush over the paper- sometimes his whole upper body moved in union with it. Like a dance he had to carry out. Maybe, he thought, that dance was a battle all the same. Martino barely registered what happened on his phone anymore. He was utterly entranced until the shadow of Nico's voice burst his bubble of thoughts. For the umpteenth time today, he paused the video and removed one of the earbuds.

"Hm?"

"You're distracting me again."

"I'm not doing anything?" He claimed, his voice throaty, knowing exactly what Nico was hinting at.

"If I turn around now, I know I'll see you smiling."

"Is that so bad?"

"No, not at all."

"I'm sorry for distracting you." He really was.

Nico put the brush aside. "Let's have some coffee. I'm getting tired anyway." He turned around. "See. You're smiling."

Indeed, he was. Strangely enough, Nico's comment made him smile even brighter. "Let me help you." He was about to get rid of the blanket when Nico interrupted him with a dapper wave of the hand.

"No, no, I'm on it. You stay here. I'll be right back."

Marti protested, but Nico was already at the door. "Before you've put on your clothes, I'll be back already anyway." He scrunched his nose and slipped out of the room.

It was more or less a lie. It took him quite a while to get back. In the meantime, Martino made himself comfortable again and closed his eyes. His mind wandered to different places at the same time, and yet, he felt himself wrapped into an even warmth. Perhaps the afternoon sunbeams interloping into the room through the window were a reason for that, but Marti always felt comfortable in Nico's world. Whether it was here or at his place or whenever they were together. Hell, just thinking about Nico and how loved he made him feel never failed to amaze him. He always came back to thinking how it enveloped him, just as the rays of sunshine which were enveloping this very room with a calmness, so gentle and yet palpable.

Martino's favourite colour might be blue, but right now he was gleaming in all sorts of yellow nuances. Luchì would have said it showed.

And then, just before he dozed off, Nico slipped back into the room, his voice nonchalantly ringing in his ears, almost sing-song like. "Sorry, had a chat with my dad."

"No worries." Marti got up into an upright posture and tucked the pillow between his back and the headboard. "What were you chatting about?"

"Ah, you know, this and that." Nico positioned a trayful of biscuits and two cups of coffee on the middle of the bed. "He told me about his new project, you know."

"Which is?" Martino poured sugar into his cup and started stirring the beverage. For a fleeting moment he closed his eyes just to soak up the familiar scent. Not long ago he would have said it was his favourite smell in the world.

"Some building north the city." Nico was sitting cross-legged on his side of the bed now and took a sip of his coffee, glancing at him over the rim of the cup.

Unlike his boyfriend, he finished his coffee in one go. "You sound disinterested?"

"Naw, I just, you know, sometimes he talks for ages."

Martino chuckled, knowing exactly what Nico meant. His father's floods of words were quite endearing actually, but he wasn't walking in Nico's shoes on a daily basis. There were a few things he'd never fully grasp. He'd never know how much pain Nico actually went through, he could only ever imagine. And just before his thoughts could wander to darker places, he heard a clinking noise of porcelain hitting metal. When he looked up, a pair of curious eyes stared back at him. Martino knew that look well. Before he was able to form a coherent reasoning, a biscuit was stuck between his teeth.

“Stop that”, he giggled, while taking a bite off the sweet, leaving crumbs on the sheet.

“What? You don’t like them?”

“Don’t look so smug.”

“Why would I do that?”, Nico answered and leaned in to give him a peck on the lips.

“Your eyes don’t lie.”

“Ah no?”

“No.”

“Well, what can I say, amore, you make me feel things.” His boyfriend gave him one of his best lopsided grins. One of those that made him weak in the knees.

“Is that so?”, he raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore the butterflies in his belly.

“Oh, you haven’t noticed?” Nico took a bite of the biscuit in Marti's hand and then he gave him another peck on the lips, leaving crumbs there.

Marti laughed and wiped over his mouth with the back of his hand. “No. No, I really haven’t.”

They held their gaze for a moment. Martino was absolutely certain that he must’ve looked like a dumbstruck idiot. But it was alright. Actually, he had stopped caring about that a while ago. He knew he was one of those people who blushed easily, but Nico always looked at him with what he'd call a mix of endearment and boldness when that happened. And that made it even more okay.

Filippo would have called them sickeningly adorable.

“Will you show me your latest sketches?”, he broke the silence, being in desperate need for a distraction, but he was also curious about Nico's art, and seeing him so very caught up in it today, had gotten him even more curious.

“Huh? You’ve seen them. They’ve basically been in front of you the whole afternoon.”

He glanced at the drawings lying on the desk. He saw the early stages and knew Nico had worked on outlining miniatures of fairies once again. They were little superheroes in his eyes; sitting on one’s shoulder, always watching out for the ones in need, so he had told him. He had sketched some with a pen, and then later − after he had stopped using the brush to tickle Marti − he’d coloured the fairies in shades of green and yellow as well as the star dust around them. Nico had held up various sketches asking him which one he liked best. Martino was bad at deciding and he liked them all anyway. He always did.

“No, I meant the ones you’re working on when I’m not here.”

Nico’s eyes stopped track in time for a second. It was as if he was contemplating of what to say or give away. “Uh, I told you I’ll show you when they’re finished.” He scrunched his eyebrows. “Be patient, amore.”

“But most of the sketches from today aren’t finished either. And you’re not hiding them.”

“Listen, I don’t hide the others−“

“Yes, you are.”

He stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and looked at Nico who was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Are you taking the piss out of me?”

Martino snorted with laughter.

“You shithead!”

“Hey now, you fool with me plenty of times! It’s only fair.”

Nico’s eyes held a shine in them, twinkling almost. Martino noticed a ghost of a smile on his lips as well and started grinning when he looked back into his eyes. They told him how comfortable his boyfriend was. How happy he was that they were together and that there wasn’t anything between them that wasn’t right. That he could fool with him right in this very moment, in Nico’s room, surrounded by light yellow curtains and wooden furniture, where it was only them. Eva would have said they were a match made in heaven.

The outside world was okay, too, being with their friends and loved ones that was, but nothing came close to their moments alone. It was as if they lived in a safe house. Wrapped up in a shared blanket, waiting for sleep to take them. Even if it was merely imaginary.

“Hey, you have something there.” Marti pointed at Nico’s mouth then.

“Hm? Where?” He jiggled his head.

“Right there.” He propped his elbows up on his thighs - his boyfriend clearly waiting for him to close the distance - and slowly made his way up to kiss the left corner of his upper lip.

Nico’s lip twitched for a second. And then he traced the spot with his thumb.

“Biscotti flavoured kiss?”

“Biscotti flavoured kiss.”

He had the biggest grin on his face, and when he felt Nico's lips touching his own, he felt him smile into the kiss, too. He could say something, he thought.

“Hm-hm and a little bit of coffee, too.” Those weren't the words lingering on his mind, but—

Nico laughed. His shoulder trembled a bit and Marti melted into him. Again. His boyfriend’s laugh always did this thing to him when his cheek would just burn instantly. Not quite like fire, but with a certain warmth that was electrifying and calming at the same time.

The kiss turned deeper. Not like earlier. There was more hunger now. Tongues started grazing each other and fingers tugged at sleeves and elbows after they had gotten rid off the blanket again, this time more clumsily.

Martino took control whilst setting a slow, yet steady pace. It hadn't happened often yet, him, taking the reins. There still existed a certain shyness under all his eagerness to devote himself completely to their sexual intimacy. Nico had told him not to hold back, and it wasn't that he did it on purpose, but at times he was unsure if he was doing it right; whatever that meant. Maybe he was thinking too much about it. However, there was no way he’d get sick of Nico’s laugh. He always wanted to hear it. He wished he could kiss it away to put it in a jar that he could open whenever his boyfriend wasn’t with him. It made him all mushy and more in awe of him than he thought was possible. Yet here he was.

He rolled them around and slotted a thigh between Nico's thighs. While he stifled a laugh when they hit the tray, Nico cursed. Somehow they managed to shove it away with their hands and feet while their lips stayed glued together. He listened to Nico slightly starting to moan. It was more like puffing out air more rapidly each time their tongues parted, but it made him even more eager to kiss him absolutely senseless. Right here in this very room where he learned so much about him on one Friday afternoon. October felt like a lifetime ago.

Someway in between his attempt to make the object of his desire melt into the sheets, Nico managed to get a hand of his helix piercing with his thumb. It was enough to make him jolt. His boyfriend laughed into their kiss, his curls tickling his cheek, reinforcing the already existing tingling sensation going through his body.

“Ni, I swear...ughh.”

“Mh-mh yeah?” Nico kept grazing the metal with his thumb, slightly tugging at it.

“Ni, stop it, I swear”, he huffed in between smooches, digging his fingers into every spot of Nico's skin he managed to grasp.

“What?”

“Not now, your dad...”

“Who gives a fuck.” He felt Nico’s lips on his neck.

“I do”, he panted, feeling a throbbing heat to begin in his stomach.

“Of course, you do”, he sounded annoyed, yet his lips had arrived at his earlobe, biting down gently.

“Ah, I really don’t−“

“What?”, he asked more slyly and twirled his tongue around the piercing.

Marti's leg kicked the bed rest. He was at that point where he had lost control of his body, muscles doing whatever the fuck they wanted. He loved and hated it at the same time; especially in this very moment.

“Oh God, I swear, Ni...”

Nico ignored his plea. He really was insufferable. It wasn’t that he hated his boyfriend’s caresses on this particular body part of him, no, in fact, he loved them. It was just that he couldn’t bare Nico’s dad to interrupt them. Just the thought of that made him nauseous. How would he be able to look an older version of Nico in the eyes? They both shared the same pair of black curls and their eyes held the same shine in them. Martino was absolutely certain he'd melt in shame on the spot.

He managed to take a hold of his jumper's collar. “Ni, I swear... please...”

Nico's breath was hot and heavy on his skin, making his toes curl. “Marti... you drive me insane. It really isn’t my fault.” Another twirl around the metal followed by his leg kicking the bed rest again.

And then, a knock. Martino froze in a jiffy.

“Yeah?”, Nico called out, irritated.

“You boys alright?", a muffled voice called back.

Don’t open the door, don’t open the door, please don't open the door!

Marti buried his face in the crook of Nico's neck. It was bound to happen one day, he knew it. Perhaps he could disappear into the shielding niche of skin until the coast was clear again.

“Yeah, sure, pa", Nico called back while caressing his jaw with his thumb. Martino wished he'd stopped doing that, having trouble cooling down as hard as it already was.

“Thought I heard a dull noise, or well, something similar.”

“No yeah, Marti just stumbled against the bed...”

“Ah− you good, boy?”

He raised his head at the question, shooting a piercing look at Nico who was clearly entertained by his discomfort. “Every-everything’s fine”, Marti tried to answer with containment, but he felt his voice trembling. Nico snorted with laughter whereupon he nudged his shoulder.

“Oi!”, he cried out in fake pain.

“Niccolò?”

Martino thought he saw Nico’s dad trying to push down the handle of the French door.

No, no, no- don’t open the door! Don’t come inside!

He pointed to the door while trying to stare holes into Nico's eyes who was still terribly amused. What a shithead, Martino contemplated, trying not to grin at his own thought.

“Everything’s good, pa. Marti is just a bully, as usual.”

He nudged him in the shoulder again.

“We’re fine. Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” Nico said more earnestly now, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay.” A pause. “Listen, are you staying for dinner tonight, Martino?”

He turned his head towards the door, trying to regain his composure. “Um, well, actually I... I have a... dinner date with my mother tonight, so no.”

“Ah, what a shame− okay, you, uh, you boys continue. I see you later.” He listened to footsteps disappearing and heaved a sigh of relief.

Nico had started chuckling at one point and if he weren’t the lovesick puppy he had turned into, he’d truly be offended. However, it was really hard for him not to start laughing himself, so, with one final kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, he pushed himself off of him.

“I really hate you, you know”, he claimed, somehow grinning.

“Ah, you should have seen your face, amore, I swear I saw your cheeks turn burgundy in one second.”

“Funny.”

“That’s why you’re so incredibly fond of me.”

There it was again. That smug look of him, tongue sticking out for a millisecond behind his teeth, his eyes full of mischief.

“No, you got it all wrong, I really loathe you.”

“Oh really?”

“100%.”

“Okay. Then if you truly loathe me, you won’t mind that I won’t show you the sketches I am working on when you’re not here.”

“What?”

“You think I’m joking?”

“If you think you can blackmail me in any way...”

“I can’t?” Another challenge.

“Okay, fine”, he spit back angrily, almost on a level where he knew it was hard to tell he was joking.

It seemed to work, for Nico didn’t say anything. He felt his gaze, but he didn’t dare look. Two can play the game, he thought.

“Maaaarrrrtiiiii...” Nico stretched out his name, rolling the r’s endlessly it seemed.

He pretended he didn’t hear him and started looking for his phone which he remembered was lying somewhere underneath the sheets. When he had found it, he grabbed it, a sigh escaping his lips. It was really hard not to smirk, so he turned his head looking away.

“Really?”, Nico burst out, his voice an octave higher than usual.

He put the earbuds back in and was just about to get back to Giovanni’s videos, when he felt Nico grab his upper arm.

His finger hovered over the play button. “Yes?”

“Turn around.” Nico’s thumb dug into his flesh. “Look at me.”

He complied, putting the earbuds in his lap. Nico’s eyes were fixated on his and he blinked a couple of times so that he could hold his gaze.

“You didn’t mean that, did you?”

He was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Um, that you loathe me?” His eyes fluttered and there was a crushing nervousness in his voice Martino absolutely hated hearing.

“WHAT? Why would I mean that? Are you stupid?” He searched Nico's eyes. He seemed to be dead serious and he felt like an idiot.

“Ni, I swear, I was joking. I’m... I’m sorry if it came off−“

He didn’t get to say more. Nico pulled him up by the collar of his pyjamas shirt and kissed him on the lips. Hard and frantic. Hitting his teeth in the process.

“Ouch”, he chuckled into his mouth.

“I love you, Marti. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey now... hey.” He took his head into his hands and pressed his forehead to Nico’s whose hands had fallen on his shoulder, gripping the shirt there.

I love you, too. It’s okay.

“I overwhelm you, I always do that.”

“Please cut the always, will you.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“No. I promise you, you don’t. Sometimes I am overwhelmed that this is real. Sometimes I can’t believe it, you know, that we’re together?”

“No?”

“You’re amazing.” He took one of Nico’s hands and gave it a little squeeze while he kept their foreheads connected. “You amaze me every single day.” He half-whispered the last sentence and tried to lift his chin up, but Nico was shaking his head no. No eye contact for now, okay, Marti knew that much. And so he snuggled his nose against his neck, kissing the spot of skin with caution right afterwards. He repeated the action until Nico spoke, his voice in a mist of shame.

“I’m sorry I’m impulsive.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sorry I’m so needy.”

“I’m not, really.”

“I love you.”

He started to tremble at his words. He was about to open his mouth, to say them back, because only a fool would believe him if he claimed he didn't love the boy who was clinging to him. Martino was chanting the words in his mind anyway. Ever since New Year's Eve – if not before that − when Nico had first said them, casually, as if they had slipped from his lips unintentionally. But Marti knew Nico had been sincere, just as he was in this very moment.

Now, if he could only say them back.

His heart exploded, because he felt so incredibly blessed and cherished and loved and there wasn’t anything to fear, and yet, he feared to say them. Those three little words. It was the most absurd thing he’d ever experienced. Here he was, holding his boyfriend, embracing him like the treasure he was, and yet, he couldn’t say them back. He truly was a walking contradiction. Nico moved him in every way a person could be moved. He should say something, he knew that. In fact, he should have said something a while ago. He could tell him right now that he loved him. It was neither a lie, nor a bad time. It could even soothe Nico's tension, if he thought about it. Still, shouldn't he say something so significant with nothing but joy between them? He felt a knot forming its way up his lungs, and so he buried the mental image and pulled his boyfriend to his chest. As if on cue, Nico started breathing erratically. He, too, didn't seem to get enough air to fill his lungs. Martino cursed himself, this was clearly his fault. Open your damn mouth. "It's okay, Ni, it's okay. I'm here." "I'm sorry, Marti." "Shh, shh, everything's alright. It's not your fault." Don't be sad, please don't be sad. It's okay. He losened their embrace and started to draw soothing circles on his Nico’s back and planted kisses - as tender as he could - on his hair where it met his earlobe. It took a while until he felt him relax, his head on his shoulder as if he had just ran a marathon and needed someone to support some of his weight. “A nap? Before you have to go?” Nico whispered into the crook of his neck, his breath tickling and making his flesh crawl at the same time.

“Okay.”

They settled down in the middle of the bed. Nico was already captured in a sleepy trance, but he still held enough force to pull him down to his upper body, enveloping his arm around his back. Martino partly nestled down on his chest and partly on his shoulder, belly down, and face towards Nico’s middle.

I love you.

Nico's lips brushed his forehead. He shivered at that and moved his hand over the jumper until he felt his heart beating.

I’m sorry.

Some time later Nico found his hand and Marti entwined their fingers. He moved his thumb over his knuckles, trying to soothe him, or maybe he was trying to soothe himself. It didn’t take long and he felt his boyfriend puffing air into his hair.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six...

It calmed him down listening to Nico breathing, and feeling him under him steadied him. Grounded him, yes.

He was so damn lucky, he thought, shedding a tear at the very thought, feeling relieved that Nico wouldn’t have to worry about that as well. God, Martino hoped he knew how much he wanted to be with him at any giving time. The shame he felt over not being able to tell Nico how much he meant to him made him feel small. What a fool he was.

At one point, Martino started repeating his affection towards him like a mantra. In his mind, but he could have sworn that he heard himself whisper his confession into the silence of the black-haired treasure's room he was holding on to.

I love you so very much.

The approaching evening light was creeping into the room now, absorbing the yellow aura which was one of the many things about these four walls he loved.

He reminded himself that, however dark this room might get, the warmest colour was lying in his arms, and that he needed to be brave to make it stay that way. He justthis ineeded to be brave. I do, I truly do. ☆．。．:*･°

When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be When you move I could never define all that you are to me So move me, baby Hozier - Movement

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chrissy96trans · 6 years

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[MAGAZINE INTERVIEW] 180420 WINNER for HARPER'S BAZAAR KOREA May Issue

JINWOO

Q. Do you have a personal favorite on the full album EVERYD4Y?

MOVIE STAR. It might be because I know the production process behind the making of the song and the motive and meaning of the lyrics but the lyrics are very realistic to me. I’ve found that I really like that kind of realism. (laughs)

Q. Is there a song [from the album] that you want to recommend we listen during this current season?

I want to recommend EVERYDAY to listen to during the spring. All the side tracks are good though.

Q. You usually always don’t do much to your hair but your curls are really eye-catching. Whose idea was it?

While I was thinking about our concept, I found this hairstyle on the internet. I said, “I want to do this hair!” while showing the pictures I found to our staff members. They all liked it. Actually, I curled my hair for REALLY REALLY promotions too but no one remembers it. (laughs) I want to keep curling my hair until the end of this promotion. Since I’ve always kept my hair long, I also want to try cutting it short like a buzz cut.

Q. Following “REALLY REALLY”, the public has become more attuned to Jinwoo’s vocal color. Is there a song you want to specially remake while highlighting your vocals?

Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself”. I sang it very often when I practiced my singing [during my trainee period]. I recorded it multiple times too.

Q. You’re constantly working on your variety show skills by appearing on “Infinite Challenge” and “Live a Good Life”. You’re a vocalist in WINNER but how do you feel when you appear on variety shows alone?

As a singer, I think I’m given two options when I get to appear on variety shows. I can either forget the characteristics I show as a singer and immerse myself in the variety show or sustain my singer image on the show. I do the former. When I appear on variety show, I forget all about WINNER Kim Jinwoo’s appearance and I try to show me, the 100% human being Kim Jinwoo.

Q. Spending time as 100% human being Kim Jinwoo must also be precious to you then.

Yes, I’m a homebody so the time I stay at home amounts to quite a lot. But through variety shows, I’ve met many different people and I’ve become quite extroverted. I go outside to spend time with people more often now.

Q. Who is the artist you respect the most?

The late actress Choi Jin-shil. When I first watched the drama “My Rosy Life”, I became obsessed with it. Naturally, the acting she showed on that drama was really good too. That drama was the reason behind my wanting to officially start acting.

Q. Many people always talk about how you are a “warm-hearted person who cries easily”. On the other hand, Seungyoon, who trained with you [for the longest time] said that you are tenacious and that you’re a “genius through effort”. Are you usually very generous to others while being strict on yourself?

That’s right. I really hate to inconvenience others. This makes me be really strict on myself. Because of that, whenever I get angry or sad, instead of depending on others, I tend to repress my emotions often. There are pros and cons to this kind of personality.

Q. Who do you think is the winner of life?

Myself (laughs). When I look back from the time when I was a child who grew up in the countryside to the present where I’m a member of WINNER, there have been many changes. I’m going to continue to work hard to go forward.

MINO

Q. Your never letting go of your camera on set really impacted me.

I’m really into photography right now. I started it as a hobby last year but I’ve become more focused(/serious) about it recently. But because of that, I’ve bought too many cameras that it’s becoming a problem. I counted the number of cameras I’ve bought so far and they totaled up nine.

Q. Do you like collecting things?

Actually, I love things(/objects) in general. Four years ago, I really loved action figures so I collected them. At the time, our dorm was small so organizing them into a cramped space was really exhausting. Now, I like things/objects that are useful and I like efficient things that I can create with more than things I just look at.

Q. What songs do you enjoy listening to these days?

Hmm, I’ll show you my playlist. My all-time favorite song is Childish Gambino’s “Redbone”. I’ve been listening to it on repeat today, here on set. I also like Bachi(?)’s “Beautiful”.

Q. It feels like your rap style is constantly changing.

When I was in high school, I admired rappers with hard/rough voices. I liked rapping voices like DMX so I made my voice raspy and even shouted when I rapped. But you need a voice that has a wide spectrum rather than an aggressive voice when you need to be able to own all the songs in an album. I became aware of that and kept working hard. Once I changed my style, the spectrum of music I could rap to widened significantly. These days, I like to put in unique words into my lyrics. I’m working hard to be aware of the very thin line between childishness and uniqueness. I hope that even if I use a word that has ambiguous meanings, the way people understand it is straightforward. Including myself, I like it when lyrics are memorable to listeners.

Q. How do you react when you are suddenly inspired in your daily life?

I note it down no matter what, whether by writing it or drawing it. I really hate it when I forget something because I didn’t note it down. I usually go to sleep at late hours because I enjoy the time right before falling asleep. Out of all the hours on the clock, that’s when I get the most ideas. When I think while lying down, I get ideas even right before my REM sleep and I either write it down or end up falling asleep, without noting anything. Whenever I fall asleep, I always regret it when I wake up. I think, “Ah! I had something amazing yesterday!”

Q. When I looked at your Instagram, I could see that you’re good at drawing and that you even design goods. It seems that you have a talent in creating. Is there an Instagram account that inspires you while producing music or designing?

Ah, I don’t want to share this… (laughs) I enjoy looking at Matt Cunningham’s Instagram feed (@moon_patrol). He’s famous for making collage artworks. I really like his art.

Q. I just noticed that your phone case has blue roses on it. I also saw a blue rose on the goods you designed.

I’m obsessed with blue roses [these days]. [One time] I was spacing out while starting at them and I looked up the symbol behind blue roses. Because they were originally difficult to attain, blue roses meant “despair/hopelessness” but as it became easier to attain, the meaning changed to “hope” and “miracle”. I loved that so I changed my Instagram profile picture to a blue rose. From that time on, my fans have been gifting me with blue roses, which I am grateful for. One time, during a concert in Japan, I received a real flower [a blue rose] for the first time. I was so worried that it’ll wilt while we were coming back home that I was really careful even on the airplane.

Q. Just like last year, you had your comeback on April 4th. What do you think WINNER will be doing on April 4th, 2019?

Fascinatingly, I used to like the number 3. But we received so much love from our 4/4 comeback last year, and we included the number 4 in the album name (EVERYD4Y), so as the point of connection with the number 4 increases, it feels like 4 is now a symbolic number for WINNER. I even feel different whenever the hands of a clock point to 4. (laughs) Director Yang Hyunsuk also supports the concept with number 4 so wouldn’t there be a high possibility that you’ll be able to listen to new WINNER music on April 4th for at least a few years from now?

SEUNGYOON

Q. Like the lyrics of EVERYDAY, what is something that feels “new every day” for you these days?

I’ve been taking photos. I like the texture of film cameras so I recently bought one. I take pictures of my members and of landscapes. I’m working on a photo album so I’m taking photos to put into it.

Q. I saw you taking photos of the flowers in the garden right outside. When you are publishing the photo album you’re working on?

It’ll most likely take some time since choosing which photos to include will take time. I’m thinking about including pieces of my writing with the photos. The writing will be about the inspiration I received from the photos. I’ll write the inspiration I got from the photo next to the photo and I’m going to leave blank spaces so people who get the photo album can fill it in themselves.

Q. Where do you usually get inspiration from?

I usually get inspirations from daydreams. With this album (EVERYD4Y), I got a lot of inspirations while thinking about our fans. Even just starting with the theme “fan” takes my thoughts to many different directions. For example, it can be about our attitude when it comes to working hard for our fans, something we receive from fans, or things we want to tell our fans. These are the strongest inspirations I received recently.

Q. Is there a song from this album where the recording process was very memorable?

MOVIE STAR, which I put the most effort and sincerity into when writing the lyrics. Most of the songs on this album can be enjoyed without much thought but we worked really hard to include our stories into MOVIE STAR. When my members wrote their rap lyrics, they tried to exert a lot of sincerity into each word so they kept revising their revisions. In the last part of the song, we all sing together and we sang it joyously as if we were out camping.

Q. WINNER has many hit songs but Kang Seungyoon’s “Instinctively” will always be remembered. Right now, as an experienced musician, is there a song you want to remake?

I feel grateful for “Instinctively” because it’s the first song that made it possible for the public to become familiar with my name. If I were to remake a song now, I think I’ll think about a lot of things before remaking it. When I covered “Instinctively”, I was young and inexperienced so I did it bravely, but now, as someone who lives as a singer who creates songs, the categories of worries I must go through while producing music has become more detailed.

Q. You are now in your mid-20s. Was there a recent moment when you truly felt like you were becoming an adult?

When I look at my past self, I think I wasn’t very understanding of myself and of others. I used to yell at myself, “Why is that all I can do? Why is this all I can do?” Now, I’m accepting of errors and mistakes and acknowledge my own. I also acknowledge that each person is different.

Q. Your members called you a “nagging mom” during their interviews. Which member does things that make you nag on them?

I don’t think I nagged on them that much recently… Actually, I nagged on Mino (laughs). When Mino becomes obsessed with something, he wants to buy all the equipments for that thing like an expert. Mino has been buying lots of cameras these days so I told him to stop buying them but he bought more (laughs).

Q. Who do you think is the winner of life?

Someone who achieves what they want to, someone who chases the happiness they define. In our case, many people liking WINNER’s music and remembering us for a long time, make us WINNERs, don’t you think?

HOON

Q. Just like last year, you came back with your full album EVERYD4Y on April 4th. What do you think you’ll be doing on April 4th, 2019?

Releasing a new album on the same date would be nice but personally, I want to show a new side of WINNER in a different season with a different vibe. We’ve promoted during spring and summer so promoting during winter would be nice too. If this becomes reality, we’ll probably be working on music [on 4/4] or we might be traveling.

Q. Which song in the album do you have special affections for?

Track 11, the song RAINING. This song is actually my first self-composition. I was treasuring it and didn’t include it in our previous albums but our Japanese agency said they wanted to release it so it was first released through our Japanese album and then released in Korea through this full album. It’s a very meaningful song for me.

Q. From your rap lyrics to your clothes, it seems like you’re a person who has your own specific color. Even when you wore the uniform for the Pyeongchang Olympic Torch Relay, there was a cheerfulness specific to Lee Seunghoon (laughs)

Whatever I do, I put storytelling as my first priority. That’s why even when I pick out what to wear, instead of something tasteless, I tend to pick out clothes that are cheerful and witty while thinking about my image. Generally, I like wearing comfortable clothes but I always make sure to color-coordinate well. Instead of black and grey, I look for colors that are fun.

Q. What’s the story behind the lunch box you posted on SNS? You posted it with the hashtag “#ihatecarrots” but the lunchbox has 6 carrots drawn on it.

The lunchbox is a goods I designed for our Japanese fans. We were able to choose the items. My members chose hats and bags but I thought a lunchbox would be fun. When I chose the band to be green and the lunchbox to be orange, I thought of carrots. The drawing of the dog on the lunchbox is my pet dog, Haute, but he doesn’t hate carrots (laughs). I was trying to come up with something witty and came up with that. Both clothes and items become memorable when there are stories attached to them.

Q. I saw the puppy academy diary you posted on Haute’s Instagram account (@maetamongisdad). There were detailed comments but which comment made you most happy as Haute’s dad?

There were many comments about Haute having a good personality. Whenever I see those kinds of things, I feel proud and think, “I’ve raised him well” so I like them (laughs). I think that dog-training is similar to human education so I make sure to be strict and establish order of rank with Haute.

Q. I saw that you also posted pictures of tasty hamburgers you’ve eaten on SNS. Can you share the #1 tastiest hamburger?

I pick New York Shake Shack burger as #1. When we went to New York to film our music video (2014 S/S), my members were very jet-lagged and tired so I searched up hamburgers and went to Shake Shack by navigating on my phone map. Rather than thinking they’re the best brand, it was memorable how it was in another country and I went to the store without depending on anyone and ordered hamburgers with limited English. I remember I said, “The taste of America!” while eating it (laughs). If I was told to go eat the same hamburger right now, I don’t think it would taste the same. Like I said, stories are important (laughs).

Q. Is there an artist who inspired you quite recently?

Chef Choi Hyunsuk. I went to one of his restaurants recently. I like what he shows as an entertainer on TV but the moment I ate the dish he made, I strongly felt the feeling of eating a piece of artwork. Experiencing the tastes and looking at the stories, decorations, and assortments that were created with the course in mind made me think, “He’s a real artist.”

translated by @chrissy96_

scans by @goduandme5 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ (Tumblr wouldn’t let me include all the scans into this post so please make sure to check out the links)

#yg winner #kang seungyoon #winner seungyoon #kim jinwoo #winner jinwoo #lee seunghoon #winner seunghoon #song mino #winner mino

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20thcentutygeek · 3 years

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Review: The Nightmare (2015) / Glitch in the Matrix (2021)

I was introduced to film maker Rodney Ascher several years ago, with Room 237, a study of the conspiracies that have grown up around interpretations of Kubrick’s The Shinning. Since then, he has made two more documentaries, The Nightmare (2015) and Glitch in the Matrix (2021).

The Nightmare chronicles people’s experiences of sleep paralysis. The waking from sleep in a state of paralysed, and the sense or even witnessing of dark entities stalking you. The documentary discusses whether these are internal events perceived as a reality, or if actual beings are causing these events as they invade people’s homes and minds. This is told through the experiences of several people, each with their own stories and experiences. The stories share some stark similarities but also some glaring differences. Listening to the stories is fascinating and gives a glimpse into terrifying emotional experiences but leaves the ending open. The film is not designed to be a definitive examination of this phenomena but will make you ask some interesting questions.

Glitch in the Matrix takes a similar approach to Simulation theory. This is an idea that has been floating round for several decades but has become more pointed as digital worlds are becoming more prominent in all our lives. In a nutshell it posits that we, and our world, are in fact a digital reality created by another intelligence. The question is what exists outside of this. The documentary, once again, is not intending to answer the question but present a group of people’s experiences that have led them to believe that this reality is a simulation.

These experiences range from an epiphany in church, a meditative mind-expanding moment to an obsession with the film The Matrix. It also splices this in sections of the lecture Philip K Dick gave in 1977 about his experiences, which led him to believe a version of simulation theory and write the Exegesis in an attempt to put his ideas on paper.

As with The Nightmare, Glitch in the Matrix is not going to give you any clear answers. However, it will make you ask questions and maybe even take another look at the world around us.

Both scratch the surface of idea and raise awareness of theories questioning our reality. If you are happy believing that sleep paralysis is a physiological phenomenon caused by brain chemistry, you may be right, but if you are worried that it may also be entities from a dimension parallel to ours that some with malicious intent, you may be just as right. Glitch does the same. The experiences explained are not taken as some kind of truth only as a starting point to ask questions.

One of the scariest questions asked is, if we are not real what is the point of morality? One subject in the film states that if we are just digital representations what does it matter if I just start shooting ‘people’, we’re not real. Firstly, I question this persons moral standing if that is their go to, but it also raises the question of what is real. Even if we are a digital, we still feel and exist, or does us being a flesh and bone physical subject make us more ‘real’?

These films do not judge or take a side in these matters. They present these ideas and stories and then leave it with the viewer to take from it what they will. I watched them almost two weeks ago now and I am still digesting the films. My thoughts and feelings on the subjects are still not clear but I have some great new questions to consider. Also, following this I am going to write about my sleep paralysis experiences when I was younger, it feels like something I need to do now.

That aside, I recommend both these documentaries (as well as Room 237). They can be enjoyed as straight forward horror and science fiction overviews of existing theories, or you can look closer and take a journey down the rabbit hole and see what you find, it may be different to what I find but whose to say which truth is real?

After watching the films, I reached out to Rodney Ascher with some questions, and he was kind enough to respond:

What led you to the topics for The Nightmare and Glitch in the Matrix?

The nightmare was inspired by my own sleep paralysis experience (which felt like a harrowing supernatural visitation at the time) and the nightmare directlyled to Glitch. Someone I spoke to about sleep paralysis told me that he thought the phantoms he saw during SP were people outside of the simulation and once I heard that I never stopped thinking about simulation theory.

The two documentaries cover subjects about the potential of another world adjacent to ours, do you see them as a duology?

Well sure, especially considering the above. In fact, I consider them and Room 237 a trilogy, all the films are about people struggling to understand mysteries.

Have you ever had any experiences like those described in The Nightmare and Glitch in the Matrix?

I’ve had sleep paralysis, but I’ve never experienced a really intense glitch. Some people see synchronicities or living through bizarre moments in history as clues that we’re in a simulation and I’ve had my share of those, some pretty intense but I suspect there are other explanations for them.

There is a noticeable lack of ‘experts’ in the documentaries, taking up what would usually be considered the informed position. Was this an intentional move? If so, why?

I broke that pattern a little with Glitch, including a few people who could be considered experts to put some of the ideas we cover in context and to do a little colour commentary, but yeah the part of these subjects I’m always most interested in are the first person experiences, the ‘case studies.’

I don’t see the model for what I’m doing science-journalism so much as storytelling, and the works of collage artist Bruce Connor is much more influential on me than episodes of 60 Minutes or Nova. One way I like to put it is my mission is to put the audience into the heads of people who see the world differently than others do. In the case of the Nightmare for example, I wasn’t trying to explain the science of the phenomenon so much as paint a picture of what it’s like to experience. i wanted to hear from people who’ve gone through it follow wherever their search for answers took them.

The danger of experts (to overstate it) is that they’re sometimes presented as infallible authorities and film’s that lean too heavily on them sink or swim depending on whether or not they’re right. I prefer regular people letting us into their subjective experience.

The Nightmare is described as a Horror documentary, while it is conveying these people’s experiences as fact, do you also see it as a horror experience, designed to entertain in the same way?

Yes.

The experiences described in the Nightmare share some themes but also differ greatly in the details. Do you believe that there is a single objective truth to them, such as actual beings entering the homes, but being perceived as subjective experiences filtered through the individual’s life references? Can they be taken as a collective to be studied?

That’s the question I hope the audience asks after they watch it. My answer isn’t any more or less relevant than yours.

The use of Avatar images for the people in Glitch – what made you choose this approach? The use of these was more impactful in 2021, especially for me, having worked from home for over a year and having only worked with my colleagues over video calls and messages.

Thanks! We started down that path in 2019 as a way of talking about the strange new worlds digital communications are bringing us too but oddly enough we all found ourselves trapped in those worlds more and more as time went on.

Simulation theory posits that we are coding in a larger machine, created by a vastly different or more advanced civilisation than ours. While this taps into modern ideas of the layering of reality it can be argued that this is still within the confines of a creationist myth, just nihilistic and without a moral structure. Do you think that this theory is fueled by modern conceptions and perceptions of reality, or just a retreading of an old idea with a new CGI coat of paint?

I don’t think those are mutually exclusive, especially since different people arrive at the idea via different paths.

Are we destined to keep coming back to creationist ideals, having an entity or entities that are greater than us?

Probably. Based on my layman’s understanding of history, philosophy, and religion (and maybe politics) I don’t see humankind on settling on a unanimous consensus about the nature of reality anytime soon.

Both documentaries can now be bought and rented on most streaming services. I watched them on Amazon Prime (UK).

#Reviews #Movies #Horror #scifi #documentary

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four-pages-zine-blog · 6 years

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Issue 1: Tass

How long have you had your store: I started officially selling clothes after I finished college in 2013 and moved back home to the suburban midwest, so I guess 5 years now! I was working at the local newspaper at the time but was looking for an extra way to kill time, not necessarily even to make money. I started with Poshmark and loved connecting with other people who liked similar clothes, which was actually kind of rare for where I lived. I loved being able to see people showcase their own style in the form of their own closets and let people “shop their closet”. I also became really interested in clothes trading, which I like doing with my irl friends, so the fact a lot of people were willing to trade items was also really cool to me and something I hadn’t seen before.

How would you describe your shop? I think the clothes I sell are kind of more one-off like something that would be worn as a funny statement piece - I love a bright color and bold pattern, power clashing, and anything rainbow, glittery or that can incorporate faux fur in a tasteful way. It’s pretty reflective of my midwestern lifestyle and probably the clothes I consistently have the most of are windbreakers and winter coats, the main way we can express ourselves here for half of the year or more… There are a few sticker art projects I have in my store that I started doing around 2012 out of boredom when I was still in school, the most prominent one probably being the 6 foot tall Britney Spears poster that’s completely covered in (vintage) Lisa Frank stickers but never intended to actually finish or take seriously. Over the years I used sticker collaging as a way to keep my mind off things and have it be a means to add color and vibrancy to otherwise more plain posters/art.

When I first opened my shop in 2013, I made a holographic wall out of posterboards to hang my clothes on and that was my first store display on Poshmark and Etsy and always tried to have unique ways to show my clothes ever since, and to change the look of my store at least once a year. I’ve wavered between thinking having consistent “branding” is best and thinking it’s best to change as my ideas change, and have ended up going with the latter at whatever expense that has had, resulting in my store bio now being “Hi I’m Crazy Branding” lmao. The last time I re-did my store I got a mannequin from the city off Craigslist that I painted hot pink and move around my yard or put against different backdrops/bright colored walls to model the clothes. At one point I put velcro on the back of all my stuffed animals plushies and trolls and stuck them to a white wall in my apartment I was living to use as the background. I used to love to bring around solo holographic poster boards to my friends’ houses before we went out so that we could all take pictures behind them as the backdrop, portable aesthetic is essential.

What era or year is your favorite in fashion? My favorite looks are early 90s minimalistic grunge but not too minimal - Black jeans, velvet dresses, and plain tees, all of that, but then on the flip side I love the super excessive part of those eras of fashion too, like rainbow everything and floating glitter inside plastic holographic accessories. My favorite outfit of all time is something my aunt gave me from her 80s closet, it’s a long elastic teal leopard mermaid-style skirt with a matching teal leopard flowy button down shirt, all cotton and polyester. I love outfits that are completely matching like that and have been seeing that lately in brands that I follow, so I hope that sticks.

What item of clothing in the world are you lusting after or saving up for?

One of those new robot dresses that react to your moods or whatever lmao but if I’m being more realistic there is a designer who I really love that I found on Instagram who knits beaded sweaters using like thousands of different colored beads and completely covers them. They’re works of art and I would love to have one some day and be able to support an artist too! I’m definitely always lusting after new pairs of plain black pleather platform (but not too high anymore) shoes. I love the brand Hot Lava and I guess if I'm saving up for one thing it would be their "Barbed" rainbow matching bralette/pants combo.

Favorite clothing brand/brands and why? Since I usually only buy thrift for myself these days, my favorite brands are probably just based on design only but I love Discount Universe and other sequins-covered clothes or otherwise outlandish/tacky patterns, especially if they’re owned/designed/produced by women - Wacky Wacko, I have the Tabloid Dress they made a few years ago and it’s one of my favorite of all time even though I never wear it I also LOVE everything from Big Bud Press and YardSale666 in general.

What music do you like, does it play a role in your personal style? The music I listen to most now is probably "experimental pop" and growing up I loved pop punk. Both of those have affected my style and stayed with me to this day, I still wear skinny jeans and slip on Van-style shoes most often no matter what else I’ve layered on top of it. I used to like to purposely wear edgy clothes and do my hair to provoke a reaction out of people when I was younger - my brother would pass down band shirts to me that said things like “What the F*** are you looking at?” (lol) and I would cut them off into a crop top and wear it with a super long high-waisted thrifted pink and purple plaid skirt. That was definitely my go-to outfit for like an entire summer straight. I’ve always liked clothes that makes a statement even if it’s in a literal way with words, clothes with a lot of text on them, and I really like the new wave of DIY embroidery, especially on thrifted or up cycled clothes. Band tee shirts were also just like a huge part of growing up for me, buying them at shows and collecting them and wearing them all the time. Also in my shop I have a guitar that I completely stickered/bejeweled which was one of my longest running projects that I really want to make more of. It was one of my brother's old acoustic guitars that he let me completely deck out and it perfectly combines the femme pop elements I love with an actual instrument. Music and fashion are so intertwined all the time I think, and clothes/accessories are something that always stuck out to me about singers and bands too! I love how fashion plays a role in music today too and can make or break an entire aesthetic or era.

Does living in your city/state inspire you? Where are you most creative? Yes lmao living in rural suburban Illinois actually inspires me a lot and I’m probably the most happily creative here. When I lived in the city, things were a lot more stressful so it made me work on a lot of projects to distract myself, but I eventually burned out from that pretty bad. I get inspired by midwestern people but mostly in a way that most people find cringey, I mocked it more when I was younger but now try to tastefully incorporate it into my looks. State Fair Chic is inspiring to me. My mom has a lot of handpainted and iron-on sweatshirts for different holidays that are staples of my closet. Living in the midwest and being bored definitely made me thrift more and imo makes the thrifting better, it made me always be working on craft projects, and always changing my hair and style.

What things do you love to create? I think my favorite things to create are entire rooms and looks, I like to make different aesthetics through combining colors, furniture and fabrics that all feel familiar even if it’s a little chaotic. My long term project with my bedroom was turning my walls of thrifted art (with 20-30 framed pictures) into matching colored frames that fit the whole look of the room, so I guess just really getting at the details of design. I think I’m pretty tacky so I like to stick to things that embody that and will always love stickering huge projects, painting everything plain into bright colors and incorporating anything I find thrifting or in the garbage into larger art aesthetics. My favorite thing to do is thrift and upcycle clothes, furniture, wall art, lamps, etc. anything that I see “potential” in lol.

Who are some of your favorite artists?: There are a ton of artists I follow that inspire me every day, definitely just “regular” people or like more lowkey artists. People who thrift or collect and refurbish toys are amazing to me and I love the doll community on IG. Witches or people I’ve met through astrology who are creating more spiritual art inspire me every day with their words and presentations. I also love comedians and movies, I love John Early and Kate Berlant and recently saw they collaborated with Peggy Noland and Seth Bogart of Wacky Wacko so that was iconic to me.

I collaborate a lot with my brother who has done a lot of graphic design stuff for me over the years. He makes resin toys of his own and designs t-shirts. He’s great at painting and drawing, two skills I never was good at that I really appreciate in him that he is always willing to lend a hand to me. He is two years older than me and went to school for advertising so exchanging ideas and doing projects with him is something I like to do too. He also has more of a background in music production so we recently started trying to make music together. We both love combining fashion and music!

What album do you recommend to pick up ASAP? Hayley Kiyoko - Expectations, hands down the vibe for summer

Follow Tass on Depop!

Depop.com/trashbitch

#fashion #depop #zine #thrift #vintage #vintage clothing

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val-kay-rie · 6 years

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Special Secret Santa (Loki x Reader)

happy chrysler tumblr!!

Summary: The Avengers Tower gang does a Secret Santa, when a certain God of Lies draws your name. Only problem is, he doesn’t know what to get you, so he takes matters into his own mischievous hands.

Warnings: Slight language?

Word Count: 2796

Inspired by this post by @theartofimagining13.

“Is it Rogers?” Tony asked you as you attempted to enjoy a bowl of your favorite cereal.

You shook your head and replied, “I told you, I’m not telling you! That defeats the whole purpose of Secret Santa.”

Tony let out an exasperated sigh, causing you to laugh and shake your head as you ate another spoonful of cereal.

About two weeks ago, you and just about everyone living in the tower were told to participate in a Secret Santa under Tony’s wish. This included the original teammates - such as Steve, Nat, Bruce and Clint - to some of the newer residents - like Wanda, Vision, Bucky and the God of Mischief.

Yes, Loki currently resided in Avengers Tower. Him and his brother came to Earth in search of a new home, as they had mentioned something of Asgard coming to an end, and they attempted to have the whole of their civilization quietly rest somewhere in Norway. Naturally, it didn’t take long for SHIELD to notice and step into the scene. They had promised the Asgardians peace as long as they remained civil, and as long as Loki was somewhere they could keep a careful eye on him, hence him living with the Avengers. That was all months ago.

Fast forward just over three months later, and nearly everyone had grown accustomed to the new Asgardian. Some decided it best to just generally avoid him, while others actually began to warm up to him, you more than others, though you’d never admit it. Tony had also slowly begun to warm up to the god as well, which is why he decided to put Loki’s name into the drawing.

“Oh, it’s Thor, isn’t it?” Tony tried again. Thor spent most of his time in Norway serving as the new king to the Asgardians, but he made sure to visit frequently, occasionally bringing along a woman named Valkyrie that you had come to befriend as well.

All you did was eat another spoonful of cereal in reply with a slight smirk on your face. Tony groaned at your actions as Steve entered the kitchen. The billionaire redirected his attention to the captain and asked, “What about you, Rogers? Who’d you pull for Secret Santa?”

Steve reached into one of the cabinets above and pulled out a coffee mug. He glanced over at you, “Is he still on this?”

You simply shrugged your shoulders and continued to eat your cereal, causing Tony to shout, “Oh, come on!”

“I don’t know why you wanted to do this so bad if it was going to bother you so much,” Steve stated as you laughed at Tony’s reaction.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be so damn good at keeping it a secret,” Tony complained.

“Are you kidding me?” You said with a chuckle as Steve began making himself some coffee, “You didn’t expect The Avengers to be good at keeping secrets?”

“Okay, Nat and Clint? Sure, I get it, super secret assassin stuff, it’s their job. But Vis and Thor? They’re new to this kind of stuff! I’d thought they’d spill, or at least ask for help,” Tony admitted.

You finished your last spoonful of cereal then told him, “We all live under one roof Tony, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out what to get their person.”

You stood from your seat and walked over to the sink in order to rinse out your bowl and place it in the sink to wash later. Steve stood nearby, and you noticed a slight smirk on his face hiding behind his coffee cup. You wondered what caused that expression and curiously asked, “What?”

“Nothing, dear,” Steve said, proceeding to take a sip of his coffee and to take a seat where you had been previously sitting. Since when he had started calling people “dear?”

You eyed him suspiciously as FRIDAY came on over the intercom, “Your presence is being requested in the lab, boss.”

“I’m on my way,” Tony responded before addressing you and the captain, “I’ll get you two to break sooner or later.”

“Will you?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. Tony sighed and exited the room as you and Steve laughed at his behavior.

As you went to sit beside him, Steve confessed, “He’s not wrong though, I do need help with my present. No matter what I come up with, it never seems good enough for her.”

“For her?” you asked.

Steve smiled and shook his head, appearing a bit flustered. He said to you, “You caught me. Yes, for her.”

You let out a slight laugh and said, “Well, between you and me, there are three things that nearly all women love: cute pictures, delicious chocolate, and fuzzy socks.“

“As great as that sounds, I don’t know, I just don’t feel like that’s enough. I wanna get her something special, ya know? Something with a deeper meaning to it,” Steve informed you. This caused you to automatically assume he was talking about Sharon Carter, who had recently been sent to the tower by order of the CIA to monitor and report how Loki was being contained.

You smiled at how much thought Steve was putting into his present to her. You believed it was beyond sweet and you could only hope your Secret Santa put the same amount of thought into your present.

It took you a moment to decide what to say, before you suggested, “Then find out what’s special to her.”

“What do you mean?” He wondered.

“Well, for me personally, I prefer handmade things,” you told him as an example, “A nice little bracelet made by someone or a thoughtful handwritten letter means a lot more to me than something you can buy in a store. I can’t speak on behalf of the other girls, but that’s what’s special to me. Find out what’s special to her.”

Steve’s mind went off in thought as he pieced together the perfect present. The soldier smiled wide at you after a brief moment, then said, “Thank you Y/N, really.”

“Happy to help!” You honestly told him, returning his smile. You then said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some Christmas errands to do myself.”

You excused yourself from the room, earning a small wave from Steve as you left. The soldier took a sip from his coffee and sat there in thought for a few moments before the real Captain Rogers entered the room, confused as he saw himself seated at one of kitchen stools, “Um..?”

A green glow washed over the seated captain, leaving Loki remaining in his spot after the green had passed. The god said to Steve, “You didn’t see a thing, Captain.”

“Do I wanna know?” Steve asked.

“Probably best you didn’t,” Loki told him, standing from his seat and proceeding to exit the room. A smirk grew upon his lips as he had finally figured out what to get his person for Christmas.

“Well, between you and me, there are three things that nearly all women love…”

“Alright Y/N, your turn,” Nat announced after Bucky had finished opening his gift from Sam.

Nearly half the team had opened their present, and it was already safe to say that the Secret Santa at the tower had been a hit.

Natasha had loved the stylish yet practical new holsters Sharon had got her, Loki actually appreciated the collection of Shakespeare works that Bruce had purchased for him, and Tony completely adored the skillfully painted portrait you had done of him, though he was initially a bit upset that you had been his Secret Santa the entire time without him having the slightest clue.

You only hoped you’d love your present as Thor passed it over to you, as he was acting as Santa for the night with the fitting red hat to top it off. The gift given to you was wrapped in your favorite color with a golden bow placed on top. It had been labeled, ‘To my dear Y/N’

Your mind automatically went back to two weeks prior when Steve had referred to you as “dear.” You glanced up at him, then surveyed the room for any signs of your Secret Santa. Everyone watched you with only calm and curious eyes though, so you opted to just open the damn thing.

“…cute pictures…”

You tore open your present, being left with a simple box underneath the wrapping paper. The first thing you saw upon opening the box was a large collage of pictures, spanning from the day you had first joined the team and practically forced everyone to take a group picture to just over a week ago where you captured a rare picture of Loki smiling beside you.

The collage had been shaped into your first initial, and you couldn’t help but smile at all the memories contained on it. You wondered how your Secret Santa had even managed to obtain most of these photos, as you were certain not everyone had every one of the pictures, but continued to look to see what else was inside the box.

“…delicious chocolate…”

The next thing you noticed within your gift was a box of chocolates from your favorite brand. Across the top of the box, your Secret Santa had elegantly written, ‘A bit of sweets for my sweet.’

Tony peered over your shoulder and noticed the writing. He teased, “Oh, does Y/N have a secret admirer?”

“Shut up, Stark,” you told him, blushing nonetheless as you continued to look through the contents of your present.

“…and fuzzy socks.”

Your attention was brought to a bundle of fuzzy socks inside the box. When you took them out, you had realized it was a total of five pairs in various colors and holiday designs. A smile grew on your face, but was quickly wiped away as a look of confusion spread across your face. Hadn’t you told Steve about these items a few weeks prior?

You glanced up at the super soldier in question, but when you saw the genuine curiosity in his eyes as they darted between you and your gift, you came to the conclusion that he was not your Secret Santa. Looking back down to the inside of your gift, you realized it wasn’t quite empty yet.

“Well, for me personally, I prefer handmade things. A nice little bracelet made by someone..”

A small black bag rested in your gift box and you reached in to carefully pull it out. You cautiously tugged on the string that held the bag close in order to open it, then poured out its contents on your open palm. A handcrafted bracelet was revealed on your hand, containing a small pearl that was tinted a hue of green.

Whoever your Secret Santa was had rendered you speechless. Details of your conversation with Steve in the kitchen became clearer, and you remembered mentioning handmade things such as the bracelet in front of you. You surveyed the room again for any hint of who made this for you when you locked eyes with the God of Mischief.

Loki had been silently watching you as you opened your Christmas present and could sense your curiosity as you continuously observed your teammates in the room. He found your yearning mind absolutely adorable, especially since you repeatedly glanced over at Captain Rogers in confusion.

He decided to put your racing thoughts at ease as you neared the end of your gift. After the two of you had locked eyes he maintained the eye contact for a short moment before looking down towards his wrist, you following his actions in wonderment. Loki pulled up the sleeve of his green sweater ever-so-slightly, just enough to reveal his pale skin and the new bracelet wrapped around his wrist.

The bracelet he donned was nearly an identical to the one you had just received. The only telling difference was, instead of a green pearl woven in, it was a pearl tinted a hue of your favorite color. Realization flashed across your face and your nearly gasped in surprise. Loki was your Secret Santa.

You had frozen after discovering the identity of your Secret Santa, and it took Loki’s eyes flashing down to your gift for you to continue looking through its contents. There was only one item was left within the box - an envelope marked with your name.

“..or a thoughtful handwritten letter means a lot more to me than something you can buy in a store.”

Re-positioning yourself so that no one could peer over your shoulder, you picked up the letter from inside the box. You opened the envelope and were met with beautiful handwriting flowing down the page:

My dear Y/N,

I hope that my present thus far has far exceeded your expectations, as I hope this letter also maintains a favorable spot in your eyes. The task of putting this all together for you was a tad bit harder than I had anticipated it to be, but rest assured, the efforts to get you the perfect present will most definitely be worth the priceless look on your face upon opening it.

I must confess, after drawing your name for this odd Midgardian tradition I had initially grew more anxious than I would care to admit. It wasn’t until I had began to worry and stress about what to give to you that I had realized why that particular emotion had stirred within my being.

Many may think this to be the coward’s way out of saying this, and if it is then so be it, but I came to the realization that somewhere along the way I had unexpectedly developed feelings for you and all your beauty. Against my better judgement, I, the God of Mischief, have the deepest desire to pursue a mere mortal.

I do not know for certain what caused this wanting - perhaps it was your strong will or your vast intelligence or your humorous wit - but I do know that I could not idly standby as it bubbled within me. I also know that your mind must be racing right about now, and I apologize if this has dampened your holiday spirit, but I felt as though this was a golden opportunity to express to you what needed to be said.

I am by no means attempting to persuade you to follow through with something you are not comfortable with, I am simply asking for a chance. Should you give me the chance to prove my worth to you and treat you as the queen that I see you to be, I ensure you that you would not live to regret that decision.

Merry Christmas, my dear sweet Y/N. I wish nothing but the best for you.

Ever yours, Loki

Your eyes darted up, immediately searching for the author of this letter. They were met with disappointment as you noticed the one you were looking for had left the room. You asked, “Where’s Loki?”

“Wasn’t feeling well, said he needed some fresh air,” Clint informed you.

Tony raised his eyebrows in a very suggestive manner and pressed on, “Why? Hmm?”

You completely ignored the billionaire’s actions and stood from your seat. With the letter in hand, you excused yourself from the room, “I’ll be right back.”

As fast as you could without actually coming to a full jog, you traveled to the balcony where you knew you’d find the god you were looking for. You approached the door and stepped outside, his dashing eyes automatically focusing on you. You lightly started, “So.. Captain..”

“Figured that out, did you?” Loki said with a smirk in reference to his little trick he had pulled two weeks ago in order to grant you the perfect present.

“It wasn’t that hard of a leap, dear,” you stated, earning a slight laugh from him. A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you waited to see what the other would say. Loki’s eyes couldn’t help but to continuously dart down to the letter you held in your hand every so often. You ended the brief silence by saying one simple word, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Loki asked, for you had placed him in a state of confusion.

“Yes, some people may consider it the coward’s way out,” you teased. A wave of discomfort fell onto his face, something which you had never seen before, and you continued to speak in order to change his expression, “And yes.. I would be more than happy to give you a chance.”

The look both on his face and within his mesmerizing eyes changed instantly at your words. Joy and hope now swam around his irises and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For for the first time since you’ve met him, you caught a quick glimpse of happiness circling within the God of Mischief.

“I will do everything in my power so that you don’t come to regret this,” Loki said, taking your hands in to his and looking you directly in the eyes as he spoke.

You brought your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, something he was clearly not expecting. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around your waist in response as you whispered in his ear, “Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“..that’s what’s special to me.“

masterlist | thanks for reading!

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angeltriestoblog · 6 years

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Bullet Journaling 101: My Story, Flipthrough, Tips and Resources

A bullet journal is a system of organization created by Ryder Carroll that “aims to track the past, organize the present and plan for the future”. It’s a diary, journal and planner all in one: an amalgamation of all the facets of a person’s life in a series of different bullet points. Several YouTubers and bloggers have attributed their newfound sense of productivity and success to this and attested that it has helped tremendously in reordering their priorities.

And just like everyone else who seemed tempted by the idea, I’ve been wanting to join the whole movement. In fact, I’ve been watching flipthrough videos since last year, with my “bujo inspo” YouTube playlist amassing a grand total of 109 videos as of press time. I’ve followed a lot of Instagram accounts who’ve made a living out of this practice, and even put a short-lived Pinterest account (for the third time since the ninth grade – I don’t know why it can’t stick with me) in the hopes of gaining inspiration to get started. But, none of those worked in helping my intimidation die down.

I have been exposed to a great number of bullet journal spreads that are so aesthetically pleasing and color-coordinated that they seem almost unrealistic. I lacked the skills and resources required to start. Not enough Tombow brush pens or collaging skills in my arsenal, I thought, which would just lead to a decline in my journal’s appeal. At this juncture, I would like to point out that a bullet journal’s main priority must be functionality. Yes, it can also serve as a great medium for artistic expression but this must not hinder it from serving its true purpose: to get its owner’s life together.

Anyway, dumaldal na naman si Angel. Wala talagang kupas.

If it’s of any interest to you, I use a Leuchtturm 1917 ruled notebook in the color purple, which I got for half its original price at my local National Bookstore. I was initially supposed to go for the dotted version, as it is more popular in the bujo community. Turns out I forgot to check the label before paying for it, and only found out I had bought the wrong version when I had got home. I don’t have any regrets though: I find it easier to write on lined pages, and they don’t really change its effectivity.

I have a black Pilot G-Tec in 0.4mm thickness for writing, as I feel my handwriting looks best when I use this pen. Alongside these are my Dong-A fineliners—which are a great alternative to the much pricier Steadtlers—and my pride and joy, my Stabilo pastel highlighters. I have a black Artline Stix brush pen, which I use for my headings, and a normal pencil for making rough drafts of spreads. I also keep a thin pad of Post-it notes that I replenish weekly on the front page, where I write down any ideas that pop in my head that I’d later on put in its respective spread. I’m trying to keep my set-up as minimal and low-maintenance as possible, but with a pop of color here and there so it won’t end up being too bland and boring.

But contrary to popular belief, there is no fixed set of materials that one must purchase to start a bullet journal. In fact, there doesn’t even need to be any purchasing at all: you can start with something as simple as an old notebook lying around your bedroom floor, and the regular pen that you use for school. Colored markers and washi tapes and any other art supplies are purely optional.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, here’s a peek into what’s actually inside my bullet journal:

Key: Consists of a series of symbols that mean to organize entries into different categories. I have tasks—which can be subdivided into those that are complete, have been migrated or scheduled on another date—events and notes, which can be further emphasized by an asterisk that means they are a priority.

About Me: A short page on the side complete with my basic information. I don’t intend on sharing this with anyone else after this post, but I like keeping this as it feels like a standard way of starting a journal.

Index: Serves as a table of contents. It’s incredibly helpful when it comes to locating spreads, but it cannot fulfill its purpose if one is not consistent in supplying the information it needs. I like to jot the page number and a short description of what’s written on it in the index immediately after I fill out another spread so I don’t forget.

Future Log: My next six months at a glance. This is where I write all major activities and events. I’ve considered putting in birthdays of people who are important to me as well, but I feel like they’d take way too much space so I’ll work on assembling a separate spread to keep track of them.

Collections: Just a few pages to jot down some books I need to read, movies to see, posts to write for this blog and places to go. If ever you have any recommendations, you can shoot me a message here on Tumblr or any of my social media accounts.

(Half) Year in Pixels + Habit Tracker: Admittedly my favorite spread so far. Although I did have to make the grids manually because I’m using a lined notebook, I am very satisfied with how this came out. On the far left side, I’ll be tracking my mood by coloring in squares according to how I felt during the day: purple if great, red if good, orange if it was smack dab in the middle, blue if it was an off day and green if terrible.

For the remainder of the spread, I’ll be monitoring my progress in developing five habits of my choice and checking the corresponding box if I was able to do it on that specific day. The ones I’ve chosen to focus on are drinking eight glasses of water a day, eating only one cup of rice for lunch and dinner, not lurking on anyone’s accounts during my free time to avoid counterproductivity, saying only kind words towards others and using social media for only an hour a day.

Monthly Spreads: Pretty self-explanatory. This is the one I’ve made for November 2017, and I feel like this is the layout I’ll be sticking to. On the left-hand page, I have all the days of the month written vertically with an important task or event beside it. You might have noticed that these are the exact same items under my Future Log, and think that the whole practice of bullet journaling can get quite repetitive but I find it better to write the same things over and over again so they stick to my head.

To the right, I have an expenses tracker, where I write everything I’ve bought for the month. I was supposed to add a box to indicate my savings goal, but I’ll get around to that eventually. I also have a sleep tracker, which I will be doing in the form of a line graph, and my five main goals to give me a sense of direction.

Grades Tracker – 3rd Quarter: Where I write down all the marks I’ve gotten in all my subjects. I write down HW for homework, PT for performance task, Q for quiz and SW for seatwork, then my score but I haven’t been able to do the latter yet since none of our class activities have been graded yet. I’m aiming to become at least a Merit Card Awardee by the end of the school year, so this tool will be extremely helpful in ensuring that everything I do is a step in the right direction.

I have a page that shows my class schedule for this semester and two weekly spreads but the former is too private to divulge and the latter is still under construction, so I decided not to include any pictures of them. Besides, I don’t think any of them would be of much interest to you. Do note that this serves mainly as a source of inspiration. Your bullet journal does not have to follow this format. Since it’s highly flexible and customizable, revolves around you, you wants and your needs, you call the shots at the end of the day and are given full authority to change things up to your liking.

If, by any chance, this post has made you consider converting to this system, congratulations. You’re making a great decision, and I can’t wait for you to see your life get whipped back into shape. I’ve only been bullet journaling for two weeks tops, but I can honestly say that I’m never looking back. As mentioned in my previous blog post, it has given me a newfound sense of order in and control over my life, and keeps motivated to do the tasks required of me. Literally my favorite feeling in the world right now is getting to cross out everything I needed to do for the day.

Below are some resources that I found could be helpful for any bullet journal beginner. There’s honestly much more where that came from, and you can always message me for them:

Ryder Carroll’s (the creator of the bullet journaling system) video

The official Bullet Journal website

Boho Berry on YouTube

AmandaRachLee on YouTube

Caitlin’s Corner on YouTube

planningwithkay on YouTube

Mistral Spirit

#bullet journaling #bujo #bullet journal flipthrough #bullet journal tips #bullet journal resources #angeltriestoblog #angeltriestobujo #angellikestothinkshesucceeded #recs #life dump

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nightshade-sage · 7 years

Text

The Seven Guys You'll Date In Collage.

The 7 guys you’ll date in collage.

My first writing for this site.

Features BTS

Contains a bit of suggested smut, fluff.

A/n: A short imagine for my best friend. She knows who she is. Sorry for any mistakes again this is my first time posting my works.

Jungkook-the Highschool dream.

You would date all throughout highschool and he’d definitely be your sweetheart. You’d share everything with him and become completely under his spell. You’d plan on marriage and kids, your life’s intertwining as you tried your best to imagine the kind of ways your futures would go. He’d be your first on many things as you would be his. He would have known you for years and he’d definitely be your number one fan for collage but as soon as the future did come you didn’t expect it to go so wrong. Both of your relationships before this had been in a safe bubble. But as time grew on the further you grew apart. Studies and friends coming in between your dates. One night in particular you decided to surprise him, waiting in his dorm room with a movie and popcorn … What happened next was a surprise for sure. You had been waiting for hours slowly trying to kill time before passing out on the bed awaking to a light turning on as you saw the beautiful girl now gracefully draped in his arms and sinfully playing with his lips as if the snake in your little garden of Eden. It was the first time your heart was broken…. The first time you cried way more then you thought your body could contain…. It was the first time that soap bubble had been broken…. A future didn’t seem so bright to you anymore. Relationships sick to you now. But really what relationship last past Highschool. It was all a dream.

Taehyung-The fun guy.

You’d met in a club, one of your now many past times as school became a bore and your friends managed to finally get you out of your long study sessions alone in your dorm. You’d met under the pretenses that it would be a simple fuck and the smile on his lips as he moaned your name ment nothing more than a small desire to rid yourself of the man you once knew. But yet again once turned into twice, three times, weeks of now actually getting to know your “one night stand” and those nights where he shared your bed had been the most passionate you had felt in years. You’d get to know his cute box smile and just what to do to keep it on his face. You’d met his mom and talk of the little boy he once was, his fuckboy side seemingly subsiding as he got to know you and what you thought was love, But like the say, you can’t change a playboy. He was and only will be a fun guy…. For a second time your facade of being unbreakable was up and clubs now only left a distant taste of regret as it entered your mouth.

Yoongi- Black and white realist.

He’d seem like the type to be dark and mysterious and parts of you were interested in knowing what exactly he kept in that little notebook of his. He’d always have that calm cool collected smirk on his face when you talked but bringing up the notes in said book always made a sour face appear. You’d meet him in your English and the dark disinterest eyes he kept intrigued you. You’d be assigned a project to which you would peer edit each other’s work and his would be unlike any you have read. Even after the time you decided not to get to close, yet again you couldn’t help the feelings you received when you did talk to him. You’d exchange numbers and for a time everything seemed to finally go right in the world. Taehyung now forgotten as many a date occurred with Yoongi even if it were just napping in-between classes and talking about poetry or classical music. You learned that he loved playing piano and as you grew closer he let you finally see inside his little black book. Filled with nothing but genius music. He’d let his ego get the best of him when you said such things though and eventually his snide comments would turn you disinterested in the conversations you had yearned for before. Just like most things the comments and his lack of trying made you frustrated till the point you broke and here you were yet again with your head hanging low as yet another beautiful man slipped out of your life. But really, could a future happen with someone who only saw everything as black and white and a waste of his time.

Seokjin-The prince/the one that got away.

He was always the guy you could count on to have your back and someone who was constantly keeping you in a considerate manner. You had been extremely close since Sophomore year of college over a found mutual joy out of food and instruments. As well as multiple dad jokes and bad puns that would have you rolling for hours and the fact he always was a savior and put your needs before his own made him all the better. You started to believe in love once more thinking you finally had it right. Feeling so over joyed in your accomplishments you could only smile to yourself as a feeling of I told you so was just beyond the horizon, But alas his nice manner and inability to say no would prove so many countless dates forgotten. As time went you’d realize that sometimes prince charming is best left for fairy tales. It was mutual but you missed him like crazy. They never tell you how awful it is to lose your bestfriend and boyfriend when you make them one person. Missed calls and text messages left you numb. You finally realized just what slipped your grasp and the heartlessness settled deep inside you.

Jimin-the popular one.

How he chose you out of multiple fucks you could never understand.Somehow he managed to aways greet you everyday since freshman orientation. He had been the more popular kid of the hell you, he, and Jungkook attended. You two never grew close but with the factor of his family being your parents mutual friends must of helped. Along with the occasional dinner invitations that lead to desert in your new apartment since it being your first year to live off campus. Just like many other girls he tried to trick you with dates and gifts to keep you satisfied, a sugar daddy of sorts but as soon a real feelings did arise the deal was broken off, it did make dinners harder to bear but due to your previous agreement to not grow close it made it easier to fake this time. He was like Jungkook in that way. He introduced you to a world just out of your reach with possibilities only you could dream of just to take away those beautiful objects to leave dark and jagged edges called truth. It was funny. They were bestfriends after all. In that, it was how you expected the truth. One in the same. You were feeling weary and slowly giving up on love.

Namjoon-the nerd/long term.

You’d bump into him in the halls knocking everything out of your hands. He’d scramble to pick them up frantically trying to apologize but you knew it was sorta your fault for having been daydreaming. He was the clumsy sort so he was always the one to think it was his fault but you didn’t mind. He was sweet and shy always helping with your studies as a simple bump turned into a great friendship. He’d understand your convictions about love because in his own way that he didn’t like talking about he was exactly like you. He’d be the type to be a complete dork, breaking things or mishaps being his specialty. Even though he never pushed you knew he wanted more and after a long heated night between the two of you (yes the term you now came to love (daddy) used more then once that evening was involved) you were inclined to give him just that. You grew more invested with each other, going on dates to the park or just to watch the stars but you both assumed it wouldn’t last. When winter came to end your summer fun it was a mutual agreement. Your faith in love grew you still had your wall but Namjoon proved not all men were as awful and before long it was your last year.

Hoseok-the one.

It was your last year and you had months to heal, your friends proud as you slowly came out of your shell, you started going to a cafe to study instead of being alone in your dark apartment that was just cold and hazed your attention anymore.It couldn’t hold a candle to the warm atmosphere the cafe provided which filled you inspiration that now had your finally starting the book you planned since freshman year. The smell of cinnamon warmed you and left you missing home as hours were spent on wrapping up your research paper and thesis and begining on the chapters you now religiously wrote. He had caught your eye the day you walked in. His smile brighter than the sun and his personality always bring a smile to your lips. You never thought about him in a relationship way because he wasn’t your normal type though his sly flirty comments kept you buzzing as he always made sure to keep your cup full. He worked here with Yoongi who even though never sought more with you was now a close friend. He found a great girl after you broke up and you were happy for him. They were to be engaged soon and it left you in awe as the man had changed so much since you two happened. It left you hoping for something like that yourself and with his constant nagging on you and Hoseko made your face heat up and imagine him in different lights. What if it did happen. One rainy day such things did occur. He finally gained the courage to talk to you for a date and you were more than happy to accept. It was weird looking back at it now. So many years and so many dates later how it all lead to marriage was beyond you. He was like a secret that you never thought would be yours only to keep. A small boy working a cafe and a down on her luck collage girl seeking warmth within it’s walls. Seemed out of a fairy tale of such things existed. He was out going, funny, smart, and extremely loyal. Who would have known. You smile to yourself now. He out of all would be the one.

#taehyung #jungkook #hobi and yoongi #namjoon #jin #bts imagines

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emikostudio2018 · 6 years

Text

Emiko Sheehan 213.463 Fine Arts Research Seminar Martin Patrick

One Lonely Moonchild transmits 70’s Disco vibrations, in hopes of your company.

Is it the Gravity of Darkness that pulls one mind close to another? When there is nothing but longing, can one find comfort in the dark? Gravity is different on the moon, where weight escapes, emotion floods the soul, like the rising and falling of the tides.

This semester I have been exploring through space and time, to bring you the finest experience of a moonchild, low on energy but way high with potential, reverberating sound and colour through a late 70’s disco space vibe. ‘wow, what a change from last year’s work Emiko’ is what you might be thinking, and that wouldn't be wrong at all. This year I have let go of all standards, and preconceived ideas about what I thought good art should be, and what I should be making, this is the era of me making whatever the fuck I want.

I’ve never really had a solid idea in my mind of what kind of artist I want to be, or even just being an artist. I don’t think being an artist or fine art holds the same value in my mind as some of my other peers, maybe. I ended up studying art by convenience really. I didn’t enter the degree with great hopes and aspirations to be an artist, I wanted to do this degree because it looked fun. It’s malleable and creative, which seemed very attractive to me at the time, little did I know that I would be faced with critical theory and self analysis that would destroying any ignorant delusion and blind enjoyment of every kind of media, art and people that I encountered, and there’s no going back to sleep once you woke......it’s not a bad thing though, just more work, that I think makes you a better human probably anyway.

Is this what makes a good artist though? thinking critically and consciously, seeing creative possibility, questioning one's daily life, their environment, the world, the universe. The world is the artists oyster, the universe is the artists seafood chowder. This kind of artistic critical engagement with the cosmos can open portals to good art I think, it can also open portals to existential crisis’ and a cynical glum with the world. For me it leaves me with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction. I don’t particularly like this human reality, and it shows no signs of redemption. A quick mention to some of the shit things in the world would be; Empiricism, capitalism, consumerism, racism, actually all hierarchical tendencies, waste, pollution, and then all the stuff that spreads from those things... This is not a kind world, this is a human world. It makes complete sense for people outcasted and rejected by society, or those systematically disadvantaged to then reject their reality and look to fictitious predictions of the future, and alternate worlds for comfort and hope. I live a reasonably good life, I’ve never had to go hungry or be homeless, I have a family who love me and good friends, mostly I’m in good health, I get to go to university, I have a loving beautiful man, it's a good life. But I hate the capitalistic systems of the world we live in. I hate systematic racism, I hate the continued effects of colonisation, I hate superiority of knowledge, and established hierarchies, and i feel the effects of these things, not immensely, but enough. This niggling feeling can grow and shrink depending on the day, or the situation, but they never fade, and maybe this is why I am so attracted to science fiction and fantastical stories.

My interactions with sci-fi, happened by chance. I never notice the genre and thought, there’s something I like and want to know all about, probably because it is so broad and hard to define. I haven’t read any of the big classical sci-fi names, I entered through the back door, it just happened that my ex-boyfriends mum was a huge Ursula Le Guin fan, and she successfully converted me to Le Guinism. At a formative time of my life, Le Guin help me to work through a lot of socio-political issues and ideas, and to think critically about them. Through made up worlds with close to home narratives, Ursula Le Guin highlights political issues that we have on earth—such as binary gender norms, and capitalistic greed—as way of critique. This is one of my favourite tools of science-fiction. You can use this fiction to overtly deal to matters in our realities.

One point of difference with Ursula Le Guin than other science-fiction writers, is she does not tell stories of the future, and shies away from the term futurist[1]. So much of science-fiction is prediction of what could happen in the future, given the right/wrong technological/scientific advances. But Le Guin says that she only ever writes about the present, because all we have is the present. I’m guessing her Zen buddhist beliefs, and the tao ching, work their way into this self-analysis.

I think, like most things, I have a very left of centre approach to sci-fi. Being Maori, and having gone through the majority of this degree, somewhat deep in critical thought about art, media, and people in general, I’m always sceptical about what I read/watch/listen to, and like most things, there is a mainstream, dominant voice in science-fiction, which is….. two guesses…...that white male centricity. In some cases, science-fiction has given (fictitiously) justification for ‘othering’ certain peoples and claiming ‘normality’ for some [2]. Narratives that talk about alien invasions, and humanity bonding together for the greater good, can, if you look closer, permit ideas of racism and/or segregation. Scientifically defining what is ‘alien’ or ‘only 2/3rds human’ has lead to nasty behaviors amongst us human animals. This is ofcourse not always the case, and part of the greatness about Sci-Fi is that is can also work in the other direction and highlight issues of racism or classism etc. or dismiss them completely. As a fine arts Major, I am constantly looking at the world and how to respond. Thinking about how to incorporate science-fiction or science-fictiony themes into my art, leads to many fun mind games, basically because there are no limits, or the sky’s the limit, aaaayyyyeeee.

Ursula Le Guin pushed at the boundaries of science-fiction, when there weren’t many celebrated female writers. One of my favourite quotes of hers—which is from her fantasy series, rather than her more classically sci-fi books—is from The Earth Sea quintette, where Tena is talking to Moss, they are discussing the power of men, and Tena asks about the power of women? Moss gives the answer, that is the answer that the patriarchy like to bestow upon women, that women’s power and magic, it is mysterious, who knows where it begins and ends, it is deeper than the roots of trees, and goes back into the dark, who dares question the dark?... to which Tena replies, “I will! I lived in the dark long enough, and I will have the light too!”[3] In this conversation, Tena is answering back to the place that men have left for her, and saying yes, but I’ll will have what you have too. This is what Ursula Le Guin has done in so many of her books, she knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to say it.

I guess this is what makes science-fiction so exciting for me, it is a place that exists, but has no rules, and is free for anyone to use. Movements such a Afrofuturism—or over this side of the world Astronesians—are spaces where minority communities have taken advantage of what science-fiction has to offer.

In a world, a global society that was not built for them, minority groups, such as blacks in America, and people of the pacific, have built their own narratives and worlds through the use of science-fiction, constructing alternative realities. This was what Sun Ra did, around the 1950’s in Chicago. Sun Ra would play with his Arkestra, a big jazz ensemble and preach his vision of peace[4]. Sun Ra had an experience with some extraterrestrials, where he was teleported to Saturn, told to quit university and embrace his alien status to teach America and mainly black people in America how to teleport to saturn, where Sun Ra set up a colony that was peaceful and welcoming to everyone one. He taught his disciples to construct their own narratives through music[5].

Underneath all my experimentations this semester has been a base of writing, and thinking about writing my own narratives and alternate realities. This seemed like a logical step for me, since I started the year off with the main ideas in my head expanding from the idea of ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’. It also seemed like a good idea, because I find studying very difficult and fitting my unique creative process into the structure of the 12 week semester doesn’t always work for me, so why not just make up my own shit, and do whatever I want, because who says that I can’t? Collecting terms like ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’ gives me a way to feel comfortable in expressing my discomfort, and weird outcast tendencies, I mean you could do this with any genre and area of art, I’ve just chosen a sci-fi approach.

I first heard Coco Solid using the word Austronesian when she came and put on a show in the engine room a couple years ago. I was inspired by the way she approached an exhibition, it wasn’t like anything I had seen before in that space. I volunteered to help, and when I got there, there was big roles of brown paper, printed pictures of coco cream and a life size print out of Steven Adams. I was asked to make a waka out of cardboard and shiny chrome plastic material. Coco Solid wanted a chrome waka like on the cover of The Patea Maori club single, Aku Raukura, a great example of some Space Māori art. The time that Coco Solid had the engine room for was mostly spent most constructing the huge wall collage of things that tied Māori traditional legend to modern day legend’s such as Steven Adams (Coco loves him). The wall had a fresh flavour, a solid political and social stance, while also being fun and collaborative. Coco Solid, just did what she wanted, and everyone else rolled with it. This was an experience that showed me how someone can be in the ‘art world’ and still do whatever they want, not having to necessarily follow the standardised formula of an exhibition. This wasn’t like a hugely defiant exhibition, but it was very much a fun time that coco solid constructed. Using the art system to her advantage aye.

I often am confronted with responsibility, and privilege. I feel like, because I get to spend all of my time making art, and living pretty comfortably, I should be using my time to like, give back to the community or something. I want what I’m doing to be useful and to cause no harm. I think these are good things to keep in mind when making art, but what I need right now, is to develop and grown in myself, have some me art time, and make the things I want to, self love and care, spiritual connections.

So this has sent me on a path of completely new work. its pretty classic Emiko, to up and start a new art practice, that I don’t really know anything about. I begun this semester making video based art, and have ended up in performance, both areas of fine art that I hardly have any experience in. My familiar element is that I am still writing poetry and prose, but even writing as a practice I’ve only been doing seriously for a year. I feel like a child, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. In this environment, where I have so many resources available to me, why would I only stink to one area of art making. I want to try everything, maybe I’m just indecisive. It sometimes does leave me feeling like I only know a little about everything, but not actually good at anything. In past years, I’ve tried very hard to make things, that I think will be good, and smart, have a political stance, uphold Māori values, I am still doing that, but not overtly. This year, I’ve opened up myself, and I’m serving up all the raw bits of my creative energy, following my spirit journey.

My spirit journey has led me to performance art. When I was in high school, I use to play in a band, I was never that good, but it was fun. My boyfriend at the time—who was also in the band and a natural musical genius—would sometimes make me feel incompetent in my music abilities. After a messy break up—where we probably both made each other feel pretty incompetent as humans—I was left feeling pretty insecure about playing music and performing. Though I think that performer/entertainer inside me has just been hibernating, and maybe now I’ve come full circle. This is the year for indulging all my inner kinks, and not giving a fuck about ex boyfriends.

My final performance for studio this semester was working with themes of isolation, space, the moon, dancing, and language, and of course a telling of these things from an astronesian point of view. It takes me a while to form a coherent idea or narrative of my work, at the beginning of the semester, I only knew that I wanted to go to space with my creations. I looked at artists such as Coco Solid, the Witch Bitch collective, The Pacific sisters, Lisa Reihana, Rosanna Raymond, Patricia Grace, Ursula Le Guin. I began by trying to create fully formed ideas and narratives of how I might put some Maori in space, but that ended up being very difficult. I already knew that I am not someone who creates a complete picture before construction, I work more organically, small particles reveal themselves into the light and slowly come together to form something whole from the dark. I had to step back and send out my aspirations into the cosmos, become an open vessel for celestial vibes to flow in.

This was no easy task, the harshness of this reality has strong gravity, I worked hard at my meditation, with little success. Then I was visited through telepathic fate, by a distant celestial relative. She was from a world very similar to ours, a planet and moon close in size to our own. This wahine lived on the moon of her world, too far away from the earth to have connection to anyone, but close enough to feel all the activity and love and heartache of the people on her earth. This moonchild explained to me that we were like an isotope, we had the same chemical properties, but existed in physically different planes. The moonchild told me how her moon rotates on a interdimensional frequency which picks up signals from any number of planets in the universe. The moonchild had had contact last with our earth in 1978. Sun Ra had actually picked up her frequency, our planet happened to be positioned perfectly to receive her vibrations. The moonchild and Sun Ra exchanged stories and philosophies, culture and relatives they both encountered on their astrological travels. The moonchild played me back a mixtape she had from 1978, amongst the songs on it were; September by Earth wind and Fire, Zodiac Lady by Roberta Kelly, Toon Poo by Yellow Magic orchestra, Oh Honey by Delegation and Diamond in the back by Curtis Mayfield. The moonchild told me of how she was so thankful for the multiplicity of communication she can have with other worlds in the universe, but often loneliness and melancholy brought attention to her isolation on the moon. her longing to be with other people on earth was sometimes overwhelming.

It seemed fortuitous that meeting this moonchild coincided with critique week, and I was able to use this experience to feed into my studio practice. Different to Sun Ra and other Afrofuturist, my performances have not been about preaching a message, or predictions of a better future. Within science-fiction there lies a lot of futuristic thinking, be it utopia or dystopia, but I make no predictions of the future in my work, not yet anyways, My relation to science-fiction, rather than being of the future, is that it is celestial, astrological. It is science-fiction on a personal level. Softcore, space bodies. No advanced technologies, except the moonchild’s moon I guess. This might fall under Arthur C. Clarke's third law, that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic [7].

In the Moonchild’s words, I found many similarities within my own life. Often feeling distant and disconnected from my Japanese whakapapa, because I don’t know that side of my family. I feel like I am away on a moon, not close enough to have grown up ‘Japanese’ but also feeling very ‘Japanese’ at times unexplainably, genetics huh. And then of course the effects of colonisation and not knowing my Māori culture very well, going through the stages of being ashamed of being Māori, understanding where that shame came from, understanding why many Māori are disconnected from their whakapapa and then being proud to be Māori and having to actively engage and learn about my Māori culture—which I am still doing—because so much of it was pushed into the dark. These themes fed into my final performance.

What is in the dark must be a terrifying beautiful collection of things. When the Nazi’s burned thousands of books, they sent them violently in to the darkness. When Maniapoto tribes were under attack and were going to be defeated, they buried their war atua, Uenuku, safely put him in the dark, and he waited there until it was time to come back into the world of light. All the unnamed emotions and inaudible experiences lie in the dark. Though, this is not the kind of darkness a scientist would talk about, but scientists don’t know anything about the dark anyway. We humans know so much about the light, and what lies in the light, but we know nothing of the dark, only what it is not, yet darkness is the biggest entity in our universe. It is undetectable, but because of its gravity, we know it exists [8].

I have been thinking about dark matter and dark energy, the unknown in so intriguing to me. I thought that where science is failing, spirituality must come in, and all this darkness cannot be perceived by scientific technology and thinking, because it is a matter of the heart. The darkness is the love of the universe, eminence and unpredictable, it is the force that unites. The collective consciousness of love that reaches beyond time and space. I found this idea transmitting through my mind one night, and then did some soul searching on google to see if other people have had this idea as well, which they have, I am not the only one [9]. I also found one hypothesis, a scientific one, that dark matter and energy is the gravity of a parallel universe, where there can be no communication between the universes, except for the gravity leakage [10], and this makes sense, because we know from Interstella, that gravity can defy space and time.

Dark matter as the gravity of alternate universes, and dark matter as the uniting love of the universe are both very interesting ideas and things to think about as my art practice continues………….this is the kind of process I go through when I make art. I have let go, and let gravity take me on my spiritual space cadet voyage.

Cited Works

[1] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[2] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[3] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[4] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[5] space is the place

Sun Ra, John Coney

1974.

[6] Aku Raukura, Patea Maori Club, album cover.

Joe Wylie.

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarke%27s_three_laws

[8] https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

[9] https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

[10] http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

Bibliography

Coco Solid (Jessica Hensell).

Cokes. Kuini Qontrol, 2018.

http://www.cocosolid.com

DeGrasse-Tyson, Neil & Goldsmith, Donald

Origins, fourteen billion years of cosmic evolution

New York, Norton & company Inc. 2005.

Grace, Patricia.

“Moon story”

Small holes in the silence.

Penguin group, 2006, p. 111-118.

Hau’ofa, Epeli.

“Our Sea of Islands.”

A New Oceania: Rediscovering Our Sea of Islands,

edited by Vijay Naidu, Eric Waddell,

and Epeli Hau’ofa.

School of Social and Economic Development,

The University of the South Pacific,

1994, p. 147-161

Ihimaera, Witi.

Sleeps Standing: Moetu.

Translated by Hemi Kelly,

Penguin Random House New Zealand,

2017.

LeGuin, Ursula K.

The Lathe of Heaven.

St Albans, Panther Books Ltd, 1974

Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

Matamua, Rangi.

Matariki: The star of the year.

Auckland, Huia Publishers, 2017

McEvoy, J.P & Zarate, Oscar,

Stephen Hawking, for beginners

Cambridge, Icon Books, 1995.

Meredith, Courtney Sina.

Tail of the Taniwha.

Auckland, Beatnik publishing 2016.

Ngata, Sir Apirana,

P. Te Hurinui editors.

Nga Moteatea.The Polynesian society inc, 1959.

Whaitiri, Reina, and Sullivan, Robert

Puna Wai Korero: An anthology of Maori poetry in English.

Auckland University Press, 2014.

Wilson, Sophie, and Taipua, Dan.

Aotearoa Futurism part one:

Space Maori and Astronesians

Aotearoa Futurism part two:

South Pacific Futurists

www.radionz.co.nz

2015

Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

https://fafswagvogue.com

NZ on Air,

2018

Stuff about Dark Matter and Dark Energy.

https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

https://futurism.com/neil-degrasse-tyson-universe/

https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

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tempocannon · 7 years

Text

Khaled Hussein & The Texas Room

[This is a feature I wrote for Eleven Magazine in spring 2016. Listen to The Texas Room.]

In a small bungalow in Tower Grove South, Louis Wall and I sit on a couch. Across a wide coffee table, Khaled Hussein and his teenage daughter confer. A huge TV showing a soccer game on mute dominates the wall closest to us; a giant fish tank with an electronic keyboard in front of it covers the opposite wall. The conversation is going a bit slower than your average music mag interview: Hussein speaks only snippets of English. His daughter is translating heroically, but she clearly has a few better things to do on a Saturday morning than answer a nosy stranger’s questions.

“Do you like living in the United States?” I ask.

His daughter translates the question quietly into Arabic, leaning to her father’s ear. Between my utter lack of Arabic and his minimal grasp of English, Hussein and I have had a hard time communicating, but the answer to this question comes easily. He looks directly at me. “Yes,” he says, smiling.

Like the stories of so many immigrants and refugees, the tale of Hussein’s path to his present home is full of false starts and reversals. Growing up in Iraq, he dreamed of becoming a singer, inspired by international icons like George Michael as well as local singers. He got his start hustling in local restaurants and clubs, and soon had a career on his hands. By the time he was a young adult, he’d become a minor pop sensation in Baghdad. A music video still in circulation in the Arabic-language reaches of YouTube shows him in a dark suit, courting a woman in a red dress. Men decked out in full Arab thawb robes and agal headdresses dance joyously around the couple to a pounding beat. Hussein was very much the secular cool guy of 1990s Ba’athist Iraq until a changing political and religious climate hostile to secular singers (and then the American invasion of 2003) pushed Hussein and his family out of the country.

Hussein fled to the then-peaceful Syria, where he raised his young family and sought out work as a singer until the Syrian Civil War broke out in 2011. The Hussein family relocated to St. Louis, where they’ve lived since, out of reach of armed conflict but isolated, far away from friends and family back home.

Since Khaled left Iraq, he’s continued singing. He shows us a video on his cell phone after giving his daughter a wordless sign. (She reappears a moment later, holding a silver tray full of cookies and two glasses of Sunny D.) Onscreen, present-day Hussein stands decked out in white shirt and dinner jacket in the center of a crowd of dancers. He’s clad out in snazzy dress clothes, self-assured, gesturing to the crowd: every bit the professional.

Hussein’s American musical career might have taken place solely at Arab events if he hadn’t come into contact with Louis Wall through the St. Louis-based Center for Survivors of Torture and War Trauma. Wall was seeking participants for his recording project, The Texas Room, which pairs immigrant and refugee musicians with St. Louis locals to create unique conversations between disparate styles of music.

Wall, the slight, eloquent drummer of semi-defunct St. Louis rock group Jumbling Towers and present engineer at Cherokee Street’s Native Sound Recording, had been at work on the project for a couple of years. Years of conversations with friends in his indie-rock community caused him to realize that he had always been narrowly focused on American music. “I’d been playing in rock bands and jazz bands for the majority of my upbringing,” Wall says, “and the more I learned about other people’s cultures, I realized I had a pretty specific culture of my own, which excited me. But I wanted to know about other people’s stories because I was so in my own world. I wanted to know what kind of musician I could become if I worked with people way outside my social group.”

When he started the project, Wall reached out to the International Institute of St. Louis, which helps recent immigrants gain a foothold in the city. Wall got on the Institute’s message boards, and before long he had a short list of musicians he thought would make interesting collaborators. The project really took off when one of Wall’s friends got him in touch with a singer from Lagos, Nigeria. The singer needed a track recorded immediately for radio in Lagos, one of the biggest cities in the world.

Wall was the perfect guy for the job, because he happens to be an engineer at Native Sound Studio on Cherokee, the merger of his old apartment studio on Texas Avenue with David Beeman’s former studio across the street, behind The Bomb Door. The idea to make a full album out of his collaborations with refugee and immigrant musicians was gradual, though. Wall says, “I realized I could probably do a collaboration album at some point. I realized I wanted to do that before I had the materials or even people to do that. It was super sketchy even just to start.” So he started recording a song every month. Over the course of the last year Wall and his compatriots released one track each month on SoundCloud, culminating in the album Non-Fiction, out last month.

The songs are a blend of traditional material with Wall’s own riffs and beats. Some pieces were fleshed out collaboratively over the Internet; a few were created completely from scratch. Wall had a sort of house band that appeared on many of the tracks, but due to budgetary constraints Wall acted as the nerve center of the project, coordinating collaborators, coaching performances, and editing work made by a group of people that eventually ballooned to fifty collaborators from over fifteen nations.

Wall would begin each month by deciding which of the musical ideas he was working with were either most exciting at that time or ripest to be taken to another stage. Typically, the next collaborator would be someone as far away from the original contributor as possible. “The last song we did [“Gau Sorai Uchali”] was a Nepali devotional song,” Wall relates. “I remember my friend Lisa was playing Irish flute at the time. I said, ‘Do you want to do this song? I think flute would be great on it,’ and it worked out perfectly. I think it sounds like one cohesive unit. But these people probably would have never met and these styles aren’t normally played together.”

Bringing in disparate collaborators on his own time allowed Wall time to create an artistic product to his personal standards, but it did impede the improvisational chemistry that could have come about if he had been able to get all the collaborators on a particular song in a room together. The project was funded by the New York-based organization Fractured Atlas in conjunction with the local Regional Arts Commission, but time constraints and the significant budgetary issues associated with booking time in a professional studio prevented Wall from setting up weekend-long sessions in which all of the collaborators could collectively come up with an arrangement. “These musicians are great and they can really feed off each other,” he says “My only regret is that I wasn’t able to get everyone in a room together. I was able to produce and arrange through the computer, but these are playing musicians who are way better musicians than I am, and could have worked a lot faster.”

Despite budgetary and time constraints, the sessions in which players actually did meet up and play together flowed smoothly. Many of the participants are professional musicians, and many have a conversational command of English, but Wall found that any remaining linguistic barriers melted away in the studio. “My buddy Khaled,” Wall says, “I had to communicate through his daughter. So I’d have to put up a microphone in front of him and hope for the best. Not only was it hard to communicate with him, it was hard to communicate abstract ideas like, ‘put a little more expression into this note, or put a little more feeling into this note, or watch the attack of this note, watch your timing,’ cues that would help a singer get through a session. I just couldn’t communicate any of those. His daughter isn’t a musician. She couldn’t translate these esoteric things into Arabic at all. That was a struggle, but he could tell when I was psyched when things were going well, and he’s a professional, so for the most part if we were both feeling good, then we were satisfied with it.”

The tracks on Non-Fiction are proof of the cohesion Wall found with his collaborators. “Unde Dragoste,” a clarinet-heavy tune sung by Romanian vocalist and guitarist Ben Tulin with backing vocals from Spanish-language group Adria and Her Treasures, showcases the project’s jazzy, elegant, emotive side. “Red River Valley,” dedicated to the memory of Eric Garner and performed by Natalie Huggins with The Voice of the Holy Spirit African Choir, presents an unsettling blend of soulful piano pop with chanting and vocal collage. “Tora Tora Tora” delves into hip-hop territory, with verses by 18andCounting and Smoll Mashup and a chorus by Khaled Hussein. My personal favorite, “Gau Sorai Uchali (Psalm 150)” demonstrates the project at its best, wrapping the touching, gonzo ebullience of an old Nepalese devotional song with an adrenalized drumbeat. The combinations of instruments and idioms are striking, but Wall’s careful cultivation of analog warmth and ability to swaddle the compositions in the production values of ‘60s and ‘70s pop bind the threads together into a cohesive whole. The lyrics—penned by Wall and the collaborators—work to tie the album together as well, meditating in a slew of languages on the power of collective action to overcome injustice.

While Wall is clearly focused on empowering immigrants and publicizing the work of musicians from foreign countries, his central place in The Texas Room project does raise questions of cultural appropriation. The histories of pop and “world music” are riddled with examples of white musicians employing the music of people of color to their own advantage. Ry Cooder has caught flack throughout his career for inserting himself into the music of other cultures for a profit. Paul Simon was lambasted for incorporating the compositions of uncredited South African musicians into his mondo-hit Graceland. And it’s easy to see the early histories of rock, jazz, and the blues as instances of the powerful borrowing from the disenfranchised. Whatever your understanding of the fine line between reverent imitation and colonialist plundering, it’s clear that Wall is wrestling with the issue and taking care to work for the whole circle of collaborators, not just for himself. “I think it depends on your intention,” he says, choosing his words with care. “There are definitely a lot of people taking non-Western music and making it accessible to Western ears. If that is the intention, then I have no interest. My interest and intention lies on me interfacing with other people and other cultures, and not trying to dumb it down or water it down. Hopefully, if I’m doing my job right, I’m going to speak my truth and my culture on these songs and not try to pretend like I’m taking on someone else’s role insincerely, and let the other people speak their truth.”

Wall admits that he is at the center of The Texas Room. “I’m the biggest benefactor of this project,” he acknowledges, “I have no shame in that. I think artistically I took whatever direction I wanted to take. At the end of the day I’m still arranging everything. This is my way of opening my mind and my door a little bit to my neighbors. I just think it’s important that we listen to each other. When you listen and put a face to a name, that can really help with empathy and compassion. I just realized that empathy is not compassion. I just realized that empathy is the ability to see yourself in someone else’s shoes, but it doesn’t mean you’re going to do anything about it. You also have to have compassion.”

By the measure of allowing Wall to meet his neighbors and practice compassion in the St. Louis music community, The Texas Room project seems to have been a resounding success. In Khaled Hussein’s living room, the Iraqi singer interrupts our halting conversation to give a demonstration. He sits down at his keyboard (flanked by tropical fish), taking care first to point out his new mixing board to Wall, indicating the device with his characteristically bashful charm. “Nice,” Wall returns, and the two share a momentary grin. If music is the universal language, musical gear must work at an even deeper for musicians. These two men don’t need words.

Hussein turns on his programmed drumbeat, the downbeat-heavy rhythm used in so much Middle Eastern pop, and begins singing, his voice strained with emotion from the first note. He wends his way up and down a scale abundant with twists and turns foreign to my American ears before tapping out the melody on the keyboard, daughter bored on the sofa, Wall and me rapt. As Hussein plays the last note, he looks up, radiant.

1 note · View note

samclapp · 7 years

Text

Khaled Hussein & the Texas Room

[This is a feature I wrote for Eleven Magazine in spring 2016.]

“Do you like living in the United States?” I ask.

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