Genre: Art school!au | fluff, angst, lots of terms of endearment might as well have named her buttercup
Member: Taeyong / reader (3rd person perspective i guess??)
Word count: 4000+
Note: will probs add an epilogue?
Summary: “We can dance in the kitchen at 4am like we’re completely free.. Maybe we’re both a little bit naked, but we can work towards that.”
she would never tell him; but she loved to watch him dance.
It was like watching a swan skirting across the surface of the water, like his body was made of malleable material that stretched out until it was on the verge of breaking, and maybe even snapping. But always returned back to it’s original shape. Like a slinky that seemed like it’d reached too far.
Lee Taeyong is a slinky.
But of course, she’ll never tell him.
“You’re staring again.” Hyeri interrupts.
“Huh?” she replies, not tearing her eyes away from the sight of him dancing in the half darkened studio.
“Are you stalking him?” Hyeri continues, raising her perfectly plucked eyebrow, glancing through the single see through tile of glass in the door next to my head, “Or are you just gravitationally attracted to him wherever he is on this earth, like star crossed lovers or something- are you star crossed lovers?” she asks wide eyed, like she’s just caught the biggest fish of the century. If possible, her eyes widen even more, “Oh no, do you love him? Is it serious, should I call a doctor? A hypnotist? I can call aunt Edna-”
“What are you talking about?” she frowns, snapping herself out of her reverie and glancing up at her friend from where she’s slightly bent over to get a clear look at lee slinky.
“We’d have to drive to see her and that’d take like… three hours but she works wonders for people like you.” Hyeri continues, pushing her wild curls from her hair. “Maybe we could get a couple discount so I can get a hypnosis session too, there’s this guy-”
She loves Hyeri. Without a doubt, from the bottom of her heart to the ends of the world.
But at that very moment, she tunes her out.
The dance room is big, no question there because it has to hold up to thirty people at once, jumping and dancing and running around, but he’s completely alone. There’s only one dim light but I can still see his face clearly. The defined angles of his jaw and that the sweat he wipes off with the sleeve of his hoodie, before he throws it across the room in anger. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs loudly, mumbling something about ‘still not being able to do it’.
He leans his elbows against the ballet bar in the middle of the room, facing the mirror with pure aggravation etched into the lines of his face. He’s breathing heavily, staring at himself in the reflection of the mirror. She glances at the clock in the room, it’s nearly midnight but she can tell he’ll be here for a few more hours.
“-and so I told him to leave me alone but- hey, are you even listening to me?” Hyeri snaps, pushing her by the shoulder. She stand up immediately, pushing Hyeri’s hand away with a frown.
“What were you saying?” she ask with a frown, adjusting the strap of her backpack and finally, finally tearing her eyes away from him.
Hyeri sighs, crossing her arms, “You’re staring.” she repeats, glancing into the dance room one more time. “I understand why.” she adds under her breath.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here, Johnny’s late and I sick of waiting.” she mutters angrily, holding her bag tighter around her shoulder, like she’s holding on to the last piece of her reverie (that being his dancing). She forces herself not to turn back to watch him. It’s almost like she’s addicted to him, the way he moves and spins (fuck, she wishes she could dance.)
Objectively all of this is hilarious; they don’t get along.
But that’s another story.
She shuffles awkwardly in her seat, crossing her legs and then uncrossing them. She scratches her head as Mr Lau opens a paper folder folder and uses his fingernails to scan through it. He sighs, “Just as I suspected.” He mumbles.
“Is everything okay Sir?” She asks quietly, crossing her arms and swallowing.
Mr Lau glance up at her and sighs again, Jesus it must be bad. He places the folder back on the table and interlaces his fingers, “You seem to have a problem.” he states.
“I do?” She frowns.
He nods, “You grades aren’t good enough.”, he states bluntly, “You’re not taking enough extra credit which means they’re being dragged down. We can’t allow you to continue into the next year of your education unless you pick up some extra credit classes.” he explains.
She stares, “But sir, I’ve already spoken to you about this before and you said it was fine for me not to take any. I don’t-”
“It was fine.” he agrees, “But your disability affects everything and not every employer will understand why you couldn’t take even one.” He pauses, “I understand that it’s difficult, which is why I’ve compiled a list of extra credits which have no reading or writing involved.” He assures, producing a sheet of paper and handing it to her.
She scans through the list, woodwork, instrument and dance. “There are only three options.” She says with no distinct tone of voice, holding the paper up so that he could see; in case it was his first time.
He nods, “All the others were completely full and I was unable to get you in, but, if you do even one of these, you’ll have enough extra credit with consideration to your condition they won’t expect anymore.”
She shuffle in her seat again, leaning against. She takes a deep breath, frowning as he finger taps against the arm of the chair. “Just one of them?” She asks, holding her index finger up.
He nods, “Only one.”
She crosses woodwork off her list angrily with a black biro as she walks down the school halls. Mr Kim kicked her out of his class after she nearly chopped off his finger despite the fact that she warned him he might get hurt. He had then promptly kicked her out of his class and told her never to come back even though she told him she needed the extra credit.
She crosses instrument off her list because learning a new one requires reading notes and sheet music, something she finds beyond difficult. That left dancing. So she makes her way towards the dance room but doesn’t dare step in as she watches these trained dancers throw themselves across the room in the most silk like motions she’s ever seen. She knocks on the door, loud enough to be heard over the soft music and Mr Kang looks over. He points to her, “You’re late.” he states as she awkwardly shuffles into the dance room.
The dancers are stretching, lunging, bending their bodies at unfathomable angles, “Sorry I was-”
“Never mind.” he interrupts, waving his hand, “Go to the back and try your best to follow.” He says, not patronising but clearly not happy to have a beginner in his class.
She drops her bag to the floor in the corner of the room and shoves her hands in her hoodie pocket as she moves to the back of the square formation of students. She knows some of them and feels a hand on her shoulder, “What’s up buttercup?” Taeyong asks, wriggling his eyebrows.
She scoffs, “Not my grades apparently.” she mutters, bending down to reach her toes, “Mr Lau said I have to take an extra credit class to bring them up.” she explains.
Tae crosses his arms, “So you chose dance?” He asks incredulously.
She feigns offence, “What does that mean?”
He points to her, “the last time you danced you nearly took my eye out.”
She glares, “You were in my way!” She cries.
He rolls his eyes, “Why not do another extra credit? Something, I don’t know, safer?” He asks.
She raises an eyebrow, “The only other options were woodwork and instrument.” She explains.
He raises his arms, “And you still chose dance?”
Their relationship was interesting to say the least. On some level they hated each other, on another they were friends and on a final one they were neither but they were the only people who understood each other. The only ones who were perfectionist almost to the point of it being crippling and overworking themselves.
She glares at him. “Leave me alone.” she snaps, “Why are you even talking to me?” she asks suddenly, “You don’t even like me.”
He shrugs with a small smirk playing on his lips, “You’re fun to annoy.”
Mr Kang suddenly claps his hands and the students fall silent, “Okay class, get ready!”
Johnny rubs her back as they stand in the queue for the burrito truck only opposite the school in the freezing cold. Her breath comes out in a fog of mist and she wraps her arms around herself in her faux fur coat (Hyeri got it for her birthday.)
“-And then while we were dancing, he wouldn’t stop laughing at me. He kept saying I was doing it wrong and then everyone was staring at me and Mr Kang made me go to the front of the room and it was so embarrassing because everyone saw how bad I was I hate dancing!” She snarled through grit teeth, “I hate Lee Taeyong.” She adds as an afterthought.
Johnny laughs shivering as well, “He’s not that bad.” He assures.
She haves her arms, “Did you not hear anything I just said! He’s horrible!”
Johnny shakes his head, “You’re just annoyed you had to pick up an extra credit.” He points out smugly as the line moves forward.
There’s ice on car windows and a hint of possible snow in the perpetually grey sky. She wrinkles her nose, “Of course I’m annoyed, The Director said I wouldn’t have to- and my grades are fine.” she assures.
He rubs his hands together and breathes into them, “At least you don’t have to read or write in dance.” He mentions.
She huffs, “You make me sound like an idiot.” She mutters.
He rolls his eyes, “You’re dyslexic, not an imbecile.”
She doesn’t reply, only watches the stream of students that walk to and from their Art school carrying bags and books and shivering in the cold. She can see the window to the dance studios where the dancers swirl elegantly without stumbling and her hand balls into a fist. “I need to pass this class.” she finalises.
Johnny nods, rubbing her arm, “You could always practice? Heard it makes you perfect.” He smirks.
She nods, glancing back to the window and she smiles, “You’re right.” She mumbles, “You’re right!” She cries suddenly and he jumps, staring at her. “I need to go practice.” she announces with a gleam in her eyes that he can’t place.
He raises an eyebrow, “Right now? Don’t you want a burrito?” He asks, pointing to the truck.
She shakes her head with a smile, “Give it to Ten, tell him I’m sorry and I’ll skip on movie night.” She yells as she begins to cross the road.
Johnny huffs, “He takes things better when you say them.”
“You’re dating him!” She cries incredulously and then laughs, jogging towards the Arts School and sprints up the stairs through the large oak doors.
She was suddenly filled with this new motivation, like she’s had sixteen cups of coffee and she’s running on a sugar high. She runs past Hyeri who doesn’t even try to stop her but just shakes her head at her friend’s antics and laughs when the walking disaster nearly trips over a newly cleaned floor.
She spends the rest of the evening in the dimly lit practice room with her hair scraped back into a bun and clear determination in her eyes. She falls one, twice, seventeen times and each time she sighs and gets back up. The soft music never ceases in the background and it’s dark outside but she glares at the mirrors before her, leaning against the ballet bar as she tries to steady her breath.
There’s sweat that drips down her forehead but she just wipes it off with the back of her hand and takes a sip of water. “What are you doing?” A voice echoes through the room.
She stops abruptly as she sees Taeyong reach out and turn the music down. She places her hands on her knees and shakes her head, “Do you need the room?” She asks breathlessly.
He frowns, cocking his head and drops his bag to the floor. “Yes.” he states, almost derisively. She nods, walking to the end of the ballet bar where her bag is situated. She takes another gulp of water and then swings the bag over her shoulder slipping on her shoes. Her hair is stuck to the sweat on her neck but she doesn’t care. “Your balance was off.” He states, walking towards her.
She frowns, “Why do you care?” She asks.
He rolls his eyes, “I don’t.”
And she walks out, not sparing him a second glance and he watches her leave with a slight smirk on his lips and curiosity in his eyes.
But he doesn’t say anything.
It becomes a routine. She has the room until he turns up, but sometimes he let’s her use it a little longer, watching her dance. His gaze is unnerving and scrutinising and every time he makes an offhand comment about her balance or the position of her feet, he’s right. But she tells him to leave her alone.
This goes on for two weeks, until one day she turns up and he’s already there. “Oh.” She stops in her tracks, “Are you using it all evening?” She asks, itching her head.
He shakes his head, “No I just need to do some work but I can’t concentrate in the library.” He pauses, “You can dance, I won’t tell you when you’re doing it wrong.” He assures.
She scoffs, “So considerate.” she mocks.
He settles in the corner of the room by the music player with his laptop on his outstretched legs, a pen between his teeth and deft fingers that sort through various sheets of paper. She stands in front of the three large mirrors, her fingers wrapping around the ballet pole and she tries her best not to stare at him out of the corner of her eye.
Her phone connects to the speakers automatically and she presses play on on a softly melody and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “You’re doing it wrong.” Taeyong speaks up.
She opens her eyes to glare at him in the mirror, “I haven’t even started yet.” She says derisively.
He shrugs, “You’re already doing it wrong.”
She narrows her eyes at him, “You said you wouldn’t comment.” she points out.
He holds out his hands like he gives up and turns back to his computer. She shakes her head and sighs, turning back to the mirror. He back is straight and she tries to practice the move from earlier that is honestly too complicated to describe. But she loses her balance and nearly falls flat on her face.
He doesn’t say anything.
She does this three more times before she sighs in defeat, “Okay, what am I doing wrong?” She asks out loud.
He glances up and uses his pen to point to her legs. “You’re not bending your knees enough.” he states. She frowns, attempting to do so but he grunts from his spot on the floor, placing his computer to the side and standing up. “No not like that, you need to spread your legs.”
She rolls her eyes, “And how many girls have you said that to?” She asks reflexively, and then her cheeks flare up; she had not meant to say that out loud.
He breathes a laugh, “Hilarious.” he says sarcastically as he stops next to her. “Look-” he starts pushing her hands further apart on the bar, “You’re too tense, you’re making yourself too small, you’re supposed to take up lots of room otherwise this move doesn’t work.” he explains, tapping the back of her knee with his pen. “Feet apart.” he states and she follows his advice.
“God why is it so difficult.” She mutters.
He almost laughs, “It’s not hard, you just haven’t studied dance before.”
“Yeah, so it’s hard.” She states derisively.
He shrugs, “Well, now you’re doing it right so why don’t you try the move again.” And she does, and she nails it. He claps and it’s surprisingly sincere while he smiles knowingly, “See you can do it, just have faith in yourself.”
“Thank you for believing in me.” She says mockingly like she’s in a movie and he breathes a laugh.
The sun sets behind the grey clouds until it’s almost pitch black outside and frost begins to form on car windows as they spent the rest of the evening practising the dance Mr Kang has assigned them to learn and perform by the end of the term. She falls down four times and every time he helps her up. The fourth time however, they fall down together.
She drags him down when she trips and he hold onto her waist in an attempt to balance them but instead they just fall on top of each other. And like the typical movie scene this happens, their breathing heavily, staring into each other’s eyes.
She wants to kiss him. Fuck she really wants to kiss him
He hovers over her, “Maybe we should stop?” He whispers. But she doesn’t know if he means dancing or staring.
He swallows, tearing his eyes away from her and crawls to his feet. She shakes her head, not saying anything as she tries to regain her breath. There’s a silence where he doesn’t know what to say so she swallows and slowly sits up, “I still haven’t got it right.”
He grunts in disapproval, “You’re going to injure yourself.” he states, waving his hand in dismissal.
She leans back on the balls of her hand, “So are you.” she points out because she knows he’ll stay in the practice room until 5am if he has to.
He shrugs, “You’re an actor, not a dancer.” he pauses, smiling slightly “I’m also better than you in general.”
She rolls her eyes, crawling to her feet and resting her hands on her hips, “You’re a dick.”
He just cocks his head to look at her with softer eyes that she’s ever seen, “Go home buttercup.” he says quietly, “We can pick this up tomorrow.”
Johnny frowns, “So he’s not as bad as you thought?” He questions.
She shrugs, leaning back on the couch and shutting her eyes, “I don’t know. He’s being nice for now.”
Johnny pauses, “He’s honestly not that bad, just a bit rough around the edges.”
She waves him off, “Yeah yeah whatever.”
She realises that because she’s been spending so much time trying to pass this fucking extra credit, that she’s let everything else slide out of priority. It’s not until she’s back at her dorm about to fall asleep that there’s a sudden pressure that begins to crush her chest as she remembers the essay she hasn’t done, the song she hasn’t written and the lines she hasn’t memorised.
And this is how she finds herself in the campus library at 4 o'clock in the morning with the biggest cup of coffee she’s ever drunk before, still dressed in her pyjamas and lugging around some of the thickest textbooks in the library.
She nearly falls asleep twice, struggling to read the books that she’s seen other breeze through and almost decides to live as a nun before she feels her phone vibrate against the desk. She picks it up, barely noticing Taeyong’s name sprawled across the screen.
“Why are you in the library at quarter past four in the morning dressed like a tramp?” He asks unceremoniously. She looks up from her textbook and glances around the empty room. “Stop craning your neck like a giraffe I’m not there.”
She frowns, turning to look out of the window behind her. It looks over the courtyard and to the other side of the school where the dance studios are and she can see him standing by the window. He’s got a short sleeved white shirt and clings to his body and tracksuits that hang low on his hips. She swallows, maybe too loud because she sees him cock his head, “Cat got your tongue buttercup?” He asks and even from a distance she can see him smirk.
She rolls her eyes, “Hilarious.” She sneers, “but do you want to tell me why you’re practicing at 4 o'clock in the morning?” She questions.
Even though they’re on opposite ends of the school, both occupied and prioritising aspects of their lives that are objectively driving them crazy, they still seem to have the energy to converse like they’re normal human beings. “You know why.” He states.
He’s a perfectionist, just like her, that’s why. But at least she knows when to stop, when the nights of two hours sleep and the dead man walking act start get old and she pulls herself from this cycle of self destruction he’s gotten so used to.
There’s a comfortable silence as they stare at each other from a distance. She cocks her head, “Breakfast?” She asks.
He smiles, “Yes please.”
And her heart beats faster than the speed at which he runs to meet her. (Not that he shows he made any effort and she thinks the sweat is from all the dancing).
He takes her to a quaint out of the way cafe that surprisingly seems to be open so early but she doesn’t complain because she needs an escape from the Seoul winter that halts its threshold at the door.
They sit in a booth by wall, right underneath the heating and the waitress hands over two menus. Fuck. She opens it up and suddenly she’s bombarded with letters that muddle into incoherent sentences and words that don’t make sense- she’s getting a headache. “Are you okay?” He asks, noticing how pale she’s become.
She waves him off, “Yeah I’m just cold.” she pauses and he looks up.
He can see her eyes narrows and squint and he notices her swallow nervously. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asks again, sighing and folding the menu.
She doesn’t look up, “Nothing.” He kicks her leg, “Ow what the-”
“What’s wrong?” he repeats.
She glares at him, rubbing her shin, “Screw you that hurt.”
He rolls his eyes and before he can say anything, the waitress stops by their table. “What can I get you both?” She asks softly.
He hands her the menu, “I’ll have the ham and cheese toastie and an espresso.” He turns to look at the woman opposite him, “Same thing?” He asks.
“I’ll have the…” she pauses, struggling to read. She holds the menu out to the waitress, “What’s that one, I forgot my glasses.” She chuckles airily to cover the heart that pounds against her rib cage.
“That’s the full English breakfast.” the waitress informs.
“Well I don’t want that.” She’s glaring at the menu, “Have you got anything with avocado’s and-”
“She’ll have the same as me, with avocados.” Taeyong interrupts, snatching her menu and handing it to the waitress. The waitress nods, walking away and this time she kicks Taeyong in the leg, “Ow what the-”
“That was so embarrassing why did you do that?” She demands angrily.
“Do what?” He frowns.
Her mouth gapes open, “Do what? I’m dyslexic I’m not illiterate!” She snaps and then her eyes go wide and fuck he knows now.
But he doesn’t act like he’s shocked or like he’s just found out. He shrugs, “Yeah I figured, you don’t wear glasses, that’s why I ordered for you.”
She stares at him and then shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable.” She scoffs, picking up her bag and storming out of the cafe. Something drops in his chest and he tries not to let it show but his heart is in his throat and he thinks he’s just fucked up.
She’s doesn’t turn up at the practice room for a week after that. She stays at her dorm, forcing herself to concentrate on the upcoming school play she’s starring in- she needs to memorise these lines perfectly because she cannot afford any mistakes.
It’s late one evening and she’s in the school theatre, alone, just after Johnny left to meet Ten for dinner. She’s seated in the middle of the stage, her head in her hands as she stares down at the script. “Why Mr… Ba… barrel?” She pauses, “Fuck; barrow.”
“You’re doing fine.” A voice calls.
She recognises it straight away but still glares through the stage lights into the seats to find him. He sitting in the second row, his arms crossed. “What do you want?” She asks.
He ignores her, “Read it again.” He orders.
She frowns and then sighs, realising he’s not going to leave. She looks back down at the script, “Why Mr Barrow you… in…com…pet…” he can feel the frustration radiating from her body.
“Breathe buttercup, it’s just you and me.” He assures, standing from his seat and walking to the edge of the stage. His shoulders barely reach but he folds his arms and rests his head in his hands, watching her carefully.
She swallows, “You’re staring.” she points out.
He grins, that million watt grin that makes her legs shake and he cocks his head, “I like the view.” she breathes a laugh but he can still see the hurt in her eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
She shrugs, waving him off, “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” He says strongly.
“It’s not.” she agrees, “But hey, the world is still spinning on its axis and you and I are back to normal.” she shrugs.
He frowns, lifting himself onto the stage. He kneels in front of her and pauses. “What if I want something different?” his voice is quiet, like he’s trying to hide from her.
This time when she looks up, there’s something in her eyes that says she doesn’t quite understand or doesn’t quite want to. She swallows, her heart in her throat and her palms sweating so she rubs them on her jeans. “Something un-normal?” she frowns.
He breathes a laugh, “I mean-” he starts, shuffling closer until she can smell pine needles and fresh air and he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want to get breakfast?” he asks. Her heart nearly drops, but he keeps talking, “You know, after we spend the whole night together.”
She smirks, “Doing what exactly?”
He smiles, “Not being perfectionists for once.” he shrugs, “Pizza and beers in front of your shitty T.V. while we watch reruns of some drama. We can dance in the kitchen at 4am like we’re completely free.. Maybe we’re both a little bit naked, but we can work towards that.”
She laughs, “So you’re asking me out?”
He pauses, “Was that not clear?”
She laughs again, her eyes clinking and her nose wrinkling. He likes her laugh. “No it was clear, I was just making sure I was dreaming.”
He cocks his head, “So that’s a yes?”
She licks her lips and nods, “That’s an absolutely.”
He nods, trying to hide his smile. He shakes his head, “Come on buttercup, these lines aren’t going to memorise themselves.” he assures, picking up her script.
And they spend the rest of the evening laughing and dressing up in funny costumes. They dance on the stage but they’re not naked and it’s not 4am but he’s okay with that, as long as she smiles like that he’s okay with anything.
Yoongi when the OC was having sex with two guys! Ignore this if you don't feel like writing it, please :)
1. I would have bet money that you were going to ask for Conditioned, the OC’s POV from when she realized who Tae was. I’m glad I didn’t make that bet.
2. I’ve learned I suck at this drabble game. This thing is 4000 words.
3. I didn’t proofread or edit. I’m probably going to regret this later.
Unexpected - Yoongi’s POV /
The sex scene from Chapter 11
Yoongi looked around Seungri’s
bedroom while grasping your hand tightly.
His stomach felt like it was in knots and his hands were sweating.
“Are you scared?” you asked him.
“Anxious might be the better
word. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Yoongi let go of your hand to rub his palms against his pant legs to try to dry
them off. “I can’t quite believe we’re
actually doing this.”
“We don’t have to do this if you
don’t want to,” you told him.
“I wouldn’t have brought it up if
I didn’t want it.” Yoongi turned and gave you a feeble grin. He wasn’t sure if he even believed what he was
saying at this point. He was the one to
bring it up and he had spent so many nights sharing this fantasy with you and
now it was actually going to happen for real.
He could feel his dick getting hard already from thinking about what
might happen… so why did he also feel like he was going to throw up. It
won’t be like last time, Yoongi thought.
Last time nearly destroyed your relationship, but Yoongi was sure that
was because you had fucked Tae to hurt him and not because you knew it turned
him on. This time will be different, Yoongi repeated to himself. This
time will be different. “I want to make sure you don’t feel pressured
just because this is my fantasy.”
You told him that fulfilling his
fantasies turned you on. You said the
idea that doing this would please him made your pussy throb. You leaned in to kiss him gently and sweetly,
but Yoongi pushed his tongue between your lips, kissing you more aggressively,
pulling you towards his body. He wanted
to know that he was the one that ultimately turned you on, not just to hear you
say it, he wanted you to show him that,
at the end of the day, he was the only one you really wanted. Your hand wandered down his body and came to
rest at the crotch of his pants where you gripped him through the fabric; your
hand felt so good against his cock and Yoongi couldn’t help but smile a bit. “What happens in this room is just foreplay,
okay? The real action happens when he’s
gone and it’s just you and me,” you whispered in Yoongi’s ear. He believed you.
When you don't believe in santa you still get the gifts. When you even dare to question the existance of god you go to hell. I wish I was kidding.
wow, you got a point, and although i do not believe in the easter bunny i still find easter eggs, crazy!
anyway, which of the 4000+ documented gods are you referring to? oh my, just think you have chosen the wrong one! now that could turn out really bad for you. sure hope you did not fall in the old trap of you being “by chance born into the right religion” without thoroughly studying all the others first; gods are angry creatures, especially if you have not even taken the effort of getting to know the right one. better think about it. i wish i was kidding
Wow! Imm screaming?? Thank you!!!
I really want to do something special but! I don’t have the resources or flexibility. I’ll think of something hopefully? But anyways thank you sooooo much this is super rad! :’^)
- Mod Faye
Old Phil fact: On Phil’s old Myspace, he used to show people how to make “cool Myspace photos” with step by step tutorials to put filters on them and just overall enhance your photos to make them “PC4PC” worthy.
F I N A L F A N T A S Y ; The world lies shrouded in darkness. The winds die… The seas rage… The earth decays… But the people believe in a prophecy, patiently awaiting its fullfillment. “When darkness veils the world, fours Warriors of Light shall come.” After a long journey, four young travelers did at last appear… and in the hand of each was clutched a crystal.