Tell my muse what you want to do to them on anon

The performer considered that for a moment, then smiled at the thought of the last person she had sung privately to, the warmth translating into her expression. “I am not usually one for private concerts, but I can be persuaded to share a song or two with people who show an interest. There is a cost associated with that type of time commitment.” 

『 Got Your Eyes on Me | ♪ : Gallant X Tablo X Eric Nam — Cave Me In』

timestamp ➤ 3:12 — 7:15

POV: It’s the day before our SM concert, and we’ve snuck into the venue the night before, leaving nothing on but the single spotlight that hovers above the stage. With the thrill in our veins and excitement in my toes, I get on stage and perform for you, only you, the choreography I made to this song. The only bigger rush than the adrenaline is the knowledge that you’ve got your eyes on me.  

You and me live like birds on a power line, hands gripping and our fingers fried God bless those Northern lights and our own devices, babe

Hearts in our throats, pulse drumming in our ears, every step feels too loud as we step into the wide, cold expanse of the theatre that will be brimming with screams and cheers and the smiling faces we love. There’s no one in here, just the echoes of our footsteps trespassing a ghost town and part of me should feel wrong, except it doesn’t; when I look into your eyes and I see the mischievous little glint and every fear I had is replaced with thrumming excitement.

Take a seat, I’ll whisper to you, watching you pick the very front row, somewhere you’ve always wanted to be, when the spotlight’s on you in every other scenario. I told you I’ve got a surprise, a little something I’ve been working on, just for fun — no one else will ever see this except you. I’m only just realizing now how immensely spacious this place is, when you’re up here alone; the depth of the stage feels so much more daunting without the synchronized stomps of the backup dancers. The spotlight is warm on my face, or perhaps it’s just my cheeks, tinged crimson with the grandeur of it all; the thought that this could one day be me, an artist, a soloist — but right now I’m none of those things. I’m just yours.

Baby, I want you to cave me in So maybe I won't have to admit it

And then the music starts, softly at first, the gradual crescendo of the intro quickly re-familiarizes me with every eight-beat rhythm ingrained into my head from my time and time again rehearsals in the practice rooms. It’s just a few steps in the beginning, letting my body move accordingly, shoes echoing across the black unpolished tile beneath me. I can see you if I squint, making out your slim figure situated right where you said you’d be — and you’re still staring, wearing that proud smile that’s reserved for me.

I can’t hear the lyrics after a while, each word fading into a dull murmur that goes in as a sound and exits as a twist, a turn, a side-step. Now my heart is pattering for a different reason; music is in my head, in my blood. Maybe one day we’ll be up there together, one day we’ll share that lone mic stand and I’ll get to smile at you, too. My love, my light, my superstar.

Milk Man - Yiorgos Zafiriou

“Cath Davies is an artist also known as Zoo. In 2008 she spent 10 days in the Don’t Look Gallery in Sydney periodically pumping her breasts to induce lactation as a way to cultivate a postpartum body without having given birth. Zoo sent out an open invitation for any other artists to attend and collaborate with her.