#anyway there's the camera they custom built again also

[statementlou]

[ocdhuacheng]

What about emulsion plates make them still applicable for variables or quasars? Is it because they aren't prone to heat-related noise like CCDs?

its less about the properties of the plates themselves but rather increasing the amount of data we have. today we have big sky surveys like sdss and gaia (and lsst + ls4 which im really excited about) so we have some pretty good data on what stars and galaxies have looked like in the past couple of decades, but if we want to see more long term changes that occur we also need older data, from before these surveys went online. because...... a lot of things dont change on decade level timescales. (lots of things dont change on century level timescales either but theres nothing we can do about that can of worms u_u) thats where the plates come in. because right now they are largely sitting unused in vaults. (climate controlled vaults tho) so my professor was like. we have a lot of data we might as well find a use for it. bc there are projects where its really helpful to have old ass data.

the main issue is coming up with a way to digitize the plates that is both as accurate as possible and affordable so people wouldn't necessarily need a super fancy high tech scanner to work with the data (harvard has also had digitization projects going way back, so the stuff we were doing was similar, but our different goal was checking the feasibility of digitizing with commercial scanners rather than custom built ones). anyway, so we were basically doing noise reduction tests a lot (cuz every scanner will introduce noise), making sure that the measurements on the plate hold up to measurements from modern space based cameras (the ones we tested did), and figuring out how to archive them in a systematic way along with their metadata so they are easy to access (that part is big bc there are like. at least a couple hundred thousand plates in this particular observatory iirc). So like the main point of the project was the digitization and archiving, but in order to test our methods we each did separate projects involving variable stars and quasars and spectra and comparing data on these objects to data from sdss and gaia. this was several years ago tho. after i moved back home in early 2022 i did some remote work, also snooping around in libraries at like, columbia and vassar for the historians of the group (i have a lowkey ridiculous nyc pizza story from one of those trips) bc they also have their own projects going on, but since then i havent been involved in what theyre doing currently. (i did meet with my professor and the head librarian in january when i visited campus again but yeah. it was really nice seeing them again.)

[reversemoon255]

RX-78-lā-III Lah Gundam

I enjoyed Metaverse. It managed to (occasionally nonsensically) include everything you'd probably want it to. Battles between the main characters, plenty of both speaking and background appearances, a decently fun and very Build-y plot. And, importantly, it's the perfect length for this type of program, being long enough to achieve what it needs to without overstaying its welcome. My one thing is, while I understand the importance of having Rio as a new player, I feel the story would have had more of an impact is Seria was the main character, considering the final encounter.

Anyway, they explain in the instructions that 'Lā' is the Hawaiian word for sun. That's cute. You'd think it'd use some brighter colors if that's the case, but I like the concept behind this one. It's Rio's first real Gunpla made for battling, so it uses a cheaper, easier kit as a base. It also has a level of customization to it around what we see in GBF, as it has a new helmet, shoulders, front skirt, knees, backpack, and weapons. Everything you need to make your kit just distinct enough.

While there are a few different pieces, this is just the Entry Grade RX again, and there's very little different between them. The only real specific thing to mention would be the backpack storage for the Beam Lā Naginata isn't very solid. They do include parts to build the V2 seen in episode 1 apart from the shield and bazooka. As I was also messing with my original EG during photos, it feels kinda loose, so I worry about this thing's longevity, though it's a very cheap and main character suit, so it shouldn't be hard to get another one down the road.

The Details: Most of what I did was panel lining, as the EG is pretty good about colors. I did add metallic red to the inside of the forehead crest and metallic blue to the peripheral cameras, and yellow to the knees for screen accuracy.

Overall, it's a cute kit. If you haven't built the EG RX, or even if you have, it's a fun day's build.

[knowlessman]

a whole month? …eh. I believe it. bnha s6e21-25. (maybe I should start posting these on masto or something, when I start watching something else anyway? or biksy, but character limit… maybe having a character limit again will be good tho)

okay that shot of the spears through the windshield and then swinging the camera to the side to show all might jumping out, that's some Good Shit, I legit thought maybe he was dead for a sec there -- yo. not to ref a movie that is probably triggering to watch for many people, but All Might just did the ending of Punch Drunk Love to these jokers (I have no idea if I would call it a "good" movie, but it is very watch-an-autistic-person-have-some-very-bad-experiences-but-then-be-kind-of-awesome-for-a-minute and… idk, I kinda hope not many people find it funny)

"I can't sense any murderous intent" eagerly listens to try and pick out That One Edgy Japanese Word I Know hellyeah

"I don't need to run. I just need some time." blinks whytf is he doin squats. little shit has too many powers, I forget what all he's got in there

nagant: "I'll hold this guy who was torturing his own daughter for money hostage!" "not really; shoot the little bastard, see if I care"

"If you can decide to apologize to Eri, I'll do what Lady Nagant promised." …uh. tell me you're not about to inflict this guy upon Eri, no way in heaven or hell does he deserve that

"in two months, I was supposed to deliver the target" okay lemme get this straight. you were supposed to not only capture deku, not only hold him prisoner, but hold him for TWO. MONTHS. yo, a full-scale custom-built SCP chamber probably couldn't hold this kid for longer than a week.

(all for one's proximity hologram and bomb) now imagine if that proximity sensor had been set off by a squirrel. they get here and it's been a smoking crater for a week and there are no clues as to why. EVERYBODY gets to look like an idiot. -- I think this is why I'm so tempted to make my ttrpg villains really stupid. the perceived stakes plummet, but it's just so damn funny.

(deku fighting the guy what controls ppl) "if there is one thing midoriya needs right now…" clearly it's an assist from very literally the last ally I would want in a fight involving human shields -- bakugo (talking about deku and all might): "those two shouldn't be left alone together!" dude. …dude. … 'XDDD DUDE. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS CHARACTER SUPPOSED TO BE? WHAT WAS HE EVER SUPPOSED TO BE?

"I'm fine." yeah, you're doing just peachy. you just got bodied by a handful of normies with sticks and stones.

"deku, there's still stuff I need to say to you" OH IS THERE, MISTER BAKUGO? AFTER ALL THESE FUCKING YEARS YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY? AFTER ALL THESE YEARS YOU STILL HAVEN'T SAID ENOUGH? -- "It's not something that'll work itself out just by saying it out loud" oh fuck you. god damn it. -- …now that he's trying to kill himself like you told him to. now. fuck this guy. -- now that he's trying to kill himself for, what, the umpteenth time probably. fuckin rock lee dumbass is always doing this

THIRTEEN HAS A HUMAN HEAD????? what the fuck. the vacuum cleaner is just a fucking anime character in a suit with a buzz lightyear whoosh helmet. is the fucking washing machine also just a whole-ass human in a costume

-- it took me a hot three minutes to dig this up and vomit words onto it so yall better laugh. ah who am I kidding, everything I do I do for me

"UA can move!" dude. what did you spoil that for. you don't just outright tell the audience that you're gonna put an entire setting on legs. you bide your time and then just do it. -- …oh. you just installed a subway system. my guy, is it even an anime if you're not animating something that people are living on and entering it in a slapfight?

"will things go back to the way they were before the inevitable collapse of a civilization where most people are born with instant-kill powers and they get exponentially stronger over time?" got any other stupid questions?

���yeah. still don't understand Stain. "look! look at what that woman is doing!" yeah, she's taking down the I Am Not Here sign because of hero worship. hell, trust a zealot to break out of prison, find a post-apocalypse, and have zero inclination to find out what's been happening since he was gone.

no spoiler, eh. no Marvel post-credits scene, either. …no cliffhanger. -- s7 is 21 eps. …thought about taking a break and watching something else, bebop or dungeon meshi or something and then coming back to finish this, but idk. guess I'll see.

[pinkyjulien]

Hey Anon! 👋

There's actually different ways to tackle it and it all depends on how the model you wish to port is built!

▶ Example 1: Model has a Rig with custom Controls

Most models that are shared for 3D render purposes will come with their own rigs and their own skeleton controls; this is the easiest type of model to refits to CP77's A pose

Select the RIG controls and enter Pose Mode, you'll be able to rotate the controls to fit the model over the CP77 body

If the submeshes don't follow the rig, make sure they have an Armature modifier with the correct Rig in it

▶ Example 2: Model has a Rig

This method will be similar to the first example! It's a tiny bit 🤏 less practical cause you'll have to find the correct bone to move around to affect the sleeves

Enter Pose Mode and rotate the bones around I recommend also moving the bones or/and the model itself As long as it fit the cp77 model, don't really pay attention to if the model fit the original rig it came with (you will delete it later anyway)

▶ Example 3: No Rig we Die Refit Like Men

If you're porting models directly from ArtStation, Sketchfab or other 3D hosting website, you'll probably get a simple non-rigged model

Depending on the pose, I won't lie, this is a pain in the ass 💀✋ Since your model seems to be in T-pose from your description, I choose a T-posing model as well to show you how to tackle it

You'll need to work in Edit Mode with the desired submesh selected (if you have multiple submesh, I recommend merging everything together and un-merge them later)

I recommend first working on the front, you can fix your camera by clicking on the "Y" here

Toggle the X-ray vision to be able to select back faces

And enable Proportional Editing, this will come in extremly handy and allow us to "smoothly" rotate / move / edit part of the mesh without creating "staircase" and harsh corners

Since we want our pose to go from T-pose to A-pose, I'll first select the whole arm; press "G" to reduce the Proportional Editing's effect radius (we don't want the chest to be affected)

I'll first slightly rotate the sleeve with the Green ring

Notice how the shoulder area follow the rotation as well

Without un-selecting the sleeve, press "G" to enter free movement - increase the proportional editing radius just a little bit to affect all the shoulder - and move the sleeve downward

Do this again and again until the sleeve is in the correct position I recommend changing the selection often during the procedure

(Yeah, you'll need a lot of patience)

There will be some honkiness near the shoulder, armpit and chest area; you can ofc edit them once the sleeve is in place!

Press on the "X" to change the camera view, and you can now do the exact same on the side now 🤠

Once you're satisfied with the overall angle of the sleeve, you can go in and edit all the little details like the elbow, the cuffs, the armpit ,the shoulder, etc etc

And do the same on the other sleeve, of course! 😅

I also recommend using the "hiding" shortcut (H) to hide part of the mesh while you refit (but be cautious not to accidently hide a part that is close and might be affected by the proportional editing, otherwise it might leave some gaps or extreme stretch! Nothing unfixable, but still annoying) (here for example, the right side of the model (our left) is hidden)

Hope this was clear enough to be somewhat understandable, and I wish you good luck! Don't rush it and take your time; make duplicates of your model to save different "states", and save your project often!

Happy modding 🙏

Hi! Can I ask if you perhaps have a tip for refitting sleeves (or trousers or similar stuff) to Cyberpunk? 😭 I want to port a jacket but trying to refit the sleeves (that are higher positioned and straight, which is like, so far off from cp77) is giving me actual nightmares 😭 Please halp

Oh anon I feel you so bad LOL From what I understand you're trying to refit is what we usually call "T pose", CP2077 uses "A pose" (... but in a very different position than most A pose models you'll find online)

I'll be honest that I usually avoid that type of project myself as it requires lots of patience, most of my ports are done with Marvelous Designer combined with a Cyberpunk Model which allows the software to mostly refit it for me.

What you're gonna need is indeed some patience, and moving things around with the scale/rotation/moving tool whilst having Proportional Editing on (if you're in Blender).

@pinkyjulien has way more practice doing that type of manual fitting between these rigs so I'm gonna tag him, as he's offered to add some proper guidance/visuals to help out! <3

[such-a-random-rambler]

*runs in*

I’m not late!!!

First of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! @lenle-g

I wrote you some fic! This morning I decided that I hated what I wrote through the week, and scrapped it, and wrote the following this afternoon.

I have no idea what this is but *shrugs* HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANYWAY

EOS is the most intelligent non-human resident of Thunderbird 5, but she isn’t the first. That honour goes to Bunny.  

She started off tiny, the size of a thumbnail, a gift from Gordon on the day John left home to go to college. Gordan had held the tiny plant forward, already named, earnestly explaining that he wanted John to have someone to talk to while he was gone. In some families that might have been a dig at John’s reluctance to talk with new people and his tendency to spend long periods of time holed up in his room studying, and therefore the start of an argument; but coming from this particular brother it was the complete opposite. Gordon was genuinely concerned that John would get lonely and pre-emptively solved the problem.

John treasured that little Opuntia microdasys, the Bunny Ear Cactus, every day while he was away. It sat with him through the long nights of research, helped locate and fix troublesome lines of code and even listened patiently when John vented about the frustrations of his human friends. Bunny was also the first one to hear John present his thesis, and didn’t laugh when he lost his place three times. (Though gave no notable feedback, which would have been helpful.)

Bunny lived on the island for a short time, before Five was built and operational, when she was part of the first load of personal affects John transferred into space. He’d had a small argument with Dad about actually getting her and a few other items on board, it not being space-standard. But one of the best things about running your own space station is that you can re-write any particular rule of your choice, and John had got his way.

She’s installed in her own special compartment in his bunk room, lighting carefully calibrated for growth and a custom irrigation system to keep atmospheric moisture within strict parameters. Most of the family had accepted the plant’s presence as one of John’s quirks, but it wasn’t that he wanted her there: he needed her.

As part of his preparation for the launch of Five John had dug up as many papers interviews as he could find concerning the effects of living in space for extended periods, and one thing that had come up time and again is the sterility of the environment. Filtered air, steel, glass and plastic surrounds. Holo-visuals and radio communication. He would be cut off from everything else alive and that thought scared him more than the dangers of depressurisation.

Bunny – green, growing, happily photosynthesising by his bed – is a much needed contrast to the void outside the window. On days that John is too distracted by the work, and the green and blue marble of the Earth is too far away for it to feel like a real place, the little life of the cactus reminds him that he’s not the only person in the universe.  

On the worst days, missions filled with close calls and near-misses, it’s been Bunny that has heard his whispered fears in the dark. She doesn’t offer any words of comfort of course, but it’s sometimes enough just to speak his failures out loud before they can weigh too deeply on his soul. He speaks to her his promises to do better next time, to not let anyone else down, and she doesn’t reprimand him like Scott would for taking that burden on himself.  

Some things change when EOS emerges – having a constant companion who can speak back is a revelation and a balm to the loneliness that creeps in from the sides after the island has gone to sleep. The midnight confessionals don’t change, however, John still imparts his secret fears to the patient plant who, as ever, accepts them without criticism.  

EOS has never questioned the quiet interactions with Bunny, has never mentioned the secrets that he shares with her. And John ignores it when the main camera housing trails to his bedroom when he’s busy and whispers to the plant in binary. EOS checks on the hydration of the soil and makes minute adjustments to temperature for optimal growth: their silent confidante now has an ever-watchful sister.

[trickstertriangle]

ok so basically that's the premise of the first game. fend off the robots for 5 nights, manage your power and avoid death. except that's not all! the game had little easter eggs! easter eggs that contained lore! lore!!!

so basically it all began in the 1980's with a couple humans. one of them was named henry emily and the other was named william afton. you'd love william afton. he'd be your favorite human ever if he wasn't fictional! but personally i prefer henry... anyways they founded fredbear's family diner together and henry built the robots and the robots doubled as suits that could be worn by humans except they were super dangerous and potentially fatal.

actually they were entirely fatal because of something called a springlock failure. but anyways those robots were called springlock suits and william kept wearing one called "spring bonnie" to lure a bunch of kids into a room with no cameras and kill them. henry began to worry for his daughter's safety so he made the security puppet that pretty much only protected his daughter specifically and it couldn't even do it because one day she got shut outside and william killed her before the puppet could do anything but it got outside and effectively cocooned her corpse when she was already dead and left outside in the rain.

but anyways william also had a few kids of his own. elizabeth, michael, and "dave", who we only learned the name of recently and i haven't even confirmed myself yet but whatever it doesn't matter because michael sticks dave's head in fredbear's mouth and dave dies. also michael is the same person as mike schmidt. from the first game.

also william built a few robots on his own without henry and made a separate company called afton robotics and made one of the robots for elizabeth except they were also killing machines designed to trap and kill kids to use their souls to power the robots and give them more personality and all that. he wanted their remnant which is a whole other ball park we'll get into later. anyways elizabeth got too close to the robot based on her, which was circus baby, which killed her. so elizabeth also died. which left william with only michael.

anyways henry didn't know william was doing all the killing but he got framed for it by william which kind of told him what was up but he went to jail for a long time and doesn't show up until waaaaaaay later. but anyways a lot of this happens in 1983. dave dying is called the bite of '83.

and then 1985 happens when william keeps killing kids and the missing children's incident happens and the bodies are stuffed in more robots. and the puppet, possessed by henry's daughter, charlie, shows up and is like "nuh uh" and gives the kids life again by giving them consciousness as the robots they got stuffed into or whatever happens there. but yeah their corpses are in there and ir reeeks and customers at the place start to notice the stench because of course they do they're in a restaurant with a bunch of corpses in robots that dance around on stage.

but yeah then 1987 happens and. obligatory was that the bite of 87?!?! but anyways that's when fnaf 2 takes place. we can get into the gameplay later first i'm just dumping all the lore because i feel like it. but yeah the robots with corpses in them got prepared to be retrofitted but then it proved to be too hard so instead their parts were used to make new robots and more kids were killed by william and the puppet was still hanging around but then the place got shut down and a birthday party happened and then boom the player gets bit by one of the new robots and it's called the bite of 87 but it took a while for the fandom to figure that one out too. also phone guy was around back then. also apparently his name is ralph which is cool to know i think? but yeah then the new versions of the robots got scrapped but the old ones didn't.

you still keeping up?

hey so while we wait on sixer can i lore dump about fnaf to you? i promise to be very informative! :)

-tt

GO AHEAD, KID, YAP ALL YOU WANT!

[artificialqueens]

The Scent of Your Rose Perfume (Nicky x Jaida) - Chae

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m so sorry Chapter Five of ViP has taken like a whole-ass month to update, it should be coming… soon-ish? In the meantime, I have a couple Oneshots/super short multichaps planned to take a break and fix my writers block. I am apalled that there isn’t more Jicky literature in this world, they literally act like a couple irl. When Nicky was crying about you-know-what the other day, I was inspired to write this, so blame her haha. Anyways, enjoy! (I also have an AO3 now!)

Summary:

Working at a Chanel store was supposed to be a high class gig. What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll, who has a particular interest in being a total bitch.

aka

I was soft for Jicky and my friends helped me come up with this (hiiii 💯)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474904

—–

Working at Chanel was supposed to be a high class gig.

Beautiful fancy women selling you purses and shoes in a power-cleaned sparking storefront? That sounded like the perfect way to make money to Jaida, and once she walked in for the job interview, it was over; her looks alone could have made her manager of the whole store on the first day.

What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll. She fit right in at a first glance—French accent, smooth voice, looked like a fashion model—but was severely juxtaposed by her superpower to read a bitch down for filth while taking a hit from her juul in the back. Nicky was an enigma— a glorious, sexy enigma.

And she was a total bitch.

Exhibit One:

“Good afternoon ma’am,” Jaida smiled at the customer. The woman was wandering aimlessly around the huge store. She seemed like a nice lady, not experienced with the Chanel brand but not clueless either. “How may I help you?”

“I’m actually wondering if there’s a way I can buy clothes from those mannequins?”

Jaida raised an eyebrow. She must have been really rich if she was asking about actual garments. “Yes! You can. What were you interested in?”

“The striped pants, although, I’m not sure they’d look very good on me.”

The honey blonde pursed her lips. “Don’t say that sweetie, do you want to try them on, maybe?”

The customer laughed nervously. “Mmmm, I don’t want to ruin them, you know?”

And before Jaida could tap into her motherly and caring nature, a voice rang out from behind her.

“Those pants will match perfectly to the shirt under your jacket, madame. You’re not going to find ones like those anywhere else,” Nicky carried a purse in her hand, probably on the way to help someone buy it. But, of course, she couldn’t mind her own damn business.

Jaida glared at the platinum blonde, who just smirked back at her through her cherry red Mac lipstick. And then she did the unforgivable:

“I can help you check out, cherie .”

The unsuspecting woman nodded and trotted after the French Fiend, leaving Jaida to stare holes into the back of Nicky’s perfectly ironed blazer.

Exhibit Two:

“Jaida, the sales you’ve been making are insane!” Jackie scanned the documents. “You really are a valuable member of this team, and not just because you’re the prettiest.”

A shit-eating grin smeared itself on Jaida’s face when she turned to Nicky, who just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Hear that, Nicolette? I’m the prettiest.”

“For an American.”

Jaida scoffed. “Chile, tell me that when you do better than me.”

“I am doing better, right Jackie?”

The persian manager looked up from what she was doing. “By a little, but you two are our top sellers.”

Nicky looked at the older woman coyly. God, Jaida wanted to punch the expression right off her perfect face. How could someone so disastrously beautiful be such a jackass? Jaida was constantly asking herself, Do I want to kill her, or kiss her?

Meanwhile, Nicky congratulated herself on upsetting and flustering the prettiest girl in the world, again.

Exhibit Three:

Of course Nicky was also friends with Jaida’s friends. Was the older woman expecting for the blonde to hug Heidi and Jan familiarly when they arrived at the bar? No. Did she? Yes.

“Nicky! Wow, when Jaida mentioned your name I didn’t know it was you!” Jan exclaimed when the Frenchwoman air kissed her cheeks.

“Well, there can be only one of me!” Nicky waved, turning to Jaida. “So, you do talk about me.”

“Yes, I talk about how much I hate you,” she rolled her eyes.

“She talks about how she hates you so much she wants to give you a big ol’ smooch,” Heidi teased.

Nicky’s eyes widened, looking at Jaida from across the round table knowingly, sipping her rose wine with a small smile.

“You know what, Heidi? Fuck you!” Jaida could feel her cheeks warm when she shoved her friend in the arm, taking a long swig of wine.

“No, you want to fuck Nicky, not me!”

The other girls, Jan, Jackie, and Crystal, burst out in laughter. Through her embarrassment, Jaida even thought she could see Nicky turn red, too—but of course she’d never admit or show to that. Jaida wasn’t going to admit anything either; she hated Nicky, and that was a fact.

“Jaida, take an Instagram story with me!” Nicky grinned evilly, standing up from her seat and wrapping a skinny arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders. Of course, Jaida forgot that Nicky had amassed quite an Instagram following that didn’t quite match her old-lady job, and mentioning Jaida (who too, was considered a ‘baddie’ and almost matched Nicky’s follower count—) would be good for her brand.

“Whatever you say, chile,” Jaida complied when the other woman turned her camera to themselves. Nicky pressed their heads close together and Jaida could smell her rose perfume and coconut shampoo as they made cute faces for the screen. And then, because of course she did, Nicky placed a ‘friendly kiss’ on Jaida’s cheek, garnering chuckles and ‘awws’ from their friends.

Jaida absolutely despised her.

But damn, she was hot.

——

It was just about time to close up the store, and it was Jaida’s job to check all two floors of the building and help/kick out whoever was left.

Soft music echoed through the little hallway leading to the stairs as Jaida’s heels clicked on each step. The familiar smell of rose perfume filled her nostrils when she approached the second floor, and her eyes darted around to search for a familiar shock of platinum hair.

Near a display of mannequins and a luxury couch is when Jaida spotted Nicky absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of a jacket and humming. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was something about the way her eyes were glassed over and the way she looked so deep in thought that made it impossible for Jaida to look away. Add on the fact that Nicky had such a pretty singing voice—she was a vision.

It took a few moments for the Frenchwoman’s icy blue eyes to meet Jaida’s. Pretty, perfect Jaida. The one who always got mad at Nicky in a way only someone like her would find cute. The one who always spoke her mind and knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The one who Nicky just had to do better than because her face and body were already so perfect, there was not much the blonde could do to one-up her.

Nicky smiled, and Jaida cursed internally when she felt herself get hot again.

“Nobody’s up here, right?” the dark-skinned woman took a tentative step forward, her arms crossed in front of her.

Nicky exhaled a laugh. “No, just me and you.”

“Right. Well, let’s close a few minutes early, then.”

“Mhm,” the blonde nodded, walking towards the other woman in what Jaida thought was her exiting the second floor. She was mistaken.

The taller woman walked straight at Jaida until her back was pressed on a wall, Nicky blocking a view of the marble stairs. Before Jaida could protest, Nicky traced a hand along the side of her cheek and the shorter girl was acutely aware of how she felt her perfectly long fingernail and how that feeling made her feel other things.

“What are you trying to do, Nicky?” Jaida managed to collect herself enough to ask.

“Nothing. I just like the way your face looks, mon chou .”

Jaida couldn’t help but snort and laugh. “You—you what?”

“You’re very pretty, Miss Hall,” her tone was serious, almost sultry.

“I know I am, now-” she paused when Nicky grabbed her chin. “Now, what is this?”

“What is what?” her eyebrow was raised playfully.

Well fuck. Fucking fuck. After all this time of Nicky being a bitch—a beautiful, funny, stupid-ass bitch—Jaida didn’t realize she was being that type of bitch. No, she couldn’t deny her attraction to the French girl, but she didn’t realize those feelings were reciprocated for anything else except teasing.

“Girl, I’m sick of you playing with me. I don’t know if you like girls or what, chile, just tell me.”

“I like you.”

“I like me, too. Now what?” the long haired girl straightened her posture, nearly reaching Nicky’s tall height.

Nicky scoffed, one side of her mouth curled up. “I thought you liked me.”

“Godammit Frenchie,” Jaida rolled her eyes, grabbing the short-haired woman’s wrist and dragging her next door to the dressing rooms. Each one was large, with faux-velvet couches, fresh white walls with black trim, and doors with locks that hit the actual ground. The shorter woman opened one of them, locked the aforementioned door, and gently shoved Nicky against the wall.

“I’m tired of this bullshit, Nicky. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Merde , I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” Nicky licked her lower lip before roughly slamming her face on Jaida’s.

The first thing Jaida registered when their tongues met was how Nicky tasted like the rose perfume she always wore. The second thing was the release of tension that had built up over the two girls ever since they’d started working together, and god, that felt euphoric.

Nicky pressed their bodies even closer together, hands sifting through Jaida’s hair as she groaned into the kiss. Jaida slid her hands down the blonde’s back, further and further down until she could grope Nicky through the black fabric of her pencil skirt. She giggled in Jaida’s mouth, breaking the kiss to nibble on the shorter girl’s jawline. At that, Jaida squeezed her ass even harder, making Nicky tense up.

“That’s for making me look bad in front of Jackie.”

“Zut.”

“What’d you call me?” Jaida joked, pulling away.

“It means damn or shit, okay?!”

Jaida just kissed Nicky’s neck as a response, biting down gently on her pulse point and making her swear in French—again.

“If Jackie sees a hickey-”

Jaida bit down harder. “That one was for making me look bad in front of my customers.”

“ Jaida,” Nicky gasped.

“Can I take off this stupid uniform?” she fiddled with the buttons on the button up under Nicky’s blazer.

“Only if you do,” the blonde’s hands were at the hem of Jaida’s trousers.

And they followed up on their promises, finding themselves ass-naked on the couch with Nicky straddling Jaida, sucking on her face like she was sucking the beauty right from her mouth.

Jaida was the first to take Nicky’s breast in her hand, rolling the bud in her finger and drawing out muffled moans from the tanned beauty on her legs. She broke the kiss and placed a new one on Nicky’s other boob, swirling her tongue around her nipple in time with her hand. She looked up at Nicky, who was looking at her with the most beautiful expression she’d ever seen: eyes blown out, eyebrows curved upwards, mouth slightly open. When Jaida licked her collarbones and between her cleavage she turned her head upwards and bucked her hips into Jaida’s stomach, a murmured and closed-mouth moan escaping from her.

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida mumbled into her chest.

“What?”

“You tease me with all that, and chile, here you are begging for me?”

“Power bottom.”

Jaida laughed, leaving her breast with a pop and going back to kiss Nicky’s red-stained lips.

Her hand found itself in between Nicky’s legs, feeling the wetness surrounding her core. She gently stroked the folds of her labia, making the Frenchwoman moan quite loudly.

“Moumoune,” Nicky purred. “Go down on me.”

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida lifted the woman off of her, adjusting so that she sat between her legs and Nicky laid on the couch.

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Nicky’s voice was breathy as Jaida kissed her inner thighs.

“If you get to call me all your weird French nicknames, I’m calling you Needy Nicky,” she bit extra close to Nicky’s core.

“Jaida, please, ” she pulled the beauty’s hair.

“Brat,” she smirked, drawing back. “Apologize for embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Jaida, you salope !”

“Hm,” Jaida nearly stood up before Nicky whined.

“I promise I’ll be nicer, ma cherie .”

“I’m holding you to that one,” Jaida continued her assault on Nicky’s legs. “What does salope mean, anyway?”

“Whore.”

Jaida bit skin again, Nicky yelped. “Jeez, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, mon chou .”

“I hope that means ‘darling.’”

Nicky said nothing, the only sound that could be heard was her heavy breathing as Jaida finally reached her center, licking a line up her folds.

“Fuck.”

“That wasn’t French,” Jaida mumbled, before circling her tongue around Nicky’s clit. The blonde arched her back at the touch, attempting to grip the fabric of the couch.

As Jaida flattened her tongue against Nicky’s entrance, the girl let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched sound. When she teased her hole, Nicky squealed more. It was probably the first time Jaida had heard her speechless.

The dark blonde wet a finger and gently placed it inside of Nicky, peeking up to check on her partner.

“God—Jaida, that feels-” she grunted as Jaida curled up further. “You’re so good.”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

Jaida could have sworn the face Nicky made when she added another finger was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen—adding on the sound that escaped her lips, a sound Jaida could have probably listened to forever.

“Nicky, someone might catch us,” Jaida cooed. The French girl couldn’t choke out a response when Jaida rubbed a thumb over her clit, just another loud moan.

“But you don’t care, do you?”

She shook her head.

“If Jackie came up the stairs, you’d just keep fucking yourself on my fingers if I stopped, right?”

She nodded. For once, Jaida was in control.

The long haired woman’s mouth was back on the bundle of nerves at Nicky’s core, sucking and darting her tongue all over it. Nicky didn’t even recognize her own voice as she kept whining, knocking her head back as she felt the knot in her stomach glow unbearably tight.

Jaida could feel the girl tense around her, so she made sure to keep her steady pace when the sounds in the room turned into staccato yelps.

“Jaida-” was the last thing she whimpered before releasing on her fingers.

Just to smite her, Jaida took the opportunity to place her liquid-coated digits between Nicky’s lips, basically forcing her to lick them clean. There was something satisfying, sexy, exciting, maybe even sadistic, about watching the girl who’d relentlessly sexually frustrated her suck on her hand like a baby.

It took a few moments for the both of them to calm down, Jaida flopping on the couch right next to Nicky and resting her hands on her own chest to steady her breathing.

“So,” she finally said.

“So,” Nicky replied.

“That was good.”

“You’re telling me!” Nicky flipped on her side to face Jaida. “That was—wow.”

“Nice to know I can do something right with you.”

Nicky’s face shifted. “What do you mean?”

“Well you’re always one-upping me, bitch! Better sales, better hair, better face, stealing my customers, stealing my friends—”

“Jaida, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t…” Nicky bit her lip. “I didn’t think it would be that—that noticeable.”

“So you are a bitch on purpose! Chile, I knew it,” Jaida attempted to lighten the mood.

“Honestly, I do it all because I want to prove I’m better than you, when I know I’m not. I have to work my butt off to get all of the things you get by doing nothing, because you’re perfect.”

“Chile! Shut the whole hell up. I work just as hard, if not harder than you. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You see my perfect facade, Nicky.”

The Frenchwoman stared, then smiled. “Well. Can I get to know what’s behind your facade, Miss Jaida?”

She grinned back. “I don’t know, Ms. Doll. You’ll have to take me on a date and see.”

That evening, Jaida could still smell roses on her uniform.

[freewheelshippin]

FIC: “be proud”

Let me indulge in the fantasy that I got to help, just a little bit, in making one of the only ballads on this earth I like. More “utapri characters that aren’t ranmaru” content than usual, especially Ai, since this is vaguely based on their Idol Songs album! 

Content warnings include an allusion to home invasion, Ranmaru’s usual backstory things (i.e. dealing with debt), and some eating/meal scenes. 

Ranmaru was surprised to receive the package, a fairly big box from someone he never expected to get mail from. Something in the pit of his stomach half-expected it to be everything he’d sent her, unused and returned to sender. 

For a second, he thought he was right. It was a similar array of trinkets and colors as the merch she’d designed for his album, but it quickly became obvious this wasn’t his merch, but hers. Trinkets from her shop, like patches and pins, and one of those handmade prints she liked making on weird paper. Candies he didn’t recognize, some American snacks he did, a little box of something that looked homemade with a hand-scrawled label on it. At the bottom, a shirt, printed with a cleaned version of an album art draft he’d especially liked but the agency didn’t approve. Folded within it, a note, written in English on one side and clumsy Japanese on the other. 

Yo, Kurosaki! 

I know I already messaged you thanks for sending me my comp copies of everything, but I wanted to return the favor! You really didn’t have to go out of your way get it to me like that, much less pack in all the other shit you did. But I’m glad you did! It arrived on the day I got another rejection, one I was really hoping would pan out. I got back all the time I would’ve spent feeling sorry for myself and instead just wanted to try again. That’s kind of the message I got from the sound of your album, so I guess it’s appropriate! 

Honestly, even if it was tough figuring things out sometimes, I had more fun on that job than any other one I can think of. You don’t have much to apologize for, I’ve survived way worse than some grumpy e-mails from a cool client, and you actually had pretty good feedback to offer. I think the end result was pretty metal. (Or well, rock, since it’s your shit, after all.) 

If you’re cool with it, I think it’d be fun to keep sharing our work with one another, outside of just being a client and artist. Get some fresh perspectives, you know? You know where to message me if you think so, too. 

-- M 

P.S. You’re the first person to get this custom pick I got designed. Be grateful (LOL). 

Taped to it, there was a pearlescent pick, red and black with white lettering. Ranmaru took it off, careful not to tear the paper, and ran his fingers over it. It wasn’t even close to the type he’d tolerate using if he wasn’t going to finger-pluck his bass. 

He clasped it in his hand, pausing for a moment, before he let out a ‘hmph,’ equal parts amused, relieved, and a little bit giddy. 

--------- 

“...Ranmaru,” Ai said, looking at him with those big saucer eyes. Sometimes Ranmaru felt like the guy never blinked, which made his curious once-overs scarier than he’d ever admit to. 

“What,” he growled back. 

“...according to every piece of data I know about you…” he started. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Nothing would point to you being the cell phone charm type.” 

“So?!” he barked, frowning at Ai as he self-consciously stuffed his phone into his pocket. It buzzed from a message notification, as if on disastrous cue, making a plasticy noise as it rattled against the charm. “What’s your data know about the real heart of people, anyway,” he continued, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. 

“It hasn’t been wrong about anything yet.” Ai tilted his head. “Why do you have a charm all of a sudden?” 

Because I saw she uses one of mine, Ranmaru answered frantically in his head, thinking back to the video chat they’d had where she showed it off. His hand was in his pocket, muffling his phone buzzing as more messages came in. He ran his fingers over the smooth pick, the subtle grooves where the letters were, the jagged hole he’d poked into it, the string that ran through it and knotted into a hole on his case.  Because she told me about how much she liked it, so I wanted to return the favor. 

“Why is this so goddamn important to you, Ai?” Ranmaru bristled. “Can’t we just get on with work already?” 

Ai stared at him a moment longer before shrugging slightly. “I’m simply curious. What would motivate you to act against your usual protocol seems interesting. But if you won’t tell me, I suppose there’s no use prying, especially when we have work to be done.” 

Ranmaru grunted back, leaning back to the table and looking over the notes. “We’re decided on what we wanna do for our duet, but we still have to decide on a direction for our solo songs on the album. Something that makes each of us stand out but doesn’t ruin the cohesiveness of the whole thing.” 

“You should do something slow,” Ai said, after a moment of thought. 

“Why should I?” Ai should know by now Ranmaru wasn’t about that sort of sound, especially when Ai already had the sad lullabies more than mastered. “Nothing about that’s very rock or wild. It won’t work with my image. Or do whatever that “gap” shit is that people like…” 

“Really?” Ai looked at him again. “Ballads are an intrinsic part of rock music, and wouldn’t it be ideal for communicating feelings that aren’t as energetic as your usual work?” 

“You should’ve just said power ballad in the first place,” Ranmaru grunted, but he had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “It’d work better with your usual style. And the duet, from how it’s going so far.” The biggest problem Ranmaru could think of was he couldn’t imagine what on earth he’d want to sing about in one. 

“Then it’s decided,” Ai said decisively. 

“...Oi, Ai, when did I say I agreed to this?” The kind of thing he’d rather shape into a ballad instead of his usual, urging style was a complete mystery, which Ranmaru didn’t like the idea of committing to in a partner project and on a deadline, even if it was months away. But like hell he’d admit that to someone else in Quartet Night, much less Ai, who’d just give him “logical” suggestions Ranmaru already knew he’d hate.  

“Was your reasoning not enough?” Ai tilted his head. Ranmaru met his eye. Something about the curiosity on that blank face felt less pointlessly prying this time. Now it was more like someone who just wanted to see something new. 

Ranmaru couldn’t fault him for that. And he was due to challenge himself in this way, anyways. 

“....Fine. Whatever. That means you can’t do your usual sentimental stuff. You should do something that’ll lift everyone up after the heaviness of the other songs.” 

“That sounds logical,” Ai replied. His eyes moved to Ranmaru’s pocket as it buzzed once again, but quickly turned back as they brainstormed ideas. 

-------- 

He wiped his eyes as he leaned back from the computer, surprised by how quickly and unbidden they came. He hastily tore up a strip of paper and hung it over the camera built into the laptop -- he knew it wasn’t on. This wasn’t a video call. But the idea of someone seeing him like this felt surreal and, frankly, too scary to confront right now. 

They chatted a lot more, now. It’d been about half a year since they’d started talking outside of work. It wasn’t just occasionally sharing art and music with each other anymore, either, it was a big stew of ideas, inspiration. A lot of breaking down what they liked in all the albums they shared with one another, and how they wanted to integrate all that in their work. Her siphoning gear and singing tips off of him, while she broke down expressions and visual composition to a science to help him out with modelling. And amid all that, something easygoing. Complaining about work, about weird clients, about shitty train rides, but also the nice parts of their days, too. 

He’d gotten short with her today, and she got frustrated with him. They argued -- for the first time since they’d tossed aside client-and-professional for friends-and-colleagues -- and it turned out she was as passionate a spitfire as he, assuming she got in the right mood. 

And in the middle of all that furious typing, she paused. 

M: You know, it’s kind of relieving to argue with you like this. 

Ranmaru was so startled, he forgot the point he was making. 

R: what the hell are you talking about?

M: oh, come on, we both know I’ve used diplomacy to handle your grouchiness before, and that worked fine enough then. But I just appreciate that I trust you enough to not take such a safe approach, for once, and the thing you’re most upset about is that I didn’t feel comfortable calling you out on your horseshit sooner.

Ranmaru didn’t have an answer for that as she typed on and off. He imagined if this were a verbal conversation, this would be the point where he’d just listen while she strung her thoughts together -- wordily, but getting to good enough of a point that it was worth letting her meander. 

Instead, she cut right to a point he wasn’t expecting. 

M: hey, I’m not taking back anything I said, but I probably should’ve asked sooner. Are you doing OK? You always get stuck in asshole mode for a reason. I don’t have classes to teach today, so you can bend my ear if you need to. even on voice chat, if you like, japanese or english. 

An uncomfortable wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t told her about it, but things were the kind of stressful that pushed his stoic approach to its limits. Too many deadlines at work. Too many people there talking, too few saying anything he gave a damn about. Money was tight this month -- the debt collectors suddenly hiked up what he owed, and they’d banged down his door to “tell” him that. And another shitty argument with Camus, after he “freed” all his bananas for some ridiculous flambe parfait he just had to have for lunch on a day when Ranmaru couldn’t afford any. 

This was just how things were. Why was he upset about it now? He was beyond cursing how things had turned out for him. Making useless wishes when there wasn’t anything to do but work and survive until he didn’t have anything to lament. 

M: alright that’s a suspiciously long amount of time between messages for you when you’re riled up. are you OK? It’s fine if you’re not, and it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, but i’m here if you want. If something’s really eating at you, that’s more important than me being mad. (for now, anyway)

It felt surreal as he leaned back to the computer and felt his fingers find the keys as he started finding the right words. 

R: it’s not a light subject R: and it’s not on you to deal with it M: LOL bro c’mon. M: I eat heavy for breakfast, and I said I’m here for you. M: lay it on me

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve. It’d been long enough since he’d cried that he didn’t even think about how it’d smudge his makeup and stain his clothes, but he didn’t especially care as he started to explain himself, the words coming out hesitantly until they coalesced into a small cascade of short, tight sentences, heavy with years of restrained sorrow he’d ignored so aggressively until now. 

--------- 

Recording Haruhana went well. Ranmaru expected it to, somewhat. Ai’s cold problem-solving could be annoying, but they never got in the way of the heart of his vocals. Their voices blended into an interesting harmony, and the acoustic guitar bridged their styles into a bittersweet sound they slipped into easily enough that recording sessions went uneventfully. 

“It does not surprise me, but.“ Ranmaru couldn’t bring himself to outright glower at Ai as they stopped recording and stepped away from the mics. “You’re very good at conjuring a strong, wistful image with your voice.” 

“Then why do you look surprised…” he grunted back, loosening and lowering the mic for whoever had it next. “...You do it well, too, but we already knew that.” 

“The heart of things you’re so obsessed with,” he said plainly. “It wouldn’t do if we couldn’t bring truth to the emotions we write about.” 

Ranmaru hadn’t given much thought to why Ai’s songs were so lamenting and sad, for the most part. He’d acknowledged they were genuine, had a tone color that suited him right, and made the fans happy. Truthfully, he’d only thought of those songs in the context of work -- Ai was a rival and a colleague he respected enough to sing with and not want to lose to, so he’d only looked at his songs from that standpoint, too. But Ranmaru realized better, now, just how good Ai was at sharing sadness that wasn’t so heavy it dragged people down with it. Wistfulness that grasped forward towards something, like a greater understanding. 

“How’s the ballad going?” 

Ranmaru clicked his tongue. “How’s your synthpop bubblegum bullshit going?” he shot back. 

“Well,” Ai replied, unfazed. “I have the chord progressions and kits mapped out.” 

“Good for you, then,” he grunted back. Great. So Ai was making good progress while Ranmaru hadn’t made any. 

“Are you struggling?” 

“Isn’t that the point of a ballad?!” Hopefully Ai couldn’t argue with that and would leave him alone from there.  

“Shouldn’t you defer to a composer or lyricist if you’re stuck?” 

Ranmaru glared at Ai. “If it’s a ballad, I should write it myself, not leave it to someone who’s just gonna put words and music I don’t mean into my mouth.” 

“Past data suggests you won’t back down about this,” Ai said smoothly, stacking the notes and papers they’d brought into the studio neatly. “I suppose I should wish you luck, in that case, and remind you this is my album, too, and it’s the fans who are most important.” 

“I know that,” Ranmaru spat, long done fussing with the mic. 

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

R: you hate ballads, right  M: I sure do! :D  R: why  M: too slow for my tastes, sentimentality done like that isn’t my thing, don’t always feel genuine, you know   R: that’s literally every problem i have with the big project at work right now M: oh no you have to make a ballad?? Like….poppy enough for shining agency and all that? Oh boy.... R: what’s your advice to making a ballad you don’t hate, then  M: HMMMMMMMMMMMMM M: pass a kidney stone  M: WAIT RANDY COME BACK I’LL HELP FOR REAL  R: If you want to help why are you calling me randy?!  M: suffering is the root of all good ballads. I’m helping   R: can you at least remind me what the one ballad you like is  M: oh, turn on your light  M: judas priest M: it’s always judas priest  R: so why don’t you hate it R: other than it’s judas priest  M: oh, nothing big  M: my first gf just made me a mixtape and confessed with it is all M: and that was my entry point into western metal  M: sealing my fate forever as a queer metalhead and thereby forming the foundation of all my aesthetic, social, musical, and auditory sensibilities forevermore M: and some other stuff  R: oh is that all   “We are about to arrive at ____ station, please make your way to the doors if your stop is ____ station....” 

R: what’s the other stuff M: oh dw about it  M: it’s, you know, the stuff everyone brings to listening. the mushy baggage that lets ‘em connect with strangers. you know how it is

The train arrived right after that message went through, and he had to put his phone away over questioning her further. Recently, he’d felt more irritated with himself than usual. He knew he got this way when he felt he owed someone and hadn’t done his part to even the score. 

He was kind of in the same camp as she when it came to slow songs. Rock was about energy, passion, an urging sense of power, and even if he could understand why those slower songs were important, it didn’t mean they had to always resonate with him. He thought about their exchange. She dropped art into their chats a lot because, as she insisted, it helped having a musician look at her work, instead of another illustrator. And he liked her perspective for the same reason -- more personal than a fan, but more refreshing than everyone else at the agency. 

Really, it sounded like what made the ballad feel genuine was the context she could apply. It wasn’t just a song, but a personal gesture that singled her out from the millions of other people who’d hear the song and imagine it was for them. 

Ranmaru frowned as he exited the train station. The solution to his ballad problem was simple, so obvious he felt stupid for overlooking it. If he expected people to connect to his music, he had to give people something to connect to. All he had to do was what he always did -- just go for what his heart told him to. No frills, no fancy trimmings, just something he wanted to honestly express. 

He strung basslines in his head as he walked to his apartment. Let the music-making guide him, instead of demanding it follow rigid instructions. As he pushed the key into the lock, he caught the faint stain of his eyeliner on his sleeve. 

Don’t look at me … while I dry my eyes....

His stomach lurched a little, but moreso he felt his body surge with the truth of the song he wanted to write. The same rush of a surging venue, somehow, but with the kind of wistfulness and earnest desire he appreciated in Ai’s work more now. 

Tama had started to squeeze through the little crack in the door, investigating why Ranmaru had just stood there like an idiot for so long. 

“...c’mon, you little dope,” Ranmaru said softly, surprised how breathy he needed to keep his voice to get past the tightness in his chest. He squatted down, scooped the soft little creature up, and walked straight to his workspace. He did the once-over his apartment he’d gotten in recent habit of, seeing if anything had been seized by the collectors while he was gone, before depositing Tama on a cat tree where Mike was sitting. He hummed a melody that was quickly taking shape, his hands barely keeping up as he grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawling notes as fast as his hands would let him. 

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

Reiji looked up at Ranmaru in disbelief. Ranmaru scowled back. 

“If you don’t want it,” he growled, reaching for the box he’d put in front of Reiji. “I’ll fucking take it back.” 

“No! No no no, Ranran, I’m so grateful!” Reiji exclaimed, scrambling to slide it out of Ranmaru’s reach. 

“Humph! If I didn’t know of your peasant tastes,” Camus started from across the table. “I’d just tell you you’re better off skipping this slop.” 

“Oi!” Ranmaru pointed a spoon threateningly at Camus. “You don’t have to eat, asshole! You still owe me for ruining my bananas, and as far as I’m concerned this just means you owe me another meal!” 

“You think your pauper’s tongue deserves the fineries I’d select, I see,” Camus said challengingly, tilting his head and crossing his legs. Ranmaru was a hair trigger away from just throwing the box with Camus’s portion right at him. Maybe it’d ruin that stupid suit and he’d learn to shut up. 

“He-heeeey, Ranran, everything smells super good….I’m so excited to dig right in, but are those sauces I see?” Reiji interrupted. Ranmaru clenched his fist around the spoon as he turned his glower towards him.

He slammed the spoon down in front of Reiji. “Which sauce do you want, the spicy chili one or ketchup,” he managed through gritted teeth. 

“O- ohhh, wow! So gourmet! We have options!” Reiji cheered, in that singsongy way he did when he was trying to smooth over disasters. “Ranran, I knew you could cook, but I never knew you were so talented! I wonder what’s in ---” Ranmaru was losing his patience, and he grabbed the bottle of homemade chili sauce, hovering it above Reiji’s portion. The bottle sputtered as the air escaped, and Ranmaru’s grip threatened to explode the whole thing right then and there. “ -- I’ll have just a little bit of the spicy one, haha…” 

Ranmaru held his gaze a moment more before he focused back on the food, squeezing a reasonable amount onto Reiji’s portion. He opened the box with Camus’s, already dressed with a mountain of sweet chili sauce, stabbed the spoon into it, and slid it over. 

“Is this omurice?” Ai asked. Ranmaru handed him his own box.

“Is the rice in the omelet?” he grunted. “It’s just a stuffed omelet you eat with rice.” 

“Mm-mm! So good! I’ve never had spices quite like these! Is this a secret specialty dish you’ve been hoarding to yourself?” 

Ranmaru, at this point, just wanted to sit down and eat. “No,” he grumbled, hoping they’d get the picture. 

“I can’t recognize this preparation against any recipe I know of. Did you make it up yourself?” 

“It’s one from a friend, alright? She sent me a bunch of chilis and herbs and I had to make something to use them all up. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to eat it. Stop asking questions and let me eat!” 

They ate quietly for a while, much to Ranmaru’s relief. Camus, of all people, was the one to end the silence. 

“Kurosaki,” he said, taking an odd tone for a conversation with Ranmaru. “....You will share the recipe for this sauce immediately,” he said, an odd hush to his voice. 

“And what if I don’t,” Ranmaru sneered back, feeling just a little smug. “You gonna pass out from a sugar crash and finally give me some peace?” 

Before Camus finished his reply, Ranmaru took a bottle from his bag and tossed it at Camus, who disappointingly kept his composure through the surprise. “Maybe you’ll learn to eat some meat, now that you’ve got a way to slather it in sugar.” 

The rest of Quartet Night all stopped again in surprise, the same way they did when Ranmaru said he’d made them all lunch for today. Their eyes burned on Ranmaru as he went back to his meal, and he tried very, very hard to not let it bother him. 

“...Ranran, you’ve been acting different lately. Did you--” 

“No,” he growled. “Whatever you think it is, no.” 

****************************** 

M: oh dang M: wow dude M: i really don’t know what to say 

Ranmaru stared at his phone in the dark, waiting as feedback from the other side of the world came in. 

M: you fucking nailed it. I don’t know how you did it, like a week ago this wasn’t anything. M: now it’s a whole new side of you i don’t think your discography’s shown off yet  M: the fans are gonna go apeshit 

The rest of the song came to him in the kind of exciting, passionate fervor where his hands couldn’t keep up with the ideas. The melody followed the bassline very naturally, peppered in by flashes of lyrics that slowly built and reorganized themselves. And from there, more instrumentation became evident. What he had now was just enough to make the soul of the song clear, finished late tonight in the studio. 

Already his head was filled with what more he could add, but they blended into blur of ideas he was too tired to separate. 

M: can I confess something? I mean, i don’t know why I’m asking, you’re probably already asleep  M: what you have here already made me cry a little bit  M: i don’t know what you did, but you made a ballad that works so well. It really feels personal and so full of the soul everyone loves you for, but there’s something really sad and kind in there that makes my heart squeeze.  M: and that’s even in the lyrics! (what i can understand of them, anyway haha) but you know how saccharine I find ballad lyrics most of the time!!!   M: then again, it is you. I don’t think there’s anything you could ever make that would feel disingenuous lmao  M: is it too late to ask if i can illustrate this album too....would Ai and the agency let me do that…. M: i can draw something that’s soft and rock as shit!!!!  M: anyways M: you’re probably dead asleep but just know this: good work, dude.  M: it really felt like you were saying something very heartfelt, even in this rough cut, and i think how personal that voice is is gonna make everyone feel such a feeling.  M: it sure made me feel one!

He locked his phone, tearing himself away from the slow stream of messages coming in. He laid on his back, phone facedown in the blanket, as he stared up into the dark swallowing the room back up again. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning to get back into the studio. 

The lyrics weren’t complete yet. He wasn’t the poetic type, so it’s not as if he’d let himself overthink his words and lose their heart in too many revisions, but there were still blanks. The phrase that’d pull it all together, the words that summarized the message of the song, they still weren’t there, but he could feel himself getting closer. 

It was about paying an unspoken debt, and it was about shame, but above all, it was about pride. In himself, for letting himself reach this point, and in someone else. That was the sort of connection he could sing himself to tears with, whether on the stage, the studio, or the clean, edited album, and for that, he was proud. 

[sweetiepie08]

Rebelz Chapter 5

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

(thought I posted this a month ago, but either I forgot or it got eaten by the tumblr void.)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Jerry had just smashed Tom’s foot with a hammer when Dib realized he was watching the robot’s cartoons more than he was watching the house. He’d been staring at these screens all day. Tak hadn't shown up at all. Zim did turn up for a few minutes, but that was hours ago and he hadn't come back since. There were no fights, no screams, no explosions, or at least not that Dib could see. The only noteworthy thing that happened was Zim choking on a soda. Was there really nothing going on?

His eyes drifted to the clock. 6:30 already? He'd just wasted most of his day watching old cartoons through a security feed. His stomach rumbled reminding him he hadn't eaten since noon.

Dib looked back at his monitors. Tom chased Jerry around the room. Jerry ducked into his mousehole and Tom rammed his face into the wall. The robot laughed. Dib’s stomach rumbled again. The idea of a break started to sound appealing.

“Hey Gaz,” he called hitting the record button, “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she called back.

“You want to order a pizza?” He slid off his chair and started out of the room. “I was thinking we could have dinner while we watched that documentary.”

He headed downstairs and found Gaz in the kitchen. She already had the phone in one hand in the Pizza Factory menu in the other. “I'm thinking Peppers and onions,” she said, not dialing the phone.

“How about sausage?

Her face twisted in disgust. “No pork.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he conceded. That shadow hog thing still weighed on his conscience. “Cheddar cheese? Oh, and get garlic bread.”

Gaz nodded and put the phone to her ear.

Dib smiled. It actually felt good to be out of that room. This break would be good for him. He’d get some food in his stomach and watch something he’d been waiting to see. Then he could get back to surveying the base later. Besides, with the camera recording, he wouldn’t miss a thing, if anything even happened.  After all, he got nothing all day. What could he miss in a few hours?

[-]

Gir laughed every time the cat on TV let out that loud yelp. He liked the yelling. It reminded him of someone. And it was funny.

As he laughed, another robot walked into the room. Gir looked over. A new friend? Maybe. Did master build it? Nah, he would have said something. Wait, he remembered this thing. This was Tak’s robot. What was it doing here? Oh yeah, they friends now. She gave him a present. They must be over to play.

“Want some nachos?” Gir asked.

Tak’s robot lifted its head and looked curiously at the nachos. What was wrong? Maybe it didn't know what nachos were for.

“You do it like this,” he said stuffing a handful in his mouth.

Tak’s robot just stood there. It still didn't get it. “Here, let me help.” Gir got off the couch, walked over to the other robot, and smushed a handful of nachos in its face.

Tak’s robot wiped the nachos away and shook off the remaining cheese. It’s eyes narrowed and glowed red. Oh it looked mad. Maybe it would start yelling at him. But it didn’t.

Oh wait! He got it now! “Hey, you don't gots no mouth,” Gir said, leaning real close to get a good look at the robot’s face. “That's not right. You need a mouth for nachos.”

This was a problem. If it was going to be his friend, it needed a mouth for snacks. “Oh, I know!” Gir screamed. He ran for the trash can/elevator. He'd seen master go down this way earlier. Master could build a mouth. “This way! This way!” He dove head first down the elevator shaft and Tak’s robot followed him.

[-]

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not! It's not!” Tak shouted. The can in her hand spilled gignzor on the ground as she gestured wildly. “You cannot tell me! You cannot tell me Foodcourtia is worse than Dirt!”

“It is! It definitely is!” Zim yelled back, punctuating each sentence by slapping the computer control panel.

“It's definitely not!” She slapped the control panel as well. “Dirt is a garbage planet made out of garbage! Everywhere you go, it's garbage! Everywhere you look, it's garbage! You close your eyes and, still, all you can see is garbage!”

“But there's no customers! Zim countered, flinging his empty can across the room. “No one screaming at you all day! No one yelling because their order is late, or cold, or they got the wrong thing! No one saying they want blogrings on the side, but they won't tell you on the side of what. But when you guess, they start yelling! And you're trying every side you can think of, but nothing works! And sometimes they still haunt your thoughts late at night!” He grabbed Tak’s shoulders and shook her. “What side did he want, Tak? What side did he want?!” He kept shaking until she slapped him away.

The sound of a “Whee-hoo” came from the ceiling. It got progressively louder until Gir splat-landed face-first on the floor. Tak’s Sir unit slinked gracefully down and landed beside him.

Gir sprang to his feet. “My friend needs a nacho hole,” he said pointing at the other robot.

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “Get away from that pile of junk.” The SIR unit nodded and slink to her side.

“Hey!” Zim pointed an accusing finger at her. “You don't get to call my Gir junk!”

“Yeah!” Gir screamed.

Tak smirked. “I built Mimi myself out of spare parts and she’s still more advanced than the standard SIR units issued to the invaders.”

“Well I got a mouth!” Gir shot back.

“Yeah!” Zim shouted. “Hey wait, does your SIR unit talk?”

“No,” Tak sighed. “I couldn't find a functioning vocal chip on Dirt.”

Suddenly, Zim’s computer made an alert sound. “Sir,” computer said, “there is an incoming transmission from the Massive.”

Zim's hands flew to his head. “Oh no, the Tallest can't see me drunk.”

“The Tallest can't see me at all,” Tak added.

“Well, get out of frame, then.”

Tak scooped up Mimi and they ducked under the control panel. Zim tried shaking a bit of his drunkenness off. It didn’t seem to do much, but he answered the call anyway. An Irken in a navigator’s uniform appeared on the screen.

“Um, Invader Zim?” the navigator said, putting a strange emphasis on Zim’s title.

“Yeah,” Heh, he said ‘invader’ funny… Wait a second. “Hey, you're not The Tallest. What is this?”

“The Tallest are very busy at the moment,” the navigator replied. “A traitor has been identified.”

“Traitor? Pfft…” Zim waved his hand. “I don't know anything about a traitor, definitely not one with any conspiracies.” I am nailing this nonchalant performance.

“Uh, you wouldn't.” The navigator said, raising an eyelid. “A notice went out to all Irkens on planet or in the Armada. I've been tasked with informing all those out-of-range to be on the lookout for her.” He paused. “What was that about a conspiracy?”

“Nothing. I said I didn't know anything about a conspiracy, remember?” Totally nailing it.

“Yeah, but why would you bring it up in the first place?”

Shoot. He was asking too many questions. Better get rid of him. “Yes, yes. Anyway, I got your message,” Zim dismissed, reaching to cut off the transmission. “I'll be sure to look out for Tak. Now you can move on to-”

“Wait, I never said the traitor's name.”

His hand froze. Fuck “Uh, yes you did.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn't!” The navigator shouted impatiently. “And I can playback this conversation to prove it.”

Zim started to sweat as he contemplated his next move. Before he could say anything, however, Gir dove under the control panel.

“Found you!” Gir squealed.

“What was that?” The navigator asked.

“My SIR unit,” Zim answered. “He lost his… uh… contact lenses!”

“SIR units don't wear contact lenses.”

“Your turn to hide.” Gir said. Zim could hear a scuffle going on.

“No, stop.” Tak whisper-shouted. “Stop pushing me, you metallic hunk of-” Tak flew out from under the control panel and landed on the floor with an “omf.”

No, no, no, no, no! Zim slapped a big fake grin on his face. “As I was saying, I'll be on the lookout for that traitor and I’ll get back to you if I see her. Bye!” Zim cut the transmission and the screen went black. He let out a long breath. “I don't think they suspect a thing.”

Tak got up and brushed herself off. She glared daggers at him and snarled, a retort forming on her lips. Before she could speak, the entire base shook violently, knocking them off their feet.

“What's happening?” Zim struggled to stand up, but another shake sent him back to the floor. The base continued to rumble and, with each new quake, the room shrank in size, along with the tech in it.

“You idiot!” Tak shouted, managing to pull herself up. “It's cubification!”

Zim blinked. “Uhh…”

She scowled and rolled her eyes.” When The Tallest believe an invasion has been compromised beyond salvation, the remotely cubify the base, destroying all evidence and crushing any organic matter left inside.”

“I knew that.” Zim jumped to his feet. “Why are you explaining things I already know?”

“You moron, were going to be squashed!” Tak screamed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “And I refuse to let my cells mix with yours!” She threw him down and called, “Mimi!”

Tak’s loyal SIR unit slid up to her side. Mimi saluted, wrapped her arms around Tak, and flew them both up the elevator shaft.

“Gir!” Zim commanded. “Get us out of here!”

Gir bounced up. His eyes flashed red as he gave a salute. He then ignited the propulsion jets in his feet, flung Zim onto his back, and rocketed them up the elevator shaft.

As they flew to the house level, the walls around them closed in at a steadily rapid rate. It became a tight squeeze toward the top. Zim’s waist became stuck in the trash can lid for a moment before he managed to wiggle out.

By the time he made it to the living room, the ceiling was only a few feet overhead. Tak pulled at the doorknob with all her weight, but it wouldn't budge. She let out a cry of frustration and her laser cutters unfurled from her PAK. The lasers on all four tips joined into one large square of energy which blasted a hole in the wall. However, that hole shrunk just as quickly as the rest of the house.

Tak dove through and MiMi followed. Zim looked around for his service unit who was busy giggling and bouncing off of the encroaching walls. “Gir, quickly!” he commanded, pointing to the hole. Gir launched himself through, squealing. Zim followed after, feeling the ceiling brush the tip of his antenna on his way out.

He landed on his hands and knees on the lawn. Once he gathered himself, he turned to watch as his beautiful base crushed itself into a cube about the size of an Urth child’s alphabet block.

Zim’s mouth hung open. “Six years on this miserable ball of filth,” he murmured, scooting up to the teal cube on his knees. “Now look at you.” He flopped face-first on the yard and made pitiful noises. Gir sat down next to him and patted him on the back.

“Get over it, Zim,” Tak grumbled, activating her human disguise. “At least you still have a ship. Mine’s crushed in there with everything else.”

“Everything?” Zim snapped up. “Wait, where’s Minimoose?”

“NYAH,” Minimoose squeaked as he floated into Zim’s line of vision.”

Zim jumped up and threw his arms around his creation. “Yeah! Minimoose! I knew I shouldn't have to worry about you.”

“Quit hugging the moose, Zim,” Tak snapped. “In case you haven't noticed, we have a real problem here. We're stuck on this dirtball with no shelter, no resources, nowhere to go, and we're out of gingzor.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Zim retorted, stomping up to his ship. He reached in, pulled out a spare dog suit, and flung it out Gir. He then began applying his human disguise and he continued. “My base would be fine right now if they didn't catch you hiding out in there.”

“Well they wouldn't have caught me if you could control your sorry excuse for a SIR unit,” Tak shot back.

“Hey!” Zim jumped down from his ship. “Gir is a specialized unit! Operating him takes a deft hand. Simply shouting out commands won't do.”

“why? because then he'd work properly?” Tak smirked.

Zim let out an exaggerated gasp. “How dare?! I just lied my butt off for you and you repay me by insulting my Gir?”

“Oh yes,” she scoffed, “thank you so much for blurting out my name before they even told you who the traitor was. You are a true master of deception.”

Zim put on a smug, mocking grin. “You're welcome.”

Tak growled and kicked nearby rock into the street. After letting out an huff, she turned back to him. “Well, you've been on this planet longer than any other advanced species. Where is a good place to lay low?”

Zim thought about this as he picked up the teal cube and turned it around in his hands. His base wasn't completely destroyed. Everything shrunk as it was being cubified. Perhaps it was all still in there. If he could reverse the effect… “It'll have to be a place with access to a lab. With the proper tools, I could possibly find a way to get my base up and running again.”

“Oh! I know! I know!” Gir squealed, jumping on Zim’s back.

“No, Gir. We're not doing that.”

“But… but…”

“No, Gir,” Zim said again, crossing his arms. “I won't allow my pride to sink that low.”

“But we've done it before,” Gir pointed out.

“Hmm? What's he talking about?” Tak asked sternly.

“Doesn't matter.” Zim answered, waving a dismissive hand at her. “It's not an option.”

“Yes it is,” Gir argued.

“Zim…” Tak growled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to her eye level. “Where is it?”

[-]

Gaz flipped open the pizza box and steam rose off the hot, fresh cheese. Dib reached into the takeout bag. The garlic bread was still hot, too. He bit into a slice, enjoying the warm, steamy goodness and hoping the documentary wouldn't bring up any cow disembowelment's while he was eating.

This was shaping up to be a pretty good evening. Good documentary, good food, and he and his sister were just chilling together. There were no fights, no aliens (except the ones in the documentary, of course), no plans for world domination, no nothing. Just pizza, sibling bonding, and the dulcet tones of the narrator explaining bizarre happenings in Utah.

Gaz was right. He needed to take breaks more often. In fact, he was pretty content to spend the rest of the night relaxing. He could do without dealing with Irken nonsense for one night.

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Photoshoot

(CW: slavery, brainwashing, dehumanization, creepy+intimate whumper)

Tag list:  @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook

Masterlist

“Hello, ma’am?”

Ren was blithely ignoring Soren’s second week of lyric dancing, their laptop out in front of them and a mug of cider steaming softly nearby. Soren was sweaty and panting hard on the other side of the glass, the sole student of this particular dance instructor, and thus, the recipient of her undivided attention. 

Across from them, a man in a suit was sitting down. The table was built for one. 

“Hello, ma’am!” he tried again, and again Ren did not lift their eyes from their computer screen. But they supposed he wouldn’t leave if they only ignored him. 

“Not a ma’am,” they said blandly. 

“Ah, hello sir?”

“Not a sir,” they said with a sip from their mug, eyes still on their laptop.

“Valued customer!” the man said brightly. They lifted their eyes and paused their music, but their headphones remained in. “I am a representative of Whumpee’s-R-Us’s marketing team, Jon Dillan!” he said brightly, extending his hand over the top of Ren’s laptop. Ren shook the outstretched hand, then immediately pulled out their bottle of travel hand sanitizer and did not care that he could see them squirt out a bit and coat their hands. They knew the statistics about men and public bathrooms. Filthy things, men’s hands.

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure,” Ren said flatly, still not sure why their Monday evening was being interrupted, but curious enough to scrounge up some manners. After all, if this man proved valuable, they could definitely use him.

“We here at Whumpee’s-R-Us are releasing a new advertising campaign, encouraging the destitute and desperate to exchange their lives for comfort and splendor, and perhaps sparking a little good-natured competition among valued customers like yourself to buy our more lavish products,” Jon said with a wink that might have been sly and conspiratory if he weren’t holding himself so stiffly. Ren did have to give him points for his facial expressions, though, if only his spine weren’t… like that.

“I see,” Ren prompted, removing one earbud. Jon did not miss it, and took the cue as Ren had intended it.

“We’ve noticed that your pet is very well cared for, as well as quite attractive, in a perfectly objective sense,” Jon rushed on the last part, holding up a hand in easy submission. Ren’s possessive flare of emotion sputtered in their chest, unshown and largely unfelt. Yes, Soren was attractive, and yes, Ren did like flaunting that fact, and they appreciated that the man quelled their other concerns so they could simply enjoy showing off their lovely, lovely boy. “Would you have any interest in allowing us to feature him in our campaign?”

“That depends,” Ren said, removing their other earbud. “What would featuring him entail?”

“Largely just photographs, ideally within your home so as to illustrate the lavish life available to those who sign up for the program. A brief interview would be conducted, mostly just to mine for quotable material, and you will, of course, be compensated for the use of your pet. A standardized rate is, quite naturally, more than available to you, however, we also noticed that you bring your box boy here frequently for classes, and my supervisor has approved offering you unlimited free classes for all and any of your Whumpee’s-R-Us brand pets, present and future, should you so desire it.”

Ren tapped their index fingers in front of their chin, the rest of their fingers steepled, and then asked, “Would you be negotiable towards adding harpist courses, if I choose the second arrangement?” Soren had dance on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, so, “On Sundays, specifically.” Their angel playing a harp on Sunday. Perfect.

“I can certainly look into it!” Jon said amicably, and Ren shut their laptop, lacing their fingers and resting their chin on the backs, staring vacantly at Soren. The lyric dance instructor had taken two warnings not to touch property that wasn’t hers, but had remained hands-off since. 

Ren weighed the pros and cons. They liked showing off; a lot. They liked the idea of other people knowing that Soren was theirs, that he was their precious, beautiful pet. They liked the idea of free classes, and since emailing the company hadn’t worked, strong-arming them into adding harp lessons was just as well, as long as Ren’s goal was accomplished in the end. Their home would be the setting, secure, their domain. There was nothing that came immediately to mind in way of downsides.

“Draft up a contract and email it to me; I’d prefer to look over it before forwarding it to my lawyer,” Ren said, digging out a business card and handing it to Jon. “In the contract, ensure that there is a statute that all photographers, interviewers, and assorted Whumpee’s-R-Us staff will not touch the pet in question, and that they will remove their shoes and any coats or jackets in the entryway or foyer.” They didn’t want dirt and germs getting tracked all over their carpets. 

Jon seemed a little taken aback by the second point, though perfectly expectant of the first.

“If harp lessons can be provided, I would prefer the option of free classes. If not, I am negotiable on the fee, but will largely be leaving that to the discretion of my lawyer.” Well, their mama’s lawyer, but she’d been their lawyer for as long as they’d needed one, so she could certainly be counted as theirs.

“Marvelous,” Jon said with a bright smile, and extended his hand again, before thinking the better of it.

“Agreed,” Ren said, lifting their mug with a tilt of their head, and then took a sip. They’d spent enough time contemplating the offer that the class was now over, Soren coming into the viewing area on shaking legs and sinking to his knees at Ren’s feet. On reflex, they carded their fingers through his (damp, sweaty) hair. 

“Well, I’d better get on that then. I’ll send you the contract as soon as it’s drafted, and it was a pleasure speaking with you…” Jon glanced at the business card. “Ren.”

“Likewise. I look forward to our arrangement.”

Soren glanced up at Jon’s retreating back, then turned his big, doe-eyes on Ren. “Exalted?”

Ren smiled down at him. “You just might be a model, Soren,” Ren said, “In all likelihood, you will be. Whumpee’s-R-Us need pretty little Box Boys in their new homes for a campaign they’re running, and you’re terribly pretty, and I have a very lovely home. They’re going to come take your picture and ask you a couple questions, sometime sooner or later.”

Soren’s hand lifted to his collar, gripping it gently, and Ren smiled at the sight. “And, you’ll be there?”

“The whole time, angel,” Ren said. Like they’d ever allow strangers to wander about their home unsupervised, and like they’d ever leave Soren alone with any of them.

Soren smiled up with relief, with devotion, and Ren kissed their sweaty hairline. “Come, pet, let’s get you home and in the shower.”

“Yes, Ren,” Soren said with a contented sigh.

The next evening, Ren received an email containing the contract, which they read over. They did have a degree in law, a minor, but still, so they largely understood it and approved of its contents, but forwarded it to their lawyer anyway to double check. She had one suggested revision, which Ren took, and the Whumpee’s-R-Us legal department accepted it without fuss. Wednesday, Soren had ballet classes, so it was Thursday that a modest crew appeared on Ren’s front doorstep.

“Welcome, please remove your shoes,” they greeted, holding the door open. They’d taken great pleasure in dressing Soren up just so, that day, and he struck a particularly beautiful figure, hanging nervously behind Ren. His hair was long again, long enough that Ren wasn’t going to buy any more of the specialized products for growth, now focusing on maintenance and hair health, and the color was that perfect gold. All the time spent on the balcony had left his skin honeyed and deeply freckled once more. He was wearing fluttering white and off-white clothing, the sleeves rippling bells around his wrists, the pants loose with a skirt cape trailing the carpet behind him. And all over him was gold, golden jewelry, golden makeup, gold nails, a gold belt.

They snapped a couple photos of Soren in the living room, perched in the kitchen, but Ren suspected those were just warm up shots. Soren’s room was obviously the location for the photos, more to the point, and better suited to Soren’s appearance. They took many photos in Soren’s bedroom, some of him settled on the settee, some with him snuggled comfortably, though lavishly, on his overly plush bed, the cushions and the duvet half-hiding his face, golden hair giving him a curtain that added intrigue. The balcony shots were particularly appealing, the wind was really working with them that day, and when a particularly strong gust blew a lock of hair into Soren’s face and he instinctively reached up to push it back, the camera shutter sounded like a quiet machine gun, it was going off so fast. 

He was so candid, so genuinely sweet and precious, so beautiful, the photographers hardly had to do more than vaguely direct him and they were provided with more material than they had likely anticipated.

“If we may interview the pet, now?” the woman in charge asked Ren, and they nodded their head with a sweep of their hand as though to say “go ahead.”

“And I will, naturally, be receiving every one of those photos, as per our arrangement,” Ren mentioned to the photographer, who was flipping through the camera, skimming through the selection. He gave them a good natured chuckle and a quick thumbs-up.

The interview really was just a mine for quotes, and Soren spent a large portion of it with his hand on his collar, smoothing his thumb over the plate that bore his name. Soren. The name that Ren had given him, the inscription proof that they owned every inch of him, from his body to his mind down to his very identity.

“Soren,” Ren called when they were done, “Heel.”

Soren was at their feet in and instant, pressed up against their leg, his body singing with relief. “Well done, darling.” Ren turned their eyes to the photographer. “One more?” Ren suggested, before squatting down, hand on the curve of Soren’s neck, and pressed a kiss to his temple. The camera shutter clicked.

“And yes, you may use that in your campaign if you want,” Ren said airily, standing back up. Soren looked up at them with an adoring smile, and followed after as Ren saw the crew out.

“Do you really think they’ll use me, Exalted?” Soren asked quietly after the door had closed, watching their cars and van turning on through the panel windows. 

Ren tweaked his nose between two fingers, jiggling his head a little. “Of course, darling, they’d be fools not to.”

Ren went to pour themself a drink, and then mentioned, off-handedly. “Oh, and you’re enrolled in harp classes on Sundays, now.”

Next

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Flashbabe; PG

happy Pride fellow gays here’s superhero Jonghyun going to Pride. He has light super powers it’s like Flashbang except he’s a babe

hey I wrote this last year and put it in the queue in like December so I definitely apologize that he's not 7000% more anti-pig lmao

One shirt is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, ���Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate.

“Hey boo—which one?”

Taemin looks up from his laptop, at Jonghyun walking in from the bedroom holding up two shirts. Taemin assumes that he's going to put them on over his superhero outfit, because otherwise he probably wouldn't already be wearing the stylish black and white and aqua accented suit. He never wears it at home unless he's planning to go out in it. His mask and shades are both tucked into the collar of his suit’s long sleeve shirt as well, which further leads to that conclusion. Taemin raises his eyebrows.

“You're going in the suit?” he asks. This whole time when Jonghyun was talking about going to Pride, Taemin thought he meant like, as a normal average mild-mannered citizen. Not as Flashbabe. Jonghyun nods, though, wiggling his booty in his comfy super suit skinny’s and flexing one arm to show off his beefy bicep.

“Yeah,” he says. “all of my little queers out there need to know that I'm fighting for them specifically.” he winks at the end of that sentence and Taemin rolls his eyes. That's true, he guesses, and also cute. Jonghyun holds up the shirts again, wiggling them insistently. “Which one?” he asks again.

This time Taemin actually looks them over. One is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, “Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate. Taemin nods in approval. Both are good, but. Hmm.

“You're going to be on the news when you go,” he says slowly. “They'll censor that fuck in the pictures.” He knows that they will. They'll probably even censor the whole shirt. Jonghyun frowns, looking at the shirt with disappointment.

“You're right,” he says sadly. He tosses in the shirt over the back of the couch, and then puts the other shirt on right there. “I can just say fuck cops out loud when I get there anyway,” he says, voice muffled as he struggles to get his head through it. When he pops his head out of the collar, his wide grin is lopsided and dazzling. “They can beep me out but everyone will still know what I said.” he says.

“Hell yeah,” Taemin grins. Jonghyun throws him a finger pistol as he fishes his mask and sunglasses out from his collar.

“Sure you don't want to come, boo?” he asks. His voice is a little hopeful but not so much that Taemin feels guilty for shaking his head. It's too loud and crowded and hot out there and he knows his feet will hurt after like twenty minutes. And Jonghyun knows this, because he nods back with an accepting little shrug.

“I was going to watch the livestream when BoA starts performing, though,” Taemin says, tapping the screen of his laptop. No fucking way would he miss that. Jonghyun nods again, looking at his mask as he fumbles with it and tries to figure out which way is the right way to put it on.

“When is that, like an hour?” he asks, pulling the mask over his head so it covers his hair down to his nose, still showing off his mouth and perfectly framing his lovely jaw. Even though his mask has custom sunglass lenses built into it, he also pulls out a neon aqua pair of regular sunglasses and crams those onto his face as well. When Taemin makes an affirming little noise he makes a clicky noise with his mouth and ticks up an okay symbol with both hands.

“I gotta go hit up Kibs soon, then,” he says, “so I can bug him to draw me pan stripes and gender-fluid stripes on my cheeks before she starts so I can get there on time. Fuck, and Minho has my glittery high heel boots also, they were going on about tinkering with their armor to make them like bouncier or something?” Taemin can't see his eyes roll, but he rolls his whole head so Taemin knows that he did it. “You know how it takes them forever to do anything,” he mutters. Taemin giggles. He does. Or, well, he knows that Jonghyun thinks that Minho takes forever. He also knows that Jonghyun has approximately three seconds of patience before he starts getting annoyed.

“Are you leaving now then?” he asks. He looks like he's ready. Jonghyun hums, fixes his shirt around his waist, rocks back on his heels and then forward onto his toes.

“One more thing I gotta do,” he smiles. He flounces to the couch that Taemin is laying on, bends over the back of it, leans close, and presses a gross, slobbery, wet smooch to his forehead. “Love you, boo,” he chirps. Taemin makes his most disgruntled noise and turns to wipe his head on the couch cushion. He also reaches up to hold Jonghyun’s hand for a few seconds fondly.

“Have fun, lovey,” he says, tacking on the nickname just to watch Jonghyun’s cheeks literally glow pink. He sees it for just a few seconds before Jonghyun hides his face in his hands and stands up, but it's enough.

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers. “Bye boo. I'll see you later.” And with that, he disassembles into a sparky ball of light, zapping into the lamp next to the couch, and then to the night light by the front door, and then outside into the closest street light, which Taemin assumes he's going to follow all the way up to Kibum’s apartment. He is incredibly certain that by the time he zaps himself unannounced into Key’s living room he'll be glowing pink all over.

The next time Taemin sees Jonghyun, it's when Flashbabe appears at Pride by zapping himself on top of a street lamp right over the stage float. He sits there, extremely visible in the livestream camera, faintly glowing through a cycle of soft rainbow colors and waving around at the crowd. He ignores all of the news reporters that catch wind of him and try to grab him for an interview, but when BoA, mid performance set, notices him and calls him to the stage, he zaps himself directly into one of the stage lights and drops down easily.

BoA hands him the mic and he gives a nice little speech about Pride and his identity and how he'll always do his best to protect his favorite little queers and wraps It up by zapping to sit on top of the stage float, pointing over at a group of cops on the sidelines, and saying, “Fuck y'all.”

Then he drops the mic down to BoA and teleports away, zipping from street lamp to street lamp, from float to float, to some of the marchers’ glow up accessories and outfits. Taemin just watches the concert . He doesn't have the energy to check all the news and the social media sites and whatever to keep himself updated on where exactly Jonghyun is right at every moment. He knows that his babe is out there having fun and supporting himself and protecting people. And he knows that Jonghyun will be back later to flop on top of him and give him just as much love and attention as he does everyone else.

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part Ten

So this is the last part! Thanks to everyone who has read, liked and reblogged this. I appreciate it!

2460 words

But thanks to @beardedniall​​ for helping me.

Catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186235732118/lost-without-you-masterlist

6 weeks later

Walking into your flat a week before Christmas felt strange. You dragged your two suitcases one by one up the stairs, and dumped them in the hallway. Removing your coat you realised how warm the flat felt, making your way to the kitchen you saw a note above the thermostat.

 "Put the heat and the hot water on for you, hope it was ok that I used the spare key. Put some bits in the fridge and cupboards for you too. Pop in for a coffee and a catch up when you're free. Audrey. X"

Oh love her. Audrey was too good to you. You felt an overwhelming urge to see Audrey and embrace her and her familiar smell. Remembering how it gave you a feeling of home. 

You weren't going back to your parents for another week so you had planned on last minute Christmas shopping and spending some time with Audrey, Jess and Hannah. There would be plenty of time to see your parents, your brother his wife and your nieces. Niall wouldn't be back until the 23rd which was still five days away.

When you opened the fridge you found butter, cheese, milk and some ready meals. The cupboard had bread, crumpets, some crisps and some snacks. You also found your fruit bowl full. You couldn't believe the trouble she had gone through for you. It also meant you could have a shower straight away rather than waiting for the water to heat up. Which is exactly what you needed.

Opening one of your suitcases you found some pjs and your toiletries. Stripping off your clothes you stepped in the hot shower washing away your day of packing and travelling. You dressed in your pjs and one of Niall's hoodies before heading to the kitchen and popping a meal in the microwave. 

With the meal on your lap and the tv talking to no one, you browsed through your social media whilst you ate. A FaceTime call from Niall interrupted your meal, and you smiled. Swiping to answer it, you saw his face come onto the screen.

"Hey beautiful." He said smiling. He was sitting on a navy blue sofa with a plain white wall behind him. You knew he was in Chicago for one of the Jingle Ball shows, so you assumed he was in a hotel room or dressing room.

 "Hey yourself." You replied, smiling at his cute christmassy jumper.

 "How was your trip back?" He asked.

 "It was ok, quick and easy flight. Not long been home, I've just showered and got ready for bed."

 "Glad to be home love?"

 "Yeah I am, feels weird actually!"

 "Nice hoodie by the way. Been looking for that for weeks!" He replied with a smirk.

 "I may have nicked it from you when you visited me." You grinned back. "It still smells like you a bit."

 "Won't be long now petal, five more days. I'll do the last show in Miami and then I'll fly home straight away after. So I'll see you on Monday 23rd sometime. Not sure what time my flight lands yet."

 "Ok the plan is still for me to go to my parents on Christmas Eve sometime, I can pick my hire car up anytime from 12. Is your flight to Ireland still around that time?"

 "Yeah, 1:40 something I think. I don't know I'm rubbish."

 "It's why you have Tara!"

 "True." He laughed in reply. 

 You heard a knock and a click of a door and saw Niall look up and across the room. The room he was in suddenly became noisy and a familiar voice could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You still talking to your lovely wee lass?!" You heard Lewis ask.

"I am." Niall replied with a smirk.

Lewis popped himself down on the sofa and his face crept into view. You felt yourself blush and prayed you wouldn't fan girl over him again. It had been bad enough when you'd done it six months ago on your first date with Niall.

"There she is!" Lewis said. "This Irish heartthrob has been talking about you all day, said he needed to come talk to you make sure you got home ok."

 "Did he now?!" You laughed.

 "Yep! Been going on and on about you!"

 "Hey give it a rest!" Niall said and you could see him blushing.

 "Oh look, he's blushing now. Been saying how much he loves you and how he can't wait to come home to you so he can make sweet love to you all Christmas!"

"Mate! What the fuck?!" Niall shaking his head. "He's drunk. Just ignore him!"

"Don't deny it now Niall, no need to get embarrassed! And I'm not drunk!" Lewis grinned.

"Fuck off!" Niall smiled back.

"How was your trip back anyway Emma?" Lewis asked.

"It was ok thankyou."

"Good, alright I'll let you love birds have your phone sex and I'll catch you in what three minutes?! You won't last longer than that!"

You giggled as you saw Niall's face turn red.

"Right you, out now!" Niall replied and you saw him point towards what you presumed to be the door.

 "Bye Emma!"

 "Bye Lewis!" You replied still giggling.

You heard the door close and Niall resume his original position in front of you.

 "Sorry about him." He said, his face still red.

"Have you got time for phone sex?" You asked him.

His eyes widened in shock and you could see him trying to decide how to answer the question. It was something that you had explored a few times whilst you had been apart. But it has always been when you were just going to sleep and Niall was in a hotel room. He was in a dressing room waiting to perform that evening, anyone could walk in.

"I have to go for sound check in like ten minutes. But fuck I would if I could." He managed to mumble out.

"Ah that's a shame." You smirked. "Could still show you the good stuff if you like?"

"Yeah?" He stuttered.

"Mmmm." You replied as you pulled his hoodie over your head, revealing just a plain light pink vest top underneath. 

You heard him breath out a huge sigh at the sight of your breasts, just visible beneath your thin top.

"More?" You asked him, as you saw him reach down and adjust himself beneath his jeans.

"Yes." He croaked out before clearing his throat and repeating himself.

Pulling the top over your head you heard him moan out and mumble something about how you were driving him crazy. When you reached across and tweaked your nipple, he moaned again and rubbed his free hand across his face, down his chest and to his jeans. His hand palmed himself over his bulge and he blew out a sigh of relief.

A knock on the door on his end brought him back to reality and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees to try and disguise his erection. No one entered the room however but someone did call out a ten minute call for his sound check.

"Yeah be there in five." He called out.  

You saw him shake his head.

"I have to go." He sighed. "But I need to go and sort out this first."

And he turned the camera down to show you his big problem.

"Go to the bathroom and let me watch." You asked him.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He replied, his eyebrows raised.

"Mmmmm." You simply answered with as you stroked your nipples again. He groaned, but quickly stood up and made his way to the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

With his phone propped up by the sink, he quickly opened his button and unzipped his jeans. The sight of his thick cock as he pulled himself from his jeans made your core throb.

"Oh baby look how worked up you are." You whispered as you slipped your hand beneath your shorts.

"All for you, see what you do to me?" He replied panting, as he ran his thumb over his bright red tip moving the precum down his length.

"I barely did anything."

"I've not made love to you in six weeks babe, I'm going to cum in like two minutes I'm so worked up by the sight of your tits."

 "Yeah, two minutes? Is that a challenge?"

"Definitely, and you better be touching yourself to." He whispered back.

"I am." You replied and you saw him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

Neither of you spoke again in case someone happened to enter Nialls dressing room. There were low breaths and pants from you both as you desperately seeked your release. Your fingers were running over your clit, while you teased your nipples with the other hand. Keeping eye contact with Niall was hard, your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as you got closer. The tightness in your stomach built more and more as you watched him stroke his hard cock with his left hand and tug on his balls with his right.

His movements became sloppy and you knew he was close, the thought of it pushed you to your orgasm and you mewled as you came, your body almost convulsing at the strength of your release.

Low pants of your name from Niall's lips told you he was coming to, and you saw him release his grip on his balls to try and catch the heavy stream of his orgasm.

"Jesus christ." He mumbled as he surveyed the mess in his hands.

"That was about two minutes. Challenge won." You said with a smirk.

********

The Cosy Coffee Corner was quiet today, the early Monday morning rush of commuters and dog walkers had been and gone. Mr and Mrs Davidson had sat at their usual spot by the window reading the newspaper like they always did at least 3 or 4 mornings a week. You'd come down early to offer help to Audrey with the customers, having been awake since dawn. You hadn't been able to get back to sleep after waking up at 5am, your mind filled with thoughts of Niall and his arrival back from Miami today.

You weren't sure how long the flight was or what time you would see him today. It all depended on how he slept on the flight and if he was jetlagged. The sheer desperation to see him was ridiculous.

Your internship at the London office of Foundation Interior Designs didn't start until the new year, and you weren't due to go to your parents until tomorrow. Feeling at a bit of a loss you'd served the familiar customers alongside Audrey and sipped your morning coffee. No one made coffee like Audrey.

It felt great to be back in the safety and comfort of The Cosy Coffee Corner though and Audrey had been excited to see you. When you'd left, it had been the end of the summer, but now the cafe was covered in Christmas decorations. The handmade garland was hanging across the counter by the till. A large Christmas tree took over the corner by the window. The whole place smelled of the usual freshly made pastries and coffee but now with a hint of Winter smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and gingerbread.

 "What time is he due back?" Audrey asked you as she cleared the table next to the counter.

"Not sure. Do you mind if I hang around here for a bit longer?"

 "Of course not love."

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up to see a woman carrying a familiar looking bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, I have a delivery for Emma Pearce." She said.

"That's me, thanks." You replied taking the bouquet. Right on time you thought. Niall had never missed your weekly delivery of flowers since you'd been apart.

Taking the small card in your hand, your saw a printed message.

"To my beautiful girl, can't wait to see you today. Love you. N xxx"

"Wish I could find someone to send me flowers ever week." Audrey said as she came to stand beside you. "These are beautiful."

"I can set you up on one of those dating sites if you like?!"

"Oh god no child, can you imagine the weirdos I'd meet?!"

"Not everyone on them is a weirdo!" You replied sniggering.

"Of course not, but I'm bound to be matched with one. Would be just my luck." She said.

"Didn't know you were looking at dating again Audrey?"

It had been quite a few years since Audrey had lost her husband and you hadn't realised she was thinking about meeting new people.

"Well I'm not really, but it would be nice to go out for dinner and have some male company sometimes. And not like that before you raise your eyebrows at me girl!" She laughed.

"I never said anything!"

 "Go grab a book and take a seat, I'll bring you over some lunch." She said, slowly shifting you out from behind the counter.

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes I do, I haven't been able to mother you for months!" She replied smiling. 

"I've missed that actually." You replIed smiling back.

Placing your flowers on one of the tables by the Christmas tree in the window, you browsed the books selecting one that's cover looked intriguing. Sitting down you started to read, Audrey soon brought you over a sandwich, a gingerbread man and another coffee.

You soon got lost in the book, you'd been reading quite a bit while you'd been away in Paris. It had helped the evenings go quickly when you were on your own. The cafe started to pick up with the lunch time rush, people popping in for sandwiches and coffees from local businesses near by, the bell above the door jingling every so often.

You didn't notice when someone stood in front of you but your head soon looked up when that someone cleared their throat.

Your mouth opened in shock at the sight of Niall standing in front of you. He had on a thick black coat and a grey paddy cap, all wrapped up and cosy from the December weather.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked gesturing towards the seat opposite you.

"Definitely not." You managed to reply, still shocked at seeing him front of you.

You hadn't expected to see him in here, thinking he would probably text you and say he was coming over to your flat or something. He moved closer to you, leaning down so you were face to face, just inches from each other.

"Good." He said as he leaned in and kissed you.

Tag list

@awomanindeniall​

@horanscran​

@flnialler​

@winchesterwife27​

@ihearthemcallingforyou​

@niallismymuse​

@someoneunimportantxx​​

[themostexpensiveboningknife]

In A Superficial World Should We Be Dean Blunt?

It seems easy as a musician, plus visual artist in Dean Blunt’s case, to fall prey to the charms of success, to dilute artistic vision in pursuit of, of what? More fame and money, probably, both are pretty addictive after all. To make music that is both technically and conceptually forward thinking (don’t ask me what “forward thinking” really means), while also being incisive and revelatory of dominant social trends, now that’s rarely done, and to find unique sonic palettes across various disparate aliases and to remain, not aloof, but distant from the intrusive confusion and folly of clout chasing aspects of the worlds of contemporary music and art, these make Dean Blunt or Babyfather or DJ Escrow or Blue Iverson or Hype Williams a creator worthy of esteem. At least, they might do. 

“I couldn’t tell who was real and who wasn’t. When it came down to it I realised the only person I could depend on 100% in beef, was me.” Pagans (feat. Arca)

Babyfather, a Romantic poet whose sensitive and vulnerable ruminations on UK street life best reveal themselves on the mixtape UK2UK. Ostensibly hosted by DJ Escrow, another DB creative moniker—DB’s ability to be able to morph into aliases at will and to transmit the individual sensibilities and musical qualities of each reminds me of Madlib (Quasimoto, DJ Rels, Yesterday’s New Quintet, et al.)—we get flecks of grime, trap, ambient, acoustic interludes, vocal skits, and straight white noise. These are funny times, vulnerable and sad, insular and introverted, the streets of London are dark, they’re real, and a cloak of bravado is a must, but behind it all, always, are human emotions. DB pulls back the peeling plaster to show the perpetually healing wounds; whether you think DJ Escrow is an endearing figure, deep and poetic, or spouting not much at all, the human shines through, and it does in a way that is rarely allowed to within Black British street music. DB’s experiments across the sonic allow for a probing of the psyche of the real London streets, its protagonists, rules, customs and traditions. 

Enigmatic. It’s a quality we should value in music. When so much is on show and everything needs to be seen and understood, remaining under it all deserves plaudits. It seems to espouse a sense of authenticity, let the art do the talking, trust in the sound. DB sending up a body double imposter to collect an award at the NME awards for most promising newcomer, “I’ve finally made it!” shouted out on arrival to the stage, is almost perfect. NME, the white-focused black-shunning music mag, gives awards to artists it can’t even pick out of a crowd. DB’s intervention strikes as the best kind of performance art, the kind that says much more than the bodily act alone. 

DB’s no stranger to contemporary art (a nebulous term, he’d probably disown). His is a practice so tongue in cheek as to form an ulcer. A biting assessment of everything and nothing. Writing about an artist like this is quite long because you can’t help but feel that this is exactly the kind of faux analysis that he situates himself against. But anyway, there was the show that consisted of a single stock photo and a single high pitch ringing. Come and stand around, have a drink, if looking at art is about changing something inside of you, then it was a success. I remember seeing a DB exhibition photo with a fridge full of the drink KA; so much for the holy trinity it’s all built on: white walls, white people, white wine. It would be great to dismantle all three but let’s start at the bottom of the pyramid—anyway, that an exhibition opening needs copious alcohol is a truism—and maybe the rest will begin to falter. 

"Girl come with me, I will proceed to lay you down” Caught Feelings

When we do get DB its raw. Or is it? Fading, foggy instrumentals barely punctuated by DB’s mellow, out of tune, piss-taking crooning. But it does do something, inside, I mean. Well there’s undoubtedly an atmosphere, it could even be sadness, genuine emotion, but then the lyrics to these not quite sensical ballads suggest otherwise. The Narcissist then, is the music itself, not the singers or composers, but the actual music. DB can’t even do real personal emotions without getting an ulcer again. 

It’s an art in itself you know, choosing the right collaborators. Putting aside the infamous and delicious and profligate Hype Williams drama (how to say it in one sentence: the many purported iterations/passing on of the baton could have once been DB or might always have been), these are some fucking nice collabs man: Inga Copeland, Mica Levi, I just discovered the James Ferraro link up while writing this shit, Delroy Edwards—it’s all some crème de la crème stuff. I guess it’s real recognise real? 

“Nredup 82 10 months ago:

sampled from? just wonder about orginal sounds of guitar.

repliesvaguelyhuman 10 months ago:

wtf you mean sampled, dean blunt plays guitar like a mfer.” (Somalia Park, (Youtube Comment)

Someone’s recognising anyway; this is a term that might be thrown around a bit too much, but this is all Cult Status stuff. A cult following, obsessively passionate fans, like myself. “Only bored people with loads of money buy my music.” Wah Wah Wah, make me cry, is that me? For much of the reasons that I’ve vaguely scratched the surface of, and what were they again? Musical quality, innovation, enigmatic, art world connect, collaborations, plus more besides. 

He does radio, he does some promotion, DB is not in some vacuum of nothingness, I even saw him on a panel talk once. Which leads me to the question: What does he want out of all of this? Sometimes being enigmatic, coy and withholding, can strike as one big act, playing for the cameras, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t got that feeling from DB once or twice. But the point of it all? Well it seems to lie within nothing really. The whole package, everything that forms DB, from music, to (no)-shows at award ceremonies, to his art, to his kind of Fluxus-esque persona where you’re never sure where reality starts or ends, to expect it all to lead towards some greater singular meaning is to fall for the fallacy that DB relentlessly mocks. Nihilistic crap. Remember that famous Modernist calling, art for art’s sake? It’s pompous and barely anyone ever does it, even though many try, but I’d like to say DB is a reasonably good candidate for this mantle. No wonder its always so depressing.

Anyway, all I’ve been trying to say is I like his style, a true smooth musical operator. 

[omniversalobservations]

How the MUGEN community built the ultimate fighting game crossover

The question, "Who would win in a fight?" is the root of many fierce debates throughout the history of pop culture. The notion of pitting characters from different properties and different media against one another is exciting to discuss. And when it comes to letting fans live out these arguments, there are few better outlets than fighting games.

Even within a genre known for character-merging crossovers, there's one two-decade-old game that reigns supreme when it comes to pitting a wide variety of characters against one another. That program is MUGEN, derived from the Japanese word for "infinite," which is an appropriate name for a program that provides near limitless potential for players to create new fighting games and characters.

MUGEN began life just before the turn of the century as a PC-based side-scrolling shoot-'em-up title, created by a small company called Elecbyte. The team was originally experimenting with creating an engine to handle the rigors of so-called shmup games but found that it just wasn't living up to what they had hoped to create. Taking inspiration from a PC Korean Street Fighter 2 hack known as SFIBM, Elecbyte decided to change course from a shooter to a 2D fighting game engine.

The first public MS-DOS beta release of MUGEN came on July 27, 1999. This early release differed from most fighting games, though, by offering only one "official" character, Kung Fu Man, and a single stage. Everything else, from additional characters to even title-screen art, would have to be supplied by the users themselves, most often through files shared via Internet communities. For the first time, fans of fighting games weren't just allowed but expected to create their own fighters and matchups.

Though you don't need programming knowledge to create a MUGEN character, the process can still be time-intensive, especially if you're creating your custom art. Over the years, fighter-creation software like 2005's Fighter Factory has popped up to help facilitate this process. These third-party programs allow creators to import either their own hand-drawn sprites or images ripped from existing sprite-based games (making good use of the various sprite sheets that littered the Internet even since the late '90s). With art in hand, Fighter Factory let users tweak values, line up the sprites for animations, and make everything feel just right before exporting the generated files to create fully animated MUGEN characters.

Players have also tasked themselves with MUGEN's core logic and gameplay. In the early years, the AI for MUGEN's computer-controlled opponents was rather simple, akin to a new player just button-mashing different commands at random without any coherent strategy. In the decades since the game's launch, the community has dived deeper into the program's potential, programming more robust and intricate behaviors for the AI and leading to far more exciting and difficult matches with the computer.

[...]

While the fan community has kept MUGEN thriving over the years, the game's original creators have had a much spottier history with their creation.

MUGEN saw regular updates from 1999 until April 2002, when Elecbyte released a new version of the game's Linux build to fans. At the time, though, no one suspected that this release would be the last that Elecbyte would put out for seven years. Elecbyte's website shut down for good in 2003, disappearing without a word and leaving the game's nascent community in the dark.

The abrupt halting of MUGEN updates was especially upsetting to fans who had been waiting for a Windows version of the game to go along with the 2001 Linux port. Elecbyte's existing work on just such a Windows port would eventually reach the community, though, when a suspected private beta of the WinMUGEN project was leaked in 2004.

This beta version, rumored to have been originally offered only to a select number of private donors, was quite restrictive compared to previous MUGEN editions. The character selection was locked to only two slots, and some of the usual game modes were unavailable. But it didn't take long for the community to develop hacks that fixed the bugs and missing features in the WinMUGEN beta. An enhanced hacked version, going by WinMUGEN Plus, arrived in July 2007. Crucially, this version updated the circa-1999 original with the ability to use higher-resolution stages and assets.

Then, as suddenly as it disappeared, Elecbyte made its surprise return in 2009 with a fresh new website and a new build of its MUGEN engine, known merely as MUGEN 1.0 RC1 (standing for Release Client 1).

On a new developer blog on the revamped site, the team members said that their lives had simply split off into different directions before the 2003 shutdown. The original developers added that they held no ill will toward those who had developed new hacks and versions of WinMUGEN in the intervening time. In fact, according to the team, they took it as a clear sign that the users wanted new features in the engine.

In the years that followed, Elecbyte would provide eight different RC revisions of the MUGEN engine, as well as new and consistent updates to its developer blog. On January 18, 2011, after eight different RC revisions, Elecbyte officially released Version 1.0 of MUGEN.

The MUGEN community now had an engine with backward compatibility, new resolution options (HD included), an auto-scaling camera, support for new file formats, and improved AI. A public beta for version 1.1 would be released two years later, which saw a complete overhaul for the engine, adding compatibility with more complex art assets to be used and a frequently requested sprite zooming feature.

The last official post made by Elecbyte, posted on February 26, 2014, alluded to another MUGEN beta release slated for the next few months.

But this release would never come to be. As in 2003, Elecbyte disappeared again, leaving the community confused and curious. Elecbyte's website was shut down completely sometime between August 2015 and April 2016, and it currently only shows an "Access forbidden" screen.

While some MUGEN fans unite to build their dream fighting games, others build on that work to stage computer-controlled matches for the benefit of streaming audiences.

Scrolling Twitch these days, you're bound to see an image of Tom Hanks with Goku in the background, MUGEN's signature thumbnail. The majority of MUGEN viewers will all be found in a single channel, SaltyBet, which has turned the spectacle of MUGEN into an online virtual gambling powerhouse. Taking advantage of MUGEN's CPU vs. CPU feature, SaltyBet viewers can wager fake currency on which fighter they think will win the round.

Fighters can include anyone or anything, from characters in popular fighting games like Guilty Gear or Street Fighter to anime heroes and hand-drawn stick figures. The stream is live around the clock with hundreds of viewers tuning in regardless of the time of day.

Like any sports-betting setup, each round has odds that will affect your overall payout should you win. But while initial odds for traditional sports are based on previous performance, both fighters in a SaltyBet match start with even odds. As participants put their fake money behind one character or the other, the odds will shift in response.

When two of these utterly unbalanced, incredibly overpowered characters are paired off against one another, who will come out on top is anybody's guess. Longtime viewers may have a slight advantage if they may have a better idea of the competitors' movesets, but who will win mostly comes down to luck.

For many members of the SaltyBet community, the main appeal doesn't come from the simulated gambling anyway. Instead, many come just for the ridiculous matchups and the sense of community. "I enjoy the crossover of characters from many different franchises, especially those I grew up with." Twitch user Lestaroth told Ars. "Even unexpected characters. And then, it's all in good spirit—you never hear people insulting each other and so on."

Longtime SaltyBet Twitch viewer ARobotFromTheFuture1 expanded on the same sentiment. "I have to say [one] appeal to it is the insane matches that can happen as well as the matches that get you to the edge of your seat," he said. "I really enjoy the dedication the MUGEN community has even to this day making great and goofy characters."

Despite years of neglect from its original creators, a wealth of talent and creativity has carried the dream that MUGEN represented in its first beta 21 years ago. Authors have taken up the reins to work out solutions to circumvent restrictions and released patches of their own to address bugs and issues left over.

Whether you are an artist, coder, player, or watcher, this near-unlimited potential that MUGEN began will keep evolving and growing for years to come. Even if Elecbyte never returns, what it created back in 1999 lives up to the "infinite" name the company gave it.

Source: Ars Technica

(image via YouTube)

[shinysheeppizza]

[DevLog] Ka-Boom #1

I haven’t posted anything in a while, but this one will be a long one.

I’ve recently talked about an online multiplayer first-person shooter game that I wanted to make, like a couple weeks ago.

Well now, I’m actually working on it! It’s been 3 days now and I thought I’d share my progress with you all!

I picked Unity as a game engine because it seemed easier to develop in and so far it looks like I’m right, but I’m pretty sure things will get complicated along the way. But still, Unity is a good engine to develop a game like this but it’s quite bulky, I guess that’s fine.

I would’ve picked GoDot Engine as it’s lighter but I’m pretty inexperienced in it, so it will be so difficult to make a game like this with it.

Day 1: (Setup / Player / Map)

June 9th, 2020

I opened up Unity and created a new 3D project under the name I came up with quite a while ago. Ka-Boom!

Since this is a first-person game, and we have player movement. We need something to walk on, and we can’t walk on air (unless?). So I made a small plane for the player to walk on. Unity has this as a built-in game object, so it was pretty easy.

I later added in some props, well more like a couple of boxes of different sizes and rotations scattered around the map so that its easier to tell if the player is moving.

I also made proper folders and empty game objects (categories) to better organize things. No one likes messy code and assets that are all over the place, right.

I then made this capsule to be the temporary player model until my friend could actually send me the player model he created ages ago. (He still didn’t send it to me :/).

Why capsule? You might ask. Because why not? Capsules are n o i c e. It’s a placeholder anyway, we have awesome player models on the way!

Let’s call him Joe. Joe the bean. Nice name huh? Also never ask me who Joe is.

I gave Joe some texture and sunglasses so that he could look cool. Actually it’s so that I can tell where he’s looking but eh he looks cool with it.

He’s looking pretty neat.

Day 2: (Movement / Looking Around / Gun)

June 10th, 2020

The game was looking promising (even though there was literally nothing in it but then again everything looks promising to me bleh) but it was very lacking, and what was it lacking? That’s right, the most important part of the game. The movement and mouse look.

This was pretty easy as I already had some experience making this in a game I made long time ago (the game didn’t go so well but atleast I learnt something). 

Even though it was easy, it still took a decent chunk of time to get right (almost the entirety of the day) because let’s just say Unity physics isn’t the best and it’s not my fault or anything.  😛

I then made a basic gun model within Unity itself just to test. I’ll replace it with better weapons later when I add the player model.

I’m not the best 3D modeller out there, so this is what I came up with.

and of course, some texture. Just two solid colors because I’m not the best at texturing either. But it’s looking pretty neat still.

Day 3: (Bug Fixes & Polish / Animations / Weapon)

June 11th, 2020

The movement system was not very satisfying so I did a lot of tweaking to get it right. It finally was smooth enough. I also added sprinting as well as sneaking both with their own custom camera field-of-view adjustments and weapon bobbing to look realistic.

I added a weapon equip system that’s very modular, allowing me to add all kinds of weapons quickly and easily later on. 

I then took a loong time getting the gun to look right. (I did have to look up tutorials because I got stuck and frustrated here).

But I can say it was worth the effort, I mean just look at how cool Joe is looking with a Pistal (that’s not a typo, that’s what I call this test gun, nice huh).

“Give me all your money!”

I finally got the gun to move properly with the player. Added in a weapon sway animation as the player moves the weapon, and also an idle weapon bob effect to give a sense of realism like the player is breathing.

And finally, I added a proper aiming-down-sights system for better accuracy when the player is shooting and also because it looks cool. Yes, looking cool is a reason for me to add anything into the game.

There’s no shooting yet, so I’ll have to add that in the coming days.

Here’s a video showing all of the features I’ve added so far. They’re all still very far from what I would call complete so it’ll take a lot of tweaking and getting right.

Joe is alone, and no one should be alone. So I gave Joe a friend called Ross. She currently just sits in the corner and does nothing but I’ll add some AI to it later on.

I’ll be posting every 3 days that I’m making progress to the game.

Thanks for making it this far, hope you’re having a great day!