#blue and silver tones photographic prints

[waledxman123]

"Cybernetic Fusion: A Surreal Digital Portrait" Samsung Galaxy Phone Case

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[eliseprudhomme]

It’s Showtime!  I am thrilled to announce a new Solo Exhibition under the patronage of the City of Cherbourg.  Join me for the opening on Thursday April 4th at 5pm!

À Tourlaville, une exposition unique propose un nouveau regard sur les paysages du Nord Cotentin.

L’exposition « Côte-en-teinte | portrait d’un paysage » au Château des Ravalet, réunit les travaux photographiques d’Élise Prudhomme.  Elle présente une quarantaine de tirages issus des méthodes artisanales pour illustrer des multiples facettes des paysages du Nord Cotentin. Les métaux nobles des virages (or, argent, palladium) donnent des tons variés aux images – sépia, bleu de Prusse, noir chaud profond – qui alternent avec des impressions couleurs afin de mettre en lumière un « nouveau pittoresque ».

L’exposition « Côte-en-teinte | portrait d’un paysage » aura lieu du 3 au 28 avril 2024 au salle des communs du Château des Ravalet du mercredi à dimanche de 14h à 18h30.

**********

In Tourlaville, a unique exhibition offers a new look at the landscapes of North Cotentin.

The exhibition “Coast-in-tint | portrait of a landscape” at Château des Ravalet, brings together selected photographic works of Élise Prudhomme.  It presents around fifty prints made with artisanal methods to illustrate the multiple facets of the landscapes of North Cotentin.  The noble metals of the tones (gold, silver, palladium) give varied tones to the images – sepia, Prussian blue, deep warm black – which alternate with color impressions in order to highlight a “new picturesque”.

The exhibition “Côte-en-teinte | portrait of a landscape” will take place from April 3 to 28, 2024 in the outbuildings of Château des Ravalet from Wednesday to Sunday from 2 p.m. to 6:30 pm.

[viviandoan-thelucidimages1]

Photographer Research - Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol, the father of the Pop Art movement, was an American visual artist, film director, and producer. Andy Warhol was an art icon known for his bright, colourful paintings and prints of celebrities and household brands. From 1976 until he died in 1987, Andy Warhol was always with his camera. He snapped photos at discos, dinner parties, flea markets, and wrestling matches. His public persona was as much a construct as his paintings, and over the years, he created numerous self-portraits in various guises. Warhol created his first self-portraits in 1964 and continued to make them throughout his career. He fulfils a certain vision of his personality and identity in self-portraits. 

Andy Warhol, "Self- Portrait In Drag", 1981

This was one of Warhol's works in the "Self-Portrait in Drag" series. Warhol worked with photographer Christopher Makos Polaroid self-portraits depicting himself in drag. A polaroid of Warhol looks mournfully at the lens of the camera. He wears a dark red lip, bold, blue eye makeup and a glamorous white wig, contrasted against his white blouse and background. Andy Warhol enjoyed dressing for parties in drag, sometimes in dresses of his own design. His polaroids documented his experiments with his appearance and sexuality. For me, the use of bold contrast and high exposure in the photo take on the concept of post-modern art, ditching the idea of traditional photography, of clean lines, perfect lighting, sharp focus and repetition of form.

Andy Warhol, "Self-Portrait with Fright Wig", 1986

His 1986 self-portrait series, completed months before his death, shows a gaunt face and wild hair. Warhol often exaggerated, transformed or disguised himself so that the images became caricatures of his real face. He once again experimented with his appearance but compared to his previous series of "Self-Portrait in Drag". His wild, messy silver wig, his blankly staring eyes look straight ahead and the low contrast and cool tone of this photo appear to capture his feelings about his late self-image and are largely understood as an acknowledgement of his death.

Andy Warhol, "Self-Portrait with Skull", 1977

After he was shot and critically injured in 1968, Warhol became even more obsessed with death than he had been. The skull, a symbol of mortality, with the impenetrable darkness of the hollow eye sockets, echoed in each image was Warhol's interest subject matter. He created prints and paintings of the skull. Then he incorporated it in his self-portrait, conveying his appreciation for his significant work during his career and his obsession with his traumas.

Work Cited:

https://www.sothebys.com/en/articles/andy-warhol-and-the-self-portrait

[luxyhomeinteriors]

Budget-Friendly Living Room Design Ideas That Look Luxurious

Opt for Elegant Lighting :

Lighting sets the tone for any room, and the right choice can instantly make a space feel more upscale. Look for stylish, budget-friendly chandeliers, floor lamps, or pendant lights that add elegance. You can often find affordable lighting fixtures that mimic high-end designs. Place a floor lamp next to seating areas, or install dimmable light fixtures to create ambiance.

2. Choose a Minimalist Palette with Pops of Color :

A minimalist color scheme, like soft neutrals, grays, or beige, gives a polished feel to the living room. Add sophistication with pops of rich colors, such as navy blue, emerald green, or deep burgundy, in your throw pillows, rugs, or decor pieces. A consistent color theme throughout the space makes it feel cohesive and elegant.

3. Invest in Affordable Art Pieces :

Art adds character and a focal point to your living room. Look for budget-friendly prints or DIY artwork that reflect your personality. Consider framing personal photographs or creating abstract art yourself. Gallery walls with simple, inexpensive frames can create a gallery-like feel without the gallery price tag.

4. Upgrade Hardware on Furniture :

Sometimes, it’s the small details that elevate furniture. Swap out basic handles and knobs on cabinets, tables, or sideboards for gold or matte black finishes. These upgrades are typically inexpensive yet can transform the look of your furniture, giving it a custom, high-end appearance.

5. Incorporate Mirrors for Depth and Brightness :

Mirrors enhance a room's sense of depth, making it feel more spacious and luxurious. By reflecting natural light, they help brighten the space. Consider placing a large mirror above the sofa or arranging several smaller ones in an eye-catching pattern. Mirrored trays or decorative items can also bring an elegant touch without stretching your budget.

6. Use Layered Textures and Textiles :

Textiles bring warmth and comfort to your living room while enhancing its style. Add a cozy rug, plush pillows, and a throw blanket on the couch to create a welcoming feel. Velvet or faux fur pillows, linen throws, and layered rugs introduce a luxurious, multi-dimensional vibe. Mixing textures like faux leather, woven fabrics, and metals can help achieve a designer-inspired aesthetic.

7. Get Creative with Wall Treatments :

A room's appearance may be drastically changed by an accent wall. To create a budget-friendly feature wall, paint, peel-and-stick wallpaper, or even do-it-yourself wall molding Choose classic designs or textures that accentuate the opulence without overpowering the room.

8. Embrace Open Shelving and Organized Storage :

Shelving offers an elegant way to display decor without cluttering the space. Open shelves on walls or a well-curated bookshelf allow you to showcase decorative items like vases, books, or art. Keep the styling minimal and organized, mixing in a few high-end pieces if possible to create visual interest.

9. Introduce Greenery for a Fresh Look :

Plants breathe life into any space and add a luxurious, welcoming vibe. Affordable plants like snake plants, ferns, or succulents require little maintenance and bring a touch of nature indoors. Use decorative pots and place plants strategically around the room, such as beside the sofa, on a console table, or hanging near the window.

10. Go for Budget-Friendly Furniture with a High-End Look :

If you’re buying new furniture, look for clean lines and timeless designs that emulate luxury brands. Secondhand stores or online marketplaces can be great places to find quality pieces for less. Add inexpensive slipcovers in neutral tones to refresh older furniture for a modern, sophisticated look.

11. Personalize with Accessories :

Small, carefully chosen accessories like candle holders, decorative trays, or unique ceramics can add a touch of luxury without high costs. Gold or silver metallic accents, in particular, add warmth and style. Focus on a few statement pieces to keep the room uncluttered and stylish.

Conclusion :

Changing your living room into a magnificent place on a budget is possible with a few smart decisions and a dash of ingenuity. There are several methods to get a high-end design without breaking the bank, ranging from inexpensive lighting and fabrics to secondhand finds and DIY décor. Use a basic palette, overlay textures, and use small elements to create a great effect. With these low-cost design ideas, your living room may seem beautiful and fashionable, greeting you and your visitors with a sense of polished elegance.

Visit our Website for More Details : Living Room Interior Designers in Chennai

Visit our Office : Luxy Home Chennai

[chrisbale1199]

Exploring the Charm of Vintage Photography

In the digital age, where every moment is captured with the click of a button, there is something incredibly captivating about vintage photographs. These images, taken with early cameras and film, offer a unique glimpse into the past, preserving moments in a way that modern digital technology cannot replicate. If you have a passion for history, art, or simply the nostalgic beauty of old pictures, exploring this realm can be deeply rewarding.

What is Vintage Photography?

Vintage photography refers to photographs taken from the late 19th century through to the mid-20th century. These images were produced using various techniques, each with its distinct characteristics. Some of the most popular forms include:

Gelatin Silver Prints

Introduced in the late 19th century, gelatin silver prints became the standard for black-and-white photography. Known for their clarity and depth, these prints are still highly valued by collectors and enthusiasts.

Albumen Prints

Made using egg whites to bind photographic chemicals to paper, albumen prints were widely used in the 19th century. They have a characteristic sepia tone and fine detail, making them a favorite among collectors.

Cyanotypes

Cyanotypes, also known as blueprints, produce images in a distinctive blue hue. This method was popularized in the late 19th century and is prized for its unique aesthetic and historical significance.

Daguerreotypes

One of the earliest forms of photography, daguerreotypes were created on polished silver plates and are known for their high level of detail and mirror-like quality. These images are rare and highly sought after by collectors.

The Allure of Vintage Photography

Historical Significance

Old photographs capture moments from the past, offering a tangible connection to history. These images document everything from everyday life to significant historical events, providing valuable insights into different eras. Owning a piece of this type of photography means preserving a fragment of history and gaining a deeper appreciation for the past.

Finding Vintage Photography on Bidsquare

If you’re intrigued by the world of antique photography and eager to start your collection, Bidsquare is the perfect platform to begin your journey. Bidsquare is a leading online auction platform that offers a vast selection of these historical images, catering to various interests and tastes.

Conclusion

Vintage photography offers a unique blend of historical significance, artistic value, and collectible charm. If you’re ready to explore the world of vintage photography for sale, Bidsquare is your go-to destination. With its extensive collection, trusted sellers, and convenient online bidding, Bidsquare makes it easy to find and purchase exquisite historical photographs from the comfort of your home.

Visit Bidsquare.com today to discover the best vintage photography for sale and experience why it’s the premier online auction platform for antique and vintage enthusiasts. Don’t miss the opportunity to own a piece of history and elevate your collection with the timeless beauty of vintage photography.

[becoration]

White and wood living room: 6 ideas to decorate it with the perfect combination - Interior decoration

Post has been published on becoration

White and wood living room: 6 ideas to decorate it with the perfect combination - Interior decoration

Decorating the living room in white and wood brings a feeling of warmth and simplicity to the space, creating a serene and cozy atmosphere. It is a timeless combination that has become very popular in recent years, ideal for decorating in the minimalist style, and is perfect for any environment.

Keep in mind that wood enhances the brightness of white, and white tones highlight the richness and texture of wood. Therefore, it is a combination that goes beyond looking good, they are timeless elements of interior design that will never go out of style because they complement each other perfectly. Even as trends and tastes change over time.

This combination is widely used in decoration by lovers of Scandinavian style. The Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, and Finns use this style because they love nature. Nordic design almost exclusively incorporates wood, rattan, linen, cotton, and leather into decorations, complemented by simple colors such as white, gray, and beige.

You can incorporate different tones and types of wood, for example:

Warm woods: have shades of red, orange, and yellow.

Cool woods: have shades of gray, black, blue, and sometimes green. They tend to combine walnut, poplar, pine, and ash woods.

Neutral woods: have all shades of beige and brown, including hazel, walnut, and white oak.

In this article, we will explore six ideas to help you decorate your living room in white and wood, the perfect combination.

Ideas to decorate your living room in white and wood

Play with textures

One way to enhance the visual appeal of a white and wood living room is to incorporate different textures. Consider adding a fluffy rug with a textured pattern, cozy cushions with different fabric materials, and wallpaper on one of the walls. These textures will add depth and interest to the room, making it feel cozier and more attractive.

Balance with vegetation

Introducing vegetation into your white and wood living room can create a refreshing contrast and add a touch of nature. Place potted plants, such as succulents or small indoor trees, strategically around the room. This not only adds aesthetic appeal but also helps purify the air, making your living space healthier.

Accentuate with metallic elements

To add a touch of glamour and sophistication to your white and wood living room, incorporate metallic elements. For example, consider adding a coffee table with brass legs, metallic vases, or decorative objects with gold or silver finishes. This will create a beautiful contrast against the white and wood neutral tones, adding an elegant touch to the overall design.

Highlight with natural light

Natural light can significantly enhance the beauty of a white and wood living room. Keep your windows clear or use sheer curtains to allow maximum daylight into the space. Natural light not only brightens the room but also highlights the natural textures and colors, creating a vibrant and airy sensation.

Add a touch of color

Although a white and wood living room is often associated with minimalism and neutrality, adding a touch of color can bring life and character to the space. Choose a bold accent color, such as vibrant blue, intense green, or warm orange, and incorporate it through accessories such as cushions, artworks, or decorative objects. This will create a focal point and make the room visually appealing.

Personalize with art and photography

Make your white and wood living room truly unique by displaying art and photography that resonate with your personal style. Hang paintings, prints, or photographs on the walls, showcasing your favorite artists or capturing memorable moments through the lens. This personal touch will evoke emotions and add an extra layer of warmth and personality to your living space.

Some tips:

Keep in mind that if you place too much wood in the living room, to avoid overwhelming the space, incorporate some different but complementary materials such as glass, metallic finishes, and soft textiles.

A good option is to create contrast when decorating the living room with white and wood, for example, wooden beams against a white ceiling will have a great visual impact.

Incor

via: Opendeco, decoration news in Spanish

[asfeline]

🄲🄾🄻🄻🄴🄰🄶🅄🄴 🄶🄾🄹🄾 🅇 🄵🄴🄼! 🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁

Please be aware of the tags before reading ⚠️

Smut !!

Summary : Gojo is a frustrated colleague and you take care of him

Tags : office sex, voyeurism, unprotected-sex

Credit : rennca_ on Twitter

You were checking your computer very unmotivated after seeing the message at the top of your emails.

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐌𝐫𝐬. 𝐋/𝐍, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐗𝐗𝐗 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐫. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟓. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝟓, 𝟗 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟏𝟒 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐘𝐙 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨@𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞.𝐜𝐨𝐦

You looked at the top of your screen and the calendar showed you June 5. You sighed. You had put off the date long enough. You rolled your eyes; you definitely didn't want to meet that famous Gojo Satoru whose reputation was pursuing him as a womanizer. You printed the necessary papers, took your phone and looked at the time, 17:49.

Well, I'll go quickly and go home, you thought. You salivated at the thought of your pizza waiting in your freezer. For once you could go home early and enjoy a quiet evening. You grabbed your bag and took a good stretch.

You headed for the elevator. Which floor again? You consulted your company's website and looked for his name in the contacts. His picture appeared first. Womanizer... you could see why all the women were behind. With that piercing blue gaze, and the peculiar color of his platinum hair, even you had to admit that he was more than attractive. Even on his profile, which was supposed to be professional, you could see that he had a little smile on his face, the photographer was certainly a pretty woman. You chased your thoughts and slid on his profile to see his office number: 711.

So, 7th floor, you clicked on the button that indicated the right number.

Once there you looked at the arrows indicating in which direction you should go. The one on the left indicated his office only.

-Son of... you whistled through your teeth; you have an office all to yourself... pfff... you muttered jealously.

His office must have been gigantic. And from where you were, you could see his door, framed by two large windows. You raised your eyebrows admiring the fact that his office was made of glass and that it certainly overlooked an extraordinary view.

You walked over and a few feet before the door, a desk was on your right.

You could read "Secretary" on the silver plate in the middle of the cabinet, but without the owner at her post. You thought about whether you could leave the documents here and go.

-Shit, thinking about the deadline that was today. You couldn’t leave not knowing if he saw them or not, plus you needed to discuss some points with him. Well, never mind let’s see if he’s here, you approached the door which was slightly opened.

Yes! you thought, that means he was still here, you put your hand to open it when you heard muffled sounds coming from inside. You reached out to see what was going on, to see if he was in a meeting with someone but the sounds were more and more like grunts. You closed your eyes and pursed your lips.

It's not what I think it is, right? you thought.

You reached out even closer and heard the moans of a man and those of a woman, whose mouth must have been currently occupied by the "slurp" sounds you could hear.

This was the worst... you thought. How could you interrupt this moment? You definitely weren't going to wait for him to finish his business, nor were you going to go in without being announced, embarrassing them. This is not the place to do that. You bit your lip at the thought, you weren't the one who could talk. You massaged your temple, thinking

-Shit, can you go faster or not?... he moaned from within.

Well, you had to get up the courage, otherwise you would never have made it home. You knocked twice.

-Mr. Gojo? Y/N L/N here, I'm supposed to drop off files for the updates Mr. Nanami requested. Can I leave them on the desk outside for you? you asked.

You heard a sharp muffled noise.

-No, bring them in here, he answered.

What? you thought.

-I need to see the files Mrs. L/N. Come in! he continued.

-What?! said the female voice inside.

You heard several gesticulations in the office before a young woman, slightly taller than you, came out, red with embarrassment. She put her hair back in place and walked towards her desk.

-Oh, and Miss Suwaga? The young woman turned around. Stay at your post, I've sent you the last of the appointments for the week. Finish this and you can go home.

She breathed and went back to her office with a quick step. You swallowed. You didn't know where to put yourself.

-Come in... he said in a deep voice.

You took the files clutched in your hands close to your pounding chest and closed the door behind you. He was sitting in the direction of his large bay window; you could see him from three-quarters. From there you could see that his shirt was down to one button, his hair was partially pulled back. He turned around in his chair to face you.

-Sorry for the wait, I was ... busy, he said, winking at you.

You looked at him and shrugged.

-Next time maybe try to make sure you're alone? you say dryly.

He slumped back in his large chair and crossed his arms behind his head.

-Oh? And the idea of being surprised? he asked you. Isn't that something that excites you?

A wave of electricity shot through your body, ending in your panties. Yes, it is. You had experienced it not long ago.

-I think the topic is off the table for our meeting, you answered him trying to face him. I'll cut to the chase. I'm here to drop this off, you handed him the documents. I need to discuss with you the importance of points 5, 9 and 14, if possible.

-5 June huh?... he said gently.

-Pardon?

He tapped his watch. You raised an eyebrow.

-Fortunately, that my activities saved you then.

You frowned your eyes trying to understand what he was getting at. He smiled.

-Usually I'm out by 5:30, and it would have been too late for you. Knowing Kento, he sent you these documents easily a week in advance... why did you wait so long to deliver them to me?

You couldn't tell him that you didn't want to meet him, that was not very professional...

-I'm on the right date, the rest doesn't matter.

-I'm not so sure about that thought but whatever. So, points 5, 9 and 14... he looked at them and typed some things on his computer. You discussed their implementation and every time you spoke, he looked at you intensely, in a way that made your whole back shiver. You didn't know if he was making you uncomfortable or if it was because of the excitement that was starting to build up in your body. You had to leave before you got to the end of that thought.

-I think we have everything, don't you? you asked, cutting off his gaze.

He tilted his head to the side looking you up and down.

-I have a few more things I'd like to go over with you, he said.

-Is this about our meeting? You asked.

He looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

-More or less, he continued.

-I'm listening then, you answered.

He tilted his head to the side, facing the glass that separated his office from the hallway. His secretary was still at her post, looking exasperated. He smirked.

-I must tell you something, he began. As you can imagine, you stopped me in a crucial moment, and you see I'm both frustrated because I'm currently very tight in my pants.

You widened your eyes.

-But at the same time, I'd like to thank you because it really wasn't incredible, what was going on I mean. He smiled at you, not taking his eyes off you.

-Shall I say “you are welcome”? you said in a playful tone.

His smile did not leave his lips, his tongue passing slowly between them. He rested his elbows on his desk, resting his head on his hands, staring at you. Your legs closed as if by automatic.

-I'd like to be the one to tell you "you're welcome", if you can follow what I'm getting at. I have the impression that you are not indifferent to me, right?

You pinched your lips.

-Well... he continued

He got up from his desk, walking around, you followed him with your eyes. He sat down on the edge, facing you, his legs level with your chest, which was quickening with your breathing. You didn't really know what to say, but to be honest, yes, it had an effect on you. More than you'd like to admit.

-Your face answers for you, baby, I almost don't need you to answer me, he says. I want to hear your beautiful voice...

-Gojo...

-Yes, he cut you off, I want to hear you shout that name, my pretty, under my movements.

The electricity that was flowing through you was really starting to burn, it was making you hot now.

-With your secretary outside? I'm having trouble...

-Oh? so if she's not there... is that a yes? But you see she has to work; she won't bother us... he says with a growing smile.

You swallow, what were you doing? Your pizza was waiting for you, your quiet evening. But deep down, you wanted to see if his reputation was based on anything real.

-Maybe, you say. But if you promise to contain your moaning, maybe I can get past it.

He grunted. So that was his kink? Being heard? Found out?

-Can you? he asked.

-It depends on how well my partner do, you said confidently.

-Confident huh, he said in a hoarse voice. He got up and went to lock the door, turning his secretary's head in your direction.

He signaled her to continue working through the glass.

When he turned around, he could see you starting to unbutton your dress, revealing your black lacy lingerie underneath. You easily let it fall to your feet and found yourself in front of him wearing only your underwear and semi-opaque tights.

He looked you up and down and swallowed. Perfect was the word on his lips. His erection already present since the beginning of your meeting was growing and soon would not be able to hold in his pants become too tight.

You infiltrated a finger on each side of your tights to remove it.

-No, wait! He unexpectedly shouted. I want to do it.

He licked his lips.

-Fuck, you are gorgeous, and I’m picky guy.

He took your head and dipped his tongue in your mouth making you moaned. He took you by the legs, wrapping them around his waist, your almost naked skin touching his exposed chest. You moaned at the contact of his erection on your clothed pussy. He opened his eyes to see your face, focused on your kiss. Oh, he was going to enjoy it. He pinned you down on the desk, his hands sliding down your legs. He got up from you, you opened your eyes slowly to see a semi-god in front of you taking off his shirt, your legs still wrapped around him, your hips starting little movements to rub against him. He smiled.

-Hun, hun, baby, putting his hand on your panties.

He rubbed his fingers against your pussy that only wanted him inside you. You shivered at the thought.

-You are not allowed to move without my permission. I give the orders in my office.

You swallowed and nodded.

-Good girl, he said in a deep voice.

He continued his caresses along your legs, stopping on your thighs and clutching them. He looked at you and smiled widely. You returned his gaze intrigued at what was going on in his head when you felt him suddenly pull on your tights, ripping them off completely, creating two gaping holes on your legs.

-Hey! but before you could continue, he pressed his mouth against yours.

You both moaned in your kiss. His hand slipped under your pantyhose, touching your skin, pinching you then caressing you, leaving little red marks behind. He pulled his hand out and came off from your lips, admiring you panting. He returned his gaze to your pussy, still hidden under too many layers, before tearing off the part of the pantyhose that prevented him from having access to it.

-Ah! you couldn't help but exclaim at the realization that your tights were completely ruined under his attack. Fuck... you felt his warm breath next to your panties, making you even wetter than before. Satoru... please~ you moaned.

-Hmmm, eager I see, he said while shifting your panties to the side having full access to your cunt.

He licked in one go; your pussy completely wet under his movements. He let out an animal growl.

-Tasty, he mumbled before nibbling one of your vaginal lips.

-Urgh! ~ you groaned. More! you begged, putting your hands on his head, in his silver hair.

-What did I say? He said stopping his movements. I give the orders here.

He raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer from you, you nodded slowly, wanting only one thing, that he makes a mess of you.

He returned his attention to your cunt which was just asking for his tongue. He licked one wall, then another, forcing you to gasp under the pleasure of his movements. He finally introduced his long tongue deep into you, making you widen your eyes, and a few tears of pleasure came to the edge of your eyes.

Under his erratic movements, he grunted. He was taking more and more pleasure; his boxers were so tight. He only wanted to take you on his desk until you couldn't walk anymore. He continued to move his tongue back and forth, before concentrating on your clit, biting it tenderly and sucking it repeatedly.

-Ah-ah-ah ~~, you moaned, tongue out. My god… fuck! uh-uh-uh…

He accelerated his movements understanding by your moaning louder and louder that he was doing things right, obviously. He withdrew from your pussy and licked all of your body slowly going up, until he reached your breast.

He easily inserted two long fingers inside you, while licking the contours of your chest. He lifted your bra with his other hand and sucked around your nipple. His fingers quickened the movements, feeling your hips trembling as if you were begging to him to go further. He circled around your clit, making you moaned of pleasure. He nibbled on your nipple before taking more of your breast into his mouth, leaving behind the sucking noises that were getting you off even more. Your pussy tightened at his movements, you felt yourself coming. You couldn't help but cry out in pleasure as he applied pressure to your sensitive spot.

-Hmmm, there yes…yess…ah-ah-ah~~ you moaned so loudly that you knew that the secretary had heard you, making you tighten even more around her fingers. You felt your orgasm coming, making all your legs and body shake.

-OH MY GOD! ~~ you screamed, letting the wave of pleasure take over.

He placed his lips on yours, still fingering you, with his fucking long finger, right through your orgasm. Your walls were clinching around his movements. His name was on your lips, and it was making him so fucking horny. He withdrew from you, letting you breathless on the desk. He let down his pants and started to palpate his dick under his boxer. He was so hard it was painful. You stood up on your elbows, watching him slowly undress before seeing what was waiting for you under his boxers.

-Want that? He asked.

You nodded.

-Ye-yess, I want it… you salivated.

-Suck it then, he ordered removing entirely his boxer, letting free his thick dick, moistened by his precum, decorated by long blue veins. You rolled your tongue over your lips at the thought of having him in your mouth.

You got down from the desk, walking towards him, once facing him you got down on your knees, gently licking his chest. He watched you descend on him, and you never left his sight.

-Mmmh, he moaned, yeah.

You took his cock in your hands, slowly starting to jack him off. You gave a few licks on the top, sucking on his precum which made him tilt his head back. His eyes met those of his secretary who had been looking in your direction for a few minutes now. She could make out your legs, but you were hidden behind the door. Gojo motioned for her to take note, imitating a pen and notebook with his hand, she glared back at him, red. She took her bag, turned around, he let out a laugh. she left the office.

He concentrated on you, who had just started to pump him, rolling your tongue along his member.

-Fuck, you're good, he said in a deep voice.

You took him deeper into your mouth, his tip touching the entrance to your throat. Your heat and wetness turned him on. He took your head and pushed it even deeper into him, holding you firmly. Tears gathered along your eyes and began to roll down. His cock was much too long for you. He pulled out before he pushed in.

-Oh fuck! Yeah!

He accelerated his movements with his hips fucking your mouth hardly. With each coming and going, his cock was pushing more and more into your throat, forcing you to gap on him. He grabbed your head even more, a few more strokes and he'd be able to get himself all the way into your mouth. The thought was already making him want to release himself into you. His movements accelerated and your mouth noises became louder and louder, your saliva and his precum mixing together. He took you out of his mouth, you were completely crying.

What a sight, he thought. You wrapped your hand around him while your jaw readjusted and jerked him off at a rapid pace.

-FUCK yes! Keep it up and I'll cum on you! Shit! UH~~ yes!

He was literally screaming with pleasure. The sun rays were shining through his hair, giving you a wonderful show, this man was the definition of beauty. You took it back into your mouth, pumping it at a steady pace, you felt him shaking, with each of your strokes. His head snapped back, pleasure taking over.

-Holy shit.... I'm gonna... huh-huh~~ cum... fuck!

You sucked his cock completely before diving back on top of him to take him completely, your nose touching his hair, the same color as those on top of his head. You felt him blocking you where you were, with his hands on your head, and his hips took over, moving back and forth at an almost hellish pace in your mouth. Your throat was now completely filled with him.

-Cumming! Huh! ~~ AH!

With one last thrust inside your mouth, he released his cum which went straight into throat, without you being able to do anything. His eyes completely closed, his head still back, his hands on your head and his hips still making little dry movements, as if to make sure you wouldn't let any drop out. He slowly came down from his cloud before watching you swallow the sperm; he had just released into you.

-Fuck that was amazing .... he moaned.

It had been a long time since he had felt so much pleasure from a blow job. Where have you been all this time?

You fell on your hands trying to catch your breath. He laughed at the sight. Confident not long ago, yet you were now on all fours in front of him, and clearly, he wasn't done with you. He took your arm, forcing you to stand up, he pushed his lips on you.

-Incredible, however now this will go into you.

You looked down, seeing that his cock was getting harder. How? In few seconds only… How?

You gasped when he lifted you, kissing you again and bringing you to his chair, next to the bay window, the last rays of sunlight caressing your skin.

-Honey… he said quietly, seeing you shining.

-Sit on me now, I'll take you in that position.

you nodded and placed a leg on each side before taking his cock in your hands, placing it at your entrance. You were soaked with excitement and the touch of his tip on your pussy made you moan.

You rubbed yourself against him, lubricating him before sitting on him, pulling him in more and more.

-Good girl, I'm not quite there yet," he said, watching your two limbs slowly connect. I want to be fully inside you before I let you see the 7th heaven...

You nodded and continued your descent into him, moving up and down to take him even more. You leaned on his head, forcing him to face your breasts still trapped in your bra. He left your slowly descending hips before pulling your bra down leaving your breasts exposed. He sucked on one before grunting, feeling almost entirely inside you. He thrust his hip into you before sneaking your hips into contact.

-Fuck, he steadied himself. Fuck, so tight…

Your eyes were completely closed at the thought of having him inside you. He lowered his head, seeing your juices sliding down your thighs and onto him. He licked his mouth and began to circle his hips so you could feel him all the way inside you. He saw your tongue fall out of your mouth, oh yes you liked that.

He was touching your sensitive points without any effort.

-Move. Now, he ordered.

You lifted yourself up before falling back on top of him, allowing him to see a bulge forming a few inches below your belly button.

He watched you make your moves, hypnotized by the appearance and disappearance of this bump. When was the last time he had faced his partner? For a long time now, he always took them from behind, avoiding meeting their eyes. Yet you, he wanted to see you get off on him. Your movements accelerated on him, your hands went down on his shoulders, your head tilted back. He felt that you were losing your balance, so he grabbed your hips, and started to move in you at a ferrous pace.

-AH! ~~ fuck ye-yessss! You cried.

He was hitting your cervix so easily. He was hammering in you, and you were just a ball of nerve under his contact. With each thrust, he left slap noises that made you so excited. His groans were also growing louder. Your tightness was taking him so good, applying pressure all around his dick.

-God dammit, he moaned, so, so good… ~~

He sped up and sucked on your other tit. You took back his head in your arm, pressing him completely against your chest. Your hands traveled his hair, as he was pounding inside of you. He pinched his lips, not knowing what sounds could still come out of his mouth. You were just a hot mess crying his name, cries that echo throughout his office.

-Huh… I’m cumming… Satoru… harder….

-Fuck… he groaned.

He accelerated his movements, but the chair preventing him from being completely free he got up, you in his arms the legs rolled up around him.

His cadence was animal, he was going to make you cum, and you couldn't take it anymore. He squeezed himself so hard that his cock was part of you. He was coming and going inside you, expanding you again and again, your walls were still adapting. Your pleasure juices were falling on the floor leaving drops gathering more and more on his immaculate marble. His thrusts were more brutal, you felt him coming and you only wanted one thing, his pleasure in you.

-Fuck! he shouted. He took almost all of himself out of you before forcing his hips back into you. I'm gonna fucking cum! In you… shit! ~~

-Ye-ess! inside me! yes! yes! fuck! harder! you screamed.

-You like that, huh! don't you? When I go deep inside you!

He pushed himself deep inside.

-Yes-yess! God, that's the best! Satoru! I love your cock! I love it! URGH! ~~

-ROHH! damn it! He shouted, his rhythm was unbearable.

You came with a loud scream almost falling backwards, but Gojo picked you up by your lower back. You let him do what he wanted with you, not having any energy left, he continued to piston up in your oversensitive pussy, all your nerves were on fire. How does he to still be standing, carrying you and hammering like that??

He was chasing his orgasm. His cock was getting deeper and deeper into you, with one last thrust he went deeper, spilling his hot cum deep inside you.

-Fuck!! he roared. YEAH~~.... fuck!

He let himself in even after a few minutes making sure his cum stayed inside you, even when you went home.

After many minutes he slowly pulled out and slumped back in his chair, you still in his arms. His office was completely dark, as night had fallen. You were slowly catching your breath. You began to remove your pantyhose completely torn off under your partner's hands.

-I don't think it's going to do me much good anymore... you say softly.

He laughed.

-Sorry about that, but I was getting too excited.

-Mmmh... you put your panties back on and slowly buttoned up your dress. You took your bag and pointed to the documents on his desk. Don't forget to fill out the last few items.

He turned to you.

-It takes only a few seconds to do that," he laughed.

-What? You said surprised.

-Yes... I didn't really need all your advice, but an excuse for you to stay. He winked at you, like it worked.

You sighed and picked up your bag.

-Well, Gojo Satoru, it was… nice to meet you, you said as you tapped on the folds of your dress.

-Likewise, likewise… he said closing the buckle of his pants. Can't wait to see the next updates... he snickered.

-Good evening, you answered him turning your back and waving.

-Oh and Y/N ! You turned to him. You are welcome, he said putting his vest on.

You smiled and turned back.

You left his office closing behind you. Ah, his secretary had left. You blushed at the thought that she must have heard you.

You exhaled thinking about your pizza. It’s going to be for another day.

✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉ ✼ ❉

Sorry not sorry ✌︎

[zeldasayer]

Loving Dyn V - Christmas Eve

Pairing: Mandalorian/Dyn Jarren x Reader

Summary: Domestic Daddy Dyn, Artist Mom & the green bean attend your parents infamous Christmas Eve party. We get to know your parents and your backstory. (Continuation from Loving Dyn II & IV)

Warnings: Flashbacks including drinking, smoking, brief depictions of depression, loneliness/abandonment, mention of coming out.

Dyn squeezes your hand as you walk up the steps to your mother’s residence. Your other hand holding up your caramel coloured silk dress, your heels clicking against the marble.

Baby looks up at the 15-foot doorway in astonishment from his father’s arm.

“Okay,” you say turning to your two boys, you feel the lapels of Dyn’s blue velvet suit between your fingers to stay grounded. It’s fitted and he looks dashing. You’ve dressed Baby in a matching blue velvet robe you made yourself out of fabric you found at the market. “There’s my mother, Wilhemina. My father, Stark. My mother’s husband, Ezra. My father’s husband, Madden.”

Dyn nods, “Wilhemina. Stark. Ezra. Madden. I got it.”

“Right, and then there’s everyone else. My aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Family friends.” You look towards the door as you start to panic. “Oh god, Dyn what have I done?”

You start to fidget. “Everyone is in there. This is too much. It’s Christmas Eve. You must think I’m insane. Let’s just leave. We can just go. Let’s just go.’’

You turn and Dyn grabs your arm, ���Hey, hey. It’s fine. I’m excited. I love Christmas.”

“You didn’t even know what it was three weeks ago.” You whimper.

“Yeah, well....” Dyn shrugs, tilting his head to the side.

You look down at your hands and Dyn crouches to try and find your eye line. “Hey, I am ready for this. It’s you, me and Baby against the galaxy, babe. Always. It’s going to be just fine.”

You nod and Dyn takes your hand and you push open the door.

You’re hit by a wave of warmth, sound, and colour. As the foyer is filled with people dressed in jewel toned evening wear, everyone dripping in silk and fur and velvet and gold. There is laughter and clinking of champagne glasses. More than a few heads turn toward you and you look down in embarrassment.

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Darlene Love fills the air glowing rich with candlelight, as a droid skids past, offering drinks.

“HMm.” Dyn grunts in displeasure. You let go of his hand and link your arm through his.

“Come on, tough guy. Let’s find my parents”

Baby coos, distracted by the lights and colours and different voices, the vibrating music. Even Dyn has his neck craned up to the cathedral ceilings strung with twinkling lights.

“Remember,” you say looking back at them, Baby’s eyes bouncing around like a ping-pong ball, Dyn staring straight up at the oversized black and white portrait of you as a child, a goofy smile plastered across his face. “If this gets to be too much, you tell me and we’re out of here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dyn says, looking back down. “Is that you?”

You look up at the portrait you mother had blown up after you moved out. It was taken at the beach, your hair wind-blown and salty at the end of the day. Your chin raised, and your eyes cast down to the side. You were 7.

“Uh, yep.” You say, maneuvering through the crowd. Stopping as more guests began to recognize you. You exchange quick kisses on the cheek and insist you’ll return once you find your parents.

“Kind of crazy, isn’t it?” Dyn asks.

“How so?” You say over your shoulder.

“That’s what our daughter could look like.”

You stop and Dyn walks into you, Baby’s arms go up in surprise. You look up at your love with wide eyes, “Okay, we’ll unpack that when it’s not Christmas.”

Dyn laughs and shrugs and you imitate his movements as a joke.

You turn back as you walk through the arches of the grand living room and you hear an excited scream.

A woman in a long red fur coat turns, she wears a matching red gown, her exquisitely shiny silver hair piled up with pins on the top her head. She has an opera length cigarette holder between her dark purple lips.

“Someone take this!” She calls, pulling the holder out of her mouth and stepping forward with her arms up. “There will be no smoking around my grandson! Or my daughter! Or her beautiful partner!”

“Hi, mom” you smile, opening your arms for her. She embraces you and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“And this must be Dyn and Baby,” Wilhemina sings, wrapping her arms around the two of them.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Dyn gasps through her grip.

Wilhemina pets the top of Baby’s head lovingly, then clasps her hands together. “I am so glad you’re all here. I am so happy.”

The droid skids by again, a replenished tray of champagne balancing on top.

“Please!” Your mother exclaims, “Have a drink.”

“I’d love one,” you say and Dyn just stares.

“It’s fine, just take it.” You say through your teeth.

Dyn grunts.

“Take it.” You pretend to cough.

Wilhemina raises an eyebrow but her focus is broken as she looks passed the two of you. “Oh, Stark! Look who’s here!”

You turn to greet your father, but Dyn catches his hand first. Giving him a strong handshake and Baby cackles from the bumpy movement.

“Nice to meet you, Dyn.” Your father smiles, before crouching down to meet Baby. Everyone is always stunned when they meet Stark, Baby included. He coos with his mouth agape, reaching for his club master reading glasses. Your father wears and all white suit with a black tie, salt and pepper hair slicked back, his beard impeccably kept. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as his velvet fog voice spills out of his mouth, “Well hello there, Baby,”

Baby smiles sweetly with wide eyes and Stark squeezes his little cheek.

“Y/N!” Madden calls, stepping around his husband. “The most beautiful girl in the galaxy. When are you going to let me put you in a movie?”

“Never!” You laugh, as you kiss each other on both cheeks.

Madden rolls his eyes, “I know, but I’ll never stop trying.”

“She’s far too talented to be an actor, Madden darling.” Stark declares to his husband, crossing in front of him to embrace you and you quickly inhale his cologne.

“Hi dad,” you smile up at him.

“I’m so happy you came.”

“I think I’ve almost missed it here.”

Dyn laughs at something Madden & Wilhemina are telling him, probably something at your expense, but you smile at the sweet sound of his voice any way.

“You look happy, my star.” Stark says, searching your face.

You look over to Dyn, now bouncing Baby on his side as your mother introduces them to her husband and others you recognize as your aunt Adohara and her family. Dyn’s face is Iike sunshine, even in the darkness of winter as he smiles and nods, wishing everyone around him a “Merry Christmas”.

Your aunt comments on his exquisite face as Children pull on his arm for a better look at Baby and Wilhemina passes him champagne. He and Baby are a commodity.

You look back to you father, “I really am, dad.”

Your father nods, “I am so glad, my star.”

Stark smiles, and behind his frames you can’t help but see relief, joy and sadness swirl around in his eyes, all at once.

Wilhemina Starling and Stark Juniper were pioneers of the hologram film age, and the biggest stars on Venus-9. They were disgustingly beautiful, effortlessly funny, breathtakingly talented, and, as a duo, criminally profitable. Their marriage was iconic and your birth was broadcasted on every comm on the planet, finally an heir to a film dynasty. The next true star, so they thought. You rebelled at an early age against any matching of your parents stardom. You would rarely sit still for photographs and journalists, loudly expressed your contempt for fame, specifically declaring you had never even seen a Starling & Juniper vehicle. You didn’t mean to come off harsh, it just spilled out of you.

You were cursed at such a young age with the ability to see through it all. You didn’t see the beauty, the constant filtering of important people through your home - from filmmakers, to poets, to musicians and diplomats. You didn’t see the opulence, or even the joy your parents brought to others through their films. You only saw the loneliness looking back at you in the mirror. The confusing desire to both rebel and have your parents full attention, to be as great as them in anything. You could only see a life you didn’t ask for. You wanted to be delicate, exist in the shadows. Stunning and strong.

Instead you were full of rage and sadness. Your own beauty repulsed you and you were so desperately impulsive. You screamed out to the sky every night “Why did you send me to this planet?!” for you knew it must have been a mistake. You weren’t who you longed to be. You had an obsessive desire to set the planet on fire, but knew it wouldn’t burn fast enough. Nothing ever did. You were lost in a never ending cycle of everything being too much, or not enough.

It wasn’t until you were an adult and moved off of Venus-9 that you saw your parents for what they were, as complicated and lonely as you.

There was your mother’s exhausting career in always being “on”. Trapped in a contract she signed at 21, she had been making 6 films a year since. She was who everyone either wanted to be, or be with. A pressure she kept hidden in the dark with cigarettes and brandy. The biting of her cuticles and the ever-present guilt of so desperately wanting to be famous, just to secretly be unable to handle it. Wilhemina threw herself into every party, every role, every glass of brandy with her purple lipstick print, as to not be afraid.

Though, Stark could have been the loneliest of all. From the ages of 12-15 you could count on one hand how many times you had seen your fathers glorious face. It was a time you called, The Days of Recluse. You all slept under the same roof but at this point your parents had separate bedrooms. Your father only emerging from his for work. Otherwise, he laid in the dark all day, you were certain, catching a glimpse inside his room one afternoon when your mother shuffled out with a tray of uneaten breakfast. One of the few times you actually came face to face with Stark during this time, his appearance startled you. Gone were his golden movie star looks. His lustrous perfectly coiffed black hair had gone dull and shaggy. His skin over grown with a beard that made him unrecognizable. The dreamy look in his eye had gone hard and vacant like stone. He looked frail, his body swallowed by light blue pyjamas. Ultimately, he looked defeated. If you didn’t know your father, you wouldn’t know who was standing before you in the hallway at the top of the stairs in your own home. You stood there, eyes wide and he began to cry.

“I love you,” you blurted out, and pushed past him. You didn’t know what to do. How could you? This was just your normal.

Wilhemina became increasingly irritable during this time. Favouring chain smoking in the grand living room, with her large sunglasses on with her sister, Adohara. They spoke in whispers, but you heard them, of not knowing what to do. Wanting to help your father but not knowing where to start. “He needs his truth.” Your mother would say. “He needs his truth.”

When your father came out to you, you wept. You wept for him, you wept for yourself, you wept for the light that now crept into the home. You wept tears of happiness because you felt like perhaps this had been what was missing all along, your father’s truth.

You had a vivid memory of just days later, sitting on the floor of your parents formerly shared en-suite bathroom as your mother cut your father’s unkept hair, and trimmed his beard that he decided to keep.

Your father leaned into every touch, and your mother smiled through misty eyes. It felt so intimate, like you shouldn’t be there. It was like witnessing two people coming out on the other side, battered and bruised, but alive. Victims of a vicious studio system that overworked them and stole the best years of their lives just to display for the joy of others. A system that didn’t care what happened to them, as long as they were making money.

You once had elaborate fantasies of telling your parents you were magnificent in spite of them, not because of them, but all that came out of your mouth the night before Stark moved out of the residence was, “Growing up was so hard.”

Your parents looked down in shame. Your father’s bottom lip protruding as he let out a heavy exhale.

Wilhemina grabbed his hand and opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

“And I don’t need you to be sorry, I don’t need you to want to take it back, I just need you to know how hard it was to always be alone. I was always alone.” You felt your chest burn from your voice cracking. “I know it wasn’t easy for you either, but I was the child and I needed you.”

Wilhemina and Stark nodded. They knew. And you knew that they did. There had been a shift after your father’s coming out. You actually saw each other, Wilhemina in the process of retiring from the scene all together and Stark transitioning to work behind the camera. You had begun showing them your own work, your art picking up recognition under the pseudonym F/N Zelda as to not attract any concerns of nepotism. Your mother began hanging pieces around the residence until they sold, even holding on to the ones you insisted on scrapping.

They were trying, but change wasn’t immediate. You weren’t suddenly delicate overnight. You felt for your father who was now faced with dreaming up his entire life all over again, and your mother who was losing you both to new lives at once. The three of you had a lifetime to mend and heal from, but it finally felt like the beginning of the end.

“Dyn, Y/N,” your mother sings as Baby reaches for her, much to your surprise. “I hope it’s alright, I got a few Christmas gifts for Baby.”

Wilhemina adjusts Baby in her arms as he rubs his face softly against her fur coat.

“Of course,’ Dyn says.

“We got him a few things, too.” Stark says, putting a hand on Madden’s shoulder and Madden beams a radiant smile.

Your mother turns and you all follow her as a parade through the sea of people to the back of the home. Past the 18-person dining table and through the kitchen with servant droids assembling platters of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne. You link your arm through Dyn’s again, pressing yourself against him as delicately as you can. You look up at him with doey eyes and he smirks.

Through the kitchen you’re met with the more modest living space, the one you frequented most growing up. You gasp.

The room is lit up by a Christmas tree surrounded by package after package wrapped in different coloured foils, all tied meticulously with bows. Different shapes and sizes, there is at least two dozen of them.

“Oh mom.. Dad...” You sigh.

Wilhemina sets Baby on the ground and he waddles toward the shiny colours.

Stark and Madden walk passed you excitedly as you and Dyn have stopped in your tracks, eyes wide.

Dyn leans into your ear and whispers, “Baby isn’t going to know what to do with any of this.”

“Yeah, no. Not a clue.” You whisper back.

Baby looks back at you, as his finger traces along a gift.

“Go ahead, Baby.” Dyn nods. “It’s all for you.”

Sometimes you can’t believe this is your life. A civil relationship with your parents. An angel you would run to the end of the galaxy for, and his sweet green bean that you came to care for as your own. A delicate existence that satisfies you creatively, emotionally and otherwise. Filled with soft moments and a love so deep, if you think about it for too long, it makes you cry. A life you didn’t know was possible, for you once believed you’d be screaming up into the sky for eternity. But here you are. Sitting cross legged on the floor with Baby in your lap as he tears through Christmas presents, more interested in the wrappings and bows than the toys themselves. Dyn scarfing down hors d'oeuvres with your step dads and father just above you, stopping to feed you one, as your hands are tied with your sweet boy. Your mother watching everything with excited eyes, sipping on Coca Cola from a glass with her purple lipstick print.

You made it. You’re okay.

Tags: @otherthingsinhead @aeryntheofficial @maryan028 @readsalot73 @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon @capsironunderoos @antclottz @intense-sneezing

A/N: I feel like I should apologize as this has turned into more of myself practicing/finding my writing style than an actual Star Wars tale. I promise in the next chapter or 2, everything changes....👀 Stark and Wilhemina are based off of Rock Hudson and Dorothy Malone. I hope you enjoyed. Happy holidays! Love, Zelda

[dojae-huh]

Resonance Pt1 review

I bought both versions: Past and Future.

I’m in love with the concept for Resonance, the pioneers in space and on another planets. Be it real planets or imaginative in a dream. Sadly, although the concept follows NCT’s core legend, I can’t feel it in the songs on the album (the lyrics or the sound). There is nothing really retro or futuristic. There is “Misfit”, but Everglow with “La Di Da” did a better job at returning to the 80s and disco, than NCT U to old school rap.

Now, the review of the photoalbums themselves.

1) Covers

The covers are beautiful. I really like the logo of NCT2020, the font type, size and placement is good, the log has relief (a good thing, adds tactile sense to the experience), the blue and brown are of rare hues. 

There is a minus. The carton chosen for the cover is very soft and easily damages. The albums arrive with tears on edges.

2) End-leafs

A pretty silver insignia with the logo. But I don’t like the orange for the Future version. I clashes with the brown.

The binding used for Resonance Pt 1 is called “open spine binding”. It is a kind of “section sewn” binding. I believe SM chose it to not make a separate folder for the disk. 

Section Sewn is the most secure type of binding. Pages are folded together into sections. Each section is then sewn into the following section along the spine. The spine is then glued together for extra support. A Section Sewn book will be able to lay flat regardless of pagecount.

This is how it looks before glue.

Personally, looking at the Resonance album, I still will hesitate using it as a projectile (the thread looks too thin), but with normal handling it should hold well. And it’s very nice to be able to look through the photos without ay constrains.

3) CDs

I really like the lift. ICool discs.

4) Lyrics

A simple big pamphlet. Saves on cost and weight, but I prefer a proper lyric book, not just a piece of paper with additional information.

5) Cards

2 small cards. Eh, not enough goodies. 

6) Photoalbums

The print is decent. The paper is very thick (why the albums are so heavy). I find the Past photoset too dark to my liking. However, the skin tone is warmer than in Neozone, so the photographs look better.

Both photosets are so-so. There are nice shots, but in general it’s too glossy magazine. The concept of pioneers is gone. Few photos have atmosphere. For the concept the photographer took pictures of inanimate objects - not his/her subject for sure. I love the clothes and overall styling, it saves the photosets.

Page layouts. Could have been better. Often two photographs of different members don’t look good near each other. I don’t agree with the vertical big pictures placed between the rest with even intervals instead of at the end. It’s not nice to make your reader turn the book back and forth all the time. There are three insets with NCT 2020, Neo culture technology and so on. They are not pretty and needlees. They don’t make my eyes rest and don’t serve as a section divider either (all the photographs are the same, no change between parts).

Some photos are repetitive. Doyoung and Jaehyun are handsome though, even with all the brushing. 

Ideally, I would like poses to be more free, more candid and atmospheric. Like we are meeting a team of explorers. Arranged in a neat progression with some NCTmentary text.

An inset

What I call “glossy”. Glamour magazine poses.

These poses fit the concept better. A bit more “lost” or “unprepared”.

This is more atmospheric. Is he a mechanic in the space ship crew?

Examples of pictures that don’t go together. 

Examples of pictures that do make one cohesive spread.

Such one person spreads are also a good solution. But there are very few of them in the albums.

Doyoung and his three poses.

[maywoodrpg]

WELCOME TO MAYWOOD’S ANNUAL BOXES FOR CHARITY!

This event is put on every year by Camila Kapoor to raise money for the various charities and hopefully push some people out of their shells. Each person will be paired up with one of the mystery boxes below. Now I’m sure you all are wondering how this will work. 

You will read over the boxes if you are a bidder, then place your bid below in the comments. YOU MUST BID ON 3 BOXES. From there you will wait until Wednesday when boxes are announced and go on your date. 

EXAMPLE: Alex bids on box 1, 10, and 12 <--- this would be in the comments. 

If you have any QUESTIONS PLEASE ASK!

The outside of the box is covered in black and white photographs from Maywood back in the 1800s. Inside the box there is a box of twizzlers because it is their favorite candy. Next to that there’s a picnic blanket, apple pie, a bottle of wine with two disposable glasses and a piece of lasagne to be shared, all on top of white linnen. Lastly there’s a disposable camera to be used whenever they want.

The outside of the box is covered in black background, with green binary computer code printed on top. On the inside, it’s lined in black velvet. The contents include: a single key, it looks like a regular car key, but it turns out to belong to a boat. Two premium steaks. Two bottles of wine; one white, and one a sweet red. A triple chocolate cherry coke cake for desert. A captain’s hat, and a securely wrapped candle that’s labeled ‘Ocean Water’.

Box consists of an unused cardboard box that was part of a gift from Christmas — 6x6 with a big rope tied into a messy bow. Beside the rope bow, he stuck on a Christmas bow, yes the red velvety kind. Inside, it has a six pack of beer ( freshly bought the day of ), a red and white frisbee, and a keychain of a longboard as a small reminder of the date. They purposefully packed these things into an unusually large box as to originally throw off the participants.

The box is covered in green fabric, silver ribbon encircling the rim of the box to help keep the fabric in place. Inside there are two wine glasses and a bottle of the Fortier wine circa 1991, a great vintage. Take out meals from a local Italian restaurant are inside wrapped up to keep warm as well as breadsticks. For dessert there’s a box of different colored macarons. A toy horse is nestled against the wine.

The outside of the box is a colorful array of glitter and marker, clearly decorated by a child. A good deal of space inside is taken up by a soccer ball and a jersey shirt. Next to it is a container of handmade Nacatamales, two beers, and a couple pieces of chocolate cake that’s been iced in an adorably messy way.

The box is a simple one, wrapped in solid light blue wrapping paper. Inside contains a boxed set collection of the Golden Girls, a handwritten invitation to Sweet Tooth Candy Shop, a picnic blanket, a copy of the Velvetten Rabbit, and an new, unused notebook. Situated on top of all of this is an envelop addressed to “my date.” The envelop contains a letter handwritten by them which thanks the bidder for choosing them and invites them to spend a relaxing day with them in the location of their choice, where they can chat, write a bit, eat some sweets, and just generally enjoy hanging out together.

The brown box was covered with a world map depicting where each major war had been fought. Inside the lining was fabric with the mayflower compact printed on it. A small copy of the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King is in the box along with a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses. There’s an envelope sealed with a wax stamp that reads “free history classes” on it. Also inside is a little box with twine tied around it with a note attached that says “inside is your first clue."

The brown box has a dusty rose ribbon tied around the base of it along with cute glittery flowers covering the outside of the box. The inside is lined with a jewel tone blue fabric. There’s a blanket settled at the bottom with a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses set inside. Twinkle lights are spread throughout the box and little seashells are set around the wine glasses. Assorted sushi and chocolate covered strawberries are also inside along with a little hand written card that says “Meet me at the beach.”

The outside of the box is simple yet classic. Wrapped in silver and gold wrapping paper. Opening the box uncovers the sides and the bottom of the box are covered with a nice lace pattern. Within the box, there are two old fashioned glasses of cola, hamburger with all the fixings and two cartons of ice cream geared toward each other’s favorite flavor for dessert. Other items contained in the box include a movie and a fake movie ticket.

The outside of the box has a different image on each side. The first is a red rose growing out of what looks like a hill. The second is a cream colour with small yellow circles and stars. The third is a fox on a grassy field. The fourth is white, with three circles shaded to look like holes, with “what is essential is invisible to the eye” written in cursive. The top is sky blue, with what looks like a yellow scarf blowing in the wind. Inside the box, is a bottle of wine with two wine glasses, fresh bread, spreadable cheese, and homemade chocolate croissants. Underneath everything is a copy of the children’s book, The Little Prince.

On the inside of the box, it’s filled with a few layers of tissue paper rotating between the colors of blue and green. Placed on top of the paper is a picnic blanket. Placed on the blanket are two silver metal coffee mugs, a variety sushi platter and a scrumptious serving of fresh strawberry shortcake for dessert. Other items found in the box is a blow up beach volleyball and a small music speaker to listen to to some tunes.

On the outside of the box is a mod podged sealed collage of a variety of photos — playbill covers, concerts stills, printed off art images, etc with a white bow superglued to the top. The sides on the inside have a continuation of the collage but on the bottom lays a black velvet cushion, just big enough to fill the bottom of the box. On top lays a ticket that is plain white with gold lining with the words “MCC Theater Presents” spread across the top. It’s taped to a menu detailing several dishes, and drink options. Beneath that is red flyer for a band performance at Lucky’s, and a hand made ‘credit card’ with ‘tab on me’ sprawled where a name would typically be.

The outside of the box has been cushioned, covered with a blush pink satiny material. Little matching tulle buttons adorn the top. Meticulous; time was taken on the top of this box. Inside the box is the same satin fabric, no cushioning. Inside is a bottle of Rose, chocolate-covered strawberries, brie and crackers, figs covered in a balsamic sauce, prosciutto, salami, marinated olives. Inside also lies a white picnic blanket and a candleholder with two long candles. It’s about the romance.

THE FOLLOWING BIDDERS ARE: 

@zahraammun

@lucieoconnor

@jadexramirez

@daphnee-a

@mrantonydaniels

@nikhailkohli

@nataliaflcres

@avatorres

@alexandrademir

@elenakapoor

@corinnaburke

@edgarfortiers

@diegoxalvarez & @riskylindy (who will host but can also bid if they choose)

[rogankelly]

Wet Plate Collodion Research Task

*Wet plate collodion process*

This is a photographic process that was invented in 1851 by Frederick Scott Archer and by the end of 1860 had almost entirely replaced the first announced photographic process, the daguerreotype. The collodion process involves the photographic material to be coated, exposed and developed within the span of fifteen minutes. There was a number of manual steps involving cutting the glass or metal plate; wiping egg-white along its edges; coating it evenly with a syrupy substance called collodion; making it light-sensitive by dunking it in silver nitrate for a few minutes; loading the wet plate carefully into a “dark slide” which is inserted into the camera; taking the picture; then developing it, which is rather like processing black and white print. Photographers from the 19th century had to take chemistry labs with them everywhere, in black tents. There are a lot of steps and many of these can easily go wrong. 

*What does the channel mixer do?*

The channel mixer is a tool in photoshop that allows the user to mix different colour channels mainly consisting of RGBA (Red, Green, Blue, Alpha).This features allows you to repair channels and produce grayscale images from colour images. You can also create tinted images and special effects. 

*What are blending modes?*

Blending modes in photoshop are used to determine how layers can be lapped on two each other until they are mixed together and submerged. It can achieve a realistic and natural look to the brush strokes. The tool allow you to blend and vary your wetness within a single brush stroke. You can also choose your desired foreground colour from the tools panel. 

Each section:

Normal -  “Normal” is the default Blending Mode for Photoshop layers. Opaque pixels will cover the pixels directly below them without applying any math or algorithm applied to them. You can, of course, reduce the opacity of the layer to reveal the pixels below.

Darken - The result darkens the image. White is invisible on the Blend layer.

Dissolve -  The dissolve mode takes random pixels from both layers. With top layer opacity greater than that of the bottom layer, most pixels are taken from the top layer, while with low opacity most pixels are taken from the bottom layer.

Multiply -  Multiply blend mode multiplies the RGB channel numbers for each pixel from the top layer with the values for the corresponding pixel from the bottom layer. The result is always a darker picture; since each value is less than 1, their product will be less than either of the initial values.

Colour burn -  The Colour Burn Blending Mode gives you a darker result than Multiply by increasing the contrast between the base and the blend colours resulting in more highly saturated mid-tones and reduced highlights. The result is very similar to the effect you would get when you use the Burn Tool to darken an image.

Linear Burn -  Linear Burn decreases the brightness of the base colour based on the value of the blend colour. The result is darker than Multiply but less saturated than Colour Burn. Linear Burn also produces the most contrast in darker colours than any of the other Blending Modes in the Darker group.

Darker Colour -  Photoshop checks to see if the colours are darker than 50% grey or lighter than 50% grey. If the colours are darker than 50% grey, a darkening Blending Mode is applied. If the colours are brighter than 50% grey, a brightening Blending Mode is applied.

Lighter Colour -  The opposite blend mode to Darken is Lighten, and with the Lighten blend mode, if the pixels on the active layer are lighter than the ones on the layers below, they are kept in the image.

Screen -  The Screen blend mode works exactly the opposite. With Screen, anything on the layer that's pure black will disappear from view. Anything that's pure white will remain unchanged, and any shade of grey between pure black and pure white will become lighter.

Colour dodge -  The Colour Dodge blend mode divides the bottom layer by the inverted top layer. This lightens the bottom layer depending on the value of the top layer: the brighter the top layer, the more its colour affects the bottom layer. Blending any colour with white gives white. Blending with black does not change the image.

Linear dodge -  This Blending Mode looks at the colour information in each channel and brightens the base colour to reflect the blend colour by increasing the brightness. Blending with black produces no change.

Soft light -  In the case of the Soft Light blending mode it is similar to using the dodge or burn tool. In other words, every colour that is lighter than 50% grey will get even lighter, like it would if you shine a soft spotlight to it. In the same way, every colour darker than 50% grey will get even darker.

Hard light -  “Multiplies or screens the resulting colour depending on the original colour. If underlying colour is less than 50% grey, the layer lightens it as if it were screened. If underlying colour is greater than 50% grey, the layer darkens it it as if it were multiplied.”

Vivid light -  The Vivid Light Blend mode is a mixture of Colour Burn and Colour Dodge and interacts with your image differently based on the selected layer. Because Vivid Light uses Colour Burn and Colour Dodge as its base, it makes for some beautiful colour graded images.

Linear light -  The Linear Light blending mode is a combination of Linear Burn and Linear Dodge — but similar to Vivid Light, the combination gives slightly different results. … Linear Light: Burns or dodges the colours by decreasing or increasing the brightness, depending on the blend colour.

Pin light -  Photoshop defines this blend modes function as, … “Pin Light replaces the colours, depending on the blend colour. If the blend colour (light source) is lighter than 50% grey, pixels darker than the blend colour are replaced, and pixels lighter than the blend colour do not change

Difference -  One of the fastest ways to get amazing looking images is by using Blending modes. Each blending mode changes the way that a layer reacts with the layer underneath it. You get a small inkling of this by adjusting the opacity of a layer. Using blending modes opens up an entirely new world

Hue -  The Hue Blend mode is pretty straightforward: Hue Mode: Creates a result colour with the luminance and saturation of the base colour and the hue of the blend colour. … Setting a new, blank layer to “Hue” means that you can “paint over” any part of your image and change the colour.

Saturation -  The Saturation blend mode preserves the luma and hue of the bottom layer, while adopting the chroma of the top layer. The Colour blend mode preserves the luma of the bottom layer, while adopting the hue and chroma of the top layer.

Overlay -  Blend modes (or mixing modes) in digital image editing and computer graphics are used to determine how two layers are blended with each other. The default blend mode in most applications is simply to obscure the lower layer by covering it with whatever is present in the top layer (see alpha compositing).

*Explain what layers and masks are*

Layers control the transparency of the layer which is on top, the areas of a layer that are hidden by a layer mask actually becomes transparent allowing image information from lower layers to show through. Layer masks are greyscale so you cant add colours. 

[sunflowershayne]

aesthetics i associate w/ the smosh fam

ian hecox - crisp lines, black and white, jackets with illustrated symbols on the sleeves, pushing up your glasses by the bridge of your nose, flowers in beards, big beautiful smiles, rainbows after rain, puddles of water on cement, aesthetic posts that are just vine quotes

keith leak jr. - black clothes, hard-brimmed hats, all-black pictures with one pop of color, funny notes written in between lines on sheet music, shirts that are too long, sunglasses, deep yellows, paint, dandelions, inspirational & motivational quotes

olivia sui - reds and pinks, heart-shaped sunglasses, lip gloss, windswept hair, manicured nails, pictures where the subject is covering their mouth, oversized sweaters, vintage cars, black & white films, old-school theaters & drive-ins, milkshakes, one-word aesthetic pictures, pastels

noah grossman - every color that exists, fading hair dye and visible roots, prayer hands, stripes, saturated colors, avocados, peace signs, hands touching someone, vhs filter overlays of modern photos, sunsets, the dark pinks and purples of vaporwave, deep green leaves, water

courtney miller - primary colors + white, high-waisted pants, iron-on embroidery, acid-washed jeans, morning skies, blowing kisses, heart-shaped lollipops, colorful lipstick, muted colors, running hands through hair, girls supporting girls, wlw aesthetics

shayne topp - yellows reds and browns, neutral tones, rays of sunlight, tree branches that hang over sidewalks, sunflower fields, coffee, pictures of people laughing, spotlights, subtle glowing of neon signs, floral prints, messy handwriting

joshua ovenshire - grays and blues, comic books, glasses pushed down to the tip of the nose, gelled up hair, tattoos, close groups of friends, group laughter, lightning, storms, clockwork, movie edits, ghosts, doodles of people’s faces, crooked smiles

mari takahashi - purples pinks and blues, galaxy prints, subtle glow, neon lights, mid-air poses in photographs, 80s cyber themes, space buns, airplanes, filled up passports, robots, flipping the bird, saturated hair dye, sharp winged eyeliner, iridescents, glow-in-the-dark stars

david “lasercorn” moss - oranges reds and black, fire, leather jackets, swords, packs of wolves, bruised knuckles, screenshots of despair, blood without gore, shields, loud swearing, pictures of people screaming, booming thunder, steel, wedding rings, awesome and outrageous drawings

wes johnson - silvers blues and purples, candy, guns, quotes about family, sleek design, silver bullets, soft fluffy blankets, gender non-conforming outfits, pixel art, inappropriate laughter, pastel-colored slime, ice cream, manga quotes on solid-color backgrounds

damien haas - blue white and green, plaid shirts, cat smiles, close-ups of eyes, anime style drawings, plants, soft sweatshirts, sweater paws, soft curls, “just woke up” hair, wrinkled sheets, giant fluffy pillows, positive affirmations, platonic hugs, wings

sarah whittle - pinks and oranges, fruits, hawaiian print shirts, ripped jeans, messy hair, untucked shirts, magical creatures, true love, very saturated colors, pool floaties, heart emojis, disney movies, phone cases and lockscreens, twitter screenshots of funny tweets in aesthetic format

matt raub - black with some bright neon colors, movie quotes and stills, city lights at midnight, sped up shots of people driving on the highway at night, 80s album covers, self-confidence, leadership, headphones being on at all times, melting around certain people

[memoirsverse]

Dresden Files/The Authors of Paradise: Dark Days

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty. 

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day. 

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space. 

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen. 

_________________________________________

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

_________________________________________

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night. 

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit. 

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right? 

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form. 

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder. 

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[alicemphotography]

Victorian Portraits- Emulate and Create

Daguerreotype- This method was the first proper, widely used photographic technique. Below is three examples of daguerreotype prints. Aesthetically, the print is darker around the edges and appear more scratched as if it was a delicate and easily scratched surface. In photoshop I would add a warm/sepia tone and find a png of scratches and maybe a dark outline and add as layers. 

Calotype- Introduced in 1841, this technique uses a sheet of paper coated in silver chloride. These have more of a sepia toned look more faded on the outside of the paint. You could use the sepia filter on photoshop and maybe find an old paper overlay to layer. 

Wet Collodion- This technique was invented in 1851. Soluble iodide was added to a solution of collodion (cellulose nitrate) and a glass plate was coated with it. These images are very blue in tone and colour and have a wavy outline and look like its backed onto a black backing. They have a few black specks but are quite sharp. I would turn down the saturation and tone on photoshop and create a black wavy frame. 

Here is a link to a daguerreotype tutorial in photoshop. 

https://photography.tutsplus.com/tutorials/quick-tip-create-your-own-daguerreotype-in-photoshop--photo-5568

And another...

https://petapixel.com/2015/11/10/how-to-make-a-portrait-look-like-wet-plate-collodion-using-photoshop/

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira (4)

CHAPTER 4: Count My Doubts Like Breaths

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: a reveal; an aftermath

Warnings: an attempt at harrasment

Word count: I found out I don’t know how to spell pigeon.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The iridescent blue of the digital clock reminds Heimdall of the time he had first seen the strings tangle in front of him. He is still holding the two golden-eyed marbles like he did that day, his hands playing with the cold glass on a rhythm known only to those long, dark, experienced fingers. There is a flinch in the regular breaths on the screen initially. A microscopic jerk. The fingers curl around the black sheet covering the bare body before turning into fists, crumpling up the fabric beyond recognition at one point. One long inhale and unmistakable flutter of breath and eyelids. Heimdall watches the movements with a shade of worry wrapped quite sophisticatedly in observation -so sophisticatedly that he can fool his own self into thinking he did not care for the one he was looking upon- as if watching some dark ritual unfold in front of him.

In a way it is. In many ways, it feels worse. The sweat beads become distinct, glistening against the moonlight that enters through the glass doors and lazily roams about the room, touching everything it can get its hands on. There is a moment- a cautious one at that- where he even sees the veins give way through the skin, waiting to burst out as suppressed moans turn to feral grunts and the silence takes place of a repeated incoherent mumble. Even if he wants to, Heimdall has never been able to retrieve his gaze from the inevitable that happens every time. The shallow breaths and low but ominous moans slowly turn to delirious cries of someone wanting the tortuous voices to stop. But the man watching it all reasons that it is not his place; it never was. And so, the infamous man that is Loki Odinson continues to drown in the pool of sweat being created by his own gory dreams till he wakes up with a horrible yelp escaping his throat, bringing back the silence as and when his lungs allow him. Heimdall's features do not even flicker where he sits. But on the inside, he genuinely wonders the cause behind such horrid nights that are punishment enough for the man already paying for his deeds. The smooth squeak of the turn of the shower handle has now created a Pavlov effect on Loki's mind because he knows what waits for his heated head as soon as the cold metal turns to his liking. The raw water with the perfect pressure hits his head, creating a rough waterfall where the white foam ends and his black ravens begin, sticking down on the nape of his neck, slithering with the flow down them onto his shoulders, creating pathways for the water to follow down his back, which already has it's own story to tell as the freezing liquid snakes through the multiple unnatural tiny peaks and valleys of the skin that run along the otherwise smooth pale surface. Flashes come back in front of his eyes. Loki's hands rest against the wall, balancing his upper body's weight upon them as he tries to stabilise the incoherent cries swimming up to the surface from a long lost memory. The flashes are in pieces; pieces with sharp edges trying to find their way through the flesh of his overworked brain. Blood. Chains. Soul-wretching screams. A muddied chunk of crystal falling down on a hard surface with a clatter before engulfing everything around it in its light. The flashes repeat themselves. And then they do it again. And again. The shoulders rise and fall with surfaced breaths. The water pressure taints the face to drown out the sooty images. The spread palms ball up into fists against the cinnamon tiles, the knuckles bruised red with a rough press to the hard surface. Everything seems to accelerate, too fast for the senses to catch up till a low crunch is heard, the shower is shut and the shower temple is left with a cracked tile. You don't read newspapers. The everyday tragedies printed in bold over front pages forcing people to swallow the death and destruction is not something you like to start or end your day with. In fact, had it not been your job to do thorough research on the people Loki was in business with- or going to be- you would never keep yourself updated to what was going on around the world. Ever. Ignorance is indeed bliss sometimes. Today, the woman sitting by stairs of the station isn't begging but selling a bundle of a local newspaper and as usual, you try to walk by without giving much thought to watch she would do with the money she makes. But something stops you. Turning back you take a step towards the bundle lying by her soiled feet. A photograph covers one-fourth of the front page with a name and a face that is way too familiar to be ignored. But that isn't as relevant to you till the headline dances in front of your eyes. The time you take to go inside the station, wait for the tube, sit down in it, is a blur. A part of you wants to laugh. A part of you wants to scream a little. But whatever ounce of concentrated sanity you feel inside your blood forces you to dial a number on the phone. "Hi, it's me, Kira," you breathe the shivers out through your lips, "is it okay if we meet today?" "Breakfast, Master Loki," Ygritte calls from outside the room. Loki removes a piece of lint from his black shirt before flattening the most invisible creases and walking out of his room. As soon as he steps out the door, the air smells different. The faint touch of lavender and citrus in the air apart from the usual aroma of freshly baked bread- toasted and buttered- and served with sunny-side-up eggs and bacon tells him you are early to work today. Must have read the news, his inside voice smirks from a hollow abyss, nearly chuckling with bliss. Closing his bedroom door behind him, he struts through the hallway that opens up into the living room. He can already see your back towards him, sitting on the sofa, hair in a high bun today over a brown blouse that complements the tone of your skin quite well. With every step he takes towards you, his heart beats with anticipation to what reaction you would give him, readying his mind to capture the moment for his to cherish on a minuscule level. "You're early," he announces his presence behind you. He watches you straighten and move away from the laptop kept on the coffee table to get up and turn towards him. "We have quite a busy month ahead. Wouldn't want to lag behind with the preparation." You don't smile. You don't even blink. He knows you're lying right to his face about your reasons for being here. Had he not been good at the part himself, he would genuinely believe your words to be true. What else have you lied about, pupper? He wonders on the inside. Loki watches you sit down and go back to whatever it is you are working on, your expression null, your eyes fixated, your glasses adjusted as and when needed. "What all are we busy with this month?" Loki watches you take in one heavy breath as your hands fold one over the other. He notices that one ring that is always adorning your right finger (on the wrong hand). The gem- which he knows is a cheap mimicry of a precious stone- is a tinge of yellow trying its best to reflect golden at the cuts that mark it. The worn out silver band having zero lustre tells him you have a really old relationship with this piece of useless stone. "You," you stretch the word a little, "have a charity gala to attend to along with new tech expo happening with Stark Industries this month. It's a five-day affair. Lots of influential names from around the globe, heavy press, world leaders making a visit, deals to go down." Loki's brows furrow at the mention of Stark. "Stark invited me." He almost sounds sceptical to your ears. Your fingers lift the pile of files lying beside your laptop to show Loki the invite. "The invitations went out a month ago, I'd say you were a last minute addition," you quip quite smoothly, making Loki smirk on the outside. "I'm surprised he even thought about me," Loki mutters as he looks at the expensive invitation paper inscribed with golden calligraphy. "I guess everyone has an agenda in the corporate world for even breathing near someone else," you smoothly spew into the air, making his brilliant green eyes turn towards you, and watch a sliver of a smile creep over your lips. "I see you got the invitation too." A voice Loki is too familiar with, calls out from behind him with a soft clack of heels. That's when Loki realises the reason for a hint of a careful positive on your features. "Solaris," he greets the woman clad in a royal blue dress complimenting her curves the best way possible. Even you are in awe of the way she walks towards you. Silver heels glistening with every step she takes, you still are not used to the kind smile she spreads your way. "Hi, Solaris," you greet the woman with a bit more stretch in your lips and Loki watches the change in your posture on the woman's arrival. "How are you doing, Kira?" Solaris takes the liberty to give you a hug, which surprises not only you but Loki but neither of you says anything. On the contrary, the gesture fills you up with warmth inside your chest that you haven't felt in a long while. "I'm...doing fine," you assure, nodding your head and licking your lips before stepping back and busying your fingers to adjust your glasses. Solaris turns to Loki, one side of her flawless dark forest skin reflecting the green hues of the grass and trees swaying in the languid breeze outside. "I hope you have been taking care of her, Loki. Because of not, I'd be happy to take her away with me." Loki's sly smirk grows over his lips. "Quite a subjective question, Solaris. I believe Kira will be able to tell you more than I ever can." "Miss Solaris, Miss Kira," Ygritte calls out with a smile as she comes from the direction of the dining room at the far corner of the house, "would you be joining Master Loki for breakfast?" You look at the redhead dressed in white, her already pale skin looking paler in the combination of the sunlight and the clothing. She is shorter than you even if you are not wearing any heels and has a sweet smile stuck over her pink lips as she stops just a few steps back, her hefty figure coming to a standstill from walking nimbly. Solaris rejects the invitation before turning to you. "Oh, no. I'm good. Thank you, ma'am," you state, watching the redhead's eyes widen a smidge before crinkling with a smile. "Please, miss, call me Ygritte." You pause, trying to let your delayed brain function take in her words before nodding in assurance in her direction. "Everything okay, dear?" The door clicks shut behind you, you and Solaris being the only one in your office. A calculated inhale later, you walk to your desk to pick today's newspaper and show it to her. Solaris reads the headline, going through the article before his crinkled brows rise up to look at you. "Yes, this happened last night. Andrews' estate went up in flames. What's the concern, Kira?" You really want to stop yourself but the scoff escapes your lungs. The tick of the clock in your office echoes through the morbid silence with the only touch of serene in this hollow space being Solaris' perfume. It takes an effort for you to walk and sit down on the couch. "Solaris," you begin, the tremble in your voice quite evident to the woman who makes an effort to come to sit by your side, "why exactly am I here?" Solaris' blink is filled with doubt as she tilts her head in question. "You are the assistant to-" "To the one man who might as well be the most powerful person in this country in terms of his intellect, yes, I have heard that before. A hundred times." Solaris takes in a breath to speak while keeping her slender hand over your shoulder. "I know about the cameras in my house, Solaris. I know about my ID tracking my every movement. I know how closely your employees-well, I can't speak for others, but I sure as hell am being scrutinised," you manage to speak through the shiver in your throat that you just want to burn away, "so please, do not insult my sanity. Or whatever is left of it, that, at least I'm pretty sure you are aware of considering the textbooks steps you've been taking around me to keep as much of my anxiety at bay as possible." The silence comes back again as the last of your words break and are left into the air for your audience to weight in her heart. There is a faint sound of scratching on the closed door before the handle turns and in walk the silent paws of the wolf of the house. Fenrir sniffs his way to you and makes sure to take in a whiff of every part of you before settling down by your legs, his warm furry body resting right above your boots, which he rightfully does not care about once he knows he is in contact with you some way. Your right hand moves on its own to rest on his head and you feel him tilt back into your touch with a relieved exhale. "I'm not complaining about my boss. Neither am I asking you to rescue me if that's what you're worried about. I just want you to know that right now I am on whatever side Loki points me in, which means it will come with a thorough scrutiny of my own. For the sake of the company that I work for. Nothing else." You scratch Fenrir under his ear, forcing another exhale out of him as he closes his eyes. "And if I ever have to be the bait," you conclude, "I'd like to be made aware of it beforehand." "It's eight, Solaris." Loki watches the woman step into his office as he takes the aide of a sunless sky outside his window to gesture at the lateness. "I was going through Kira's progress. She's quite patient and thorough, I have to say. Really saved your hair in the Andrews case by involving the legal team." Loki carefully closes the folder he'd been going through before sitting back in his chair. His fingers rest over his lips in some calculated thought as he eyes Solaris taking a seat in front of her. "Too bad she couldn't save the man, though," he is a little quick to add. A smirk runs over her lips, making Loki wonder how many men and women he has seen fall for this beauty, profess their love, break themselves apart to fit to what the thought would her liking, threatened her with flowers and guns alike and yet she is untethered. Loki knows way too well why that is. "She is capable of far more than you give her credit for, Loki," Solaris settles back, picking up a paperweight in the shape of a glowing blue cube from his table. "Quite perceptive too." "Are trying to warn me about something?" Loki's words are soft, the smile over his lips even softer. "She knows," Solaris states. "I know she knows." Her brows rise up and she shrugs. "Of course, you do. I'd be surprised if you didn't and that's not my concern right now. My concern is you unconsciously putting her in the centre of annihilation you're causing for your ambitions, Loki." Loki gets up and walks towards the glass wall separating his office from the view to the lounge outside. "Just because she wants to do her job?" Through the intricate drawings done on the glass, he can see your figure sitting in the living room, working on your laptop. "She wanted to be a part of my world, Solaris," he coos into the air around him and he is quite sure of the fact that Solaris is rolling her eyes right behind him. "Loki." Her voice is threatening. "You wanted Donatella gone because she was making deals with the devil's pawns but you're practically throwing Kira to the beasts." Loki doesn't budge where he stands. His languid breaths send a prick of frustration down Solaris' spine but she brings back her calm; as always. "Loki," she announces delicately, "I'm sure you have something in mind for her. Whatever it is, mark my words, she better not pay for things that are your doing." A sharp inhale and Loki's head turns a little towards Solaris. "We have been working together for enough time for you to counsel my mother, haven't you? You know my goal better than anyone on this planet. So we'll, that you left your identity to follow me into the perils. After all that, you worry about that one woman." "I do. Because even if I have changed my name, I am still a spy working as a soldier in this shrouded battle. I do not take unnecessary lives." "Is that so, my pretty warrior? Did your royal ex-boyfriend agree with you on that?" Her arms crossing in front of her tells Loki she is done playing the word game for the day. "You are more interested in throwing her in your customised playground just because she won't play by your rules. Trust a woman who has some experience with the same." His lips twist in agreement and he nods. "You're not wrong," he iterates, "but I will have my fun till I get bored. Though I admire her tenacity even when she's clearly in no shape to bear the mind games." "Just don't do something reckless. She's a gentle heart and I'd rather she stayed that way. Even Fenrir thinks the same." Loki blinks. He doesn't like the idea of you having formed a bond with his pet so soon. In fact, he was counting on his wolf to play with you more. That fickle beast. Supporting his back on the glass wall behind him he looks at the woman right in her sparkling brown eyes. "You've been with the canines for quite some time," he mentions in Solaris' direction, "don't you miss your cats?" Solaris doesn't shift but her lips do, smirking at the man in front of her, causing him to mirror her. "Don't you miss your home, my lady?" Solaris smiles. "Don't you?" And there she lands him a low blow, forcing the most pleasurable chuckle out of him. "You can take the woman out of Wakanda," he speaks softly, "but you cannot take Wakanda out of the woman." The uncalled vibration of your phone over the coffee table breaks you away from the laptop screen. Ma, it says. You look at the time and curse out loud. It is past ten and you knew exactly why your mother- who did not bother with the time you came and left that much- was calling now, of all the times. Curse those wretched witches living in your building. Why do they even have her number? Picking up the phone, you assured your mother you were at your boss' place working late due to issues that your brain made up on the spot. Worried as she is thinking about you going home in the tube, she goes out of her way to tell you to stay over at your boss' place. You cannot believe the intense rage that rushes through you at the thought of you staying the night over at Loki's place but a part of you pours ice over the heat and tells her you'll message her when you reach home. It takes three tries before she finally agrees and you walk out of the house with your stuff, Robert already waiting by the car. "A bit late." He opens the door for you. "Yeah, sorry. I completely lost track of time," you stutter, "don't worry I'll be able to catch the late tube." Robert pauses as you get inside. "If you don't mind, Kira, maybe I should drop you home." As good at it sounds, you are too concerned about the prying eyes of your neighbourhood to pay heed to the concern in Robert's voice. "No, that's okay," you blurt out trying to calm down your roaring heartbeat, "just take me to the station." Robert doesn't say anything but he stands by the door for a lingering moment before closing it and moving to the driver's side. The drive to the station is quiet. Some roads inside the city are still a blur of busy while others are quiet as the night above them. Robert asks you again to let him drop you home when you reach the station but gives up in front of your adamancy. You take your earphones out as you climb the stairs but do not put on the music. The tube you board is nearly empty but for a group of young men sitting in the far corner singing crappy songs and having fun in their own world and an old man wrapped up in a jacket even in this weather. Feeling the bunch of keys inside your bag in your fingers, you place them near the mouth of the purse. The earphones stay in place but your ears look for any unusual sound around you, mostly from the corner where the young men sit, now gazing in your direction.

The ride back home in the tube seems longer the more silent the car gets. The man in the jacket moves a car further and stands by the door, busying himself in his phone while the men on the opposite end talk in hushed voices before getting up from their seat. Every so often you throw a casual glance in every direction, catching a few of those pair of eyes looking in your direction more than often and you feel a grim tingle in your back, recalling Robert's repeated pleas to take you home. The tube slows down to a halt at the station before your stop, the doors hissing open for arrival and departure. No one enters. The only soul present outside is a pigeon that flaps itself away from the platform to perch over the railings above. No one leaves. The hiss announces the closing of doors and you feel yourself breathe a little. That's it. Your stop's here. The group of men have slowly shifted to the car next to you watching something with curious eyes in your direction. Avoiding as much eye contact as possible, you keep your ears open, stand up beside the door and count the seconds till your destination arrives. "Excuse me," you hear behind you from the same direction, making your insides flinch just as the doors hiss open again and you nearly run out, never slowing down your pace till you hear them close back again. What you do miss, therefore, is those very men running against the direction of the tube inside it, tapping on the glass to get your attention to warn about something- or rather- someone behind you. But even with no music running inside your ears, you cannot hear the muted warning disappearing from the view behind you as the tube leaves the station. "Solaris has a flight out in three hours. Escort her safely to her destination, Robert." Heimdall waves his hand over the sensors radiating a soft golden light that shuts down all the screens lit up in front of him, filling the large room with darkness save for the splatter of stars shining above. Grabbing his keys, he walks out of his observatory and out of his place of stay to get into his own SUV and take his car for a ride. Tapping a number into the screen in front of him, he puts on a classical piece. The melody from the harp fills the space around him, bringing the tensed muscles in his forehead to a point of relaxation. That's it. That is all he needs for the next three hours to rejuvenate his soul before he can get back to work. Nothing else. That's what he thinks till an itch turns up in his gut. And without so much as a thought, his hand goes into his jacket pocket, taking out his two golden-eye marbles. One appears ordinary. The other seems to be glowing, a few of a clustered strands inside the glass, illuminating brighter than others. His features change within seconds and his other hand is already going over the screen in his car while his foot is off the gas, bringing his vehicle to a halt. The crickets nearby get the jump scare of their lives as the SUV screeches without any warnings and takes a one-eighty before revving and burning its tires as it zooms past the deadly silence of the brightly lit city night. The clack of your boots echoes down the stairs. The woman who was selling newspapers in the morning is sitting in her designated corner again. Her hands are moving in a repeated motion till you figure out she is stroking a cat sitting in her lap. The street you turn into barely has a soul walking by. Weekdays really suck the nightlife out this city. The local deli is already closed and you begrudgingly have to walk further to the twenty-four-seven store to grab something to eat. The only sound marking the surroundings is the howl of street dogs fighting for their territory, the crickets going about their business in the night, the occasional open hiss of a cat on seeing something- or someone- it doesn't like. And faint footsteps from behind you. A wave of alarm goes down your body as you realise how close they are behind you. Your steps freeze. So does your breath. The sound of footsteps stops too. And before you can inhale the rush beginning to burn inside your body, you hear them run towards you and grab you from behind. The muffled noise escaping your shut mouth does nothing to stop the heavy hands from dragging you away from the road to a back alley. "Tell Loki Mr Andrews sends his regards," a heavy voice filled with filth whispers in your ear. The panic rising inside you forces you to throw a punch down backwards right into his groin, painfully urging the man to loosen his grip on you. You try to make a run for it but he is quick to grab your leg and force you down on the ground. Turning around, you plant your hands over his shoulders to prevent him from putting all his weight over you. A grunt leaves the man while you notice the familiar jacket from the tube. Grounding one shoulder and the opposite hip, you make an effort to slither out of his attempted deadlock over your body, your legs kicking their way out from under him, your boots making an impact on his face. The escape is short lived as the man pounces over you. In the next moment, he is thrown off like a ragged doll. From the tears and fogged up glasses you notice a figure pick the son of a bitch by the collar to push him into the wall without any restraints and land his fist right into his jaw, making it audibly snap in just one blow. The man in the jacket groans as his limp body falls to the ground. The figure watches him for any movements, poking his unresponsive body by the shoes before turning its gaze in your direction. You do not realise when the dams had broken down your heated cheeks when you adjust your glasses and slide back to the wall, not sure what to make of the figure walking towards you. From the shadows of the alley, a face comes forward into the light as the figure squats down in front of you. "Are you all right?" A pair of brown eyes peer at your trembling figure with a heavy voice filled with apparent concern. You do not make eye contact for more than two seconds, trying to ground the shivers in your body by finding something to hold on to. "I promise I won't hurt you," the man says, "I'm-" "Heimdall," you hear yourself cry out softly. He pauses for a second before nodding in your direction. "You know about me," he responds with the same softness. You nod. "Y-you... you're Loki's...his father's-" Warmth engulfs you from everywhere, taking you a moment to realise a suit jacket landing over your shoulders to cover you up. "Your clothes are a mess," Heimdall tries to reason, even when he doesn't have to, "would you like me to take you home?" You nod again, making more tears break out as he helps you up. You try to strain your neck to look at your attacker but Heimdall is quick to wrap his arm around you to walk towards the car waiting for you both at the end of the alley. "He will be taken care of. Don't worry about it." A silent breeze comes in from the open doorway when Loki is halfway through the book he is reading on the discovery of ancient treasures and techniques of lost civilisations. A whine and a growl from in front of him snaps his attention away from the book towards Fenrir's almost invisible figure in the night outside if it wasn't for his glowing eyes. "Come back inside," he smoothly orders his pet. A painful howl breaks from the throat of the black beast filling the surroundings with a dismal air. "Fenrir," Loki commands, bringing the gloomy howl to a stop as the beast walks and restlessly settles beside him. "What is wrong with you?" The vibration of his cellphone takes away Loki's attention from his wolf to attend to the call. "What? My father's royal keeper is having trouble sleeping?" Silence fills his expressions as Loki hears what the other side has to say before cutting the line. He looks down at the beast with just one thought to linger in his mind. The reticence around his familiar environment seems somewhat hollow for the first time in a very long while. So hollow, that the movement of the pendulum feels like a mockery of the breaths he takes with every passing instant. "Looks like I won, Fenrir," he speaks softly to the little one before settling his hand over his head to give it long gentle strokes. "And still it feels like I didn't." TAGLIST

@shockwavee @meganlikesfandoms @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @alexakeyloveloki @kcd15 @tarithenurse @itheoneofmanyfandomsi @joyofbebbanburg @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock @moonlightprime @henloamkitty @confessionsofastrugglingteen @keepingupwiththelaufeysons @loki-the-fox @loving-life-my-way @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @ultraslytherwin @supernatural-kinda-girl @magiclolipopqueen @yzssie @cauraphernelia @lokis-lady-death @l0kisbitch @lokixme tags are open

[reallylonglies]

Glitter

The bassline throbbed through the ceiling, occasionally dislodging fragments of plaster that rested in Macey’s hair.

By the undulating light shed from bare light bulbs Macey navigated the labyrinth. The smell of sweat permeated the walls. She counted the brass numbers on the doors, 5, 6, 7, and then 8, the room she had been sent to. 

She knocked, and listened for the low voice that bade her enter. She pushed the door open gently and walked headfirst into a wall of thick floral fragrance. There was barely any light, apart from the dim red glow of a single tealight in its holder. 

A voice in the darkness told her to sit. 

“You’ve come a long way from the offices of Skin Deep, Macey Phillips,” it whispered, a warm, dark, crackling sound.

Macey shifted awkwardly in her chair. This investigative stuff was all very new to her.  At the start of the week when she had been asked to review a series of body creams for the Ibiza special, she hadn’t pictured it leading her down such a dark path. 

“You want to know what happened to me,” the voice said. In the darkness, Macey nodded. The candlelight flickered, reflected briefly in the eyes of the speaker. Macey’s eyes were adjusting to the dim light. She could make out a shapeless form sitting before her, shrouded in layers of cloth despite the warmth of the room. Macey heard a long, drawn-out sigh.

“First, Macey, I want you to know that I’m not the only one. Cases as advanced as mine are rare, but not so rare that I am alone in my affliction. In the mid nineties there were enough of us to form a community of sorts, but most of them are gone.

I used to be an acrobat. Quite famous, in the right circles. I could do things in mid-air that Olympic gymnasts only dream of, but I couldn’t handle the restraints of professional sport. The circus had glamour, mystique, prestige: things vaulting on a bar in front of three fat judges could never give me. 

For years I spent my nights as a flickering star, carried through space by the gasps from the crowds below. I glowed with pride, with promise, and the potential to achieve so much. By the time I knew something was wrong, I was already in far too deep.

They called me Celestia. You might want to Google it, there will be grainy photographs and a badly written article that was printed in the back of the New York Times. The act was quite unlike the circus acts you might imagine. Much more high concept: I was a beam of light, thrown between the arms of strong men, the planets. Each costume represented a planet. Jupiter had golden rings around his waist and arms, Earth was painted in gorgeous swirls of blue and green. And me, I’m sure you can imagine…”

She paused. Macey hadn’t taken any notes, allowing a small dictaphone to do the work for her. The picture the woman painted, the bright lights of the circus, the delicate yet impressively strong woman floating around the big top - they all seemed so distant. Macey had never been to a circus. She’d assumed they didn’t exist any more, particularly the ones with acrobats and clowns and elephants. 

“It was a long time ago,” the woman continued, sensing her skepticism. “I lived to perform, I ate to keep my body healthy, I slept through the days to be alert for my act at night. The circus was my life and my family, it was the air I breathed. I was rarely out of my costume apart from when I was sleeping. Beautiful costumes; nothing to them but lace and sparkles. Crawling into my nightgown felt like taking a step back into the real world. I used to hang my favourite pieces at the end of my bed, and fall asleep knowing that the magic was never far away.

Spending so much time performing, dressed up and painted to look like a celestial body, I found the restraints of the human world a little frustrating. When I found it hard to get rid of the thick makeup on my skin, I didn’t mind. It was a reminder, like the costume at the end of my bed, that I was forever linked to that magical world. When I had days off and I had to run errands people looked at me strangely, but only because they had never seen a woman in jeans and heavy body paint before.

They all warned me it was bad for my skin to leave it on so long. I promised my closest friend, Lynn, who did my makeup, that when Christmas came I would scrub my skin so clean she wouldn’t recognise me. The thought of my being so clean and fresh pacified her, a blank canvas for her to decorate with beautiful creations.

Winter rolled round and the circus ceased touring for a week so we could visit our families for the festive season. My mother nearly exploded when she saw me in my drab street clothes, white body paint still clinging to the backs of my ears and patches of my neck. I was thrown into a bath and told in no uncertain terms that my grandmother could not see me looking like a street urchin.” 

She took a breath. Macey looked up. 

“Do you take a lot of baths, Macey?” 

“Some, I used to write a column called Bath Salts and Bubbly but it was more of a wine thing, except I don’t really like wine though so…” she trailed off.

“I remember the sensation of the water. Getting in was a process of daring myself to get one inch deeper, watching the patterns dissolve from my skin. Lying there in the water, suddenly I felt all the impact of the circus at once, months of non-stop performances and living nocturnally, stretching, flying and throwing myself across the arena, all caught up in knots in my body. I looked at my hands, which had turned pink in the too warm water. There was something odd about them, something that I couldn’t quite place. I tried to concentrate on something else, cleaning my hair with vigour and scrubbing ruthlessly at any patch of body paint that remained on my skin. When I felt as clean as a fresh white sheet, I pulled myself out of the water and towelled myself dry. And that’s when I saw it, all over me. Not on my skin, but in it: the glitter. I laughed at first, thinking it was the circus getting into my blood, I was even quietly proud that it could never be truly removed. But after a few days passed and several baths couldn’t shift it I started to panic. My mother didn’t question my high necked, long sleeved sweaters. If anything she was pleased that my personal style was such a direct contrast to my skimpy circus gear. 

When I finally escaped the stifling embrace of the family home and returned to the circus, I sought out the make-up artist. I told her about my skin, about the seemingly increasing number of tiny silver diamonds that encrusted my body. I told her as if it were a joke, hoping that I could laugh it off and she would have some simple explanation. She simply stared at me, asked me how often I’d been showering, had I been exfoliating. It all just seemed like nonsense, the kind of thing you read in beauty magazines...”

Macey cleared her throat guiltily. 

“Then she said the strangest thing, she said “I knew it was wrong to do that to a living thing.”

I thought she was talking to me of course. I presumed she meant I was overworked and my skin was having some kind of reaction. Like hives, but pretty. What I found out, and what you must already know by now, is that this was something very different.”

Macey looked awkwardly at her gloved hands and nodded. The woman’s eyes squinted at her through the gloom. 

“Why are you here, Macey? It’s a lot of research for a single article, isn’t it?”

“I like to be thorough, I want to get a really interesting angle on the piece,” she muttered, tugging at her cuffs. 

“I don’t think that’s true is it?” the woman said, sounding gentle for the first time since Macey had arrived, “You’re an intern, aren’t you? That’s what you said on the phone. Nasty job, interning for a fashion magazine, they give you all the shitty little things to do, before they throw you a bone and let you write something. Getting coffee, cleaning, doing errands in ridiculous shoes. I bet they make you test the beauty products that they don’t want to go near with a barge pole.” 

Macey looked into her eyes, they were soft, sympathetic. 

“Show me your hands,” the woman said, tapping the table. 

Macey took off her gloves, and gingerly placed her hands on the cool surface. The skin on her fingers sparkled faintly in the light. 

“You’re not too far gone, there’s hope yet, you’ve been getting as much sunlight as you can? Drinking filtered water? Avoiding processed foods?” 

Macey nodded slowly, although these things were all part of her routine long before they needed to be, she was a fashion intern - hydrating and clean eating were her mantra. 

“You have to make the effort, Macey, don’t slip up. No matter how great it made you feel, don’t let that stuff near your skin again,” the woman’s tone was urgent. 

“You make it sound so ominous,” Macey said, “People get skin conditions all the time, a lot worse than this one.”

The woman sat silently for what seemed like hours, then with an abrupt movement she turned on a the bright lights that bordered the dressing room mirror. 

She was a statue of crystals. It was hard to look at her, she shone so brightly. Little beams of light bounced off of her body, if you could call it a body. The form of a human woman was there, but she seemed impermanent, as if at any moment she might tumble into a pile of silver dust. 

“You think this is subtle, Macey? How many years do you think it has been since I have been able to go out in the sunlight without being afraid that a gust of wind is going to split my body into a thousand pieces?”

Macey shrank away from her as she spoke, clouds of tiny diamonds escaped from her mouth, landing on the table with a clatter. 

“You know what happened the day I left the circus? I was flying through the air, living my dream. I reached out to catch the hand of my trapeze partner, and I fell. My hand disintegrated in his. I didn’t break any bones. When I landed I was a pile of dust. Have you ever had to literally pull yourself together Macey? Because I have.”

She held out her arm, which tapered out into a shimmering point rather than a hand. As she raised it, clouds of diamond dust shifted in the air. Macey’s eyes drifted over her surroundings. The room covered in stardust, windowless, the door surrounded by black tape and draught excluders. The skeletal figure, held together by desperation, hiding from the wind. 

“The applause when I fell was deafening, the audience thought it was a vanishing act. I was lucky to recover as well as I have. Here,” she thrust the tape recorder at Macey, “Take your interview, take your article and warn them. See how seriously they take you. Tell them that body glitter is taking over the world, see what they say to you then…” 

A cloud of glimmering dust followed Macey out of the darkened room.

Days later, her article went to print. 

Body Glitter is Taking Over the World  was the title. A run down of the eight best body glitters and where to find them.

As she emailed the article to her editor, she watched the light dance on her fingertips.