#but do you really think by just leaving a quickly typed uninspired comment

[mask131]

If I see under a Macbeth video another friggin comment written by some kids or teenager who just mock the whole thing out of sheer bitterness for their schoolwork, proudly proclaim they only came here because of a class they are being taught, or complain that their teacher made them lose precious minutes of their life they’ll never gain back - if I see one more of those comments under ANY kind of Macbeth video, under ANY scene or passage of Macbeth, no matter WHAT adaptation it is (well... unless it is one of those really bad ones), I will explode. 

[aomine-ryo]

Hi can you do a jealousy headcanon for GOM? 💜

Of course! Hope you like it :)

Headcanons: GOM getting jealous

Kuroko

He doesn’t get jealous very often because he just has so much trust in you

If he ever does, he’s really subtle about it that you won’t even notice unless he tells you

He knew that he could talk to you about anything so he was never particularly uncomfortable with you being around other guys

There was a boy in your class who you had been getting quite close to

He quickly became a good friend of yours, and you’d often hang out with him when Kuroko was busy

He was objectively rather attractive, but you didn’t really see him that way because you only really had eyes for Kuroko

Kuroko wasn’t in your class so he’d sometimes see you walking around the school hallways, however more often than not, you would be with that boy

He seemed like a nice and earnest guy, which is probably why Kuroko began to feel a little threatened by him

Not knowing any better, you invited your friend to come watch one of Kuroko’s practice games with you since you could use the company

Kuroko wasn’t very pleased to see him to say the least

He’d usually glance over at you during games because seeing you watching him motivated him to do better

But now when he looked at you, he’d see you talking to that boy and he’d just feel annoyed

And it definitely showed in the way he played as well because his moves became uninspired and predictable

You went to grab some food with Kuroko’s team and your friend afterwords and Kuroko would not keep his hands off of you

He’d constantly be holding your hand

And he’d leave absolutely no space between you two

Of course, you noticed all of this, but you didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone

“Hey, so you’ve been spending a lot of time with that guy from your class, huh?” Kuroko said when the two of you were walking back home together

“Yeah, I suppose,” you shrugged, beginning to connect the dots

“Hm,” he hummed, his grip on your hand getting a bit tighter

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you grinned

His face just became red as he averted his gaze

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied almost instantly

“So that’s why you were being so touchy back there,” you giggled

“Well I was just making sure he knew that you were mine,” he said, finally deciding to give in

“For what it’s worth, you really don’t need to worry about him— I’m sure he knows.”

“I’m not a violent person but if he tries anything, let him know he can catch these hands,” he said, clenching his other fist and holding it up

“Tetsu, he’s twice your size, but sure.”

Kise

Okay so we know that Kise is really cold with people he generally doesn’t respect

Well, this coldness becomes so amplified when he sees someone he doesn’t know with you

The two of you were on a date at a cafe once and he went to the cashier to place your order while you remained seated at your table

That was when a classmate of yours spotted you and approached you

“Y/N? Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, grinning widely before engaging in conversation with you

Meanwhile, Kise was standing in the queue, glaring at you two

In Kise’s eyes, he was very obviously flirting with you— and he was, you just didn’t realise it

Every moment that he looked at you two angered him more and more

The damn boy even made himself comfortable by taking Kise’s seat

Was what he said so funny that you needed to be giggling like that?

Kise hastily placed his order and then stormed over to your table, not bothering to wait for your food

The boy was just about to reach out to touch you when Kise slammed his hand down on the table, startling both of you

He didn’t intend to do it with so much force but it just happened and he didn’t care

“Hey Y/N-cchi, who’s this?” Kise snarled, voice calm but menacing at the same time

“Oh hey Ryouta, this is Satou, a classmate of mine,” you introduced innocently

“Hi there,” Kise said, flashing him a fake smile and not even bothering to register his name in his head, “Y/N-cchi and I are kind of on a date right now, and you’re in my seat.”

Kise took your hand that was resting on the table and squeezed it tight, making the jealousy much more obvious to you

Your classmate visibly showed his annoyance through an eye roll as he stood up from Kise’s seat

“Alright,” he sighed. “See you around, Y/N.”

His and Kise’s eyes were shooting daggers at each other at this point

“Sure you will,” Kise mumbled sarcastically as he watched him walk off

“Babe they’ve been waving at you from the counter for the past two minutes now, trying to get your attention,” you pointed out, looking at the worker who was just about to give up and bring the order to you herself

“Ah crap,” Kise muttered before rushing over to meet the worker halfway and apologise

“I think someone got a bit carried away with their jealousy, don’t you think?” you said once he got back

“Tch, the guy goes to our school. He should know that you’re mine by now. Yet he still thought he had a shot, what an idiot,” Kise scoffed, just the thought of the boy talking to you getting him riled up again

“You’re intimidating when you’re jealous, it’s weird.”

“Weird? I can be intimidating! Why is that weird?” Kise pouted, switching back to his usual eccentric self

“Because you still sleep with stuffed animals, Ryouta,” you giggled

“And so do you, what’s your point?”

Midorima

So he’s not one to really initiate things like PDA

He’s the kind of guy that just holds your hand in public and that’s about it

However when he gets jealous, he becomes a whole other type of possessive

You’d be hanging out with him and a few of your friends from school

And one of the guys would constantly flirt with you

You didn’t really think too much of it because you thought he was just being friendly

But between the flirtatious teasing and unnecessary touching, Midorima was slowly losing his patience

He’d be really subtle at first

He’d hold your hand a bit tighter and hold you by your waist every now and then, all while eyeing the guy down in hopes that he’d get the message

Obviously, it wasn’t enough because he’d barely even notice Midorima and would continue chatting away with you as if your boyfriend wasn’t right there

“Hey Y/N, do you wanna go to that manga store over there together?” your friend said, seemingly inviting only you even though there were five other people in your group

“Actually, Y/N and I were just planning on leaving, sorry,” Midorima intervened, the ‘sorry’ oozing with so much sarcasm that it was clear that he really didn’t like the guy

“Oh already? You don’t have to leave just because Midorima is, you know,” your friend said

Hahaha it took everything in Midorima to not send him flying like his three pointers

“Excuse me? I think you’re crossing the line there a bit, don’t you think—“

“It’s getting pretty late, we should get going,” you said quickly before things could escalate

After shooting one last glare at your friend, Midorima walked away with you

“The nerve of that guy— unbelievable,” Midorima sighed

“I thought you were going to punch him or something, that’s why I stopped you so quickly,” you giggled

“Honestly, I might have,” Midorima chuckled. “How are you even friends with someone like him?”

“I guess he’s just friendly,” you shrugged. “Looks like someone was a bit jealous though.”

“Please, why would I be jealous of an idiot like him,” Midorima scoffed

He’d never admit to an emotion like jealousy— ever

Aomine

Oh god this boy does not handle jealousy well

He would 100% break someone’s nose if he feels like they’re getting too close

The two of you were at a party once and Aomine decided to take a break from dancing for a moment to grab a drink

So he was leaning against the wall sipping on his drink while watching you on the dance floor

Of course, he wasn’t very pleased to find you dancing with some other guy

Aomine recognised him as someone who went to your school, so he very well could just be a friend of yours

However that didn’t stop him from feeling a growing amount of jealousy as each moment passed

Did you really need to be dancing that close to him?

Aomine should be the only one you dance like that with

He was already a bit tipsy so he may not have been thinking straight

But he completely lost it when he saw your bodies swaying so carelessly together

Next thing he knew, he was storming over to the dance floor

You didn’t even notice him until you were suddenly ripped away from the boy you were previously dancing with

And once again you were dancing with Aomine

He was holding your waist tight and his face was as close as ever

“What do you think you’re doing dancing like that with someone else?” Aomine growled

“Why? Is someone jealous?” you joked as you continued to move along with him to the music

“Don’t tease around like that. You’re all mine, don’t you realise?” he grinned, shoving his lips onto yours before you could say another word

The kiss was desperate and heavy, and as a result, sloppy— not that you minded too much

After seeing that act, the guy from earlier backed off, though you didn’t even notice or care for that matter

I mean, why would you care about any other guy when Aomine Daiki was in front of you?

Murasakibara

He gets jealous very easily

He’s like a child when it comes to most things��� he doesn’t share

You’ve had your fair share of encounters with other guys that ended with Murasakibara scaring them off

The two of you were seated on the couch together on your phones

There was absolutely no reason for Murasakibara to have come over to your house just to be on his phone, but he just enjoyed your presence

You were scrolling through TikTok because you’d run out of things to do

You landed on a video of these two shirtless boys dancing to a song that you liked so you just watched for the hell of it

You started scrolling through the comments while the video kept replaying, garnering Murasakibara’s attention

The second he saw what you were watching his possessiveness just kicked in

“You really like watching those boys, huh?” he said, glaring at the boys as if they could see through the screen

“Not really, I just like the song,” you shrugged before turning to him with a smirk, “why? Are you jealous?”

“Well if it means I can get more of your attention then sure, I guess I’m jealous,” he answered simply. “Do I have to take my shirt off and do a dance too?”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you mention it, I’d love to see it,” you giggled

Next thing you knew, he wrapped his arms around you, sending you toppling back onto the couch

“Too bad I can’t dance, I guess you’ll have to make do with some kisses for now,” he said softly, making your heart flutter

“Ah dammit, I wanted to see you dance,” you sighed, pretending to be disappointed

“Shut up,” he groaned, before pressing his lips against yours

This was what he was usually like when he got jealous though

He wouldn’t necessarily get angry or anything like that unless a guy was relentlessly hitting on you

But he’d just become really lovey and clingy just as a way of reminding you that it was him who’d love you the most

Akashi

We all know he’s a classy gentleman

So you can’t expect any dramatic outbursts from him when he gets jealous

He’s always able to keep a calm and composed exterior (not that that’s ever stopped anyone from feeling threatened by him)

Anyone who knew Akashi knew never to mess with him

And they especially knew how much he valued you so one step too far would probably lead to their demise

However, there was one boy at a dinner party you both attended who somehow didn’t get the memo

You ended up being seated in the middle of him and Akashi, which gave him the opportunity to chat with you as much as he liked

Of course, Akashi wasn’t the most pleased to hear what he had to say to you

It was very obviously some awful flirting

You just thought he was being friendly so you entertained his conversation

“Y/N, maybe you should stop chatting and eat— your food is getting cold,” Akashi said in attempt to get him to stop— it was getting frustrating at this point

For the rest of the night, Akashi remained clung onto you with his arm around your waist, monitoring every movement of that boy

It was particularly strange because Akashi was the type to mingle at events like these so you knew something was wrong

Akashi’s cold gaze seemed to be enough to make the guy keep his distance though

Akashi is just too powerful lmao

Once the two of you got back home, Akashi pounced to kiss you almost immediately

“Woah what was that for?” you asked when you pulled away from the kiss that seemed so urgent

“You looked gorgeous tonight, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Akashi said sweetly

“Aww, thank you, Sei.”

“A lot of people seemed to think so too by the looks of it. Especially that guy that sat next to you at the table,” Akashi pointed out

“Oh. Did you get jealous or something?” you questioned

“Well, yes. I want to be the only one looking at you like that. But I guess it can’t be helped sometimes,” he said, body still as close to yours as ever

“You’re the only one I want so you don’t have to worry for even a moment,” you said reassuringly

“Then that’s all that matters,” Akashi said with a smile before pulling you in for a soft kiss filled with nothing but adoration

[cursedchilddrarry]

Harry and Ginny are heading for divorce

‘But Harry is canonically straight and married to Ginny!’ said - well, honestly, said no-one ever in the history of Tumblr, but regardless, I want to address this because I have thoughts.

In this essay I will... no, seriously.

(Note I have nothing against Lucy Goleby’s fantastic portrayal of this character in the Melbourne cast!)

Spoilers, I guess? Do I even need to say that at this stage?

Harry and Ginny married and had babies extremely young. Pre-Cursed Child, myself and most other people I speak to found the epilogue of DH fairly uninspired and disappointing, and I was again somewhat disappointed when I first saw the play to learn that it opened on that same scene (in my opinion it actually manages to salvage that terrible epilogue, but that’s another conversation). I think it’s fairly unrealistic that teenagers who suffered so much trauma would instantly get married, get jobs and have babies.

Anyway, per the canon that did happen, and now (in the Cursed Child), far more reaslistically, the situation is thus: Harry is a fairly terrible father, having no example to base himself on (or terrible examples only), and clearly never properly recovered from the trauma of his teenage experiences - how could he? He went instantly from a literal warzone into being married and having three children in quick succession, at the same time as being promoted extremely quickly through the ranks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (and probably undeservedly - let’s face it, Harry probably isn’t smart enough or mature enough, even by 40, to be in the job he’s in - however, a white male being given a position he doesn’t deserve is certainly something I can accept as realistic, unfortunately, and wizards aren’t exactly the most tolerant or progressive bunch). Plus, I didn’t see his and Ginny’s relationship as particularly great. It could be argued much of this is due to the conflict of the events in the show, but I felt (whether intended by the writer or not) it ran deeper. Hear me out on this.

They argue a lot (without resolution)

One of the sub-conflicts/resolutions is Ginny wrongly assuming Harry is at fault for Albus running away, and though she later apologises, she makes a particularly harsh comment something like ‘the more mistakes you make, the harder to forgive you it gets’

Albus is honestly a bit of a little shit (I love him! Don’t throw things at me! Scorpius tells him he’s being selfish and he needs to get over his stupid issues with his dad, and Albus himself agrees) and though Harry definitely goes too far in his arguments with Albus, Ginny doesn’t really try to see Harry’s view at all or accept that Albus may be also at fault

Ginny endlessly tells Harry off and lectures him on his parenting, though I don’t see any evidence of her being parent of the year

Ginny makes a snarky comment about how ‘Harry does most of the cooking’, not her - yet we are told multiple times through the play that Harry works very long hours in a very high-stress, high-pressure job. Ginny is a sports editor. Seriously? He does the cooking?

I don’t get any chemistry between them. In fact, I feel she acts FAR more like a mother to Harry, rather than a wife

Which actually kind of makes sense, right? Harry always wanted to be part of the Weasley family and to have a mother like Molly - well, in Ginny, he kind of got that. And he always wanted a family, which explains why he rushed into having so many babies so quickly when he clearly wasn’t ready

I’m not trying to shit on Ginny - on the contrary, it looks to me like she’s in a difficult position with a rather immature husband who she needs to parent as much as her actual children. She constantly feels excluded from the golden trio (she says this explicitly), and even from the canonically-intense relationship Harry has with Draco; her role and her work are constantly overshadowed by Harry, and she has to fight every time for a place at the table, for her opinion to be heard (leading to her shouting a lot) and I honestly felt like she must be thinking maybe she’d be better off without Harry.

And on Harry’s side, in contrast to Ginny, he has fireworks and lightning-strike type chemistry with Draco; he has a lot of maturing he needs to do, which Draco seems to have already done, being far more together and a more natural father (although a bit stiff), and he has a deeper conversation with Draco in five minutes than he has with Ginny in the entire play; and also, although Ginny seems to know about Harry’s trauma, she doesn’t seem to understand it in the same way that Draco does. She just doesn’t have the same experience. Yes, she experienced a lot, but not to the extent Harry or Draco did. Although she listens to and tries to comfort Harry through his nightmares/flashbacks/general angst and misery, it’s more in a practical mode of ‘let’s get past this and move on’ whereas it felt like Harry was nowhere near ready for that - may not ever be ready for that.

In conclusion, my headcanon is (though they seem to make amends at the end of the play) that their relationship continues to deterioriate until Ginny leaves. And then Harry and Draco find each other, which is another topic.

If anyone read all of this, firstly I’m amazed, but also I want your thoughts on whether you agree with this analysis. As I said, I’m not hating on any of the characters or actors, this is just what I felt really strongly in the subtext, and I actually love this dynamic for these characters.

[rark-journey]

Happiness

A few days ago, a question presented itself to me in the form of a happiness webinar ; "What is happiness to you?". The speaker only gave the audience 10 seconds to answer in the comment, thus the first thing that came to my mind was 'Beauty'. I couldn't elaborate nor explain my answer at the time. I didn't feel the need to do so anyways, but for some reason my brain decided to hyperfixate on the idea of beauty and why it brings me so much happiness, so instead of writing an article about the webinar, I decided to write this instead. Of course I'll eventually get to my main job, but if I don't get this out of the way, that semi-formal article would be too messy to publish. My first love when I came to this earth was art, even as a kid I love vivid colors, beautiful patterns, aesthetically pleasing structures. I made it my purpose in life to paint whatever combination of colors and incorporate them into the skies of my many drawings as a child. 

Some things got lost as I grew up, as I mentioned on my previous posts, life once lost its color and beauty. I realized, during my darkest days, I lost sight of what is beautiful. So, let me explain how I view beauty. Beauty, is not something that could easily be defined, people with different cultures and upbringing will have different ideas on beauty. Hence, the diverse beauty standard. Although through my eyes, every single thing have their own appeal that makes them beautiful. That's one thing I learned from art. Art is more than just a drawing, art is an abstract idea of a method, how to present something in a beautiful way. In the beginning it takes a lot of focus and questioning to understand art, to form your brain into seeing beyond what is presented to the naked eye. When you're used to observing, learning, even making art, you'll be conditioned to see beyond. You'll get used to using all of your senses and from those input, something within you is provoked. Be it thoughts, emotions, feelings. 

Art is meant to be provoking, it stimulates you to form abstract ideas, it inspires. Art is an expression used to bring beauty and inspiration to life, in turn it will invoke further beauty and inspiration, creative ideas to form even more art. 

Don't limit yourself into thinking, 'I can't paint, I can't do art'. Sure paintings, sculptures, visual arts, performing arts, literature, those are what considered as art. Then again, if you see a bed of flowers on your way to work that gives you a pleasant feeling that lingers through your shift. If you found and see something as beautiful and it leaves you feeling some type of way. Congratulations, that's called aesthetics or philosophy of art. Anything and everything that inspires, invoke a certain feeling, gives you creative drive, that's art; and that is beautiful. 

Though I've strayed away from my dream of being an artist and going to art school, I never let go of how art shaped me and my philosophy. Holding on to my habit of seeing the beauty in everything definitely helped me got through some of my difficult days in college. I made some mistakes though, I only see the beauty and good despite the obvious red flags. Definitely put me through certain predicaments that wouldn't have happened if only I was more realistic. Sometimes I was too stubborn to be realistic, I was a dumb optimist that only see the good and beauty even when the subject is major sus. Anyways, if it weren't for those mistakes I wouldn't have formed a more critical and balanced way of being an optimist, seeing the beauty in everything, and still being objective and evidence based. After all, I was lucky enough to fail evidence based medicine block twice so I got to learn it over and over again. 

Pretty sure me failing EBM block have a lot to do with my inability to quickly memorize and apply critical appraisal theories and research methods, and less to do with objective thinking, but I digress. Critical appraisal is the heart of evidence based medical practice and I've found it useful to see through which research paper are actually applicable. 

Anyways, I once written in a motivational essay to apply to an exchange program, my goal in medical school is to rediscover the art of medicine and re-incorporating humanity into my medical practice. It sounds so pretentious, I know, but holding on to that goal really helped me get through long shifts and difficult days, and hey it helped me pass the selection for the program.

Even though my day to day revolves around medicine, which subjectively deemed as something logical. It wasn't until I go back to my artistic roots of abstract thinking and perceiving beauty that I finally found happiness in my line of work; somewhat practicing my own art of medicine. So to me happiness is beauty, because everything has its own appeal to be beautiful. Finding those appeal, helped me broaden my perspective, kept me balanced, and inspired me to feel, to think, to create.

Here's a disclaimer though, when you're depleted of serotonin, your way of thinking gets distorted. Inspiring thoughts and perception of beauty is virtually very difficult to invoke when you're depressed. Clinical assessments and intervention does help me a lot in going back to my roots, as I'm healing and regaining more balance within my life, beauty is also easier to find. They have a two way causal relation, the more balanced I am the easier it is to perceive beauty and vice versa. The easier it is for me to find beauty, in turn, happiness in little things- let alone big ones. 

To this day, I kept an index of things I find beautiful and brings me so much happiness, I'm grateful to say the list is ever growing. When I'm feeling uninspired and about to spiral into a down episode, I open that list to remind myself that it will pass and I will find even more beautiful things if I keep on going.

So I will pass on the question to you, what is happiness to you?

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (16/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic depictions of violence (death, gore, body horror). Reader discretion is advised.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 16/? (3111 words)

Author’s notes : Leah’s pov. 

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Once I got used to the way Carmilla drove her truck like a bumper car, and made my peace with my imminent death, I realized she actually never was anything close to hitting anything. She just had that crazy energy that called for concern, somehow. When I was able to shrug it off, though, I was actually pretty fun. She kept a hand on the wheel, not seeming to pay much attention to the road at all, and asked me a lot of questions.

You'd think that would be the other way around, but she somehow seemed interested In knowing things about me. She wondered about my hobbies, my research subject, my favorite sound, or if I'd rather have licorice for teeth, or fruit-by-the-foot for arms. We ended up disagreeing on that matter, but to be fair, I figured licorice wasn't that bad for someone who feeds exclusively on blood.

She parked in my street, and I guided her toward a tall, 15-something stories high building I called home. It was old, but not enough as to be aesthetically pleasing like Eris', or even have an old-fashioned charm. Nah, mine was from some forgotten architect's mind from the seventies, who modeled the whole block out of the most boring version of brutalism possible. Like, I had nothing against brutalism per se, Le Corbusier buildings usually slap, but this one... Wasn't it. When I first started to live there, I did the math of how many people could live in such a huge place, and the quick realization that it was well over a three-digit number gave me vertigo for days. As of now, it seemed perfectly normal, and I knew most of the people living there on a first-name basis. Carmilla was looking over the stark lines of concrete, dividing the façade in hive-like rectangles.

“Well, that's... Uninspired”, she commented, which made me laugh.

“You're nowhere near ready for the inside, then”, I replied, fumbling for my keys.

I buzzed us in, the strong, metallic noise of the door making her cringe. I myself took some time to get used to it. The floor was covered in some cheap imitation of marble, and the walls by some faded, yellowed wallpaper no one had bothered changing or cleaning in years. The roof, as was the trend back when it was built, was a dirty white rough plaster, that too never cleaned, as parging was obviously nearly impossible to wash. I called for the lift, giggling at Carmilla's cringe. As the red LEDs showed the lift's slow descent toward the ground floor, I knocked on the wooden frame a few times.

“What's that for ?”, the vampire asked, curious.

“Oh, it's superstition, so that the lift doesn't break down”, I replied, the absurdity of the ritual hitting me as I put it into words.

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Never said it did !”

As the small screen indicated it reached our floor, with a small, rusty bell sound, I opened the door. It was the kind of elevator that had no doors of its own, but every floor had a swing door, opening onto the shaft. That always seemed like an incredibly hazardous system, especially considering the number of children I spotted running down the corridors every damn day. And no, there was obviously no security close to the doors, meaning anyone could just throw themselves down the elevator shaft at any given time. Miraculously, there had been no incidents since I moved there, except the one instance of a 60-something year-old man breaking his hip. The lift didn't go all the way to match the level, because of God knows what kind of mechanical failure, and he missed the step. Thankfully, the walls are kind of thin here, and his scream quickly alerted a neighbor, who called an ambulance immediately.

Still, there were always stories, the usual type you find in any buildings, really. One lady, scorned by her lover, supposedly threw herself down in despair, her cries still haunting the halls in moonless nights. On the thirteenth floor, the elevator would seem there, but as you'd open the door, you would only see the pitch black darkness of the shaft, and be pushed in. As I myself lived on that particular floor, I never had any instance of dying by supernatural forces in six years of residence. Not yet, at least.

While the lift went up, the familiar slight squeaking noise was the only disturbance to the silence. I propped myself against the wall opposite the door, and she had her elbow pressed against the same wall, nonchalantly leaning over me. I tried looking as casual as possible, but I could somehow feel like she delighted in the effect she had on me. I wondered if it was perfume, but she smelled strange. Not bad, mind you, but something unusual. I could have described it saying it was spicy, yet sweet, like cinnamon and honey in a lemon black tea, but it felt more like a landscape. The more I focused on that perfume, the more everything seemed to fade away, placing images in my mind. Dark, orange dunes, undulating under a deep blue sky, ripples of golden grains softly running across their quiet surface. Tall ridges of red stone, carved by the winds and ancient, long gone rives into maze-like patterns, so narrow the bright moon couldn't fit entirely in the gorges.

The elevator bell suddenly brought me back to reality, and though still a bit shaken, I didn't mention anything. I led her into the long corridor, bathed in an orange, flickering haze by the wall lights. I opened my door with the usual struggle, and as usual, proved the victor, pushing it in. Whoever put it on its hinges obviously did a marvelous job, as it was a bit tilted, and drew a circular black mark where it dragged every time I opened it. Seeing as she didn't get in, I quickly invited her in, closing the door behind her with a kick.

I regretted not putting a bit more order into the flat, even if I had no way of knowing I'd get a visitor. I mean, Eris did come over regularly, but we knew each other long enough that she didn't pay any mind to the mess, knowing where to step to not squeeze out a cable or something like that. It wasn't dirty, I just figured furniture was too expensive and not useful enough as to be something I'd waste money on. Most of my books were stacked in piles along the wall, which was arguably better than standing up anyways, concerning the warping of pages. My couch, tables, chairs were also the results of many DIY weekend with Eris, using pallets we found scavenging around big supermarkets, and a lot of time sanding, varnishing, and painting. Same for the cushions and the like, that we made ourselves too, buying a whole roll of cheap upholstery white fabric, and a metric ton of stuffing. In all, I think we did 90% of the whole house furnishing ourselves. It gave the place a singular look, very colorful, and a bit alien, with all the cables snaking across the walls, and the plants hanging all over from the ceiling or about anywhere. We also made up some overly complicated automatic watering system, that was more or less efficient, and only used whenever I felt like cleaning up the mess.

The point was, it was a weird-ass apartment, and I wondered if Carmilla would like it. She looked around, and I chose not to read into her expression. She went up to a suspended spider-plant, in a pot hoisted up by a hemp net.

“Did you make this yourself ?”, she asked.

“Yeah, the net and the pot, actually”, I replied, anxiously waiting for her appreciation.

She smiled, and gave it a little push, leaving the plant to softly swing around.

“I love it.”

I sighed with relief, which made her laugh. A bit embarrassed, I went to look for my tech stuff, and set it on the bar, booting up the computer. As it took its time, I went over the coffee machine, asking Carmilla if she'd like a cup. She only raised an eyebrow. Ah, fuck me. She said a polite “No, thank you”, yet sounded like she was lightly making fun of me.

The sound of the whirring machine covered the one, a bit more faint, of my long, high-pitched squeal of embarrassment. I always felt like the mere feeling of the hot cup into my hands was enough to start up a working mood. I set the VPN running, for a start.

“So, what exactly should I be looking for ?”, I asked Carmilla.

“I think the records of the latest murders would be a good start, if you can access those”, she proposed, moving over behind me, eyes on the screen.

“If I can access those”, I scoffed, and started typing away.

I did get caught fast last time, but I thought my only obstacle was breaking in, not being anonymous. That time, I wouldn't make that mistake. Their servers were very well protected, but then again, nothing is truly unbreakable. Those especially powerful often get cocky, and being cocky often allows for mistakes. Mistakes I did a great job exploiting, if I do say so myself. Breaking into the archive of MINA's wasn't that hard. I, of course, focused much of my energy being certain I could not be identified. Being inside such a huge building, with tons of different IPs and internet traffic, hiding was not that hard. I came to be pretty disappointed, however, when I could find no trace of any of the documents. Some uninteresting incidents, very easily disputed in terms of paranormal activity, a lot of recordings, all labeled with an identification number, all starting with the letters MAG, which puzzled me somewhat. I didn't think it over much, and reviewed the rest of the files. None matched those that Carmilla looked for. I groaned in frustration.

“I don't think they digitized those files yet, for some reason”, I told her.

“Probably because the case isn't closed yet”, she observed, and took a pause, thinking. “Which means there probably will be more to come...”

“What do you mean ?”

“Could you access the local police radios ?”, she asked, her confidence back on.

Nothing easier. Tapping onto those was fast, and if you knew where to look, pretty efficient. The only problems were the important traffic, which made it complicated to find only the information that actually interested you. Trying to follow murders, while having no idea where to look or when to expect it was a bit complicated.

I set up another post for my accomplice, and we got to listening, me going through the coffee pot, her changing her way of sitting every time I looked up at her. At some point, she was entirely upside down, her legs thrown over the back of the couch. After a while, something finally caught my attention. I quickly called Carmilla over, and she joined me, sharing my headphones.

“... complaint at 231 Cloverfield lane, nearby personnel please respond.”

“Officer Price responding, am in the area, i'll check it out. Do you have specifics ?”

“Affirmative, officer Price. Got a missing person's report for one Edward Leeds, resident at 231 Cloverfield lane, appartment B, break--”

“Go ahead.”

“Got a complaint for a smell of rot coming from Leeds' apartment just now. Possible Major Crime, use code zero.”

“Copy that, am en route. Over and out.”

I looked over at Carmilla. That sounded a lot like something that could interest us. She had the same feeling, and we quickly made our way out. I typed the address into my phone as we took the elevator down. It was a bit less than a ten minutes away, which meant less than five in Carmilla's manner of driving. We were then quickly on the scene, and found the police car sitting in front of the building. I advised Carmilla to park a little ways away, as her car wasn't exactly blending in. We found a spot in a parallel street, and hurried over to the place.

“How are we supposed to get in ?”, I asked my partner in crime.

“I have my idea”, she told me, and undid her braid to tie her hair back up into a tight bun. “Just follow my lead, and we'll be fine.”

Intrigued, I climbed the stairs along with her, and I opened the door, as to be able to invite her in. As soon as pulled on the handle, however, I was overcome with a putrid smell, so thick it started to choke me. I covered my mouth with my sleeve, and reluctantly stepped in, inviting Carmilla to follow me. The door to apartment B was cracked open, which explained why the smell was so strong. Even Carmilla seemed a bit disturbed, which was saying something.

I once again was the first to step in, allowing her to follow. She then took the lead, as we were soon spotted by who I assumed was officer Price. She just had called for backup, and looked pale as a ghost.

“This is a crime scene, you need to step out of the flat”, she urged us, sounding nauseous, but trying her best to be firm.

“Officer Price, we are private investigators for MINA. I'm sure you understand the reason of our presence here”, Carmilla told her, taking a silky, sweet tone.

The officer seemed surprised, and opened her mouth to answer, only an instant, and closed it, as if she forgot what she was going to say.

“We'll need to take a look, please go get some fresh air”, she told her.

The woman seemed confused, but nodded, and left. I looked over to Carmilla. She winked at me, and crossed the living room. If she had seemed bothered by the smell, she barely winced anymore. I felt like I was about to puke, even with the double shield of my sleeve and my hands, but still followed her. Morbid curiosity, maybe. I knew I would regret it. We went towards an open door, leading into a dark room.

The blinds were partly closed, only leaving a thin stream of pale sunlight through. Dust swirled and sparkled in it, and I got lost in the golden dance a second, not really wanting to look anywhere else. My eyes took a moment to get used to the dark. The apartment was ancient, the kind you see on historical TV shows about the 19th century or something. Wooden floors, high ceilings. I started by those, expecting they would be untouched by whatever horror was burning itself into my nose and lungs. That's why I was all the more horrified to see the dark stains on the white moldings, dripping onto the chandelier, where, like garlands, intestines were hanging. Bile surged up my throat, and I almost threw up on the floor. Taking a second, eyes closed, I swallowed, hard. I hadn't paid much attention to the noise, and I only now noticed the buzzing of flies.

I gathered myself, and opened my eyes back. Carmilla was leaning over the bed, hands crossed behind her back. Carefully, apprehensively, I let my eyes follow up to what she was observing. You could definitely tell it had been a human man, at some point. Mostly naked, though strips of fabric clung to the skin, blistered and red, weirdly swollen, like someone tried to stuff him without really knowing what they were doing. Deep gashes ran across the torso, splitting it open, the broken ribs sticking out or sunken in. Most of the organs were unidentifiable lumps of meat, coated in a viscous, yellowed liquid, soaking the sheets and the skin in a sick, brownish sheen.

The part that disturbed me most, somehow, in the atrocious mess, was the left arm. Don't get me wrong, the skin was as red and swollen as the rest of it, but didn't seem to have suffered the same rabid violence as the rest of the body. I got closer, my interest and curiosity momentarily overcoming my disgust. It seemed Carmilla had the same reflexion. No wound seemed to have reached that part, which was odd given the left had been... gnawed, like a dog's chew toy. Only distinctive sign was a single puncture, right where you'd take a blood sample at the doctor's office.

Now that I thought about it, there was surprisingly little blood around the body. A few splatters, here and there, but nothing of consequence. The sheets, that I thought drenched in it, were only imbibed in the juices a corpse produces in decay, and the rot set the dark coloring. If that poor man was killed for blood, and if it had been transfused rather than drank directly from the source, that still didn't explain the carnage.

“This is not him”, Carmilla whispered, almost to herself.

“What do you mean ?”

“This”, she stated, a bit  of anger in her voice, “Is not the Elder's work. This... Undignified slaughter, this macabre display of gore is definitely not his signature move.”

“You think a human did this ?”, I squeaked.

“No. I think he already has created himself Hunters”, she told me, as if I was supposed to know what that meant. Seeing my puzzled look, she kept going. “Newborns, that get him the blood he needs to grow stronger, to survive. Who can't control their impulses.”

Her tone was so disdainful, it almost made me feel inadequate too. She advised we should leave, and I heartily agreed, not too keen on staying in the rancid place. As we left the flat, we started hearing distant sirens. As we passed by Officer Price, Carmilla told her we were never there, to which she nodded, and looked past us like we disappeared. We made our way back to the car, and as soon as it was in sight, I felt nauseous again, and Carmilla barely had the time to pull up my hair as I emptied my stomach onto a street bin. Feeling dizzy, my arms shaking as they held onto the edges of the trashcan, I was only a bit relieved by her hand, softly stroking my back.

“I need to shower for a week, now”, I croaked after spitting out the last of the bile out of my mouth.

She laughed and opened the passenger door for me.

“I'd be honored to help you with that as well.”

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy @lost-girl-inc

[thethespacecoyote]

“those who can’t do, teach”

“You have your history final in a few days,” Hux says, in a tone a little too dry for the situation, as Ben slides the hand down towards his thigh, “we really need to focus if you’re going to pass.”

“If I unwind first, it’ll help my information retention,” Ben counters as he noses against the shell of Hux’s ear, “just a quickie. Then we’ll get down to the books.”

They hardly ever use books. Hux has a little whiteboard and a tablet where Ben can look up the texts assigned to him by his professor, as well as supplementary reading and primary sources Hux has chosen himself to aid in his student’s education. Ben is a visual learner, so Hux has had to assemble a wide variety of videos and interactive quizzes. He swears, some days he doesn’t think Ben doesn’t fully appreciate just how much work he puts into their lesson plans.

He does, however, show his appreciation for other parts of Hux a lot more frequently.

I wanted to write intercrural fic again and finally thought of an idea with tutor!Hux and college student!Kylo. I had a lot of fun writing this. If you like it please leave me a comment on ao3. 

The parents of the student he tutors on Tuesdays are not exactly the vain, stuffy type, and probably wouldn’t care if Hux wore jeans and a T-shirt to his sessions with their son, but Hux hasn’t worn his nice clothes since his last round of unsuccessful university interviews, and he’ll always leap at the chance to look smart and put together. So, as always, he shows up to the Solo-Organa household in style, with his navy blue blazer and matching pants, brown Oxfords, all capped off with a freshly shaven chin and hair parted neatly to the right. He stands at attention on the porch, catching patterns in the ivy growing over the house's white walls as he waits for an answer to his knock. He doesn’t have to wait for long, as the huge, glossy door eventually opens up to reveal Hux’s equally huge pupil.

“Hey. You’re a little early,” Ben replies casually as he steps aside to let Hux in, closing the door behind them. Ben always comments on this, even though Hux has shown up either five or ten minutes early to their sessions since the second time they met, when he figured out that Ben takes a little time to get settled down and ready to work.

“Hello Ben. Are your parents home?” Hux asks, looking about the entranceway for a sight or sound of activity, but the big house yawns quietly around them. Ben shrugs.

“Nah. Mom and Dad are out. Some thing at city hall Dad was complaining about.”

It seems like Ben’s parents are out most of the time. Hux knows his mother is a councilwoman, and his father seems to take on an odd array of freelance jobs with no strict correlation between them. They're so close to the adjacent college that Ben still lives at home, though no doubt his parents could afford to house him on campus. But Hux far prefers the thoughtful and transitional interior design to the cramped clutter a dorm room would potentially offer, so he can't complain much.

He allows Ben to lead him into the kitchen for a glass of water and a snack, though Hux hardly thinks an entire box of last night’s takeout is small enough to qualify as a “snack,” then follows him up the stairs to the second floor. However, once they get into Ben’s bedroom and Hux starts to lay out his book bag and the supplies inside on the provided desk, it becomes obvious that Ben is still hungry. Just in a different way.

The room is huge like the rest of his house, almost as big as the kitchen and adjoining living room in Hux’s small apartment, and yet Ben ruins the glorious space with messy black bedsheets, an uninspired taupe wallpaper, and scores of huge, ghoulish posters depicting six black-clad figures and the ominous initials “K.O.R.” etched in bloodied font. Apparently, they’re a band, as Ben cordially explained to him during their first session, but Hux hopes he never has to hear what kind of “music” they produce from their skull-like masks.

Hux is looking at one particularly gruesome picture of the members clustered around an altar of reanimated crows when Ben comes up behind him, and first Hux thinks he has a question but then a hand sits on his hip, and he sighs.

“Ben…”

“What?”

“You have your history final in a few days,” Hux says, in a tone a little too dry for the situation, as Ben slides the hand down towards his thigh, “we really need to focus if you’re going to pass.”

“If I unwind first, it’ll help my information retention,” Ben counters as he noses against the shell of Hux’s ear, “just a quickie. Then we’ll get down to the books.”

They hardly ever use books. Hux has a little whiteboard and a tablet where Ben can look up the texts assigned to him by his professor, as well as supplementary reading and primary sources Hux has chosen himself to aid in his student’s education. Ben is a visual learner, so Hux has had to assemble a wide variety of videos and interactive quizzes. He swears, some days he doesn’t think Ben doesn’t fully appreciate just how much work he puts into their lesson plans.

He does, however, show his appreciation for other parts of Hux a lot more frequently.

Ben especially seems to like Hux’s waist, flattening the fabric of his suit to his sides to accentuate where his body pinches inwards. There truly defines the differences in breadth between them, as Ben’s hands look and feel absolutely huge when held up to his slight bulk. They’re nearly the same height, allowing Hux to register his disapproval more directly to his pupil when he fails to complete his coursework in a timely matter, but there’s no denying Ben is far larger than him, with a body built by freak genetics and toned with obsessive, toiling hours in the gym and on the field.

“Ben no,” Hux protests as he pinches the back of his student’s hand, which has started to travel to the crotch of his dress pants. “If your parents ever find out about this, I lose my job and you lose your only chance to attain enough credits to graduate.”

“They’re not here. And they’re never gonna find out.”

“If you fail this exam as badly as I fear you will, they’ll suspect something.”

“I won’t fail. Even if we spent the next three days fucking in my bedroom I wouldn’t fail. You’re that good a teacher.”

“Flattery? You think that will sway me from my lesson plan?” Hux scowls as Ben molds his chest to his back. The smell of sweat, unwashed cotton, and body spray invade his nose. Ben must have gone to the gym earlier, or tossed those barbells in the corner about as he grunted like an animal. Hux needs to introduce him to a decent cologne one of these days.

“You like being told you’re smart. That’s why you became a tutor, right? To prove you’re smarter than people?”

“I became a tutor because my post-graduate career has so far been underwhelming,” Hux dismisses. That, and he has rent to pay and a cat to feed, and if he ends up fired because Ben can’t focus on exam prep for five minutes without thinking about feeling Hux up he’ll be very upset.

“Please. Come on, Armitage.”

Hux groans. He knew it was a mistake to tell Ben his name. He knows just the way to roll it in his mouth, dancing between pleading and husky, in a perfect tone to get Hux shivery and pliable. Oh hell. 

There’s no way either of them will be able to concentrate like this.

“Fine,” Hux relents, turning his head to look at Ben out of the corner of his eye, “but I’m going to work you extra hard this evening. This will count as one of your study breaks.”

“Sure thing, professor,” Ben breathes eagerly against Hux’s neck, the hand on his thigh already moving to fiddle with the zipper of his pants. Hux leans his head back, stiffly allowing Ben more access, and he quickly takes advantage, pressing a warm, wet kiss against his throat.

Pleasant feelings start to squirm in Hux’s belly as Ben palms his groin, his other hand easily slipping open the three buttons on his blazer. He doesn’t bother to remove it, though, interested only in freeing up Hux’s front so he can explore it better. He tuts when Ben gives his pec a squeeze and pushes his hips forward, reminding Hux of his impressive length as he grinds it against his ass.

“Do it between my thighs,” Hux decides, knowing he wont want to sit on his smarting ass for hours as Ben works through his comprehension of the Spanish-American War. “You still have lubricant?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Course I do.”

“Silly me. I forgot who I was talking to.” Hux sits on the bed, unzipping his pants all the way and shimmying them down as Ben fetches the lube from the nightstand drawer. His back muscles flex through the tightness of his shirt, like powerful tides pushing up out of the depths of the sea. When he returns, Ben sets aside the lube for a moment to brush his fingers against the side of Hux’s head, dipping into his hair, before leaning in to kiss him. A couples seconds and Hux is lying on his back in the bed, with Ben half leaned on top of him exploring his mouth with gusto he wished he had for his studies.  

Part of Hux still doesn’t understand it. A young man like Ben Solo—attractive, athletic, the son of wealthy and distinguished parents—could have any number of girls or boys he wanted, surely. Hux remembers college, how it had reeked of hormones and alcohol properly let loose for the first time without the fear of parental discovery. A pot of sex and attempts at higher learning, all mingled together and bubbling over. Surely Ben would’ve had no issue finding a decent lay his age.

And yet he has eyes for his tutor, five years his senior. Hux knows he’s no prize, even discounting his age—he is soft everywhere Ben is muscled, drawn and pallid where he is unfettered and vigorous, and he cares more for literature and analysis than the raucous music and brazen athletics that Ben favors. If Hux tried, he could probably find a pair more mismatched than they are, but it would be difficult and require a wider survey.

And yet it was Ben who approached him first, leaning in to kiss him over a reenacted video of the Battle of Antietam. Their first, furtive hand-jobs were stroked in rhythm to the sounds of gunshots and narrated personal accounts, and the first time Hux had gotten down on his knees in Ben’s bedroom and taken his tremendous, virile cock down his throat the impassioned speeches of William Jennings Bryant were still ringing through his ears. Indeed, sex had become a part of their sessions together, and to Hux’s surprise Ben’s grades haven’t suffered as a result.

But he still couldn’t risk failing that final. So Hux swats at Ben’s shoulder until he breaks the kiss, tells him:

“Hurry it up.”

And brings his knees to his chest, exposing his bare rear to the young man’s eyes.

Ben raises his eyebrow and a smirk at the same time.

“Eager?”

“Eager to get to what your parents are paying for,” Hux says, and steals the smile from Ben’s face a bit.

“Dude, don’t talk about my parents when I’m about to get my dick out.”

“Then get it out already!” Hux hurries, trying to make himself believe he’s only acting impatiently for the acceptable reasons. But it’s hard not to notice the beginnings of twitching in his own cock as he lies with his ass out before his pupil.

Hux hears the squelch of lubrication as Ben squeezes the tube onto his finger and rubs it against his palm. His breath hitches with anticipation a moment before Ben touches between his thighs, sliding a warm, slick digit in the tight crease. He moves it up and down before jabbing it forwards, coating the available flesh. It’s a little oily, and Hux rubs his thighs together experimentally, feeling how easily they slide against each other while also helping to spread the lube around himself.

Hux swears under his breath as Ben’s knuckles nearly skim the underside of his cock, heightening his anticipation despite himself. Damn it, he’s doing this because Ben wants to, because he won't allow them to move onto the lesson plan otherwise. Hux doesn’t want to accept he’s into it, because then what kind of degenerate would that make him? Letting his pupil fuck his thighs, in the house of his parents, when they’re supposed to be ensuring that Ben won’t mix up Andrew Johnson with Andrew Jackson.

Hux hears the jingling of a belt and, though he can’t see it, he assumes Ben is opening up his own pants as he braces Hux’s knees with his unsullied hand. His heart picks up beating, and he cranes his neck up off the pillow as Ben unbends his legs and lets them rest against his body, angled perpendicular to his spine.

Hux won’t lie, he loves that cock of Ben’s. It’s thick like the rest of him, not the longest Hux has ever seen but with a great enough girth to fill his fist and stretch his throat out in just the way he likes. And he’s so earnest in the way he touches Hux, with a hint of a man who understands the value of lovemaking rather than purely lecherous fucking, not that Hux hasn’t had his fair share of the latter in his life. But it’s nice, to see that even a cocksure young man like Ben understands how to properly treat a bed partner. Some older individuals Hux has consorted with could learn a thing or two from him.

Hux flinches as Ben’s cock slides between his thighs, eventually poking out the other side, its fat head resting atop his downy balls. Ben rests Hux’s clasped calves over one shoulder, keeping his legs in the diagonal so he can see his face. Hux blushes, dragging his teeth against his lower lip as Ben lingers for a moment, most likely enjoying the feeling of soft flesh around his cock.

“Oh…” Hux suddenly moans when Ben starts to move, first pulling out a bit then sliding back into place, finding an acceptably steady rhythm after a couple moments feeling out the best way to drive his cock between Hux’s thighs.  

Ben’s shaft soon rubs over the entirety of Hux’s undercarriage, from his quivery hole over his taint to his balls and cock, able to cover all ground in a single long thrust. Hux’s toes curl in his shoes as he puffed breath from his cheeks, which have surely grown red if the heat he feels there is any indication. He must look truly debauched to Ben, who undoubtedly enjoys seeing his well-dressed, tightly-wound tutor in such a state. He wonders if it’s a point of pride to him, or some kind of dare he’s set up with his buddies, to drive Hux mad with just this, just the barest taste of his cock. And yet despite his attitude, Ben doesn’t strike Hux as much of a braggart. He aced his midterm awhile back, and didn’t even tell Hux until he pressed him for details partway through their subsequent session.

Truly, there’s a more earnest, contemplative side of Ben that Hux enjoys the most, that resurfaces in moments of vulnerability like this, with sincere sexuality, care for the man only hired to bring his grades up and keep him on that damned lacrosse team.

It’s almost a shame Hux didn’t have someone like Ben while he was in college.

The motion of their bodies grows more frenetic, shifting Ben’s bed slightly. One of Hux’s hand curls into a fist, nails brushing against his palm as the other reaches for his cock, needing to get off and resolve the yearning growing in his heart, but Ben beats him to it, leaves Hux’s hand to rest against his panting belly as he loosely cups the both of their cocks. Ben’s thrusts grow more shallow, mere rutting against Hux’s cock within the cage of his fingers.

“That’s it, yes—” He encourages, though Ben needs none, dipping his head in concentration as he deftly jerks the both of them off to their peak.

Hux’s own release soon splatters against his lower belly, barely missing the rucked-up hem of his dress shirt. He pants, his thighs twitching around Ben’s cock, noticing a moment later that he too has come all over him. Hux should feel upset by it, how messy he’s become, but it’s not the worst sensation in the world. It makes him think about how it would feel to have Ben finish inside of him, leave him wet and dripping for more.

Perhaps. If Ben does well enough on this final, he’ll consider it. Positive reinforcement is yet another tool in his tutorial arsenal, after all. Though he certainly enjoys food as much as sex—maybe he should treat Ben to dinner first.

“Are you...substantially unwound?” Hux says in between pants as Ben lowers his legs, slips his cock out from between his soiled thighs. He tries to sit up when Ben leans in for another kiss, but Hux fusses and turns his head away, placing a staying hand on his chest. But then Ben puts on such a wounded look he can’t deny him, and meets his lips in one last kiss before pressing a finger to them.

“Give me a moment to freshen up,” Hux says as he fishes in his coat pocket for a pack of tissues, fiddling it open. “Then we’re getting right down to work. No complaints.”

And Ben nods, smiles, accepts a tissue from Hux to clean himself up. They zip up their pants and buckle their belts, Hux smooths his hair back into place and it’s almost like none of this ever happened—yet the confident, pleased grin on Ben’s face remains the same.

“I’m all yours, professor.”

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter three / five

Chapter summary: Makalaurë and Tinweriel come to an arragement, both believing that they are the more stubborn one.

Story summary: These are the things we know about the sons of Fëanor: they are full of fire, and they do no give up easily. These things hold true with Maglor too, ever since childhood, and apply in love as well as war. This fic is a four-part exploration of the relationship that develops between Maglor and his future wife.

Rating: General audiences; Length: ~2,300 words

Tag-type thingies for the whole story: years of the trees, romance, falling in love, music, first meeting, courtship, pining, some light humour

Notes:  I had some trouble writing this third chapter and eventually realised that it was because it needed to be two chapters. So the total chapter count of this fic has been upped to five, with both this and the next chapter from Makalaurë's point of view.

(Also posted on AO3 etc.)

*

Chapter III // Crescendo – ‘becoming louder’

Far from giving up on courting Tinweriel, Makalaurë begins to pursue her with a single-minded determination he has never granted anything but his music. Years ago she told him he needed to work hard to prove his talent true, and he did. He can do the same to make her believe the truth of his feelings, and when she does, perhaps she will give him a chance.

After all, they discovered a strong affinity of spirits between them not long after they met. It seems likely to Makalaurë that if Tinweriel can get over thinking him a little boy, and her denial that they could only ever be friends, she could care for him in a deeper, different manner.

He is convinced that the easy, utterly effortless way they have always sang and played in harmony means that they are meant for more than friendship.

Once he recovers from his inebriation and the subsequent indisposition, he realises that a loud serenade in Tinweriel's garden while her family and neighbours watched on probably wasn't the best way to announce his feelings and intentions. Now that he knows, he will alter his strategy. He cancels the plans he made with some musician friends of his for a public performance in Tinweriel's honour and asks his older brother to help him make a gift for her instead.

Their father has been experimenting with coloured metals lately, so Makalaurë crafts seven colourful roses with Maitimo's help and sends them to Tinweriel together with the sheet music for a song about midsummer flowers.

A day later a messenger brings back the roses, along with a note.

Makalaurë,

the roses are beautiful but please do not make yourself do any crafting for my sake – I know that you would rather keep away from your father's workshop.

In any case I must return the roses since I do not reciprocate the feelings they represent. I will keep the sheet music and offer my critique the next time we meet, should you wish for it. The ending of the piece was lovely but the beginning was uninspired, not up to your usual standards.

In friendship

Tinweriel

Makalaurë burns the note and tosses the metal roses into the bottom of a chest.

*

It is he who avoids her for the next week, slipping away quickly from the practice sessions of a company they both belong to. He needs time to think about his next step.

His world shifted when, a few years ago, he gradually realised that he feels more than admiration and friendship towards Tinweriel. It had been an exhilarating, intriguing kind of skewedness that he'd though might would right itself when he told her how he feels, but all that changed is that he feels slightly lost now, and the bright song inside him is fainter.

In the end he sends her a message asking when he can meet her for the critique she offered on his composition. The lacklustre opening has been bothering him too, and she always has good ideas for improvement.

They meet at her house, as usual – Makalaurë's four younger brothers do not make for an environment conducive to any focused work whereas Tinweriel's one older brother is already married and lives elsewhere. Makalaurë brings a bouquet of flowers again, just natural flowers this time, because he wants to bring a reminder of things having changed to this meeting that is otherwise just like a hundred other meetings they have had over the years.

'Don't bother giving or sending them back to me', he says to Tinweriel as soon as he pushes the flowers into her hands and sees her beginning to protest. 'They'll be wilted by the time I get home, so you might just as well put them into water and enjoy them.'

Tinweriel gives him a pointed look, summons a servant and instructs him to put the flowers in her mother's room.

Her comments and critique on his composition are helpful as always. Makalaurë takes note of them and tries not to be insulted or heartbroken that Tinweriel acts a little more formal with him than before, sits with her back very straight and a little farther away from him than usually.

As soon as she runs out of things to say about his composition she rings for a servant again and busies herself with offering him tea, acting beautifully the part of a perfect, polite hostess. Makalaurë would have much preferred it if they'd gone to the garden and sat on the grass and eaten berries straight from a bush like they've often done in the summer. It is a lovely enough day for that.

Still, he supposes he should be grateful that she didn't call for her mother to join them. Even if there is an unpleasant kind of tension between them, at least they are alone.

'We should talk about what we are going to be to each other going forward', he begins, watching Tinweriel closely, seeing her tense.

Before she replies the silence and tension hang in the air between them like drops of condensation about to fall.

'I hoped we would still be friends. You said that we would, on your begetting day, and you came here and we talked just like we used to, so I thought –'

'We haven't been "just like we used to"', Makalaurë interrupts her. 'We used to be easy around each other. Now we have been awkward and odd ever since we stopped talking about my music.'

'If you wanted things to say the same, you shouldn't have serenaded me with a love song', retorts Tinweriel.

Makalaurë bites his tongue and considers his answer. 'If you gave me a chance to be more than a friend, we could have a much more pleasant kind of tension between us.'

'That is impossible, Makalaurë.'

'I still don't understand why it is utterly impossible.' Suddenly he feels cold in the golden-bright room. 'Is there someone else? Did I wait too long?' If she already loves someone else they must have been courting in peculiar secrecy, or Makalaurë would have heard of it.

'There is no one else.'

Tinweriel is as good at lying as she is at other ways of using words with skill, but Makalaurë believes he knows her well enough to know her to speak true now.

'There has never been anyone I was interested in as more than a friend.' Tinweriel gazes out the window pensively. 'Perhaps I was not made for emotions like that.'

Makalaurë knows that there are some people who are very old and have not married, and never even wanted to. Yet even of those people one cannot be sure if they are unable to love, or unwilling, or if they have just not yet met the person to whom their fëa is drawn towards.

Then again love is a mystery truly understood by no one, and all Makalaurë can do is hope and pray and do his best to have even a chance.

'Perhaps', he says. 'But you are not that old yet, you know. Perhaps you just haven't experienced the love one feels for the person one wishes to marry. It may still come.'

'It may', Tinweriel concedes, and Makalaurë is relieved to see she is not being wilfully against everything he says.

'I have a suggestion', he says, for he had managed to think of a plan before coming here. 'Let us stay friends, and once a year – as my begetting day gift each year, you will let me court you for that one day.'

'Do you really want to spend your days of celebration lavishing attention on me?'

'Of course I do.' He groans, and then laughs.

'What is so funny?' Tinweriel asks, looking more mystified than ever.

'I hold on to hope that you feel for me as I do for you, but then you ask something like that, and I know that you don't. You really don't understand.' Makalaurë shakes his head, and laughs more when he sees Tinweriel's eyes darken, her temper flaring up.

'Fine', she says in a voice of steel and silver. 'I will give you one day a year to try to make me understand, and to change my mind. But you should remember that though you are determined and stubborn, I am even more obstinate.'

It's not a question of obstinacy, Makalaurë wants to say, but in the end he doesn't, because this is another thing she wouldn't understand.

When he leaves he bows to kiss her hand, as a reminder, and then straightens up and looks her in the eyes steadily, reminding her that he is finally as tall as she is, or perhaps standing a little taller now that he has voiced aloud what has been growing in his heart for years.

*

On the morning of his next begetting day Makalaurë delivers Tinweriel a sheaf of beautifully calligraphed poetry and another one of sheet music for the flute, all of it inspired by her beauty and wit. Though he has spent a very long time composing both they feel woefully inadequate, little more than what he might bring her to analyse and critique at any meeting of theirs. But she disliked the public performance of his love song a year ago and thus Makalaurë thinks he should give her something more private that she can read in the quiet of her bedchamber and think upon in peace.

He brings her flowers as well, red roses that are almost purple, vivid and extravagant and beautiful like she is.

She accepts the gifts with all the grace she can muster, which is a great amount for she is a great performer, and her graciousness is almost enough to disperse the awkwardness that has returned with a vengeance after slowly fading away during the year that has passed. He takes her out for a walk and she takes his arm and lets him hold her closer than usual, but the acquaintances they happen to meet appear to see no difference in their demeanour, treating them as the close friends they have been for years.

He claims an inappropriate number of dances with her at the party held in the evening and walks her home at the end of the night. He would kiss her on the cheek as goodbye rather than her hand but when he leans in, she flinches infinitesimally, and all his desire to claim a kiss disappears in the face of that proof, and all he feels is lost again.

It is all intensely frustrating and Makalaurë is grateful that his temper, though it can be fiery, isn't as short as Tyelkormo or Carnistir's. He has patience for things that matter, and time – what is a few years of waiting, if they could have countless years together?

After Tinweriel has gone in he stays in the shadow of a tall tree in front of her house for a moment, gathering himself for the walk home.

He doesn't mean to eavesdrop but doesn't dare to move after hearing voices from the closest window, so he ends up overhearing talk of himself and as they say, eavesdroppers never hear good things about themselves.

Tinweriel is telling her mother Silmien about her day. 'He gave me so much poetry I didn't have time to read it all in the time I was at home between walking with him and the party', she says, sounding tired.

'I saw the sheaf of it before you took it to your room.' There is a smile in the voice of Tinweriel's mother. 'It wasn't the work of one day.'

'It might have been the work of a year', Tinweriel mutters in a voice low enough that Makalaurë has to strain to hear, and then feel shame. 'It was all masterfully written, of course – perfect meter, beautiful imagery, filled with a musicality few could match. But there is so much of it. I didn't know what to say when he asked if I liked it.'

'Young men's hearts are fragile, Tinwië', Silmien says very maternally. 'Be kind to him.'

'I am trying', Tinweriel replies, and sighs.

Makalaurë slips away. Even fear of discovery can't make him stay to listen to more of such talk.

My heart isn't fragile, he thinks rebelliously all the way home, displeased with Silmien and even more with Tinweriel. For the first time he comes close to wishing he hadn't come to feel the way he does about her; his love for her has made his heart sing in joy more often than it has made it ache.

Makalaurë loves loving Tinweriel, and if thinking that his heart is fragile will make her keep giving him chances, let her think so. He will just pretend not to have heard that conversation – it might take him a few days to calm down, but he will, and after all he too is a performer, and not proud to the degree of self-harm like his father.

Not that he has a choice anyway. He grew into loving Tinweriel in a way that is more than friendship in the same manner that he grew into a taller but not very tall body and a much more powerful voice; he grew into them gradually, adjusting along the way, knowing these were all things beoynd his control to choose but his own to accept and embrace. They are all inseparable parts of him now, and it would take much more than gentle rejection of his advances for him to hate a part of who he is, or to wish that it didn't exist.

*

A/N: I didn’t have time to edit as carefully as usual, and I didn’t check the ‘nativeness’ of all expressions this time, so if you find anything very silly, please let me know so I can fix it.

Unfortunately there will not be an update next weekend because I'll be travelling and wasn't able to get the next chapter into good enough shape that I could have saved it as draft now and posted when I’m abroad. So the next update will be around the 20th, provided that Scottish midges don't eat me alive.

Thanks for reading! If you have a moment and want to make me happy, leave a little comment :) (AO3 link)

[thesmashcake]

5 Tips to Stay Creative in Photography

5 Tips to Stay Creative in Photography

This morning I'm sitting on the couch, I'm on coffee #2 and inspiration hit me like a ton of bricks. That's just the nature of inspiration: it comes out of nowhere, blindsides you and forces you to get your butt into gear. When inspiration hits you it feels like you can do no wrong (creatively speaking). You have a direct connection to your mind's eye and you get to be the conduit that delivers beautiful art into the world.

I love it when this happens. I live for these moments. Those moments are few and far between but man, when they hit you... you feel like you’ve been touched by some higher creative power. It's moments like that that all artists live for.

Do you want more days like that? Of course, we all do.  What if I was to tell you that there are a few things that you could do to have more of those days. That's right, you can tap into your creative powers faster and more often if you take the time to learn how to jump-start creativity. Creativity doesn't have to be this ethereal thing that presents itself to you when it wants to. You can learn to control it and bring it forward whenever you decide.

Today's blog is all about how I jump-start my creativity. These are the tips and tricks that I have learned over the course of almost 20 years. I still have those days where no matter what I try I just can't get the creative juices flowing. But by following this playbook I can help you ensure that you suffer a lot fewer of those uninspired days. So let's jump into it.

Step #1 Take care of yourself

Our inability to create or find the motivation to create can usually be traced back to not taking care of yourself. Maybe you're exhausted because you didn't sleep the night before.  Maybe you haven't been eating right for days. Or maybe you're just so stressed out you can't see straight. With those kinds of roadblocks in the way it's no wonder that the creative energies simply refuse to flow.

For me the roadblock is always stress. So I found ways to manage my stress through exercise and implementing a few hours of ‘me time’ everyday. But we're all different and so are our issues. So I challenge you guys: sit down at the dining room table tonight and write out a list of what you think is wrong with you. Ask yourself, do I have any pressing health issues that I need to address? Am I living a stressful existence and need to make some changes? Or am I eating like crap and not treating my body right? Take an hour of you time to create this list and use it as a blueprint to build a better you.  Once those roadblocks are gone you'd be surprised at how quickly and easily you can access your creative energies. 

Step #2  Learn a musical instrument

This one seems a little weird but just go with it.  There have been so many studies done on this that it's surprising that more people don't know about it. Your brain loves music.  Doctors have scanned the brains of musicians while they're playing their instruments and their brains really come alive while they're playing.  Making music helps reduce stress while opening up neuro pathways in the brain making it easier to tap into your creative side. When my creative block needs to be jackhammered into oblivion my tool of choice is always my ukulele.  I simply shred some ACDC on my ridiculously small “guitar” and within the hour I’m creatively Back In Black. (see what I did there) :) 

Plus it makes my wife happy.

Step #3  Find other local artists and learn from them 

Everywhere you look in even the smallest of towns there are artists creating amazing works of art. Right now chefs in your hometown are out there designing new food trends and turning mundane ingredients into art.  Graffiti artists are putting out works of art on abandoned buildings and train cars. Tattoo artists are creating living breathing works of art just down the street from you.

No matter what type of art speaks to you, go find the artist and pick their brains over a cup of coffee.  Ask if you could shadow them while they work. Or even skype them if you’re feeling anti-social. The goal is to discover a new form of art from somebody who is just as passionate about their craft as you are about yours. You’ll find that their passion is infectious and oftentimes leads you to new ideas in your own work. Ideas that you would not have come up with otherwise. Who knows - you may even make a new friend.

Step #4  Watch television (An extension on step #3)

There is a show on Netflix called Abstract.  It showcases artists from all sorts of different genres.  One show was about a Broadway set designer. One was about a world-famous font designer. But by far my favorite was about the designer of the Nike Air Jordan basketball shoe. I started every episode unsure if I really wanted to learn about so far removed from photography; but by the end I was completely enthralled.  Just like in Tip 3, learning about a new art form from someone who is passionate about their craft will help unlock the creativity in you. So grab a cup of coffee and make this one part of your morning ritual. You’ll be glad you did.

And make sure you leave us a comment about other shows we should all be watching below.

Step #5 Let it go

When you’re a professional photographer your livelihood depends on how good you are at your craft.  So it’s very easy to live, breathe and eat nothing but photography for the sake of keeping groceries on the table.  I can tell you from personal experience that this is a completely dangerous place to be and the quickest way to creative burnout.  Fortunately the answer to pulling out of this creative nosedive is dead simple.

You simply need to let go.

Unplug from the photography world. Unfortunately, easier said than done when your financial future depends on staying at the top of your photography game.  There’s always new editing techniques to learn. Or a marketing plan to execute and don’t even get me started on blogs and social media. But hard as it is, you need to find time to walk away from your business everyday. Even if all of your efforts bring you hundreds of clients, they do you no good if you’re too stressed out to be creative.  So it is imperative that you take time to do nothing and simply let go. Bake a pie, read a book or take a bath. Just make sure that whatever you do has absolutely nothing to do with photography.  Or business. Or photography business.

And with that, I am off to STEP #5 my way into a glass of Merlot and a bubble bath.  I want to thank you guys for reading about my tips to stay creative. If you guys have any tips of your own I would love to hear them.  Use the comment section below to share your favorite tip and hopefully help out a bunch of fellow smash cake photographers.  

Catch you next time guys,

Daniel Troutman

[studio-elan]

How to Know if Online Dating Is Right for You: Is It Your Match?

It seems like everyone meets online nowadays. But online dating is not right for everyone. Learn how to know if online dating is right for you. Online dating is wonderful for a lot of people. It is time-saving and adds a sense of convenience to the otherwise rather inconvenient world of dating in modern times. But how to know if online dating is right for you is important to understand. I am just guessing here, but I would imagine that you know at least one couple that met online. And when I say online, that could mean a dating site like eHarmony or a dating app like Tinder or Bumble. People adore online dating and all it has to offer. With that being said, it is not for everyone. Just like blind dates and speed dating are not for everyone neither is online dating. [Read: Reasons to ditch online dating and go old school] Have you tried online dating? Before we get into learning how to know if online dating is right for you, let me ask you this: have you tried online dating? That is a great way to answer this question for yourself. Have you downloaded an app? Made a decent profile? Have you actually gotten off the app and met anyone in the real world? If your answer to one or all these questions is no, then try it. I can certainly help you figure out if you should even bother later on in this article. But, the best way to figure out if online dating is right for you is by trying it. Sure, you could chat with a few people and realize this is not for you. Or you could go on a couple of dates and end up meeting your soulmate… or at least enjoy a good meal. [Read: Why you should meet your online date in person real soon] Do you enjoy online dating? For those of you who have tried online dating and are still asking if it is right for you, what is your end goal? Are you looking for a commitment? Is your goal a relationship or marriage? Do you just want to meet people and have fun? You can get all of these results with online dating. Depending on your preferences, online dating might not be the way to go about it. For instance, if you are looking to meet people and just enjoy the dating scene, online dating may be ideal for you. It is a great way to meet lots of different people and try new things. And if that is what you enjoy, there is an endless supply of people online dating. [Read: How NOT to online date – What every online dater must avoid doing] If you are looking for commitment, you can do the same. It may not be as enjoyable. Hoping to meet the “right person”? You may have to weed through a lot of wrong people. If you get nervous meeting strangers and can’t find the balance between getting to know each other virtually or meeting in real life, online dating will be a struggle for you. But with that, if you have online dated and enjoyed the process of it, keep doing it. If you have tried it and felt doubtful, uninspired, or just blah about it, you may want to try other dating methods. Sure online dating is about making matches, but you should be able to enjoy yourself while looking. If you’re not, then it may not be for you. [Read: 14 important do’s and don’ts of online dating] How to know if online dating is right for you Whether you have tried online dating or not, and still aren’t quite sure if it is the best method of dating for you, I am here to help. As someone who has tried online dating on and off for years with some success and some nightmare situations, I hope I can help to guide you in the right direction for you. This is how to know if online dating is right for you. #1 Are you a social butterfly? Online dating is ideal for those who maybe don’t meet people all the time offline. It is great for people who maybe have a small group of friends, so it is hard to meet new people. But, if you have a large group of friends and love meeting new people, online dating may not be right for you. Sure, you can never have enough friends, and meeting more can’t hurt, but online dating is a way to open up doors that would otherwise be closed. If all your doors are open already, you may not need more. [Read: 30 effective tips to help you win at online dating] #2 Are you active and adventurous? This is something I find interesting. Hear me out. I am a pretty lazy person. I hang out at home a lot, so it isn’t easy to meet like-minded people, or at least it won’t be until Netflix creates a dating app. But I digress. I constantly see people on dating apps saying they are spontaneous, adventurous, and active. If that is true, I wonder why they haven’t met anyone on all these active and spontaneous adventures they go on. I know I don’t meet people because no one is hanging out in front of my TV, but if you are out doing things all the time, chances are there are tons of people for you to meet that way. [Read: 15 Tinder tips you mustn’t ignore if you ever want a date] #3 Are you embarrassed or ashamed of online dating? Even though online dating has taken the world by storm, some people still find it embarrassing. The stigma attached to online dating implies anyone who needs the internet to find a date is desperate and has no other options. Although that is entirely untrue, you may still carry those thoughts around. If you feel like you can’t tell your friends you’re online dating or would want to make up a false story about how you met someone so no one knew it was online, just don’t do it. Either lose those judgments or go back to traditional dating. #4 Are you too busy to keep up with it? A lot of people think online dating is for people who are too busy to meet people in other ways. Sure, you can swipe and chat while in a meeting, but that doesn’t mean you have time to date. If you don’t have time to commit to dating offline, what makes you think you will have time to do so online? A lot of online dating apps have 24-hour limits. If you do not interact with a match in 24-hours, it disappears. This weeds out those that aren’t on the app enough to make a real connection. If you are too busy to use the app, you are probably too busy to put effort into a relationship. [Read: Questions to determine if you’re ready for a relationship] #5 Are you naturally an anxious person? Do you overthink everything? If so, online dating will be a minefield for you. There is so much that is left unsaid. And if things are going well, working up the nerve to meet offline can be too much for you. Sure, you can work on your anxiety and be able to meet people, I did. But if you are struggling with anxiety so much you cancel dates regularly, online dating may not be right for you. Instead, ask friends to set you up and go on double dates so you have extra security. [Read: Why online dating can be more terrifying than a horror film] #6 Do you get attached to people quickly? Online dating is not like high school dating where you meet someone, catch feelings, and that is it, you’re a thing. With online dating, you can talk to someone every day for a week and share all your darkest secrets, and then never hear from them again. I am not saying this is normal or right in any way. If you tend to get attached to a date or even someone you are just chatting with easily, you have to be able to move on from that to make online dating work. If you get attached quickly, you will go through a lot of heartbreak with online dating. [Read: How to not get attached to someone who will never be good for you] #7 Can you handle rejection and ghosting? Although online dating offers you immense options for success, it also introduces you to everyday rejection. You can get angry messages from people that disagree with something you said. But, more likely, you can be ghosted regularly. Online dating leaves responsibility and blame on the floor. If someone doesn’t want to continue speaking to you for any reason, they will do just that with no reason or explanation. If you cannot handle that *I don’t blame you*, online dating is not right for you. [Read: Ghosted after the first date? 13 calm steps to quell the rage] #8 Do you feel like online dating is fake? This is something I have personally struggled with a lot when it comes to figuring out if online dating is right for me. Online dating is sort of like the comments section of Twitter or YouTube. People can say or do whatever they want because they are hidden behind a screen. Someone can tell you everything you want to hear but not mean a word of it and not feel bad about lying ’cause they never met you face-to-face. Although most people who use online dating are decent and honest, this fear can really mess up your mindset and make you be negative about the whole process. [Read: How to spot the liars in an online dating site] #9 Are you blindly swiping? This is a problem with modern online dating. Legit websites like eHarmony give you a questionnaire and match you based on that. This breaks down the thousands of faces you have to swipe through. But, with dating apps, you are essentially the matchmaker. You have to choose if someone is right for you. You can sit there and swipe on faces with just a small amount of information for hours without ever messaging anyone. If you just swipe all day, you are not making a real connection. If you fall into that pattern, get off the apps and into the real world of dating. [Read: 16 exciting ways you can meet new people] #10 Are you hopeful? This is a question you should ask yourself whether you are looking into online dating or any type of dating, honestly. If you are bitter and planning on joining online dating with a cynical mindset, it won’t be right for you. If you are hopeful, or even neutral, about online dating it could work out great for you. [Read: Annoyingly common misconceptions about online dating] You can ask yourself all these questions to learn how to know if online dating is right for you, but even if it doesn’t seem to be, you can always try it out. The post How to Know if Online Dating Is Right for You: Is It Your Match? is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

[vernieman]

Xiaomi has always been known to be a company that has a knack for surprising new and even old fans. While the company has ventured into many other product segments i.e. notebooks, smart TVs, air purifiers and even luggage, I’m very glad to know that they haven’t neglected what made them a household name in the first place. Feature-packed and attractively priced smartphones that are at most most times, a fraction of the asking price of competitor devices.

As expected during a launch event about three weeks ago, the company announced the arrival of the Mi Mix 2, Mi Notebook Pro and the Mi Note 3. While those 3 devices definitely got tongues wagging, the device that really got everyone talking was the Mi A1, the company’s very first pure Android smartphone that is part of Google’s Android One programme. Yes. You read that right. PURE ANDROID and MIUI is nowhere to be found on this device. So how does the Mi A1 fare? Read on to find out.

Design & Build

First things first, let’s get the elephant out of the room. Yes, the Mi A1 looks like an iPhone from the back but so do a lot of other smartphones. So I don’t think that’s something to gripe on about. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go back to talking about the Mi A1 without drawing comparisons.

Looks and build wise, the Mi A1 is essentially a twin of the Mi 5X. Place them side-by-side without turning on the screen and you probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. However, I find that to be a good thing as the Mi 5X is easily one of the most solid devices Xiaomi has ever built.

So, with that said, the Mi A1 is equally solid and does have a slight heftiness to it, which is nice. Although I don’t quite mind phones wrapped in glass or ceramic, the Mi A1’s full metal body definitely puts my mind more at ease as it just feels a lot less vulnerable to drops or knocks.

The device is available in three colours: Black, Gold and Rose Gold. I went out and bought one, and opted to go with the least ostentatious and classier one, Black. Note that for this review, it’s a gold unit.

While the Mi A1 does feature a 5.5-inch display, it really doesn’t feel very large as it is just 7.3mm thin, has very smooth and rounded edges and the display’s bezels are quite thin. Even with relatively small hands, I found the Mi A1 quite easy to handle and use one-handed.

Unlike some of the flagships in the market today that seem to be losing more and more hardware features, the Mi A1 still comes with all the stuff we know and love and even a little bit more.

On the bottom of the device, you’ll find a 3.5mm headphone jack (YIPEEEE!), the USB Type-C charging port (WAHEY!) and the down-firing speaker grill, which is actually quite loud and produces very clear and bassy audio (YAY!).

On the top, right next to the microphone, we get an IR Blaster (WHOOP! WHOOP!). As for the sides, you have the hybrid SIM tray and on the left you get the very clicky and responsive volume rocker and Power/Lock button.

On the back, we have the fingerprint sensor and dual camera setup. The one little gripe I do have about the Mi A1 is the fact that the camera does have quite a pronounced hump and without a case, it’ll definitely be easy to scratch the glass. I also like how there’s an Android One logo emblazoned at the bottom of the device. It gives you a clue how serious Google is about this.

Overall, I really like the design of the Mi A1, although it does seem a little uninspiring. I like how it just isn’t too over the top and has a subtle sleekness and classiness to it. Kind of like nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk and pandan)–looks like plain white rice, but that flavour is so mouthwatering.

[nextpage title=”Hardware, Software, In the Box”]

What’s in the box

Mi A1 unit

USB Type-C cable

Power adapter

User guide/Warranty card

SIM insertion tool

Hardware

On the hardware front, the Mi A1 packs almost the same set of firepower as most devices in its category and price range. That’s really not a bad thing though as most mid-range devices these days come with some serious hardware that can satisfy most users and not leave them in a state of utter frustration.

The Mi A1 pretty much shares the same internals as the Redmi Note 4, it’s powered by an octa-core Qualcomm Snapdragon 625 processor mated to an Adreno 506 graphics processor, has 4GB of RAM and internal storage of 64GB (58.2GB usable). If the 64GB of storage isn’t enough, you can always add in a microSD card to the Mi A1 to expand the storage.

The device even supports Universal Flash Storage so if you have a high-speed microSD card, you can format so that it works as an extension of your internal storage.

As a whole, I’d say it isn’t too shabby. While the Snapdragon 625 is a little on the older side, it is still one of the most balanced processors Qualcomm has in its catalogue.

One little niggle that I do have to point out is that unlike the Redmi Note 4, which is equipped with a 4000mAh battery, this device only has a 3080mAh battery. But this isn’t a deal breaker in any sense though, because remember, the Mi A1 runs on pure Android, which means it is optimised to be extremely efficient in terms of power.

The battery supports fast charging but sadly the box doesn’t come with a fast charger. The bundled standard 5V/2A power adapter does still get it juiced in a relatively short time.

Display wise, the Mi A1’s 5.5-inch display has a Full HD 1080p LCD display protected by 2.5D Corning Gorilla Glass. This display is bright, produces quite accurate colours and has great viewing angles. Texts are also nice and crisp with no bleeding whatsoever. Again, for a device at this price point, I don’t think anyone can complain.

Last but not least, the Mi A1 supports networks up to 4G LTE, supports Bluetooth 4.2/HID, dual band Wi-Fi 802.11 a/b/g/n/ac 2.4/5GHz, WiFi Display, WiFi Direct, GPS, AGPS and GLONASS. There’s no NFC support here, but that’s to be expected.

Software

As mentioned, the Mi A1 is part of Google’s Android One programme, which was created to reduce the extremely fragmented Android landscape. What I mean by that is that, even to this day, though you may buy a brand spanking new smartphone, it may or may not receive the latest update to the latest version of Android. This essentially means your device gets outdated pretty quickly and you lose out not just on new features but also crucial security patches.

I personally love the idea of what Google is trying to do with the Android One programme but that’s a story for another day.

Being part of the Android One programme, the Mi A1 benefits in the software front in multiple ways. The first being that the updates for the device is handled by Google and not Xiaomi. This means users are guaranteed with timely updates. Android 8.0 Oreo is already slated to be pushed to the device later this year.

Another benefit comes in the form of the extremely clean and fluid Android user-interface and experience. Unlike other “stock” Android experience offered by the likes of Lenovo, Motorola or OnePlus, the Mi A1 really doesn’t have an any extra features added on to it. So no “chop-chop” gestures here.

There are only three Xiaomi based additions and they are the IR remote app, the Mi Services menu in settings and the Xiaomi camera app (because Google’s own camera app doesn’t support dual lenses yet). Other than that, you’re pretty much getting the same thing you’ll find on a Nexus or Pixel device.

Now this is a little hit and miss as I’m sure most Xiaomi fans love MIUI and the insane level of customisation it offers in terms of themes and all the other fancy doohickeys. However, this device was made for the Android purists who want the operating system in its purest form. While I personally do love how Android works on its own, I still ended up installing Nova Launcher just for an added level of personalisation.

If you’re looking for bloatware-free, clean and snappy performance, the Mi A1 is definitely where its at.

[nextpage title=”Performance, Pros, Cons, Verdict”]

Performance

With the hardware it packs and pure Android, the Mi A1 is a joy to use on a daily basis as it literally remains buttery smooth even while multitasking. I had no issues jumping from apps like Whatsapp to Instagram to Desygner while Spotify was playing in the background. There were times where I easily had about 15 apps opened and the device still ran as smooth as silk without any signs of lag.

GeekBench benchmarks

The Adreno 506 graphics processor is also really no slouch as it not only did it score quite well in the set of benchmarks I put it through, but it also ran games like Asphalt 8, Dead Trigger 2, Marvel Future Fight and WWE Immortals without any issues. The phone’s temperature increased just a little but not to the point of discomfort. Importantly, there was no visible frame drops during my gaming time.

Even though it may pack a smaller battery compared to the Redmi Note 4, the Mi A1’s battery easily lasted me through a full day of work. I am not exactly a very heavy user but I usually unplug my phone at 6am and by the time the clock strikes 6.30pm, I’ll usually still have more than 40% of battery left.

My typical day of use involves playing music on Spotify, chatting on Whatsapp and Telegram, reading articles on Bleacher Report and Chrome and also scrolling through my feed on Instagram. On days like these, I’ll have get a good 18 hours of usage. But for busier days where I use Desygner, Waze and the camera, it’ll shave off 3-4 hours of my standard usage. Which means to say, battery life is really the bees knees especially if you’re a moderate user like myself.

Now, let’s talk about the dual 12MP cameras. If you don’t already know, the Mi A1 packs a wide-angle lens and a telephoto lens. The former has an aperture of f//2.2 while the latter has a f/2.6 aperture. This setup is very similar to the OnePlus 5 and iPhone 7 Plus, whereby you are able to take portrait photos with a defocused background and also 2x lossless zoom. While this is great for a device at this price point, I would rather Xiaomi equip the phone with a single 12MP f/1.6 camera with Optical Image Stabilisation.

But that doesn’t detract from the fact that camera is still a very good one. In daylight or bright settings, the camera is able to capture photos that retain a great level of detail, colour accuracy and saturation.

Low light or dark settings is a different story all together as photos tended to be grainy and blur.

Seeing as the Mi A1 uses Xiaomi’s very intuitive and feature-packed camera app, which has a pro mode, you will no doubt be able to capture some nice photos. Do note though, that there’s no HDR mode, so you’ll need to toggle on/off on top right of the camera interface.

Video-wise, Xiaomi has given us the option to record in 4K and also time lapse and slow motion. But again, without OIS, video quality suffers quite a bit. So unless you’re constantly carry one of those stabilising gimbals with you, you may want to stick to video recording with a tripod or at least more static setups.

On the other hand, audio recording is actually quite decent as I found audio to be quite clear even in busy and noisy environments.

Last but not least, to appease the selfie-loving crowd, the Mi A1 comes with a 5MP front shooter, which does its job sufficiently, especially if you’re in an area with good lighting.

To sum it up, there are a few misses but that’s more on the camera front.

Overall performance of the Mi A1 far surpasses any device in the same price range.

Check out sample photos in the Gallery.

Pros:

Pure Android experience

Smooth and snappy performance

Good battery life

Solid build

Good dual camera setup

64GB internal storage & microSD support

Cons:

Limited customisation options

No optical image stabilisation

Just a tad slippery

Low light photography

Smaller battery capacity

Pricing and availability

The Xiaomi Mi A1 retails for MYR1,099 (incl. GST) and is available for purchase at the Mi Online Store on Lazada Malaysia, the Mi Premium Reseller Store at Queensbay Mall Penang, Mobile to Go at SS2 Petaling Jaya, or at the Direct D outlets.

Verdict

For what it’s worth (and doesn’t break the bank), the Xiaomi Mi A1 is a really compelling device for those who want a good all-rounder smartphone with a pure Android experience. Granted, it’s still a mid-range device but at least there weren’t many compromises made to the overall package.

Of course, at this price range, there are a few other options that go toe-to-toe with the Mi A1. At the end of the day, most of those come with a whole hodgepodge of bloatware and extra software features thrown in, which you probably will never end up using. On top of that, some of those devices might not even get updated to the next versions of Android. The Mi A1 however, is guaranteed to get updates for two years and will be one of the earliest to get said updates.

So, the best and most Malaysian way I can put it: the Xiaomi Mi A1 is a plate of extremely well-prepared and cooked nasi lemak while the rest are a plate of economy rice, which you put together. Still good, but the combination isn’t quite as impeccable as one put together by a very experienced makcik.

ISO800, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/20s, Auto

[nextpage title=”Gallery”]

Shots from the Mi A1 in various conditions. Photos are straight from camera, unedited aside from being watermarked. Saved as JPEG, 100% quality, sRGB, 1280×960 @ 96dpi. Click on thumbnail to enlarge (EXIF data shown).

#gallery-0-8 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-8 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

ISO800, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/20s, Auto

ISO250, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/100s, Portrait/DOF mode

ISO160, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/100s, HDR

ISO200, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/100s, HDR, 2x Zoom

ISO205, 2.64mm, f/2.0, 1/35s, Auto, Front camera

ISO302, 2.64mm, f/2.0, 1/35s, Auto, Front camera

ISO135, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/50s, Auto

ISO3200, 5.99m, f/2.6, 1/35s, Portrait/DOF mode

ISO640, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/25s, Auto

ISO320, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/35s, Auto

ISO400, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/35s, Auto, 2x Zoom

ISO320, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/50s, Auto, 2x Zoom

ISO320, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/50s, Auto

ISO1600, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/35s, Portrait/DOF mode

ISO100, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/180s, HDR

ISO125, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/180s, HDR, 2x Zoom

ISO800, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/25s, Auto

ISO800, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/35s, Portrait/DOF mode

ISO100, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/900s, HDR

ISO500, 3.81mm, f/2.2, 1/25s, Auto

ISO1600, 5.99mm, f/2.6, 1/35s, Portrait/DOF mode

Xiaomi Mi A1 review: Mid-range Mi-racle Xiaomi has always been known to be a company that has a knack for surprising new and even old fans.