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mandoinevarro · 4 years ago

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An Overdue Debt Part II

Part I here

Words: 3.6k

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut but make it soft, oral f receiving, face sitting/riding, body worshipping?maybe

a/n: took me two months to get around to this, but here it is, friends! Remember to wash your hands before getting frisky

I haven’t tasted you

The last embers of the Mandalorian’s words shine weakly, long extinguished by the cool current in the Razor Crest, but alive and playing back again and again and again in your head as they snake into your ears and climb lazily up to your tired psyche. Eyes closed, you unwrap their meaning slowly, word by word, until their underlying implications suddenly drop like rocks on your chest and snap you awake more effectively than Mando’s gentle slap against your leg. The dark is less forgiving when you open your eyes and sit up on the cloak. It only allows you to make out a humanoid outline. The heavy fog of your climax and burning arousal dissipate little by little, letting your senses to crawl back to you, but you’re still dazed and struggle to steady the relentless punching in your chest.

Maker, what did he do to you? Admittedly, you had never really grown accustomed to the Mandalorian’s ardor. Every night he’d come to you in hushed desperation, hard as sin, and in pursuit of physical solace that you were more than happy to provide; and every night he’d break you to pieces with sudden outbursts of pleasure and passion that you didn’t previously know possible. But tonight. Tonight was better. Maybe it was how softly he spoke to you, the reverence with which he explored you, or the airy confessions that you’re only half sure you heard. Regardless of the cause, vitality pumps through your veins and drowns your heart in the certainty that the Mandalorian sees more in you than a simple stress reliever. Although what exactly you are to him, then, you can’t be sure.

It’s the only thing I’ve wanted.

A shudder runs down your spine when you hear metal clank against the floor. Stars, you wish you could see what he’s doing; what he’s planning for you next. The stain on the front of his pants was hard to miss, so it’s not like he was left unsatisfied. You fumble with the ends of the overused cloth, as you listen carefully to the rustling of fabric.

All he said was that you two weren’t done yet and left you sunken in darkness, shoveling into his words for nuggets of clarification in anticipation and some anxiousness, suddenly feeling a little too naked and squirming at the uncomfortable stickiness of the leftover arousal between your thighs. Suddenly remembering that your employer has now opened you as far as you’ll go, touched you in your most intimate places, heard you moan, pant, and growl his nickname. Only thing missing is…

I haven´t tasted you.

Somewhere in the gloom a shape straightens and grows bigger and taller and wider as it approaches you, ghost quiet. Towering, it loses some stature as it kneels in front of you. A few quiet seconds pass by, before you feel the feathery touch of naked fingers brushing your eyebrows, tracing the skin like it’s porcelain, and hesitantly resting more of their weight on your face when you don’t pull away. Their rough pads trail down over your eyelids, down your cheeks, rub gentle circles there that make the hair on your arms stand up, and finally settle below the curve of your jaw. Lukewarm, shaky breath blows on your nose as you feel the promise of warmth approach you, and a mouth brushes over your lips. They part slowly for him and Mando’s follow, taking only the edge of your flesh between his lips. And then…and then he only holds there, tense and seemingly afraid to go any further.

It’s…it’s a little awkward. A bit anticlimactic. Mando is not moving and he seems so nervous you fear that if you do he’ll retreat. You can’t even feel the warm puffs on your face anymore. Maker, is he holding his breath? Are you? Should you touch him? Should you give him space? You should lean into him. Or maybe you—

He pulls back. In one swift movement, what small semblance of a kiss you shared is gone. Your heart hides in your chest.

“I’m…I’m sorry it’s just…I don’t…” a disembodied voice whispers, as you try to focus on the words and not on the fact that this is the first time you’ve listened to his natural speaking voice. The first time you’re allowed to hear the rough, beautiful baritone. And he’s using it to apologize.

“Hey,” you coo, reaching out with your arms but finding more space between you than you expected, “hey, what is it?” You shift to your knees, dragging the cloak with you as you blindly shuffle forward, until your knee finds foreign flesh that shivers and jerks back before you can feel it properly. “You can tell me.”

A low sigh swims in the dark. “I want…you’re—I just…I just want it to be…to be—good.” The low voice in front of you vibrates closer now, but it’s so quiet it might as well be light years away. “You…you always, um, help me and I want…” A pinch in the cloak makes you look down, where you can hear Mando settling his knees. “…want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.” The contour of his head hangs low.

Maker, how can you tell him? How can you let him know that you’d take him any way he wanted, in any place and time he wished? That you long for whatever closeness his physical and emotional barriers will grant you. That “good” doesn’t even come close to what he offers every time he allows you to feel him, to care for him, even if it’s only in a context of seeking a distraction from his daily perils. Basic lacks the vocabulary to express just how much you yearn for any piece of him he’d be willing to reveal you, that much you know.

Your hands rub the fronts of your thighs, noticing how the skin reacts and prickles at the long silence and the cold. He reminds you of the stray animals that sometimes roam backwater planets; those creatures that flinch and bear teeth at the sweetest of words, too familiar with cruel voices to hear anything but danger in human speech.

Maybe you don’t need to say a word. Maybe you can show him, instead.

You set your hands forth slowly, aiming for where you think his face is and sucking in a yelp when you feel him grab your wrists abruptly. It’s on instinct, you suppose, but he still holds you there for a quiet moment, not letting you go but not pushing you away either. So you wait, cradling your heart in your hands, holding your breath and wishing he’ll trust you enough to let you talk to him this way. Not a word is uttered, but you hope he can hear you silently echoing the question he asked you earlier. Can I touch you?

Little by little, he guides you forward, loosening his grip on your wrists. You extend your fingers, blindingly searching for contact in the artificial midnight of the hull, until they finally meet soft skin. It’s the tiniest brush, but the man inside the Mandalorian gasps and leans his forehead into you, dropping your wrists. Yes.

His permission pulls your heart out of its hiding place, grants it courage, and sends both of your hands down his face. They meet at the space between his eyebrows, where they feel a light frown, and two fingers skim lower to bend along the arch of a hooked nose. As your other hand falls over closed eyelids, your two fingers reach his cupid’s bow, where warm, rapid exhalations sweep over them. The digits find the plush lips you met earlier, apparently much more relaxed now, because they give as soon as they feel you. The lightheadedness that comes with pushing your fingers into his mouth and having his wet tongue caress them is apparently mutual, because Mando groans deep in his throat and grips your sides to pull you closer. While he eagerly tastes your fingers, your other hand falls to his shoulder, and it’s only then that you realize he’s naked.

“Maker,” you think you gasp—maybe. It’s hard to tell when the skin underneath your palm grows progressively warmer the closer it gets to the center of his chest. His fingers dig into your hips and yours climb the steps of his sternum, until the apple of his throat bumps into them in a downward bob. Your palm explores higher, tracing the protruding veins and ligaments as it wraps around a thick neck. Before you can stop yourself, you give it a tiny squeeze that makes Mando growl and suck harder.

Stars, you can’t wait. You pull your fingers out and take his head between your hands, forcing him closer to you until your lips meet.

The kiss is anything but awkward this time. Mando opens his mouth fully for you now, unafraid and too hungry and worked up to be careful with you. He frames your whole face with large palms, holding you steady as he licks the walls of your mouth, demanding and thirsty for every drop of your spit, as you try to keep up with his restless pace. The tip of his tongue trails the edge of your teeth and your head spins, lost in the dark but so, so, at home in the haven of his oven of a mouth. He groans into your throat and drops his hands to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. The skin-to-skin contact of your breasts against his abdomen pulls a moan out of your mouth, makes you rub against him without realizing it, as your nipples catch on the ridges of his skin. His erection presses and pulses against your stomach, as hard and thick as you remember from all those nights of simple, rough fucking. Only now you’re pretty certain it would go inside you with way more ease. You try to stimulate him with stunted up and down movements of your belly, but the very first brush has him groaning and shoving you back to lay down on his cloak.

“Teach me,” he croaks above you, sucking on your lower lip. “Show me how to lo—how to…touch you.” You writhe underneath, feeling how new slickness leaks down your thighs. Stars, a part of you just wants to get up on all fours like always and beg him fuck you or use you or take whatever he wants from you. But you know that is not what he means. And it’s not what the two of you need right now.

Instead, you grab one of the arms framing your head and guide its hand to your chest, where it goes limp and waits for instructions. You guide it down to your breast, where your hand frames the back of his and beckons him to squeeze. He obeys and gasps, pulling the fat a little roughly. Maybe it’s your mewl that encourages him and gives him some initiative, because his fingers drag lower, following the heat. It’s all you can do not to buck your hips when he halts at your mound.

“Lower?” he whispers.

You nod your head frantically, until your remember that you’re both plunged in complete darkness. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, lower. Mando, please.”

Maker, Mando has a good memory. A marvelous one. It only took him touching you once earlier to learn what gets you going. He pleasures you better than you would, thick fingers drawing rings around your bundle of nerves while pushing in and adding more and more pressure with each circle.

“Like this?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious, “This gets you wet?”

“Mhmm.” It makes you more than wet—it gets you soaked. You arch into the touch, wondering if it’s the considerable bigger size of his fingers compared to yours, or the pressure or just the fact that it’s Mando himself who’s so invested in your enjoyment that has you close, sososo close.

“Fuck. Fuck, get on top of me.” The words only register when he pulls his fingers away and chilly air sweeps over your slit. Your attempt to catch your breath and senses is interrupted by the hands on your waist that flip you. And with that quick movement, his waist lays between your wobbly knees, which shift in confusion before Mando is gripping your ass and using it as leverage to move your forward. You’re unsure of where exactly he’s taking you, until he brings you to a stop and repeats, “I want to taste you.”

Trembling thighs framing either side of his face, you reach out blindly and brace yourself against what feels like a storage box. His breath floats up against your wet folds, cooling and heating them at the same time. You squirm at the sensation; whether it’s more arousal or nervousness you can’t be sure. Stars, you’re both so vulnerable like this. You opening and offering yourself to him in a position that you know won’t let you see what he does to you, while he places an invisible, loaded blaster on your hands and pushes it to his temple, trusting you to hover over him, press against his mouth as much or as little as you want, or walk away if you wish. Leave him to the black loneliness of the hull.

Not to mention the blatant obscenity of the position. Maker, where did he learn this?

Calloused hands grope around your thighs, up your ass, with caresses that feel starved, as Mando adjusts the height of his head until he’s directly under your slit. His face shifts beneath you and you jump slightly when the end of his nose accidentally brushes your clit. At least you think it was an accident, until you hear a looong inhale.

Mando moans as he smells you, grabbing your hips and pulling you down until his nose nuzzles your inner lips. “S-stars,” he gasps, “stars you smell…fuck, it—it’s…” He shoves you down on top of him—his nose practically inside you at this point—and starts rubbing the bridge against your folds, up to your clit, and then back down again, breathing in lungfuls of you all the while. Somehow, his moans are louder than your pathetic little whimpers, even though it’s his nose making you see stars.

You rock your hips into the sensation and—Maker, it’s almost embarrassing—you’re pretty sure you’re close to climaxing. A balloon swells in your belly and you don’t want to cum so fast, but you still chase it. You still bear down on him trying to pop that balloon and it feels so good and he keeps groaning and you’re breathing hard—

Suddenly, he pulls away, sucking on the inside of your thigh and sinking his teeth into the flesh before you can complain. “Tell me how,” he reminds you lowly against the space between your thigh and your lips. You whimper at the lack of contact, searching frantically for a clue of what to say, because all you genuinely want is him. To please him is to please you, but how are you supposed to—

A light flickers on and illuminates the haze in your brain, reminding you his words; reminding you that he was the one who put you in this position.

“Put your mouth on me,” you pant, white-knuckling the edge of the storage box to try and not plummet on top of Mando at the image of what you just asked.

“Good,” he hums into your cunt, his hands pulling handfuls of your hips like he’s never felt bare skin before. “Fuck, I can tell you’ll taste as good as you smell—better.” The way your chest swells with the most minimal of praises should be a little worrying, you suppose, but it doesn’t matter. Not right now at least, when facial hair scratches your inner thigh and your Mandalorian sucks on one outer lip of your cunt. You both moan in unison: You at the dizzying sensation of his mouth working your swollen heat. He, who knows. Maker, who knows what he’s moaning about, but you’re glad he does, because it sends strong vibrations into your clit that make your eyes roll back.

Without warning, Mando’s hot tongue darts out and presses flat against your folds, licking one wet wide line from the very back of your pussy to your clit, groaning against you the whole time. The muscles in your legs immediately turn to jelly and fall lower against him. Fuck, if you thought his fingers were good, this feels glorious. Thick arousal seeps out of you in concerning amounts, soaking his mouth and chin, and you’re about to apologize when he slurps—hard.

Stars, stars, stars, it’s like he’s drinking from you, sliding his tongue against the flow of wetness that he both drains and stimulates out of you as you hold on to the edge of the storage box and frantically search for something to anchor you to sanity. Naturally, you fail, especially when he engulfs your whole clit into his mouth and sucks on it as if his life depended on it.

He sucks away your self-control, your body rebelling against you and deciding it’s as good a time as any to cum on Mando’s face without giving him the courtesy of a heads up first. You stammer through apologies cut off by mewls, cut off by more apologies, but they all eventually distort into sobs when he keeps sucking, licking, tasting. Either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because his tongue doesn’t relent; if anything, it grows bolder. It takes you a second to catch up and figure out why you again feel on the verge of a climax. When you do, though, the sensitive muscles of your pussy try to jerk away from his mouth, try being the keyword here, because his vicious grip on your hips locks you in place.

“Do it again,” he grunts into the side of your thigh, where he cleans the cum that dripped down with his tongue. You’re on the verge of tears.

“W-what—I c-can’t…”

“You can. J-just—stars—just cum all over my face again, you pretty thing. Let me feel it again.” The torturous stimulation sets a delay on your thoughts, but you’re not too far gone to perceive something desperate in the words. Something wanton and ardent, but secretly heartbreaking that reminds you why you’re here. It’s a plea.

Taking a few long breaths, you settle back down shaking to grant him access to the crease of your cunt once more. Mando doesn’t waste a second, opening his jaw wide and submerging into you eagerly. Knuckles rigid on the box, you can already sense a scary gravity drawing you lower and deeper into the dreamlike fever of the Mandalorian’s mouth. He uses all of it too, licking long stripes or placing open-mouthed kisses on the swollen flesh. You’re so overworked at this point, that it takes as little as the tip of a finger up your hole to have you cumming again. Tears fall down your face, contorted in a silent frown.

Big hands work as your crutches, running up your back and down to your thighs in an elongated caress that—probably because of your endorphin-induced wishful thinking—you read as pure devotion, far too much for two people who’ve only known each other for a few turbulent months. Those hands holding you dearly paint a stark contrast to Mando’s mouth, which waits patiently for your legs to stop spasming, only to return even more passionately to the shelter of your heat.

–

Things come back to you slowly after it’s over—after he’s done.

Hands on your lower back. A sweet kiss to your thigh. A shift in gravity. Fabric brushing your skin. A sturdy chest beneath yours. Strong arms that wrap around your middle. The robust smell of sex and sweat, but also soap and trees once you nuzzle your face against a flushed neck.

Mando hugs your exhausted body against his in the dimness, running a hand on your hair before grabbing a fistful and gently bringing it to his face, taking in its scent. Your heart leaps at the gesture. This battle-hardened warrior, this injured soul that’s seen too much and suffered more finds it in himself to hold you carefully with no aim or concern.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs into your hair.

An insolent I love you immediately pops into your head as a reflex, as natural and involuntary as kicking your leg when the right nerve of your knee is hit. I love you, I love you, I love you. But, even though the gloom offers a sheltered enough setting for confessions that couldn’t be made under judging light, you still bite your tongue. Instead, your fingers languidly draw a tactile map of your Mandalorian’s face, tracing every dip and small scar, trying to store all the details for when a sun comes up somewhere and the helmet goes back on. Mando hums when you smooth your palm against his cheek and raise your head to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, hoping the message will translate and he’ll understand it in this physical language of yours. I love you.

He responds with a kiss to your temple.

Fighting a futile battle against sleep, you wonder what he’s trying to tell you.

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adventuresinhermiton · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: Unimpressive Apprentice

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“Tell me, apprentice, what kind of magic are you looking to study under Scar?”

Before you even get the chance to respond, Mr. Goodtimes speaks up in response to Virgam’s question. “Well, I’m going to teach them everything I know, of course! I can’t have my apprentice simply focusing on one track. They have too much magic in them to simply keep all of that bottled up.”

Virgam looked unimpressed, rolling her eyes at your enthusiastic teacher. “Scar, you only know one track yourself.”

“I- Well, that might be true, but I have plenty of tomes that I study every day.”

“I’m sure you do.” She picks up a glass set on a side table, a dark liquid barely visible over the rim as she takes a sip. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to start your apprentice off on something they already know? Work from there?”

You looked over at Mr. Goodtimes, whose eyes were narrowed in thought as he processed this line of logic. You were starting to get the feeling that your self-appointed mentor may have embellished his title a little bit. He seems to come to a decision though as he nods, his ears perking up.

“You have a point, Virgam. Yes, apprentice!” He turns to you and you stand straighter. “Now then, what do you know how to do?”

You think about what it is you know how to do with your magic. Sure, you’ve tried to do plenty of simply, small tricks. Lighting candles without a source or creating little illusions to watch when you couldn’t sleep. You glance over at Virgam, her hand gently swirling the glass as she inspects your every move. Right, you used to work in a bar and there is one thing you managed to become an expert at.

You walk up to her, taking the glass from her hand with nothing but a confused look from Virgam. You then walk over to Mr. Goodtimes, grabbing the bottom of his robe and pouring the dark drink onto the pristine purple fabric, instantly creating a dark spot that quickly begins spreading.

“Apprentice!” He cried, his ears flattened on his head as he gave you a betrayed look. Virgam’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Why did you do that?”

You hold up a hand, telling him to wait. You look down at the stain, moving your hand to hover over it. Light envelops the stain for a few seconds before it fades, leaving the purple in the same state it had been a few seconds ago. You gesture to it with a flourish.

Mr. Goodtimes’ look of betrayal quickly shifted into a blank expression. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He giggled, running his thumb over the clean spot and rubbing the back of his neck. “Is, uh, that all you know how to do?”

You drop the robe, shoulders slumping. You raise your hands, palms up, and conjure up a small illusion of a sheep that runs around across your hands. You look back up at Mr. Goodtimes, his expression clearly telling you that he had expected something a little more.

“Do you… know anything else?”

You drop your hands and the illusion, thinking if your other small tricks are worth showing. You ultimately decide they aren’t and shrug, shaking your head.

“Alright, so you know basic spells, that’s good, I guess. Plenty of room for improvement though!” He squints at you, like he had before when he was deep in thought. “Alright,” he says, “how about we focus on more chore-based spells to begin with?”

“You’re supposed to make them your apprentice, Scar, not your maid.”

Mr. Goodtimes sputtered in offense. “Excuse me, I will not make them my maid! I just think it’ll be easier for them to learn some simple utility spells before we move into, say, shooting giant fireballs or raising the dead.”

“Because you can do that?”

“That’s not important.” Mr. Goodtimes grabs you by the shoulders, beginning to push you out of the shop. “So, how soon can you get a staff made, Virgam?”

You are able to spot Virgam rolling her eyes before Jellie rubs against your legs and past you out the door, causing you to almost trip over your feet. “I’ll have one made in a few hours, don’t you worry. Just be careful out there.”

Mr. Goodtimes pushes you out into the bustling village once again, and you bring your hand up to block the sunlight that reflects off the blue crystal in front of you. Once you’re out the door Mr. Goodtimes lets you go, and you watch as Jellie runs off further into the village. You look at Mr. Goodtimes, wondering if he is worried about that at all but he is just looking out over the village with a wide smile. He looks at you.

“Well, my apprentice, since that is taken care of, why don’t I show you around?” Before you have a chance to respond you are being dragged off once again by your arm. “I was born and raised here in this village, you know. Magic runs deep and strong here, aided by the wonderful crystals you see all around you.”

He guides you up a small hill and gestures downwards at the blue crystal in the middle of the village. You can now see two farms, tabaxis like Mr. Goodtimes and Virgam are working in them as well as moving sparkles that you can only assume are some kind of fairies that zips back and forth across the fields.

“That crystal there helps irrigate our crops. Rain is rare on this part of the island, and hauling water in from the lake isn’t always safe. So the founders of the village found a way to draw this crystal from the ground! It keeps all the dirt nice and moist. The only downside is that it can get pretty muddy sometimes, but that’s why we have stone paths everywhere, so no big deal.”

He leads you to the edge of the village, and gestures to a large green crystal that is suspended by some sort of structure in the middle of the lake. Light reflects off it, sending brilliant green rays over the already green jungle. The structure around it looks old, and you honestly don’t know how it hasn’t toppled over into the water yet.

"That crystal is really special! It can detect the intent behind magic, and deactivate it if there is any ill will.” He smiles at the shining rock. “It’s kept this village safe for many years now. I don’t want to think about what may have happened without it.”

After a few more moments of staring out over the lake, Mr. Goodtimes turns on his heels and back through the village, leaving you to follow behind. You spend an extra second looking at the crystal, a nagging feeling itching the back of your mind as you do. You manage to shake it away and follow your mentor as he walks up a small hill, between a farm bustling with activity and a small shop packed full of customers. You can faintly smell freshly baked bread, and your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten in a while, with you skipping out on dinner last night and no chance for breakfast this morning, and you’re just now remembering. You almost want to stop and grab some of the delicious smelling bread but you almost lose sight of Mr. Goodtimes while you are distracted and have to rush up the rest of the hill to catch up with him, far past the bakery.

Ahead of you stands a tall tower, it’s shape winding above you in a precarious way that makes you worried it will tip over with a slight breeze. Your mentor is standing in the doorway, beckoning you in. As soon as you do you are caught off guard by the beautiful and intricate decor, the wood carvings in the floor and on the walls absolutely breathtaking. A small round table sits in the middle of the room, with a stove off to the side and a cozy fireplace tucked in the corner. You don’t have time to dawdle, though, as Mr. Goodtimes leads you upstairs.

Lining the walls are tall bookshelves, multicolored spines creating a mesmerizing effect as you try and take in just how many there are. Nestled in between the shelves is a small window and cushion for sitting. You walk over to it, taking in the view. You can see a magnificent tree towering over the rest of the jungle a ways away. You didn’t know trees could even grow that big.

“That’s been there for centuries.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice pipes up as he looks over your shoulder. “No one really knows how it grew, but it’s the oldest thing on the island. People think it’s the source of all the magic but I don’t think that’s true.”

He backs up, tracing a finger along the spines of a few books before grabbing one and flipping through some pages. He stops on one with an “aha!” before his face falls in annoyance and he closes the book with a pout and puts it back. He turns back to the shelf and grabs another book. This time he flips to the first few pages before flipping further, tapping to a page victoriously.

“Here we are,” he says, “I’ll be right back.” He follows the spiral staircase back down, coming back up a few minutes later, a yellow crystal in hand that he shows off to you. “This is for you, my dear apprentice! It should help amplify your magic until you get better control over it.”

You hold the rock up to your eye, looking through the crystalline substance and at a now distorted Mr. Goodtimes. You smile at him, gesturing a thanks and grasping the crystal tight in your hand.

He opens his mouth again to speak, but is cut off by a loud boom that sends a shockwave through the tower. The sheer wave of energy that has just passed over you leaves you woozy, grasping onto one of the shelves so you don’t topple over. When you’re steady you look up at Scar who is staring out the window with wide eyes. After a few moments he looks back at you.

“That was big.” You give him an unimpressed look. “That was a massive surge of magical energy.” He grabs your arm, pulling you down the stairs, your dizziness momentarily returning at the sudden movement. “Come on, we have to go check it out!”

Something in your gut is telling you that this is a bad idea, but you figure you don’t really have a choice in the matter. As you go through the village now alive with questions of what that was, Mr. Goodtimes leads you back towards the large green crystal. Right before the outskirts of the village, a voice stops you both in your tracks.

“Hey! Scar! Scar’s apprentice!” Virgam’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd and you both look back to see the woodworker holding a staff in her hands. She walks up to you, holding it out. “This is one of my rejects. Since Scar is pretty insistent on dragging you into danger at the first opportunity he was presented with, I figured you’ll need something to defend yourself with.”

You give her a look to be sure, but at her certain stare alongside the knowing glint in her eyes, you grip the staff firmly in your hands. The wood is unsanded and clearly unfinished; it grates against your palms that haven’t gripped anything much rougher than a mug full of beer in the past few years. You can feel the splinters already digging into your hands, but the way the end curls to a messy ball at the top fills the pit of your stomach with excited anticipation. You nod in gratitude to Virgam with a smile. She looks past you to your impatient mentor.

“And you, be careful. It’s not just yourself you have to worry about now, you know. Their life could very well be in your hands.”

Mr. Goodtimes stands up straighter, hand landing on your shoulder in a firm grip. “Don’t worry, Virgam. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

You both wave to the village, and you follow him up a spiral staircase hidden within the trunk of a tree. The smell of sap and damp wood is almost overwhelming, but luckily you’re able to breathe fresh air before long. Mr. Goodtimes leads you out onto suspended bridges above the lake and thicker parts of the jungle, connected by the sturdier looking trees. You look down at the green crystal, blinking away some light that gets reflected into your eye. You stumble forward a bit on the rickety bridge, but Mr. Goodtimes is quick to catch you before you can fall, keeping a steady hand on you until you can confidently wave him off. Silence looms over you both, a thick blanket of something you can’t quite place making your steps feel even heavier than they should be. By the way Mr. Goodtimes’ demeanor has completely changed, you have a feeling that he feels it too.

You grip your staff tighter, ignoring any pinches of pain, and look out under the bridge. You catch a glimpse of purple and black, a stark contrast to the rest of the island around you, but before you get a chance to ask, Mr. Goodtimes has gotten ahead of you and you once again need to hurry to catch up. Soon enough, you exit the bridges as you entered, though a little passageway in the trees and are met with a green pathway in the jungle.

“This way.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice is certain. “We’ve had these tremors come from this place for a while now, but this one was way bigger than any of the others.”

He pulls away some leaves, revealing a massive trench, the bottom fading behind a fog. In front of you lies a stone bridge that leads to an absolutely monstrous tower. Shining metal towers surround it, and it tapers to a point at the top that you can’t see on the upper levels. It’s overgrown and crumbling and you wonder how much it would take for it to fully cave in, and you have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t take much. Despite this, you can’t help but be in awe.

Mr. Goodtimes walks forward and over the bridge, you hesitate but soon enough follow behind, under the gigantic archways into the halls of the tower. It’s dark, only a few remnants of what you assume are lanterns hung from broken and rusted chains from the far up ceiling. The only light is from the other three open arches and some fading torches that had been placed in what you can only assume to be a few hours ago.

Mr. Goodtimes lifts his own staff, creating a small ball of light that floats above it and illuminates the area more. He looks at you silently, glancing at the ball with an inquiring look. You catch on, fumbling, glancing at your staff before quickly disregarding the thought that popped up in your mind. You grab one of the smoldering torches and, with a flick of your wrist, relight it. You can see your mentor’s smile clearer in the added light.

You can also see the tall centerpiece, stained glass that looks as if it swirls when you move your light stretched up into the ceiling, framed by more of the same crumbling stone as the main structure. Past the glass into what you assume to be a hollow center is pitch black, and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling and you shift your feet on the uneven wooden planks beneath you.

“Alright,” Mr. Goodtimes starts, “let’s split up. I’ll go left, you go right, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer he heads up the left stairwell.

----

Here is this chapter’s decision! https://forms.gle/bVnvg68RHxPTpuap9

#hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #adventures in hermiton #chapter #recent chapter

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starship-squidlet · 5 years ago

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i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it.

Description: Leopika fluff, inspired by the song ‘I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it’ by The 1975.

A/N: So, I guess I'm getting back to my roots here by posting HxH fic again, considering it's how I got my start writing... Anyways, I've been rewatching Hunter X Hunter at the behest of one of the guys I work with, and basically it just feels like I'm in middle school discovering my favorite anime all over again and it's great. So have some Leopika fluff/angst (mostly fluff I promise) to celebrate! Also, I actually reread and edited this chapter, which I NEVER EVER do, if that tells you how I feel about this.

LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Disclaimer: I don't own Leorio or Kurapika, but I do own this story!!! Cross-posting to FF.net and Ao3 under ChocolatteKitty-Kat and to tumblr as maliciousbubbl3s.

(Word count: 1,499)

Leorio yawned and shifted slightly. He cracked one eye open to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand next two him. 3:34 AM glowed bright red in the dark of the room. Past the red gleam of the clock face, he could make out the shape of a large window, covered only by thin curtains, the streetlamps outside shining bright through the light fabric. There wasn’t much else in the room; Leorio knew the contents by heart. One bed, two nightstands, one wardrobe, one chair. Simple.

Outside, despite the hour, he could hear the sounds of city traffic. Nothing like it was during the day, to be clear--only the occasional vehicle passed the window--but there was still a steady flow to it. Behind him, Leorio could hear faint music playing. If he held his breath between the cars passing outside, he could even hear the soft breathing of the bed’s other occupant. He risked a glance over his shoulder, moving as little as possible.

Kurapika was curled up on his side, back pressed against Leorio’s. His legs were drawn up nearly to his chest, feet tucked under Leorio’s legs--honestly, if his feet are always so cold, why doesn’t he just wear socks to bed? Leorio grumbled internally--and his arms pulled in tight to his torso. Leorio moved further, trying to glimpse his partner’s face, before he finally gave up and turned over. He reached out and gently brushed shaggy blond hair away from Kurapika’s face, which was half buried in his pillow. The smaller man’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Leorio could tell that he was clenching his jaw. Leorio watched the rise and fall of his chest and noticed how rapid and shallow his breathing was.

With a sigh, Leorio settled back down, wrapping an arm around Kurapika’s torso to pull him up against his stomach. Kurapika let out a soft sound of protest, somewhere between a grunt and a grumble, but pressed himself back against Leorio. Leorio brushed a hand over Kurapika’s face, pushing his hair back out of the way, then reached down for one of Kurapika’s hands. He found both of the latter’s hands balled into tight fists and set at gently prying them open. It wasn’t actually hard to do, now that Kurapika had begun to relax, and once he was done, Leorio interlaced his fingers with Kurapika’s. A glance over his shoulder at the alarm clock showed that the time was now 4:02 AM; Leorio glared at the clock, but sighed and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Less than two hours after he had fallen asleep, Leorio was awoken by the loud, incessant wail of the alarm clock, letting him know that it was already 6:00 in the morning. Groaning in protest, he rolled over and slapped in the vague direction of the alarm clock’s off button, finding it after only a few smacks. When the sound stopped, Leorio rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, relishing in the “quiet”--because the early morning traffic sounds and Kurapika’s soft music were practically silent compared to the scream of the alarm.

Finally, he groaned and sat up, moving carefully in an attempt not to jostle his partner, who, by some miracle, was apparently still asleep. Leorio left the lights off as he shuffled around, changing into his slacks and shirt before slipping into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. As he did so, he peered back into the bedroom and sighed in relief. Kurapika was still curled up in bed, although he had moved enough to pull all of the blankets around himself once Leorio got up. He looked more relaxed than he had in the night, for which Leorio was thankful. He didn’t ask about Kurapika’s nightmares, and Kurapika generally didn’t volunteer information on them, but Leorio, now that he knew what to watch for, did everything he could to calm the panic that tended to rise in his partner, even while sleeping.

Once he was finished in the bathroom, Leorio flicked the light off and slipped out into the main room of the apartment. It wasn’t much bigger than the bedroom, and was just as sparsely furnished--only a couch, coffee table, armchair, and small TV stand occupied the living area, and a tiny table with three mismatched chairs was shoved up against the blank wall in the kitchen area. Leorio turned on the light in the kitchen and set about making himself breakfast, keeping an eye on the time. When he finished, he turned around for the table, plate of eggs in one hand and coffee cup in the other, and had to stifle a shriek, barely catching himself before he dropped his breakfast on the floor.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Leorio grumbled, setting his food on the table.

Kurapika yawned and sat down across from him. He wore a t-shirt that was almost definitely one of Leorio’s--given how big it was on him--and a pair of loose joggers, and was shivering in the morning chill. “You make too much noise,” he shrugged, running his fingers through his messy hair.

“You slept through my alarm, but not through me making breakfast?” Leorio glared at the blond as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Kurapika paused. “Your alarm went off?”

Leorio rolled his eyes. “How is it that sometimes you sleep like a rock, and other times you wake up at the tiniest sound?”

Kurapika shrugged. “Is there more coffee?”

“Yes,” Leorio sighed, nodding back towards the coffee maker on the counter. “But you should really go back to bed. You were late last night. Do you have to go back to work today?”

Kurapika shook his head as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I have the day off.”

“Finally,” Leorio teased. He finished off his eggs and chugged the last of his coffee, scalding the roof of his mouth in the process. He slipped past Kurapika--who was now, for some reason, perched on the counter next to the coffee maker--to put his dishes in the sink, and hurried back into the bedroom for his shoes, tie, and blazer. “So, you’ll be here when I get home?”

Kurapika took a sip of his coffee, looking thoughtful. “I guess,” he said finally. “I don’t really have anything better to do.”

“Thanks,” Leorio glared at him, pulling his jacket on.

“Come here,” Kurapika sighed, setting his coffee aside and reaching out for Leorio. When the taller man approached, Kurapika grabbed his tie to pull him close and adjusted it, then checked to make sure Leorio’s collar was folded down properly. “There.”

“Thanks,” Leorio grinned. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Kurapika’s forehead. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes,” Kurapika chuckled, giving Leorio’s tie a final tug before releasing it.

“Good,” Leorio beamed. He hurried to grab his briefcase and opened the door. He took one step into the hall, then leaned back into the apartment. “Hey!”

Kurapika whipped around to face him. “What?”

“Get some rest!”

Kurapika grinned. “Doctor’s orders?”

“You bet,” Leorio winked. “See you later.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

When Leorio got home that night, he found the TV on, but the lights in the living room off. He shut the door quietly and slipped off his shoes, laying his briefcase and blazer on the kitchen counter before flicking the kitchen light on. He tip-toed over to the couch and peered over the back of it. Sure enough, Kurapika was curled up there, sound asleep, bundled up in a heavy blanket. Leorio smiled softly and brushed blond hair out of his partner’s face, using the motion to check Kurapika’s temperature as well. Satisfied that he didn’t seem to be running a fever, Leorio moved around the couch and picked the TV remote up off the table, flipping through the channels in search of something interesting to watch--Kurapika had left an infomercial channel on when he fell asleep. Once he found something, he sat down on the end of the couch, lifting Kurapika’s legs out of the way and placing them on his lap after he situated himself.

Almost an hour later, Leorio was starting to drift off himself when Kurapika finally began to stir. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Leorio teased.

Kurapika sat up and yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 8:30,” Leorio said.

“Seriously!?” Kurapika started. “I slept almost all day!”

Leorio laughed. “Your body must have needed the rest. I told you--you need to take it easy sometimes. You can’t always go at full throttle.”

Kurapika sighed and pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Leorio said softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Kurapika’s knee. “That’s why you have me. To remind you to slow down, and help you do it.”

Kurapika cracked a smile. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am!” Leorio grinned. “Now… what’s for dinner?”

#hunter x hunter #hxh #leorio #leorio paladiknight #kurapika #kurapika kurta #fanfic #fanfiction #original #mine #original post #original writing #i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it #fluff #romance #angst #mild angst #domestic fluff #romantic fluff

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ofheroesandvillains · 6 years ago

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An Honest Man - Loki/Reader OS

Loki/reader (female, third person, unnamed) Words: 1.6k Warnings: None Summary: Basically just chilled sort-of fluff and some pining? Set pre-Thor (part 1), so I’ve made Loki seem a little nicer than the lil troublemaker we’re used to (he’s just better at hiding it).

Woah, it has been a long while, but I can say that my thesis is completed and I’m back to writing! This is something I just randomly threw together for absolutely no reason. I’m a little (a lot) rusty, so hopefully it isn’t too bad!

(gif not mine!)

It was a beautiful night, hardly a surprise where Asgard was concerned, even the chill of winter did nothing to diminish its appeal. Then again, her eyes had been watching the stars shine and water shimmer from this balcony for over a millennium. Still, the beauty of Asgard was not lost to her, not when war crept around every corner and cast its shadow on all involved. It was only in times like these -times of reclaimed peace- that one truly realised how radiant the world was.

Her job was not to fight in heroic battles, nor was it to keep the peace. No, she was a healer - and an excellent one at that. While battle ensured that her talents remained relevant, she took no pleasure in doing harm, nor seeing her people harmed. They had lost many in the latest bout of violence that had swept across neighbouring lands, too many for a world that was supposed to be at peace. When things became too much, when she grew tired of only seeing pain and death, she would come up to this balcony and remind herself that there was still beauty in the world too.

It wasn’t one of those days, well…not entirely.

The whole of Asgard was celebrating. After decades of tension, an agreement had finally been struck between rival territories and peace was on the horizon once again. The palace was alight and the sounds of merrymaking echoed through the night. Her friends were inside, no doubt regaling the crowd with stories of their battlefield victories - the price of having warriors for friends, she supposed. But they were lovely people, really, and they had known each other for centuries. She just preferred taking time to herself sometimes…they wouldn’t even notice her absence, and if they did, they would understand that she needed to escape the stuffy banquet hall. Crowds and attention had always made her uncomfortable, but her circle of friends ensured that these were two things she needed to grow accustomed to.

A fresh bout of laughs broke through the quiet hum of chatter, and she smiled at the sound. Even in the midst of falling snow, there was a warmth that had settled within her. She knew she couldn’t hide from her friends for much longer, and surely enough just as the thought had crossed her mind, the falling snowflakes in front of her began to swirl in the cool air. They moved slowly, spiralling down onto the thick stone balustrade her hands were leaning against. Each one seemed to latch onto the next, falling perfectly to form the distinctive shape of a rose. As if that wasn’t impressive enough, a flash of green was all it took to transform the sculpture into a real rose.

It was beautiful to witness, and there was only one person she knew who could show such mastery of magic.

“Your talents never cease to amaze me…”

She gently trailed a finger over the soft red petals as he came to stand beside her.

“It’s nothing really, a bit of simple magic.” His smooth voice was quiet, as if he was afraid of disturbing her peace.

She smiled with a fond shake of her head. She’d never a met humble troublemaker, but after witnessing Thor’s youthful arrogance, he had no desire to be viewed in the same way - not by her. Everything was different with her, and he liked it that way.

“All magic is simple to you, Loki.”

“As healing is to you.” He brushed the comment off with a small shrug and a creased brow that would have fooled most others. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

She looked at him with a cocked brow, but he kept his gaze forward, knowing she could always see right through him even if he was only trying to compliment her.

“I thought you were supposed to be a convincing liar.” The flatness of her response had him huffing out a laugh, grinning in a way that was all too familiar to her - the same way he always looked when he was caught in one of his infamous lies, a bashful yet somehow proud grin he often aimed at the floor.

Truthfully, he enjoyed the challenge she posed. He always had, ever since they were children. Growing up together had ensured that she knew him better than almost anyone, and he’d constantly try to fool her in their youth for that very reason. It was much harder to sell a lie when the person you were lying to knew everything about you. It allowed him to hone his craft, and develop a friendship that had lasted over a millennium. Eventually he came to a point where he didn’t want to lie to her - it came as a shock to him, and he ended up lying to himself instead, for many years to follow.

“Are the festivities not to your liking?”

“What gave you that impression, my Prince?” He noted the way she avoided directly answering the question, but felt a warmth in his chest at the title. Yes, her Prince, in all eyes but her own.

Loki genuinely couldn’t tell if she ignored whatever their friendship had blossomed into, or if she was completely oblivious to the obvious shift. His brother and his foolish friends had spent decades asking when Loki would finally make his feelings known, but he had swiftly brought an end to their irritating interrogations by claiming there was nothing remotely romantic between him and his old friend. Eventually they stopped asking, but that didn’t mean his heart didn’t feel that enticing pull whenever she drifted into a room with the grace of a queen.

He was no fool, he saw the way eyes followed her and the familiar bubbling of jealousy was what first alerted him to his feelings. He didn’t enjoy sharing her attention, and he was always the first to notice her presence.

“Perhaps your absence…” She smiled fondly at his ribbing.

“And what of your own?”

“They’ll surely survive without me.” She could hear the bitterness he so often concealed, and he finally returned her gaze with a charming smile. “Besides, I am currently entertaining one of my guests, am I not?”

She looked to him with a warm smile, one that he knew only belonged to him - a fact he greedily accepted.

“Ah, I see. Centuries of what I believed to be friendship, and I remain only ‘a guest’.”

Loki’s smiled faded.

“I didn’t…that’s not what-“

She laughed outright at his reaction. “Oh dear, he cannot lie, he can barely speak…is something the matter, your highness? You’re not quite yourself.”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing, earning another laugh. He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched upward at the sound.

“Despite a few ale-induced blunders, I think we’ve established that I remain exceptionally talented - or so you say.”

Her face scrunched up in protest, and Loki was smirking long before he had finished his sentence.

“Funny, I cannot for the life of me remember saying so. If anything, your powers are…“ She trailed off in thought, tapping her fingers on the stone beneath them.

“Yes?” Loki prompted, turning to lean his back against the balustrade and instead face her.

“Ordinary-“

“Oh?” His brows shot up in surprise and a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Completely unexceptional-“

She shook her head in faux sympathy and fought back a smile when he feigned concern.

“Oh dear.”

“Mediocre at best…” She leaned in to whisper, only realising how close they were after he had done the same.

“And at worst?”

“At worst…completely inferior to my own.” She said matter-of-factly.

Loki hummed in amusement, and she couldn’t remain serious for long, before breaking out into a smile.

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt tonight, it’s that even in this state I am a far better liar than you.” He shot her an impish grin of his own, one she knew signified trouble, before a particularly cold gust of wind had her shoulders hunching.

Loki frowned, all traces of their conversation seemingly carried away by the breeze.

“Here.”

She looked at him in confusion, before realising he was unclasping his own cloak.

“Oh, no I couldn’t-“ She held her hands up in protest, but it didn’t stop Loki from swiftly wrapping the rich green fabric snuggly around her shoulders.

“You can, and you will.”

“Loki…” Her hands clasped his own as his nimble fingers worked on fastening the ties. His pale eyes met her own and he offered a reassuring smile when he saw the worry reflected at him.

“Believe me, I can barely feel the cold.”

Through the glass doors that led to the small balcony, Frigga watched with a small smile as her youngest wrapped his cloak around the woman he loved. There was a gentleness to his gaze when his eyes were fixed on her that Frigga had never seen before. In truth, while Loki loved his brother and father, he only showed his truth self to his mother - when he didn’t need to pretend to be more than he was. She was the only one who embraced his talents and encouraged his learning rather than shunning him for being different. Well, she was the only one. Not anymore…

Now, as Frigga witnessed the way the young prince remained transfixed, she knew it wouldn’t be long before he found true happiness. Especially if his happiness continued to look at him in the exact same way.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel #thor #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader

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floridaindependent-blog · 6 years ago

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Pimp My iPhone: Here's How to Customize the Ins and Outs of Your iPhone (Without Jailbreaking)

New Post has been published on https://floridaindependent.com/pimp-my-iphone-heres-how-to-customize-the-ins-and-outs-of-your-iphone-without-jailbreaking/

Pimp My iPhone: Here's How to Customize the Ins and Outs of Your iPhone (Without Jailbreaking)

How often do you find yourself confusing your iPhone for someone else’s? How many iPhone-only group chats are you in? When was the last time you received a text that came up green on your screen?

About 90 million people in America own an iPhone, and many of them encounter situations like these every single day. It’s hard to know which phone is yours when you leave it sitting out. But, it is nice having a phone that makes communicating with friends and loved ones so easy and exciting.

At the end of the day, all the pros and cons of being an iPhone owner come down to one thing: what you make of it!

It’s time you look into iPhone customization. The more you personalize the way your phone and how different functions work, the better your overall iPhone experience will be.

Here’s everything you need to know to learn how to customize your iPhone from the inside out.

How to Customize Your iPhone with Unique Settings and Apps

It’s easy to do a simple wallpaper switch or to invert the colors of your iPhone screen. This is as far as most people go to customize their iPhone. But, it only takes a little more effort to completely transform how your phone looks and feels.

The next time you find yourself scrolling through Instagram or playing a game on your phone, exit out and head to the Settings app. Spend some time getting to know everything it can do for you. Then, download a few extra special design apps to truly make your phone unique.

Get to Know Your Phone

Before you get into specific settings that can upgrade your iPhone, make sure you’re using all the basic functions available to you. This is especially important for iPhone X users who may be trying to use their new and improved model as if it was an older-generation device.

The iPhone X allows you to scroll left and right from all your apps without ever having to “double tap” to the home screen first. If you love Face ID, but hate how it can lag sometimes, turn on your phone’s “Raise to Wake” feature.

Additionally, explore how you like the Reachability function. This makes the control center at the top of the screen more accessible. To feel like you have your home button back, turn on Assistive Touch.

Download Special Design Apps

Once you’ve realized everything the upgraded iOS system can do, explore the App Store. It only takes one or two special design apps to completely transform the look and feel of your phone.

These apps allow you to play with different features such as the color and size of your keyboard and the way your apps are arranged. They’re the closest thing you can get to jailbreaking your phone, but without taking on all the risks of this old-school customizing approach.

How to Customize Your iPhone with Cases

The next step in customizing your iPhone is to explore all the external options available to you! Take a look at the case you’ve been using and ask yourself what’s missing. Maybe it’s time to purchase one with a bold, eclectic pattern or even invest in a custom iPhone case.

Simple and Chic Covers

The main downside to having a super-creative iPhone case is that many other people have them, too! These days, you may be better off with a simple and chic cover.

Having a case that doesn’t draw too much attention to your phone may actually make it easier to identify among other belongings. Not to mention, it reduces the chances that someone else may mistake your phone for theirs.

Plus, many cases with a seemingly simple design actually do a lot to upgrade the functions of your phone. Some cases make your iPhone water durable or scratch resistant, while others, like Plus Cases, double as an external battery.

Big, Bold Creations

A phone case is not something you have to seriously commit to. You can have one phone case for everyday use and another for fun adventures and special occasions.

When such events come up on your calendar, you need a bigger, bolder case. There are iPhone cases in the shapes of unicorns and forest animals. There are cases that convert into purses and those that have gemstones and pom poms all over them.

These are not your average protective device design. They may be just what you need to finally make your phone stand out.

Custom iPhone Cases

Don’t want something too big or clunky to cover your phone? Interested in a simple case, but still want to make it your own? Sounds like you need to look into custom iPhone cases.

You can customize your iPhone case to have a picture of your family or your dog. You can monogram it with your initials or write out one of your favorite life quotes as a simple, yet constant reminder.

Whatever you do, customizing a standard case is sure to make it feel more like your own. Take some time to explore all the customizing options available to you before you decide on a new case! Don’t forget it may be worth purchasing a few different kinds of cases, too.

Add-on Accessories to Make Your iPhone Stand Out

Even when you’ve found the perfect case and customized all your iPhone’s settings and functions, there’s still more you can do to create a truly personalized iPhone experience. Consider investing in some iPhone accessories.

Here are a few of the most popular accessories to choose from.

PopSockets and Assorted Finger Grips

PopSockets are popping up on the phones of teenagers, college students, and busy professionals alike. They’re small attachments that connect to the back of your iPhone’s case and pop in and out.

People of all ages and interests love how this simple accessory has completely revolutionized the way we use our phones. PopSockets provide a more comfortable and more secure way to use a phone.

When fully extended, this accessory allows you to hold your phone by the round attachment rather than the sides of the phone. It puts less strain on your wrist and fingers and provides all kinds of different uses. A PopSocket can also be used as a rest for a phone if you want to watch a video horizontally.

These aren’t the only kinds of special grips out there, though!

In addition to PopSockets, there are many unique finger slips sold individually and combined into certain iPhone case designs. These allow you to slide your pointer and middle finger under a piece of fabric to hold and support your phone. They come in all sorts of fabrics, colors, and sizes.

iPhone Lanyards

If you’re the person who’s already replaced more iPhone screens than you’d like to admit, you may want to look into an iPhone lanyard.

These accessories are sold to help you better keep track of and protect your phone. They allow you to go about your day without worrying about where you’ve left your device or what condition it’s in.

Camera Customizations

Sometimes, the best way to customize an iPhone is to take the functions it can already perform and make them even better. Such is the case with iPhone camera accessories!

Although the new camera technology provided by the iPhone X is impressive, there are still some limitations. Depending on where you are and what image you’re trying to capture, your lighting possibilities will always be limited. Not to mention, it’s hard to take a wide-angle photo with a standard smartphone lens.

This is where camera customizations truly shine. Different camera accessories allow you to put a spotlight on anything you’re taking a picture of whether it be through your regular camera or the front lens. Others give you the ability to take photos with a fisheye angle and to distort an image in different ways, too.

The possibilities are endless — you just need the right camera accessory!

More Tech Insights and Ideas

It’s one thing to read about all the ways to customize your iPhone and another to finally have the phone you’ve been dreaming of. Clearly, the standard version of an iPhone is a pretty good piece of technology to have. But, imagine how much better your experience could be if you took the time to tweak a few things.

Once you figure out how to customize your iPhone, everything changes. From texting and calling to scheduling and gaming, all the functions of your iPhone become that much better when you know they’ve been tailored to your unique needs.

For more interesting iPhone insights and tips, click here.

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kriterium3-blog · 7 years ago

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Samsung rc530 Battery all-laptopbattery.com

Meanwhile, startups like Doppler Labs are doing cool, innovative work with its earbuds, not yet released, which can actually customize the sonic landscape around you, from increasing the bass at a concert to quieting the sounds of a crying baby on an airplane. Looking forward, as AirPods and the wireless headphones they inspire mature and evolve, it's not hard to imagine a new kind of App Store for audio apps — apps that use the iPhone's intelligence to make the people around you sound like the parents from "Peanuts," maybe, or more active ones that let you rewind the last 30 seconds of a conversation.First, as analyst Ben Thompson rightly notes in a recent post to his Stratechery blog, the iPhone is great, but "Apple's user experience advantages are still the greatest when it comes to physically interacting with your device," and "the weakest when it comes to service dependent interactions like Siri."In other words, Apple's Siri still has a long way to go before people start to truly rely on her to get stuff done.

Apple claims that the AirPods, in their current incarnation, get five hours of charge. That's pretty good for teeny-tiny earbuds, but not great in a future where Apple wants to make them indispensable accessories for everyday living. That's going to make this wireless future an even tougher sell, beyond the price and beyond the lack of a traditional headphone jack on the iPhone 7.I usually shy away from Windows 8 laptops. The interface isn't as natural as what you'd find with OS X and Windows 7. Many of them have displays that twist around and fold, which I don't find much use for.But Dell's newest XPS 13 laptop is so excellent it persuaded me to give up my personal MacBook for Windows 8 for a week.The XPS 13 is light, gorgeous, and works well. If you want a Windows machine that's just as good, and perhaps better than, the MacBook Air, this is the laptop to buy.The XPS 13 comes in a few different configurations. My review unit comes with a 3,200 x 1,800 resolution touch screen, 256GB of solid state storage, 8GB of memory, and a Core i5 Intel processor for $1,399. If you wanted to go for the non-touch screen option with all of the same specifications, it would cost $200 less than a 13-inch MacBook Air with the same storage, memory, and processor.

You can get an entry level model without a touchscreen, a 1080p display, 128GB of storage, 4GB of memory, and a Core i3 processor for $799.No matter what configuration you choose, you'll probably be impressed with the XPS 13's screen. Dell's latest 13-inch laptop uses what it describes as an "infinity display," meaning the screen itself stretches almost completely from edge-to-edge. There's barely any bezel at all — which allows Dell to make a laptop that's the same size as a typical 11-inch notebook, but has a 13-inch screen.The so-called "infinity display" looks gorgeous too; colors really pop and images look bold. The screen itself is glossy, which I liked, but some may find distracting since it produces a bit of glare. It wasn't overwhelming though, and the glossy texture is necessary to make swiping the touchscreen easy and comfortable.The one problem I had with the screen, however, was that it seemed rather dim. Whenever I used it I had to keep the brightness cranked all the way up or at least above halfway to see content on the display easily.

Even though the XPS 13 is a bit cheaper than the MacBook Air, it's one of the few Windows laptops that can actually stand up to Apple's in terms of design. The lid and underside of the laptop are made of brushed aluminum, giving it a polished and premium look. When you open it up, you'll notice the keyboard deck is coated with a soft carbon fiber material, which makes it comfortable to rest your wrists as you type.Generally speaking, the keyboard is sturdy enough to make typing easy and enjoyable. But, if you're being picky like me, you'll notice the keyboard flexes a little bit when you press down on it. It's a minor complaint, but one worth noting.During normal use, the Dell PS 13 performed smoothly and quickly. Apps usually launched within two to three seconds, and the computer powered on in about 12 seconds. And the Dell XPS 13 is powerful too. Since it runs on Intel's newest processors, it boots up quickly and offers long battery life. With mixed usage, which included browsing the web, doing light work in Google Drive, and streaming content from Netflix, the laptop lasted for about nine hours. That's impressive, especially since I had to leave the display brightness at its highest setting during the majority of the time I used it.

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There are few negative things to be said about Dell's new laptop. The glossy screen can sometimes produce glare, and the keyboard could be better. That's about it.So if you're in the market for a new Windows laptop, the XPS 13 is one of the best you can buy. If you want a 13-inch screen, this is the smallest laptop you'll find with a display of that size. The borderless screen, lightweight design, and aluminum build make one of the sexiest laptops out there — it's one of the only Windows laptops that can stand up to the MacBook Air in terms of sheer looks.A patent published on Thursday shows that Apple may be experimenting with fiber optic cables woven into regular fabrics to act as a simple way to show basic information. It wouldn't be like the traditional display you're using to read this article, for example. Instead, light travelling inside the fiber optic cables would need to shine through the gaps of the fabric it's woven into, which means it wouldn't be very high resolution.The patent describes that light could be shone along the "entire length or only portions" of the fiber optic cables, which could show numbers, letters, shapes, and different colors.

Apple lists "electronic wrist watches" (potentially the Apple Watch) as a device that could incorporate such technology. It could be used in an Apple Watch strap to show basic information to glance at without needing to wake the main display. Or you can be notified about certain events with color-coded light alerts.The patent also describes how this kind of secondary display could be used on other Apple products, like MacBook laptops, iPhones, and iPads to show you quick, glanceable information. The idea is similar to HTC's Dot View case for the HTC One M9 that lets light from the screen pass through holes in the case to see glanceable information. While it's a "functional as well as aesthetically pleasing attachment" for your Apple products (as Apple puts it in the patent), it sounds hardly revolutionary. But it could have some benefits, like saving the battery power you'd use to wake your iPhone or Apple Watch's screen when you simply want to glance at a quick piece of information, like the time.Still, there's no guarantee this will be a real thing. Apple has filed many patents that have never manifested into a physical product.One of the biggest advantages Microsoft's Windows platform has over Apple’s Mac operating system is its seemingly limitless choices.

Windows laptops come in all different colors, shapes, sizes, and prices, while Apple doesn’t really offer a budget option for its customers.Spending $500 or less on a laptop is usually considered cheap, but HP’s new Stream laptop is so inexpensive its price is almost unheard of.The Windows 8-powered Stream starts at $199 — which is less than half of what you’d usually pay for a computer of its size.That’s because Windows computers aren’t just competing against Macs anymore. Over the past several years, laptop manufacturers have been working with Google to release a newer type of computer called the Chromebook.Unlike Windows or Mac laptops, Chromebooks are primarily designed to work with an Internet connection, and the offline experience is still limited. You can’t run desktop programs like iTunes or Skype since only a select few services work offline.They’re incredibly cheap (usually in the $200-$380 range), and that’s why they’ve become so appealing — especially in classrooms. Microsoft is now trying to compete against Chromebooks with Windows computers like the Stream, which offer the full benefit of Windows at a similar price point.

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But does a $200 computer work well enough to justify the purchase, or is it worth holding out for a more powerful machine? My general take is that the Stream is more than capable of handling basic tasks like a Chromebook can, but you should seriously consider what you use your laptop for the most.HP offers a few versions of the Stream — one with an 11-inch screen that starts at $199, one with a 13.3-inch screen that starts at $229, and another with a bigger 14-inch display that starts at $299. On all models, you get a 1366 x 768 resolution screen, 2GB of memory, Windows 8.1, and an Intel Celeron processor. You also get a one-year subscription to Microsoft Office 365 for free.If you primarily use the internet and can get by without any desktop programs, go for the Chromebook. It loads web pages extremely fast, which was one of the few drawbacks I noticed with the HP Stream. For a super cheap computer, the Stream ran pretty smoothly any booted up quickly (only 9 seconds!). But web pages loaded noticeably slow on both my home and work Wi-Fi networks, which are usually both fairly fast.

The HP Stream isn’t the sexiest-looking gadget, but it’s damn light, which is important if you frequently commute with your laptop or take it to class. I traveled with the HP Stream in my purse on the subway and it never weighed my shoulder down. In fact, I almost forgot I even had a computer in my bag.The deep blue color was attractive enough, but the plasticky, two-toned blue keyboard deck made it feel a bit like a toy. Again, this is a laptop that’s about a quarter of the price of something like the MacBook Air, so I wasn’t expecting the most premium design.The keyboard itself was surprising sturdy. Although the individual keys felt a bit cheap, I didn’t experience that flexy feeling I’ve dealt with previously when using cheap laptops. With some inexpensive notebooks, pushing down on the keyboard repeatedly or too hard will cause it to slightly sink in. This never happened with the Stream, though, which is impressive.The touchpad wasn’t as fluid as I had hoped, though. It felt a bit sticky as I moved the mouse pointer around the screen.

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