#the key is and i think it's the use of the color black like pure black

[bananayuyu]

Lust is in the Air

Pairing: Hongjoong x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Your best friend drags you along to a family wedding, wanting to add some fun to your all too serious life. Turns out her uncle is the one who really provides the distraction.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap (Hongjoong is 40 reader is 23), some talk during sex about the age gap so really don't read this if you don't like that, some dom/sub dynamics, throat fucking, degradation and praise, bratty y/n, use of pet names (baby, doll), ass eating, anal, unprotected sex

A/n: Sometimes I see a random video of him and I'm reminded all over again how hot I think a very mature Hongjoong would be. Especially if he was mocking me and making me feel pathetic. Yeah this was pure horny, quite filthy for me. This isn't as proofread as my normal stuff so apologies for any mistakes

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Well, maybe it was a good idea. You had been staying in every weekend since the breakup, and maybe being forced out of the house would be good for you. Force you to interact with a few people, to actually put some effort into your appearance. Maybe put on a little makeup, or actually brush your hair.

"Please don't say no," Beatrice says through the phone. "My family would love it if you came, and I'd love it if you came. And we haven't had a chance to spend a weekend like this in forever. There will be free food and free booze!"

"I know you're worried about me, Bea," you respond, sighing.

"I'm not inviting you out of pity," she says.

"I know, I know. Just, give me some time to think it over. I've got an assignment I need to finish for one of my classes, I think it's due this Sunday night. So if I can't finish it this week I'll need to do it this weekend," you reply.

"Okay, just text me. I'm not gonna invite anyone else as my plus one, if you don't end up coming. So no rush, take your time," she says.

"Thank you. You know I appreciate you so much," you say, sighing into the cushion of your couch.

"You know I feel the same," she says, sighing too. You'd both been through breakups recently. It seemed like your hardships always occurred on nearly the same timeline, making you both able to rely on each other for understanding. And she knew getting you out of the house, especially for a weekend wedding, would be good for you. Her cousin's family was rich and hadn't held back in their planning, booking the fanciest hotel in town for everyone. They were paying for everything; the food and drinks of course, and everyone's hotel expenses. You'd knew you'd go. You'd try to finish the assignment beforehand. But even if you didn't, you'd still go.

Driving up to the front of the hotel together felt surreal. Beatrice had asked to take your car, as it wasn't the bright purple color that her's was. This place was fancy, and though neither of your cars were deluxe, at least your's was black.

"Miss McArthur?" the valet asked once you rolled your window down.

"Yeah, that's me," Beatrice said from the passenger seat, reaching over you to hand him her ID. "This is my plus one, y/n. She should be on the list."

After a brief look at his clipboard the man gave you both a satisfied nod. "Do you ladies have any bags we can carry up for you?" he asked.

"Yes, in the trunk," Beatrice answered for you, which you were grateful for. You'd never interacted with a valet before, never been in such a fancy situation in your life. You stumbled out of the car a bit awkwardly, your jean shorts and t-shirt looking ridiculous next to the suit and tie of the man in front of you. He held out his hand to you and for a moment you paused, wondering if he was offering to take your hand. But then you realized he was actually offering to take your keys. Duh.

"Thank you," you said quickly, heading around the car to meet Bea as you walked behind the man carrying your bags.

On the sixth floor you entered your shared room, a spacious and beautifully decorated space with a huge window covering the far wall. It was a sliding glass door, that led out to a balcony overlooking the river below. In the afternoon sun the water glittered, but you knew the view at night would be the real show, absolutely magical.

"Everyone is meeting in the restaurant at 7," Bea tells you, glancing at her family's group chat.

"Well then I've got a little over two hours to make myself look at least a little bit nice. Like maybe I actually belong here," you laugh, opening your bag to grab the casual dress you'd packed.

"Oh dinner tonight won't be fancy, wear whatever," Bea replies, kicking off her sandals.

"Okay but, with your cousins family not fancy would still probably be a little fancy, right?" you ask.

"You don't need to worry about fitting in, dude. No one will care," Bea replies.

"I just don't want to look like an idiot," you say, eyeing her.

"Y/n, you really need to stop worrying. This weekend is about us having fun. I'm not even that close with my cousin Amana, to be honest. We'll probably barely interact with her family. But we get to attend this fancy wedding, all expenses paid. Just wear whatever you feel like, do whatever you want to. Just promise me you'll have some fun," she says.

"Okay, fine," you respond, rolling your eyes jokingly. "I guess I'll try to enjoy this super nice luxury hotel for the weekend."

Bea laughs in relief, at hearing you joke around. It was what you both needed more of; you both had serious work and school lives already to contend with. And seriously disappointing dating lives, too.

As seven approaches you both make your way to the elevator, pausing at you exit the door to inspect the slight amount of makeup you'd put on. You hadn't worn any in weeks and it made you feel really pretty, along with the flowly sundress and sandals you'd decided to wear. You weren't always one for such feminine clothing but today it felt right, and you both bounced down the hall, spirits high. Bea led the way through the lobby to a long hallway, past what looked like a bar and some other room that had a bouncer, to the large restaurant at the end. Immediately you saw the long tables lined up, clearly set up for the wedding party. This wasn't the dress rehearsal, just the welcome dinner. It was only Friday, and the wedding wasn't until Sunday. Immediately you spotted the wine and appetizers filling the table, scanning the tables to try to find your seats.

"I can't find us Bea," you laugh, awkwardly walking past family members you'd never met before.

"Y/n, you're at our table," you hear a familiar female voice say, and turn to see Bea's mom.

"Oh, hi! Thank you!" you say as you walk over to her, giving her a quick hug.

"So glad you could join us sweetie," she says, gesturing to your seats. "See, you and Beatrice are near the end there, across from Nathan. Oh and have you met Beatrice's uncle Hongjoong before?" she asks, gesturing down the table.

You look down to see Beatrice sitting, pulling her chair under her and smiling wide. Across from her, in a casual but fitted grey t-shirt, a man smiles back, handing her a glass of wine he's just poured. He is striking, with jet black hair and tattoos, piercings donning his right ear. His jaw is sharp, his teeth perfect when he smiles. He looks maybe 27, 28. He's wearing an expensive watch, or at least a watch that looks expensive to your eyes, and a small simple chain necklace. His hair is cropped short at the sides; he looks so put together, so professional. So mature. So fucking attractive.

"That's Bea's uncle?" you ask her. It's not just his age that makes you ask. It's the fact that he's basically your dream come true. You see the muscles in his arm flex as he pours Nathan a glass too, and it makes your eyes cross for a moment.

"Well technically I think he's a second cousin, once removed, or something like that. He's a part of Wooyoung's family." Wooyoung was her husband, Bea's dad. You'd met her parents, and her brother Nathan, but never anyone else in her extended family. And you struggled to recall ever hearing about a Hongjoong before. You stared at him a moment before he moved his eyes over to you, catching you off guard. His look was mischievous, like he wants to play or mess with you. It made it hard to believe this was someone Bea called 'uncle.'

"Do you want to sit?" Bea's mom asked you.

"Yeah, sorry," you smiled at her, making you way down.

"Y/n! This is my uncle Hongjoong, and Hongjoong, this is y/n," Beatrice says as you pull out your seat next to her.

"Very nice to meet you," he says with an outstretched hand, his handshake strong and confident in a way that makes your body tingle.

"You as well," you reply, with a bashful smile. Immediately Bea asks you a question and you respond on auto-pilot, not even really hearing. Because your head is swimming in water just from being in this man's presence, and you can't focus. You don't even notice the glass of wine he'd poured you until he sets it down by your appetizer plate, gently bumping the stem on the rim of the plate to make a gentle clink. The sound makes your eyes snap up, and for some reason he looks amused.

"Oh, thank you," you say to him, bowing your head slightly. That mischievous smirk is back on his face when you lock eyes again, like he's trying to tell you something, but you can't be sure what it is. You certainly hope he's thinking what you're thinking. God, he's fucking stunning.

Those are the only words you speak to each other for the entirety of dinner. With so many people in attendance the restaurant is loud, louder still as everyone becomes tipsy, and then outright drunk on the unlimited wine.

"Hey, my parents want me a Nathan to go take pictures with them on the golf course nearby. They booked a photo shoot or something," Bea tells you, rolling her eyes slightly. "I'm not sure when we'll be back but feel free to like, go to the hot tub or do whatever around the hotel," she says.

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, seriously," you say as you hug her. "I hope it's fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," she laughs. "My parents and their family photos," she shakes her head, making you giggle, as she slowly makes her way to meet her brother at the front door of the restaurant.

You take stock of yourself for a moment, making sure you have your phone and your wallet in your purse, making sure your room key is still in your wallet. You take the last swig of your second glass of wine, patting yourself on the back for not overdoing it this first night when basically everyone around you did. You start sipping on your nearly empty glass of water too, knowing you don't want to wake up hungover tomorrow. The table is basically empty, with everyone slowly clearing out or making their last requests at the bar. You decide you'll go explore in a moment, go scope out the pool and hot tub situation, and maybe see if you can figure out what room is behind that bouncer. But just as you start standing up, Hongjoong approaches the table.

"I got some more waters for the table, but it looks like they've all left," he chuckles, his arms full.

"They went to do a family photo, Bea said," you reply, stuck for a moment awkwardly between sitting and standing. Hongjoong nods, like he already knew.

"Oh, were you about to leave too? Don't let me keep you," he says, the glint back in his eye again.

"I was thinking I'd go take a look at the pool and hot tub, maybe explore a bit," you say. It sort of takes you by surprise that you're sharing this with a total stranger, given your usual instinct to not share anything with people you don't know. You easily could have excused yourself, and been exploring the hotel alone. But deep down you know why you're sharing it. You hope he picks up on that reason, too.

"That's a great idea," he says, gently setting the waters down. "Mind if I join you? I was thinking of exploring the hotel some myself."

Bingo. You smile, eyes fluttering at him for a second. You truly don't even mean to do it, but the way he looks at you has you feeling shameless.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," you reply, stepping out from your chair and gently pushing it into the table.

"Want to take a water with you?" he asks, holding one out.

"I don't think we can just take the glass with us," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Oh, who cares," he says glancing over his shoulder, seeing all of the wait staff occupied at the bar with everyone's last minute orders. "I'll carry it out, if you're that worried," he says, cocking his head slightly to the side and eyeing you with what must be mock pity.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at him, trying to fight the smile forming on your face from betraying how much his tone and facial expression are affecting you. You turn around and start strolling out of the restaurant, not even waiting for him. Once you're exiting he's already caught up, two water glasses in hand. You turn to your right, heading for the lobby.

"Wrong way, y/n," Hongjoong says lowly from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. "The pool is out those doors at the end of the hall."

"The sign in the lobby says the door to the pool is by the front desk," you reply, looking over your shoulder at him. The hallway is dimly lit, and the shadows on his face make his jaw look even sharper.

"Well that door also leads to the pool," he says, gesturing to the end of the hall. You just stare at him a moment, not sure why you feel the instinct to argue. "You don't believe me?" he asks, chuckling and looking you dead in the eye, before obviously snaking his gaze down the entirety of your body. Now that he's standing you see the fitted black pants and black dress shoes he's wearing, making his outfit look even more professional. His thighs look strong, and his stance is one of confidence, his entire demeanor cool and collected. You want to come up with a witty retort but can't think of anything, so you just start walking the way he's said to, again passing him by without slowing down to meet him. You open the doors gently but don't stop to hold them for him, brattiness taking ahold of you. Maybe it's the fancy hotel, or the wine, but you feel like a princess who deserves whatever she wants. And right now that's to piss Hongjoong off a bit, and see the pool.

"I thought nice girls hold doors open for the elderly," he says once he's exited too, sidling up to you. You stand by the long edge of the pool, taking in the lights below the surface that dance through the water. You turn to him and roll your eyes, taking the water glass he offers you immediately. "So, what do you do?" he asks.

"I'm still in school, I'm in my senior year," you say, turning back to the water. "And I work part time as an administrative assistant in the Dean's office, to help cover some of my tuition."

"College senior," he says, like he's mulling it over. "So that makes you how old?"

"Guess," you say, turning to him again, this time with your whole body.

"22," he replies. His voice low, like he's hesitant to say it.

"Close, 23," you say, not lowering your voice to meet his.

"And how old do you think I am?" he asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mmm, like, 38?" you joke, squinting your eyes as you look intently at his face. The feeling of wanting to piss him off still hadn't left you.

"How astute," he replies, nodding. "People usually think I'm younger."

"You're actually 38?" you ask, bewildered.

"Actually, 40," Hongjoong replies, making your eyebrows shoot up.

"You're lying," you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

"Wow, second time tonight you've thought that. I don't know what I've done to make you think so poorly of me," he replies, that mischievous look again painting his face.

"Oh, shut up," you say, rolling your eyes harder this time, wanting to reach out and playfully punch him. Or maybe not so playfully. He's looking more and more perfect by the second, and his attitude, the way he's just so confident and calm, is making you hot and bothered. You know it maybe it's wrong, but now that you know his real age you find this whole scenario even hotter. If you were honest with yourself you'd always dreamed of fucking an older man, but the few you'd gone on dates with or had the chance to talk to had always been so immature, insecure, and underwhelming. Just like all the other guys you'd dated. It was a massive disappointment to learn that age didn't often give people that self-assured demeanor that you so desired. But clearly it did sometimes; the proof was standing in front of you.

"That wasn't very nice," Hongjoong replies, fixing you with a look of disapproval that makes your thighs clench involuntarily, as the two of you stare each other down merely feet apart. You hold his gaze as long as you can before you look down at your feet, his stoic demeanor feeling like a brick wall you can't break through.

"You're very pretty, y/n," he says, stepping forward to lift your face up to his.

"Really?" you ask him, eyes wide. Playing it just the way he likes.

"I know you know how pretty you are, you've been giving me those eyes all night," he says, looking like he disapproves. "You're a bit of brat, too, aren't you?" he asks, his hand moving to the side of your cheek.

"No comment," you giggle, and he grabs your hand, bringing it to his upper arm. You grab onto his bicep as he moves his hand to your waist pulling you two closer.

"Dance with me," he says, pulling you slightly into his chest.

"There isn't any music playing," you say, laughing. And it's the way that he doesn't just automatically laugh at your little comments that really gets you going.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me very much," he says seriously, pulling you in and starting to rock you back and forth. You dance together for a few minutes, no words being exchanged as your bodies get used to the proximity, as your mind begins to swim again, even more so now that his hands are on you. You want him to kiss you, do anything, now, but he keeps his hands where they are, still leading you around in slow circles. Fuck it, you think. You lift your hands to his face and pull him in, your lips meeting in a perfect kiss, his hand on your waist moving up your back as he holds you to him, leaning you back as he deepens it. You hold steadily onto his bicep for balance, your breathing fast as you stick your tongue in his mouth, not hiding your desperation. You don't care to, not when you've spent two months without this feeling, tortured over the idea that no one at your school would ever consider you an option after your last relationship ended the way it did.

And just when it seems like you're the only desperate one, Hongjoong moves his hands down, running them up your thighs and under your dress to find your panties. He finds none, much to his surprise, which makes his dick harden even further. He gropes your ass, deepening the kiss more, making you arch your back in neediness. And then he snakes his hand around, slowly moving to your core, before suddenly running a finger over your slit, making you gasp. You've forgotten where you are, totally engrossed in the feelings he's giving you. You buck your hips against his hand, moaning pathetically into his mouth, your legs feeling like they might give out on you. He starts circling your entrance, finally pushing one finger in maybe an inch, when you finally remember where you are.

"Wait, fuck, not out here," you say, pulling back from him. He pulls his hand away immediately, his fingers glistening in the lights of the night.

"You don't want everyone to see?" he asks, a smirk on his face.

"Not when the people paying for me to be here could see," you say. Your lips look swollen and wet from the kiss, and it makes him want to grab you again.

"You're the one who kissed me," he says, his voice low. And you know there's more he's implying, that you weren't just the one who kissed him but that you had rocked against his hand, had wanted his touch. That you'd kissed him desperately, making him unable to stop himself. The implication is inappropriate, the accusation he's laid on you not fair in the slightest. He has no way of knowing what you were trying to make him do, or what you wanted to happen. You hadn't said a word. And yet, he's totally right, making it hard for you to respond.

"That's-," you sigh, your pussy still throbbing from your proximity.

"My room is on the 7th floor," he says.

"Okay," you reply. It's all you can say. You stand completely still, stuck to the spot, waiting for him to move. Instead he puts his wet fingers in his mouth, sucking off your slick in one smooth motion, humming in satisfaction. Your mouth gapes at his lewdness, struck now by just how visible you both obviously are.

"Let's go," he says, motioning his head towards the door.

Your legs move automatically, your mind playing over and over the visual of him licking his fingers, the look of utter bliss on his face. As you walk the hallway he comes behind you, putting a hand on the small of your back, making your body melt into him slightly. It feels good but you gently remove his hand, not wanting anyone to see. You pray that neither Bea nor any of her family are in the lobby when you enter, and thankfully, your prayers are answered. Nor does anyone join you two on the elevator, which makes you willing to stand closer to Hongjoong than you would any other stranger. But still, you don't touch him. As you both exit you walk behind him, almost enough space between you that you could believably look like two total strangers, walking to separate rooms. Until he unlocks his door, holding it open as you slip inside, like you're really not supposed to be in here.

As soon as he closes the door he's pulled you to him, his back slamming into the wall as you nearly crash together, the air between you thick with lust.

"I'm almost twice as old as you, y/n," he whispers in your ear, feeling your pussy clench against his thigh that you're straddling, your mouth on his neck. "You like that," he states, not even asking you anymore. "You like that I'm way too old for you. Too old to be touching you like this."

It's wrong, so wrong and you know it, but the further he pushes it the more you're surrendering to what's happening, to what your body truly craves.

"You've never been fucked right by those stupid boys at your college, have you? You need me to fuck you right, to show you how good you can feel. That's why you were bratty with me, you wanted me to be riled up. Want me to fuck you hard, like I'm mad. Like I'm punishing you," he growls, his breathing heavy as you bite down on his neck, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through his head. "Fuck, you really want me mad, don't you?" he asks and you whine in response, your whole body tingly with anticipation.

"Get on your knees," he says, pulling you back from him, your hair already a mess from his hands, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders and nearly making your tits spill out. "Open your mouth," he commands, and you follow immediately, your wide eyes looking up at him in desire, his thumb running over your bottom lip. "I like when you do what I say," he says, pinching your cheek and making you blush, the praise making your insides turn to jelly. He unzips his pants smoothly, undoing the button and swiftly pulling out his hard cock, the tip a slight shade of red and already leaking slightly.

"Look what you did to me," he says, palming himself, your tongue nearly falling out of your mouth as you salivate over his beautiful cock. "I thought for a moment I'd have to come up here and deal with this all on my own, after you eye-fucked me all dinner," he continues, slowly stroking his length, moving closer to your open and waiting lips. "I should have known you weren't wearing any panties from the way you were acting," he says, gently running his tip along your outstretched tongue, spreading your spit around your face with it and making a mess of you. "No bra, no panties. You wanted to be fucked tonight." Slowly he enters your mouth, gently holding your head as he pushes further in, gently tapping the back of your throat and making you gag. You moan, your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him to fill all of your holes at once. "That feels good, doesn't it. Gagging on my cock," he smirks, your eyes fluttering closed as he pushes in again, this time a little harder. "Eyes on me baby, don't look away," he says, slowly beginning to fuck your throat, gently enough not to choke you but deep enough to make you repeatedly gag, your spit covering his cock and running down your chin, your face a complete mess. "Fuck, your mouth feels good," he groans, his face scrunching up in pleasure for a moment, before he looks down to meet your eyes again, which are now glued to him, glued to every change in his expression, every flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm gonna go harder baby, I know you can take it," he warns you before picking up his pace, his cock nearly bottoming out in your mouth as he holds your head in place, repeatedly fucking into your throat. You're automatically swallowing around him, your body's reflexive actions taking over. "Fuck, so good," Hongjoong sighs, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen and your body swimming in pleasure. You could let him use your throat all night if he wanted to, especially if he keeps talking to you like that. Like you're dumb and you don't even know what you want. Like he has to tell you or you'll never figure it out.

Finally you choke hard, your body instinctively pulling you back, and he pulls out of your mouth letting you catch you breath, stroking a hand through your hair. You run a hand across your mouth, trying in vain to clean yourself up a bit, wiping the saliva on your dress and staring up at him open mouthed, your entire body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey, don't ruin this," he says pulling at your dress, moving behind you to help take it off. He slowly undoes the zipper, gently pulling the straps down and off your arms before helping you stand to step out of it. Completely bare, you stand in front of him, his hand coming up to spank you, grabbing your ass hungrily in his hand. You yelp at the impact, like you weren't expecting it. Like you hadn't been sticking your ass out ever so slightly, arching your back to add to the affect. "Don't write checks you can't cash, doll," he says, making you giggle and turn your head to face him, a look of utter delight on your face. "It really makes you happy when I scold you, doesn't it," he says, staring you down.

"Why are you so clothed?" you ask, finding your words.

"You want to see me naked?" he teases.

"Just seems like you're hiding something. Maybe under all that nice clothing you're really not that built," you laugh, knowing it would strike a nerve. It wasn't hard to tell that he cared about his figure.

"Go sit on your hands on the bed," he retorts, his eyes narrowing, as he starts taking off his watch, undoing the clasp on his chain. He sets both down on the table gently, pulling his shirt over his head next, revealing that most of his abdomen is also covered in tattoos, his broad shoulders and broad chest. Slowly he sits on the side of the bed to untie his shoes, periodically looking up at you to make sure you haven't moved, moving almost comically slow. You wriggle in anticipation, watching him slowly reveal himself, his muscular thighs finally on display to you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, his cock hard and a deeper shade of red now, still glistening from your spit.

"Lay on your stomach," he says, moving over you when you oblige, raking the hair out of your face so he can see you. "This is what you get for sticking your ass out," he says, swiftly moving down to lick over your hole, making you gasp at the coldness of his tongue. Immediately the feeling runs to your clit, your entire crotch alive with pleasure, your back arching instinctively to meet his movements. He spreads your cheeks to get better access, moving his tongue in quick circles around your tight entrance, your body slowly relaxing from the pleasure he's providing.

And suddenly he's off of you, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle, swiftly lubing the fingers of his right hand and moving them to your waiting hole, gently pushing one in. You groan, the tight muscles stretching already, your body arching even further to give him the perfect angle as he gently starts pumping in and out of you.

"You like getting your ass eaten, I knew you would. So dirty," he says, making you whine in agreement, your brows scrunched together in pleasure. Soon he adds another finger, the stretch again making you groan, your body instinctively tightening up at the intrusion. "I know you can take it," he says, not even attempting to comfort you. "Don't brats like getting their asses fucked?" he asks, his words making your clit ache, your body finally releasing again as he works you open with two fingers, taking the opportunity to quickly add another. "I knew it," he says, satisfied with how quickly he's stretched you open, how pliant your body is in his hands, how he's getting exactly what he wants from you. Still fucking you with his fingers, he opens the lube bottle again with his other hand, generously dousing his achingly hard cock. Gently he pulls his fingers out of you, frozen for a moment staring at the way your hole has opened up, nearly drooling from the visual.

"Spread you legs," he says, pushing your knees apart himself, pulling you ass up towards him, just where he wants you. Lining himself up, he slowly pushes in, the stretch even more severe this time, making you whine in pain, your breaths short and stifled with your head now shoved into his pillows. "What, you can't take it? Is it too big?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "My little brat can't take my cock in her ass?"

Tears start forming in your eyes from how turned on you are, the pain a secondary feeling as it all starts to feel just right, as it starts morphing into only pleasure as your muscles finally relent. You feel like you're being split open, like you're opened up more than ever before, like he's gutting you from the inside. Finally he bottoms out, reaching into you further than you thought you could feel, your clit throbbing painfully with need.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans from above you, brushing a hand along your cheek in an almost sweet gesture, seeing the single tear stain on your cheek. He waits a moment, waiting to feel if your body is ready, and suddenly your hips are moving into his like your body is begging him to move. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, then thrusts back in, making you gasp at the intense pleasure, your breath nearly getting caught in your throat. Grabbing your hips he starts forcefully thrusting, chasing his own pleasure as he's sucked into your ass, the tight muscles threatening to make him come in an instant. Desperate for some relief you move your hand to your clit, desperately trying to circle it as he rocks you hard with the force of his thrusts. His eyes are glued to your ass, glued to the way his cock looks buried inside you, and your face, the way your mouth hangs permanently open as you moan in earnest, clearly not controlling a single sound that is coming out. The raw sounds make him fuck into you even harder, the way you sound so pathetically fucked out, like you can't believe this feels so good. Eventually his eyes roam down again and spot your hand, swatting it away in an instant, his anger boiling up again.

"Is my cock not enough?" he scolds, his voice gravelly from breathing so raggedly, the air in the room stiflingly hot. In this position it's hard, but quickly he finds a good angle and lands a sharp smack on your clit, the pain lancing through your core like lightning, and suddenly your whole body is shaking, your nerves completely on fire. "Even with my cock buried in your ass you want to piss me off, don't you?" His voice is raised, nearly to the point of losing control, but still very calculated. He lands another sharp slap on your clit, this time not as hard, but in an instant your orgasm washes over you, your whole body shaking hard as you squeeze down around his cock making it hard for him to keep moving.

"Fuck, baby, shit," Hongjoong curses, his climax hitting him by surprise, his cock milked by your tight walls squeezing down on him, your body taught with just how hard you came. His orgasm crashes over him fast and hard, his body going limp just after yours does, as you both collapse in a pile on the bed, his cum coating the walls of your ass in silky wetness. Your legs are still shaking, tucked up underneath you, his cock still buried deep inside. The position is awkward but you don't even feel it, the pleasure still rippling through you as you breath hard into the soft pillow. Hongjoong crashes onto your back, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, his chest and stomach rapidly rising and falling from his heavy breathing. His skin feels sticky and hot against yours, his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he plants a kiss there, intently watching your face as you come down.

"I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" he asks, eliciting a hum of agreement from you. Slowly he pulls backwards, his cum spilling out of you the moment he's pulled out entirely, spilling down your ass cheek onto the bedsheets. Hongjoong makes his way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before grabbing a washcloth for you, dousing it in luke warm water. Coming back to the bed he gently moves you onto your back, to the side of the pool of cum. He gently wipes you down, making you moan when he brushes over your clit, making himself chuckle.

Glancing over at the clock beside his bed you see it's nearly 11pm, your mind spinning. Quickly you move to the ground to rummage through your purse, glancing at your phone to see a text from Beatrice reading 'I'm back now, don't stay out too late miss.'

Be back soon, you write back.

"I should be going," you say, trying to stand up, your wobbly legs making it difficult. Hongjoong is at your side in a moment, stabilizing you, helping you to sit down on the bed while he grabs your dress off the floor. You hastily pull it over your head, running your fingers through your hair and feeling the knots that have formed. Quickly you zip the back of your dress, shove your phone in your purse and stand to slip on your sandals, not wanting to keep her waiting. The sudden quietness of Hongjoong also has you feeling slightly on edge, and really your head is just spinning, from every unexpected thing that happened.

"I'm not still mad, you know," he says gently, grabbing your hand as you move to breeze past him.

"Yeah?" you ask, looking at him with confusion.

"You don't need to still be acting like a kid who is in trouble," he says, kissing your hand. "That was just, that. You can talk to me like anyone else, now."

You eye him, swallowing thickly. What does one even say, now? Could he tell how inexperienced you were with hookups?

"I'm not sure what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I hope it's happy thoughts."

You nod, a smirk playing on your lips. You're speechless, unable to think a complete thought. It all just plays in your head, his tongue on your ass, his fingers stretching you out, his cock pounding into you so hard. And the smack on your clit, the way it made you come so fast, the ghost of the feeling still present in your core.

"Not those thoughts. You're gonna jump me again," he laughs, and finally you smack him, punching his arm soon afterwards. Pushing past him you walk fast, opening his door and spinning around, your eyes piercing as you meet his.

"What, you can't take my teasing?" he asks, but suddenly his door swings shut, your face gone in a flash.

As you saunter down the hall to the elevator you feel fucking amazing, swinging your purse over your shoulder and flipping your hair to the side, your sleepy eyes boring holes into the metal doors.

Well, she did tell you to have some fun. You just hoped Beatrice wouldn't be too mad you fucked her uncle.

[wasyago]

how do you choose colors?? i love your color choices and wanna know how you do it

oookay, i don't actually know what i am doing with colors 90% of the time, but there are some guidelines that i follow, so, i hope this will be useful ":3

so. one of the main things that i use almost all the time is complimentary colors! a very cool very useful thing, good for everything. complimentary colors are the ones that are opposite each other on a color wheel. a proper color wheel, not the one that drawing apps use, because that one most of the time has the colors distributed wrong 😔

the thing about complimentary colors is that they make each other stand out more. so if you use them in equal amount and saturation they will fight for attention and don't look as good. another thing is that if you put gray on one complimentary color it will appear to have changed the hue to its pair. uhhh its hard to describe with words, but just try to fill a canvas with one saturated color and draw something gray on it, its an optical illusion of sorts.

so uhhhhhh, what im trying to say is, complimentary colors compliment each other (wow), so using them for accents and shadows and backgrounds will generally make both stand out and look better? idk, here are some examples so it hopefully makes more sense

and so you change the amount of color, it's saturation, hue, warmth, tone, other smart words, and it changes the feeling of the picture! as you can see i really like my greens and reds, they're almost in every picture, but it still looks different (hopefully). if you can't full on change the color of something, if you have a set design for example, bringing the complimentary color in shadows and highlights or background works too! try different things see what's for you!

and, of course, using complimentary colors doesn't mean you can't use any other color! its more like, complimentary colors establish this connection that's pleasing to the eye and everything else is whatever you want it to be! i also have no idea about using more than one pair, generally one is enough but technically it works?

i also try not to use more than 3 main colors for a piece, like, blue-red-yellow but no green, or green-blue-yellow and no red, and stuff. (key word is "try" of course lol) this has nothing to do with the color wheel, just uhh general color balance? but this is about um, "clean" colors. you can absolutely use all 4, if one of them appears different because of the lighting and stuff? again, its hard to explain color with words. plus it all depends on a style, its not a rule, that's just how i do it

and then all the things outside of theory, like, don't use black and gray for shadows, it looks dirty. a lot of artists don't use pure black at all, but i just can't help it i like it too much. i try not to use pure white for things like clothes and eyes and other things that are in-universe colored white. its fine for highlights but for everything else i usually use grayish yellowish color, it looks much more pleasing. things that are closer are more saturated and have more contrast, things that are far have less saturation and less contrast. things that you want to attract attention should have more contrast, and the other way around

aaand i think that's it? all that i can remember at least

[n0tamused]

idk if i can request but —

What about ratio with a reader who is always sleepy but refuses to sleep on time? (Technically nocturnal reader haha)

Like; he’d be home from the guild after a particularly long day and he sees the reader doing whatever on the dead of night

Or maybe when hes asleep he suddenly stirrs awake with music coming from the living room or reader accidently dropping a bowl in the kitchen, creating very loud noise!!

Would he scold us ? 🥲

Feel free to ignore this if you want!! 🫶

A/n: Sorry for taking so long but I do hope you enjoy this little drabble! <3 I am slowly working on the requests aaa I feel like Ratio would definitely be prone to scolding you for this behavior, but he'd try to encourage you to go to bed early by dragging you to his nightly routine with him. You just gotta sleep after it, there's no choice bro. Try saying no to sleep around him I dare you

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN reader, nocturnal reader that overworks themselves, fluff.

Long sighs of night air send satisfying shivers down Veritas’ back as he trudges his way forth through the swallowing darkness, reminded once more that his bedtime schedule had long since been lost with the sudden trip the Guild had set him up to. Yet, in the moment, he couldn’t even be irritated as the breeze felt most pleasant to his tired body and mind. 

In long strides he reached the front door, his hands fiddling with the keys while he reached up with the other hand to rub the bridge of his nose, his fingertips soothing down the edges and beneath his eyes with soothing pressure. Light poured out of the hall and onto the welcome mat, illuminated the sudden ridge between his brows that seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. One glance at the clock reminded him of the time - 01:26 AM. The lights were off during these hours, generally speaking.

Veritas sighed softly, his jaw clenched as he took off his shoes and stalked over to the office room which you were currently occupying, big black headphones over your ears not allowing you to hear his approach. The door was left open, and as Veritas wordlessly made his way inside, he spotted an empty cup beside you and he heard the aggressive scribbling of pen on paper before he even saw you holding it.

Glancing down at the trashcan, he found it oddly full with crumbled balls of torn paper sheets and sticky notes. He dreaded guessing how long you were here for, but he could practically feel the stress oozing off of you in long heavy coats. 

Startling you seemed unavoidable even as he tried to gently tap you on the shoulder, his warm palm soon pressing onto it to stop you from jumping from your chair. The contact made you gasp and spin around, accidentally drawing a sharp diagonal line down your paper. The color that was so quick to drain from your face slowly began to seep back in through your eyes as you recognized the man now hovering behind you, and a sigh fell from your lips in pure relief. “Oh, Veritas- it’s you!.. Did you just get back? I do apologize, I didn’t hear you” you dropped your pen, pulling down your ear phones to instead turn around and wrap your arms around his waist, your cheek pressed against his stomach.

He returned the affection by rubbing up and down your back, his other hand gently placed on top of your head. “I did. And I think it goes without saying that I am not most pleased to find you in this state..” he muttered, his voice softened from his long travels, but filled with a loving scolding.  “What is this? Have you not finished this already before I left?” he asked as he watched you pull away and look up at him, still a little hunched over and with your two fingers hooked around his belt hoop. 

“I have finished it, but.. uh.. it wasn’t good. I went back in to do some retouching, and I just kept not liking any of them” you explained as your previous soft smile fell, unveiling the bags underneath your eyes and the sagging of your shoulders. Veritas knew you were prone to perfectionism and overexertion, yet he knew he’d never get used to it and that he’d never stop scolding you for it. 

“These retouches- they couldn’t wait until you were more well rested. You do know they won’t run off should you look away from them for a few hours, from my office no less..” he grumbled lightly, his brows relaxing before cinching together as he saw you look away and turn to look at your paper, as if you did not hear what he just said.

“I know.. but I am finishing up now. I did make some of your favorite tonight. You can go ahead and do your thing while I finish up, and as soon as you’re done with your shower, you’ll find the meal warmed up for you. I’ll be done by then” 

Veritas didn’t even know if you were trying to distract him and send him off, change the topic or get him off your back. He shook his head. Whatever the objective was, he decided to play soft tonight and let you do your work for a little while more, to soothe you in some way. He knew how it was to be forced to leave work unfinished. Both of you were too tired for even simple banter which you usually enjoyed. But he made his dissatisfaction known with a heavy sigh and a fluttering of his eyes that fell shut for a few heartbeats. “Fine.. but no need to warm up the food, it is too late to have such a meal. I’ll go clean myself up, and then you will do the same. You need rest..”

There was no argument there, you knew, and could only look up at him and nod before he was walking out of the office room and into the bathroom. A timer like that would usually send you into a panic, yet now you found yourself slightly more motivated and even relaxed. This was Veritas you were with, your Veritas - not some rude client that wished to rush you and undermine you. 

Your finishing touches would need retouching in the morning, as you find yourself not completely satisfied even now, but you decided it was time to lay down the pen for tonight. And it wasn’t like you had much of a choice when Veritas stood at the door, towel around his waist. hair still damp from his shower and asking - no, saying you were done and that you should get ready for bed too now.

You slid out of the chair, giving him a hug as you passed by him in the door frame, earning yourself a soft scoff as he kissed your crown and sent you off with a few pats on your shoulder. He was eager for rest, but also to be in your arms. Something he missed the last few days. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @the-inquisitive-constellation <3

[formosusiniquis]

I'm in chainmail, baby I'm impressed

Squeaking in under the wire for @stevieweek day 4: Special Outfit with bonus prompts: lingerie and DnD/Fantasy. Plus I'm counting this as my @steddie-week Day Seven Free Space

Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 3217 | M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Transfem!Steve Harrington; Transmasc!Eddie Munson; Fade to Black

AO3

It starts with a blouse.

No, that’s not right. It actually started when Stevie asked how earring a suit of armor didn’t chafe, and if a pair of keys could stab through a beer can how were arrows not sending stabby metal pieces into people.

Which actually probably means it really started with layers. Like the extra layer of leather, done up to Eddie’s chin when he called her back. “Make ‘em pay” wasn’t the send off she’d expected after the big boy and other flirting. Flirting that had made her stomach twist and her heart flutter and her brain flinch with the close but not quite of it. But maybe that’s why she’d sent her own return volley. Why she’d grabbed hold of that half done zipper and left Eddie with a pat to the chest and a promise to do just that.

She totally saved his life with that move. Her, the leather jacket, and some extra breast tissue Eddie wasn’t really using, all working together to keep razor sharp fangs from tearing flesh and puncturing any important organs.

That breast tissue maybe saved her too, when she learned just what having it made Eddie and what it meant about options she hadn’t known were there. They had a lot of time to talk in their shared bat bite isolation chamber.

Talk about layers that go under chain and metal to protect knights of the realm and their devoted squires that help them.

That started in the Upside Down, finished in the hospital. And this started in the thrift store.

The blouse was white. Pure white, basically neon, white as the virgin snow. Totally not Stevie’s color, the fresh wedding white brings out the undertones in her skin in a way that leaves her looking sallow and liver failure-y. But something about the sleeve catches her eye. The way  it balloons before gathering at the wrist. 

It’s a 70’s throwback for sure. Reminds her of the cover from the album Eddie brought over a few weeks ago, Little Queen. Robin has her face screwed up before Stevie even has it all the way off the rack. Hating it but trying to be supportive the way she has been throughout all of Stevie’s transition from Steve to who she is now.

“That is… wow!”

“It’s super ugly, and not even in a cool way.”

Robin slumps against the rack, sending a hanger cascading to the floor. She scrambles down to pick it up but Stevie doesn't miss her, “Oh thank god.”

“The best thing to happen to you was my sense of style not changing.”

“I know. You’d look good in anything, but my wardrobe offerings would have shrunk.” Seeming to remember the source of the freak out. She snaggs the shirt. “So what’s with this thing? I think even you’d struggle to make this look good.”

She takes it back from Robin’s disapproving grip. Holds it up to herself just to see the way Robin’s face contorts. The neckline is going to do nothing for her, not low cut enough to show off the way her boobs are coming in. The poof in the arms will accent her shoulders . And it’s so, so white.

“It made me think of Eddie,” she says, fingering the loose tie that’s hanging down the front of the blouse.

“It is very vampire lord,” Robin admits. “Might even make him look tan.”

Layers, knights would wear padded shirts under their armor and under those drapey shirts in cotton and linen. He’d been excited when he’d talked about it. Passionate. The way he got when he talked about Lord of the Rings or DnD. She holds the shirt even tighter against her, turns this way and that even though she can only kind of make out her reflection in the mirror at the end of the row. It’s an ugly shirt. But it makes her think of knights and Éowyn and paladins and Eddie.

Eddie flushed pink and beautiful, squirming in his seat in a different way than he usually does, talking about devotion and pledges. Duty and honor.

“I’m gonna buy it.”

“For Eddie?” Robin asks on a sigh. She already knows the answer.

“He’ll certainly get to enjoy it.”

The problem with being the one to come up with a plan is she has to be the one to follow through with it. 

Part of her knows the blouse would be enough. She could dress it up just right, flirt a little, and have Eddie eating out of the palm of her hand.

But the part of her that had a flair for the dramatic that rivaled her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to let her skimp unless she took every possible step to fully achieve her vision.

So she goes to the only person she knows who might be able to put the final and most crucial piece of the scene together.

Flopped across the Henderson couch, she’s making herself comfortable for her and Caludia’s date with Dallas. She’s too cozy to get up, decides it's easier to flop her head over the arm of the sofa to shout at Dustin while he rummages through the kitchen.

“So if I was trying to get my hands on some of that chain link armor stuff, would you know a drama club nerd who might have some?”

“Yeah, I have some.”

“You have some?” she can feel her eyebrows raised up into the middle of her forehead. She went to him for a reason, but surely she would have known if he was capable of affording something like that. Was that why she was footing the bill at the arcade every week, so he could have suit of armor money?

“Well it's not like it grew in the backyard, I made some.”

“Made some?” she flips around on the couch, this has become the kind of conversation she has to look at her brother and have him be rightside up.

He’s got his hand on his hip which isn't as commanding when he’s also holding a glass of milk in the other. It’s cute though, like he’s trying to channel her.

“What are you an echo? It's not like it was hard. You need some wire and pliers and patience.”

“And you?”

“Har har. Yes. Do you want to borrow it or not.” The threat is there even if she doesn’t think it’s that sincere. It’s fucking armor she doubts he could hide it that well if she wanted to just come in and take it.

But she makes nice anyway cause she’s a good sister. “Yes! Sorry.”

“Ma's got all that jewelry making stuff and you know I like to work with my hands when I'm talking with Suzie.”

“Disgusting.”

It was a joke. But it’s a joke that sends his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass as he startles. A good friend, even if she doubts he’ll ever acknowledge it, she stifles her laugh in the palm of her hand as he turns a shade of red that is medically concerning. 

“Ew, don't be crass, Stevie,” he stutters out.

“Is this even going to fit me,” she takes pity on him, dragging the topic back to her, “you made it for yourself half-pint.” The insult barely works, a summer growth spurt has left sophomore Dustin towering over her shoulder. Well, not towering, but he can see over her shoulder now.

“I made it for Mike, actually, so he could be his paladin at that convention in September. But he wouldn't let me measure him cause I ‘know what he looks like’ and it came out too big.”

“Oh so it'll be perfect for me.” She tries to make it a joke, but hearing that it was made for human stringbean Michael Wheeler has her nervous in the place where all of her ugliest body issues live. At least if Dustin had made it for himself it would have just looked like a crop top.

“Well, it still might not fit because of your,” he gestures vaguely at her front.

“Boobs, Henderson, they're boobs. You can call them-”

“Alright!” He shrieks, “I was trying to be respectful.”

“When have you ever been respectful? And don't say it's because I'm a girl, I'll push you into Lover’s Lake.”

“I wouldn't talk about El’s or Max’s is all I'm saying.” He says into the glass in his hand.

“But I can borrow it?”

“If it fits over your boobs,” he says the word like it's in a foreign language he's neither spoken nor heard, “you can keep it. I know it's for some weird sex thing with Eddie and I don't want it in my closet knowing what it's seen.”

Honestly it's for the best, because if this goes the way she thinks it's going to she really doesn't want to have to figure out how to get stains out of aluminum. But it's hard to resist the siren song of torturing Dustin. “I can't believe you're calling my sex life weird, are you saying there's something wrong with us? That we aren't a normal couple like everyone else? I thought you were a friend.”

“Nothing about Eddie is normal and he'd be offended you tried to suggest he was so I'd feel bad.”

“Yeah, good point loser.” She snuggles back down into the couch, she never really gives the episodes of Beauty and the Beast that much attention but this one should be wrapping up soon. “If it doesn't fit over my tits and it sees zero action do you want it back then?”

“After this conversation, I'm not sure I ever want to see you again. So just keep it. I'm sure Eddie will find some kind of use for it.”

There’s another quip at the tip of her tongue that she knows will send Dustin into fits, whether they would have been of rage or denial she’ll never know. The front door is slamming open bringing with it Claudia at the end of her swing shift.

“Stevie, dear,” she always bustles into the house like she’s carrying an armload of groceries even when it’s just her coming home in her uniform, “never go into nursing. Doctors are some of the dumbest fuckers on the face of the planet.”

It occurs to her, the attitude might be a family trait. Maybe that’s why they adopted her so easily. If only she could pull off the tiny hat the way Claudia can.

All of the pieces of her plan stay hidden for weeks. Folded up carefully in an oversized hatbox in the back of her Mom’s extended closet. The hat, a monstrosity purchased for a Derby she doesn’t think they’d even gone to left to gather dust or whatever it is hatboxes are meant to prevent.

The chainmail had fit. The weight of it as surprising as the cool feeling of it against her fingers.

She has the clothes, the accessories, even bought something silky and golden yellow to go underneath. Like the armor wasn’t going to be sexy enough for Eddie. Lingerie under lingerie like a hat on a hat, but she has to feel sexy or else she’s going to feel like a complete idiot.

She kind of already feels like an idiot. Something in the knowing that the top and the chain and the yellow bra with the flowers embroidered on it are all upstairs makes her anxious in a way she hasn’t ever been with Eddie before.

Hands haven’t been wandering during their movie nights. She keeps her feet kicked back behind her, crossed at the ankle, when they’re sharing a booth at dinner. There’s always a fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old chaperone in the car with them, sometimes even in the front seat as she pretends she’s just making sure they’re getting pre-prepared for their upcoming drivers tests.

And sitting next to him on the sofa, a whole cushion between them for the first time since ever, she watches the careful way he makes each line as he sketches and cross hatches what she can just make out to be a flowing haired knight. Her resolve breaks.

Stevie craves him the way she used to want ice cream on a hot day. The taste and feel of it an almost physical feeling, she would want it so bad. That’s what horny feels like now, she’s slowly realizing.

Before she can overthink it too much more, “I wanna try something.”

Normally she thinks of Eddie as having a kind of feline grace, he slinks and when he does fall off of something he isn’t supposed to be on he grins like it was always the plan to reacquaint himself violently with the floor. But the hint of suggestion in her voice has him perked up on the couch like a dog that just heard his leash come off the hook.

It's embarrassing how badly she wants him.

“What were you thinking, baby?”

He’s better at this than she is, at the lead up. The introduction. It’s a different skill to slowly introduce the concept of the strange, a change. Different than foreplay. She feels like she’s propositioning her proposition. The thing about slow, missionary in a room with the lights dimmed, no bandaids need to be ripped off before.

“You’ve roleplayed.”

“Not the kind I think you’re suggesting.” He’s impossibly more perked. Notebook and pencil still and poised like he’s about to start taking notes. “But I’ll try anything you want to do, however you want to do it.”

Maybe it isn't healthy, but she likes that about Eddie. That he’s all in on her, obsessed maybe. Willing to push himself out of his comfort zone for the sake of letting her have what she wants or try what she thinks she wants.

She likes how a few right words will turn him into putty she can squish and meld between her fingers.

“I’m gonna go get changed.”

Now that Eddie is waiting downstairs for something spectacular, it isn't so hard to pull that box down from its hideaway and slide each layer on. She already knew it wasn’t that hard to get the chain on and off by herself, she had tried it on. Maybe squires were for the heavy metal suits like on Scooby-doo. Or maybe it was about the intimacy and the ritual even back then, sliding on pieces and parts meant to keep the other person safe from harm knowing later if there was a chance to undress again you could see just how you helped save them.

Next time, she thinks, they should do this the other way around. She can get Eddie off a couple times, clean him up, and slowly dress him in each new layer. Until he’s lying in her bed armored in metal and cocooned by her cotton sheets. Safe from anything the world might want to do to him. Under her panties, and the sports leggings she’d decided where the sexier choice of pants, she can start to see the evidence of her arousal in the full length mirror.

It’s a good thing Dustin doesn’t want his stuff back.

Her finishing touches go on next. The gold ring with the small green stone that Robin had given her slides on to her index finger. Then around her neck her holy symbol, the guitar pick from Eddie’s first post-almost dying show. Tossed at her from the stage in an act of Bon Jovi badassery. She had gently poked a hole through it and now she slides it on its dainty, gold chain around her neck.

She tugs at her hair in the mirror, the one part that isn’t quite right. In her vision it’s finally grown out, beautiful waves that would fall out of the ugly helmet she doesn’t have when she pulled it off. Waves like Brooke Shields or the girl from One Day at a Time who married the guy from the band Eddie liked have instead of the bob she’s growing out now.

But it would grow and in the meantime she looked hot.

Stevie looked really hot. Swallowing around the saliva pooling in her mouth, she remembers she has a boyfriend to show that to.

Her first reward is the sight of Eddie's jaw dropped against the floor.

“You remember the other day, you were talking about how paladins could get leveled up so high they basically became gods too?”

Stevie knew that wasn't right, but she liked watching the nerd part of him war with the boyfriend part of him. One itching to correct the mistake and the other looking for a way for her to be correct in a roundabout way. Usually, it leaves him flushed and wide eyed, like his brain is overtaxed and with just a little more stress steam will start to burst from his ears to keep his brain from melting. Last week she had him arguing with the Party that humanoid didn't mean hobbits couldn't also be little rabbits.

She decides to take pity on him now, his wheels skidding blankly on wet road.

“I want you to worship me.”

He's agreeing, she thinks, before he's even sure what he's agreeing to. Dropping to his knees in front of her just like the worshiper she imagined: awe struck and devoted. Her divine intervention on his unfinished prayer kept him alive. Eddie Munson would let her kill him if she wanted to, if it suited her whims.

Good thing she wants to keep him for forever.

His hands slide up the back of her legs. She can feel the hot trail of them from the calf up to the thigh.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Presses a kiss to her knee, her thigh, the chain that covers her hip. “My hero, my knight.”

In the end, she didn’t need the blouse or the bra and panty set. She still has her chainmail on when she eases them both down onto the couch. Running her fingers through Eddie’s hair from his sweat damp temples to the tangling ends she’s careful to keep it from getting wrapped in the links while he rests on top of her.

“I don’t know where you came up with that, my lady, but I think that was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

She tugs at the end of his hair just to watch the way the lingering arousal dances across his face. “I got that from the way you creamed your jeans while you were playing with my clit.”

“I am but a man, my golden sun. When a paladin of Apollo is before me what can I do but show my utter devotion.”

“You liked it? It was good for you?”

Maybe it’s a testament to how good it was that Eddie isn’t immediately off the couch. He only shifts enough to rest his chin on her stomach. Looking her in the eyes or maybe at the bottom swell of her breasts.

“Steph, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re a vision in everything you put on,” he assures, “but where did you even get this?”

“That’s the bad news, if you’re hoping for a better fitting part two I think I’m gonna have to give Dustin my measurements.”

[sassymajesty]

Alycias newest post w the black pants, white button up and vest PUHLEEEEEASE !!$&! I just pictured Clarke calling out sick and Lexa coming over w that bouquet of tulips in oifan. The way Clarke would loathe the fact that she missed seeing that outfit in action all day at work 😩🤣

[grabs your shoulders] listen to me. i've been going to sleep and waking up thinking about this for the past two days. it's gotten out of hand. [grabs your cheeks] i cannot thank you enough for this.

because consider this—

—arriving at clarke's place around 4pm (ungodly early for the hectic time they're having at the company) with a target bag and takeout

raven, who by then is working with them, gives lexa her keys and tells her to let herself in because when she left, clarke was running a fever and would never get up from bed. and lexa does just that. she's been in the apartment often enough that she beelines for clarke's bedroom and finds her financial analyst/friend with benefits (yes, just that, nothing romantic happening here, no ma'am) under three blankets, barely keeping her eyes open

"oh, you're actually sick. i could have sworn you were playing rookie."

clarke's eyes get wide open, as if she's scared her fever has made her hallucinate. "lexa?" then takes her in "you brought me flowers?"

with a solemn nod, lexa places the flowers and all her bags on a dressing table, and sits beside clarke. brushes sweaty hair out of her forehead, lets out a worried hum when she feels how warm clarke is.

"you look like a dream. i can't believe i missed all this vest action."

"it's the only reason i came by. i couldn't let this outfit go to waste." but then she's digging around clarke's closet to find fresh pajamas (she knows where they are, she's borrowed them before) "can you take a lukewarm shower by yourself? it'll help with a fever. and have you eaten at all?"

clarke says that yes, she can shower by herself, she's not a child. and yes, she has eaten... some toast raven brought her before she left. it's the way lexa purses her lips that shows she doesn't like that one bit.

lexa helps clarke get up, take the sweaty clothes off and get in the shower. then she leaves her there with the door ajar just in case, and gets fresh linen for the bed, a vase with water for the tulips that go on clarke's nightstand and cutlery for the soup she brought.

when clarke gets off and finds her with cozy fleece pajamas and wet hair, lexa makes her sit down with her legs crossed and back towards the edge of the bed so lexa can gently blow dry her hair while she eats all of her soup. "yes, all of it, clarke."

once she's all fed and has taken more meds, lexa tucks her back in with enough blankets for her to sweat the fever out, and takes her shoes off before settling beside clarke and looking at her like she'll stay there all night just to make sure clarke is okay.

"do you want to take a nap?"

"i've slept all day, i'm more awake now."

then lexa reaches into the target bag, "i've brought you this. raven mentioned you used to play video games when you were sick in college. i thought it might be the cure." and very nonchalantly hands clarke a white, red and pink box.

"you bought me a nintendo switch?" clarke is in pure disbelief as she stares at the gaming console for a solid minute before opening it

"i figured the cozy games might be some comfort. and you can play from bed. i hope the color is okay."

"you bought me a nintendo switch. the animal crossing edition."

"the guy at the store said it comes pre installed. i figured it'd be a good start as any. i'm sure there is an array of different games for download, if that's not something you'd be interested in."

clarke knows that when lexa starts being super formal, it's because she's getting more and more nervous. so clarke just boots it up and turns to give her a soft kiss on her cheek in thanks, "have you ever played animal crossing?"

"i have no idea what it is. i didn't even know what a switch was until a couple hours ago."

"then get comfortable, you're in for a long night."

and they share a pillow while clarke introduces lexa to the world of animal crossing. lexa is happy to watch clarke play, checking her fever every now and then, bringing her teas and cuddling her even with her business casual outfits.

when 8pm rolls around, lexa finally gives in and borrows a pajama set (more lightweight than clarke's) and cooks them dinner while clarke sits at the counter, still playing. they eat, clarke takes more meds, then they go back into bed. by then, clarke is exhausted again and uses the last of her energy to create a new use in the nintendo switch for lexa to play — and lexa herself has no intention of playing, but she entertains the idea for clarke's sake.

clarke falls asleep in her arms, guiding her about what controls to use. lexa doesn't try to move her, only stay there, serving as a pillow, while she checks clarke's fever with her lips on her forehead, makes sure she's warm as she can be.

it's 2pm when clarke wakes up again, her body hurting from sleeping the whole day, but feeling good as new.

and she finds lexa fast asleep, with the console on her hand, halfway through hopping islands to find a new villager. she pulls lexa closer to her, enjoying the warmth and the way lexa reaches for her even in her sleep.

tomorrow she might actually play rookie and talk her boss into doing the same so they can spend another day playing video games in bed.

[wrathofrats]

Adding onto me and @divine-misfortunes delta lore bc we had a conversation that led to this fic and the entire thing destroyed me so I hope it destroys everyone else too

To understand this fic please see this and this, this fic acts as somewhat of a third installment. I’m so proud of this one honestly I’m loving this little series

Pebble visits delta after Terzo dies, omega confronts him afterwards.

Wc: 2k

Rating: teen

Warnings for: hurt no comfort, light descriptions of bodily damage/harm, major character death, implied upcoming character death, complex morality (no one is in the wrong or right), its angst yall and its sad.

Pebble twirls the key in his hands before putting it in the lock. He debates the entire time. Argues with himself through every click of the pins if he should be visiting delta again. He does this everytime, mulls the situation over in his mind until the idea feels like it’s been pureed into mush. Ultimately as the door handle turns, pebble always decides he has to.

Terzo died a couple months ago. Murdered in cold blood while the ghouls were left to fend for themselves as the church scrambled. None of them handled it well, the worst of it leading to pebble barely leaving him room for a month, let alone to make the visit to see delta.

Part of him hopes there won’t be anything there when he opens the door. Hopes that delta succumbed and his suffering is over for his own sake. He was locked in this room ages ago after an attack. Pebble tries not to blame delta for it, his own mind and body are trying to kill him, honestly he doesn’t think he knew any better. But it was for everyone’s safety, they didn’t want to risk it happening again. The other selfish half of him hopes for the worst so he won’t have to hear delta talk about their beloved papa.

Terzo used to make the visit with pebble. Deltas blind and unwavering obedience made Terzo happy, if not feeling ever guilty about what happened to him. He partially blames himself, thought delta has always insisted he shouldn’t.

Their eyes never meet. Terzo can’t stand to see the deathly color of his irises. The visits only last a couple minutes simply to make delta happy even if they end up making the other two wildly uncomfortable. Pebble winces whenever delta asks if he’s allowed to be let out yet, if omega found a solution. He doesn’t notice both of them sharing a knowing look, a solemn expression on their faces.

The sight of delta gets worse as time passes. The color in his eyes eternally fading into a soulless black, parts of his skin unnaturally stretched to cover the bone that juts out, pebble sometimes wonders if it’s even painful to him anymore. If the quintessence that shreds his humanity affects his ability to feel it eat at him or if it’s taken even that away from him also.

“You came back” delta beams, standing from his desk to greet pebble.

A small lamp illuminates the room in a warm yellow hue. It’s the only light he’s given besides the overhead fluorescent bulb that had been wired into the ceiling. There’s no windows for natural sunlight, only bright blinding white like he’s on some kind of display, or the old lamp pebble brought him. Dust particles float through the dingy light, pebble wonders the last time anything has been properly cleaned up there.

“Yeah, sorry, been hectic around the abbey” pebble mumbles into deltas shoulder.

“I thought you had gone and forgotten about me”

It’s a dry attempt at humor but the guilt makes pebbles stomach churn. He knows he hasn’t been back in a while, weeks, a month or more at most.

Pebble doesn’t mean to be away for so long. The weight of being the only ghoul who acts like delta is even still alive is almost too heavy to bear for him sometimes. He doesn’t think he’s even heard Delta's name spoken in months. The rest of the ghouls think he’s dangerous, or too far gone that he’s not worth the time. The burden to make up that energy falls onto pebble, eating him alive.

It’s always long stretches of weeks where he can’t bear to see him, or times where he should probably just bring a pillow and blanket up there since he practically lives in the room.

Neither feel good

“I could never forget about you sea glass” pebble finally says, stepping away from the embrace.

“Sea glass?” Delta gives him a confused look that makes pebbles chest ache.

“Yeah, just a nickname, do you like it?”

He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, the small shred of hope that delta even remembered that pebble hasn’t seen him in a while soon fizzled out at the reality that delta doesn’t remember most things anymore.

“Its nice” he smiles. “Has papa fallen ill? He hasn’t come to see me in a while”

The question is innocent but it puts daggers in pebbles chest. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. He could avoid the question entirely and hope by the time the topic is changed he will have already forgotten about the passing thought, but he knows that delta will always come back to this question, even if he can avoid it for the time being.

He never told delta what happened. It would absolutely break the last bit of him that’s still in there and he doesn’t know if he can lose what he has left of his friend.

“He did a little bit ago, maybe you just forgot again” pebble mumbles to avoid the situation entirely. It’s always the debate to tell him old stories as if they happened yesterday, and praying he loses himself enough that Terzo would never come up again. He’s honestly not sure he will even remember if he decided to tell him. Doesn’t think either of them deserve the pain to speak of it. It’s not worth it if it will only be temporary.

It’s late when he returns to the ghoul wings. He walks alone in the dark and carries his jacket despite the cold. A static numb feeling from seeing his friend still in his decaying state combated by the wind that feels like needles poking into his skin.

The common room is warm and still lit when he walks in, the smell of artificial cheese making him cringe from his stomach still not being settled.

Omega stands to steer pebble into the kitchen before he can make a beeline for his room. A look of tired worry lighting up a bit when he sees pebble walk in after the long night. It’s bitter sweet, they may not be on good terms but omega still cares about him.

Pebble doesn’t want to admit that he’s starving when omega sets the bowl of Mac and cheese in front of him. Clearly not left from the dinner he missed, no, omega made it afterwards knowing pebble would be back and the steam coming from it only makes a knot form in his throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” omega asks, sitting across from him.

He doesn’t know where to begin with that answer

His instinctual reaction is to get angry, shove the bowl away and spit something along the lines of “well no one else will fucking do anything for him” but the longer he sits with the bitter words they just die, too exhausted to want to fight like he usually would in this situation.

He doesn’t want to blame his mates for not putting themselves through what he does. The horrific scenario of watching your friend be ripped apart at the seams, slowly dying in front of you isn’t something he would wish on anyone. Another part of him just desperately wants someone else to care. Pebble doesn't like to think about it too much because the internal debate gnaws at his heart and makes him resent more than he wants to.

After more than a couple seconds pebble realizes he hasn’t answered omega who is staring at him concerned, and honestly he doesn’t know if he can choke out an excuse without tears.

“Pebble.. I’m worried about you”

“I don’t need to be worried about” pebble bites back, voice pitching as he wrinkles his nose in an attempt to stave off his crying.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself” omega reasons. He sounds soft, as if trying to soothe the ghoul on the brink of a breakdown in front of him. Hoping the words will bring him back down.

“What else am I supposed to do? Leave him like the rest of you?!” Pebble nearly wails.

Omega expected that kind of answer. Pebbles said it to him more times than he can count. Blaming him for leaving delta and not helping him even after he’s insisted there’s nothing he can do beyond what he has, or blaming him for not visiting even though it makes him sick. He can never come up with an excuse that sounds reasonable to his conscience, no matter how much the words carve into him.

He also blames himself, and maybe a sick part of him just wants to hear pebble berate him to quell the ache in his bones that he’s done something terribly wrong, to hear it from someone else so it’s not just an absent thought he can ignore.

Honestly maybe that’s why he stayed up. He loves pebble, would do anything for the younger ghoul but a part of him feels like he needs to care for pebble to make up for the way everyone abandoned delta. He wants to prove himself, wants the acknowledgement from the ghoul that hates him most that he’s not actually evil.

Omega tries to respond rationally, all things considered.

“He’s not well pebble, what if he did something to you?”

“After what happened he’s not the one i'm worried about omega.” Pebble grits. Fork abandoned on the table, eyes low to dissipate the tears.

Some sick selfish part of pebble latches onto the thought. He almost wishes delta would hurt him so he would have an excuse to stop seeing him without the guilt eating him alive. A motif in his brain of hoping for the worst of his friend partially to end deltas suffering, partially to end his own.

Omega thinks the same in his own awful corner of his mind. Just one incident to prove he’s not a monster and that no one goes up there for a reason. For delta to hurt pebble enough to scare him and have him running back to ask omega to heal him and admit he was wrong.

It’s mostly to help his own guilt, and he knows that.

The words feel like a sticky residue in his mouth as omega tries to conjure a response.

“I didn’t do it pebble. You know that.” He focuses his gaze down, as if even he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying. He didn’t do it, he’s right about that. But it’s hard to not convince himself there was something he could’ve done.

“You dont do a lot of things don’t you?”

“That’s not-“

“I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight omega”

Pebble rushes out of the room without another bite. The tears flow freely down his face with a choked sob while his emotions all flood out at once. Omega doesn’t get up. He sits in the dingy yellow light of the kitchen and watches the dust particles float through it. He wonders when the last time the kitchen has been properly cleaned.

[thealogie]

my new pet theory after reading American/British cinematographer blurbs about all the previously mentioned examples is that it actually isn't one specific thing, it's the general commitment to allow imperfection and give an image a soul instead of following all the purely technical cinematography "rules" to a t.

like sure, you want something to be sharp, well lit, you want to have contrast instead of flatness, you want to compose something along thirds so it looks balanced to the human eye, you don't want everything to be super grainy etc etc but the thing is we've gotten to a technical point where it's very easy to do all of these things and when you do all of them at the same time it just looks soulless and terrible.

So what you can do to avoid that is:

Shoot on film (challengers)

Use vintage/exotic lenses (challengers, civil war)

Allow actors faces to go into darkness, allow imperfectly exposed images, allow black, crank up the ISO of the camera and use tiny amounts of light only (better call Saul)

Color grade in a genius way (add noise, grain, do things with saturation and contrast that aren't the technical standard)

Play with framing and what we're used to seeing as a balanced image (Mr robot)

Play with movement in unexpected ways, for example zooming or moving very rigidly (Wes Anderson). When handheld first became more of a mainstream thing it was so new and exciting as well!

Play with formats, colors (black and white), weird view angles (fish eye) and more.

If you're interested in cinematography even a little bit watch poor things. It does many of these things at the same time, incredibly well and in a way that actually supports the story too.

There's a cinematographer who says once he's done setting up a shot, having framed and lit it and thinking it is perfect, he always turns off one light. Or he kicks the camera a bit so the framing changes in an unexpected way. He says otherwise the perfection will suffocate the image. I think that might be what we're seeing with good omens.

I think franchises are more likely to fall into this rut of delivering a technically perfect product. Especially when there's a lot of vfx and post production down the pipeline there are so many factors a dp can easily get scared to not deliver what is needed in the next step. When something aggressively has to be sold to & by a streaming service like Amazon there is often pressure to take no risks. Comedy as a genre also has less examples of a wide range of different good cinematography styles. When I think of the word comedy the term "high-key" (aka well lit) comes up as we were taught in film school, according to the sit com standard. And modern day fantasy/magical realism comedy? I think is hard to pull off in a way that actually resonates and creates something new (not to say it couldn't have been done better sgdjdjs. looking at Gavin Finney's filmography I don't see anything particularly significant so...)

That's my two (three... five) cents. Thanks for the research rabbit hole on this Sunday evening 🫡

I love that this inspired a whole very nuanced and well researched essay on a Sunday. Thank you!!!

[blood-orange-juice]

ok so ive never properly played genshin and don’t plan to but i know a bit about it’s lore and characters and i think it’s really neat. however i have thousands of hours on ffxiv. on that note please explain why graha and childe are similar. i only have very basic knowledge on childe and i gotta know

Fellow ffxiv enjoyer. <3

(anyone asking me about G'raha has a 100% chance of getting a wall of text and I'm not apologising for that. enjoy your wall of text)

I'm not entirely sure I'm not a case of a person with a hammer to whom everything resembles a nail, but I do think they are the same archetype.

Sweet characters who could have been perfect sidekicks (who still are perfect sidekicks) but listened to too many epic tales as kids and found themselves in a wrong place at a wrong time and now have to play a key role in some universe-changing story.

Both are defined mostly by their stubborness, they are not very suitable for the roles they've chosen and fail over and over again until they do it somewhat right (barely).

No matter how badass they look, their power is not their own, G'raha is a glorified technician of someone else's miracle and little else than a living key, Childe wields an art of old Khaenri'ah without fully understanding it. It's all borrowed from someone else who needed them to achieve a goal.

They do look badass, but mostly because they larp. I'm honestly not sure which one enjoys theatrics more.

Civilisations that created the magic they use specialised in perversion of the natural order of things. They try to use it in relatively noble ways and mostly hurt themselves but the flavour is there.

Both are unbelievably tragic and both somehow make their stories seem almost lighthearted. Complete absense of self-pity. I think that's what makes them both so charming, it's a rare trait.

Both have an incredible capacity for loyalty and love and an incredibly twisted view of what relationships look like. "I'll cross time and space for you, I'll die for you, I'll build a city for you, I'll live for you but please don't ask me to share my plans." "I'll sacrfice my own health and respect of my subordinates to keep my brother's happyness, probably my humanity too, but don't expect me to actually interact with him."

Both have something that looks like self-sacrificial tendencies bordering on suicidality while being, if we are honest, a self-serving trait (partially born out of low self-esteem but still self-serving). They want to live in an old myth and sacrificing oneself is a perfectly reasonable price for that.

Huge egos. And I mean Huge Egos. It's a bit less obvious in Graha's case but I know the type, you see guys like that in PhD programs a lot.

Huge dorks. Both of them.

Both are stuck somewhere between human and non-human and, hmm... their ability to remain human is the most astonishing quality of both. By all accounts, neither should have. They somehow did.

Both are incapable of lying to the point where a third of each fandom headcanons them as autistic. Both are somewhat all right with tricking people without technically lying (although Childe had more practice).

Both are secretive because no one would understand anyway.

FF XIV is a kinder story, so it's easy to overlook, but technically G'raha is a case of body horror, accepts the role of a villain for a while and hides from the player way too much. Hmmm... Where else have I seen it. Hmm. Oh right. That ginger guy from Genshin.

Minor things:

Both are little shits and enjoy annoying the hell out of people they dislike.

Abysmally bad fashion sense. There should be a name for this particular type and level of bad. I don't think I've seen this anywhere else.

And then there's the colour scheme. Red+black+white+blue and red+black+light grey+blue (it's an "anime magician" color profile, I think. black-red-white as alchemy colours + blue as pure magic/something elemental). Childe doesn't quite fit but still the combination is rare.

They way they talk. Dear gods. Who the hell talks like that.

Here's where the similarities end.

One is morally grey but ultimately a good guy (technically. I think the point of ShB was that Emet and G'raha are almost the same), another is a morally grey but still (kind of) a bad buy.

At every step of his story Graha is surrounded by people who love or at least appreciate him, Childe is pretty much on his own and surrounded by people who are either shitty or clueless.

G'raha is kind. Truly and astonishingly kind, in a doomed world he chooses to love everything he touches. Silly little priest of hope. Of all the things he has done this is the most wondrous, I think. Not the time travel, not the city he founded, just being able to remain kind after everything that happened to him.

Childe is... well, Childe. I think he is a deeply decent person (to the point of having a visceral distaste for any kind of unfairness) and he's idealistic but he's indifferent more than he is kind. Empathy usually develops only when someone has shown the person empathy first and, as far as we know, he didn't have much of that in his life.

Also G'raha builds things. Childe breaks things. Childe breaks pretty much everything he touches.

One is an archeologist and a mage and another is a warrior.

I think these differences are caused mostly by the settings they were put into. Childe raised in Sharlayan would have been a very different person. G'raha trained by a voidsent and shipped off to Garlean military would look very much like Childe.

G'raha also has a beautiful character development arc. I love his ShB role. He has this huge ego in the raids and is insufferable and then we see an older and wiser him with a bunch of actual achievements and a bad case of impostor syndrome (trying to do anything real always humbles a person, we all know that real world is held together by sticks and scotch tape. honestly, this change alone is beautiful). And he gets to be an actual hero when he abandons all hope to be Important and resigns to die as a nameless villain if it saves everyone and spares his loved ones from heartbreak.

Childe's character development is yet to happen and I'm not hoping for much but we'll see.

The only difference that definitely isn't created by setting is that G'raha is naturally manipulative. In a kind-hearted way and mostly for the sake of better larp but he isn't that straightforward. Childe is spectacularly blunt for all his mysteriousness.

As a bonus, they both compare main characters to stars, but in completely different ways.

"No doubt your heroism will be the star by which I chart my course," says G'raha to the WoL.

Childe mentions the morning star, which is, of course, pretty and a good companion to a lonely traveler, but also it's not a celestial body you can chart your course by.

It's a guy whose signature weapon is called "Polar Star" and his first artifact set was full of nautical themes, so I think he fully understands what he's saying. "You are my friend but I won't change anything in my life for you."

So I don't think his story will be anything like G'raha's, his life took a different turn very long ago. I do think they used to be similar as kids, bookish boys who dreamed of adventure and being special. So it's fun to compare.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. <3

[niobiumao3]

Updates! Completed the Lego-only datapad, really like how it came out:

I got 4 different colors of the blue rounds, ultimately I went with satin light blue but I think any of these is a good match. For the top, a good ol' 1 x 1 calculator piece.

Additionally I got Tech a set of tools and some odds and ends to make him a workspace:

Next up, improved Jedi Phee lightsaber, using the transparent yellow bar. Plus, some artifacts/treasure hunting pieces for her:

Finally, a mini-Maurader MOC the housemate spotted at the local shop:

I have a second MOC coming, but I really like this one because it has a minifig seat :D

Parts list for the odds and ends below the cut

Phee's lightsaber 4L bar 30374, transparent yellow lightsaber hilt 64567, metallic silver

Phee's ancient wonders 1 x 2 decorated 3069bpb1016, tablet 2 x 2 decorated 3068bpb0929, pirate map minifig utensil key 40359a, chrome antique brass 1 x 2 decorated 3069bpb0257, tarot card (tower) minifig utensil sextant/quadrant 30154, pearl gold minifig utensil statuette/trophy 90398, pearl gold

Burning hourglass minifig utensil hourglass 23945pb03, pearl gold sand minifig plume 64647, transparent light orange 1 x 1 round 20482, transparent clear

Altar of Blue Fire 1 x 1 plate 3024, transparent red 1 x 2 plate 3023, transparent red 1 x 1 cone 3024, transparent light purple Wave Rounded Straight 6126b, transparent light blue 1 x 1 round 98138, transparent light blue

Tech's pure-Lego datapad 1 x 1 decorated 3070bpb174, calculator 1 x 1 round 98138, transparent light blue satin 1 x 2 modified 2540, dark blue gray

Tech's tools Mnifig utensil space scanner 30035, black Minifigure utensil set 11402, flat silver

Tech's clutter 2 x 2 decorated 15210pb007, road sign Slope 30 1 x 2 x 2/3 decorated 85984pb137 Slope 30 1 x 2 x 2/3 decorated 85984pb135 Slope 30 1 x 2 x 2/3 decorated 85984pb021

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 5

A couple of hours after finishing up at the bakery, I walked into my apartment, tossing my keys onto the counter and heading straight for the shower. The hot water was exactly what I needed to unwind after the day. My thoughts drifted back to Steve—his easy smile, the way he moved through the bakery like he belonged there, and that hug. Get a grip, Dani, I told myself. You barely know the guy.

As I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, my phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen, seeing a text from my best friend, Sofia.

Sofia: Got invited to this PR party for an art gallery in Manhattan tonight. Wanna come with me? Free drinks, fancy people, and you could use a night out. Don’t make me go alone!

I smiled at the text, rolling my eyes. Sofia was always dragging me to events like this, but after a day in the bakery—and the unexpected encounter with Steve—I figured maybe a night out wasn’t such a bad idea.

Me: Alright, I’m in. What time are we going?

Sofia: *I’ll pick you up in an hour. Wear something hot. ;)

I laughed, setting my phone down. I quickly dressed, slipping into a sleek black dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, and paired it with my favorite heels. I kept my makeup simple but elegant, adding a bold red lip for a pop of color. I loosely curled my hair quickly seeing as I was running out of time. After a final check in the mirror, I grabbed my clutch and headed out to meet Sofia.

The art gallery was stunning, all modern lines and high ceilings, with abstract pieces displayed on the walls. It was the kind of place that made you feel like you should know something about art—even if you didn’t. Sofia and I arrived fashionably late, as usual, and we were immediately handed champagne flutes as we entered the party.

“Not bad, huh?” Sofia said, taking a sip of her drink and scanning the room. “Fancy art, fancy people… but more importantly, free booze.”

I laughed, clinking my glass against hers. “You always know how to find the best parties.”

We wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork and enjoying the drinks. It was a fun, lighthearted atmosphere, and after a couple of glasses of champagne, I was starting to relax and really enjoy myself. That was, until I spotted someone familiar across the room.

Steve.

Standing across the room, in a corner near one of the larger paintings, was none other than Steve Rogers. He was dressed sharply in a tailored suit, chatting with a few people, but as if sensing my gaze, he turned and locked eyes with me.

Sofia followed my gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the hottie?”

I shook my head, still in disbelief. “You won’t believe this, but that’s Steve. The guy from the gym—and my bakery. The one I was telling you about.”

Her eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re kidding me. Wait, did he follow you here?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t think so. At least, I hope not.”

Sofia smirked. “Well, go say hi. I’ll be over by the bar if you need me.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking as I made my way over to him. "Are you stalking me now?" I teased, stopping just short of him.

Steve’s lips curved into a lopsided grin, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Stalking? No, just enjoying a night out with a friend,” he replied, motioning toward the group he had been talking to.

I glanced over at the group, noticing a few familiar faces from the art world. “A friend, huh?”

He laughed softly. “I swear, it’s purely coincidental. What about you? Didn’t expect to see you here either.”

I shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, enjoying the banter. “A friend dragged me out. I couldn’t say no.”

“Well,” Steve said, his voice dropping just slightly, “I’m glad she did. You look…” He paused, his eyes trailing over my dress before meeting mine again. “Incredible.”

The compliment sent a small thrill through me, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Rogers.”

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. “So, what do you think of the gallery?”

I took a sip of my drink, glancing around. “It’s beautiful. I don’t usually make it to events like this, but I’m glad I came.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still on me, the energy between us shifting from playful to something warmer. “Me too.”

For a while, we stood there, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He told me more about his "friend" inside the gallery—someone who was helping curate the event—and I filled him in on the bakery, how my dad would probably still be trying to “test” him if he were around.

“So,” I said, leaning against the wall beside him, “are you going to take up baking full-time, or was that a one-day thing?”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to being a part-time apprentice. I don’t want to steal your job or anything.”

"Thank you," I said with a wink.

“So, Dani, what brings you to a fancy art gallery on a Saturday night?”

“My friend Sofia dragged me out,” I said, nodding toward the bar where Sofia was now chatting with a group of people. “She got an invite, and I figured why not?”

“And here I was thinking you came just to see me,” Steve teased, his eyes twinkling.

I laughed, taking a sip of my champagne. “If I had known you were going to be here, maybe I would have.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Maybe,” I said coyly, enjoying the playful banter between us. There was something so easy about talking to him, like we’d known each other for much longer than just a few days.

Sofia had made herself busy with some PR world friends and I was happy to get to spend more time with Steve and champagne lots of it.

"Are you an art fan," I asked as he stared at an abstract painting.

"I wouldn't go as far as saying fan, but sometimes they have some good stuff." He answered honestly.

"I never understand them," I admit.

"Well apparently...." he drags "its about how it makes you feel." He finishes making me laugh.

"This makes me feeeeeeeel....dizzy." I giggle.

"I think thats the champagne." Steve laughs. I finish my glass and he takes the empty glass handing it over to a waiter who takes it.

As the party began to wind down and people started trickling out of the gallery, Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Do you want me to walk you home?”

I laughed softly, glancing out the window at the sparkling Manhattan skyline. “I live in Brooklyn. That’s one long walk, even for you.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that effortlessly charming way. “Fair enough. Let’s grab a cab then.”

We made our way outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the gallery. I shivered slightly, and without hesitation, Steve draped his jacket over my shoulders again. The gesture was automatic, like it was second nature to him to take care of people.

“Thanks,” I said softly, pulling the jacket tighter around myself.

“Of course,” he replied, looking down at me with that soft, genuine smile of his.

Steve stepped out to the edge of the street and flagged down a yellow cab. The car pulled up to the curb, and he opened the door for me with a small, teasing bow. “After you, Dani.”

I smirked at his old-fashioned gesture, but I liked it. It felt nice, different from the usual cocky bravado I was used to from other guys. I slid into the back seat of the cab, and he followed, settling in beside me.

The driver glanced back at us. “Where to?”

I gave him the address of my loft in Brooklyn, and we pulled away from the curb, merging into the late-night traffic of Manhattan.

The city lights flickered by as we drove across the bridge, the skyline fading in the rearview mirror. For the first few minutes, we sat in comfortable silence, the hum of the city buzzing faintly outside the cab windows. I glanced at Steve out of the corner of my eye, noticing how relaxed he looked, his gaze out the window as if he was taking it all in.

“So,” Steve finally broke the silence, turning to me, “I have to ask—did you have fun tonight?”

I laughed, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “I’m more of a simple girl, but I actually had a good time. The art was nice, but the company was better.” I glanced at him meaningfully, enjoying the way his expression softened just a little.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, his tone just as playful. “I was worried I’d scared you off with all this fancy Manhattan stuff.”

“Please,” I waved a hand dismissively. “It takes more than that to scare me.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Good to know. You seem like someone who can handle just about anything.”

The cab passed over the bridge, leaving the city behind, and the familiar streets of Brooklyn came into view. The conversation flowed easily between us, the teasing banter turning into something softer, more genuine. There was something about Steve—something that made me want to open up to him, even though we’d only known each other for a short time.

“So, you really don’t get tired of the whole ‘Captain America’ thing?” I asked, half-joking but genuinely curious. “People must look at you like some kind of superhero everywhere you go.”

Steve gave me a lopsided grin. “It comes with the territory, I guess. But honestly? It’s not as glamorous as people think. Most days, I’m just trying to keep up with everything.”

“Yeah?” I tilted my head, intrigued. “Like what?”

He shrugged, his gaze turning contemplative as he stared out the window. “Just… life. The world’s different now than it was when I first got into all this. And sometimes, it feels like I’m playing catch-up. Trying to figure out where I fit.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected. I wasn’t used to hearing people talk like that—but it made him feel more real, more human.

“I get that,” I said quietly, resting my head against the back of the seat. “Life changes fast. Sometimes it feels like everything’s shifting, and you’re just trying to keep up with it.”

Steve glanced over at me, his expression softening. “Exactly. And then you meet someone, or find something that makes it all feel… less chaotic. Like it makes sense.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me, but the way his eyes held mine made my heart skip a beat. I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment.

Before I could respond, the cab pulled up in front of my building, breaking the spell between us. The driver turned around. “That’ll be 60 even.”

Steve immediately reached for his wallet, pulling out a hundred and handing it to the driver before I could protest. “Keep the change.”

“Hey, I could’ve paid for that,” I said, giving him a playful glare as we both climbed out of the cab.

He smirked, shutting the door behind him. “You can get the next one.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled as we walked toward the entrance of my building. The streets were quiet, the soft hum of Brooklyn at night creating a peaceful atmosphere. When we reached the front door of my apartment, I hesitated, turning to face him.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” I said softly, feeling a little awkward now that we were at the end of the night. “I had a good time.”

Steve smiled, his hands sliding into his pockets . “I did too. Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

My heart fluttered at the suggestion. I nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the quiet between us filled with something unspoken. Steve stepped a little closer, his hand brushing against mine as if testing the waters.

“I should probably head back,” he said softly, his voice low.

I nodded, feeling the moment slip away. “Yeah, of course.”

But neither of us moved, and before I knew what I was doing, I leaned up, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. Steve blinked in surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face as I pulled back.

“Goodnight, Rogers,” I said, stepping back toward the door.

“Goodnight, Dani,” he replied, his voice warm.

With one last smile, I turned and headed inside, my heart racing as I closed the door behind me. I leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I couldn’t deny the chemistry between us, the way he made me feel… I barely knew him. Yet, somehow, that didn’t seem to matter.

As I headed up to my loft, I couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected connection with Steve might lead.

[fosermi]

since animation is literally your major, is there any details from the Sonic X Shadow generations clip we saw today that you might want to talk about?

OK SO major spoilers under the cut for the preview of the Sonic x Shadow gen prolouge

i was WAY too busy fangirling to give a proper analysis BUT when it does come out fully i might just do one, also please take note im still in my second year of studying to be an animator so these are purely my opinion. for now i can point out a few things that i genuinely want to talk about.

first thing that stood out to me was that 2D-3D style of animation, definitely something i dont think we've seen be done for the franchise before (correct me if im wrong) and it reminds me so much of RWBY in a way. There were some bits that, to me, looked choppy BUT THEN AGAIN those were the parts that needed to be choppy for emphasis reasons, specifically it was at the start where Shadow is having some sort of break down. its obvious from how choppy his movements are in comparison to the smoothness of the rest of the preview that shadow was genuinely shaking. with that 2D-3D style that choppyness looks janky as fuck but its so perfect for conveying how uptight and bottled up shadow's emotions are. its so hard to try and capture what im saying but trust me its there!!

second thing i wanna point out are the camera angles. they shift so much to serve the dramatization of the scenes and its so ✨JUICY✨like i shit you not, i cant stop staring at the different camera angles and going "oooohhh ahhhhh" and trying to rationalize the reasoning for those angles because HOLY SHIT they're so good and they actually do serve a really good cinematic purpose!! its easy for people to get lost in the changing of perspectives and camera angles but this? oh this does it so good that it actually drives the plot FORWARD instead of it seeming like separate scenes mashed together.

third thing I'll point out is the scene color shifts. when doing something cinematic, ambiance is key. so when the scene shifted from this soft and comforting blue hues

to this eerie red so suddenly with our only warning being a slight shaking of the screen??

that made it such a surprise that it gets the viewer on alert!! a good thing!!!

now i can go on and on about the different colors for each scene but let me just touch up on this one scene in specific:

it quickly goes from hopeful gold/good light to ominous black/no light, very contrasting, which can mean oh so many things... most notably; maria's hope vs shadow's resolve.

fourth thing ill touch up on are the frames where shadow runs. specifically the one where he runs out of frame from maria.

we get almost 1 frame of a model and then...

these frames here? chefs kiss, perfect. showing us just how fast shadow really is, so fast that we the light from his airshoes doesnt catch up until a fraction of a second later!!! even the glow in the doorway changes to reflect that short millisecond split.

fifth thing ill point out and its a small little thing thats making me absolutely rabid:

he fucking glows.

and yeah, sure, you can argue that its bounce light, its most probably is bounce light since its under harsh light conditions BUT if that was the case the glow wouldnt be this vibrant of a shade and it would give an aura and not specifically on his markings. just a little thing i noticed that i will get to screaming about when i post this.

last thing i wanna touch up on is the sound effects. they were just so very crunchy and pared up with the animation style?? oh it was delicious!! i have some issues with the lip sync but then again they were trying to go for an anime/western cartoon hybrid style here so its bound to be off on the lip sync.

anyway, thanks for listening to my silly ramblings, its nothing too impressive just a fangirl fangirling. now if you'll excuse me, ill go scream to the eclipse nation about glowing hedgehog.

[bluheaven-adw-gone]

WATCH THE WHOLE THING! Trust me 😏

It's here!!!!!!! I hope this was worth the wait :)

Images and information on a DTIYS below the jump!

This first bit of this might be familiar as it's been posted before. New stuff added at end!

Dark Excalibur Au

Everything happens exactly the same up to then very end of Wizards. The only difference being Jim is able to pull Excalibur then, on his own, making him Nimue's champion. Nimue grants him his crown and restores the trollhunter amulet to him. (Sorry Douxie and Krel, you'll get your time to shine later).. this is when Excalibur's aesthetic changes.

While Jim is 100% human now, he's not without after effects from being a troll. Not much physically (a bit stronger and faster), but personality wise... he's a bit more feral, confident, not really any trace of his former anxieties (except when it comes to Claire). He's not without fear (we don't need gritshaka Jim here...) but has mastery over it. Sometimes he can get a bit more... chaotic and temperamental... than before, but despite that, he's still Jim to his core. Despite all that he's been through, he's still ultimately kind, pure of heart, always tries to do the right thing, fiercely protective of those he loves.... as Blinky put it, a man of honor, courage and valor.

He's stopped fighting his destiny and stepped into it fully instead.

To quote Sakon...

Jim's problem has always been that he cares too much, and the anger inside him burns against the injustice of the world. It's Jim against the world, and the world /will move.

He still has way to much in the self sacrificial department…... but usually remembers that he has a team... literally the roundtable... a wizard, a sorceress... and a literal goddess….. backing him up.

START OF NEW:

You'll notice the blade is whole, not just repaired. Nimue, who for obvious reasons, is not a fan of merlin or arthur... originally only repaired Excalibur's blade instead of healing it. The fractures remained as a check on its power.. kind of like a short circuit. Jim gets no such hobbling. He's entrusted with Excalibur's full power. And if Sakon will allow me to borrow again, his check is in the gem in his crown, but it's only temporary as he learns to control Excalibur's power, and his newfound station and abilities... just a bit of a reminder, but one he rarely, if ever, needs.

There is no incantation on the amulet. It's not needed anymore. All Jim needs to do is think it, and it's there. Excalibur is not tied to the amulet like Daylight was. He can use it without the armor, or dematerialize it if wanted. The armor has two forms, much like Daylight and Eclipse, the 2nd is only a thought away. Normally a steely blue grey, it can shift to black, and if Jim really leans into the power of Excalibur then the whole thing, from crown to blade, turns pitch and lights up. There's so much magic running through him from the sword that his eyes glow with it.

Someone on IG asked if the Dark/Feral bits denoted corruption or Jim gone rogue. The Dark just denotes the color change for Excalibur. No corruption! It's just rockin the black instead of gold. As for feral.... in the sense that he's a tad more aggressive, more willing to finish the fight so to speak. He's got a little wildness, a little otherworldly magic, to him (not in the sense that he's a wizard, just that he's got the magic of Excalibur and being goddess touched).

Now, for the DTIYS!

Rules are

Draw it in your style!

Please no tracing, I want to see what you come up with

Use #DarkExcaliburDTIYS when you post!

Tag me and I will share

Please out a copy of my original art in your post

This will run until June 1

I will pick my top 3 across all platforms

There will be prizes, I just have no clue what lol.

I will link a folder filled with references for you to use! From the armor, to color keys (whenever tumblr lets me paste the stupid link 😡

Have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[kyriaeartblog]

Your art is super pretty miss! From the colors to the lineart, something about the later is very pleasant, perhaps because using pure black makes a good contrast and highlights the other colors; either way your art is recognisable, as whenever I come across with it I think "Oh it's from that person who likes jirai kei and twisted wonderland!". Keep up! I'm sure your art will only improve if you continue!

Talking about Twisted Wonderland, which character is your favourite? Do you have twst ocs or your own yuu?

Hope you have a nice day! 💖✨⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧

aaaaa thank you so much <3 i really do appreciate the compliments, it makes me really happy whenever i see your comments under my posts!

as for my favorite twst character, i’d have to say riddle. he’s fun to draw, and his character arc is just sobhdofplhgkg (i will draw him and all of his angst)

as for ocs, i do actually have one! her name is kyriae (funny i decided to name all of my blogs after her) and she’s in ignyhyde; if you saw my reference sheet for her i think i did yap a bunch abt character personality, hobbies, etc.

but this is her right here ^^

again, thank you so much <3

[katyahina]

The most common Bloodborne fanart mistakes

We all approach fanart differently! Most people draw characters simple and get the point across, with any alteration being down to art-style. Some people willingly take artistic liberties based on their preferences. And some people try to be very accurate to the canon, to the point where they feel sad upon finding out that they've been unaware of something (like me and all three of my fans fsjfhjds). The latter is often caused by both lacking spread of good references and artists using fanart of other people for the reference rather than the source material. If you also belong to this category of fanartists with me, here are some of the most common fanart pitfalls to avoid!

Lady Maria's eye colour: It is a somewhat frequent mistake to draw her eyes blue! In reality, her eyes are very pale green, even a little desaturated, so, greyish-green:

Henryk's skin colour: In the game, it is hard to know unless you deliberately zoom in his face, and even then it might be accidentally blamed on the lighting! I especially see this mistake in Eastern fanart. Thanks to a dataminer Zullie the Witch though, we can know for sure that he is brown:

(Here ( x ) is the page with all sliders)

Little girl's ribbon: Most drawings depict this one as simply... well, white ribbon. It can be tied around a braid, a ponytail, or simply rest on whatever other hairstyle. But in the game both the icon and the way it is worn by Messengers features a layer of frills:

Only one daughter: Gascoigne and Viola have two daughters: one, younger, is the little girl that used to wear the white ribbon which we never see, and another, older, is the one we can talk with later and see dead.

She is not an obvious encounter, and it certainly doesn't help that her little sister doesn't mention her! There are many fanarts that only depict just the little girl whereas the intention is to depict the whole family, and some even use this older sister's design for her, though, as a result! Two of them existing is also confirmed by the voice credits:

Micolash's hair: This is probably the most obvious case of people using existing fanart as a reference. His hair is purely black and somewhat messy, even curling somewhat!

But it is a common fanart thing to give him brown, 'pointy' hairstyle. I think it is sorta 50/50 though because black hair is hard to work with in art, and sometimes 'brown' is just a way to have better colors in general! Lighter color is needed, and simply lessening it to 'dark grey' can just feel not so satisfying. It is an error usually if he is like.. idk, next to a character whose hair IS drawn as black, so there is an obvious comparison.

Adella's hair colour: She has a reverse problem! Commonly drawn with completely, no-shade, pure raven black hair, exactly what Micolash's hair is, when hers is simply dark brown:

Edgar's hair colour: A frequient one is depicting him as that 'yellow' type of blond, when in reality he is strawberry blonde (if not somewhat a redhead):

Yurie's hair and eyes colour: I've fallen for this one myself, and it took me some time to withdraw from, so it is better to just not do to begin with. However, it is simultaneously 'the most widespread mistake' and 'not a real mistake' since this character is bald; although her data states she is a blonde, only her (rather fluffy!) blonde eyebrows are observable. Her eyes are grey, like with plenty of the characters in Bloodborne!

Fanart of her almost exclusively depicts her with black hair and blue eyes, though. Again: technically she is bald, and colour of eyebrows might not match head colour, so the real error is only when artstyles that color eyebrows and eyelashes darken them!

+ Possibly this happens because her name is mistaken for Japanese name Yuri. This is not true: the existing name Yuri is written as ゆり or ユリ, whereas this character is named ユリエ. This little fucker エ at the end is not silent, and this is the key: she is yu-ri-YEE, not yu-REE! Also, ユリエ would be a Japanese spelling of the name Julie - Czech, French and Danish variant of the name Julia. I personally think this is most likely, since Yharnam is heavily inspired by Czechia!

Brador's beast hyde: It is hard to call a frequient, because fanart of these characters together is not frequient... xD But I've seen a few instances of Brador wearing his beast hyde while next to a Laurence who is still alive and a human. This is not possible, since Laurence was the first Cleric Beast, and the hyde Brador is wearing IS that of a Cleric Beast:

We can not know whether Brador killed Laurence or someone of the following clerics since Soulsborne hates clarity and Miyazaki drinks my tears and my tears alone jfhdfhsdhfdhs But we can conclude for sure that he only has this hyde after Laurence was killed. (Naturally, in some types of fanart, this doesn't count! For example, the 'everyone is here' types of fanarts or simple shitpost doodles do not have to be strict to the timeline! In fact, they should not be, lol)

"No-Beardor": Again, this is sensitive to the time context and intention: it counts when the intention is to depict his 'invader' state as it is during the game! Naturally, bro probably shaved more than once in his life fhhhdjss I think it is the fault of a particular "screenshot" of him going viral as a reference for him, when in reality his invader and jail state features a rather noticeable beard:

Gratia's clothes: Again, not a popular character to draw, but at some point a fanmade Wiki claimed that she is wearing Yharnam Hunter's set! This found the way in fanarts of her, when in reality, she is wearing an altered Old Hunter set, wearing a cap instead of a wide hat and missing the large flowing cape and her left glove:

Arianna's hair and eye colour: Her eyes are often drawn as either blue or brown, when it reality, it is, strangely..... purple? Meanwhile, there is a frequient fanart trend depicting Arianna with her alien baby in which her hair is still yellow, whereas in reality her hair loses colour after the event:

I've actually made the exact same error the one time I drew her with her kid :') This situation ties Arianna with another important character, Annalise, who used to be a redhead and has lost her hair colour in connection with her pregnancy, presumed aborted. I elaborated more here ( x ), but the point stands: this change is impossible to spot in the game with its dramatic fucking lighting dfdsfsgdfs It is something only really spotted through data analysis!

__________

I think that's the most frequient ones! There is really no problem in taking artistic liberties, but there is a category of artists that do not really want to and there are details that just can't be spotted in the game by normal means! And some errors can be painful to look at, like white blue-eyed blond Henryk fanart :pensive:.

In recent couple of years, we are being spoiled with awesome references thanks to dataminers and bloggers that spread the information! As for ER fans, they are actually having it easy since dataminers started to expose all the models right away whereas BB fans had a long 'dark era' xd But in general, Soulsborne games are built around the idea that no one will be able to beat the game alone; we all gotta communicate online through the notes other players have left! This mentality further travelled into understanding the story of these games by exchanging the information we've found.. And like, what I am trying to tell is that I am very happy that the same mentality of cooperating spreads on creativity as well! All the references here are the result of awesome dataminers hacking the game and being kind enough to share with the community! There are many more things such as model rips, internal filenames and super handy screenshots galleries that sometimes help to not only create a more accurate fanart, but also to even understand some extra lore! Yeah, like Arianna's hair hinting at a very important plot twist about Cainhurst. x) My point is!! communicating about what we have noticed with other fans is how these games existed and formed the coolest community, and fanart might be not different. What I shared here is just a really small portion of what can be used, and someone found this post useful, I am happy!

[tacticaltaxonomist]

Can you tell me more about your experience with the blackberry key2?

Sure! I'll assume this is in context of "Should I get one".

I have the Blackberry Key2 (BBF 100-1)

The short version:

It's an outdated phone, and while I love it (so much, I'll cry when it dies), I can't in good consciousness recommend to BUY it, except under specific circumstances.

If you want it for browsing, chatting, notetaking, and similar casual use, and don't necessarily need it for important things like bank apps (see below), then... you're possibly still better off with a Unihertz!

Why? Used Blackberrys very often have keyboard issues, and unopened/unused ones are *expensive*, you can get something like a Unihertz Titan Slim for the same money or cheaper, and that has Android 11, not 8. (I have not used their phones yet, but when my Key2 will eventually die it's where I'll look first, for lack of better options).

If you can get a used one for dirt cheap (and have 2nd phone/pc for banking apps) AND you can test the keyboard, go ahead. If you have tried the Unihertz and Blackberry keyboards, and just like Blackberry better, and are willing to shell out for the sake of the keyboard, that's of course up to you.

Hope this helped :)

The LONG version:

I love hardware keyboards on phones and had many (Sony Ericsson P900, Sony Ericsson M600, Blackberry Q10, Blackberry Priv, Blackberry Key 1). The Key2 was released in 2018 and I got mine in 2021. It's still my "daily driver" and use it for all my browsing, tumblr, discord, music, train tickets, etc. For those purposes it works perfectly good.

I do not watch videos, or play games on my phone.

The Keyboard has been super reliable for me, it even survived having a full mug of tea pured into it (don't recommend). The spacebar was sticky for a couple days after drying, but has been flawless in the months since.

The phone sits well balanced in your hand to type (unlike the PRIV and SEP900) and the keys are pleasant to type on. After 3-4 years of constant use it's got a couple dings on the black coating of the keys, but that's happened on every keyboard phone I've had so far, and is well within expected signs of use. I write the majority of my stories (and all my discord chats) on my phone, it's seen *a lot* of use. Think 90% of ALL my typing in the last 3-4 years.

Other than that, it's a different proportion than most phones on the market right now, I've not had issues, but I do remember that Pokemon Go struggled with the Key1 (same proportion) and I wouldn't be surprised if that might be an issue with other game apps too.

I LIKE that the screen (and phone) isn't enormous. In comparison I hate the Redmi Note 10 Pro's huge screen, it's inconvenient. On the Key2 you can comfortably reach everything with your thumb. Also, the screen has been REALLY GOOD about scratches, compared to non-blackberry phones. It's got some micro scratches that are only noticeable in really bright sunlight (but in no way disruptive), and a couple months ago a good 3 mm corner on the top of my screen broke off (because I dropped it on tile without a case, like an idiot), but it's got NO CRACKS, no color or light issues. Completely fine. (Comparatively: the Redmi Note 10 Pro has a huge gouge through the screen.... from... somethign???? Within the first month of owning it lol)

Big Cons of a 6 years old phone:

1. Android 8.1.0 is the newest OS, and the last security patch was in 2020. Some new apps don't work, especially ones that require high security like Banking apps! Neither my bank nor my post app work on this phone, and I do not recommend using them on it even if your app allows it.

2. You can't break a Blackberry and install a different OS like you can a Xaomi.

3. Battery is weakened. We all know this, the older batteries get, the weaker they become. If I use my phone all day on wifi and bluetooth headphones I have to charge it by the evening. I take a charging block with me when I'm out a couple hours just in case it dies. Things like mobile data browsing, location tracking, videos and games, are *hard* on your battery.

Other issues I encountered / dislike:

I hate the camera, it's a lot worse than Key1 and PRIV's. If you like taking photos with your phone this ain't it.

Fingerprint scanner. Does it have one? Sure. If no phone has ever struggled with your fingerprints you're probably fine. EVERY phone (and airport) fingerprint scanner ever has had trouble with my fingerprints, but none fail as hard as Key2s. I don't use it lol (this might be an issue with my phone specifically, the Key1 wasn't as unreliable).

If you still have more specific questions, or use cases, or "that's all fine so long it runs one(1) app can you check that for me", feel free to ask o/

[amyreads]

I had some questions if that's alright with you.

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

Of course! I love these kinds of questions! Long post warning!

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

Thank you so much! I worked really hard to get them to fit a vibe that felt perfect for me. I really wanted them to be fashion-forward since a lot of being fame and being visible is being on top of trends. Characters like G have stylists so G is very trendy. The characters are also very expressive not only with their music but their clothes. None of the characters are very shy when it comes to their sense of fashion was is exciting because I love describing outfits. I know some authors find it tedious and 'amateur' which I kinda see why since it's a bit juvenile but I love love love it.

For G, I was inspired by 80s rockstars with long curly hair as well as Cher in the 70s haha I knew I wanted G to have a very prominent detail and it's their long (straight, in their case) black hair. G's tattoos are sort of a mark of their growth as an artist. When they first started, they were essentially 'pure' in the sense that they had no tats and were very young. As they grew older, the tats also grew in number. Touched by fame. SO poetic /j G is very flamboyant and they are very experimental/adventurous with their clothes.

This goes for Victoria. As a model and actress, she's very fashion forward. She prefers dresses over pants and that's kind of her brand haha ! Her red hair and the fact that her stage name ends in Valentine made red her brand, and she takes advantage of that. Branding is very important for her and G, so it helps when you have that *thing* that reminds people of you.

For Seven, the infamous (lol) bandana was something that just came to me. I also wanted Seven to have a "staple" look and I just think it looks cool! Again, it's very reminiscent of the old age rock stars. If Seven were a cartoon character, the outfit they wore at the party (industrial shirt/red and black striped undershirt) would be their "everyday outfit" I think. It really shows their personality; Seven's oversized, messy look reflects them in a way. The fact that it looks deliberately disheveled but Seven worked hours to look good is very telling of who they are. Seven likes to pretend they don't care but we all know that's not the truth!

August has a very calming quality to them. Very grounding. In a story where the ROs are all messes, August's penchant for silence and calm shines. Their colors are a nice brown, green, beige. Very neutral and low-key. They wear a lot of sweaters and cardigans and linen pants because it's comfortable and cozy. Their clothes reflect their personality the most. Kinda reminds me of pajamas in a way!

Orion is pretty self explanatory. While everyone else considers BOTB and everything an outlet for their creativity, Orion sees it for what it is: a job. He dresses professionally to set him apart from the band and everyone else. He's there to work. He's very clean-cut, and very neat so it shines in his clothes.

Seb is well, I wanted Seb to be very unassuming and just normal hahaha. Everyone else dresses really stylishly and I wanted Seb to be really low-key. It's obvious he has no desire to be in the spotlight and that shows with his plain, basic clothing.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

Hm, up until recently I used to only read fantasy. I think one of my first if games was Choice of Rebels, among a few others. Writing fantasy is what helped build up my skill. All I've ever wanted to be was a fantasy author until one day...I just started hating it. I hated writing fantasy. I LOVE LOVE reading it, but I hate writing fantasy. I don't know why. I think it's because I fail to convince myself. My suspension of disbelief is very strict when it comes to my own writing, while another writer can convince me of anything in fiction so as long as it makes a lick of sense. It's weird!

I still love fantasy as a reader but I don't think I could ever write it. I do want to try one day though!

I'm more strictly slice-of-life nowadays, aside from Body Double. I think it's easier for me. I love romcoms. I love romance, which hasn't changed. I find it funny that I'm not very romantic in real life but romance is like a baseline requirement for me in stories.

One thing that stays the same is that I love angst. Reading and writing it. I don't like fluff, it makes me cringe. (There will be fluff in Infamous aha). I don't like power fantasies or any of that. Ah, I don't know!

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

I'll read anything! I don't have a favorite, I don't think, but I do love urban/modern fantasy. A mixture of slice-of-life and fantasy is the sweet spot for me.

Specific type of RO I like are the emotionally unavailable/closed off ones or the mean ones haha. I do not like easy romances. I like working for it and I think when an RO doesn't want my character it makes it so much more fun and the payoff is so much more satisfying. I need yearning...longing. I need slow burn!

I know there are readers who like playing games where the MC is important loved but I'm not a fan. I like my MC being a regular person that's treated accordingly depending on the character and the story. I don't want my MC to get special treatment or to be powerful just because they're the MC. It has to make sense to me. For me, the ROs should have a greater purpose that goes beyond just romancing the MC.

I get a lot of flak for making the MC an underdog in infamous, but MC is not meant to be the most important person in the room at the start of the story. They need to earn it, which I think feels better.

My favorite RO from any IF game is Nash so <3 I guess that says it all hahah

I hope you liked my answers! This was really fun for me lolol