#we love us a good gradient

[chaoticmvse]

PhotoshopByChaoticmvse: tutorials no one asked for. todays headache: using hex codes to spice up your texts here on tumblr [html edition today].

Tatsächlich gibt es heute wohl das einfachste Tutorial ever, damit ihr eure Texte mit anderen Farben highlighten könnt als jene, die Tumblr vorgibt. Damit Ihr aber überhaupt ein bisschen versteht, wovon ich überhaupt spreche, machen wir erst einmal einen kurzen Grundkurs:

HTML beschreibt quasi das Grundgerüst rund um den Inhalt (Überschriften, Listen, Tabellen etc.) während CSS am Ende um das Styling geht, also sprich die Gestaltung (Farbe, Schriftart, Layout etc.). CSS geht in der Regel immer mit HTML einher, da man dieses in das Gerüst einfügt. Beispielsweise schreibt ihr einen Text, der automatisch an die Grundeinstellungen angepasst ist. Wenn ihr aber etwas bunt haben wollt, dann könnt ihr das mit den Tools von Tumblr machen, indem ihr die ausgewählte Passage/Wörter/Sätze markiert. Dann kommen bei euch ja folgende Zeichen:

Jedoch gibt Tumblr nur sieben Farben (schwarz, rot, orange, grün, blau, rosa, lila) vor:

Oftmals passt das jedoch nicht zu dem Layout, dass man sich so mühsam aufgebaut hat. Und da kommt es dann dazu, dass man sich dem HTML zuwendet. Wichtig an dieser Stelle ist zu sagen, dass die Option, die ich euch jetzt zeige, nur am Laptop/PC möglich ist.

Damit Ihr jedoch andere Farben nutzen könnt, benötigt ihr dafür den HEX Code der Farben. Den Code könnt ihr herausfinden indem Ihr bei Google einfach nach "Color Picker" sucht. Das sieht dann so aus:

Wie man sieht, wird der HEX #eda558 angezeigt. Das ist die Farbe, mit der wir nun arbeiten. Damit ihr das Wort/den Satz/den Absatz in der Farbe einfärben könnt, müsst ihr wie folgt vorgehen:

Ihr schreibt euren Text vor, wie man es in einem normalen Post macht.

Ihr müsst folgenden Span in den HTML Code einsetzen: Vor dem Teil, der eingefärbt werden soll: <span style="color: #eda558 "> Hier kommt dann der Text selber und danach müsst ihr ein </span> setzen.

Ihr geht auf das kleine Rädchen oben rechts drauf und geht auf den Punkt "Text Editor" und wählt HTML anstatt Rich Code aus.

4. Das sieht dann in meinem Fall so aus:

5. Ihr setzt eure Einstellungen vom Text Editor von HTML zurück auf Rich und voilá, es ist vollbracht.

So, damit wäre es eigentlich schon eingefärbt. Jetzt gibt es noch die Möglichkeit Verläufe (Gradients) zu kreieren, dabei unterscheidet man hier unter Horizontal, Mittig, dreifarbig, solid, random und rainbow. Das setzt man mit in den Spancode mit ein. Damit es euch aber einfacher gemacht wird und ihr nicht alles codieren müsst (wenn es jemand wissen will, lemme know, ich zeige es euch dann) nutzt ihr einfach folgende Seite:

TextColorizer by David

Dort könnt Ihr eigentlich alles auf einmal auswählen. Ihr könnt oben euren Text schreiben und unten auswählen, wie ihr was machen wollt und seht unter Step 5 auch direkt die Preview. Dadurch habt ihr jedoch noch nicht den Code, den ihr am Ende bei euch ins HTML einsetzen müsst. Der ist erst unten drunter gegeben. Dabei müsst ihr darauf achten, dass ihr auch den Code vom HTML kopiert:

Und da ist es dasselbe, ihr pflegt es an der Stelle im HTML Code ein, wo ihr es haben wollt. Ich zeige euch das an einem Beispiel, welches wie folgt ist: PhotoshopByCHAOTICMVSE

Im HTML Code sieht es so aus:

And thats just how it is! Wenn ihr Fragen habt, lemme know, ansonsten hoffe ich, dass es irgendwie verständlich rüberkam. <3

[em1i2a3]

Crying Lightning

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Lab Tech!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You have been studying a flower that Bucky brought back from one of his missions. When Bob comes to visit you in the labs to bring you lunch and messes with the unbloomed item you realize the sinister effects of it very quickly.

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI! Ahem…We got a sex pollen fic, so there is smut, and fluff afterwards, and aftercare as well. Reader and Bob are close, and both of them have feelings for one another but it has all gone unspoken…Until now at least lol. There is swearing too.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (…Y’all know what I’m gonna say. Wrap it up), Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Handjob, There’s a little bit of dominance from Bob/Sentry…And he talks you through it ahhahahahahah (oh god), Messy/Sensual Sex, There are like hints of primal energy sprinkled in here, but nothing too major, there’s mentioning of pheromones and stuff like that, Praise/Worship Kink, Spitting, Dirty Talk, Scratching, Some Choking (not rough), Cum eating, Aftercare.

Author’s Note: Woot Woot! We love a good sex pollen fic lol. Did I expect to be writing one? No. But I’ve always liked the concept and I’m so glad @mccinnamon-bun asked me to do this! Thank you <3, I really loved writing it! So so fun! Enjoy!

Word Count: 15,684

“I brought you something,” Bucky announced, stepping into your lab just as the doors slid open with their usual quiet hiss.

You didn’t look up right away. Perched cross-legged on the edge of your workbench, you were half-buried in mission reports that were a week overdue, scribbling notes with one hand and nursing a cold cup of coffee in the other. Your head snapped up, however, the second you heard the rustle of fabric and gear–a familiar sound you’d grown used to distinguishing in crowded hallways.

Bucky stood in the entryway, wind-tousled and still in partial tactical gear. The sleeves of his black shirt were pushed up to the elbows, revealing the flex of muscle and dull gleam of vibranium beneath. He had a look in his eye that was hard to read–half sheepish, half pleased with himself–and he was already fishing through one of the many compartments in his bag. He didn’t speak again until he pulled something out with a sort of slow care.

”Ta da.” You raised an eyebrow at him, seeing him pull something from his bag like it was a treasure he’d smuggled across enemy lines. You hopped off the bench with a soft thud and crossed the room toward him, curiosity instantly piqued–mostly because Bucky Barnes was not one to say ‘ta da’. Not unless he was hiding something behind that half-smirk of his.

Your eyes immediately caught sight of what he was holding.

The flower hadn’t bloomed yet, but even in its dormant state, it was breathtaking. The outer petals were tightly furled, each one smooth and iridescent like the type you would find on shells of certain mollusks–but it was shaded in a gradient you couldn’t quite place. They started as an inky, oil-slick blue at the base, then rippled out into smoky violets and blushing wine tones near the tips. Delicate veins shimmered faintly across the surface, catching the lab lights with a strange metallic luster, almost like the petals were dusted in powdered silver.

The stem curved gently, a deep green tinged with gold, and the leaves were narrow, slightly translucent, and lined with fine threads of coppery red. Even when it wasn’t fully bloomed, it had an energy to it. A heat, almost. As if it were responding to the proximity of warm skin and breath. You squinted at it.

”Bucky, if this is your idea of asking me out on a date, you really need to brush up on your courting skills.” He let out a sharp bark of laughter, head dropping forward briefly with a grin.

“Hey,” He said, handing the flower over to you carefully, “You’re the one who told me, if I saw anything weird, unknown, alien, or otherwise ‘botanically suspicious,’ I should bring you back a sample.” You gingerly accepted the stem, trying not to touch the tightly closed bud itself.

”Yeah, I meant specifiers, not some interstellar looking thing.” You shot back. He leaned against a nearby counter.

”Don’t say I never do anything for you.” He commented back. You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your mouth betrayed your fondness.

”You absolutely broke every rule of containment protocol by walking this thing straight into my lab, but…” You gave the top of the flower another slow once-over, still entranced, “Thanks for thinking of me.” You turned, crossing to your bench and plucking a clean beaker from the rack. You filled it with a few inches of distilled water, and set the flower inside, watching it float just enough to stay upright. The petals didn’t open, but they flexed slightly–like they were stretching, or drinking the water you had put the stem in.

”So,” You started, glancing over your shoulder to where Bucky was still leaning, “Where’d you find it?” You asked, watching him give you a small, casual shrug.

”There was a patch of them, right off the tree line. I spotted them on my way back to the quinjet. Figured I’d snatch one up before anyone else trampled it.” You hummed, turning your head away–not noticing the way his gaze lingered on the flower for a beat too long. You were too busy cataloguing the possibilities in your head. It was too vibrant to be terrestrial, but it wasn’t necessarily alien. Possibly hybridized. The energy you felt coming off of it could’ve been psychosomatic–but you weren’t one to write something off without running tests.

“And you’re sure no one else touched them?” You asked, looking back over at him to see if you can spot any of the tells he had when he was lying. His brow lifted toward you.

”I mean…I touched one obviously.” You gave him a pointed look, and he immediately held up both hands.

”Didn’t eat it. Didn’t stick it up my nose. I was the only one that touched anything. Scout’s honor.” You snorted, and shook your head.

”Alright, Barnes…I’ll bite. I’ll run some diagnostics. Spectrograph, chemical composition, basic pollen analysis when it blooms…All the sciencey things that you don’t understand, then I’ll get back to you.” He gave you a mock salute and pushed himself off the table he was leaning against, going toward the door.

”Just make sure you name it after me if it ends up trying to kill you.”

”Noted,” You called, “But if it ends up giving me superpowers instead, I’ll be naming it after myself.” He was still laughing as the door slid shut behind him. You turned back to the flower, now gently swirling in the water–its petals flexing once more, as if hearing your voice. You leaned in just a touch, and breathed in slightly.

You could’ve sworn it hadn’t smelled like anything before, but now…

Now it smelled faintly of summer rain, citrus, and the soft trace of jasmine. It was warm, soft, and inviting, like it was trying to beckon you to come closer to it. You straightened slowly, then reached blindly across the workbench for a spare sheet of scrap paper, grabbing the pen you had tucked behind your ear.

”Initial scent: None. Notable change after water exposure–New profile: humid, citrus notes, floral base (jasmine like). Unsettling–shift occurred in under two minutes.” You tapped the end of your pen lightly against your chin, your gaze never leaving the beaker. The flower was still half-closed, petals fluttering slightly in the water like they were breathing–like they were aware. The surface tension of the liquid shimmered faintly around the base of the stem, as though reacting to something within the plant.

You didn’t like that.

Flowers didn’t just change their chemical profile that fast. Not unless they were highly volatile. Not unless they were engineered.

A muscle tensed along your jaw.

You slid the note aside and moved quickly now, grabbing a glass containment dome from one of the side drawers–a heat-tempered cloche you typically used when running long-term decay tests on bio-samples. It wasn’t hermetically sealed, but it would be enough to contain most airborne particulates.

Just in case.

You placed it gently over the beaker and the flower with practiced care, watching as the edges sealed against the bench with a soft thunk. The scent dimmed immediatel-ybut didn’t vanish. It clung to the air like it had already soaked into the fibers of your clothes, your skin.

You took a step back, and another, suddenly aware of the way the heat of the room felt a degree too warm.

Your eyes narrowed. You made another note.

“Mild thermal increase noted (subjective). Investigate potential volatile compounds. Possible synthetic ancestry. Unknown reaction to water exposure–possible activation trigger?”

You stood still for a moment longer, arms crossed over your chest now, staring at the flower like it might start humming.

Then you exhaled through your nose, gave your head a small shake, and muttered, “Okay, mystery plant. Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

You turned on your heel and crossed to the far side of the lab, grabbing gloves, pipettes, and a test slide. You didn’t see the way the petals quivered beneath the glass dome. Or the way the center of the bud pulsed–slowly, rhythmically–as if something within it had begun to wake.

You were too busy prepping your tools.

You’d get your first sample from the outermost edge of the petal, where a small amount of condensation had begun to form–right where the flower had interacted with the water. It wasn’t much. Just enough to suggest a subtle chemical discharge. A secretion, maybe. Or pollen.

Your gloved fingers hovered just beside the dome.

You paused.

A thought scratched quietly at the back of your mind, the way instincts sometimes do when they’re not fully formed.

You didn’t ignore it.

You stepped back again.

Instead of removing the dome outright, you retrieved your small fume extractor arm—used mostly for soldering–and wheeled it over until its head hovered just above the cloche’s apex. You flicked the switch, and a soft hum filled the room as the extractor began to filter the air directly above the sample.

Another note:

“Smell is still detectable after containment. Strong. Possibly psychoactive. Proceeding with caution.”

Still, despite your wariness, you found yourself walking back toward the glass.

One more glance. Just to be sure.

The flower was still closed–but now its bud looked fuller. Like it had begun to swell. One of the petals had unfurled the tiniest bit. Barely a sliver.

But just enough for you to see a glint of gold pollen resting in the shadows of its center.

It shimmered like dust caught in a sunbeam.

You stared.

And then, carefully, you reached over to your comm unit and tapped the call button for your assistant team over in the biocontainment lab.

“Hey,” You said when the line clicked open, voice low. “I’ve got a…Weird one. Found by Barnes. It’s stable, but I want a second containment unit prepped in case things escalate.”

A pause on the line. Then:

“Escalate how?”

You glanced back at the flower. That scent. That impossible shimmer. You didn’t know yet.

“Just…Prep it,” You replied. “I’ll send over a sample in a few.”

And then you muted the line.

You looked down at the flower one more time.

It was no longer just beautiful.

It was waiting.

———————

It had been three days since Bucky dropped the flower off, and by this time it had bloomed. Not delicately, and certainly not in the way flowers usually did–with gradual graceful predictability. No. This thing had opened like it knew it was being watched and studied by you.

When you came down to your lab the morning after Bucky brought you the mysterious flower, the petals had fully unfurled–broad, sweeping things with a high-gloss sheen and hypnotic gradients that shifted from gold to scarlet to bruise-dark purple depending on the light. The stamen in its center now pulsed visibly, a slow inhale-exhale rhythm that made the entire structure look…Alive. The pollen shimmered every time it moved, a near-invisible cloud that never seemed to settle but floated in still air like it was defying gravity. Or logic.

You had kept it sealed tight under the reinforced cloche, and had the triple-filtered vents on and the entire section of the lab cordoned off with containment protocols. Your notes had doubled in size, and still, nothing definitive had come back from the biocontainment team. There were just vague updates telling you that they were behind on other specimens and that they would get around to it when they could.

So you worked around it. You monitored. You wrote. You catalogued symptoms–your own included, though they were still annoyingly ambiguous: mild temperature spikes, random surges of adrenaline, difficulty concentrating in bursts. But no rash, no lesions, no hallucinations. There was a kind of pressure, similar to urgency but just on the cusp of it, desire maybe–but for what, you had no clue. You had only inhaled a bit of the pollen and hadn’t been exposed since, so you didn’t dwell on it–not with your schedule stacked, and not with your own lab being as backed up as it was.

You were just rinsing a pipette when the door to the lab slid open with a soft hiss.

”H-Hey,” Came the voice you’d come to recognize more easily than your own thoughts lately. You didn’t need to look up to know that it was Bob, but you did anyways, just to catch a glimpse of him.

He was towering and soft-shouldered in a dark grey hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, worn sweatpants hugging the curve of his hips, and his crown of light brown hair was in absolute disarray, like he had it tied up and decided to let the locks fall free in front of his face. He looked like someone who didn’t have the slightest clue what he did to people around him, and he truly didn’t know.

The plastic takeout bag in his hand swung gently as he stepped inside, smiling at you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Brought y-you lunch.” Your stomach growled at the word lunch, and it echoed through the moment of silence that settled between you, which only made Bob’s grin stretch wider.

”Let me guess,” You started, pulling off your gloves and throwing them into the biohazard bin, “You timed this perfectly because you knew my stomach would start making monstrous noises, didn��t you?”He shrugged, with a small smirk on his face, setting the bag down on your cleared desk near one of your monitors.

”You skipped b-breakfast.” You held out a finger.

”No no…I postponed breakfast.” He shook his head.

”You always p-postpone breakfast,” He said, moving past you to pour you a cup of water from the cooler, his big hands making it look smaller than what it actually was, “And if I d-dont show up with something d-decent by 2 p.m, you would just end up inhaling the vending machine c-crackers and freeze-dried apple s-slices…Which is not s-sustainable i-in the slightest.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his comments.

”Seems like someone has been watching me a bit too closely.” He turned and handed you the water, fingers brushing yours as he didn. His hands were boiling as usual, and it left the paper cup feeling warm from where his fingers had been holding it. His eyes lingered on your face a beat longer than necessary.

”I-I always watch you c-closely,” He said softly, like it slipped out before he could catch it. Immediately his eyes glanced down away from you, dropping to the floor for a second, before flicking away toward the cluttered end of your bench like he suddenly remembered a far more interesting smudge on the tile. His cheeks were red–not just a flush, not just a tinge, but a slow bloom of color climbing from the collar of his hoodie up to the tips of his ears.

You said nothing in response. Not because you didn’t notice–because you did. More because if you said anything, if you so much as looked at him with any kind of expression that acknowledged the truth buried in his voice, he might self-destruct on the spot. So instead, you took a slow sip of the water he handed you, letting the quiet hum of the lab fill the air between the both of you.

Then you turned on your heel toward the takeout bag.

”So what’s on the menu today, Chef Bob?” You asked lightly, pulling the plastic open and peeking inside, “Please tell me it’s not another one of your hot dog stir-fry’s.” He let out a groan.

”Listen…I-It was one time, I-I know nobody was a fan of it.” You grinned as you pulled out a tinfoil-wrapped container, unraveling it with careful fingers. A rich, savoury scent wafted up–soy and sesame and something sweet under it, like cane sugar with more of a freshness that was unexpected, “So what am I looking at?”

”Sticky rice, soy-glazed chicken, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, “T-There’s some grated g-granny smith apple in the glaze…C-Cause I didn’t have honey.” You raised your eyebrows.

”Pretty decent alternative.” You replied.

”Yeah,” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, “You know how S-Sentry gets with processed s-sugars in his system. Makes him a-all buzzy.” You let out a soft laugh.

”So this is officially Sentry-approved, then?”

“F-For the most part,” He mumbled, “I-I think you’re the real t-test though.” That made you pause, glancing up at him, still holding the half-unwrapped meal in your hands, finding his gaze had landed on you again. This time it held something quiet but vulnerable. Expectant, even. Like he really cared what you thought.

And that was the difference between Bob and everyone else–you knew he didn’t make things just to impress. He made them because it gave him joy to offer them. He brought you food not because he wanted credit–but because he worried you wouldn’t eat otherwise. He brought you books because he remembered which ones made your eyes light up. He let you take his blood every month without protest, even when the Sentry made his pulse unpredictable or his veins hard to find, because he trusted you with every part of him–even that. And because of those little things, you always made sure to praise him.

Even when he burned the eggs.

Even when the pasta came out overcooked.

Even when the hot dog stir-fry almost gave you heartburn.

You forked a bite of the rice and chicken, chewed, and let your eyes widen a bit as the warmth hit your tongue. “Okay. Wait. This is actually good.”

He blinked, caught between shock and a smile. “Y-you don’t have to lie.”

“I would lie,” You said, pointing at him with your fork. “But not this convincingly. This? Bob. It’s delicious.” He looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with the praise. He rocked back slightly on his heels, running a hand through his already-messy hair, trying to hide the shy little grin that was pulling at the corners of his mouth. You watched the way his fingers threaded through the strands, the way his forearms flexed under the soft stretch of the hoodie.

You took another bite and leaned against the counter beside him, letting out a hum of satisfaction.

“Y’know,” You said between chews, “If Val found out you were secretly good at this, she’d start expecting meals during debriefs.”

”She’d want a report first,” He said, playing along, “T-Then she’d make Walker taste it for poison.” The both of you laughed lightly. The silence that followed was companionable. Safe. You brushed your shoulder lightly against his as you leaned forward to set the food container down beside the monitor.

His body went still at the contact.

Not because he didn’t want it. But because he did. You knew that reaction well by now–the micro-freeze, the way he’d let the warmth of your hand or arm settle into him like he was still learning he could have it. That it was for him.

You let your arm linger against his for just a second longer.

Then you pulled back, slow and easy.

He looked at you from the side of his eye. His voice was low when he spoke.

”H-How’s the flower?” You glanced toward the containment dome instinctively. The petals shimmered under the harsh lab light, colors shifting in slow gradients like they were part of something fluid, something still breathing. It looked even larger today. Full-bodied. Restless.

“Still haven’t heard anything back from the biocontainment lab,” You said, turning back to Bob and picking up your fork again. “Apparently they’re still backed up from the Skrull fungus incident.”

His face pulled slightly. “God…D-Don’t remind me of t-that.” You nodded grimly.

“I won’t…But this?” You took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “No movement. Just… opened. Big. Loudly. Like it knew I was looking at it.” Bob followed your glance as you continued to speak, “I breathed in a little bit of the pollen when I first got it–just a trace. It made me really warm. Flushed. But otherwise nothing dramatic. No side effects. No changes. So I think it was just my body reacting to whatever compound it’s putting off–probably a weird hybridization. Something experimental maybe.” Bob’s brow furrowed at this comment.

”You s-should’ve been wearing a m-mask.” You huffed a laugh, nudging your shoulder into his again.

”Please, I’m pretty sure I’ve been exposed to worse.”

“S-Sure,” He said quietly, his gaze fixed on you now, “B-But definitely not like this.” There was something layered in his voice—concern wrapped around protectiveness, softened by something you didn’t dare name.

You didn’t say anything to it. Just took another bite of the meal he made, let the flavor distract you from how closely he was watching you now. He shifted beside you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before–

“How’s the Golden God doing, by the way…Totally forgot to ask.” Bob rolled his eyes, “You know you’ve got bloodwork today, and I know how much he looks forward to that.” He grimaced.

”D-Darn…I f-forgot that was today.”

“You always forget,” You mumbled between bites, mockingly stern in tone, “Even though we’ve had the same schedule for, what–eight months?”

“Nine,” He corrected, “You count too?”

“Only because I have to track your blood chemistry, Bob.” He gave you a crooked smile, “Stick around,” You said waving your fork at him, “Let me finish this delicious lunch and I’ll get everything set up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave you a faux salute, backing off to give you space. You watched him for a moment out of the corner of your eye as he wandered slowly around the perimeter of the lab, hands in his pockets, shoulders soft beneath his hoodie.

Bob moved like someone who didn’t want to disturb anything. Not just the tools and data, but you–your space, your rhythm, your day. Even now, when he stopped in front of the containment dome, he didn’t lean close or peer in like most people would’ve. He just stood there, quietly watching.

The flower didn’t move. But the pulsing in its center seemed to slow, slightly. Steadying. As if recognizing something.

Bob tilted his head faintly.

But said nothing.

You finished your lunch in a few final bites, wiped your hands on a cloth, and pulled on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves.

“All right,” You called, walking over to the locked cabinet beside your centrifuge. “Time to sacrifice a little plasma for science.”

Bob grumbled playfully as he headed back toward the stool you always set aside for him during these sessions. “Sentry’s gonna make it d-difficult again. Last time you had to chase the vein for like five minutes.”

“Oh how could I forget,” You said playfully, drawing the phlebotomy kit from the drawer, “I’ve never met a God who’s afraid of needles. He flared your heart rate on purpose and kicked the adrenaline response. Your veins were literally jumping.” Bob winced at the memory and sighed.

”I-I don’t think he m-means to be a jerk a-about it.”

“No, he just is,” You turned with a teasing smile and raised your brow, “You listening in there Sentry, I called you a jerk.” A flicker of gold passed through Bob’s eyes, and his expression shifted just slightly. A pressure just beneath the surface of his calm exterior. You saw the way his jaw flexed. The way his breath caught on the edge of a heartbeat. It was gone just as fast as it appeared. You gestured to the stool.

”Alright, you know the drill.” Bob sighed and tugged his hoodie over his head with one hand, letting it fall across the nearby stool in a heap of worn fabric and static-charged threads.

Your breath caught for just a second–not that you’d ever admit it.

He was wearing a plain white t-shirt underneath. Simple, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination. The fabric clung in all the places that mattered: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, the gentle taper of his torso. His arms were sculpted, the muscle built from the serum and his own training he did on the side with Walker–solid biceps veined faintly beneath pale skin, his forearms thick and freckled with golden hairs. Even through the shirt, you could see the subtle rise of his chest when he breathed. His body wasn’t exaggerated or showy like some of the other enhanced agents. Bob’s strength was honest, clean and quiet. The kind that didn’t beg to be seen–just was. He sat on the stool, leaned slightly forward, and offered you his right arm without hesitation–palm up, wrist relaxed, fingers curling just slightly where they hung over the edge of your tray. As always, he was warm. Always a degree or two above everyone else. Like the Sentry lived just beneath the surface, pulsing against the skin.

You pulled your chair close and gently cradled his arm in one gloved hand, “You good?” He nodded, jaw ticking faintly.

”Sentry’s a-already getting stirred u-up.”

“I figured,” You murmured, swabbing the crook of his elbow with an alcohol pad, watching the way the fine blond hairs on his arm caught the light, “You twitched when I called him a jerk.” Bob exhaled a shallow breath, half-laugh, half-wince.

”Y-Yeah he–uh–didn’t like t-that.”

“Well, tell him to behave,” you said, voice softening as you spoke, instinctively adjusting your tone. You’d found, over time, that it wasn’t just what you said–but how. The Sentry didn’t respond well to authority. But he did respond to calm. To care. To you.

“I’m going to insert the needle now, okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He said quietly, “Keep talking through the process, t-that would help.” You gave him a smile–genuine and soft.

“All right…Just a little pressure here…” You slipped the butterfly needle in with smooth, practiced hands, watching the dark blood flood into the first vial like a ribbon of garnet. He didn’t flinch. His fingers curled just slightly, but that was it. You could feel the tension in him, though–not fear, not even discomfort, really.

Just a heightened presence.

You always felt it when the Sentry was nearby. Like a third set of lungs had begun breathing somewhere in the room. Like the molecules in the air shifted their charge.

“I’m taking five tubes,” You said gently. “You’re doing fine. Your blood flow is nice and steady today.”

“Y-Yeah,” Bob said, watching you with his head slightly turned. His voice had dropped to something deeper. Thicker. “That’s because o-of you.”

You glanced up.

He blinked, quickly. “Your voice. It…I-It helps.” You kept working, carefully switching out the first full tube for the second, then the third, eyes flicking to him only briefly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Or a cosmic honor. One of the two.” That got a smile out of him, even if it was small. The rest of the draw passed in familiar quiet–soft beeping from your equipment, the slow, gentle swirl of the containment fans, the hum of the overhead lights. His blood was warm in your hands. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you reached the fifth tube and carefully capped it.

You retracted the needle in one smooth motion, placing it in the sharps container before gently pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site.

“Pressure here, please.”

Bob complied, two fingers resting lightly over the spot. You retrieved a bandage, peeled it open, and pressed it into place over the cotton. Your hand lingered a second longer than it needed to. His skin was flushed warm beneath your glove. He smelled faintly of cedar and limes, probably from his shampoo. Then you leaned back in your chair and gave him a mock-serious look.

“So,” You said, cocking your head, “Does Sentry want a lollipop for his troubles?”Bob groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“D-Don’t get him riled up…” You laughed at the way his cheeks turned rosy again, as he attempted to hold back a smile, which failed.

”You sure?” You teased, “You don’t want me to pull out the glittery sticker chart?”

“W-We talked about this…He remembers t-things like that.” You both burst into soft laughter again, the kind that curled at the edges of your ribs and left everything just a little lighter.

And somewhere behind you, the flower twitched.

The petals shifted.

The pulse in its center matched his heartbeat.

But neither of you noticed.

——————

The next day, just after 2:00 p.m., the soft hiss of the lab doors made your head snap up again.

You were halfway through a long-winded notation on the flower’s latest chromatographic analysis when you heard the now-familiar rustle of footsteps and the unmistakable creak of someone cradling a takeout bag with too much care.

“Brought you lunch!” Bob announced.

He looked warm again–an oversized hoodie only blue this time, the same worn sweatpants from yesterday, and hair pulled back messily like he’d tied it in a rush. His free hand shoved deep into his pocket, but the other held a paper bag from a café you liked downtown. He wore the same small, crooked smile that made it difficult to think straight.

“Careful,” You warned playfully, turning in your seat to face him, “If you keep feeding me, I’ll start to expect this kind of treatment.”

Bob shrugged, walking in slow, casual steps toward your workstation. “M-might be worth it…Just to s-see you eat.”

You smiled at that–too caught up in the rare softness between you to notice the way the flower behind its containment dome had begun to stir.

Not much. Just a twitch of its outermost petals. A subtle change in the shimmer of its stamen. But you were facing Bob. You didn’t see the way it reacted to his voice.

“I-I got you the g-grain bowl you like. The one with roasted squash, the f-feta, that spicy vinaigrette you always try to recreate in your lab notebook–”

“I do not take vinaigrette notes in here,” You interjected, grinning.

Bob set the bag down gently on the corner of your cleared space shaking his head at you, glancing over at the dome just as the hum of your equipment shifted slightly. The air changed. Subtle, at first. Like something pressurizing behind glass.

He leaned over–only just–peering closer at the flower inside.

That was all it took.

The dome fogged instantly with a pale gold haze. Then–without warning–the containment glass shuddered with a sharp, pinging sound, like internal pressure had snapped a seal.

Then it ruptured.

The top of the cloche blew off with a muted pop, and a cloud of glittering golden dust erupted from the flower in a slow-motion burst. It expanded like fog, like breath in cold air–drifting, floating–straight into Bob’s face.

You froze for half a second. Then your instincts kicked in hard and fast.

“Shit—Bob!” You yelled, already leaping from your stool and hitting the emergency switch on the wall.

Red lights flashed as the isolation protocols kicked in. Vents slammed shut with a metallic clank, and the air filtration units hummed to life. Your console blinked through a security override as the lab sealed itself airtight. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat.

Bob had staggered back, coughing hard and pawing at his face, blinking rapidly. The golden dust coated his cheeks, his lashes, the curve of his nose, and clung to his stubble like cosmic pollen. It shimmered with a strange, otherworldly sheen–like it was alive, almost.

“Hey–hey–Bob, come here.” You grabbed him gently but firmly by the wrist, leading him toward the decontamination corner. “Don’t rub your eyes. Just come with me. You’re okay, just–just keep breathing.”

He nodded, still coughing, blinking fast. “I-it got in m-my face–feels like sand, b-but–s-sticky, maybe–” He stumbled slightly as you pushed the lever on the eyewash station.

“Lean in,” You ordered, voice steady. “Both hands on the sides. I’m gonna guide you.” You pressed the large silver button. The twin streams of water erupted instantly, and he hissed through clenched teeth as the cold hit. You steadied him, one hand braced on his lower back as he tilted forward.

”Keep blinking,” You instructed, “Get it flushed out. It’s probably just pollen but I can’t take chances, we still don’t know what that stuff is.”

“It’s–f-fine,” he said, spitting water out, breath hitching. “It doesn’t b-burn, just f-feels weird–” His voice was strained, breathless. You didn’t like the way his skin had started to pink at the edges, how the golden dust had clung even beneath his collar.

When the two-minute flush was over, you helped him lean back slowly, grabbing a towel from the stack nearby and pressing it gently to his face.

“We’re not done yet,” You said, pulling a second towel out and pressing it to the back of his neck. “Blow your nose. Three times. Then cough hard. I want that stuff out of your lungs if you inhaled any of it.”

He obeyed without protest, still coughing lightly between ragged breaths. The dust had left faint shimmer marks down the front of his hoodie, now slightly wet from the eyewash station. You reached over to the wall unit, flipped on the emergency fan array, and turned your console back toward manual override. The air slowly began to cycle through a localized carbon scrubbing system.

You turned back to him, grabbing a disposable cloth and wiping under his jaw, where a little gold still shimmered. His eyes were red-rimmed but clear. Breathing shallow, but not distressed.

You stepped back, hands braced on your hips, the overhead scrubbers humming louder now as the first cycle of filtered air began to push through the sealed lab.

Bob sat perched on the deacon bench, towel still clutched in his hands, his lashes dripping, cheeks damp, and glittered with flecks of gold the eyewash hadn’t quite cleared. He looked flushed–not sick, not distressed–just… warm. Lit from within, like something in him was beginning to glow. But you didn’t let yourself think about that.

Not yet.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, kneeling slightly so you were more at eye level with him, voice softening as you scanned his face for any irregularities. “Are you dizzy? Lightheaded? Anything weird?”

Bob blinked slowly, the water still dripping off the tips of his hair as he met your gaze.

“N-No…” He murmured, voice rough with lingering grit, “Just…Feel kinda like I s-snorted fairy dust.” He gave a weak little smile. “M-might be glowing in the dark now.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a half-relieved breath, giving him a playful–but firm–swat to the arm.

“This isn’t funny. You know we have to be in isolation for twenty-four hours now, right?”

Bob groaned, slumping back slightly against the bench. “Ugh. Great. Cool. L-love that.” You crossed your arms.

“We’re both trapped in here. With no way out. The lab is in full lockdown. Airlocked. Everything. Biocontainment protocol 9A.” He sighed, tilting his head toward you dramatically. “

It’s not like we don’t already spend the majority of our free time together or anything.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Don’t act like this is some cozy movie night. You almost got yourself pollinated into another dimension.” Your voice was softer now. More affectionate, more playful. Your gaze dropped briefly–to the faint shimmer still clinging to the edge of his collarbone–and that’s when you noticed it.

You looked down at yourself.

Tiny flecks of gold sparkled faintly across your sleeves, dusted across the dark wool of your sweater and even the collar of your lab coat. The stuff was finer than you thought–so fine you’d barely felt it settle.

“Shit.”

“What?” Bob asked, alarmed.

You pulled your lab coat off immediately, shrugging out of it and tossing it into the nearest biohazard bin. Your sweater followed next, leaving you in the tank top you had underneath–thin, breathable, already damp with nervous sweat. The cold air bit at your arms, but it was better than risking more exposure. You grabbed a clean disposable mask from the supply drawer and tugged it on.

“You got exposed?” Bob asked, sitting up straighter.

You gave him a wry look as you reached for a pair of gloves. “You think that cloud only wanted you?”

He flushed again and shifted where he sat. “S-Sorry…”

“Not your fault,” you said quickly. “You didn’t provoke it.”

Bob’s eyes slid to the corner of the lab where the flower still sat in its shattered dome, motionless now, but unmistakably altered–its petals twitching like cooling muscles, the last of the pollen still floating down like it hadn’t quite obeyed gravity yet.

You pointed to his hoodie.

“That’s gotta come off too.”

He blinked. “W-What?”

“Bob. Your hoodie is covered. You’re basically wearing a glitter bomb.”

“Oh…Right.” He looked down at himself and, reluctantly, peeled the hoodie off over his head, careful not to shake loose any more of the clinging dust. The fabric crackled softly as the static gave way. You moved forward with a biohazard bag already open and waiting.

“Drop it in,” you said, and he obeyed, his white T-shirt riding up slightly with the movement. You caught a glimpse of pale skin, faint golden freckles across his lower ribs, the subtle cut of his hip. You averted your eyes quickly, pretending not to notice.

But he noticed.

You didn’t speak for a beat.

Then:

“Okay,” you said, stepping back with the sealed bag in hand, “Contaminated clothing secured. Isolation timer has started. We’ve got twenty-four hours to kill and a potentially sentient flower that just gas-bombed the strongest man on Earth.”

Bob blinked at you, then gave the tiniest smirk.

“Th-this gonna be in the report?”

“Oh, absolutely,” You muttered, deadpan. “‘Subject A leaned into mysterious glowing flower. Subject B now has fairy glitter in her bra.’”

He laughed. Harder than you expected. The sound echoed softly in the sealed room and you let it hang there for a moment. Eventually his laughter faded, but the heat that was beginning to build in the lab didn’t.

It wasn’t just the tension between you anymore–it was physical. Palpable. You could feel it crawling along the inside of your spine like static. Your skin felt…Tight. Like your clothes were holding in too much warmth. Like the fabric of your tank top was suddenly too heavy in all the wrong places and far too light in others.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, hoping it would pass, but it didn’t.

Bob was still sitting on the bench, towel now draped loosely across his lap, chest rising and falling more steadily than before–but even from a few feet away, you could see the faint shine of sweat beginning to gather at the hollow of his throat.

You squinted slightly.

“Is it just me,” You said slowly, brushing a strand of hair off your neck, “Or is it…Hot in here?”

Bob lifted his head toward you, blinking slowly. His cheeks were still pink–flushed in that way people only got when they were either just out of a fever or just getting into something much more compromising.

“I-I thought it was just me,” He said, adjusting how he sat. “I figured the air filters w-weren’t moving much cool air yet. It’s… It’s an enclosed space, so…” He trailed off, eyes catching briefly on your arms, the exposed slope of your collarbone, and then darting away again, as if ashamed of the glance.

You nodded, trying to focus–but it was getting harder. Your tank top clung to the skin beneath your ribs like a second layer of sweat-dampened silk. You could feel the heat collecting at your lower back, a slow, stoked furnace of warmth that wasn’t just the room. Your breathing shifted slightly. Shallower.

There was a kind of pressure building behind your sternum. An ache–not painful, not sharp. Just…Present. Gnawing. Low in your belly. You cleared your throat.

“Do you feel weird?” You asked, keeping your voice as casual as you could. “Like… more than just warm? Any lightheadedness? Sensory changes?” Bob didn’t answer right away. His shoulders rolled back slowly, and his hand came up to drag across the back of his neck. You watched the way his palm moved over the sweat-damp strands of hair, the tension in his forearm, the way his biceps flexed just slightly under the tight stretch of cotton.

He wasn’t looking at you now. But his voice was quiet when he answered.

“M-My heart rate i-is up,” He admitted. “But I d-don’t feel sick. I just feel–” He stopped. Swallowed. Then: “Wound up. I-it’s like I’ve been waiting for something to happen and m-my body’s just trying to stay ahead of it.” You stared at him, hearing as he listed out the same symptoms you were feeling.

Then there was the ache again–twisting low and slow, enough to make you shift your thighs closer together without thinking. You noticed the way Bob’s eyes tracked the motion and immediately flicked away. His chest was rising faster now. His jaw clenched, breath audible through his nose. Something was happening. Something chemical, something hormonal. Something Induced.

You took a slow breath, then glanced at the ruined containment dome, the flower sitting quietly like nothing had happened. Its stamen pulsed gently, and the last wisps of pollen still hovered in the filtered air like gold-lit ghosts.

”You said it didn’t burn when the pollen hit…” You murmured, “Just felt weird…Right?” He nodded slowly, eyes flicking toward your face, then to your mouth, then away. You swallowed hard, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead. ”How weird?”

Bob exhaled a shaky breath. His hands flexed against his thighs, fingers twitching.

“It just felt really…Light,” he rasped. “Like ash. N-Not like sand–softer. Barely even there. But now–” He trailed off, and when he looked at you, it was like being seen for the first time. His pupils were blown wide, only a thin ring of ocean-blue clinging to the edge. His voice lowered.

“Now I feel like my skin is on fire. L-Like I’m burning…And everything’s so damn sensitive. I c-can’t stop–” His voice cracked, “–I can’t stop looking at you.” Your breath caught. The ache between your legs deepened sharply, twisting upward through your belly like someone had plucked a string that now hummed through your bones. The realization slammed into you with full force. The heat. The ache. The scent. The shimmer. The reaction.

Fuck. You staggered backward from the bench slightly and slapped your hand down on the comm panel by the edge of your lab table, hitting the line for Bucky.

“Come on, come on, pick up–”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s voice crackled over the line. “What’s up?”

“Bucky,” You said, trying to steady your breathing. “Where exactly were you when you found that flower? Be specific. What were the surroundings?”

“I told you, it was near the tree line,” He answered, confused. “On the way back from the ridge. Why?”

“Was there anything else? Anything that stood out?”

There was a pause. Then, “Uh…There was kind of a–garden? Like, a bunch of them. Just a whole patch. Maybe fifty or sixty, I dunno, they were all clumped together.”Another pulse of heat ripped through your core, and you clenched your thighs, biting back a soft, involuntary groan. You half-collapsed, catching yourself on the table edge before sliding down the side of it, pressing your forehead into your forearm.

“Where were they, Bucky?” You grit out through clenched teeth. “Was there a lab? A compound? A goddamn marker on the ground–anything?”

“What? Y/N, I don’t–wait, there was a lab…But it wasn’t even close. Maybe two miles east of it. Looked abandoned. You think it’s connected?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, voice rough, stomach clenching. Your vision was starting to blur around the edges. “That’s not wild growth, Buck. That’s a planted field. That was cultivated. You brought me a fucking bioweapon.”

There was silence.

Bob had shifted, and when you looked up, he was no longer on the bench. He had crouched behind one of the heavy lab tables on the far end of the room, head bowed, palms braced hard against the floor like he was praying—or like he was trying to hold himself together.

“I-it’s getting worse,” he called out, voice hoarse and echoing faintly off the tile. “I—I can feel it in my hands, my back—like I’m buzzing from the inside out. You need to go to another room, Y/N. Please. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen—”

“There is no other room,” you snapped, clutching your own torso, fingers digging into your tank top like it could peel the sensation off your skin. “We’re sealed in. Remember? Isolation. Twenty-four hours.”

You turned back to the comm, swallowing back the pulse building low in your belly. “Bucky, something happened in that lab. This isn’t just a flower. It’s engineered—enhanced. There’s pheromone manipulation in the pollen. Maybe synthetic hormones. We both got exposed.”

“What kind of exposure?”

You hesitated.

Then you exhaled shakily, voice lowering. “The worst kind. I think it’s… I think it’s sex pollen, Bucky.”

A beat of stunned silence on the other end. Then:

“…You’re shitting me.”

“I wish I was,” you hissed, grinding the heel of your hand into your temple, heart pounding. “And unless I get a suppressant cocktail in the next thirty minutes, I’m going to lose it.”

“What about Bob?”

You turned your head just slightly toward where Bob was crouched, shaking. His knuckles had gone white.

“He’s already losing it,” You whispered.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing,” you said, too fast. “Just…We’re locked in for twenty-four hours. There’s nothing anyone can do. Just… Just keep the others out. Don’t let anyone near the door.”

There was a long pause. Then Bucky’s voice dropped.

“Y/N. What exactly happened in there?”

You clenched your jaw and gave the only answer you could.

“I’ll tell you if we survive it.” Then you hung up the comm, bracing your hands on your knees as the ache spread like wildfire across your thighs, your chest, the hollow between your hips. Everything was overstimulated–fabric too rough, air too dry, skin too tight.

And then there was Bob.

You looked up slowly, panting now, vision swimming with heat and color. You could barely see his face in the shadow of the bench, but you heard his voice.

“I-It’s in me,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is. I can feel it in m-my blood. My skin feels like it’s too small. I’m–I’m shaking. I c-can’t stop it.” His breath hitched, voice breaking apart. “I can smell you. I c-can hear your heart. I can feel every molecule in this goddamn r-room. God, what is this stuff?” You were already dragging yourself across the floor, crawling on hands and knees to the nearest storage cabinet, yanking open drawers for anything–anything–that might help regulate internal chemistry. You were half-crazed with heat, sweat dripping between your shoulder blades, your whole body lit up like it had been set on fire from the inside.

“Okay,” you muttered, teeth clenched. “We’re gonna–we’re gonna figure this out. Just don’t come near me, Bob. Not yet.”

You couldn’t see him now, but you heard the thick, wet swallow from where he hid behind the bench.

“I w-won’t,” He rasped. “But…If you don’t figure it out soon…” His voice was barely audible now. “…I d-don’t know if I’m gonna b-be able to stop myself.” The words weren’t loud. They weren’t cruel. But they hit you like a blow to the chest. A sharp pulse rippled through your core–your muscles tensed like a wire had snapped in your belly. The ache between your legs twisted again, hot and hungry, and a broken sound escaped your lips before you could stop it.

A whimper. Soft, shaken, and needy.

”Shut up,” You gasped, your voice hoarse with panic and arousal, hand bracing against the cabinet, “Just…Stop talking, Bob please…Your voice. Fuck sake.” Another wave of heat surged under your skin like a current of electricity. You curled slightly into yourself, arms trembling, every breath catching high in your throat.

“I–I’m sorry,” Bob groaned from across the room, his voice cracking with guilt and something far darker. You heard him shift, heard the thump of his back hit the cabinet behind him like he’d braced himself against it, like he couldn’t trust his limbs to obey. He let out a loud breath, shuddering.

”G-God, I’m–I’m sorry, I c-can’t even think straight–“ His voice broke on the last word, thick with restraint. You dragged open another drawer with shaking fingers, rummaging through cold metal and sterile pouches, tossing one after the other to the side. Glucose packs. Emergency syringes. No suppressants. No hormonal regulators. Nothing for this kind of exposure.

Your vision blurred as your stomach clenched again. You could feel sweat beading at the base of your spine, making your tank top stick like a second skin. You couldn’t stop panting. Couldn’t stop trembling.

”Fuck…” You hissed, almost on the brink of sob. You slammed the drawer shut with a metallic clang, the sound too loud, echoing in the sealed lab like it was mocking you. ”I can’t–I-I can’t find anything.” You wheezed, voice cracking. You braced your hands on the cold tile, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your teeth.

The need was crawling over your skin like insects. Every breath was friction. Every shift of your body felt like dragging yourself through static. Your nipples were tight beneath your tank top, aching. You could feel your own pulse in places it didn’t belong.

“Shit–shit,” You whispered, eyes welling with frustrated tears. “Oh my god.”

Behind the bench, Bob made a low, strangled noise.

A grunt. Guttural. Desperate.

You couldn’t see him.

But you didn’t need to.

Because you could feel him.

You could feel the way the air changed when he moved. You could feel the ripple of heat that seemed to follow the sound of his voice. And worst of all–you could feel your body answering it.

Every cell in you was lit up with something heavy and humming. Something wild. Something designed.

You curled forward against the floor, pressing your forehead into your arm. You were panting now–wheezing, almos-trying to hold on. Trying not to cry.

You didn’t hear him crawl over, not until it was too late. Your breath was ragged, and your vision was swimming–and then warmth touched your arm. A large hand. Familiar. It closed over your bicep–but it lit your nerves on fire. You jerked away violently, scrambling back on instinct, collapsing onto your ass with a gasp. Your palm slammed against the tile and you skidded slightly, breath hitching as you spat out–

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice cracked, sharp and wet with panic. The motion made your spine arch, your tank top riding up slightly as your hip knocked into a rolling stool, the metal clattering away. Bob’s eyes widened in horror, hand halfway outstretched like it had betrayed him. He dropped to both knees in front of you instantly, not touching, but close enough for you to feel the warmth coming off his body like a wave.

“Y/N–” He breathed, his voice hoarse, chest heaving, “Y/N I-I feel it too, I p-promise. I feel everyth-ing” His hand hovered near your shoulder again, hesitant. Then, slowly, gently, he reached behind your neck, cradling it with a trembling touch. His fingers were hot against your skin, too hot. “Look at me. W-We’ll be okay. We’ll be o-okay.” You shook your head, lip quivering as the tears came faster now. Not the kind you could hide or blink away–these ones slid heavy and helpless down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your mouth. You were trembling all over, shoulders shaking, thighs clenching without relief.

”I-I feel like I’m dying,” You whispered, voice raw, “Fuck, Bob it’s so painful.” He nodded once, his face contorting with shared agony, as his hand slipped from the back of your neck to your jaw, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or let go.

“I-I know,” He rasped, his other hand gripping his thigh so hard it shook, “I-I’m burning from the inside out. I can smell y-you…I can s-smell everything–“ You swallowed, chest rising in short, hard jerks. Because so could you.

His scent was all over the room now. Thick and devastating. It rolled over you in waves—heat-warmed cedarwood, sweat, and something deeper. Instinctual. Masculine. Not cologne. Not soap. Something completely and totally him. A biological beckoning, chemical and holy and blinding.

It made your thighs twitch and your breath break.

And your own scent…You could smell it, too. Like heat-glazed citrus and clean skin. Something golden and heavy, threaded with notes of sun-warmed vanilla and fresh-cut stems. Like the wild edge of spring. It filled your nostrils, clung to your skin, hung in the air between you like a dare.

Bob’s eyes fluttered, jaw clenching again. He let out a low grunt, like the effort of staying still was costing him something visceral. His voice cracked as he spoke.

“I-Isn’t there…a-any way we can stop this f-from getting worse?” You didn’t want to say it, you really didn’t. But the truth came out anyway, scraped and raw from your throat.

”Only if…” You swallowed. Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth, “Only if we have sex…” The words dropped like a stone.

Bob’s breath hitched so hard it almost sounded like a choke. His throat bobbed, and he blinked down at you, eyes wild and dilated, dark lashes damp with sweat and desperation.

There was a pause–long and shaking.

Then, softly:

“W-Would it be t-that bad if…If we did?”

You flinched. Just barely. The air stilled, vibrating between you. And then you shook your head slowly, tears welling again–not from heat this time, but from something deeper.

“I really didn’t want our first time together being l-like this.”

That stopped him cold. All the breath punched out of him in a single exhale. His lips parted, but nothing came out. His hand fell away from your jaw like it had been burned. His whole posture shifted–still close, but paralyzed with guilt.

You looked away.

Because if you looked at him now–if you looked into that face, flushed and desperate and filled with longing–you’d give in. Your breath hitched sharply—twice—before you folded forward on a gasp, one hand clutching your lower stomach like it might soothe the throbbing pulse building between your legs.

“God,” you choked out, voice breaking. “Oh my god, I—I can’t fucking take it.”

The ache had bloomed into something unbearable—wet and slick and throbbing through your core with every heartbeat. You were drenched, panties stuck to you, heat radiating off your skin like you were about to combust. Across from you, Bob made a strangled sound, his fists tight on his thighs, chest heaving as he forced shallow breaths through his nose—like if he didn’t, he might do something reckless.

“I c-can’t smell you,” He whispered, more to himself than to you. “I–I can’t smell you–I can’t–”

But he could. You both could. Your scent was everywhere–sweet and sharp and thick with want. It hung in the air between you like perfume, like bait, and you knew it was driving him mad.

You twitched again as another rush of slick gushed between your thighs and a broken moan slipped past your lips–soft, needy, involuntary. Your eyes squeezed shut as your hand pressed harder against your stomach, trying to contain it.

But it was useless.

“I can’t–fuck, I can’t take it–” You gasped, and before you could stop yourself, you were lunging forward.

You grabbed his face with both hands–hot, flushed skin beneath your palms–and crushed your mouth to his like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was a collision.

A mess of lips and teeth and spit.

You moaned into his mouth the second you felt him gasp beneath you–his lips parting wide in helpless surrender, his hands flying to your waist like magnets. The second he touched you, it was over. You melted into him, mouths sliding and sucking and devouring with sloppy, panting need.

Spit slicked your chin, his chin, your mouths, your skin. It dripped down between you as your lips broke and reconnected over and over in increasingly desperate, wet smacks. His tongue slid against yours, hungry and hot, and you whimpered into the kiss like your whole body was unraveling.

His hands squeezed your hips, hard–fingertips digging in, dragging you toward him roughly until your knees bumped his thighs and your chest hit his. You felt the tremble in him, felt the heat pouring off his body as he let out a low, feral grunt into your mouth, like he was trying to hold himself together and failing.

You pulled back just an inch, breath catching in your throat as a strand of spit still connected your lips, both of you panting so hard it echoed in the sealed lab.

“Fuck–” He gasped, chasing your mouth again, not even giving you time to respond before crashing back into the kiss, even hungrier this time. “You taste like–God–l-like sunlight–like h-honey–fuck, I can’t–can’t stop–”

“Don’t,” You moaned, sliding your tongue into his mouth again, letting it tangle with his, swallowing his sounds, his heat, his everything. “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.” Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking at the damp curls as his hands roamed, gripping your waist so tightly it made you whine. He guided you into his lap without thinking, until your knees straddled his thighs and your body pressed flush to his. You could feel everything–the twitch of his erection beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the way his breath hitched when your hips brushed his, the way his hands couldn’t stop moving–gripping, sliding, needing. Every inch of you was pressed tight to him, and he felt all of it. The heat. The wetness. The hunger.

”G-God…” He gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder for a split second, voice thick, “I c-can’t–can’t stop–need…Need something–“ And then his hands flexed, dragging you forward–against him. You cried out, the sound strangled and high as he rocked your hips into his, grinding you against the thick line of his cock through his sweatpants. The friction sent a lightning bolt through your core, and your whole body spasmed in response, clutching at his shoulders as the contact jolted through your nerves.

“Oh–God–” You moaned, tearing your mouth from his as your head tipped back, spine arching. “Oh fuck–do that again–” He didn’t even answer. Just groaned–loud, filthy–and rolled your hips again. Rougher. Harder. Enough that your soaked panties dragged hot and slick over the outline of him, soaking into the soft cotton of his clothes and yours.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as your thighs trembled on either side of his lap. Your hands found his hair and tugged–hard–and he moaned so deeply it vibrated through your ribs. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your throat, open-mouthed kisses dragging over sweat-slick skin. His tongue was everywhere–greedy and reverent–and then you felt him kiss the top of your chest, right along the edge of your tank top.

You were panting, shaking, drenched in sweat and arousal. You couldn’t stop grinding down against him now, couldn’t stop chasing that friction as you rolled your hips again and again, letting your swollen heat drag along his cock in slow, devastating passes. The pressure built fast, sharp and aching, pulsing low in your belly with every movement.

Bob’s mouth trembled where it kissed just below your collarbone. His fingers slipped up your sides, shaky but sure–and then they hooked under the thin straps of your tank top.

“P-Please–” He rasped, looking up at you like he was about to fall apart. “Can I—can I see you?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes. God, yes.”

He didn’t wait. He dragged the straps down your arms, kissing the slope of your shoulder as they slipped, one by one. Then he tugged the neckline down–slow, desperate–and bared your breasts to the heavy, sweat-damp air.

The second your nipples were exposed, he let out a groan–a sound so broken, it barely sounded human. His eyes glazed with worship, with hunger.

And then his mouth was on you.

He wrapped his lips around one tight, aching nipple and moaned–like he was dying for the taste of you. His tongue flicked, sucked, lapped, over and over, and you cried out, hips jerking uncontrollably in his lap as you rutted down against him.

“Oh my god–Bob–“ You gasped, fingers burying in his hair, yanking him closer, needier. “That–fuck–you’re so good…” He didn’t stop. If anything, he got more desperate. His tongue traced circles around your nipple, sucking it deeper into his mouth with each slow pull of his lips. One of his hands gripped your ass, guiding your hips faster against his erection, grinding you down until your whole body was quivering.

“Y-You’re so warm,” He panted between kisses. “So soft–God–“ And then he took the other nipple between his lips, just as eager, just as mindless. His tongue licked a long, slow stripe across the swell of your breast and you sobbed at the contact, your whole body arching into him. Bob groaned around your nipple one last time before pulling off with a wet pop, his mouth red and slick with spit. His eyes were blown wide, pupils so dilated there was barely any blue left–but there was something else swimming behind them too, something ancient, hungry, waiting to surface. His breath caught in his throat as he leaned in close, nudging your jaw with his nose, mouth grazing your cheek. Then suddenly–

He surged forward.

Your back hit the cold tile in one fluid motion, the breath punching out of your lungs as he guided you down with firm hands, mouth still dragging across your chest. The contrast between the icy floor and the furnace of your skin made you cry out softly, arching up into his touch.

“Bob–” You gasped, but your words cut off with a moan as his hands slipped low, gripping the waistband of your pants and underwear in one practiced motion.

“L-Lift your hips,” He instructed–voice rough and tight with restraint. You obeyed instantly, and he peeled both garments down your legs in a single fluid movement, baring you to the air, to him, to everything.

Your thighs quivered as the rush of cool air met the wet heat between them. You leaned up, grabbed the hem of your tank top, and tore it over your head. It hit the floor behind you just as Bob stripped off his shirt–his chest gleaming with sweat, muscles flexing, dusted with faint gold shimmer and a constellation of freckles across his collarbones.

You barely had a second to breathe before he dropped between your thighs again, mouth finding yours in a kiss so urgent and deep it knocked your head back against the tile. It was messier now–hotter, more desperate, his tongue fucking into your mouth with wild hunger.

Then he broke away just far enough to speak.

“I-I’m going to c-crawl on my fucking knees,” He growled, “And you’re gonna spread those thighs wider for me, and let me eat you until you come on my tongue.”You arched up with a moan, hips twitching off the floor. Your hands reached for him blindly, pulling at his shoulders as he trailed kisses down your throat, your chest, your ribs.

“I need you so fucking bad,” He whispered, his voice darker now–lower, smoother. The stutter was gone.

You blinked through the haze, the heat, the sweat clinging to your lashes–and that’s when you saw it. The eyes. Not Bob’s soft blue. Gold. Molten.

“Sentry,” You whispered, breath catching.

But you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to.

His teeth scraped gently along your stomach, sending electric pulses through your nerves, and then he kissed the inside of your hip bones like he was worshipping an altar.

“You smell so fucking sweet,” He murmured, nose dragging through the crease where your thigh met your core, voice reverent and filthy all at once. “I can’t wait to have a taste.” You sobbed his name as your thighs opened wider for him, your body obeying without question. He slid his hands beneath you, lifting your hips off the floor, draping your thighs over his shoulders–his palms spreading across your lower back to anchor you in place.

“Look at you,” He groaned, lips brushing against your soaked folds without yet tasting. “You’re drenched…You’re so fucking wet I can see it drip.”

Then he leaned in.

And licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.

You choked on a scream. Your hips jerked hard against his mouth, and his arms tightened around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue moved again–sloppier this time. Messier. Hungrier. He licked into you like he was starving. Long, deep strokes. Quick flicks. Circles around your swollen clit that had you crying out his name.

“God, fuck–yes–”

You gripped his hair hard, yanking at the sweat-damp strands, and he groaned like he liked it–no, loved it. The vibration of the sound against your core made your whole body shake.

“You taste like summer, like heat, like stars.” He moaned. “Absolutely fucking sinful.” He pulled back only long enough to look at you, his mouth wet, chin dripping with slick.

“I can’t wait to make you come on my tongue,” He growled.

And then he dove back in.

Tongue sliding flat against your clit, then swirling, sucking it into his mouth with slow, rhythmic pulls that made your vision blur. You cried out, grinding into his face, your hands clutching his hair, your whole body vibrating with sensation.

“P-Please–” you whimpered, barely able to breathe, “Please don’t stop–”

He didn’t.

He licked and sucked and groaned like you were his favorite meal, like he could do this for hours. His hands gripped your ass, dragging you tighter to his mouth, keeping you from squirming away.

You were going to come.

It was building fast–tight and white-hot and burning like it had nowhere else to go. You were right on the edge when–

He slipped one thick finger inside you.

You let out a loud gasp. It wasn’t pain–it was too much. Too good. The stretch, the pressure, the way his mouth never stopped moving.

“That’s it,” He murmured against your clit. “Take my fingers…Just like that…You’re so tight, fuck…I’m imagining how you’re going to take me.”

You clenched around him, and he groaned again–louder this time–and slid a second finger in, stretching you open. His fingers curled up, rubbing slow, teasing strokes into that perfect, devastating spot. Your walls fluttered, your thighs trembled.

“Oh god, oh god–”

“Come for me,” He growled. “Right now. Let me feel you.”

And he sped up.

Fingers pumping hard, mouth sucking your clit with filthy precision. You sobbed his name, your back arched clean off the tile, and you shattered.

The orgasm ripped through you like fire, like lightning–your thighs locking around his head, your hands gripping his hair as you wailed through it.

He didn’t stop.

Not when you cried out.

Not when you begged.

He kept sucking, licking, fucking his fingers into you as your body convulsed.

Your body was still twitching when he pulled his fingers free–slick and trembling, your core fluttering from aftershocks as he slowly sat back on his heels.

His chin was soaked. His lips swollen. His eyes–those molten, god-touched eyes–burned down the length of your naked body like sunlight through stained glass.

“I should feel sated,” He murmured, voice too calm for the storm coiled in his chest. “I should be full from what I’ve just taken.”He leaned in. Slowly. Pressed one open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, then another–hot and reverent, just shy of your folds. His breath dragged over you, still sensitive, and it made you whimper.

“But I’m not,” He said low, his nose skimming up the inside of your leg as he worked his way toward your face. “I’m still starving.”

You were trying to breathe, but it wasn’t easy. Not with your pulse echoing in your throat, not with the ache between your legs still pulsing with the memory of his tongue, and certainly not with him looking at you like that.

“I’ve waited…So long to taste you.”

His voice was velvet heat–slick with need, rich with something that throbbed like want and worship tangled together.

He braced a hand on either side of your head as he crawled up over you, hair wild around his face, sweat glistening on the slopes of his shoulders and chest. The weight of him caged you in. It wasn’t heavy–it was all-consuming.

You reached up with a trembling hand and cupped his face. His skin was flushed, warm and slick, his jaw tight as though holding back something enormous.

“I can still feel you,” You whispered, voice raw. “On my mouth. On my thighs. Inside me.”

He smiled at that–but it wasn’t gentle.

It was hunger.

“You’ll feel me even more soon.”His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip, and his gaze flicked down–watching the way your mouth parted for him instinctively. He leaned in again, voice now a whisper of thunder against your cheek, “Imagine what it’s going to be like when I fuck you…” Your hips bucked helplessly beneath him, but he only smirked, catching them with a firm palm.

“Sentry,” You gasped, voice trembling as your thighs clenched under the weight of him, “P-Please. God—don’t you feel it too?!”

His nose brushed yours, breath hot against your cheek. He didn’t answer at first–just let that small, dangerous smile curl across his lips, teeth barely catching his lower lip before he released it.

“Of course I feel it,” He murmured, hips dragging downward, grinding his clothed cock into your slick heat. “It’s everywhere in me. In my chest, in my spine, my teeth.” His voice dropped to a darker pitch, and the gold in his eyes flared one last time before dimming. “I-I just know I’m going to get what I-I need…

Bob sat back on his knees between your spread thighs, hands sliding slow and sure down his stomach to the waistband of his sweatpants. “I-I already came once just from eating you out,” He confessed, voice timid now, “I t-think I have more in me…”

Then he tugged the sweatpants down.

Your breath stuttered in your throat.

His erection sprang free, flushed dark and glistening at the tip, already slick with the evidence of his earlier release. A thick bead of cum sat heavy at the crown, dripping slowly down the curve of his shaft, and your whole body twitched at the sight of it. The raw, shameless arousal surged in your belly like wildfire.

“Fuck–” You whispered, pupils blown wide.

He was beautiful. Veined and heavy and so hard it twitched with every breath. You couldn’t stop yourself. Your hand moved without thought–licking your palm once, slow and deliberate, before wrapping your fingers around him.

Bob groaned immediately–deep. His head dropped forward, curls swinging around his jaw, and his hips bucked into your touch as your hand slid down the length of him in a slow, sticky stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip. Hot. Pulsing.

“Mmmf–fuck,” He growled, the sound rattling against the walls. He dropped one hand down to your thigh to steady himself, the other bracing behind him as you worked him with your slick hand–up and down, tight and wet and slow, like you wanted to savor every second.

His breath came out in sharp pants, his face flushed, his eyes fluttering shut as your thumb rubbed just beneath the swollen head, gathering that leaking slick and spreading it over his cock.

“God, I didn’t even have to touch you and you came.” You whispered,

“That’s what y-you do to me,” he gasped, voice shaking. “I couldn’t help it—god, I couldn’t fucking help it—” He surged forward, kissing you hard, and you moaned against his mouth as his hips began to stutter forward, chasing the motion of your hand with every pass.

It was hot, the way he kissed you–messy. His mouth was open, panting against yours, lips dragging along your tongue, teeth grazing your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth with a wet pop. He moaned into you with every stroke of your hand, deep in his chest, growling like it hurt not to move faster.

He kissed like he was about to fall apart in your arms.

Like he wanted to ruin you and thank you at the same time.

And you could feel it–he was close again. Already.

“G-God–don’t stop–don’t stop–” he choked out, hips bucking into your grip, his cock twitching hard in your palm.

Then his mouth tore from yours with a ragged moan, his body going rigid as he came–again.

Thick ropes of cum spilled across your stomach in hot, wet spurts–slicking your skin, painting the swell of your belly in messy, sticky heat. Bob cried out, breath catching, his hand clutching your thigh hard enough to leave fingerprints as his hips jerked against your hand one last time.

You watched it all, feeling it dripping down your skin. You slowed your hand, and then looked up at him. His eyes were fluttered closed. His mouth hung open, panting raggedly. His cheeks were red and damp with sweat, hair curling against his temples in loose, disheveled strands.

And then–

You ran your fingers through the puddle of cum on your stomach.

Bob’s eyes snapped open.

He watched, transfixed, as you dragged two fingers slowly through the mess he left on you–slicking them up, glossy with white.

Then you brought them to your mouth.

And sucked them clean.

He groaned–low and guttural, more animal than man. He surged forward and kissed you, hard–his mouth hot and open, tongue licking into yours like he needed to taste what you’d just tasted.

And when he pulled back–just barely–he looked drunk. Starved. His voice was hoarse, reverent.

“W-We taste so g-good together,” He whispered.

You whimpered, eyes wide and glassy.

And then your voice broke.

“I need you inside me.”

His breath hitched sharply. His eyes searched your face like a prayer–like he needed to make sure this wasn’t just the pollen, wasn’t just chemical.

But your body told him everything he needed to know. The slick between your thighs. The tremble in your voice. The way your legs fell open without fear. He saw your hand reaching for him–trembling, open, desperate–and instead of just taking it, he kissed it.

One slow kiss to your palm. Then your wrist. Then each fingertip in turn, reverent and breath-warmed. His eyes didn’t leave yours, even when his lips brushed the soft pads of your fingers. It felt like something sacred.

“I-I’m yours, Y/N…” He whispered, his voice wrecked–hoarse and honeyed, lined with awe. “All yours.”

Your chest trembled. Not from the pollen. Not from the heat. From the weight of it–his words, his body, his need. You brought your other hand to his cheek, touching the sweat-slick curve of his face, thumb stroking over his flushed skin.

“You’re burning up,” You whispered.

“So are you,” He breathed back.

But the ache had shifted now. It was lower. Thicker. No longer frantic. Just heavy. Full. Demanding.

His lips met yours again–slow this time, almost trembling. Not chasing. Not crashing. Just pressing. Full and warm. Your mouths moved in sync, deeper with every pass, until he adjusted his weight above you, one forearm braced beside your head while the other hand snaked down to your thigh.

His fingers curled around the underside of it, tugging you closer until your legs wrapped around him again and your slick heat pressed against his length. He groaned into your mouth at the contact.

“G-God, Y/N,” He muttered, dragging his mouth down to your throat, kissing the line of your pulse. “You’re s-still dripping. I can feel it–so hot, so wet for me…”

His hand shifted, reaching between your bodies. He stroked himself once. Twice. The glide was obscene, slick with both your arousal and his release from before. He cursed low under his breath–voice strained with restraint–and guided the thick head of his erection to your entrance. Then–he paused, letting his forehead press to yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered

“T-Tell me you want it.”

”I want you, Bob,” You breathed, “I’ve wanted you for so long…Please I want you inside me.” You begged, almost on the brink of tears just from the sheer anticipation that wracked through your body. He let out a long sigh and slid in, with such slowness you felt your whole body tense up.

You both gasped at the same time–loud, broken, raw. Your back arched and your thighs locked tighter around him as he pushed forward, inch by inch, stretching you wide with the thick, pulsing heat of him. He groaned above you, mouth falling open as your walls clenched around him, impossibly wet and tight.

“Oh–f-fuck…” He stuttered, his voice cracking like it couldn’t contain the feeling. “You feel…God…You feel like…Like e-everything.”

You whined under him, nails scraping lightly across his back. Every inch dragged through you like it was carved for you–hot, thick, filling. It was too much and not enough at once.

“You’re stretching me so good,” You gasped, voice shaking. “Bob–go slow–I wanna feel all of it.” He obeyed, hips moving with devastating care, sinking into you until he bottomed out, fully seated, buried to the hilt. The moan that left your mouth was guttural. His wasn’t any better. It came from deep in his chest–an animal sound, trembling and wrecked.

He stayed still inside you, just for a moment, just to feel everything, just to breathe.

Your chest rose beneath him in shuddering gasps, your nails pressing into the flex of his back as your hips trembled beneath the weight of him. He was deep–so deep it was hard to breathe–but it wasn’t painful. It was perfect. Like a lock clicking into place after too many years of holding the wrong key.

His forehead dropped to yours, your sweat-slick skin sticking where it touched, his breath ragged and hot against your cheek. His arms trembled faintly from the restraint, from the fire still licking through his blood, from the unholy grip of your body around him. His hands slid slowly from the curve of your thigh up to your waist, his thumbs brushing over your hips as if memorizing them. One hand trailed higher, tracing the line of your ribs, his touch light, soothing, trembling.

”You feel–“ He choked on the words, voice wrecked and shaking, “–Like…L-Like you were made for every inch of m-me.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as your back arched slightly, hips shifting. The movement made him twitch deep inside you, and the sound he let out was hoarse and broken. Your lips brushed his, breath mingling.

“I need you to move,” you whispered. “Please, Bob. I need you to–”

He cut you off with a kiss.

Not desperate. Not wild. Just deep. Intentional. His lips dragged against yours in slow, soft strokes, his tongue slipping into your mouth like a secret. You kissed him back with a whimper, your hands cupping his face, fingers sliding into the damp curls at the base of his neck.

Then he started to move.

Slow at first.

A long, slow withdrawal that had your breath catching in your throat, followed by a deep, steady thrust that made you moan into his mouth. His hips rocked forward again, harder this time, but still slow. Still deliberate. Still savoring.

You felt every inch.

And he felt everything.

Your slick heat around him. The way your body welcomed him, tightened for him, trembled from the fullness. He moved like he wanted to stay inside you forever–long strokes that dragged through you with devastating patience, hips grinding at the end of each thrust like he wanted to feel the slick press of your clit against his skin.

He kissed you between thrusts–messy, wet kisses that dragged across your jaw, your cheek, your mouth again. His lips caught your whimpers. His tongue tasted your gasps. He moaned into your mouth when you clenched around him.

And then–

His hand slid up your chest, broad and warm, until his palm cupped the base of your throat. Not tight. Not forceful. Just there. Anchoring. Feeling the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.

“You’re burning,” He whispered, lips dragging across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “S-So warm…So soft…So alive…”

His hips rolled again, slow but deep, pressing into you until your breath stuttered beneath his palm. Your body arched into him helplessly, your thighs wrapping tighter around his waist, your mouth parting on a moan that he caught with a kiss–hot, slick, and panting. He swallowed it greedily.

The pressure of his hand on your throat didn’t restrict. It grounded. Like he needed to feel your heartbeat just to believe this was real.

You whimpered, and he pulled back enough to look at you–his curls dripping sweat, his lips swollen and damp, and those eyes, half-lidded and molten gold at the edges.

“G-God, I could be inside you forever,” he rasped, voice trembling like the words themselves threatened to undo him. “I–I never want to l-leave this. Never wanna stop feeling you like this…”

Another thrust–this one deeper, grinding. Your head dropped back with a gasp.

“Bob–” You sobbed his name like it was the only word you remembered, your fingers twisting hard in his hair. He groaned, deep and wrecked, his hips stuttering slightly as you tugged, his body responding like you’d yanked something primal out of him. His mouth found yours again, frantic and hot, tongue flicking into your mouth with messy, desperate hunger.

Then he pulled back just enough to see your face–flushed, dewy with sweat, eyes glassy and wide.

“Y-You’re close again,” He murmured, like it was something holy. His hand still cradled your throat lightly, thumb stroking gently beneath your jaw as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I–I can feel it, you’re tightening every time I move–you’re doing so good for me Y/N.” You whimpered beneath him, your hands clutching at his back, at his shoulders, pulling him deeper, harder, anything–

“I’ve got you,” He whispered, rocking into you again, the friction slow and devastating. “Let go for me. Come around me. I wanna feel it. I wanna feel you fall apart.”

You moaned–high and soft and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice breaking. “Just like that. You’re doing so good—G-God–you’re so perfect.” Your thighs shook around his hips. His hand slid down from your throat to your chest, splaying wide over your sternum, as if he could feel the orgasm building beneath your ribs. His other hand slipped to your hip, holding you still as he gave one slow, deep thrust that hit the exact spot that made your vision blur.

Your mouth dropped open in a cry.

“Come for me,” He begged, hips rolling again, steady and relentless. “Please–I wanna feel you–let me feel you come around me–”

You shattered.

Your back arched off the floor, your breath catching in a series of sobbed gasps as the orgasm ripped through you. He kept moving, kept whispering praise through your climax, voice ragged with awe.

“That’s it…That’s it, Y/N…You’re so beautiful like this–“ You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you on earth, your nails digging into his back, your body convulsing beneath him with every wave of pleasure. You could feel yourself pulsing around him, feel how it dragged a strangled moan out of his throat.

“I-I’m so close,” He gasped, his voice wrecked, his rhythm faltering. “W-Wanna fill you up–please–can I–?”

You nodded, breathless and trembling. “Yes–yes, please–I want it–give it to me–” With a broken groan, his hips jerked forward one last time–and he spilled inside you. His whole body shook as he came, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapping around you like he needed to hold every part of you to survive it.

You could feel it–every throb, every pulse of warmth deep inside you. His moans, soft and shaking, buzzed against your throat as his breath caught in your skin.

He didn’t move for a long while.

Just stayed there–buried inside you, mouth warm against your neck, arms tight around your waist like he was anchoring himself to this moment, to the rhythm of your heart against his chest. His breath was still coming in short, shaken bursts, and yours wasn’t much better. You were both trembling a little–not from fear, not anymore–but from the rawness of what had just passed between you. Like your bodies hadn’t quite caught up to the aftermath of something so explosive, so full.

But the heat was different now.

It had shifted. Softened. Still warm. Still thick. But no longer blistering, no longer maddening. Just…Lingering.

Your hands slid slowly up his back, fingers tracing through the sweat that slicked his spine, dragging across the faint bumps of his vertebrae. He let out a soft, shaky sigh against your skin. Your fingertips wandered to his sides, palms smoothing gently over the curve of his ribs as if to say I’m here. Still here. I’m okay.

You tilted your head and pressed a kiss to his shoulder—soft, damp, reverent. His skin tasted like salt and breathless devotion.

Bob shifted then, his arms loosening around you as he lifted his head just slightly, enough to look down at you. His hair was a light brown mess, damp curls stuck to his temples, a few clinging to his cheeks. He blinked at you–slow, still dazed–but there was something clearer in his eyes now. Something tender. His hand dragged along your side, skimming your ribs, and he leaned down to kiss you again.

His lips moved against yours like he hadn’t quite gotten his fill–like maybe he never would. He kissed your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck, peppering slow, breathless kisses along the column of your throat. You giggled once–just a little–as his nose brushed the underside of your jaw, tickling your skin.

He pulled back just enough to blink down at you, lips wet and parted, chest still heaving.

”Y-You know I like you, right?” Your breath caught. Your fingers paused where they rested near the nape of his neck. His voice had cracked slightly on the word like, and you could tell he meant something so much more than that. Of course you knew his feelings for you, it was easy to spot, but hearing him say it aloud–even after the both of you just had the most carnal sex ever–still made you a bit breathless. You swallowed, then nodded–eyes searching his face, your heart fluttering in your throat.

“I like you too,” You whispered, your voice shaky and soft. “Always have…” Your cheeks burned, and not from residual heat. You traced a finger over the curve of his shoulder. “T-The circumstances right now are a bit c-crazy…But…Maybe after this…”You tried to continue, but your nerves tangled the words together.

He finished them for you.

“I-I’ll take you out,” He said, nodding once, as if promising both you and himself. “We…We can go to your favorite r-restaurant. And we can do this right…” He ducked his head a little, voice lowering to a smile. “W-Without the sex pollen.” You let out a laugh–helpless and bright–and leaned up to kiss him again. He grinned into it, just a little, and kissed you twice more, slower now, like sealing the agreement. When he finally pulled back, his thumb was brushing your cheekbone, his other hand still lazily tracing your hip.

His gaze dropped to your chest for a moment, then back to your eyes. “A-Are you still aching?” He asked gently.

You paused, body still humming with the memory of him, but no longer sharp with urgency. You shifted slightly, feeling the wet stickiness between your thighs, the throb finally quieting to something warm and dull.

“It’s dulled a little,” you admitted. “But I think we should wash up…”

He blinked, nodding. “R-Right. Yeah.”

You offered a small smile, brushing the sweat-slick hair from his forehead. “We’ve got that little makeshift shower unit in the corner storage. Emergency setup. I-I can activate it.”

He looked at you, eyes soft, one hand trailing lightly over your ribs again.

“I-I’ll come with you,” He murmured. “Just to m-make sure you’re okay.” His curls hung loose now, wild and slightly matted from where your fingers had yanked at them during your climax. The gold shimmer on his skin caught the low lab lights, making him glow faintly where he hovered above you.

“Aww,” you murmured, brushing a hand lazily over the sharp line of his jaw, “That’s sweet, Bob. Really. But we both know that’s not the reason you’re joining me.” Bob flushed immediately, lips twitching into a bashful grin.

“O-Okay,” He said quietly, nuzzling your cheek with the tip of his nose. “M-Maybe it isn’t…M-Maybe I just wanna wash you, and k-kiss you under the water…Until all this heat dies down inside me.” Your chest stuttered at that, heart tripping over itself. His voice was so soft, so wrecked, so full of you.

“Now that’s much better,” You whispered, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiled into it, and you felt the way his arms curled tighter around your middle, the way his cock–still half-hard inside you–twitched slightly at the praise. He sighed, then slowly pulled out, both of you gasping a little at the drag of it. You shivered, and he was already reaching for a nearby towel to cover you while you sat up. His hand cradled the back of your head as you steadied yourself. Always gentle, even now.

You stretched your sore limbs and started for the far corner of the lab where the emergency hygiene setup was stored. Still naked, still glowing with post-orgasm daze, you knelt beside the console and started activating the emergency rinse station–a compact but functional retractable stall with hot water access, a single pressure-nozzle head, and sealed drainage for contamination containment. You flipped open the sanitation kit, pulling out the packet of unscented soap, a washcloth, and the emergency towels folded like paper bricks.

Bob padded over behind you, and you heard him laugh softly as you organized the supplies with shaky hands.

“What?” You said over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow.

He scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “N-Nothing. Y-You just look really focused for someone who’s still naked and covered in glittery sex pollen.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well,” you murmured, standing and turning to face him, “Remind me to access the cameras in here later and delete the footage of what happened…”

Bob raised his brows. “You think there’s audio?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Bob. We shouted at each other and cried out mid-orgasm while covered in science glitter. If there’s audio, we’re already blackmail material.”

His face turned scarlet.

“Y-You think they’ll–”

“I don’t think we want our sex tape leaking,” You interrupted, grinning wickedly as you flicked the shower head on. Warm water streamed out with a pleasant hiss, filling the space with a light mist and the sound of soft rainfall. You stepped under it first, pulling him gently in after you. The water hit your skin and instantly began washing away the gold flecks still clinging to your chest and thighs.

Bob’s hands found your waist again.

“…M-Maybe I’ll take a copy,” He mumbled.

You looked over your shoulder at him with mock exasperation. “You’ll have the real thing almost every night, Bob,” you said, voice low and teasing. “I don’t think you’ll need a copy.” His breath hitched–barely–and then you felt his mouth press to the back of your shoulder, his arms circling your waist from behind.

“I-Is that so?” He asked, lips trailing kisses up your damp neck.

You tilted your head back against him, smiling into the steam.

“Oh, it’s definitely so,” You said, reaching back to cup the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the water cascaded around you both–cleansing your skin, but not your hunger.

[encantresse]

she does not mean for her smile to falter. 

it slips. the mask cracks, and she is left scrambling to piece it back together before ferdinand thinks to pry some more. dorothea had hoped, almost to a point of desperation, that she'd remain in high spirits for the remainder of the day. that much she owed to her classmates and friends, who sought respite in these traditions. already, she'd let it falter with bernadetta, with hubert, and now with a third. it was likely a blessing that she was distanced from the stage these days, for a diva was expected to put on better performances than the half-baked ones she conducted now. 

she resorts to a lowered gaze, eyes fixated on a patch of singed grass just off to the side. "i was thinking about the bunker when i walked away," comes the careful reply. "after everything you and edie went through together…it felt wrong to bring up that parallel." 

softly, dorothea exhales through her nose. "i was just telling hubert that we're expected to act like nothing happened…but so much did, didn't it? i can't seem to put it behind me. "

a wayward glance is finally cast in his direction. 

"in any case, i don't think there's anything wrong with the way you fought. you gave it your all and outlasted everyone. that's the goal here, isn't it? you're carrying our banner. sounds memorable to me."

[ ♫ ]  ─  * 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧

boel2025 intermission mini

[ohcorny]

How I Made the Colors in Hunger's Bite So Good

first of all: buy my book. buy it and look at the colors. (if you cannot buy the book, ask for it at your local library or i GUESS you can look at these spreads i posted)

we're gonna talk about colors, but more specifically we're going to talk about overlays. if you're an artist you are probably familiar with overlays. we love our overlays. we love to color a picture and then at the very last minute go 'hm. looks bad. i'm going to put a yellowish overlay on it to make it look less bad :)'

do not do this.

i mean you can, and it'll work sometimes, but all you're really doing is tricking your brain into thinking different is better. you've been staring at the image for potentially several hours. none of the choices you made at the beginning mean anything to you anymore. you're just finishing what you started. one of the big reasons you might look at your art and go 'man, this doesn't look that good' is because You drew it and are intimately familiar with it. you know all the flaws and mistakes because You made them and You know what your vision was. one of the great frustrations with art is that the piece in your head doesn't look like something you actually made. you want it to look like somebody else did it, so you can enjoy it as a viewer, not as the creator.

so when you put that overlay on, and suddenly the image looks very different, your brain will go 'this doesn't look like the thing i've been staring at for 2-3 hours! this is different! now it's good!'

and again, sometimes it Is good. but do you actually understand why it's good? or is it just different?

okay so what am i supposed to do smart guy

i'm glad you asked. the trick to making overlays work is to have them on from the start. this requires knowing what mood you want to convey in your scene from the very beginning. hopefully you know what mood you want to convey. you do, right? and i don't just mean happy or sad, i also mean safe, threatened, familiar, strange, soft and harsh. blue is not always sad. green is not always healthy. yellow/orange are not the only way to convey a companionable warmth.

okay did you pick the mood? do you have an idea of what color you want to use to represent that mood? great. i'm gonna use blue to convey the cool, clean white of a ship's maintenance corridor without making things literally white. and i'm going to stick in two characters whose color palettes consist of bright yellow, brown, and wine red. awesome. i definitely know how those colors would behave under blue lighting.

(here's the thing: no i don't.) this is where a gradient map correction layer comes in. i want my page to be Blue. alright. let's make a gradient map that's Blue.

a gradient map is basically just A Gradient with specific colors connected to specific values. you have your darkest values on the left, and your lighter values on the right. at 100% opacity, this gradient map layer will read the value of anything below it and go 'okay this bit is this dark, so it should be This shade of blue. and this bit is this light, so it should be This shade of blue'.

kind of like a hue or color layer except determined by a gradient rather than one color, so it could also go 'this is light, so it's green' and 'this is dark, so it's purple'. it's math. i don't really get it either. but anyway this is probably not what you want if you want your characters' palettes to be recognizable. emery's sweater is supposed to be a wine red! neeta's skin should be brown, and her shirt should be yellow. these are their Key Colors. generally, i want them to be recognizable. so let's lower that opacity down.

nice! you can definitely now see that emery's sweater is red and neeta's shirt is yellow. and everything is relatively balanced. nothing is too saturated, nothing is significantly brighter than anything else. it's all got a little bit of blue in it. but i've skipped the step of actually picking your colors. because here's the thing with gradient maps.

they hate you and want to fight. when working with gradient maps you must imagine there is a monkey sitting on your shoulder dumping paint in every time you pick a color. the monkey has a tube of blue and he is going to put that blue into everything you paint, but it's not normal paint. it doesn't mix, it overtakes. it won't turn something yellow into green, it will turn it blue. it wants everything to be blue. if you want something to look like the color it's supposed to be, you will have to make it extremely saturated under the layer to essentially fight the paint monkey's blue. hence, emery's sweater is a BRIGHT red, so it will look a little more purpley under the blue. and neeta's skin is very orange, so it can be dulled down into a soft brown.

this is the sort of thing you will have to learn by feel, because it will be different with every gradient map, especially if you start getting into weird ones that aren't monochromatic. you want to know one of my favorite maps to use?

i have memorized where on the value scale all of these colors appear. i can color something using only shades of gray when i have this filter on. i am evolved. if you want to use gradient maps effectively, you'll have to get a lot of practice.

anyway this post got really long and i'm about to go to a movie so i'll talk about how to use screen/multiply/overlay layers later. but gradient maps are the main tool i used to make hunger's bite's palettes so unified across scenes. but you can see way above how they work to turn insane saturated colors into the nice harmonies--and the trick is that i'll never see those saturated colors while i'm working. because i have accepted the paint pouring monkey into my heart, and i trust him. except when i'm coloring wick's coat. holy mother of god every gradient map hated that man's purple coat.

[noxlotl]

Art style breakdown /tutorial(??)

Some friends asked so here we go : disclaimer im bad at explaining (so feel free to send an ask or smth)

Final art (long read so theres a timelapse at the end)

If its not for something important (commissions), i dont usually make a lineart for a drawing but just clean up the sketch , it wont be used anyway

I usually separate them by colors , mostly so i can Alpha lock them and not worry about coloring over parts

When coloring i use a soft airbrush to have gradients within the shading , so its not one solid color . How i shade is very blocky , lots of triangles lol (if im using CSP i love using the lasso fill tool ) but there are parts especially in the skin where I keep it smooth and blended, usually nose and cheek area . Using an asaro head is usually a good start to learning how to shade faces with planes in mind

Depends on the character, but I like adding shadows on the lashes/brows itself , make it look solid and 3d , it makes the eyes pop more imo

Using multiply layer to make the shadows darker for more contrast

At some point I’d merge everything together so i can just paint in one layer, easier to fix things with liquify too ; if im in CSP i keep the separate layers in one folder just in case i need em later but i cant really do that in Procreate cos of layer limits

This is the part where i make the shading more painterly .,To make the shading look sharper , i like adding lines on the edges .

The fun part : adding the ✨

This is the part where I add textures , either from texture images or with screentone/hatching brushes. This is also around the part where i add the character’s accessories and stuff like scars and freckles (its just easier to add smaller things near the end than having them accidentally painted over at the start)

Whenever I feel like the drawing looks too much of a similar shade / temperature , I use a gradient map+layer effects (masked) on parts to give it variety . Technically you can do this by just having a layer effect on and manually adding colors but gradient maps make me go “ooooh didnt think of that color there “

CSP also has a posterization filter that i like using when i feel like some part looks too smooth to me.

I sometimes add in sketchy lines , and seeing how cool it looks in Marvel Rivals art ive been adding it more lol

Artists that influenced me are : Nesskain, Toni Infante , Valorant’s 2d art(their main artist is Suke) ,Arcane , Spiderverse and the most recent one ive been obsessing over is Marvel Rivals ( its got everything i want my art to be when it grows older lmao )

[mistercrowbar]

What advice would you give to someone who wants to start draw comics?

Read comics. Try to absorb the layouts and lettering - there’s so many ways to tackle it! Also even in published comics you’ll see that the art is messy and scrungly and you can take that as permission to be messy and scrungly too.

Comics are about efficiency and Good Enough. If you try to make each panel a masterpiece you’ll be there forever. Reasons why I mostly do simple pencil comics.

Start small. Do a scene or gag comic at a time. Get a feel for the medium and all the steps you have. If there’s a step you hate, find a way to emphasize the steps you love. EG I hate laying down flat colours but love shading, so I make my page form comics painterly greyscale with a gradient map to spruce them up.

Thumbnail!!!!! Figure out your page or panel layout before you start pencils. It can just be chicken scratch and sticken figures but it will help make sure there’s a clean line of action carrying the viewer from panel to panel and that your lettering fits.

don’t skimp on lettering. you can have beautiful artwork but if your dialogue is time new roman on half transparent ellipses or somehow unreadable it’s gonna drag everything else down. Blambot is a great source for free and affordable comic fonts and even has guides from an industry pro.

There are a huge bajillion elements to making comics but once you’ve made like, literally 100 pages you’ll start just intrinsically knowing things like the 180 rule, how to place a speech bubble when the first speaker is on the right, and that you can draw one nice background and then have gradient colour blocks carry you through most of the page/scene. And then you’ll still keep learning. Always learning!

LOTS of example stuff under the cut, mostly for lettering and layouts:

thumbnails vs finished page. The detail is just enough to remind me who goes where. You can see I mostly played with the last part of the scene, going from three panels in one row to making each panel an entire row across three rows. Panels on the same row have less “time” between them as the eyes skips from one to the other faster, whereas there’s a little more gap skipping back to a new row (think resetting a line on a typewriter). Here, the first thumbnail may have fit the artwork more neatly, but I wanted to give Astarion more time to deliberate his decision.

You can also see that I changed the top panel from a close up on Aldiirn to a wider shot showing both. This sets the scene, and the rest of it uses simple/abstract backgrounds until the final panel, which makes a nice bookend while making the overall load easier. One good environment panel will carry you for a while, but don't leave your characters in the void for too long.

Make a script before you start layouts but don’t be shocked if you need to cut things out to have them fit a page. Less is more, generally. This also goes for visual elements - what's most important to the scene? What's just extraneous detail you find fun but is creating clutter?

For the 4-panel comics I don’t put time into thumbnails unless it’s a difficult panel, but I always put the lettering and speech bubbles down first so they have enough room and nothing important gets covered. If you do this much you’re a step ahead imo.

This one I’m working on now and there’s a lot going on with four characters speaking to each other! It’s important to keep a clear line going for the dialogue. Astarion’s first line has the top left corner and clearly starts the conversation. The tail of the bubble carries over to where he whispers to Aldiirn, and we pick up Aldiirn’s lines. The rock wall on the right then draws the eye down to Shadowheart and Gale’s bubble at the bottom. I don’t think the tails on the bottom bubbles are 100% ideal, but it’s Good Enough.

There’s also slightly different points in time going on in this panel, because the art is static but it’s a long convo going on. Gale’s signature finger isn’t in response to Astarion whispering, but to his answer to Aldiirn that comes after. Think of how time works in your panels, especially when you got a big one because size = time.

You can use all sorts of things to direct the eye across a comic page, but I find the strongest things are the bubbles & tails and where characters are looking. Here, Gale’s “stop by” line breaks the panel line to help draw the viewer to him in the last panel, since otherwise the eye was likely to end up at Aldiirn.

I generally like bubbles to be tucked into their panels, either fully inside or up at the edges like “my condolences.” It looks neater than when bubbles are willy nilly over the edges which I see as a sign of poor planning. And! it means when you do break panel lines it can be more meaningful.

the 180 rule is a film/stage thing for composition to avoid confusing the audience, but the simplest way to put it is: if a character is on the left side of the scene, they should stay there until the action or whatever moves them. You can see here that Aldiirn is always on the right facing left, even when the camera is a bit behind him or a bit behind Gale. the 180 line is the front of Aldiirn’s tent, and the camera never crosses it in a way that would put Gale on the right.

I find it distracting when a conversation is happening in comic and a character breaks the 180 for no particular reason, though are times I’ve done it because a panel worked much better that way. The book Framed Ink has some great guides on composition and how to change the 180 line.

You can also see in the above comic that it’s arranged so that Gale’s always the first speaker in the panels he appears so there’s no criss cross bubble tails. Buuuut what if the first speaker is unavoidably on the right?

Stack the speech bubbles. You want the first speech bubble CLEARLY and undeniably the closest to the top left corner and then other speakers can go below.

the middle example above also has some examples of playing with the speech bubbles. Wyll’s “square-y round-y” bubble is the standard, the boxy ellipse. The tail has a slight, lanquid curve. He;s comfortable teasing the poor vampire. Aldiirn’s bubble is pointy! the tail straight! with urgency! And Astarion’s bubble and tail are burbling and grumbling through gritted teeth and pain. Varsh Ko’kuu, even though he’s speaking with a standard shaped bubble, has a sharp point in the tail that speaks to his assertiveness in protecting the egg. And Shadowheart has some hesitation with that wiggly tail.

Either hand drawing or using vector shapes for bubbles is fine, but I recommend staying away from true ellipses because they look static. Square-y round-y is where it’s at. Just make sure there’s enough space between text and edge of the bubble, usually enough to fit a capital H or W, but you can play with that spacing too.

The second panel here breaks the “first bubble goes top-left corner” rule, so it’s ambiguous if Gale or Aldiirn speaks first. However! In this case everyone is giving their responses in a jumble to Rath, so order matters less. I’m pretty sure every rule I’ve mentioned has a time and place to break it, but it’s still important to learn the basics first.

Key thing about comics typefaces: the capital I will have bars and the lower case will not. The barred I is used for I, as in, “I am not inclined to share” where the unbarred is used everywhere else.

When choosing a font, I recommend grabbing one that has Regular, Italic, and Bold/Bold Italic typefaces. I use Milk Moustache for my 4-panel comics because it’s very casual and similar weight to my own handwriting, but it doesn’t have an italic typeface and that drives me nuts sometimes. For the most flexibility, choose a font that has lower case AND uppercase type faces. I stick to upper case 90% of the time but lower case adds more options, like Aldiirn’s “really?” being so small due to his stressed state.

There are some official guides on what should be bold or italic in dialogues but they don’t matter as much unless you’re working for a big publisher with a style standard. Italics for thinking and whispering are common. I go with my gut, like Astarion’s speech is so dramatic I use italics and bold liberally, whereas for most others I may or may not just choose a key word to bold.

I think some programs will let you make text to fit a bubble instead of a square box, but tbh I just spend a lot of time manually making the text fit nicely in that bubble shape.

[sketchingstars03]

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW <3

Ah, kids. I was one once

Ink and Zephyrtale!Gaster belong to comyet

PJ belongs to 7goodangel

Gradient belongs to askcomboclub

Error belongs to loverofpiggies

Ink: Can you say “dada”?

PJ: Ink!

Ink: No, “dada”!

PJ: Ink!

Ink: okay

Ink: Oh! Are you trying to say “dada”?

Gradient: aa… AAA!

Gradient: SANS!

Ink: I don’t understand! Am I doing something wrong?? I don’t even know where they got my name from!

Zephyrtale Gaster: (trying to not laugh)

Error: Can you say “Error”?

PJ: a… aaa…

Error: Eeeerrooorrrrr…

PJ: da… da…

Error: nononononononono

[lvmimis]

“You’ve aged, Morax.”

Zhongli bristles at your words, or perhaps his old name, for a moment, if only a small imperceptible increased tensing to his already stony posture, and you correct yourself.

“I should say Zhongli. I’m sorry.”

You can’t tell if he’s upset now for a few more moments, and something in your belly stirs in apprehension, but he laughs at your poor attempt for a joke, then relaxes his posture finally; you let out a careful sigh and sink to the ground, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sit, thankful for the slit in your Liyue-issue silk, a welcome change from the ankara cotton you’re used to.

“You don’t look old,” you add for good measure, and he turns to you and smiles.

“I disagree,” he pauses, ruminating over six thousand years in a mere matter of moments. “Admittedly, I would love for it to show more… I do appreciate the ability of humans to grow old, even if they eventually return to dust.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, arms uncrossing so that his hands rest in loosely held fists behind his back.

“Gods and humans alike, even if we often claim to share so little with humans.”

A cool breeze cuts through suddenly, blowing in the foot wide space between the two of you as you stand together in the Guili Plains. The mention of dust has you bristling this time in turn, without the stoicism of your companion to carefully mask it. 

Thousands of years ago, his friend died here, dissipating as the finest of dust particles, carried away by the wind. Years pass, and time may heal all wounds, but untreated wounds also fester painfully.

You will never understand what it meant to share in that sort of communion. Not with him. Your understanding of Morax, Rex Lapis, Zhongli is different, having met while pleading for amnesty from as many gods as possible throughout Teyvat in order to protect your people. Morax had appeared surprised by how far you traveled, and how bold (perhaps stupid) you were to request a truce but had chosen to understand your desperation, he’d seen enough of it before, and when tragedy tore through every land, he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Morax then had promised to protect you, offering more than a simple request for nonviolence, and you remained thankful for it, your lands in Natlan untouched with a strong ally, and your friendship had begun ever since, through letters and long-spaced visits.

There’s a clear gradient of power between you that has slowly eroded with friendly affection over time, but at this point, you visit and spend time with each other, but you are not sure where you stand.

Perhaps never as ideological equals, not like the members of the Guili Assembly.

And yet, you appreciate the time spent with him right now. 

Zhongli finally takes a seat as well among the grasses, close to you. The glaze lilies still sway with the wind, their buds closed shut in the sunlight, preferring to bloom under moonlight and shadow. Humble without lacking beauty or the ability to inspire awe.

Like Guizhong. Like Zhongli. 

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he offers.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately because your heart is warmed more than what is imparted by Liyue’s setting sun shining upon you. From your vantage point are acres of sloping hills of green, orange and gold, elegant rock formations bordering graceful seas, and refined architecture. 

The people are kind and welcoming, happy much like your own.

“Thank you for having me again after all these years. Liyue is beautiful,” you praise, and you mean it. You turn to him, grinning. 

“Your people are lively; the lands are prosperous. They should be happy to have you as their god.”

Zhongli chuckles to himself. 

“I think they thrive despite me, and I’m very thankful for it.”

You tilt your head at him to mock his humility, but his smile disarms you. Still, you insist:

“Even if you give up your Gnosis, you’re still you.”

Zhongli turns his body towards you - your hands graze past each other and you quickly pull back, hoping he cannot tell that your heart has skipped a beat. 

You are a minor - rather, lesser - god, and you should be thankful you are even friends, that he is willing to entertain you despite all this time. 

Do not ask for more, you remind yourself again.

“And what am I exactly?”

His eyebrow is raised and there’s a sparkle of mischief in the way he looks at you.

“Zhongli, not Morax. Not one of the Seven, but a consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

“Exactly.”

Zhongli rises again and reaches out a gloved hand for you to help you up. You take it, patting grass off of your dress, realizing he hasn’t let go even though you are both standing.

He doesn’t let go even as he takes the first step and you wonder if he’s forgotten himself. 

“The Yun-Han Opera Troupe is performing tonight. We should hurry back so you can see what else Liyue has to offer.”

He pauses, still holding your hand as you keep up, then smiles at you.

“I hope I can keep you just as enamored…” 

There’s a deliberate pause as if he is distracted, and he clears his throat quickly then continues, “... with this beautiful place during this visit.”

“Of course,” you reply, nodding quickly, following his lead.

And your heart skips a beat, and you wonder if he knows.

But just this, being together with him despite the millenia, is enough - after all, you are the goddess of compromise and second chances.

[satinchicz]

BURNOUT

musician!Se-mi x fem!reader

TW: smoking

The ballpoint pen went flying against the wall, Se-mi groaned in annoyance before letting her back fall against the chair…she’d been trying to write music lyrics for practically the entire day, yet it seems the muses had started a riot against her because everytime her eyes glanced at the blank piece of paper her brain turned into red jelly.

Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this

But if not this then what else? Music was her life- well you were her life too but that was different, the bin by her desk was practically overflowing with torn pages by now, god why wasn’t anything coming to her?!

Today- when she decided to dedicate the day to her lyricism, of course everything had to go to shit. Se-mi got up from the chair, her movements lazy, like her muscles were glued together creating a sticky uncomfortable feeling. Looking out the window in the kitchen she sighed once again, before reaching for a half empty box of Marlboro cigarettes, opting to relax a tiny bit with the tobacco instead of having another tantrum that included abusing her poor pen.

She watched the smoke moving as elegantly as a dancer, from her mouth to outside the window…mingling with the purple-y setting skyline.

Just then the sound of the front door being opened echoed through the flat, the very familiar harmony of your silly key chains ringing through her ears, Se-mi put out the cigarette before heading to seek you out, your bodies meeting right in the kitchen doorway, she smiled as she saw you- finally one good thing about her day.

“Hey, sweetheart” the brunette purred against your lips, you chuckled at the affection, your lips finally meeting in a sweet home-welcoming kiss.

“Hey, I missed you” you replied, before placing your bag down on the kitchen table. “Long day…god I’m so tired” to further showcase your fatigue you playfully fanned yourself with your hand…Se-mi chuckled, a very quite sound, before she sat down on the other chair. You could see something was bothering her, Se-mi your oh so energetic girlfriend that loved to joke around was suddenly like a snail hidden inside it’s shell.

“Se-mi?” You leaned in closer, your eyes going to her face, clear worry evident in your tone “Is everything alright?”

She glanced at you, before moving her gaze onto her hands, it was no use to lie, maybe a little confession about her feelings would help her feel more at ease.

“It’s just- these goddamn lyrics…” Se-mi started “I’ve been trying to write all day, but everytime I try and think of at least ONE line then it’s like I forgot how to write!”

And so she kept on going, by the time she finished sharing her failed attempts she felt more lighter, physically and emotionally. Maybe a minute of silence stretched out before the two of you, like some indicator getting rid of all the negative energy Se-mi had just thrown out of herself. “Se-mi…you know it’s fine to have days like this? I mean, I know how frustrating it is, but some burnout isn’t bad for you, you write amazing, beautiful, fucking soul haunting lyrics…I think you just have to let your mind rest a little” you assured your girlfriend, who was now looking you straight in the eyes, “I guess you’re right…thanks babe” Se-mi smiled lethargically.

“How about we cuddle? Let me just change out of these clothes, I must reek of office grime” you grinned, “Yeah…I’ll be waiting for ya” she agreed before moving into the living room.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” The brunette looked up at you as you began to speak, she was contentedly laying atop you, your arms wrapped around her waist, ah yes- you were talking about the sunset…it was beautiful, she loved all the gradient hues but as of now she wasn’t interested in looking out the window, her gaze stuck on you, “You’re more beautiful” the girl murmured against your neck, you giggled “That’s so cheesy…don’t stop”, a light kiss was pressed onto your skin, then another one, and another and another and another…the intensity growing with each one, “I won’t stop, I don’t even want to do don’t worry about that!” she smiled and you ruffled her hair

“I love you, you dummy.”

[mikelogan]

if you ever have time/feel so inclined, i would love to see a tutorial or some tips from you about how to do color isolation sets!! they are absolutely incredible and I love them so much! <3

absolutely! thank you so much 💙

here are a few examples of my color isolation sets:

the substance (yellow) || beetlejuice (red) || us (red) || conclave (blue) || sleeping beauty (cyan/blue) || crimson peak (yellow) || smosh (purple) || conclave (red)

beneath the cut, i'll walk you through my coloring process!

notes: tutorial assumes basic gifmaking knowledge & i'm using adobe photoshop 2023 (though afaik, your version shouldn't matter much)

i don't color my gifs until they're sharpened and i'll give you a quick overview of my process: file -> import -> video frames to layers -> trim any extra frames -> crop to desired dimensions -> run sharpening action (i used this tutorial and just made it into an action) which also converts to timeline

once i'm in timeline, i go through my normal coloring process. unless i'm giffing similarly colored scenes that i've already colored and saved a psd for, i usually color from scratch every time. obviously, some adjustment layers vary depending on the source material, but these are almost always my main adjustments, just with differing values

a brightness/contrast layer set to screen - this is a gamechanger for especially dark scenes. note: i do not adjust the values, i leave them both at 0 and just change the blending mode

a curves layer utilizing the black & white eyedropper tools. first, i select the black eyedropper and then click on the blackest area of the gif. i do the same with the white one, using it to select the brightest/whitest spot. this can help a lot if you're dealing with heavily tinted scenes!

a selective color layer (set to absolute, not relative) where i adjust the blacks usually anywhere from 1-5 notches higher and the neutrals either up or down the same amount depending on the scene. be careful with the neutrals when giffing poc as lightening them can result in whitewashing. if need be, i will also adjust the whites, making them slightly whiter with the black slider. selective color is by far my fave adjustment layer and i use it in every single coloring.

after this, i sometimes add a black & white gradient map adjustment layer set to soft light. i'll play around with the opacity, leaving it anywhere between 5-100% depending on the scene. i think this adds depth to your colors and adds some contrast, but i don't use it in every psd.

occasionally, i'll mess around with vibrance/saturation, and that'll be my final layer, but oftentimes i won't actually add this layer until i've finished the rest of the coloring. this is just where the layer will go.

these are the main 5 layers i almost always start every single coloring with and they act mostly as a base and to color-correct any weirdly tinted or exceptionally dark scenes.

now, let's talk about scene selection. i try to set myself up for success by choosing scenes that either already have a very noticeable pop of color or have a color i know can easily be manipulated. you'll want to pick scenes that aren't drenched with the color you want to isolate though, or you won't have the contrast of the black & white.

here are a few examples of good scenes:

the only red here is the covered bridge and it will be easy to adjust only that and not the blue, green, or yellow.

same as above, apart from ralph fiennes's face, which obviously contains red undertones. i'll go more in-depth on this in a bit, but because this scene doesn't have a lot of movement, this will be able to be fixed with layer masks.

again, here we have one bright occurrence of yellow surrounded by blue that we'll easily be able to neutralize.

and a few of bad/less than ideal scenes:

while this scene is an absolute dream for making super vibrant sets or color palettes, it's no good for color isolation. this yellow covers basically everything, leaving no other colors to cancel out.

while i definitely did try this one out, the scene is ultimately too dark and too cyan-tinted to properly isolate the red of the blood or the cyan in her eyes and on the walls.

just like the first one, this scene is fully just. color drenched. would make a great base for a vibrant or color palette set but not useful for color isolation.

bad and wrong!! coloring this movie, however beloved, was a test of my sanity. you have this yellow/green filter over everything and so much of it that isolating or changing one or the other is pretty much impossible.

with all that being said, play around! the best way to learn what does what is to try it out yourself. selective color, though there are other ways of getting the same or similar effects, will be your best friend. it's how i'm able to make sets like this & this!

let's look at this adjustment layer using a scene from conclave:

truthfully, you could either isolate the orange of the wall or the blue of her outfit. i'm going for the latter at the moment.

add a selective color layer by clicking this button:

i like to really emphasize the color i'm going to isolate, make sure it's as consistent with the other scenes i'm using and that it pops. from the dropdown in the layer properties, i select blue.

each color from the dropdown will look like this. you have adjustable sliders for cyan, magenta, yellow, and black. the more to the right, the more you're emphasizing that color in any blues in your image. the further to the left, the more of that color's opposite you'll adjust. each opposite pairing is as follows:

cyan + red magenta + green yellow + blue black + white

if you're struggling with this (i did at first), visualize it. pull up one of those "bad" examples. say we take the yellow scene from the gorge. add a selective color layer to it and select yellow from the dropdown. play with the sliders to see how AND how much each adjustment changes the coloring. decreasing the yellow slider all the way to -100% is adding blue to anything ps identifies as yellow. because yellow and blue are opposites, it pretty much neutralizes the scene. instead, if you use the magenta slider and push it all the way to the left, you make any yellows become green. if you move the magenta slider all the way to the right, you'll add magenta to any yellows, making the scene orange. it's all about knowing the color wheel and experimenting!

back to the conclave gif! i want to bring out the blue as much as possible, under the blue dropdown, i crank the cyan slider all the way up and bring the yellow all the way down.

is it a massive difference? no, but you can definitely see the difference between the left (with the adjustment) and the right (without).

depending on the scene and color i'm working with, i'll play around with other layers from the dropdown. but i prefer to do each color in a different layer and i right-click on the box with the eye in the layers panel and change it to the applicable color. that way, it's easier to adjust something later on. you can also rename your layers, but this is quicker and easier imo.

with this particular scene, this is the only adjustment i want to make to the blue for the time being. now, it's all about getting rid of any other colors. to do this, add a hue/saturation layer and select every color, one at a time, EXCEPT the color(s) you're isolating and bring the saturation all the way down to -100. in this case, it's everything but the cyans & blues.

and this is what i'm left with:

from here, you can leave it, but a lot of the time, i'll add a vibrance layer or even another blue/cyan selective color layer and crank that shit up.

this is after adding a vibrance layer (increasing both vibrance & saturation to 100) AND a selective color layer (decreasing the yellows to -100 in the blues).

i would consider this finished, but this can also be super fun to mess around with, again, using selective color:

and if the way her hair changed colors is bugging you, toggle your layers on and off until you find which one(s) changed it and add a layer mask, coloring over her hair with a soft black brush:

once you're happy with everything, save your gif in your preferred way. these are my save settings just for shiggles:

et voilà!

overall, the best advice i can give is to try. experiment! if you're not sure a scene will work, give it a shot. even if it doesn't, you've still learned something. i know it can seem confusing at first, especially if you're not super familiar with these layers or the color wheel, but please feel free to ask any questions. also, let me know if anyone wants another tutorial(s) where i go more in-depth on other colors. i'm happy to do it!

[gardenofhearts]

Headcanon - Love and Deepspace boys as Disney Princes

This came to me out of nowhere but was also quite fun and challenging to write, since the boys are such interesting characters. Do note that not all the "princes" are official princes, I just used that term because it's quick and easy. I hope you'll enjoy this and if you have other opinions, please let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts on this

English is not my first language, apologies in advance. The gradient banners are made by me as a bit of try out to see how they look. If you wish to use them you can do so if you credit me. Thank you and happy reading <3

Xavier

Xavier was a bit of a hard one to really pin down. So, I would say a part of him reminds me of Shang Li. Both are trained in combat, and take time to warm up to you, both are also quite loyal to you.

Due to Xavier’s strength and from what I have seen in his memories sort of boy next door vibes and cuteness I will also say he reminds me of Hercules. Hercules has that sort off cute awkwardness to him that I feel sometimes Xavier also has. In addition to that, Hercules would and has almost sacrificed himself to save Megara which in my opinion is similar to Xavier’s decision to leave his home, not knowing what could happen, to save his love.

Zayne

For the most part he gives me Robert from Enchanted vibes, a bit more reserved and a tad cynical while also being frank. However, I also think Zayne is partly Prince Philip, brave and loyal; a prince who charges into battle to save his love which I think fits Zayne. Also fun fact Robert’s last name is Philip! Both also fought dragons lol, something Zayne would definitely also do to save you.

I also believe there is a hint of general Shang Li within him, both incredibly devoted to their work and also very good in their respective areas. Also, just like Zayne, Shang Li at first seems a bit cold but once you get to know him better you’ll see just how soft and sweet they truly are even if it’s not always immediately noticeable.

Rafayel

Sylus

Hear me out, prince Edward from Enchanted. I know, another character from Enchanted -sue me- but I do think he has similarities to prince Edward. They both lean on the dramatic side and I don’t doubt for a second that Rafayel would also sing ‘A true love’s kiss’ in public. Edward converses with a chipmunk, Rafayel converses with sea animals. They're practically twins.

The other prince I think Rafayel resembles is Cinderella’s prince, prince Henri, but the version from the third movie. A believer in true love and also a tad dramatic, Rafayel would also jump out a window to go after his one true love. He also, just like Prince Henri, searched quite some time for his love and had to go through quite some trouble to find you.

This might be unpopular but he reminds me of Dimitri from Anastasia: witty, sarcastic, smart and from my pov both in a way underestimate their love interests. Just like with Dimitri does is take some time for Sylus to ‘soften’ a bit, in the beginning he was a lot harsher yet from more recent memories we see a very different side to him.

I also think he has a touch of prince Naveen, with how they’re both a bit reckless and love to spend money. Unlike Naveen though I don’t believe Sylus’ is much of a ladies man, in my opinion he would dislike such superficial relationships.

Lastly, I think he also has a touch of prince Adam/the Beast, both a bit coarse in the beginning yet just like the other princes Adam softens up and becomes a big supporter of Belle similar to Sylus with you.

Caleb

Caleb gives me a mix of prince Eric and Phoebus. Eric because both are in a way adventurous, Eric more so I’d say and also both are big time romantics. Eric believes in true love and Caleb believes you are his true love. Both are also very kind, Eric takes in a complete stranger and allows Ariel to stay in his castle while providing her all she could need without asking anything in return and Caleb similarly looks out for you, cooks for you and tries his best to make you happy. He wants to make sure you want for nothing.

I think Caleb also resembles Phoebus because both are able to keep a straight face but also quick to crack a joke. Also both are soldiers, al be it both aren’t exactly doing it super willingly. Phoebus does it to survive and Caleb had no say at all. I also think he has hints of Kristoff, although both are kind I do get the vibe that Caleb can come across as very cold just like Kristoff in the beginning. With Caleb this is most noticeable when he’s a colonel and the person that helps warm him up is obviously you.

Next headcannon: lads as the different types of Kens?

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

ANGST SHADOWXREADER IDE BC I CRAVE FOR ANGST LIKE A B★TCH

Hey I was wondering if you could do a shadow the hedgehog x reader fanfic where Reader gets corrupted by black doom (not possessed)

(Side note: I got this idea for the fact we know shadow HATES black doom and the black arms and was really shown in sxsg)

Reader acts more cold,apathy,untruthful and cruel

their fur now with a notice able fade of black,dark red and red, Their pupils now the same as black doom, they wear the same golden chains with a set of gold-spiked medallions possessing a gem, and a double black cord necklace with red, blue, yellow, and purple ornaments on one and golden and silver pendants on the other that resemble the Black Arms' insignia,their fingers? More like demonic claws, Voice? Cold and uninterested., rest of their outfit? Robe like Just like black doom’s and shows of uneasy aura and power

“Where it Hurts Most”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Corrupted Mobian Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: Never did he think Black Doom would be back. And never did he think would he use the person that he loves most to hurt him–you.

Notes: I decided to set this during Shadow Generations so I hope you don’t mind! Hope you enjoy it regardless!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“(This white space is weird,)” you thought to yourself. “(I haven’t seen anyone in here!)”

You had been transported here suddenly on your way to Sonic’s birthday party, and you hadn’t even seen any sign of Sonic.

Or Shadow, for that matter.

Or…anyone.

It was beginning to worry you.

When you next take a step, something wraps around your foot, causing you to yelp out of surprise.

It…seems to be this black-colored goop.

When you take a step back, the goop attaches itself to the ground and pulls you further.

“Nononono, I’m not dying like this!” you yell, trying to pull yourself free.

“FOOLISH FLESH,” you hear a voice say. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE. NO, IT’LL BE MUCH, MUCH WORSE.”

You let out a loud scream as you’re dragged into the goop, it surrounding your body, a burning sensation covering you until your vision goes black.

When you next awake, you feel…better.

Stronger.

Perfect.

Looking down at your body, it seems you’ve undergone some fantastic transformations.

Your fur is now black and red, with gold chains littering your body, with a gold medallion placed near your neck, like a better necklace.

Different colored ornaments are strewn about the chains, and oh my Doom, your claws.

They seem to gradient into a black on your fingers, with your claws being ever-so-slightly red.

You also appear to be wearing a robe similar to your new overlord.

Black Doom.

Before you can admire your new form any longer, a set of footsteps causes your now dark-red-tipped ears to flick.

You turn around, looking at the mobian responsible for these footsteps, only to find fear in his eyes.

Shadow’s eyes.

…

Good.

“[Name]? What the hell happened to you?!” Shadow asks.

You let out a chuckle, an echo in your voice.

“I became better, Shadow,” you tell him. “And you can become better, too. Join me on the side of the Black Arms, and we’ll never be apart again.”

Shadow lets out a growl, getting into a defensive stance.

“I don’t want to fight you, [Name],” Shadow says. “Just snap out of it.”

“Snap out of what, exactly?” you ask him. “My glorious new overlord’s control?”

“Let them go, Black Doom! Right this instant!” Shadow demands.

“I’M AFRAID I WON’T BE DOING THAT, SHADOW,” you and Black Doom say at the same time. “THEY’VE BECOME BETTER, STRONGER, DON’T YOU SEE? YOU CAN BECOME JUST. LIKE. THEM.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I’d NEVER join you!” Shadow states.

“THEN HAVE FUN GETTING YOUR PRECIOUS [NAME] BACK,” Black Doom spats. “YOU MAY NOT BE ABLE TO BREAK THEM OUT OF THEIR CORRUPTION.”

“Go on then, Shadow,” you start with a mocking voice. “Attack me.”

“I’m sorry for this, [Name],” Shadow mutters to himself. “But I’ll get you back. I promise.”

[itsnotso]

Art nouveau inspired Crowley The Snake of Eden

Click the image for better quality

Symbolism breakdown and closeups under the cut (buckle up 'cause there's a lot of symbolism. You have been warned)

This whole piece took me over 18 hours to finish (closer to 19 if my calculations are correct, and this is without including the planing/thumbnails) so I hope you'll enjoy 😊

Symbolism:

Snake - Crowleys serpent form/the snake of Eden

Stars and moon- Crowley is (or at least was) the Starmaker, so I wanted to include some astronomy related imagery

The constellation on the dark side of the moon is Serpens Caput - Snakes Head (I know this is not how the moon works, and it's not possible to see the stars through it, but this is my artistic interpretation, because I wanted to include stars. I also know this is not exacly how this constellation looks, but it's close enough)

The frame around the moon doubles as the clock face, because of Crowleys time manipulation powers and his association with time in general

The yellow/golden rays emiting from the clock make it look like the sun during eclipse

Crowleys hair has a gradient making it look like fire (a reference to his fall to hell)

Flower symbolism (from left to right):

Monstera plant - I used it because it's one of the plants Crowley has, but also the name Monstera sounds very similar to the word monster (plus it looks nice)

Ambrosia - love is reciprocated

Purple hyacinth - grief, regret and sorrow

Pansy - thoughtfulness, affection, friendship, "think of me"; can also symbolise sorrow and regret (and in the context of Good Omens, there's also THE Southern Pansy)

Tulips in general - deep, perfect love, consuming love

Yellow tulips - cheerfulness, hope, desperate/hopeless love (also we all know Aziraphale thinks that yellow is pretty 💛)

Bellflower - unwavering love, a constant heart

Daisy in general - loyal love

Blue daisy - long term layalty and trust

Forget-me-not - true/faithful love, affectionate remembrance, don't forget me

Amaranth in general - immortality

Globe amaranth - immortal love

Snake plant - I used it because Crowley is a snake, and it looks cool

Lilly of the valley - returning happiness

I know it was a lot so thanks everyone who took the time to read all of my rambling. I really like adding stuff like this to my illustrations, so that they have more of a meaning and thought behind them 😅

Usually I also put the WIP photos alongside the finished piece, but this post is already long enough. I might add some of it later in the reblog

Again, thanks for reading and I wish you all a great day/night 💙

Sources:

Wikipedia article about plant symbolism

Article about flowers symbolizing regret

About tulip symbolism

[lvrsturniolo]

FIRST TIMES MINISERIES— FT. MATT STURNIOLO

08.5- BABY SHOWER

cw; none :)

THIS CHAPTER IS A FILLER OF WHATS HAPPENING BETWEEN THE TIME SKIPS OF THE PRIOR CHAPTER AND THE NEXT

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

It’s sunny the day of the shower—unseasonably warm for late spring, as if the sky knows it’s supposed to celebrate with you.

You’re 5 months pregnant now. The bump is undeniable. You’ve gotten used to the way people’s eyes soften when they see it. But today feels even more surreal than usual. There are pastel-colored balloons tied to the gate of Matt’s childhood home back in Boston, long tables set up in the backyard with blush-pink and baby-blue tablecloths, sun-faded hydrangeas, and gift bags everywhere you look.

You’re wearing a flowing ivory dress that Matt insisted on getting you because of how beautiful he thought you looked in it— and he hasn’t taken his hand off your lower back all morning. He’s in a cream button-up that hugs his frame, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, rings gleaming on his fingers. He’s been smiling non-stop.

It’s the first time both your families are here together. The first time all the people you love most are in one place. Chris and Nick are running around helping set up the games. Your mom brought homemade cookies. Mama Mary-Lou’s already cried twice. Everyone keeps hugging you like it’s the best day of the year.

But Matt’s only focused on you.

“You good, sweetheart?” he whispers when you sit down for a break. His palm presses gently to your bump. “She giving you a hard time in there?”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “Nope. Just dancing.”

He grins. “Takes after me.”

“God I hope not, you can’t dance for shit angel,” you tease.

Everything’s been perfect so far. The guests. The food. The warmth. The anticipation.

You and Matt waited weeks before agreeing to find out. He’d been firm at first—I want the surprise. But after your last ultrasound, when the nurse had asked if you wanted to know, Matt looked at you and smiled. “Only if we find out together.”

So you planned a reveal for your shower.

Now, it’s the middle of the day.

The backyard hushes as Chris and Nick roll out a big, white cake, all smooth frosting with pink and blue bows around the top. There’s a soft pink and blue gradient around the base, and “Boy or Girl” on the top in cursive icing writing.

Matt stands beside you, hand gently linked with yours.

“You nervous?” he murmurs.

“A little.”

“Me too.” He kisses the back of your hand. “But no matter what, we’re raising the coolest little human ever.”

You smile, heart thumping.

You pick up the knife together—his hand over yours—and make the first cut right down the center.

The moment the knife slides into the cake, a sea of pink cream spills from the middle.

There’s a collective gasp from the guests, then cheers, laughter, clapping.

It’s a girl.

You stare at the cake, then at Matt, eyes wide and already filled with tears, you’d dreamed you whole life of having a baby girl— and now your dreams were coming true, even if early in life— you’ve never been so happy.

Matt drops the knife gently on the table, cups your cheeks in both hands, and kisses you. Right there in front of everyone. With so much love it makes your knees weak.

“A girl,” he breathes against your lips. “We’re having a little girl!”

You nod, crying softly. “You’re gonna be such a good dad to her.”

He presses his forehead to yours, voice thick. “You’re gonna be everything to her.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of onesies, little socks, baby books, and belly rubs. But the moment you’ll remember forever is Matt pulling you aside after most guests have gone, leading you inside, and lowering himself to his knees in front of your bump.

He wraps both arms around your belly, kisses it softly, and whispers, “Hi, baby girl. Daddy loves you so much. And I can’t wait to meet you.”

You run your fingers through his curls and smile down at him, heart bursting.

Because this is the first time you picture your future with complete clarity. And it’s perfect.

Mel Speaks; I have a few of these little half chapters as fill ins for the time between actual chapters!! This one’s just a test to see if yall like it— if yall do then I’ll add the others because I have half chapters between all, I just haven’t thought of posting them or not!!

tags; @emely9274 @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @ivysturnss @chrislover696969 @riasturns @slvt4chriss @tezzzzzzzz @iloveduckssm @lezleeferguson-120 @sophand4n4 @auttysturnz

[mcytmetazine]

Voice Actor Applications

[Image ID: Yellow gradient graphic with the text 'MCYT META ZINE' followed by 'Voice Actor Applications are OPEN' and then '12th - 26th May'.]

Are you someone who loves bringing written text to life? Do you enjoy meta analysis within MCYTblr? Whether you're trying voice acting for the first time, or you're a seasoned video essayist, we'd love to have you here on the Metazine!

The forms to apply as a Voice Actor for the MCYT Metazine are open until May 26th at 11:59 UTC!

VOICE ACTOR APPLICATIONS

This role involves reading out the written pieces that have been created by our wonderful analysts, or voice acting on behalf of a contributor during a short interview segment. We'll provide a list of pieces and you can let us know which you'd prefer to read - more information will be within the application form.

As part of the application process, we'll ask for you to read out a short extract and send it over. Make sure you have a good mic so we can hear you at your finest - if you don't have one at home, it's likely your local public library may have one you can borrow!

Don't forget to check out our FAQs, and send us an ask if you have any other questions. Good luck!

[tench]

Veilguard is such a weird game.

It's not a Dragon age game, it's bately a role playing game. It's an ok action. Even though it is the most stable AAA release it is still just a bunch of barely tied together stuff in a trench coat.

The writing (insultingly dumbed down and absolutely incapable of taking itself seriously untill the last 1/6 of the game) is all over the place, the direction is nonexistent judging by the tonal shift from one quest to another. We can have very heart felt monologue about the fear of death sit right next to a conversation where a lot of things are told using one specific phrase (I really hope in a clumsy attempt at emphasis) repeated till these words lose any meaning to you.

There's also a problem of role-playing in this "rpg" and the Rook. None of your dialogue choices matter in terms of defining your character, no matter the option you choose, the general conversation will carry the upbeat silly tone. "Your backstory and class matter more than your race" works untill it doesn't, like when you are a dwarf but you are denied your own journey and realizations tied to the titans, and maybe it is not your journey to take yet you can't even try to be a part of it, even when Harding is actively reaching out to other dwarves to share this connection. It's also weirdly more interested in writing romance between npcs than for the main character (Lucanis comes to mind, it feels like the game is actively punishing you for pursuing him, you have to lose the whole shadow dragon faction, you won't get to hang out with Dorian and still you have bare minimum and he more interested in Neve anyway), that's extremely funny that this game is player-sexual yet completely player-aromantic. (And I miss the dai option where you can come up and kiss your LI whenever you feel like it).

I won't even touch on the weird and unnecessary sanitation of everything, like we can't allow people or factions to have negative traits whatsoever. And it's not "southern propaganda", it's "we are not engaging with complex topics for the sake of clear dichotomy between good us and evil overlords". Speaking of which

The whole plot.. The general idea of it is ok. You come to stop Solas, you make the situation go sideways, you have to work together to fix your mistakes and maybe learn to sympathize with the antagonist haunted by his own transgressions with the main theme being legacy and your relationship with your culture and the baggage it brings. But the journey is a complete disaster. Part of it works solely because the characters absolutely Refuse to make a plan and the other - because the main character has a blunt head trauma. Maybe it's related. Maybe it's all a mass hallucination. I may try to elaborate on how it's absolutely ridiculous how little the inquisition and the politics have any impact in this game yet somehow 8 people squatting in the Fade with no political affiliations are held responsible for providing for every faction they come across. I won't even try to make sense of it. It's the usual case of "the main character does everything".

The direction is not only absent in the writing. Some lines that are ok in text delivered in such a way you may think they were allowed only to use the very first take.

The music is absolutely forgettable. Also the odd riff during the dramatic reveal absolutely took me out because I thought I heard kazoo (but I bet Varric would love it).

The visuals are.. Ok. It's pretty on the first glance but the more you travel the more you realize that the general design of the locations are kinda lacking. They have this weird gradient that makes everything a little bit more unfocused and a bit washed out. There are also too many cases of the horisont just drowning in the fog. Air perspective is great and it suits locations like Necropolis, but I would argue that these establishing shots should be used for environmental storytelling in other places, with some focal points in the background, like during the final mission where you see the world absolutely drowning in the blight, devouring local statue of liberty. Or the dead Titan. Or the first shot of the Veil jumper forest (I forgot how it's called) where you see the ruins going into he sky. But because of the fog (or sometimes darkness) it feels like the game is more interested in cheating the optimisation than to hint on the bigger picture (like the chantry and the gallows buildings that you can see almost from all locations in DA2 or the andrastian/dread wolf imagery of inquisition)

So, in conclusion. Not the worst game I played, yet disappointing, even if we pretend it's not an installment of a beloved franchise that people were waiting for 10 years.

Ps. Also making such a game with nerfing all the lore only to nuke all the legacy locations is a choice I won't ever understand. It's like it is not for the fans and it's not for the new people but a secret third thing.