#Precision Editing in Green Screen

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Mastering Precision: The Eraser Tool in Green Screen by Do Ink

Welcome to harnessing the power of precision editing with Green Screen by Do Ink's Eraser Tool! In this blog post and accompanying video tutorial, we'll explore how this versatile tool empowers you to fine-tune your creations quickly and with ease. Whether you're a teacher refining educational content or a content creator perfecting your visuals, mastering the Eraser Tool will elevate your projects to new heights of excellence.

What you will learn:

Introduction to the Eraser Tool in Green Screen by Do Ink

Comprehensive guide on utilizing the Eraser Tool for precise editing

Real-world examples showcasing the versatility of the Eraser Tool

Elevating your projects with polished and professional-looking results

With the Eraser Tool in Green Screen by Do Ink, precision editing has never been easier. Whether you're removing imperfections, (like a piece of hair on the subject) fine-tuning details, or creating intricate compositions, mastering this tool is essential for achieving flawless results in your projects.

Unlock the full potential of your creativity with the Eraser Tool in Green Screen by Do Ink. Let precision editing become your secret weapon for crafting stunning visuals that leave a lasting impression!

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Messy

Previous part | Part 3

Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9k

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

It dropped just after noon, not with fireworks, not with hype, but with the kind of quiet certainty that made the internet stop anyway.

The cover and tracklist of F1 The Album.

A clean graphic, the kind of aesthetic precision F1 was known for. Seventeen tracks, global artists, big names, slick execution.

Doja Cat, Ed Sheeran, Tate McRae, Raye and many more. And near the center, like it had always belonged there?

ROSÉ

The post didn’t need promotion, it moved on its own, copied, reposted, and quoted. Within fifteen minutes, it was climbing the trending lists, and fan accounts lost their minds. Someone pulled old videos from Vegas, others began syncing them with rumored lyrics, piecing together speculation like it was evidence. They didn’t have the song, not yet. But they knew its shape now, they knew her name was on it.

Across the ocean, in a Miami hotel room still humming with afternoon light, Y/N stood barefoot on the carpet with one foot up on the edge of the bed, trying to lace her training shoes while not dripping water onto her suit. Her hair was wet, still pulled back from a quick rinse after drills, and the room smelled like eucalyptus from the muscle balm she hadn’t fully rubbed in. The air conditioner clicked, then settled into a low hum. Outside, the sound of a distant engine whined through the open window, swallowed quickly by palm trees and wind.

Her phone buzzed twice on the bedside table.

She didn’t check it right away, she was still twisting the laces too tight, distracted, but then another buzz came, and another.

By the time she picked it up, the group chat was already on fire. Her race engineer had sent a screenshot of the tracklist with three flame emojis and a casual bombshell of a message.

“So your new friend’s on the soundtrack, huh?”

Y/N didn’t reply, not to that one. Instead, she opened Instagram, thumbed through to the post, and stared at the screen for a beat too long.

There it was, truck 5. Her number, her lucky one.

Messy – ROSÉ

A photo from Vegas was already recirculating, Rosé in that bomber jacket, floodlights cutting her in half, that gaze like steel and surrender. Y/N had seen the footage. Every syllable Rosé hadn’t spoken since Coachella was laced into the corners of that image.

And now it was real, official, not just a rumor or a blurry night.

Y/N leaned against the headboard, letting her body drop with the kind of exhale that came only after you’d been holding something in too long. Her phone stayed in her hand, thumb hovering over their thread, the one that had gone quiet after Coachella, then sparked back to life with timing that never stopped feeling almost.

She took a screenshot of the album tracklist, no edits, no comments, just the raw drop.

She typed slowly. “So… Miss Lead Vocal. That bomber jacket’s making sense now.”

The read receipt appeared instantly, the little grey “Seen” stinging more than she wanted to admit.

And then, a moment later, the reply. “You promised you’ll wait and ignore it.”

The words were sharp, but not cold, not distant. It was the kind of push someone gave when they were scared the door was opening too soon.

Y/N stared at them for a second, then typed again, fingers steadier than she felt.

“I’m ignoring. Just proud of you.”

And she meant it. Even through the static, even through the timeline mess and the barely there conversations, even through the ache she didn’t have time to name.

She was proud.

And even if they weren’t saying it, even if neither of them dared to call it what it was, she felt it still. Right there in her chest, quiet and anchored, like the moment before a green light.

The heat wrapped around her like fabric the second she stepped out of the black SUV. Not an oppressive kind of heat, not quite, but the kind that shimmered off asphalt and settled against skin like a dare. It was loud too, not just the noise, but the life of it. Engines somewhere in the distance revved like thunder behind glass, music spilled out from a pop up DJ booth near the hospitality gates, security radios crackled and people moved like they had places to be, even if half of them didn’t.

Rosé paused at the paddock entrance, letting it wash over her. The clamor, the scale, the thick scent of heat, rubber, new leather, sunscreen. This was her first Grand Prix, and she already understood that nothing about it was built to feel small, the energy hit from all sides, fast, hot, relentless, and she found herself standing just still enough to feel it wrap around her.

Cameras caught her within seconds. Flash, snap, voice calling her name in three different accents, her pass swung gently around her neck, and someone was already asking for a statement, a smile, a photo.

She gave them the smile. The slow, practiced one, chin tilted, lips parted just enough to look effortless, her stylist had picked the outfit that matched the vibe just perfectly. Black dress and oversized letter jacket. Her handler leaned in with a murmured reminder. "Ferrari first."

Ferrari, right. 

That was where she was supposed to be. The path there was narrow but polished, bordered on either side by security checkpoints and branded barricades. VIPs wandered in curated clusters, influencers filming intro shots, someone in a pastel linen suit asking where the bar tent was.

But Rosé kept her pace even, slow, but with intent.

The Ferrari garage loomed ahead in red and black, gleaming under layers of polish and sponsorship. She’d barely stepped under the shaded entrance when she heard it.

"About time you made it to the right kind of track."

Lewis Hamilton, leaning against a workbench like it was a fashion show riser, arms folded, grin wide, and she smiled back, genuinely this time.

"I thought I'd see how the other half lives."

"You look well," he said, gesturing at her outfit with a nod of approval.

"So do you," she offered back, stepping in for a light hug, not too long, not too staged, just enough.

They chatted easily, something about travel chaos and luggage that never quite made it through Heathrow. There was laughter, a few quick photos, a flash of comfort.

But beneath it, her attention tugged sideways.

Red Bull was next, she was escorted there in a blink, swept away on a polite current of assistants and camera flashes. The garage was sleek, sharp, less intimate, more flash. There was a photo op waiting before she even got through the entrance.

She obliged, of course she did. Smile here, chin up, step to the left, but her mind had already gone quiet in a way she couldn’t explain. Because somewhere behind all this, somewhere across this maze of hot concrete and humming cables and suits the color of summer fruit was her.

She hadn’t seen Y/N yet, not even a glimpse. But she could feel it, like the weather changing in her chest.

Every time a crew member passed in papaya orange, her eyes followed, every time a voice nearby dropped into that clipped cadence that sounded too close to her, she turned just slightly. Not obviously, but enough.

Y/N was here. 

That much she knew, racing, focused, probably already in her suit, half-zipped and annoyed at whoever was fussing with her earpiece.

Rosé adjusted her jacket, said something kind to a reporter she didn’t really hear. She smiled again for the camera, let them think it was for them.

But it wasn’t.

She hadn’t seen her yet, not yet.

But soon.

The McLaren garage pulsed with that specific kind of tension only the minutes before a race could conjure, not frantic, not chaotic, but compressed. It was a machine running at full power beneath a perfectly still surface. Technicians weaved around tables and tires with the kind of silent choreography that came from repetition, engineers crouched beside consoles, murmuring over readings with clipped urgency, radios clicked and hissed, the background hum of voices overlapping in different frequencies. The smell of fuel lingered beneath the sharper tang of rubber and steel, and every surface gleamed under the clinical wash of overhead lighting.

Y/N stood just off to the side of her car, one glove half on, the other hanging from her fingers, her suit rolled down to the waist. The base layer clung to her frame, dark and sleek against her skin, the heat of the garage settling on her like weight. She shifted her stance slightly, adjusting the arch of one foot, her head tilted in concentration as her engineer rattled off a final list of variables. Tire pressure, wind speed, track temperature, the kind of information she usually absorbed with ease.

But today, her attention tugged elsewhere.

She didn’t let it show, her posture stayed calm, her face unreadable. Still, her fingers flexed just slightly against the edge of her glove, and her jaw clenched with a rhythm she couldn’t quite shake. There was static behind her thoughts, not loud, not intrusive, but constant, like something unfinished waiting just outside her line of sight.

“Oi, Y/N! Your friend’s here.”

Lando’s voice rang across the garage with zero subtlety, carrying over drills and engine checks and whatever fragile grip she had on her pre-race routine.

Her shoulders stiffened immediately, she didn’t even need to turn around.

“Shut up, Lando,” she muttered, yanking her glove tighter than necessary.

He leaned against a nearby tire stack with a grin that could only be described as wicked, clearly savoring every second of this.

“Oh, come on,” he said, smirking. “You blushed, that’s practically a confession.”

Y/N shot him a glare, but the bite behind it was soft, already crumbling at the edges. “Keep talking and I’ll put you into a wall on Turn 2.”

But the threat was barely there, her voice losing tension the moment something shifted behind her, the air catching, the background noise dulling for just a second too long.

She turned, even before she registered why she was turning.

Rosé had stepped inside the garage, escorted by one of the PR reps, credentials swinging lightly around her neck as she moved, unhurried, composed, but unmistakably present. Her eyes scanned the space quickly, then landed exactly where they were supposed to.

She caught the tail end of the exchange, Lando’s teasing and Y/N’s flustered deflection. The awkward shift of someone trying to look unfazed when every cell in her body was suddenly alert. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t make a joke, didn’t acknowledge the blush still warming the tips of Y/N’s ears. She just smiled, a small, calm thing, almost imperceptible, but so knowing it made Y/N’s lungs stutter in response.

And for a second, everything around them slowed.

No one else noticed, or maybe they did, but chose not to look too closely. The crew continued moving, voices low and focused, the background blur of motion doing its best to swallow the moment whole. But Y/N stood still, eyes locked on the only person in the room who wasn’t supposed to make her feel anything at all, and yet did, effortlessly.

She leaned in, just slightly, not enough for anyone else to see it as significant, just enough that her words wouldn’t carry beyond Rosé’s ears.

“If you’re here,” she said, voice low and steady, “I’m winning.”

It wasn’t confidence, it was something else entirely, a quiet, rooted truth that didn’t need to be challenged. And Rosé didn’t reply, she didn’t have to.

She stepped forward by an inch, maybe two, and reached out with one hand, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s arm, light, deliberate, warm. The touch landed just above the wrist, where the pulse sat close to the surface, and held for the briefest moment, not possessive, not staged. Just present, acknowledging and real.

Then it was gone.

She let her hand fall, her body drifting back just as the garage surged back to life, someone calling for helmet checks, the buzz of a camera flash flaring nearby, the noise returning like a tide.

Y/N blinked, slowly, her eyes lingering on the place where Rosé had just been.

She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. But something shifted inside her, something loose and electric and impossibly steady all at once. The moment had passed, but its weight lingered, quiet and impossible to ignore. 

Still humming, still alive.

The noise was almost unbearable by the final lap, not in volume, but in weight, in pressure. It pressed against the skin, settled in the chest, vibrated along the track surface like a living thing. Engines screamed through the corners, tires spat dust into the air, and the grandstands throbbed with thousands of bodies moving in unison, their collective tension rising with every fraction of a second shaved off the lap.

Rosé stood just beyond the barrier, tucked into the designated zone reserved for VIPs and officials, a crisp laminate badge against her chest and the chequered flag coiled tightly in her grip. Her hand felt stiff, her knuckles white around the pole, not from fear, but from trying to keep herself anchored in the exact moment she was standing in. Everything around her blurred at the edges, the officials murmured calls over radios, the heat radiating off the asphalt, the flicker of sponsor banners whipping in the breeze, all of it dulled to a hum beneath the thundering focus in her chest.

She hadn’t known it would feel like this.

She’d expected the adrenaline, yes. The spectacle, the beauty of the race and the sharpness of the machines and the choreography of it all. But she hadn’t expected the silence inside herself, the kind that came when anticipation gave way to something closer to reverence.

Her eyes were on the final corner, she barely registered the screen above her flashing live feed. She didn’t need it, the sound of the crowd said enough, a rising crescendo rippling through the stands like a match had been lit and passed through every seat.

And then, through the blur of speed, through the roar of power and dust and fire, she saw it. That unmistakable flash of orange cutting through the curve like it wasn’t a corner at all, but a promise fulfilled.

Y/N’s car emerged from the turn with clinical precision, no overcorrection, no hesitation. Just complete command.

Rosé didn’t breathe.

The way the car held to the track, fast, fluid, impossible, felt like watching instinct turned into art. It wasn’t just skill, it was intention, it was everything Y/N had said without saying it.

"If you’re here, I’m winning."

And now she was.

The blur of her car surged forward, engine climbing to its final scream, and in that last stretch seconds compressed into heartbeats, Rosé saw more than motion. She saw fire, she saw defiance, she saw a kind of beauty that didn’t try to be beautiful, just was.

The moment before the tires crossed the finish line cracked something open in Rosé’s chest. Not pride, not even awe. It was something more elemental than that, something she hadn’t quite prepared for, it was the visceral realization that this girl, this impossibly magnetic, quietly defiant, stubborn and stunning force of nature, was not just extraordinary.

She was hers.

She waved the flag with more force than she meant to, the fabric catching the sunlight in a blur of black and white. It wasn’t graceful, not the way the briefing had demonstrated earlier that morning, it wasn’t ceremonial, it was a release.

The crowd erupted as if the air itself had torn open, a full throated scream of noise and joy and disbelief rising into the sky. Her name lit up the screen, the crew behind the barricades roared and collided in celebration, and somewhere in the distance, champagne was already being cracked open.

But Rosé didn’t flinch, didn’t turn, didn’t look away.

Her eyes followed the car on the screen for a moment, just long enough to track its deceleration, the controlled chaos of slowing down after flight.

And then her gaze fixed again, steady, searching for the shape of the driver beneath it all.

She wasn’t watching the car anymore, she was watching her.

Y/N, still strapped in, still hurtling through the moment, still wearing the helmet that hid everything, except what Rosé already knew.

She watched her with eyes that burned, not from sun or heat, but from the sudden, overwhelming gravity of everything unsaid between them.

The pride, yes, the admiration. But also the ache, the need, the truth that had lived in silence for too long and now stood screaming on the finish line.

Rosé had seen Y/N in hotel lobbies and hidden rehearsal rooms, in dark cars and low lit corners, curled beneath sheets and curled beneath questions neither of them had answered, but she had never seen her like this.

Unapologetic, alive and untouchable.

And yet, still looking for something, still reaching for something beyond the track. Rosé didn’t move, didn’t smile, not yet.

She just breathed her in, and let the sound of the stadium break over her. Because if this was what love looked like at 200 miles an hour, then maybe it was always going to be messy.

And maybe that was the point.

The noise didn’t end all at once. It fractured slowly, the way thunder fades, not disappears. First came the interviews, clipped and rushed, with too many voices shouting questions at once. Then the camera flashes, strobing across helmets and sweat slicked cheeks, catching moments that would be stitched into highlight reels before the champagne had time to dry. The hugs, the whoops of laughter, the back pounding congratulations, everyone wanted a piece of the win, everyone wanted their frame of the moment.

Rosé didn’t try to be part of it.

She watched from the edge of it all, her VIP lanyard still around her neck, though no one checked it anymore. Her flag duties were over, the press photos taken, the team’s thank you's extended, she had every excuse to leave, a car waiting, a time stamped itinerary, the kind of exit most people would have taken without question.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she found a quiet corner, a stretch of wall near the back corridor of the McLaren garage, half lit by fluorescents that flickered like they were trying to remember how to rest. From where she stood, she could see the tail end of the celebration, crew members with radios still clipped to their belts, scattered fans craning for glimpses, and confetti underfoot that stuck to everything.

And she waited.

It wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t even deliberate. She just didn’t leave, because something in her wasn’t done yet. And then? 

Y/N appeared.

She slipped through a side entrance, hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed and eyes bright in a way Rosé hadn’t seen before, not like this. There was no mask on her face, no practiced calm, just joy, pure and sharp, unfiltered and unguarded. She was practically glowing, suit unzipped, gloves hanging from one hand, the other tugging at the collar of her fireproofs like she hadn’t quite remembered how to be still yet.

Rosé didn’t move right away.

She let herself look.

Y/N was speaking to someone, one of the engineers, probably, but her head turned slightly as she walked, as if pulled toward something just out of frame. Her steps slowed, her mouth stilled, and then her eyes found her.

It didn’t need to be said.

The chaos softened, just for a moment, as Rosé pushed off the wall and stepped forward, not fast, not with purpose, but with something quieter, something sure.

No one noticed, there were no flashes, no microphones swinging overhead. It was just the two of them, the space between them still electric, but no longer loud.

“You did it,” Rosé said, voice low, barely above the hum of the cooling units and far off voices.

Y/N looked at her, really looked, and for a breath, everything else fell away. Then she smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t pose or perform or ask for anything. It was a smile meant for one person only.

“Told you I would.”

There was no touch, no kiss, not here. But the moment between them said everything. They had both waited for this, not the win, not the race, but the after, the quiet, the exhale.

And here it was.

Finally.

The noise never fully died, not even this far from the track, but it dimmed enough to feel like something else. The air inside the VIP tent was cooler, calmer, heavy with the scent of something herbal, eucalyptus, maybe, and whatever perfume had been sprayed too generously near the guest list tables. It was a different kind of chaos here, curated and soft edged, full of champagne glasses and whispered debriefs and media teams pretending to relax.

Rosé didn’t belong here either, not really. But for once, she wasn’t thinking about how she looked, or who was watching.

Y/N’s hand brushed hers lightly as they walked side by side, not holding, not clinging, just enough contact to remind them both they hadn’t imagined what happened outside. The race was behind them now, the world, for a few stolen minutes, could wait.

They slipped behind a partitioned wall where the crowd thinned and the lighting dropped, and there it was.

The booth.

Sleek, minimal, lit from within by a soft ambient glow and a pulsing digital screen. No big display, just a set of headphones suspended like something sacred, and a list of songs hovering in electric white text.

Track 5 

Messy – ROSÉ

It was the first thing Y/N saw.

She stopped just outside the entrance, hands in the pockets of her fire suit, posture relaxed but eyes fixed on the screen like it was asking a question she hadn’t prepared to answer. She let the silence hang for a beat, then turned her head toward Rosé with a smirk, one brow lifted.

“So this is it?”

Rosé was already shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she said, sharp at first, quicker than she meant to be. Then her voice dropped, almost unsure. “Not yet. Please.”

The pause that followed wasn’t awkward, it was weighted.

Y/N looked back at the booth. Her fingers hovered above the console, inches from the headphones. She could’ve pressed play, could’ve listened right then and there, surrounded by everyone and no one, she could’ve heard what Rosé hadn’t said, what she’d recorded instead.

But she didn’t.

Her eyes flicked sideways, settling on Rosé again.

And then, without saying anything more, she stepped back from the booth, hands lowering to her sides.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “I’ll wait.”

She meant it.

Not just about the song, about all of it.

Rosé didn’t respond right away. Her throat tightened, not with fear, but with the sudden ache of being seen, fully, by the one person she wasn’t sure would still be standing here at the end of all this.

And yet she was.

Still here, still waiting.

Rosé didn’t say thank you, she didn’t need to. Y/N’s choice to wait, to trust, to not press play just because she could, was more than enough.

They didn’t stay in the booth long after that.

Someone called for Y/N over comms, another interview, another round of congratulations. A McLaren staffer hovered politely in the distance. Rosé tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and Y/N gave her one last glance before walking off, not lingering, not dramatic, just a subtle meeting of eyes. A promise held in silence.

Later, after the chaos and the cameras had started to fade, someone took a picture.

Neither of them posed.

They didn’t know it was being taken.

It wasn’t even a good photo.

Grainy, oversaturated, taken from a bad angle behind one of the garages where the light bent strange and the air shimmered with engine heat. It was the kind of photo that would normally be buried, background noise on a tagged fan account, maybe tossed into a story that faded after twenty-four hours.

But this one didn’t disappear, because it didn’t need clarity.

It had feeling.

It was the way Rosé was looking at her, the softness, the tilt of her head, the smile caught mid breath, not performative, not fixed for the camera, but real. Her body was angled slightly, as if pulled toward Y/N without even thinking, like her center of gravity had shifted. And Y/N? Flushed, suit unzipped to the waist, her hand half lifted like she was about to reach out, wasn’t looking at anyone else, just at her.

No filters, no distance, just an unguarded second that slipped through before either of them realized someone had been watching.

But someone had, the photo hit Twitter first, posted by a fan who hadn’t even noticed what they’d caught until someone else zoomed in. Within minutes, it had thousands of retweets, a caption in all caps, a flurry of hearts and quote tweets and disbelief.

And then it spread.

TikToks were posted dissecting the frame, zoomed in and slowed down, annotated like crime scene footage. Instagram edits came next, the same look, overlayed with romantic lyrics and soft light leaks. Side by side comparisons flooded timelines, Paris Fashion Week, Coachella, a blurry airport sighting, a glimpse from the McLaren garage.

Then came the evidence board energy.

A grainy screen recording surfaced from a livestream near the listening booth, someone had captured Rosé brushing past Y/N, hand hovering too long near her lower back. Another user dug into Rosé’s accessories, the gold bracelet she'd worn during her Las Vegas shoot, the same one on Y/N’s wrist in a training photo days later. Someone else lined up timestamps, airport sightings within twelve hours of each other, studio locations, hotel lobbies. Nothing confirmed, but nothing denied.

The viral caption under the photo read simply “They’re not even hiding anymore.”

And maybe they weren’t, maybe that moment hadn’t been staged to hide, maybe they had just slipped, for a second, into something unguarded, something too natural to pull back from in time.

By the end of the hour, the headlines rolled in like a rising tide.

“ROSÉ & Y/N: Newest Power Couple?” “From Paris to Pit Lane, A Love Story We Didn’t See Coming?”

It was no longer a whisper, no longer a theory, it had entered orbit, into gossip columns, lifestyle mags, entertainment panels. Commentators with blue checkmarks weighed in, even race commentators made sly jokes on air. Everyone had an opinion, everyone had a take.

And through all of it, still, silence.

Y/N didn’t post.

Not a story, not a tweet, not even a reaction emoji on a teammate’s podium recap.

Rosé stayed quiet too.

No stories, no posts other than the ones posted by her manager on her HQ account. She didn’t even reply to Jennie’s comment, which she normally would have responded to in less than three minutes.

It wasn’t damage control, it wasn’t a plan, it was just the eye of the storm. But it didn’t stop the storm from coming, by early evening, the messages started, not from fans, no. Not from journalists either.

From Seoul.

Her screen lit up with a call from her manager first, then from an executive she didn’t usually hear from unless something major was happening. And then the message she had been dreading all day arrived, calm and clinical.

“YG and THE BLACK LABEL are requesting a meeting. We need to talk, people are asking questions. We need a statement.”

Rosé stared at the screen, phone heavy in her hand. The message blinked quietly back at her, nothing dramatic, no threats, no accusations. But the weight behind it was unmistakable.

She set the phone face down on the hotel table. The world thought they were in love now, and maybe the world wasn’t wrong. But the world didn’t know what it had taken to get there, didn’t know how fragile it still was, didn’t know that they hadn’t even said it yet.

And now it was out, now it was loud.

Everyone was watching, waiting for them to speak.

The city outside the window was impossibly still, lit like a promise that belonged to someone else. Its skyline shimmered in slow motion, gold and soft and detached, as if none of this, none of them, was happening in the same world.

But inside the room? Everything felt brittle, the kind of quiet that doesn’t soothe, the kind that chokes.

It wasn’t truly dark, a single bedside lamp glowed faintly in the corner, casting the entire space in amber, flickering like it couldn’t quite decide whether to stay lit. The shadows stretched long and loose across the floor, across the walls, over the pile of clothes left at the foot of the bed. The TV was still on, low and looping through the race footage again, a silent, endless loop of triumph, Y/N taking that last turn, crossing the line, lifting her helmet with the weight of a world on her shoulders and a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore.

Y/N hadn’t glanced at it in over an hour.

She sat rigid on the edge of the bed, legs parted slightly, elbows on her knees, her hands hanging between them like she didn’t know what to do with them anymore, her posture said calm, her clenched jaw said otherwise. Her molars were grinding so hard the tension rippled along her temple, one of her gloves was still on the nightstand, half turned inside out like she’d tossed it down in a hurry and forgotten it existed, like she hadn’t really landed yet, still half in the car, half in the chaos, and now caught in the fallout.

Across from her, Rosé paced.

Not urgently, not dramatically, just endlessly. Like walking was the only thing keeping her upright, her bare feet made soft, soundless passes over the edge of the rug, her arms wrapped tight across her chest, then dropped, then wrapped again. Her hair was messier than usual, like she'd run her hands through it too many times without realizing, and her shirt had a wrinkle from where she’d been gripping the hem too tightly for too long.

The phone sat silent on the table, it hadn’t rung again. But it didn’t need to, the last call from Seoul had done what it came to do. No instructions, no threats, just questions. Questions that didn’t wait for sleep or flights or explanations.

They needed a statement, they needed a clean answer to a messy truth.

“I just—” 

Rosé stopped mid stride, hand lifting to her forehead like she could press the spiral of thoughts back into place. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked along the edges like something fraying under too much pressure. 

“What if this hurts your career?”

The words landed with more force than she’d intended. But now that they were out, they kept coming.

“What if this ruins mine?”

Y/N didn’t flinch, not visibly, but her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the mattress, like she was anchoring herself to something she could still control.

Rosé turned slowly, her voice quickening, not angry, but pulled taut by panic.

“What if I’m hurting the girls? My group? What if this spirals and takes them down too?” Her arms wrapped around her waist, tighter now. “They didn’t agree to be part of this, they didn’t ask for any of it. I’ve protected them for years, and now—”

She broke off, her breath hitching as the weight of it pushed harder, the kind of pressure that had nothing to do with cameras or rumors and everything to do with guilt.

“This isn’t just about me,” she whispered, like it was the only way she knew how to be honest, quietly, desperately.

Y/N still hadn’t moved.

Still staring past her, not cold, not distant, just trying to keep from cracking under the weight of what she wasn’t allowed to say. Her eyes didn’t leave the floor, but her pulse thudded visibly at the base of her throat, she looked like she’d taken a punch and refused to fall.

And then Rosé exhaled, long and broken.

“They need a statement,” she said again, softer this time, but no less heavy. “And I don’t know what to say.”

Another pause.

Her arms dropped to her sides, fingers limp, her voice nearly gone.

“Because we’re not even together.”

There it was, the words dropped like a stone between them, not sharp, not shouted, just honest and wrecking. Rosé closed her eyes, as if not seeing Y/N’s face might somehow soften the blow of saying what they both knew. The truth of it wasn’t cruel, but it didn’t have to be, it just had to be real.

The worst part? It was true.

They hadn’t defined it, hadn’t labeled it, hadn’t dared to ask what it was because naming it would make it real, and making it real meant risking it all. And now? Now the world had named it for them, and neither of them knew how to hold it.

The silence that followed wasn’t passive, it was full.

Full of everything they hadn’t let themselves say, full of the fear that maybe the moment was already gone. That maybe love, however loud it had been behind closed doors, couldn’t survive this kind of spotlight.

And in that stillness, something shifted. Not the anger, not yet, but the first sting of heartbreak, the kind that only ever comes from someone who doesn’t mean to hurt you, but does anyway.

Something in Y/N’s body changed.

She didn’t flinch, not really, her posture didn’t break, her head didn’t jerk. But the breath she took next was too shallow, and her eyes didn’t lift from the floor for a long moment, like she needed to choose the words carefully or risk shattering entirely.

And then, finally, she stood.

Not like she was preparing to fight, not like she wanted to walk away, just to stand. Because sitting still suddenly felt impossible. She moved slowly, the way you move when your body is trying to keep your heart from bleeding out too fast.

“So,” she said quietly, voice dry and even, but far too calm to be okay, “that’s what this was to you?”

She wasn’t looking at Rosé when she said it, her eyes lingered somewhere on the floor, just in front of her own feet, but then they lifted, steady and clear and far more wounded than she wanted to admit.

“Nothing?”

The silence that followed wasn’t the good kind, not the soft, thoughtful space they used to fill with glances and half-smiles and words unsaid. This one ached, this one scraped, this one felt like it was swallowing the air.

Rosé didn’t answer, she looked like she might, her lips parted, her body turned slightly like instinct was pulling her toward a defense. But whatever words she might’ve found, they didn’t come.

And that was enough.

Y/N stepped back a fraction, her voice didn’t rise, but her expression sharpened. Not cruel, not angry, just hurt.

“Because that’s what it sounds like. That all of it, the flights, the quiet nights, the rehearsals I waited outside of, the way you looked at me in that garage, that none of it counted because we never put a label on it.”

Rosé’s jaw shifted, eyes glassing just slightly, but she still didn’t speak. Y/N’s voice dipped lower, now shaking in the way anger does when it’s just fear dressed up.

“You think I don’t know what it means to protect something that matters? To carry pressure in silence? I’ve lived my whole life hearing I didn’t belong, in this sport, on this stage, in this body. And I fought for every inch of ground I stand on.”

She let the words hang, breath coming faster now, but she held her ground.

“And I would’ve protected you. I was protecting you.”

A pause, a shift.

“But if you’re this scared,” Her voice cracked for the first time. “Maybe it was never real for you.”

That broke the air.

Rosé moved before she meant to, a step back, one hand to the doorframe like she needed something solid to lean on. Her eyes wide, her shoulders coiled, like she’d just been punched with something heavier than the truth.

She turned, one foot moving instinctively toward the exit.

And Y/N saw it, the retreat.

The moment she was going to leave, not because she didn’t care, but because caring had become too loud, too messy, too real. Y/N didn’t speak again, she didn’t call out, but she didn’t move either.

That was when Rosé snapped.

Not in anger, not in malice, but in desperation, in grief. In love that had nowhere left to go but out.

“You think it wasn’t real for me?” she asked, the words shaking with disbelief. “You think I brought you into my world, my world, the one I’ve spent years keeping locked down and perfectly controlled, because it was convenient?”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was trembling.

“You think I let myself feel any of this, let myself fall into something I couldn’t control, couldn’t manage, couldn’t plan, because I was pretending?”

She turned now, fully facing Y/N, every inch of her frayed and wide open.

“I’ve spent my whole life hiding behind perfect smiles and half answered questions,” she whispered. “And then you showed up, and suddenly I didn’t want to hide anymore.”

Y/N’s breath caught, but she didn’t interrupt.

Rosé took one more step forward, every word now a confession she had let herself write into a song.

“I love you,” she said. “Okay? I am in love with you. Even when it’s confusing, even when we don’t say the right things, even when I’m afraid it’s all going to fall apart because the world is too loud and I don’t know how to protect you from it.”

Y/N blinked, barely, but Rosé kept going, because she had to.

“I want all of you,” she said, her voice catching. “All your complicated, all your fire. God, give me hell, give me silence, give me the version of you who gets scared and says the wrong thing and pushes me away when she needs someone closest.”

Her hand pressed to her chest now, as if she could steady herself.

“I’ll take all of it,” she said. “If it means I get to be yours at the end of the day.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was everything.

All the noise that had come before, the headlines, the fear, the anger, all of it had collapsed into this one moment, and there was no room for anything else.

No more pretending, no more protecting, just the truth. Now it was out.

Messy, unfiltered and honest.

The silence after Rosé’s words didn’t end things, it changed them. It folded the air into something softer, something quieter, but not light, not yet. The weight was still there, lingering like the ghost of a fight they hadn’t wanted to have but needed to. The kind of silence that comes when both people finally see the wreckage and choose, somehow, to step into it anyway.

Rosé stood frozen near the door, one hand still on the frame like she wasn’t sure if she’d been reaching for escape or for something to hold onto. Her chest lifted unevenly with each breath, every muscle in her shoulders tense, like she was bracing for impact that hadn’t come yet. Her voice had broken itself open, and now she didn’t know what to do with all the pieces she’d spilled.

But Y/N moved, not in a rush.

She stepped forward with the kind of careful intention that came from being burned before and still choosing to reach into the fire again, her hands were loose at her sides, her steps quiet over the rug, but her gaze? Her gaze didn’t waver, she stopped just close enough that their toes nearly touched, and for a moment, she didn’t speak, she just looked at her.

And that was what made Rosé finally look back.

Because there was no anger in her face, no blame, just that wide, tired, impossibly open look, the kind that says You didn’t break me. I’m still here.

And then, Y/N’s voice came low. Unsteady, not from fear, but from truth.

“I love you too.”

Rosé blinked, slowly, as if those words hadn’t registered yet, as if she couldn’t trust that they were meant for her. 

But Y/N wasn’t finished.

“God, I do, I didn’t plan for this, and I didn’t see it coming, but it’s not going anywhere, it’s not going away. I love you,” she repeated, this time firmer, like she needed Rosé to feel it in her chest.

A beat passed, then another.

“I love you when it’s hard, when you pull away, when I say too little and you say too much. I love you even when we don’t get it right.”

The words weren’t perfect, but they were full.

Rosé’s mouth opened, just slightly, and a sound escaped her, something between a breath and a laugh, something too close to crying. She shook her head like she couldn’t believe any of this was real, and then she stepped forward, closing what little space remained.

She lifted her hand first, tentative, fingers brushing just under Y/N’s jaw like she was checking if she could touch her now, Y/N leaned in, barely, and that was all the permission Rosé needed.

Their mouths met, soft, cautious, but not unsure.The kiss wasn’t a climax, it was a collapse. It was different than every kiss they ever shared, it was every unsaid word folded into a touch, it was the shaking breath Rosé had been holding for weeks, it was Y/N’s knuckles digging into the fabric of Rosé’s shirt as if to say, You’re not walking away now. It was mouths moving slow, then faster, like they couldn’t quite believe it was real and wanted to memorize the shape of it before the world came crashing in again.

Rosé’s fingers curled into the back of Y/N’s neck, thumb sliding beneath the collar of her shirt, grounding herself in the heat of her skin. Y/N’s hand cupped Rosé’s face, firm and steady, like she was holding her there not to keep her still, but to remind her she was safe.

Between kisses, they whispered.

“I was so scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Then don’t.”

They laughed through tears, noses bumping, foreheads pressed together. Their smiles were cracked, raw around the edges, but real, not the kind built for audiences, no. The kind that came from relief so deep it felt like air after drowning.

Eventually, they found their way back to the bed, not to undress, not to escape, but to just be. Fully clothed, legs tangled, Rosé’s head tucked beneath Y/N’s chin, and one of Y/N’s arms looped around her waist, fingers moving in slow, absentminded circles over the curve of her back.

They stayed that way for a long time, the world outside didn’t stop. But in here? It paused.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Rosé said quietly, words brushing the space between Y/N’s collarbones.

“I know,” Y/N whispered. “But I’d rather do messy with you than perfect with anyone else.”

And that was the truth, they didn’t fix everything, they didn’t figure it all out. But before the night could fold into sleep, Y/N shifted just enough to look at her, really look, and say the one thing that would change them.

“No more silence, even the scary stuff, say it.”

Rosé nodded against her chest, and for once, didn’t flinch from the promise.

“Say it anyway,” Y/N whispered again.

The next morning, Rosé called her label. Not to beg, not to explain, just to say that she would not be making a statement. She would speak in her own way, in her own voice.

But for now? The silence was hers to keep, theirs to share, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like hiding, it felt like something sacred.

The hotel room in New York was still.

Not quiet, not with the soft hum of traffic below and the faint buzz of the city that never stopped vibrating just outside their window, but still in the way that only rooms are after the chaos of something enormous. The Met Gala had come and gone like a storm wrapped in velvet and diamonds. Flashes, cameras, murmured questions and headlines about Rosé’s and Y/N’s YSL outfits. Photos of them on the carpet, not side by side, but near enough that fans caught it anyway.

The power couple energy was undeniable, but this moment wasn’t about that.

Y/N sat cross legged on the bed, bare faced now, hair damp from the shower, dressed down in a hoodie that wasn’t hers. She glanced across the room to where Rosé stood by the minibar, hands tucked into the pockets of her own oversized sweatshirt, barefoot, eyes flicking between the floor and her phone.

There was something tentative in her posture, something soft.

“Are you sure you want me to hear it now?” Y/N asked, voice low, just above the lull of the city outside.

Rosé nodded slowly.

“I should’ve played it for you weeks ago,” she said. “But I needed to wait until you’d hear it the way it was meant to be heard.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And how’s that?”

Rosé walked over, settled beside her on the bed, and handed her one of the earbuds, the old school kind, not sleek or wireless, but something comforting.

“With everything on the table,” she whispered.

Y/N took the bud, slid it in, and sat still, and then Rosé pressed play.

The opening notes were soft, layered with warmth and ache, and Y/N knew within the first fifteen seconds. She didn’t need the lyrics to confirm it, she didn’t need the bridge, she didn’t need Rosé’s whispered confession that would come halfway through. 

She knew, because this was them.

Then the chorus hit, all those tangled emotions, all that unfiltered vulnerability.

“So, baby, let's get messy, let's get all the way undone Come over, undress me just like I've never been touched Baby, I'm obsessed with you and there's no replica Maybe if it's messy, if it's messy, if it's messy Then you know it's really love, love”

Y/N closed her eyes.

Rosé didn’t sing along, didn’t speak, she just watched. And when the final note faded, leaving nothing but the hum of the hotel AC and the thrum of a heart full of everything too big to say, Y/N turned to her, slowly, fully.

“You wrote this for me,” she said.

Not a question, a statement. And Rosé nodded, a small, quiet movement.

“I did.”

Y/N smiled, and it wasn’t that crooked, playful smirk she used for the cameras. It was the one Rosé had first seen in a Paris hotel room, sitting shoulder to shoulder on a bed with no label between them.

She reached for her hand, pulled it gently into her lap.

And said, “Thank you.”

Three days later arrived with only the gentlest of warning.

Not a full campaign, no interviews, no countdown clock. Just a single announcement, posted the night before, a flicker of Las Vegas streets, a short snippet and Rosé’s voice, “So, baby, let’s get messy…”

And then, silence.

Back in Italy, tucked into a quiet corner of the countryside, Rosé and Y/N were already off grid. No stories, no sightings, just the hush of early summer and the stillness that comes when two people finally stop running.

And then, at 12:00 PM sharp, with little to no warning, no press statement, and no comment.

MESSY — OUT NOW

Just that.

And within seconds, the internet felt it.

First it was the fans. The quiet ones, the watchers, the collectors of small moments, who caught it first. And then the rest of the world caught up.

Twitter ignited, threads spun themselves like constellations, each tweet another star connected by memory and speculation and feeling. Fan accounts raced to clip the video, frame by frame, TikToks exploded. Rosé in the Vegas shoot, drenched in night air, headlights flaring like a heartbeat, her voice cracked on the second chorus, and by then, the truth wasn’t just visible, it was undeniable.

“This is about someone, this is about her.” “She’s not performing, she’s confessing.”

People paused at the bridge, rewound it, and listened again. Her voice didn’t break for drama, it broke because it had to.

“You’re pulling back and I’m running for the door. You're sayin' those words and it just makes me want you more.”

She wasn’t singing to the camera, she was singing through it, past it. Straight into someone else’s chest.

And then? As if the world wasn’t already unraveling from the weight of it, Rosé posted. No tag, no rollout, just two photos, unfiltered, quiet and intimate.

Photo 1 was a sunlit track in Italy. Nothing flashy, just warm light pooling in golden ribbons across the gravel. Two figures sitting on the bleachers in the foreground, backs to the camera. One unmistakably Y/N, taller, posture easy, relaxed in a way that rarely existed off the circuit. The other, Rosé, head resting on Y/N’s shoulder, McLaren cap backwards on her head. Y/N’s arm around her, keeping her close.

Photo 2 was simple. Just their hands, no dramatic grip, no forced interlace. Just fingers resting into each other like they'd always belonged there, one with silver rings, the other with plain nails and the faint outline of a suit seam still pressed into the skin. Love made casual, honest.

The caption was only a line.

“Maybe if it’s messy… then you know it’s really love.”

No mention of names, no statements, or explanations.

But there didn’t need to be, because the world already knew.

And this time, Rosé didn’t care to control the narrative. There was nothing left to protect but the truth, and the truth was that she was in love with someone who met her in the chaos and chose her anyway.

Y/N didn’t post, she didn’t need to.

But somewhere in the haze of reposts and articles and edits soundtracked by the bridge of Messy, a photo surfaced, not new, not meant to be seen, but caught anyway. Y/N in the background of the Monza paddock, phone pressed to her ear, smiling so softly she didn’t notice the camera. And for once, no one tried to guess who was on the other end.

They already knew.

They didn’t do press, they didn’t announce a relationship, they didn’t tell the world how they first met, or how long they’d been holding hands off camera, or what it felt like to love someone in the gaps between time zones and red carpets and race tracks.

Instead, they made a choice to be quiet, but not hidden. To be known, but not defined by anyone else.

To be messy, and still, to be loved.

It wasn’t perfect, it never had been.

But it was real.

And finally it was theirs.

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.

warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.

wc: 2.6k

requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!

saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)

-

"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.

Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.

You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.

Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.

During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.

Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.

Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.

"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.

Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.

-

A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.

Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.

"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"

"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.

Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.

But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.

You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.

"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.

"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.

As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.

Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.

"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.

“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”

“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.

Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.

You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.

Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.

Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .

Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.

Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.

You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.

You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.

Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.

“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.

This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.

[tiny-brass-bot]

Hi! I saw a post where you had a game made in godot with old school rendering, do you maybe have any tips on how to make godot render a game like that instead of its normal rendering method?

I'd be right happy to!

I'll try to make this concise lol, I always end up overexplaining and then getting lost in the weeds. Buckle up, it's a loooooot of little little things that all add up.

First off, you should decide which look you're going for. N64 and PS1, the two consoles I'm emulating, both had drastically different specs. (plus, there's plenty of other early 3D systems I've not even touched!)

The N64 had texture filtering (textures were interpolated aka "blurry"), it had floating point vertex precision (points moved correctly), it had perspective correction on its textures (no warping)

The PS1 had no texture filtering, no floating point vertex precision (vertices snap and pop around), affine texture mapping (textures warp weird). I also think the color space they operate in is different? Don't quote me

So you can go hard one way or another or pick and choose what you think looks good! We don't have anywhere near the hardware restrictions they did in the 90s so go nuts.

RESOLUTION

To get a low resolution window, I set the window size of the game and the window override size to different amounts

In green is actually how big the window is on my screen (4k monitor) and in red is the retro resolution I want. If you set the stretch mode correctly (an option a little further down the Window tab) then it'll make the pixels big

COLORS

Now the PS1 had the capability of showing you over 16 million different colors, but it could only display 50,000-150,000 at a time, so in order to get more fidelity out of it, the engineers implemented a dithering effect to better blend the otherwise sharp edges between colors.

I used this shader to achieve the dithering effect. If you don't understand shader languages, that's fine. There are a few different pre-built ones for looking like the PlayStation 1 out there.

TEXTURES

Textures for the PS1 could be as big as 256x256, but they were typically 128x128. And they would squish everything a model needed into there usually, at least with like player models and objects and such.

As mentioned, if you're not good with shader language don't worry. There are countless resources out there that people will either let you use or teach you how it works. But I'm gonna touch on it a little bit here.

PS1 textures had no pixel filtering, so you could see individual pixels.

This is what determines that in the shader code. If you want it to look like the N64 (blurry lol), the proper hint is "filter_linear". Note that it won't be 1:1 with N64, cuz they used bilinear filtering (which kinda sucks and causes weird quirks) whereas now you'll only find linear or trilinear filtering. It's a negligible difference imo.

PS1 textures also were only saved using 15 bit color. I'm told that Photoshop's "Posterize" filter set to 32 can achieve this, but don't use photoshop if you can help it. I use GIMP, and while a newer version might have a posterize filter, or there may be a plugin out there, my version doesn't so I cluge it a little.

Change your color mode to "indexed", set color dithering to how you like it, and the number of colors in the palette to a number to get a good result. Usually I'll do 16, 8, 32, but occasionally I'll cheat and do a non-multiple-of-8 teehee >:3c

You can change it back to RGB after to make further editing easier.

LIGHTING

N64 and PS1 both implemented vertex lighting, as opposed to the more modern and (now) ubiquitous per-pixel lighting. Godot as it is right now (4.2 i think?) claims it has vertex lighting that you can set as a shader property but they're lying and it doesn't work yet.

The old consoles could only handle like, 2 lights though so it doesn't matter much.

The real star of the show, and in my opinion the one thing that makes a game most look like the 90s is the inclusion of vertex colors.

By multiplying the color of your texture by its stored vertex color, you can do all the shading yourself!

Plus you can reuse textures like crazy just by coloring them differently. The N64 also made heavy use of vertex colors by forgoing a texture on models entirely and just painting them using verticies. The only textures on SM64 Mario are his eyes, stache, hat emblem, buttons, and sideburns. Everything else is done with vertex colors.

Here you can see this level from my Crock Land with no vertex coloring, with some of the vertex colors only, and then with the two combined.

Rare loved this. Look at how colorful that cliffside is in Jungle Japes. It makes it so much more interesting than just a brown cliff face. Plus you can see the vertex coloration instead of textures at work on DK and the Gnawty.

My go-to example for PS1 is always Spyro, what a gorgeous game. All of those colors there are not made by a light or an environment. They're hand painted babey! Also! With spyro! The skyboxes are actually just huge domes made up of vertices that are colored in different ways! That's how they can look so colorful and "hi-res".

There's plenty more you can do, like adding a CRT filter or a little bit of chromatic aberration which I haven't gotten into yet.

The way I've learned all this is just by being curious as to how the old consoles did their thing, and slowly accruing the knowledge over time. There's still infinite stuff I don't know too.

I hope that helped! And wasn't too longwinded or confusing! Like I said, it's all about piling up tons and tons of little things, small details, weird graphical quirks that really bring out the retro 3D feel for me.

And I didn't even get into the modeling side of things! That's an entirely different "color-of-the-sky"-sized post though.

I'd be happy to re-explain or explain more about any of this!

[phoukanamedpookie]

Honestly, I find Gal Gadot deeply underrated as a performer.

Yeah, I'm a fangirl, but not for nothing.

In most roles she plays, she conveys more through subtle shifts in body language and posture than many actors would do with yelling and screaming, and the Evil Queen is no exception. To do this consistently, often working against the forces of typecasting, studio meddling in the artistic process, and Hollywood's aversion to women over 35, takes great skill or phenomenal artistic instincts, which says a lot about her capacity for discipline and dedication to her craft.

In cases where I've found her performance lukewarm, it's because I can see her trying to inject something more complex and nuanced into the role, but the script and/or director won't let her.

This isn't necessarily her fault because film is not an actor's medium. Every performance you see on screen has been filtered through many edits of a screenplay, many takes of the same 5 to 60 seconds of screen time, who knows how many green screens and tennis balls, plus edits in post-production.

Theater, however, is an actor's medium. Limitations that mainstream Hollywood filmmaking places on an actor just... *poof.* It's a lot more demanding as an art form, but it also offers more freedom for an actor to take ownership of a role. Thus, my whole "Shakespeare thing" about her (see the Shakespeare tag on my blog). And lady has mad theater kid energy.

Trying to communicate this to other people is like trying to convince people who aren't metalheads that "Bleed" by Meshuggah (as a matter of fact, the entire album "obZen") is a musical masterpiece on par with the most timeless classical composers. For those who've made their mind up, it's just a bunch of yelling, smashing drums, and distorted guitar. But for those open to or attuned to the musicality of metal, its power, precision, and, yes, its beauty are plain as day.

"Yeah, but I'm still allowed to say she sucks!"

Y'know what? Fine. Enjoy your boring eardrums.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 15: From This Day Forth

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - From This Day Forth - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Distant history and some time later. Plus, Logan's time with The Muse revealed more than anyone expected.

WC: 2655 - Rated: T - CW: descriptions of treating injuries, the 'comfort' of hurt/comfort

“I do.”

Half-hidden by his wild auburn fringe, Luc’s eyes glowed. Not from his Power, not today. No, today Luc’s eyes glowed from within, the natural deep brown soft and warm and bathing him in love.

Janus smiled back at him, squeezing his fingers. “I know you do.”

Their nerves—and their focus—dissolved in quiet shared laughter until Patton’s pointedly cleared throat brought them back to their vows.

When Janus looked up, Patton smiled and inclined his head, his Illusioned officiant’s robes rustling with the movement. “And you, Janus Gates, do you take Lucas Hart to be your love, your husband, and your light from this day forth?”

Swimming in the gentle depths of Luc’s eyes, Janus nodded. “I do.”

~

Janus tossed his tablet onto the couch with more force than he’d intended. Luckily, it merely bounced twice and flipped over, deactivating the screen. His relief was short lived, though, and the droning news report made him almost wish it had cracked. 

Back straight, he perched on the seat beside it and forced a slow breath, giving his attention to the flow of dry, cool air in his lungs and the—

“Governor Aldi has called in three NatGuard divisions to quell the uprising at Humane Care—”

Patton clicked off the newsfeed. Janus fought to push down the molten lead bubbling up in his stomach but finally it burst out. “When will they ever stop? When we teach them a lesson?”

He smacked the table, the sharp sting doing nothing to calm the fire in his bones. Patton’s hot chocolate rattled against the pair of teacups set on either side of it and the force of his hand shook even the pictures on the wall. 

“Now, Kiddo,” Patton inhaled, exaggerating the movement and giving him and Luc a gentle smile. Luc leaned closer, fingertips brushing his sleeve. “Let’s all take a—“

“No! I will not take a breath!” He sounded precisely like Ro in one of his tantrums but he just couldn’t stop. “And I will not calm down and wait for the Powerless running the government to follow the arc of progress or whatever pacifying bullshit—“

“Language!”

“Papa Bear, it’s alright,” Luc said smoothly. The soft purr of the old nickname brought warmth to the elder brother’s cheeks but his expression didn’t change. He picked up his cocoa and watched the newlyweds with his lips drawn into a thin line.

Luc nodded slowly and reached over the coffee table, brushing Patton’s hand, calming him. “Let him get it out.”

“This isn’t simply some phase I will get past!” Janus nearly growled, jerking away from the other two. “We’ve been trying things your way for three years now and look where we are?” Arms flung out at his sides, he looked around their newly finished HQ. “We have to hide away behind a forest laced in tripwire because all the Powerless know how to do is hate us.”

He stood, shaking his head as he stared at the vidscreen, the latest atrocity playing out in full spectrumed splendor. “Maybe it’s time we used our powers for real change and made them stop.”

“Love?” Luc’s eyes were wide and he made no effort to hide the concern roiling through him.

Janus deflated, sinking back down and accepting Luc’s outstretched hand, bare skin intertwined with his own gloved fingers. “I don’t mean…” He gestured vaguely. “There just… there has to be another way.”

~

“Jan?” Luc’s voice was quiet, barely audible over the whine of the transport’s thrusters as they raced away from the Inn.

Eyes focused on The Muse, unconscious and strapped in his own seat, Janus shook his head.

Luc was completely silent until they’d landed at HQ and he waited until they’d gotten The Muse hooked up to a med bed before addressing Janus again. “Love, there’s nothing you could’ve—”

“ Nothing I could’ve done?” Luc stepped back, the full force of Janus’ rage seeping past his lowered voice. The final threads of his control were fraying and Janus… he wasn’t sure what he might do when they snapped.

Still, Luc reached for him, eyes dimly glowing. “Love, calm down. You didn’t know—”

Janus jerked his hand back, keeping an empty med bed between them. “I didn’t know what? I didn’t know Andrew would betray us? Or I didn’t know you would lead us right into a trap?”

“Wha—” Luc’s mouth moved like a fish and his hand flopped back to his side. “What are you saying?”

Tears swam in his eyes, sparkling in amber light as Luc wrestled his own emotions into control. Or manipulated his own tears. Sour, jagged guilt stabbed Janus’ chest at the thought. Was it his own conscious speaking?

Or Luc’s?

‘Re will be fine, you’ll see. He just needs a little calming, a little extra control.’ Luc had been so sure this outing would work. ‘He’ll have both of us there, both of us to keep him and everyone safe. He deserves a good birthday. He deserves to celebrate a little.’

Janus scrubbed at the blood staining his shirt, his gloves, the man’s final cries echoing in his brain. “What did he offer you?”

“What?” Luc acted like he hadn’t heard him.

Janus stared back, fighting past the buzz of alcohol singing in his veins. Plus gods knew what else that traitorous bartender had slipped into his drink. “What did he offer you? How much were we worth to you?”

“What!?” Luc crossed his arms over his chest, eyes brighter than the med bay’s lights. “You think I—”

Guilt and malice and rage swirled between them, cutting through the lingering dizzy haze. “I can feel your guilt, Luc. You know you can’t hide it from me.”

“Love, no…” Luc’s voice broke, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “Please listen to me… You’re not feeling that from me, I swear! Here…” He slid around the med bed, both hands outstretched. “Jan, please… Take my hand, you’ll see. You’ll—”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Janus pushed the bed back between them. “No, you just want to make this all go away and you can’t, Luc. You just can’t. He killed that man! And it’s because of us! Because of y—”

Too late, his mouth snapped shut.

“You really believe I could…” Orange flame for eyes, Luc shook his head, lips pressed together, a gash across his face. When he spoke again, his voice was low, an almost monotone, his words carefully enunciated. “Very well, then, Janus.” He blinked, slowly, bathing the room in cold darkness, then turned and left.

Rooted where he stood, Janus listened to Luc’s footsteps fade before they eventually returned, pausing just outside the med bay. Janus held his breath, waiting. Listening. 

There was nothing more to hear but the curt zip of a bag and the woosh of the front door opening and closing.

Luc was gone.

“Jannie?”

Janus had no idea how long he’d stood there before The Muse’s whisper pulled him back to that room. “Jannie, please help him.”

~

Jolted upright in bed, Janus swore when his grandmother’s repurposed album fell off the side and hit the floor. His dream—his nightmare—tightened its grip on his mind, claws sinking into flesh, The Muse’s plea wrapping tighter and tighter around him.

-”Jannie… Jannie…”-

He forced his eyes open and only then did he register the green lights flashing along the ceiling’s edge. The voice was no dream. -”Muse? What—”- He yanked back, blistering from The Muse’s thoughts.

-” Jannie, please help him !”-

He grabbed his gloves and a robe on his way out of the room and collided with Pat in the hall.

“I checked the breakers, I checked the shield,” he stammered, barefoot and clad in sleep shorts. “Everything’s working. I don’t understand—”

“He’s out in the hall.” Virge nudged them forward, pressing a tablet into Janus’ now gloved hands. “With Mac.”

Tears poured down The Prince’s face and he leaned close to Virge.

While Pat ran to the med bay, Janus watched the camera feed. Machina’s chair sat abandoned in center frame. The Muse’s lower half, writhing in a tangle of thorny vines, was the only part of him visible. Was Machina still inside? “Get him comfortable,” he ordered to Virge, nodding at The Prince. 

Pat returned, zipping up his jumpsuit, the largest medkit tucked under his arm. “I’m ready.”

“He’s trying,” The Prince whispered as they passed. “He just can’t help it.”

“I know.” Eyes closed and with one hand pressed to the wall for support, Janus reached out. -”We’re coming, Muse. Hang on.”-

~

With Pat’s help, he made it onto the elevator and down to the basement. He used the brief trip to stitch together a semblance of a shield, filtering what he could of the turmoil in The Muse’s mind. “I’ll need you to—”

-”Hurry, hurry, hurry…”- The Muse broke through. Why wouldn’t he just go back inside his room? Why had he even left? Had Machina somehow lured him out? He understood what the shield meant to him… didn’t he?

“I’ll get Re,” Pat promised, one arm still loosely wrapped around his waist. The other gripped the tablet and the med kit. “But maybe come back? He might need you.”

Janus nodded, less steady than he would have liked, as the elevator stopped and the door slid open. Machina and The Muse’s cries echoed down the stone corridor, amplified by the small space. They rushed out, Pat barely slowing to grab Muse, remembering just in time to leave behind the tablet before the shield fried its circuitry.

They stepped over the threshold and silence—near silence—fell over the hallway. The world that poured into The Muse’s mind—and relayed into his and The Prince’s—quieted.

Janus hated how his shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and he dropped to his knees in shaky relief next to the whimpering heap of blankets on the floor.

“Machina?” He jerked away from the touch, reaching for the closed door. -”Logan.”-

Machina froze, clinging to the thought.

-”Logan, you’re safe,”- Janus sent as gently as he could manage while fighting past the blocks Machina seemed to have instinctively put up. -”You’re safe now.”-

-”Muse isn’t.”- With a groan, Machina rolled and met his eyes, revealing his blood-and-tear smeared face.

Nodding slowly, Janus gently wiped his face clean with the edge of the blanket. -”He will be,”- he promised. -”Patton will care for him. As I will care for you.”-

Machina considered his words, bloodshot eyes darting between his and The Muse’s door. Finally, he nodded.

“May I?” Janus asked aloud, arms outstretched.

He nodded again and Janus lifted Machina up and into his chair. When he resisted leaving behind The Muse’s blanket, Janus simply placed it on his lap and tucked it up and out of the way of the wheels before rolling him into the waiting elevator and upstairs to the med bay.

~

Most of the blood covering his face came from his head and from gashes on his tongue, swollen arcs of bite marks driven in top and bottom. He helped him rinse with a saline solution from the med kit, humming quiet praise at his cooperation. There was more blood on his hands, along with fine strands of Machina’s hair twisted around his fingers. Patton guessed Machina likely bore bloody bald spots that matched the ones on The Muse’s scalp, too.

Just like Ro used to.

“He didn’t…” The Muse hung his head, wincing when Patton found a deep cut near the nape of his neck. “He didn’t mean to. And I…” His voice cracked with that same quiet shame.

“Oh, Kiddo… I know you didn’t want to hurt him. We all do,” Patton murmured and gently dabbed at the wound before reaching for the same skin adhesive he used on the bites in his mouth. “How… Kiddo, how did you…” He paused, letting his work to close up the wound distract them both.

Patton held The Muse’s hair up and away from the gash as the adhesive dried. His eyes wandered around the room. The Muse was dressed for bed but pastels and fresh drawings were scattered over the floor. Lots of them.

Most of the drawings featured Machina in his chair, dark stone walls behind him. Patton looked over his shoulder through the little window on the door. The backgrounds matched. This hadn’t been Machina’s first visit.

He focused on the rest of The Muse’s wounds and, as soon as the adhesive set, he urged him to drink some of the electrolyte. When The Muse finished his cup, he sat curled in the corner, knees hugged to his chest, shivering. Patton fetched the other blanket from his bed and wrapped it over his shoulders. 

“He opened the door,” he whispered, guessing—or, more likely hearing—Patton’s unvoiced question. “He came inside so I could hear him. I tried to stop… I did. I did.  I swear I did. I… He…” The Muse looked up at him, big green eyes swimming in tears. “He’s so lonely, too.” 

Nodding, Patton crouched next to him and opened his arms. The Muse carefully arranged himself in the offered embrace, tucking the folded blanket between his face and Patton’s chest. Patton hummed and stroked The Muse’s hair with gloved hands. 

“We shouldn’t be alone, Papa Bear.” His whisper was muffled against the blanket. “None of us should.”

This close to the door panel’s red lights, The Muse’s curls took on an orange glow and Patton swallowed back a sob. 

“I know, Kiddo. I know.”

~

“Thank you.”

Janus thought he’d imagined Machina’s quiet whisper but when he lifted his head he was met with the other man’s steely blue eyes. “Wasn’t going to leave you there,” he muttered and raised a cup to his cracked lips. “Go slow.”

Machina made a face and pulled away, moving his tongue in his mouth like a foreign object.

Janus nodded and waited, cup at the ready. “You bit your tongue. You’ll absorb the stitches in a few days. Well, if…”

He sipped from the cup then chuckled dryly. “If I wasn't a Powerless, you mean.”

“That’s not how I would phrase it, but, yes…” He tipped the cup again, nodding when Machina took another long drink. “We’ve only used it on…”

“On Remus?”

Cup frozen mid-air, Janus stared at him. The Muse’s old name sent a spark through his veins, Ro’s prepubescent voice calling after his brother, filled with playful indignation.

‘Remus, stop! No fair! It’s my turn to be the dragon!’ 

The cup shook in his hand and he set it down before he spilled it on Machina’s bedding. “Where did you hear that name?”

Machina shook his head, mouth working for a moment before he shrugged. “I—I… In my head? It was… it was just there.” He blinked and shuddered, face twitching.

His breathing stuttered, eyes squeezed shut as panic and shame gripped his mind. Machina shook his head and flailed in the med bed, tugging away the blanket and tangling his stumps in the sheets.

-“No, no… None of that… Stay here with me,”- Janus sent and spoke, gripping his shoulder. Finally, he lay back, hand twisted in the blanket. Still, his mind swirled with images he could not have witnessed himself. -”That’s The Muse’s past… Not yours.”-

Janus smiled when Machina finally met his eyes. “There you are,” he said aloud and offered more of the electrolyte. “You need it. Between the blood loss and…”

He finished the cup and took three sips of the next before shaking his head. “I…” He let out a little puff of air and looked away, guilt thick and sour in his scent. Janus returned the cup to its spot on the bed tray and waited.

“I heard another name… Well…” Dozens of names in The Muse’s voice echoed in his mind and Janus pulled back, throwing up a weak shield.

But not before he caught one final name.

Machina grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer. “Who’s Lucas?”

[heyheyitsjae]

Alright so a new trailer for A Minecraft Movie came out (and a few behind the scenes videos in the interim). It’s a massive improvement over the previous teaser and I have a lot more positive things to say, but it still hasn’t really swayed me on seeing it in theaters. My overall thoughts are the same as they have been. The environment/sets are very pretty and nice, the Mobs have an uncanny and freaky vibe to them that doesn’t sit well, and while not AS poorly green screened the actors don’t mesh with the world and their dialogue feels cheesy and poorly delivered. However, with the presentation of this trailer I’m starting to get the visual identity the film is going for and appreciate it a bit more. I still would’ve preferred either an animation, or if it had to be live action ditching the cube aesthetic, but its style is starting to grow on me. That said, a better trailer doesn’t necessarily mean a better movie. 

The Bee has been leaked before, and as before I think it’s decently cute. 

I am so torn on the “as a child I yearned for the mines” line. On the one hand it is really funny, on the other hand it’s only funny because it’s a pre established meme and this is a massive “hello fellow kids” moment. Minecraft has had a nasty habit of cashing in on community memes long after the time has passed. They added Screaming Goats to the game a decent bit after the screaming goat meme had already died, and now that Mob is incredibly dated. They made this hilarious walk and dance tune for Frogs for Minecraft Live a few years back, and have been dragging that dead horse out of the mud to beat it with a stick for just about every community event since then even though it’s no longer funny. As hilarious as they are, just about every Narrator and MARILLA episode has some sort of dig at the Phantom yet THEY STILL HAVEN’T TRIED TO FIX THE FUCKING PHANTOMS!!! THEY KNOW PEOPLE HATE THEM AND ARE DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT, JUST RUBBING IT IN! We’re laughing at how stupid and ridiculous the line is now, but I’m sure by the time the film actually comes out it will have been so saturated in the marketing it’s no longer funny. 

The zoom out as Steve enters the Overworld is weird. It took me a while to realize it lines up with the music. Speaking of, It's so cool they’re actually using C418 for the trailer!... only to fade it out for another fucking radio song that doesn’t really fit. Come on guys, Otherside would’ve fit the vibe of this trailer perfectly! 

When Steve’s placing dirt the sounds of the dirt placing don’t line up with his actions. I’m guessing they originally showed more of him building and forgot to edit the trailer’s music since that’s what the sounds DO line up with. 

The Wolf was one of the better looking designs from the teaser and I’ll admit it is pretty cute here. The animation of the collar popping up with the hearts is really slick and I love it. It is weird that he’s taming an angry Wolf, but maybe the Wolf was just mad at the Sheep nearby and not Steve? Idk. 

Maybe it’s just the lighting but uh… why is there no gold along the edges of those Powered Rails? They look more like Activator Rails. That feels like a very major thing to miss. 

One of the dumber complaints I saw going around with the previous teaser was people going “‘Steve’s Lava Chicken,’ the fuck’s that mean?” The second I saw that sign my assumption was Steve set up a lava-based Chicken auto-cooker, those are pretty common! And sure enough, he did! One thing is though, I’m not sure the design shown off here would actually work? My first thought was you’d have to get the timing of the Pistons opening and closing pretty precise in order to have the Flowing Lava touch the Chicken and set it on fire while also letting it dissipate before the Chicken actually burned to death so it wouldn’t destroy the items. 

But I saw a couple of explanations floating about for it. The first was that the Chicken was standing on a slab, as it didn’t line up with the glass in the window, in which case this design would 100% work. The second was the Chicken was on a trapdoor that dropped it just as it got set on fire… and sure enough someone managed to build a working version of it in-game! 

The Chicken itself is decent, I mostly like it. My one issue is its eyes. That brown iris and black pupil makes its eyes SUPER beady. And like, their eyes are pretty beady in the base game, but this lad is staring into your soul and I hate it. That said, the Cooked Chicken does look pretty good… 

We see Villagers in the background a lot during these scenes (even old Wandy T my beloved.) I think it’s cool that they’ve got a variety of Biome outfits, not just their professions, which really adds a lot of extra variety to the town. They’re in the background and blurred a lot so you can’t really make out their faces that much… but they are usually a bit cursed. There are a handful of shots (usually when you see them head on) where they’re actually kind of cute! But they’re undoubtedly weird lookin’.  

The first time I saw this trailer one thing that really confused me was the extended version of the Ghast-hot-air-balloon scene, cause it looked like they just kind of shot at nothing there. Going frame by frame though, you can see a white triangle kind of thing dart across the mountainside and fly out from under the fireball. I think we’re gonna get a midair combat scene of Ghast vs Elytra-player.

The Nether was the best looking part of the previous trailer, and it still looks great here. I love the sort of Legends-like combination of Bastion and Fortress leading up to a central, decorated portal. But also, the dog is there. Are the Piglins gonna kill Steve’s Wolf? Is that how this conflict starts? DOES THE DOG DIE MOJANG!?!?

The 2D visual is fun, I hope they have more creative shots like that in the final product. One thing I noticed the first time is Garret here is digging into an already established tunnel, and something someone else pointed out is there’s TNT buried in the ground next to him. It seems like they’re luring the Skeletons into some kind of pit-trap. Seems excessive to basic night-time Googlies to me, but still cool. 

Alright the punching and placing wood thing is actually badass. There was a lot of weight behind it (in both directions) that I like. 

We saw “The Stash™®©” in the previous teaser and BTS but I'll talk about it a bit anyway. I really hope we get actual shelving to store our items in the official game soon, that’s been a long time coming. While it’s definitely wishful thinking, the Boots of Swiftness from Dungeons being here makes me hope some spin-off loot is added to the main game as part of a movie-tie-in. The new Drops system would facilitate that, at least to a degree. The Golden Carrots look freakin’ weird though, and I’m not sure why Steve has two different spots for them. We get a better look at a suit of Gold Armor here and… it’s odd. Real humans have different proportions than Minecraft dudes, so in order for any sort of armor to fit the chestplate has to be a bit bigger than normal and the helmet way smaller. I’m sure it looks better being worn by someone, but it just looks doofy and dumb right now on the stand. Like you guys know the old live action Mario Movie? I’m getting Goomba vibes from this fit. 

Man… I’m so disappointed about the Elytra. You see, a long standing point of contention with Minecraft fans is that the in-game wings are called Elytra, but Elytra aren’t actually wings. They’re protective pieces of an insect's shell that open up to allow the actual wings to unfurl and let them fly. In some of the concept art for the film we saw their original plans for the Elytra. It was going to a beetle-shell-like pack on the human’s back, that would open to reveal softer wings that would fold out and let them fly, very similar to an actual bug. In the film they seem to have picked the worst of both worlds. The Elytra is just a big chunky plate that looks more like the shell than the wings, and has a very bland design, basically just copy-pasting the in-game texture for its edges. It doesn’t even look to be attached to the human’s bodies at all, just awkwardly floating behind them. (Also Jack Black doesn’t have his own Elytra, he’s riding Mamoa in the background, bet people are gonna have a field day with that.) 

Oh yeah, this is more of commentary on the full scene they released a while back than the trailer, but I love that you use the little hammer on the side of the Crafting Table to perform your crafting. One thing that I’d love is that if you are “breaking” something in a crafting recipe instead of “assembling it” (like Planks into Sticks, or Diamond Blocks into Diamond items) it would be cool if you used the saw on the side of the Crafting Table instead. If that actually happens I’ll literally cream. 

Steve wacks a Zombie with its own arm. That’s one of those things where you can’t do it in-game, but of course you could in reality, so it's fun to see, but it highlights an issue we’re gonna get to later. 

The Iron Golem looks fucking awesome!!! It’s 100% the best Mob design we’ve seen in the film yet. I think a big part of that is because it’s already an artificial thing, so there’s no distracting skin/fur texture or unnerving body shape. Either way it's cool!.

There’s a bit of a blink and you’ll miss it bit as they’re jumping off that building with Elytra  that I have… thoughts on. You see, one of the things we learned from the BTS videos is that Henry’s (the kid in the red shirt) role in the film is he’s a modder. He’s capable of altering the game’s code and adding new content into it. During this scene, he’s holding a freaking gun! He modded a gun into the game. 

And you see… this rubs me an awful way. A lot of the time when people complain about Minecraft they take jabs at “Mojang’s hypocrisy.” A lot of the time I think these arguments are a bit poorly thought out, researched, or invalid. 90% of the time people look at a stated Mojang policy and then point to a feature that either A) was developed in the Notch era and grandfathered in so Jeb had to deal with it despite having a different vision (see Spiders and Silverfish) or B) was received so poorly it’s why Mojang have the conflicting policy in the first place (see Polar Bears.) But here we’ve hit my first personal-angry-”you hypocrites”-Mojang moment. 

A year or so ago Mojang went out on a crusade banning and sending cease-and-desists toward mod-makers that… added guns into the game. It was probably the most intense take down of community content and changing of public policy they had ever done, and they were very aggressive about it. Now, here they are, making a character who’s supposed purpose is to celebrate the modding community and suddenly they’re jumping on the “guns are cool, thanks for adding guns to our game” bandwagon? So people are allowed to mod guns into Minecraft… on the condition Microsoft can make profit off of it? That’s kinda lame dude. 

And, TBF, it’s not a black-and-white betrayal of morals. The gun-mod takedowns were primarily targeted at people adding real-life weaponry into Minecraft, while the gun we see in this trailer is a comical pirate/steampunky looking one. I personally never really cared for those realistic gun mods, they broke immersion too much for me, but I did think going through such efforts to censor them was silly. After such a recent PR nightmare, expressing the exact opposite opinion without really addressing why and trying to sweep it under the rug is an odd choice and doesn’t sit right with me. To me it feels like another one of those hollow pretend-to-care-when-you-don’t things. Like they added all those new skins to the game a few years back to “add diversity’, but then in this film they don’t use any of those diverse characters and white-washed Steve. Or to pick a non-Minecraft example, Disney pumping out a shit ton of rainbow merch for Pride Month but canceling their top-performing-animation after it had a lesbian couple and not allowing a different show’s finale to air ‘cause it had a trans character. Gotta ban guns from the game to prevent shootings and violent crime, but when it’s in the comedy-action-adventure movie it’s “haha fun action, funny times, look at how cool this gun is” Maybe they’ll treat the gun with some kind of tact when the film comes out, the kid does ditch it to take flight after all, but right now it feels like corporate wanting their cake and eating it too. 

You know, I actually started writing this whole breakdown after the trailer came out, but I got busy with schoolwork and put off finishing it for a few weeks. I’m adding this new bit here now, turns out I’m not so alone in this thought. Apparently the Mojang-gun-mod controversy just started popping off again to the degree someone is planning on suing Mojang!?!? I’ve noticed other people in the comments poo-pooing the gun in the trailer too now, so that’s something. 

This might be a minor gripe but I can’t get it out of my head… WHY DOES STEVE ONLY HAVE 1 ENDER PEARL!?!? I’d say in your typical Minecraft playthrough you’re probably only going to get like 1-3 Ender Pearls before you start actually working toward The End, so only having 1 isn’t that weird of a thing. BUT Steve has been on this world for at least a decade by the looks of things, and he has TWO Elytra meaning he’s definitely opened the End Portal and killed the Ender Dragon at this point. 

From then on you could make the argument that he just doesn’t like fighting in the game, and/or he doesn’t know how to build a Mob-farm and kill a bunch of Endermen. But in The Stash™®© he has AN ENTIRE SHELF dedicated to Firework Rockets. That means he has a decent supply of Gunpowder meaning he either is a good enough fighter to kill a bunch of Creepers, or he’s managed to make a Mob-farm for it. My best explanation, as I’ll mention again later, it’s likely that Mobs in this Movie-verse don’t operate on the same spawning and AI rules, so Endermen just might not be nearly as predictable in the film as they are in-game. This does seem to be a fusion of the main game and all its spinoffs, and in Dungeons Endermen are WAY stronger than the base-game, to the point they’re classified as a miniboss, so I’m willing to buy Endermen can just fuck your shit up in this world. Until we actually get a feeling for their strength though I’m still gonna point and laugh at noob Steve here with only 1 Pearl to his name, what a loser! 

Also… it’s odd that the Ender Pearl is like, sooo round. Like it’s not a perfect sphere, it’s still made of blocks, but it’s mostly round. Like in-game the sprites for Apples and Ender Pearls are about as round as each other, but Apples are square in the movie and Pearls are not? I’m gonna give them the benefit of the doubt and assume this is just another way of selling how alien The End is, but it’s probably just more inconsistency in melding blockiness and real life.

The Zombies look fuckin’ creepy. Like I guess they’re monsters, they’re supposed to be ugly, but still it's a bit of that uncanny-nastiness we got in the previous trailer. The Skeletons look much better. Their faces are still a tad odd, but on the whole I like them. We also get to see Spider Jockeys! Hell yeah! The Spiders are only there for a few frames and are blurred, but what little we see looks good. They were one of the concept arts that stood out to me. 

One thing that is odd about the night scene is just how amped up the monsters seem to be. 10, yeah TEN freaking flaming arrows are shot at our cast at once. We then see TWO Spider Jockeys, both of whom have Enchanted Bows (presumably with Flame) but that means there’s at least 8 other Skeletons with Enchants in the area and, possibly, their own mounts. Enchanted gear on Skelly’s is decently rare, it’s even rarer to see ‘em riding Spiders, but two Mobs that beefed up in the same party!?!? Those are ridiculous odds! I’m assuming the movie is going to have some sort of plot along the lines of the monsters of the Overworld are getting stronger and our heroes have to find out who’s helping them. Also since these are film characters and not game AI… like 100% Skeletons are smart enough to gather buffed gear from their fallen comrades and mount nearby Spiders IRL right? It makes sense from, like, a movie perspective, but still feels impossible, ya know? 

Apparently they also showed off a Cow design on social media. It’s got the same derp-eye problem of the previous teaser and I don’t really care for it, feels like another step backwards.

Now that’s everything about the trailer itself, but I’ve got a few other concerns. A major one is the actors for the film and the marketing around them. So far the entirety of the films marketing has been around Jack Black as Steve and Jason Mammoa as Garret, and the rest of the cast has been left by the wayside. This is in spite of the fact that, based on what we’ve been told in the BTS content, Henry played by Sebastion Hansen is actually the main character in the movie. Despite this, I don’t know if we’ve even been given any lines of dialogue from him in the trailers. He has been completely pushed by the wayside which is very concerning, and I can think of 3 reasons why. 

1st, (and most likely IMO) is that hollywood is cashing in on star power to try and sell the film. Since Black and Mamoa are pretty well known household names they’re hammering in on them and leaving the rest of the cast to flounder. It’s a pretty annoying move as lots of movies have been doing it recently, picking big names to push tickets even if they don’t actually fit the role or play little part in the plot. 

2nd, is maybe the kid’s a really bad actor and they're trying to cover it up. Personally I find this hard to believe, as he’s been pretty well put together in interviews and it’s not like Black or Mamoa’s performances have been stellar, but there’s a lot of infamy around child actors and maybe things just didn’t pan out like the studio wigs hoped. 

3rd, and the most hopeful one, is they’re trying to protect the kid. Whenever controversial movies come out people tend to attack, berate, and bully the people in them, and young folks often get the worst of it. The world of a child actor is shitty enough, but being a child actor in a B-movie is a sure fire way for people to slap you on a crucifix. 

Speaking about bullying the actors, I’m gonna eat my own words here a bit because… I think focusing on Black and Mamoa was real bad move. 

In Black’s case I just don’t think his delivery has been very good. Just about every line they’ve shown of his has been real stilted and awkward, like he’s really hamming up and exaggerating everything he says, and it’s kind of distracting. There are definitely lines delivered better, like that intro they had in this trailer, but a lot of ‘em just feel either inhuman or like he’s talking down to a bunch of children. If he talks like that for the entire movie I’m gonna sho- (remembers not to make casual suicide jokes in order to encourage a positive mindset) turn on KeepInventory and jump into a cactus. 

And for Mamoa his actual acting has been stellar so far, but the character is a problem. While I’m sure it’s up to personal tastes, Garett the Garbage Man Garrison's presentation so far just feels so… overdone. He’s been nothing but annoying in the teasers so far. Which IS the point of his character, so that’s good, the problem is that if he’s used as much in the actual film as the trailers have so far the joke is gonna get old fast. It kinda leaves a sour taste of the entire cast in your mouth as you’re worried if everyone else is gonna act like this. 

This has created a situation where 3 members of the cast we’ve been given no details on, one isn’t playing the part well, and the other is infuriating. It doesn’t matter how much someone likes Black or Mamoa if they aren’t playing the role well it isn’t going to sell anyone on the movie. 

My next big issue with the film is it’s supposed to be a comedy but so far, honestly, it hasn’t been that funny. The only joke in either trailer to make me laugh was the “yearn for the mines one” and, as mentioned before, they stole that one from the community! Everything else hasn’t really tickled me. 

It still feels very much in the “he’s right behind me *gulp*” level of camp, which is just eye rolling at this point. A lot of the humor also just kind of boils down to “oh hey look at this WEIRD thing from Minecraft, isn’t this thing so WEIRD and STUPID” and I’m just kind of sick of that. Not only is it alienating the audience the film is trying to go for, but it’s also doing so willingly for the main reason that: this film can’t decide if it's a game or not. 

It’s using things like being live action, or the Mobs acting smarter, or being able to rip off a Zombie’s arm, or things having finer decoration/detail to sell the idea that is a real breathing world. Yet at the same time, there’s a bunch of things that only exist in Minecraft in the first place as a part of game convenience that are put into this film just to be gawked at. Everything being made of squares, trees floating, items dropping as small floating and spinning things. These are all just elements to make Minecraft as a game feel easily understandable and easy to play. Steve doesn’t literally have a giant gray box and have words appear in midair when naming something on an Anvil, that’s just how we the player engage with the game world. 

We know that the Minecraft world doesn’t LITERALLY function like this. Turtle Eggs look rounder in the inventory than when placed as blocks, so they aren’t literally square. The Orb of Dominance is called an “orb” even though it looks like a cube in-game because it’s not actually a cube. Skeletons are the only Mob to drop bones not because none of the other animals have skeletons, but to add a rewarding reason to fight them. 

In one of the music disks we hear a player plunking and pulling apart Chicken meat because they don’t ACTUALLY become a floating item when killed. But, having to go through separate actions/minigames/motions to pluck all of the chicken’s feathers, and behead the chicken, and drain most of its guts and blood, isn’t done in-game for a reason. From a gameplay perspective it would make food-prep in the game very slow and annoying, and from a marketing perspective it would make the game too gorey for children. There’s only so much code you can fit in a file and only so much time you can have a developer write that code, so if a function isn’t needed to sell the fun of a game it won’t be added, even if it’s “logical.” 

When adapting a game feature to another medium it can be tricky to determine what does or does not get adapted and how to do so. You could go simple like the Mario Movie. Mario magically gets bigger when he touches a mushroom in the games, so the movie interpreted this as him eating them, which was what most people assumed happened anyway. You could also go complicated like the Sonic Movie. In the Sonic Games, rings essentially function as Sonic’s health. If he has rings and gets hit he drops them, and if hit again he dies. The movie re-interpreted this as the rings not literally providing him with lifeforce, but that the rings are powerful relics he needs to get home and he can't let them fall into enemy hands, so losing them would be bad for him and good for anyone trying to get to his homeworld. 

So far, A Minecraft Movie seems to keep most of these mechanics “gamey” despite trying to turn it into the real world. Poking fun at Minecraft’s silly logic can be fun, even hilarious, but most works that do that stick to the game’s silly style to embrace that silliness. You can’t insist the game is closer in line to reality, not change it to match reality, and then make fun of it for not being reality. It’s not the universe’s fault that that feature is weird, it’s your fault as a writer for not adapting it to the new medium.

[gotchi-blog]

Tamagotchi Pix review!

Yes, finally! Not only did I get the model I wanted for over a year, but also I've finished taking care of the first generation and discovering all the functions. That's why I've decided to make this review post, where I explain what I like and dislike about it.

General score: 9/10

Design

I really like the shell design. At first, I was a bit disappointed with the simple faceplates (I still think they could've gone with something more complex), but now I see that this design matches the rest well.

I got the Nature shell and I must admit, this might be my favourite one. They all look nice, but there is something special to me about green Tamas. The thick plastic of the faceplate gives a bit of depth to the pattern and the gradient is nice. I also love the eggshell-shaped cap used for taking photos. Top 10 designs - super cute. I slightly miss the old Tamagotchi logo (the connection one), but here the simple font matches the rest better than the Connection one would.

The touch buttons look very nice. I got the second wave Pix, which means improved reactivity. I don't have problems with the buttons at all. However, my fingers are quite small, and I'm used to being precise (I work with electronics.) I'm not sure if this is the best design for children - I have no idea if it's possible to break the buttons by pressing on them too hard. Generally, I love the change. The buttons are fast and I have no issues with the swiping motion, another cool feature.

The screen is set quite shallow in the shell, so there might be problems with it getting easily scratched.

The most characteristic element of the Pix model is the ability to take photos. At the same time, it's probably the most questionable one to me.

2. Unique mechanics

The camera works fast, however the colour recognition (needed for cooking) is pretty poor. It has problems especially with warm colours. Its favourite shade to see is grey lol. That might be annoying when you're trying to cook, aka make new food from the colours you collect from the photos. Also, you can use colours to make new items and furniture - this is an amazing feature and I'm all for being able to customise my stuff.

Activating the toy by clicking the top shell is super cool, however there is one problem - it makes travelling with Pix quite difficult. I see many possibilities for the toy to get damaged. Also, the top shell might be accidentally pressed while in the pocket/bag - then the touch buttons will pick up on even slight presses. I was travelling with my Pix on the very day I activated it, and let me tell you what - you need to be careful with it. I highly recommend getting some sort of cover for it, either silicone or knitted one.

The swiping motion on the touch buttons is used quite a lot. In my version, there are no problems with the sensitivity, however I see how troublesome it can be in the first wave, where the buttons didn't function that well.

The last feature worth mentioning is the QR code system. It allows you to download additional food, accessories, wallpapers and furniture. It's a quick and amazing system. Mr. Blinky made a whole website where you can find all the stuff you want. Make sure to give it a try!

3. Characters and growth cycle

The QR codes are also used for connection with other Tamas. To be fair, Pix is a self-sufficient toy. You don't need two of them to have fun and connect - the QR codes can be photographed and posted online, so everyone can meet your pet. I love this feature - it allows you to briefly meet people from all of around the world. My pet once played with a Tama from Italy!

I like the characters available. There are quite a lot of them. I think that the new characters are sweet. Pix introduced Weeptchi (in Japan he was introduced in Smart) and gave a global debut to Himetchi (she was available on iD L 15th anniversary edition in Japan.) There are a few others, and they all look sweet.

An interesting thing is that with every next generation, you can obtain one of 3 eggs (blue, pink and green.) The evolution of your character is dependent on it - Pix brings back the "families", grouping characters by their personalities. Blue is Smart, pink is Charming and green is Creative. In my first generation, I got a green egg (it's based on the quiz you answer at the beginning, while setting your name etc.) However, the egg colour is not the final decisive variable in your pet's development. Despite having a Creative egg, I ended up with Mametchi, a Smart character. It's probably because I would give him the Science Project item many times.

Pix has an additional life stage connected to jobs. Each character can obtain one of 3 jobs. They can train for them as adults, in a special room. The room you get is dependent on how you raise your character - how you play with it, how much you explore the world using the camera and how much you cook. I like this idea, though I slightly miss the regular secret characters from the older models. It's a feature that's always been present in Tamagotchi and I hope it will make a comeback soon. Jobs are cute and personalised, the games are fun and give you Gotchi Points as well.

My biggest problem with the growth cycle is how fast it is. I have this problem with all new models - I wish the stages lasted longer than only one day. To me, it's not enough to enjoy the younger characters, which I often like a lot.

4. Games

There are a lot of games on Pix. And I love it. The previous models were disappointing due to very few games, even though they certainly would be able to support more. I think that Bandai took note from complaints about slightly boring gameplay and decided to make a model, with which you can't get bored. There is always something to do. Some games give you Gotchi Points, some simply raise the Friendship Meter.

The arcade games change every day. It's cool, like a fresh breeze. But worry not, the choice isn't enormous (since many other games are either in the room or the jobs), so your favourite themed games will be back soon.

5. Aesthetics

Pix looks cool on the outside, but the real beauty in on the screen. This model introduced the new, super-smooth animations. The character moves on the screen so smoothly, that sometimes it might be hard to take good photos lol.

The colours are vivid, the rooms are super detailed and there are many wallpapers to choose from (and download.) You can put 2 pieces of furniture in the room as well. This simple customisation adds a lot to the aesthetics.

You can give your Tama accessories, some of which you can colour yourself.

There is a garden. Every 3 days, I believe, you can obtain fruit from the tree there. You just need to go outside at least once a day to water it.

From time to time, some characters will come to visit your pet. However, I haven't encountered the annoying animations from Meets (they were one of my least elements of that model.) The walking animations are quick and can be easily skipped, the same goes for dialogues.

6. Battery life

The first wave Pix had a big problem with poor battery life. The second wave improved it greatly - I've been running my Pix for a while on pretty cheap batteries and it's still doing well.

My honest recommendation is investing in AAA rechargeable batteries. They last longer and are environmental-friendly. And they will save you up a lot of money.

7. Conclusion

All in all, I'm loving Pix and I recommend it to everyone, no matter if you're an old collector or if it's your first contact with the Tamagotchi franchise. It's a great gift for someone you want to introduce to the world of Tamagotchi. However, I highly recommend getting the second wave Pix due to the improved buttons and battery life.

[warningsine]

Precisely.

Not only she had to memorize the dialogue/acting/mannerisms/voice/accent for each character, but she also had to often do it in front of a green screen or to nobody.

Ok, sometimes the vfx and editing were not perfect, e.g., when Rachel and Sarah attacked each other (2.01, 4.10) or when Sarah hugged Cosima (one's eyes didn't match where the other sestra's were), but the project was on a limited budget and the tricks got extremely hard when they had different changes with light.

Kathryn, Tatiana's primary double, acted out the scenes seriously and, according to Maslany, put in 100% as an actress even though most of her work was never seen by the viewers. When there were more than two clones, there were other stand-ins and they also acted seriously to give Tatiana something to work off of and the camera-people to film the stand-ins from the back.

They accomplished a lot with so little.

Tatiana Maslany was literally insane for playing like 12 different people with the same face and then interacting with multiple versions of herself for five whole seasons

[pixelworxlondon]

Best Professional Video Production Services (2025)

In today’s content-driven landscape, video is king. Whether you’re promoting a brand, capturing an event, or creating compelling stories, the quality of your video production can make all the difference. As we step into 2025, the demand for professional video production services has never been higher. Here's a look at what sets the best video production companies apart and how to choose the right one for your needs.

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Top Names to Watch in 2025

Some production companies that have gained recognition for outstanding work include:

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[doink]

A Deep Dive into Advanced Pathing in Green Screen by DoInk

Welcome to the Advanced Pathing Tool in Green Screen by DoInk! In this blog post, we'll unravel the intricacies of this powerful feature, allowing you to take your video editing skills to new heights. Whether you're a seasoned content creator or just starting, understanding advanced pathing opens up a world of creative possibilities.

Key Objectives:

Introduction to the Advanced Pathing Tool

Precision control for dynamic motion paths

Real-world educational examples showcasing advanced pathing

Elevating your video projects with creative pathing applications

Tips and tricks for mastering advanced pathing in Green Screen by DoInk

The Advanced Pathing Tool in Green Screen by DoInk opens up a realm of possibilities for those seeking precision and creativity in their video projects. Understanding its features and mastering the techniques presented can significantly enhance the visual impact of your content.

Embark on this journey of mastery with the Advanced Pathing Tool in Green Screen by DoInk. Share your creatively pathed videos with us, and let your imagination soar!

[gregceephoto1]

Elevate Your Brand with Professional Product Photography in Atlanta

In today’s digital marketplace, first impressions are everything. Whether you're running an e‑commerce store, showcasing a catalog, or launching a print campaign, the power of stunning product imagery can’t be overstated. That’s where Greg Cee Photo, based just 30 minutes from downtown Atlanta, comes into play – offering bespoke product photography that truly elevates your brand

Why Professional Product Photography Matters

Online shoppers make buying decisions in milliseconds—studies show it takes just 0.25 seconds to form an impression—and that first glance could make or break your sale. High-quality, professionally lit images not only build trust but also create a polished brand identity, leading to fewer returns and higher conversions.

What Sets Greg Cee Photo Apart

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If you’re in Atlanta—or even nearby McDonough, Roswell, Alpharetta, or College Park—Greg Cee Photo offers the tools and talent to bring your products to life visually. With experience across industries like fashion, food, tech, and luxury goods, they’re built to help any brand stand out.

Explore their Product Photography in Atlanta page to view pricing, portfolio examples (including The Yanga Collection), and easy contact options. You can also schedule a shoot or request a quote directly.

Final Thoughts

Fantastic product Photography tells a story and fosters trust in addition to showcasing an object. With Greg Cee Photo, your Atlanta-based brand gains a visual partner dedicated to crafting sharp, compelling imagery that drives conversions. Don't pass up the opportunity to enhance your brand with eye-catching and memorable images.

[galacticwatcheramulet]

Best Marriage Invitation Card

Design the Best Marriage Invitation Card with CraftyArt

A marriage invitation card is more than a formality—it's the first glimpse into your celebration, the first impression of your love story, and the first keepsake of your journey together. At CraftyArt, we help you create the best marriage invitation card that reflects your personality, cultural essence, and wedding theme—beautifully, simply, and affordably.

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Features you can personalize:

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Family details

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Photos of the couple

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CraftyArt is designed for everyone, whether you're a bride, groom, family member, or planner. You don’t need any graphic design skills—just your creativity and vision.

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Download or share – Print your card or send it digitally.

Our platform supports both print-ready and digital formats, making it ideal for every kind of invitation.

Designs for Every Tradition and Style

From cultural weddings to fusion ceremonies, CraftyArt offers marriage invitation card templates for a wide range of traditions and preferences. Whether you want something regal and ornate or soft and minimal, our designs are created with love, care, and creativity.

Popular design categories include:

Royal and Traditional

Minimalist and Modern

Floral and Nature-Inspired

Vintage and Rustic

Illustrated and Fun

Cultural themes (Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Interfaith, and more)

Each design is carefully created to ensure it feels personal, festive, and visually stunning.

Go Green with Digital Invitations

If you're looking for the best marriage invitation card that’s also eco-friendly, CraftyArt offers a wide selection of digital invite options. Digital invitations are:

Instant to share via WhatsApp, email, or social media

Budget-friendly and print-free

Easy to edit or update

Ideal for guests across the world

You can also add a touch of excitement with animated cards, music, or videos—making your invite even more engaging.

High-Quality Print and Download Options

Prefer a physical card? No problem. CraftyArt provides print-ready invitation card files that you can take to your local printer or use with any professional print service.

All templates are:

High-resolution

CMYK color-optimized

Sized appropriately for standard cards

Designed with precise alignment and layout balance

You’ll get a polished, professional finish every time—whether on paper or screen.

Save Time, Money, and Hassle

Traditional invitation card creation can take weeks, involve multiple meetings with designers or printers, and cost a significant amount. With CraftyArt, you can:

Design and download in minutes

Make unlimited changes without extra cost

Avoid delivery delays or printing errors

Create backup versions instantly

It’s the smart choice for modern couples who value both time and quality.

Culturally Inclusive and Language-Friendly

CraftyArt offers multi-language support, making it easy to design cards in English, Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, and more. You can also add traditional wedding mantras, shlokas, or blessings that resonate with your community.

This flexibility ensures your card feels authentic, respectful, and heart-touching to all your guests.

Conclusion: Craft Your Dream Invite with CraftyArt

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life—and your invitation should reflect just that. At CraftyArt, we believe that every marriage invitation card should be:

Beautifully designed

Thoughtfully personalized

Culturally meaningful

Easily accessible and affordable

With CraftyArt, you’re not just designing a card—you’re creating a lasting memory. Whether you're going digital or print, traditional or modern, our platform ensures your invitation stands out for all the right reasons.

Start designing your best marriage invitation card today with CraftyArt—where creativity meets celebration.

[framefounder]

Book a Consultation with a Leading VFX Company in Kolkata

In today’s digital-first world, visual storytelling plays a vital role in captivating audiences across platforms. Whether it's movies, advertisements, web series, or social media content, the right visual effects (VFX) can transform an idea into a memorable experience. If you're seeking high-quality VFX services for your project, it’s time to book a consultation with a leading VFX company in Kolkata—a hub for creative minds and cutting-edge production technology.

Why Choose a VFX Company in Kolkata?

Kolkata is not just known for its cultural heritage but has become a rising center for post-production and animation talent in India. The city is home to numerous VFX studios offering end-to-end services like rotoscoping, chroma keying, video editing, color grading, motion graphics, and more.

Choosing a VFX company in Kolkata offers several advantages:

Skilled Professionals: Kolkata has a strong pool of trained VFX artists, editors, and animators.

Affordable Services: Compared to metro cities like Mumbai or Bangalore, Kolkata offers more cost-effective services.

Creative Environment: Many studios are known for their innovative approach and strong storytelling techniques.

Global Reach: Many VFX companies here serve clients not only in India but also internationally.

Whether you're working on a short film, ad campaign, or full-length feature, these companies deliver visual excellence across genres.

Services Offered by Top VFX Companies

The top VFX companies in Kolkata provide a wide range of creative and technical services, including:

Rotoscoping: Frame-by-frame masking and tracing for clean and precise visuals.

Chroma Keying (Green Screen): Removing backgrounds to place subjects into new digital environments.

3D Modeling & Texturing: Bringing imaginary characters and assets to life with detailed textures and forms.

Color Grading: Enhancing mood and tone with professional color correction and balancing.

Motion Graphics: Animating text, shapes, and images to convey ideas visually.

Compositing & Cleanups: Seamless blending of different visual elements and removing unwanted artifacts.

These services are crucial across industries, from filmmaking to corporate branding, game development, and digital ads.

Features That Set Leading VFX Companies Apart

Not all VFX companies are the same. The best ones stand out through innovation, reliability, and customer satisfaction. Here are some qualities you should look for before booking a consultation:

Strong Portfolio: Check the company’s past work and client list. Top companies often showcase before-after breakdowns.

Custom Solutions: Every project is different. Leading companies tailor their services to meet client needs.

Modern Infrastructure: Advanced hardware and licensed software ensure smooth and professional output.

Transparent Communication: Good companies keep you updated through every stage of the project.

Quick Turnaround: Timeliness without compromising quality is a hallmark of professionalism.

Booking a consultation gives you insights into their work process and allows you to share your vision clearly.

How to Choose the Right VFX Studio for Your Project

With so many VFX companies in Kolkata, it can be tough to choose the right one. Here are some simple steps to make the decision easier:

Define Your Project Scope: Know exactly what kind of VFX work you need. Is it a 2-minute product video or a full movie?

Set a Budget: Decide on a range you’re comfortable with. This helps studios tailor their proposals accordingly.

Check Reviews & Ratings: Testimonials from past clients give a realistic picture of what to expect.

Ask for a Demo or Sample: Some studios offer a test shot to showcase their capabilities before the full project begins.

Schedule a Consultation: This is the most important step. It helps you evaluate communication, understanding, and professionalism.

During the consultation, discuss your timelines, target audience, visual preferences, and any references you may have.

Kolkata’s Rise in the VFX Industry

Kolkata’s emergence as a creative hotspot isn’t accidental. Over the past decade, the city has seen a boom in digital content production. From regional films to OTT series, ad agencies to international collaborations, the demand for high-end VFX has skyrocketed.

This growth has encouraged more professionals to enter the field and raised the standards of local production houses. As a result, clients now have access to world-class visual effects without leaving the city.

From storytelling finesse to technical prowess, Kolkata's top VFX companies are well-equipped to handle any scale of project.

If you're ready to turn your vision into stunning visuals, now’s the time to book a consultation with a leading VFX company in Kolkata. One such name that stands out in quality, creativity, and client satisfaction is Frame Founder Studio.

[brocoffeeengineer]

Behind the LED Walls: How Virtual Production Is Changing Filmmaking Forever

Filmmaking has always been a magical blend of creativity and technology. But what we’re witnessing now with virtual production? It’s not just magic — it’s a reimagination of how stories are told.

Gone are the days when directors had to wait months to see what their green screen scenes would eventually look like. Today, thanks to real-time graphics and cutting-edge tools like Unreal Engine, filmmakers can visualize, adjust, and perfect scenes while they’re shooting them. And that changes everything.

So, What Exactly Is Virtual Production?

Imagine being on a film set where, instead of staring at green walls, the actors are surrounded by vivid, dynamic environments — all rendered in real-time. That’s virtual production.

Using LED walls and game engines, entire worlds — from alien planets to ancient kingdoms — are displayed live on set. It’s not just a backdrop; it’s an interactive, responsive environment. And when the camera moves, the perspective of the world shifts accordingly, thanks to advanced tracking systems. You get the illusion of depth and space, and it’s captured right there in-camera.

The result? Directors can compose their shots with precision. Cinematographers can light scenes naturally based on the virtual environment. And actors can react to what they’re actually seeing, not what they’re told will be added later.

From Science Fiction to Standard Practice

This isn’t a “maybe one day” idea. It’s already happening.

When The Mandalorian hit screens, people were blown away not just by Baby Yoda, but by how the series looked. That ultra-realistic desert planet? It wasn’t shot on location — it was filmed indoors using virtual production technology. And the technique didn’t just save time and money — it gave the creators more control than ever.

Since then, virtual production has found its way into everything from The Batman to Avatar: The Way of Water. Even advertising agencies and music video directors are jumping on board. Because once you realize you can shoot five different locations in a single day, all without leaving the studio, it’s hard to go back.

And here’s the exciting part — this revolution isn’t just limited to Hollywood.

A Global Shift, with Local Momentum

Virtual production isn’t some exclusive, overseas luxury anymore. It’s being explored actively in India too — and yes, in cities with rising creative tech talent.

Take Bengaluru, for example. Once known mainly for IT and startups, the city is now buzzing with creative tech and animation training hubs. A number of institutions have started to update their curriculums to reflect this shift. One notable Animation course in Bengaluru recently added modules focused entirely on virtual production, giving students hands-on experience with Unreal Engine and LED wall simulations.

It’s a sign that the industry isn’t just changing — it's evolving in places we didn’t expect this fast.

Why Filmmakers (and Studios) Love It

Let’s break down why this new approach is winning hearts in the film world.

More Control, Less Chaos: Directors can frame their scenes knowing exactly what the final product will look like. There’s no need to rely on imagination or post-production magic.

Fewer Surprises in Editing: Because scenes are captured with final backgrounds and effects in place, editors have fewer surprises and reshoots.

Realistic Performances: Actors don’t have to imagine a dragon or a war-torn city. They can see it and interact with it.

Cost and Time Efficiency: Sure, there’s a learning curve and an initial investment. But in the long run? Fewer travel days, fewer location permits, and a faster shooting schedule.

Creative Flexibility: Want to shoot during golden hour for 12 hours straight? No problem. With virtual environments, you can control the lighting and time of day like you're adjusting the thermostat.

Not Without Its Hiccups

Of course, no tech is perfect. And virtual production comes with its own challenges.

For one, setting up LED walls and integrating real-time 3D environments takes serious coordination. Not every studio can afford the setup, and not every crew is trained to use it — yet. Directors and cinematographers also have to shift their thinking. It’s no longer “shoot now, fix it later.” It’s “plan everything now — because what you shoot is what you’ll get.”

There’s also the concern of over-reliance on tech. Just because you can build an entire world digitally doesn’t mean you should. Story should still come first. The best directors know when to lean on the tech — and when to just roll the camera on a simple, powerful scene.

The Environmental Advantage No One Talks About

Here’s something that doesn’t get enough attention: sustainability.

Filmmaking has traditionally been one of the more resource-heavy industries. You fly hundreds of people to remote locations. You build massive sets. You use tons of power. And when you're done? You tear it all down and do it again.

Virtual production changes that. By reducing the need for travel and temporary construction, it significantly lowers a film’s carbon footprint. It’s a rare case of innovation being both creatively and environmentally smart.

What’s Coming Next?

As tools become more accessible, we’re seeing smaller productions — even indie films and YouTube creators — dip their toes into virtual production. Companies like Epic Games are releasing tools tailored for filmmakers, not just developers.

And now, there’s buzz around combining virtual production with AI. Imagine being able to generate environments, characters, or lighting setups with simple text prompts. We're not far off.

It’s clear this isn’t a passing trend. It’s a fundamental shift in how we think about storytelling on screen.

Conclusion: The Future Is Virtual, But Still Human

We’re at a crossroads in the world of filmmaking. One where creativity and technology are finally speaking the same language.

Virtual production isn’t here to replace directors, actors, or human intuition. It’s here to elevate it. The sets might be digital, but the emotions captured on camera? Still real, still raw, still very human.

And as cities like Bengaluru continue to invest in tech and creative education, the future looks bright — and immersive. For aspiring artists, enrolling in a 3D animation course Bengaluru could be the first step toward working on sets that don’t just tell stories, but build whole new worlds right in front of your eyes.