#split screen hover effect

[codingflicks]

Split Screen Image Hover Effect

[rebelfell]

Welcome to your appointment, @mugloversonly Eddie’s so happy to fit in you you in his schedule.

18+, MDNI┃1.4k

cw: drug use (weed), hand job, a little bit of begging 😈

Clouds had emerged as a theme of the evening.

It started with the rainstorm that had rolled in seemingly out of nowhere, dark and heavy clouds in the sky blotting out the sun and effectively nullifying your plans to go camping with the rest of the group. It hadn’t been all that disappointing, truth be told. The only reason you considered going was to see how poorly your not-remotely-outdoorsy boyfriend fared in the wilderness.

No matter, though. You and Eddie were good at making the most out of any night together.

You settled for ‘camping’ in his living room—building yourselves a blanket fort to hunker down in while this freak rainstorm raged outside, the sound of fat raindrops relentlessly hitting the roof drowning out the movie Eddie had put on, the flickering static TV screen acting as your bonfire.

Hazy clouds of smoke filled up the tight, cozy space as you and Eddie passed a joint back and forth, ostensibly to test out the new strain he’d gotten special from Rick for the trip. It certainly got the job done—making you feel all giggly and floaty, the muscles in your cheeks burning from smiling so much. Your body turned loose and slack, almost gooey you felt so relaxed. 

And it made Eddie look especially delectable.

As if that was hard.

Really, you’d have taken any excuse to lay with him like this, his lanky limbs and yours entangled, his head nestled in the crook of your neck so he could plant and dot kisses along the curve of your collarbone and run his fingertips up and down your spine leaving tingles in their wake.

You nuzzled the top of his head, blowing gently on his bangs to fluff them up and then tittering softly when they tickled the inside of your nose. He snickered along with you, belly shaking.

“Hungry,” he groaned, all rough and raspy with smoke, “shoulda foraged for berries or some shit.”

You unwound yourself from around him and crawled out of the fort, clouds of weed smoke billowing out with you as you scampered into the kitchen. Pickings were slim considering you were meant to be gone all weekend, but you struck gold in one of the junk drawers.

“Ooh!” you exclaimed, prompting Eddie to poke his head out the top of the fort like a meerkat.

“That’s not food,” he snorted at the translucent pink bottle you held in your hand.

“It’s better, it’s bubbles!”

Your face split in a grin as you twisted off the cap and blew into the end of the plastic wand. A flurry of iridescent spheres mingled with the dissipating clouds of smoke that lingered in the air, swirling over and under one another when they got caught in the draft from the slightly cracked window at the far end of the room. Eddie’s mouth fell open and he craned his head back, trying to follow their paths until all of them had popped.

“Hey, bring ‘em over here,” he said, ducking back into the fort and then scrambling out of it.

Another one of the joints he had pre-rolled sat between his lips and he flicked his zippo clumsily in an attempt to light it. Realizing what he was doing, you held the wand up for him.

He took a drag and exhaled the hit, sending a slew of bubbles filled with opaque clouds bobbing through the air. One of them hovered in front of your face and you reached out a finger to pop it, releasing the little puff of smoke inside that you sucked down eagerly while Eddie watched.

He beamed as he placed the joint between your lips, taking the bottle for himself. You took turns trading off the joint and wand, seeing which of you could blow the biggest bubble so the other could pop it, your hunger quickly being replaced by mutual delight in your new game. 

At least until in one over-eager attempt, Eddie fumbled the bottle and it spilled down your front.

Clouds of steam now fogged up the bathroom mirror as you ran the hot water, not realizing that Eddie had followed you in until he slid his hands around your waist from behind. He helped you to peel off your top that was suctioned to your skin where the bubble solution had soaked through, and he rubbed his ringed hands across your bare chest, reveling in the sliding sensation.

You stood under the water for a while just feeling one another. Your hands running up and down his chest, his smoothing over your hips and arms.

Everything just felt so good like this—the hot water at his back rushing down the planes of his shoulders, your warm and slippery body pressing up against his, the cloudy feeling filling up his head like the steam filling up the room.

His cock hardened without him even realizing, not feeling it until you two squeezed together. It dug hard into your hip and he smiled bashfully, eyes rounding when yours twinkled with mischief.

You wrapped your hand around his length and his whole body jerked forward. He let out a ragged breath, slapping one of his hands up on the tiled wall in a meager attempt to steady himself.

Shoulders shaking with a shudder, he groaned at the idle flick of your wrist, your palm full of body wash slowly—too slowly—sudsing up his cock.

It lit his brain on fire, the feel of your hand moving around him, soap frothing with every sinful slide.

“Sw-sweetheart, can…fuck…can you go a little bit f-faster?” he whimpered.

Pure evil danced behind your eyes as your motions slowed even more, dragging a pained whine from his throat. Your grip on him tightened, closing around his head and swiping the soft pad of your thumb over his slit, his knees shaking under him and threatening to give way.

“I don’t know, Eddie,” you said, dragging out each word to match your pace. “M’ kinda worn out.”

It wasn’t a full lie—the weed really did a number on you. But you and him both knew if you wanted to power through, you could. And you might have if only he wasn’t so much fun to torture.

“P-please, I’ll do anything,” he gasped, letting his head fall back and giving you a pristine view of his chest flushed red from a mix of the hot water and the blood rushing under his skin. “I’ll do-I’ll do all the work—just let me have your hand, yeah?”

Honestly, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen him this needy. Maybe it was something in the strain.

When he tilts his head back down, he’s staring at you with round, wet eyes that pierce directly into your soul. He begs you silently, his plush bottom lip trembling as droplets of water drip off it.

At long fucking last, you nod.

He wrapped his hand on top of yours to squeeze his own dick within your grasp. Your hand stilled as he held it in place, literally fucking your fist as he carefully drew his hips back to thrust.

The pace he sets is blistering, his face screwed up in what would seem like agony if it wasn’t for all the distinctly pleasurable sounds pouring out of him. Deep grunts and growls mixed in with the wet schlick of soap on his cock that only allows him to thrust that much harder and faster.

You let your hand hang there, mesmerized by the sight of him letting his basest instincts take over, almost animalistic in how he chases his end. 

And when he comes, it’s practically explosive.

“Ohhsshhh…fuck, that was…shit, that was good…goddamn…”

Eddie barked out a laugh of relief, throwing his head back again so the water hit his face and ran down his chin and neck to the top of his chest. He loosened his hold on your hand, but doesn’t drop it until after he’s brought it to his lips to kiss all the way down the inside of your arm.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, chest still heaving, “thank you, thank you, thank you…”

You slid your fingertips into his sopping wet curls, scratching them lightly over the top of his head.

“Ed, I didn’t do anything,” you chuckled.

“You did everything,” he insisted, slowly yet surely catching his breath. “I wa…I wanna get you back, but I think the hot water’s about to run out.”

He gives you a patented, adorably forlorn look as he glances over his shoulder, the stream hitting his back steadily turning lukewarm.

“You can owe me one,” you giggled, making him laugh back with a shake of his damp hair.

“For that?” he smirked, “I owe you like twenty.”

Thank you so much for visiting the spa, we hope your services were satisfactory 🌿

[vellihor]

unspoken. chapter 3. sylus.

cw: sylus x non-mc reader, idiots in love, mute reader, knives, blood, violence, gore, trauma, angst, fluff, reader is painfully oblivious! (in the beginning at least), SLOW BURN, intentional lowercase, inspiration from og LADS lore but may contain altered versions :)

word count -> 890

italics mean reader’s thoughts

bold italics are sound effects

quotes are for phone texts

“normal text in quotes are speech”

“italicised text in quotes are signed speech”

author's note: sylus's pov! ok i just needed the extra angst.

< previous chapter next chapter >

the doors didn’t stand a chance.

sylus blew through them with a scream of metal and fury, evol flaring so violently the walls sparked in protest. gunfire echoed behind him—standard security patrols. he didn’t care. he wasn’t here to survive.

he was here to burn this place to the ground.

he turned a corner and dragged his hand through the air—glass and steel crushed in his wake. the next wall burst inward, revealing a corridor of sterile light and mechanical whirring. his boots pounded against the floor, tracking blood and soot behind him.

“where are they?” he snarled, grabbing the next guard by the collar and slamming him into the wall hard enough to crack his skull. the body slumped before he even finished the sentence.

then—

a hum. a flicker.

the corridor lit up, and the wall ahead dissolved into a vast, cold chamber.

in its center, a circular platform rose. monitors encased its rim, and in the middle stood a podium with two large buttons.

above it, a hologram crackled to life.

oliver.

grinning.

“sylus,” he said, voice slick with mock sympathy. “welcome. took you long enough.”

sylus surged forward, fists glowing with red mist, but the platform responded with an invisible barrier—one that flared to life the second he struck it. energy crackled around his fists as he reeled back.

oliver laughed. “oh, don’t waste your strength. you’ve already lost it.”

the screens around him blinked on.

and there they were.

two containment pods.

one: her. the woman who had followed him into every fire, even when he left her to burn. her face was calm—resigned. like she already knew. like she was already letting go.

two: miss hunter. drenched in sweat, shaking, screaming at the glass. clawing for freedom. mouthing his name.

“i see you recognize the stakes,” oliver continued, his projection stepping around the console leisurely. “only one can be saved. a morality algorithm, you might call it. one lives. the other dies. simple input.”

the buttons pulsed beneath sylus’s fists.

his heart slammed against his ribs, hammering wildly at the decision.

“don’t worry,” oliver added. “we’ve calculated it all. instinct, sentimentality, heroism. let’s see how predictable you really are, the great sylus.”

sylus’s hands hovered.

her eyes found the camera. she smiled.

that damned smile. quiet. steady. like always.

she mouthed something.

“it’s okay.”

why do you always do that?

he pressed his hand against the glass. “no,” he whispered, voice cracking.

the hologram blinked.

“time’s ticking.”

5.

his hands shook. wavered as it hovered above the buttons.

4.

miss hunter’s face twisted in horror. please—please sylus please—

3.

the figure in the second pod simply closed her eyes. not out of fear. out of peace.

2.

his hand moved.

1.

he slammed it down.

the button glowed.

a hiss echoed from the screen. a hydraulic release.

her pod dropped.

“no—NO—”

he screamed as the screen faded to black, pounding his fists on the console, voice breaking into something raw, something not human.

oliver’s hologram flickered.

“predictable,” he murmured.

then vanished.

leaving sylus alone in the flickering light.

and a silence that would never leave him.

-

the sky split open as sylus dropped through it.

wind roared in his ears as he tore through the clouds, descending like a meteor, evol burning across his spine. his jaw clenched, blood still on his knuckles. he hit the ground hard enough to crater it, smoke and gravel erupting around him. before the dust even cleared, he was moving. his boots splashed through puddles of seawater and blood.

the facility’s lower docks stretched out before him, half-crumbled from internal explosions. sparks flew from broken lights. a warning siren somewhere sputtered and died. the air stank of metal, ozone, and—

gunpowder.

he dove into the water. the ocean swallowed him whole, but he kept going, driving himself lower and lower. light died above him. pressure crushed in around him. his eyes adjusting, scanning.

then he saw it.

red.

a bloom of crimson swirling like ink in the water, spreading and curling in ribbons around him. blood. fresh. too much.

his breath caught in his throat.

she had been here.

the water thrummed with the aftermath—residue from ruptured evol signatures, pulses of scorched heat still clinging to shattered debris. he scanned the wreckage of the capsule—its outer shell cracked open like an egg, torn from the inside. burn marks laced the metal.

her body…

wasn’t here.

no trace. no rise toward the surface. no sinking deeper into the abyss. just that terrible red, curling through the sea like a ghost’s final breath.

“boss,” came luke’s voice, distorted and distant in his ear. “do you see her? do you see anything?”

he didn’t respond.

he hovered in the water, frozen. the murk swirled around him, glowing faintly from his suit. for a moment, he felt like he was standing in a tomb.

“...boss?” kieran’s voice unsteady.

she had bled out here. destroyed by the capsule from within.

but her body…

like the ocean had swallowed her whole, claimed her as its own, and refused to give her back.

sylus clenched his fists, trembling in silence.

there were no words left.

just the red.

and the crushing weight of everything he had not chosen.

blood curdling screams rang in the air.

< previous chapter next chapter >

taglist: @animegamerfox@justpassingdontworry@loreleis-world@zhongtar@lunia-likes-pomegranet@babyx91@huuvu@imnikki@angelichiaro@jb-hope94@elegantdeerlady@idkmanimjusthorny@beesin03@anixx1

[thestarsaboveme]

Lads men x Reader who's really into horror movies

masterlist

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: reader who really likes horror movies.

xavier | rafayel | zayne | sylus

caleb x reader | fluff

You hit pause mid-scream.

The actress's mouth is frozen in terror on the screen, and blood is mid-flight. Caleb's halfway through a handful of popcorn, hand still hovering near his mouth.

''Okay, hang on,'' you say, already flipping open your poor, battle-worn notebook. A scrap of storyboard falls out of the overstuffed binding, along with three sticky notes.

Caleb glances over. ''Pause? In the middle of a kill? Pips, that was a solid throat rip.''

You barely hear him. ''No, no, this scene, it's not just gore. See how it's in slow motion, and she turns around to her right side with her right arm missing? That's throwback to Tenebare. Argento used the same exact shot!''

Caleb stares at you. Then the screen. Then your notebook, which looks more like the coded diary of a conspiracy theorist than anything resembling film notes.

''I feel like you could write a thesis and solve a cold case at the same time with that thing.''

You nudge it toward him. ''Page 42. Cross-reference it with 67 for lighting parallels.''

He opens it. A post-it labeled BLOOD VOLUME IN SCENE vs. TENSION PAYOFF peels off and floats into his lap. He tilts his head, eyes scanning your tightly packed writing and manic arrows.

''…You're terrifying.''

You grin. ''Flattered.''

He sets the notebook down, carefully, like it might explode. ''Okay, so let me get this straight. You don't love horror because of the scares. You love it because it's a system?'

''Exactly.'' You tuck your legs up on the couch, eyes bright. ''It's architecture. Build tension, tip the balance, snap the rubber band. It's visual language, rhythm, misdirection.''

Caleb's expression flickers, equal parts impressed and delighted. ''You talk about murder like an engineer.''

''And you love it.''

He throws an arm around your shoulders with a grin. ''I do. I also love that your brain is doing all this while I'm still processing the part where the guy got his head split open with garden shears.''

You snort and rewind the scene for emphasis. ''It's a great scene. Practical effects. See how they hide the cut with the camera jolt?''

He watches silently, eyes now more focused on the frame than the gore.

After a moment, he murmurs, ''You know…with your sense of pattern recognition and obsession with visual language, you'd make a scary good detective.''

You look up at him.

He's watching you now, not the film. A playful little smirk tugs at his mouth, but there's something softer behind it too.

You raise a brow. ''Trying to recruit me into the fleet?''

He laughs. ''Nah. Just saying, if we ever get haunted or framed for murder, I'm putting you in charge of the investigation.''

You lean your head against his shoulder. ''Only if you promise to do the soundtrack.''

''With synths and dramatic bass drops,'' he says solemnly. ''Obviously.''

[kishibe-kisser]

Hi!! May I request for fluff with Baizhu and a reader who works at the funeral parlor (maybe a relative to Hu Tao?)

Either way, I hope you have a nice day!

Sorry this took so long to write! i was wracked for inspiration.

Tags: gn!reader x Baizhu, fluff, reader needs more than a painkiller for a headache, and that's about it, Changsheng is a little bit of a smartass.

Word count: 1066

Your head was absolutely throbbing, every step you took making it effectively worse. Going into work was absolutely out of the question, the funeral parlor would simply have to wait and so would Hu Tao. You needed medical attention because this wasn't good anymore, simple painkillers weren't taking care of it.

You could hear Hu Tao in your head as you ascended the steps to BuBu Pharmacy, warning you, yelling at you to turn around and that she could help you even though you knew she couldn't. She just really didn't want you to look for help from the pharmacist. Personally, you had never met Baizhu but you couldn't help but think your cousin was exagerating. You needed help and well, you were willing to risk it.

"So many stairs." You mumbled, the top coming into sight as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. Stumbling a little, you placed your hands on the step in front of you, trying everything in your power not to pass out, not when you were this close to the top. "Are you alright?" A smooth, calm voice asked as you were trying to stay steady. "Not particularly." You said in return, finding a way to maneuver your body so that you were sitting down on the step instead.

Looking up at the owner of the voice, you found yourself swallowing thickly. The light lilac snake around his neck being a beautiful contrast to his green hair. "Baizhu?" You asked, squinting your eyes at the throbbing headache. "You know me, I don't believe we've met however." He crouched in front of you, golden eyes scanning your face. It was undoubtedly clear that you weren't feeling well, your skin completely devoid of color. "But that doesn't matter right now, let's get you help." He added on before you could speak again, picking you up princess style before you could even object not that you particularly could, the sunlight being way too bright. Opening your eyes even hurt.

The sunlight went away when you were brought inside, not into the front of the pharmacy, but the back. A little room with a bed, desk and privacy screen.

"There we go, I assume you were coming to see me." He said, smiling at you softly as he laid you down on the bed. The lighting made it easier for you to look at him, finding your cheeks heating up at the sight of him hovering over you. "Yes, I've had this splitting headache for days and it won't go away." You said and he stood up again, clearing his throat as he wandered to his desk. "Okay, I'll run some tests to see what I can do for you." He grabbed a little light to check your pupils.

"So, you know me but I don't know you. How is that?" He asked, helping you sit up and looking over your face. It seemed some color had returned to your face by simply being inside and not on the stairs. You were good looking, even in your sickly state Baizhu could see that. If he had seen you around before, he most definitely would have remembered you.

"I work at the funeral parlor." You winced when the light reached your eyes, Baizhu reaching out to hold your hand gently for comfort. "Hu Tao's my cousin." You admitted and the pharmacist couldn't help but laugh. "That's you why didn't come to me when this started." He said and you nodded, continuing with his tests. "Yes Hu Tao has become quite mixologist for my head ache, she doesn't know I'm here." You told him and he nodded his head.

"Well I think she'd throw an absolute fit if she knew you visited me for help." He was smiling at the thought and you couldn't help but find it endearing how he enjoyed messing with your cousin. "I think you're right." You laughed only to immediately stop and clutch your head, shooting pain making you whimper. Baizhu frowned, not enjoying that you were clearly in pain and excused himself for a moment.

"You like them." Changsheng remarked as the pharmacist mixed together herbs and prepared a cool compress. "Be quiet." He shot back, getting flushed at the snake's deduction. "Their cousin will give you Hell." The snake pressed on further and Baizhu sighed, knowing she was right. "What Hu Tao doesn't know won't hurt her, besides what am I supposed to do? Not treat her cousin? They can barely keep their eyes open." He said, taking the medication he had concocted and shushing the snake further as he re-entered the back room.

"You're not like Hu Tao describes." You remarked as the cool compress was pressed to your forehead, laying back down in the bed. "In a good way I hope." He grinned and nodded, holding the compress to your forehead. "I have no qualms with Hu Tao, she seems to absolutely despise me. Considering you're family, I thought you might do the same." He added on and tilted your head up for you to drink the bitter medicine he had made you. "We might be family but our ideologies don't always align." You said once you finished grimacing from the taste.

The medicine nearly instantly took effect, however also making you drowsy, finding it more and more difficult to keep your eyes open as you spoke with Baizhu.

"One of the reason's for your headache was fatigue, so I gave you something to help you rest as well." He explained, noticing your fifth yawn in the last 2 minutes. "Oh." You said in realisation, giving him a lazy smile as you decided to stop fighting the drowsiness. "I want you to rest here, where it's peaceful and quiet and you can't be disturbed. We want you back on your feet quickly." He patted your hand as he spoke and you felt your cheeks heating up again. "Are you always this quick with remedies?" You asked him, curling up in the blankets he had provided for you.

"Yes, but I particularly want you back on your feet quickly." He admitted, ignoring the look Changsheng was giving him. "Why's that?" You laughed, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the way he was looking at you.

"Well, the faster you're on your feet again, the faster I can treat you to a meal and maybe we can call it a date."

[nanintell]

high mountain dummy guide for writer herself

first and foremost, sacred force should be more than 50 or you will be in a hell. (mob maps need 40 while boss maps need 50)

setup: like you are about to go beat a tough boss with simple mechanic (heavy damage no need for survival skills)

mithra

skill buttons adjustable at dungeon enter window (button at right bottom)

dash and hadoken skill can change direction in 8 directions according to player's input

recommend playing mithra only for clearing red flies or boss's split forms

pattern and skill matchup: circle=wave, a long single or 2-line=dash, short fat (3+) line=hadoken

mobs

each map has requirement of how many mobs are needed to be killed. hover percentage gauge to see exact number.

most mobs can be killed as yourself except for red flies.

there is a map where red flies are spawned way above that you need to use portal so keep watching for mithra's notices. also in last maps, red flies will be spawned in sequence (next group spawned after you killed the one before) instead of all at once.

golden flies will be spawned all over screen after you nearly reach the goal. they can be killed as yourself so use them to fill the gauge as much as possible.

after first boss, there will be a black orb sitting on middle. it can be hit after you almost hit the goal. if you kill it in time, golden flies (from above bullet) will be spawned. if you can't kill the orb in time, golden flies will be spawned after a while anyway.

tip: sol janus (the rain one) helps clear mobs fast. Once you unlocked all class-related skill and have a spare mats, unlock it. However, it won’t help you in boss maps.

bosses

mithra periodically makes his healing spot. use it by button mashing npc button (same mechanic as lv250 hilla's candles). however, potions are locked except pet food.

bumping bosses except final boss will damage you so try to social distance it a bit. (like normal mobs but more damage)

first boss: once its horn is charged, double jump across it or get behind it when it starts to charge.

second boss: lotus's homing mechanic with field effect. recommend making it hit midair so no field got effected as it makes you miss attack a lot. forgot what it calls.

third boss: when it starts to target you, try to stay as far as possible and once it starts to bump into you, dodge it (probably around 4-5 seconds after it starts targeting)

both second and third boss field mechanic: if you fall, you will be spawned at middle platform.

final boss: just dodge laser. there are 3 types but you can see how they will hit you. (basically, easier version of lucid's lasers)

when final boss charges up. use mithra to clear mobs until light dome appear. however, if there is a dark slime-like mobs + flies appear, just clear mobs as yourself and mithra (recommend using rightmost skill) asap. (idk much about how many you will need to clear but i don't think you will need to kill them all).

failed to trigger light dome will result in your life flame ie. this dungeon's death count. normal charge: 1 life. the one with dark slimes: 3 lives.

if you hit npc button on light dome, mithra will wipe out 20% hp of final boss. if it has < 20% hp, its hp will drop to 0.1%. enough for you to one-shot it.

[archoneddzs15]

Sega Saturn - Street Racer EXTRA

Title: Street Racer EXTRA/ ストリート レーサー エクストラ

Developer: Vivid Image

Publisher: Ubisoft

Release date: 20 December 1996

Catalogue No.: T-17702G

Genre: Racing

Street Racer EXTRA is a million times better than the 16bit versions with its now real 3D courses, beautiful transparencies, and CD audio. I was presently surprised when I first put this game on. The 3D is solid with transparent polygons when the camera pans behind them. The effect looks pretty much like what Virtual-On would do on the Arcade or Dreamcast. There are also transparent clouds, water effects, and so on.

Street Racer is a Mario Kart wannabe but unique enough not to be called a copy. Sure, there's stuff to pick up and throw at the other racers but you can also jump or hover and bash the other racers as they pass you. An excellent feature is an ability to play the game in "Micro Mode". Basically, this turns the game into a Micro Machines rip-off!! Very nice and clever idea indeed. Also, if you thought Bomberman was the only worthwhile party game, then think again. Street Racer EXTRA allows up to 8 players at once using the same screen!!! The screen is split into 8 in a very similar fashion to N64 4-player games which Street Racer EXTRA also offers.

A very quirky and fun little racer that will definitely be worthwhile purchasing if only for party game sessions.

[i-hiddentalent]

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[topioswords]

Cleanup

“Just chunk me in the bathtub or something,” Noir says tiredly as BB edges into the medium sized, unlit room, still carrying him. Noir feels nasty in comparison to the clean, tidy space. He isn’t sure how BB has access to this place, and he isn’t gonna ask. 

“There is no bathtub. And You’re still dressed,” BB answers and Noir leans his head back. 

“Mm,” he says, and makes a small gesture with the arm that isn’t half trapped against BB holding a single soaked leather glove. The blue light from their insert makes the blood look black against the tint on his grubby grey hoodie. 

“I know I’m dressed. Not planning to mess up the floor though even if I’m not paying,” Noir adds. “Come on, quit showing off, just take me somewhere tiled.”

BB shifts one of their arms, the closest thing to a half-shrug a hover-limbed bot can get, and carries Noir to the surprisingly spacious bathroom and gently shifts him down on his feet.

He doesn’t like undressing, he feels too vulnerable without the layers of clothes to hide what he is, but his battery is edging close to so low he can’t find the energy to care. BB gently nudges his hand away when the glove gives him trouble, and with very little resistance from Noir they take over the process of getting everything else peeled off and put aside.

The blood-and-other-bits have soaked all the way through, somehow, leaving a sticky reddish-brown residue coating his legs and arms. There’s definitely gunk in his joints too.

“Urgh,” Noir mutters. “Humans are nasty.”

“You need new shoes,” BB says after they’re done, even though it was one of the first things to go. 

 “I do?” Noir asks, because they hadn’t felt that bad. BB holds them up, their screen tilted and showing a  pixel magnifying glass. Noir sighs. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it they are pretty beyond repair by the looks of it.  “I blame you so much for this, you were supposed to stop me,” he says, without any real venom to it. He should’ve just planned ahead. Somehow he never seems to learn that.

“I’ll take care of it,” BB says, and a small smile flickers on Noir’s split screen before he whisks it away.

“What, just gonna leave me here like half a crime scene,” he says, jokingly, but it is something BB might do.

“No,” BB answers, quietly.

“Shower?” Noir asks, cause that seems like the most effective solution.

“You are not sufficiently waterproof,” the answer comes and yeah on second thought that’s probably not a good plan in his current state.

Noir lets himself half dump into sitting on the lidded toilet. He hasn’t got the energy to deal with this right now. Cleanup is the worst.

Where BB got the pile of soft rags from Noir isn’t sure, but the way they wet them and bit by bit wipe away that coat of gore and gunk is both careful and thorough. After the third time they push him back with a firm but gentle hand without even stopping Noir gives up his halfhearted attempts to help and just watches. It’s slower like this, but Noir doesn’t really mind.

“Your foot,” BB says, low and soft, and Noir hesitates for a moment then lifts his right leg and lets BB take it. The tenderness when they start going over the joints does something to his numbers Noir isn’t sure he wants to analyze. He can’t quite see it from this angle, but when BB starts moving his foot to get at the ankle joint he can absolutely feel it.

Maybe cleanup isn’t the worst after all. This is pretty ok.

There’s that glitch in his system where everything seems to halt for a moment when BB takes his right hand and Noir can watch those matte-black digits bend his scratched up palm forward. Shifted out of position like this it’s exposing a bigger patch of his wrist joint, the mess of wires hiding underneath, and the gunk that’s managed to ooze in there as well.

They could snap that hand off without any trouble, it’s old and delicate in a way that���s not as much charming as it’s troublesome, and he is offering no resistance.

His fingers twitch.

“Shh,” BB says, and strokes the top of his hand with a thumb. They don’t say anything else, but Noir nods anyway.

He’ll never stop being surprised at how delicately BB can be.

When they get to his fingers, Noir thinks to himself he was wrong.

This was absolutely worth the cost of a pair of shoes and the unpleasantness of human remains stuck in places where it has no business.

Maybe this is why he never learns his lesson about planning.

[playstationvii]

Certainly! We can build upon the PlayStation 7 UI framework with even more sophisticated elements to support a streamlined user experience and optimized performance. Let’s look at features like contextual help overlays, responsive design for various screen types, localization support, and performance optimizations to ensure the UI is both functional and adaptable.

7. Contextual Help Overlays

For a user-friendly experience, contextual help overlays guide users through advanced features. This can include on-hover or on-click explanations of interface elements, which is especially useful for onboarding and accessibility.

// HelpOverlay.tsx component for contextual help

import React, { useState } from 'react';

interface HelpOverlayProps {

message: string;

position: { x: number; y: number };

}

export const HelpOverlay: React.FC<HelpOverlayProps> = ({ message, position }) => {

return (

<div style={{ top: position.y, left: position.x }} className="help-overlay">

{message}

</div>

);

};

// Usage in another component

import React, { useState } from 'react';

import { HelpOverlay } from './HelpOverlay';

export const Settings: React.FC = () => {

const [showHelp, setShowHelp] = useState(false);

const [helpPosition, setHelpPosition] = useState({ x: 0, y: 0 });

const handleMouseEnter = (event: React.MouseEvent) => {

setHelpPosition({ x: event.clientX, y: event.clientY });

setShowHelp(true);

};

return (

<div className="settings">

<button onMouseEnter={handleMouseEnter} onMouseLeave={() => setShowHelp(false)}>

Customize Theme

</button>

{showHelp && <HelpOverlay message="Change your theme here" position={helpPosition} />}

</div>

);

};

8. Responsive Design for Multiple Screen Types

As gaming consoles increasingly connect to diverse displays, the UI should support responsive design to adapt to both large TV screens and smaller monitors. This involves using CSS flexbox, grid layouts, and media queries to maintain usability on various screen sizes.

/* styles/Responsive.module.css */

.container {

display: grid;

grid-template-columns: 1fr 1fr;

}

@media (max-width: 768px) {

.container {

grid-template-columns: 1fr;

}

}

.largeText {

font-size: 2rem;

}

@media (max-width: 768px) {

.largeText {

font-size: 1.2rem;

}

}

9. Localization Support for Global Users

To support users worldwide, the UI should offer localization for different languages. This can be done using a localization library (e.g., react-intl or i18next) to manage text translations and formatting.

// Example using i18next for localization

import React from 'react';

import { useTranslation } from 'react-i18next';

export const Settings: React.FC = () => {

const { t } = useTranslation();

return (

<div className="settings">

<h1>{t('settings.title')}</h1>

<button>{t('settings.changeTheme')}</button>

</div>

);

};

With a translation file (e.g., en.json):

{

"settings": {

"title": "Settings",

"changeTheme": "Change Theme"

}

}

10. Performance Optimizations for Fluid UI Experience

For smooth performance, code splitting and lazy loading help manage resources effectively by only loading necessary UI components when they are needed.

// Lazy loading components in App.tsx

import React, { Suspense, lazy } from 'react';

const Home = lazy(() => import('./components/Home'));

const Games = lazy(() => import('./components/Games'));

export const App: React.FC = () => (

<Suspense fallback={<div>Loading...</div>}>

<Router>

<Routes>

<Route path="/" element={<Home />} />

<Route path="/games" element={<Games />} />

</Routes>

</Router>

</Suspense>

);

11. State Management for Optimized Data Handling

Using Redux or Context API can ensure global state management for user preferences, UI theme, and accessibility options, making data consistent across the entire UI. This helps components access the necessary state without excessive re-renders.

// Example using Context API in UserContext.tsx

import React, { createContext, useState, useContext } from 'react';

interface UserPreferences {

theme: string;

voiceCommands: boolean;

}

interface UserContextProps {

userPreferences: UserPreferences;

setUserPreferences: (prefs: UserPreferences) => void;

}

export const UserContext = createContext<UserContextProps | undefined>(undefined);

export const UserProvider: React.FC = ({ children }) => {

const [userPreferences, setUserPreferences] = useState<UserPreferences>({ theme: 'light', voiceCommands: false });

return (

<UserContext.Provider value={{ userPreferences, setUserPreferences }}>

{children}

</UserContext.Provider>

);

};

export const useUserContext = () => useContext(UserContext);

12. Dark Mode and Dynamic Themes

For better visual ergonomics, adding dark mode and dynamic theme switching allows users to adjust the interface’s look and feel according to their preference.

// ThemeSwitcher.tsx for toggling light/dark modes

import React, { useContext } from 'react';

import { UserContext } from '../context/UserContext';

export const ThemeSwitcher: React.FC = () => {

const { userPreferences, setUserPreferences } = useContext(UserContext);

const toggleTheme = () => {

setUserPreferences({

...userPreferences,

theme: userPreferences.theme === 'light' ? 'dark' : 'light',

});

};

return (

<button onClick={toggleTheme}>

Switch to {userPreferences.theme === 'light' ? 'Dark' : 'Light'} Mode

</button>

);

};

Using CSS variables for theme colors:

/* styles/theme.css */

:root {

--background-color: white;

--text-color: black;

}

[data-theme='dark'] {

--background-color: black;

--text-color: white;

}

body {

background-color: var(--background-color);

color: var(--text-color);

}

Summary

With these additions:

1. Contextual help overlays improve accessibility.

2. Responsive design ensures usability across devices.

3. Localization allows global users to interact comfortably.

4. Lazy loading and state management optimize UI performance.

5. Dark mode and dynamic themes personalize the user experience.

These features aim to make the PlayStation 7 interface versatile, globally adaptable, and highly user-centric. Let me know if there’s a specific feature here that could use more detail or customization for your vision!

[codingflicks]

Split Screen Hover Animation

[videokilled]

Vox was still aware of the shadow. But it didn’t alarm him anymore. It hovered. But didn’t it always. Waiting for the scraps Vox left behind or the dirty work left behind. But he was pre occupied. Staring into Alastor’s eyes like they had the pull of a black hole. Drawn into them in a way that didn’t allow him to blink. The disguises wavering in their manic energy seemed to start a little bit of a domino effect. Regardless if either noticed. He could feel the other’s eagerness. Or maybe it was his own. Theirs.

His skin was crackling. Wanting to reach for the muscles of his abilities that he never got to utilize anymore. No use for them now, top of his present preverbial food chain.

A chance to stretch those muscles was tantalizing.

Then Vox’s eyes peeled away to dart down and peak at the wavering energy at his face and jaw- the disguise turning translucent in patches.

Damn those scars on Alastor’s jaw looked good.

The tv was excited when the other moved closer, more so when he reached for the lighter- but infinitely so when Alastor so carefully and gently refused it.

A hand just lightly resting on the casing, urging it down into a retreat.

Surely Alastor didn’t mean..

Vox’s expression swelled with eagerness that was undeniably his this time. Excitement. A chance for creative destruction. The other onlooking. So rarely didn’t he get the chance.

Embarrassingly, when the others hand crept up to rest on his own jaw, Vox felt his mouth flood with saliva. A jarring lunging urge to kiss the other. Fuck when had he gotten so hard.

His chest raised with a deep inhale, moving to meet the other’s hand and touch. It felt like his skin over it was tingling. Ticklish almost.

burn it for me

Was all he needed as a prompt before Vox’s larger hand moved to grip the other behind his neck, pulling Alastor in to crash their mouths together- biting and kissing like a starving animal. And furthermore, growing.

Piece by piece and moment after moment Vox’s disguise peeled away. Gathering his full height , gradually gaining a hunch to his back to keep the kiss going. Claws growing and regaining their edges, cupping the back of the others skull with crystalline length to spare. Teeth turning cyan and sharp and cutting. They felt even more razor after having such blunt teeth for a day. His face grew hot and buzzed with the static as the human face became a pixelated image on his screen and then got shuffled away by his CRT scroll glitch. Bringing back the very familiar bright cerise eyes- but pressed shut as he dragged out the kiss. Feeling the deer in his grip give way to the same disguise peeling.

God he was so hard. The hum of electricity grew around them.

Simply breaking guise… in the remote location they had wasn’t truly all that risky for their situation.

They were unwelcome in this realm by anything resembling heavenly status- but they were only truly traceable by their power. Their ungodly acts. The more they used their abilities, their power. The more of a big smoke signal it sent up on whoever’s heavenly map as an anomaly. And with the tension between the realms exacerbated by the hotel. Finding these two big name overlords in any topside space would be juicy and a coveted feat by all.

Vox wanted to drag the other to the ground, fuck him on the wood that harbored so much ill will toward his partner— but there was too much roiling beneath him. He wanted to flex. Alastor wanted him to flex. The back door to their shared thoughts, shared adrenaline- sentiments feeding off each other was a drug and a thrill Vox would likely never be strong enough to resist. Too unique a sensation. And the tv man much too emotionally stifled after decades and weak to seeking a thrill. Alive and dead.

Finally Vox pulled his face back to release the other. Panting and drooling slightly, the magenta streaks present on his lower mouth.

Fuck he missed those ears.

“Say when..” he rasped excitedly. Not an ounce of attention split to the imposing shadow.

Vox chucked the grody toy at Alastor when he snorted for him to either swat away dodge or catch.

“I bet that nerdy little kid in the picture loved it. Weirdo.” He teased just as flippantly as he kept searching around the room. Eventually he pulled his phone out and tapped the flashlight on. Using that to look around the room better.

Alastor admitting to murder- of what looked like a gruesome proportion was a shock… not entirely. But only in dialect. They had been just wandering around a dead house in the swamp up until now.

Vox turned his flashlight back to the deep dark stain. His first response that thankfully didn’t reach his mouth before it was edited was ‘you knew your dad?’

And he promptly strangled that thought to dust and buried it.

Vox felt the manic energy from the other- and whether or not their newly discovered channel between them was active or not— he felt it move through his skin. Contagious almost. It felt like grasping at closure while it turned to the finest white sands. Unable to be gripped or quantified but grasping at it all the same with desperation. But desperation felt like the wrong word. Energized. Inspired maybe was better.

Now the tv man had the emotional depth of a brick, but Alastor had always been the most effective on him regardless. With the charge crackling around Alastor’s frame now, metaphorically, the cops could have started banging on the door and Vox wouldn’t have blinked.

He saw the shadow. Even breifly. And it excited him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have. But maybe he missed his demon companion flexing some.

Vox moved closer again and flipped the zippo lighter around his finger once and held it out to the other.

“We should find some tinder then~ or we could always bring some power back to the cabin one last time~” he added excitedly. The blue of his eyes crackling slightly like his antenna used to do. Both overlords just simmering under the surface.

[sixosix]

just say it | nagi seishiro

angst to fluff, confessions!!, friends to lovers, time skip, 2k words

you’re not sure, exactly, but seeing nagi seishiro sprawled like a cat on your couch, looking all too much like your home is his, leaves almost a strange feeling in your stomach. it festers, ugly and clinging.

and stupid nagi continues to lay there, oblivious to how your fingers clench to block out the beat of your heart.

“oi,” you throw a towel on his head, grimacing at the sight of sweat clinging to the back of his neck and sticking onto your headrest. “what are you doing in my house?” and did he travel by foot all the way here? under the scorching sun?

nagi cranes his neck, all slow and lazy, eyes wide. “oh,” he says. “you left your notebook,” he points at the table, without looking at it, “on my desk.”

“well, thanks, i guess.” you push his long legs away from the side of the couch and fall back onto it, sighing deeply. “you could’ve just given it to me tomorrow.”

he seems to pause for a second, thumbs hovering awkwardly on his phone screen. when you face him with a questioning look, he returns as if nothing happened. “reo said i could visit you.”

you hate it. you always hate when nagi does this.

when for a split second, he hesitates, shuffles a bit too close, his fingers tremble to reach for you, or his eyes flicker to your lips, but he never does anything about it.

he pulls away at the last second, and time seems to flow back normally in a snap. as if he wasn’t just about to ruin the friendship you’ve been picking scabs on just to get him to peel it off and make a move already.

and knowing nagi, he never does. he never does. (and he never will.)

“reo, huh,” you murmur, giving him a doubtful look. nagi doesn’t react visibly, but you can tell he’s starting to get uncomfortable under your scrutiny, burying his chin into the towel.

when you stretch your legs over his lap, he lets you. he doesn’t question it, doesn’t react, just keeps playing on his phone, and it’s almost infuriating how little you have an effect on him.

and knowing you, you’ll keep letting him drag this out. because underneath that frustration is fear, vulnerable and thin, ready to crumble faster than butterfly wings with the wrong move.

if you confess, and he pulls away, it can still be back to normal. that’s what everyone says, and those people don’t talk to their forgotten ones anymore. they wouldn’t understand.

but it will never be the same with nagi, because you know that you love him and will keep loving him. it will not be okay if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter how hard you try to fool yourself. it will hurt and claw out your heart, chew, and spit it out like it wasn’t someone’s soul.

it will hurt to know that you would peel yourself open and offer your heart to him, and he wouldn’t even accept it because he’ll say he doesn’t love you back. he shouldn’t deserve your dedication. it will hurt even more to know that nagi will bleed out for someone else someday, despite the longing glances and lingering touches he keeps giving your way.

“you know, you should be asking me permission, not literally anyone else who doesn’t live here.”

nagi hums, and the round finishes with a final slash of his weapon. the boss crumbles, and you kind of feel for it. he spares you a glance. “you don’t mind.”

you don’t.

even if you don’t say it out loud, the ghost of a smile on nagi’s lips says he knows.

it should be enough that you could be under the same sky as him. someone like nagi. but you are selfish and obsessed, keening like a tamed lion when his attention is focused your way.

with an almost personal jab on the number button of the vending machine, you watch the juice box tumble out.

you bend down to pluck it out but almost drop it back down again when you feel a warm body press against your back as you stand straight.

with a chin propped up on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, and a phone right in front of you, you nearly choke on your spit realizing who it is.

“fuck’s sake, nagi,” you breathe, pressing a hand on your chest as if that would somehow strangle it to quiet down.

when nagi huffs an amused laugh, your traitorous heart goes wilder.

“let me free so i can also buy you your lemon tea,” you grumble, wriggling in his grasp.

nagi continues fiddling with his phone, skillfully defeating virtual enemies. “no,” he says after a while. “you’re warm.”

“i’ll strangle you.”

nagi hums in acknowledgment.

with a defeated sigh, you press the number of nagi’s favorite drink, packed in a bright yellow box. hoping to piss him off, you abruptly squat down to grab the lemon tea, but nagi follows, unbothered.

he follows after you, and again when you rise back up. and he’s still unbothered.

“you are so annoying,” you grumble, tucking your juice box under your arm to unwrap nagi’s. you poke the straw in, scowling.

you twist in his grasp to face him, holding the straw up to his mouth. “here. you haven’t drunk anything recently.”

but nagi’s face is too surprised, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is on his chest, then to where his arms are still snug around you. if you still had any hope left in you, you’d say there’s a flush in his cheeks.

it makes you realize how this position must look to other people, pressed against each other like this.

“thanks,” nagi murmurs, sipping happily on the straw. the moment shatters once again, and he doesn’t fucking do anything about it. even later and tomorrow, and the day after that, you two won’t talk about it.

from behind you, his character makes a grunt of pain, and you notice nagi isn’t looking at his phone, but somewhere on your face.

down, his phone says.

down, indeed.

when nagi and reo have to leave for this thing called blue lock, you say to yourself that you’re relieved.

you’ll miss reo a lot. he is one of your best friends, and you’re proud to watch him grow and become the person he wants to be. at least he doesn’t drive you fucking crazy.

nagi is an entirely different story.

the goodbye wasn’t anything remotely close to heartfelt. it felt like they weren’t even leaving, just taking a trip to the bathroom, but they had to make everything dramatic for no reason. and you’re fine with that. it will soften the blow.

but stupid nagi doesn’t allow just a gentle wound when he leaves.

[reo 6:43] don’t miss us too much y/n or else i might have to come running out :(

[y/n 6:50] don’t baby me and go play soccer, loser

[y/n 6:50] you better text me as soon as you can and tell me everything

[reo 6:52] i will i will

[reo 6:52] (sends an attachment of him and nagi on bus seats. reo has an arm thrown over nagi’s shoulder with his tongue stuck out, while nagi is frowning at the window.

[y/n 6:53] dumbasses. i love you.

[reo 6:53] we love you too

[nagi 7:35] i miss you.

you bury your phone face-first on your bed, as if that’ll spit out nagi’s message and let you cut it in pieces and throw it out of existence. you hate it. you hate it.

what was it about distance making the heart grow fonder?

fuck.

you bite your pillow and steer your mind clear of anything else.

nagi will probably forget about you after this whole blue lock thing anyway. it’s better to get used to being on your own now.

“a match?”

“yes,” reo’s voice says over the phone. there’s a cheer of teen boys echoing, and reo apologizes, saying he’ll leave the locker room. “you’ve seen the news, right?”

no, you haven’t. “that’s… cool!” you don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. “with who?”

“come watch us play, idiot,” reo chuckles; he knows you’ll say yes sooner or later, and you hate that you know he’s right. “didn’t you miss us?”

it’s only today that you and reo started talking again. he says he’s been busy, and you tell him it’s fine because so were you. but meeting him again tomorrow when it’s been so long since you’ve even spoken? you’re not sure if that’s fine.

“i… don’t know.” you glance at the date displayed on your screen, considering. “tomorrow, was it?”

you really have been busy. you’re not sure if you can take it if the stress of life adds up to the stress upon seeing nagi’s stupidly handsome face.

“yup. you should see nagi, man; he’s been really awesome lately.”

just the mention is enough to seize your heart and sway you. you scowl, and judging by the smile you can hear from reo, he did it on purpose.

“i’ll see if i’m free, i suppose,” you sigh, falling on your mattress to frown at the ceiling. “how have you been, reo?”

when reo launches into a ramble about all the events that went down, you let him. you smile and freely admit that you did miss them more than you can bring yourself to admit. it’s a bandage for a bullet wound.

“fuck.”

you weave through the crowd and halls with as much speed as possible. your ankles ache and protest with each step, but you ignore it. your heart beats and echoes in your ears, berating you for this stupid decision, but you ignore it.

the crowd erupts into deafening cheers, and you wince, scrambling to pick up your pace. the speakers from the corners of the wall announce the winners, and they scream and howl again.

“fuck, fuck.”

you’re late.

the worst part is, you can’t make them treat you to dinner for the stress this is giving you because they’re the ones who won.

when you finally reach the door, there’s already a string of people leaving, talking among themselves animatedly. you hear names, straining your ear when someone mentions reo, nagi, nagi, nagi.

the stadium is slowly filling out, and guilt eats you right up for missing even the winning shot. but you were too busy being indecisive not to be late when ( eventually ) leaving the house.

it’s fine. if nagi won’t care about you, then at least reo is there. he invited you, and you won’t lie that you also came to watch your best friend. ( you ignore the bitterness in your chest. )

“y/n!”

you perk up at the sound of reo’s voice, unable to fight the smile off your face when he comes running straight your way.

“come down here!” he calls out, grinning wide. there’s something different about it, though you’re not sure what it is exactly. was it the confidence he’s exuding? the sureness of himself?

you make your way to where he can reach you and gasp when his sweaty ass comes to hug you.

“gross, gross,” you hiss, trying to slap his arms away. “don’t slobber all over me.”

reo laughs, “you’re also all sweaty. did you just arrive?”

you grimace. “sorry. i was being an idiot overthinking again.” you smile at him, and hope you can convey that you really are happy seeing him again. “congrats on winning, reo. i’m proud.”

he sighs, shaking his head fondly. “well, whatever. at least you still visited. we missed you.”

we, huh? 

reo smirks, noticing immediately when you try to search for a certain white-haired boy discreetly.

panic fills you when reo cups his hands around his mouth. “wait, don’t call him—”

“oi, nagi!” reo turns to his left, and your eyes immediately find a home in nagi’s.

your breath catches in your throat when nagi’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly. strands of hair are sticking out from his head, and his nose is all burnt from the heat. his lips part to speak, but he shakes his head instead.

then, he’s jogging towards you.

nagi seishiro is jogging towards you. christ, that’s kind of terrifying.

“hey.” you hold your hands up protectively over your body. “hey, hey, don’t—”

nagi hugs you, trapping you in his embrace, and the words die on your tongue. you don’t know what’s worse: registering the cackle reo is letting out or the fact that nagi doesn’t actually smell, and you find comfort in his warmth.

“you came,” he breathes.

you blink up at him, wilting under his stare. “well. reo said i could.”

nagi’s brows knit together subtly, and you almost grin in victory. 

“i missed you,” nagi says, squeezing you in his grasp, “a lot.”

you look at him, and realize that it’s not just reo who’s changed. nagi is staring straight at you, in your eyes, and he isn’t wavering or shying away when you stare back. his eyes are alight with conviction.

suddenly, your mouth goes dry. “i—i missed you, too, nagi.”

something in nagi’s eyes shift.

this is what you wanted: for nagi to be forward, to take what he wants, say what is on his mind, but you weren’t expecting it to melt you in a puddle like this.

“hey,” you tug his arm, face in flames, “i think your teammates are calling you—”

“you came for reo,” nagi murmurs, inching closer, “you’ll stay for me.”

and, wow, okay. you need a bit to process that.

before you can respond, though, his lips meet yours and keep you there.

your heart lurches in your throat. for a second, you could only stare wide-eyed, frozen, but upon seeing the flush on nagi’s ears and the hesitant press of his lips; you let yourself melt into him. his arms tighten around you when you sling your arms over his neck.

when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you pull away, and he chases after you, pouting slightly.

“why did—” you heave, catching your breath. “why did you just kiss me like that?”

“you don’t mind,” nagi says, kissing the side of your mouth as if to coax you back into kissing him again.

“i don’t,” you agree. and frown. “why do you think so?”

this kiss will mean nothing until you can hear him say it.

“because you like me,” nagi says; there’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“you don’t mind?”

“i don’t.” nagi smiles against your mouth. “because i like you, too.”

sorry if this is a mess!!!!!! this was supposed to be like 500 words (and was supposed to end on a bad note) but it kept flowing out of me so i just let it be 😭😭🙏

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Smitten - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader

Filming sex scenes wasn’t the easiest task. There are weird nude undergarments or socks or tape or sometimes just a nude co-star…With Tom, though? There were nerves and feelings and a deep down hope that he couldn’t tell that you were incredibly turned on as he mimed fucking you twelve ways to Sunday.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on today. Great work guys!” the director called.

Tom collapsed onto your chest, laughing as the tension left his body. “These never get easier.”

“I don’t know” you teased, playing with his hair as everyone left the set so you two could leave the bed with some of your dignity. “It’s a lot easier with you.”

Tom held himself up on his elbows. “Don’t tell me your past romantic co-stars have been less than gentlemanly.”

“Not all of them.” You shrugged. Being a ‘larger than the Hollywood standard’ actress had put you in some…not very flattering roles in the start of your career. Sure, now you were the romantic lead with a conventionally attractive male actor, but lets just say you’ve dealt with a lot to get here.

“Well, I hope you know you deserved better.” Tom kissed the back of one of your hands, rolling off of you.

“Coming from you, I may actually believe it.” You laughed, gathering the sheet around you as you left the bed, grabbed your robe, and started walking towards your trailer.

The two of you filmed the movie…Where you’d usually fall asleep in one of your two trailers watching other movies…

The two of you attended interviews…Where Tom would almost always defer to you and even stuck up for you when a few interviewers were borderline sexist or would comment on your appearance…

The two of you even walked a few red carpets together…Tom’s hand always placed at your middle or  on your hip or in one of your hands...

He invited you out to eat with him before or after any shindig the two of you went to…

He’d walk you to your hotel rooms with kisses left on your cheeks…

He’d even tried to convince you to spend the week before the premiere in London with him…

In your mind, Tom was just too nice. He was nice to everybody. It all seemed very friendly…Until…

You hadn’t been watching the interviews as they’d been posted. Some interviews you did together with Tom and others you’d been split up and put with other actors from the movie.

Your phone pinged…

*best friend* - HAVE YOU SEEN TOM ON FALLON?!?

Before you could reply, your phone started blowing up.

You scrolled through the texts until you saw Tom’s

Tom – Darling, I hope you know how much you mean to me. Regardless of what your answer is, I’d never want to lose your friendship. It’s not every day you get to work with one so incredibly kind and thoughtful and talented and beautiful and…every moment I’ve spent with you has been a privilege. Please put me out of my misery and let me know you’ll at least let me see you again.

“What the fuck?” you asked yourself, opening your laptop and googling “Tom Hiddleston and Jimmy Fallon”

You saw that the Fallon YouTube channel had just posted Tom’s segment of tonight’s episode…

“How are you doing, buddy?” Fallon asked, pulling Tom into a tight hug.

“I’m doing incredibly well at the moment, actually.” Tom answered, sharing that the movie you two had filmed together had done extremely well on its opening weekend just a few days earlier.

“I know! It was amazing. I’ve seen it twice!” Fallon replied, always enthusiastic.

“I’m so glad you liked it. Y/n is incredible, right?” Tom turned to the audience, loving that they cheered when he brought you up.

“Oh my god, you two are so good together. I kind of thought maybe you two were…you know…” Fallon waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tom threw his head back laughing, fidgeting with his tie and avoiding looking into the audience.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you two don’t have SOME sort of real chemistry. I saw the movie.” Fallon gave Tom a look like *Don’t lie*

“Well, perhaps we’re just incredible actors and you’re simply complimenting our craft.” Tom shrugged, trying to look anywhere but at Jimmy.

“Well, yes. The acting in the movie is amazing, but I don’t think that accounts for this.” Jimmy turned and pointed to the screen. It was a series of clips pulled from Tom’s interviews where all he did was gush about you.

“I missed being home, but it’s hard for anyone to stay upset when they’re around Y/n. She just lifts the mood in any room she’s in. You could say she makes anywhere feel a bit like home.” Tom had answered when a woman asked him if it was hard being on site away from home for 5 months.

When another interviewer asked Tom what his favorite line in the movie was, he answered, quoting one of your lines. “When she delivered it for the first time, it kind of took my breath away. I felt very unprofessional. I had to apologize and ask to start over. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say next. She tends to have that effect on me.” Tom laughed, a slight blush on his cheeks.

The final clip was one of an interviewer simply asking Tom how his day had gone. “I feel all out of sorts, if I’m being honest. Y/n isn’t here today because she woke up not feeling the best and with Covid still being an issue, she didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick.” Tom answered with a sad smile on his face. When the interviewer shared that they hoped you would be okay and feel better soon, Tom answered with “I’ll make sure to pass on your sentiments when I bring her food later on.”

“COME ON!” Fallon laughed, throwing his arms up.

“I know, I know. I’m not very good at hiding how I feel, I guess.” Tom admitted, leaning back against the couch and laying his arm across the top. The crowd went wild.

“So, you admit it! Are you two together?!” Fallon asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Unfortunately, not.” Tom answered, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Why?!” Jimmy asked. “You’re clearly smitten!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Tom rebutted, looking to the audience for support. “I’ve tried!”

“Aww, now I feel bad for bringing it up.” Fallon chuckled and looked at the audience as they collectively ‘aww’ed. “How could anyone turn down this?!” He gestured towards Tom as the audience cheered.

“Well, if I’m to be completely honest I guess I haven’t actually TOLD her how I feel.” Tom confessed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Jimmy paused.

“Well, I thought she’d catch on. I assume she has.” Tom laughed, fidgeting in his seat. “I’m pretty sure everyone else that knows the two of us can tell I’ve fallen completely head over heels for her.”

“Tom, Tom, Tom.” Jimmy shook his head.

“What?” Tom asked, nervous about what the answer would be.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you may just be horrible at flirting.” Fallon said with a straight face, the audience busting up laughing after.

“Do you think?” Tom replied, eyes gone wide in exaggerated surprise.

“I mean, I think you’re just so nice.” Jimmy laughed, trying to stay serious…“that everyone thinks you’re flirting with them…Which means, when you’re trying to flirt it just blends in.”  

“Well, how would you suggest I stand out then?” Tom asked, putting his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin on his fist like he was really paying attention.

“I mean…” Fallon slowly pointed towards the camera. “You gotta shoot your shot, right?”

The audience went wild at the suggestion. “Oh, dear.”

“I can scrap this and we can just talk about the movie.” Jimmy offered, making sure Tom knew that none of this had to go on the air.

“I mean, if it’s truly that obvious to everyone what have I got to lose, right?” Tom answered.

“That’s what we like to hear!” Jimmy cheered with the audience.

“Well…Y/n.” Tom paused, a soft smile on his face. “I don’t quite know where to start. I feel as though I may have been remiss by not just telling you how I feel. The consequence of such is that now I’m doing it in front of all of these people *gestures to the audience*…and I’m sure you’re laughing at how red I’ve gone and how flustered I am so I’m going to get to the point. Darling, you’re an incredible woman. I could list a million reasons why, but hopefully later you’ll give me the time to tell you them in person. What I really want to tell you now is that you make me happy. You inspire me. You make me want to be the best version of myself and you even make me believe I can achieve it. I’d be honored if you’d give me a chance.”

Fallon had tears in his eyes and most of the audience did, as well. “I…That was so beautiful. I think we need to go to a commercial break.” He was all choked up and stood to give Tom a hug.

You pulled up Tom’s text, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Are you still in New York?” you text him. The two of you were there for interviews. You were even staying in the same hotel.

“I am.” He text back, but the ‘typing’ bubble stayed. “Did you watch it?”

“I did.” You answered. “Come over?”

You saw the ‘typing’ bubble pop up and then disappear a few times. Instead of a text, you heard a knock at your hotel door.

“So?” Tom asked when you opened the door. He looked nervous, a look you didn’t often see from him. He had his glasses on and his hair was an adorable mess. He was even already dressed in his night clothes.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward and placed your hands on each side of his face, pulling his lips gently to yours. He quickly reciprocated, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards into your hotel room.

“And to think, I could have been doing that for a whole year already.” You teased him, connecting your lips again.

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” Tom answered, pressing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. His lips paused at the shell of your ear and his voice dropped. “It just means we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

[luckyspacerabbit]

When Fates Cross Paths

TY TO @aki-ra-me for always hearing out my ideas and helping me bring them to life w your beta-ing! ;_; As always please check them out if you love Mass Effect hehe <3

Summary:  In 2183, Thane returns to the Citadel for the first time since Irikah's death. His intention: begin the preparations for his death in the form of a lockbox for Kolyat. He never could have expected that his appointment with the volus banker would coincide with the appointment of the first human spectre. Even more, how she would change his life.

A prequel based fic.

Pairing: f!shrios

Genre: angst (?),

Words: ~12k

Warnings: Blood, death, violence.

AO3 Link

“Sere Krios.” 

His foot hovered inches above the step.

“You have one remaining charge of assault on your profile.” 

A gun clicked behind him, its barrel silent to his back.

“I must request you pay the fine of 20,000 credits, or I will be forced to deny you entry.”

Assault. Is that what they called it?

Watering eyes blurred the omnitool screen when he paid the charge. Not from any serious threat or concern for his life– a single mech with a pistol couldn’t take out a hanar, let alone an assassin as skilled as him. No, he owed the trembled in his fingers to…

His knuckles screamed with the split of his scales but he had long gone deaf with fury. The walls, red beneath the lights, failed to obscure the sheer amount of purple blood he had painted it with.

The source: a Turian assassin, jaw snapping wildly between his hands.

“Fuck is wrong with you!”

“You’re responsible. You received credits in exchange for her blood.”

“Yeah” he chokes out. His mandibles are so fragile under Thane’s thumbs. “I’m a fucking assassin you damn lizard.”

“You’re a thug.”

His laugh is like metal in a garbage disposal, gurgling while one green hand palms for his fringe, the other digging into rubbery neck.

“Hell does that make you?”

[greenteafiend]

Superbat beginning of some kind of fic?

The sound of smashing glass is shocking and unexpected—Bruce’s first thought is that a bomb detonated. Reflex has him upending his desk and taking cover behind it, but it only takes a few moments for him to realize that there is no heat. No blast. Not a bomb, then. Just a broken window—he can already feel a draft breezing in. The papers he sent flying off his desk flutter, unable to settle.

He pops his head above his desk to survey the room, wondering what in the world could have broken glass that is reinforced to withstand machine gun fire on the 70th floor of a skyscraper. 

Bruce isn’t expecting to see a young man hovering in midair in front of the person-sized hole he presumably created. Bruce blinks, does a double-take, because surely he can’t be—but no—he is. 

Hovering. 

A foot above the floor. 

Bruce takes his measure—fair skin, black hair, blue eyes. Early twenties. Wearing a pair of skintight black shorts, a thick metallic choker—also in black—and nothing else at all. He’s tall, perhaps 6’2, maybe 200 pounds (‘191cm, Master Bruce,’ he imagines Alfred correcting him, ‘90 kilograms’). His build is muscular—practically Vitruvian as far as Bruce can see.

But despite the objective perfection of his proportions, he looks ill. Skin sallow, dark rings under his eyes, limbs trembling. He’s hyperventilating, and his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. 

“I can’t. I can’t,” he whispers to himself, breath hitching, voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming. 

Everything about him exudes ‘unstable’ and Bruce can tell he needs to tread carefully. 

Bruce carefully picks up his letter opener and slips it up his sleeve, before getting to his feet slowly.

“Can I help you?” Bruce calls, keeping his expression easy and open. 

The man looks at Bruce with those unfathomably blue eyes, until tears begin to roll down his cheeks. 

“Okay, I won’t,” he says nonsensically. 

“Won’t what? Break my window? You did that already,” says Bruce, beginning to grow impatient.

“I’m sorry, I won’t.”  

There is an audible click, and the choker around the man’s neck begins to glow green. The effect is immediate—the man drops to the floor like a leaden weight, landing heavily on his hands and knees. He writhes in agony. It’s an abrupt and alarming development. 

Bruce vaults over his desk and goes to him. He almost expects to feel something when he gets close to that green glow—it’s obviously affecting the man terribly—but he feels nothing.   

“What is this?” Bruce demands.

The man just pants and sobs, whimpering directionless apologies. Bruce decides he has to get that collar off him—clearly it’s some kind of torture device.

When he reaches for it, the man flinches away from his hands weakly. “You shouldn’t—”

“Will it harm me if I touch it?” asks Bruce. 

The man shakes his head. “They’ll kill her if you take it off. They’ll kill her unless I kill you. I don’t want to, please don’t make me—I don’t want to.”    

The man’s words are painting a terrible picture.

“Who will be killed?”  

“My—my mom.”

“Who wants you to kill me?”

“I don’t know.”

Never mind—Bruce doesn’t need this man to tell him, he can figure out on his own who wants Bruce Wayne dead. He keeps an excel spreadsheet meticulously updated on that very topic. 

“What’s your name?” Bruce asks, standing to quickly retrieve his laptop from the floor. He opens it impatiently and mashes the keyboard to wake it up, simultaneously pulling his phone out of his breast pocket to speed-dial Alfred. While the phone rings, Bruce begins the process of hacking the device around the man’s neck.

“Clark,” he chokes out. 

He’s curled in the fetal position now, shivering violently.  

“You got a last name, Clark?” asks Bruce, attention split between him and the lines of code on his laptop screen.

“Ke—” he’s cut off by a heart-wrenching sob. “Kent,” Clark forces out.

Clark Kent.

Bruce has never heard of him.

“Master Bruce?” comes Alfred’s voice, tinny through the phone.

“There’s a situation at the office.”

“Shall I bring a car around?” 

“One with tinted windows please.” 

While his programme runs on the collar—downloading any information it can pull, dragging specs and commands, trying to figure out how to take control—Bruce opens his web browser and searches ‘Clark Kent’.

The first result that pings is an article about his mysterious disappearance exactly two months previously. Bruce skims through and finds out that Clark Kent hails from Smallville, Kansas. He’s twenty-three, and recently graduated from the University of Metropolis with a degree in journalism.

The Batman hasn’t garnered his reputation for solving crime without his ability to find connections between seemingly discrete information, so he doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence that a week prior to the disappearance of Clark Kent, a mysterious figure saved people trapped on the top floor of a burning building in Metropolis.