#I actually rendered and colored a piece for once? crazy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunashiba · 1 year

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A bit of a redesign for Morgan, first posted on 7-13-2022. I was very, very happy with how this piece turned out actually! It was my first time using a binary brush, so I had a small bit of a learning curve with this one. I usually paint and render, so I feel pretty uncomfortable with cell shading (but this time, it ended up alright). I’ll put some processes and such below, along with some more backstory and thoughts, if anybody is interested.

A minion is dangling on her tail on the bottom right.

Above are the sketches and WIPs I had leading up to the finished piece. I really liked these sketches, but ended up deciding to fully draw out one. Morgan was actually one of my first OCs, but her design has changed a lot over time. Back when I first started to draw, I thought that OCs were a bit too far out for me- I only ever envisioned myself as a fan artist. Nowadays, it’s quite the opposite- I don’t think I’ll ever do much art of popular media and such except if it’s for friends. The friends I made when I first started drawing all had OCs though, and that was what eventually made me more keen to the idea of making one. In my mind, having a consistent character to grind out all the time would be helpful in building my consistency and speed, so it counted as something that would help me grind- not to mention all the art stuff that went into “designing a character”.

I used to be extremely into learning art in a very methodical, nearly academic way. Everything had to be very productive and effective- I had to make sure I was getting as good as I could, as fast as I could; otherwise I’d be wasting time. I think it’s pretty easy to see my mindset at the time being unhealthy, but I don’t know if I’d regret too much of it. I enjoyed finally having a “productive” hobby in my life. With my online art friends, we decided to altogether draw something of a banner, with all of our pieces lined side to side- with this opportunity, I decided to draw the first iteration of my OC, who had no name at the time.

3-4-2018

I think that this may have also been my first piece with color? Or at least, full page of color. I think I just referred to her as “the horn girl” or “the antler girl” and based it on some crazy deer stuff. I loved the little doodles I did to the side- It’s something I haven’t done as much. I used to make sure to always put a little scribble as somewhere as a joke for anybody who looked hard enough to find it in all of my pieces, but it started annoying me because I couldn’t ignore it once I posted the piece. After this, I tried to further work on my OC, opting for different colors.

4-5-2018

I liked this design actually, but it didn’t really fit my personality. I guess I don’t really vibe that well with smug characters. I like the outfit I designed for her, but I think it shows a bit too much skin- it wouldn’t really be something I’d draw nowadays. It’d take a bit for me to realize that NSFW art or anything slightly so wouldn’t really be for me either.

4-30-2018

Things started to get refined- I kept around the ponytail, and toned down her outfit. I remember being extremely happy with the satchel and the earrings, and I kept around the thigh highs. I still felt a bit unhappy, with the design, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.

10-23-2018

If you look at the dates, you can see that it took a few months for this current design to come along. I actually extremely adore this design, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully shelve it. Disregarding the hair, this is pretty much the final design of this character. This is the Morgan that truly lives through to today. I remember drawing the shoes for over an hour- maybe two hours. I worked a long time on the line art, especially regarding the shoes, making sure that I’d get it absolutely correct in both perspective and in geometry. Nowadays I’m much less of a perfectionist in some ways (though more in others). Morgan initially had more brunette hair, but I gradually transitioned to a bit more of an anime red, and I brought back the horns that I really liked. A particular artifact of this era of art was that I used to draw little triangles above the eyes, to symbolize the little wrinkles in the eyelids. I know I didn’t make it up myself, but I’m not exactly sure where I got it from. Now, I just draw the eyelid folds. From here on out, it was more just personality growths than visual design changes.

3-6-2020

At this point, I had been accepted into art school and engineering school. I couldn’t give up either of them, so I doubled majored- as a result, what I had to give up on was time. I stopped doing as much digital art for a while, so most of what I have at this time period can be seen in notebook paper or scrap paper. I was a huge workaholic, and it started to affect my health.

3-8-2020

Morgan is gay. I came to the realization that I was pretty gay too, at around this time, and I guess I wanted to show it in my art too.

3-9-2020

The day after. She is very gay still. Here, you can see the absolute beginnings of a tiny doodle of Soone. She’d be developed later.

4-19-2020

I found my favorite marker. It wasn’t anything special at all- the tip was running dry, and it was completely blank- I couldn’t find any trace of a brand at all. The terrible paper with the texture of the marker made it extremely appealing to me however, and I fell in love with it. I don’t know where it is now, but I hope I’ll find another terrible marker at some point to fall in love with again.

Bonus Soone sketch idea. I really like this design, but overall decided to not use it- or at least, not all of it. I don’t think it’s fully gone yet though.

7-19-2020

Morgan’s character design is basically completed- She is very gay. I think at this point, she was also trans, though it was much more unspoken. It’s a bit subtle, but I stopped giving her as much indication of having “a chest”.

9-4-2020

I did a bit more work with Morgan’s horns here. It’s nothing that stays around too much, but who’s to say it won’t come back? I think I stopped drawing horns like this because I was a bit lazy with horn rendering. Also, it made the design a bit busy. This outfit is cute though, and I like it as a general vibe of Morgan. She also has a tummy piercing.

9-12-20

A little in-joke between friends.

10-7-2020

A Halloween drawing. She still has red horns. I used to always draw Sharingan on everything as a joke, but it’s faded out a bit now.

1-15-2021

I treasure this comic a lot. In a way, it helped me cope a lot, as it was based on a true story. I love this design for Morgan, kinda symbolizing an earlier Morgan, maybe a bit earlier in her transition. It somewhat aligned with my life, and the mental state I was kinda living in. I want to make more comics like this.

1-28-2021

Small doodles I had lying around on another blog.

3-29-2021

I forgot I drew this until writing this post. This Morgan was a bit of a vision of how a more confident, future Morgan would be like. Regarding her future, I think she’d end up enjoying being a professor, and I felt the vibes would be nice. Who’s to say if this is canon or not- or if there is a canon. I like having fun. Her horns are red and have ridges as well. I’d like to imagine that she’s the type of professor to have photos of her wedding on her desk, along with photos of her wife and her cats.

6-14-2021

This one was for Pride Month 2021. I should draw another piece next year, since I missed 2022′s. This is probably one of my proudest paintings ever, and one of my favorite Morgan Designs. I want to draw her like this again. I dropped the horns being red also, and moved to a more white/cream color.

8-18-2021

This one I made while I was very sad. It took a lot of coming to terms regarding my family, but this sketch helped me out a lot. I didn’t have the heart to color nor render it however, so I had posted it as is. I think for all of us, many things change, but some things may always stay the same.

8-24-2021

A bit of a happier time- a bitter sweet smile.

9-03-2021

I started to draw more of my daily life as well- this was inspired from my bus rides, where I’d constantly be stressed about school, but simultaneously wanting to draw. I’ve also transitioned from drawing wired to wireless earbuds. Technology evolving is great.

1-1-2022

Happy New Year doodles. I really like all of these designs. I don’t know what to do with this like though. I could always say “Maybe I’ll turn them into Twitch Emotes since I have space,” or “I should make some Discord stickers with them,” but I think I already I’ll be a bit too lazy to do so.

4-10-2022

This was inspired by two adorable mannequins I saw at the mall- I knew right away that I wanted to draw them in these outfits, so I took a picture right away and started a sketch I never finished. It’s around this time that I slowly started to approach the Adventure Time methodology to characters. In Adventure Time, the characters always had such varying hairstyles, clothing, and outfits that I adored- differing from episode to episode. I decided that any Morgan and any Soone will still be Morgan and Soone no matter how they looked, and actually focused on less of a central design (though I still liked the central design).

2-27-2022

A bit more of a “Realistic” Morgan and Soone. I think optimally, I’d love to draw Morgan like this more. Her design here as a more androgynous character is something I really wish I could do more often, instead of falling back on the easier to draw very-feminine Morgan. I based this design a lot on the Fate character Enkidu, whose androgynous design I’ve fallen deeply in love with (specifically, this one, which is one of my more memorable adored arts that I can think of).

4-01-2022

Morgan but ACTUALLY more real. I couldn’t get the colors right, so I left things as black and white. I’m still extremely happy with it though. I initially posted it for this year’s Pride Month, but then mentally removed it, since I felt I’d rather have a fully complete piece.

[------ END ------]

There are a few more Morgan pieces here and there, but maybe I’ll place out a few posts with them, so that I can put out the process and WIPs separately. As it stands, this post has run pretty long, and ended up being a lot more detailed than I had initially planned for. I ended up finishing the draft for this post at 4:40 AM, though I had initially posted it nearly 10 hours earlier. I ranted a lot, but I think it was nice to type all this out. Not sure who’d be interested in reading all this, but thanks for sticking through. I’m glad that I was able to write out so much for Morgan though. I also hope I can draw her more often, and post her everywhere. I hope that other people also like her as well. I hope everybody has a great day and night.

Thank you for reading.

Luna

#lgbtq #art

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baihujun · 2 years

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hi! i am so sorry for intruding.

i just needed to ask - no actually i kind of need an advice - when you post your art on tumblr do the colors change a shade darker compared to your finished piece? if it does what do you do to make it stay the same shade? i posted a piece once and deleted it because the color changed too much 😭😭 im so sorry i just needed to ask

It's very common for colors to look different between screens due to color gamut, color management, display calibration, etc. -- I have at least 4 screens within my reach at the moment and any one image will look different on each one.

In your case, it sounds like you're looking at the same screen. Yes, colors can differ between your drawing program, the browser you're using (e.g. Chrome), and even your operating system's default picture-viewing app depending on various factors, many of which are outside of your control. Your browser -- which is what you're probably using to view your uploaded art piece -- has its own color management. (I'm no expert on the topic, but some browsers sync with your monitor's color settings, or there might be different color management settings.) Your drawing program will also have a particular color profile set.

I had a problem for a while where the default picture-viewing app on my computer (Photos on Windows) seemed to render colors way more saturated. I ameliorated that by setting my display's color profile to a different ICC profile (sRGB) instead of whatever it had by default, and the difference wasn't as crazy after that.

Getting the colors and brightness of an artwork "right" is something with which I wrestle constantly. What I see on my drawing tablet is never exactly the same as what I see on my computer or my phone.

Some quick things I do are:

- Slap a correction layer that increases saturation/luminosity to brighten an image

- Check what the final image looks like exported, in Chrome, and so on

Hope this helps.

#asks

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lilkatzz-alt · 9 months

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the following is a work of fiction based of a tweet that made me angry. cw // delusions , vent

I very rarely commission art anymore. I make all of my money by drawing for others, and it all goes to bills. But once, just this once, I had an opportunity. An artist I like with a cartoony style befitting of my character discounted their comms just enough that I could justify supporting them. After all, I can't really feel guilty about a luxury purchase if it's cheap and helps someone else, right?

Communications were smooth sailing; I gave them my ref and payment and they told me their turnaround time. They seemed really nice and even told me they liked my art ;w; (they didn't follow me back though but it's fine haha). It's getting pretty close to the deadline, so I'm really excited to see what they did with my character.

I'm just scrolling Twitter right now and... oh! Message badge! I kind of expect it to be a client, but it's them! The artist! My art must be ready!

"Had a blast working on this ^^ Thank you for commissioning me!"

The sentiment was followed by a link. I clicked it, and was met by my character. But....

Why is the mouth blacked out?

It almost looks like some sort of rendering error. I mean, it's FULL 000000 BLACK with no details. It's supposed to be open and happy, but it's just the silhouette of the expected expression.

My first thought is that I've slipped into an alternate reality, one where this is normal! Or maybe I actually asked for this? Did I ask for the mouth to be blacked out? No, I wouldn't do that... That's illogical. I don't feel so good.

"Hey!" I ask them, "Do you know what's going on with the mouth?"

The seconds seem to stretch on. I need an answer before my mind begins to act up.

Typing...

"I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean. Are you unsatisfied with the piece?"

That's. Not good. What. Why-

I look back at the piece.

The eyes are big and round, so bright and happy. The cheek fluff is big and had amazing highlights. Everything is clear and done with purpose. But the mouth... It's like someone cut it out with a lasso tool. If the artist didn't do it, then..... Then I must be going crazy.

I quickly navigate to my character's toyhouse page. Am I hallucinating? Will the other pieces have a problem too? No, they're all fine. My sweet summer child, staring back at me hundreds of times over, mostly renditions from years past. She's happy, and she's okay.

I quickly attempt to rationalize. This can't be a computer glitch; I don't know much about computers, but I know this. It can't be a hallucination; I don't actually experience those, I just fear that I do. So then....

Is the artist lying?

If this is a joke then it's not funny... my heart rate is elevated, it's practically psychological assault. I message them again.

"Here's what I'm seeing on my end. You don't know anything?" Attached is the same photo they sent me.

No response.

I start to hit the arms of my chair to keep myself busy while the anticipation eats me alive.

Suddenly, the worst possible outcome:

"You can no longer send messages to this person."

The tears start unprompted.

"nononononononono they're lying they did this they hurt me i DIDN'T EVEN GET MY ART. WHAT GIVES?"

My dog approaches me and lays her head on my leg. She knows when I'm in distress, but I'm not in any mood to be comforted. I ignore her and frantically swap to my alt account to check the artist's profile. And it looks like they've started causing quite a scene.

"I’m on my knees Begging y’all to PLS add an open mouth view on your ref sheets OTL Doesn’t have to be complex! Could even be a disembodied tongue and single tooth. PLEASE JUST PUT IT SOMEWHERE I hate having to guess the colors and most likely get it wrong 😖"

Wh- They didn't-

I check back in our DMs. I had given an older ref because it had fit the style better. On closer inspection, no tongue ref.

"Her tongue is just pink.... how hard would it have been to ask...."

I refresh.

"if you give me a mouth-less view ref sheet, I’m going to passive aggressively color any open mouths on commissions pure black. That’s it. And not even off black so u can see the lines. FULL 000000 BLACK. NO DETAILS Check ur refs :U"

P- PASSIVE AGGRESSIVELY?????

I'm in shock. They thought that not delivering the product I paid for, blocking me, and scaring the SHIT out of me was a form of PASSIVE aggression????? And they say "check ur refs" like this is some sort of PSA? Like we're supposed to want to LISTEN to them after being blatantly threatened with vandalized art? I'm furious. I'm furious and baffled, but at least I'm no longer scared.

At the end of the day, I'm just happy the artist told on themselves so that no one will commission them any time soon.

A refund sure would be nice though.

#short story #i don't know why i felt like i had to do this #it felt like it really happened to me even though it actually hasn't happened to anybody #they're just making empty threats #just in case they delete the tweet i linked: the artist is TheDragonElk

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eirist · 3 years

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In the Heat of the Moment

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For Day 3—Nami’s Day—of the ZoNa Days event (at @zonamievents). I’m already late but still posting it. It’s unfair if it’s only Zoro who gets an entry.

In the Heat of the Moment is by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I still have The Umbrella playlist to thank for being such a good company.

Summary: "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

The rain hadn’t let up from the moment it began to pour down.

Which should not have been a problem in the first place… the Straw Hats have their very own weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire after all.

If only said weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire didn't get distracted, arguing with a certain green-haired swordsman.

"This is your fault!" Nami complained, rubbing her arms with her hands in a poor attempt to keep the emerging chill away.

Somehow satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest as she sulkily glared at the rain which has now completely turned into a steady downpour.

Luckily she was able to pull the man with her towards an alcove in the town's wall before they got drenched. It was an uncomfortable fit, as they were almost pressed to each other, but it'll do.

Zoro was snarling beside her. "This rain is MY fault?" He huffed. "Right! It's my fault coz I absolutely can make it rain on a whim!"

Nami turned sharply towards him, glaring daggers. "If you hadn't gotten lost—"

"I DON'T GET LOST!"

"—like the idiot that you are," she continued ignoring Zoro's outburst, deliberately raising her tone and effectively drowning his retort with her shrill voice. "Then we wouldn't be stuck in here ZORO!" Her voice jumped another octave when she said his name. "In. HERE!" She repeated the words, making sure to emphasize them and hoping to drill it straight into his thick, dumb skull.

"Tch! Then you shouldn't have followed me!" The former bounty hunter groused.

"Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at predicting the weather?" He commented sardonically. "Shouldn't you have known that it’s going to rain today?"

Nami gaped at him disbelievingly. And heat rose to her cheeks.

She gave his shin a good kick for that.

"Ite!"

"I know that!" Nami practically shrieked at him. "That's why I followed you here to tell you about it! Is this the thanks I get from making sure you don't get your dumb self lost in this island while a storm is brewing?!"

"Again woman, I DON'T GET LOST!" Not the one to be deterred, Zoro raised his own voice to match hers. "And damn it! Stop kicking me!"

"Bullshit!" The ever-feisty navigator exclaimed. "That a load of crap and you know it!"

She angrily poked his chest with her finger. "If I leave you to your own devices... We. Would. Never. Find. You!" She punctuated each word with a prod on his torso. As if that would actually make the idea sink unto him. "I don't want Luffy and Chopper whining about how you are lost and that we should find you!

Zoro grabbed her hand to stop her from poking a hole in him. Grasping it firmly he all but shouted back at her. "I will be fine! I will find my way back to the Sunny!"

“Hah! Fat chance of that happening!”

They were almost nose to nose by this time; all the while scowling at each other, both waiting for the other to back down.

Now only the sound of the rain falling heavily down the soaked earth can be heard as they continued their stare off. Along with the sharp intake of breaths coming from the two of them because honestly, their shouting matches can be quite arduous.

As the glowering continued; Zoro thought he caught a glint, a spark from behind Nami's eyes before those warm brown orbs widened.

In what could only be a realization that their current position is leaning towards… precarious. It was also not helping that his own eye had darted all over her face, taking in the flush on her cheeks. Despite it coming from indignation, she still looks...

... pretty.

He almost choked at his thoughts. When did he turn into that shit cook?

Zoro inhaled sharply and realized what a wrong move that was. He caught a whiff of Nami’s signature scent. Sweet with an undertone of zestiness that reminds him of her mikan fruits at their peak of ripeness—that certain moment that makes you want to steal one so you can taste them...

The color on her face deepened and Zoro wasn't sure if it was because she was getting angrier and angrier by the minute.

Or... If it was because she saw that his stare lingered for more than a second or two at her lips. "Screw this!" He grunted, instantly averting his gaze. He felt his face heating up and to get out of their rather 'awkward' situation, he immediately resorted to his favorite defense mechanism whenever he faces off against this orange-haired devil incarnate.

Losing his temper on her.

"You are not my keeper woman!" He snapped at her before immediately stepping out of their sanctuary and into the rain.

That made Nami snap to attention. "Hey!"

Without another word Zoro turn around and started walking away from her despite the torrential rain.

WALKING. AWAY. FROM. HER.

While it’s raining cats and dogs.

"Zorooo!!!" He heard Nami screeched his name, horrified that he would actually leave her alone. There was no way he was getting back in there with her. Not when it occurred to him that he was only a second away from grabbing her...

...and kissing her.

He walked in faster strides when she called him again. He had to get away from her. He needed to get away from her.

Far away.

Because honestly she was driving him crazy lately with all these thoughts of wanting to kiss her surfacing every moment whenever he was with her.

And who knows what the repercussions are? This is Nami they're talking about. She would probably sic ero-cook and even Luffy if he dared to even try. Or rat him out to either Robin or Usopp or both.

Or charge him more than what his current bounty is.

He winced at that.

For now he needed to get away and calm himself so he can reflect...

There was no warning as something collided at his back, almost making him stumble down the wet ground.

Did someone just attack him?

But the presence wasn't threatening, even if its arms were wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, throttling him.

"YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE THERE RORONOA ZORO!" Nami deliberately yelled at his ear, probably making his ear drum shatter and rendering him forever deaf. In a split second the Supernova realized that Nami… had jumped him.

"Hey! Get off witch!"

"No!" "Get off!" "I said no!"

"Get off now or I'll--"

Her hold around his neck tightened. "Or you'll what?" Nami hissed right in his ear in a tone so dangerously low that an actual chill ran down Zoro's spine. He gave her arm a light slap, a silent gesture to loosen her hold because she was cutting off his air. When she didn't relent, he effortlessly bounced her up his back.

With a squeak of surprise, her arms slackened and he was able to finally draw in some air.

Nami’s hands grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to prevent herself from slipping from his back. Zoro tried to shake her off him. But the cat burglar swiftly clung onto him by locking her legs around his waist.

His remaining eye widened at that.

"Nami!" "Stop trying to shake me off Zoro!" Nami protested as she held on to him tightly. Her knee knocked against his katanas and he scowled. "Then stop strangling me damn it!" "You deserve it you ass! Leaving me alone like that! Wait until the others hear about this you brute!" Zoro muttered an expletive under his breath. Nami is a real witch!

He can feel her sliding down his back again. She was having a hard time clinging onto him because his shirt and her arms and legs were all wet from the rain water.

"I'm charging you for all these Zoro!" She muttered against his ear, her breath hot against his skin… a stark contrast from the cold rain water falling down on them. "The hell you are!" He managed to retort. She was speaking from his blind side and even as he tilted his head, he cannot see her face or her expression.

The next thing he knew… her fist had descended on his head.

“The hell! Why did you hit me?!”

“Because you are a moron.”

“That’s it get off me!”

“No!!”

They continued struggling against each other, right in the middle of the rain that was soaking them to the bone.

And Zoro realized then and there that Nami was quite nimble. She had quickly managed to change her position from his back to his side with her legs still locked around him.

He really didn't know what to do with that information, except it's going to be really handy once he gets the chance to...

Fuck! She had hit him on the head with her fist again. That’s twice already. Why are her punches hurting him so much? Was it clad in haki?? "Argh! Nami stop it!" He tilted his head towards her so he can growl and glare at her all at the same time.

She just gave him a haughty serves-you-right grin.

In retaliation he bounced her against him again.

Which was a wrong move. Because all it did was rubbed her breasts against him and press her closer to him.

It was a good thing the rain was drowning them. Though it did made her yelp in surprise. He’s good with that.

"Argh! Stay still Zoro! I swear if you drop me down I'm going to—"

“To what?” His steely eye met hers. This time it was his turn to challenge her.

Nami’s hold around his neck tightened, probably because her grip on him was slipping again because she was just as wet as he is and also because she still wants to choke the shit out of him for leaving her alone earlier.

She lifted her chin slightly so she could gaze back at him even as the rain water continued trickling down her face.

Was it just him or Nami’s quite comfortable where she is right now?

He knew she was trying to give him the evil eye. But it was hard to do that when the droplets of rain keep clinging to her lashes and she had to blink them away in a manner that affects him greatly.

And there was it… that familiar glint, that spark he saw when they were back in the alcove taking shelter from this rain.

“Look Zoro,” she finally sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you will come back to the Sunny in one piece and not get stranded in this weather."

Zoro blinked. He was not expecting that.

Then his face broke into a smirk. "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

“Y-y-ou!” She stammered.

He grinned at her as she sputtered, her face turn absolutely and adorably red.

To think, he actually high-tailed it out of there earlier with his tail between his legs all because he can't face the realization that he wanted this woman.

But there was no denying it now. Amidst this rain it was very clear. That was all he needed.

He finally decided to take a chance instead of running away from it like a coward.

He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "You can punch me or charge me later Nami," was all he said before he pressed his lips on hers.

Her body jerked in surprised. His arm instantly wrapped around her waist to secure her as one of her hands grasp at his shirt tightly.

He swore he heard and felt her murmur 'oh fuck' against his lips before she deepened their kiss.

They pulled apart slightly for air. Zoro hauled her up a little and Nami was about to lean down to for another kiss…

“A-choo!”

They looked at each other in surprise. Nami’s hand automatically covered her mouth as her face turned red again… this time for a very different reason.

“Ehem!”

They both turn their heads towards the sound and saw an elderly man standing a few feet away from them under an umbrella.

He was shaking his head as he looked at them.

“You youngsters should just get a room you know. You risk getting sick doing things out here in the open that should be done privately.”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona fanfiction #zoro nami fanfiction #ZoNa Days #zonamievents #zonamieventstumblr #roronoa zoro #nami

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1994sunflower · 3 years

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mikey buying y/n lingerie, or like dragging her to victoria secret and like picking stuff out for her.

in which michael buys you lingerie

You were so used to the routine of classes, campus, Michael’s house, your apartment. To go out of it always gave you a fuzzy feeling just because you weren’t used to it. But you loved what it brought you. Every time you went shopping off campus or just exploring the city. Being right beside Michael, your hand in his. It made you feel proud. To know everyone that looked at you two knew that he had chosen you.

The mall, especially. When there were so many distractions, ones that always got you as you tugged him every which way you were interested. His focus was always on you, letting you drag him to any store you wanted even if it clashed so obviously with his personality. He took it with no complaints. It made you feel so special.

Michael even carried your bags for you, not caring how mismatched it would look to anyone who cared to see such a tall, daunting man carrying small little bags with the girliest, frilliest stores the mall had to offer labeled on them. It felt like, even with the two of you surrounded by so many things and people, you were still in your own world.

You followed behind him, your hands in his, whenever he trailed into his own interests, slowly as if trying to pretend he didn’t really care. Watched as he lost himself in looking at video games, music, shirts that depicted some scenes that made you wonder how it was legal to be on fabric.

He even enjoyed teasing you, trying to lead you into stores which stopped you straight in your tracks and you watched the amused grin on his face as he took in your embarrassed blush. So wholesome. At least in public. He was sure what he made you do on a daily basis was worse than any sex toys those very adult stores could hold inside.

But he simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you away, almost cockily at bringing out your shyness. He always seemed a lot calmer, freer out in public whenever you were off campus. But still stoic and intimidating, at least you assumed that’s why people seemed to always stare at you and make room for you two to move by.

Your eyes were trailing up to the second floor above you, already thinking of what stores you wanted to see or if you preferred to go to the food court instead. So lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize Michael had stopped moving and you had gone a few steps ahead until his immobile arm tugged you back. Glancing back at him in confusion just to find him staring to the side and you didn’t understand why until your eyes followed his gaze.

The lingerie store did its best to not look raunchy as stereotypes would have it seem. It was well lit, its prettiest pieces on display. But either way, your cheeks heated up as soon as you eyes raked over them and noticed Michael’s doing the same. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know just what exactly was going on in his mind. It was the only reason the store even caught his attention, you knew, because his mind was swimming with you.

You didn’t really use lingerie at all, not that you needed to. With Michael it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds on your body, on a good day it’d likely end up ripped on the floor. But looking at them, you couldn’t deny how pretty they were. You thought of how they would make you look, especially how Michael would react to them on you. The confidence boost would be spectacular.

Perhaps you looked for a little longer than you intended, gazing at the mannequins deep in thought. Because before you knew it, Michael was closer to you. His chest to your back and leaning down enough to whisper, “Want to go in?”

You looked up at him in embarrassed surprise. Your mouth hung open but nothing but stutters left. You were too shy to go in there by yourself, knowing how helplessly lost and inexperienced you would seem, let alone go in there with Michael.

Shaking your head was no use because he was already tugging you by your hand.

“M-Mic…Michael…I-I think-”

It was all you could do to stutter out his name to try to get his attention before you finally entered the store completely. And the eyes of the workers on you made you look up at Michael for support. You knew you looked really different from your boyfriend, but in that store, it felt even more obvious that he was so much more experienced and you were sure others doubted how he could be satisfied with you.

But his eyes should have been their answer. He was satisfied only by you. His eyes never left your figure, an excitement in them only because of you and how he imagined you would look in all those hot pieces.

Which is probably what gave you the calm and confidence to move on your own, keeping your arms wrapped around his bicep, keeping him close as you moved around the room looking at the different pieces. From the most modest to the flimsiest.

You didn’t touch anything, even your newfound curiosity couldn’t make you do that. But you were drawn to the prettiest outfits, in your mind. The one with more lace than anything else, in the prettiest pastel colors. Normally, imagining yourself in them would feel mismatched, but having Michael with you, his arm around your waist and tracing circled on your hip, your mind took you to just how weak you would render your intimidating boyfriend. It sent a thrill to you, knowing the power you had.

Michael, for his part, was just watching you. His eyes intense and his jaw set as he went over whatever fantasies he had each time you approached a set you liked. Especially when you finally picked one up.

“Do you like this one?” It was a blue one piece, which despite that, left little to the imagination. It hard cut outs on the top of the breasts and the curve of your sides. But the lace detailing was beautiful and you were sure it would be able to cup you in all the right places. Especially for Michael’s enjoyment. You wanted nothing more.

And despite Michael being silent when he nodded, you knew he agreed to your silent judgement of it. If not by the darkening of his eyes than the way he held you just a bit closer as you continued looking, with it in your arms. But then he pointed at the same piece just in black.

“This one.” He picked.

Maybe it was the exhilaration at seeing that you were actually receptive to buying things from there, it wasn’t something he had just dragged you into anymore. You were taking the initiative to not only look but buy. But he started being a lot more ‘helpful.’

The way he picked up any fabric was almost laughable. Like a hormonal teenage boy seeing a girl’s intimates for the first time. As if he wasn’t known around campus for his skills in the bedroom. As if he didn’t do the dirtiest things to you in bed.

It was kind of cute, the way he would tell you he liked something without ever saying it.

“You like it, right?” The panties were such a pretty color you couldn’t disagree. Especially with the small little ribbon that for him, was just going to be begging to be undone when on you. The straps would hug the top and side of your hips.

Even if you were doubtful of whether or not it was crotchless. Particularly with the mischievous smirk he couldn’t contain when you nodded shyly, this time you being the one that was speechless. But your suspicions were confirmed the moment he didn’t even let you reach out and take it from his hands. It was the only thing you weren’t carrying. He always did like easy access.

Then it was garter straps that would connect to thigh highs that you wouldn’t have ever had even the courage to even pick up, let alone try on when it was so different from your personality. But the sight of them had you biting your lip and agreeing nonetheless.

Or then it was baby doll top with the completely lace and see through design. That despite it’s openness, you were drawn to equally as he was. It was just so cute and dainty. Just like you. It was perfect.

Especially when he held it up to show it to you and when your eyes lit up at the sight, he put it up against you making you titter nervously and snatch it out of his hands. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen just exactly what your boyfriend was so excited for. He was like a kid in a candy store.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way he stopped dead in his tracks in front of one set hung up.

You weren’t paying attention at first, but even if you were, you wouldn’t have been able to grab a hold of it. It was too far up. But he reached up without an issue with a concentration that was out of character for him.

By the time you turned around, he was already staring at you. The hanger was in his hands as he held it up slightly to show you. It was ridiculous that the only time he ever seemed interested in anything was in this situation.

“This one too.” He wasn’t even asking, he was picking it out for you. And it didn’t take a genius to see why he liked this one specifically, more than anything else he had chosen out for you.

It was pure white. Which is probably what caught his attention in the first place. The color always drove him crazy on you. Such an unblemished color, symbolizing innocence. Which is what you represented, what he took and tainted.

The bra was small, you weren’t sure it would cover even half of your breasts but that may have been the point. The small bow connecting the two cups being the only really design. The bottom was a skirt but it was barely the width of five fingers, useless at covering anything. But again, that was likely the point. It was frilly, making it look much like a maid’s skirt. With small little ruffles at the top and bottom of the skirt. The same frills and ruffles were on the arm bands. Even on the lacy choker that came with it.

It was at once so cute, wholesome looking and the filthiest thing you had seen since you entered the store. The only thing it wasn’t was proper.

You would look so pure, like a doll. Fragile and weak. He could just imagine you, sitting on your knees on his bed. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes. Your singsong voice calling him to you, begging for him. Looking every bit the pieces of the virginal angel you used to be mixed with the dirty little slut for him you now are.

How he would completely eclipse you, how the dark of his tattoos would clash so violently with the white of the fabric. How wrong it would look to anyone else to see him, covered in ink with filthy words and depictions on the entirety of his upper body, on top of you dressed like that. His large build covering you completely, making you seem even more vulnerable with that flimsy set on. Seeing you submit to him looking that innocent, visibly showing what you’ve always been. Letting him do the filthiest things that shouldn’t be done with looking that chaste and virtuous.

Fuck. He didn’t think he could ever take this one off of you, even when he would be plowing into you. He’d have to keep it on your body as he stared down at you. Even with how flimsy the tiny little bra was, as if tempting him to rip it off of you.

Maybe going into the store was a bad idea. He could feel himself getting hard and he knew you would not appreciate him trying anything this much in public. But he couldn’t help himself. Just one look at the displays at the window, he could only think of you. How cute you would look, how hot. It hadn’t even been meant to be anything inherently sexual. He was never really the type to be wanting you to wear more clothes when he was trying to fuck you.

But the further you went in, the shy, almost nervous, look in your eye, he couldn’t help his thoughts straying. His good girl.

Especially when his gaze fell pieces that he couldn’t help but imagine adorning your body under him. That would just accentuate what he liked most about you, that fits your sweet personality while at the same time hitting at the dirty girl only he ever saw. Those thoughts were multiplied tenfold at the sight of the last lingerie set he had grabbed without a second thought. It was like it was made for you, for his girl. It would be all for him. Only his eyes would ever see you in it.

And he may die when he finally sees it on you. But he’d die a happy man. Nothing would ever satisfy him like you did, he was sure. He could practically hear your whimpering moans, your tiny hands clinging to him as the only thing on your wrecked body was the frilly outfit, the choker would look beautiful on your neck as your mouth was open, tongue out front he pleasure.

Good thing he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to deal even a few more minutes looking at any more outfits, especially with his mind still stuck on the one in his hands.

Because you looped around arm through his, “Okay.” You giggled, the blush still on your cheek. “I think that’s enough here, Mikey.”

And he let you lead him away from the temptations that was the merchandise easily.

The cashier was pretty. She didn’t do much to stop her surprise as she glanced between you. You wondered if it was the height difference that she was referring too, as you fiddled with your fingers, or the way Michael daunted above both you and her. The way he was covered head to toe in black, chains on his jeans and wrists, tattoos littering his neck and arms. Looking very much comfortable, if not happily dazed, in a store like this. And you, lithe and meek at his side, probably appearing like an anxious little virgin.

If only she knew.

Maybe the pieces she was ringing up would give her a clue. Or the way Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Despite the way you looked like you could break when in his arms.

He bought it all. You didn’t even get the chance to offer your own card before he was already entering his pin. He picked everything out after all. It was a gift for both of you.

Michael even let you carry the striped bag, declaring to the world very obviously just what exactly you two had walked together in the store to buy. You held it with both hands, wanting very much to bury your face in his chest in modesty.

But he was gleaming proudly, showing off to anyone who cared to watch, especially the men ogling the small girl at his side, that anything they were fantasizing about, he very easily already made reality or would. And the proof was in the medium sized bag in your hands. Everything you would let him see and experience of you, let him do to you. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“Let’s go home, baby girl.” His voice was soft at your ear and his hands squeezed your hips.

You were sure ‘home’ was going to consist of the rest of the hours of the day being spent on the contents of the bag, what he had picked out and bought for you. Being displayed right in front of him for his enjoyment. And he’d get to help you break them in, bask in your sweet nervousness and submission dressed like the pure yet dirty girl you were.

So, who were you to do anything but nod and let him lead you out of the suddenly crowded mall.

#5sos #5sos imagines #michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #Bad Boy Michael #Michael clifford fluff #Michael clifford smut #5sos smut #5sos fluff #bad boy smut #bad boy fluff #college au

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

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Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin Summary: Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes".

It took nearly a week for the tensions to calm down after what posthumously was dubbed ‘the night of the burnt dresses’. Anthony for his part had attempted to make things right by purchasing a series of new dresses for Penelope. He knew that he took things a bit too far but he’d only wanted to protect her like he would any of his sisters. At the end of the day, he wouldn’t change a thing about the actions he’d taken.

He wouldn’t come right out and say it but he also felt a bit like he’d done the poor girl a favor. Her mother had clearly been dressing her in poor fitting dresses in the poorest excuse of fabric colors for years. Dressed in decent clothing, it was abundantly clear that had she had her new wardrobe in the last season, things might have played a little differently for her.

He knew better than to put that out into the universe though since he’d barely escaped unscathed from the daily glares, silence and intermittent tongue lashings from the family.

Benedict hadn’t exactly been forgiven either. Whenever he came into the room, people got up and walked out all together. Eloise and Benedict had hardly went a day since Eloise was born without talking to each other and even she was keeping her distance.

It was enough to drive anyone mad. There was only so long that Benedict could avoid being home by drinking and making art. As much as he needed his outlets, he also did enjoy the comfort of family around him.

He needed to take action but he didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to do anything.

He was alone the study when he heard the door open. He was busy working away with a sketch with his charcoals and he didn’t bother to look up. In his mind it was either going to be a servant or someone who would walk right back out.

He was surprised when it wasn’t.

“Benedict,” he heard after a long moment.

He looked up and there was a strange sense of déjà vu that hit him. Just like she’d sought him out before on the swings and things had seemed to be working themselves out, she was there again.

She cleared her throat. There was something quiet, unsure about her voice which reminded him of how she’d always been instead of the confident girl that he’d been watching her grow into.

“Can we speak?” she asked.

“I’ve been trying to speak to a week,” he said knowing there was some edge to his voice and he softened it once he caught himself. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or deceive you. I was just caught off guard and - I would have told you I didn’t send the dress.”

“This isn’t about the dress,” she told after a moment, lips pursing into a tight line. “I know that none of you would intentionally hurt me. It was my thought for jumping to conclusions and thinking that you were trying to romance me. I’ve never actually had anyone attempt to romance me so I was too blinded by it to think logically and Eloise didn’t help.”

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to romance you,” Benedict said after a long moment raising an eyebrow. It was uncanny really that even now the thought of actually romancing her was foreign, weird. Even after all these weeks, he still thought of her like another sister. If he set his mind to it, he could do this properly. “I mean, I thought that you hadn’t set your mind to accepting my proposal so I was honestly giving you the space you required.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Penelope confessed after a long moment. That didn’t seem an accurate depiction of how she felt though since she knew precisely what she wanted and it was something that she could never have. All the time in the world could pass and she’d still wonder about how differently her life might have been had Colin not been lost at sea. “I won’t begrudge you secrets because I have plenty of my own – I can’t marry someone that I can’t trust and I wouldn’t want that for someone else. You can’t grow to love someone if you can’t trust them.”

It was that point that he realized she was still wearing the ring he’d given her and everything seemed to fall into place. She was actually considering going forward with this after everything. An even bigger alarm went off in his head at the fact she thought she could have some secret so big that he might have a problem with it. He cocked his head gazing at her as if trying to read through it all to figure it out. There was literally nothing there.

“I won’t lie to you any more then,” he said after a long moment. “And while I can’t think of anything more than a white lie that you are burdened by, I suppose you can do the same.”

Penelope visibly winced at that. There was something about the expression on her face that made it clear that she was holding back something big and he was at a loss so he just listened and waited, prepared for her secret to be something absolutely innocent.

“Then I must tell you something now,” she started. “You must promise to never tell anyone.”

“I promise,” he told her. He nodded, anticipating building and a chuckle already threatening at his lips for whatever would come out of her mouth.

“I’m Lady Whistledown,” she confessed.

Confusion flooded his feature and that chuckle did escape though almost waiting for her to laugh as well. Surely, this was a joke! There was absolutely no way.

“Did Eloise put you up to this?”

“No, I’m serious.”

“But – that’s impossible!” he found himself arguing knowing that there was no way that the awkward little wallflower who hung around his little sister was that the proprietor of that wretched gossip column. “There is no way that you’d have nearly ruined yourself and the whole Marina Thompson thing easily could have –“

“Colin,” she said after a long moment as if to justify it. “I couldn’t let Colin go through with it. I tried to talk him out of it and he wasn’t listening so I used the only tool that I had that would stop him. I’d rather be a spinster than someone who lets. I regret the hurt that it caused but I don’t regret – well, I do actually. If I’d not done it, he’d still be here now and you wouldn’t be trying to ruin your life by marrying me.”

That was enough to render his speechless and he rose from where he’d been sitting, pacing for a moment to try and gather his thoughts. His family had been absolutely obsessed with that woman, trying to figure out who she was every time they delighted in what she said or were angered. He didn’t know whether to be upset or proud that Penelope was capable of such a stir.

The truth of the matter was that she’d never said anything that was false (as far as he was aware) about their family or other families. She merely speculated, stated what she observed and candid. He couldn’t hold that against her, especially when more times than not she’d saved them.

The fact that she blamed herself for saving Colin from a loveless marriage built upon a lie hit him like a ton of bricks and the heaviness of it reminded him of the grief that he’d locked down. He wasn’t happy that his brother was gone but he didn’t blame Penelope or anyone else for the death. He could have just as easily blamed Anthony for the fact he’d felt like he needed to see more of the world.

Benedict let out a long breath of air that he didn’t know he’d been holding before crossing the room, decisively taking her hands as if to show that this information didn’t bother her. He wasn’t going to go and tell the Ton this information.

“You’re not the reason he’s dead,” he said after a long minute. She wasn’t quite looking at him though so he reached down to force her to look up at him. “Besides, Colin would be furious if he knew you were blaming yourself for that.”

She was clearly going to dismiss the words but it was essential that he knew as much.

“Well he at least wasn’t furious enough to come back and haunt me,” she said quietly after a minute. She’d honestly begged him to do it and he hadn’t.

“Well you’re just not looking in the right place. He’d haunt the kitchens. Even in death he’d be a bottomless pit,” Benedict added, with a sad, wiry smile. Even if it was painful to talk about him, it did feel nice to have Colin’s name not be avoided.

“I can’t argue that,” she said after a long moment. “Are you really sure though?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he insisted. “You’re just crazy enough to survive our family. We might as well make it official. I suppose, I could put one condition on it.”

“And what might that condition be?”

“Our first born son,” Benedict said after a long moment pausing to try and make the words feel less weird. “He’d have to be named Colin.”

Something about that touched Penelope to the core and she felt tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure how much of that was still grief and how much was the moment. Her words didn’t form for a long moment.

“What if we only have daughters?” she finally asked.

“Colleen clearly,” Benedict added with mirth.

Beloved Readers it appears that the mourning black of recent days is about to transform to new, exciting shades. It thrills me to announce that the confirmed bachelorette Penelope Featherington will not be forced to spend season as a wallflower.

As previously reported, she took up residence with the Bridgerton Family some time ago. While there was speculation around the Ton to what this might mean, we can now confirm that from grief new beginnings have formed.

Benedict Bridgerton, the second eldest son of the family, has allegedly proposed and said proposal has been accepted. The news has brought joy where in recent weeks there has been little positive news to report…

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 7 OCTOBER 1813

#⚜ writings — polin #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Many Saints of Newark Is a Trashy Gangster B-Movie, There’s Nothing Wrong with That

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When I first walked out of The Many Saints of Newark, my initial reaction was to call it a B-movie. What I didn’t say at the time, however, was how much I love B-movies. While I saw the flaws in the film and couldn’t wholly endorse it to cinemagoers spoiled by the perfection of The Godfather, Goodfellas, and New Jack City, I can wholeheartedly recommend it to people like me. Those who appreciate the low-budget gangster movies sometimes because of their warts. A majority of fans of The Sopranos will have the same reaction: Meh, The Many Saints of Newark could have been better. So when’s it playing next? I plan to see it again, more than once, on the big screen.

In one of the film’s quieter moments, the Soprano family is gathered around a TV set, watching the classic Key Largo (1948). The specific scene on the screen begins when Humphrey Bogart’s cynical combat veteran Frank McCloud defuses a tense situation with the gangster Johnny Rocco. Played by Edward G. Robinson, Rocco is very loosely based on Charles “Lucky” Luciano, the godfather of organized crime, who had been deported and barred from American soil. He is suffering the same doubts Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) worries about in the pilot episode of The Sopranos: Are the best days of this “thing” over?

All gangsters want, as the black and white film explains, is more. Will they ever get enough? They never have. I don’t suppose they will. It is the same for gangster genre fans. We want more. And it doesn’t have to be great. “I don’t want it good. I want it Tuesday,” Jack Warner famously said about the gangster films his studio excelled in. Warner Bros. invented the gangster genre, and I felt a thrill when their name came first on the screen during The Many Saints of Newark. WB’s Key Largo is a prestige film. It’s got John Huston directing, he’d go on to make amazing mob movies, culminating with his magnificent Prizzi’s Honor. Key Largo boasts an A-list offering with top stars like Lauren Bacall, Claire Trevor, and Lionel Barrymore. And it’s a pairing of two legends who take their performances seriously, and believe in the art of acting: Bogart and Robinson.

But Bogart and Robinson made four B-movie gangster classics before they made the prestigious Key Largo: Bullets or Ballots, Kid Galahad, Brother Orchid, and The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse, which was so badly scripted that the two leads took to calling it “The Amazing Dr. Clitoris.” I’ve seen it eight times. Are there holes in the story? Of course. And they don’t get any better after the third viewing. What does get better is watching the performances of two professional actors in films they are on record as saying they did not like. Twice, as it turns out, because it was revived as a radio play a few years later, according to the book Bogart, by A.M. Sperber and Eric Lax.

Robinson played a psychiatrist, studying Bogart’s gangster, and the two characters bond while keeping a wary distance. This is very similar to the dynamic between Tony Soprano and Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco) on The Sopranos. She even worried the mob boss was using their therapeutic sessions in the furtherance of crime, something Bogart’s character did in the B-movie gangster film, King of the Underworld, which is awful and I never miss. I love that movie, not in spite of Bogie’s misunderstanding of the meaning of “the moronic type,” but because of it. He doesn’t do that in other movies, even in the masterful B-movie gangster comedies, It All Came True and All Through the Night.

But Bogart also made Dead End (1937), a quality piece, which happens to be my favorite film, ever. Based on the play by Sidney Kingsley, it spends a lot of its time in the same way The Many Saints of Newark does: teaching the young generation how to be gangsters. This is seen even more blatantly in the film Angels With Dirty Faces (1938), which paired James Cagney with the Dead End Kids. But threads of this even reach the juvenile delinquent movie Blackboard Jungle, also not a big-budget film, but realistic enough to show the teenagers were actually moving swag for bigger names.

It happens in real life, the mob looks to street gangs for promising young movers. Future dons make their bones wearing colors. Gangster films capture this. From Nino Brown (Wesley Snipes) in Mario Van Peebles’ New Jack City to Spike Lee’s Clockers, original gangstas groom carbon copies. Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola) sees potential in young Tony Soprano (Michael Gandolfini) during The Many Saints of Newark. Great potential.

When Tony and his young gang hijack the Mr. Softee truck and give out ice cream to kids for free, it feels like The Sopranos creator and The Many Saints of Newark co-screenwriter, David Chase, was chasing the feel of the East Side Kids. Old Bowery Boys movies were aired weekly in the New York/New Jersey area when Tony was growing up, and all those movies were made by the icon of B-Movie studios, Monogram Pictures.

Monogram Pictures sat on Hollywood’s “poverty row,” and churned out pictures as fast as Detroit made cars. The Bowery Boys comedy troupe made almost a picture a month alone. But just like the Warner Brothers assembly line occasionally manufactured transcendent art, some of the cheapies are magnificently crafted. Sopranos fans should watch Angels in Disguise, one of the lesser-known gangster comedies, directed by Jean Yarbrough in 1949. It is, if not the first, one of the first mock-documentaries, and it is a good bet David Chase saw it, more than once. Leo Gorcey is even more of a master of the malaprop than Carmine Lupertazzi Jr. (Ray Abruzzo) on The Sopranos.

Monogram Pictures also caught the attention of French directors François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard, who structured films based on their model, according to the book The Films of Jean-Luc Godard by Wheeler W. Dixon. It is no wonder, the studio’s almost-no-budget 1947 quickie Dillinger turned RKO contract player Lawrence Tierney into an icon of film noir. The Fall Guy, from the same year, dared to coke up the star Leonard Penn, and we’re not talking soda pop.

Also in 1947, 20th Century Fox’s low budget Kiss of Death introduced the screen audiences to the sadistic Tommy Udo. The role earned Richard Widmark an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, and the admiration of “Crazy” Joe Gallo, whose insurrection against the Five Families of New York crime was the basis for Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather.

Low budget studio production paved the way for the independent film movement in America, which The Many Saints of Newark proudly emulates. Director Alan Taylor recently admitted to Den of Geek that he’s “drunk deep at the well of Scorsese,” and we can see Mean Streets all over the Sopranos prequel. Also in evidence is Barry Shear’s Across 110th Street (1972), which pitted the Italian mob against Black gangsters; John Cassavetes’s 1976 indie classic, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie; The Pope of Greenwich Village (1984), directed by Stuart Rosenberg; and Abel Ferraro’s King of New York (1990).

The Many Saints of Newark is also too closely related to Wim Wenders’ 1977 gangster film, The American Friend, which cut corners on plot points as much as it did on budget. Logic is replaced by street smarts, and continuity is a game of three card monte in B-movie gangster films. The Many Saints of Newark is not exempt. There is a scene where one mobster’s mistress is sleeping with the rival for his turf. Except for one rude stare, the audience doesn’t see it coming. But how it turns out, with the convenient surf and turf to cover the evidence, is telegraphed from a mile away.

Movies

Once Upon a Time in America Is Every Bit as Great a Gangster Movie as The Godfather

By Tony Sokol

Culture

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Real-Life and Pop Culture

By Tony Sokol

Arthur Penn’s genre-redefining Bonnie and Clyde came out in 1967, the same year as The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Roger Corman spared every expense for his B-movie mobsterpiece. There are scenes where it is visibly apparent that a fleet of vintage background cars are just the same few automobiles driven in circles around the set. I’ve seen both movies multiple times, and enjoy them equally each time.

Just because The Many Saints of Newark isn’t a perfect film does not make it less of a classic. It certainly doesn’t make it less appealing for repeated viewings. The film follows a grand tradition of gangster filmmaking: street legal over mainstream currency, it could have fallen off the back of a truck. I would love to see whatever scenes were cut to make it fit into a two-hour viewing, because the film felt rushed. But I will watch it again.

The Many Saints of Newark premieres in theaters and on HBO Max on Friday, Oct. 1.

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mikeisthricedeceased · 3 years

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“It’s like magic” with any character of your choosing! Big fan, huge 😉

You’re too sweet, Tish 🥰 Marcus Pike could use a little love

Also I don’t know how art restoration or anything related to it really works. I have vague memories of something like this existing and I’m sorry to anyone who actually knows anything about it

He leads you into a viewing area next to the large art lab. The machinery you saw on the other side of the glass was far more advanced than anything you were likely to find in most college science labs. Definitely more than you saw in your typical day-to-day.

“We’re pretty sure that this one is a cover up,” Marcus is saying. He gestures to a painting that a small team of technicians are currently removing from an ornate golden frame with immense care. “The paint is incredibly thick across the canvas, and the few thinner areas seem to show some brushstrokes that crisscross in a way that’s uncommon for this particular style.”

“And this is supposed to show you what’s underneath?” you ask, nodding to the monitor next to the viewing window.

“If we’re right, then yes.” Marcus moves closer to the glass and you step up beside him. “They’re scanning through each layer of paint and we’ll be able to render them individually. Sort of.” He flashes a small smile. “It’s not exactly a perfect process, but we can at least get some idea of what we’re dealing with.”

The muffled hum of machinery reaches the viewing area as the scan begins.

The monitor fills with a detailed replica of the artwork in the lab. Gradually, the colors shift as layers of varnish and paint are digitally stripped away.

You shuffle over to the monitor and lean in for a closer look. “Oh, wow,” you say softly, a note of awe finding its way into your voice. “It’s like magic.”

Marcus chuckles from behind you. “That’s pretty much how I reacted the first time I saw them do this. It’s crazy how far people are willing to go when it comes to art theft, but technology like this has helped us solve cases that were considered impossible just twenty years ago.”

“Watching this beats looking into mattress store finance reports to find evidence of money laundering,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder, “no contest.”

“I figured things would be pretty interesting over in Organized Crime,” he says, grinning softly.

You laugh. “Most of the time, interesting means something bad happened.” Facing him, you cross your arms. “It’s a lot of reading until someone we’re looking into is murdered or a warehouse we’ve been monitoring catches fire. Then it’s more reading, along with filling out paperwork. The little theories we scribble on sticky notes after a long day can be a little amusing, I’ll admit.”

“Speculation is half the job.”

Stepping back from the monitor, you join him at the window again, standing close enough that your arm nearly brushes his. “What about you? What’s a typical day in Art Theft like?”

He takes a moment to consider before looking over at you. “A lot of cataloging, which is just another way of saying paperwork,” he jokes. “Talking to experts and authenticators, some of whom disagree on whether a piece is real or fake. That’s always fun and makes my job incredibly frustrating. Researching the movement of certain paintings and sculptures through the years takes up a lot of time.” He shrugs. “When you really look at it, I don’t think it’s too different from what you do. Just a different focus. There’s a reason we’re on the same case right now.”

“True.” Tilting your head to indicate the painting that was being scanned, you meet his gaze. “At least getting to look at something so beautiful everyday is a perk amongst all the usual monotony, right?”

He looks out into the lab. “It is. That’s why I always look forward to my lunch break with you.”

You gently elbow his arm, face warming as you whisper his name in an attempt at reprimand that sounds far too fond to be effective.

You catch the little smirk he sends your way. “I’m only being honest, honey,” he whispers back. Then, in a normal voice, “I think the scan has gone far enough to start showing the original painting.”

You shake your head in amused exasperation as he walks back over to the monitor, following once you manage to quiet the sudden flutter of affection that fills your chest.

Prompts & HCs

#cinewhore #marcus pike #the mentalist #ask prompt

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ultimatevideoz · 3 years

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the-y-generation · 5 years

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Not My Type (Chapter 5)

Summary: “Do you know how you stop a craving? You give in to it.”

When she signed on to be a road manager, she had no idea it was going to be for one of the biggest bands in the world, much less how they were going to turn her life upside down, nor how she was about to flip theirs too. Especially one irritating frequently-late vocalist who knew exactly how charming he could be.

Pairing: Idol!Jimin / Manager!Original Character (I personally haven’t written in “y/n” format, so I just gave the reader a name, but barely even mention it)

Genre/Themes: fluff, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: M for this chapter

Warnings: Unprotected sex (be smart, kids!), oral (female receiving), JIMIN (let’s face it, he’s a warning all on his own!)

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Just like that, without anyone noticing, not even her, a year went by in the blink of an eye.

Her one year anniversary with the band was spent waiting in the wings with near-deaf ears, watching them serenade a sold-out stadium of screaming fans. It was like any other day, and she barely realized it until Manager Sejin congratulated her on surviving. The day started and ended business as usual - Jimin rolled out of her bed in the morning, she rounded them up for breakfast, and ushered them through interviews, rehearsals, then the show. It was a good day.

Since the Grammys, things have exploded for the band, which is ridiculous to fathom considering that they were already the biggest boyband in the world. They were splattered across Times Square, their Twitter crashed from a surge of followers (again), their songs streamed by the millions across every platform, and the band appeared on every major talk show and network in various continents.

And since the Grammys, they didn’t talk about it, like most things between the road manager and Jimin. The night he, for whatever reason, rushed back to the hotel just to watch Netflix and fall asleep next to her. But it did happen, and it sat like an elephant in the room sometimes.

An elephant that sat on her throat and made its presence felt every time Jimin placed a gentle hand on the small of her back. Every time he’d whisper some inside joke, his breath ghosting warmly on the shell of her ear. Every time he’d put a few extra fries on her plate, even when she insists she isn’t hungry because he just knows she wants them (and he’s always right). Every time he’d compliment her over the littlest thing - for looking beautiful even without makeup, for not losing her patience when something took too long, for being scary good at her job and not letting him get off too easy.

Every time she caught herself looking at him too long, entranced by some small detail about him. Sometimes he’d catch her staring.

Just like now.

They were in his hotel room tonight, having decided to finish the series they began watching some two countries or so ago. At times like this, she’d marvel at the difference a year can make.

When she first started, she and Jimin had a strictly professional relationship that bordered on begrudging tolerance. There were countless arguments, cold shoulders, and rough tugs in an effort to get his stubborn ass in line. But now, Jimin was like the slow song that put her into a peaceful sleep. He was sunshine and morning dew.

Granted, as his road manager, he was still a pain in the ass. But once they were off the clock, he was the closest thing to home.

Anna lay on top of the covers, feeling slightly gross as she was still in her “work” clothes while he sat diagonal from her, fresh-faced and showered. Even in this state, he was beautiful, and painfully so. His hair was freshly cut and colored, making him look damn near edible and immaculate.

“Yah.” Jimin softly called out, snapping her out of her reverie.

She blinked her hazy eyes back into attention, averting her gaze back to the TV. “Sorry.” She muttered.

“You were staring for a while.” He remarked casually, but she knew him enough not to miss the teasing tone that underscored his words. “I know I’m sexy, but…”

She rolled her eyes and sighed at him. “Shut up. I’ve just been on edge these days.”

“Why’s that?” Jimin absently asked, crawling from his cross-legged position to lay down next to her. There was enough space between them to wiggle around without actually touching each other.

“I dunno,” She shrugged, settling into the bed and closing her eyes. “Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve had sex.”

It’s not a maybe, it’s a fact. It’s been waaaay too long since she’s had some, and hey, a girl has needs too! She used to be able to tide herself over on her own. But in recent months, the itch became too much for her to fix by herself. In the showers, or nights when Jimin wouldn’t insist on invading her bed space, she’d try to chase the high with her hands. But each orgasm became less and less satisfying, her body only reacting to stimulus instead of real pleasure.

Jimin didn’t answer right away, She didn’t really expect him to. The words easily fell from her lips, and passed between them along with the onscreen dialogue. It still surprised her sometimes how nothing seemed to intimate or intimidating to be shared with Jimin.

“Well, why haven’t you had sex?” He chimed in. Enough time had passed that she turned to look at him, mildly confused that that was where his mind was still at.

“Um, hello? You realize I have a 24/7 job, right?” She smirked sarcastically at him. “It’s not like I have a lot of time to go out on dates, or at least find a decent one night stand.”

“You have off-days.” Jimin countered.

“Which I spend sleeping.” She huffed. “And anyway, I’m not you. I don’t have an endless line of people wanting to fuck me.”

“But men do want to fuck you.” He answered casually, almost crassly, that she lifted an eyebrow at him. He chuckled and looked back at the TV. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re gorgeous; even a blind person would say so.”

“Pfft.” She childishly replied. “You’re just being nice. And besides, I’m resigned to my sexless life while I work for you-”

“With us.”

He hates insinuations that she, or anyone for that matter, is inferior to him.

“Ugh! With you, fine.” She waves him away. “But the point is, no guy in their right mind would want to sleep with me. Being on the road with 7 of Korea’s most attractive men, surrounded by males 24/7, doesn’t exactly call all the boys to my yard.”

In the middle of her little rant, she caught the way Jimin’s eyes rake over her body slowly and registered the strange direction of the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by staring at you, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was staring.” She apologized, looking away again. “I wish I had hormones to blame, but it’s not that time of the month. I’m just really...craving, I guess.”

Jimin smirked, turning on his side to face her. “Do you know the best way to stop a craving?”

She shook her head.

“You give in to it.” He said, a devilish grin tugging the side of his lips. There was something in his tone that sounded an alarm in her head, but she simply looked back at him, confused.

“Duh, genius. But haven’t you been listening? The problem is, who am I supposed to have sex with?” She challenged.

Jimin simply stared at her, his eyes getting darker by the second with amusement and a tinge of something she couldn’t decipher.

“What?” She asked, unnerved by his stare and his silence. But he maintained his wordless gaze, patiently waiting for the pieces to click in her head.

Eventually, they did.

“Are you-?” She began, her mind slowly arriving at a conclusion. “No, wait a minute. What are you implying?”

“What do you think I’m implying?” He bit his plump lower lip in an effort to keep a straight face.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I’m not playing this game with you.”

Jimin laughed out loud, pushing his head into the pillow as his eyes disappeared into crescents and mouth hidden behind his hand. She tried not to take offense at his apparent joke and salvaged her pride by ignoring him. But when the laughter subsided, Jimin’s eyes became serious again, glinting with mischief that tickled something below her navel.

“You know what I’m trying to say.” He said, voice low and gravelly. Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to save face.

“Actually, no, I don’t because you haven't said anything.” She bit back.

He laughed again, earning a glare from her.

“Okay, okay.” He managed to wheeze out between chuckles. “What I’m saying is...if you have a craving, I’d be a willing participant.”

She let his words sink in, settling heavy between them. He watched her turn his offer over in her head, and then-

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She replied. “That won’t work. You don’t even find me attractive.”

“Are you crazy?! I just called you gorgeous!” He argued, mock offended.

“That doesn’t mean you want to have sex with me!”

“For your information, I have thought about having sex with you.”

Whatever argument she had died in her throat, thoughts chased away by his revelation. Jimin smirked cockily at her, evidently pleased at his ability to render her speechless.

“And I know you’ve thought about it too.” He continued, referencing the earlier fact that he caught her staring.

This smug prick.

“No, thank you. I don’t want your pity fuck.” She scowled. It angered her that any reaction just seemed to amuse him more.

“It’s not pity. There’s something in it for me too.” Jimin said softly.

The shift in his tone prompted her to look him, finding only sincerity and, if his blown pupils were anything to go by, simmering arousal.

“You’re serious.” She remarked, more of a statement than a question.

Jimin chuckled, the sound deliciously reverberating from his chest, as he rolled over to cut the distance between them. He landed right next to her, on his stomach and propped up on his elbows to look down at her.

“I thought it would be an easy choice. Should I be offended that you’re taking so long to decide?” He teased, close enough now that she felt the warmth of his body next to hers.

She pondered his offer again, schooling her face in careful nonchalance just in case he doubled back and admitted to playing a joke on her. But the other shoe didn’t drop. Instead, he peered at her with wide eyes.

"But...why?" She couldn't help but ask. The logic didn't add up in her head.

"Why not?" Jimin smiled, brushing her hair from her eyes. He had done this before, but in the context of their situation, she shivered at his touch. "We're two consenting adults with needs. I'm attracted to you - no, don't even fight me on this - and you're attracted to me. What's there to think about?"

She bit her lip, turning his proposition in her head. On one hand, it made sense. People have this sort of arrangement all the time, and they both seemed up for it, so why not? It’s not like she had better options, and let’s face it - even if she did, can she really do any better than Jimin? But on the other hand, it could go terribly wrong. He was her good friend, maybe even best friend if she was feeling extremely sentimental. Engaging in...extra-curricular activities...with him might endanger the relationship they had worked so hard to build over the past year.

But the optimism in Jimin’s face was infectious and altogether confident that she couldn’t help but believe that he knew what he was doing.

“You have to promise me that things between us won’t change?”

“I promise.” He nodded dramatically. “This is for biology.”

“Pinky promise.” She demanded, raising a pinky at him.

At the sound of his pained groan, she smirked, knowing how he hated any allusions to his pinky. But nonetheless, he gave in and intertwined his pinky with hers.

With the promise sealed, she looked at him expectantly, unsure how to proceed. Do they go at it now? Should they schedule something?

To her surprise, Jimin rolled over and jumped out of bed. When she looked up, he leveled her with a gaze that shot electricity down her spine. It was a look that made countless hearts race, tore excited screams from hundreds of throats, and even made hetero men question their sexuality. But in the stillness of the hotel room, with no one else around and the inevitable hanging in the air, Jimin was even more potent and dangerous.

“And...is this just one time or…?” She asked as he sauntered out of sight. She looked down and fiddled with her hands, immediately regretting having asked the follow-up question.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a latch clicking into place. The door was now double locked.

Then the lights switched off, leaving only the bedside lamps to bathe the room in a warm incandescent glow.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out,” Jimin replied, making his way back to her. His graceful gait was effortlessly fluid as if every particle of his being was meant to stir desire. She watched him with a racing pulse, blood roaring in her ears in anticipation of what was to come. The room was suddenly a million degrees, yet her skin itched to be touched.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Jimin gestured to her, wordlessly prompting her to come to him. She sucked in a calming breath, trying her best to maintain composure as she stood up and made her way to him. She stopped before him, just a breath away, holding his dark eyes. The way he hypnotized her, it was almost like he could already see all of her, despite both still being fully clothed.

Sparks danced on her skin as Jimin cupped her cheek, thumb tracing her lips until they parted for him. Before she could say the words he could just feel were trapped in her throat, he dived in and cut the remaining inches between them.

His sigh ticked the back of her throat as she latched onto his mouth, succumbing to his direction. He gripped her firmly, an arm around her waist and the other tangled in her hair, gripping her head to his as he controlled the fervent kiss. She let him lead, melting instinctively against him, allowing the initial spark to develop into a full blaze that ignited her core with need.

While she reciprocated timidly, there was no hesitation or doubt. Her hands clasped the front of his shirt like an anchor, keeping her flush against his chest to keep her knees from giving out under her. Jimin, to his credit, was patient. He set the bar then remained steady, giving her time to adjust and catch up to his pace.

Logic threatened to break her trance, but with a swipe of his tongue over hers, all thought disappeared. The world narrowed into a single room, and there was now only Jimin. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins, but fuck, he left her breathless with the exhilarating and mind-numbing things he did to her mouth. She let her hands wander - one reached up to lace a hand through his snow-smooth hair, while the other ran low to wound to his back. She marveled at the feel of his body beneath her fingers, muscles moving and contracting, reacting to her touch.

Feeling her compliant and at ease with him, Jimin tugged at her blouse, easing it out from its perfect tuck in her jeans. Once the material was loose, he moved his hands up, momentarily cupping her jaw before traveling south. Jimin pulled away slowly, leaving her with one, two, three pecks until he was far enough for her eyes to gain focus on him.

Her lips were pink and swollen from his needy sucks, her pupils dilated with unfiltered want. She looked absolutely delicious, and the sight of her licked the flames below his gut.

Jimin’s intentions were clear, his desire apparent and digging into her hip, but he looked her in the eyes as his fingers traveled down her collarbones, giving her the chance to plead out before he went any further. But she gave him no indication that she wanted him to stop. She grabbed him by the collar and locked her lips on his, kicking his senses into overdrive. Throwing caution to the wind, Jimin nimbly undid her blouse buttons, and she wasted no time in discarding the material once it was fully open.

Tossing the garment to the side, she grabbed at the end of his shirt and greedily pulled it up, needing his skin on hers. Needing him as open and vulnerable as she was. Jimin seemed to be thinking the same thing, breaking the kiss to help her tug it off in one fluid movement. She stole a quick look at him, unable to stifle the soft gasp that escaped without consent.

See, the thing is Jimin is hot. That’s old news. Yes, he has a toned chest, and abs, and a v-cut that ran low into his pants to make the imagination run wild. That’s all well and good, and common knowledge since the early days of BTS.

But what struck her was how truly beautiful he was. Jimin was a stunning shade of moonlight, with tantalizing lines and curves that begged to be ravished and kissed. He was soft and smooth to the touch, neither too muscular or lean, but perfect.

Jimin grabbed her by the waist, momentarily startling her at the contact with her bare skin, pulling her flush against his torso. He was warm, and she wanted to burn in him. Her thighs clenched as a flame tickled sensually below her navel, and her pulse roared in her ears.

He reached down and made quick work of her pants, undoing the button and zipper. He gently eased it off her waist and ass, moving away briefly to allow her to step out of the material. When she straightened back up, Jimin melted her to him again. He ducked his head to suck at a tender spot under her jaw, and she felt him chuckle smugly against her skin when this earned a needy whine from her.

She scratched at his back, hands moving lower to slip into his sweatpants, palms resting on the curves of his ass. She tugged him closer so he stumbled forward, pressing his length against her to warrant a lusty groan.

Without needing to be told, he moved quickly moved out of his sweatpants, leaving them both in their underwear. As she kissed along the length of his throat, Jimin maneuvered them back until her knees hit the bed. He pushed her gently down into the mattress and crawled over her, feasting on the skin of her neck and collar with wet sucks and gentle nips.

Her nerves set in again at the realization that they were now in bed, almost completely bare to each other. Her muscles seize when Jimin reached behind her to unclip her bra. Feeling her tense against him, he pulled back, hands still on her back, to look at her imploringly. But her worries were quickly squashed by the blazing concern in his eyes.

Not wanting him to stop, she leaned up to capture his mouth in another searing kiss, thrusting her hips up to grind against him, to chase his concern away. Once her chest was bare to him, Jimin slipped downwards, taking a peak into his eager mouth while gently kneading the other. He relished at her moan that ghosted across his hairline.

Without thinking, in between moans, she pressed a feather-light kiss on his forehead. Jimin tried his best to ignore the pleasurable pain that twisted in his chest at the gesture.

Unable to keep his restraint any longer, Jimin reached a hand down between their bodies to wriggle out of his boxers, eager to feel her flesh on his.

Her eyes widened as he sprung free, her mind still processing that this was all real. Before he could settle over her, she pushed at his shoulder, prompting him to turn them over so that he lay on his back this time. Straddling him, she balanced a hand on the side of his head while the other reached between them to take him in her hand.

Uncertain of herself but wanting to at least try, she furrowed her brows in concentration as she pumped her fist around him, reveling in the sinful sounds that rumbled from his chest and throat. She looked up to find him staring at her, jaw slack and gorgeous lips parted as he breathed heavily through his pleasure.

His hips twitched and Jimin thrust in her hand, simultaneously bending upwards to pepper kisses on her chest and breast. Perhaps it really had just been a while, or perhaps because it was Jimin. But she swore that the sight of his needy, beautiful man underneath her may be enough to make her climax.

"God, I need to be inside you." Jimin groaned, abruptly stopping and flipping them over so that he was on all fours over her.

He slipped his thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, and with stunning patience, he slowly slipped them off her thighs, knees, and feet.

Feeling the cold rush of air sweep over her bare skin, she instinctively felt self-conscious at her nakedness. But there was something about the way Jimin looked at her, feral and hungry, at made her feel powerful and beautiful in her exposed state.

Jimin moved back up to cover her body with his, and now, completely feeling his flesh on hers, her entire body was aflame with his heat and desire. A small part of her brain worried at what he must think of her, visibly vibrating in pleasure and need as he traveled south of her body again, licking and sucking his way over her breast, stomach, abdomen. When she realized what he intended to do, she hastily grasped at his shoulder.

"You don't have to." She said. He peered up, lips already at her hip bone, to give her a curious glance. "If you don't want to."

He smirked up at her, resuming downwards.

"Haven't you ever had this done to you before?" Jimin murmured hotly against her skin. He hovered over her center, breath ghosting hotly over her flesh. Despite her many worries, her body was reacting to him well, her center glistening with her need.

"I have but-" She choked on the rest of her words, feeling him press a finger on her receptive bud. She moaned gracelessly, shamelessly, as he stroked her gently.

"But?" He paused his fingers between her thighs, waiting for her to continue.

"But they never seemed to want to." She admitted, chest heaving from the sudden on-and-off of sensation.

Jimin smiled slyly, and she watched as a devilish expression took over his handsome features. "Don't worry. I want to."

She should have been embarrassed at the guttural sound that ripped itself from her chest when his lips met her center. Her fingers threaded into his hair, hips quivering to chase and deepen his ministrations. She hissed when he slipped a finger inside her, helping her prepare for him.

"Fuck, you're so tight." Jimin groaned as he circled a digit inside her. It wasn't meant to be dirty talk, it was a fact. Her walls were clenched at a fever pitch around his finger.

"Like I said," She gasped. "It's been a while."

Jimin opened his eyes and slowly made his way back up locking onto her mouth again, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He felt her clench around his finger, practically suffocating it, when he pressed his thumb over her most sensitive spot. He could already tell that she was going to feel fucking fantastic, but he wants her to enjoy this too.

Jimin wrapped her legs around his waist, stretching her wider for him, and slipped a second finger inside her. He shoved his impatience aside and ignored his throbbing length, praying to whatever deity there may be to help her relax. After a few long minutes of her delicious sighs, Jimin felt her unclench around him, and decided he had done all he could to prepare her.

Pulling his fingers out, Jimin aligned himself over her entrance. He locked his eyes on her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on.

"Go slow." She requested, leaning up to steal a chaste, calming kiss from him. Jimin nodded, understanding just how much she had given him in that moment.

"Trust me?" He asked, locking his eyes on her as he rubbed comforting circles on her side.

"I trust you." She replied.

He finally entered her, unable to help his velvety hiss as she dragged him in. All sensation rushed south that he barely registered his nails digging into his back. He was right; she was wet and tight, and it felt blindly fantastic. But the uncomfortable way she bit her lip was like a shot of cold water in his veins.

"Relax." Jimin breathed, pressing his forehead against hers. "I got you."

He knew that she needed time to adjust, so he reigned in his urges and forced himself to hold still. He pressed his lips against the sensitive spot under her jaw, remembering how she moaned when he sucked there earlier. She sighed against him, panic slowly leaving her body as she succumbed to the pleasure of his touch.

Jimin carefully eased in and out, giving her time to get used to the sensation, until her nails eased up from his back.

Sensing she was alright now, he quickened his pace gradually. She began to lose concentration as the pain subsided, replaced only by the swell of desire in her gut. With each stroke, getting deeper and harder, Jimin fanned a flame inside her, and she thrust her hips up to meet him there, eager for more. He lifted his head, hovering his mouth over hers, tasting her breath on his tongue as he pushed into her.

Their glazed gazes locked as she felt the knot in her gut swell and tingle.

"Are you close?" Jimin asked, his heaving chest brushing against her breast.

Too lost in a haze, she could only nod at him. Jimin snaked an arm around her waist and sat up, bringing her up with him. He rested back on his haunches as she fell flush against his chest. He adjusted them to the new angle, holding her head to kiss her fervently, like a madman in need of oxygen. He rocked his hips against hers quickly, barely pulling out now, knowing it would rub against her bud.

The room was filled with her dulcet moans and his pleasured grunts, the sounds of skin on skin, as he freckled open-mouthed kisses over her chest and breasts. Her hammering heart beneath his lips, and her quivering walls around him told Jimin that she was close. Reaching up, he pushed her hair back, needing to see her come undone for him.

The knot in her navel snapped, and she sputtered out a cry as heat exploded from her core all the way to her fingertips. Her insides clenched around him, and it took everything Jimin had not to let go at the sensation. She shook in his arms, allowing the tides to consume her, barely registering Jimin's tight grip on her waist as the waves washed over.

With a few more pounds of his hips, Jimin knew he wouldn't last any longer. He quickly rested her back down on the mattress and pulled out of her. She shuddered at the loss of contact, still light-headed from her orgasm. With hooded eyes, she absently stroked his back and hair as she peeked to see him take himself in his hand.

With a few purposeful pumps, he let go too and pour himself over her mound and abdomen. He was hot on her skin, but she didn't mind, too lost in the wonder in his eyes as pleasure overtook him. She soothed him as he muffled his growl in her neck, body shaking as he rode out his high and he nuzzled his face against her when he came back down.

When the buzz began to fade and his breathing calmed, Jimin's limbs were suddenly lead-heavy. He let himself rest his weight on her, as she stroked easy patterns on his back. He was weak in her arms and they rested their heads together as she trickled lazy kisses over his shoulders, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop them.

When he had gathered some strength, Jimin disentangled himself from her and began to roll away.

"You don't have to hurry." She whispered quietly, almost as if she hadn't meant for him to hear her. The way she nervously chewed on her lip made him wonder what she meant by that, but something inside him told him it wasn't the right time to ask.

"I just need to clean up." He replied, gesturing to the mess he made over her skin.

"Oh, right."

He didn't say anything, but Jimin could swear it was relief he saw in her eyes. So for that reason, and that reason alone, he leaned over to press a quick kiss to her lips before he bolted to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth to clean herself up with.

Once that was done, Jimin turned off the bedside lamps and climbed back into bed, absently pulling the covers over them both. Now that their bodies and nerves have settled, the cold of the room began to seep into their bare skin.

Jimin turned to her when he had settled, observing the nervous girl next to him as her eyes fluttered and she bit her lip again. An awkward silence seemed just around the corner, and he waited patiently for her to explain herself.

"Do you want me to go?"

Her question stunned him, and Jimin found himself opening and closing his mouth several times, unable to provide a quick answer. Contrary to the perception of easy fucks and one night stands, he had never been asked to leave nor asked anyone to leave. Sure, mornings after can be awkward, but never so much as to avoid staying the night altogether.

On the other hand, they were different. He's had sex with strangers and acquaintances, but never someone he considered a friend. Best friend even. And there's no handbook that tells you what to do when you go from friends to friends-who-fucked in the pan of a night.

He took too long to answer.

She took his silence as a yes, and smiled sadly, trying her best to maintain composure as she began to roll out of bed. At her movement, Jimin panicked and grabbed her wrist.

"Stay." He gasped out, tugging her gently back under the covers.

She looked at him in confusion but complied. When she rested back down, the truth slipped from his lips. "I always sleep better with you."

She smiled softly, and relief flooded his system. The spike of panic drained from him, and he absentmindedly brushed her hair away from her eyes as he let out a long yawn.

"Rest now." She whispered, tracing his brows with a gentle finger. "You have a 10am interview tomorrow."

He chuckled lightly, finding humor in the fact that she still managed to remember their schedule despite having just been fucked senseless. But the waves of drowsiness pulled him in and sleep stole Jimin before he could respond.

#park jimin #jimin #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #bts fic #jimin smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #park jimin smut #jimin fwb #park jimin fwb #not my type

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years

Text

Don't Answer the Texts

That night, a strange spectacle played out among the heavy clouds. Colored beams cast by corporate logos and bright floodlights danced to the muted tune of late-hour traffic of a sleepless city. Other lights in the sky joined in, flitting and darting about the busy skyline. She imagined them to be fairy lights or UFOs or some other outlandish thing.

Smoke burned in her lungs and it stung in her eyes as she took another drag from a joint. The high set in a while ago, blending with the buzz from downing a beer beforehand. A nip in the air made her wish she had slung on a jacket before sitting down outside on the tiny balcony and she suppressed a shiver.

After a few more hits, she snuffed the roach out in a small glass ashtray and waited for the smoke to trail off. Her nostrils flared as she savored the pungent scent until it, too, had passed. Her eyes darted back and forth, struggling to follow the dancing lights in the sky. The glow of her phone’s display flaring up inside her darkened apartment drew her attention away from the world outside. Even through the closed balcony window, she could hear the phone’s buzz in her mind.

She returned inside and shut the balcony door behind her, relegating the sounds of the city to an echo that existed only in her mind. The phone’s display had already stopped glowing and turned pitch-black once more, reflecting the dim light that continued to follow her from outside. She stared at the device, wondering if she should give the concept of a digital detox a try some time.

Dismissing the thought, she picked up the phone and its display sprung back to luminescent life.

Texts from an unknown number had arrived.

The two messages read: “This weird egg-like thing hatched. I can’t really describe it.”

She hesitated and pondered how to handle this. Immediately blocking the unknown number was her first instinct, but the messages themselves were so delightfully weird that they intrigued her and piqued her curiosity.

Instead of fully indulging that notion, she answered the texts with, “Is this a prank? Who is this?”

Expecting no fast response and in fact nothing at all to come of it, she put the phone down and made her way towards the kitchen to grab some iced tea. She froze just a few steps away when the phone buzzed, vibrating loudly on the coffee table. Her head swiveled to look at it and she saw the hints of text messages displayed on the lock screen.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to check those messages.

“Stop fucking around, Dave,” said the message. And then another flashed onto the screen, saying, “Come over NOW. Can’t find whatever came out of the egg.”

This prompted a shiver to run down her spine and she quickly thumbed through the display to block the number. She just wanted to sit down, watch her favorite show, and relax a bit. And her throat was beginning to feel a bit parched.

Once she had reprised the quick detour into the kitchen and taken some greedy gulps of the cold tea, she returned to the couch and slid into her favorite spot while switching on the lamp next to her in one fluid motion, stifling a short giggle that erupted from thinking about those prank texts and how random their wording was.

She almost choked on the laugh when the phone buzzed again and its display flared up once more. The buzzing sounded really loud, almost like thunder against the glass surface of her coffee table, causing assorted objects like her red plastic lighter and the tiny Ziploc bag filled with weed to quiver and vibrate along with it. Something about the rattling noise made her heart skip a beat and gave her a queasy feeling in the belly region.

Without even picking up the phone, the new message she had received was short enough for her to read it right on the lock screen.

“Don’t answer the texts,” it said. Again an unknown number.

She snatched the phone and swiped through the options with lightning speed. There was no way she was going to deal with this crap now.

Number blocked.

She exhaled sharply and wiggled her nose as the beginning of a sneeze began to tickle her. Dropping the phone onto the couch cushion so any future buzzing sounds would ring less violently than they had against the coffee table, she switched her TV on and pulled her blanket over herself, snuggling into it.

A few minutes into the show, it dawned on her how little she was paying attention to it. Instead, she kept stealing glances at her phone, sitting next to her on the couch. Why did she put it there? Was some part of her expecting more of these bogus texts to keep barreling in? She wondered.

She rubbed her tired eyes and blinked, struggling to maintain focus on the program on her TV’s screen in front of her. Pulling up her blanket until it covered the lower half of her face like a scarf gave her a little bit of comfort. Inspired by the Victorian-themed horror series she watched, it made her imagine another world or life in which she was a kick-ass huntress like the one in the red scarf on-screen, fighting weird creatures and demons in the foggy streets.

A split second before she even realized it, a clipped gasp escaped her mouth when the phone buzzed again. It indeed sounded less violent as it shook rapidly against the soft cushion, but its volume suffered little from the phone’s transition from coffee table to couch.

The show on TV flashed along, but she only saw from the corner of her eye how their costumed figures moved. They talked in the show, but her focus on the phone’s screen rendered the dialogue into unintelligible background mumbling.

“the stuff animals r moving,” said the text on the lock screen. Unknown number. Another message followed right after, saying “im scared”

She unwrapped a hand from the human burrito that she was in her warm blanket, and reached out to her phone. Her hand trembled. It took her fingers so long to reach the device that the phone’s screen went black again.

A sense of cottonmouth took over. She swallowed emptily, as if that would help untie the knot that her stomach had just turned into.

She almost dropped the phone when it vibrated again in her hands as another text message arrived.

"they wont listen to me,” the follow-up said. And then a fourth message, reading, “but their telling me to find sum scissors!!”

She quickly blocked this number as well. And then she really tried to pry her attention away from her phone and focus on the show on TV, but it was just shifting figures and blurs of backgrounds and random lines being spouted and none of it registered in her mind. Her mind raced in between wondering how many people might be pranking her at the same time and quelling pangs of guilt over not responding to what might be an actual emergency.

However, she had never set the phone down and it vibrated again, this time in her palm. The sound was much more muted but the buzz of it wandered down her arm like a jolt of electric energy.

Her heart raced to the pace of a million beats a minute and she turned the phone ever so slightly to see the message she had received this time.

“You gotta call the cops, someone is lurking around granny’s grace,” said the message. From yet another unknown number.

She blinked and began to piece things together. Through the thin fog of a haze in her mind from the buzz, sifting through the pings of paranoia accompanying her every thought, she began to form a clear explanation: she was being targeted. Some dumb jerks, whether she knew them or not, were harassing her. It had to be easy for someone with the technical savvy to keep spamming her with different spoofed numbers, right?

“Fuck off,” she replied in a text message. “I’m calling the cops alright,” she added in another message, typing it out with tremendous speed and fury.

“*grave,” came an immediate response, impossibly being a reaction to her own—a correction of a typo in the first one. Then another anonymous text that read, “This is creepy af.”

She groaned in frustration and blocked this number as well.

And then she did what she now thought she should have done several texts ago. She dialed 911 on her phone and let it ring.

Someone picked up and answered, “911, do you need police, fire or medical assistance?”

“Police, please,” she replied to the feminine voice on the other end of the line. The calm tone on the other end gave her a brief respite, a trace of relief.

“What’s the address?”

“It’s, um,” she frowned and stashed the weed baggy in the pocket of her trainer pants as if that helped hide anything. “I don’t think that’s needed, uh, it’s not about something happening here, it’s about harassment calls to my cell.”

“We still need your address for the records. And you are at home right now?”

Answering in the affirmative, she then stammered through the entire address of her apartment building and gave her name. She gulped again, licking her lips as the sensation of thirst and cottonmouth kicked into overdrive.

“Alright ma'am. What is the emergency?”

“I am getting a lot of texts from a lot of different unknown numbers, and I keep blocking them, but I keep getting more and more.”

She must have sounded like a crazy person. Or paranoid. Or panicked, even. She was now scared of the cops arresting her, though.

“But there is nothing actually happening at your home right now?”

“Uh, no. Isn’t there, like, something you can do remotely by just having my phone number or whatever? Like cybercrime or whatever?”

The operator on the other end paused before giving an answer to that, “I am not clear on how to handle this, but please give me a second.”

“Okay,” she said to the operator.

The call went silent. Her phone buzzed in her hand, vibrating against her ear. She dared not check what message she might have received this time.

“Alright, help is on the way. A police officer has been dispatched to your address. I just have a few more questions, okay?”

She bit her lip, getting more nervous at the thought of cops showing up after she had smoked some weed.

“Uhuh. Uh, wait, you know what? I don’t think this is necessary. I think I can just contact my phone provider and sort this out on my own, thanks, bye,” she said with the words cascading out in a nervous stream. She hung up right away and started swearing in a hushed tone while pacing back and forth in her living room.

With hasty moves, she quickly hid the drugs and anything that might suggest her habits.

Her phone buzzed again, but she had dropped it onto the sofa, display facing down. The thin line of glowing light shone out from underneath it, but she could only imagine what creepy text message she had received this time.

The flashing of blue and red lights outside her apartment window grabbed her attention and made her swear again, cursing how quickly time flew by whenever she was high. A glance outside the balcony window confirmed that a patrol car without blaring sirens had pulled up and parked in front of her block. The lights on the car died off and a silhouette of a figure got out of the driver’s side, slammed the door shut, and entered her building.

She rushed into the bathroom and sprayed on some deodorant and perfume. She quickly gulped up some mouthwash and gargled it before spitting it out, and no second too soon.

Someone rang her doorbell. She washed her hands and face, scrubbing them down, taking her time to be thorough and make sure she got any sort of yellow discoloration or weed residue off and out from underneath her fingernails.

Then the pounding began. Someone just hammering away at her apartment door with their fist, slamming against it and causing a deep baritone thunder to ring out throughout her humble home, making her heart drop down into her pants. She scurried over to the front door and the pounding stopped with the same abruptness as it had begun.

Peering through the spy hole, what she saw defied every expectation. She had expected someone dressed in a police officer’s uniform and an according badge. Instead, she looked at someone dressed in a firefighter’s attire, holding a fire axe in one hand.

She had expected a man to be standing there, but what greeted her was something that only looked like a man at first glance, save for one small detail. Where his eyes should have been were just hollow sockets. Blackened around the edges as if something had scorched and burnt the jelly of the eyeballs right out. She stared into the void of those eye sockets and saw something move inside there, like worms, or a roiling mass of flesh and teeth.

Her stomach churned and she stumbled away from the door. The door bounced in its hinges when the strange visitor began pounding against it again. He—or it?—began ringing the doorbell at the same time, slamming against the door with vigorous force.

She whimpered and ran to her couch to get her phone.

Just in the process of unlocking it, she saw some of the messages she had received in the meanwhile.

The top one read, “This shit is beige or brown and it sticks like glue. Tf r u?”

Unknown number.

“im not goin crazy theres whispers in the walls,” said another text message.

Unknown number.

Her brain barely grasped the content because she quickly thumbed through to her contacts to call a friend. But the sight of her contact list confused her. The thundering punches against her front door in the background compounded her confusion, distracting her and making her heart get in sync, adding to her terror.

Some sort of glitch had jumbled up all the names and numbers in her contact list. No matter how far down she scrolled, all she could see were strings of random characters and numbers all over the place.

A sudden incoming message made her fumble her grip on the phone, causing it to bounce between her hands and giving her just enough time to glimpse the text before she could focus on the useless contact list again.

“Someone’s right outside my bedroom, you need to help me,” said the text.

She swiped it away and tapped one of the entries from her contact list—any one, it did not matter which one—and initiated a call.

It rang a few times. The not-officer-fireman-with-no-eyes outside continued to hammer against the door. Then he stopped. The phone rang some more. The not-man outside started striking the door now. She knew how, too: not with his fists, but with his axe.

Whomsoever the number belonged to that she had blindly called, that person picked up.

Her voice trembled even more violently than her body now when she immediately started pleading, “Help, some crazy person is trying to—”

Screeching. She yanked the phone away from her ear. The device emitted obnoxious static and ear-piercing screeching noises. Axe strike after axe strike landed against the outside of her door. Only wasting some seconds to stare at her phone in terror and with tears welling up in her eyes, she tapped the screen to hang up the call.

Wood splintered as the axe’s head breached the front door.

She scrambled and almost tripped over her coffee table as she charged into the kitchen to find a knife. She rifled through the drawer until she gripped the biggest one. The door splintered some more, with a beam of light from the hallway outside pouring in through the hole that this evil thing had created.

As if it would help at all, she held her breath and her heart raced, blood rushed in her ears. Reality and survival instincts set in and some part of her knew that she had no chance and that this psycho-monster—whatever it was—was going to murder her.

She furiously started typing a message to one of the random numbers on her list.

First, she sent her address. A gloved fist broke through the hole of her door, splayed its fingers, and pawed blindly at the locks. When it found purchase, it removed first the chain, and then twisted the lock. Clickety-clack. She tapped away one-handed, writing a second message. The doorknob twisted.

“Send help. Dont call the cops. Cop dressed like fireman, eye sockets are hollow and have teeth—”

The front door swung open and the heavy boots stomped in as the creature entered.

Without finishing it, she sent the message.

It did not even look at her, for it had no eyes—it sensed her blood and soul. It approached with a raised axe. Running on the intelligence of its sinister hive-mind, the creature acted without hesitation and without remorse. Everything fell into place, like the axe into the skull. The confusion was flawless, like the terror in this victim’s face. The carnage would be spectacular, just like her agonized screams, and her knife drawing blood from the chest of this useless vessel to no effect just confirmed what the hive-mind already knew.

This invasion would succeed.

—Submitted by Wratts

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weshallneverrevolt · 5 years

Text

B&C Behind the Scenes: Retro Video Capture On a Budget

People who follow Bread and Circuses know that the blog is dedicated almost entirely to pop culture analysis. But people who are my friends also know that I’m a huge geek for computer hardware. So today, you’ll get you a man who can do both. This is my first behind the scenes feature, where I talk about crazy learning experiences in being a small-time YouTuber. This piece will be very technical, so I don’t blame you for skipping it.

The next project for Bread and Circuses is a full documentary and retrospective on Final Fantasy IX (2000, PlayStation), maybe the most important game in my life and one of the best RPGs ever made. Due to the scope of the video, I’m replaying all the original Final Fantasy games for the original PlayStation to jog my memory and give context for the less researchy parts. I am doing this on original hardware and a tube TV, without resorting to emulation or the re-releases. And I’ll be recording the entire game.

The choice for original hardware came for a few reasons. For one, the newer ports of Final Fantasy games are…mixed, at best. IX’s updated ports feature higher quality models and cutscenes, but the backgrounds are blurry, the new fonts and interface are hideous, and the overall “feel” of the original game is somewhat lost. As inspiration for writing the script, I also want the nostalgic experience of how I first experienced the game.

With that being said, I had a major hurdle to overcome: how do I record 50+ hours of gameplay from a 1995 console?

Step 1: Capture Setup

Most game capture these days is done in two ways: via the device playing the game, or via a capture card. The first method is quite easy on PC: you just fire up Open Broadcaster Suite, use a quick setup guide and you’re good to go. This is what I’ve done for all my videos thus far.

For modern consoles, you can use an HDMI capture card like the Elgato HD60. The cards aren’t exactly cheap, but they’re affordable enough for most streamers and let’s players.

But there’s one problem: both the original PlayStation and PlayStation 2 do not have HDMI output. The early model PS3s can play PS1 games and have native HDMI, but they are rare, expensive, and often break.

While you can buy HDMI adapters for the OG PlayStation, they are spotty in quality and present yet another challenge: such adapters often introduce noticeable input lag. Though FFIX is not a fast-paced game, the lag is still bothersome. They also don’t work with my tube TV, which is critical for my desired creative process.

That leaves me with two capture options: composite or S-Video. Composite video is the little yellow guy you used to plug into your tube TV. It looks decent on those, but when captured digitally, the blurriness and drab colors are immediately apparent. It’s for this reason that I purchased S-video cables; without going into boring technical detail, S-Video delivers far richer colors. Because the adapter includes both, I can output to my TV and computer at the same time with no additional equipment!

Speaking of adapters, the PS2 also has the option to output component video, arguably the best analog video available. While capture solutions exist for component video, my tube TV does not accept it. So to use component, I would need a system of complicated adapters and converters to both record on my computer and play on my TV at the same time. It’s too much hassle for not enough results.

So instead, I did some research and bought this little guy: the Hauppauge USB Live-2. There are many adapters like it, but Hauppauge has brand recognition in this area. This adapter also uses 4:2:2 chroma subsampling, meaning that it sacrifices very little in color depth compared to some cheaper models. It plugs into any USB port.

My tube TV only supports mono sound, which means it only needs one audio cable. I hooked up the left channel (white cable) to my TV, and the right channel (red cable) to my capture card. When outputting FFIX in mono mode, both devices receive the same sounds, and the music doesn’t suffer from missing stereo effects. Perfection.

Step 2: PS1 or PS2?

So as most people know, the PlayStation 2 is backwards compatible with original PlayStation games. The method by which this is done, however, differs based on the model.

Early PS2s have an actual PS1 processor on their motherboard. For the PS2 it’s used for sound and input/output, but when playing a PS1 game this CPU is instead, providing nearly perfect PS1 support. Sony actually did the same thing with the first PS3, but soon realized it was very expensive and scrapped it.

For later models of the PS2 – the slimlines – Sony switched to software emulation to save costs and space. The software emulation works very well, but it is just that: emulation. It is very rare for emulators to be literally perfect replications of the original experience, and Sony’s for the PS2 – called POPS – is not 100% accurate. I also don’t have a slim, so there’s that.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I first dug out my old PlayStation 1, purchased new in 1998. While the system itself still works shockingly well (despite some skipping during movies), I quickly ran into a problem: the PS1 outputs at 240p. For the uninitiated, video nomenclature like 240p refers to the number of lines in the image along with the scan type. So 240p means there are 240 lines of pixels in the image, and they are updated progressively, meaning all at once.

Older tube TVs can accept 240p input, but output it in interlaced form. This means that the TV quickly updates every other line of the image, rather than the entire image at once. It works pretty good for this type of TV, but on a modern monitor introduces some problems…which I’ll get to in a bit.

Image from dummies.com. Fitting.

However, this was a problem for me because my new capture card did not accept 240p input. I tried countless times to get it to accept PS1 video, and it just didn’t work. However, I noticed that my PS2 did. That’s because the PS2 outputs by default at 480i, an interlaced mode that my capture card accepted.

So I opted to use my “fat” PS2 instead, which is a SCPH-30001 model, purchased new in 2001. It includes the original PlayStation chip, and – to my enormous surprise – read my original Final Fantasy IX CDs perfectly. Because the PS2 accepts PS1 controllers and PS1 memory cards, it was an almost flawless version of the original PS1 experience. Awesome!

Step 3: Recording

With setup out of the way, I got to the final step of the project: actually recording digital video.

I use Open Broadcaster Software (OBS) for all my video and streaming projects. It’s free, powerful, and pretty fast. My capture device was immediately detected by OBS, but there was one immediate problem.

Remember the interlacing I mentioned earlier? When you display interlaced video on a progressive screen – AKA any modern flat-panel monitor – you get a horribly ugly effect where the video seems to be ripping itself apart. This is called combing, and it sucks. Thankfully, OBS supports native deinterlacing, so I was able to fix it right up.

That being said, let’s break down the different parts of recording with OBS:

Resolution: the PS2 outputs in 720x480 pixels, but my videos are at 1920x1080. However, recording at 1080p requires more hardware power, so I get more definition at the expense of less overall quality. I chose instead to record at 720p, which is closer to the PS2’s native resolution and allows me to capture better colors with less blur.

Framerate: this is where things got interesting. I master all of my videos at 60 frames per second. Very, very few PS1/2 games (FFIX included) hit 60fps, because the hardware of the time just wasn’t capable of rendering graphics that fast. However, they do output at a 60 hertz refresh rate, meaning that the image updates 60 times per second even if the console doesn’t actually produce new frames that fast. So if you record at under 60fps, you get noticeable judder in your footage. That being said, 60fps was a requirement.

Encoding: I wanted to get the highest possible quality picture. My computer has a Ryzen 5 1600 processor – a capable mid-range CPU – and is excellent at software video encoding. I used the OBS x264 encoder running at medium quality. Any higher than medium and I started experiencing skipping footage as my CPU went to 100% utilization. I gotta admit, it’s pretty cool hearing my computer fans kick into overdrive as the CPU is pushed to its limits.

Bitrate: I’m recording a lot of footage here, so while I needed high quality, I also have to keep storage limitations in mind. I did some experimenting and decided on a bitrate of 9000kbps, still above YouTube quality while also saving space. This also means that each hour of footage is about 4GB; given that FFIX is about 40 hours long, that means roughly 160GB of footage for the game. Not bad, considering.

Deinterlacing: OBS presents a slew of options for deinterlacing your footage, and the differences can be tough to spot. The only option that gave me zero trouble – no juddering or excessive blur – was Yasif 2x. I also increased the brightness and saturation to make up for some of the analog video deficiencies.

I’ve included sample footage below, along with pictures of my setup. If you’re an aspiring retro YouTuber or streamer, feel free to PM me with any questions. This stuff was kinda intimidating to figure out and I’m happy to help!

Until then, I’ll be in Gaia. Or Terra, once I hit Disc 3.

Jon

Full Setup

Cable Routing Detail

The TV inputs run through this old AV hub I dug up from my teenage bedroom. This lets me run the cables behind my desk to keep things a bit neater. I say a bit because you can still see the cables back there, but that’s showbiz, baby.

Sample Footage

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