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pizzazz-party · 3 years ago

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Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

In the world of Ring Fit Adventure, there exist monsters, ghosts, cyborgs, robots, gods, a curious array of animals, human beings of enormous size…and Ring. Ring—a creature so entirely unique, he fails to fit into any of those categories.

Everyone has their own idea as to what Ring is, and as to where he came from. So here’s mine.

(Spoilers for the end of the main storyline. Various postgame dialogue spoilers beyond that.)

If we’re going to talk about where Ring might have come from, it makes sense to look for clues in what he’s presented as. Physically, and subtextually. So let’s take it from the top.

Stepping away from the confines of the game, Ring’s shape is based off a Pilates ring, a piece of exercise equipment who’s history dates back to nearly a century ago, as of the game’s release. It was invented to help rehabilitate wounded soldiers through physical therapy following World War I. Design-wise, though…Ring’s face draws heavy inspiration from depictions of Ancient Inca art. Specifically, he looks a lot like the figure atop this ceremonial tumi knife.

The prominent nose. The familiar jawline. A headpiece bisecting the brow. The blue commonly set into the eyes of the art. The ears—heavy earrings were unisex among the Inca nobility, resulting in long, stretched lobes. But most importantly—the statue is gold. And in the ancient Inca Empire, gold was revered as being sweat from the very sun itself. Metal nowadays is often associated with machinery, with invention. But raw metal has always been a fruit of the earth, as natural as any wood or leaf. The Inca took it a step further. They thought of gold as mystical.

Likewise, Ring’s design is meant to invoke these traits. Despite being made of metal, Ring visibly lacks gears or wiring or nozzles or hatches. His mouth may have a hinge and his flaming little hair piece may spin around. But in terms of “build,” Ring (the magical metal donut) has more in common with Pinocchio (the magical wooden puppet), than with an actual machine.

On a surface level, Ring really is best described as a “magical creature.” He’s obviously not made of flesh and blood. But he’s alive in a way that the closest comparison—sentient robots—just aren’t. Ring sweats, breathes, sleeps, eats. He ages. His metal face flexes and grows and shrinks as he speaks. Ring wields exercise energy, much in the same way that humans do, and more. He crafts, enhances, and stores things with it. Its raw essence flows through him like a fiery kind of lifeblood.

Ring’s not a human or a cyborg. He’s not a monster or a ghost or an animal. He’s made of metal like a robot, and that’s about it. And while Ring may (presumably) have the long life of a god, he lacks everything else. Right down to the proper shape and abilities. Ring, whatever the specifics, is a “magical creature” that exists in a class of his own. We never ever meet another being quite like him.

…At least. That’s what I used to think.

———

The thing with Ring is, it’s hard to tell whether he’s actively omitting facts or just forgetting them. He’s got a terrible memory. But he also as good as lies to us in the beginning, pretending as though Dragaux’s just some enemy to him.

So here is what I understand.

We meet Ring, and he and Dragaux are positioned as these perfect opposites, as perfect enemies. Ring builds others up, and Dragaux tears them down. Dragaux is flashy, an eyesore, the purple to Ring’s yellow, and yet he steals the stage every time. He’s a jerk, but he’s Ring’s jerk. We show up to every boss fight because we are invested in his story, his opinions, his downward spiral.

And that’s our first mistake, really. Because Dragaux’s accent color isn’t purple, it’s pink. Because Dragaux’s opposite isn’t Ring, it’s Trainee. And Ring’s real foil was never Dragaux, but Dark Influence itself.

———

Have you ever thought about how strange it is, this particular parasite. From a narrative standpoint, I mean. As much as it’s referred to as “Dragaux’s influence” or “Dragaux’s aura,” Dragaux is only its latest meal, not its source. And that meal has been lasting anywhere from decades to a century, at least. Dark Influence is, by nature, negativity incarnate. It could be as old as the hills. Older, maybe.

Dark Influence is voiceless, faceless. A parasite composed of pure negative exercise energy, it can theoretically exist on its own. But it thrives best when entrenched in the heart of a host. Its host—a physical creature that, once ensnared, starts exhibiting traits that belong to the Influence: like great swathes of flame in its signature color.

Does that not sound. Familiar.

Because Ring and Dark Influence? Fulfill eerily similar roles, in regards to their syncing partners.

Both of them harness their partner’s exercise energy. Both of them augment the abilities of their partner. But unlike Ring, who’s always actively helping Trainee in precise and creative ways…Dark Influence doesn’t care. I’m not sure if it can give a care about anything that doesn’t include “amassing power” and “spreading itself.” (And I think those are just instincts. I’ve yet to see proof that this thing has anything approaching a complex personality.) But whether or not it cares about Dragaux, it’s fully anchored within his body. It shares its strength with him because there’s nowhere else to store it.

Because unlike Ring, Dark Influence lacks a physical body of its own.

And that thought. How it “lacks” a body. Just sort of stuck around in my head. Because it’s funny, isn’t it? That Ring speaks and this thing doesn’t. That Dark Influence, this wildfire, is so strong and potent and infectious while Ring’s inner flames are so small and orderly and self-contained.

And then I started thinking about coins. Isn’t it funny, that they’re shaped like little rings. Isn’t it funny, that they sometimes just. Spring out of the ground.

How does a free-to-play gym turn a profit. How do all of these gyms, turn a profit.

If NPCs canonically collect coins on their travels just like Trainee… If someone isn’t just throwing away buckets of money into the mountains and rivers and skies… if golden little rings can just spring into existence alongside someone as they’re jogging…

What if it’s not a quirk. What if it’s not just a game mechanic.

What if everything—the coins, the EXP medals, the treasure chests with Ring’s face on them—what if they’re all byproducts that occur when a physical place is saturated with high amounts of foot traffic. With high amounts of exercise energy. People in Ring Fit Adventure constantly expel this stuff as they jog or work out or engage in fit battles. They don’t really direct it anywhere after its release. It just kind of gets absorbed into their surroundings. I always assumed that it helped make the land so lush and pretty, but what if it doesn’t stop there. What if, when large quantities of it gather, exercise energy naturally builds up and condenses itself into permanent, physical solids.

And I thought of Ring. Of the coins that are shaped like him. Of the medals that eerily share his face. Of the treasure chests especially, the way they scream and run and flex as though alive. (And I thought about Dragaux, who’s canonically brilliant, and how even his best statues fell short of capturing that same quality of animation.) I thought about how all three of these byproducts are golden. Just. Like. Ring.

Something like “dark” influence should have a natural counterpart. It’s a tale as old as time; perfect opposites, perfect enemies. But we never meet the Influence’s other half, do we? Just Ring.

Ring, our buddy, our pal. Ring, who’s a person in every way that matters, with hope and dreams and insecurities. Ring the “magical creature,” who, despite all of this, has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

———

So here is the heart of my crazy theory.

Ring isn’t “partially” made of energy. He’s all energy, all the way down to his every last piece, whether it flows like a river or shines like a stone. And it could be that a long, long time ago, he existed much in the same way as the Dark Influence we fight in the game: as an unrestrained and formless entity. Not as a ring, but as a bright and brainless swathe of flames.

(Because if Dark Influence is insecurity and self-destruction and decay, balance would dictate its opposite be positivity, self-improvement, rebirth. A dangerously Bright Influence.)

And maybe it was just a natural process that got triggered when the conditions were right. But either way, somehow, someway, this particular Influence reincarnated into a shape that could better interact with people, without overwhelming or eating them. And that most natural shape condensed itself into Ring.

A baby Ring.

———

Even if you don’t buy into the existence of “Bright” Influence, Ring fully being some sort of life energy incarnate answers too many questions. It would explain why Ring is so good at manipulating exercise energy; it’s the most natural extension of himself. It would explain why Ring has the unique ability to sync with people; it’s how he originally used to exist, as life energy drifting in and out of living creatures. It would explain the aging. It would explain why Ring never mentions a parent or creator watching over him during childhood; because he came into this world totally alone. (Baby Ring belonged to no one before he belonged with Baby Drags.)

But Ring’s theoretical past life answers a few more questions. It could explain parts of Ring’s personality, his interests. (His dream of spreading positivity across the land.) It explains why there aren’t ten million Rings floating about, when coins and medals and chests are so relatively common. (Because there’s a key ingredient missing). It actually explains his five special powers. (Because I’m betting Influences have human-related origins. It’s either that, or “live humans being consumed” was part of the “perfect” conditions surrounding Ring’s birth. Which, cringe.) But more than anything, it addresses the sheer power imbalance happening between Ring and Dark Influence right now.

Dark Influence lacks boundaries and spreads itself like a virus, thoughtless and instinctive. Ring’s natural weapon against this thing should be to “infect” it right back. (I would expect some sort of sick light show to dance across Dragaux’s body during battle; yellow flames squaring off against purple.) But it doesn’t work that way. Ring the Person no longer works this way.

If Dark influence is a forest fire, then Ring is a fireplace set behind glass. At their core, these two are both energy. But the modes in which they exist divide them into separate skill sets entirely.

Dark Influence is wildfire of brute strength. It’s got range—in the spatial sense. It can spread to as many secondary hosts as Dragaux directs it to, so long as it’s fed well enough to reach for them. Compared to Ring’s measly one syncing partner, Dark Influence can sink itself into whole regions, can simultaneously feed off of so many people. It doesn’t have outright mind control powers; it’s more subtle than that. But its presence as negativity incarnate naturally works like a magnet to draw out the worst in people. There is nothing it enhances in a person that wasn’t already there, no matter how small the weakness. Coupled with the rush of power it imparts in its vessels, it makes bad decisions feel right. Even to good people. It’s, quite simply, a bad influence. (And then it consumes them.)

But other than that, Dark Influence doesn’t really do much.

Our bud Ring may only be able to light one house at a time, so to speak. But as contained as he is—Ring’s powers are more varied and nuanced, because Ring is more varied and nuanced. He’s always actively (and thoughtfully) applying energy to construct, convert, and amplify. For all its fearsome strength, the only thing Dark Influence can seemingly do on purpose, is feed.

———

(If Ring was once a being like Dark Influence, then that solves the final mystery of synchronization. If Dark Influence “infects” its host by sinking into the body, then Ring syncs with a partner by “planting” a piece of his essence inside them. This is why Trainee’s energy signature changes to mimic Ring’s; because she now carries a part of him in her beating heart. This is why Ring can freely access her energy; because this makes her a part of him now, too.)

———

So. Let’s pretend I’m not crazy. Say that all of these little details I’ve collected were intentionally laid out by the game developers. Say I’m correct, and that Ring really is, essentially, the child of Dark Influence’s greatest natural enemy.

The real question is: how self aware is Ring about all of this.

Because unfortunately, Ring not knowing his own backstory could be pretty on-brand for him. I love Ring, but from his point of view, it really could be that he just appeared one day, somehow—as an entirely clean slate. “Dark” or “bright,” these entities are brainless. Literally. No body means no brain. They can’t store memories, so they don’t have memories. Just energy.

Ring must know that he’s made from energy, too. He might even think of himself as one very lucky byproduct. But if this is really what Ring used to be (if there’s even a shadow of a chance that his predecessor used to eat people), then he might not know the full extent of his own story.

And maybe that’s for the best. I can’t imagine him choosing to get close to people otherwise. He loves people, cares so much about every single silly soul that he meets.

This would hurt him.

———

Whatever Ring’s origins may be, whatever he might have once been (if he’s ever been anything else at all)… I do know one thing. And it’s that I prefer him prefer him just the way he is.

Weird comments about my sweat aside, I wouldn’t have him any other way.

———

TL;DR: Our bud Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with any other creature in all of Ring Fit.

If a flaming entity of negative energy can exist, then why not one made of positive energy? If positive energy condenses into permanent solids naturally and often…if Ring is made of positive energy…if Ring has more in common with Dark Influence than with anything else in this game…

Who’s to say that Ring himself, wasn’t once a flaming yellow mass of energy.

———

This marks the end. I could run wild with all the implications this theory leaves in its wake. But I’ve made my point. I’ve found every answer I was looking for. And they may not have been the answers I was expecting (or even wanting), but they’ve satisfied me all the same.

I’m done. Believe what you will.

Thanks for reading, and for sticking with me all this way. It’s been real.

DISCLAIMER: My name is Pizzazz and I take this game way too seriously. This is all for fun! At the time of this post, I am on World 36 of the post game. I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable.

RING ANALYSIS

Part 1: Synchronizing—How it Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

#read at your own risk #ring fit adventure #pizzazz post #ring #Nintendo #dark influence #pizzazz meta #part 3

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aquaticstyles · 4 years ago

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unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

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missredherring · 3 years ago

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Give Me Strength

F!Lesbian!Max Lord x F!Bi!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kissing.

A/N: Happy Pride, y’all! This Writer Wednesday is brought to you by @autumnleaves1991-blog. Also thanks to @absurdthirst for the gender-bending idea. This became a lot easier to write once I decided to do that, and now I love Maxine Lord? I might try and keep with her for the rest of the month, depending on how the prompts hit me.

This is a modern setting because I’m not well versed enough in the LGBTQIA+ history of the 80s.

Summary: Maxine Lord attends her first Pride parade with her girlfriend.

There had been moments in her life when Max had been more nervous than she was right now. In the court hearing, just before the judge granted her full custody of Alistair, she’d felt like she could barely breathe. When the BlackGold scandal hit the media and everything was thrown out in the open, her stomach had been in knots for weeks and she’d lost nine pounds from the stress alone.

Now, adrift in a sea of people in bright colors with the music and the cheers rattling her bones, she felt nervous again. Her hands shake a little and she can feel the sheen of sweat starting on her forehead and beneath her stomach and breasts, but she’s ok. She just needs to remind herself that she’s ok.

Max is ok because you’re holding her hand, leading them through the crowd to a place where they can see some of the parade as it passes by. You turn to her when they get to the gap you’d spotted. The tri-colored flag painted on your cheek had dried in the sunlight and it cracked when you grinned.

The sight made her heart flutter. How radiant your face looked, how happy you were to be surrounded by people who felt the same joy in being able to express themselves to the fullest.

There was also the memory of you and Alistair in the bathroom that morning. He’d been upset that he wasn’t allowed to come along, not understanding just how crowded it would be and that sometimes adults wanted to celebrate things with other adults. When he was older, and if he still wanted to, he could join them. Max had promised him and Alistair knew he could trust the promises his mother made now.

You had entered the bathroom to apply your make up and asked Alistair if he’d like to help. He perked up and soon was welding a brush over saturated with pink, purple, and blue paint.

The lines were uneven but you thanked him earnestly, kissing his cheek and turning to Max, hesitating over the small pots of paints.

“Do you want one?” Before she could respond you rushed on, always quick to give her and out, another option so she wouldn’t feel trapped. You had always been so careful not to pressure her. “I know you’ve seen pride parades before and how loud people can get with how they dress up, but I want you to be comfortable.”

You both knew how much of a step it was that Max had agreed to go at all. The anxiety that had been in the back of her throat crept up then, the idea of being recognized publicly again and what kind of unwanted attention it could bring to this miraculous life she’d somehow cobbled together out of the ruins of her old one.

But Max wanted to be strong. She wanted to be confident in herself; she remembered the feeling, even though she knew it had just been a façade before. What better opportunity to be proud in who she was and who she loved than this? So she’d selected the appropriate colors and asked Alistair to apply the stripes to her cheeks as well. His tongue had been clamped between his lips with how hard he’d been concentrating.

You gave her all of your attention now. The focus of it was heavy and familiar, and it helped to temper the anxiety welling up again amongst the crowd. Your presence at her side was what had gotten her through years of bad choices that had started with marrying a man just like her father.

Max’s hand was sweating, but you weren’t pulling away. Instead you tugged her closer until you bumped together and this close she could see the excited glitter in your eyes. You leaned in, you had to be heard over the noise surrounding you, and said, “Kiss me like you mean it.”

The lump in her throat wouldn’t go away as she swallowed and the thoughts came so fast she was dizzy with it. Kiss you? She always wanted to. But they were surrounded by so many people, and there were so many cameras. It would be easy to be identified, vilified all over again as people remembered only the gory details of the worst moment of her life instead of all the struggles that lead up to it.

You were standing there in front of her, the look in your eyes fading down to insecurity and Max hated to see it there. Hated that she had put it there. You opened your mouth to take it back, she knew you were going to wave it away, say it was ok if Max didn’t want to. You were always so careful with her, but never with yourself. Before you could get a word out Max cradled your face and kissed you. Small sucking pecks that pulled at your lips and made room for her to slide hers between them.

She kissed you and the roar of the crowd was muffled by how loud her heart was beating. Max wanted to be strong for you. Like how she was learning to be strong for Alistair. Like how she was learning to be strong for herself.

#Writer Wednesday #F!Max Lord x F!Reader #Max Lord x Female Reader #gender bend #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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polandspringz · 4 years ago

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MC helping a sad mammon by watering plants, going on walks, having karaoke parties to help him feel better ♥ :3

Here you go! It’s a short drabble so the whole fic is posted below, but the AO3 version will be linked in the notes.

Title: Summer Wars

“Hey, hey! Be careful with my sleeve! This is a leather jacket, I don’t want you ruining it,” Mammon complained even as he continued to let them tug him along. MC had pinched the cuff of his jacket with their fingers and had been dragging him all the way from the living room to the middle of the gardens. The sky was a dark purple tinged with reds and pinks at the horizon, the light from the south of the kingdom staining the artificial sky with more colors than it normally displayed. The stars were twinkling a bright white overhead instead of fading into the oppressive background, and it left the grounds of the House of Lamentation in an unusually vibrant twilight that let Mammon see everything clearer than he had in days.

“Sorry, sorry,” MC laughed apologetically but did not take their hand away, “But I wanted to show you something! You’ve been holed up inside for too long. I’ve already prepared everything! Even the watering cans!”

“Watering cans?” He cocked an eyebrow and stumbled as they tugged him harder accidentally. They were hurrying along the path, ducking underneath the vinecovered arbors towards the orchard on the back of the grounds, leading him deeper and deeper into the gardens that he had long since forgotten who tended to.

They reached a small flower bed, full of small sprouts with baby petals beginning to form around buds. They were planted in two neat rows in front of the azaleas and roses, or at least the plants that resembled the azaleas and roses of the human world. Mammon had never paid much attention to flowers and plants once they arrived in the Devildom. There had never been much to look at, afterall. He didn’t think there was much that could grow in a place without sunlight.

But somehow, they grew after all.

“Look!” MC let go of his sleeve, and for a moment Mammon embarrassed himself when he realized how his hand followed after them. He forced it back down to swing at his side idly as MC walked over to a pile of gardening supplies that had been set to the left of the flowers, “I got so much stuff! We can start by watering these, and then I prepared another bed that you can select the seeds for! See?”

They held up an assortment of tiny, paper pouches decorated with the names of devilish plants, spread like a deck of cards in front of their smiling face. It was infectious, and Mammon couldn’t help smiling as well when he saw it. He marched on over to them and rustled their hair, snatching one of the seed pouches from them.

“Gardening was never something I was good at. Always hated getting dirt under my nails, but for you, I’ll make an exception. What do we got here?”

The two of them were soaked and mud covered. At some point, the watering cans were empty, and so MC went to drag the hose out from where it was wrapped up by the side of the house. When they came back and started to refill the bulky watering cans, Mammon silently crept up to their side, pouncing to grab the hose and cover the stream of water with his thumb making it spray everywhere. MC screeched as Mammon wrestled control of the hose, completely turning it on them and raining a shower down until MC was saturated in water. Cold and with renewed vigor, once he had lowered the weapon they came sprinting back at him, sending the hose into a frenzy as water flew everywhere.

Mammon’s back hit the ground and MC was merciful and gave him enough time to throw his jacket to the wayside before they jumped him and sought retribution. He gave them a few seconds of fun before he wrapped an arm around their waist, and flipped the two of them over. The hose was knocked away, bubbling water into the grass that slowly formed rivers that bled underneath their heads, and while mud was getting in MC’s hair and under Mammon’s nails as he ran his fingers through it. They were both soaked to the bone but they were laughing, their chest vibrating against one another as they buzzed with laughter and joy as they bumped foreheads and giggled like children.

Their hands slowly found one another again, weaving together beside their heads as they laid next to the flower beds and whispered to each other, secrets and songs and pinky promises that Mammon knew they would never break.

Eventually, one of them would need to get up and shut the hose off, and eventually their clothes would be too muddy and sticky and heavy with water for it to be comfortable, but for now they were together in their own warmth and they were happy.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #my writing #writing #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me masters #ask poland

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collisiondiscourse · 4 years ago

Text

my art process: a simple(ish) guide to how i (kinda) do things

okay!! so, i said i was gonna post my art process after i finished doing the danny phantom piece so... here it is! the drawing i used for a step by step process explanation is actually... simpler? less clunky than how i usually do things. i must preface this entire post by saying that i am fully self-taught for anything to do with art so if there are some things here that are exceeding no-nos... very sorry OOPS

The drawing took an estimated 4 hours total and for software I used FireAlpaca. My tablet is One by Wacom (aka the tiny ass red one). Without further ado... here’s my narrated guide on how i kind of do art!

1. Sketch Layers

sketches, are ofc, one of the fundamental steps in art. Some artists do them differently, whether they do color blocking/splotches first or silhouettes or your standard messy-lineart-before-the-actual-lineart

i personally do 2-3 different lineart/sketch layers, each layer specializing in different aspects. i took this technique from julia lepetit, a host from the drawfee show--a channel that i really recommend watching if youre an artist, like art, or just generally like having fun background noise while you work on something because... untreated adhd lol

this is the first sketch layer! i color coded them for reference and i use the yellow sketch layer to figure out poses. i use this gesture sketch layer to figure out where i want limbs to go and how i want the body to twist.

after i figure out the posing, i move on to my second sketch layer. the green layer is my refined sketch layer where i figure out the form and anatomy of the sketch. this is also where i start planning how expressions, special costume bits, and hands work!!

the red layer is my last and final sketch layer. technically, the red layer sometimes also doubles as my final lineart! the reason why i do this final step instead of doing the final lineart simply is so i can work on details of the costume. i end up refining certain portions, or even stretching/free transforming the whole body.

The red helps with the refinement of the drawing bc the ink being a color that isnt black kinda,,,, tricks my brain into not believing that its all permanent. its easier for me to go back and erase/change some parts when my brain doesnt think that everythings final. when im finished, i simply go back and change the color of the lineart to black with the protect alpha function.

this is how the final lineart looks! be sure to close the lineart (aka make sure that everythings connected) so that the bucket tool can work and make your life 2000% easier.

2. Coloring

my coloring process is kind of... a mess LMAO its super dependent on how i feel like coloring on that day, but this is the usual method i use when im not thinking too much about it.

first are the flats! i use the magic wand tool to select all the areas around the lineart and reverse the selection so that all the areas inside your lineart is selected. color it with a base color, turn on protect alpha, and begin chunking in all the colors.

all of the flats excluding the pupils, background, ectoplasm rings, and danny phantom logo are on one layer. once that is done, we move on to shading!

for shading, i use a combination of the normal pen tool and the airbrush tool to smooth out the edges of the cell shading. since all the flats are on one layer, i simply set this one to clipping mask so that i dont have to worry about coloring within the lines. I only use one color really for shading (here, i used purple) and then protect alpha and add splotches of other colors (pink, orange) in relevant areas.

once i finish doing that, i set the layer to multiply and adjust the opacity so that it looks softer and more attuned to the colors of the actual piece

its at this point that i fiddle with the hue/saturation/brightness settings on the flat color layers to my taste, seeing what works and what doesnt.

i then lightly go over the piece with a bright color (very very very light cyan) and put focus on the areas i think should glow like his freckles, eyes, and ectoplasm rings from where he’s coming out of a wall.

i rlly rlly love layer effects, so i set that one to add and again adjust the opacity to how i want it to look.

3. Finishing Touches

...yeah i know it looks like a hot mess but hear me out.

on a new layer, make a CRAP TON OF GEOMETRIC SHAPES. ALL OF THEM IN NEON OR PASTEL. i get comments about my coloring methods sometimes and honestly im pretty sure its all due to this step. i make all these goddamn weird shapes, colored according to levels of lighting (yellow in lighter areas, turquoise in areas affected by the glow, purple in shaded areas etc. etc.) and also clip this layer.

i then set the layer effect to either hue, overlay, or add and set its opacity really low to make it unobvious and cleaner to look at. this is a method that i learned from tumblr user zephyrine-gale who is... exceedingly talented and pulls this off way better than i can WKSDJSKKS

after that... ur basically done!! i add a few more layers like the noise layer for extra texture and sometimes some very light gradients (usually yellow to purple bc of something something color theory)--but after that, the piece is basically finished!

thanks for sticking around and reading this monstrous thing!! i might do more posts like this in the future, so who knows?

if you enjoyed this tutorial, want to support me and my art, or just wish for a way to pay for me to shut up... you can tip me 3 dollars or commission me here at ko-fi

(also reblogs are much appreciated. thanks <3)

#codi.png #codi gives advice #artists on tumblr #art #art tutorials #art process

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justlightlysedated · 4 years ago

Text

tearing through the pages and the ink (everything is grey)

a soulmate au where colors fade to black and white when your soulmate is in danger of dying and only come back when they're safe; six times the colors start to fade

for @bestillmyslashyheart 🥰❤

one.

Max had already bundled Isobel into his car and left after Michael had snapped that he was fine for about ten minutes, when Michael finally pushed himself away from where he'd been leaning against the side of the truck.

His hand was throbbing in time to his pulse pounding in his temples, and he's been trying to psych himself up to drive, but he knows that he should leave soon, before someone caught sight of the flames and reported it.

He inhales deeply and moves to open the truck door, when the blue color of his truck goes dimmer and dimmer, and then everything flashes black and white and grey for one terrifying second too long, and then the colors all flood back, almost like he'd been drowning and had inhaled that first sweet gasp of air.

Michael blinks a little dazedly, and then shakes his head, and opens the truck door, putting it out of his mind.

He doesn't think about it again until days later when he finally gets Alex alone, and traps him against the side of his truck with his hips and then kisses him like he'll die if he doesn't.

Alex makes low intoxicating sounds, and Michael just wants to lose himself in Alex and forget about the rest of the world.

He's pulling down the ridiculous black with white skull pattern scarf that Alex was wearing, and the easy laughter dies in his mouth as he sees the fading finger shaped bruises wrapped around Alex's neck.

He wants to ask what happened, and wants to tell him that he thinks they might be soulmates, but he thinks that Alex might already know.

Instead of saying any of that, Michael leans in and kisses one of the marks and Alex's fingers go tight in his hair.

two.

The second the colors start to fade out, Alex is rushing to the bathroom.

He locks himself in a stall, and pulls his phone out of his pocket and immediately calls Michael.

He doesn't have actual confirmation that Michael is his soulmate, usually there were tests that you could take, but it just had never seemed that important.

Now he wishes that he'd asked or told Michael his suspicions because if Michael picks up the phone and he's fine, Alex will be relieved, but he's also pretty sure it would kill him.

Dread pools low and insidious in the pit of his stomach when the phone clicks over to voicemail.

"Michael here. If you're listening to this then I'm never going to answer your phone call, please leave a message after the beep."

Alex pulls the phone down from his ear and he dials again.

He calls him over and over for five minutes straight and then his vision goes fully grey and Alex hangs up mid ring and calls a number he has never called unless they had to work on a project together, and he hopes that Max still has the same number.

Max picks up after the third ring, and Alex leans back against the shaky stall door in relief, shutting his eyes.

Max is speaking, but Alex talks over him.

"Evans? It's Alex. I need you to do me a huge favor."

Max is silent for a long second before he says, "Okay?"

"Please go check on Michael, he's not answering his phone, and I know that something happened. Something bad."

"How can you-?" He starts and Alex cuts him off.

"Please, Max," he says again, voice cracking a little.

Max inhales deeply, "I don't think that Michael would appreciate me getting involved in his business."

Alex tries not to make a sound in frustration, "Just please, if you can't do it for him, do it for yourself. There is something seriously wrong and you'll regret it forever if you don't do something."

Max breathes out roughly, "Fine."

And then all Alex hears is the dial tone.

Alex breathes in and out and in and out and in and out several times, but when he opens his eyes his vision is still grey.

The colors come back gradually throughout the whole day, and Alex gets permission to stay in his bunk until they do. It's not like they were in the middle of training.

Alex had requested to stay through leave and would just make his way from Albuquerque to Texas without going back to Roswell at all.

Now he wishes that he had gone back.

He gets a message from Max when most of the color has come back.

Max: Alcohol poisoning. He's better now. Thanks for the heads up.

Alex throws himself back in his bed and looks up at the ceiling, the sour, anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach just getting stronger.

Now he's glad that he didn't actually go. He loves Michael. He knows that's what that feeling that overwhelms him anytime that Michael is near is. But no amount of loving him makes him want to witness Michael getting so drunk that he almost died.

He lifts his phone to his face and pulls up Michael's information.

You're such an asshole.

Guerin: I know.

Try to be more careful.

Guerin: I’m trying my best.

Not good enough.

Guerin: Not your problem. Not anymore.

Alex just drops his phone back down feeling his chest go tight, and stares up at the ceiling again.

three.

Michael has kind of gotten used to the way the world is now in full pastels. When he's drunk and faded and waiting for the sun to come up, it almost looks like he's stuck in a world painted in soft watercolors.

He knows that Alex still isn't at full health, and that whatever happened to him is serious enough that Michael's vision went fully grey, almost completely black and white in a way that terrified him and sent him on a week long bender.

But he knows that Alex is well enough to attend a parade they threw for him when he got home.

He's not really expecting Alex when he sees the parade of uniforms outside of his home, but it's not such an unpleasant surprise, especially when Alex is saturated in color, vivid in the world of pastels that Michael has gotten used to over the last couple of weeks.

Michael quickly tries to cover up the way his heart feels like it's about to pop out of his chest, and how he really wants to reach over and kiss Alex until he's one hundred percent sure that Alex is safe and alive.

And by the time he's inside of the Airstream, looking at all the alien tech he has lying around, he's thinking that he's ruined any chance he had at having an actual conversation with Alex.

four.

Alex doesn't realize that he's pulled his car over until there is someone knocking on his window.

He turns to see Kyle's worried expression so it seems like he didn't make it that far from the scrapyard, but he's more concerned about the fact that all of the color has leached out of the world, that everything is in hues of blacks and whites and that can only mean that, that, that-

He doesn't know what kind of face he makes, but it has Kyle opening his car door without another word.

Alex stares at him sightlessly, and he can see that Kyle's mouth is moving, but he can't make anything out past the rushing in his ears and the way his heart seems to be wanting to pop out of his chest, and how his head feels like it's about to explode.

"Alex!" Kyle yells and shakes him by the shoulders.

Alex jolts, breathing in a stuttering breath that gets caught in the back of his throat painfully.

He gasps and tries to breathe in again, but he can't, he can't, he can't-

Kyle manhandles him out of the car, and Alex tries to pay attention to him while he tries to guide him through some breathing exercises, but Alex's breathing stutters every time he closes his eyes and opens them to find the world faded of all colors.

"What happened?" Kyle asks when Alex starts to breathe somewhat normally.

Alex just shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head.

"Is this just a delayed reaction over what happened or something else?"

Alex just shuts his eyes even tighter.

He should've insisted that he take Michael back to the Airstream, but he hadn't wanted to push, and no matter how much he wanted to go after him, there was something about his body language that Alex knew meant that he wanted to be alone.

So he'd left him alone, and now he was dead.

As soon as he thinks the words he feels the sting of tears behind his eyelids and he lets his head fall back against the car, and he can feel the tears sliding down the sides of his face from behind his closed eyelids.

"Alex, man, you gotta tell me what's going on. I want to help you, but I can't if you won't let me."

Alex blinks his eyes open, tilting his head forward to look at Kyle.

He doesn't want to say the words, thinking them is already too hard, but saying them would make it all real and that is the last thing that Alex wants.

Alex opens his mouth to tell him that it was a delayed reaction, when the colors start brightening up, like someone is turning the dial back up, slowly but surely.

Alex breathes out shakily, and feels his knees buckle with relief.

Kyle pushes him back against the car, and Alex breathes in deeply, looking up at the sky that is getting dark, but he's starting to make out the deep blues and purples and oranges and pinks as the sun sets.

He looks back to Kyle who looks more worried by the second.

"I'm fine," Alex says.

Kyle gives him an unimpressed look, "You were having a panic attack on the side of the road."

Alex breathes in deeply, "Yeah, well I never said that that didn't happen. I'm just saying that I'm okay now."

Kyle still doesn't look convinced, but something about his expression tells Alex that he's only letting it go because he's anxious to do something else.

"If you say so, but we're talking about this later," he says as he moves to walk back towards his car.

"I know what it looks like when someone loses their soulmate," is his parting shot, and he barely looks at Alex's face as he says the words, turning around and walking the rest of the way to his car.

Alex doesn't move as he leaves, beeping the horn at him as he passes.

Alex just inhales deeply and decides that Kyle is a problem to handle another day.

He looks over to where he can still see the sign for Sanders and he wants to go and wait in the Airstream until Michael gets back so he can ask him what the hell happened, but that would be a terrible idea.

He exhales roughly, looking up at the sky and then gets back in his car and heads home.

five.

Michael startles awake, very nearly dislodging Maria off his chest. She pushes him back down with a complaining grumble and leans her head on his chest again.

Michael inhales deeply, blinking up at the ceiling and it takes him a second to realize that the ceiling of the Airstream is an off color, and when he turns to look out of the window he jolts when he realizes that the colors are fading.

Maria leans up on her elbow to look down at him, and she leans in pressing a kiss to his collarbone, but Michael’s stomach is sinking with the realization of what it means that colors are fading from his vision.

“Alex,” he breathes out when she moves her lips up his neck, and she pulls away from him so fast, the sheets almost burn him when she pulls them tightly around her as she goes to move to the other side of his really small bed.

“What did you just call me?” she asks voice shaking with how upset she is, but Michael really doesn’t have time to soothe her ego. It’s not like he was calling out Alex’s name because he was thinking about him while she kissed him.

“Not you,” he says, sitting up, and swings his feet down to the cold floor, and blinks a few times, trying to think past the sick feeling in his stomach. “Alex is in trouble.”

He gets up from the bed and ignores it when she asks him something, determined to get dressed and outside as soon as he can.

It’s been at least ten hours since the last time that he saw Alex, and while Michael did trust that Alex had a plan, he also knew that Jesse Manes had probably already figured it out.

Michael gets dressed, and wraps one of the bandanas around his left hand, tying it too tight, hearing Alex’s voice in his head asking why he’s still wearing it.

He stuffs his feet into his boots and moves to walk out of the Airstream.

“Guerin!” Maria calls out, as he drops down to the ground.

He turns around to face her, feeling just slightly impatient. Her brow is furrowed and her arms are crossed, pinching the sheets around her like a towel.

“How do you know that?” she asks, and there is something in her gaze that tells Michael that she suspects the reason, but wants him to deny it.

Michael just licks his lips and shrugs a little helplessly, “I just do.”

“Not good enough,” she snaps, giving him a disbelieving look. “You can’t just decide that Alex is in trouble and leave to go find him. Alex has been doing a good job at trying to move on, and I thought that you were too, but you’re just fabricating reasons to go see him now that you found out that he might be interested in someone else.”

Michael opens his mouth to speak, but she just talks over him.

“We’re together, and I know it might be a little confusing for you since you were never really in a relationship before, but that means that Alex is a free agent who can date whoever he wants, and you can’t get in the way just because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Michael says, stressing the words. “And anyway, that's not what this is about.”

Michael stops talking, and Maria just looks at him expectantly, but mostly like she’s waiting for him to confirm that she’s right.

Michael inhales deeply, knowing that this might be the end of him and Maria, but not caring much about that either way. The only thing that he cares about right now is finding Alex. Everything else can wait until after Michael knows that he's safe.

“I know that there’s something wrong because the colors are fading,” he tells her, stressing the last three words.

She blinks at him for a few seconds, and Michael was going to wait until she actually got what he was trying to say, but the recognition flashes across her face, and she lifts her hand to her mouth, and the world crackles black and white and grey and then back to fading colors.

Michael sways, and he turns and stumbles over to the truck, saying Alex’s name again.

He needs to figure out what’s going on.

“Guerin!” Maria calls his name again. But Michael is already at the truck, and he doesn’t need his keys to get in and turn on the ignition.

Maria runs out of the Airstream, and Michael puts the truck in reverse, and turns the truck around, before he shifts the gear to drive and pushes down on the gas too hard, spitting out dirt and pebbles from beneath his wheels as he goes.

six.

Alex breathes in and chokes on his first breath, an uncomfortable pressure in his throat that is dislodged too slow for his liking.

His mouth feels dry, and tastes kind of like disinfectant, a taste that reminds him of being in the hospital for his leg.

He feels something cold and wet against his mouth, and he parts his lips easily, and is rewarded with ice chips.

Alex swallows down the cool icy droplets, and blinks his eyes open.

The bright lights are dimmed low because his vision is in shades of pale colors, almost grey, and his heart starts beating too fast in his chest as the air catches painfully in the back of his throat, and he can hear the beeping of the monitor as it starts to go too fast, and he sees Kyle appear in his field of vision, telling him to calm down, but Alex can’t seem to do that.

Kyle moves away, and then he feels a pinch in his upper arm, and then the panic recedes as his heart beat slows down, and he breathes in and out easily, and knows that he was just sedated.

He blinks his suddenly heavy eyelids, and he turns to Kyle, who is looking at him worriedly, and he licks his lips, and whispers, “Guerin.”

Or at least he thinks he does.

Kyle gives him a confused look, and looks over him to the other side of the room, before his expression clears.

He looks back down at Alex to say something, but the world fades to black, and it takes Alex along with it.

The next time Alex wakes up the colors are still pale, but not edging into grey anymore. He breathes out in relief, and feels a sharp pain right in the back of his throat, and he feels so thirsty.

He moves to find the button to call the nurse, when he feels that his hand is trapped in a positively sweltering grip.

Alex blinks up at the ceiling a few times, before he turns to the side and finds Michael, laid back in one uncomfortable looking chair, his feet propped up on another one. He’s turned to his side in what looks to be a really uncomfortable position, but it’s the only way that he can have both of his hands wrapped around Alex’s left hand.

Alex stares at him for a long second, his neck looks like it’s on an uncomfortable angle, but his lips are parted, and he’s snoring slightly. His hair is falling across his forehead and covering his eyes, but Alex can still make out the black smudges like he hasn’t had enough sleep over the last couple of weeks, and he looks a little pale, like he’s been sick, or he overexerted himself.

He flexes his fingers in Michael’s hold, and Michael startles away like Alex had yelled.

He kicks the other chair too far to lean against, and very nearly slides down to the ground, but he drops his feet to the floor, and pushes himself up on his chair, sitting up straight and looking at Alex, eyes big and worried.

His hands are even tighter around Alex’s fingers, and Alex just stares at him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” Michael says when he notices that he’s awake and moves a little bit closer, the chair making a high pitched sound as it slides across the floor.

Alex winces a little at that, and Michael lets go of his hand to lean even closer, “Are you okay? Should I call for Kyle?”

Alex clears his throat, but his mouth feels too dry to speak.

Michael’s eyes light up in recognition and then he leaves, but before Alex can wonder

where he went, Michael is back with a big white foam cup full of ice chips.

He feeds Alex a couple of ice chips, and Alex stares at him for a long moment, wondering what the hell he’s doing here, but there is another question that he needs the answer to first.

He shakes his head as Michael offers him another ice chip, and Michael sets the cup aside, before he sits back down on the chair besides Alex’s bed.

Alex clears his throat, a few times, but when he talks his voice is still too hoarse and low, “Are you okay?”

Michael gives him a disbelieving look, like he can’t believe that Alex is worried about him while lying back on a hospital bed, but Alex’s world is still shaded in pastels.

“I’m fine,” Michael says, and grabs Alex’s hand again, to press it against his chest, right against where his heart is beating loud and strong. “It’s just that healing takes a lot out of you.”

He looks at Alex meaningfully, and Alex inhales sharply when he realizes exactly what he means.

“Oh,” he responds, and Michael just smiles a little, and Alex realizes that the worried feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach, is a mixture of both his and Michael’s feelings. Just like he also realizes that the soft, sweet feeling curling against his chest, making him feel warm belongs to Michael.

Alex sighs, pulling his hand out of Michael’s hold, and leans back to look up at the ceiling.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks, needing a reason not to grab Michael’s hand and tug him on top of the bed, and also not really understanding what Michael is still doing here when he’s not in danger of dying.

“Where else would I be?” Michael asks, voice soft, and almost childlike.

Alex shuts his eyes tightly, “I don’t know. With your family. With your girlfriend. In the library. At the bar. Literally anywhere else. I’m fine. And it’s not like you don’t have a gauge to know if I take a turn for the worse.”

He feels it when Michael gets up and settles his hands down on the bed, so that he’s leaning over Alex.

“Alex,” Michael says, and Alex just keeps his eyes shut, not really wanting to look at Michael’s face right now.

He feels exasperation sliding through him.

“Just open your eyes,” Michael says, and Alex shuts his eyes even tighter.

Annoyance joins the exasperation, and then he feels Michael dropping back down in his seat.

Michael breathes out noisily. “Turns out that hiding your soulmate status from everyone is considered an asshole move.”

Alex’s eyes snap open at that, and he turns an incredulous look at Michael. “You told them?”

Michael gives him a look, and even though he tries to hide it, Alex still feels the hurt making his chest go tight.

“I know it’s the last thing that you wanted, but you were in danger and no one believed me-”

“Uh no,” Alex says, loudly interrupting him. “You were the one who didn’t want anyone to know.”

Michael gives him an incredulous look, and Alex shakes his head, speaking before Michael could.

“You didn’t tell Max, even though he obviously suspected. You never told Isobel. She told me she figured it out on her own. You were working with Liz and never mentioned it when she was searching for someone to test her theory on. You’re dating Maria, and you didn’t want-”

Alex’s voice cuts out, and he turns to the side, away from Michael, and coughs a dry, hacking sound that feels like it tears his throat apart.

He swallows hard, and leans back, and Michael presses an ice chip to his mouth that he takes gratefully.

After a few minutes, Michael sets the cup aside, and sits back down.

Alex hears him breathing heavily, and then his hands are wrapping around Alex’s again.

“Alex,” he says, and Alex breathes in deeply, and closes his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says, breathing in deeply. “I could’ve told them. I could’ve told everyone. But so could you.”

Alex shakes his head, and opens his mouth to speak, but Michael leans forward, untangling one of his hands to press his fingers against Alex’s lips, “Just listen to me for a second.”

Alex breathes in a little shakily and nods his head once.

Michael pulls his hand away, and keeps speaking.

“I meant any time over the last ten years. I’m not saying that I would’ve denied it if you had told Maria, but I didn’t want her to know. I wanted to feel like it didn’t matter, that I could choose to be with anyone, that I wasn’t just tied to you because of this thing between us.”

Alex breathes heavily, eyes shutting even tighter.

“And do you know what I figured out?” he continues. “I figured that yeah, we are tied together, by more than this soulmate bond, but none of that is the reason why I still love you.”

Alex inhales sharply, and his eyes open wide.

He turns to look at Michael, who is staring right back at him, eyes bright and clear.

“I love you because you’re you, and you come when I call, and you listen when I speak, and you give me a kick in the ass when I’m acting like an asshole, and you don’t sugarcoat things to make me feel better, and you don’t let me hide away from what I’m actually feeling, and you make me want to face it and come out better on the other side.”

He stares at Alex, shaking his head a little, before he looks away, licking his lips.

“Maria broke up with me, more like dragged me to the curb and publicly called me out, but a break up all the same. I think she was more upset about the fact that she never realized the truth, than the fact that I didn’t tell her. But I realized that morning when I woke up with the colors bleaching out from the world, that I could lose you, actually lose you, and I’ve been spending all this time pushing you away, when I just really wanted you to stay.”

Alex blinks a few times, and he can feel the truth of Michael’s words ringing sweetly inside of him, but things can��t possibly be this easy.

“I-” Alex starts speaking, but Michael shakes his head again, pressing his fingers back over Alex’s mouth.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, pulling his hand away again. “I’m not asking for you to make a decision, especially while you’re still in recovery. And I know that you have this thing with Long, or whatever, but I want you to know that I’m here, if you want me.”

Alex pulls his lower lip into his mouth and then he nods his head slowly.

Michael nods his head back and then leans back in his chair with a sigh, “You should probably get some more sleep while you still can.”

It’s almost like the words are enough to cause the drowsiness at the edges of his consciousness to try to take him, but Alex fights through that, blinking his eyes a little.

He tugs on the hand that Michael is still holding, and Michael looks over to him.

Alex gives him a steady look back, and then tugs on his hand again.

Michael seems to debate with himself for a second, before he stands up.

Alex moves over a little, and Michael manages to fit himself on the small hospital bed with him easily. Which doesn’t surprise Alex at all considering the size of Michael’s bed in the Airstream.

Michael wraps his arms around Alex, and Alex collapses into his hold, moving so that Michael is flat on his back, and Alex is partially lying on top of him, head resting in the crook of his neck, one hand in Michael’s hair, the other wrapped around Michael’s arm on his waist, their legs tangled together.

Michael tightens his hold around Alex, and Alex breathes in deeply, filling his head with Michael’s scent, like rain during a hot summer day, and before he realizes it, he’s fast asleep.

#malex fic #an angsty soulmate au for marlo who is my soulmate 🥰❤

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aenslem · 4 years ago

Photo

Challenge: From your creations, choose GIFs and do a split of before and after adding colouring!

tagged by @uuuhshiny . i have done these things before, here and here. but okay, i’ll do one more :D though, since i don’t gif recently i just found my old gif psds that i have not removed yet, and just resaved them, so sorry for the speed on the gifs, i did not really paid attention lmao the point is coloring anyway, right??

tagging @comicbookvillain @tennant @arthurpendragonns @rory-amy and whoever wants to do it :D

i love changing colors, i love when they are vibrant, i am also the kind of person who will turn everything into purple, but if the scene is purple i will try my best to make it look normal af and remove all the purple lmao idk why tho

changing colors is fun, like i did that on my pink Doctor Who gifset, and my golden Missy gifset

turning blue into pink or gold? im here for that :D but i rarely did it before, but i was challenged to do it, so i did :D and i think i did good.

if i see a kinda red hair, i will make it as vibrant as possible :D i also love when on gifs lips are red, idk why.

doctor who is a super hard to color, especially when you color doctor and the master, because i feel like show runners hate thoschei shippers considering all of doctor/master scenes are like this or worse

???

??????????

moffat what the heck??????

i mean, look at my doctor and master gifsets, i have a lot of them, those are all super edited because original scenes are the pain in the a$$ to color! they are either super dark blue or horrible yellow/red.

i have not used this gif in a set, wanted to but it was extra so have it :D maybe one day i will make a gifset with yellow/blue combo and use it :D and i do love those two color combinations, like there are other colors too, but i make those two colors stand out so it looks nice. like the gif with miranda otto above, that color combination is really pretty

also, i love making michelle gomez eyes really blue, or anyone’s lmao like if there are blue eyes consider me making them as vibrant as possible :D

not the best example, but it was not the best quality video and i did what i could. sometimes i make it with selective colors and hue and saturation, but sometimes i draw blue color over the gif. yeah, sometimes i love torturing myself and color each layer or a few layers and just move the layer where i need lmao

like previous insta videos of her i edited and made blue stand out, i did like that :/ but i would do more for that woman :D

my colorings are not super complicated, i usually upload those colorings i don’t use on my psd account @creationsofthedark so check it out, there are my first colorings i ever did, and the latest. you will not find channel mixer there tho, but it’s my fav tool now. i stopped updating the blog since... well, there was an incident where the person started doing what i asked to not to do, don’t copy me. i posted a gifsets with these colorings so why would you crop it the same way and color it with my coloring and post, the same scene??? after asking me sharpening settings also?? like, those were so similar i thought it is a repost tbh that’s why i stopped posting psds i use, and well, i use channel mixer mostly for correcting colors and it never works on 99% of the scenes, and i don’t wanna share coloring for one scene i already giffed, what is the point? so somebody could gif the same scene with the same coloring? nope. anyway, channel mixer as you see on previous creator tag games i did is really good when you need to correct colors, such as super red colors or yellow. unfortunately idk how to edit tHAT Doctor and Master scene from doctor falls, it’s the worst scene ever and i will not touch it again lmao, i tried I TRIED but... usual colorings which work fine on more than few scenes are uploaded on sideblog. and you may see there that i don’t do anything extraordinary, same settings almost everywhere, curves, levels if needed, selective colors and color balance are mostly used by me. and i always avoided using masks when i started giffing, but honestly that’s so good, don’t be scared to use them, they are really awesome when you need to correct part of the gif only. i also love using color fills, to change color of the background or a specific object, using blending modes, if the object does not move it is easy but sometimes it does not... like with the eyes, you have to draw over each layer or move the layer for each frame :D sometimes i use textures, but i usually blur them as on the first DW gif here. idk what else to say... :D

#tag game #i love coloring gifs #well i loved lmao

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years ago

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Hi, omg I love your stuff. Could I please request a tallest red x human female? I dont really have a specific idea. Just some fluff or headcannons is fine. Thank you so much. ILY😘

Yeah, of course! There’s a lot of dialogue, but I promise there’s fluff in the end!

Everything had been going so well. Until it didn’t.

A quiet moan of pain slipped out of your mouth as you continued to stay curled in fetal position on some hard surface, most likely a floor. Experimentally, you attempted to open your eyes, only to have your vision swamped by flashing saturated colors. You screwed your eyes shut again, drowning in the disorientation. There were probably voices around you, but they reached your ears as incoherent mumblings. Apparently, humans weren’t meant for instant intergalactic teleportation across schmillions of light years.

You were unsure of how long you had been laying wherever you were, nor did you suppose it mattered. Ever since you had been mildly conscious, you had been trying to recall what exactly had happened, without much luck. However, the second you had stopped caring about the preceding events, they all hit you with the force of twenty one bullet trains.

"Behold! Doesn't it amaze you?!" A very short alien gestured wildly to a glowing portal, grinning madly as if he couldn't believe his own genius.

"Yes, Zim. It's very nice." Smiling uneasily, you nodded, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Over the years, you had learned to just agree with whatever Zim said, things went over much smoother that way. However, that didn't mean you weren't worried. Whatever Zim created tended to backfire...violently. Or explode. Or not work as intended. Or all of the above.

"Okay? But what does it even do?" The other human in the room spoke, more openly skeptic than you were. Purple light reflected off of his glasses as he shuffled through papers of calculations, which he couldn't read anyway, considering they were written in Irken. "Or, more accurately, what is it supposed to do?"

"You imply that Zim's inventions never work as they should, Dib-stink!" Zim crossed his arms and turned away from Dib, clearly less than pleased with his lack of enthusiasm.

"That's because they don't!"

"Name one time!"

"Shall we take a look in The Cabinet?" The man decked out in black and blue thrusted an arm out towards a cabinet threatening to explode with close to ten years' worth of records of failed plans. Zim growled, lunging at Dib who was bent over in laughter. Before he could get very far, you grabbed the Irken's ankle, yanking him back.

"That's enough, you two. Honestly. Act your age." The two disgruntled men grumbled complaints under their breath, but ceased their childish antics. If you hadn't known them for years, you wouldn't have believed that these two were now adults. "Now, Zim, could you kindly tell us what this thing does?" Your voice was soft and patient, hoping to set him back on track. He tended to become distracted quite often.

"Yes! It's a portal that will allow the instant transportation of anything, the range being the entire universe!" He spread his arms wide, a laugh already bubbling up in his throat. Dib groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were working on the Irken conversions so I could finish my part on the ship." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Their ship was never going to be finished at this rate.

"Yes, but this is much more important! I have an ingenious plan for it!"

"Enlighten us." Dib spoke flatly, still not convinced.

Zim pulled out a box wrapped up like a gift, complete with a neat little pink bow. "Zim will send this to my Tallest using the portal! Trust me, they'll love what's in here." Light from the portal glinted menacingly off of his teeth. The box made hushed mewling noises and began to ooze green goo.

"Is...is it alive?" Your voice was cautious. You took a step back when the box began to shake in his hands, bumping your back against one of the many machines in his lab.

"Zim, we've talked about this. The Tallest don't care, Irk has abandoned you, let it go. You know as well as I do that your mission isn't real, and that it's over." Dib sighed, not with frustration, more so pity. A few years ago when Zim had finally got it through his thick skull that his mission was a trick, it had devastated him to a point that no one had ever seen. You saw how much he needed a job, and Dib did as well. Dib had an issue with it in the beginning, but you both took him in, using his science skills to aid in Dib's personal projects. The last plan you were aware of was that the two were working on a ship of their own that would let them travel space together, something about Dib getting presentable proof of alien life while at the same time giving Zim a purpose. Zim seemed to have forgotten about Irk. Until now, at least.

"Don't worry about it! It's...a parting gift." The look in Zim's eyes brought you great discomfort. "Only a symbol of the termination of my service to the empire. That is all." His voice was pleasant enough, but you sensed some dark undertones. His fingers danced away on the controls, a dull hum echoing through the base as the portal fired up it's key functions. 'The Massive' and some coordinates became displayed on the screen above the portal, the destination locked in.

"Zim…" Dib took a step forward, as did you. "You've had plenty of bad ideas, but I think this one is going to take the cake. So just shut the thing off." Zim shrugged his concerns off, stepping closer to the portal with the box that was becoming more aggressive the closer it came. Red light emitted from a lens at the top of the portal as it scanned the box in Zim's hand.

"Scan complete. Item composition: deadly. If transported, item will cause half of the universe to implode." The voice of the computer drawled. Your eyes widened as you looked to Zim, who acted as if he didn't hear the warning. More likely, he didn't care. When did he ever? He brought his arm back as he stood in front of the portal, preparing to throw the box.

Although it happened in the course of only a split second, it all was in slow motion for you. Without thinking, you took off, sprinting across the small room and leaping at Zim, harshly shoving him and the box out of the way of the portal. You had managed to prevent the tragedy of space implosion, but unfortunately, your forward motion continued, sending you through the portal. You had heard Dib's scream, but it sounded a million miles away. Your brain couldn't comprehend what had happened during the course of the teleportation, so it put you out of your misery, allowing you to pass out.

"Ugh...Zim. Of course." You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. You were slouched over, and once the static finally cleared from your vision, you blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the new light. The panicked whispers from before continued, but you could now make out what they were saying.

"Did she say 'Zim'?"

"What creature is it?"

"Is it a weapon?"

Your brain finally jumpstarted, and you whipped your head around, eyes darting from one face to another. Several Irkens surrounded you, to where you couldn't see anything but a sea of green. You scooted backwards to create more room between you and the crowd, bumping into something behind you. You jerked yourself around, facing two of the tallest creatures you had ever seen. Instantly you recognized them as Zim's Almighty Tallest. They were much taller in real life than you imagined them to be. Even as an adult female standing at your full height, you knew they would tower over you. Hell, they would overtake Dib by a landslide, who now stood well over six feet. They bent over you to get a better look. After a second of silent observation, the one in purple straightened up and groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Oh god, it's one of those creatures that inhabits Zim's planet!" The purple one resumed wailing madly. The one dressed in red straightened up as well, but said nothing. His red bug eyes rested on you quizzically, intrigued by your mere existence. "You! How did you get here?" The purple one pointed a long and slender finger at you, his face filled with pure terror.

"I went through Zim's portal, it was an accident-" Your voice was panicky. Almost all of the Irkens around you were riddled with anxiety, which you absorbed like a sponge.

"So, Zim sent you!" The purple one just loved to shout, didn't he? You wondered if this was a common trait among Irkens.

"No! It-"

"He sent you for malicious purposes! Like, to, uh...to annoy us into oblivion! Yeah!" So, the purple one was a moron. Good to know. Nevertheless, the crowd of Irkens began mumbling, as if you were trapped in a high energy court room.

"This is all a big misunderstanding, now maybe you could just...drop me off at home, or maybe send me with an escape pod or something-"

"To the dungeons with her!" The purple one screeched, yet again pointing a finger at you.

"Yes, My Tallest!" Two guards came up to you with taser spears, and you concluded it would be best not to fight. You had been electrocuted with high voltage electricity in Zim's lab once on accident, and it did not feel pleasant. A sigh fell from your lips as each guard took an arm, dragging you to the dungeons of The Massive while cheers rose from the Irken crowd.

"I swear, I will kill Zim when I get my hands on him." You muttered, tossing a coin you had in your pocket against the wall for the four thousandth time. You sat on the floor of your cell, the cold concrete making you shiver. The wall that pressed against your back was the same. There wasn't even a cot in there. Iron bars with buzzing electricity fields between them blocked your exit.

"That's not the first time I've heard that in here." A voice floated toward your ears, however it was muffled by the surrounding concrete.

"Who are you?" You had assumed you were alone in there. After all, how often could you possibly use a dungeon on an armada flagship?

"I'm Deek. I think. Honestly, I've been here so long I can't even remember." The voice, which sounded male, giggled. "Anyway, what are you in here for?"

"Not sure. Trespassing, maybe? The more accurate term would be a kneejerk reaction. What about you?"

"Being annoying. I guess."

"Shit, really? I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's better than being tossed out the airlock." You ceased throwing the coin. Decidedly, Irken society seemed to be hell in space. "In fact, they just threw Jix out last week. Poor gal." Deek's voice held a tinge of sadness. Images flashed through your mind of your body being launched into space. That wasn't how you had envisioned dying. You shuddered.

The sound of a door opening and steps approaching your cell caused every muscle in your body to tense. You vaguely wondered if it was your turn for death by airlock. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling yourself into a ball with your face between your knees, not wanting to see who had stopped in front of your cell.

"So..." The voice was level and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of before. Cautiously, you lifted your head, opening your eyes. At your level, you could only see a long crimson skirt. Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you still had to crane your neck to see his face. The red Tallest stood before you, a bored expression plastered on his face.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Uh..." He almost seemed surprised that you had asked that. Even still, you wouldn't take any chances.

"You shouldn't kill me! Just, you know, reverse engineer the phenomena or something and teleport me back! Or even send me in an escape pod! Humans, uhm, we cause massive explosions when killed! Yeah! So you'd destroy yourself in the process." If he had sensed you were lying, he didn't care. However, he did look puzzled by your desperate reaction.

"What? No, I'm not here to kill you." He let out a massive sigh, bending over to look you in the eye. "I'm just bored. There's only so much of Purple's antics I can take at a time." Your shoulders relaxed in immediate relief.

"Wait, his name is Purple? Let me guess, your name is Red?" That was such a strange notion to you. Every other Irken you had heard of all had such bizarre names, and apparently these two just went by Red and Purple.

"Yeah? So? Also, it's Tallest to you." The threatening tone inserted into his words was half-hearted at best.

"Can't I call you Red? I'm not Irken."

"I don't think so, short-thing."

"Why not? And I'm not short! You're just tall. Plus, my name is Y/n. Not short-thing." You huffed, unconsciously shifting to stand on your toes, increasing your height by maybe an inch at the most. He seemed to appreciate his height being acknowledged, so he relented.

"Fine, do what you want." Red continued to stare at you, almost as if he couldn't quite understand what you were. You didn't blame him, the circumstance had been kind of sudden. Plus, he hadn't heard from Zim in years. Most likely, everyone had assumed him to be dead.

"You said you were bored? I'll have you know, I can be quite entertaining! So maybe you could, I dunno, get me out of here?" Your lips lifted in a sweet smile, hoping Irkens could be swayed by charm. There was a second of silence as he mulled the idea over. On one hand, it would give him something to do besides eat and blow things up. On the other, if anyone saw, many questions would arise. Despite his concerns, curiosity won out. With his two thin fingers, he tapped a code into a keypad on the wall. There was a dying buzz as the electricity stopped flowing and the iron bars were lifted. There was a part of you that was amazed that he actually let you out. You stepped out, watching his face to make sure he wasn't bluffing about sparing your life. Not a muscle in his body so much as twitched, hell, you weren't even sure if he was breathing. You didn't know how he could with a waist like that. "So, what now?"

"I thought you said you were the master of fun?"

"I said I was entertaining, not the master of fun. But, I dunno, we could start by getting out of here. Space prison kind of kills the vibe."

"Fine." Red began walking, well, hovering down the hall. He did not look back to see if you were following, and you had to jog to catch up. "Oh, and this isn't space prison, that's Moo-Ping 10. This is more like space holding."

"There's a difference?"

"Oh yeah." You were sure you were both still in the belly of the ship, considering you never once went up a flight of stairs. However, you had exited the dungeon area, and emerged into a more open room. There were some tables and chairs, and the room was lit by white florescent lights. Everything else within the room was some shade of pink. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance around, as if to make sure no one was watching. Was he supposed to be down here? If he was a supreme leader of society, you weren't sure why it mattered where he was or who he was with.

"What is this place?" You finally asked as he took a seat in a chair, chin resting in his hand. His glances in your direction were fleeting and infrequient, almost as if he were embarrassed to be intrigued by something so short.

"Not sure. An unused dining hall maybe?" Satisfied with his answer, you took a seat next to him. Taking the opportunity to look him up and down, youwere confused by his anatomy. He was built differently than every Irken you had ever seen. You pointed to his impossibly skinny waist.

"How?" You opted for that phrasing, as you were unsure if 'is that natural?' would have been rude.

"Hm? Oh. Corset." His answers to everything were quick and simple. Even still, you couldn't help but stare in wonder.

"Doesn't it hurt?" You assumed having a corset tightened to such an extreme would be incredibly painful, but he only shrugged without a care.

"You get used to it. It's all part of being Tallest, just as is losing your thumbs." A smirk etched its way onto his face at your horrfied expression as his wiggled his two fingers through the gauntlet on his arm. Subconsciously you rubbed your thumbs, lips pursed in a tight line. "You're a curious little thing."

"You act like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, thank you very much." You may still have been young by human standards, but you had still made it over the age of 18, so technically, you were an adult. Red chuckled at your pouting, as you had just proven his point unintentionally. A ghost of a smile was present on his face. Was he actually enjoying himself? You decided to switch gears. "The whole dynamic of Irk is strange."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"It's like one big military." Red snickered, unable to stop the chuckle that rose from his chest.

"Of course it is. That's kind of our whole thing." He lifted a hand, trying to gesture to the armada as a whole.

"Oh, yeah. Right." Another silence fell between you two. It was rather difficult for you as a human to comprehend Irken society. It all just seemed so...foreign. So static and stiff.

Red was the first to speak again. "Tell me then. What's Earth like?" Excitedly, you sat up in your chair, eyes shining.

"Well, people still respect each other, sometimes anyway, but everyone is less stiff with each other. There's more kindness. Now, don't get me wrong, there are many who are full of hate and lots of people fight all the time, but it's still less so than Irk. Plus, height isn't such a huge deal. And there's relationships." Your words came out quickly, hands moving to accentuate your thoughts.

"Relationships?" If Red had eyebrows, they would be raised in questioning. His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he didn't trust the concept.

"Yeah! All different kinds. Familial, platonic, romantic, etc. You know, parents, siblings, friends, that kind of thing...usually, they're all based on love. And, no offense, but there seems to be an absence of that here." You had heard it from Zim many times before. Irkens can't feel love, they trust no one and all that. On some level, you doubted that to be true, rather it was more of a choice, that maybe they were told that love is a sign of weakness so they chose not to feel anything at all.

"Love...?" Red spit out the word as if it burned his tongue. Clearly, love was not a well thought of concept in Irken culture. After a moment, he appeared to recall something. "I think I remember something that happened years ago...Zim called about some romantic experiment he was running on some girl. Said it was very pain-based. This is something humans find...pleasant?" Waving your hands you shook your head in a clear 'no'. No wonder Red was concerned by the idea of love.

"No! Not unless you're a masochist anyway. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but that's not what love is."

His tone showed that he was still mildly disgusted with the topic, but nevertheless, he proceeded to ask for further clarification. "Then what is it?" Red was never very interested when Zim had been reporting ten-ish years ago, but now that he had a subject sitting right in front of him, the idea became somewhat exciting.

"Like, romantic love?" You asked, a small part of you hoping he was asking about platonic love instead. You weren't entirely sure how to explain romance to a species who understood nothing but pain and hierarchy. Red nodded, asking you to go on. You breathed out a relenting sigh, struggling for the right words to explain it. "Romance is...uhm…it's when..." Red peered at you expectantly, crimson eyes wide and inquisitive. Finally, you came up with something. "It's when you like someone very much, and you would do almost anything for them." He nodded slowly, looking as if he was beginning to grasp it.

"Like pledging your loyalty?" Loyalty was a thing Irkens could understand thoroughly.

"Yeah, like that! And you want to do lots of stuff together! Spend time together and all that. There's also physical affection." His head cocked to the side, similar to a puppy.

"Physical affection?"

"Ye...Yeah...!" Your feet shifted on the floor as you clutched the hem of your shirt between your fingers. You couldn't help but feel nervous under his gaze. Your face flushed as he stared out at you through half-lidded eyes, overly fixated on the topic of physical affection.

"What's that?" Once again, his voice was as even as could be. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, enjoying the way you were acting. It was quite amusing to him. You suddenly regretted bringing up the subject of romance.

"Like, examples?" Swallowing hard, your fingers began to drum on the table. How were you possibly supposed to describe it to him? He certainly wouldn't know what a hug or a kiss was. "I don't think I can exactly describe it to you..." You hoped he would leave it at that and move on.

Of course that wasn't the case. That was the problem with Irkens. Once they found a way to make you squirm, they would push until it was no longer fun. "Then show it to me." His response was quick, zero hesitation. He looked completely satisfied, for once not feeling that familiar dull, almost constant ache of boredom. You weren't sure about it at first, but the longer he looked at you with that smug expression, the more determined you became to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Fine." Irkens are touch-starved creatures. It wouldn't take anything too extreme to accomplish what you wanted. You stood up, moving over to plant yourself right in his lap. Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his two, pressing your face into his chest. "Humans do things like cuddle and hold hands." His heartbeat was similar to a human's, the rhythym just slightly different. This close, you could hear the soft hum of his PAK. With your free hand, you traced indescribable shapes into his chest. If you were to look up, you would have seen his antennae twitching. Already, you had accomplished what you had set out to. He was no longer teasing or overconfident. Although he would never admit it, he was content with the attention. As you continued to draw random nothingness, Red let out what sounded like a low purr, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through his chest and against your skin. A series of quiet chirps followed, and you had to assume he was satisfied. You couldn't help but giggle, and at the time, the uncertainty of how you would get home was the furthest thing from your mind.

"Do humans do anything else?" Red attempted to suppress the spark in his voice, but was wildly unsuccessful. His tone was the farthest thing from passive. You let go of his hand, sitting up to face him.

"Of course we do." You experimentally raised a hand to his face, seeing if he would shy away. That was not the case, rather the opposite. He seemed to almost lean into your touch. You weren't sure why he was so okay with this; you supposed that each Irken had different policies and tolerances when it came to physical contact. Red seemed to be anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next, his expression eager. "Sometimes we give each other kisses." You didn't bother fighting the smile that played at your lips as you peppered several kisses all over his face. There was barely an inch of his cheeks and forehead that went untouched. Red's face felt hot beneath your lips, and if Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be completely flushed. His fingers had drifted to your sides, lightly resting there.

Hmm...Irkens are quite interesting... You thought as you held eye contact with Red. He was clearly embarrassed to be engaging in this, but more so at the fact that he was enjoying it. And yet, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down. You wondered what would happen if someone found him like this. What would even happen?

"The rest of human physical affection is rather intimate, so the lesson will have to end here." Before he could protest, you leaned in one last time, pressing your lips to where his should be. His fingers dug into your sides, antennae shooting straight up in the air. You had never dreamed that you would be kissing an alien leader on a warship in space, but you wouldn't say you were disappointed. Pulling away, Red's grip on you loosened, and something bright caught your eye. Small sparks were being thrown from his PAK, which concerned you slightly. "Uh, Red...?" Pointing a finger to his PAK, he shook his head wildly, and after a moment, everything seemed to be alright again.

"It's fine!" He spoke abruptly, voice loud and awkward. His voice drew in some company, as Purple stuck his head in the room.

"There you are! Zim keeps sending transmissions through and he's going crazy-" Red yelped, practically throwing you off of him and into the nearest chair he could find.

"So, do I go home now?" You asked, and for the first time, Purple seemed to notice you.

"Ack! How did you get out of the dungeons?!" Purple jumped back, despite already being across the room from you.

"I have super powers." You snickered at his frightened appearance. Red rolled his eyes, waving his counterpart off.

"Just go, I'll deal with Zim." Purple nodded, zipping out of the room. You weren't sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, or if Red really was disappointed to see you leave. "C'mon, Y/n. Let's go figure out how to reverse engineer a transport portal."

#invader zim #tallest red #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #one shot #request

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dcbicki · 4 years ago

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BEFORE COLOURING & AFTER COLOURING | Tagged by @belacquaparry (ty lovely!) ♡

Left side is unsharpened and unmodified aside from being resized. Right side is coloured using the main PSD I made for Grey’s (which is one of my more vibrant ones) — I usually make either pale, black and white, or vibrant gifsets (those are usually for bigger gifs) but lately I’ve been messing around with colouring and this show is perfect for it because there are so many scenes to play around with. I always tend to apply the same PSD to all gifs in a set no matter what I’m making once I’ve decided on its theme (if it’s pale or vibrant), but I make adjustments depending on the lighting, background and subject of a scene so there’s a better flow to all the gifs; some of them risk looking darker or duller or brighter than others.

Layer-wise, I always start with curves and levels to adjust the lighting and brighten everything up a bit and make sure the background isn’t too black. Then I start fixing the colour because a lot of the time the scene is very blue and I just can’t vibe with it: adding a layer of selective colouring where I have a go altering everything I can until I like the results, then adjusting color balance, then I start adding/removing exposure because you don’t want whites to pop too much (and it’ll minimise the grain in a gif) and adjusting the blend, if necessary. But the saturation layers are where I have the most fun because I just literally just mess with all the settings until I settle on something I like: in this case it was the purple/red combo — when I first made this colouring, for the 4th row of gifs — I got from really adjusting the cyan and blue levels and making the reds stand out. After that, I added another layer to level the brightness a little because the gifs get darker depending on which colours you choose to work with. This PSD requires a lot of turning cyans to pink/purple, and I tend to mute the green tones — as best I can. The 3rd row being an exception because otherwise the background looked terrible. Honestly, though, I never have a real system. I literally just play around with every adjustment, and all the blending modes, and I rearrange the layers until I arrive at something I think looks semi-decent. I personally think gif-making is therapeutic most of the time so if you’re not having fun or it’s stressing you out (because you can’t get what you want), it’s not worth it.

Tagging @kyloren @robin-buckley @josephlevitt @trixiematel @linda-martin @cinderllas @nessa007 and anyone else who wants to!

#**#greysedit #tag game

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hvitserkk · 5 years ago

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hi, just wanted to say that i love your tutorials! you have helped me improve so much in photoshop, i cant thank you enough. I was wondering if you know how to archive this edit? (riddlemarvolo(.)tumblr(.)com/post/189886322626/after-all-this-time-always) do you think you can make a coloring tutorial about it? i've tried myself to do it but i don't know how, it never looks like that.

Yes I can! Tutorial on how to get these gifs below:

There are a few ways to get these kind of gifs, I will show a few different ways. My main tip to achieve these gifs is to choose scenes that can easily be manipulated. Don’t try to make a bright yellow gif out of a dark scene. It may be frustrating if you have specific scene, but it will pay off in the end.

On to the first way to get this look and also the easiest, and that’s to focus on the color that’s already predominantly in the scene (like grass is green, fire is red, oceans are blue, etc).

This is my first gif, with sharpening only:

As you can see that main color is green, so instead of changing that to blue, I want to enhance the color. To start I’ll just a few brightening layers. A “Brightness/Contrast”, a “Levels” and an “Exposure”. It doesn’t really matter what settings you use as long as you gradually brighten up your gif. I also want to edit the blacks and whites with a “Selective Color” layer. I won’t show these settings, but I have tutorials on literally everything here.

So here’s my edited gif:

I didn’t add to the colors, saturation or vibrance, but to achieve really solid colors, I want to start with a “Selective Color” layer. I will edit all the colors a little bit, but I want to focus on my main color, green. Here are my settings for the yellow and the green:

A tip for green is to add to both the “Cyan” and the “Yellow”, that way it’s more green then orange-ish. I also edited the yellow since yellow and green colors tend to blend together.

I also want to add a “Hue/Saturation” layer and on the main slider, slide it just a bit to make the overall color green (or whatever your main color is), here’s my setting:

And my gif now:

Since this changed the skin color as well, I want to use a soft, round eraser brush and on the layers, click on the alpha layer of the “Hue/Saturation” layer, this will allow you to edit where the adjustment layer shows on the gif.

For tutorial purposes, I’ll show you with a color layer where I used the eraser:

And the layer now:

Now my gif:

You can also edit the skin tones (and other non-main colored areas) and use the alpha layer to erase everything but the skin.

Now to make the color pop, add a “Selective Color” layer editing your main color, mine being green. Then duplicate this layer a few times for an intense look. You can do this for any color, edit the “Red” for reds “Blues” for blues and so on, then just duplicate the layer.

Now to really make the colors pop, I want to add another “Brightness/Contrast” layer and really brighten the gif. Here’s my settings:

Here’s my before gif:

And after:

Here’s another gif I did, this time instead of focusing on green, cyan and blue was my focus:

The second way is to change the color that’s already predominantly on the gif (like changing a blue sky to pink, or a light blue snowy scene to dark blue).

This is pretty easy after the first tutorial. Once you have your gif ready and up to the “After” step above, you can use a “Selective Color” layer and a “Hue/Saturation” layer to alter the color of the gif. It can be something simple like green to yellow or more advanced like green to red. In either case, make sure to gradually change the color, rather than one big jump.

Here’s my gif:

And here’s my gif now using the steps above to bring out the yellow:

Now, I want to change the yellow to something more appealing (lol), so I want to go to red. First, I want to add a “Hue/Saturation” layer, only edit the channel of the color you’re editing, so for me, I’m only working on the “Yellow” channel. Here are my settings:

And my gif:

So if you make a drastic change, the skin might need help, but just do the same thing as above where you click on the alpha layer of your “Hue/Saturation” layer and then erase the part over the skin if needed. My gif now:

Se how the whites look pink-ish and the blacks look dull? To make the gif look “less edited” you might want to touch up the blacks and whites of the gif using a “Selective Color” layer. Basically if the whites or blacks are too toned to a color and it’s obvious then edit the whites and blacks. Here are my settings for both:

and my gif now:

Now just finish off with another “Selective Color” layer and duplicate it a few times like above and your done! Here’s my before:

And after:

And another gif where I changed the red to green. Here’s the before:

and after:

The last way is to completely change a color to match your color scheme (like a green forest to blue or a beige paper to purple), but there’s two ways to do this. Either your scene is already extremely tinted to one color (like a neon pink lighting, or a blue underwater scene) or to use editing to change the color using color layers and adjustments.

The first is an overly saturated, one or two tone gif like this:

For that, all you need to do is use the first part of the tutorial to make the main color pop. Here’s my gif after that:

Now, add a “Hue/Saturation” layer and edit only the channel needed, mine being red. Here’s my settings to turn the red to purple:

And my gif now:

If like my gif, your color got too wild, just turn the opacity down to your “Hue/Saturation” layer and use a “Selective Color” layer to finish the job. Here’s my settings:

And my before:

And after:

To use color and adjustment layers to change the color of you gif, use the first tutorial to generally brighten the colors of your gif. Here’s mine without singling out specific color:

Now you want to decide what color you want to do. I’ll do green since it’s an easier match. So start to add a “Selective Color” layer to boost your selected color. You may also need to add a “Hue/Saturation” layer like the second tutorial. Here’s my gif:

Now to really get the color you want, add a new layer and using a soft, round brush, color over your gif where you want to change the color like this:

Then you can either set that to “Softlight”, “Hardlight”, “Color” or “Hue”. Here’s mine set to “Softlight”:

Once you get a color you’re happy with, you can use a “Selective Color” layer to make the color pop. Here’s my settings:

I also added a “Brightness/Contrast” layer to brighten the scene up, here’s my gif:

Now just finish off with a final “Selective Color” layer, editing all the colors. Here’s my before:

And after:

Here’s another gif that has a more drastic change. The before:

After:

And to get the white and black gifs (and the gray in between). All you need to do is find a neutral colored scene. Here’s my two gifs, the top being my white and the second my black:

For both of these, you want to start the first tutorial up until the color selecting. Here are my edited gifs:

Now for the white gif, you want to add a “Hue/Saturation” layer and set the saturation for most of the colors to -100. Don’t do this on the red, maybe the yellow channel because you don’t want to ruin skin tones. Here’s my settings:

and my gif now:

I also want to add a “Selective Color” layer and darken the blacks and brighten the whites by adding to the whites. Here’s my settings:

and my gif now:

Now for a final “Brightness/Contrast” layer:

And my before gif:

And after:

And for the “Black”, you want to really brighten and add some contrast. Here’s my setting for a “Brightness/Contrast” layer:

and my gif:

You may need to add a “Hue/Saturation” layer to remove any unnecessary colors like we did for the white gif above.

The final layer for this is a “Selective Color” layer. You really want to darken the blacks, here’s my settings:

And the before:

And after:

I hope this tutorial helps! I don’t make these kind of gifs, but if any of you need help, feel free to message me!

#gif tutorials #gif tutorial #coloring tutorial #completeresources #itsphotoshop #my resources #anon #answered

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lotusthekat · 4 years ago

Text

Elegia

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Lars & Steven, Lars/Sadie, Lars & Lion

Characters: Lars Barriga, Steven Quartz Universe; MINOR ROLES - Sadie Miller, Lion; other characters are only mentioned

Summary: The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

*Takes place after Letters to Lars (s05e16)

Word count: 3.173

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: Hello, SU fandom, here’s some good ol’ Lars-centric angst. :) This is probably the biggest existential nightmare I’ve ever written (and I blame Neon Genesis Evangelion for that), so I hope you like this, lmao.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past canonical character death, thoughts of death, fear of death, trauma and implied past bullying(?)

Elegia: Greek/Latin form of elegy. Also the name of a song by New Order.

el·e·gy

a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.

It’s really been two months or so since he’s been away, and it’s quite obvious when Lars returns to the Big Donut; finding not Sadie, but the town’s former mayor. Obviously, he’s been informed by Steven’s letters back in space, yet he wouldn’t contain his surprise. Just Mr. Dewey working at the Big Donut seems to have been attracting a lot more costumers now.

Lars knows he can’t exactly eat, yet Steven insisted he had the pink donut named after him. The Pink Lars is so, well… pink, that even the dough itself isn’t the ordinary donut color. Steven actually orders six of the desserts – as it turns out, it’s become one of his favorites, right along with the chocolate donuts he regularly buys.

There’s quite a lot of people in town today, under the soft, warm blue sky. Steven and Lars soon settle in a bench at the boardwalk, the former already handing the latter one of the pink donuts.

“You think you can give it a try?” Steven wonders.

Lars is, admittedly, not hungry. He has eaten pieces and bits since getting back home, otherwise nothing much. Though a bite might not hurt.

“I guess so,” He accepts. Soon enough, Steven already puts a donut in his mouth. He enjoys it.

Lars, on the other hand, stares at his. It’s possibly the pinkest thing he’s seen – besides Lion and… himself. The donut, however, doesn’t have the same pink tone. Its frosting is sparkling and appealing, but it’s closer to purple, filled with pink sprinkles over a dark pink dough. The difference between his own skin and the food probably goes unnoticed to others’ eyes at first; on the outside, they’re both pink.

Despite the name, Lars knows they’re not the same. The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

“… Lars, are you okay?”

Realization hits him. Lars has really just been contemplating a donut and Steven is reasonably concerned. The pink teenager releases a sigh, to filter the deepness of nonsense filling his head.

“Yeah.” He barely holds up a smile when he returns the donut to the box between him and Steven. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t have the stomach right now… literally.” He lets out a forced laugh.

Steven doesn’t laugh or smile in return, whereas Lars avoids the kid’s big concerned eyes. The younger boy swallows.

“Lars, I…” Knowing what he’s going to say next, Lars doesn’t wait for him to finish.

“It’s okay, Steven. I’m…” He bites his own lip. “I’m glad to be here.”

He’s saying the truth, clearly. But…

… no, Lars doesn’t want to sound selfish and ungrateful. Not to Steven of all people. The half-human boy saved his life, and sure, nothing could be the same again. Lars can’t eat the same way as before; he can literally not function like a human being anymore… but he’s glad he’s gotten this second chance. To be there for the people he loves. To be himself.

(But pink, pink, pink.)

Home has changed. He has changed.

Even so, everyone is fine with him becoming pink. Including his parents. They’re definitely shaken at what happened to Lars, and they were brought to relieved and terrified tears upon finding their son again. Yet almost a few weeks later, it’s almost as though he… hasn’t been to space, even though things are different now. If that makes sense.

Sadie is a lot more open and confident now. She sings with all her might, encapsulating the horror films she’s binged into her music. The Cool Kids are themselves, continuing to live as regular teenagers and discovering new interests, whilst giving life to their instruments. Lars cooks and bakes, and he laughs along with his friends. He introduces the Off Colors to the good things of life on Earth. Steven helps with that, as well as his own gem family. The Rutile Twins, Fluorite, Padparadscha and Rhodonite are having the time of their lives, free, loved, joyful. But most importantly, everyone embraces Lars. Everyone accepts who he is.

Everything is good.

(And Lars can’t accept it.)

Lars realizes he’s afraid of the dark.

The darkness was once a place of comfort for him. No one could really see him there. It was endless, omnipresent. Lars often found himself there.

Yet even with the skyscrapers revealing the night sky, today the boy can’t fathom his bedroom without the reassuring light of his lamp, or any background music at all.

(Holes might catch him. Silently, holes might swallow him again, before Lars can scream for help.)

Lars doesn’t need to sleep, but he knows he can. His eyes almost drift off, almost give in and rest. Yet right now his thoughts are loud and clear. His heart may not beat fast, yet his brain works like a machine nonstop.

His ears are filled with the somber music from his headphones. The lyrics, tragic but hopeful.

Lars thinks.

He thinks of Sadie’s hand against his. Her smile brightening when he’s in the same room. He feels her pressing her head against his shoulder, soft blond hair light to his face. Her macabre voice as Sadie Killer, her make-up, the lights and lasers behind her. Beautiful in every way.

He remembers Steven’s bouncy retellings, his patience, his kindness. Lars remembers the kid’s deep honesty, his comfortable presence. Lars feels their hugs, especially as he’s the one who hugs first nowadays.

Jenny, Buck and Sour Cream are their own souls as he’d always known. They’re fun to be around. They’re smart, funny, and supportive. Genuinely the best friends he could ever have.

He talks to his parents more. They’re more involved. They bake together at the kitchen often, his mother teaching desserts that aren’t in his recipe notebook. She helps him with the following potlucks that the Cool Kids plan. They hug, they say “I love you” to one another. They call him Lars.

The Off Colors look up to him. He’s their captain. They love his home, they excitedly watch the sun setting every single day; they have fun in the rain, when the sky doesn’t crack with lightnings. They trust his guidance, and they will follow him until the very end.

They… love him.

(Why?)

Lars is himself now. He’s open, he’s happy, he’s better.

(Why? Why?)

(Pink. Of course.)

(They love pink. They love the Pink Lars.)

He finds the stars above him. They’re suddenly so small in contrast to outer space.

He doesn’t sleep.

Pictures.

His home is filled with pictures. Many, many faces. So familiar, yet so unknown.

Lars sees him. Not the Pink Lars. Him.

Young, young Lars. Orange-skinned. Dark hair. Brown eyes.

A rare smile of such a young boy. A short-tempered kid excluded from his classmates. One that began pushing away the few people who cared. A boy that screamed and locked himself in his room far too often.

Briefly, Lars sees his own reflection on the glass.

Pink skin. Bright pink hair. His right eye, a saturated color, cut by a dark scar.

Gone.

The boy is gone.

(Why does Lars miss him?)

Something that represents him.

Ube. Purple, creamy, tasty. A childhood memory. The pride in a child’s face, dirtied with speckles of purple.

The Pink Lars. Pink, round, soft, alive; sprinkles as a special touch.

Both so full of life.

Both, true to their essence.

They’re them.

Lars is himself.

(Is he?)

Sadie asks him if he’s okay.

They’re watching a horror film together. Lars can barely pay it any mind.

She takes his hand and kisses every pink finger of his. Her eyes, worried.

Lars smiles sadly.

“Yeah, of course. I’m even better when I’m with you.”

(Sadie looks far from convinced. She knows Lars. She knows he’s always struggled with openness and vulnerability.)

The blond girl says nothing, instead snuggling closer against him, his arm pulling her deeper into his chest. Lars feels relaxed. He enjoys staying like this. He listens to her heartbeats. Her warmth enters his pink veins, butterflies shyly filling his stomach.

(For a moment, he feels like he’s never become pink.)

You brought me back to life! Just… let me be somebody who deserved it.

Somebody who deserved it.

(Did the orange-skinned boy not deserve it, then?)

(He was just a boy. Sure, a kid who made a lot of mistakes. Too many. Who let outside opinions get the best of him. But he could’ve grown, too. Maybe, if he were given a chance other than the inevitable.)

(Did he not deserve a chance, too?)

Can't you see that I exist?

And I don't need an exorcist to let me out

Look at me and I'll appear

Why can't you see that I'm right here, that I’m right here?

Why can't you see me?!

I think I might be

A g-g-g-ghost.

(I'm calling you from the other side.)

Today, he’s alone at the beach.

Usually, Lars joins the Off Colors, and sometimes the Cool Kids come along as well. Now, he’s hiding his hands inside his pockets, lonely steps on the sand. The sunset is the same explosion of colors as every other sunny day.

It’s blue, pink, orange and yellow. The sun reflects on the water, which hits the sand softly.

Its pink is livelier than his own.

The orange is there, too.

They’re here and alive.

Lars stays and watches. Alone.

It’s all so distant. So far away.

Maybe they know the truth. Maybe they’re keeping their distance.

Lars doesn’t try to reach them. It’s probably for the best.

Like that, he’s not expecting to be startled by a big creature staring at him.

Lars almost falls back on the sand, only to realize it’s safe.

Lion.

The only other creature that is as pink as him. Same hair (or mane). Eyes that are not scarred but are deeper than other eyes he’s seen. As if the feline has seen years and years of experience, without sharing words about it.

“Hey, buddy,” Lars greets him, voice quiet.

As usual, the big cat says nothing. Still, he gazes at the pink space pirate and understands. Lion snuggles his face against Lars’, who sighs and hugs him back, arms tight around his neck.

Lion practically has no heartbeat, unlike Sadie, or Steven or anyone else. His deep breaths are the only remaining of life he has.

The distant seagulls sing somewhere. But somehow, all Lars listens to is Lion.

His eyes blur.

The town is so distant.

… Literally.

Lars casually figured out that he can walk on water like Jesus now. That’s something. He told Steven and the boy was enthusiastic about it, of course. And well, it is cool. He can see the fish swimming down him, and he gets to touch the sun that reflects on the water. Otherwise, he can’t go for swims anymore, while everyone else can.

He’s fine.

There’s no sun or powerful colors this time. The sky is clouded, foggy, yet the ocean doesn’t react too much. The water is usually not furious, anyway.

It might rain soon.

Lars can actually sit on water, too. So, he hugs his own knees and thinks. Stays.

…

Someone is coming.

“Lars?”

Looking up, he finds Steven riding on Lion, with a puzzled look.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man,” Lars gives him a finger gun. “I’m just chilling here. Got to use my Jesus privileges now, am I right?”

Steven doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look remotely reassured.

(He understands. He wouldn’t find it funny, either.)

Isolated dripples begin surrounding them.

“Come on, let’s go to my house,” Steven offers. “It might be dangerous staying here.”

Lars hums, noticing the fish have all gone away. He stands.

“Okay.”

In the way, Lars tries to throw in a joke or two about the whales he found near him earlier. Steven still won’t laugh or find it endearing. And Lion simply listens.

When they enter the beach house, the rain starts coming down. The ocean practically disappears in the fog now.

(He almost wishes he stayed.)

The falling water outside is the only sound you could hear, besides the questions in the kid’s puppy eyes. Instead of answering them, though, Lars has an idea.

“Hey, what do you say I bake those space cookies you like so much?” The older teen offers, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You have the ingredients, right?”

“I think so, but…”

“Great! You can help me if you want.”

He ignores Steven’s frown and heads to the kitchen, already knowing where the ingredients are thanks to memory. Lion lies somewhere near, attentive. Though unlike other times the three of them have shared the kitchen, the big cat might not want to attack the ingredients today. Lion is as lazy as the rain day.

The baking session is… surprisingly quiet. Lars is the one that does the talking this time, trying to cheer the kid up. Steven doesn’t seem fazed. He just follows the steps. Lars’ smile will falter little by little, yet he keeps going. Maybe that will change by the frosting, Lars hopes. The kid loves frosting the cookies, more than he does.

But then, Steven is just… there. Staring at the star-shaped fellas without any enthusiasm. Staring concernedly at them, as if something is wrong with them, even though they’re perfectly fine.

“Hey, Steve,” Lars lowers his voice and puts a hand on his back. “What’s wrong?”

(He knows what it is. And Steven knows that he knows.)

For the first time, Steven looks away and hugs his own arm.

“I… I think I should be asking you that.”

(Lars shouldn’t be shocked. He isn’t.)

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked how you’ve been lately,” Steven admits. “I was so excited to have you back home, and have everyone see you again, that I thought you’d be fine.” He sighs and adds quieter, rather bitterly at himself. “But I’ve never been good at asking the right questions.”

Lars contains the harsh breath that tries to escape, and he gently pats his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. You’ve got nothing to worry about me.”

Steven looks back with something akin to disbelief.

“Lars—”

“I mean it, I’m okay.”

“But you’re—”

“Kid, I swear, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to force you—”

“You’re not forcing me, Steven,” Lars reassures him. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You’re—” Steven observes dumbly and groans. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

(It’s the same look from the pictures. From the gone, lost boy.)

(Revolted. Pushed aside.)

(Hurt.)

“T-There’s nothing to talk about!” Lars defends.

“I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!”

“Then why are you treating me like I am?!”

“Steven, it’s fine! I’m fine-!”

“NO!” Lars steps away. “STOP LYING TO ME!”

Whatever words were about to be said, they disappear at the sudden voice raise. At the angry – no, frustrated, tearful eyes. The clenched fists.

(Why does Steven look so much like him?)

Steven covers his own mouth, scared of his outburst. He recomposes himself or at least tries to.

“I… I thought we could count on each other. I thought—” He sniffs. “I thought, after we were stuck together, after everything we’ve been through, w-we could… be there for one another. You were there for me, you’re always there for me.” He pauses, his eyes more and more painful to look at. “But now you’re… you’re suffering, and you want to, what, you want to hide it from us? From me?”

Lars’ heart drops. “No- No, no, Steven, I’m- I’m fine—” He almost approaches again, only to get yelled at.

“Stop! I don’t need to be coddled! And you don’t need to hurt yourself for me! For anyone! Y-You of all people told me that!”

After that, Lars has become completely silent. There’s nothing around them, nothing but the rain falling outside, the shaky breaths coming from Steven, and Lion’s observation. The cookies are abandoned in the counter.

(And somewhere, somewhere far, a boy is screaming from his room, locked away.)

(Crying.)

“Lars…” Steven’s anger has dissipated again. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up. I know things won’t be the same again, and I know you want them to be. I’ve noticed.” He hugs himself, guilt filling his avoidant gaze. “Believe me, if I could go back in time, I would’ve never let you go in that ship. I would’ve never let you…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, clutching his own shirt. “I wish I could fix everything. But I can’t. And I’m really, really sorry.”

Lars would have opened his mouth to reassure him. He would have pulled him in a hug and tell him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. But Steven seems to catch onto that thought, because he then says:

“Even if I didn’t mean to… and even if I saved you in the end, I… I still did this to you.” He pauses. For once, he takes in a deep breath. “So, I promise you, I’ll do what I can to make up for it. I… I don’t know much about my powers.” He begins taking a step forward. “I don’t know how to feel about them most of the time, and I’m still trying to understand how Lion’s work, too, but…”

Steven looks up at him, eyes sparkling like the starry sky Lars sees every night.

“We… we can figure out. Together.” He looks away again, adding, “If you want.”

Lars locks the gaze with him, and before he registers it, a laugh escapes him.

“Yeah.” He swallows a sob. “Y-Yeah… I’d- I’d like that.”

For the first time, Steven smiles yet he immediately bumps into the other’s waist, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

“I’m so sorry…” The kid repeats. Once Lars returns the hug, he freezes when he catches Steven’s following words.

“… You never deserved to die.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, only for him to hear.

And yet it feels like a complete punch. The good kind of punch.

Lars loses it.

They cry as hard as the rain. So much that Lion eventually joins the hug, offering his support.

Later, they create the cookies together with more delight and trust. They’re more… alive than all the others they’ve baked until now.

Tonight, Lars gazes at the stars with tranquility.

(He lets the boy free.)

#steven universe #lars barriga #steven quartz universe #su lion #sadie miller #larsadie #fanfiction #death tw

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