#Look I figured out how to make these without photoshop. It's a pain though. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maleksrami · 4 years ago

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gif tutorial ✨🎥

I got a few requests to make a gif tutorial so here it is. hope it helps :) It’s quite long so I’ll put it all under a read more. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or PM me directly for help!

Alright....sooo, I don’t remember the last time I made a gif tutorial on this site, but I figured I would even though I use the same method a lot of gif makers have been using for years. I have never strayed from this process and I’ve been making gifs on this site for a decade.

There are a couple methods to making gifs. You can import your video directly into photoshop and cut your gif there. OR you can use a separate video player that has a screencapping tool, then import all your frames into photoshop; this is the method I use and it’s how I’ve adapted and perfected my giffing skills over time.

This post will be long, but I want to be as detailed as I can and explain it step by step. It’s really NOT difficult once you get the hang of it, which is probably why I’ve always done it this way.

Disclaimer: There are three programs I use and I highly suggest you look for reliable links yourself if I’m not able to provide one. I use pretty old versions of KMPlayer and Photoshop (I’ll explain why later), so be careful where you go looking for downloads. There are some photoshop downloads here, but I can’t vouch for them.

Let’s start :)

DOWNLOADING VIDEOS

I use a program called 4k Video Downloader to rip HD videos from Youtube. 1080p is the way to go, but obviously that’s not always possible. It’s ridiculously easy, all you do is click the “Paste Link�� button and it’ll download your video. Clicking the “Smart Mode” button will let you set the default quality and the folder you want all your videos to be saved to.

As you can see, here are all the videos I’ve downloaded recently for my gif posts. You can clear this download history list at any time.

SCREENCAPPING

After your video is done downloading, I open the video in KMPlayer. Now, I use an OLD version of this program because this was exactly how I learned to do this back in the day. You can find old versions online, I don’t really know exactly which version mine is because I’ve had it forever, but it’s the old school one that looks like this.

When you open the video, it might stretch the player to full screen so I always adjust it by dragging the corner of the player inward so it shrinks to a more medium size. This will also make your screencaps not so GIANT, which will take longer to load into photoshop.

Anyways, you’re gonna open your video and right click anywhere on the video to select Capture > Frame Extract... (or Ctrl+G on Windows). This window will come up. Make sure all your settings look like this to ensure a really smooth gif.

The first thing you should do is click that little “G” button next to the window size at the bottom. That’ll lock in the dimensions of however big you’ve made your video window, and if you stretch it you’ll see these numbers change. If you start capping without remembering to push that and you make your window smaller/bigger, your caps might be a wacky size or look stretched and you’ll have to go back and do it again. Also note the extracting location at the top. All your caps will go directly to a default folder titled “Capture”.

Once all the settings are ready, go to your desired section of the video, pause it, and hit “Start”. Play the video, pause the video when you’ve got all your caps, then hit “Stop”.

Locate your “Capture” folder and doublecheck you got all the caps you want. This is where I take a moment to delete any caps I don’t want in my gif, that way you don’t bother loading them into photoshop and making it take longer than it needs to.

MAKING THE GIF

You’re gonna open whatever version of Photoshop you’re using. I hilariously still use CS3 to make gifs because the next script I’m gonna run doesn’t work in the free download that I have of CS5, but that’s what you get sometimes when you don’t pay for stuff. Hopefully whatever more recent version of PS you use, you have no problems.

Go to File > Scripts > Load Files Into Stack...

This window will come up.

Hit “Browse” and locate your capture folder. Highlight all your caps and press OK. You’ll see them all come up in a list as shown above. Press OK again. Your caps will start to load into one big stack of layers. This will take a minute or so.

When it’s all loaded in, you’ll see them all stacked in your Layers window (Windows > Layers). You’re gonna open your animations timeline (Windows > Animation) and click the little drop down button in the top right corner of the window and select “Make Frames From Layers”.

Click that drop down menu again and hit “Reverse Frames”. Click that drop down menu again and hit “Flatten Frames Into Layers” (this is so our sharpening action will work later). Click the drop down menu again and select “Select All Frames”. All your frames will be highlighted. This is where you’ll set your animation speed. Under each frame you’ll see “0 sec.” Click on that and select “Other”. Type in your desired speed. I usually go for 0.04 if it has a lot of frames. For less frames, 0.05 or 0.06. This is honestly entirely up to your preference. I actually made myself a photoshop action doing all these repetitive steps so it saves me a few precious long seconds of clicking around over and over. I just run the action after my caps are loaded. If you make gifs a lot, I recommend it.

Next it cropping. The reason I don’t crop right away after the files are loaded into a stack is because I like to see where the subject in the gif moves before I decide where I need to crop. I don’t want to accidentally cut anything off. The subject might sway in and out of frame or be off center if I crop it blindly before seeing exactly where the object moves around. So I’ll play the gif first to see exactly where to crop.

Anyways, you’re gonna set your desired width x height of your gif. I’m making this a big gif so you can see the details better. 540 px is Tumblr’s width for big horizontal gifs. If you’re making a photoset with two gifs side by side the width for Tumblr is 268 px.

Go ahead and crop your gif. It’ll resize itself as well. Play the gif back so you can see if anything gets cut off or it’s not where you want it. You can undo the crop and do it again until you’re satisfied.

Here is what my gif looks like animated and cropped.

As you can see, it plays nice and smoothly due to our screencap settings from before in KMPlayer and with our set gif speed (I used 0.05 here).

Next is sharpening the gif. I use a sharpening action that can quickly sharpen up to 120 frames. You can download it here. Open the action by going to File > Open and locating the file. It’ll be added to your Actions window. (Window > Actions if you can’t see it.) In order for it to run correctly, you have to have the first frame selected on your animation window, as well as “Frame 1″ in the layers window. Just like this:

Click the play button on the action and wait a few seconds for all the gifs to finish being sharpened. For any gif with less than 120 frames (which I hope is always, good God) a pop-up will come up when it reaches the end of the frames asking you if you want to stop. Click “Stop”.

Tip: If you think you want to delete more frames, run the sharpening action before you do it. Otherwise you’ll have to flatten your frames into layers again. The first frame and the “Frame 1″ layer should always be the same (the little eye will appear to the left of the layer to let you know it’s visible when you have that specific frame selected) otherwise the action won’t work.

Here is what my gif looks like now that it’s sharpened.

COLORING THE GIF

This is where all the fun (or pain) comes in. All your coloring will be done by using Adjustment Layers (Layers > New Adjustment Layer). I usually go in the same order of adjustments, but this is where personal style comes in and you do no have to do it in the same order I do. You can practice with this part all you want and see how you like to do it.

I start with brightening the gif first and fixing the white balance if a scene needs it. I chose this video specifically so you could see this next handy trick that a lot of people don’t even know about. It’s a dark scene and the white balance makes the subject look quite blue.

I can fix this by starting with a Curves layer. By clicking the third eyedropper tool, you can go and click on a white point in your gif (in this case, I clicked on a white square on his shirt) and bumped up the input number a bit for a little contrast (optional). My curves look like this. Click OK.

My gif now looks like this.

It’s much better, right? The white eyedropper tool will become a lifesaver sometimes, but it’s not always needed.

Next, I go in with a Levels adjustment to do some more brightening. This is all up to preference, but you can play around with this. I typically like to add more contrast with this layer. I just adjust the sliders until I’m satisfied.

Here is my gif now.

Onto yet another brightening layer. Brightness/Contrast. A couple teeny tiny more positive numbers and I now have this.

Next is Selective Color. I wish I could explain this in a way that makes sense, but this is the layer that takes a bit of practice getting down and boils down to how you like the colors in your gif to look. I personally don’t like a lot of yellow in mine, so I focus a lot on the Yellow and Black sliders in each specific tab. I start in the Reds, then Yellows, Whites, Neutrals, then bump up the Blacks a tiny bit.

Here is my gif now. It’s a bit more cool toned, which is what I like.

Next I’ll go in with a Color Balance layer and play with the Midtones and Shadows.

Here it is now.

This is usually my last step unless I want to adjust the brightness again (which I do), so I might go back into my Curves and Levels layers to bump it up.

And you can totally stop there, but I would like to mention a few more optional layers to add depending on your gif. If I wanted more saturation, I would add a Hue/Saturation layer at this point, but I think it’s colorful enough so I’m not going to.

Another layer you can use is Gradient Maps.

Setting a black and white gradient map overtop your gif and setting the layer to Soft Light and lowering the opacity to your heart’s desire (you might need to go to the little drop down menu in your animation timeline and hit “Match Layers Across Frames”) can give your gif a very contrast-y look like this.

Or you can change the black color to something else for a different tone, like a dark blue.

Here is my final gif.

If you want to add a caption to your gif, you can do so with your font of choice (Arial and Calibri are good) and add Stroke or a Drop Shadow to it by going to Layer > Layer Style. You can make sure the text is perfectly centered by clicking on your top frame layer under all your coloring adjustments, hitting Select > All, then clicking your text layer again and going to Layer > Align Layers To Selection > Horizontal Centers. Then hit Select > Deselect and go to your little drop down menu in your animation timeline and click “Match Layers Across Frames”.

Here is what it looks like with a caption.

SAVING YOUR GIF

Go to File > Save for Web & Devices...

A big window will come up where you can preview your finished gif by pressing the play button on the right hand side. In the bottom left corner will tell you what size your gif is. Tumblr’s gif limit is a whopping 10 MB, so we’re good.

Your gif settings should look something like this.

We always want to keep all colors at 256 (the highest). Lowering this number will make our gif file size smaller, but also decrease the quality of the gif itself. If your file size is more than 10 MB, I recommend going back and deleting some frames or making some more curve adjustments. Some users also like to set their gif to “Adaptive” instead of “Selective”. This is up to you.

Click Save and you’re done!

#this took me all day and half the gifs dont even move when you view this post on my desktop theme #LOVE THAT #please view this on the mobile view

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askaceattorney · 4 years ago

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Dear 91teivos,

Mod Vera: Thanks! Everyone in the world is going through some kind of existential crisis, so it made sense for the AA characters to join the party! (And since it was another follower who gave us the idea, we might just keep that idea in the think that after all...)

Dear dawsongfg,

Mod Vera: No need to apologize! We like to space out letters from specific people a little, but we’ll answer as many as we can!

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Bluedragoncody,

Co-Mod: Don’t worry. I doubt they’ll have much luck against the Ace Attorney crew, even without the Proto Badger. They have the ultimate weapon against despair in their arsenal, after all.

...They’re doomed, aren’t they?

I can’t make any promises, but if I ever gain enough skill in the art of animation (which has been a dream of mine for a long time, it turns out), I’ll keep that idea in mind.

Dear skibot99,

Mod Vera: Probably Tumblr bein’ weird. (What else is new?)

Dear sheeeesh,

Mod Vera: Mods get brought on as needed, as you can see with the arrival of Mod Edgeworth! Also, DGS2 is one of the few AA titles I’ve never played, but rest assured. Where there’s a letter, there’s a Mod who can answer it!

Mod Edgeworth: To add to Mod Vera, even if you weren’t accepted during any mod applications, that doesn’t mean you have lost all chances. I applied early January and lost to Mod Vera. Regardless, Co-Mod informed me that, even though I was rejected, he saw my potential and kept me in mind for if I was ever needed. Now, here I am.

Just because you get rejected, that doesn’t mean it’s game over. Show that you have potential and make yourself known by sending letters to us. That is what I did, after being rejected. I made myself known to the mods by sending letters. We do read them and they tell us how much you know the characters and games of AA more than any application. Of course, you must also follow the guidelines. That just goes without saying.

Co-Mod: I think my actual words were something like “Don’t tell anyone, but you were my second choice.” But yeah, what they said is true -- becoming a Mod here, like many things, may or may not happen to you, but you can definitely increase your chances by waiting patiently and demonstrating your potential.

As for DGS2 letters, I’m afraid those are still off-limits unless you know of a way to play or watch the game in its entirety, translated into English. I guess I could check to see if the Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2 channel finished translating...

(Translation: Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?! ...D-Don’t tell me?!)

...Okay, looks like I have some watching to do. Don’t know how I missed that.

So, uh... That part in bold was what I was going to say. Now that both games are finally getting an official English version, all I can say is, hang tight!

(Previous Post)

Dear Inferno again,

Co-Mod: Yeah, I agree. I was just joking around. For anyone who didn’t catch it, that was a reference to Sbemail #108.

The event’s technically over, but we’ll answer the rest of the April Fools’ Day letters when they reach the bottom of the queue. I’m as eager to see Trucy’s reaction to the news (after the stunned silence) as anyone else, after all.

(Video in Letter -- Strong Language Warning)

Dear Ella,

Mod Edgeworth:

I can’t see the first link and....

How did you find this masterpiece and where can I play this game?

Co-Mod: We don’t check for direct messages on Tumblr, if that’s what you’re referring to, so it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. You can always send links in your letters, of course.

(Previous Post)

Dear Inferno,

Mod Edgeworth: That mad lad would be me and thank you.

I like to put my heart and effort when answering these letters. With this one, I figured you wanted to see Trucy in costume, so I just searched up an image on Google for the Ancient One’s costume, a sprite of Trucy and a bald head to put on her. The rest I photoshopped on GIMP.

We’re still going through letters from January. Hopefully we will get the rest of yours soon enough.

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you very much. Your support and the others’ support that have liked, commented and reblogged it mean a lot. As you have stated, a majority of the fandom seem to consider him the worst. I’d like to think it’s because how AA had created this villain of a character to be universally hated was pure genius. Not even the Phantom gets this much hate… and that’s saying something.

Unfortunately, I’d like to keep my real identity outside this blog a secret. I write a lot of letters here and I don’t want to break the spell for anyone. Think of it like a Disney theme park. The cast that play the characters will never admit their true identities, outside of family and close friends, to prevent the experience from being ruined. I want to do the same as a Mod. I don’t want to break the spell of writing to your favorite AA characters. This blog had helped me through my tough times and I want to help everyone else as a mod.

However, I will answer your letters and, if you post anything on your account, a mysterious friend I know may linger and give you a like ;)

(Previous Letter)

Dear Ali S. Fakenamington,

Co-Mod: Beautifully so.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Sinyove,

Mod Edgeworth: That letter was made in 2012 before AA5 and AA6, which was WAY before I became a part of the AA fandom. I’m certain a lot of us were not here when this letter was made, except maybe Co-Mod, but you’ll have to speak with him about this. I will say that the mod that answered this is no longer working here... I think. At the very least, I haven’t heard from him.

That being said, AA4 or Apollo Justice was the first AA game I’ve ever played. Despite all of the hate I saw towards that game, I still loved it regardless. Though, having not played the trilogy, playing the tutorial of AJ was a pain in the ass. I remember going to YouTube to find out how to beat it, because it was so hard. I also played it on PC.

I do see where The Mod was coming from. Had the two sequel games never existed, Apollo Justice would have more holes than my brothers’ socks. My only critique is that Phoenix wasn’t any better either with having Mia babysitting him during almost every trial AND investigations. Hell, Phoenix needed Mia to know how to talk to a kid, talk to a perverted old man, almost gave up in most of his trials in the first game and never conducted a trial without Mia until Turnabout Goodbyes when Maya literally couldn’t summon her. For the most part, Apollo was doing fine on his own without Phoenix, with only Trucy assisting him for the two middle trials, only almost giving up once and Phoenix having assisted him during times when Apollo was not in a normal situation (like when the criminal turned out to be his own co-council/mentor or when he had to lead a trial that included the Jury System). That’s more than Phoenix ever did on his own in the first two games and I think Apollo deserves more credit than he got in that letter in my opinion.

For me, Apollo Justice is one of those games you either like or you hate. I love it for what it is. My least favorite AA game would have to be Ace Attorney Investigations, the first game. The second one is my absolute favorite.

Co-Mod: Sadly, I haven’t seen or heard from the Mod in a while, so it may be time for us to declare him MIA again.

Erm... Sorry, poor choice of words.

I’m fairly certain I wasn’t around 5 years long ago, but I have to say, Capcom did a great job of making Apollo and his story more interesting over time. He may not be Phoenix, but he certainly carried his legacy forward pretty well, both as an attorney and as an Ace Attorney protagonist.

Now, WHAT ABOUT ATHENA ALREADY!?

Dear BDC,

Co-Mod: It fits like a glove, if you ask me...although it also kind of reminds me of 101 Dalmatians. And thanks for that bit of info! I never get tired of watching people enjoying the fun dialogue and plot twists of Ace Attorney, so I might have to look him up.

I’m not sure I feel the same about watching Dahlia’s voice actress, though. I’m sure she’s a nice person and all, but the thought of hearing that voice for so long... *shudder*

(Previous Letter)

Dear dawsongfg again,

Co-Mod: I wasn’t trying to say that natural deaths can’t happen in the Ace Attorney universe, just that most deaths aren’t what they seem. I knew right away that Archie Buff’s death was no accident, for one thing. Waaaaay too much of a coincidence, know what I mean?

-The Mods

#91teivos #dawsongfg #bluedragoncody #ajanisapprentice #skibot99 #sheeeesh #Ella #moonlitgraffiti #Ali S. Fakenamington #sinyove #Mod Post #Mod Vera #Co Mod #Mod Edgeworth

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 16 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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tw-anchor · 4 years ago

Text

23. The First Battle

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x11; Battlefield

Word Count: 6,291

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, therapy, semi-dead Jackson, lacrosse championship, Stiles’ birthday

Author’s Note: After this there’s only one episode left of season 2. I hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profiles Description!

"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out."

There, that seemed like an appropriate thing to say. It wasn't changing the subject even though Stiles didn't like the question that Miss Morrell had asked him, and it wasn't answering it, either. It was fact, a statement that was true. Stiles knew a lot of facts.

"It's called voluntary apnea," Stiles focused on the net of his lacrosse stick, threading it tightly to make sure that it was game-ready. "It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's...it's actually kind of peaceful."

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

How the hell did she get that from his answer? He was just telling her about drowning and how much the people who died suffered until they didn't. He didn't care about the fact that Matt had drowned in the river by the police station that night. There were no feelings, no attachments. Matt was dead and that was that.

Stiles exhaled out his nose. "I don't feel sorry for him."

"Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

Morrell's face was blank, her voice was calm. She wasn't judgmental, she was good. Stiles had been going to sessions with her once a month since he started high school when his temper and ADHD had him struggling to adjust to the new environment. She gave good advice and helped him through things that were bothering him. Before his sessions started, he hadn't thought that talking about what he felt was going to work but she proved him wrong.

Still, that didn't mean he had to sympathize with Matt. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one."

Morrell nodded and went to move on but Stiles wasn't finished yet.

"And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer," he shook his head, disgusted. "And not just of her, though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into them. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, he had built this whole fake relationship. So, yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Morrell smiled softly. "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, thinking about how Noah got his job as sheriff back. "Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us," he nervously fiddled with the lacrosse stick. "I don't know, it's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

"No, not really," he went back to tightening the net. "I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with, though. I don't think he's talked to Allison, either, but that might be more her choice, you know? Her mom dying hit her pretty hard but I guess it brought her and her dad closer."

"What about your other friends, Jackson and Lydia?"

"Jackson..." he wouldn't consider the prick a friend but he'd answer anyway. "Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."

"How's Olivia doing? Have you guys talked since the night at the station?" Morrell prodded. She was more than versed about Olivia Martin, Stiles' interest in her, and their slow and steady climb toward a relationship.

"Yeah and she seems fine, but," he shrugged. "she always seems fine. She was more concerned about me, to be honest."

"Maybe it helps her come to terms with her own feelings," Morrell theorized quietly. "You told me before that Olivia isn't one to share her feelings."

"I know, but she seemed to be better about that lately," At least with me, he added mentally.

Morrell hummed. "And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"

Stiles spit out the small length of rope he had been chewing on, tying it back to the net. "Why would you ask me that?" he didn't miss the fact that she looked pointedly at his lacrosse stick. "Ah...uh, no, I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?"

"You mean Isaac," Morrell realized. "One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"

Stiles quickly changed the subject. "You're still doing that no-notes thing, huh?" he pointed at her empty desk. "I still can't believe your memory's that good."

"How about we get back to you, Stiles?"

Stiles sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he lied. "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."

"It's called hypervigilance," Wasn't that what Mad-Eye Moody talked about in Harry Potter? he tried to recall. Livvy would know about it. "the persistent feeling of being under threat."

"But it's not just a feeling, though," Stiles shook his head. He was familiar with what he felt when his anxiety went off the charts. That tight feeling in his chest, that was a panic attack. "It's like a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."

"Like you're drowning?"

Stiles didn't even think about the comparison she was trying to make. "Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?"

"You do anyway," Stiles pointed out. "It's a reflex."

"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface? More time to be rescued?"

"More time to be in agonizing pain," Stiles argued, blinking rapidly. "I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"

Morrell blinked at him. "If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

"But what if it just gets worse?" Stiles asked, fears racing through is mind. "What if it's agony now and then...and then it's just hell later on?"

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said," Morrell leaned forward, demanding all his attention. "If you're going through hell, keep going."

That moment in Morrell's office, that quote that somehow encompassed Stiles' whole world in seven words, would stick with him for the rest of his life.

It smelled like rotted wood, blood, and smoke in the old Hale House. It made Olivia want to vomit and it wasn't just the scent alone that made her nauseous. She hadn't stepped foot in the Hale House since the fire and even when she went looking for Lydia two months earlier, she had refused to go in.

She didn't want the memories that this house gave her. There were good memories, sure, ones where she and Cora used to play dolls, Laura would read them fairy tales, and Derek taught her how to ride a bike. But the fire loomed over those like a shadow. Her mother died in the house, trapped in the basement like the rest of the Hale family. While Peter had escaped his own death, Grace Martin was suffocating from lack of fresh oxygen.

Suffice to say, she hated being there. But for Jackson, she'd spend time there if she had to. She needed to find a way to take care of the kanima without killing Jackson since no one seemed concerned about that anymore, so if she had to spend time in the worn-down house to read a billion of moldy books, she would.

Derek stood at the other side of the table, helping her look for useful information. He was just slapping a book closed and tossing it back on the table when Erica and Boyd entered the room.

Derek stiffened and Olivia paused, looking from Derek to Erica and Boyd. The two betas had decided to leave Beacon Hills, to leave the pack. They weren't cut out for the supernatural war that raged around them, even if Derek had warned them from the start.

"You decided," Derek turned toward them. "When?"

Erica looked reluctant to tell him. "Tonight."

"Everyone's gonna be at the game," Boyd explained. "We figured it was the best time."

"It's not like we want to."

"What do you want?" Derek asked Erica, stepping toward her and Boyd.

"Since I just turned sixteen a month ago, I wouldn't mind getting my license," Erica answered him. "I can't do that if I'm dead, you know."

Olivia bowed her head, thinking about Erica's words. She understood where they were coming from; they weren't family, they didn't know what was at stake, and they had no dog in the fight. They didn't want to die because of who they were or what pack they were in. When Derek bit Victoria Argent and she had to commit suicide because of their ridiculous hunter's code, he had declared war. The Argents weren't going down without a fight, but neither were they.

Still, Olivia would be sad to see Erica and Boyd go. They were pack, plain and simple.

"Well, I told you there was a price," Derek reminded them.

"Yeah but you didn't say it would be like this," Boyd defended themselves.

"But I told you how to survive," Derek raised his voice. "You do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an alpha."

"We know."

Olivia raised her eyebrows, surprised at Boyd's statement. "You wanna look for another pack?" she knew they could see that she was hurt by that. Hell, Derek was hurt by it. "How are you even gonna find one?"

"We think we already did," Erica told her. "We were running in the woods last night and all of a sudden we heard all this howling. It was unbelievable."

Olivia shared a look with Derek, both of them almost betrayed. Erica and Boyd trusted random howling in the woods over them? Derek was the one who bit them, the one who gave them the gift of lycanthropy. They were Olivia's friends. They were pack.

"There must have been a dozen of them, maybe more," Boyd smiled in amazement.

"Yeah or maybe only two," Derek burst their bubble. "You know what the beau geste effect is?" they shook their heads. "If they modulate their howls with a rapid shift of tone, two wolves can sound like twenty."

Erica huffed, getting frustrated. "Look, that doesn't matter, okay? There's another pack out there. There's got to be," she raised her chin. "We've made up our minds."

"We lost, Derek," Boyd stated. "It's over. We're leaving."

"No, you're running," Derek snapped, getting angry like he always did to cover up the hurt. "And once you start, you don't stop. You'll always be running."

Olivia pressed her lips together as Erica glared at them, grabbed Boyd's hand, and dragged him out of the house. Derek turned back to the table, resting his hands on the warped wood, as his pale-green eyes flickered over to Olivia.

She was distracted, her wide eyes on the spot where Boyd and Erica had previously stood. When he inhaled, he knew why; he grabbed a sharp piece of glass that was resting on the table in front of him and spun around, whipping it at the intruder.

Peter caught the glass just as the point hit the skin of his throat. "I expected a slightly warmer welcome," he stated, lowering the glass. "but point taken."

Olivia narrowed her eyes at her father. She couldn't believe that he was standing right there in front of them. It wasn't a happy kind of disbelief, either. It was the kind that made you want to pull your hair out and punch someone in the face. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to be able to hurt anyone ever again.

It had been a shock to find out that Peter had come back from the dead. Derek had told her shortly after the showdown in the police station and she went quiet, not talking for the rest of the night while he stayed in her room, keeping vigil so she wouldn't have nightmares.

Peter had gotten into Lydia's head and manipulated her. That was what all the things that Lydia had been seeing were about. It was him, playing her mind from his grave underneath the floorboard. He got her to do some weird ritual that included drugging Derek with wolfsbane and using mirrors and moonlight—and honestly, it was hard for her to comprehend. Olivia was a smart girl and she believed in science, so how did that explain Peter coming back to life from some alpha blood and light from a full moon. Granted, the existence of werewolves was hard to comprehend, too.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.

Peter grinned at her. "Hello to you, too, pumpkin. It's great to see you," he gave his attention to his nephew. "Quite the situation you've got yourself in here, Derek. I mean, I'm out of commission for a month or so and suddenly there's lizard people, geriatric psychopaths, and you're cooking up werewolves out of every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town."

His voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, I want to help," Peter stated like it was the most obvious thing in the word. "You guys are family, my daughter and nephew. The only relatives that I have left. There's still a lot that I can teach you. Can we just talk?"

Peter finished his statement by placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. Derek stared at it in disgust while Olivia raised her eyebrows. This was going to end in a fight, she was betting on it.

"Sure," Derek agreed way too happily. "Let's talk."

He swatted away Peter's hand and pushed him, sending him flying into the stair case.

"Good talk," Olivia hummed as she stood from her seat. "I'm gonna leave before it get any worse."

She'd rather walk the mile back into town and order a ride from Lyft than stay and watch Derek and Peter fight. No, thank you.

"Liv, I brought your psycho father back from the dead," Lydia hissed at Olivia as they walked through the empty school hallways, heading toward the boys' locker room. "and you haven't said a word about it. It's been more than a week and nada."

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Olivia insisted stubbornly. "Peter's back, so what? I'll just ignore him."

"You used to visit him every week." Lydia thought she was in denial about how she felt about Peter. She knew Olivia was angry and she was justified, but you can't hate your father. Lydia had tried and she couldn't.

"That was before he murdered a bunch of people, bit me and Scott, almost killed you, and then manipulated you until you thought that you were crazy," Olivia pointed out. "That doesn't seem father material to me, Lyds."

"I mean, yeah, he's a psychopath, but—"

"But nothing," Olivia cut her off, sending her a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"You know, one day you're gonna explode from all those emotions you keep bottled up inside of you."

Olivia snorted, a little amused. "When did you get your doctorate in psychology, Lydia? I think I missed the ceremony."

"Very funny," Lydia nudged her as they turned down the hallway where locker room was located. "All right, change of subject. You got Stiles a birthday present."

Olivia grimaced, looking down at the wrapped package in her hands. She had hoped Lydia wouldn't bring it up, since she was already tripping out about it, but like any older sister, she just had to tease her about it. Yes, it was Stiles' seventeenth birthday and yes, she got him a gift but it wasn't a big deal. It was a friendly gift. People gave their friends birthday gifts still, right?

"Yeah, and...?" Olivia's strategy was to just face Lydia head on.

"And you're giving it to him before the regional championships," Lydia pointed out needlessly. "You're going to sneak into the locker room to give it to him. Sounds awfully like what I would do when I was dating Jackson."

Olivia rolled her eyes as they came to a stop outside the boys' locker room. "I'm giving it to him now because I don't know if he'll be busy later."

"Mmhm..."

"And I don't give belated birthday presents," she huffed. "It's tacky."

"Yeah, sure," Lydia nodded like Olivia was making sense. "Well, you better go on, then. I'll wait by the concessions for you."

"Get me some some—"

"Air Heads, I know."

Lydia walked away and Olivia inhaled deeply before entering the locker room. Boys were in various states of undress as she walked through the aisles but she ignored them. She spotted Jackson and Danny by their lockers, and usually she would have wished them good luck, but she wanted to give Stiles his present and get out of there before she could get in trouble with Coach.

She found Stiles by his locker, pulling his maroon jersey over his gray compression shirt. "Hey."

Stiles flailed at the sound of her voice, almost tripping backward over the bench he stood in front of. He quickly found his balance and fixed his jersey before plastering a cheesy smile on his face at the sight of her.

Olivia's heart practically turned to goo.

"Hey, Livvy!" he greeted her enthusiastically. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to give you this," she held out his present, looking more confident than she felt. "Happy birthday, Stiles."

"What?" he quickly took the present from with her a grin. "I can't believe you remembered my birthday."

"Oh," she shrugged awkwardly. "um, yeah, you told me a couple weeks ago."

"Yeah, I guess I did," he ripped away the wrapping paper and gaped at what was inside. "You didn't, Olivia."

Apparently, he liked the present. She had won an auction online where she was able to score a signed mini bat from the Mets. It was Stiles' favorite baseball team and when she saw the low price for an item she knew he loved, she didn't hesitate to get it for him. She also made a joke in the card about how crazy he was for cheering for the Mets, knowing it would get a laugh out of him.

Olivia blinked in surprise when Stiles wrapped her up into a tight hug. It didn't take even a second for her to respond to his affection, burying her face into his warm neck. She couldn't help but notice that his skin was soft and he smelt really good.

"Thanks, Livvy," Stiles breathed when he let go of her. "This is—this is great."

"You're welcome," Olivia smiled at him. "So, are you nervous for the game?"

"Nah," Stiles shook his had nonchalantly. "I probably won't play, so..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't. You're good."

"Have you actually seen me play or are you trying to make me feel good about myself?"

Olivia opened her mouth to respond and paused when Stiles quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I knew it."

"You did not!" Olivia protested, playfully slapping his arm. "I do think you're good."

"Why'd you hesitate then?"

"I wasn't hesitating, I was taking a breath."

"Who takes a breath for that long? It was like you were getting ready to perform some dramatic-ass Shakespeare monologue."

"I don't even like Shakespeare."

"You got a perfect score on your essay about Othello."

"How'd you know what grade I got?"

Suddenly, there was some loud feedback as Coach readied his megaphone. Olivia and Stiles jumped apart in shock, not even realizing that they were moving closer together during their playful banter, to look over at him.

"Good morning," Coach spoke into the megaphone, dead serious. "In less than an hour, aircraft from here will be joining others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."

What the hell? Olivia mouthed to Stiles, completely confused.

Stiles just shook his head at her.

"Mankind," Coach mused. "That word should have a new meaning for all of us today."

"Does he do this every year?" she whispered to Stiles.

He nodded. "Every year."

"Dear God."

"No kidding."

Coach continued on, "We are fighting for our right to live!"

"Yeah!" most of the team shouted.

Olivia perked up in realization. "Wait, isn't this?"

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed. "it's the speech from Independence Day. It's his favorite movie."

"But as the day the world declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night!"

"I mean, the speech from Braveheart would be better than this," Olivia snorted. "Couldn't he rip off Friday Night Lights or something? Glory Road? You know, anything from any sport movie?"

"I don't think he cares," Stiles chuckled.

"Today," Coach ended his dramatic speech. "we celebrate our Independence Day!"

"Yeah!" the players cheered once again, sufficiently hyped up for the game. Olivia couldn't believe that the speech actually worked.

She and Stiles stiffened at the same time as Gerard slithered in next to Coach. "Well spoken, Coach," he praised the man. "I might have chosen something with a little more historical value but there's no denying your passion."

Coach gave him an offended look but Gerard completely missed it.

"And while I haven't been here long, there's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school," the Argent patriarch continued, looking around at the lacrosse players. "I know you'll all be brilliant tonight, even with only one co-caption leading you."

Olivia gave Stiles a questioning look but he furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing why Scott wouldn't be playing, either.

"Now, I'm your principal but I'm also a fan. So, don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team," Gerard grinned creepily. "Get out there and murder them."

"You heard the man!" Coach yelled. "Asses on the field!"

Olivia shivered at the menacing look on his face as he smirked and left the locker room. "He's probably the worst person on this earth," she mumbled, turning back to Stiles. "This is going to be bad."

Stiles' expression turned worried. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do." She wished that it wouldn't but everything seemed to point in that direction. The whole day, her body had been on edge, like she was waiting for someone to get hurt. The feeling was unsettling and had looking over her shoulder wherever she went.

Argent hunters were brutal. They had proved it time after time.

"You're gonna be careful, right?" Stiles grabbed her hands, squeezing them nervously.

"You don't have to worry about me," she shook her head, squeezing him back. "There's not really anything I can do."

"You can still get hurt, though."

"I won't," Olivia assured him. "Just focus on the game, yeah? Good luck, Stiles."

Stiles smiled lightly, not liking the fact that she was brushing off his concern. "Thanks, Livvy."

"And I'll be careful, okay?" she noticed the look in his eye.

Stiles nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he let go of her hands and ran a finger across the right shoulder of the jersey she was wearing. "Nice jersey, by the way."

Olivia's cheeks flushed; she had forgotten that Lydia forced her into a mock-up of Stiles' jersey, complete with his last name and the twenty-four on each side. "Oh, um, yeah," she nodded nervously. "Good luck, Stiles."

She practically sprinted away from him and out of the locker room, cursing Lydia the whole time.

Stiles nervously bounced his leg as he thought about what Olivia had said to him earlier. Things were going to get bad. He knew that, yet he couldn't shake the feeling he had inside of him. He was nervous, scared that someone he loved would get hurt, and angry that there was even a situation like this to begin with. Most of all, he felt helpless. There wasn't anything he could do to help. He couldn't help Scott. He couldn't help Olivia or Derek. He couldn't even help himself.

It frustrated the fuck out of him because he had that determination inside of him, he just couldn't act on it. He couldn't go up against a hunter or a werewolf, let alone a kanima, and make it out of the fight. He couldn't even protect his dad from Matt, so how the hell would he be able to protect Olivia when the Argents came after her?

He couldn't just stand by and watch the action unfold while people got hurt. He had to do something.

"Is your dad coming?" Scott broke him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," Stiles looked to the bleachers for a second, seeing his dad already settled in a row near they bottom. "he's already here."

Scott nodded. "You see Allison?"

No, he hadn't, and he didn't think they would at all. Allison had been absent since the night of the full moon when her mom had killed herself. She didn't respond to Scott at all, she was angry with Olivia for siding with Derek—though he didn't know what Allison expected Olivia to even do in that situation—and she was determined to get revenge on the Hale pack. She had dived into the deep end and Stiles was worried she couldn't swim.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "You know what's going on?"

Scott exhaled heavily. "Not yet."

"But it's going to be bad, isn't it?" Stiles knew it would but hearing it from Scott made if feel more real. "I mean, like people screaming and running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming—that kind of bad?"

It was quiet for a second as Scott looked over at him; it unnerved him. "Looks like it."

Stiles inhaled shakily, his eyes starting to sting. "Scott, the other night, seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt while I'm just lying there and I can't even move," he sniffed and looked back at his best friend. "it just—I want to help, you know? But I can't do the things that you can't do. I can't—"

"It's okay," Scott's voice was soft as he nodded at Stiles in assurance.

And Stiles was glad that out of every other guy in their class, Scott was the one who was his best friend. Because Scott got it. He got that Stiles was afraid but willing to do anything to help. He knew that Stiles felt trapped, sitting on the sidelines while everyone else fought. He understood Stiles. And Stiles knew Scott just as well.

They were lucky to have the relationship they had. It wasn't often that kind of loyalty came around and there it was, each of them sitting next to it.

Stiles tried to make the topic lighter, even if he failed. "We're losing, dude."

Luckily, Coach was there to pep things up. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked him incredulously, having only heard the last statement of their conversation. "The game hasn't even started. Now, put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

"What?" Stiles perked up, looking around for Coach's most-hated player. "What happened to Greenberg?"

"What happened to Greenberg?" Coach scoffed. "He sucks. You suck slightly less."

Stiles raised his eyebrows in shock. "I'm playing?" he pointed to himself. "On the field? With the team?"

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

"Yeah, unless you'd rather play with yourself."

"I already did that today, twice," Stiles told him absentmindedly, too shocked about the fact that he was playing to notice what he had just revealed.

Scott snickered, making him realize what he said.

"Just get the hell out there!" Coach ordered him.

Stiles squeaked nervously and gathered his lacrosse stick and helmet, running onto the field with the rest of his teammates. On the bleachers, Olivia and Lydia had just taken a seat next to Melissa and Noah, when they noticed what Stiles was doing.

"Oh, no," Noah groaned. "Why is my son running out to the field?"

Olivia perked up, finding Stiles immediately. She knew that he'd get to play today. It was a great opportunity for him to show that he was actually athletic and good at lacrosse. She wasn't lying when she said she thought he was good.

"Because he's on the team?"

"He is," Noah confirmed blankly before realizing the excitement of the situation. "He's on the team. He's on the field," he stood up, throwing his arms into the air as he cheered, "My son is on the field!"

Okay, that was adorable, Olivia mused, sharing a grin with Lydia.

The game started shortly after Stiles ran onto the field and it wasn't going well, to say the least. The first quarter went by fast, with the opposing team scoring two goals within eleven minutes. Every time the Beacon Hills players had the ball, it was a bad play or someone would foul out. When the ball went to Stiles, it always seemed to miss his net.

The next time he got the ball, he actually caught it in his net. Unfortunately, he was too busy celebrating to notice the two large defense players sprinting his way. There was an audible thwack as he was tackled to the ground.

Olivia winced while Melissa sighed. "He's probably just warming up."

She nodded in agreement but her hope was quickly dashed when the ball was tossed to Stiles yet again. He ran backwards in hopes to get it, but ended up tripping over his own feet.

Okay, maybe she hadn't seen Stiles do anything but run fast. In her defense, she thought that would translate into being good on the field.

"He's just a little nervous," Lydia tried to console Olivia and Noah, who were both cringing in on themselves. "There's plenty of time to turn it around."

As if the world was disagreeing with her, Stiles was tackled. The crowd booed loudly; Noah hid his face in his hands.

The new quarter started and when Scott went to enter the game, Coach pushed him right back onto the bench. Luckily, Isaac appeared, dressed for the game and ready to enter.

Olivia sighed in relief, glad that he hadn't gone with Erica and Boyd. She was closest to Isaac out of the three of them and she had been pretty sad when she learned that he was planning on leaving with the other two. He didn't, though. He was here to help.

Erica...Boyd...Erica...Boyd...

Olivia winced when she heard the whispers, the tingling that she had been feeling all day getting more intense in her stomach, chest, and legs. Erica and Boyd were in trouble and she didn't know if it was this so-called pack they had discovered or if the Argents got to them.

She quickly pulled out her phone and texted them both, asking if they were okay. She also messaged Derek, giving him a heads-up on what she was feeling.

Isaac entered the game for the second quarter and it was chaos. Instead of actually playing the game and trying to score, he spent the time tackling players from his own team. As more and more of his teammates went down, Olivia figured out what he was doing. He was making sure that Scott could play—there was no way that Coach would forfeit instead of putting Scott on the field.

It was smart and she was impressed. Until Jackson tackled Isaac and the team paramedics had to run onto the field. From what Olivia could see, Isaac couldn't move anything, which meant that Jackson had used the kanima venom on him.

Isaac, Isaac, Isaac...

Melissa had jumped off the bleachers to run onto the field in order to talk to Scott but she stayed put. She already knew that something was going on and she had learned from Scott earlier that Gerard was now in control of Jackson, the old bastard. This was part of the war, a battle to be won.

The rest of the quarter went by quickly and then it was halftime. The whispering of Isaac's name had gotten so intense that she had to run down to Scott as he rested, telling him and Stiles that something was happening to Isaac inside of the school.

Scott had assured her that he'd take care of it, since there wasn't really a way for her to defend Isaac on her own, and took off inside of the school. Olivia told Stiles that he was doing a great job with a horribly fake smile that he quickly saw through before going back to her seat on the bleachers.

The third quarter started and Scott was still absent. Beacon Hills were down by two points. And then, the fourth quarter started and everything changed. Players from both teams clashed together, sending the ball rolling down the field. It stopped right in front of Stiles, who stared at it like it was a foreign object for a moment.

And then he scooped it up into his net and took off down the field. None of the other players even knew he had the ball, the field between him and goal wide open and clear. Olivia jumped to her feet, cheering loudly with Lydia, as he raced to get there before the other team's defense could catch up.

Olivia was pretty sure she could hear him screeching as he looked back at his huge opponents and when he paused just in front of the goal, she yelled, "Shoot it, Stilinski!"

Stiles whipped the ball into the net, scoring his first goal in his first game.

Olivia screamed in excitement, hugging Lydia as they both jumped up and down. Next to them, Noah was going crazy with pride and Melissa was equally excited, yelling Stiles' name.

With two minutes left in the game, Stiles was on fire. He caught the ball from his teammate and sprinted down the field, twirling around the opposing team's defense like he was made for the sport. He easily scored, tying up the game. The whole crowd was on their feet, cheering him on. Olivia was so proud she felt like crying. Like, actual crying. What had love done to her.

Holy shit, she paused in realization. Love? I love Stiles Stilinski?

She didn't have time to focus on that. There was a minute left in the game and one goal to win.

Stiles didn't disappoint. He scooped up that lacrosse ball and took off, his teammates running after him and shouting in encouragement. Olivia waited anxiously and then screamed excitedly when he scored the winning goal, goosebumps erupting all over her body.

He won the game. He did it. Did she fucking call it or what?

And then the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, the crowd roared in excitement, and the lights around the field all went out at once.

Jackson...Jackson...Jackson...JACKSON!!!!

"Jackson?!" Olivia screamed, pressing her hands against her tingling chest.

The crowd was screaming as chaos erupted. They were running down the bleachers and heading toward the field and the parking lot. Lydia was tugging on her arm, and Melissa and Noah had taken off, seeing if they could do anything to help the situation.

Olivia was frozen. Something was wrong with Jackson, something worse than she ever felt.

"Liv, you're crying," Lydia said frantically; Olivia hadn't noticed. "What's wrong with Jackson? Is he okay? Liv!"

Everything sped up at once. Olivia grabbed Lydia's hand and jumped off the bleachers, running onto the field as the lights came back on one by one. There was already a crowd in the middle of the field, surrounding something.

"Somebody's hurt," they heard a guy say as they passed him. "Somebody's down on the field."

Olivia's stomach dropped. It was Jackson. It had to be.

She and Lydia pushed past the crowd in order to get to the middle to see what was going on. Jackson was on the ground, unconscious, with Melissa hovering over him, doing chest compressions.

"He's not breathing," she said rapidly. "No pulse."

"Oh, my God, there's blood," Lydia whimpered, her breath catching. "There's a lot of blood."

Olivia shook her head in complete shock. Jackson wasn't supposed to be dead. He was the kanima, the kanima that Gerard controlled. And now he was dead? He couldn't be dead.

He couldn't be.

"Get down here!" Melissa barked at her, in full nurse mood. "Get down her and hold his head."

Olivia scrambled to obey, dropping to her knees right by Jackson's head. She tilted his head up just as Melissa instructed her to do and tried not to shed anymore tears. Lydia was watching. Lydia was watching Jackson die and she had to be strong for her.

And then all the breath left her as the whispers started up again.

Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

"Where's my son?" Noah shouted from a few feet away, looking around the thinning crowd. "Where's Stiles? Where the hell is my son?"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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despair-ninja-everything-agency · 4 years ago

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Land of The Unnamed: A Concept

Believe it or not, rebrowsing Beksiński's artwork inspired me to think of an FFXIV raid based on his artworks (the paintings more so than the photographies or the photoshops). Given that, beside Edda's story, I don't see straight up horror elements borderlining eldritch beings (Sky Pirate raids came close with Void Ark and its Giger aesthetic) so I kinda want to think of something a little different.

Elaborations under the cut:

The Concept

The concept of the raid itself is a bit different than the traditional 24-man alliance or 8-man normal raids in that it's more like the 4-man dungeon run instead but with more miniboss or, alternatively, zero boss dungeon but with significantly strong "trashes" than the traditional 3 boss per dungeon and a more open world feeling environment. However, there's a duty closer to a trial but with a more dynamic environment than the usual circular stage most trials tend to have, naturally with a more complex mechanic as well. As of now, I can't decide whether to make the dungeon section and the trial section into one continuous duty or making them separate but I'm leaning toward the former since doing the latter would make it too similar to a normal dungeon and/or trial duty.

The amount of duties in this raid will be 6 duties, twice as much as an alliance raid line but half the amount of a normal raid line.

While player can do it with other players with the Duty Finder, it's also possible to do it like a Trust or Squadron in that it's with NPCs instead of other players.

In lieu to the story I would elaborate below, the questline would render the player unable to return to the rest of the open world areas. In exchange, there would be some sort of hub areas within the world of the questline where you can do non-combat sidequests, gather stuff, uncovering mysteries from puzzles or riddles, rest, buy stuff, etc. So you still have something to do in the areas while not having to worry about stuff like buying potions or crafting armors and weapons.

In the same vein, given what will happen to the player in the story, there would be some sort of interface screw in that player can't see anything but darkness and their surrounding is "seen" with literal echoes (think of a bat's echolocation).

The Story

In an ambiguous timeframe, the Warrior of Light suddenly gets transported into an unknown world alien to them. Worse still, Hydaelyn's blessings somehow wont reach them there, leaving them without the protection of the Crystal. While roaming, they met with 3 other people who are similarly trapped in there, 2 in which are not a species the WoL familiar with (one is a burly Roegadyn-like man and another a small goblin-sized boy) and one is a Midlander Hyur girl... at least that's what she looks like but she reveals she doesn't know what a Hyur is.

So the four of you tries to find a way to get out of there, searching high and low and occasionally slain the horrific creatures they meet if they feel they threaten them.

It is then discovered that one of them has to sacrifice 3 of their senses to escape the alien world they're in. Neither want to do so, including the WoL. However, the first trial renders the WoL deaf, leading to them becoming the unwitting sacrifice. Along the way, they start to lose their sense of sight and sense of touch (the "Hyur" girl helps them when they lost the former) each from the subsequent trials. Despite that, there's no exit in sight. The group become frustrated - the WoL moreso since their loss seems like it's for naught - until they met a mysterious man under the moniker of Bezimienny who leads them to a building filled with impossible maze-like structure despite from the outside it's nothing but a thin and tall structure. In the greedy and/or desparate attempt of escaping, the other three unknowingly (or knowingly?) left the WoL alone in their disabilities. However, the managed to get out despite it. How did they managed to get out depends on if you have DRK job unlocked or not (not necessarily having to equip the job).

If you have DRK job unlocked, the WoL's heart seems to resonate into one direction which is getting stronger and stronger until they mentally hear Fray's voice in their head. He helps them using another means to identify their surrounding (the aforementioned literal echo, representated by an red outline of Fray spamming Unleash and creates red circles centered from him that outlines the room they're in) and they exploit it to lead them to the exit.

If not, while it's not stated, the WoL implied to have simply stumbled into a field filled with grave stones. The maddening voices in their head (presumably from the dead corpses in the graves) almost drive them crazy but due to them standing their ground, they finally can "see" their surrounding (again, the aformentioned literal echo. This time only the echo outlines coming from the WoL themselves without Fray initiating it). They use it to their advantage and finally able to get out of the maze.

After that, a mysterious voice cryptically congratulates them. At the same time, the WoL finally regain their lost sense back. When asked what happened to the other three companion, it is revealed that they're separated and lost within the maze, doomed to never escape it and slowly turned into the denizen of the nameless land (WoL don't seem to be purturbed because they left them to fend themselves in the maze while having lost 3 of their most crucial senses). The voice then task them with one last trial: climb up the waterfall flowing from a frame held by the one holding the frame. Despite the difficulty, they manage to do it and finally returns to their world with seemingly no time has passed since they went to the alien world.

(Finer details, like the background of the 3 companions beside that they're not from Hydaelyn or any world of FFXIV, will not be discussed for now. Just the general story)

The Creatures

(Oh boy, I saved several Beksiński paintings just for this. All paintings courtesy of Zdzisław Beksiński himself)

I could say every creatures ever existed in Beksiński's art appear here but several special mentions. Firstly, the first boss.

The idea of losing senses came when I'm thinking of this dude as a boss. In the following cutscene after his defeat, he blows his trumpet again very loudly and WoL have an unfortunate position of being right in front of him, rendering them permanently deaf (well, not permanently per say but you get the idea).

Another is this dude(s).

They're either a trial boss or an end dungeon boss. Their gimmick is that while in the first phase and last phase they attack as one entity, the phases in between has them separated (though some may still clumped together) and fight the party members individually. The ghost faces also don't come out until the last half of the fight.

Then there's this little guy.

Undoubtly a "trash" mob, with several of them scattered through the dungeons either in small groups or just by itself.

I could list everything in his paintings but I figured it would be to exhaustive to list.

The Drawback

I'm very aware this is not without drawbacks. One thing for sure is that the locked area system would be pain in the ass especially if you want to do something else (that is not within the locked area, they can only do so much) while waiting for duty to pop up. Another is that the proposed 4-man raid system would be no different from normal dungeon run and the first 3 ARR primals' 4-man trial.

Lastly, the matter of copyright even if this can be circumvented by not making it too obvious to be a carbon copy of Beksiński's work.

If you read it till this far, then thank you for reading. The idea is just a burst of inspiration (not helped it's originally very WoL!Cole centric), so it's not very fleshed out. But regardless, I might want to expand on this if I had more to say.

#Zdzisław Beksiński #Zdzislaw Beksinski #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #DN yeets herself into the idea dump again #pls stop this woman her mind is going places :'D #it's 11 PM and my phone's at 4% dammit-

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thorinds · 5 years ago

Note

hello! i just wanted to ask how you get your gifs so freaking HD and clear and vibrant! i just started making gifs like a week ago and nothing i do makes my gifs sharp like yours :( any help is appreciated, thank you!

First of all, thank you so much! ;___; I really appreciate it!

First off, I should probably should start off with some general points:

Learning how to photoshop and make GIFs generally takes a lot of practice. Photoshop itself is a program with endless functions (or so it seems to me), meaning mastering takes time, but that’s okay! Don’t ever let that discourage you! I’ve seen people that have only used Photoshop for a short period of time, and yet their GIFs look really good.

There will be hundreds upon hundreds of tutorials out there. For many, that can be really helpful, but as I don’t have the patience to follow a tutorial, I prefer figuring it out on my own, meaning there are plenty of ways of doing it.

Sometimes the source material you’re working with is shit and that sucks.

Photoshop can be a major pain in the ass at times.

Okay, so now that I’ve got that out of my system, let’s general sharpening:

Use HD videos: The general consensus is that the better your source material is, the better will the GIFs end up looking. That is why I always try to use HD videos when making GIFs; 720p is good, but 1080p is even better.

Don’t shy away from 480p (or 360p) videos if there is no other alternative: However, that is not to say 480p videos will automatically end up looking bad. They’re just going to require a bit more work, and if done right, the GIFs, can end up looking almost as good as a 1080p GIF.

Consider the quality of your video when deciding the size of your GIF: I find that videos that are 480p or lower don’t look unless they are 268px in width (or lower). I only use 1080p (and 720p videos when I don’t have a choice) when making GIFs that are 540px in width.

Sharpening:

When you’ve picked a HD video and have your source material, the best way to get your GIFs to look sharp and HD is to use a good sharpening technique. I have no idea how many different sharpenings there are out there, but probably hundreds, meaning you may want to try out different things and see what you like the most. (You’ll find a lot of stuff if you search for “sharpening actions”). That said, I tend to stick with the same sharpening action pretty much every single time.

So this is how my GIF looks without the sharpening:

While this is how it looks when sharpened:

However, I do not have to original link to the sharpening action as I’ve had it on my computer for many, many years, but you can download it here: DOWNLOAD (Unfortunately I intend to remove the download link in a short while.)

That said, though you may be happy with the opacity of the of the top layer at 52%, I tend to edit it depending of the GIF, going from 20% to 52%. Again, this is something you’ll just have to test out, but I find that going to 42% tends to work well for me, meaning it looks like this:

A good tip tough: If the video you use is 1080p, 52% opacity work well, but if you’re working with a 360p or 480p video, something between 25% and 40% opacity looks better.

Unfortunately I don’t have the opportunity right now write a colouring tutorial, but I promise I’ll post one as soon as I possibly can, hopefully within a couple of days. Until then, I hope this helps! :)

#elricity #Ask Box #PS! If you (or anybody else for that matter) are thinking about any colourings in particular just let me know :)

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stoplookingupforheaven · 5 years ago

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Glory

a piece inspired by bastille’s glory music video. the italicized dialogue is taken from that video and is not mine.

special thanks to everyone who helped me figure out how the hell to format this and how the “keep reading” function works on tumblr. i love you lot.

If tonight had a soundtrack, she decides, it would have to include a cello. Cello tones, hovering under the industrial sounds of the airport. Cello tones, long, low, and slow, to balance out the quick, bright flashes of silver and red and blue on the planes that take off overhead.

The whole scene feels like exhaling a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Sunday night. Airport grounds. A sky bruising purple-brown. The heat of the car’s hood. Passing the paper bag back and forth. The tiny, musical crash of the drops inside the bottle as it moves between them.

“What about when you were driving?”

“Yeah, you lost your phone.”

It had been in a fit of daring, an instant when Friday overtook his mostly-rational mind, and he’d dropped his phone out the passenger window. The sky was steel-gray and heavy with thunderclouds, the air oddly still despite the pre-storm breeze that rippled across the fields they were driving past. She hadn’t heard the smack of plastic on asphalt. She didn’t see how the screen cracked on impact, a spiderweb of lines criss-crossing it as they shot down the road. They’d laughed about it, said no one could find them now.

“And that weird dive bar we found…”

It was tiny, dark inside. He played pool with strangers. She danced alone. The atmosphere faded from pale blue to glowing red, as night fell outside and all thoughts of tomorrow were wiped from her brain.

“When you were dancing on the table, with that blonde wig-”

“It was pink!”

She snickers, knocking her leg lightly against his, relishing the slow buzz that runs through her body when he reciprocates the gesture. Cello tones, she thinks.

“You nicked that car.”

“I borrowed that car.”

They hadn’t bothered to stick around and find out whose it was, driving through the night instead to God knows where. They talked about nothing and everything - water, winter, warmth, how the world felt so wild, like it had gone mad and there wasn’t really a whole lot they could do about it. She let the breeze slip around her arm as she reached out, watching the lights play on the back of her hand, lonely orange and inky-blue.

“You ran into that lake with your clothes on.”

“It was someone’s pool, and you were supposed to come with me!”

It was a summery kind of cold, and he’d engulfed her in a bear hug afterwards, water streaming off of him and onto her, raising goosebumps on her arms. They were stuck in a bubble where time didn’t quite exist, where minutes stretched into hours and days collapsed into seconds. Where you were conscious of the world moving around you but you couldn’t - or maybe didn’t want to - move out to join it. Where gray skies meant warmth and not sadness, and green hills covered in flowers felt old and not new.

But there’s a glitch in the scene, and she can’t quite put her finger on it. There’s a disconnect in their narrative, something that should overlap but doesn’t. Some small detail, just a word or two-

She ignores it, because this is memory, and therefore the story is shaped by the person telling it. The cello melody is back, twisting around her head.

“What about those two guys that wanted a fight?”

“Oh they were fine, they just wanted to dance…”

How small she’d felt! But despite their unsmiling expressions, they really had just wanted to dance. And so she danced. It was an odd dance, but it was dancing. The tips of her shoes had moved over the concrete floor. Dancing with strangers was not something she normally did, but then again, nothing about anything felt normal anymore.

“You dared me to run through that couple’s house…”

The recklessness of youth is always easier to bear when someone else is made to suffer with you, she’d decided. It eased the thrill, spread the high out just enough so that the body did not completely succumb to the rush of adrenaline, so the mind was not overwhelmed by fear and bliss all at once. The house was aggressively mundane - beige walls, landscape paintings, area rugs over hardwood floors - and it felt hostile, like it didn’t want to accept the misfit of a young adult that she was. Like little kids, she’d dragged him through the living room, hand in hand, barely registering the shock on the couple’s face so much as-

“And the old guy had a gun!”

“What?”

He laughs, and she does too, and she misses the same feeling of a mismatch in the back of her mind. It fades away before she realizes anything’s out of place. Another red-and-chrome body soars over their heads. She thinks yet again of the sound of a cello.

“You didn’t want to dance in that class.”

“What are you on about? I totally outdanced you.”

They’d stopped in a town somewhere between the Midwest and the West, the kind of place where it was perpetually mid-afternoon and no one dared disturb the feeling. It looked like every place she’d ever been, and nothing like anything she’d ever seen. It was unique, and it was stereotypical, and it was too perfect, as though someone had set it up with the perfect small-town main street in mind and hit the mark a little too well. She’d laughed as he did toe taps and flailed his arms in time with the rest of the class. She’d danced away the memories of signs on the edge of town, signs that called for glory and heaven, two things that she felt were better left not chased.

“You slept through all the good bits.”

She’ll never know if that’s true, but she does know that she propped her feet up on the dash of the car, and dreamed. She dreamed of golden hours, Ferris wheels, old cars, kidnappings, and oceans. Rain pattered on the windshield. Inside the car it was dark, and the dim interior wrapped around her like a blanket, the evening stretching on into perpetuity. Was it evening? She didn’t know. But the old car held her and she sank into its embrace.

“Why steal such a shit car?”

“It’s a classic!”

She’d leapt in regardless. He’d adjusted his baseball cap (was that there before?) and they left, chasing the sun. Or maybe the night.

Whatever the car was, it had held up every mile, against all odds, past farms and fields and trees, the gray exterior blurring with the road beneath and the sky above until the car - and its occupants - were a part of the landscape, instead of simply passing through. And they’d stopped it as the sun set, sitting on the curb at a rest stop and watching-

“That weird sky was full of pinks.”

It was unreal. There was no adjective in any language she knew that could begin to capture what that sky was like. The clouds were a child’s Photoshop project, purple and yellow and even green, dancing across a sky that darkened from pale salmon to something resembling wisteria - if wisteria could feel haunting and cozy all at the same time.

“I remember it being all yellow.”

There it is again - that flashing instant where something is not quite right, where there’s some odd catch in the world’s fabric. She tries to catch hold of the feeling, to make sense of it, because she wants to fix it. She wants to correct the mistake - for surely it is only a simple mistake - and mend the perfect seam she’s been stitching out of pictures and sounds. But it’s too fleeting, too fragile, and the feeling slips away like water through her fingers, melting into the perfect scenes she’s remembering. In her head, the cello plays on, the music writing itself without her aid.

“I beat you to the top of that mountain.”

“Pretty sure you didn’t.”

It was the only time she could clearly remember something and definitively call it pain: the burning in her lungs as she scrambled towards the top, the aching in her limbs as they stumbled back down. It hadn’t even been that much of a mountain. She wasn’t sure why she’d called it that. It was a mound of woodchips in a lot somewhere. But the only word that her lips could form to describe it was “mountain,” as if the world was telling her that she had to make it fit this narrative, which was feeling increasingly as if it didn’t fully belong to her, because who really recalled details like these? Vivid colors, but not complete pictures. Trains of thought inspired by a journey, but not the trip itself.

But he’d wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked away, and she’d forgotten the pain.

The rest of it is just flashes. Stoplights glowing through the rain and the windshield wipers. His fingers running through his hair. The young man dancing in a parking lot. Roads that wound through mounds of rocks. A burned road sign of overlapping triangles. She’d mentioned that it felt ominous, but he’d told her it was probably her imagination. The smile on his face when he spun her on the dance floor.

And this corner of the night. The middle of this airport service road she’s not sure how they got onto. Planes overhead, and lights in the sky, and his arm thrown around her shoulders.

It feels right, and that’s what makes it feel wrong.

“You tell it differently every time.”

“Well, I like my version better.”

She wants to look him in the eye as he says this, but her head won’t turn. She wonders why she said “every time.” They’ve never spoken about these memories before - have they?

She considers thinking about it, but chooses instead to watch the planes leave them behind. After all, it feels right, so she doesn’t worry about it.

In the morning she wakes in her own bed. There is no dive bar, no burned road signs, no weird pink sky. No airplanes. No strange memories. No one but her.

There’s a cello melody in the back of her head, and she’s not sure where it came from.

#rain writes #glory #glory music video #bastille-inspired #help what do i tag this

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lifeoftheparty74 · 5 years ago

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Señorita

A/N: This wasn’t supposed to be so long, or be my first smut... But my hands had a mind of their own and this is the result. I’d love feedback!

Pairing(s): ShawnxReader. (sorry, I cut out Camila, but I wanted to for the imagine!)

Word count: 2398

Warnings: Smutty! Oral(male and female recieving)

Of course I'd noticed the guy sitting at booth seven: He hadn't taken his eyes off me since he entered the café and frankly, though it should've freaked me out, I didn't mind it.

The guy was around my age, and if his clothing style and the bike he came here in didn't say enough, his eyes definitely did. He was of the bad boy type, and he was out for something.

And it seemed like he'd found his target.

The entire time during my shift, the handsome person kept making eye contact with me. He tried to get my attention, but I never spared him a second glance. I even asked Rosie, who'd normally do the tables at the left side of the restaurant, to switch areas so I didn't have to meet or talk to him.

According to Rose, he kept ordering and ordering again, but it appeared as if he did this just to stay longer.

However, when afternoon turned into evening, and my shift ended, he seemed to have given up and left.

Or so I thought.

The door fell closed behind me, and I was planning on just taking the bus home and spending my night watching series and eating chocolate.

"Señorita!"

The guy from next to the window blocked my view from the bus stop, hand laying on my upper arm softly and towering over me, forcing me to lift my head.

He was even more handsome up close: Perfect skin with the exception of an adorable scar on his cheek, eyes dark yet friendly, jawline to cut, and perfectly unruly curls.

"Qué deseas, Shawn?"

"Okay sorry, I have no idea what that means. I just knew Señorita."

"What do you want?"

"Talk to me."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." My voice was a whisper now, eyes focused on my feet.

"Can you look at me? Please?"

I craned my neck, our eyes locking.

"Will you please come with me?"

My mind spun a hundred miles an hour, going over my options and their consequences.

I could say no, and it would be better for both of our hearts and brains. But the offer was so appealing: To feel his skin against mine again, his lips all over my body, his voice in my ear, just Shawn, everywhere.

In the end, the attraction won. "Okay."

***

The motorbike races through the town, speeding across lights and other vehicles, until we reach a small hotel, a little outside of the center of the town. Shawn seems in a hurry with jumping up the stairs and unlocking his room, actually pulling me along with him. It reminds me of when we were just teenagers in love, when we didn't know about the pain that would eventually end us.

The room is small, but the bed is large enough for two people. While a fan is on, the room still feels hot and I know it'll be even pressing in a couple of minutes.

I lean against the closed window, not really sure what to do. I hate the fact that it's so awkward between us right now, it never used to be that way. But my attention is shifted to something different as he sits on the bed and takes off his white shirt.

Holy shit.

In the year that I haven't seen him, his muscles have only grown and gotten more defined. I'd seen the Calvin Klein pictures, but assumed it would be at least partly photoshopped.

It wasn't.

My instincts pulled me towards him, standing between his legs.

Shawn never took his eyes from me as he stood up, making me feel very small and vulnerable, knowing he could tear me apart in a snap if he wanted, emotionally and physically.

Jesus, why was I even still thinking about this? I just want to enjoy this time with him.

So I raised up on my toes, fingers finding the soft curls at the nape of his neck, lips almost meeting his until he twisted us around, pushing me down onto the bed, and dropping himself on top of me.

I let out a little squeal, gripping his shoulders tightly to hold on to.

"It's okay baby, I'd never let you fall."

"Just kiss me, Mendes."

And he did.

God, he did.

His mouth actually devoured mine, tongue stroking mine, sucking it into his mouth softly, teeth tugging on my bottom lip, alternating between soft pecks on my lips and actually attacking me.

He tasted exactly like I'd remembered: sweet, like raspberries almost, but fresh and minty at the same time. Perfect.

While we were making out, our hands didn't stay still; Mine slid into his hair and over his shoulders, and his alternated between holding my hips, cupping my cheek, or laying on the bed around my head.

After a few minutes, it was clear both of us wanted more, and I moved the hand in his hair to his butt, pulling his crotch against me.

Shawn got the message, and started rolling his hips against me, making me pull away from his lips at last and keening into his hand that was now on my breast.

"Shawn," I whispered, not knowing why, he was just clouding my mind right now.

"Yeah hun? Feel good?"

"So good," my body moved back against him, making him groan loudly, and rest his forehead on mine.

"Do you want more, hm?"

"Please baby, please just do something."

"What do you want, señorita?"

Oh god, that nickname did things to me.

"You."

He maneuvered me so my head was laying on the pillow, and he hovered above me as we both hurries to take of my blouse and his hands didn't wait one second to reach under my back and unclasp my bra, a move he'd mastered over the years.

I shook the straps of my shoulders, while he bent down and took one of my breasts into his mouth. They were never really sensitive, but Shawn loved sucking on my nips, so he did until both of them were standing upright. When he pulled away, I took the opportunity to flip us over, settling myself on the v-line that led straight to the best part of him, that was still concealed by his boxers.

I pressed kisses down his Adam's apple, to his collar bones, and his oversensitive nipples. Meanwhile I fumbled with his jean button, and he helped my by kicking them off, making them land somewhere I wasn't bothered to figure out.

He was in just boxers now, and while climbing down his body, I took off my skirt, leaving me in just a simple pair of panties.

The bulge in his Calvin's made my mouth water, and all I wanted was to feel him tremble and squirm underneath me.

"Can I suck you off? Please?"

"God, is that even a question? Please do!"

And in no time, his boxers were on the ground and my mouth started to place kisses on his abs and inner thighs, working closer and closer to the huge cock that had all of my attention right now.

I grabbed the base of it in my right hand, left stroking his thick thigh. My lips immeadiatly found his tip, pressing soft kisses and kitten licks to it, before moving further down and coating his whole dick. It wasn't until he was actually keening off the bed, that I finally had mercy and took almost half of him at once into my mouth.

I was directly shocked by the familiarity of having him in my mouth, feeling so good and exiting to have again.

"Holy shit! Just like that, babe, just like that. Feels so fucking good," he panted. I smiled proudly, bobbing my head up and down.

My hand jerked off the part that I couldn't fit into my mouth yet, while the other one massaged his balls.

He soon couldn't keep his hand to himself anymore, one fisting in my hair and the other one magically being big enough to reach my shoulder, keeping my hands on him.

His moaning and groaning got louder and louder, and soon he pulled me of of him, bringing his lips to mine.

"If you don't stop now, I'm going to cum and all of this will be over way too soon."

I smiled at him, feeling comfortable, warm, but most of all, hot and bothered.

Shawn, once again, flipped both of us over, and took my panties off in one swift motion.

He thumbed my slit lightly, making my whole body ache.

"So soaked for me," Shawn muttered, finding my clit, drawing small circles on it.

"Shawnn," I couldn't stop the moan from leaving my lips.

"Yeah babe? Feel good?"

"Don't stop." I panted, breaths getting louder as aside from his thumb on my clit, he also added two fingers inside me without trouble, finding that one spot inside me that made me keen into him.

My legs twitched, and I tried to close them, but he wouldn't let me, pushing his broad shoulders between them, keeping me spread open right in front of his face.

"C'mon, cum for me." The roughness of his voice brought me closer to the edge, and I could almost feel myself falling over.

"Give it to me, señorita." His lips latched onto my clit, sucking it into his mouth, making slurping noises in sync with my pants and moans as my orgasm hit.

Shawn fingered me through it, and only stopped when I pushed his head away because I was getting too sensitive.

"Was that good?" He asked me, nuzzling his nose into my cheek.

"It was perfect, baby."

"D'you wanna continue?"

"Yeah, just gimme a second."

We lay together on the bed, sometimes meeting each other's eyes, and laughing or giggling for no apparent reason.

When I realized I'd been looking at him for quite a while, and was kind of pent up again. I rolled over, climbing on top of him, and his eyes darkened again as I grinded my pussy on his cock, his hands finding my hips and guiding my movements.

"Baby, do you want me to- Do I need to use a condom?"

"Are you clean?"

He leaned up, making sure to look in my eyes and cupping my jaw. "Yes. I haven't been with anyone else. Have you?"

"No. Only you."

He grinned, eyes twinkling. "My girl."

His hand placed themselves on your hips, moving on top of you, and placing one hand on the base of his cock.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He slowly pushed in his tip, filling me out deliciously, until he bottomed out in one thrust.

Shawn gave me a couple of seconds, knowing exactly how long I needed to adjust to his length.

When after a few moments he couldn't hold it anymore, he pulled out almost completely, and thrust in harshly, making both of us let out high pitched squeals.

After a couple of times, he started fucking into me harder and creating a rhythm that felt so perfect I grabbed on to his biceps and struggled to keep my eyes open.

He looked so good above me, jaw clenched, eyes focused on himself moving in and out of me, arms on either side of my head, and I couldn't help but lean forward and suck a number of hickeys onto his neck under his ear.

I pulled away, admiring my work, while he leaned back on his knees to continue rocking into me, but giving his hands the ability to travel all over my body, my sides, hips, thighs around his middle, and finally his calloused finger on my clit.

The rough sensation on my clit made my eyes close instinctively.

"Keep your eyes open sweetheart." He whispered, his breath dangerously close to my ear. But my body wouldn't respond, I just kept rocking my hips on with his. "Open your eyes for me, señorita." Now I did, and his eyes were almost black as he looked into mine. "Look at what I'm doing to you."

My eyes casted downwards, seeing his dick slipping in and out of me, and hearing the wet, sloppy sounds increase the wetter I got.

"Shawn, feels so good," I got out.

"Yeah baby? Gonna cum for me?"

"I'm almost there. Shawn!" My body shook around him, pussy clenching so tight he had trouble moving a few seconds.

My pussy was so sensitive after two orgasms, but he just kept rubbing my clit while he drilled into be.

"Shawn, stop, I'm-"

But he came soon after that, and finally pulled out and stopped the stimulation on my sensitive parts. I expected him to drop down next to me, as he usually did, but instead he ducked down and wrapped his lips around my clit. It hurt for a second, but as he started fucking his cum back into me with his tongue, I could feel my third high approach and before I knew it, he'd thrown me over the cliff once again, and finally, finally, he stopped, fell down next to me, and pulled me into his arms.

We were both asleep in mere seconds.

***

I was woken by soft sunlight hitting my face, slowly opening my eyes. Shawn was still asleep, and I took the time to admire the Greek God laying in front of me.

However, after a while, I got way too hot and decided to get up. Shawn has always been kind of a heavy sleeper, so I figured it should be pretty safe to open the blinds.

"You're so goddamned gorgeous."

I whipped around. "You were awake?"

"Yeah. You were staring at me for quite a while. I don't mind though."

He sat up straight, but I stayed leaned against the window. "We need to talk."

"I know what you're going to ask, but I love you. I miss you. I know that that news broke us apart, but I need you in my life. I just... I want you back."

"I have no idea how we could make this work, but I love you too. Always have, always will."

"Then lets talk about that later then. Let's just enjoy each other for now."

And with those words, I walked to him, climbing into his lap, repeating part of last nights' activities, hoping we would be forever this time.

#shawn #shawn mendes story #shawnmendes #shawnmendesfanfic #shawn mendes x reader #shawnmendesimagine #shawnmendesblurb #senorita #Smut #shawnmendessmut #camila cabello

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

A Kind Of Magic

Here is the next part :)

“Encourage, lift and strengthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all. For we are connected, one and all.”

Taron woke up cosy, the duvet pulled right up to his chin as he lay on his right side.

“Ugh ow.” He groaned. Sleeping on his right side was uncomfortable and painful on his sore arm and ribs and he had been avoiding it, mostly choosing to lay on his back, or left side. He slowly rolled to his back, cringing as he did so, feeling an unpleasant sensation of prickling torment for a few seconds, until his body settled. He looked to his left to see it was just him in the bed, Robyn’s chosen side empty, the duvet neatly pulled up to the pillow. He figured she was the reason he felt so warm and snug under the duvet but he was bothered by the fact that she wasn’t there sleeping. Taron knew without a doubt that Robyn was running on fumes and although she had willingly allowed him in emotionally, he wished he could help her rest and actually sleep.

He reached over to the bedside locker and picked up his phone. Blinking at the bright light as he unlocked the screen checking the time and the day more importantly. He didn’t want to see that he had slept another full day.

“Saturday.” He sighed a relief and even more so when he saw it was actually early morning. Just before ten but frowned when he saw another missed call from Richard. He had completely forgotten to call him back yesterday but he knew Richard would understand when he phoned him and explained why.

As tempting at it was to roll over and snuggle back into the pillow, Taron drew back the duvet cover enjoying the fresh air that the air conditioning circulated around the room and eased himself out of the bed. He didn’t feel as stiff as he did yesterday but was quite tender and sensitive from laying on his hurt side during the night.

He stood up carefully and wandered out in search of Robyn and found her standing at the island in her kitchen, cutting some fruit on a chopping board.

“Good morning.” She said brightly as he sleepily walked in to kitchen.

Robyn was quickly adding a new Taron to her mind as this half awake, messy haired Taron was definitely her favourite yet and she was trying very hard to use this new image of Taron to replace the ones that plagued her dreams last night. His mam had made an appearance too, throwing picture after picture of her son at her, telling her she had killed her child. Robyn had woken up startled at one am, after four hours sleep and just lay in the bed, again watching Taron as he slept. She got up from the bed around four and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, including the bathroom. At nine she had a quick shower, plaited her hair in two French braids and threw on another pair of demin shorts, a Hawaiian patterned string top along with her blue converse. She opened the doors of the apartment letting the beautiful morning air and sunshine in and had set the garden up for the day pulling out two sun loungers from the garden shed, putting the cushions on the chair swing and plugging in the small water fountain too. She then started her usual weekend morning breakfast routine of making waffles, while listening to music. She was in the middle of cutting up the fruit to go with the waffles when Taron walked into the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” He replied as he stopped and gave her a hug from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek, before moving to lean against the sink.

“Sleep well?” She asked him, hoping he didn’t see the easy blush that rose to her cheeks from his little kiss. She adored how easy Taron was with his affection.

“Yeah. That bed is magnificent. Don’t think I beat my record though.”

“No but close to it. Eleven hours.”

“And how many did you get?” He asked

“A few.” She replied.

“A few?” He probed as he moved to stand beside her. “How many qualifies as a few?”

“Four?” She answered honestly.

“Nightmares?”

“Staring your lovely mam this time.” Robyn knew she couldn’t lie to Taron. He would see through her in an instant.

“Jesus Robyn. My mam?”

She stopped cutting the strawberries and turned to him. “I know your mam would never do what she did in my dream and if it makes it any better, it was four hours uninterrupted. That hasn’t happened for me in a while.”

Taron sighed. He felt guilty for sleeping so soundly when his host struggled so much. “What did you do once you woke?”

Robyn put the strawberries she had cut in a bowl and moved onto the mango beside her. “I cleaned the apartment.”

“Not for my benefit I hope.” He said quickly.

“No, just my usual Saturday clean. I want to get back into some sort a routine like I had before I moved to Florida even with you here and you are not in my way and you are not imposing on me Taron.” She said knowing he was going to apologise for turning up unannounced. “I enjoy having the company and you know I am very glad you are here.”

Taron stole a piece of strawberry from the bowl and skipped around the island as she went to tap his hand away. “I need to take my pain killers with food. What are you making?” He asked picking up his bottles of pain killers, knowing he had to take them twice a day, morning and evening.

“Waffles.” Answered Robyn as she cut around the stone in the mango.

“Waffles?” He stopped and looked at her. “Seriously?”

“It actually is my normal Saturday breakfast. It is not because you are here. I mix it up between waffles and pancakes every weekend. I just fancied waffles this morning.”

“Let me guess, you have a waffle maker.” Taron left his tablets on the counter and walked around to get a glass from the press he knew they were in and filled it with water from the fridge.

“It was actually a present from my friend Claire. I didn’t buy it myself. It is not something I would ever buy for myself but seeing as how I have it, I make use of it, only on the weekends though.”

“Waffles for breakfast and key lime pie for tea last night.” Grinned Taron as he took his painkillers, but Robyn saw his face change once he drank the rest of the water. “My trainer is going to have some job to get me back in shape when I am back filming but not because of you Robyn. I don’t mean it like that.” Taron quickly corrected himself. “I mean because I can’t train or move much. I am going to be such a pudding by the time I am back ready to film.”

“Don’t even Taron.” Said Robyn and Taron was taken back by the annoyance in her voice and looked at her to see a serious look of irritation on her face. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She stopped slicing the mango and put down the knife. “No one should talk about themselves like that. This is why I like working with children. They don’t judge. They just see you for who you are and don’t care about what you look like. I wish the world could be seen through the eyes of a child.” Robyn walked around to stand beside Taron. “I thought you didn’t care about that Hollywood shit.”

“Well I don’t but…”

“Exactly but it gets to you and I know it gets to you but it shouldn’t. Want my honest truth?” Taron nodded. He very much valued Robyn’s opinion and words. “As a woman, if I had a choice between Eggsy and Eddie, I would choose Eddie.”

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yes really. I, as a fan of your work, watched interviews of your time of promoting Eddie the Eagle.” Robyn pointed to herself. “Huge Hugh Jackman fan. Anyway, I could easily see how uncomfortable you were every time someone mentioned your physical transformation and it shouldn’t even have been a question asked or commented on. Same for your portrayal as Elton too. It shouldn’t matter and as someone who has struggled with their own body confidence, I know how it feels. Nobody should be judged by how they look but because the world we live in, is one of a shallow photoshop society where magazines and television decide and depict how a man or woman should look, it makes those of us who don’t fit that certain look feel worthless and unattractive. I would choose Eddie over Eggsy any day because that is what is real. I don’t want you thinking that you can’t have something sweet because it will turn you into a so-called pudding. I happen to like pudding and thinking about shit like that fucks with your mind and brings you spiralling down a horrible rabbit hole. You are perfect, whether you are a pudding or a rice cake.”

“A rice cake?” Taron looked at Robyn titling his head.

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind that could compare to pudding but seriously Taron. Don’t starve yourself from something you want because of what is going to happen two months or so down the line. Shouldn’t what happened to us last week, make us even more aware that life is short and we should eat the God damn pudding. This is why I hate the pressure of having to look a certain way, or being judged for how you look because it…”

“Is what inside that counts.” Finished Taron.

“Yes it bloody is and it makes me angry to hear you talk like that. You are beautiful Taron inside and out.”

“Just like you.” Confirmed Taron. “Yes you.” He repeated when he saw that same doubt in Robyn’s eyes that he had felt in his less than two minutes ago. “I wouldn’t have said it in your office if I didn’t believe it and you cannot lecture me on my body confidence and not let me return the favour.”

“Thank you. It has taken me a long time to be comfortable in my own skin but I won’t listen to you bring yourself down like that. Nothing wrong with a little bit of pudding Taron. I told you I preferred Eddie and you are in an Irish house and Irish people feed their guests so I won’t hear you say it again and you will eat everything that is put in front of you and there is nothing stopping us from taking small walks every day and it will help to build your strength back up and the baking has really only been happening because I can’t sleep. I am actually really good during the week. I would go for an hour walk every day after work and I rarely get take out and normally cook nice healthy things and…”

Taron threw his arms around Robyn, stopping her mid-sentence pulling her close for another one of their hugs that said so much without using any words. “Thank you.” He said simply. Taron felt a sudden surge of self-confidence and assurance that he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was completely touched by Robyn’s words and the fact the she noticed how uncomfortable he was when others hadn’t. It was so refreshing to hear Robyn speak so positive about what he considered his faults and he very much appreciated her encouraging words. “And thanks for putting the knife down before you scolded me. I thought you were going to stab me there for a minute.”

“Well I might still do if you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Luckily you can patch me back up too afterwards.”

Laughter filled the kitchen as they broke the hug. “So, waffles?” Asked Robyn.

“Waffles.” Agreed Taron.

“They come with fruit too.” She said as she walked back around to where she had been chopping the fruit.

“I am just going to have a quick shower and change. Looks like another beautiful day out there.”

“Yeah it’s going to be a scorcher. Figured we could just sit in the garden and listen to music and not do much else.”

“Yes please.”

“Go shower. I shall continue waffling.”

Taron headed back to the bedroom and pulled the duvet up the bed up so it was fully made. He went into the closet and carefully lifted his bag into the bed, straining with the effort and routed through for his wash bag. Grabbing it, he walked into the bathroom and after he had closed the door, saw that Robyn had replaced the towels he had used the day before with fresh red ones. He was actually surprised with the colour of the towels considering Robyn’s apartment was filled with cool blue tones but when he felt the softness of the towel, he knew why she had bought the red ones.

He enjoyed the rainfall shower just as much the second time but didn’t take as long as his muscles weren’t as tense as before. Looking in the mirror he saw something in his face he hadn’t seen for a long time and it was a brightness in his eyes and an almost need to constantly smile and he enjoyed feeling like that again. Routing through his wash bag, he pulled out his razor and made quick work of shaving off his seven-day beard, feeling fresher afterwards. He had to take extra care on the right side of his face but managed to get a clean shave that he was happy with. Running his hands through his damp hair, he walked back into Robyn’s room and changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue flower print t-shirt, just buttoning the bottom two buttons. Not bothering with shoes again, Taron walked back into the kitchen to see Robyn whisking some batter in a bowl with a whisk by hand.

“Need any help?” He asked.

“I am all good.” Replied Robyn and she turned to look at him. “Hey you shaved and you stole my outfit choice.”

Robyn stood with her right hand on her hip and stared at Taron. He looked like he had gotten a new lease of life after his time in the bathroom. His eyes shone with happiness that she had never seen in person before and although his clean-shaven profile highlighted the bruising on his face more, he looked so much more content in himself.

“I stole your outfit choice?” He asked puzzled.

“Yeah, I was dressed before you so I get to rock the Hawaiian vibe.”

Taron then realised what she meant, looking to her patterned top, then to his and grinned. “The print is different though.”

“I like print on you.” Robyn tuned back to whisking the batter in her glass bowl. “It really suits you but you still stole my style for the day.”

Taron laughed. He loved it when Robyn was in this wonderful giddy mood and it made her whole face light up when she laughed with him. “I am sure I can do something to help you.” He insisted.

“In the press to your left, under the hob is the waffle maker. You can take it out for me and plug it on the hob.”

Taron set up the red waffle maker as Robyn had asked. “Does it annoy you that this is red and does not match any of the décor of your home?”

“Dear God yes and that is why Claire bought it for me because she knew it would bug the hell out of me.” Robyn moved the bowl of batter over to where Taron was standing. “But it makes good waffles.” She pulled a ladle from the jar behind the hob and waited for the light to turn green.

“How many piercings do you have?”

“What?”

“I never noticed all the earrings that you had before.”

Robyn turned to him as he leant against the sink. “Yeah I went through a phase in my twenties where I got one new piercing a year. I have ten, waiting to get my eleventh and because my hair is tied back, they are more obvious plus I wear the tiniest studs.”

“Can you have that many working with children? Wouldn’t they pull them out?”

“Actually no. It’s not something that is an issue, not where I work anyway and mine are quite reserved and small studs. The kids like to count them and four are stars so I mean, I am teaching them shapes through my earrings.”

“Which one is your favourite and which one hurt the most.” He asked taking a closer look at her right ear which had the most, small crystal studs in unusual places on her ear.

“My third lobes hurt the most and my favourite is a toss up between the tragus and rook.” Robyn pointed at the piercings as she named them. “They just stay in all the time. I never take them out and I rarely change the actual jewellery. Once they are in, they are in.”

“I have one.” Taron touched his right ear where his empty piercing was. “Just one but it was for my role as Elton. I only put it back in when I was going to Florida. I haven’t been wearing it because of Kingsman. Actually, Doctor Hart had to get the nurse to take it out before the CT scan. She gave it to Richard to mind for me and I just haven’t put it back in yet. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Well if you want a replacement, I have plenty of spares.” The light on the waffle machine turned green and beeped. Robyn turned around and lifted the lid. She poured a ladle of batter into each section and closed the lid. “I have already set the table up outside for us if that’s ok.”

“Yep sounds good.”

“Do you want some tea again or I have some juice in the fridge or I could pull out the coffee maker. I have one, just don’t use it very often.”

“I am going to stick with juice I think.” Taron walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. “Ok so pineapple, orange or tropical?” He asked.

“I like to mix orange and pineapple together.”

“Excellent.” Taron grabbed the two cartons of juice and took them from the door and placed them on the island behind him. He then got two glasses and filled both with half pineapple and half orange, while Robyn pulled two plates out and dished two waffles onto each, making sure she plugged out the waffle maker when she was done.

Taron carried the glasses and Robyn the plates and together they walked out to the garden to the table where they had their eggs the previous night. Robyn had remembered the cutlery this time and she had a large bowl filled with fruit and some American pancake syrup on the table. “Breakfast of champions.” Smiled Taron as he sat down on the same chair he had been in the night before, Robyn sitting next to him. “You really do this every weekend?” He asked as Robyn handed him the bowl of fruit, a mix of strawberries, mango, raspberries and blueberries that looked very inviting and colourful.

“Yep. Sometimes Claire comes over too but it’s more like a brunch with her rather than a breakfast and we add eggs, sausages and rashers too and if I have any potatoes left over from Fridays dinner, we would chop them up and toss them in as well.”

Taron could hear his stomach rumbling as he spooned some fruit onto his plate. “Sounds like my kind of brunch.”

“There is this little restaurant here that does this amazing breakfast. I will bring you just so can you taste this dish they make called hash – poaches eggs, potatoes, caramelised onion, rashers and hollandaise.”

“Stop it.” Taron paused mid pour of some syrup on the waffles.

“It’s so good.”

“This is so good. Thanks Robyn.” He handed her the bottle of syrup.

“I was making it anyway so it’s just as easy to make for two.”

“Robyn I know I have said it before but you just make me feel so relaxed and calm and I don’t think you actually understand apart from being at home, how hard it is for me to find a place that does that, especially after what happened in the 7/11.”

“You are always welcome here Taron. When you need a break, just call me. Remember how you said I was kind of stuck in your world?” Taron nodded as he chewed. “Well you are very quickly sticking to mine too.”

“Hey, if your world always comes with waffles for breakfast, I am there.”

A natural comfortable silence found the two as they ate their breakfast, the music filtering out to the garden from the sitting room, both enjoying the peace of the morning around them.

“When we are finished breakfast, would you mind putting the small dressing on my shoulder?” Asked Robyn as she sat back in her chair with her glass. “I didn’t do it myself this morning because I knew you had offered to help me.”

“Of course I will.” Taron was about to ask Robyn if she would help him when another voice interrupted him.

“Robyn? Robyn are you up? I can hear the music from the front door.”

Robyn almost dropped her glass, coughing as her drink went down the wrong way, wiping her mouth as juice dribbled down her chin, Taron taking her glass from her hand before it fell onto the deck.

“Robyn, you ok?” He asked as he gentled patted her back.

“Ugh shit. Yes I am but shit. I am just going to say sorry now ok?”

Taron frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Ahh Robyn! There you are. I figured you would be up but I am surprised you are not sunning yourself already. It’s such a beautiful… Oh who is this?”

Taron watched as Robyn’s hands went to her face, a look of pure embarrassment filling her pretty features.

“Hi mam.”

Robyn got up from her chair to stand, Taron’s hand falling from her back as she moved to greet the lady who had just walked into her back garden. She was slightly shorter than Robyn, with short dark blonde hair, wearing shorts and a white pattern t-shirt with palm leaves on it.

“Hey Robyn.” Robyn’s mam walked over to the table where Taron and her were enjoying their breakfast. “I didn’t realise you had a visitor, a male visitor.” She added, Robyn immediately rolling her eyes to her mother.

“Mam, this is Taron.” Robyn turned to look him, giving him what he hoped was a very apologetic look. “Taron, this is Lizzie, my mother.”

Taron got to his feet to greet Robyn’s mam wincing as he stood, his right side still feeing raw after laying on it all night, his left hand going to his ribs. Robyn noticed the expression of pain on his face and moved closer to him, her hand on his shoulder “Go slow. You’re still hurt.”

He nodded to her and then moved the few steps to greet their visitor. “It is so lovely to meet you Lizzie.” Taron could see the shock on Lizzie’s face as she realised who he was, her blue eyes staring at him, the same shape and colour as Robyn’s.

“Taron as in Robyn’s Taron from the store in Florida?”

He smirked “Yeah I guess you could call me Robyn’s Taron.”

Robyn nearly fell to wooden deck with embarrassment as her mam finally put two and two together and grasped who Taron was.

“I usually just go by Taron though.” He added, taking a look to Robyn who was sitting on the arm rest of the chair looking absolutely mortified, finally shaking Lizzie’s hand.

“Ah wow, hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” Lizzie shook Taron’s hand, taking a look to her daughter. “You didn’t tell me Taron came to see you.”

“Guess it slipped my mind.” Replied Robyn.

“Slipped your mind?”

“Yeah, just slipped.”

Lizzie gave her daughter a very disapproving look, one that Taron saw clearly. “Well I am very glad to meet you Taron, especially after what you and Robyn have been through. Such a frightening experience for you both.”

Taron moved back so he stood beside Robyn on her left and took her hand in his. “Yes, it was but having Robyn there made it much easier for me.” He gave her hand a gently pat. “I kind of turned up unexpected and Robyn has been nothing but a gracious host.” Taron looked to Lizzie. “It’s thanks to your daughter that I am standing here. She is a truly remarkable woman and I am very blessed that she was willing to help a complete stranger.”

“She has her moments.” Smiled Lizzie, watching he held tightly onto Robyn’s hand. She thought her daughter looked tired until she took in the appearance of the man who stood beside her. Painful looking bruises and grazes spoilt his handsome face, stitches were visible on his right arm and with the few buttons open at the top of his shirt, Lizzie could clearly see where her daughter had performed the lifesaving actions that meant he was standing in front of her but more than that, she could see the connection the two had, how they were turned to each other probably without even knowing they were doing so.

Lizzie was extremely proud of her daughter if not a little angry at her for leaving Florida so quickly. She had told Robyn she should have stayed until Taron woke up, that what had happened between the two of them was so much more important than her job but Robyn being Robyn, ignored her emotions and went head first back into work.

She was stunned to see the man whose Robyn spoke so fondly of now sitting in her daughters back garden, eating breakfast with her. However, she was also glad in a way as she saw how distant Robyn had been since she got home and was very worried about how she was reacting to what had happened to her, in that she wasn’t at all, keeping her feelings to herself. It concerned Lizzie knowing that even as her mother she couldn’t help her daughter and she had no idea of the trauma that she had been through, so seeing Taron in front her gave her some hope that he might be able to break through the thick barriers that her daughter had built. She could see that maybe already he had done so as he held Robyn’s hand in hers. “My Robyn tends to get stuck in when she needs to. Gets in her trouble sometimes too but she always has everyone’s best interest at heart.”

Taron agreed. “Yes she does and I know I am very grateful for it.”

“So how long have you come to stay for?” Asked Lizzie but seeing the look exchanged between Robyn and Taron, knew that conversation hadn’t happened yet.

“Taron knows he is welcome to stay for as long as he would like.” Robyn gave his hand a little squeeze.

“I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.” Answered Taron. “But if Robyn is happy to let me stay for as long as I like and keeps feeding me waffles for breakfast, I might not leave.”

“Right it’s porridge and water from now on!” Laughed Robyn, enjoying how Taron chuckled along with her.

“What is your shift next week Robyn?” Asked Lizzie.

“I am opening again. The new girl is on the early shift so Emma wants me there to help train her in and get used to opening the creche.”

“Great. You and Taron must come over for dinner then next week then.”

“Wait what?” Robyn looked to her mam.

“Yes yes. I want both of you over for dinner next week. The weather is supposed to stay like this until the middle of next week so let’s say Tuesday? Your dad will be thrilled to start up the BBQ.”

“Mam I think Taron would like to use this time to rest and relax after what happened and not sit through an interrogation of questions.”

“Actually…” Started Taron looking to Robyn. “I would love to have dinner with your family. I know how much your family means to you and you know how much mine means to me, so if we could, I would very much like to get to know yours.”

Robyn could see the genuine look of interest in his eyes and turned back to her mam. “What time?”

“Say seven? It will give you time to get home and ready to come over and we won’t ask too many questions Robyn. We will limit it to ten each.”

“Oh dear God.” Sighed Robyn, Taron and Lizzie both laughing at her reaction.

“Ok great. Your dad will be delighted. Now I shall leave you to your breakfast. It was lovely meeting you Taron.”

“You too Lizzie.”

“Robyn come and hug your mother.”

Robyn let go of Taron’s hand and gave her mam a hug. “He’s cute.” She whispered into her daughters’ ear. “And you’re doing a very wonderful thing looking after him. He looks like he needs it.” Robyn gave her a mam an extra squeeze.

“Taron, you too love.” Robyn moved back and let Taron take her place, Lizzie being extra careful as she hugged him. “Look after my daughter for me.” She felt Taron give the slightest of nods before she let him go. “Right well, if you need anything you know where I am Robyn.”

“Thanks mam.”

Lizzie left the way she came with a wave, Robyn sitting on the arm of her chair again, while Taron stood in front of her.

“I like your mam. She’s very like you and parents were made to embarrass their children. I think it’s just natural law.”

“I am so sorry she just invited us to dinner like that. You did not have to feel obliged to go.”

“I don’t feel obliged. I want to go. I would really like to get to know your family better Robyn and also, thank you for saying I can stay for as long as I would like.”

“I just hope you know what you have walked yourself into and don’t look to me for help when the questions get awkward and you are welcome.” Robyn stood up. “Let’s get this cleaned up and then I am claiming a sun lounger for the rest of the day.”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Breakfast #friendship #Encouragement #Lift Each Other Up #Waffles #Family #embarrasment #Love

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hes-writer · 6 years ago

Text

A Cheat II

Summary: Y/N and Harry are drifting apart, Y/N reminisces

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1.8k

———————————

Studio. He was at the studio wasn’t, he? Didn’t he say that he was at the gym, though? Y/N nibbled on her lip trying to form logical conclusions from the information she just gathered. Could he be cheating on her?

“Y/N, I just remembered that I have to do some work for the new album. I can’t go with you tonight”

Her thoughts blank out as she receives a text message from an unknown number. She opens the text,

“Attachment 1: Image”

What she saw silenced the inner turmoil she was debating over in her head but broke her fragile heart in two.

———————————————————

Y/N gasped with tears beginning to gloss over her eyes. The text message induced such a great shock in her tired, worn out body that she immediately collapsed on the hardwood floor below her; heels clattering loudly on the ground, resembling her heart furiously cracking. Her vision fogged causing the picture to become a blurry vignette of Harry in the sound booth, with a pair of headphones adorning his ears and a pair of lips smashed against his own. The woman’s hair cascaded down her slim waist, as to which Harry’s hands enclosed it. His hair was lengthy and was the occupation for her hands to tug lightly. Harry’s dimple showcased itself slightly, indicating the he was, indeed, enjoying this kiss. The control board prohibited the camera lens to pry further from the couples’ obviously intimate time alone. It was too real to be photoshopped, she knows because she’s not stupid. But there’s a certain part of her openly hoping that someone out there was just really really good at it to be able to adjust the reflections as perfectly as they did—if they did, for she could not imagine Harry purposely ruining their relationship just like that.

Of course, it couldn’t be Y/N’s because she hasn’t been there with him for a long time, so any hopes of it being an old picture of her and Harry are down the drain. He mumbled something along the lines of ‘professionalism’ and how there’s a potential that she could somehow, do something wrong while he was out of the room. She recalls that statement from when she had offered to stay late nights with him since they haven’t spent a lot of time together recently. He rejected that idea and let her down easy.

Sugar coating the whole thing, Y/N thinks now.

Regardless of his reasonings, maybe he didn’t want her there. Maybe her suggestion of herself being an ‘inspiration’ to him meant a nuisance and a burden to his work. After all, he wanted his second album to be something that he was proud of. Following the success of his debut, he didn’t want to let anybody down; especially not himself.

As she looked at the picture once again, her throat closed and dried up, constricting the passage way to keep her breathing. It was as if Harry was her lifeline and he just cut her off. Her dress was too scratchy to be comfortable, she could feel her mascara clumping on her eye lashes and forming black streaks down her cheeks, ruining the contour and highlight she had so pretentiously applied in hopes of impressing her boyfriend—can she still call him that?— and possibly igniting the fire they once had. The previous pain she felt from her heels was nothing compared to the betrayal Harry introduced to her. Her heart ached so much that every time she breathed deeply, it was scorching her to the core.

Her phone ‘dinged’ once again, buzzing in her clutched hand. Another message from the unknown number made Y/N furrow her brows and part red her lips in wonder.

“Heard they’ve been at if for a while. She works at the studio.”

That sentence alone sent chills down her spine. Y/N they’ve been distant for the past, maybe, 4 or so months. Maybe he started being unfaithful, then? Typical questions zoomed through her mind: how long has he been doing this? Who is she? Does he still love me? If it did start right when she felt his indifference towards her, it meant that he’d lied to her during their anniversary. The day of exemption from the rocky months they were having where he had forgotten their declaration to the start of a blossoming relationship—he would have lied then.

——————————

Y/N reminisces the day. She woke up in a cold bed; it wasn’t a surprise by that point, but she hoped that this day would’ve made him act differently. Her feet pattered on the floor to the bathroom where the light was turned off. She walked down the stairs with a bounce to her step. Maybe he was preparing breakfast for us! Y/N thought. Already smelling the fruity scent of the automatic air freshener, it wasn’t masked by any breakfast goodies that Harry could’ve been making. And as she turned down the corner, she finds the kitchen barren of any life forms. The dishes were still piled in the sink, but there was no Harry. The day was spent with Y/N reaching out for Harry through text, only to be met with delayed messages of “will be home late” Y/N tries to play it off as him surprising her for later. She smiles to herself at the thought of her sappy, romantic boyfriend.

Hours later, Y/N finds herself doing her psychology homework due in 3 weeks. Perhaps you could call her productive, or maybe just someone who’s trying to occupy their mind, especially since the clock hit 10:00 PM a few minutes ago, and it would now be too late to go out to eat. She sighs, scribbling the answer after reading the question on her laptop. Her eyes skim from the door to the clock on the wall, pen tapping excessively on her notepad. Y/N focuses on her homework once again, but was interrupted by the front door bursting open.

Hastily kicking off his shoes, Harry arrives with a bouquet of flowers, balloons that read ‘happy anniversary’, and a gift bag on his left hand. He held a medium-sized cake on his right. How he managed to open the door, Y/N would always wonder.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I was caught up in the studio until about 15 minutes ago, an—and I didn’t realize the time. I drove home as fast as I could,” Harry panted out loud. His eyes drifting to Y/N’s own, trying to get a feel of how and what she was feeling.

Y/N forgave him immediately, seeing that she was always forgiving and just wanted to spend whatever time she can with Harry without having argument over the little things. Harry had gotten her a Marc Jacobs perfume that evening; it smelled amazing. She hugged him tightly, fearing that he’d disappear once again. Y/N sniffled Harry’s neck, smelling perfume all over. She lets go of his embrace, taking a step back and asking him why he wafted like cheap perfume. He reasoned that the air from the shop must’ve sunk deep in his clothes when he was shopping for her gift.

He pulls away completely, but not before pecking her forehead lovingly.

“Have you eaten? I’m gonna go cook something for us to eat, yeah?” Harry mumbled against her hair. She nodded. His legs picked up speed, heading to the kitchen with cake in hand.

—————————

Y/N gasps as she realized how his lies jumbled up into a big mess. He’d just left the studio ‘15 minutes ago’ meant that he couldn’t have had time to buy her the perfume, especially since the mall closed at 9.

Well, maybe he bought it a day before.

Y/N changed into a shirt and pajamas, her feet covered in socks to keep her warm. She was nibbling on her lip profusely, walking back and forth from their bed to the dresser. What was she supposed to do now? Confront him? Act like she didn’t know? She’d never thought that she’d have to go through this again. Sprouting from bad relationships, Y/N told Harry that she can’t stand cheaters and liars–her exes being a prototype of a relationship that failed her over and over again. She found faith again with Harry, and so far, he had not done anything stupid until now.

She stared at the luminescent bottle on her dresser with spite. The bottle was mocking the hell out of her; how could she have been so stupid. Realizing that his words didn’t even make sense together should’ve been caught right away. She was blinded by love and was so desperate to feel his warmth again that she completely disregarded all common sense. Y/N tugged on her hair, stressed at the situation beforehand. Not only that, but she had yet to get her sleep before tomorrow’s class that she was in no way, in the mood for.

The front door opened from below, Y/N’s eyes widen as she couldn’t remember a time where he came home while she was awake. She panicked and ran to the bed, slipping on her knees because of her socks, and emitting a whimper from her lips when her knees thumped against the hardwood. She shuffled forward anyway, making it to the bed, flicking off the lights and shooting her head underneath the thick duvet.

Upon hearing such noise, Harry’s head snaps up to the direction of his bedroom, midway of taking off his shoes towards the side. He chucks his keys in the bowl beside the door before jogging up the stairs. He was met with darkness, but with a swift flick of the switch, he finds Y/N’s figure wiggling underneath the sheets. He chuckles lightly.

Silly girl, he thought.

“Hey”

The figure pauses, Y/N timidly pulls the cover over her head. Her eyes make eye contact with his.

“Why are you on my side?” Harry asks, accusingly.

Realizing that she was, indeed, on his side Y/N quickly shuffled to the other side, tangling the sheets against her legs.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I’m not gonna sleep here tonight anyways.”

“W-hat? Where are you going, H?” Y/N sits up from her position. Where could he be going now?

“I’m sleeping in the guest room. I think I need a change of scenery.”

He was about to turn in his heels, suddenly annoyed by her pestering.

“Wait! I think we need to talk,” Y/N stands swiftly, putting her palm against his shoulder to which Harry curves immediately. He retracts with great speed, almost as if her hand was poison. His eyes catch hers with loaded surprise.

Nonetheless, he sighs, saying, “Look, I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow,”

“But Harry, I th-,” She gets cut off by Harry’s booming voice.

“I said we’ll talk tomorrow, Y/N” He said sternly, Harry’s mind flashes to a memory of his actions and makes a decision quickly, “I have someone I want you to meet at work anyway.”

Part 3

k for real, part 3 she’s gonna confront his aSs

please give feedback and what y’all wanna see next

Taglist; @ynm1505 @boundtomyfate @kylaharvey54 @juicynylander @youraveragefandomgirl @rose-water17 @lovely-larents @love-is-my-phone @marielourot @iphone235 @peachyunx @famouszipperpeanutlawyer @tpwkwrites

#harry #harrystyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshots #harry styles writings #harry styles imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles angsts #angst #harry styles fanfic #writing #one direction #harry styles cheating

1K notes · View notes

taexual · 6 years ago

Text

HOLIC - 21 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst + strong language

words: 4k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

prev / next

You woke up the next morning, knowing very well that the apartment was empty without having to get out of bed to check. Everything just felt different when Jaebum wasn’t here with you; emptier, even, somehow. Even if the two of you haven’t gone to sleep fighting, you still felt lonely in the apartment without him but in today’s case, your confusing exchange last night certainly made everything feel worse.

Forcing yourself out of bed – because you craved water after all the drinking last night – you checked the time on your phone and were surprised to see that it was well after ten in the morning. Since it was Sunday today, you didn’t put it past Jaebum to go out jogging early in the morning, but he should have been back by now.

Not wanting to think that he was avoiding you again – maybe staying out with his friends was starting to become like second nature to him and he was this close to actually moving out of this apartment – you focused on preparing your breakfast instead. However, you didn’t have any plans today and you could only stay focused on corn flakes for so long before you got distracted by the most useless stuff – this time, it was a new notification on your phone.

It was just a tweet that one of your favorite artists had just posted, but your heart rate already picked up. You couldn’t lie to yourself; you were absolutely hoping it was going to be a text from Jaebum but, of course, it was something else. You should have known how unlikely it was for him to text you right now.

Ever since you went out to see Jiho and ended up at Mark’s bar, Jaebum had been acting weird. Starting with his random burst of anger when you mentioned hanging out with Mark, and ending with his seemingly pointless statement about how you and Mark were “friends” last night, you were more confused than ever.

Kiera’s words from last night replayed in your head – she thought that Jaebum might have been acting weird around you because he was uncomfortable with you knowing so much about him—and his friends—and perhaps she was right – but, even though Kiera’s observations made sense 95% of the time, you had a feeling that Jaebum fell into the remaining 5% category.

You couldn’t figure him out and you were living with him – and sometimes it seemed as though Jaebum couldn’t figure his feelings out himself – so there was virtually no chance of Kiera knowing better. Then again, perhaps you’d been blinded by your constant arguments and your—as much as you hated to admit it—budding feelings for him, so you couldn’t see the situation clearly. Not to mention, you’d already come up with so many theories of why he was the way he was, it was starting to become difficult to find the real him -- the Jaebum that you were perhaps yet to fully meet.

And while it always upset you to realize that even after seeing him every day since you moved in together, you still barely knew the real him, what was truly annoying about this situation was that your job was, essentially, to capture people’s emotions. To understand them. You were a photographer – well, you wanted to be one but, clearly, it was taking some time since you haven’t been able to find the time to photograph anything lately – and you always thought you were somewhat good at reading people’s faces. And you failed profoundly when it came to recognizing what Jaebum was feeling.

It was hurtful and unfair that you had to try to hard so figure Jaebum out – while your emotions always showed on your face as clear as day – but perhaps you—and the hidden masochist inside of you—enjoyed the continuous pain he caused you by being cryptic and refusing to talk to you. Maybe just like Jaebum, who – at least, according to Suji; although God knew how much you could have trusted her words – was attracted to people who could “put him in his place” or he was going to get bored, you were also attracted—and intrigued—by the mystery surrounding your roommate.

At the end of the day, it was clear that Jaebum never let people in and you basically forced your way into his life with a damn sledgehammer. Perhaps you’d really left him no choice but to open up to you and now he was slowly distancing himself from you because he wasn’t actually ready for you to enter his life like that.

The saddest thing was, you weren’t sure if he’d ever be ready for you and you absolutely weren’t sure if falling into the mystery that was Jaebum wasn’t going to kill you.

And there went your corn flakes. You could never focus on anything else; Jaebum always lingered in your mind.

Since you assumed Jaebum was with Jackson again – therefore, it was very likely that he was recording his music – you figured you could use this alone time to catch up on your own photography that you’ve neglected because you were too busy dealing with Suji. And Jiho. And, honestly, everyone.

Because you haven’t taken any new pictures recently – for shame; you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve gone this long without photographing anything – you were stuck digging out old ones, especially the ones you’ve chosen to ignore for the time being as you weren’t able to fix the coloring in a way that you would have liked.

Having nothing better to do, you arranged yourself – and your laptop – into a comfortable position on your bed – anticipating the inevitable back pain – and then turned Photoshop on. To ensure that, this time, the thoughts about your roommate did not interrupt your semi-productive mood, you put your headphones on and started a playlist of old favorites to distract yourself from anything that was going on in your life at the moment, and to take your mind back in time instead.

The music seemed to work like a spell and you found yourself humming along as you toyed with your pictures, slowly drifting away from reality and allowing your unconscious mind to do most of the editing for you – this used to be your favorite state when you were in university; just dissociating until real-life problems called for you again.

You never liked to listen to music on full volume because you never owned headphones that wouldn’t make loud songs sound like the screeching of a pregnant cat, but today you needed to tune out the sound of your thoughts, so you were listening to music louder than usually. And that is precisely why you didn’t hear the door of the apartment close and the door of your bedroom open.

Since you weren’t expecting Jaebum to come home while you were still awake – you knew of his tendency to avoid his problems, he’s shown it to you quite a few times before – you were absolutely horrified to see him standing by your bed, watching the screen of your laptop.

Squealing in surprise, you nearly tossed your laptop at him as you threw your headphones off.

“Jesus Christ, would you knock?!” you yelled, trying to calm yourself down while Jaebum snickered – what an unexpected sound – and sat down on your bed, nodding his head in the direction of your abandoned computer.

“Did you take those?” he asked, obviously meaning the pictures you’d been editing.

You were still recovering from the shock of seeing him home but now you were left wondering what had gotten into him – after days of cryptic responses to all of your questions, he was now striking up a proper conversation with you? That boy needed help.

“I did,” you told him, keeping a wary eye on him in case he burst out again. “Why?”

“They’re beautiful,” he said, repositioning your laptop so he could see better and then, even taking it as far as using your mouse to click on a specific picture – the one that showed the reflection of the city lights on the glass of a dark window. “I like this, where did you take it?”

“My old campus,” you said, leaning in closer to him to see the picture in question. “I used to take most of my pictures there before I ran out of spots to photograph and had to look elsewhere.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, clicking through other pictures – it didn’t upset you much even if he was doing this without your permission. “Oh, this one’s good. Really good. Could you send it to me? I’d love to have it on my phone.”

Surprised – no one’s asked you to send them a picture you’ve taken if it wasn’t a picture of them – you glanced at the screen of your laptop and were confused to see one of your much earlier pictures, taken almost immediately after you bought your newest camera that you’d been using for three years now. The picture, actually, wasn’t anything special: it was a shot of your shadow—the only distinguishable shadow in the dark picture—surrounded by various darker, rectangular shadows—the buildings behind you—and a small puddle of water—reflecting the street light above—in the spot where your heart was supposed to be.

“You like it?” you asked somewhat awkwardly. Not only had he chosen a picture you took when you weren’t as confident in your photographing abilities, but it was also a picture that literally had a part of you in it.

“Yes,” Jaebum nodded. “Does it have a title?”

You pulled away from him before continuing. You never felt confident about the titles you gave your pictures – they all seemed to make no sense when you said them out loud – and you were even more insecure now that you were in the presence of someone who essentially lived on words, being a songwriter and all.

“Alive,” you ended up saying. “That’s the title I gave it when I took it in about three years ago. It sounds stupid now – why would a lonely puddle in the place of a heart symbolize someone’s life – but—”

“I think it’s beautiful,” he stopped you, zooming in on the picture. “I love the idea behind it and I think the title fits the mood of the picture, too. Will you send it to me?”

Swallowing, you decided that now was the time to confront him about what’s been going on with him these past few days.

“I will,” you promised. “If you answer one question.”

Jaebum wasn’t expecting this but he merely shrugged. “Sure. What is it?”

“What’s been going on?” you asked and, after noticing that confusion started to slowly descend upon his features, proceeded to explain, “I-I mean you’ve been really cold to me out of the blue, and I know you’re generally not a warm person — and we’re not best friends or anything – but this was, well, unusual. And I know you know what I mean because you almost told me what was wrong last night but then… you shut me out again.”

You looked away from him in the middle of your explanation, despising the neediness in your voice. If he was going to remark about how you shouldn’t have been “waiting up for him” like he’s written in his note before, you swore you were going to hurl the first heavy thing you found at him. Because you’d looked away, however, you did not see Jaebum look away from you as well – masking the guilt that flashed across his face once he heard you speak out about the way he’s treated you.

“Yeah, uh…” he started to speak and then cleared his throat, thinking of what to say next. “This obviously isn’t something I want to talk about.”

“Obviously,” you agreed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Right,” Jaebum took another long pause before finally saying, “I actually wanted to apologize about all of that. Mark – I sort of talked to him on the phone today, he’s a lot more level-headed than I am – let me know how big of an asshole I’ve been to you, so, yeah, uh… I’m sorry.”

You appreciated the apology – and made a mental note to thank Mark because, obviously, he must have found a way to subtly approach Jaebum about the issues you’ve mentioned at the bar last night – but before you could say anything, Jaebum continued.

“I don’t want to constantly complain about the same things,” he started to say and then cleared up, “not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just prefer not being a nuisance to other people—”

“You’re not a—okay, maybe you’re a little bit of a nuisance,” you said, earning a small smile from him that almost made you believe that his explanation was going to make sense and the two of you were going to move past this and return to another calm period of your lives, however short-lived it would be. “But it’s not like I’m much better. I’m fine with listening to you complain if that means you’re actually talking to me.”

After a quiet moment – God, did your words sound too much like a compliment? Should you have said something else to lower his ego? – Jaebum’s smile completely disappeared and you knew he was back to business. His serious expression unsettled you, somehow, and it felt as though you knew what he was going to talk about before he even opened his mouth. There was really only one thing that nearly ruined his life, after all – what else would he complain about continuously?

“I went through this thing with Suji,” Jaebum started, “she’d always tag along whenever I went out with my friends. She was all over them and most of them liked her because—well, you know why. She had something about her that fooled you and pulled you in. She always insisted on coming to see my friends with me, and before long, I was starting to suffocate with her everywhere. I had even asked her to stay home so I could have a guys’ night out once, and she still showed up at the club.”

You wanted to know more about his relationship with her but, at the same time, you were struggling to understand how Jaebum’s coldness to you related to his ex-girlfriend. However, after remembering everything he’s asked you – “how long have you been hanging out with Mark without me?” – you were slowly starting to see what his point was.

“Hold on for a moment,” you stopped him. “Are you—do you think I’m doing this, too? Do you think I’m trying to—I don’t know—corrupt your friends somehow, too? Steal them from you, even?”

“I—no,” he said and then sighed. “I don’t know. I just know that I’ve already been in a position where my friends had to pick sides before and I don’t want to go through that again. And, you know, I’ve already experienced someone take over my life for me. I know we talked about you dealing with Suji already but that still happened. And I-I get that our situation is different now, we moved on from that, and I moved on from Suji, but sometimes the lines blur for me.”

“The lines blur,” you repeated, your pulse quickening. “So, essentially what you’re saying is that, sometimes, you think I’m just like Suji?”

“No,” Jaebum was quick to realize how big was the pile of shit that he’s just stepped – or, flung himself – into, really. He closed his eyes for a moment, regretting opening his mouth as if staying quiet and shutting you out – as you’ve put it – would have worked out better. A minute later, he continued, “I’m just saying that I—maybe I get a little insecure about this sometimes. I talked to Mark about you today and he was the one who told me I was being unfair to you by expecting you to do the same things Suji’s done, so I realize it was wrong of me to—”

“—to compare me to your so-called psycho ex-girlfriend?” you finished for him. “Yeah, I’d say that was wrong.”

Every word he said only seemed to make this worse. Jaebum had absolutely no clue how to communicate with anyone without ruining everything, but he still tried – although he was slowly starting to forget why he even bothered.

“I’m not comparing you to her,” he said. “But you have to understand where I’m coming from. You know—better than anyone—about the kind of shit I had to experience with her, so, forgive me for being cautious so history wouldn’t repeat itself.”

“History wouldn’t—what the fuck, Jaebum?” you got up from the bed, no longer feeling comfortable sitting so close to him while he looked for parallels between you and his ex. “You didn’t know me for very long, sure, but didn’t I ever show you that I’m actually, you know, a completely different person from Suji? We’re both girls – and that’s as far as our common features go.”

“You’re—”

“I know I met up with her to get her to leave you alone, and I get that I shouldn’t have done that because it’s not my business – I’m not expecting your gratitude for that – but, shit, I didn’t do it to take over your life! I did it because I was looking out for you in whatever messed up way I could manage,” you continued, noticing how he covered his face with his hands, only getting more frustrated. “I understand your insecurities but, for fuck’s sake, have I not shown enough of my support to you? Have I not hyped your music up even though I’ve never even heard it? Have I not put up with your seemingly endless stream of one-night-stands? Did I ever lie to you about where I was and went out to hang out with your friends behind your back? Did—”

“No!” he cut you off, showing the first signs of anger, no matter how hard he’d tried to restrain himself. “You never did any of those things but how am I supposed to know you’ll never do them in the future?”

Both of your faces contorted painfully as soon as he said this – yours, because you suddenly knew just how little he trusted you; and his, because this was the exact opposite of what he should have said to you.

“Do you treat all of your friends like this?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest when he got up from your bed as well. “Do you expect this kind of behavior from everyone? Do you immediately assume every new person you meet is going to take everything you’ve worked so hard on from you?”

“No, I—”

“Are you still waiting for me to fuck up, then?” you were shouting but it was nothing new – the two of you could never have a calm conversation – and you were sure your neighbors had already gotten used to it. “Did you tell me you forgave me for meeting up with Suji, when you actually didn’t?”

“No!” he said. “I did forgive you. I thought I did. I don’t care a-about that. I care about you.”

“You care about how similar to her I am.”

Jaebum groaned. “I care about how similar to her everyone is! And I’m not fucking waiting for you to fuck up.”

“Well, then what is it?” you questioned, your voice loud and piercing. “Why is it that you don’t assume every person you meet will ruin your life, and yet, you think I might?”

“I don’t think you—fuck, you’re important to me,” Jaebum shot back, equally as agitated. He was obviously struggling with his words. “I wouldn’t care about anything that you do if you weren’t. I’m just trying to make sure—”

“—I don’t turn out to be a psychotic bitch?” you guessed, the conclusion you’ve reached making him groan because it was mostly true – he was always making sure he didn’t end up meeting another version of Suji – but it sounded ugly when you put it like that.

“N-no, I just want to be sure I know the real you,” he said. “You can’t blame me for not trusting people easily after all of this.”

“I’m not blaming you for that,” you countered. “But why the fuck did you expect to get to know me better by not talking to me? You’re not even giving me a chance to show you that you can trust me because you distance yourself from me every time you start to have doubts about me. We don’t have mutual friends, Jaebum, we’re still virtually strangers – so who the fuck is going to clear these doubts for you if you won’t let me do it?”

“I… I don’t—”

“It sounds to me like you just want to escape me and you’ll take any chance you get to do just that,” you said, your heart slamming right into the sharp edge of your ribcage until you nearly doubled over in pain. It was true, you weren’t just paranoid. Jaebum was indeed trying to get out of the cage your close presence had put him in. “Every time I do something wrong – even if I don’t realize it – you disappear on me as if I’ve cursed your ancestors by making a mistake. I’m not perfect. If anything, I’m the furthest thing from it, but you have to let people make mistakes and believe that they won’t ruin your life, Jaebum. You have to let people apologize for them, too. And if you don’t think you’ll have it in yourself to forgive them, then tell them that and let go of them. Tell me to leave if I fucked up so bad that you think I’m exactly like Suji—”

“Did I say you were exactly like her?” he was frantic now as the fight progressed into something that no longer involved just the past couple of days, but also covered the entirety of your relationship with each other. “Or did I ever say I wanted you to leave? Fuck, I’m spending almost every moment of my free time at home just so I could spend more time with you — and I don’t fucking do that. I go out, okay? I like to have fun, I like to drink, and I like to be out when it’s dark – whatever. I don’t do that as much anymore.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much for making these sacrifices for me.”

The sarcasm in your voice made him want to punch the closest wall.

“Those are not—I can’t—you’re not fucking hearing me,” he stumbled around different arguments. “I’m telling you about all the shit I do for you – the shit I’d never done for anyone else before – just to prove that I don’t think you’re like Suji in any way.”

“Well, then why the silence?” you countered. “Why did you not talk to me about what you were feeling?”

“I didn’t know how to put it in words so it’d make sense,” he said. “Clearly, I still don’t understand any of this myself. A part of me might never be able to fully open up to anyone and, fuck, I sure as hell don’t want my past relationship to influence my decisions about my future but it does, okay? I am going to be paranoid and I can’t fucking help it.”

“Do you think that’s fair to others? To me?” you asked, shaking your head. “You’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m not—chance after chance is exactly what I’m giving you!” Jaebum protested. “And that’s why I’m scared. That’s exactly why I’m fucking terrified – because, suddenly, I don’t care about anything that you’re doing. I’m fine with all of it. I forgive you for everything and I open up to you about everything without sitting down to think if that’s the right thing to do. And then, the next second, I’m hating myself because, fuck, why am I even doubting this? I have every right to tell you shit about myself. I have every right to forgive you because, technically, you didn’t do anything wrong. But, then, how could I not doubt this? I’ve already been through something similar, I don’t want to go through that again. I’ve already experienced a period of my life where I forgave everything. Where I opened up about everything.”

“Alright,” you said, your lips forming a straight line. You knew the words he said had a different meaning – he wasn’t trying to hurt you – and yet each sentence that left his lips seemed to dig painfully into your chest. “You are making sure I’m not Suji 2.0. That’s fine.”

“That’s not fine,” he voiced the obvious. “And I get that it sounds bad but it’s—fuck, I’m being really fucking open with you here – I literally don’t know how to deal with myself. If I get the feeling like I’m about to get burned, I-I pull away because I’ve been there before. I can’t keep on trying to calm myself down and ignore the bad feelings in my stomach because I know those bad feelings can turn into a bad reality. That’s how I fucking deal with my problems – I leave. I can’t cling onto something that will potentially rip my heart out and force me to swallow it raw.”

You hated how deep the argument had gotten. You had not prepared to pour your entire soul into this and Jaebum hadn’t either – that’s why he looked almost nauseous – but there was no going back now.

“And you think I could do that to you?” you asked.

He looked down. “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” you said, your voice calm all of a sudden. You wanted this conversation to end now. “I appreciate you telling me this.”

Immediately understanding that you were done, Jaebum tried to find one last way to magically mend the scars on both of your throats after you’ve yelled at each other. “Fuck, I’m—”

“Look, maybe we should be alone for a while,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear him say anything else because you could only shout so much before tears finally showed up. “I don’t want to deal with this and, obviously, neither one of us can think clearly right now. Maybe we can just ignore this conversation like you’ve been trying to do before I brought it up.”

His hands were on his face again as he tried one last time, “I’m sorry.”

You swallowed thickly – the lump in your throat letting you know that you were either about to suffocate or cry, and you didn’t know which one you’d have preferred.

“Okay,” you said, turning away from him in case tears appeared in your eyes before he left. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”

Jaebum wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure where the two of you were standing – he’s revealed so much of himself to you in the past ten minutes and he knew he’s never been this honest about his feelings with anyone before – and he knew now wasn’t the time to ask.

If he could turn back the time, he’d change the sequence of his words to you – first, he’d tell you how much you mattered to him and how much he loved being with you, and only then would he mention how hard it was for him to be around you. How afraid he was to open his heart up – how much he resisted it, even – and how easily he allowed his feelings to defeat him, in the end.

He was getting more and more scared by the second because what if he ended up getting himself into something he could not get out of? What if he’d start something he’d never be able to end again? Even if these fears sounded irrational – even more so after he saw how wildly you tried to get him to see that you hated being compared to Suji – he still couldn’t escape them. And he was afraid he never would.

Jaebum didn’t wish to take his words back. He’d said all that he’d been dying to say to you for the past few days. He just wished the two of you lived in a world where the past could have been left in the past and all the words spoken in the present – and all the confessions hiding underneath those anguished tones and desperate eyes – were all that remained between you and him.

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