#drop shadow tutorial

[photo-editing12]

How to make drop shadow not effect every layer?

Introduction

Drop shadows can create a design with a sense of dimension Now you know how different shadows could be and their cut through behavior with layers to advance up your visualizations. You can create shadow layers separately or play with the settings to have a control over how effective your shadows will be, and most design tools allow you to simply remove or edit it entirely. By mastering these techniques you start to have better design skills and make your compositions look polished and more effective.

What is drop shadow?

The shadow of the drop (drop shadow) is a tool used in the field of graphic design and photo editing that adds shadows to light make-up, often appearing as if from . It casts a shadow toward one side that makes the object look as if it is floating above its background. Drop Shadow: This effect is typically used to emphasize objects, create depth and shadows or make text stand-out against a different background line.

Credit: communityadove

Common features of a drop shadow include:

Offset: The distance and direction the shadow appears from the object.

Blur: The softness or sharpness of the shadow’s edges.

Opacity: The transparency of the shadow, affecting how dark or light it appears.

Color: Typically black or gray, but any color can be used.

How many types of drop shadows are there and what are they?

There are several types of drop shadows, and they vary based on how they are applied and their specific visual effects. Here are the main types:

1. Simple Drop Shadow

Description: This is the most basic form of a drop shadow where a shadow is cast behind an object with uniform direction, distance, and blur.

Use: Commonly used in web design, text, and images to create a slight depth effect.

2. Soft Drop Shadow

Description: Drop Shadow (Soft blurred edge) Blurred makes the shadow look more soft and subtle.

Use: Ideal for creating a smooth, less aggressive shadow effect, often used in photography and logo design.

3. Hard Drop Shadow

Description: A shadow with sharp, defined edges. There’s little or no blur, making the shadow look crisp and bold.

Use: Suitable for retro or stylistic designs where sharp contrasts are desired.

4. Long Shadow

Description: In many cases a (especially far) long shadow of an stylised material that appears in only one or two directions and creates effect.

Use: Popular in flat design trends, especially in icons, app design, and typography.

5. Inner Shadow

Description: A shadow applied inside the boundaries of an object, giving the illusion of depth or a cut-out effect.

Use: Common in button design and to create recessed effects in UI/UX design.

6. Perspective Drop Shadow

Description: A shadow that changes shape and direction to mimic the effect of a light source at an angle, giving a more realistic 3D effect.

Use: Used to create dynamic and realistic scenes where objects need to appear to be lifted from the surface.

7. Multiple Drop Shadows

Description: Multiple shadow layers are applied to the same object, often varying in size, opacity, or direction.

Use: Used to create complex, layered effects for a more dramatic and visually striking look.

How do we make a drop shadow separate layers?

To create a separate layer for a drop shadow in an image editor like Photoshop or GIMP, Below are a few steps to separate the drop shadow:

Credit: orelly.com

In Photoshop:

1. Select the Layer: Choose the layer to which you want to apply a shadow.

2. Apply Drop Shadow: Go to the Layer menu and select Layer Style > Drop Shadow. Adjust the shadow properties (angle, distance, spread, and size) until you're satisfied.

3. Create a Separate Layer: In the Layer Styles dialog, right-click the Drop Shadow name on the left side and select Create Layer. This will separate the drop shadow into its own layer below the original layer.

4.Move or Edit the Shadow: Now, you can move, transform, or apply further edits to the drop shadow independently of the original object.

In GIMP:

1. Select the Layer: Choose the layer that will cast the shadow.

2. Apply Drop Shadow: Go to Filters > Light and Shadow > Drop Shadow. Adjust the settings and click OK.

3. Separate the Shadow: The shadow will be added to a new layer automatically. You can now move or edit this layer separately from the object layer.

Benefits of a Separate Shadow Layer:

Allows greater control over the shadow (e.g., positioning, blurring, or changing color).

Makes complex compositions easier since the shadow is independent.

To make a drop shadow separate from other layers in most graphic design software, you'll want to follow these general steps:

Step 1. In Adobe Photoshop:

1. Select the Layer: Choose the layer you want to apply the shadow to.

2.Apply Drop Shadow: Go to the Layer menu and select Layer Style > Drop Shadow.

Adjust the shadow settings (angle, distance, spread, and size) as needed.

3.Create a Separate Shadow Layer: In the Layer Styles dialog, right-click on the Drop Shadow option and select Create Layer.This action separates the drop shadow into its own layer below the original layer.

4.Edit the Shadow: You can now move, transform, or adjust the shadow layer independently of the original layer

.

Step 2. In Adobe Illustrator:

1. Select the Object: Choose the object you want to add a drop shadow to.

2. Apply Drop Shadow: Go to Effect > Stylize > Drop Shadow.

Adjust the shadow settings (opacity, X offset, Y offset, blur, and color) as needed and click OK.

3. Separate the Shadow: Illustrator does not have a direct option to separate drop shadows into their own layer like Photoshop. To work around this:

4. Rasterize the Shadow: Select the object with the shadow, go to Object > Rasterize, and then choose the desired resolution.

5. Move Shadow to a New Layer: After rasterizing, use the Image Trace or Live Trace function (if needed) to convert the raster shadow back into vector format, then move it to a new layer.

Step 3. In Other Graphic Design Tools:

Different tools have varying methods, but the general approach is similar:

1. Apply Drop Shadow: Use the tool’s shadow effect option, typically found under effects or layer styles.

2. Separate the Shadow: If the tool supports layer effects, look for an option to convert the effect into a new layer. If not directly supported, consider duplicating the layer, rasterizing it, and manually creating the shadow on a separate layer.

When a drop shadow on one layer effects another layer in Photoshop?

When a drop shadow on one layer effects another layer in Photoshop, it usually means that the shadow’s impact extends beyond its intended layer boundaries. This can happen for a few reasons: you using under 6 steps.

Credit: communityadove.com

Understanding the Issue

A drop shadow is essentially a visual effect that simulates a shadow cast by the layer onto layers below it. If a shadow appears to affect or overlap another layer, it's because the shadow’s opacity or spread extends into that layer.

How to Manage or Avoid This Issue

1. Layer Order: Check Layer Stack: Make sure the layer with the drop shadow is above the layer that is being affected. Shadows will appear on layers that are underneath the layer with the effect.

2. Shadow Settings: Adjust Drop Shadow Settings: Adjust Drop Shadow Settings: Double-click the layer with the drop shadow to open the Layer Style dialog. Use those Distance, Spread and Size knob to make the shadow further (Distance), wider (Spread) or larger(Box Shadow). Lowering these values will have less of an effect on other layers since it makes the shadow smaller.

3. Layer Mask: Use a Layer Mask: Add a layer mask to the layer with the drop shadow. Paint with black on the mask where you don’t want the shadow to appear. This technique helps limit the shadow effect to specific areas.

4. Duplicate and Isolate:

Duplicate the Layer: If the shadow is affecting other layers in an undesirable way, you can duplicate the original layer, apply the drop shadow to the duplicate, and then position or mask it as needed.

Move to New Layer: After applying the drop shadow, right-click the drop shadow effect in the Layers panel and select Create Layer. This process will split the shadow effect into a distinct layer, giving you the freedom to adjust its placement independently.

Layer Blending Options: Adjust Blending Options: In the Layer Style dialog, experiment with the Blend Mode and Opacity settings of the drop shadow to control how it blends with layers beneath it.

Smart Objects: Convert to Smart Object: If you’re using a Smart Object, double-clicking it will open it in a new document. Apply the drop shadow there, which might help isolate the effect from other layers.

Example Workflow

1. Apply Drop Shadow: Select the layer to which you want to add a drop shadow. Go to Layer > Layer Style > Drop Shadow.

2. Create a Separate Shadow Layer: In the Layer Style dialog, right-click on Drop Shadow and select Create Layer. This converts the shadow into its own layer.

3. Adjust Position: Use the Move Tool to reposition the shadow layer if needed.

4. Use Layer Mask: Select the shadow layer and add a layer mask. Paint on the mask with black to hide portions of the shadow where it shouldn’t appear.

How do we get rid of the drop shadow effect?

To remove a drop shadow effect, the steps will depend on the software you're using. Here’s how to do it in some common programs: Easy steps 

Credit: illustratorhow.com

Method 1: Using the Layer Styles Panel

Select the Layer: Click on the layer with the drop shadow effect in the Layers panel.

Open Layer Styles: Double-click the layer to open the Layer Style dialog, or right-click the layer and select Blending Options.

Remove Drop Shadow: In the Layer Style dialog, uncheck the Drop Shadow option in the list on the left side. This will disable the drop shadow effect without deleting it, allowing you to re-enable it later if needed.

Apply Changes:Click OK to apply the changes and close the dialog.

Method 2: Removing the Effect Completely

Select the Layer: Click on the layer with the drop shadow effect.

Open Layer Styles: Double-click the layer to open the Layer Style dialog, or right-click and select Blending Options.

Remove Drop Shadow Layer: If you want to completely remove the drop shadow effect (not just disable it), right-click on the Drop Shadow effect name in the Layer Style panel and select Clear Layer Style. This will remove all layer styles, including the drop shadow.

Apply Changes:Click OK to finalize the changes.

Method 3: Removing Drop Shadow Layer (If Shadow Is on Its Own Layer)

Locate Shadow Layer: If you have created a separate layer for the shadow (e.g., by right-clicking on the drop shadow effect and choosing Create Layer), locate this shadow layer in the Layers panel.

Remove Shadow Layer: Highlight the shadow layer and press Delete or right click on it and choose Remove Layer.

Faq:

1. How do I only have a drop shadow on a layer below in Photoshop?

To apply a drop shadow to a layer but have it only affect layers below it, you can follow these steps:

1. Select the Layer: Click on the layer to which you want to add the drop shadow.

2. Apply Drop Shadow: Go to Layer > Layer Style > Drop Shadow. Adjust the shadow settings as needed (angle, distance, spread, and size).

3. Ensure Layer Order: Make sure the layer with the drop shadow is above the layers that you want the shadow to affect. Shadows will naturally affect layers beneath them in the stack.

4. Clip the Shadow: If the shadow is affecting layers above it, you might need to use a clipping mask. Place the shadow on a separate layer and use a clipping mask (Alt + Ctrl + G / Option + Command + G) to restrict the shadow effect to the layer you want.

2. How do I remove an effect from a layer in After Effects?

To remove an effect from a layer in Adobe After Effects:

Select the Layer: Click on the layer from which you want to remove the effect.

Open Effects Panel: Go to the Effect Controls panel, where you’ll see a list of all effects applied to the selected layer.

Take Away An Effect : Right-click on a click and elect to remove it or go through the take icon in-the-loop.

3. How do I remove effects from multiple layers in Photoshop?

To remove effects from multiple layers in Photoshop:

Select Layers:Hold down the Shift key (for contiguous layers) or Ctrl / Command key (for non-contiguous layers) and click on the layers you want to modify in the Layers panel.

Open Layer Styles:Right-click on one of the selected layers and choose Clear Layer Style from the context menu. This will remove all layer styles (including effects) from the selected layers.

Conclusion

Drop shadows help a design period pop by creating that sense of dimension. Can adjust your visuals precisely by means of understanding the types of shadows and how it interacts with layers. If you are pressing shadow, then allow it to capture and make use of separate layers or edit them. Not only that but most design tools allow you to remove or adjust your shadows if they are just added later. Applying these techniques in your design practice will strengthen your skills and enable you to develop and present more advanced, well-designed works.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 10, day 24

Spent the night making the camera smoother and easier to control :) Tomorrow I'm gonna set the full animation rendering

[devotedlystrangewizard]

my thoughts on fire emblem will never be coherent because on one hand you have the nerd part of my brain who hates fire emblem three houses for every second it spends outside of traditional fire emblem gameplay flavours and on the other hand you have the gay idiot who just rewatched ferdinand & hubert's A+ support for the 5th time this year and also has about 280 hours put into fe3h

[twitter-sakuranokaze]

FF14 Battle Portrait Tutorial

For the past few weeks I was trying to find a way to recreate the battle portrait from FF14 as there was a few characters that I want to see in that style but don't officially have one yet. I think I got it down more or less (see image below) so I thought it's a good time to share what I did.

First of all, I made a few files that would help make life a little easier. They can be grabbed here .

Note: I did use Reshade to do a bit of work at the screenshot stage to help speed up the process but the same effect can be recreated in Photoshop with a vanilla screenshot. There are a lot of tutorials on how to do comic/cartoon effect in photoshop and those would make good bases to work off of.

Step 1: Take the screenshot with the PortraitBase Shader on. I usually take two screenshots. One with "Comic" on and one with it turned off. This is so that I have more to work with if needed.

Step 2: Drag all the screenshots into photoshop and remove the background. In photoshop, arrange the layer so that the screenshot with the Comic lines visible is on top of the one with the effect off.

Step 3: Duplicate the the layer with the "comic" effect and apply Blur->Gaussian blur (radius 0.5)

Step 4: Take a look at the hair. In Eric's case, It still doesn't look blur enough to me so I used the blur tool and blurred it a bit more

Step 5: Create a new layer above the layer in the previous step and use the brush tool to start outlining the edges. Where to outline is up to you but the idea is to make edges defined so that it looks more like a drawing.

Step 6: Duplicate the outline layer and then hide that layer. Step 7: Merge everything under the outline layer. Step 8: Drag and drop the "Texture.png" into the project and Clip it to your character layer. Set the blending of the texture to "soft light". Step 9: Drag and drop the "stroke Texture.png" into the project and Clip it to your character layer. Adjust the size till you are happy then set the blending to "overlay". Step 10: Adjust the opacity settings of both texture layers until it looks good to you.

Step 11: Click on your character layer and go to image->Adjustments->Hue/Saturation (note: you will see I dragged in the official Hades portrait as a point of reference to work off of). Adjust the saturation till you are happy.

Step 12: Go to image->Adjustments->Color Balance and adjust the color till you are happy. In this example, since Eric is also wearing the Sophist robe, I tried to match that color to Hades' Sophist robe color.

Step 13: Once you are happy, drag the "Template.png" into the project and scale that to the size you want. Make sure it is completely covering the character. If it's not, you can just use paint more of it with the brush tool to extend it till it covers everything.

Step 14: Hide the "template.png" layer and select your character layer. Use the magic wand tool to select the outside of the character.

Step 15: With the selection still selected, click on the "Template.png" layer and press delete on your keyboard. You should now be left with a blank in the shape of your character.

Step 16: Drag the"Template.png" layer to be below your character layer. Then click on your character layer and clip it.

Step 17: Click on the "Template.png" layer and add a 2px stroke and shadow to it.

Step 18: Drag "Back_Deco.png" into the project and place it behind your character. Scale it till you are happy with it.

And that's it! Now you can recreate portraits for any NPCs that you want (in theory). A lot of it is also fine tuning to what you want but this should at least give you a decent base to work off of :)

[joemama-2]

𓇼° last verse of summer || chap. 1°𓇼

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: after the death of your mother, your younger brother and you move back to your small, beachside hometown to stay with your estranged father—one you haven’t seen in over a decade—for the summer before your brother officially turns 18. you’re determined to keep your brother safe, even if it means facing the painful past you thought you’d left behind, aka, your dad. however, the real surprise comes in the form of satoru gojo, the local handyman and swim instructor, whose unexpected presence stirs something deep within you. not to mention, your father seems to be closer to him than his own children.

wc: 9.6k

tags/warnings: angst, slow burn, romance, drama, grief, medical talk, mentions of cancer, fluff, small town, smut, alcohol, trauma, slow healing, music, family drama, sibling relationship, parental death, anxiety, family conflict/tension, emotional breakdowns, drowning, strangers to (one-sided) enemies to lovers, modern au, slight age gap between reader and gojo, gentle romance, takes slight inspo after The Last Song, dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

series masterlist < next chapter

“I said I could do it—!”

“And I said I got it!”

Riley huffs in annoyance, dropping the lug nut wrench unceremoniously to the ground. You curse him, having just finished putting the car jack under the rear side of the driver’s side of your old, 1980 Chevrolet C/K pickup truck. The body is painted in a glossy baby pink, a bold yet playful color that instantly sets it apart from the usual classic truck crowd. Running along the length of the truck’s sides is a wide, beige horizontal stripe, bordered with thin black pinstriping, adding a retro two-tone contrast that hints at its original styling.

She’s your baby. 

But your very old baby. 

Hence why you’ve grown accustomed to the frustrating task of changing one of her tires after a flat. 

It just so had to have happened again on the way to your dad’s. With your annoying little brother hovering over your shoulder like a stupid shadow who swears he knows anything about everything. You try not to hold it against him too much, he is only seventeen years old—just a few months from the big one-eight. 

Grabbing the wrench he tossed to the ground, he officially gave up trying to help you change the flattened tire. 

You wipe the back of your hand across your forehead, smearing sweat and maybe a little axle grease across your brow. The sun beats down on the asphalt, making heat shimmer just above the road, and your tank top is starting to cling in all the worst places.

Riley flops down on the grass beside the ditch like he’s just run a marathon. “You’re being dramatic,” he mutters, picking at a weed. “I could have done it.”

“You couldn’t even hold the damn wrench right,” you shoot back, crouching to start loosening the lug nuts. “You were turning it clockwise.”

He rolls his eyes. “You act like I’ve never seen a YouTube tutorial.”

“Well, maybe next time you should watch one before trying to strip the bolts on my baby,” you grumble, giving the wrench a practiced crank. It creaks—old metal groaning beneath newer tension—but it moves. You feel a small twinge of pride. You might’ve left your spark behind when you left the city, but at least you could still do this.

“You talk about that truck like it’s a person,” Riley says, flopping onto his back, arms behind his head. “It’s weird.”

“She is a person,” you reply flatly. “And she’s more dependable than half the people I’ve met.”

“You need friends.”

“I had friends,” you snap, too quickly. The words hang there, suspended between the two of you in the thick, humid air.

Riley says nothing, rolling his eyes childishly and looking off into the distance. You roll your own back, focusing on changing the affected tire, replacing it with the new one. 

The silence stretches between you both, sticky and loud, broken only by the occasional buzz of cicadas and the metallic clank of the wrench. You work methodically—lug nut by lug nut, careful not to strip anything else. Your hands are dirty. Your patience is thinner than the layer of sweat on your neck.

It’s been like this with Riley since the funeral. Short fuses and longer silences. Neither of you really says what you mean, not since your mom died. You’re not sure whether either of you knows how. But it has only been three months. 

The tire slips into place with a little grunt of effort, and you start bolting it on, bracing your foot against the rubber as you crank down the wrench. The smell of hot asphalt and metal fills your lungs. Riley lets out a sigh, louder than necessary, and you shoot him a look.

“What?” he asks, not looking at you.

You don’t answer. Just twist the last lug nut tight and give the wheel a nudge with your palm to check for wobble.

Nothing. Solid.

You sit back on your heels and exhale, letting your shoulders drop. “Done.”

“Finally,” Riley mutters, already getting to his feet and brushing off his shorts. “At this rate, we’ll get there by Christmas.”

“Don’t push me, Ry,” you warn, your tone sharper than you meant it to be. But you’re tired. You’re sore. And this return to Magnolia Bay has been nothing but a string of emotional landmines.

“I’m just saying—Dad’s probably wondering where we are.”

That makes you pause. Not because he’s wrong, but because the word still doesn’t sit right in your mouth. Benjamin, what you’d rather call him. Or dad, but you haven’t called him that in years. Not out loud.

You glance up the road. The sun is just a tad bit lower now, casting long shadows across the cracked two-lane road that winds into town. Somewhere, just over that tree line, is the old house with peeling paint and a porch you haven’t stood on since you were seventeen.

“You know you don’t have to hate him forever,” Riley says, quieter now. Almost careful. “Mom didn’t want that.”

You squint up at him, jaw ticking at the fact that your baby brother is…taller than you. “I don’t hate him.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

“I don’t.” You stand, dusting off your hands on your shorts. “I just don’t forget.”

Riley kicks a rock into the ditch. “Maybe if you tried—”

“Maybe if he hadn’t walked out.”

The words come out before you can stop them, too raw, too bitter. Riley flinches, and you instantly regret it. Because he doesn’t remember it the way you do. He was a kid, only five after all. He didn’t hear the door slam, didn’t see the way your mom collapsed in the hallway after.

He’s learned about your dad through your mom, Charlotte. She’s told him the more positive side of things, shining everything in an optimistic light that makes you scowl at the thought. And all Riley has been told by your mother is that your father and she divorced in a mutual agreement. Still, you let things slip sometimes. 

You drag a hand through your hair, your heart beating too hard for such a hot, quiet day. “Sorry,” you mutter, barely audible.

Riley doesn’t say anything this time. Just walks around the back of the truck and climbs into the passenger side without looking at you.

You mentally facepalm, closing the toolbox and tossing it into the truck bed. You lower the jack, throwing it in right after. The sound echoes louder than it should.

You climb in behind the wheel, start the engine, and pull back onto the road.

And there it is again—that silence. Full of things neither of you is ready to say.

Just the hum of the road beneath you, and the pale, pastel rooftops of Magnolia Bay slowly coming into view through the heat-hazed horizon. You tighten your grip on the steering wheel.

It’s going to be a long summer.

Magnolia Bay. A small, southern beach town where you were born and raised, up until your mom left with you and Riley after another one of your parents’ huge fights. You still never told Riley what they fought about that truly ended it. 

You’re not sure if it’s worth it anymore. 

Magnolia Bay stretches out before you like a half-forgotten dream—a place where time seemed to move slower, like the lazy tides that rolled in and out of the calm bay. The salty air carried a mixture of blooming magnolia blossoms and sea breeze, a scent that always tangled with the memory of your childhood.

Weathered wooden piers jutted into the water, their boards sun-bleached and worn smooth by years of fishermen’s boots and barefoot wanderers. Painted signs advertising fresh catch and shrimp boils hung crooked on peeling storefronts. The narrow main street was lined with quaint shops, their windows fogged with salt and stories: a dusty old bookstore with cracked leather covers stacked inside, a cozy diner where the coffee never ran out, and a tiny music shop that still played vinyl records on lazy summer afternoons.

The beach itself was a stretch of pale, soft sand that warmed under the sun’s relentless gaze, dotted with crabbing traps and driftwood forts built by generations of kids like you and Riley. Old oak trees, heavy with moss and memories, leaned toward the shore as if trying to catch whispers from the waves.

And beyond the bay, the low hills rolled into thick pine forests, hiding secrets and childhood adventures beneath their shadowed boughs.

Magnolia Bay was beautiful and bruised, like a faded photograph with edges curling, its colors softened but still vivid enough to pull you back. It was home. You had left once before, running from the ghosts your parents left behind, but now you and Riley were back. For better or worse, this little town was the place where your story was always meant to continue.

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” Riley hums, his temple pressed up against the window. “I could stay with Dad on my own without you down my neck every five seconds.”

Your fingers tighten around the dark leather of the wheel, forcing yourself not to respond with a retort of your own. Be the bigger person. “I wanted to come, I told you,” you start, “I don’t want you staying alone with him before you go to college. Plus, he was fine with it in the letter he wrote back to us.”

“He’s our dad, Y/N.”

“I don’t trust him.” 

“Do you ever trust anyone?” He peeks at you.

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes fixed on the road like it might offer an escape from the conversation spiraling in the passenger seat. The tires hum against the pavement, Magnolia Bay creeping closer with every passing telephone pole.

“That’s not fair,” you say finally, the words quiet but weighted. “I trusted Mom.”

Silence again. This time it feels heavier. Riley shifts in his seat, no longer lounging. You don’t look at him, but you can feel the tension that suddenly cuts through the air-conditioned cab like a knife.

“She trusted him once too,” you add, more bitterly than you meant to. “Look how that turned out.”

Riley scoffs under his breath. “People change.”

“Not everyone.”

The conversation stalls, but the mood doesn’t lift. Riley goes quiet again, slouching deeper into the seat, his head to the window once more as the truck rounds a bend. That’s when the familiar welcome sign of this small town comes into view—whitewashed wood with peeling gold letters framed by two crepe myrtle trees in full bloom.

“Welcome to Magnolia Bay — Where Memories Wash Ashore.”

You almost laugh. Or cry. You’re not sure which.

The truck rattles slightly as you take the old turnoff onto Shoreline Road. Immediately, the world changes. Brick buildings give way to clusters of pastel-painted homes, their porches wide and shaded by hanging ferns. Some still fly faded flags from holidays past, others have wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

It hasn’t changed much. The town always smelled faintly of salt and lemon oil, a mix of sea and sunbaked porches, and the air still had that sleepy feel to it—like everyone was moving just a few seconds behind.

You pass The Sand Dollar Café, where Miss Greta used to sneak you extra whipped cream on your milkshake. Duke’s Bait & Tackle sits beside it, with its signature wooden pelican out front, beak chipped and weathered. And just across the street is Lottie’s Music Hall, long boarded-up but still standing, paint flaking, the marquee reading “LIVE JAZZ THURSDAYS” like the band never stopped playing.

Your eyes linger on it. On the ghosts stitched into the wood.

“You really think he’s still the same guy from back then?” Riley asks suddenly, softer this time. “From before?”

You exhale, heart stuttering a little as the ocean glints just beyond the row of homes.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But I don’t want you to find out the hard way.”

The truck bumps over the gravel as you turn onto the long, winding drive that leads to your father’s house—white and weathered and waiting at the edge of the bay.

For a split second, distant memories of your childhood flash before your eyes. Scraping your knee on the wooden porch after running up the steps from watching the waves, or like the time you carved Riley’s and your initials just at the edge of the railing when he was only a year old. You shake your head, putting the truck into park. 

The place—home—it feels almost like a recurring nightmare. One you’re forced to face head-on. 

You unbuckle, and so does Riley, opening the door and stepping your feet out onto the sand that holds a trillion memories. 

The house stands exactly as you remember it—and yet, somehow smaller.

A two-story craftsman tucked into a nest of overgrown sea grass and aging magnolia trees, its once-white siding now faded to a weathered gray, like the bones of driftwood. The porch wraps around the front like a tired smile, wide and slanted slightly on one end, the railing chipped and peeling from too many summers soaked in salt and heat.

The front door is still painted the same stubborn shade of turquoise your mom picked out—one of the few things she ever won a fight over—and it sits slightly crooked in the frame, like it’s leaning away from the weight of its history. Wind chimes hang from a rusted hook near the porch light, clinking softly in the breeze, their sound thin and haunting. Familiar.

Two rocking chairs sit side by side on the porch, one newer than the other. The older one—the one your dad always sat in during storms—is missing a slat in the back. You half-expect to see his tall frame hunched over a book, or nursing a drink, or watching the tide roll in like he used to when he was too angry to speak.

The windows are all cracked open slightly to let in the breeze, lace curtains dancing lazily inside. You can see the faint silhouette of your reflection in the glass, and for a heartbeat, you think it might be your mother standing there instead—young, weary, full of hope that never panned out.

You hesitate. Your hand rests on the edge of the open truck door, knuckles white.

Behind you, Riley kicks a shell across the driveway, his sneakers crunching in the sand and gravel. “Looks… the same,” he mutters.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

The scent hits you next—brine and old wood, a faint trace of lemon cleaner, and maybe something cooking inside. You’re not sure if your stomach turns from nerves or hunger.

The house doesn’t scream welcome.

But it doesn’t scream stay away either.

It just waits. Quiet and withered and full of ghosts you swore you’d never come back for. You close the door to the truck and take your first step forward, the sand swallowing your foot as you cross the distance to the porch. Riley lingers behind for a moment before following, quieter now. You reach the steps and pause, your eyes flick to the far-right corner of the railing, where, just barely, you can still see the faded carving from years ago.

Y/N + R

200—

The rest is too worn to read.

You drag your fingers over it before climbing the steps.

Some things, you guess, really do stay.

The dreaded knock doesn’t call for anyone. You almost feel stupid, and that familiar sense of resentment starts bubbling in your gut at the fact that he’s not even opening the door for his kids. You glance back, noting how his truck is parked. 

He’s here. 

So then why the hell isn’t he answering?

Riley knocks when he feels your growing anger, sighing when he gets the same, non-verbal answer. 

“Maybe he’s sleeping,” he tries to concede. 

“Or ignoring us,” you grumble, walking down the porch and along its bend towards the back of the house. The back door was usually left open when the front wasn’t. 

Hint: usually. 

But as you turn the corner, the last thing you expect to find is a shirtless man, hammering away at the wood that surrounds the aged door. You pause in confusion, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Who the hell is this guy?

Some white-haired freak who thinks people just want to see him shirtless. Well, he does kind of look like he has a nice six-pack. Not that you’re looking. He’s crouched down, loose, blue jeans hanging comfortably on his hips. The black band of his Michael Kors boxers peeked out just slightly below his navel. Sweat glistens on his forehead, he wipes it with his shoulder before continuing his work. 

He doesn’t look over at you both. 

“Um…hello?” You decide to speak out after receiving a silent elbow nudge from your brother. He looks over finally, and your arms cross with skepticism. “Who are you?”

The man doesn’t flinch at your voice—just finishes driving the nail in with one clean, practiced hit before slowly standing. The hammer drops to his side, and he brushes his palms on the back of his jeans, the motion casual, almost lazy.

Then he turns to face you fully.

And for a second, you almost forget what you were going to say.

He’s tall—obnoxiously tall—and his build is just lean enough to still be boyish beneath the sun-sculpted muscle. His jawline is sharp, and there’s a thin scar that runs beneath his right cheekbone like a half-finished sentence. But it’s his eyes—icy, amused, and far too perceptive—that really stop you in your tracks.

“Well,” he drawls, voice smooth like aged bourbon. He smiles, eyes crinkling into crescents as they turn soft. You hate the way the smile shows off his seemingly perfect set of white teeth.  “You must be the welcoming committee. Looking for Ben?”

You bristle immediately, narrowing your eyes even further. This stranger calling your dad by a name you’ve only ever heard leave your mother’s and your lips feels unsettling. Riley mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like damn, and now you elbow him without taking your eyes off the stranger. “Benjamin. Yeah, we are.”

The man notices the action and grins. “Feisty. Good. Your dad said you’d be a handful.”

That name alone—the weight of your dad—lands like a slap.

Your arms tighten across your chest. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m Satoru. Or Gojo, whatever you wanna call me,” he says easily, picking his hammer back up and resting it on his shoulder. “I’m renting the back unit.”

“What unit?” you bite out. “This isn’t a duplex.”

“It is now.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, completely unaffected by your rising hostility. “Your dad converted the back of the house into a rental a while back. Guesthouse, technically—but I’ve been helping him fix it up.”

You look past him to the door he was repairing. Sure enough, there’s new wood nailed around the frame, the smell of fresh paint faint in the humid air. Flowering jasmine curls up one of the support beams, still wild and untrimmed. The back corner of the house—once storage and your father’s old workshop—now has a second address stenciled discreetly on a new mailbox post: 34 B.

What the fuck. “You’re telling me my dad has been shacking up strangers in his backyard?”

He chuckles. “Sure has.”

“And where is he now?” Riley asks. 

As if on cue, your father emerges from the house, using the inside of the back door this Satoru man was just working on. His attention is first drawn to him. “Wood’s sounding good, Satoru. No more mold?”

“No more, Ben.”

The tension thickens in the air as your father steps fully into view. A man weathered by years but still carrying the stubborn pride of the South in every line of his face. His salt-and-pepper hair is combed back with the same careless ease as always, and his eyes flick between you and Riley, a quiet wariness underneath the gruff exterior.

“Y/N,” he says, voice low but steady, as if rehearsed in anticipation of this moment, “Riley.” His gaze lingers on you a little longer than it does on your brother.

You swallow hard, keeping your arms crossed tight around yourself, feeling the walls of this house pressing in like old ghosts. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer the door?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, eyes darting briefly to Satoru, who’s now leaning casually against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, watching with that smile that still unsettles you.

“Been busy. Fixing things up. Getting the place ready for you kids, as I told you in the letter.”

You glance at Riley, who shrugs, but the knot in your stomach tightens. Riley steps forward first, albeit cautiously. Your father smiles, lines creasing at the edge of his lips before opening his arms up wide and welcoming your brother into a familial hug. 

“Riley,” he breathes in, tightening his arms. “You’ve…grown so big.”

You hover back, body frozen in place. You almost feel like an outsider as you watch your brother and dad hug it out like they’ve been needing this hug for years now. In a way, maybe they have. But you don’t want to admit that to yourself just yet. 

Your eyes flicker to the man standing behind them, leaned against the railing. You make eye contact with him before he looks away, pretending to dust away something from his hammer. As you look back at Riley and Ben, they step back from each other. Riley’s eyes glaze over with what you can only assume are tears. 

That sight breaks Benjamin a little bit. His hand reaches out, hovering over Riley’s shoulder before patting. It looks like he’s holding back his own tears, as well. 

Then, finally, your father looks at you. 

It’s silent for a moment before he clears his throat. “Y/N,” he greets, fingers twitching by his sides. “You’ve…you’ve grown too.”

No shit, is what you want to say. Instead, you murmur out a small “yeah”. 

He steps forward, arms held out in the same way they did with Riley. Except this time, his child doesn’t reciprocate. 

You step back, body tensing up. 

Benjamin’s smile falters just a fraction, the warmth draining from his eyes as he watches you recoil. For a heartbeat, his mouth opens as if to argue, to coax you forward, but then he closes it again, swallowing whatever words might have come out.

“I get it,” he finally speaks, voice low, rougher now, like the years apart had worn the softness off him. “You’re not the same little girl I remember.”

Your chest tightens. No, you’re not. Far from it. 

The scent of the sea drifts through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh wood and jasmine. Satoru shifts his weight behind Benjamin, but he says nothing. You glance at Riley, who’s watching the exchange silently, tension coiled in his shoulders like a spring.

Benjamin exhales heavily and plasters on a smile that looks much more forced. “Well—I—uh—why don’t we all step inside? It’s getting dark soon, and I want to catch up with you both. Maybe show you the changes I’ve made.”

The three of you follow Benjamin inside. 

“Oh! And this is Satoru. He’s—”

“Taking up space,” you complete. 

Benjamin bites the inside of his cheek before shaking his head. “No, he’s living out of the guesthouse. He helps me around the house and town. He also teaches swimming lessons.”

“Surf, too,” Satoru perks up, walking over to the kitchen and opening the fridge for a glass of water. Your jaw creaks from how hard you’re gritting your teeth. 

“Surf?” Riley asks, a small gasp escaping. “You surf?”

Satoru nods as he lifts a glass of water to his lips. “Grew up near the coast, came to MB just a few years ago. Been surfing since I was younger than you. There’s some good breaks just past the jetty here if you know when to go.”

“That’s so cool,” Riley says, glancing at you for approval before quickly looking away again when he doesn’t find it. “I’ve always wanted to learn. Mom never really let us—she thought it was too dangerous.”

Satoru lowers the glass and leans back against the counter. “Well, your mom’s not wrong. Ocean doesn’t play fair. But I teach safe. Wetsuit, leash, reading tides. No one goes in without knowing what they’re doing. Your dad even joined me once. Guy’s still got decent balance for someone pushing sixty.”

Benjamin chuckles lightly, that same old laugh that used to echo through the house when you were young. “Decent, huh? You told me I looked like a drunk flamingo.”

“That was decent. For you.”

The three males in the house laugh as if nothing is wrong with the current situation. As if they don’t read your silence and frowning face. They probably do and are choosing not to comment on it—not like you’re trying to hide it. You’re not here to laugh. Not yet, at least. Not when your father has barely been back in your life longer than five minutes.

The house smells different. Not the lemon cleaner your mom used, or the coconut shampoo she washed your hair with when you were a kid. It’s all sawdust and aftershave now, with a lingering trace of sea salt. There’s a dull ache in your chest as your eyes sweep across the familiar, changed space.

The couch is new. The old woven rug is gone. The chipped family photo that used to hang crooked over the fireplace is nowhere in sight.

“Kitchen’s still the same,” you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else.

Benjamin hears anyway. “Thought about changing it too, but… I figured some things should stay put.”

You don’t respond.

Riley plops down at the dinner table like he’s been here every summer since you left. He starts flipping through a stack of local flyers sitting near the placemats—surf competitions, crab boils, a community open mic. His world is already expanding. Opening up.

You? You feel like the walls are inching closer.

Benjamin gestures toward the small hallway. “Figured you could take your old room again, Y/N. Cleaned it out a bit. Still have a few boxes in there I didn’t know what to do with—thought you might want to go through them yourself.”

“And me?” Riley asks, hopeful.

“The room across from hers,” your father replies. “Used to be the storage room, but I finished it off. Fresh paint, new bedframe, and the window faces the water.”

Riley beams, and the pride on your father’s face is unmistakable. You hate the jealousy that rises in your throat. It’s not Riley’s fault. It’s not even really Ben’s—not entirely.

“You kids settle in,” your father says after a moment. “Dinner’s on me tonight. Figured I’d take you down to Dockside—still do fish fry Fridays.”

You nod stiffly, trying not to let the warmth of nostalgia soften you.

Satoru finishes his water and sets the glass down gently, eyes on you as he speaks again. “You’ll like Dockside. Their Hush Puppies are better than I’ve had anywhere else.”

I’ve been there before, idiot. “I’m not here for the food,” you say flatly, brushing past him on your way to the hallway. “I’m here for my brother.”

They all watch you go, silently. 

The sunset evening of MB feels safer than the presence of your father. At least Satoru didn’t come. 

The three of you are walking down the boardwalk of the waterfront. You pass by locals, new faces you don’t remember from twelve years ago. Everyone must’ve had a brain and decided to get out of this place. Those who stayed, however few of them, are still holding onto the past. Just like your dad. 

“Y/N, do you want that chocolate ice cream cone you used to love from—”

“No,” you interrupt, continuing your stride to Dockside without sparing a glance back at the same dampened expression on your father’s face. 

He doesn’t say anything after that. Just slows his steps a little, whether from age or your rejection, you don’t care to figure out. The scent of grilled fish and fried batter starts to fill the air the closer you get to Dockside. It’s almost identical to how you remember. 

The dock creaks beneath your sandals, weathered wood groaning under the rhythm of your steps. The lights strung along the awning of the restaurant flicker softly in the dimming amber of sunset. Couples and families gather around picnic tables, kids run barefoot past the wooden posts, and the world spins on like it hasn’t missed you at all.

Riley walks just behind you, hands shoved in his pockets, clearly unsure of where to put himself. He keeps glancing between you and your dad like he’s afraid one of you might explode.

The hostess—a girl who looks barely out of high school and smells like bubblegum—greets you all with a perky smile. “Table for three?”

“Four,” Benjamin corrects automatically, then clears his throat. “Three. Right. Three.”

You tense again.

No one comments on the slip.

The table is small, round, and too damn intimate for your liking. You take the farthest seat from Benjamin without thinking, forcing Riley to sit between you both. The menu hasn’t changed. You don’t even open it.

“I’ll get the fried shrimp platter,” you mutter when the waitress approaches. “With a sweet tea.”

“Same,” Riley adds quickly.

Benjamin orders last, a little quieter. “Catfish plate. No fries. Just slaw. And an order of Hush Puppies.”

Silence stretches between the three of you as the waitress disappears. Outside the screen windows, the sun dips lower, bleeding shades of crimson and pink across the water. Seagulls call in the distance. Laughter rises from another table. Someone plays an acoustic guitar nearby, out of tune but still earnest.

“So,” Benjamin finally says, grasping for a thread of conversation. “The guesthouse didn’t used to look like much, but Satoru’s been fixing it up pretty good. You should see what he did with the porch lights. Installed them himself.”

You stab your straw into your drink. “Maybe you two should get married.”

Riley chokes on his tea.

Benjamin’s mouth parts like he’s about to scold you, almost like he has the right, but then he just leans back in his chair, jaw tight. “That wasn’t called for.”

“Neither was you leaving.”

“Y/N,” Riley tugs at your elbow. “Stop it.”

It feels almost degrading to have a teenager scold you like this. Especially in public, especially in front of your father. And it’s even more embarrassing when you actually listen. 

“…so,” your father speaks up after you get your drinks served first. He sips from his complimentary cup of water, swirling the ice cubes inside the blue cup. He looks between Riley and you, deciding to try his luck with the former first. “Your mother sent me your graduation photos. Valedictorian, too. I’m very proud of you, Riley.”

His son smiles, chuckling quietly as he ruffles the back of his hair. “Ah, yeah. Thanks. It was hard, but I did it, somehow.”

“You were always a bright boy. You even knew all the names of the planets by just four.”

“So I was GOATED even from a young age.”

“Hm? What’s that mean?” Benjamin tilts his head in such a gen-x way. You almost feel tempted to snort at that. 

Riley simply shakes his head, mumbling something about how he’ll tell him later. The food soon comes, and he begins to chew one of the Hush Puppies from the plate in the middle. 

You feel your father’s eyes glance at you, as if silently willing you to just look his way for more than five seconds for once. You don’t. 

He munches on his catfish platter, tuning his voice into a friendly manner. “Your mother told me you were thinking of getting back into the piano. I didn’t know you stopped.”

You pick at the breading of your shrimp, watching flecks of golden brown fall back onto your plate. You still don’t look at him. “I didn’t stop,” you respond flatly. “I just stopped sharing it with people.”

It’s quiet again. Even Riley hesitates, eyes darting between you both with a tension so thick you could carve through it with your butter knife.

Your father swallows, clears his throat. “You know, the old hall by the church still keeps a grand piano in the back. Dusty, but good bones. I could help—”

“I don’t need your help.”

It comes out sharper than you meant it to. Your fork clinks a little too hard against your plate. Riley flinches.

Benjamin pauses, that forced friendliness cracking around the edges. “I just meant if you needed somewhere to play, I could talk to Pastor Jim—”

“I said I don’t need anything from you.” You finally look up. Your voice isn’t loud, but it slices through the soft noise of the dock like glass against a throat. “Not a piano. Not approval. And definitely not small talk about a life you weren’t in.”

His face shifts—hurt, maybe, or guilt—but you don’t care to study it. You go back to your food like you didn’t just suck all the air from the table.

The Hush Puppies don’t taste the same.

Riley takes a slow sip of his tea, murmuring to himself, “This is nice. Really love eating in World War III.”

You huff out something that might be a laugh, bitter and short-lived. Benjamin doesn’t respond. You don’t say anything else. None of you do.

The sun’s dipped almost entirely below the horizon now. Outside the screen, the water gleams a dull pink-orange, and the wind picks up, carrying the salt and sounds of gulls with it. You feel the kind of tired that’s more emotional than physical, the kind that hits behind your eyes and settles into your lungs.

You’re done pretending. Done making this easier for him. If he wants forgiveness, he’s going to have to sit in the mess he made for a while longer.

And maybe you’ll let him.

Eventually.

But not tonight.

You walk ahead of the father and son duo who hold ice cream cones in their hands—chocolate. Heading into the house, you feel weird calling home, even if it is temporary, you storm to your old room like a teenager who just got caught sneaking out for the first time. 

The walls, an embarrassing shade of purple and pink—you’d been indecisive as a young girl. Even after all the years, everything is how you remember. As if frozen in place. 

The bookshelf still leans slightly to the right, weighed down with outdated paperbacks and dust-blanketed trophies from spelling bees and school science fairs. Your twin bed, small and low to the ground, is tucked beneath the window with the same star-patterned sheets you left behind. There’s even a stuffed animal—your old bunny, Olive—perched at the head of the bed, one ear flopped down, the other stiff like it’s still waiting for you to come back and tell her where you went. Plus, the bay window you’d use to look out of after a particularly hard day. 

You stare at Olive, heart thrumming too loudly in your ears. The air smells like dried lavender and the ocean. Like the kind of childhood you used to hold onto like a rope—until it burned your palms. You sit on the edge of the bed and let the silence collapse over you like a weighted blanket. You’re not sure if you want to scream or cry. Maybe both.

Down the hall, you can hear faint murmurs of Riley’s voice, soft and laughing. Your dad chuckles low in return. That sound—that ease between them—only twists the knife deeper.

You remember the abrupt leave you, Riley, and your mother made. You didn’t have much time to take any valuables, as you can see. Just essentials. 

You hear another muffled laugh from Riley and your father. Before you know it, your eyes sting. Looking down at your lap, small tears stain pieces of your shorts a darker blue. 

Your hands raise to dig into your skull, pulling at the roots of your hair with a frustrated vigor. 

A part of you feels left out, jealous, angered, and downright anxious. 

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that seems endless, one that makes you stand up and pace the room. There’s no more creaking floorboards anymore—either your father or that white-haired bastard changed that part, too. Just that little memory almost makes you nauseous. 

A knock makes you flinch. 

You think it’s your father, striding over to the door and swinging it open. But your eyebrows raise into your hairline when you notice it’s the bastard you were just cussing out in your brain. 

He smiles again, the same one that makes it feel like you’re lifelong friends. 

“What?” You snap. 

But that doesn’t deter him, pointing a thumb down the hall. “We’re gonna make some s’mores, your dad wants to know if you want some.”

Gojo’s tone is as light as his smile, but there’s something else behind it—something studying you. You blink at him. You don’t move. Your arms cross instinctively over your chest, not because you’re cold, but because you feel exposed.

“I’m good,” you mutter, already moving to shut the door.

But he wedges his palm between it and the frame like it’s muscle memory. “You sure? Because I’m not gonna lie, I burn marshmallows better than anyone in this entire town. I’ve got proof. Scientific proof.”

You narrow your eyes. “I said I’m good.”

He tilts his head, still blocking the door, unbothered. “I’m not saying you have to hold hands and sing Kumbaya out there.”

Your jaw clenches, hands twitching at your sides. For a moment, you hate that he sees it. That he sees you.

You take a step back. “Look, I don’t know whatever bond my dad and you share or whatever the hell he’s told you. But the last thing I want to do is play roommate with some random guy for the summer. As long as my brother and I are here, I’d appreciate it if you don’t butt into our family business.”

His head tilts down slightly at you, his smile perking up slightly, which makes it seem like he’s holding back an amused smirk. “Who said I’m butting into anything?”

You glare at him. His confidence is infuriating—so casual, so steady, like he’s standing on solid ground while you’re still trying to keep your footing on shifting sand. “You’re literally in my doorway,” you hiss, voice taut. “That kind of counts.”

Gojo finally lifts his hand from the frame, palms up like he’s surrendering. “Fair. I’ll back off,” he says, taking one easy step back—but not far enough to make you feel like you’ve won. “But for the record, your dad hasn’t told me much. Just that you were coming back and that I should try not to scare you off.”

You scoff. “Too late.”

That earns a laugh—light, genuine, and it hits a nerve you didn’t know was still exposed.

“Listen,” he says after a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to be the ‘fun step-uncle’ or some shit, alright? I just figured you looked like you could use something sweet. Or at least, you know, a break from staring at that creepy stuffed bunny like it owes you money.”

You blink. “Her name’s Olive.”

“Of course it is.”

He moves to turn like he’s going to leave you alone for real this time, but pauses at the threshold. Gojo meets your eyes, staring for a few seconds. And there’s something quiet in the bright pair of blues he has, like he’s internally breaking down and storing away every bit of information about yourself that doesn’t meet the normal eye. 

Finally, he nods casually, lips slipping into that calm smile of his like he didn't just try staring into your soul, and starts down the hallway. “I’ll leave a s’more on the counter in case you change your mind. But I’m warning you—if it disappears mysteriously in the middle of the night, I will assume you broke.”

You slam the door shut before he can get the last word in, your pulse thudding against your ribs. And for some reason, your stupid legs don’t carry you back to the bed. They carry you to the bay window, where you sit and watch the sky burn into twilight—stars blinking one by one into life, like soft reminders that time hasn’t stopped, even if your world did.

Olive stares at you from the bed.

You flip her off and barely get any sleep. 

The next day, you wake up at the beautiful, perfectly ripe time of two in the afternoon. While everyone has already started their day hours before you even woke up, yours is just beginning. Still, you know you didn’t get a good night's sleep when you wake up groggy. 

The sunlight peeking through your shades momentarily blinds you, causing your eyes to squint up. It’s warm inside your room, and you can only imagine it’s even warmer outside. 

Your body is sore from falling asleep sitting up by the bay window, sore and cracking, and with a couple of stretches, you do. Throwing on a simple pair of blue denim shorts, black sandals, and a simple black t-shirt, you pad out your room and down the hall to brush your teeth and wash your face. 

You haven’t unpacked yet, not that you want to. You remind yourself to maybe do so later in the day. Once you’re done in the bathroom, you take note of how quiet the house is. It’s almost unsettling, you can tell you’re the only one home. Not that it surprises you, considering it’s the afternoon, but you can't help wondering where Riley went off to and if he's lost. You shoot him a simple text, asking him where he’s at. 

When you look up, your dad enters through the back door, wiping his carpenter pants free of the sawdust. When he notices you, he pauses, then nods. “Hey, kiddo. Finally up.”

He walks past you into the kitchen for a cool glass of water. “Satoru made some pancakes for us in the morning, I saved you some. They’re in the fridge.”

You don’t bother replying, watching him rinse his hands from the kitchen faucet before wiping them dry on his stained white t-shirt. Your eyes flick to a ceramic plate in the middle of the kitchen counter. 

A s’more left untouched and undoubtedly stale. 

“Where’s Riley?” Is what you ask first, scratching at your elbow. 

“He’s out by the waterfront.”

“With who?”

“Satoru took him.”

“Doing what?” You’re already moving towards the front door. 

Your dad doesn’t answer right away. He glances toward you as he sips his water, then places the glass in the sink with a little more force than necessary. “They’re just hanging out. Said they were going to walk the shore, maybe grab a bite.”

You stop at the door, hand poised on the knob. “You let some guy take your kid without telling me?”

Benjamin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Satoru’s not some guy, Y/N. I trust him. Riley seems to like him. That’s more than I can say for how he usually acted around strangers.”

Your jaw tightens. “He’s not family.”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t need to.”

Benjamin sighs, scratching at his bushy, brown eyebrow. Auburn eyes fixated on his daughter’s form. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before moving over to the circular table. “He’s fine, Y/N. Besides, while he’s out, maybe we can talk.”

The word talk almost makes you scoff out loud. You lean your shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded tight over your chest. “Talk? About what? The weather?”

Your dad doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he pulls out a chair and gestures loosely to the one across from him. “No. About you. About us. About what happened.”

There it is. The invisible landmine you knew was buried somewhere in this trip—just waiting for your foot to find it. You shake your head, huffing. “It’s a little late for that.”

He nods slowly, like he expected that answer. “Maybe. But we never really talked about it, did we? Not really. One day I was watching you at piano practice, and the next, your mom was driving off in the middle of the night like I didn’t exist.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, eyes narrowing. “Don’t put this on her.”

“I’m not,” he says, holding up a hand. “I just want to know how you felt. I never got to ask.”

“I felt like I was seventeen and my dad let the whole family fall apart. I felt like I wasn’t enough to make things work. That about cover it?”

Silence stretches between you like barbed wire.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, his voice a low rasp. “I never wanted to leave you. That fight with your mom… it got bad. Worse than I ever thought it would. But I never meant to walk out on you.”

You exhale slowly through your nose. Your knuckles have gone white from clenching your arms so tightly. “You walked out on her, and by default, you walked out on me. Don’t act like it wasn’t a choice.”

His mouth opens, but you cut him off before he can get another word in.

“And don’t act like you came looking for us either.”

“I wanted to, Y/N,” he protests, a look of exasperation on his face. “But things between your mother and me were rough. She didn’t want me seeing you both and having it bring up bad memories.”

You scoff. Loudly. “Bad memories? Is that what we were to you? A reminder of all your fuckups?”

“That’s not what I said,” Benjamin says firmly, standing now. Not towering, not intimidating, just there. Steady. “I never stopped loving you, and you know that. I still called. I still sent gifts. I showed up at your damn recitals—”

“You sat in the back,” you snapped, heart pounding, voice cracking. “Like you didn’t want anyone to see you. You came like you were a ghost. You never stayed after, never came up to me. You just…watched. Like a stranger.”

There’s that silence again. But this time, it doesn’t stretch like barbed wire. It sinks, heavy and slow.

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” he admits, quieter now. “And maybe I was too much of a coward to find out if I was right.”

You look away, jaw working. Because part of you wants to say you were right. Part of you wants to scream that he should’ve fought harder. That he should’ve chased after the car that night. That he should’ve come to get you. But another part—the part that still remembers the smell of sawdust on his clothes and the way he used to hum old rock songs while making Sunday breakfast—just aches.

“Riley doesn’t even remember what it was like,” you murmur bitterly, eyes fixed on the floorboards. “He gets to start fresh. He gets to like you again without having to forgive you.”

Benjamin sits down again. Slowly and carefully.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he says. “I just want the chance to know you again. As you are now. Not the kid I left behind.”

Your throat tightens, a lump forming like it’s been there for the last twelve years and is only now rising to choke you. You stare at him for a long moment. At the lines around his eyes that didn’t used to be there. At the callouses still rough on his hands. At the regret that seems too big for his frame.

“You don’t know me anymore,” you say softly.

He nods once. “Then let me try.”

“Like I said,” you turn back to the door, opening it and stepping a foot out without looking over your shoulder again. “It’s too late.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

And Benjamin stays still, watching your retreating figure through the kitchen window with a familiar ache in his chest. He didn’t assume gaining your trust, love, and affection would be easy. But he wouldn’t be lying if the naive part of him hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t be as difficult as this. 

“Fuck,” he grunts to himself, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. 

The sand divots under your sandals as you walk above it like a wobbly blanket. Eyes darting around in search of your brother and that freak. There’s people playing frisbee, an intense volleyball match to the right with shirtless hunks that you try hard not to stare at. A few people tanning, others building sandcastles. The boardwalk, filled with those little shops, has people going in and out of them. There’s a few older people going on a run and even a few gym bros lifting weights. 

Of course, people are swimming, too. 

You scan the beach, hand raised to block the worst of the sun’s glare. You’re not sure who you’re more irritated with—your father, for trusting some near-stranger with your brother, or Gojo, for once again inserting himself where he doesn’t belong. 

Still no sign of Riley. Your jaw tightens.

Then, finally, you spot him.

Riley. Barefoot and knee-deep in the shallows, his jeans rolled up. And just a few feet away—of course—is Gojo. He’s crouched in the surf, gesturing excitedly toward something in the water, his white hair glinting like a beacon under the sun. You can hear Riley’s laugh, faint but unmistakable, and it hits you square in the chest.

Something about it—a carefree kind of happiness you hadn’t heard in weeks—makes you pause, brewing with a storm of jealousy you don’t want to admit to yourself. 

Gojo’s got his sandals slung over one shoulder, wet up to the shins, and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses perched on his nose like he’s some celebrity trying to lay low. His tan practically glowing under the afternoon sun in a dangerously sexy way. He splashes a bit of water toward Riley and says something that makes your brother double over laughing.

You hate how easy it looks. How natural. Like he belongs here. Riley just fucking met him for crying out loud. 

You cross your arms and start making your way toward them, each step heavier than the last.

When you get closer, Riley and Satoru’s laughter is clearer, still having no damn clue as to what is exactly so funny. You stop just when the waves hit your toes. “Riley.” Your voice cuts through the sound of the surf.

Both heads turn.

Riley straightens up fast, like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to—though he hasn’t done anything wrong. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his damp jeans, eyes sheepish but bright. “Hey,” he says, blinking up at you. “Didn’t think you were awake yet.”

“Clearly,” you reply, gaze sliding over to the man beside him.

Gojo doesn’t move at first. He’s crouched down like he was mid-thought, mid-story, like he wasn’t expecting you to come storming in and change the weather.

Then he stands. All slow, easy swagger. Sunglasses still on. Dripping wet. “Hey, sunshine,” he says, flashing a smile. “Sleep well?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on your brother. “You didn’t text me back,” you say, voice flatter now, and more controlled.

Riley shrugs. “Didn’t hear it buzz.”

Gojo cocks his head. “My fault. I kinda stole him for a few hours. Should’ve run it by you, huh?”

You cross your arms. “Yeah, maybe you should’ve.”

There’s a beat of silence. The tide pulls back, leaving thin foam around your ankles.

Riley looks between the two of you, picking up on the tension. “We were just talking, that’s all,” he says quickly. “He was showing me how to look for sand dollars.”

Gojo grins. “Found two, actually. Your brother’s got good eyes.”

You ignore him.

“Riley,” you say gently, trying not to snap. “Go rinse off. I’ll walk with you back.”

He hesitates.

“Now,” you add, softer, but firmer.

Riley frowns, clearly disappointed, but doesn’t argue. He starts toward the rinsing station a few yards up the beach, leaving you and Gojo alone. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The sun beats down between you.

“You gonna yell at me now?” Gojo asks, tipping his head. “Or save it for the walk back home?”

“I asked you to stay out of things.”

“You said that last night. About your dad,” he replies calmly. “Didn’t realize that included Riley.”

You step closer, words cold enough to slice between them. “It includes everything.”

Something shifts behind his sunglasses. He doesn’t smile this time.

“He was bored,” he says simply. “I saw him walking alone and asked if he wanted company. He said yes.” You open your mouth, but he cuts in first. “It’s really not a big deal. Your brother is old enough to make his own decisions. Besides, it’s just MB, not much can happen.”

You snort. “He can drown, for one. He’s spent more time in the city than some shithole like this.”

“Shithole?” Satoru raises his brows, perking his sunglasses up until they hold the front of his hair back. Damn, he looks good. “MB’s not a shithole. And he can learn to swim. He wants to learn. And I’m down to teach him.”

Your jaw clenches. “That’s not your job.”

Gojo’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I didn’t say it was. I’m just saying—he asked. What was I supposed to do? Tell him no because his sister has some stick up her ass about me?”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s already regretting opening his mouth. “Forget it. Look—I’m not trying to fight with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Y/N.” Your name rolls off his tongue softer now, like he’s trying to hit the brakes. “I’m not the enemy here.”

“No?” You laugh once, but it’s humorless. “Then what are you, exactly? My dad’s new best friend? My brother’s personal swim coach? What next—moving into the guest room? We all play happy family until summer ends?”

He looks away then, jaw ticking as he stares at the ocean like it’ll offer him something better than your anger. “That what you think this is?”

“I don’t know what this is, nor do I care enough.”

“You obviously do.”

“No, all I care about is you keeping your big, stupid head away from my brother and me.”

Gojo’s eyes flick back to yours then—calm, unreadable, but no longer smiling. His hands hang loose at his sides, fingers twitching once like he wants to say something else, but reins it in. You recognize the look; it’s the same one your dad wore in the kitchen. That same tired tension, like he’s holding back more than he’s saying. He tilts his head, tone quiet now. “You know… for someone who says she doesn’t care, you sure spend a lot of energy making sure I know exactly how much you don’t.”

You open your mouth, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“I’m not trying to worm my way into your life, Y/N. I just met you yesterday, Riley, too. I don’t have an issue with you, really. But let the kid live.”

Your fingers twitch in your palms. “I am letting him live.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he throws your own retort back into your face. 

You step forward, and his eyebrows raise. Just as you’re about to speak another hurdling insult, Riley comes back. 

“Y/N,” he says, a knowing tilt to his tone. You look over your shoulder, yet again, you receive the same look Satoru and your father gave you within the span of thirty minutes. Your stomach clenches, and you quietly back off Satoru, approaching your brother. 

“Let’s go,” is all you say before making your trek back home. 

Riley, pursing his lips into a hidden frown, looks back at Satoru. The white-haired man simply smiles, nodding his head and waving his hand in a don’t worry, you go motion. Riley’s shoulders slump, waving back before following after you. 

Satoru sees Riley jogging up to your side, saying something to you that his ears can’t make out. You must’ve said something back because now it looks like Riley is arguing with you. He sighs to himself, whatever sibling issues you both have going on is not something he wants to poke in on. 

Hell, when Ben told him his kids would be coming for the summer, firstly, he didn’t expect his daughter would be…hot as fuck. Secondly, he didn’t anticipate how prickly you’d be. Definitely didn’t expect you to come at him like you’re armed for war. All sharp edges and cold glares and unsaid things pressing behind your eyes. 

 He genuinely wonders when the last time you got laid was. Maybe you just need a good dick-down. 

Your brother’s cool, though. Bright kid. 

But like he said before, he doesn’t want to intrude on your family. He knows just as much as Ben told him and won’t push further.  Ben’s been good to him. That’s what matters. The rest? Not his business.

He makes a mental note to stay in the backhouse more. Stay out of the way. 

And maybe—just maybe—try not to want things that were never meant for him. That includes beautiful women with resting bitch faces aimed directly at him for no reason. 

taglist: @tbzzluvr @yesdere @lilychan176 @forever-war @thecutestaaakawaii

@yashiroxzz @simplymygojo @jlandersen01 @eudaimooniavrk @satowuuu

@surethingmoto @nariminsstuff @serendippindots @gypsiegoop @chich1ookie

@tsuma-senju @atsushirolll @lavendherhaze @bottomlesschaps @miss-dior

@se-phi-roth @panpantak @yoriichitsugikunii @jules-ray @zoeyflower

@sypnasis @yvesdoee @mikkmmmii @j3yn @starlightoru-gojo

@datshittuebrat @yesiimorada22 @satorawr @m1gota @aelita-sucks

@sukuxna0 @shyampyari @kidd3ath @lalalandincraz @thikcems

@kunikuzushis-darling @anyaswlrd @vicky19vcm @satorugirlie @fairyflorasworld

@chuuood @aeeliy

[shaunashipman]

here is the colouring tutorial i promised to go with my beginner's gifmaking tutorial.

to save image space, i've written up a simple explanation of how each adjustment layer works here, so i'm just going to over my colouring for these 4 different gifs.

as always, very image heavy underneath

there are many ways to get the same results and i'll use various methods usually just based on what i'm feeling at the moment. some of it is a little convoluted, but hopefully this will give you a rounded idea of how it all works so you feel more comfortable playing around with your own colouring

NADJA

this is the base gif with zero colouring adjustments, just resized and sharpened.

unless the base gif is already very bright, which doesn't often happen because directors nowadays are allergic to light, the first layer i add is always a brightness/contrast layer. i don't adjust any of the sliders, i just change the blending mode to "screen", and then adjust the opacity if needed. this gif was pretty dark, so i left it at 100%,

my next layers are always curves to even out the white and blacks. i use two curves layers, one for white and one for black. i used the white drop-picker and selected just below the lightshade on the lamp behind her, and for the black drop-picker i selected her hair near her neck which gives us this

it's already looking much better, it's not as green tinted, but i want to make the red of her dress pop a bit more. in order to do that without making her face too red, i'm gonna remove some of the yellow. so next i'm gonna add a selective colour layer, and under the yellow channel i moved the yellow slider to -5 and the black slider to -52. now

now that the yellow is reduced, i add another selective layer, and under the red i move the cyan slider to -66 and the black slider to +29. now the red of her dress pops and her face is still a realistic tone. when i first made the gif, i added the red selective layer first, then added another selective layer under it and adjusted the yellows to offset it. you can always shift layers around or add a new layer underneath as you go.

voila

TOMMY

here is our base gif

this scene is better lit than the nadja one, but i prefer bright and colourful gifs, so i'm gonna once again add a brightness/contrast level and keep it at 100%

and then the curves layers to even it all out. since there isn't a spot that is immediately noticeable as white, you can hold the alt button with the white dropper selected and it will highlight all the white/very near white pixels. you can also zoom real close in to select specific pixels. i selected a from the white area around his chin/mouth. the same process works for finding a black spot with the black dropper, and for that i selected from a dark spot in his hair

the curves layers evened it out but also made the gif a bit more red and warm toned, and since i've decided i want the end result to be more blue/green, so i'm gonna add a colour balance layer. in the shadows channel i moved the cyan/red slider to -16, and the yellow/blue slider to +11

now the gif already looks great, it's bright, skin tone is accurate, he's not washed out, but like i said i like my gifs colourful, so i'm gonna add two more selective colour layers. in the first i'm gonna adjust the greens, bringing the magenta slider to -87, and the black slider to +81. in the second layer i'm gonna adjust both the blues and cyans, because when you see blue in a gif it's rarely ever straight blue or straight cyan, so always adjust both. (you could adjust the blue and green in the same layer, but i prefer to do them separately in case i need to move the layers around)

now finally i'm gonna add a hue/saturation layer because i think the blue of his suit is too blue when the sky behind him is more cyan. (also, since you only have 256 different colours to work with, you don't want too many different colours otherwise it will distort the colouring.) in the blue channel i move the hue slider to -12 to make the blue a bit more cyan, and i also move the saturation to +38 to make it pop more

and voila

RHAENYRA

here is the base gif (this one is going to get very convoluted and imo best exemplifies what colouring gifs is like most of the time)

as always, a brightening layer set to screen

now the curves layers. for the white i clicked on her hair at the top of her head, and for the black i i clicked in the shadows to the left of her.

but as you can see, while it added contrast, it also made the gif more green tinted than it was. you could click around more, or manually adjust the red, green, and blue lines on the curves until it looks better but i decided to add a channel mixer layer instead. in the green channel i set the greens to -95, and in the blue channel i set the blue to -97

next i wanted to add a little contrast, but i find that using the contrast in brightness/contrast can saturate it too much, so instead i added a levels layer. first i adjusted the bottom bar, moving the right slider to 230 which reduces the overall brightness of the gif, so when i adjust the top bar it doesn't brighten the gif too much. on the top bar, i moved the right slider to 212, and the left slider to 9

now, i'd like it to be not exactly warm toned, but less cool, and while i could use colour balance or a photo filter, i'm instead going to add a gradient map, using the default gradient pink 08, and setting it to blend mode soft light at 50% opacity

next i just want to increase the blacks a little, so i'm gonna add a selective colour layer and under black i'm gonna set the black slider to +10

it's still not as warm as i'd like, so i'm gonna add a colour balance layer, in the midtones setting the cyan/red to +10 and the yellow/blue to -5

we're almost done, but i want to make her dress pop a bit more, so first i'm gonna add another selective colour to bring the yellows down a bit, setting the black slider to -15

and finally one more selective colour layer, in the reds, setting the cyan slider to -50, the yellow slider to +10, and the black slider to +15

voila

NATALIE

here's the base gif

as always the brightness/contrast layer set the screen

now the curves layer. for the white, i zoomed in and selected a pixel on her cheek under her right eye. for the black i the dark spot just above her head

now she's very yellow, so i added a channel mixer layer. in the red channel i set the reds to +88. in the blue channel i set the reds to +10

she's still a little too yellow for my liking, so i'm gonna add a hue/saturation layer, and under the yellows i'm gonna adjust the saturation to -60

finally, i want her to be a it brighter, so i'm gonna add another curves layer, but instead of using the drop, i'm going to manually adjust it. the two points along the line are where i selected it and then i dragged until it looked how i wanted. i start with the upper dot, which made it brighter and moved the line into an arch, and then selected at the lower end of the line and dragged in back closer to centre to add some darkness and contrast

voila

and that's how i do my colouring. it's generally all trial and error, using a layer to fix one thing and then needing another layer to fix something the previous layer did.

play around, have fun, see what works for you and what doesn't. it will take a while for you to develop your own method and style, and even then you'll come across scenes that make you question if you have any sills at all. you do, directors just hate us

have fun and feel free to ask any questions

[sirfrogsworth]

Understanding the Inverse Square Law

(Without Math)

When I was first getting deep into photography, I kept running into lessons about the inverse square law. They would always tell you the effects and the math but they never explained the cause. Why does the light do this?

It's like when the doctor gives you a pill to fix something. You swallow it, wait a bit, and eventually you feel better. But you rarely know what the pill is actually doing.

So when it comes to lighting, you have to decide if you want to be the doctor who understands the why or the patient who just swallows the pill and gets the desired effect.

Every tutorial will say if you double the distance of a light from a subject, the intensity will drop by 1/4. They will give you a formula so you can do exposure calculations.

Sometimes they will refer to somewhat helpful diagrams with clues on what is happening.

But most just teach the easy version.

If you move the light closer, you will get quicker falloff into shadow and the background will be darker.

If you move it farther back, everything will be more evenly lit, but the background will be lighter.

The teacher will shoot some examples and show you something like this.

By the end of this post, I want everyone who reads it to *truly* understand what is happening.

Because if you understand it on that level, it will change how you think about light and photography. It will have the added bonus of explaining magnets and WiFi and even the sound coming out of your speakers.

If I am an effective teacher, this is something you will think about in your everyday life, even if you don't care about photography.

In a previous post, I talked about how light was a bit like a shotgun blast. The closer you are, the more concentrated the pellets. If you are farther away, the shot disperses.

But this wasn't the analogy I wanted to use. It was just the easiest to find visual examples of.

My preferred analogy was spray paint. And I'm hoping with some janky home-made visuals, I can do a better job of explaining the concept.

Let's start by explaining the humble photon. It's the fundamental particle (or wave) of light. Think of them like individual tiny globs of paint in a spray can. A photon is emitted when something loses energy. And unmodified light sources typically shoot out photon globs in all directions.

A point light source is a theoretical concept where a single point in space shoots light evenly in every direction. For our purposes we're just going to imagine a basic light bulb as the point source.

But our eyes and cameras have a limited field of view, so from here on out we are going to think of the light emitting from the bulb as having a cone shape. We are just concerned with what a camera can actually see.

Well, well, well... what does that cone of light look like?

I'm sure we have all used spray paint before. So let's imagine we are spraying a white ball against a gray wall. We spray for 1 second and hold the can at different distances.

In each scenario we are spraying for the same length of time and the exact same number of photon paint globs are emitted from the nozzle.

Let's think about what each scenario would look like from the camera's point of view.

Here is our unpainted ball and wall.

Here is the spray can held at Distance 1.

Note how the red paint is very concentrated and appears bold and saturated.

Distance 2.

Now the same amount of paint is dispersed over a wider area. The bold red spot in the center is more muted. And some of the paint is spilling onto the background.

Distance 3.

Everything appears to have a light red tint. The background and the white ball appear to have similar intensities of red. The coverage is very even. The same number of photon paint globs are being asked to cover a larger area so they are spreading out and diluting the color.

Okay, now let's exchange tiny photon paint globs for real photons.

I'm bringing back my baseball and showing these same 3 distances.

The nice thing about eyeballs and cameras... they can compensate for different light intensities. Our eyes have night vision and cameras have long shutter speeds, large lens apertures, and ISO amplification.

And if we compensate for the dimming caused by the dispersed light...

Photography teachers will tell you that if you move the light farther away, the background will get brighter. In reality, everything is the same level of dim and the camera exposure is brightened.

What if we wanted to spray the same area from far away without losing as much of the red saturation? We could add a super nozzle to our spray can that emits a bunch more photon globs in the same span of time.

This would be like turning up the power of the light. You have to emit a bunch more photons in that same time scale to compensate. Then you don't have to adjust your camera settings when you move the light farther away.

Let's look at a practical example of when you might think about the inverse square law to help solve a problem.

You have two subjects in a scene, and you put the light just out of view of the camera. You might be thinking that a larger light source is softer, so you want it as close as possible.

Unfortunately only one person is lit in the scene. She is getting the concentrated photons before they can disperse.

So if we want both people to have similar lighting, we can move the light farther away. You will have to comprimise a little softness. And you will have to change your camera settings or increase the power of the light.

Note that the intensity of light in the area they are standing in is very similar now.

By using a large light modifier, the photographer was able to move the light back and keep its general softness, but also evenly light both subjects.

And now I need to talk about one aspect of my spray paint analogy that does not work with the inverse square law. And it has to do with the specular highlight on the baseball.

Spray paint does not reflect paint. It just sticks to things. And reflection throws a tiny wrench into my explanation. Because parallel light rays do not obey the inverse square law. When you light something, the most central photons from the subject's perspective are going to be traveling in parallel. They have a direct path from the light to the camera lens or your eyeball.

Now if the reflection material is perfectly matte, the light will disperse and act as the inverse square law suggests. But if the surface is even a little glossy, the most concentrated parallel rays are going to bounce directly into your eye as a bright white spot.

And if you study this diagram a little closer, you might figure out why specular highlights are usually white.

If you look at the specular highlight on the baseball, even though the rest of the image gets dimmer as the light gets farther away, that spot stays bright.

Though the spot seems to disappear at Distance 1. Curious, eh?

It's still there. It's still reflecting directly into your eyeball. But the light around it is so concentrated and bright, the specular highlight blends in.

Which means if you have some nasty highlights on your photo subject, moving your light closer might make them go away. If someone has a shiny forehead, this can equalize the overall exposure and hide the shiny.

This guy has a bright spot on his nose. It is there in both photos.

But his face is so much brighter in the left photo that the spot blends in. It's a bit of a mind bender because the camera exposure is adjusted so the finished photos appear the same amount of bright.

You have to remember if you only move the light farther away and don't increase its power or increase the camera's exposure level, the photos would look more like this.

So if you make the rest of the face as bright as the highlight, it blends in.

Neat!

So, was I successful?

Does the inverse square law make more sense?

This is why WiFi gets weaker at a distance. This is why magnets lose their attraction when you pull them apart. This is why speakers get quieter when you move away from them.

I can't tell you how much knowing the why has affected my thinking about lighting. I see so many video and photo people talking about lighting setups who are just following memorized placements.

"Put a light above the subject at a 45 degree angle to get Rembrandt lighting."

But the second they encounter light doing something unexpected, things fall apart. They resort to trial and error and brute force the solution.

Knowing how the pill works can prevent that frustrating process.

I no longer care about the math. I can just visualize the cone of influence and predict what will happen. Understanding the behavior of light and not just the end effects has made everything more intuitive. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to understand this. But, hopefully, this post has shortened that journey for you.

[thatonegreenleaf]

~urban haze~ reshade preset!

I've been using this preset on my twitch for a bit now, and i've finally gotten around to releasing it!! I'm very happy with it and I currently use it for everything😅

Urban haze has a focus on realistic lighting with a slight hazy and warm feel. Less blue in shadows, darker nights, deeper afternoon shadows, saturated sunsets, balanced greenery. Use it in any world, I've tested them all :)

__________________________________________

How to download:

♥ Download Reshade: (I use reshade 5.7.0, I can't say how this preset will behave with other versions of reshade, or G-shade.)

♥ During Reshade Installation, select The Sims 4, choose DirectX9 as the rendering API.

♥ Effect Packages to install: standard effects, sweetFX by CeeJay, qUINT by Marty McFly, color effects by prod80, and Legacy effects.

♥ Download urban haze below, drop it in your Sims 4 installation's "Bin" Folder

♥ Open the Sims 4, Disable edge-smoothing in your graphics settings if it's not already, In the reshade menu, set RESHADE_DEPTH_INPUT_IS_REVERSED= to 0 in global preprocessor definitions if it's not, and MXAO_TWO_LAYER= and MXAO_SMOOTHNORMALS= both to 1 in qUINT_mxao's preprocessor's definitions.

♥ If you're struggling with installation, I suggest you check out @kindlespice's installation tutorial! It was made for reshade 4.9.0 but the instructions remain the same.

__________________________________________

Notes:

♥ Both Depth of field shaders are off by default, you can enable them using their shortcuts: ctrl + Q (MagicDOF), ctrl + W (MartyMcFlyDOF) or enable them manually.

♥ MXAO.fx also has a shortcut (ctrl + R) bc sometimes the DOF blur makes the shadows weird, most of the time it's fine!

♥ Could potentially be gameplay friendly, depending on your GPU! The MXAO and DOF shaders will be the most performance heavy, feel free to adjust to your liking.

♥ The pictures above were taken with this preset and no further editing, but I do use a few lighting mods that will affect how my game looks:

♥ NoBlu by Luumia

♥ NoGlo by Luumia

♥ twinkle toes by softerhaze

URBAN HAZE RESHADE PRESET ↠ download on sim file share!

Follow me on twitch!

Support me on patreon!

TOU: do not redistribute, reupload, or claim my cc/CAS rooms/presets as your own! recolour/convert/otherwise alter for personal use OR upload with credit. (no paywalls)

[theheroheart]

Quick GIF tutorial (Photoshop)

#holy shit this is perfection!!#i am so jealous of this set!#the coloring op THE COLORING!!! (original post)

alright @dontyouknowemma-itsyou and anyone interested, this was really easy to colour so I'm gonna give you a quick breakdown. (i didn't save the psd file?? so i'm redoing this i guess, but i did it on autopilot in the first place. i've been making gifs for over 15 years.)

GONNA INCLUDE A VIDEO AT THE END SHOWING OFF THE SETTINGS!!

General GIF stuff

This is in Photoshop CC. I extract a clip from a video as an MP4 file, which photoshop can open. (I use AviDemux for this, which is free, because it lets you save clips using 'copy' encoding for video output and still change from MKV to MP4 format - without losing any video quality, cause you're not re-encoding.)

Open that shit directly in photoshop as a video layer (just drag and drop), that lets you scan through it to check the colouring works overall. Convert the video layer to Smart Object, that lets you resize and edit it. (Do NOT open a full movie in Photoshop, it'll probably die and it has a max length anyway.)

Also all the colour adjustments are gonna be adjustment layers you can tweak and turn on/off whenever. There's a lil button at the bottom of the Layers window to add them quickly.

When we're done we're choosing a section of the video in the Timeline window and we're doing File->Export->Save For Web. 'Adaptive' (or selective) palette selection, 'pattern' style dithering.

Colouring

Curves layer to lighten. Just pull the curve up. Curves seem to give a much smoother lightening, since it mostly affects the middle, leaving the brights and the darks where they are.

Levels to make the darkest darks pure black, and the lightest lights pure white. Good for limiting GIF size. Don't overdo it though.

Colour balance!! My beloved, most important. So for the Shadows and Highlights, you're gonna move the sliders towards Cyan and Blue, but for the Midtones you're gonna do the opposite - towards Red and Yellow. This means you don't shift the overall colour of the picture, but trust me it does SO MUCH for the contrast and colour. I swear I do this for almost any edit, and also my art tbh. Also if the original clip is like very green or whatever, you can correct that here.

Selective colour. For this I did one thing. For 'Black' dropdown, I upped 'black' and 'yellow' sliders (the latter to counteract the blue in the darks). This in combination with:

Levels again. Bring in those darks, turn them pure black. Basically this does a couple things. It preserves GIF file size, by making sure the dark areas are static (file sizes mostly depends on pixels that are CHANGING). It ALSO makes the palette much more optimized, meaning you don't waste palette on the darks no one sees anyway, and instead uses them in the mid range colour variation, giving much smoother gradients. That's it!! That's all the colouring!!

EDIT: Uh I probably also had a Vibrance layer?? Idk. This just ups the saturation, but it's softer than upping Saturation. Makes the colours pop without overdoing it.

Other tips and tricks

Often I'll put a Smart Sharpen (50% amount, 0,5px radius) filter on the video layer, just to make it a bit crisper. Subtle but effective.

You can manually edit the palette when you save as a GIF, either to reduce file size, or because some colour areas look pixelly. See the video for how.

If your file size is huge but you don't want to shorten or resize, you can reduce the frame rate manually. To do this, FIRST save the GIF, then open the GIF you just saved. Go through in the Timeline window (which is now a Frame Animation rather than a Video Timeline), select every other frame, and delete them. When you do this, remember to select the rest of the frames and double their Frame Delay so you don't end up with a super speedy GIF. (You can also make a GIF slow-mo like this.)

Since the video is a smart object, I literally just resized it in between saving the different GIFs, to change composition between the different shots.

Selective Colour layer can be used for a lot of image tweaking. For example, if something is overly yellow or green, I may go to the Yellow and Green in dropdown and just reduce the yellow slider. (I usually then go to Red in dropdown and ADD some yellow to that, to balance out the reds to be less pink.) Or maybe the overall colours are nice but the blues are dull, so I'll just go to Blue/Cyan and tweak those specifically.

If you have a colouring you like that you want to use on lots of things, remember you can drag-and-drop layers between different images. You can also save a photoshop file with nothing but those layers, to use on later gifs and just tweak as needed. (You can also make Actions to automate stuff, but I won't go into that.)

How easy or hard something is to colour HUGELY depends on the original video, both lighting/colouring and video quality.

Finally the video showing settings!

This is like 5 minutes long and has no commentary or anything. This is mostly to show off where you find each individual thing, and what difference it makes in the colouring.

ANYWAY hope someone found this useful!!! ♥

[kumkaniudaku]

TBT

Summary: A young Terry and Patrice spend a Christmas morning together.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: None. Just some holiday fluff.

Previous: Merry Christmas, Baby

A/N: I love this one so much. I hope you enjoy too.

The coldest Christmas in recent history was no match for the overwhelming heat Terrence felt beneath his thick winter sweater as nervousness crept into his chest. The low purr of his uncle’s Honda slowly disappeared into the bitter afternoon chill, leaving him no other option but to press the doorbell to the Ellis home and pray for entry. 

Weeks of planning, sneaking, and tutorial-watching had gone into this mission. Heavy convincing and a shoddy handshake agreement to throw a couple of dollars his uncle’s way for gas had him snatching a poorly wrapped package from beneath the tree and hopping into Uncle Myron’s front seat before his parents could ask any further questions. 

His hands felt wet and slippery under the warm pecan pie he’d begged his mother to make for reasons he wouldn’t share the night before. His heart raced as he carefully adjusted the pretty orange bow on top of a covered box, suddenly nervous about how it looked. She deserved nothing less than perfection and he’d labored over careful folds and clean lines to deliver her his best. 

Rustling and a voice growing louder as it approached made him stop short before he could press the doorbell again. He quickly pulled at his coat and stood a little taller as her father appeared behind a glass storm door.

“Oh! It’s just you Terry. Thought you might’ve been my sister. Merry Christmas, son. You gettin’ big, boy. You benching ‘bout 250 now huh?” 

Terry smiled bashfully. “Yeah, I am. Tryin’ to bulk up a little before Spring.”

“You doin’ it. Next time I see you, you gon' be bigger than me. What you got there?” 

Terry blinked twice, trying to think through a response as Mr. Ellis stared back at him before finally sputtering out a response. “A-a pie! Sorry. It’s a pie from my mama. She sent me over here to drop it off and say Merry Christmas.”

“And that,” Mr. Ellis asked pointing at the gift adorned in the pretty orange bow.

“A gift for Patrice. Is she home? I know she said she would probably be at the store with her mom, but I can wait. Or I-I cou-”

“Calm down,” Mr. Ellis laughed as he stepped aside with the door pushed open wider than before. “She’s in here helping her mama set the table. Come on. She’ll be happy to see you.”

A deep breath that created a white cloud in front of his face calmed Terry’s nerves as he moved past Patrice’s father into the house. He didn’t need directions past the wall of family photos, down the hallway, and into the living area. In four years, he’d spent entire days lazing around that house. He’d shared Sunday dinners at her kitchen table, taken naps on her bedroom floor, and played video games with her younger brother on the living room couch. This was as much his hang-out spot as his own house in his mind. 

Christmas music crackled and popped from the worn record player on a bookshelf full of Black literature, the object flanked by his two favorite photos of Patrice. He gave the framed memory of her fifth birthday party a glance and a soft smile like he usually did before making his way into the kitchen. 

“Baby Girl and Ros, the Richmond boy brought us a pie this morning,” Leon announced on his way through the living room and out of the back door to return to his turkey frying duties.

“A pie! How sweet!” Terry’s introduction made Patrice whip her head around to get a look at her surprise visitor. He offered her a small wave and smile that she returned as Rosalyn approached to give him a warm hug. “Look at you! Have you gotten taller since the school year started?” 

Rosalyn had watched Terry grow from a boy into a young man. Once lanky, slender arms now carried budding muscles and extra weight. The first fuzz of facial hair carefully shaved per his father’s instructions left light shadows. His voice was deeper and smoother than the once cracking alto of his youth. Changing mannerisms had him looking more sure of himself. His development alongside Patrice’s presented further reminders that the only thing certain in this life was the passage of time. She’d never be prepared but embraced it all the same. 

“A little bit. Think I’m at 6’3” now,” Terry boasted, smiling at the newest adjustments in his measurements.

“Six-three! I know your mama can’t keep a lick of food in the house,” she laughed. “You made your decision on college yet?” 

“Not yet. Still considering trying to walk on at A&T. I feel like I’ll like it there.”

Rosalyn smiled, knowing the reason for his switch from UNC Chapel Hill. “Well, that’s good. You and Patrice work well together. You can keep each other on track.” 

“I keep myself on track, mama. Terry too when his head gets all up in the clouds.” 

“She helped me study one time and now she think she my teacher.” 

“You a one-time lie and you know it.” 

Terry’s infectious toothy grin spread to Patrice from across the room, creating a spark almost tangible enough for Rosalyn to reach out and grab. She noticed the emergence of shy glances and extra physical contact where senseless bickering once lived. Knees that occasionally touched while they watched movies on the couch were now shoulders pressed tightly together in the backseat after school without shame. When they weren’t in the same room, cell phones remained pressed to listening ears as they ran down chats about everything and nothing at the same time. Their trajectory was clear. 

More conversations about hormones, love, and the perils of unprotected sex than Rosalyn could count had been passed down individually and as a pair with no care for their obvious discomfort. Both sets of parents could only pray that their children retained at least some information to use when the inevitable took place.

“So, the pie,” Rosalyn pointed out, cutting through the open display of affection. “What kind is it? Smells good!” 

Terry blinked twice to pull his eyes away from Patrice to look at her mother. “Uh, pecan. My mama’s special recipe.”

“Really! That’s Patrice’s favorite. What a coincidence.” 

Terry’s ears slowly turned red as he tried to laugh off Rosalyn’s observation. She winked at him and pulled the dessert from his hands, careful to return the gift on top before making her way to the food table.

Patrice nervously shifted her weight as she leaned against the counter for her first break of the morning, now hyperaware of how her body looked with a set of blue-green eyes following her every move. 

They’d matched unintentionally. Terry’s red sweater complimented Patrice’s white one with both teenagers sporting black bottoms to top off festive looks. Searching for something, anything to say, Patrice pointed at his head. 

“You decided to stop growing your hair out?” 

Terry ran a hand down the back of his fresh fade. “Yeah. My dad was on me about it. Said I looked like a hoodlum. I don’t even know what that means but I guess I don’t really need the extra cushion for the helmet now anyway.”

“Well, my opinion probably doesn’t matter, but I think it looks nice. I’ll miss the widow's peak, though. It was cute.” 

A twinkle of happiness flashed across Terry’s eyes, making his cheeks rise into a proud smile. The haircut was staying. No doubt about it.

“Thank you,” he spoke quietly, still processing the tingles rolling across his body. “You, um…you want some help? My mama showed me how to set a table. Fork on the left, right?” 

Rosalyn watched the pair watch each other with a knowing smile on her face as Terry took slow steps across the kitchen toward Patrice. He didn’t come there to set the table for a family he didn’t belong to. He came to spend a few minutes of stolen time with the only person worth existing in his small world. 

She stopped him before he could get too far. “That’s sweet of you, baby, but I don’t need too many people in my kitchen. P, you can take him to your room. You know to leave that door open. Don’t have me come back there and I can’t see what y’all are doing.”

Neither Terry nor Patrice needed the reminder but ensured they showed their understanding with head nods and verbal agreement. They’d been down this road plenty of times. Leave the door half open, answer when called, and keep your hands to yourself. The first two were easy. Resisting the desire to touch became more difficult as the days flew by. 

Patrice led the way down the hallway toward her room, making small talk before holding the door open for him to enter. The sunny orange and yellow motif hadn’t changed much since they hung out for the first time. Posters and photos of her favorite artists still lined the wall beside her bed. The sunflower plushie she called Sunny rested in its usual spot at the top of her dresser. His favorite spot in the house, a soft yellow beanbag, was empty and awaiting his arrival. He took a deep breath to inhale the birthday cake candle she kept burning on her nightstand before sliding his shoes and coat off to place them in their designated spot. 

She kissed her teeth as she flopped on the bed. “You gon’ stop havin’ your toes out in here.” 

“I should start charging you. People would pay good money to see these. Even in socks!”

“Oh yeah right. People like who? That Cierra girl in 11th grade?” 

“Here you go,” Terry groaned from his spot on the bean bag. He flipped through a random magazine beside him to avoid eye contact. “I don’t like that girl. We just hang out because Xavier talks to her friend and he be needin’ back up sometimes.”

“No way. She was wearing your jacket.”

“She took my jacket out of Zay’s car to be funny and I got it back as soon as I could find her.”

“Say swear.”  

The ultimate test. Saying swear was their way of ensuring the other was telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

Terry looked up from the pages of Seventeen Magazine to look Patrice in the eye and confirm his statement. “Swear. She kinda annoying, honestly. Nice girl, but all she ever wants to talk about is reality TV and school drama.” 

“Ooooh. Terry likes a little substance in his conversations, huh,” Patrice laughed, exaggerating her words to mimic their creative writing teacher. “Let me find out you’re out here discussing Of Mice and Men without me. I’m gonna have to put my hands on you.” 

Terry scoffed at her threat. “Yeah, right. Plus, you talk about stuff without me all the time. I heard about you and Robert Mitchell kickin’ it after winter formal.” 

“That’s not what happened!” 

“Let me know what happened then.”

It was Patrice’s turn to explain herself. What started as a night between mixed friend groups turned into Terry sneaking looks at his best friend while she engaged with a guy that he frankly didn’t think was smart enough for her. He’d never share how it made him feel outside of light jabs to be annoying. 

He waited for her to stop chewing her bottom lip and respond. 

“Rob doesn’t like me. He just wanted to see if he could convince me to sneak off with him to the parking lot which I didn’t do. So he left me alone and I rode back with Vicky to spend the night. Nothing to see there, as always.” 

Terry took in her truth with equal parts sadness at the circumstance and anger at the young man bold enough to cause her pain.

“Dang, Treece, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it went like that. Want me to talk to him?” 

Patrice adjusted to sit in front of Terry at the edge of the bed. She kicked her feet as she played with her painted thumbnails. “No. I wasn’t even supposed to tell anybody. Plus, we both know that you don’t talk. Don’t need you getting in trouble because of me. Thanks, though.” 

“You don’t gotta thank me.” He was still gonna have words with Robert when he got the chance, but that was for him to know and Patrice to never find out. Trying to shift the energy, he pretended to use her fuzzy sock-covered feet as a speed bag to get a rise out of her. She rolled her eyes but allowed him to continue. “Wanna see your gift now or should I put it under the tree?”

“I’ll open mine but you gotta open your’s first? Deal?” 

“Deal.”

Terry chuckled as he watched her prance to her closet and back with an excited smile dimpling her cheeks. In her hand, she carried two gifts of differing sizes. They were expertly wrapped in shiny festive paper and a Carolina blue bow so that there was no mistaking who was the lucky recipient. 

She reclaimed her spot on the bed, setting the smaller of the two packages beside her before handing the other to Terry to grasp with two hands. “Okay, do this one first! Hurry!” 

“Alright, alright! Calm down.” Terry made a show of slowly peeling tape and wrapping paper from the large, flat object for no other reason than to watch Patrice squirm impatiently. She tried to rush him along but he wouldn’t give in. 

Their smiles grew in tandem once Terry ended his torture and revealed a framed pristine Francis Edward High School football jersey. 

He used his index finger to trace out the letters stitched to form his last name behind the glass. “How’d you get this?” 

“Coach Robinson let me have it for tutoring his daughter in Spanish. Then my auntie did the letters for free. Look at the pictures!”

Shock at seeing his name printed on a jersey for the first time distracted him from the small collage of photos neatly placed beside it. A picture from his senior night sat next to a photo from his record-setting game as a junior. Another capturing a game-winning touchdown had him reliving the memory in full color. But his favorite, a snapshot of them being crowned homecoming king and queen at midfield, made him smile. 

“Do you like it,” Patrice asked, her eyes wide and expectant as she waited for some indication of his feelings. “You can take all the stuff out if you want. This just seemed better to put on your wall at home.”

“I like it a lot, Treece. Never thought I’d have my own jersey. Especially now that the scholarships aren’t coming.” Terry looked over the gift for a few seconds more before giving her smiling face his full attention. “Thank you. Mean it.” 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and shrugged. “You’re welcome. Mean it.” They sat there, grinning and staring back at one another in silence until Rosalyn called their names for one of her periodic checks. They responded promptly before Patrice attempted to get them back on track. “C’mon. Open the last one!” 

“If I would’ve known we were going all out, I would’ve done more,” Terry spoke, preemptively apologizing for coming up short as he peeled away the crinkling paper. Patrice waved him away. They weren’t in competition. If anything, she’d gone too far in her pursuit of his happiness. 

A final rip of wrapping paper unveiled a small gift box with his name scribbled across it. He carefully lifted the lid and then closed it once he caught a glimpse of its contents. His face began to flush with incoming emotions. 

Nestled inside a plastic key chain was a photo of Terry and his maternal grandmother. His summer had been filled with dread that she may not make it through her sickness to end the year, a fear that was realized before the school year began. He’d all but camped out on her bedroom floor in complete silence, desperately searching for some reprieve from funeral arrangements and repast activities at home. 

For Patrice, it was a no-brainer to use some of her babysitting money to take a photo she’d nabbed from his MySpace profile and turn it into a keepsake. 

Terry stilled himself with a deep breath. “You’re nice when you wanna be.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re my friend and you were sad. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thanks. For real,” he whispered, holding eye contact a little longer before pointing at her gift. “Your turn. It’s only one box but there’s a lot in it. And don’t judge my wrapping skills.” 

“Too late! This bow is super cute though. I’m gonna stick it to Sunny.”

Patrice ripped through messy silver paper, discarding scraps at her feet her that Terry gathered into a small pile to throw away later. She popped the top on a white garment box and then squealed as she pulled a folded sweater from inside. 

Future Aggie. He thought the grey, blue, and yellow sweatshirt would be a fitting gift for someone finally realizing their dream of attending college. Patrice rushed to press the garment against her chest as she looked at herself in the mirror hanging on her closet door. 

She twisted and turned to see all her angles. “I’m wearing this to school on the first day back. Thank you, TJ!” 

Her announcement created a rush of emotions bursting in all directions. Something he’d purchased adorning her body? What a sight. What a feeling. 

The surprises and elated responses continued. A new journal and pens for her to use at her leisure earned him a high five. A bottle of Hollister body mist that she fawned over on one of their many trips to the mall received a wide smile and a few sprays on her new sweater. But her favorite was the gift that cost him nothing but time. 

A CD with “For Patrice” written in thick marker and Terry’s slanted handwriting caught her attention. Try as she might, Patrice couldn’t get him to spill the beans about the disc’s contents, instead pushing her to pop it into her dusty boombox and press play. 

“Uh, this is kinda weird. Recording my own voice for a CD. Feel like I should start rappin’ or something.” Patrice smiled as Terry’s voice flowed through the speaker like a late-night radio host. He listened with his eyes closed, too embarrassed to watch her reaction in real-time. “This is for you, though, Treece. Just in case we never see each other again after high school, I hope these songs are enough to remember me by. If not then all this shit was for no reason and just pretend it never happened. I’m gonna stop talkin’ now. Hope you like it.”

His introduction flowed into a collection of songs that they considered their shared favorites. 

Terry spoke up over J. Cole’s ‘Dollar and a Dream II’. “It’s for when you’re in the car and stuff since you said you hate listening to the radio. I figured you could listen to a little mix of stuff you like instead.” 

“You know I’m gonna bring this everywhere with me now, right? My mama’s car, your car, everywhere! It’s great.”

“That’s like three compliments in a row. You getting soft on me,” he laughed. “I’m wearing you down.” 

“Why can’t you ever just let the nice things happen without saying something? I’m startin’ to think you like makin’ me mad. You sick in the head, TJ.”

Justin Timberlake, T.I., and everything in between told the story of moments spent together, inside jokes, and unspoken feelings that flowed through romantic lyrics. While they listened to track after track as background music to their winding conversation, minutes turned into hours. 

Terry had seen all of Patrice’s other gifts, taken pictures on her brand-new digital camera, taste-tested a few pieces of her aunt’s pound cake, and found time to play a few rounds of the newest Dragon Ball Z game with Junior without the passage of time ever registering in his brain. 

In Junior’s dark, dingy cave he called a bedroom, Patrice and Terry sat next to each other on the floor half paying attention to the television while her brother played video games and half fiddling with the directions and pieces from his newest Lego set. 

Leon knocked twice and poked his head into the room with the family phone in his hand. “Son, your mama’s on the phone. She said she’s been calling your cell phone looking for you.” 

Terry’s eyes widened at the realization that he’d left the small device in his coat pocket across the hall. He scrambled to his feet, limbs flailing and socks twisting as he rushed to grab the phone from Mr. Ellis before the older man stepped away to tend to other business. 

“Ma, I’m sorry!” 

“Terrence James, if you weren’t somewhere that I know for a fact is safe, I would kill you! What goes on between those ears of yours?”

Patrice winced at the non-stop yelling coming from the other end while Terry tried to listen with a poker face. She couldn’t make out all the details of his incoming punishment, but she could tell by the way the call ended that he wouldn’t be enjoying time away from home any time soon. 

Terry hung up and bit his bottom lip as he turned to Patrice. 

“How bad?” 

He shrugged. “Not that bad. She was just worried. I do have to go soon though. My uncle will be here in like 10 minutes.” 

“I mean I didn’t wanna have to be the one to kick you out, but…”

Their loud laughter at Patrice’s joke was enough to get them unceremoniously ousted from Junior’s bedroom with the door shut tight behind them before they could fully re-enter the hallway. Patrice followed Terry back into her room and watched him gather his belongings.

“My cousin Imani is coming later today. I wish y’all could’ve met each other. She’s silly like you.” 

“Yeah,” Terry questioned as he tied his sneakers. “Maybe I could try and come over tomorrow?” 

“That’s okay. You’re already in trouble. I don’t wanna make it worse. Maybe we can all hang out for Spring Break or something.” Terry looked up from his task to smile at Patrice until she mirrored his expression while rolling her eyes. “What are you smiling at?” 

“You.” 

“Why? What did I do?” 

“Just be you.”

Terry wished there was a mistletoe somewhere in the room to aid his cause. If only there were a reason to press his lips to hers as the cherry on top of the scariest confession he’d ever made. Or near confession. He couldn’t tell if his words had made the desired impact until Patrice slowly shook her head. 

She began laughing as she handed over his coat. “You sure you don’t wanna switch your major from math to English since you always talkin’ in riddles?” 

“I know what I be sayin’, you just don’t know,” he laughed to play off his blunder. 

“That completely defeats the purpose of a conversation.”

Patrice waited until he was finished securing the zippers and buttons on his coat before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. Terry stood stunned for a beat, too caught off guard to reciprocate her affection until a switch flipped in his brain to snap him back into reality. 

He jammed his one hand into his pocket while his free arm snaked around her waist to avoid breaching an unspoken boundary. 

“Thanks for coming here this morning. Gift or not, it was fun to have you around,” she spoke over his shoulder. 

He smiled though she couldn’t see. “I know how much you love Christmas so, of course. It was fun being around. I like being with you.” 

Terry held his breath as Patrice slowly pulled away for a look at his face. Her eyes scanned for some indication that he was telling a joke or simply being annoying but found nothing but sincerity in those intense blue-green eyes she’d learned to read. 

A glimpse at his lips made her subconsciously run her tongue over the bottom of her set. Her heart raced. His hand slowly exited his pocket to find a home on her hip. They leaned forward in sync, both of them closing their eyes for whatever came next. 

“Terrence! Your uncle is outside! Get your stuff, baby!” 

Though she couldn’t possibly know the magic unfolding in her daughter’s bedroom, Rosalyn had successfully thwarted an attempt to further break the third rule. 

The pair repelled like opposite ends of a magnet until they were back at their respective ends of the room. Patrice pretended to take an interest in the purses hanging on the back of her door while Terry quickly gathered his gifts. 

He fumbled with the packages on his way out of the door, timidly inching past Patrice in hopes that she would speak to him one more time. 

“See you later.”

“I guess I should go.” 

Words overlapped in a harsh head-on collision, making them both shrink away in embarrassment. Terry chucked and took the lead. “Ladies first.” 

Patrice adjusted the hood on his coat and smiled. “I was just gonna say Merry Christmas, TJ. I hope you got everything you wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Treece. This is probably the best one I’ve ever had. Even if my mama is gonna rip my head off when I get home.”

“She definitely will. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

Patrice didn’t respond with words. She offered him a sweet smile as her thumb brushed stray cake crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Another holler of his name from the kitchen forced him out of her orbit and back into the cold with Patrice hot on his heels. 

She bid him farewell from the front door, watching until the champagne-colored Honda was out of sight and Terry was just the faint smell of cologne far too adult for him on her sweater and the memory causing goosebumps on her arms. 

When Patrice turned to finally retreat back into her room, Rosalyn stood at the threshold smiling at her daughter.

“You two have fun?”

Patrice put her head down to hide the wide smile spreading across her face as she sped past her mother. “It was okay. Did Auntie Mae make the mac and cheese yet? I’m gonna get some.”

“Make sure you wash those hands, young lady,” she called after Patrice. 

The spice of expensive cologne left a trail of secrets in her wake. Rosalyn inhaled deeply and shook her head. 

They’d need a refresher on the rules before New Year’s Eve.

-----

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[starklike34]

Haii!! Just wanted to drop in and say how much I love your work. I spent a good chunk of my night scrolling through your blog heh! I absolutely adore how you color and on that, I was wondering if you had any tips you’d like to share to keep the palette cohesive? Perhaps tutorials you watched or observations you made.

I hope you have a wondering day or night!! Lots of love 💕 (Can’t wait to devour more of your art!)

Hi! Thank you so much! ^^

One of the most reliable ways to keep your values and composition in check is by constantly checking your work in grayscale and at a tiny size. If you shrink your image down to the size of a battery and convert it to black and white — and you can still tell what’s going on — then you're on the right track. But if it turns into visual chaos or becomes unreadable, that’s a sign there are issues with tone or too many unnecessary details.

As for color — I really like working with analogous palettes and adding one accent color. I’m also a big fan of "glowies" and often try to include them in my art. Combining those techniques, you can get things like blue-purple interiors lit by warm yellow sunlight, or beige characters standing out against green backgrounds.

An accent color doesn’t always need to be the light source either — sometimes placing a cool color like blue in the shadows of a warm object (like red) can make the whole thing feel more vivid and interesting.

And one last trick that helps me a lot is "color unification." If your palette feels messy or disjointed, you can simply glaze everything with a single color. It helps pull the image together and sets the mood: a yellow glaze creates a sunny feel, blue gives an underwater vibe, and brown or grey can make it feel grounded and indoors.

[warmfuzzyanimal]

how do you turn your black line art into coloured line art? trying to get a feel for it but i'm struggling in determining what's the most effective method

i USED to do it by hand but then i discovered this lovely little thang, an auto-action for clip studio paint that just. does it for me. i've been really enjoying the black outer-lines and colored inner-lines lately, so how i've been doing it is like this: 1.) use the auto action on my flat colors layer to create a dark + saturated clipping layer 2.) move the newly created colored clipping layer above my lines....coloring them. i usually spend time tweaking these colors w/ hue + saturation adjustments and manual touchups, but for the sake of a visual tutorial in gif form i didn't here outside of re-adding the white to the eyeshines.

3.) select the line layer and expand the selection by two or three pixels. 4.) reselect the colored lines clipping layer. 5.) use ctrl+x to cut the now selected out edges of the colored lines, showing the black lines underneath

and then from there i'll sometimes add more outlines/drop shadows/ect or change the black to just a very dark saturated color, based on the Vibe. i hiiiiighly recommend clip studio paint + it's awesome auto actions forever because of how much time it saves (also also how fun they are to use)

[lotusapple-xia]

Of Losing You

✰ synopsis: Unable to cope, you decide to cut your hair after Caleb's death

✰ pairing: Caleb x reader

✰ content: angst, Caleb's death, hair cutting, mention of suicidal ideation!!

✰ w/c: 756

✰ notes: Inspired by the wonderful chaostharsis on TikTok, this artwork is amazing!! Please go support them <3 I tried to make the reader’s hair ambiguous but if it’s not lemme know and I’ll fix it!

🪷Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!

“Pipsqueak your hair is getting so long!”

You shake your head clear of the remnants of his voice drifting through your mind. The harsh bathroom lights create a looming shadow on your face and emphasise your sunken skin. The dirty mirror in front of you reflects your miserable and gaunt expression. With your hands gripping the counter, you breathe out, trying to calm yourself from the whirlwind of heavy thoughts that plague you like a stubborn illness. Each thought, each grief-stricken memory that rises from the depths of your mind, makes you feel a second away from buckling under its weight. His voice, his laugh, his smile, it’s all you can think of.

Caleb. Caleb, the one who would tease you about your height. Caleb, the one who looked after you since you were both kids. Caleb, your childhood friend and family. Caleb, your Caleb.

He’s dead. He's gone. Gone to a place you can’t follow him to. He’s missing from your life in every possible way.

When you cook dinner and accidentally make a second portion. When you buy his favourite snacks, forgetting that he won’t be there to eat them. When you arrive to an empty and desolate house.

But you notice it most of all when you look at your hair. Caleb was the one who washed, dried, and styled your hair in the past. He took pride in ensuring that you were well taken care of. He created a routine catered to you with all the products that you needed. Now though. Now his hard work has been heavily neglected. The dead ends of your hair crack apart while the lengths of it are sandpaper. Your scalp has seen better days, the dandruff and grease buildup could create a fine powder every time you roughly handle it.

You roughly tug a section of your hair forward to inspect it. The slight sting of pain feels almost good. It’s a tangible feeling when the haze of melancholy that’s invaded your body like tar has made you numb.

“Hm, I'm pretty sure this is what the tutorial said...” Caleb mumbles, intertwining sections of hair into a braid.

“You good?”

“Yeah, no worries!”

His warm, sturdy presence behind you was a comforting feeling that happened every morning while getting ready for school. It was soothing, it was home.

The cabinet drawer opens with a grating screech. You pull out a pair of scissors. The reflection of your teary, red-rimmed eyes on the blades stare back at you. You tug your hair to the front of your face, scissors prepped and ready to make the big chop. However, hesitation creeps up on you.

“Don’t you think it’s too much for school?”

“Nope, you look so pretty”.

Snip. Piles of hair dropped to the floor.

Snip. Chunks fell into the sink.

Snip. Strands clung to your neck uncomfortably.

“You like my hair this much?”

“I love it!”

Tears blurred your vision and your throat closed up as you recklessly hacked away at the once long and beautiful hair. The tears spill, streaming down your cheeks like torrential rain, your breath heaves unevenly and your hands tremble around the scissors. Caleb’s time and effort spent on your hair is going down the drain. You’re massacring one of the things he loved most about you. How could you? I'm sorry.

People say that hair holds memories. Well, you don’t want to remember anymore. Remembering has only brought you pain. Caleb will never return. You want to forget and move on rather than be stuck here in your static misery. The world moved on and left you behind. You’re left clawing and screaming, trying to move forward. But the cold, heavy blanket of desolation wraps around you tightly, keeping you stuck in its pit. Caleb is gone, and he’s left you behind. No matter how many times you thought about following him, you knew he would never forgive you if he saw you on the other side with him before your time.

So here you are, moving on. You’re taking back control and starting new. There is no shortcut through grief, and you are very well aware of that, but this is all you can do to stay sane. Bloodshot eyes glare into the mirror. You don’t know if it’s the feeling of your eyes stinging or your new blunt bangs that force you to look away. I look…different.

I'm sorry for the weight I chose to cut, but I can’t bear the ghost of your fingers on me anymore.

[galindaelphaba]

hi! would it be possible to post a tutorial of how you created the shapes in this set /post/753222419295158272 thank you :)

sure I made the gifset a while ago so don't have the psds saved but i decided to make a new gifset with a similar shape effect and show you how i made that :)

tutorial below the banner/cut

first start by making and colouring your base gif as you'd like. for the example i'm making today i'd like a pink gif.

for simplicity i'll put all the colouring layers in a group so it is easier to see what's going on with the shapes, but this is not a step i usually take.

once you've got your base gif ready search for the image/shape you would like to appear on your gif. in this case i searched for glinda's crown :)

make sure the image has no background and save it. if needed go to https://www.remove.bg/ and remove the background from the image then save it.

open your saved image in photoshop and drag it onto your gif. typically i drag it on the gray area outside the image canvas so it will land in the centre of the canvas.

if the image is too big resize it by using the transform function (ctrl +t)

right click the image layer and go to "Blending Options" (you can also do this by double clicking the layer (but not on the layer name as this will prompt renaming the layer)

go to color overlay and change the colour to white with blend mode normal and click ok

convert the new image layer to a smart object by right clicking and selecting the relevant option

change the blending mode of the new smart object to 'difference'

go back into blending options now and change the color overlay to the desired colour with the blending mode set to 'color'

at this point you can also add a stroke and drop shadow

this results in the below result

i noticed a bit of background missed from remove.bg

so i now add a layer mask and mask over the errant mark

and that's the basics of how to make a shape like the one in the gifset you linked. you can now add any text or other embellishments you may like.

a few other tips:

play around with your stroke settings, i did this a lot when making the so highschool gifset (e.g. i think the basketball one used the centre option)

the stroke option will outline what doesn't have a solid fill. to get each part of the basketball outlined like it is in the gifset i used an image like the first one below where the lines on the ball were also transparent to get the strokes i wanted (if that makes sense). if the whole image was solid, like the second image the outline would just be a circle basically.

in most cases the method i showed here is the best method, but for the so highschool book image i did something slightly different where instead of doing a straight smart object i also duplicated the shape on top with all the details left in. i applied the same effects to the bottom layer as above and on the duplicated layer also set that to difference and added a color overlay like the above

gives a result like this:

you can tweak how this looks a bit by using a selective colour layer clipped to the top layer. i wanted a bit more definition on the hat so i ended up with this after tweaking the neutral and blacks channels

overall my advice is to experiment and see what you like as that is what i basically do :)

[sideshowsnob]

[tutorial] how to make computers functional in the sims 3 by sideshow_snob

Programs needed: TSRW [i use the old version] Blender 2.7 [you can use any version] Milkshape 1.8.4

You can download this tutorial as a .doc HERE

Original [right] TS3 version [left]

So, how do we start?

Seperate your computer of choice into pieces. [mouse, keyboard, monitor, monitor screen, mousepad if applicable, drop shadow if applicable]. This can be done by selecting faces and holding 'shift +' to select that entire piece. if shift + doesn't work you'll have to do it by hand. Once your desired piece is selected, press 'P' to separate.

Once you've seperated all your parts, go ahead an open TSRW and clone a similar PC. I chose this one

Go ahead and export the .wso AND .obj file for this computer in the mesh tab. I named my exports 'eapcref' we're going to be using this PC as a reference to modify our mesh, and assign bones in milkshape.

go ahead and import the .obj into blender, where your separated PC is.

As you can see, these computers are pretty different. We're going to move each piece around until its in a similar size and position as the EA one, so the PC animates properly. Helpful shortcuts ---> G [grab] S [scale] R [Rotate]

This is what mine looked like when I finished moving it around:

Keep in mind, i actually tested mine quite a few times in game because the animation was not lining up with the PC location, so this is what mine looks like after a few modifications. Make sure you save this .blend file so you can modify it if necessary after you assign the bones.

Now onto actually assigning the bones…

Open milkshape and import all your seperated PC files.

Your PC parts should be grouped like this:

group_0: the monitor, mousepad [basically everything except the drop shadow, screen, and mouse] group_1: drop shadow group_2: screen

Now import your EA pc .wso file

Select the EA pc parts in the groups tab, then go to the joints tab and click 'show' Then go back to the groups tab, with the ea pc still selected, and select all your PC parts. Go back to the joints tab, and click 'assign'.

Now delete the EA PC.

the first bone is the mouse assignment, and the second bone is the rest of the computer.

go ahead and click 'selassigned' and clear the bone assignment since its incorrect.

To assign the bones, go to the model tab and click 'select' alt shift left click all the bones in your mouse

go back to the joints tab and click assign

now to assign the PC bones

Select everything except the mouse and drop shadow, then go back to the joints tab and click assign

you can check to see if your bones are properly assigned by clicking 'selassigned' on both bones

export as .wso and your finished!

something to note:

if your mousepad gets in the way while assigning bones, you can keep it seperate and just regroup it back into the mesh after assigning bones.

[egcdeath]

how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for. 

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City. 

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night. 

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco. 

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place. 

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you. 

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been. 

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing. 

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace. 

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way. 

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager. 

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love. 

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one.  You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief. 

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child. 

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit. 

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask. 

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her. 

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order. 

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?” 

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged. 

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. 

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

-

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of. 

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth. 

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you. 

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question. 

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart. 

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further. 

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart. 

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move. 

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had. 

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?” 

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him. 

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more. 

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively. 

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. 

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you. 

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word. 

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did. 

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else. 

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife. 

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl. 

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more. 

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.  

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together. 

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer. 

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.” 

— 

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family. 

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited. 

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in. 

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car. 

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid. 

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly. 

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home. 

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you. 

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it. 

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization. 

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother. 

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local. 

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you. 

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother. 

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him. 

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.  

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left. 

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch. 

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air. 

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked. 

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue. 

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch. 

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end. 

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin. 

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern. 

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you.  You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple. 

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling. 

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father. 

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend. 

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace. 

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more. 

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking. 

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up. 

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way. 

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit. 

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased. 

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes. 

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you. 

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other. 

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking. 

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable. 

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same. 

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake. 

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you. 

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do. 

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel. 

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case. 

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile. 

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going. 

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order. 

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him. 

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring. 

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

-

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did. 

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down. 

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side. 

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless. 

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one. 

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download. 

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.  

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly. 

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now. 

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?” 

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin.  “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you. 

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised. 

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance. 

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult. 

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had. 

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered. 

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye. 

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you. 

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech. 

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man. 

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown. 

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.  

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different. 

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know. 

This was real.