#this one was so hard to photoshop I have up on half of them

[fightingwithallreality]

Lassie Come-Home (1940) written by Eric Knight, illustrated by Marguerite Kirmse

[lwoorl]

I'll say it: "Oh all AI artists do is write a stupid description and immediately get an image with no effort, there's no art in that" is the new "Digital painting doesn't count as art because it takes no effort"

[woosansang]

.

[asbealthgn]

(i am not immune to peer pressure so here's a continuation. part one here)

It’s so rare that Steve meets anyone nice anymore.

It’s just hard to find people. Dating apps suck, and ever since Robin and Nancy got together, they hardly ever want to go to bars together. And what’s he supposed to do, just drink alone and hope he stumbles across someone? 

Well, that’s exactly what happened today, sans drinking. He was heading for the bus stop, a tiny bit lost but he had a map and was pretty sure he could figure it out. He realizes he’s a tiny bit directionally challenged, and he’s still relatively new in town, and Robin and Nancy just moved to a new place, so it all came together to mean that getting there would take some puzzling out. All the same, he was prepared to figure it out on his own right up until he saw the super hot guy sitting at the bus stop and figured a little help couldn’t hurt.

And that’s how Steve ended up with an unexpected date (sort of) to Robin and Nancy’s baby shower (not a real baby shower).

Robin answers the door and smiles, then does a double take when she sees Eddie. Whoops, Steve probably should have texted her that he was bringing someone. He’d gotten a little caught up in the moment.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one,” Steve says, hugging her before walking inside. Eddie follows him.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Robin says, voice a little strange as they take their shoes off and she shuts the door. “We’re all in the living room.”

They follow her through the kitchen and into the living room where half a dozen calico kittens and several adults are on the floor.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” Eddie says, leaving Steve’s side to get down next to the kittens. Steve gets a huge smile watching him. Fuck, he’s super hot and he’s now holding a tiny kitten, cooing at it? Steve might just get on one knee right now. Or both knees. Honestly, either one works.

If he were paying more attention to literally anything other than Eddie, Steve would notice that nearly everyone else in the room is also staring at Eddie. The only exception to that is El, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the mama cat in her lap, both watching the kittens with the same wide-eyed intensity.

There’s a tap on Steve’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Robin. “Can we talk for a sec?” she asks, voice still odd.

“Yeah,” he says and follows her back into the kitchen.

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “So are you gonna tell me what Eddie Munson is doing in our living room?”

“Oh, have you already met him?” Steve asks.

Her eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Steve, that’s Eddie Munson,” she says, “From Corroded Coffin?”

“From what?” he asks, though as she says, it does sound a tiny bit familiar. 

“Corroded Coffin?” she says, “It’s that band the kids love. Along with like half of America if they’re not completely scandalized by them.”

“So what, you’re trying to tell me Eddie’s famous?” Steve asks. Robin nods. “Hold on, this isn’t like Paul all over again, is it?” Paul was a guy Steve briefly dated a few years ago, and Robin had somehow convinced Steve that he was an Olympic athlete. In his defense, she had mocked up some seriously convincing news articles.

But Robin is shaking her head. “No, I’m serious this time,” she says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. After a second she turns it around to show him the Google results for Eddie Munson. There are a lot of red carpets and pictures of him onstage. And damn, Eddie seriously is so hot.

“Alright, well, you definitely didn’t have time to photoshop these,” Steve mutters. Robin nods, patting him on the shoulder. How did he accidentally bring a famous guy over?

Just then, Eddie comes into the kitchen, a kitten in his hands. 

“Stevie, look at her,” he says, holding the kitten up.

Stevie? Robin mouths. Steve kicks her as he reaches out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It mews at him.

“I asked Nancy—she’s terrifying, by the way,” Eddie adds to Robin, “And she said I can keep her.” He lifts the kitten to his face and it purrs as it rubs its cheek against Eddie’s. Steve is actually going to combust.

“Alright, well, I’m heading back in,” Robin says, voice back to that strained quality as she escapes the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering praise to the kitten.

Steve scratches under its chin again and it purrs at him. “What’re you gonna name her?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet,” Eddie says, “Isn’t she per—oh, hold on.” His phone is ringing, so he moves the kitten to one hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. “Hey Gar….Yeah, ‘cause you abandoned me….No, I’m in Japantown getting a kitten….No, that’s not a euphemism….Listen, I’m kinda busy, I’ll call you later, alright?…Yeah, see you, man.”

While he was talking, the kitten clawed its way up Eddie’s shirt and into his hair. “What’re you doing in there, sweet girl?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for the kitten. It’s gotten very tangled in his curls, though, and apparently really likes being there. 

“Lemme help you,” Steve says, stepping closer to Eddie and extricating the kitten. Eddie’s hair is very soft. Good to know. “Here you go,” he says, holding the kitten out for him.

“One sec,” Eddie says. He ties his hair up quickly (also hot, fuck) before taking the kitten back. He boops noses with it. “Such a mischievous little girl.” 

“Well, can you blame her?” Steve asks. He brushes a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Your hair seems like a nice place to be.”

Eddie smiles at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’ll be honest, Stevie,” he says, voice getting a little lower as he moves closer, boxing Steve against the counter. “At first I just came along because you’re gorgeous, but I think I’ve fallen in love.” He holds up the kitten in one hand.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Steve asks, feeling his face heat. 

“‘Course I do, big boy,” Eddie says, leaning closer and putting his free hand on the counter by Steve’s hip.

Maybe this is stupid and way too forward, but Eddie is so dreamy with his eyes and his dimple and his hair and the kitten in his hand, so Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a little relieving when Eddie kisses him back, free hand lifting to his hair while Steve wraps his arms around his waist.

Steve doesn’t notice the front door opening or a new group of people that includes Dustin Henderson coming inside. He doesn’t notice them entering the kitchen and freezing as they take in the scene.

That is, not until Dustin shouts, “Holy shit, is that Eddie Munson?”

tagging a few people who asked for a continuation/asked to be tagged (sorry if i missed anyone!): @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk

edit to add that this ficlet is complete and the last part is here

[comicaurora]

Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Time.

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.

Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots

Word Count - 4329

Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

It’s been 6 days since you were shot.

6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.

You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.

The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.

The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.

The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.

The rest of it? Blurry as night.

You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.

You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.

All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.

Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.

It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.

The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.

Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.

The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?

“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”

That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.

So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.

None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.

So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.

Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.

“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”

Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.

Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.

“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.

“Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”

You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.

“You here to babysit me?” you tease.

He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.

“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.

He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.

“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”

His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.

“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”

He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Yes ma’am.”

He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.

“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.

You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.

“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”

You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.

He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.

“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.

“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.

He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.

Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.

Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.

“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”

All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”

Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Benny nods. Will trusts him.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”

Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.

Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.

You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.

Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.

Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.

He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.

The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.

When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”

Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.

The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.

“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”

“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.

That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.

“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”

You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?

But instead, you continue.

“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”

You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.

“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”

He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.

“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”

Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”

You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.

You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.

You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will doesn’t visit.

He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.

He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.

He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.

And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.

He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.

You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.

“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.

“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.

He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.

“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”

His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.

“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”

He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.

Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.

The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.

You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.

“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”

“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”

He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.

“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.

“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”

You have time.

You have time.

[indestinatus]

The silent art of gif making

The gif above has 32 layers plus 6 that aren't shown because this is part of a larger edit. I wanted to share it to give everyone a glimpse of the art of gif making and how long it usually takes for me to make something like this. This one took me about an hour and a half but only because I couldn't get the shade of blue right.

I use Adobe Photoshop 2021 and my computer doesn't have a large memory space (I don't know what to call it) so usually most of psds get deleted because I'm too lazy to get a hard drive. It doesn't really bother me that much because I like the art so when it's done, it's done. Off to somewhere else it goes.

Here are the layers:

Everything is neat and organized in folders because I like it that way. I prefer to edit it in timeline but others edit each frame. There's a layer not shown (Layer 4 is not visible) and it's the vector art. Here it is:

Now it is visible. I don't plan to make this a tutorial, but if you're interested I'd love to share a few tricks about it. I'm pretty new to the colors in gifmaking but the rest is simple to understand. Here, I just want to show how much work it takes to make it.

I opened Group 2 and here's the base gif. I already sharpened and sized it correctly but that's about it. Let's open the base coloring next.

Yay! Now it looks pretty! The edits are in Portuguese but it doesn't matter. There's a silent art of adding layers depending on how you want the gif to look but you get used to it. The order matters and you can add multiple layers of the same thing (for eg. multiple layers of levels or curves or exposure).

This was pretty much my first experiment with coloring so I don't know what I'm doing (this happens a lot with any art form but gifmaking exceeds in DIYing your way to the finished product) but I didn't want to mess up his hair, that's why the blue color is like that. Blue is easy to work with because there's little on the skin (different from red and yellow but that's color theory). I painted the layers like that and put it on screen, now let's correct how the rest looks.

I was stuck trying to get the right teal shade of blue so yes, those are 10 layers of selective color mostly on cyan blue. We fixed his hair (yay!) we could've probably fixed the blue on his neck too but I was lazy. This is close to what I wanted so let's roll with that.

BUT I wanted his freckles to show, so let's edit a little bit more. Now his hair is more vibrant and his skin has red tones, which accentuates the blues and his eyes (exactly what I wanted!). That lost Layer 2 was me trying to fix some shadows in the background but in the end, it didn't make such a difference.

This was part of an edit, so let's add the graphics and also edit them so they're the right shade of blue and the correct size. A few gradient maps and a dozen font tests later, it appears to be done! Here it is:

Please reblog gifsets on tumblr. We gifmakers really enjoy doing what we do (otherwise we wouldn't be here) but it takes so long, you wouldn't imagine. Tumblr is the main website used for gif making and honestly, we have nowhere to go but share our art here. This was only to show how long it takes but if you're new and want to get into the art of gif making, there are a lot of really cool resource blogs in here. And my ask box is always open! Sending gifmakers all my love.

[buggyjuggie]

Hi! Can you write Mk mans x Pokémon trainer reader?

Basically reset somehow got into Earthrealm with not way back to their world and Liu Kang decided to kick them as one of his champions since he saw a potential in them. And when reader explains their world they like “Well yeah we have a Pokémon that possibly can destroy world” and “once I battled against god and mafia when I was ten haha”

──★ ˙ ̟ Random Mk1 men x GN! Pokemon trainer reader

Note: Im so sorry that this took so long to come out my mental health kinda took a nose dive with my creativity and i didn’t want to half ass this so that’s why this ended up being so short I apologise

「 ✦ Havik ✦ 」

* Lets start with just a random man Havik: he LOVES you and your little creatures

* Immediately asks which one is strongest

*Has tried teaching your pokemon about the way of living in chaos and freedom (basically indoctrinated them into his belief)

* Havik absolutely adores hearing stories of your realm, like you mean when you were 10 years old you took down a mafia gang, competed in a tournament and battled with a gang. ALL OF THAT and your fighters these little things. He’s impressed and entertained for hours

* Havik’s favourites are poison, ghost and rock type pokemon

「 ✦ Johnny Cage ✦ 」

* ,, Can i make a movie about these little guys please 🥺“

* Buys them clothes, accessories and dresses them up, they’re like little plushies to him

* Haa definitely bought custom glasses with the first letter of they’re names for all your little friends

* He posts pictures about your pokemon on insta even tough you said to explicitly NOT do it (he just tells people its photoshop

* When you tell him stories of all the wacky stuff that you see in your world he desperately want to go to the point he begs Liu kang to send him to your universe

「 ✦ Liu Kang ✦ 」

* He takes care of timelines and also now your pokemon

* Because he is the god of fire Liu Kang radiates a lot of warmth so when he meditates all your palls lay down next, on or near him

* Liu kang spoils the crap out of your pokemon to the point where they are absolutely attached to him following him all the time, annoying him and and some just bite his legs a sign of love but also attachment

* Ok this ones obvious bcuz hes a fire god he tends to like fire type and dragon type pokemon

* Looks at you with the most concerned expression possible while your just happily smiling and telling stories about how you fought off a mafia

「 ✦ Bi-han ✦ 」

* Goes withouth saying that fighting, ice and flying type pokemon are most interesting to Bihan

* Bihan learns the hard way that you can’t train pokemon like little soldiers and you teach him how to properly train them

* If you and Bihan ever manage to return to your universe he’ll look at you with proud eyes when you win battles

* Tries to apply the same strategy you use when in combat to his own fights or training sessions for the Lin Kuei soldiers

* Don’t even try to explain how certain types are categorised or how some pokemon can defeat other with the most random luck because he’ll just end up with a headache

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[riddles-fiddles]

Can we get the dorm leaders reaction to s/o telling them that Twisted wonderland is a game in her world? She gave them plenty of proof and even showed them the game on her phone.

Riddle's confused and extremely intrigued from this piece of information

Though he's more on the confused side of things. He's not so acquainted with technology so it's a hard time for him to discern what's true or fake

And honestly, your claims are so absurd it easily slips on his side as a prank. He'll be polite and look interested the whole time, but his brain is racing against time to make reason of it all

"Cater always tells me about this 'effects' things you can add to photos and there are plenty apps for image manipulation"

Dismisses all the proof you show him as a very dedicated prank of yours, because how could he be merely an AI when he very much feels very alive? Bullshit.

He lays down on his bed for a few nights with a deep sense of dread, being unable to sleep from all the doubt that creeps on his mind. He wants to believe that it's all just a lie, but what if it isn't?

Sleeps through half your essay about how everything he knows is a lie, growing in boredom as you stubbornly shove evidence, talking like some scientist presenting a thesis

Honestly half your argument has already gone through his head at some point so he's not truly impressed

Plays it cool saying you're gone nuts and that all this magic stuff fried your brain

"Geez easy now herbivore, nothing you're blabbering about makes sense", and he looks absolutely unnafected, shrugging it off

He can't help but dwell on it for some time though, but he'll never show it on your face or hesitate for even a moment in front of anyone

No, you are the crazy one, he's very much real. His pain is real, or else all the things he feels deeply rooted on his heart wouldn't hurt this much... right?

At first he's skeptical and scoffs off at your attempts at making his mind around your little antics

He's got the mind of a businessman, he's not falling for such childish pranks, no matter how well made that photoshopped image looks. Oh, wait, it's an app? Well, you're probably just teaming up with Idia to piss him off

His interest is piqued the moment he sees the cards with his face, and as you tell him it's a gacha game, his features light up for a fraction of a second - but then he remembers that you're trying to shove some absurd nonsense down his throat. No, it's not the time for profit thinking

Though you sure did gave him an idea, and he'll be sure to talk it out to Idia some other time

Azul keeps on a composed and rational feeling to him, one he pridefully shows to everyone around him, but he's got his insecurities and doubts, and now you just sparkled something inside his heart

He can't quite grasp it, but it always leaves him choking and uncomfortable, something alike to fear and anxiety, something he used to feel when he was the pathetic little octopus with too much time alone

For the first time after many years, he finds himself pondering about life, questioning everything he knows, a sense of dread tugging at the confines of his mind. He didn't like to think that maybe you were right, that everything he might have experienced was nothing but a cruel lie

Kalim can't quite grasp the concept of his existence being literally a video game, but he's the first one to not treat it like a joke

He's very interested on everything you says naturally, but he's very impressed to know that there's a game where he is a character!

"But... y/n, how could I be a literal game character when I'm right in front of you? Doesn't that mean that you are ficitional as well?"

He laughs light-hearted, taking things surprisingly well - because he can't understand he's not truly real. No matter how many screenshots you show, his wiki page, his cards, not even playing through the whole Scarabia arch will suffice to convince him

He just thinks you're a very talented person who made the game as some kind of diary or something, being inspired by everything that happened in Night Raven College

Eventually Kalim just convinces you to brush your point off, seeing how happy and entertained he looked. Maybe it's for the best to just allow him to eat up that lie

You wouldn't want to make Kalim sad now, would you?

Vil looks at you like you have just insulted his whole bloodline and then threw all his makeup on his face

Stands there in awkward silence, processing all the information and carefully picked proof, snatching your phone to look through it

By the end of this tense moment, he shakes his head, laughing out as if finally understanding that everything was merely a joke.

But you don't laugh back, instead looking him dead in the face

Vil's unsettled by everything, from the way you look at him and the new, hard to swallow information

He asks you to go to therapy and says that he'll be more than happy to accompany you, sincerely worried about you

He doesn't want to believe the things you showed him, so just like the others, he'll just settle on the idea of you playing a prank on him for the sake of his own mental health.

Idia.exe has stopped working

"I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!" shouts out once he snaps out of his paralyzed processation so loudly you're sure everyone at NRC could hear him

He looks mortified and equally thrilled as he goes on blabbering about some underground government bullshit

Red and blue pill kinda shit, you know? Talks about simulations and how he dreamed saw the walls around his room glitch for a moment while gaming (he's sleep deprived)

Shut him up or else he'll be wailing in his fake existence and talking to you about some conspirational theories he formulated with the source of his own brain

Malleus is eerily silent as you present him with all the information you have, a perfect display of your confidence and everything that just fell right like puzzle pieces

When you're done and looks up at him, expecting an answer, he stares back, his emerald eyes deep and piercing, silently rummaging through your features though his gaze made you feel like he was reaching directly for your soul

"I know," he responds simply, an amused smile creeping between his lips

With a nod of farewell, he turns on his heels and simply leaves, unbothered to give any kind of explanation

Malleus leaves you with an existential crisis, hanging where you stood without understanding a thing

He knows? How can he know? Is he programmed to say that? Is he truly an IA?

You're not sure and will never be, because Malleus never gives you an answer eveytime you poke at the matter, simply smiling warmly before resuming to his tasks

[wisteriagoesvroom]

schools of thought: part 2 🦊

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

to catch up, check out part 1 here

author's notes

thank you for your patience and the kudos on part 1 🤧 irl stuff happened and i worked on a different story for a while before getting back to this one

ignore timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

—————we pick up at the federation U library———————

lando's studying late. it's a tuesday, and there aren't too many people there - just him, linda the librarian who isn't particularly impressed at anything or anyone, and a couple of other students on other islands of desks, stuck in their own world.

lando doesn't find academic work impossible per se, it's more the sustained attention that gets challenging. and contrary to how he seems, he does actually work hard at his core modules. even if he isn't sure exactly to what end, yet.

the screen's blazing bright and lagrange's theorem is starting to make his brain statick-y, so lando rubs his eyes. one of those advice pages on tiktok said changing tasks could help sometimes to refocus on his studying. something about crop rotation or switching channels of the brain or something. if it's on social media, it must be true.

so he opens his design software instead and makes a party invite.

he sends a prayer to the holy trinity of tiesto, guetta and darude for his very basic photoshop abilities. and an extra hail-van-helden for the free software that he pirated off charles.

the party playlist is already whirring in his head. definitely some garage smashed with some old school hip hop, and he's sure there's a way to get some hans zimmer piano in there. whatever, it'll work.

satisfied with his efforts, lando sips from his hydroflask. (the drink is one part instant coffee, one part spicy honey, and a lot of hot water. carlos gives him shit about it all the time, but carlos is spanish and generally prone to dramatics when it comes to coffee and just about everything else.)

still focused on his important task of Procrastinating His Stabilizer Equations, lando texts max.

linda, to her credit, only glared at him once when he started humming kid cudi under his breath.

and judging from experience, max and charles are going to be a while, so there's nothing for lando to do but stare at the wall and keep working on his playlists. oh, and his math assignments.

meanwhile, oscar gets a ping from logan.

what is there to say about the meeting really, oscar thinks. uneventful. ———————earlier——————————

the first project catch-up with lando, they'd met under the campus bee statue. a sunny afternoon, but the campus was quiet, half of them having decamped to the nearby hills or beach for a change of scenery. it was just the pleasant and tolerable buzz of other students enjoying the warmth and doing university student things. he'd spotted a couple of people with picnic blankets out. he hadn't brought a picnic blanket, thinking this would be a quick meeting.

lando had appeared in a blur of white and orange, like a y2k elf. ear piercing, music festival rubber bracelets and all. in a t-shirt that said i'm acute angle.

"'sup osc!" lando said.

"that t-shirt's gramatically incorrect. technically." oscar had replied.

"whaa-aat. but more to the point, it's funny."

"i guess. did you do the reading yet? thought it'd be good to talk roles and responsibilities and maybe a project timeline."

"timeline?" lando said, as he tossed his backpack down and flopped on the lawn. lando extracted two heinekens from a side pocket and went through a complicated manouvre of opening them with his room keys. "thought we'd maybe crack open a beer and just chat, matey."

i'm not your matey, oscar thought. i'm a passenger to whatever train of chaos it is that you're driving and i'd like to get off.

oscar's skin prickled as he realised the double meaning of get off. he also tried to not think too hard about how overfamiliar lando was acting towards him. the worse thing was: there was a bigger part of him that was probably willing to let lando get away with it.

lando seemed to be ignoring whatever existential crisis oscar was going through. instead, lando was going on and on about philosophical youtubers and sparknotes. lando was so animated when he spoke, too: hands always in gestures, as if excitement buzzed directly out of his fingertips and onto oscar. there was a sparkle in his eyes, blue sliding into grey, that made oscar want to sit on his hands. because they were the kind of eyes they wrote about in regency novels, the windows to the soul kind of melodramatic nonsense. that would make him want to do stupid shit. like, get-in-the-way-of-the-project-grade kind of stupid shit.

so it took oscar a lot of energy to focus in that first meeting. he thought he did a pretty decent job picking up the thread of conversation, around the part where lando had called foucault's theory "the indiana jones thought thingy."

"i think you mean archaeology of knowledge."

"right! right." lando said, as he beamed up at him.

oscar had suddenly felt overly warm, then. probably just the sun on the quad, he thought to himself. he was from australia, so technically he should've known better, and worn adequate SPF. he'd have to set a phone reminder for that at a later point. he refused to be fooled again by the european summer and its apparently hypnotic effects. even if those hypnotic effects were probably mostly caused by a menacing parallel phenomenon that oscar would call solarus landonitus.

—————————————————

later, oscar's cooks dinner, and tries to decipher the instructions on the back of a frozen bag of beef mince. pato and logan are away at a football game across the border in italy, an overnighter thing.

his phone vibrates. it's lando.

oscar's hands hover over the letter keys. a party? he couldn't think of anything worse. but lando said a couple of friends, and it's true oscar hasn't really partied, and he thinks hanging out with his D&D friends doesn't really count. there had been that one instance in first year when oscar had gone to try and meet logan and pato at the ministry of sound, and he'd accidentally ended up at the ministry of state government building. after that, he'd figured parties weren't really fated for him.

but. lando, social butterfly lando, campus personality lando is the one asking. and logan's right, oscar probably does take himself too seriously.

osc types and deletes at least four different responses before be replies. he is an eng lit major, he tells himself. surely he should be better at crafting his words than this. but sometimes it is what it is.

so it isn't a commitment, and it isn't a hard no, either.

oscar stares at his phone. it's gone quiet. lando's moved on – probably uploading an instagram story. or smashing his too keyboard loudly in a public space as he solves a polynomial. or making a new and unlikely EDM song out of radiator noises, or whatever it is that lando "i'm so cool" norris decides to do with his free time.

oscar is studying the dorm kitchen tiles, thinking about not thinking about lando, when his pasta water boils over. it hits the induction stove with a loud hiss.

"shit!" osc yelps. he grabs a nearby dish towel to wipe it up.

the pasta ends up both soggy and under salted, but he eats it anyway. mind turning all the while.

——————stay tuned part 3 (hint: party party)————————

p.s. if you want to be tagged/notified on the next part/updates just lmk in comments or DM and i'd be happy to!!

[thelightsandtheroses]

For You, I Would Ruin Myself | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!Reader Rating: 18+, MDNI as usual. Summary:  Your career probably just ended last night. Stuck in a long standing but now loveless relationship, your priority was your Hollywood comeback and finally getting the recognition you worked so hard for.  Falling for your controversial co-star, Dieter Bravo, and the resulting scandal was not something you ever saw coming. Word Count – 10k Warnings: infidelity, language, a very light sprinkling of smut, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, references and discussions around eating issues and previous eating disorders, jealousy and resentment, mentions of exercise,  one passing reference to previous suicidal thoughts (no detail), un beta’d, age not specified but potential implied age gap if you squint. Look, I don’t know what happened here, something just took me over this weekend and then I had ten thousand words before I knew it. Banners & dividers are not made by me and are from the talented @/saradika

“You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love The slowest way is never loving them enough Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?” High Infidelity - Taylor Swift

Today

Your phone is in genuine danger of overheating. Notification after notification, missed call after missed call roll in. You can’t face it.

You turn over on the sofa you collapsed into last night, bury your face in cushions and half-heartedly scream.

No one can hear you, but somehow it helps.

Your career might be over.

Everything in you says you need to be on this; you need to respond; you need to have your lawyers and your agent and a goddamn crisis consultant probably. Your reputation, your future, it's all at stake right now.

Hollywood won't be kind to you for a public scandal like this, not when you cheat on someone like Alex, not when it's with Dieter Bravo.

You don’t want any of it.

The doorbell rings. Once.

Twice.

Incessantly. There’s only one person who would do that, who would ring the bell in quite that rhythm.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. He’s not going to go away.

You groggily make your way to the door, only half aware you’re still in last night’s clothes, still probably have last night’s makeup on your face which you’ve now smeared even more.

You want to say he’s seen you in worse shape, but you know he hasn’t. You know you’ve never let him see him like this.

Dieter Bravo is standing on your porch with what can only be described as a sheepish expression. He’s in an infuriatingly comfy looking t-shirt you want to bury yourself in and looks like he’s not long crawled out of bed himself. His hair is wild and unruly, how you like it. It makes you think of how he looks up at you sometimes, eyes wild and a salacious grin on his face, all too proud of the way he’s artfully taken you apart with his fingers, his mouth, him.

“So, you’ve seen it then?”

“Baby, I -”

“Hey, congrats,” you say flatly, “I think you’re probably trending on Twitter now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says without preamble, “I didn’t think this would – how are there even photos?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“They’re being -”

“Dieter, it was always going to be different for you. Different rules, right? You can afford to screw up, hell they expect it. I- I had other expectations put on me. I’ve uh, clearly failed to meet them and I’m going to have live with that.”

Dieter touches your arm gently, grazes his thumb up and down your forearm and stares right into your eyes.

“If you ask me to, I’ll deny it,” he says seriously.

“Hard to deny photos, babe.”

“Photoshop, deep fakes, rehearsing a scene. If you need the out, I’ll do it.” And he will, even if it shatters him in the process. And you’re sure it would, because if you could just deny it, it would damn well break you.

“It’s too late for that.”

“I didn’t want this for you, for us,” he says. “Not like this.”

“Makes two of us.” You take a deep breath. “Do you want to come in then?”

What does that song you used to love say: it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It doesn’t start with a kiss, of course. It starts with distrust, with indifference and frustration.

This was your big opportunity, the role you’ve waited for and it happens to be filming in a beautiful location. You’d begged your agent to find you something new, something mature and intelligent and more than the secondary roles you’d played since your unexpected hiatus all thoseyears ago. You needed more than the pigeonhole Hollywood wanted to push a former child star into. You are tired of being seen that way, feel too old for it frankly, you needed to do something new.

Dieter Bravo needed a redemption arc; after Cliff Beasts 6, after his drug habit became public, after his breakup with Annika who seemed a more public stabilising force. You knew his insurance alone for this film had no doubt taken far more of the budget than it should have. You knew he was trouble. You just didn’t care enough to pay attention to that.

You should have known it would end in disaster.

Before - Day 1 of Filming

Alex is calling his manager again, for another audition, another tour, anything to be out there more. You heard him talking to his manager last week, heard the disappointment that both the album sales are drying up and that movie studios aren’t interested right now either. He has a premiere in a few weeks, they’re hoping that will reignite interest because otherwise it’s not looking good.

He’s a better musician than actor if you’re honest.

You’ve known Alex for the entirety of both of your careers. You were both pushed, or pushed yourselves, into the vicious celebrity beast when you were only children. Alex still has that All-American charm, that safety in his eyes you relied on when you were younger. You’ve been together for more than ten years.

 Everyone loves your relationship.

Except maybe both of you right now don’t love it so much anymore. In the past seven months something has changed; a bitterness has crept in, taken root around Alex.

It’s not that he’s a bad person.

You just don’t think he loves you anymore and it’s killing you. The absence of love is a vine, choking your neck and constricting with every breath.

Every compliment feels bitter; like you’ve deliberately chosen to get some lucky breaks and take his opportunities from underneath him. The work you’ve put in, the sacrifices and accomplishments you’ve made are ignored and turned to mere luck.

It doesn’t matter that the positions were once reversed. You had four-year hiatus from Hollywood that he didn’t - his star rose and yours fell. During those years, people forgot your own accomplishments as you became just Alex Wood’s girlfriend. You’ve been playing catchup with your peers in the years since you started working again and now you’re finally getting somewhere. It’s just that you think Alex has a problem with that.

If you’re honest, Alex Wood very clearly does not want to be known as your boyfriend first, and a celebrity second.

Right now, you’re waiting in your trailer, running lines for your first actual filming scenes with Dieter Bravo for this film that means so much to you.

You’ve heard of Dieter for years but never crossed paths before.  You’ve read about him; the good, the bad, the downright ugly.

This film is a big studio drama, a high budget picture; one that your agent thinks will catapult you to award nominations and you understand Dieter’s agent believes will help undo some of the damage of Cliff Beasts and the subsequent period.

You’re worried about this. Too worried.

Dieter seems like a liability. In your chemistry read, he was almost aloof until the cameras started. He seemed utterly uninterested in even really speaking to you, and you were dubious of him. You’re not sure how someone can seem so lazy, so unbothered about everything and then turn out such heartfelt performances. Okay, he hadn’t had as many of those roles recently, but you know they are in his repertoire.

You need this role, you love the script. It means something to you - your character took root in your heart, you want to represent them well. You’re not sure Dieter is in this for the same reasons.

He hasn’t done anything to indicate that. He’s been pleasant, quiet but professional. It’s only day 1 of filming though.

Alex is only here for the rest of the day - he flies home tomorrow morning. He promise he would help you with this scene, but now he’s busy on the phone and shows no sign of wanting to end the call. They’re talking about cross fit now for some reason, so you stand up and decide to see if maybe Dieter wants to run through the lines, or anybody really if he says no. There’s only a short time before you need to go film this after all.

You wave at Alex to say you’re leaving. You want him to stop, want him to care you’re leaving but he just nods.

Before - Day 2 of Filming:

Dieter Bravo is nothing like you expected. You’re sitting in his trailer, running through an updated script for the day’s scene. To your surprise he’s been alarmingly respectful so far. You’d heard that in Cliff Beasts 6 he propositioned pretty much everyone.

“I think for this line,” he says slowly, “we should be facing each other. I know the script says you’re facing away, but it would feel more natural, don’t you think?” You’re amazed he even has suggestions; you’d expected very little interaction with him off camera.

“Are you really going to wear sunglasses inside?” you ask incredulously. Is he hungover, or strung out again, or is he just that pretentious?

“Yes,” he says, “Did you hear what I said?”

You run through the lines, rolling your eyes at Dieter’s answer. “Take them off, Dieter, they’re not in the script and if you want to face me I’ll need to see your eyes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Just did.”

“Ergh. Look, why did you sign on for Cliff Beasts?”

“Do you know how few films were being made during Covid? I needed to work, needed to do something, get out of my house and a big franchise like that? The money was good., They courted me, they wanted me. I mean, I knew the script was – I knew what the script was. I didn’t think it would all end quite like it did.”

“I bet.”

“So, you saw the documentary then?”

“I might have scrolled past it on Netflix once or twice, might have accidentally played it for a few minutes.”

“None of it worked out in the end. Annika, any of it. You -” He shakes his head.

“I know.” You’ve seen the press, seen the news reports and blogs and just why Dieter needs the comeback himself. Why perhaps the version you’re seeing is not the same man in Cliff Beasts 6, or the man from Hunger Strike. Maybe this Dieter Bravo is an entirely different man.

“So, what did you do for all those years anyway?” he asks suddenly, snapping to attention and focusing right back on you.

“Huh? Lockdown? Well, I-“

“No. You quit the industry right, for years? Well you came back but …” he trails off.

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t consciously quit, but it was the right move for me at the time.”

“Drugs?” he asks without judgement. You can’t blame him for that assumption. You’ve been amazed others haven’t come to the same conclusion.

“No, I dealt with some other forms of self-destruction though.” You’d be dead if you hadn’t walked away then, that’s the truth.

You were young and burnt out and anxious. You thought it was normal to count every calorie, to exercise until your head hurt too much to continue. You thought it was normal to throw up with nerves all the time, to be physically ill due to exhaustion, to criticise every part of your body and let others do it too, to hate your voice, hate your mind. Hollywood could be an insidious bedfellow and you’d let it set root in all your insecurities. You almost died for it.

The only way to survive was to walk away, find a way through to recovery. You’d even gone to college, studied an entire degree in another country and enjoyed the relative anonymity of your life there.

You’d truly missed acting though; missed how it made you feel. You’d been your family breadwinner from an early age and so it hadn’t ever felt like a choice you had ever made for yourself.

After several years away from acting, a lot of therapy and after suitable encouragement from loved ones, you chose to re-enter Hollywood, but on your terms. You made a choice when you never had thought it was even a choice before.

Since returning, you’d been involved several indie films, you even returned to your TV roots for a recurring role as your first break back. You worked your way back into Hollywood’s good graces with small roles, hard work and undeterred focus, and this - this was the result.

“And now?” Dieter asks carefully.

“I’m good, I think.”

“Well, dating that all American boy, you’ve got how many Instagram followers? You must be pleased, your comeback’s working.”

“It’s not like that. I like acting,” you say emphatically, “I like getting to wear another character for a bit, tell their story, y’know? And screw social media!”

“I get that. You’re uh - not what I expected.”

“Same.”

“Hmm, yeah?” He places to an arm on the sofa, his hand so close it’s almost touching your collarbone. He’s wearing rings and some sort of beaded bracelet, loosely tied around his wrist.

“So, um, let’s try it your way,” you say, taking a deep breath. The trailer feels hotter somehow.

When he scoots closer to you on the sofa in his trailer, his thighs lightly touching yours and looks in your eyes, you can kind of see it.

His eyes are crazy beautiful.

You can feel heat swimming at the bottom of your stomach. You notice how his eyes darken, how he licks his lips for just a second.

Fuck, he’s a good actor.

Before - Week 2 of Filming

Alex hasn’t called you in three nights. He said he needed to prepare to write his new album and so he’s been on a trip with his band to Nashville for the past week.

The night before he left, he told you that he was concerned you were trying too hard with this new role, that you needed to be less - less you because everyone would think you reeked of desperation. He told you to relax and smile more.

His words have haunted you ever since.

Maybe you’re not ready for this, you think, maybe you are trying too hard.

You can’t talk to Alex though because he’s too busy with his band to text you back either, it seems. He has enough time to update Instagram though.

You’re not sure if you miss him or not.

“If you weren’t here, what would you be doing?” you ask Dieter as you sit in your trailer, in full costume running through yet another last-minute rewrite. The director was taken by a particular view at sunset and demanded the scene was rewritten to incorporate this completely.

“I’d have another gig,” he replies confidently, “I don’t think I like being out of work too long these days.” You think back to what he said just a fortnight ago about why he took Cliff Beasts 6.

“I meant if you weren’t acting,” you clarify.

“Oh, painting,” he replies without hesitation.

You stare at him with surprise. You hadn’t expected him to answer properly at all; you’d asked Alex the same question once and he’d said he’d always be this way, always have these jobs, just how Dieter had started out his answer.

Dieter had taken your flippant question seriously though and with confidence. Painting? You haven’t thought about that before, hadn’t thought of Dieter doing that before. You can’t help looking at his sizeable hands for a second, wondering what he would like painting.

“You paint?”

“Yes. It’s - it’s all art, all of this. I guess that’s who I am.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, just think about his words.

“What about you? What did you do in your temporary retirement?”

“I wrote a little. I think if I didn’t do this then I’d want to write.” You pause, before adding, “Am I- am I trying too much?” You need to know, and you trust that Dieter will tell you the truth.

“In this role? No. Why?” Dieter looks at you with vague distraction, as though you’ve completely pulled him out of character, away from wherever he was for the moment.

“No reason.”

“Why?” he repeats, pouting at you. Is that - is he flashing the puppy eyes too?

You roll your eyes. “Alex just said something.”

“Oh,” he replies knowingly, “that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?”

“He strikes me as the type.”

“The type to do what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Dieter just shakes his head. “C’mon, then. Show me what you were thinking we should do with this scene.”

Before – Week 3 of Filming:

You’ve learnt a lot about Dieter in two weeks. He favours comfort over style off set; loves a robe and you’ve never seen him wear denim or hard pants outside of when the role requires it. Which as he is playing a former biker gang member is most of the time he’s on camera. It honestly should not be legal for him to look as hot as he does in this role.

He’s surprisingly warm, not as stand-offish as you heard. At least not with you.

Most days you run lines together or drink coffee together in your trailers.

Dieter’s mostly sober now, or at least sober from drugs he tells people. He smokes a lot and you’ve seen him in the hotel bar several times in the evening but he seems in control.

There are no rumours though, no issues. The man is a consummate professional. Not what you expected after Cliff Beasts 6.

You feel like you’ve known him forever.

He might even be your friend. He can only be your friend.

You try and swallow down the way he makes you feel both in and out of character, the way when his hands brush against you at the crafty table it makes your whole body shiver and you’re sure you’re blushing.

You can’t let this go anywhere.

You cannot be that woman.

You try and avoid him for the rest of the day. Run lines with a different cast member, refuse to get a snack for the rest of the day.

Fate has other ideas though when the two of you end up in the same elevator at the hotel. You know you both are on the same floor and that’s at the top floor of this frankly enormous hotel.

“You avoiding me?” he asks casually, standing close to you. The whole elevator is empty but he’s taking advantage of the opportunity to still be as close as possible.

It’s like he knows.

“Dieter, I - we -” You can’t find the words, you don’t know how to say this. What if it’s all in your head and this tension isn’t there? What if it’s just being lonely and pathetic?

“I heard something about you, from Jake the other day,” you say, caught in a wave of bravery. Jake is another of your co-stars, a veteran Broadway actor turned screen actor. He’s playing your brother in the film and the two of you get on particularly well.

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s worked with you before.”

Dieter nods.

“He says that you never run lines or scenes with people. He asked how I got you to agree? He couldn’t believe it when I said I’d just asked and you said yes. So, why did you say yes?”

“Honestly? I wanted to have sex with you - still do.” His bluntness surprises you, but really it shouldn’t. This, right here is Dieter Bravo.

“I’m with someone,” you reply weakly.

“You’re not happy though, are you? I think you want me too. I think you know it.”

How are you only on floor seven? How are there still so many floors to go? Then you’ll be on the same floor and what do you do? Watch him go left and you go right and never talk about it ever again?

“It’s nothing to do with you,” you say as primly as you can. “And we’re very happy.”

“Oh, you look it.”

He is so close to you and you can’t help leaning against him, feeling that solid weight behind you.

“Sometimes, it’s okay to be selfish,” he says in a low voice. “Take it from me.”

“Expert in that, are you?”

”Well, a lot of people would say that I’ve devoted most of my life to some form of hedonism.”

“That’s a strong word.”

“They were some pretty strong drugs, pretty girl.”

“Dieter-”

“Uh-huh, sweetheart?”

“We can’t,” you say. You have Alex, it’s not fair, it’s not right.

“What do you want? Do you want me too?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“When was the last time you were selfish, huh? Did something just for you?” His voice is smooth, low, irresistible. “Why don’t you let me help you? Trust me, I’m very good at this.”

You open your mouth and shut it, unable to argue. You do want him, you know you do. The elevator sounds and the door opens, bringing you out of the moment.

You immediately step out into the hallway and then you freeze.

  You want to say something, but you don’t have a script for this. This is one of those moments; you’re at a bifurcation. Go right and never know what could be, but know it’s the expected pathway. Or follow him, choose something else. Be selfish.  

   You turn and face him, look at his darkened eyes, at the way they’re almost imploring you.

You move just fractionally closer, position your face closer to his. Just a little more and you’ll be kissing. 

He meets your lips first, takes away that first move you’re too hesitant to commit to. He breaks the boundary for you.

He closes his eyes after a second, deepens the kiss.

 This was inevitable.  You think you knew this was going to happen the moment you looked into his eyes on day two.

You follow him to his room.

Before - Week 4 of Filming:

“Shit, ouch,” you say as your hip is pushed into the door handle of your trailer.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, dragging you with him and back to your sofa.

His hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap as he runs his fingers over the hem of your top, traces underneath the fabric to the edge of your bra. Thank God you chose to wear your good bra today.

You can feel him, feel the hardness against his trousers. It makes the heat between your legs even worse.

He smirks when you shudder as he moves his hand down your torso, down to the edge of your skirt and you’ve never been more grateful you decided against jeans when you hurriedly got dressed this morning.

It’s not even six am, you’re due to get into costumes soon - too soon.

Time doesn’t feel like it’s real right now. All that matters, all that counts is the feeling of Dieter’s lips on yours, on his fingers slowly working their way down your underwear, circling that bud of nerves and finding just that exact spot, exact motion that makes you gasp.

“That all for me, darlin’?” he asks, smirking salaciously.

Screw going to the costume department. All that really matters is how he brings you to the edge, brings you past the point of no return, knows all of the ways to make you gasp and see white, see stars.  You think he likes watching you like this - observing when the tension in your body releases and you collapse boneless into his arms.

Does Dieter do this on every set? Is this real, you want to ask, or is this just the film, just the characters taking over you both? Where do Dieter and you begin and your characters end?

It feels real to you, it feels so fucking real.

Before - 6 weeks into filming

Alex has a premiere in LA so you fly out to go with him. It’s for a movie he was in last year. He played the brother of the main character in a cult action franchise. It was the last job he seemed to enjoy and the last big offer he had.

You want to stay where you are, want to carry on filming, stay with Dieter, but you don’t. The guilt has been following you around for weeks because every day you’re more and more sure that this is not a fling.

You know Dieter Bravo more than you think you’ve ever known anyone else. It’s not just the sex, it’s not the way you both desperately crave crawling into each other’s skin, desire and need everything about each other. Yes, there’s a physicality to it, but there’s more too. At least for you. You’re afraid to ask him if it’s the same.

You talk though. Not small topics, but real and honest conversations. You talk in your trailers with sex drunk eyes, you talk in your hotel rooms in sweaty messes.

 You feel like you know him, the real him. The Dieter who likes to paint and yes, is a bit of disaster but he feels like he’s yours. He fits your broken edges and you fit against his.

You don’t want to lose him when this movie is over.  You don’t want him to become an acquaintance you just wave to at premieres and make polite small talk with.

You’re terrified it’s different for him though; you know his reputation, the way he’s floated through life without commitments. Annika was his longest public relationship and he’s admitted to you it was his longest relationship overall too. It didn’t seem to end well. What if he doesn’t anything more now?

Dieter isn’t yours to keep, even if you want to.

So you leave Dieter for Alex’s premiere and go and play the dutiful girlfriend.

For all your concerns that Alex resents you now, that the distance between the two of you is insurmountable because your relationship only works when your light is duller than his, he has been in your life for such a long time. He’s interwoven into almost all your highs and lows. Extricating yourself from that is harder than it sounds.

Alex was there when you were ill; when you almost died and needed to leave the public eye. He was there through the unglamorous side of your life; through you crying over a bagel, through hours and hours of therapy. Your recovery had required so much attention and he had never complained, he was always there. He loved you. You were good together. He’s been your only serious love your whole life.

Is the past enough to carry on now though?

You’re not sure if he loves you, you’re not sure if the two of you will survive the year.  Even without Dieter, you don’t think it would be likely.

Alex doesn’t seem happy to see you when you arrive in LA, even though he wanted you with him at the premiere.

 He scowls when the photographers ask for a shot of you, ask about your film, tightens his grip around your waist.

You stop answering questions they ask you, direct them back to Alex with your widest smile.

You try and look at him with adoration, devotion, to make him the star tonight.  You try and ignore how foreign his hands feel on your waist, try and stop comparing them to Dieter’s.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says as you walk into the cinema after the cameras are gone.

You smile a little wider, look at Alex with what’s meant to be devotion. You practice your role.

You’re thinking about Dieter the whole time.

You have missed your home. The small but eclectic bungalow in LA that’s all yours – a renovation project over the years. You’ve missed your bed, missed your shower, missed hearing the same old birds in the morning.

You’ve really missed your coffee machine the most.

Alex hands you a steaming mug of coffee just how you like it when you walk into the kitchen. He’s scrolling through his tablet as you sit at the counter.

“The reviews are good,” he says, beaming as he finally looks at you.

“Yeah? Of course they are.”                                                                  

“This reviewer said my scenes were a standout.” He points at the article on his tablet proudly.

“Alex, that’s great.”

Alex nods and then flicks to another window. “There’s some good photos of us too,” he says, leaning over so you can see his screen.

He clicks onto the next article and his expression changes. It’s about you. The article frames Alex as your long-term boyfriend and how great it was you flew over with your busy schedule to join him. You think that Ollie, your publicist, will be pleased with the press to be honest, will be happy that the article says the movie you’re shooting now is already tipped to be an award winner when it releases. You immediately you clam up at the thought you’ve taken away from Alex’s night, from him. You didn’t want to do that.

His frown has grown the more he reads the article.

“Huh,” he says, ”you look a little different in this one.”

“Different?” you ask in surprise because it looks the same as the photos in the previous article.

“‘S not a bad thing really, baby.”

“What do you mean?”

You look at the photo more closely.

Oh.

 It’s a bad angle, that’s all it is, right? Maybe you should have skipped lunch yesterday, you’re just a little bloated and the dress was tight anyway and - you can’t look at it a moment longer.

“Oh,” you say, “I mean- the dress was -“

“Exactly, don’t worry about it.” Alex kisses you on the cheek and returns to his scrolling.

Before - Week 7 of Filming:

You turn up the speed on the treadmill in the hotel gym. You hate this. You hate this. Since Alex’s premiere, you haven’t missed a day at the gym.

Dieter walks in. He looks infuriatingly casual in his wildly patterned, comfortable trousers and grey t-shirt. Is he wearing Crocs?

If you wore an outfit like that, the paparazzi would have a field day.

“You haven’t come to see me since you got back.” He sounds miserable, like a grumpy toddler.

It’s true, you haven’t. You can’t blame him for those photos, you can’t blame what’s happening between the two of you, but you’ve clearly lost focus. For Alex to say what he did, you know it was really bad.

It’s not just that though - things have clearly got bad again and if that’s the case you don’t want Dieter to see you, not until you’ve sorted things out, not until you’re ready.

You jump onto the edge of the treadmill, one foot straddling each edge of the machine as you press the stop button.

You’re out of breath as you look at him.

“I just needed to get some training in,” you say.

“There’s other types of training,” he replies, a salacious smirk on his face. And that’s clearly the problem, you’ve spent too much time with him and haven’t left yourself enough energy to train and keep yourself in the right shape. This film matters to you, this all matters so much to you.

“Hey,” he says sharply before softly adding, “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I - I -” You sigh and step off the treadmill. “I just need to take better care of myself.”

“Care of yourself? What do you mean? Why don’t you let me take care of you, huh? You know I can,” he says with a crooked grin.

“Don’t, please.  Look I know this is just a set-hook up for you, okay?” You whisper, looking around the empty gym, “But this all matters to me. This role, this everything. I’m screwing up, I’m not prioritising correctly. I - I can’t make it any worse.”

“So this is just a hook up?”

“It’s not?” You look at him seriously then.

“I mean, yeah, it uh - it’s nothing, casual - yeah.”

“I thought you wanted it that way.”

“When did I say that I wanted that?” Dieter demands.

“I thought it - I didn’t know it was real for you too.”

You started this conversation with the intention of breaking up with him and now it’s turned into the two of you trying to define your relationship? You step off the treadmill, pinch your forehead. This is too much.

 This conversation has derailed, become messy. You thought Dieter wanted to keep things casual, you thought that met his expectations but looking at him now you’re not so sure.

You can’t do this. This relationship, whatever it is, has distracted you, has removed focus.

Your head throbs and you grip the edge of the machine, look down at the floor.

“Hey, forget us for a second. Just tell me what’s really happening with you,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t look at him. “It’s stupid.”

“I had to read the whole script for Cliff Beasts 6 and I still took the part. In my defence, I need the money and the plot made more sense when I was on coke.”

“I just didn’t look right in the photos of Alex’s premiere, I’m probably one pound from the costume department putting a photo of me on a target board because they’ll have to alter everything.”

”Stop right there. You’re fucking hot, okay? And what are you talking about with the costume department?”

“Dieter, while people might be fine with you walking around Crocs, they expect me -”

“Fuck that.”

“Even Alex said -”

“Wait, this is what this is about? Fuck him. Actually, don’t.”

“Dee, this is serious.”

Dieter looks at you carefully. “Oh, this is what you meant, isn’t it? The other methods of self-destruction, you - ”

“Don’t.”

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. Please?”

You take the hand he offers.

Before - Final Day of Filming:

“I can’t believe it’s the last day,” you say as you lie back against the pillows, still gasping. You turn to face Dieter on the other side of the bed, pleased to note his body gleams with sweat like you’re sure your own does.

You don’t want this to end.

You want to see his home in Sherman Oaks, you want lazy mornings and coffee with him. You want to be able to kiss him outside and not care.

Since you came back from Alex’s premiere, since your confrontation at the gym, you’ve finally understood that this isn’t just the movie for him. That it’s real for you both.

It’s real. It’s something.

You trace the lines of the triangle tattoo on his arm, run your fingers down to his wrist, interlace your fingers with his for a second, lean in to kiss him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

He looks at you; his eyes dark and heavy, his hair mussed and unruly. There’s a vulnerability in his expression. You had always expected Dieter Bravo to be someone who knew what he wanted, who would be assertive, confident and maybe even selfish. He can be those things certainly, but his puppy dog expression is a little too well practiced. He is insecure and needy too, has more layers and vulnerabilities than he ever conveys to the public.

“Who says you’ll lose me?”

“When this is over… when we go back home. I don’t, I don’t know how we do this. If you even want to.”

He props himself up on an elbow, turns himself so he’s facing you too. “If I want to?”

“We’ve never defined this, never said if it’s more than a fling while we’re shooting.”

“Oh, you have a lot of flings on set then?”

“No,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat. “Do you?”

“What are you asking me this?” he replies, a little defensively if you’re honest. Of course he’s had flings on set before, you know he has,

Is this real? That’s the only question you need an answer to, that’s what you really mean.

“What happens next?” Close enough.

“Well,” Dieter says, leaning over to kiss your shoulder, pepper kisses up to your jaw, “that’s up to you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t put this - this burden on you. If what we’re doing right now was exposed, I’d ride it out no problem. But you - sweetheart, they’ll ruin you. I don’t want you to - I don’t want to destroy your life by being me. And I will.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” you say bravely, “maybe I’d let you. Maybe I want you to.”

There’s an underlying safety in your responses, in Dieter’s words. You have a feeling if you tell Dieter right now that after this shoot ends, you never want to be with him again, he’ll accept it. He might not like it, you hope he wouldn’t like it, but you know he’d accept it.

That’s why you’ll continue this, you know that.

You think of the way he was with you was after realising why you were in the gym following Alex’s comments and that disastrous premiere. He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t tried to tell you that everything in your head was wrong, argued that you looked a certain way. He knew what battles with internal demons were like, so he knew how to support you.

He never actively draws your attention to his efforts to ensure you eat each day, that you don’t overexercise, but you know what he has been doing. Plus, he made his own point about his feelings on the situation in his own very Dieter Bravo way. With his mouth, with his hands, with him.

You know this situation should feel dangerous and wrong, but it’s the safest you’ve ever felt, the most real you’ve ever been.

“I don’t want this to end,” you say after a moment. “But I don’t want to ruin my life, ruin my career either.”

“So we won’t. Won’t end it, won’t ruin you.”

“‘S not that simple.”

“It can be. We can make it that simple,” he says, moving so that he’s over you, so that he can trace kisses back down to your throat, down to your breasts.

“I need to talk to him when I get back, need to end things, do this right.” Or more right at least, you know what you’ve been doing hasn’t exactly been kind. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in love with Alex anymore, it doesn’t matter if the barriers between you are insurmountable, he deserves an explanation.

“Really?” he asks, an apprehensive expression on his face.

“Can you give me some time to do that?” you ask. “Then - then we can do this without the guilt, right? Without wrecking any of our lives? Just give me a little time?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I can do that.”

He meets your lips again, kisses you hard and says everything neither of you can say with his actions instead.

Before - 1 Week After Filming:

It’s like Alex knows what’s coming. Ever since you came home from the shoot, he’s wanted to make things right.

“I was an asshole to you after my premiere,” he says to you when he picks you up from the airport, “I’m sorry. Really sorry”

You want to say more, you want to say his words were dangerous and did he want you to relapse, was that his secret unspoken intention? You want to tell him that his jealousy has broken the love between you both beyond repair. You want to scream and ask whether he realises that he’s only happy when he’s more successful than you? You want to analyse and pinpoint when the two of became so separate; mark it on a calendar, file it as evidence.

Things improve though. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because neither of you have booked any jobs right now, both of you are in that quiet period between auditions and confirming your next roles where every day is a temporary vacation. They’ve always been some of your favourite times with Alex before. When things are good with you both, they’re good.

It can’t last.

Dieter Bravo is the leading man in your mind all the time. You email him, text him, call him, sneak over to Sherman Oaks when you can. You even add him to your google alerts, you don’t want to lose sight of him.

You haven’t seen him since shooting wrapped and you feel unmoored. If you thought that the absence and ending the film would dull your desire for him, make you rethink matters then you were wrong.

You need to find a way to end things with Alex, to move forward. You want to move on.

It’s your birthday and despite your desire for a quieter celebration, somehow your team have organised an overly lavish event.

It’s good to see old friends from your hometown though, old co-stars you haven’t caught up with for a while.

It’s just it’s midnight and your feet hurt, and you’re exhausted and tired and really you want to go home.

You want to sneak over to Sherman Oaks and spend the night with Dieter.  You’d like to have him standing next to you right now, have his hands on your waist. That’s your birthday wish.

Instead, it’s Alex with his arms around you and then he’s speaking and you’re only half-listening, only half-there because you can see Dieter in the corner of your vision.  He’s standing with Jake and he’s here, he’s here and you want to go over to him, but you can’t.

You’re not paying attention, don’t realise the room is so quiet until you notice Alex is on his knee and no - no.

Dieter looks away from you.

It’s the worst place, it’s the worst time. It’s the wrong guy.

There are too many people. They’re staring expectantly and this is your nightmare. If Alex knew you, he’d know that. He’s smiling up at you almost triumphantly though.

Why, you wonder, why now?

Whatever happens, whatever you do next is probably going to be one of the worst things you’ll ever do to one of them.

You giggle nervously, eyes darting around such a crowded room who are all cheering you on.

“Baby?” Alex asks, a sudden look of panic on his face.

He looks younger for a moment. You’re instantly taken back to when things were different. When Alex fought for you, supported you, when he held you hand when you cried after therapy appointments. It was a time you’re sure anyone else would have left you in, but he loved you and looked at you with love. You remember how secure he made you feel, how safe when the world was terrifying and all you wanted was to hide away.

Because you’re a coward, because you’re guilty, because you’re scared you say yes when you should say no. The word constricts around your throat immediately, you can taste bile in your mouth.

Alex kisses you as you see Dieter walk away.

“Please, please talk to me,” you plead, standing in Dieter’s porch.

“I don’t think there’s anything to say, is there?” He looks terrible; he’s wearing a shabby robe over what look pyjamas, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other leaning against the doorframe.

“I panicked. There was a crowd.”

“Oh, well, that changes everything,” he exclaims bitterly, shaking his head.

“I told you what I want, I asked you to give me time.”

“Time to break up with him, princess, not fucking marry him!”

“I am not marrying him.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

You wipe furious tears away and shake your head. “I know I screwed up, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. ”

“Are you gonna string me along forever? I mean, dammit!  Are you still fucking him ? Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me which of the two of us is the one who can make you cum the best, huh?” He throws his glass tumbler in his hallway. “It’s like Annika, you, you’re both the same. I was fine before, I was fine before she got me into my feelings and you - you! You know you’re not that special. I could - I could go out and I could find someone else. Someone who will break up with their boyfriend, better yet someone who doesn’t have one!”

“Dee, I said I’m sorry.”

“I’m just your idiot, aren’t I?” he asks helplessly, “It really fucking sucks being on the other side of this you know. Karma is a bitch.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll make it right.”

“Yeah? Do me a favour, don’t call me before you do.”

”Okay,“ you say in defeat. That’s fair, you can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to yourself either.

As you turn away to leave, he grabs your arm, pulls you back.

“Hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he says gently, softly saying your name to sooth you. “Don’t go, don’t leave like this. I’m an asshole, you knew that already though. I’m just - that killed me last night. Don’t go. Please.”

So you don’t.

Before - Last Night:

Alex is staring at you like you’re a stranger. Every version of you he held in his mind has just died behind his eyes.

It doesn’t matter for a second, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t love you, that your relationship is dead already because you’ve hurt him, humiliated him. You never wanted to hurt him like this.

This is a nightmare. You swallow nervously and pinch your leg, remind yourself you’re still here, you’re still breathing.

“Well,” he says to you with a cruel smile, “you really wanted to lose the America’s sweetheart label, huh?”

“Don’t,” you say carefully, clutching your bag tighter to your stomach like somehow the flimsy thing will shield his words.

How has this happened? How has this got out so quickly? You had a plan.

Five minutes ago, everything was fine, everything was normal. You were at the premiere of the movie you’d had a secondary role in before your movie with Dieter. It felt like such a long time ago since you had been on that set, but it was great to be back with the cast and crew again.

This was always going to be your last public event with Alex. You’d told him you needed to have a serious talk this weekend. You’d even messaged Ollie, your publicist, and told him to prepare for the communications, the statement about what would be your amicable break up.

 It wasn’t supposed to go like this though.

The article, though that might be a generous term for it, wasn’t live while you were walking on the red carpet but by the time you entered the movie theatre, it felt like everyone had seen it.

Your phone has been ringing incessantly and everyone is still staring at their phones, then you and then back to their phones.

You want the ground to swallow up.

You’re just grateful you’re in the lobby, away from prying paparazzi and cameras.

It’s posted on a Alex fan blog - one who wasn’t an official journalist, who wouldn’t have contacted your publicist for a comment and therefore didn’t give an opportunity to your teams to squash the story, Their only focus, only priority was Alex. Now you’re their biggest enemy, so now they’ve exposed you.

It’s more than just a veiled rumour, an allegation, there are photos. Grainy screenshots of what looks like CCTV footage of you and Dieter at the hotel on location, you’re kissing in the hallway - how could you have been so careless, who would have given these to the blogger? There’s a photo of you walking down Dieter’s street that day after your birthday party too, a photo of you hours later with mussed hair and a slight mark on your neck and - you can’t look at any more of them. This has been weeks in the making.

“How could you do this?” Alex asks, a furious and heart-breaking mix of anger of hurt on his face, in his voice.

“Alex, this isn’t the place,” you reply quietly.

“No, it is the place. You fucked Dieter Bravo? How long? How long it’s been going on? It looks, it looks like -”

“Can we please go talk somewhere else. I want to talk to you, I want to-”

“Fuck that. Fuck what you want. Clearly you’re getting enough of that.”

“Alex, please!”

“I don’t know you anymore. Who are you? We used to make fun of guys like him.”

“He’s - don’t. He’s not what you think, he’s  - please, don’t say that. You don’t know him.”

“Well you clearly do, huh? You know, you always want to come across like such a nice girl, but it’s fake, right? You’ll do anything for that Oscar, to get famous! You’re a good pair, the drugged-up sell-out and the ambitious slut!”

“Alex, stop! Please, just stop.”

“Hurts, right? Being exposed like this in front of everyone. Why? Why would you do this to us?”

“It wasn’t mean to happen, but you and I know we’ve been broken for a long time and I just -” You tail off, not sure where to go from there.

“You said yes. When I proposed you said yes.”

“It was in front of everyone, what other option did you give me?”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I stuck by you when you were had nobody, were nobody. I was there with you when you were a suicidal anorexic wreck. I supported, thick and thin, baby. I would have married you. But, hey, I’m not Dieter Bravo so I guess that’s not enough.”

It would have hurt less if he had hit you. How could he bring that up, hurt you that way? Mention the parts of your past that he knows your team have kept out of the public for years. For a second you think see regret on his face before it hardens to something you don’t recognise.

”Nah, I’m done. Doll, you really are the fucking worst,” he says.

“You know what, baby, so are you,” you reply, acid on your tongue and a shrug in your shoulders.

You need to get out of here right now. You can’t hold it together one minute more.

You turn around and push your way through the shocked crowd.

You think you might have just left your career in the lobby with Alex.

Today:

You can’t have this conversation in yesterday’s clothes. You leave Dieter in your living room while you go and change, wash your face, try to do something with your hair.

It’s a marginal improvement.

When you emerge, Dieter is still there. Part of you thought he might have left already. He walks from your kitchen back to your living room with a steaming cup of coffee and a granola bar.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, handing you the mug and the bar. You don’t want to eat, can barely bring yourself to even think about drinking but Dieter’s face says he won’t let it go until you at least try.

You take a sip, grimace, put the cup down and take a bite of the granola bar. You are surprisingly hungry, despite the sick feeling in your stomach. When even was the last time you ate?

“What do you know?” you ask after a moment. “Did you see - how did they even get pictures? How are there even pictures?”

“I‘ve seen the article. I uh, I saw the video from last night too. Alex was - he definitely got some attention.” An unpleasant expression crosses Dieter’s face.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that had been filmed, no doubt someone had uploaded phone camera footage, or live streamed it, and it had gone viral by now. It makes sense.

You think of Alex’s angry outburst and scowl. You haven’t even told Dieter everything about that yet, your team had kept all of that out of the public domain for years.

“Fuck him for doing that in front of everyone.” His eyes are angry, scanning you over like Alex’s words could have left a physical mark.

“I humiliated him, Dieter. We humiliated him.”

“Do you regret this - regret me?” he asks, looking away from and running a hand through his hair.

“No.” You don’t. You can’t regret him. He’s changed your life, opened you up to something you never knew you needed, never realise you didn’t have.

“Our agents, publicists, all of them are talking. I think maybe the lawyers too because of the photos,” he says after a moment, “I guess they’ll come up with a plan, let us know what’s next, how we manage this. I find it’s best to leave them to that, we can - we can just be here.“

“Right.” You’d almost forgotten you were a commodity, not your own person in Hollywood.

“Hey, we’re not ending this, okay? Right? Unless -”

“No, no,” you say, panic rising because you can’t go through this and lose him too. You just can’t.

You pull him closer to you, let him wrap your arms around you, slip your hands under his t-shirt, up his back. There’s something comforting in his warm skin, in the way you can fit together.

You kiss him, gently at first. He meets your kiss fiercely, saying everything neither of you can with his lips, with his tongue instead. You can almost taste the fear and desire and apologies between the two of you. There’s something else though too.

He pulls away first, takes your hands in his. “Alright then. Forget everyone else, we’re doing this.”

You meet his lips again, pull him closer to you. Your world has just flipped upside down but he’s here and he still wants you and oh, how you want him too.

You need him.

Just as you start to guide him to the sofa, to find the safest, most basic language between the two of you, you hear a slam behind you.

You spin around in horror, only to find Becca standing there, a tray of coffees in one hand and an unamused expression on her face.

“Well, you two have absolutely ruined my week, haven’t you? Do you know how many calls from Ollie I’ve had since last night?  I have never heard a man simultaneously sound so angry and so upset before and I actually watched Hunger Strike, Dieter. ”

If your relationship with Dieter had ever sounded romantic to you , all ideas of that quickly fade once it’s reduced to arguments and fierce debate between two teams.

Neither side can agree on a statement, if there should be a statement, on how to present the two of you, or not.

What both sides can agree on though is that you both royally screwed up by not telling anyone in your respective teams that this was happening. They also agree that the publicity for you is a lot worse. For Dieter, it seems to have weirdly improved his publicity with some journalists instead, except with Alex fans. They are not fans of Dieter right now, but they probably hate you more.

There are a few articles though, Dieter’s publicist says, that are asking if this is a relapse, if Dieter is back on his vices of sex and hard drugs, if perhaps a rehab stay is needed. It all supports his rock n’ roll image though, the longstanding bad boy actor.

“I’m way too sober for this conversation, it’d honestly be better if I was still coked out,” Dieter says by way of justification, “And if you can’t tell, I don’t need rehab because I’m sober, okay?” He looks for a second like maybe he regrets this and then his eyes meet yours and he settles.

His publicist seems to consider that Dieter’s actions while sober are only marginally better than if he’d relapse. Perhaps that’s what they expect of him. The thought chills your bones because this is his team. Surely they have to believe in him.

“Your co-star, Jake, has reached out, said he’s willing to support you both if the two of you want it, and only if the two of you do. He’ll need to know our angle of course first to decided what, and if, he’ll say anything. It’s good to know there could be support. I think his team are pretty pissed,” Dieter’s publicist says from the computer screen. All you can think is that  Jake is an angel.

You never thought you’d face a scandal like this.

“I don’t know if that will help, but it’s good to know. Look, this will pass, all of this” Ollie says to you kindly, precariously balanced on an ottoman in your living room that was only ever intended as decorative. “Tomorrow, next week, there’ll be another break up or inappropriate social media post, or something and they’ll move on. The important thing is to limit damage right now until then. If you had told me this was happening, we could have prepared, could have had plans in place. ”

“I did tell you I was breaking up with Alex this weekend.”

“You missed out that it was because you were hooking up with your co-star.”

“I may have omitted some minor details.”

Dieter coughs at that, meeting Ollie’s resulting scowl shamelessly.

“Oh, yeah?” Ollie says, looking back at you and shaking his head.

Dieter has an arm snaked around your side, but you notice his other hand is twitching, tapping the edge of your sofa impatiently. He needs to smoke, needs a moment away from this.

“Look, let’s take five, come back and decide the plan and just ride this out, right?” you say, looking at Dieter with what you hope is a meaningful expression.

Ollie nods stiffly, disconnects the video call and walks into another room. Usually that’s your study or sometimes yoga room, but today it’s Ollie’s crisis room. You half expect to see old conference phones, flip-boards and sharpies if you walk in there.

You point towards your garden with Dieter, making the universal symbol for cigarette.

Once you’re both in your garden and alone, you exhale. Dieter immediately lights a cigarette, inspects it carefully.

“I fucking wish i had something stronger,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “No one has asked you if you’re okay. They’ve asked me, you’ve asked me, but no one asked you.”

“This is - not an issue for me. I’m pissed off that they’re - the shit they’re saying about you. Look I’ve had all the bad publicity, this is nothing to me. I mean it’s a little ironic that certain people jump to conclusions I’ve relapsed, the one time I haven’t. Thing is, it all goes with my public image now, right?”

“But if it’s not true -”

“You know it, I know it, the people who matter know it.” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “I didn’t want the story out like this though. Ollie says you’re already losing jobs, losing sponsorships,” Dieter says sadly.

“He also said it won’t last, remember?.”

You reach out to take a drag of his cigarette and lean against him for a moment.

You stare out at the lush, all too manicured lawn ahead of you. You know what the days and weeks ahead look like; the crisis management, the careful words and avoided cameras.

Weeks ago, Dieter had told you that this would ruin your life if it came out the wrong way, that he would ruin your life, and you said it sounded like a challenge. Even so you knew it was bravado, that was why you’d both agreed not to expose yourselves like this. This is a nightmare scenario; you feel a mix of humiliated and angry and hurt right now.

You don’t regret him though, you can’t. And even if you have ruined everything, ruined your career and all that hard work, for him? Maybe that’s okay, maybe that’s not so bad a price.

For a moment you wonder what today would be like if you hadn’t taken that role, if you and Dieter had never met. Would Alex have proposed? Would you still be feeling like your loveless relationship was slowly destroying you, like you would never be good enough? Would you have even realised how numb and sad and alone you were, how much you minimised yourself for others?

If Dieter’s here though, maybe it will all be worth it.

He wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m not worth this,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder.

“You are.”

He is.

[dandylovesturtles]

I said to myself, “I’m going to write a short little ficlet about April taking the boys’ pictures for Splinter, that will be cute,” and then the Donnie portion got so long that I was like “okay I’ll just write about that.” I’m sure later I will circle back to the other three, and April showing the pictures to Splinter.

Support 100 Feet and a World Away in the TMNT Separated AU competition if you wanna! I have no idea when my poll is coming…

…

“Okay, before we start planning today,” April pulls out her phone, turning on the camera, “I’m gonna take your picture!”

Donnie looks suspicious. She can’t blame him - he’s had to put a lot of trust in her, a person he barely knows. She’s sure there’s some part of him that still thinks she’s planning on turning him into some kind of freak show attraction. “Why?”

“I’m gonna show your dad.” She lifts the phone, frowning at the bad lighting. Too bad she can’t turn any more on… “He wants to see what you look like all grown up!”

That’s half of it. The other half, she’s sure, is that Splinter wants to know that she isn’t jerking him around - that she really has met the boys, that she can get to them. He’s having to put a lot of trust in her, too.

It’s a little overwhelming when she thinks about it too long, so she doesn’t. Just focus on getting the photos - that’s all she has to do.

“The man who claims to be my father, you mean,” says Donnie.

April swallows down an exasperated groan. “Donnie, he has baby pictures of you.”

“Are you telling me there’s no way of manipulating pictures?”

“What, you think they’re photoshopped?”

“Aha!” Donnie points at her dramatically. “So there is a way!”

She needs to change tacks here. “These would be hard to fake. He’d have to know what you look like - what all of you look like.” She gestures at him. “He’d have to know that you have markings on your arms and shoulders, your eye color, what your shell looks like… That your color is purple.”

Donnie still looks suspicious through her little speech, but at the last point, she can see something else break through. After all, that’s the one thing the scientists here don’t know.

He’s still not sold, she knows that, but she can’t blame him there, either. All the walls he’s built up are defensive, and they’ll take time to wear down.

“I wouldn’t show this to anyone I think would hurt you,” she says, hoping he believes her. “I’ll even delete it when I’m done, if you want.”

He hesitates a second longer, and when he moves back from the fence and lowers into the water she thinks he won’t agree. But then he surfaces again, a few feet back, and holds his arms straight out to the sides.

“Okay,” he says resolutely. “I’m ready.”

She stares at him. “Uh… why are you standing like that?”

“Is this not the normal protocol for taking pictures?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but she does, anyway. “Is that how those creeps make you stand?”

“Yes.” He twists at the waist. “Front and then back.”

Of course. Every day she learns some new, messed up thing.

She wishes she could have five minutes alone with these creepazoid scientists - just her, them, and her trusty baseball bat.

But Donnie doesn’t need her justifiable rage right now, so she breathes past it and focuses.

“No, it’s not… Most people don’t take pictures like that.” T-pose for dominance crosses her mind, but there’s absolutely no time for explaining memes right now. “You wanna look more… natural.”

“Natural. Okay.” He drops his arms, then fidgets with his hands. “How do I do that?”

“Just stand how you normally stand when you talk to me.”

He frowns, then wades closer. Sways a little, his eyes locked on her. It’s interesting, how it doesn’t scare her like it did at first. “Like this?”

He looks angry like this. His mouth is set in a line, eyes intense. April knows it as his resting face, but what will Splinter think?

Telling Donnie to smile feels weird, though, so she sucks in a breath and nods. “Yep, like that. Okay, I’ll take the pic - it’s gonna flash, okay?”

“Flash?”

“Yeah, flash a bright light. Just for a second.”

He nods. “Okay.”

She holds up the phone, focuses, then takes the pic. Donnie doesn’t startle at the flash, and she’s glad she warned him about it.

The picture itself is… well, depressing is the only word she has for it. Donnie looks angry, standing alone in the dark, feet from the camera and behind a fence. The shadows from the chain link crisscross over his face and body, stark reminders of his captivity.

On one hand, it definitely shows the situation Donnie is in.

On the other, she can only imagine how it would feel to see this picture as a parent.

She kinda hates the idea of bringing Splinter only this… But what else can she do?

“Hmmm…” She taps the phone against the palm of her hand, thinking. Her eyes land on the slot in the fence they use to give Donnie food, and an idea forms.

“Is something wrong with it?” Donnie asks, and she shrugs.

“I was just thinking, the fence makes it hard to see your face.”

“I can’t leave the fence yet, though,” he reminds her, and she shakes her head.

“No, but I can give the phone to you.” She indicates the food slot.

Immediately his eyes light up. “You’re giving me the phone?” His voice pitches up in excitement.

“Hold your horses! We don’t have time for you to go down an internet search rabbit hole, okay?” He opens his mouth, and she shakes her head. “And you are not taking it apart.” He shuts his mouth again. “You’re just gonna take a selfie.”

“A selfie?”

“Yep!” She turns around, then lifts her phone so he can see the screen. He gets as close as he can without touching the fence, so close she can feel his breath as he exhales. His eyes are locked on the phone in fascination. “See this button? If you click that, it switches to the selfie camera.”

“There’s a camera on the front of the phone too!?” Donnie sounds delighted by this information. “Where are they hiding it!?”

“Uh, it’s up here… somewhere.” She gestures at the top of the phone, then shakes her head. “Anyway, once you’re ready, you click this button, and it takes the pic! And that’s called a selfie, because you took a picture of yourself.”

She shows him the picture they just took, of herself talking and Donnie leaning in close, watching with rapt attention. It’s definitely not her best picture, but Donnie looks so much more alive than he did in the last one, even still obscured by the fence.

She thinks she might keep that one, too.

“I see… a selfie.” Donnie says the word like he does all new ones, like he’s turning it around in his mouth to see how it feels. “And you want me to take one?”

“Yep!”

She turns to the food slot, then hesitates. There’s always a chance Donnie will completely disregard what she just said and take the phone for himself - she can’t exactly get it back from him if she hands it over.

But he’s been putting a lot of trust in her, so she can give a little back.

“Here - don’t let it get wet.”

She slips it into the slot. Donnie shakes off his hands, then takes it between his fingers, looking at it with entirely too much reverence. If he ever gets a phone if his own, she thinks, they’ll never get him off it.

For a moment he looks extremely tempted to start rooting through the internet no matter the risks, but after she clears her throat (twice) he gets back on task.

“Right, okay… so I just hold it up like this…” He squints, then moves around in the enclosure, watching the screen. “…I can see myself better here,” he says after he stops.

“You have better lighting there,” April agrees - not that the lighting was ever going to be great with just the dimmed safety lights. “Look at you, you’re a natural!”

Donnie lights up at the praise, his face loosening if not quite smiling. He takes the picture, then ducks like he’s about to go under the water (“Donnie, not with the phone!”), before wading back to the fence.

“Is this okay?” he asks, showing her the screen.

He doesn’t look angry anymore, and the lighting is better - and without the fence, there’s a clear view of his face.

April grins. “It is. Hey, how about you take a few more, though, just to be on the safe side.”

“Ah, yes… to be on the safe side,” he repeats, before wading back to the same spot as before. He lifts the phone, and starts taking pictures, looking at them each time.

After the first two, his lips twitch up, and then his smile grows and grows. April watches as he takes ten more pictures, even starting to tilt his head and angle this way and that. Like a normal kid trying to get the best shot for his instagram.

Her heart warms over it.

She’d let him do this all night if she could, but she only has a few hours and she has to get to the other boys, so after a few minutes more she calls out, “Donnie, I think that’s enough.”

“Can I take a few more?” He glances back at her. “This is… fun.”

“I know, but I gotta take pictures of your brothers, too.” She smiles reassuringly. “Once you’re outta here, you can take all the selfies you want, okay?”

He holds the phone tight, considering… but then he comes back to the slot and gently pushes it back to her.

She takes the phone and opens the pictures, flipping through them in order. His smile in the pictures gets wider and wider, quickly taking on that manic, unhinged quality he gets when he gets really worked up about something.

April feels like she likes those selfies the best. He looks most alive. Most like himself. She can’t wait to show these to Splinter.

After all, if he can’t love this kid at his most weird, he doesn’t deserve to be Donnie’s dad.

[twopoppies]

all of the stunts- as someone who has been in the fandom since 2011, witnessed stunts live in action etc- have been so poorly developed and played out it’s an absolute monstrosity how the gp actually believed that. here are just a few examples

haige was, in a brief summary, a pathetic attempt to portray harry as whatever they were aiming for. it was so messy and became toxic on harry’s behalf so sudden it was upsetting to witness. paige was an attention seeking person who wanted to gain a persona- even signed w an agency because of her association. it was all really one big mess, people believed H cheated on L (bffr.), L and Z had a fling in who remembers where they went, H and L were over, done nada. i’m unsure how haige is still being mentioned til this day? photos that magically resurface are just the evidence of the failed ordeal.

elounor was used as a punishment for both of the boys. if they acted a certain way on stage, in an interview, said the wrong thing or was in the wrong place at the wrong time it would result in a pap walk or a new article about how famous singer from 1D was going to propose and have kids with the love of his life!! by the end of the stunt the storyline had been fucked up so consistently that there is no consistency in the actual “relationship”. they were on, then off, then on, then off- gretchen, tina, eleanor, what looked like liam in a wig?? yeahh ok very believable on their behalf sure.

i don’t even want to talk about baby gate. babygate was hell on earth. chaotic, and yet probably resembles a performance by 6 year olds. photoshops, fertility clinic, stolen pictures, instagram accounts created JUST months before ‘F’ was born. paternity tests, L randomly getting a woman pregnant because that’s totally responsible from a guy who’s definitely had more meetings about not doing dumb shit whilst off the clock to keep his boyband image.

anyways, i find it funny how people believe the stunts. the stunts that were so painstakingly obvious. ah, just wanted to rant since all i’m seeing is shit about the stunts ✌️

Bless you. Totally agree. There's absolutely zero effort made to make them consistent or believable because why work so hard when the GP and half the fans believe anything they're told? I don't know why people bring up old shit, and then new fans just freak out, and it becomes the topic of the day.

[sirfrogsworth]

So... I paid $220 to go from this...

To this...

I'm pretty sure that was not worth it.

But good for Dakota. He is an excellent salesman.

Now, my previous tire sensors were wildly inaccurate. Sometimes they were off by over 5-10 PSI. I can't tell you how many times I thought my tires were nearly flat and then I'd bust out my Jaco Elite Digital Tire Pressure Gauge with shop-grade accuracy, a robust stem, and a 360° swivel chuck...

And I'd be like, "Yo Jaco, my dashboard says my left front tire only has 18 PSI!"

And Jaco would be like, "Dude, chill. You're still at 27. You'll be fine. Also, remember that since your brother had to swap out a wheel, your sensors think your left front tire is your right front tire. He said it was a pain to fix and you should just remember which is which and he was sure that wouldn't be confusing in the future."

Narrator: It was very confusing.

If there could be one redeeming result from this, it would be getting those Cadillac-grade super accurate tire pressure readings.

So... let's compare the new fancy $220 pressure sensors to Jaco, who is certified accurate to professional ANSI 2A standards.

*drumroll*

Well slap my patoot and call me a Cadillac.

That's... amazing.

The largest delta was only 0.6 PSI!

I don't know if that meets ANSI 2A standards, but that exceeds FROGGIE 2A standards.

And the left front tire was the left front tire and the right front tire was the right front tire. And I'm sure all of that time I spent training myself to reverse the reading from the front tires will not cause any more confusion.

Narrator: It will.

This means I can actually rely on these readings. I don't actually have to bend over and kill myself trying to stick Jaco onto the little... *brain gears grinding* umm... the tire nipple? The pressure nubbin? The nubbin nipple pressure thingie?

The valve stem!

That's what that's called. The tire nubbin nipple valve stem.

Poor Jaco might end up collecting dust. I'll make sure I remember to press his rapid air bleeder every once in a while to give him some attention.

Narrator: He won't.

Poor Jaco.

In any case, having reliable pressure sensors that save me from bending over does make me feel better. Not $220 better. But better. I mean, having an expensive thing be functional is a low bar, but I am happy it works.

Alright, down to business. Who wants to see some beauty shots of these budget tires that get super hard in the winter?

May I introduce you to the Radar Dimax AS-8 tires.

So fresh and new.

So rubbery.

Those leaves were totally just there. By no means did I kick them in front of the tire to add a pop of color. I have journalistic integrity and I only shoot the truth.

Look at that asymmetric tread on this all season sport touring tire.

Do you want to go sport touring with me?

Is that a thing people do?

Look at how deep that tread is. These babies won't be balding for years.

Let's get closer.

Absolutely cavernous.

I'd even say that tread depth is downright... trenchy.

Like, I'm half expecting an X-wing to fly in there.

If only I knew someone proficient in the ways of Photoshop.

I'm that someone!

[sollucets]

beloveds @khaotunq, @pranink & @alexshenry tagged me to do:

every month of 2023! list your favorite/most popular gifset for each month.

i started making gifs in march this year, so january/february are off the table for this. it's funny that it hasn't even been a full year yet. it seems both somehow a lot longer and also like i remain some kind of photoshop baby at the same time. the images in this post will remain undescribed until i have some energy in my failing body, unfortunately

in any case:

march: midnight museum invades all 2 of my braincells. i download photoshop. the end is nigh

most popular: msp/eclipse pool parallel set

favorite: the bams i made for sof

(notes: it's hard to look back at these lmao. what is coloring and why don't i know her. why is everything so dark. who told me to use noise dithering and why did i ever think that was a good idea. anyway)

april: the eighth sense is airing! i meet many mutuals and friends. i figure out about the curves tool (thank god)

most popular: taehyung getting dunked on

(very deserved dunk; very bad set. the coloring of this scene was extremely questionable and i did nothing to fix it it looks so dull and gray. augh)

favorite: feet lining up / jihyun & jaewon on the beach

i really like this coloring actually. it's bright enough to actually see them, their skin doesn't look as weird, and i like the soft pink i made the beach. a win for baby photoshop user rowan

may: the purple is in full swing now

most popular: purple yok

first set to cross 1k! the purple is still very good but in hindsight there are things i now know i couldve done to help his skin. in any case. a banger. beloved

favorite: pink our skyy 2 hands set

[through tears] you're my space. also my first try at typography

june: i lose the will to gif some in the back half of this month, but i also learn to do a Lot of new things, like gradient maps & more complicated typography and transitions and such

most popular: puzzle piece hugs!

deserved! hard to gif and fun to look at

favorite: i think it might be the heartliming i made for vi now! but i still like khathadome from eden too.

july: i try giffing a few different shows. the only friends trailer comes out on the last day and i enter some kind of terrifying fugue state

most popular: sand and ray fighting / crying in the ofts trailer

do you guys remember the trailer 1080p? life was so good

favorite: nobody appreciates my ride enough

august: only friends airs, eclipse anniversary is concurrent, i lose my mind. i also learn to use the method of brightening that i still use & several other fundamental gif tricks

most popular: sandray car makeout

good for them! i start using significant grain on my ofts gifs from here on out and can never decide how i feel about that

favorite: orange/blue eclipse episode seven set

september: the madness continues

most popular: sand cooking for ray / special

ive giffed this scene three times and this is my least favorite coloring but what can you do. this is my third post to cross 1k

favorite: new rules set! i had mixed feelings when i posted it but it's really grown on me.

october: the madness is so much worse. only friends ends and i am left near-catatonic immediately, apparently. also, i learn to blend and use overlays and some other cool things. i join userdramas :'>

most popular: raysand afterglow. as it should be. cheek kissie

favorite: space girl!! show me the stars!!!

loved making this. purple and sparkly and gay. still super proud. that said other runner-up favorites in october are ray's o-face & the boyfriend shirt & akkaye's thumb thing collection

november: i am left cavernously empty after ofts ends and i fill the void with namtan

most popular: last twilight episode one porjai

she <3

favorite: gaipa userdramas set

again, i learned to use musescore for this set just so i could have those pretty notes. :')

december: i am punched in the face by seasonal depression. all is not well. i made just one gifset this month, but at least it was good? :')

and here we are today !! it was very fun to look over everything; thanks so much for playing and have a happy new year everyone

[salemssimblr]

Hello there! I'm Eden :D I LOVE your renders! I've been rendering for well over a year at this point, however I only stuck to the super basic stuff since it took me a year before that to even know how to do it at all. I've wanted to up my game and get to where you are now. I'm SO SORRY if this question was asked already (I haven't gotten too far in your posts yet), but;

How do you personally edit your renders? I understand you use photoshop, but how do you do it exactly? Your renders have that kind of digital art style, like you drew them yourself. Feel free to be as descriptive or brief as you'd like!

Hi Eden!!! Thank you so much! 🥹😍♥️

I've followed you back and glad we're moots! I'd love to see some of your work!

I'm not sure if I've answered this before but I'm happy to answer it again! Also I haven't advertised it in a while (and I really need to try to get up a new tut, maybe soon), but my alt account is a Render School where I post tutorials, with plans to post editing tutorials in the future!

But honestly as far as my editing, I really don't do much.

Actions are my secret weapon, and I have a few favorites/go-tos I'll link! A few are by simmers and a few are just action sets. I'm in a family of photographers, so I have access to a wealth of resources for my editing.

Sonder set by @intramoon

Cold Water set by @intramoon

Retro Prime photoshop actions

Indie camera photoshop actions

But my "secret weapon," as it were, and the set of actions that I think most helps me accomplish that digital art style is a set of actions that are sadly expensive and hard to find now.

My favorite set is by Totally Rad! and I think in recent years it's been folded in to this Pixel Sugar product on their website. I know that's a steep price point but it's possible you can find it around the corners of the Internet for less, or if you can't, you might be able to find "dupes" of the better ones, which imo are:

Technicolor dream world

Super Fun Happy

Bullet Tooth

Grandma's Tap Shoes

As for my method, I know a lot of simmers paint over their renders, and I've done that a few times but find I'm too impatient tbh. My goal is always to have to do only minor touchups over my renders and some color/vibe adjustments before the finished product. My "raw" files are always exactly what blender spits out for me, unaltered in any way except to resize them for Tumblr.

To get that digital art style, I'd recommend rendering with alpha details if you don't already. If your computer can't handle alpha cc in the game, DM me and I can give you some pointers (sneak peek info for a future tut lmao) on how to accomplish it without bogging down your game.

When I go into photoshop I adjust the brightness and contrast, as I tend to personally prefer high contrast pieces that contain dark subject matter but you can still see the details. Then I'll paint/blur/clone/adjust anything that needs it, then I'll "stack" and adjust a handful of actions before applying edge blur and vignette and any other color adjustments (levels, curves, etc).

That's a very oversimplified rundown of what I do, but really overall my editing process is simple. The bulk of my work happens in blender itself. I find that the more time I take to perfect the lighting and shadows and angles in blender, the less frustrating the editing process and the happier I am with the end result. So, that said, be sure you're spending a lot of time in blender getting the light and shadows to be exactly where you need/want them to be before running it.

I know this is a bit long I'm sorry! If any of it is super confusing or you'd like a more in-depth look at any of it please let me know! I do plan to do editing tutorials for my side blog, but the latter half of this year has kind of run over me like a train, and for now I'm just trying to get by day by day. But I'm happy to help if you have more specific questions!

& thank you again!! ♥️