#canon dial 35

[loraroll]

#film photography #gardenvibes #analog #half frame #35mm film #original photographers #filmcommunity #shootfilmstaybroke #filmphotographers #canon dial 35

[sirfrogsworth]

Lens Calibration Madness

I was doing some more tests comparing my smartphone camera to my DSLR and I noticed in one of them the smartphone looked sharper than my DSLR.

(Smartphone top, DSLR bottom)

This did not compute.

How did a camera with a tiny sensor, half the megapixels, and a tiny plastic lens produce a sharper image?

Then I remembered that 3rd party lenses often need to be calibrated in order to focus properly. Canon is especially bad about restricting information about their focusing algorithms, so companies like Sigma have to reverse engineer everything. With mirrorless cameras they have been able to fix this focusing issue. DSLRs... not so mich.

Unfortunately, my camera has a flippy mirror that gets out of the way of the sensor every time you take a picture. That's the clicking sound most people associate with taking a photo. And since the mirror in a DSLR is a moving part, it will have some variability from camera to camera. And wouldn't you know it, DSLRs use that mirror to focus. If my mirror is even a few nanometers out of alignment compared to the camera Sigma used to create the focusing system for their lenses, I will not be able to get perfectly accurate autofocusing.

It will be good enough for most. But with all of the product photos and macros I do, having perfect focus is pretty critical.

So now I need to spend a couple of hours photographing test targets.

The lens was "front focusing."

You want the depth of field to cover the same distance in front of the 0 as behind. You can see the 1 and 2 at the top are blurry. The goal is to have the 1 and the 1 to be of equal sharpness. Ideally if you put the 1 and 1 next to each other, you wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

This caused a problem when taking a picture of a cylinder, like the flashlight I was using as a test subject. The text at the center of the cylinder was in focus, but the sides were farther away and started getting blurry. All of the in focus area was in the empty space in front of the flashlight.

But, after 20 test shots adjusting the focus correction 1 unit each time, I was finally able to dial it in.

And then when I redid my photos of the flashlight...

Not only was the DSLR much sharper, you can now see the individual lines from the printing process.

I have been using this lens like this for years and now I am wondering how many photos were a smidge out of focus. It's not a huge deal because you have to be zoomed in about 400% to really notice. And it really only affects photos taken less than 2 feet away.

But still, perfectionism is a pretty big trigger for my anxiety so I need to fix this so my brain doesn't melt every time I take a photo in the future.

Unfortunately, the issue isn't resolved with one adjustment.

It requires 16 adjustments.

You set the focal length of the lens to 18mm and take a test picture from 28 cm, 35 cm, 50 cm, and 2 m.

Then you set it to 24mm and do it over again.

Then 28mm.

Then 35mm.

And there is no gaurantee you will fix it with the first adjustment. You could overshoot or undershoot. So you have to keep testing and testing until you drill down and hit the bullseye.

All because Canon doesn't like other companies making lenses for their cameras.

Sigma will actually do the calibration for you, but you have to send them both your camera and your lens and who knows how long that would take.

And I really want to bring my camera to Florida in a few weeks.

So I guess I've got another project aside from my 20 other things I need to get done.

#long post #photography

[norabrice1701]

Twist My Heart - Ch. 2

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

- A TG:M Twister AU -

Series Main List

Also on AO3

Ch. 2 Warnings: Language; discussion of canon character death; tornado chasing drama

Even with guaranteed nationwide wi-fi service, the rural counties still prove a constant challenge. Squinting against hazy sunlight that shafts through the windshield, Bradley stares at the progress bar on his laptop, willing the radar image to update. The supercell to the south has finally started to display favorable indications for a hook echo… but then his internet connection blipped.

He sighs, resting back against the passenger seat headrest as the image continues to load. His eyes drift closed but the release of a semitruck’s air brakes jar his attention. The midday beehive activity of gas stations make them Bradley’s least favorite place to wait out oncoming storms, but their SUV did need refueling. 

Another disappointing glance at his computer screen confirms the ongoing wi-fi struggle, and he looks out the windshield instead. His gaze lands immediately on Hangman’s swaggering form, impossible to miss as he exits the convenience store. A plastic bag swings next to his legs clad in casually well-fitting jeans and his Dagger Labs polo shirt highlights the strong build of his chest. Sunglasses shield his eyes and complement all the attractive angles of his face beneath his stylish blonde hair. He passes a woman who offers him a bashful smile, and he dials his answering grin up to full brilliance. It brings out the dimples that never fail to lend him an air of boyish charm, and… fuck.

“Where the fuck are we?” Fanboy’s voice sounded over the CB radio with distinct displeasure. “Come on, Bob.” 

“You’re on County Road 31 - or should be, at least. Half a mile out, Dagger 3.” Bob responded with calm ease. 

“Tornado is on the ground!” Payback hollered, his excitement palpable through the radio static. “It’s going about 35 mph. North-northeast.” 

Bradley’s heart jumped in his chest as he pressed harder on the gas pedal. Just over the low hill ahead, he watched the black, angry funnel taking violent shape, and the sight made his blood rush. 

Hangman popped the lens cover off his camera in the passenger seat. “Don’t get too close, now. You’ll ruin the shot.” 

“Heaven forbid I come between you and your art.” 

“Damn straight.” 

Bradley turned to cast a passing glance out the passenger window, just able to make out the flashing yellow lights of Dagger 2 approaching from the west. His smile widened as the Dagger Labs team continued to move into position, each fulfilling their field assignments, and Bradley turned his gaze back out out the front windshield. Over the roar of wind and the blaring team radio calls, he heeded the sat nav directions and cranked the wheel on the next road towards Bob’s tracking coordinates. 

“Oh, man,” Fanboy chuckled with raw wonder. “We have an EF2, possibly EF3 with a very large rope on the ground!”

“Shear is 90 knots. Rotation increasing.” Nat reported, all business and calm coolness. “50 outbound, 40 inbound.” 

Bradley’s smile grew as the digital shutter on Hangman’s camera started clicking away. It was an artform that Bradley never understood, but Hangman always found a way to capture breathtaking images no matter how fast Bradley drove. 

“Axis has gone vertical!” Fanboy whooped with joy. “This sucker’s really gaining strength and we’re getting into prime position!”

The promise of victory - of good data capture - rushed a thrill through Bradley as he made the next turn onto a dirt road, tracking the twister’s visual progress relative to the target coordinates. He lived for these moments - with his hair on fire and adrenaline electrifying his senses as the power of mother nature reigned supreme, ripe for scientific exploration. 

The SUV bounced over the uneven, rutted road jarring them both in their seats. Hangman glared over, bracing one hand against the dashboard and trying to steady his camera with the other. “Where the fuck did you turn?” 

“Where’s Bob’s directions said…” 

Hangman turned his gaze out the window suspiciously, staring down at the ground as they jounced. “Are you sure this even qualifies as a road?” 

“It’s got to be.” Bradley answered as he fought the wheel to keep the SUV moving forward in a steady, straight line. “It's probably called something like… ‘Bob’s Road’.”

Hangman barked a sharp laugh that carried a genuine note of amusement as he looked over at Bradley. His cheeks held the flush of excitement and his eyes shone with bright energy as he shot Bradley a smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.” 

Bradley glanced over, blood singing in his veins as the perfect beauty of the moment took his breath away.

Bradley sighs again, pushing the memory aside and hoping to expel more than one type of frustration as he looks back at his computer. The driver door opens, ushering in a gust of gasoline fumes and dust as Hangman retakes his seat. Bradley stays content to ignore him, focusing instead on the progress bar of his radar update. At least until a bag of sour gummy worms lands on his laptop keys.

He’s long stopped being flattered when his coworkers - especially Hangman - remember his snack preferences. It comes with the territory after so many years on the road together.

“I keep thinking that one day you’ll outgrow those, you know.” Hangman’s words deform around the corner of a plastic wrapper clenched between his teeth as he tears it open. “Or do you actually like getting cavities? Or diabetes much?”

Bradley rips the bag open as he glances over at Hangman. The blonde gnaws a bite of beef jerky, and Bradly just arches an incredulous brow before speaking. “And what about you? Hypertension much? Colon cancer?”

The corner of Hangman’s mouth lifts as he waves the snack for emphasis. “At least this has protein in it. Something redeeming.”

There’s plenty redeeming in the gummy candy's sweet and sour flavors that burst on Bradley's tongue, but they're none of Hangman’s business. He doesn’t need to know how they were Goose’s favorite. How Bradley could always find a bag stashed in his desk – sometimes half-eaten, sometimes stale, sometimes unopened – and his dad would always let him have some, even if it was before dinner. He offers a shrug as he pulls more gummy worms out of the bag. “Vice of choice.” 

Hangman chuckles. “And you’re how old? 10?” 

“Beer’s a close second.” 

“Really livin’ on the edge there, Roo.” Hangman deadpans, words distorted as he chews another bite of jerky.

Bradley blinks down at the radar image that’s nearly uploaded before turning back towards Hangman. His elbow rests on the window ledge and the visible swell of muscle has no right to be so appealing. Bradley’s no slouch in the gym, either - the job demands a certain physicality - but something about Hangman’s has always made Bradley’s heart race. “What’s yours, then?” He asks, licking stray sugar from his lips. “What vice makes you so high and mighty?” 

A shit-eating grin grows on Hangman’s face. “Now what’s the fun in just telling you?” 

Bradley shakes his head, swallowing a wave of irritation. “You don’t have to tell me - I can only assume there’s a reason Coyote has lots of tequila stories about you.” And they absolutely, resolutely don’t make Bradley jealous. Not the stories themselves, but Coyote and Hangman’s relationship going back so many years before working together at Dagger Labs. He still doesn't know how or why Mav hired them both - or if they came as a package deal - but they’ve only helped add to Dagger Labs’ prestigious reputation. 

“Stories are just that,” Hangman answers, clearly unimpressed. “Easy to fabricate and easy to exaggerate.” 

He can’t resist arching a teasing brow. “Oh, I’m sure Coyote has photos, though. No self-respecting friend wouldn’t want that sort of embarrassing fodder for a 40th birthday or wedding rehearsal dinner show’n tell.” 

Disgusted disbelief wrinkles Hangman’s face. “If that’s your idea of what being a friend means, Bradshaw, then count me out.”  

“Well, then," he says, hoping his voice isn't suddenly too tight. "Good thing we’re just coworkers.” 

A silence falls in the SUV, broken only by their quiet chewing and the muffled sounds of the gas station around them. The plastic wrapper of the jerky stick crinkles as Hangman polishes off the last bite. “How’s Doppler looking?” 

At least the weather forecast information has finally refreshed. Bradley swipes his finger over the touchscreen. “Looks like that cell south of us has dropped in intensity. Not likely to spawn anything now.” 

“I never hung my hat on that system, anyway.” Hangman says, almost bored. “Not enough stability for the upper wind rotations to form.” 

Bradley doesn’t quite roll his eyes. “You never even saw the data, man.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shoots an adoring look at Bradley over the top of his shades. “Not when you use your words so well, saying such pretty things.” 

Bradley just shakes his head, refusing to look over and hoping that Hangman doesn’t see the tightening muscles of his jaw. In these moments, he hates that he doesn’t have the same instincts. That he’s more data dependent, more prone to think than to act. While it hasn’t failed him yet - in fact, it’s saved his ass on more than one occasion - even Mav has told him that he needs to not think quite so much. 

Maybe he just comes by it too honestly. 

He takes a last mouthful of gummy worms and rolls up the bag, stuffing it into the glove box. With another scan of the forecast data, he glances down at the notebook resting next to the center console and picks it up. If there’s one surefire way to get Hangman to shut up, this is it. 

Nibbling his bottom lip, he starts inking out representative lines for each letter of the word that he's chosen. No matter how many times he’s played Hangman with… well, Hangman, it never fails to transport him back to his grade school days despite the mobile lab equipment around him. 

Hangman chuckles softly as he watches Bradley sketch out a scaffold. “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to play.” 

“Well, I’m done listening to you talk, and you can do what you do best.” 

“Impress you?”

“Win.” Bradley states it like the fact that it is. It’s long stopped being a competition, but Bradley refuses to admit that Hangman’s mastery of the game does impress him. He glances up at Hangman and holds the notebook out for him to study. 

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

A toothpick materializes in the corner of Hangman’s mouth, another of his many talents. “You’re missing the category hint.” 

Bradley mentally kicks himself. He should have remembered that but like hell will he admit it. “That’s not a firm rule, is it?” 

Hangman cuts him with a sly gaze over his sunglasses. “Of course it is. Stop trying to cheat.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts without permission. “Alright - category is ‘thing’.” 

Hangman’s eyes fix on the notebook. “‘T’.” 

Bradley scratches the pen on the page, filling in the blank. 

__ __ __ __ T __ __ __

Hangman’s tongue darts out to tease the toothpick as he cocks his head. “A risk, but one I think’ll pay off – ‘C’.”

Bradley tries to hide his disappointment as he writes out the letter.

__ __ C __ T __ __ __

A triumphant smile brightens Hangman’s face. “You really picked ‘vacation’ as the word? Come on, at least make it a challenge!”

Bradley’s mouth gapes open before he can stop it, staring at the page. “How in the hell? There’s nothing obvious about that!”

“A master never reveals his secrets.” Hangman plucks the toothpick and points it towards the notebook. “Come on, write it out – prove me right.”

With gentle scoff, Bradley shakes his head and moves the pen over the paper.

V A C A T I O N

Despite the fact that Hangman is called Hangman for this exact reason, despite the fact that Bradley has seen Hangman do this countless times, and despite the fact that he’ll never stump Hangman at his own game, it still stirs the competitive part of him. Bradley stares at the blank page for the space of a breath as he tries to summon something clever. Something unusual, something harder - something with two words. 

Carrier pigeon. 

Liking his odds, he inks out lines for the thirteen letters. “Two words, this time,” he clarifies, glancing back at Hangman and holding out the notebook. “Still category ‘thing’.”

Hangman huffs a breathy laugh, scanning around the gas station parking lot before turning his attention back down to the page. “Okay, let’s start with ‘R’.”

Bradley writes out the three R’s on the page and holds his face neutral. Hangman brings the toothpick back to his mouth, rolling the wooden stick between his lips. A grin of recognition starts creeping across his face. “Let’s see if I got it – N.”

With sinking dread and absolute bafflement, Bradley writes the offending letter in the last blank.

Hangman smiles in victory with that damnably obnoxious toothpick pinched between too many teeth. “Carrier pigeon.”

“There’s no… no fucking way.” Bradley shakes his head in disbelief, motioning at the notebook. “There’s just… there’s nothing there…”

“Just because you don’t know the strategy doesn’t mean that there isn’t one.”

Bradley writes out the solution just because he can with another incredulous shake of his head. “Were you a spelling bee whiz kid in school? You must have been, to be so good at this now.”

Hangman’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “God, no. That’s a whole other level of teacher’s pet brown-nosing, do-gooding.”

Truthfully, Bradley can’t ever imagine a young Jake Seresin standing on some stage with a first-place spelling bee ribbon, but it’s something he’s always wondered about. How did the man get so freakishly good at this game? 

Hangman’s eyes meet his even behind the sunglasses, and he misses none of the contemplation happening behind Bradley’s eyes. His brows pinch together with piqued interest. “Wait…” Hangman says slowly, plucking the toothpick from his lips. “Does that mean that you… oh, god, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” 

“What?” Bradley’s face screws with disbelief. “No - I don’t even remember ever participating in a spelling bee.” Quickly, he tries to think of something else to hide the trajectory of his thoughts. “No, I… I was just thinking about the origin of the name ‘spelling bee’.”

“You mean it’s not named after some bee who’s good at spelling?” Hangman’s trademark teasing grin sounds in his voice.

Bradley ignores his stupidly obvious joke. “’Bee’ used to be the common term for a communal gathering – like a quilting bee or an apple bee.”

Silence falls for a beat before Hangman cocks his head in curious thought. “So, then… by that logic, is that seriously how the restaurant chain got its name?”

The image of Applebee’s Bar & Grill logo flashes in Bradley’s mind. His brows furrow as he shakes his head. “Well, it… you know, I have no idea.”

“Dagger 1, come in.” Nat’s voice sounds over the SUV speakers and anticipation bursts in Bradley’s chest. He reaches to unmute the team voice chat. 

“Copy that, Dagger 2.” A smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “Good to hear from you, Phoenix.” 

“Figured someone might need to give you two a break by now.” 

Hangman scoffs indignantly. “Ye of little faith, Phoenix. Things were just starting to get good.” 

“A twenty says you’re wrong.” 

Bradley knows better than to take that bet against Natasha Trace. “Whatcha got?” 

“Major action,” Bob’s voice comes over the speakers. “The cap is breaking. Tower’s going up 30 miles up the dry line.” 

Bradley’s heart leaps in his chest. Nothing else has even come close today. “Where are you?” 

“Near Burns Flat.” 

He reaches for his seatbelt on instinct, hearing Hangman’s also click into place. “And that’s where? North? South?” 

Nat’s voice sounds again. “Bob’s already sent you GPS coordinates.” 

Hangman’s smile widens as the SUV engine roars to life. “That shit gets me hard, Bob.” 

Bradley stares up at the speakers in the ceiling as if seeking forgiveness. “What he means is thank you and we’re on our way. We’ll catch you on CB when we get within range.” 

“Copy that.” 

The chat line mutes as Hangman shifts the SUV into gear, not quite peeling out of the parking space but coming pretty damn close. Bradley jostles in his seat, pulling up the vehicle's sat nav and Bob's coordinates. He arches a disapproving brow over at Hangman as they leave the gas station behind. “No call to be so crude.” 

Hangman doesn’t glance over, focused on the road ahead. “And no call for you to be such a prude.” 

“Not a prude.” Bradley corrects as he pulls up the latest data. “Just not rude. Especially when you know it makes Bob uncomfortable.” 

“He’ll never grow if he’s not pushed outside of his comfort zone, dear.” Hangman sing-songs with a mocking edge. “Though that sounds like someone else we both know, doesn’t it?” 

The barb digs under Bradley’s skin but he pushes it aside. Glancing at the sat nav directions to confirm distance to target, he glances up at the darkening sky. “Just drive or we’ll miss it entirely.” 

Series Main List

Tag List: @redfurrycat

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #hangster #bradley bradshaw x jake seresin #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick au #top gun fanfiction #twister au #twister 1996 #glen powell #miles teller

[downstairsbar]

My request is basically even more problematic craddle robber age difference like I want louis at 19 and lestat still 35. It can either be modern au like louis is a college student and gets an internship over the summer working at lioncourts corp (or better yet its a huge fashion brand and louis is doing some modeling to pay for school) and is seduced by the ceo's playboy son.

or show canon but like in the year 1897 instead i guess lestat shows up earlier and louis is practically a baby debutante and totally a virgin except for his little thing with jonah which just ended cause jonah left for the north and louis had to stay behind cause he's about to start working for his daddy. anyways any scenario where we all about to dial 9-11 on lestat.

hi bb sorry are you the one who tipped me? If so I’m not taking comms yet I was trying to gauge interest and I have like guidelines and stuff if there is interest… if you dm me I can figure out how to send it back to you? 💚

#qs

[gelefacab]

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[tokyo-camera-style]

Totem Pole Photo Gallery, Shinjuu

Bell & Howell Dial 35

#Canon Dial 35 #Bell & Howell #half frame #35mm film #film camera #tokyo #camera style #japan

[g00melo5-art-blog]

Dial 35

Canon

#Dial 35 #Canon #Camera #Photo #60s

[jeanbeaux]

CANDIDS

bertholdt hoover x f!reader

w/c: 1.5k

genre/warnings: modern!au, tooth rotting fluff, author apologizes for any cavities given, Bertholdt is introduced like a haikyuu character post time skip

a/n: This is a part of @peachy-momos​’ 300 follower polaroid collab! I had a lot of fun with it and hope you enjoy, Berty boi is def one of my underrated faves of the AOT universe. Much love to my beta-reader @ivsahi who has now realized shes a bertholdt kinnie.

If you were to ask Bertholdt Hoover, 25, wildlife photographer for National Geographic, what his favorite camera he had used over the years was, the answer would surprise you.

It’s not his father’s old Minolta Maxxum 7000, which he found at age six. He wasn’t even after the camera, just fascinated by the worn leather strap that was peaking out of the shelf in the living room. And so he reached up on his tip-toes and yanked down, sending the rest of the books clattering as the 35 MM SLR fell into his grubby little hands. The crash gave his mother a fright, but her scolding died on her tongue as she saw her son’s steel green eyes light up with fascination as he played with the dials. 

Nor is it the Canon EOS 7D he got on his 10th birthday.  He carried that with him everywhere, taking pictures of him and Reiner on their adventures in the patch of woods beyond his house or the various dogs he saw in his neighborhood. He’s pretty sure his fingerprints have worn into the rubber grip on the side. 

Those cameras started it all for him, and they sit in retirement beside all the shiny DSLRs and focus attachments on the dark cherry floating shelves in his office. With a wall of his room dedicated to computerized gadgets that have let him capture migratory birds in flight and cheetahs mid stride, it’s almost outlandish that Bertholdt Hoover’s favorite camera looked like a child’s toy — for its nothing other than Fujifilm Instax Mini 9.

He still remembers the day you ran into him, quite literally, at the college bookstore, sending his film canisters flying everywhere and your coffee straight on to his weathered flannel. You were babbling apologies as he turned redder, going on about how you must be so blind to not see the literal tower of the human being in your way, hoping to salvage your fumble by treating him to a drink at your favorite cafe on campus.

After an outfit change, he found himself in a booth telling you all about how he’s struggling with color negative film development. You didn’t listen like Reiner does, who always interrupted to joke about how Bertholdt should help him stage his nudes, or even like Annie, who he was pretty sure lets him go on because it’s the perfect form of white noise to her.

Instead, you sat with your head in one hand, nodding enthusiastically and probing him further. You were genuinely interested, someone who made his passion feel appreciated. And that’s what caused that one coffee date to turn into another, and then three months later, you’re in his dorm room presenting him a cream colored polaroid camera with a Cyndaquill charm attached.

“It’s so you can understand the only camera I own,” you said, pulling your own polaroid out of your bag with a smile.

It looked minuscule in his giant hands, the device rotating in his palms as he tried to figure out the settings. “What makes this one so different from the ones I have?” he asked.

“Because you can’t edit the pictures, silly. You’re always fixing the lighting and colors even on your film prints, this just captures everything in the moment. And you can’t reprint them, so each picture is a limited edition Bertholdt Hoover original. See, look!”

Bertholdt’s head shot up after he heard the flash that followed the end of the sentence. He may love being behind the camera, but he still needs some time to be comfortable being in front of it. He was tensing in anticipation as you both waited for the picture to develop, the white square fading to reveal the image of Bertholdt, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out the camera. He looked at ease, in his element.

It was the first candid of himself he ever liked.

“Aw, look at you,” you cooed as you slid the polaroid into your phone case. “Now I think that’s a moment of you worth saving, don’t you agree?”

A year later, he found himself bringing the Polaroid along with him on your dates. You had decided to celebrate your anniversary on Paradis Beach, laying out a red and white checkered cloth on the sand and lounging the day away. The snacks that were spread out on the charcuterie board dwindled as the sun began to dip into the waves; you and Bertholdt both focused on painting pictures of each other.

“And done!” you announced, turning your canvas around for your boyfriend to see. You had splotted it in blue and green, the black line art you drew of his face standing in a striking contrast. The canvas now hangs in the living room of your shared apartment, and you’d later argue that it was your Picasso inspired interpretation of your boyfriend to anyone who notices it at your dinner parties; but in reality, it looked like elongated Wirt from Over the Garden Wall.

“Why did you make me look like Jean?”

“It looks nothing like Jean, the nose is totally different! It’s not my fault you have the same head.”

“Please don’t tell him or show him that, he’ll rope me into his arguments with Eren,” he teased.

“Well, let’s see how well you did then, DaVinci.” You peered over his shoulder in search of his work. The watercolor rendition captured you perfectly — from to the flecks in your irises to the soft upturn of your lips when you smiled.

It looked like it could be one of his pictures. 

“I shouldn’t have agreed to do this with an art major,” you sigh. “Of course your painting would turn out more legitimate than mine.”

“Hey! I never said I didn't like it. And, I’m a Digital and Film Photography major, you know.”

“Tomato, tomah-to,” you stuck out your tongue.

Bertholdt broke out into a laugh as he looked at you, your brows furrowed in mock anger as you pouted back at him. As he saw you with your teal sundress fluttering in the wind, the flyaways of your hair turning golden under the setting sun, he realized that this vision of you was something he wanted to immortalize. And with a soft “look over here, dove” to beckon you gaze towards him, Bertholdt clicks on the shutter, a smile of his own growing behind the camera to match the one you’re beaming at him. He pulls out the film and waits for the picture to appear, and to his chagrin, the camera focused on the sun behind you, the film yielding your silhouette against the orange sky.

He frowned and turned the camera back around, searching for the light filtering settings.

“What are you looking for?” You moved to lay down next to him, your head falling back on his chest.

“The metering adjustment, it keeps focusing on the sun.”

“I don’t think a camera that was meant to be understood by 16 year olds would have anything that fancy,” you snorted, reaching out for the Polaroid to turn the dial to the image of the sun on the rim of the lens. “The solution is more simple than you think, o wise photography major. So smile! Let’s take a selfie.”

Now, Bertholdt finds himself chuckling as he pulls that selfie out of the box containing all the polaroids you had gathered in the three years you had been together. It had turned out horribly, catching only the top half of your face and his chin. It had taken you five tries to get both your heads into the frame, but he decides to hang up all of the pictures on the string in front of him instead of the sole perfect one.

He takes a step back to admire his handy work, the gazebo of the botanical garden he took you to on your first real date now fully surrounded with alternating garlands of your favorite flowers and photo donned fairy lights that were slowly coming to life with the growing twilight.

It was incredible how much that little camera had captured — the Camp Half-Blood halloween costumes, the weathervane like sleeping positions you found him with your cat, the pictures in front in every state sign you ever travelled to and the ones he caught of you cooking in the kitchen.

Your entire relationship filled the little white rectangles that hung from the wooden rafters, and the next step was in the little velvet box in his back pocket.

“So, Bertholdt,” Reiner calls out, “Which one of your fancy cameras am I using to catch the big moment in?”

Bertholdt bends down to rummage for the Polaroid in his camera bag, the cream shell now marred with a few scratches and the Pokemon charm now fading in color. He’s got Annie using the Nikon and Porco on his iPhone for a video, but he knows he can trust Reiner with the most important camera of all.

After all, this is a moment he wants to make sure you both have forever — unedited & irreplaceable.

thank you for reading!!

© all rights reserved JEANBEAUX 2021. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

#bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholt x reader #bertholt hoover x reader #bertolt x reader #bertolt hoover x reader #bertholdt x you #bertholt x you #bertholt hoover #bertholt hoover fluff #bertholt hoover headcannons #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fluff #snk fluff #bertholdt hoover x you #hanimehub

[loraroll]

Budapest Aliz Aurora 2022

#half frame #analog #film photography #photographers on tumblr #canon dial 35 #ishootfilm #shootfilmstaybroke #analog photography

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 35

💖first time reader click here💖

Reader and Eddie going on their mission. They're all morons, okay? Some canon-typical violence, bad guys being bad guys. You guys can see that I treat the fighting plot points as total crack, right?

Eddie Brock was pissed, at the Avengers mostly - for not telling him of my accident - but also at me, for the fact that I didn't call him sooner. Venom had taken over at some point, eager to participate in my plan - and it I was being honest, my uncle's space boo was the one I had relied on to participate in the mayhem that was to be caused to finally let my family breathe in peace.

The Avengers wore various expressions of guilt when an angry Eddie stormed the tower, berating them for not getting into contact with him when I was in danger. Venom growled at them, too, just the right amount of teeth and drool for Tony to quickly usher me out to 'take a walk, have some fun, build a snowman' with uncle Eddie and Venom. It was almost too easy, too predictable. The guilt that reared it's ugly head was stomped down by me and two glasses of whiskey in Eddie's rented Airbnb as I went into the fine details of my plan.

Both I and Eddie were equally surprised when Venom dropped their sarcastic, angsty teenager attitude and approached the topic with maturity, giving valuable input. The goth space goo was much, much smarter than their first impressions showed. I belatedly remembered their remark about being an apex predator species... Scary.

The plan was pretty simple.

Eddie was a professional investigative reporter and an unregistered mutant, his files being hidden so deeply due to the alien nature of the symbiote that it was unlikely that underground gangs would have any idea as to who he truly was. His involvement with SHIELD was buried under so much red tape, even Coulson himself had very little idea about Eddie's body-mate.

My uncle would sniff around the mutant underworld, just enough to catch a whiff of the mercenary's whereabouts. It should be enough if he was as famous as Natasha claimed him to be. And if it wasn't enough... I'd be bait. I doubt that the merc knew the box has been retrieved and secured; every now and then, I still caught chatter about the SHIELD agents trailing me catching a person sent to monitor me. They weren't even trying to hide that hard.

I had my suspicions SHIELD was indirectly using me as bait, too, and both Eddie and Venom were inclined to agree with the notion. Over beers and ridiculous amount of chocolate cake, a third side of the operation Baby Thief had been formed. SHIELD played their own game, the Avengers and SI threw a ridiculous amount of resources on their own and then there was me and Eddie, two halves of a whole idiot.

For once, the plan didn't go south immediately off the bat. Eddie and Venom got the information - there was a lot of uproar in the mutant community, rumours about an artifact that would let them assume their rightful place in the world, pushing the pesky humans off their pedestal. I definitely supported mutant rights - but the common notion that violence was necessary to achieve the recognition of said rights didn't sit well with me at all. Eddie agreed with me, his own curiousity pushing him to dig deeper into the situation.

My uncle could be a brilliant investigative reporter with the proper motivation and his significant other at the side. I could never tire of Venom's stories: each and every time they saved Eddie from making a clown out of himself was remembered, documented and brought up at the quickest available opportunity. I haven't laughed so hard in months.

The positives of our plan? We got a hot trail and enough information to know about the mercenary's whereabouts. We possessed the manpower needed to off him in record time, Venom eagerly offering his digestive system for our convenience.

The negatives? We'd need to bring me. Apparently there was a hefty bounty on my pretty little head and the merc himself had given up trying to chase me, hiring a bunch of muscle to do the legwork for him instead. The mercenary, a man who went by the nickname Cadre, was an ex-shield agent, who knew enough to successfully avoid the organisation following hot on his heels.

And neither SHIELD, nor Tony nor Eddie knew who had ordered the retrieval of the artifact. The mysterious person had deep pockets: all of the men were supplied with high grade weaponry and the mutants participating in the missions had equipment specifically tailored to their powers.

Perhaps, I wasn't as clever as I wanted myself to be. There was something big and ugly brewing and the bounty on my head was just the tip of the iceberg. But what was done, was done, and Venom was looking forward to a hefty meal and we set the date of Eddie "kidnapping" me in a few days time.

I hoped I'd make it home for Christmas.

The biggest surprise was that nobody suspected anything. Not even Natasha's watchful eye and inherent knowledge of shit about to be stirred - somehow, Nat always just knew those things - had revealed itself and that's how I knew it was absolutely necessary for me to be successful. There was no room for failure. In the day before my planned trip to Cadre's lair, I forced the team into a movie night and took extra time with everybody, seeing as even the most cheerful people - Thor and Wanda - walked around with sullen faces for most of the time. Perhaps, deep down, I knew that chances of my plan going awry were pretty damn high.

It felt like I was leaving for war. And perhaps, I was. The nervous, anxious energy increased as the hour X drew closer and I couldn't hide it anymore. My insomnia wore Tony's face: I could see his disappointment as clear as day, but I figured he'd forgive me for the betrayal eventually. Every single thing I hid from my newfound family made me feel a traitor. Unfortunately, there was simply no other option.

That afternoon, Eddie picked me up from the tower and drove me to one of the hideouts that belonged to Cabre. He'd tied my hands together and blindfolded me, all for show of course, whilst Venom briefly connected with my body to induce a drowsy state of mind. I didn't actually mind to be drugged and was way more wary of the symbiote's effects on my body but the space pudding extended his tentacles so quickly, I barely had the time to even swear at them.

To my (and their) surprise, it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. In my hazy state, I briefly head Venom growl that I could be a decent short-term host if something would to happen with Eddie; I did not know how that information made me feel but did not disregard it completely. I was out of my depth on this one yet marched on towards the danger with grim determination.

"Here's the girl," Eddie's voice penetrated through the curtain of chemicals that Venom had dosed me with; I was tossed none too gently on what felt like a mattress, the landing haphazard but not painful. Venom must've dulled my pain receptors, too. "Where's our money?"

I was unceremoniously groped, my face examined by a man with ice-cold hands. Whatever he found, he deemed it satisfactory. "I'm impressed," He whistled. "We've been trying to get her for months. Care to share how you achieved this?" The strange man sounded suspicious.

"WE HAVE OUR OWN TRICKS," Venom's deep voice filled out the room like thick smoke and I just knew that the man who had been groping me was twitching in discomfort. "SO?"

"Alright, alright," The man mumbled, voice unsteady. My drowsiness slowly began to recede and I finally could focus my eyes somewhat; Eddie was partially obscured by the writhing, onyx mass of his symbiote and the man was dialing up the phone, speaking in a rapid-fire dialect I did not know. "Cabre will be here in an hour. Care for a beer?" Just like that, the man was obviously attempting to placate Eddie.

"HOT CHOCOLATE," Venom announced flatly and I had to struggle to hold back my laughter at the image of a seven feet tall tentacle monster sipping hot cocoa from a tiny porcelain cup. My nerves had me feeling ten types of way, as usual, and props to Ven making me unable to speak. I would have already killed myself by running my mouth ten times over.

The hour passed by with me floating in my mindsphere, Eddie loudly playing Candy Crush on his phone and Venom consuming ridiculous amounts of hot chocolate. It was absurd and the eerie calm was beginning to make me suspicious; I had expected... More. Threatening thugs with guns, experiments, blood tests and physical violence. Instead, the man who met with Eddie was sitting with a vacant, bored expression as he practiced card tricks in the corner furthest away from Venom.

Finally, a knock on the door forced all of us to pay attention to the newcomer. It was a tall, massively built man in his early forties. His face was covered in scars, narrow red lines that looked like small cuts; one of his eyes was completely black while the other was blue. He looked like the man at the coffee shop but at the same time, nothing like him at all.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," His voice was low and quiet. If not for the heavyweight weapon hanging over his shoulder, I would have considered him to be one of those men who only look threatening but actually are gentle giants. With steps too quiet for a man his size, he approached me, crouching down to look me in the face. "Hello, child. I've been looking for you for a long time. It's a shame we had to meet this way," He removed the strands of hair sticking to my face. For all purposes, his touch could have been considered fatherly. "Richard, bring the money." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man who was babysitting me and Eddie and he promptly disappeared behind the steel door.

"Hello," Eddie briefly shook his hands with Cabre after the merc left me alone. I noted Venom had disappeared into the reporter's body completely. "We are Venom," Eddie introduced himself (they introduced themselves?).

"Cabre," The Merc watched my honorary uncle with a sharp eye, taking note of Eddie's lack of weapons, his worn clothes and the shaggy hair, the bags under his eyes. "Tell me, Venom, what do you know of this child?"

"Not much," Eddie shrugged, convincingly. "Just that the Avengers picked her up for some reason and locked her up in Stark's tower. We're guessing she didn't like it much 'cuz she kept sneaking out and trying to shake off the tail. Had to go through quite a few SHIELD agents to get to her," Just like we agreed, Eddie spoke with slight disdain towards Tony and SHIELD, making sure to let Cabre believe he was on the mutants' side. "We just need the money, man. Not many people will hire us," To top it up, Eddie spread his arms, showing his skin ripple and move on it's own prominently under his ratty t-shirt. Atta boy!

Cabre appeared to have bought the lie, chuffing sympathetically, before pulling out a tablet and typing on it. "Well, not for long. My superiors have found an artifact that, if unlocked properly, will render most of the technology suppressing mutant powers useless. They won't be able to get rid of us that easily anymore."

Eddie nodded eagerly, for all purposes appearing to be ecstatic about the news. "Yeah, heard some rumors here and there. Well, you and your superiors know where to find me. I could always go with some extra cash," He scratched his head, carefully watching Cabre's fingers dance on the keyboard. "What's the kid got to do with it anyway? Seems like an ordinary spoiled brat to me," Eddie threw me a look, blinking twice. The fatigue and wariness, courtesy of Venom, had begun to recede quite some time ago; with Eddie's signal, I knew the shitshow was about to start very soon.

Eddie was smart, however, finding out the bits of information SHIELD hadn't bothered to disclose to me. The residue that the cursed box had left in me was removed, so I could not understand why SHIELD was still guarding me. There had to have been another reason, a reason that neither of us knew for sure.

Cabre paused his typing. "We've been watching her for years. She's a genius. We were hoping she could help us solve a few problems..." The merc paused to rub the bridge of his nose. "We tried to get her to come willingly but her parents forbade her from it. My superiors suggested to use the artifact but something malfunctioned." For all purposes, Cabre was looking apologetic. "I am not overly fond of kidnapping children but some things just need to be done." With that, the man turned around, landing his eyes on me. "Glad to see you're up and about." Something about his smile was unnatural, forced, malicious.

"Charmed to meet you," I sat up, dazed and confused about the turn of events. The things he was saying, they didn't add up. I hadn't received any requests for my participation in ANY kind of project, illlegal or not. No scholarships, no internship offers. Something was very, very wrong.

As soon as Cabre's back was turned, Venom enveloped Eddie, turning themselves into the seven feet tall outer space monstrosity I had seen on the first day. Their combined form was terrifying - but Cabre's fingers merely twitched at the rapid change of the situation as he took slow steps towards me. "Hmm," His voice still quiet, he once again crouched in front of me. "You fought us off once but we are many. There is nowhere to run, child," Cabre's eyes began to darken, his speech turning flat.

I recognized the speech pattern, recalled the expressionless, vacant face that stared at me. Cabre was infected with the Legion from the cursed box; I hadn't prepared for that, hadn't even regarded that, thinking the little epic speech the demon had given me was a mere intimidation tactic. Fear bloomed within me, opening it's jaws like a hungry Venus flytrap but I refused to succumb to it, clenching my fists against the waves of paralyzing terror.

Venom made a confused growling noise behind me, extending a tentacle to push Cabre away; with a sickeningly wet splat, their whole form collided with the opposite wall, sliding down it like a puddle of misshapen goop. "MORSEL, GET OUT." The symbiote growled, reforming itself back.

"Silence, beast!" Cabre shrieked, unstrapping his weapon and aiming it at Venom. No bullets came out as he pressed the trigger but my ear started ringing, eyes watering as the whole form of the symbiote began to morph and ripple. Pained groans and whines came from them. A sonic gun?

"Screw you, man," I attempted to draw Cabre's attention to myself by kicking out a leg towards the gun, disrupting his arm briefly. Things were going to shit faster than a party full of teenagers and alcohol. "Fuck you, listen, FUCK YOU!" I knew antagonizing people was my best skill and that's what I did, figuring the time needed for Venom to reassemble themself could be acquired if Cabre was pissed off enough at me.

The backhand hurt, not going to lie. I saw stars from that one sloppy hit the possessed merc delivered to my face. The adrenaline rush allowed me to stay somewhat coherent and just like that time when I was trapped in my nightmares, I dove for Cabre, winding myself around him as both of us landed on the floor in a heap of limbs.

Despite my best hopes, Venom remained a puddle of black on the floor. I saw something shiny attach itself to Eddie's chest; apparently that something prevented them from combining into one again. My smaller size proved to be a great advantage; I remembered Venom's words about being a suitable short-term host and with a shriek, I placed my palm into the nearest piece of symbiote I could reach, my vision being obscured by blackness a second later.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you

[lyfeward]

( enable my rambling // always accepting ) @sunlilted​ WROTE: Can Amis 'sense' mage gift or those touched by spirits? Does he feel differently when around rifts / places where the veil is thin? Are there places he Won't venture into at a?

HE CERTAINLY CAN SENSE MAGIC in others and those touched by spirits as well as enchanted or otherwise arcane objects. He’s had a connection to spirits since he was a child, and that was fostered by his forays into spirit healing and the overall school of spirit magic. (And in general, one who studies the arcane / an aspect of the arcane will better recognize its signs.) Dying and coming back has shifted his relationship with the arcane somewhat. Not in an overt way but subtly, in a way that’s almost impossible to describe. He’s certainly a mage, but he can’t really be called mortal anymore. One consequence of this is a heightened awareness of spirits, the flow of the Fade, people’s mana (something that was not possible until he died), arcane energies — it was overwhelming when he first came back, especially while he was in the Grand Necropolis. The Veil is very thin there, and there is all manner of spirits, spells, wards, other arcane happenings at all times. But, I digress. Basically, you take an already arcane sensitive mage, dial it up to eleven, and break the knob off.

          This does cause some problems. Being in places where the Veil is thin or torn, where there is a high concentration of spirits, and/or where there is a high concentration of arcane energy can cause the equivalent of sensory overload. It’s not a 1:1 comparison simply because his relationship with his body is different; it’s really more of a vessel these days. Still, that’s the closest comparison. It becomes difficult to focus; there is too much demanding his attention. He becomes restless and uncomfortable and stressed, wanting to escape this environment. He might become hyperaware of details of his surroundings and overly sensitive to them. How bad it gets really depends on how intense the exposure is and how long he’s exposed. He does regularly enter places with a high death toll to tend the forgotten dead, and those areas typically have a thin Veil and/or high spirit population. He can handle it, but it’s rather like constantly hearing 35 different conversations all directly in his ear vying for his attention. He needs some time to decompress after, not to mention the emotional toll of preparing so many pyres.

          As for rifts specifically, I haven’t figured out all the details of how the Breach and rifts affect him. It’s difficult because reasonably they would and quite strongly, but canon never addresses this. We don’t get a proper look at how it affects Cole or any of the mages, so it’s all guesswork. One idea I do have hammered out is that facing off against rifts basically overloads him. Direct access to the Fade like that makes him damn near op during the fight, but as soon as the rift is sealed, it’s all sucked away. He is out of commission for some time after as he recovers. It is not an enjoyable experience and is risky as he relies on his magic to survive. Please imagine this sound effect playing.

          As for where he won’t venture at all . . . He doesn’t take unnecessary risks. If he can sense the Veil is thin or torn somewhere, if he can sense that there’s Something Wrong, and it isn’t necessary to enter, he will avoid it. The temple of Dirthamen is a good example. The Blackmarsh is as well. He absolutely will not go near the Temple of Sacred Ashes while the Breach is open; I imagine even Haven is iffy at times. But, he will enter Kinloch Hold during DA:O, for example, because people’s lives are on the line. He will enter Chateau d’Onterre again because people’s lives might be on the line. There has to be a need.

#sunlilted #META / HC: PRIMARY.

[loserchildhotpants]

writing asks if you want 5, 7, 8, 12, 16, 18, 23, 34, 35

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

Probably my Star Wars series Not About Angels - it was an enormous project, and I should probably quality check it someday soon, but it really is gigantic lol it's like 303k words uhhhh idk i'll get to it sometime

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Honestly, I struggle most with conveying the feelings I mean to convey. Idk if it's my autism or my dissociative disorder, but something about how i experience emotions seems, to other people, not un-relatable, but like... augmented? Or distorted? I find that neurotypical people find my prose to be very purple, but i genuinely don't mean for that, and it's hard for me to dial it back.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

My OC's, but that's a given; Stiles of Teen Wolf, Spock of Star Trek, General Hux of Star Wars, Dean of Supernatural, Richie of IT, Helga of Hey, Arnold!

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

slkdjhfsdjkh okay, so i'm working on my first original series, but that's not like a fic WIP, so i'll stick to fics - a fic series i'm plotting out is a canon-divergent destiel fic series where Season 6, Cas opens up purgatory, but he's saved at the end, but he's still Dark Side and wooed onto Lucifer's side, and it's up to Team Free Will to get Cas back on their side w the power of friendship and whatever skjdhfdkj i am actually excited abt the idea

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

not really lol i read weird stuff! i actually consider myself p vanilla when it comes to fic, but i just don't feel like folks need to feel guilt about pleasure, especially when it's fiction?? i'm probably middle of the road in weirdness levels of what i like reading, but like, i'd be HARD PRESSED to feel bad abt it lol

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Wildest??? idk lol i don't write crack or anything, but i did write an entire, plausible stand-up comedy routine for Richie in my fic The 'Do Not Fucking Touch Me' Tour that was p wild of me lol

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Hmm. I really love getting prompts - prompts often spur on independent ideas, so i think probably that. Challenges intimidate me a lot, it can often feel like a competition, and i don't think i like that. or at least, i don't think i make my best work like that. Probably prompts

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

He doesn't have a home now, he has no plastic radio, no sleepover, no hammock - he has a place he lives, and he doesn’t care about it, he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t get it, and if he felt fine about not getting it, the way he did about the radio being out of place, or everyone laughing when he didn’t expect them to, or no traffic striking him down on his fucking bike in the middle of the road, or Eddie’s leg pressing up against him like Eddie wanted it that way - it would be home somehow, but it isn’t home.

His bare feet pad through the floor-plan in the same old patterns, a mental patient in a ward of his making, his brain digs and grinds down the same old grooves like a bored index finger hypnotizing its owner by sliding sand around on the beach in a spiral, over and over, his calloused hands trace the outlines of the same old fears, while he lives alone, and regrets the same old regrets.

His apartment has a beautiful view, and lots of natural light, which used to be something he didn’t care about, but now he does, he guesses, because he notices it. God, it’s like Locked-In Syndrome, being stuck inside his fucking apartment.

He charts his behaviors, in a way - he spends a lot of time, standing in front of that painting, wondering if he’s meant to be happy, or sad, or anxious when he looks at it, unsure of what it means, if it means anything at all, and he drinks too much, until his thoughts are slithering, slippery, disappearing over the precipice of barbed cliffs, taking ill-advised turns as all that natural light pooling in his living room turns polluted and dark, looping round, and round like a housefly against a window, his thoughts a dog chasing its own tail.

(an excerpt from my WIP Without Anything - i actually really like how that writing has come out so far)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

slkhjdf i don't know!! there's so much i could say!! i love writing fic and i'm sad that i don't get as many prompts and stuff here as i used to ; ___ ; i wanna interact!!!!

@letskzuniverse thank you so much for sending me asks!!! ; A ; sldkjhfsdkfhj

#letskzuniverse #ask #my stuff #long answer #thank u ; __ ;

[the-golden-ghost]

Here’s more questions about Zenigata/Jigen (because I need to know more about this ship! Haha)

8, 19, 23, 25, 26, 35, 37, 38

(If some questions are difficult or too many to answer, feel free to select the few :))

All right here we go! :D

8. - What do they like best about their partner?

What does Jigen like about Zenigata? He's a good man, determined, dedicated, keeps them on their toes. He's got enough Bastard Mode in him to be interesting but enough goodness and moral standing to be admirable and trustworthy in a pinch. Handsome as hell, too, apparently

What does Zenigata like about Jigen? He's got a kind of warmth to him that isn't readily apparent unless you know him well, his laugh is infectious and if you really need him, he'll be there, no doubt about that.

19. - What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?

Well mainly they fight about whether or not Lupin should be allowed to steal lol

Also the damages Jigen has inflicted on virtually every vehicle in the squadron. Multiple times

In reality I don't think they'd fight that much? They're enemies by design and they know where they stand. I guess I can see Zenigata going into Cop Mode and setting a trap for them and Jigen being like "hey you BASTARD I thought we had something" but Zenigata would pretty much shut that down, cause they don't, and Jigen should remember well that they don't.

But then later he has to still worry that Jigen hates him forever now :(

23. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

Hugs: Only ever in private. But when Jigen hugs, he hugs hard and doesn't easily let go. And Zenigata, when he calls Jigen over after he thought the gang were all killed in a plane crash and wants to see him alive and well, hugs him tight and with relief and affection that surprises them both.

Kiss: Again, private only. Jigen will try to slip one in on a heist, a quick peck on the cheek or mouth or shoulder, wherever he can grab without being noticed by anyone. But when they ARE alone and no one will interrupt them, they kiss fiercely like lovers, and gently, like enemies.

Tease: Zenigata's surprisingly good at this one. Jigen can keep up. They've been sharpened by years of bantering back and forth; Zenigata with Lupin, Jigen with his partners. Alone, Jigen will lightly entice Zenigata, playing around with his physical desires by not giving in to them until he's absolutely certain he wants it.

Flirt: It's done quietly. Jigen pressing a hand against Zenigata's back for a split second as he passes by, or catching his eye just for a moment, long enough to give him a look that they both know exactly what it means. Anything to get the officer who's chasing them down a little bit out of his comfort zone, right?

Comfort: This is hard since they rarely turn to the other for it. But Zenigata, on a night when he's plagued by doubts about his legacy and standing in his career and his advancing age and whether or not he's really done anything worthwhile in his life, might find Jigen offering him a cigarette and just leaning against him, listening quietly. Jigen's never had a career or a legacy but he can listen. And Jigen, when he needs a moment away from the people he's too tangled up in, when he has something stuck in his mind that he can't tell them because they're all so close and he just needs to get away, he knows where he can turn.

25. - How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

The aren't together very often. I think in the fic I'm writing they're only together once, at least alone, as lovers. Potentially I could see a situation where they have a few ongoing trysts. But it wouldn't ever be anything serious or long-lasting.

They're open about some things. They can do that with each other because they don't have to live together, and in spite of being enemies, there's trust, because neither one is the kind of man to really betray something personal or use it for gain. Other things, things that they feel would put the other in some kind of moral quandary about revealing, they will keep to themselves.

26. - How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Bold of you to assume Zenigata has friends or family :(

His coworkers don't know, of course. If they did it would be disastrous, a scandal.

Jigen's friends and family are one and the same, his partners. I think they tease him about it but they don't begrudge him this. Mostly they're like "so how'd you do it, huh? What's your secret?" and make fun of him for being a tramp, like "wow, Jigen, three boyfriends?!" even after his insistence that he and Pops aren't lovers in that way.

35. - Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

Neither? I think they don't change each other that much. However they are when they're together reflects how they are at any given time. Zenigata wouldn't be a better man for Jigen, nor would he be a worse one. And vice versa. It's just a "what you see is what you get" situation.

Their fatal flaw may well be the fact that Lupin is ALWAYS going to be the third man in their relationship. That and their opposing sides. Eventually (in theory) they'd come to a point where they end up having to stop just because they realize they can't really trust each other, never could.

37. - How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

OH this is a fun one... let's see...

Jigen has been canonically willing to sacrifice their loot to save Zenigata (and convinced Lupin to do so). I can also see him putting himself on the line to back Zenigata up in certain circumstances. Like if Jigen and the gang get free but Zenigata's still trapped, Jigen might go back in. I know Lupin's done this but Jigen may well do it too.

He wouldn't sacrifice his life or his friend's lives, though. If it's between his partners and Zenigata they'll still come first.

Zenigata... I can see a few situations with him:

A scenario where he's arrested Jigen but Lupin is still in danger and Zenigata knows Jigen can save him. I think he'd set Jigen free. Granted that's more for Lupin's benefit but I can picture it

A scenario where he's found Jigen after he's been captured/injured somehow and initially takes advantage of his weakness to arrest him but has a change of heart and leaves him in the hands of his partners instead.

A scenario that's a reversal of the above, where he could save Jigen's life but would have to let Lupin go free in order to do it. That would be much more of a sacrifice for him!

What wouldn't he sacrifice? His position as an officer of the law, his life, and most of his morals, of course.

38. - What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

From what I've written so far for that one fic, Zenigata's very willing but also just kinda hung up on the whole "this guy's untrustworthy and a bastard and he's the wrong guy and I don't want him, I want his partner and also he's a criminal :( " so he's hesitant due to all that. Jigen's just excited and curious and SO in the moment he's just like YEAH LET'S GO and has to keep dialing it back because Zenigata's being cagey about it.

Eventually Jigen manages to soften him up and entice him enough that they can enjoy it. I think Jigen's pretty good at that; experienced, and he's been with a LOT of different people in a LOT of different situations so he can respond to whatever it is his partner needs in the moment. Like he can pace himself, slow down, be passionate and intense or back off a little and be gentler if that's what the situation calls for. He'd rather be intense though lbr

As for kinks idk, I think Zenigata uses those handcuffs for more than just making arrests, I'm just not sure how much Jigen would be into that. I guess if he ever tries it they'll find out

#Lupin III #long post #this one was so much fun! thank you! :D

[haya-bs]

額装少女(ゾンビランドサガ)

Canon(Bell &Howell) DIAL 35-2

#ゾンビランドサガ

[postpunkindustrial]

Halloween Season: Halloween Mixes

(Evil Nine)

A VHS Halloween mix from Evil Nine

Horror tracks and obscure cuts

1. Canon company VHS logo 2. Blast him – Jay Chattaway ( Maniac ) 3. The revelation – Giovanni Cristani ( Lucio Fulci’s 4. Intro Music – Luigi Ceccarelli ( Rats , Night of terror ) 5. Helicopter – Howard Shore ( scanners) 6. Dialogue from the Bell of Hell 7. Elena & Evil Lessons – Goblin & Stelvio Cipriani ( Ring of Darkness ) 8. Out of the heat – Tangerine Dream ( Firestarter ) 9. Main titles – Robert J. Resetar ( White Phantom ) 10. Mark Knopfler Guitar w/ Dialogue ( Rage of a Ninja ) 11. Light Blast montage – Guido & Maurizio De Angelis ( Light Blast ) 12. Subway terror – Jay Chattaway ( Maniac ) 13. Cruel Demon – Claudio Simonetti ( Demons ) 14. A Dive into the past II – Nico Fidenco ( Zombi holocaust ) 15. Dialogue from Mausoleum 16. Willow’s song – Paul Giovanni ( The wicker man ) 17. Or is it ? – Fred Myrow & Malcolm Seagrave ( Phantasm ) 18. Awaiting the Ogre – Simon Boswell ( Demos III : The Ogre ) 19. Dialogue from Mausoleum 20. Corridor – Simon Boswell ( Ghosthouse ) 21. Virus – john Scott ( Insemenoid ) 22. Opening titles – Thomas Chase & Steve Rucker ( 976-Evil ) 23. Gaze ( with dialogue ) – Charles Bernstein ( Daddy’s Deadly Darling (Pigs)) 24. Snooping 2 – John Hodian ( Girl’s school screamers ) 25. Bela Lugosi’s Dead – Bauhaus 26. Dialogue & Fx from Cannibal Hookers 27. Finale – Jerry Moseley ( Bloodtide ) 28. Dialogue from Hands of steel 29. Gorodish – Vladimir cosma ( Diva ) 30. Monika by the sea – Mark Reeder ( Nekromantik ) 31. Roll in the hay with dialogue – Mathew Morse ( Ninja Vengeance ) 32. See anything you like with dialogue – John Carpenter ( Halloween ) 33. Synth 4 ( FX ) – Pino Donaggio ( the Howling ) 34. Madness outside – John Carpenter ( In the mouth of madness ) 35. Dialogue from Chains 36. Opening titles – Claudio Simonetti ( You’ll die at midnight ) 37. Sequence 5 – Fabio Frizzi ( Zombi 2 ) 38. Blood Sabbath with dialogue – Les Baxter ( Blood Sabbath ) 39. Zombie Parade – Nico Fidenco ( Zombi Holocaust ) 40. In the bedroom – David Lynch – Music & Effects By Tractor ( The Grandmother ) 41. Video Violence Main titles – Gordon Ovsiew ( Video Violence ) 42. Nikki’s choice II Theme iv – Simon Boswell ( Graveyard Disturbance ) 43. Opening Titles / Confession Of Mary Lou Maloney (Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II) – Paul Zaza & Carl Zittrer ( Prom night 2 ) 44. Worms on the sand – Claudio Simonetti ( Dial Help ) 45. Looking for Monica “ Breakfast “ – Simon Boswell ( Dinner with a Vampire ) 46. New Shipment – Michael Sahl ( Blood Sucking Freaks ) 47. Finale – Kevin Bassinson ( Chains ) 48. The Valley – Goblin ( Phenomena ) 49. High Wall – The Wailers ( Halloween instrumentals ) 50. Bus Station – Tangerine Dream ( Near Dark ) 51. Robots at the factory – John Carpenter & Alan Howarth ( Halloween III ) 52. Dialogue from Cannibal Hookers 53. Rod Hanged – NIght Stalking – Charles Bernstein ( A Nightmare on Elm Street ) 54. Fire Leap – Paul Giovanni ( The Wicker Man ) 55. Cue w/Dialogue – Mark Snow ( Dolly Dearest ) 56. Dialogue from Panic 57. Halloween 2 – The Splash band 58. The boogie man is coming – Dialogue ( Halloween ) 59. Shop Territory – Tangerine Dream ( Firestarter ) w/ The next episode ( accapella ) – Dr Dre & Snoop 60. Main Titles – Fuzzbee Morse ( Ghoulies II ) 61. Day of the reaper – Sean Ruddy ( Day of the reaper ) 62. Fear 22 – Franco Mannino ( Murder Obsession , Follia Omicida ) 63. Inferno – Keith Emerson ( Inferno ) 64. Impending – Claudio Simonetti ( Opera ) 65. Dialogue from Video Violence 66. The Cat / Rita (with Dialogue) (The Grim Reaper) – Marcello Giombini ( Anthropophagous, The Beast (Antropophagus, Man-Eater, ‘The Grim Reaper’) ) 67. London Dungeon – The Misfits 68. Human Fly – The Cramps 69. Illusions 1 – Paul Osborne 70. Jana Bate’s interview dialogue from The Last Horror Film 71. Zombie Parade 2 – Nico Fidenco ( Zombi Holocaust ) 72. Track 3 ( Excerpt ) – Chuck Cirino ( The Return of the Swamp thing ) 73. Ceremony ( Dialogue & FX ) – Michael Sahl ( Blood Bath ) 74. Main Title ‘Paint Her Mouth’ (from Death Wish) (Within The Woods) – Herbie Hancock ( Death Wish ) 75. House of clocks dialogue & FX – Vince Tempera ( House of Clocks ) 76. End Credits – Vince Tempera ( House of Clocks ) 77. Sea within a sea – The Horrors 78. Dialogue from Halloween 79. End credits w/Dialogue – Stephen Tsang ( Bionic Ninja ) 80. Vestron Pictures Logo

#SoundCloud #music #Evil Nine #Horror #Halloween #Soundtrack #VHS #halloween mix #halloween mixtape #halloween mixes #mix #mixtape #mixes #harror mix

[tomoike2525]

Canon DIAL 35