#why are they so far apart why is the camera quality grainy

[presdestigatto]

its actually evil how low quality and unqueerbaity the hourglass challenges are compared to modern day c2 challenges

#why are they so far apart why is the camera quality grainy #a girl needs more than charles’ uncontrollable giggles / ‘du hast schöne augen’ & ‘let’s start by holding hands’ to live #how anyone looked at charles’ silly giggly face and puppy dog eyes and still believed they hated each other is beyond me #sebchal #bring them back 🧍‍♀️

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part seven)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope and the slowest, slow burn I swear)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven.

---

A tense knot has formed right between Leon’s shoulder blades – can feel it pull when he tilts his head side to side, but it doesn’t seem to be loosening. Can’t even blame it on sleeping on the sofa cos he hasn’t laid down to sleep since the call with Hunnigan, stays sat up right. He’s athletic, he can jump up to his feet from horizontal but it’ll add a second or so to his reaction time and he’s not taking the risk.

He's on edge and he doesn’t like it. The ball of anxiety in his gut has saved his life more times than he can count, but it shouldn’t be necessary in this situation, should it? He’s set up in a safe house, literally off some beaten track in the middle of nowhere – location chosen and distributed by encrypted software so, technically, no-one in the DSO knows where he is either. It’s rigged up to the heavens with security measures - cameras, alarm systems, motion detector - explosion-proof windows, reinforced doors, all topped off with his favourite array of weapons in the duffel bag, currently resting by his still booted feet.

The objective of his mission hasn’t changed after the intel he’s received, that some foreign agency has had access to the CCTV feed for who knows how many hours before they were cut off. He should feel reassured that the quality of the footage was awful – it was only by how many times he’s encountered Lickers that he could even tell that’s what the creatures were when he’d be presented with the grainy images. He didn’t see the footage of you being rescued, but it would be a cruel kick in the gut to find that feed had been HD.

He lifts an arm – his left, keeping his right arm free, his accuracy is better by millimetres with his right – and rubs the knot, hoping to relieve the tension. It's not 100% confirmed they are looking or will be looking for you either, but why would anyone link up to the CCTV circuit if not to check on the outcome of their operation?

His immediate thought had been to up the frequency of his perimeter checks, one every two hours. He could do that at night, sure – military training taught him the correct and most efficient techniques to power nap – but in the day it would be harder without worrying you about what’s changed.

You wanted updates. Hell, you were entitled to updates. But he wants to give you good news, doesn’t wanna add to the weight on your shoulders with what could be nothing. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but in these sweet domestic moments the two of you have been sharing, he’s been pretending it’s something else – friends watching television, cooking a meal together – the sweet smiles the two of you exchange, but it’s all ripped apart the moment he has to do his checks. He can see the worry settle on your face then, a reminder of where you are with the flick of the safety off his gun and the twist of the lock as he goes outside to conduct surveillance.

Speaking of, his phone beeps for his next circuit on the building and he’s up on his feet in the blink of an eye. He pats his cargo pocket out of habit for the keys on the walk over to the garage door, but finds himself pausing outside your bedroom, his eyes focusing on the handle. You should still be pretty under with those sleeping pills – note to self, he’ll need to start weening you off them from now on, far too easy to get addicted. It wouldn’t hurt to just… check you were okay, would it?

No – that’s what you’re here, why he’s here – to protect you.

It would just be doing his job.

He presses down on the handle and slowly opens the door, breath caught in his throat. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, the lamp in the living room not quite reaching as far as your bed, but eventually he can make out your face – as peaceful as he’s ever seen it.

You’re on your side. The position doesn’t look like it would be comfortable with your arm still strapped up in the sling, but it’s testimony to how well the sleeping pills are working. Your other arm is up by your face, hand clenched in a tight fist around something. He steps forward without thinking, curious what it could be.

Your fingers are gripped tightly around his watch.

And there’s a pain in his chest that feels like they’re gripped around his heart as well.

That settles it - he’s not gonna tell you about the hacked CCTV feed. He will tell you that Hunnigan hasn’t searched your place yet, that they’ve restarted the surveillance department – she’d asked him to ask you if you knew anything about the servers since they were appeared to be working from square one – but that was it.

Leon steps back with unnecessary caution, leaving the bedroom as silently as he entered and shuts the door with a soft click. He takes a deep breath, pats down his pockets again and heads out to circle the perimeter.

And, just like after you kissed his cheek, he does it twice.

--

You wake up after another peaceful and dreamless sleep, though it still takes a moment to remember where you are as you stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. You wonder if tomorrow you’ll not experience that flicker of panic, just get up and accept that you’ll be picking today’s outfit out of a selection of clothes that you’re not sure if anyone’s worn before you.

You feel sore, as seems to be becoming the norm, but with unusually stiff fingers on your good hand. It seems you’ve clutched Leon’s watch all night. You’d fallen asleep quite quickly – all thanks to those sleeping pills – but you remember looking at it when you’d first got in the bed, the seconds ticking by lulling you to sleep. The fact that you’ve held it for so long reminds you of when you were a kid and snuggled up with a stuffed toy for comfort, except instead of something soft and cuddly, it’s what appears to be a top of line timepiece. There’s a lot of information contained on the face of the dial but there’s the time is the only one you really care about – 0906.

You get to your feet, raising your good arm to a grunt of protest as you try and run your fingers through your hair in lieu of a mirror. Huh, that pain’s new. Your hair is definitely due a wash now, but that’s an issue for later. You pull on a pair of sweatpants one-handed – you’ll be a pro soon, you’re sure of it – and put Leon’s watch in the pocket for safekeeping. It’d be difficult to try and navigate the door handle with it still gripped in your good hand and you’d hate to scratch it up.

You open the door cautiously – you hadn’t seen Leon asleep yet, but he must do at some point. Maybe you should offer to alternate the sofa and the bed? Though you have a feeling that he’s far too much of a gentleman to accept.

Or there’ll be something in the rules that prohibits that.

There’s no danger of waking him though - the agent in question is performing sit-ups in the middle of the living room floor, facing the other way. Muscular arms behind his head as he lets out little puffs of exertion at the exercise, alternating sides as he twists.

Wary that you don’t want to be caught staring, you shut the door with more force than necessary behind you and greet him with a smile when he looks over his shoulder.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Dove!” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Morning. Sleep okay?” He jumps up to his feet before taking a couple of steps over in your direction. There’s a grin on his face at the sight of you – makes you feel giddy.

“Yeah, thanks. How about you?”

“That’s good. Yeah, I slept fine.” He nods. It’s not a lie – he did sleep fine for the position he forced himself to maintain all night, despite the slight crick in his neck.

“Is that how you usually start your mornings?”

One of the arms you’d been admiring goes up to rub the back of his head again. “Kinda. I usually go for a run, but…”

“But you can’t leave me on my own.” You finish, smile dropping a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be - I’m not.” He drops his arm back down, casting an eye over a watch that’s not there. “Hey, you hungry? I can get breakfast started. Oatmeal again?”

“Sure.” You nod, fishing his watch out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Thanks again for this. It was nice to wake up and know the time this morning.”

“Don’t mention it. You can, er, you know, keep it. If you like.” He can’t get the image of you fast asleep last night, clutching it close to your face. He knows it was most likely the sleeping pills meaning you’d just passed out with it in your hand more than anything deeper, but, hey, a guy can pretend.

“I’ll be okay, I can get the time off the TV during the day.” You hold it out again with insistence. “But maybe… maybe I could have it for the night again?”

“Deal.” Leon hastily agrees, his fingers brushing yours as he takes back the watch before fastening it around his wrist. “Breakfast coming right up.”

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as he heads towards the kitchen – your heart warmed once more by the sight of the blob of toothpaste sat ready and waiting on your toothbrush.

--

“And, finally, oatmeal.” He places it down on the coffee table, alongside your coffee, a glass of water and your morning dose of painkillers.

“Thank you.” You lean forward to pick up the spoon, smiling back at the face that Leon’s drizzled in honey atop your breakfast again.  

“Nah, pleasure’s all mine.” He calls over his shoulder as he picks up his own bowl from the kitchen. He hesitates for a second, before choosing to sit the other end of the sofa to you, rather than the opposite one.

“You know, I don’t get to do this very often. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” you swallow a spoonful of oatmeal. “Thought you said you’d been in lots of safe houses.”

“A fair amount. But, no, not that part. I mean, eating breakfast with someone.” “So…” You stir the spoon around the bowl, hoping it might prove a perfect segway into something you’d been wondering. “..there’s no-one at home for you?”

“Me?” He seems to scoff at the idea. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replies casually, before his blue eyes widen in alarm at how it might come across. “

“I mean, just by the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anyone at your apartment that morning and you hadn’t asked any of those sorta questions, you know, if they’d been told about what happened, where you are...”

He’s flustered, feels like he’s really putting his foot in his mouth this morning. He can take the lead in the interrogation of some of the world’s most despicable humans, for goodness’ sake, he should be able to talk to a pretty girl.

“Yeah, I figured.” You tease back and he swears he feels the weight lift off his shoulders.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment when curiosity gets the better of you. “So, you didn’t eat breakfast with the… others?”

“Nope.” His tone is firm as he recalls some of his previous charges. “Certainly didn’t make them it either. Trust me – they were nowhere near as nice or as deserving of my protection as you are, Dove.” The comment makes your head tingle.

“It’s all been people ‘realising’ how deep they’d sank but only grew a conscience to save their own skin. Hell, you might have even performed surveillance on some of them. A lot of criminals finally show backbone when they realise their time is running out.”

“Well, I’m glad to make a change – both for sharing breakfast and …safe house occupancy with.”

“A nice change,” he mumbles, but you still hear.

--

After breakfast, you go to shower and Leon sets himself to task with the dishes once again, says he did his last perimeter check before nine. Removing the sling proves trickier than yesterday – when you go to tug off the Velcro your opposite shoulder smarts with a similar pain of that morning, causing you to hiss through your teeth, something which the painkillers from breakfast don’t seem to have alleviated.

You step into the cubicle after undressing – the hot water immediately somewhat soothing on your bruised shoulders but you still struggle to get what you now deem as your good arm high enough to even entertain the possibility of washing your hair.  

You try and avoid your reflection in the mirror when you dress, though you know you’ll have to confront your hair at some point. Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse – a greasy mop sat upon your head that makes your heart sink.

There must be a trick to it – other people must wash their hair one-handed all the time, but maybe they can lift an arm above their head. If you were home, you’d go to a salon, you think – an expensive you would deem necessary for your sanity.

A thought flashes across your mind – a ridiculous one. Leon is already doing so much for you, surely this would be completely over the line.

But you could… ask, couldn’t you? The worst he could do was say no, it would be awkward, and maybe there’s a hat in the duffel bag you’ve yet to discover.

You open the bathroom door, but don’t make to step over the threshold. Leon looks over from the sofa – dishes now drying in the rack besides the sink - and clocks your hesitation.

“Need a hand with the sling?”

Are you really going to ask him this?

You’ll break at some point - you know you will, so why not get it over with now? You’re a regimented two-day wash kinda girl and it’s day three. Not to be completely vain, but you’re covered with bruises and cuts, dressed in less than flattering clothes that aren’t yours and it would be nice to feel somewhat decent about something in your appearance.

Especially with the handsome company you’re keeping. Hell, Leon could be a model, a hair model too. There’d been shampoo and conditioner in the shower and you certainly hadn’t used it.

“Dove?” You’ve taken too long to reply again, getting stuck in your spiralling thoughts.

“I know this isn’t what you’re here for.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think further.

“Okay…” Leon's eyebrow is raised, a curious smile now fixed on his lips as he gets to his feet.

“And say no, obviously. Please. Just… I’d like to wash my hair.” You drop your eyes then – maybe it’ll be easier if you talk to your feet rather staring into his kind eyes?

"Right."

“And I’d… You know, I’d go to a salon and get it done there if we weren’t… here.”

“You’d like me to help you wash your hair?” There’s a tone of amusement or maybe disbelief in his tone.

Hearing him say it aloud makes you doubt the entire exercise, your heart begin to pound at your stupidity. “Sorry. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid to ask-“

“Hey, no, it makes sense.” He soothes, immediately wanting to ease your frustrations. “You can’t lift your arm above your head, right? My fault for not thinking about that.”

You look up then, seeing the sincerity on his face – like it truly was his fault that you couldn’t wash your own damn hair.

“I can do that, Dove. I don’t see why not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm. As you said, if you were anywhere else right now, you could go to a salon and whilst I can’t promise their quality, I seem to do all right with my own.” He shrugs. “You thinking over the sink?”

He doesn’t know why he asks – it’s hardly like you’re going to ask him to get in the shower with you.

Is it?

“I think so.” You look around the living area, though you’re well acquainted with what feels like every square inch of it now. “Though it might be a little awkward since we don’t have any chairs.”

He snaps his fingers. “Nah, there might be one in the garage, actually. Lemme check.”

He barely makes it into the garage when his cell vibrates in his pocket – one new message from Hunnigan.

Any server information for me?

Leon finds the folding chair nestled at the side of the washer and dryer and hesitates over the text back.

He’ll wash your hair – seeing how torn up you’d been about even asking him had made him feel awful - then he’ll give you the updates and ask about the servers.

He picks up the chair and tucks it under one arm, swiftly typing out a message on his cell and clicks send.

Not yet – Dove’s still asleep.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Part eight.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

[run2yoongi]

a reunion - chapter one | myg + knj x reader

while you were an obedient, average, faceless student, everyone knew who min yoongi was. a fire-starting, troublemaking bully. when he was inevitably expelled from your school, your whole community decided he was nothing more than an outcast, destined to end up in a life of crime. unfortunately, ten years later, it became clear they weren’t wrong. 

compared to him, you were a success story. a career woman, the breadwinner of the family. so, when an encounter with an old ex-boyfriend classmate, kim namjoon brings the three of you back together, you fail to realise how much of your comfortable life is on the line.

↳ pairing: ex bf!namjoon x reader, gangster!yoongi

↳ setting: kinda mafia!au, they're more like gangsters idk

↳ warning: harsh language, yoongi threatens reader, consumption of alcohol

↳ word count: 5.1k

navigation: prologue | chapter one

chapter one.

Exhausted. 

That was the only word to describe how you felt. For so long, all you wanted was the be right where you are, a good job, coworkers to each lunch with, a home of your own, and both of your parent’s taken care of in their retirement. It was a quiet, comfortable life. By all accounts, you were a successful person. You were even looking forward to your upcoming school reunion, taking it as an opportunity to talk about how far you’ve come from your days as a nameless face in the school hallways. 

So you felt nothing but guilt plague you when you reached the end of your day to find yourself feeling completely empty. 

‘This is life on the straight and narrow.’ you thought to yourself nearly every day. Then, your mind would wander back to him. Min Yoongi. Where was he? Was he happy? Did he have it right the whole time? 

You didn’t know why he was still so present in your mind nearly ten years on, but you didn’t question it. You were too far in, too committed to making your parents proud to venture off the path. Your life, like your apartment, was clean and organised. Everything was in its right place. The way it’s supposed to be. 

You were shocked when his name came up on a community blog site. Surveillance footage from a bar fight had leaked and spread, being shared amongst your high school contacts. 

@mimichu: ‘That’s brutal. Does anyone know what happened?’

@kzine01: ‘@mimichu ppl are saying its gang related’

@minhoooo: ‘isnt that the min kid?’

@mimichu: ‘It totally is omg he really hasnt changed lol’

You couldn’t help but rewatch the video. It sure looked like him. A much taller, buffer version in dire need of a haircut, but it was him. You watched it another five times to be certain. Even from the grainy footage, you could tell. That lop-sided grin was a stone-cold giveaway. 

Yoongi wandered outside the bar, lighting a cigarette as he scanned his surroundings. He stood still for a moment, gaze locked on to a group of men standing on the street. It looked like he shouted something, tearing the cigarette away from his lips and pointing it at one of the men. You could see the man stiffen up, clearly not anticipating the confrontation. Yoongi took a few steps towards the group who looked on, their expressions obfuscated by the poor video quality. The man appeared to apologise, quickly bowing to Yoongi who took another drag of his cigarette before pausing, then pressing the burning tip to the man’s neck. 

He folded over in pain, the group around him rushing to his side. Yoongi didn’t hesitate to extend an unrestrained kick into the man’s ribs, sending him to the floor and hidden from the camera’s view. The crowd watched on, some attempting to pull Yoongi away from the man as he continued to kick, stepping on him as if he were nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe. Blood splattered across Yoongi’s cheek, a sadistic grin contorting his features. 

You couldn’t help but wince as the violence continued. Onlookers gathered, reaching for their phones to make calls and record the situation. After two minutes, Yoongi withdrew, glancing up at the street camera with an incredulous glare before stepping into the back of a dark car that had pulled up alongside the crowd. 

@kzine01: ‘in my opinion the police should just let these types of degenerates k*** each other and the rest of the world can get on with life…’

@minhoooo: ‘@kzine01 won’t he be at the reunion?’

@kzine01: ‘@minhoooo i thought it was for graduated students only ㅋㅋㅋ’

You quickly locked your phone and let out a sigh. How could that be the same person you had spent most of your school-aged years sharing classrooms with? You recalled him sleeping peacefully through your shared classes and in your mind, he was harmless. He was a troublemaker, sure, but you never expected him to become a violent person- despite what others had said. 

- - - 

As it turned out, the reunion was not only for graduated students. About two hours into the event, you were catching up with one of the teachers when they muttered under their breath, eyes glued to the door. The room erupted into a chorus of whispers and from the corner of your eye, you saw a pair enter, sauntering into the venue with hands in their pockets. 

“I didn’t expect to see those two” you heard your former teachers whisper to each other. You followed the gaze of their eyes to find two daunting figures consuming everyone’s attention. They nodded as they passed your former classmates, making their way to greet the former gym teacher on the other side of the room.   

It was Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon, of course. 

None other than a criminal and your first and only ex-boyfriend, entering the hall together. Your eyes fell back to the empty glass in your hand and suddenly excused yourself from the conversation. You didn’t know what overcame you, but you headed directly to the bar. You didn’t normally drink, especially straight spirits, however as the atmosphere of the event began to change, you needed something to steel your nerves. 

“Whisky, please.” you spoke to the bartender, who nodded and went to pour you a fresh glass. You tapped the bar mindlessly, pretending to be busy by scrolling through your phone. The younger bartender set the glass down in front of you with a smile before slipping away to serve someone else. Standing there, you felt a set of eyes linger on you as a new wave of anxiety began to swell. 

“Y/n,” you heard a deep voice call out for you. You instantly recognised Namjoon’s voice. “Oh wow, I could barely tell it was you.” he chuckled to himself.

You nodded at him politely as you turned on your heel to face him. “Ah, Namjoon. You’ve gotten even taller.”.

Looking at him, you were overcome by how grown up he looked. His face was defined with a sharp jaw and a sharpness to his eyes that you never noticed when you were in school. 

“Tends to happen,” his features softened as he laughed. “What have you got there?” he gestured to the glass in your trembling hand, too kind to point out how nervous you seemed to be.

You raised the glass slightly, taking a moment to register its alluring colour. “The menu said a fine, single-malt whisky.” you took a sip, hoping that the liquor would have an immediate effect. 

“You always had good taste.” he smiled, raising his eyebrow slightly at you. “I didn’t take you for a drinker, though.”. 

Before you could come up with a response, Namjoon had taken a step towards you. His hand rested on the small of your back as he called out to the bartender for the same drink. Behind him, Yoongi stood watching as your face became flushed. Your eyes met for a moment as he cocked his eyebrow at you, a lazy grin spreading across his plush lips. 

You cast your gaze down to the floor, attempting to control your composure. You had dated Namjoon for about three months in your final year of high school. You had asked him not to tell anyone and he had complied, despite not understanding your reasoning. When you broke it off, it was as if nothing had ever happened. He still smiled at you in the hall, slipped snacks in your bag when you weren’t looking, he even helped you with your work whenever you were struggling. 

So, you didn’t know why you felt so overwhelmed by the feeling of Namjoon’s palm on your back. You’d felt far more intimate gestures from others before, but the longer his palm lingered, the more your chest began to tighten. The cold absence of his touch lingered as soon as he withdrew his hand. As Namjoon began to ask about the not-so-recent developments in your life, you noticed Yoongi make his way to the bar, taking a seat as the bartender poured him his drink.

“Oh, I’m not sure if you ever met…” he glanced over to Yoongi who was sitting comfortably behind you on a stool. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching you, sending a shiver down your spine as you recalled the video from the bar fight. 

“I don’t believe so.” Yoongi replied, maintaining eye contact as you tried to calm yourself down. You wanted to correct him. Although you never exchanged words, you had met. The memory was crystal clear to you but his confidence made you question yourself, so you stayed quiet. You’re school year was huge, if the giant venue was anything to judge by. It was possible he never took note of you, but you were still taken aback.

“Y/n, this is Min Yoongi-” Namjoon began, “Yoongi, this is my friend y/n.”.

In tandem, Yoongi and yourself raised an eyebrow at the word choice. You couldn’t have spoken to Namjoon more than twice in the last ten years. The first time was a drunk dial you received one year after graduation, the last was when you bumped into him at a club you’d been invited to for a ‘date’. ‘Friend’ was a strange word to pick, but you figured it was intentional by the way Namjoon eyed Yoongi as he spoke. 

“A pleasure,” Yoongi spoke, insincerely, you assumed. You smiled in return, before glancing up to Namjoon for comfort. Old habits die hard, you thought. 

Eventually, Namjoon was whisked away by another group that he happily obliged to entertain. You made your way back to a table, sitting with some girls you had elective classes with as they chatted amongst themselves. You had achieved what you wanted to achieve, spoken with all your favourite teachers and you were debating calling it a night when you felt the chair next to you be pulled out from under the table. 

“Do you mind?”

You cast your eyes up to the tall figure, an intimidating presence that had caused the girls you were with to go silent. “Feel free.” you replied to Yoongi with a curt smile. 

He sat down with a gruff sigh, as if he was a dad who had been dragged out to supervise their child at a birthday party. 

“How do you know Namjoon?” you asked quietly, too eager to break the growing silence. Yoongi tilted his head, as if he was weighing up his options for a response. After a brief moment, his sharp, feline eyes met your own. 

“Well, we went to school together.” he began. You nodded, feeling stupid for asking. “I’m more of a family friend, though.” 

You nodded a bit too enthusiastically, to which Yoongi caught on quickly. The corner of his lips began to quirk up at your agreeableness. He tended to have that effect on people. 

“Which is why I was so surprised to find out he had a ‘friend’ that I hadn’t met.” he continued, leaning in closer as he set his glass down on the table.

“We have met.” you corrected him before you could stop yourself. He smiled into his glass before taking a slow slip. He’s trying to remember, you thought. The girls next to you cleared their throat, clearly becoming uncomfortable. No doubt, they had seen the video. 

“I’d like to think I’d remember meeting you.” he spoke quietly, almost in a whisper as he leaned even closer. You suppressed a shiver that crept down your body as his knee knocked into yours. It was difficult to imagine the man in front of you kicking someone within an inch of their life. You wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes. The contrast of his soft-spoken nature and the brutality you knew he was capable of terrified you. Excited you. 

“Well, we went to school together.” you echoed him, eyes glued to the half-empty glass of whisky that sat before you. The sound of his soft laughter made you snap your eyes back onto him. A beautiful laugh to match his face; joy bubbled up in your stomach at the sight. “So, what do you do for work?” you asked tentatively, trying to wipe the smile off your face.

“I work with Joon.” he replied as his laughter trailed off. It occurred to you that you didn’t know what Namjoon did for work either. You had assumed he would inherit his father's oil company, but neither of them seemed to present themselves as rich oil tycoons.  

Before you could press further, three glasses of champagne were set down on your table in an impressive manoeuvre by Namjoon. Yoongi pulled out a seat for his friend, for which Namjoon quietly thanked him for. It was an odd dynamic, to say the least. You tried to recall a time where the two had ever interacted at school, but you were drawing a blank. It sent your mind reeling. 

Family friends? Business partners? Partners? 

“I’m surprised you wanted to come, Yoongi,” Namjoon spoke casually, passing out the flutes as he did.

“Couldn’t pass up a chance to see how pathetic some of these people had become.” Yoongi replied, his eyes landing on Kim Jihun, the pig. 

You scoffed, hardly able to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. It seemed like Yoongi wasn’t the type to let grudges go, whatever they may be. Yoongi’s eyes snapped to you with a suspicious glare. 

The girls next to you excused themselves, leaving you alone with the two people a sane person would want to explicitly avoid. You nearly excused yourself too, except the whisky had started to do its job, sending a comforting warmth through your veins. You watched carefully as Namjoon and Yoongi bickered, scolding each other like brothers. 

A sharp screech of feedback stole your attention as your senior year’s student body president tapped the microphone. “If everyone could please give their attention to the screen, we have prepared a slide show of some of the Class of 19XX’s greatest moments,” he spoke as a projector screen behind him became illuminated with an EPSON logo. 

You caught Yoongi rolling his eyes, letting out another disgruntled sigh as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. You didn’t realise how close he had managed to get to you until he moved. 

You watched intently as familiar, young faces popped up on the screen. Laughter and shouting erupted in the room as the projector filed through the photos. Spirit Day, Sports Festival Day, the swimming carnival- they were all presented through grainy, faded photos. You smiled remembering finding an extra bottle of water or juice box in your bag as you sat in the shade on days like those. 

Namjoon reached over the table and tapped you, pointing at the screen. A photo of the two of you from when you were in the Audio Visual club together. Only for a moment, you noticed Yoongi just slightly out of the frame, hunched over a table, dozing off. Small and harmless. 

“I remember that, you only took AV with me because of the field trip- and it ended up getting cancelled anyway.” Namjoon laughed as the photos continued to flip through. You remembered that too, however, you hadn’t remembered Yoongi being a part of the club at all. As pictures of Kim Jihun illuminated the screen, you heard Yoongi snicker under his breath. Namjoon shot him a glare and gave him a kick under the table.

After the slide show, you had more than enough of your fill of nostalgia and were preparing to leave, deciding to stop by the bathroom before you called yourself a taxi. The music was blaring inside the venue, and you took a moment in the hallway to sober yourself up. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. I leave you in charge for one fucking night and now I’m getting messages saying two of the girls are passed out. What the fuck did you do?” 

You peaked around the hallway corner, holding your breath. Yoongi was spitting over the phone with his back to you. Likely not a phone call he’d want to be overheard. 

“I don’t fucking care who insisted on what, they’re not supposed to be drinking on the clock. You need me to drill it into your thick skull? You want to end up back on the street where I found you?” 

“I’m gonna have to tell Joon about this.” he paused. “You think you’ll survive that? Huh?”

You began to back yourself behind the corner, but the clicking of your heels had Yoongi turning to meet your scared eyes within a second. You could hear his footsteps approaching as you tried to compose yourself. 

“Get Hoseok to take them home and fix it, I have to go.” he ended the call quickly, placing the phone into the pocket of his pants. He rounded the corner, your eyes finally meeting as your breath hitched in your throat. 

“Sorry-” you began, backing up until you felt a doorframe press against your back. 

“Aren’t you sneaky?” Yoongi questioned, taking a slow step towards you. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning the scared expression on your face. You watched as something clicked in his mind.

“You know, I remember you now.” he continued as he took another step. “Do you have a habit of catching people red-handed?” You didn’t say anything then, and you wouldn’t say anything now. "You had the same terrified expression back then, too.".

“I think I know why Namjoon wanted me to know you were his friend now.” he was only inches away as he extended his hand to collect a lock of your hair between his fingers. His chest was almost pressed up against yours. You could barely breathe, but the smell of cigarettes and cologne still filled your nostrils. The back of his hand brushed against your cheek, causing a knot to coil in your throat. 

He tilted his head, his lips nearly making contact with your neck as his hand fell from your face. “Namjoon doesn’t like when I touch his things.” he said somberly. 

“I’m not his thing.” you replied, unable to stop your voice from faltering as your heart pounded. Yoongi grinned at your defiance, a cruel, terrifying smile. He looked you up and down sending another shiver down your spine. “Oh, you’re not? Strange, you’re just his type.” he replied, amused. “I guess we’ll see.”

Your mind was reeling. Was he going to hurt you for overhearing his phone call? You could barely process your thoughts when he suddenly took a step back, allowing you space to breathe. 

“Heading home?” he asked, an innocent, placid expression suddenly marking his features. You nodded slowly and silently, still confused and slightly tipsy as he gently slipped his hand behind your back and guided you out of the dim hallway. This man was giving you whiplash. As you made your way back to the table, Namjoon’s eyes flickered to Yoongi’s subtle hold on your waist with a strained look in his eye. 

“We’re both heading out.” Yoongi spoke, his face hidden from you. Namjoon’s eyebrow arched in surprise as he took another slow sip from his drink. “Together?” he asked after swallowing hard, you could see the gears ticking over in his mind. You began shaking your head, raising your hand to clarify, to dismiss the implication. “See, what did I tell you?” Yoongi whispered to you, his plush lips brushing the shell of your ear. You were stunned at the contact. You tried your best to ignore the flame that was set alight between your thighs, the heat spreading through your body. Was this some sort of game between them? If so, you wanted no part of it. As if he could hear your thoughts, Yoongi’s arm fell from your side. Until you saw Namjoon’s worried face, you hadn’t realised that you were swaying on the spot, and without Yoongi’s support, your lightweight alcohol tolerance was on full display.

“Did you drive?” Namjoon asked you, concern lacing his tone. 

“No, I was going to call a taxi…” you mumbled, trying to settle yourself. Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances as the taller one stood from his seat. “My driver’s outside, I can drop you home.” he said as he gathered his things, before pausing to look at his friend. “Is Hoseok outside?” he asked. The name felt familiar somehow, but you couldn’t place it. 

“He had to go.” Yoongi answered cryptically. You glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but it was stone-cold. Namjoon responded with a nod. “I guess I’m looking after both of you tonight, then.” he sighed. 

“Hoseok…” you mumbled under your breath, the memory behind the name on the tip of your tongue.

Yoongi stared at you in confusion but before he could question it, Namjoon stepped in between you and began guiding you out of the hall, curtly nodding to his former classmates and teachers as the three of you left. “This should be fun,” he whispered to you. You noticed the hoards eyes that followed you, or more specifically, Yoongi and Namjoon, as you left. “They were going to whisper anyway.” he sighed to himself as the table you were sitting with earlier looked on. 

“You’d think they never left high school.” Yoongi added, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. 

You registered Namjoon’s firm grasp on your arm as the cold night-time air greeted you. His hold on you was tight, almost painful. “Watch your step,” Namjoon instructed as he led you down the stairs and to a familiar dark car waiting outside the lot. You didn’t bother trying to fight his grip, lest you start swaying again.

Despite that, the fresh air was a welcome and sobering feeling. It was quiet outside the venue, everybody else seemed to be inside. You tried to enjoy the moment, and you did until you inhaled a breath of Yoongi’s second-hand smoke. You glanced over at him as he stood, lit cigarette held delicately between his fingers. In the moonlight, he appeared to shine, his skin so pale and radiant that it stood out amidst the darkness surrounding all of you. “Is he coming with us?” you quietly asked Namjoon. Yoongi’s eyes flickered over to you, evidently, you hadn’t spoken quietly enough. 

Namjoon looked down to examine your face and was met with concern. “He’s harmless.” he tried to assure you, but you weren’t even remotely convinced. You’d been witness to his violence, after all. Yoongi rolled his eyes, taking another deep drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the heel of his shoe. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Yoongi added as he smothered the smoke. 

“Tell the driver your address.” Namjoon instructed when you reached the parked car, opening the door for you as you slipped into the back seat. You quietly spoke to the driver, who inputted your address without any questions asked. He didn’t even seem phased that a stranger had just gotten into the back of his car. The interior was fresh, almost brand new. 

He waited for Namjoon to slip into the passenger seat and greeted him with a curt nod. Yoongi slid into the seat next to you, followed by the scent of freshly sprayed cologne. At least he was considerate, you thought. He shut the door behind him and immediately rested his head on the window as if he had been forcing himself to stay awake this whole time. 

“He hasn’t changed much,” you noted, unintentionally speaking your thought out loud. Namjoon smiled at you in the rear-view mirror as the car pulled into the street. Truthfully, it was a long drive ahead. The navigation estimated a 50-minute drive, which Namjoon didn’t seem to mind at all. He insisted on asking you questions about your life, your work, your mother, and anything that had happened in the last 10 years that he wasn’t privy to. It began to feel like an interrogation, and you realised how quickly at ease Namjoon had managed to make you feel despite the precarious situation. Each of your answers was met with interest, a soft smile and a natural follow-up question. As you grew weary, a comfortable silence fell in the car. 

“I’m sorry for having you drive so far out, I forgot how far the city has stretched over the last few years…” you mumbled your apology as you fought the urge to drift off. 

“It’s not a problem. Always nice to catch up with old friends, right Yoongi?” Namjoon responded. 

“Mhmm.” Yoongi replied, who to your surprise, was still awake.

As the car stopped at a red light, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes, tired from the drinking, the festivities and Namjoon’s rigorous questioning. Your dreariness was encouraged by the smooth driving through the dark streets. 

It’s so quiet,

I’ll just close my eyes for a moment,

I’ll be home soon…

- - -

Curious, dark eyes peered over you as you were roused from your sleep with a gentle shake. Your heart beat hard as you registered the face across from you, staring like a hungry cat at a mouse. A gust of cold wind hit your side as your eyes fixed on Yoongi, who was watching intently with his head resting against the window as you stirred. The stretched hand over your shoulder gave you a gentle squeeze on your other side as you snapped your neck around to see who was touching you. “Good morning,” Namjoon grinned, smile transforming his eyes into crescents. 

As you woke up, you realised you were thankfully still sat in the back seat of Namjoon’s car and behind him stood your apartment complex. “Oh,” you gasped, suddenly embarrassed that you’d let your defences down so easily. “We’re here. Sorry.” you mumbled as you hastily tried to unbuckle yourself. 

“I didn’t realise we were such boring company,” Yoongi yawned, settling back into his position against the window with a coy smile. 

You felt guilt pang in your chest, looking back up to Namjoon to apologise. “He’s joking.” he clarified before you could speak. “And, he’s also a dick.” 

You suppressed a giggle to avoid getting another ‘if-looks-could-kill’ glare from Yoongi and slid out of the car. Being so close to Namjoon, you realised that even in your heels, you were still just below his shoulder height. He was always tall, but it was then that you realise how much he had really grown.

“You want me to walk you up?” Namjoon offered with a polite smile. You raised your hands to refuse, dismissing him as kindly as you could in your half-awake state. “I’m fine but, thank you for taking me home.” 

Namjoon seemed slightly disgruntled but accepted your refusal with a smile, as always. “I’d love to catch up again though,” you babbled, unable to cope with the hurt that flickered across his eyes despite not really owing him anything.

“Me too,” he beamed, his mood suddenly changing. “give me your phone.” Complying, you handed over your phone as he typed in his number and let it ring, ending the call when the screen of his phone lit up in his pocket with a buzz. 

Before saying goodbye, you glanced over to Yoongi who was back to fake-sleeping, or meditating, whatever it was. “I’ll see you soon then.” you spoke to Namjoon when your eyes met again. 

“Definitely,” he replied, his eyes fixed on your own intently. It felt all too familiar. Too intimate. It scared you.

Suddenly, you ducked to lean into the car. “Goodnight Yoongi.” you crouched to meet his level in the car and waved, hoping to break the tension that Namjoon had incidentally built. 

Namjoon understood your reaction, though you hadn’t particularly helped by bending down to his waist level while being so close, he thought as he looked down at you. 

“Mhmm,” Yoongi replied, his arms crossed and eyes closed as he slumped against the window.

You quickly stood up, turning on your heel to enter your complex when Namjoon called your name. You glanced over your shoulder to see him smiling, his hands nested in his jacket pockets. “Sleep well,” he called out as he ducked his head to slip into the back seat of the car. 

Your heart was beating so fast that you doubted you’d sleep at all. 

- - -

“She’s gone, you can stop pretending to sleep.” Namjoon sighed as he slipped into the back of the car. 

Yoongi sat up, stretching his back in the process. Usually, he was fine sitting still for upwards of an hour, but his bones had started to ache about twenty minutes in due to the uncomfortable ‘lean against the door’ approach he’d taken. 

“She seemed a bit terrified of me, Joon.” Yoongi replied, twisting his core as the car began to speed off. “Can’t blame her.” Namjoon replied, opening his phone to save your number to his contacts. 

“Guess she doesn’t know you very well.” Yoongi teased, rubbing his temple as the streetlights flew by. “Otherwise she’d be more scared of you.”

Namjoon stifled a laugh, staring at your name in his contacts. “I’m harmless,” he replied, tucking his phone back in his pocket. 

“Yeah, yeah. You say that, but I haven’t told you about the call I got tonight.” Yoongi replied, his face becoming serious. Namjoon raised his brow and steeled himself. He had truly enjoyed the night, but business was business and it waited for no one. His older friend didn’t allow a good mood to get in the way either. 

“Two girls of the girls were found passed out at the club.” he paused, “They wouldn’t wake up. I sent Hoseok to go pick them up.” 

Namjoon fell silent, playing the words over in his head. He was relieved that they were in Hoseok’s care, but it was still unnerving. Just a week after Yoongi had straightened out a regular, some sleazebag who put his hands where they didn’t belong, two girls end up unresponsive. 

“Which club?” he eventually replied.

“Chateau.” 

Namjoon tapped his driver’s seat. “You hear that?” 

The driver nodded, immediately switching course back into the city, back to the Chateau. 

“You think it’s retaliatory?” Yoongi questioned, his eyes trained on the road ahead. He had already made his mind up about the incident and wasn’t going to hesitate to point fingers. 

“If it is, we’re about to find out.” Namjoon sighed, laying his head against the headrest behind him. 

The truth was, neither of them were harmless. Neither hesitated to inflict pain on people who couldn’t do their job properly, who threatened their business, their things. Luckily, you never had to know about that. From the moment Namjoon laid his eyes on you, in his mind, you were his. 

Though, he didn’t know that Yoongi already had plans of his own when it came to you. 

 - end of chapter one - 

thank you for reading! it’s been a while since i’ve put anything out, but the haegeum mv definitely stirred up some inspiration in me. please let me know your thoughts on this chapter & series concept!

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi one shot #yoongi one shot #bts yoongi #yoongi bts #bts yoongi smut #bts suga smut #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi drabble #yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #gangster!yoongi #mafia!yoongi #boss!yoongi #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #rm x reader #kim namjoon fanfic #rm bts #namjoon fanfic #namjoon drabble #kim namjoon x y/n

[denimini]

the more info that comes about about this video, the more confusing it gets.

Some “news” articles online are debunking it (which is interesting because you’d think they’d run with this) and claiming that getting that kind of video angle from JKs apartment would be very very difficult because of the angles/apartment layout/privacy walls etc

and who’s to say if that’s right info or not, no idea, but it just makes it more confusing hahaha

Anon 2: K-army/k-jikook are strongly believed that the video is fake... do you think that they opinion is more valid because they know more about how these things are, or do they just want to continue to ship jm and jk?

Anon 3: so apparently that was not jk’s apartment…. even knetz are denying it

.....

To be honest with you guys , I've already read so much discourse about this topic about windows, camera angles etc that I'm kinda exhausted. From what I've personally seen, the layout matches, the dog and the guy look like JK and Bam and that's about it. The camera angle isn't impossible, especially if we consider that it could have been shot with a drone, hence the quality of the footage. Overall, it's so blurry, grainy and zoomed that noone could tell for sure and I think that's the point. It's obscure and can be interpreted whatever ways.

Personally, I don't think that just bc k-Army don't believe it , it can't be true. Sure, they could know more than us, especially about the apartment, but I doubt they have much more "secret information" than we do.

From what I've saw the only thing that doesn't add up in my mind are the windows. The Brunnen building (where JK lives) have units with different window configurations and Idk on which floor JK lives , but actually none of the windows from the outside seem matching to me with the windows we've seen in the inside of his home. Also, the video is very zoomed, so Idk why people are so adamant about the windows being completely different. I even saw a whole scheme of JKs floor plan, which I think may be going too far.

I don't want to become so obsessed with small, obscure details and loose sight of the bigger picture.

Despite whag k-armys/k-jikookers/netizens opinion is, I still think it is possible that that's JK and I have not seen anything concrete that debunks it yet.

#jungkook #jimin #kookmin #jikook #bts

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳  Word count: 2,294

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

��� Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work. 

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work. 

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more. 

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.  

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor. 

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail. 

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun." 

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick." 

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?" 

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together. 

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose." 

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay." 

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better. 

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing. 

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station. 

[Rhiannon (5)] 

She sure knew how to type quickly. 

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything? 

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes 

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas 

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond 

You: hardy har 

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today? 

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now 

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off? 

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response. 

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry 

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there? 

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on. 

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep? 

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit? 

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N) 

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move 

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today 

Mark didn't respond right away. 

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much 

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now 

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay? 

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me 

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too 

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct127 #nct #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 2

A/n: Hey everyone! Here is part 2 of the story. I think this is going to have a slow build as I want to make sure this goes correctly. Personally i’m excited for where I see this going! 

Pairing: Clark Kent / OFC

Rating: M (Story is M, this chapter however is not)

Warnings; None really really just more exposition but there is a good point. 

Here is part 1 if you missed it.

Midnight: Chapter 2

 I felt Kyle running into my room before he actually came in, giving me time to prepare for the impact as he jumped on me, still managing to take my breath away with his natural density.

 “Momma! It’s morning and you here!”

 I smiled at him kissing his cheek, watching as his eyes changed from the natural blue they were, to brown like mine. 

My son was special, it was the reason I worked odd and late jobs. He couldn’t go to regular daycare because he wasn’t in control of his powers yet. 

He was born with various abilities due to his parentage, of course he was stronger than the average three year old being that he had the strength of a 12 year old. He often told me noises bothered him, which led me to believe he was developing his super hearing, but the big power was his ability to change his appearance. It was mostly just the small features for now, and it was mostly unconscious on his part. For example, he would change his eyes to match mine, and throughout the day they would change, and he also liked to play with his hair. Naturally it was black like Clarks’  but his hair had curls. Often times I would come in and my son would have long hair or it would be blonde or brown. Sometimes even Blue!

And honestly he looked like Clark with a tan. Needless to say I had to keep him home until he could gain some control. I didn’t want to have to move... again.

Ms. A was the only one that knew about Kyle’s abilities. When she asked I told her, that his father was an old boyfriend who had nothing to do with him and that I thought he must have had some metahuman blood that he never told me about. 

She had no clue I was also now a Metahuman. 

 Kyle flopped off of me and onto my bed, still in his race car pjs and messy bed hair. He hadn’t changed that yet and I was glad to see it. 

 “Good morning Kalen, what has mommy told you about jumping on her?”

He giggles and says

 “I have to be careful because mommy might get hurt. I don’t think I could hurt you mommy. I love you too much.”

 He turned the puppy dog eyes on me in an attempt to not get in trouble for something he knew better than to do. 

“Yeah sure young man. You know better that’s why you are trying me with that face. Did you brush your teeth and wash your face?”

 He shook his head no.

 “Alright, well what are waiting for? No breakfast for my little monster until you do.”

 He laughed and took off for the bathroom. I swore he got faster everyday.

‘Kyle’ was his name to the public but his real name was in direct tribute to his father, his name being Kalen Joseph (pronounced Colin) having the name Kal being spelled in his name and Joseph from Clarks actual middle name. I got out my bed, changing quickly into some jean shorts and a tank and going into the bathroom with my son, finding him about to get his toothpaste all over the sink. I took it from him and put a little on the toothbrush and let him take over, brushing my teeth and once I finished he followed me into the living room. I waved my hand, lazily at the TV, turning it on. I was about to change the channel when the reporter began to talk about the rescue I had pulled off last night.

 “In other news, last night, a local woman, described her rescuer as her ‘guardian angel’. The local police describe the scene as confusing but thankfully non-fatal. A vigilante stopped a rather vicious robbery and assault, taking down three attackers and leaving them unconscious for the police. While the police are grateful for the intervention they have questions for this person, and ask if anyone has any information on this masked vigilante then please reach out to crime-stoppers tip line” 

 The reporter says the number as a shadowy, low quality security camera shot of me appears on screen. I was comforted in that I knew no one would know me. I waved my hand again, changing the television to some random cartoons and proceeded to make some breakfast for us both.

 *Later*

I dressed Kalen in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a cute red t-shirt, along with a small hat. The hat served as a dual purpose for if he decided to change his hair on me in public. I grabbed my purse and his little tablet that he could use in the shopping cart to keep him occupied. 

 Once in the store, I pulled out my list and Ms. Alphonse’s list. Chuckling at her circled selection of Twizzlers and jellybeans. The woman lived her life on sweets, I would swear it. I strolled through the store, adding things to my cart, when Kalen started crying.

 “Momma it loud.” 

 I watched as his eyes flickered in various colors and he held his hands to his ears. The lights began to flicker in the store followed by a loud boom. 

The store shook as people began yelling and screaming. I yanked Kalen from the cart into my arms, looking for the safest place for us to be. I couldn’t use my powers in public, at least not without my mask and I couldn’t form my suit without exposing myself. I wouldn’t risk my child. I ran for the exit, not caring if I was slightly faster than the rest. Pieces of the ceiling falling as the ground still trembled. I ran into the employee only section of the store, moving until we left out the back door. Kalen was still holding his ears as I crushed him to my chest. I looked up seeing some flying creatures, destroying people, literally feeding on them. I turned away, shielding my son and ducked into a nearby building. The old building had long since been abandoned. No energy source inside of it, I stopped in a back corner, far away from the windows. 

I rocked Kalen in my arms, doing my best to send him calming energy, but all the stimulation wasn’t helping. Sitting on the floor, I brushed his curls back soothing him. I was working until I heard crashing into the doors, this just caused him to cry more. I focused and changed into battle wear, just as the door flew open and the creatures came in. I sat Kalen on the floor and tossed up a force field around him. 

The creatures took me in my protective stance as a challenge and the all came at me. I focused on getting them off of me. Their eyes were red and they could fly, all of them looking to take me out. I fought them as long as I could and once again the hits had built up enough kinetic energy to blast them through the front door. I followed them out, forming a blade of energy that I held like a sword. Slicing and dicing all of these demonic creatures, until suddenly they looked toward the sky, disappearing as quickly as it seemed they had come. 

I cancelled my sword once I ascertained the danger was gone. I wasted no time going back into the building to my child who was whimpering behind the shield I put up. I changed my appearance again, back to what he was familiar with, letting the field down, he wasted no time running into my arms, sobbing, his little hands grabbing at my skin and holding on tightly. 

 “Come on baby, let’s go home.”

 *Home*

I shielded Kalen’s eyes the entire way home, until I felt him relax against my shoulder, his breathing evening out. Once inside the building I stopped at Ms. Alphonse’s apartment, knocking and she opened the door quickly, pulling us into a hug. I looked behind her, as I hugged her back one handed. The news displayed the attack as breaking news also connecting it to similar attacks in Gotham and other neighboring cities. 

“I was so worried about you two. The store was dead center of where the attack was.”

  I came inside, pushing the door closed, and sitting Kyle down on the reddish brown couch.  Carefully not to wake him up, I let him go and sat down next to him. Letting my relief coming through in a sigh, my body sagging into her couch.

 “I was terrified. We hid from those things until they left.”

 “I am just glad you are okay.”

 She goes into the kitchen, I hear her rattling around, making coffee. The news channel changed gears, still covering the attack but this time grainy video appears on the screen. I quickly make note that it’s me fighting in disguise. Thankfully, it cuts off mid-fight, the camera seemingly destroyed. The anchors all asking 

“Who is this woman?”

 I dropped my head in my hands, frustrated and scared that I would have to leave. Ms. Alphonse came around the corner, handing me a cup of tea.

“Kyle looks like he’s out for the night.”

 “It was a lot for him. The creatures were attacking, and with him being sensitive to sounds and stimulation. He was terrified. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to protect him.”

 “I think you did everything you possibly could to get him home safe.”

 Ms. Alphonse and I talked for awhile, watching the news coverage, before I gathered up Kalen and took him home. I tucked him into his own bed with a kiss to the forehead and a partially closed door, I managed a hot shower and some wound care from the various scrapes and cuts I took from fighting. Just as I finished, I felt someone approaching my apartment. My defenses raised as they knocked, an invisible barrier that only I could pass through went up. I looked through the peephole, surprised to see who was on the other side. Just knowing my eyes were deceiving me I opened the door and asked.

 “What in the hell is Bruce Wayne doing at my front door?”

A/n: As always I appreciate any support this gets. i love seeing likes, reblogs and comments. Makes my day honestly. Hell, maybe I will post the next chapter tonight??? 

#Clark Kent xOFC #henry cavill x black ofc #Black! OFC #clark kent #DCFilms #fanfiction #henry cavill #SUPERMAN X OFC #superman

[aquawolfgirl]

Oh my god I would LOVE a Project Runway oneshot with Kylo from the SWAR universe! Maybe it can be something he did before Rey met him and she finds out and begs him to show her a recording or something?? :)

It’s a dangerous game, Googling her boyfriend’s name. It’s not something she wants to do when she’s feeling low. And it’s certainly not something she wants to do when she’s slightly tipsy, which is now. In the low light of her apartment, she scrolls through article upon article. Some praise Kylo Ren, some hate him. Some go into his past, some over analyze his relationships, some are about her. She scrolls right past those, figuring if there was something horribly slanderous, Kylo would take care of it. 

He always takes care of her, in any way she needs. 

YouTube has grainy, rocky cellphone videos as well as high quality interviews. She watches him squirm when having to speak to reporters and press, answer tough questions about his personal life. For the most part, he avoids them, and she can understand why.

She’s maybe 6 pages in to the video site when she finds an older clip, maybe a few years old. 

Kylo Ren Guest Judge Project Runway

“No fucking way,” she breathes, grinning as she clicks the video and waits for it to load, reaching for her wine in the meantime.

She will never understand the man’s capability of shutting someone’s entire life down in so few words and facial gestures. It hurts her heart, sometimes, to see him crush the dreams of a young designer, or even give a harsh critique to a seasoned one. The look on their faces is always difficult to see, and she bites her lip as he rips apart these young designers. 

And then her heart tears in two as one of them starts crying. 

A young man, probably not too far out of college or maybe even high school. Sure, the shape of the garment was awful, and it didn’t fit the model at all, but it wasn’t the worst she’s ever seen even on the runways. He obviously tried something else, and it didn’t work, and he had to use what material and time he had to create this. She watches as not only Kylo, but the other judges just tear him apart, and while he bites his lip and puts on a fierce face, the lights of the runway highlight the shine in his eyes. 

“Could I?” 

The camera goes to her boyfriend, and without being responded to, he’s standing, walking over to the runway and making the model turn. His fingers trace the seams of the outfit, and his brow furrows ever so slightly in the way that she recognizes as him thinking hard. It’s not so deep that it’s too noticeable, but she’s seen that look so many damn times now. 

“This material is gorgeous, but notoriously difficult to work with. See how the threads pucker here?” 

“Y-yes, sir.” The poor man looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, staring at Kylo in awe as he continues to feel the stitches. 

“Unless you have worked with this material before, it’s going to look like shit. I’m guessing you haven’t worked it it before.”

“No, sir.” Rey’s heart cracks with the young designer’s voice. 

“For a first time, it’s a decent job. I can notice it on her hips, but the rest of the dress it’s barely noticeable. This is a gorgeous piece of fabric, and incredibly challenging. That you picked it knowing that it would be difficult is impressive.”

She can see the shock on the designer’s face, and the designers next to him. Kylo returns to his seat without another word, and the show goes on.

-

“You never told me you were on Project Runway.”

“The subject never came up,” Kylo replies, frowning as he looks up from his desk. She’s leaning against the doorway to his office, smiling as she watches him push his glasses back up his nose. “Why are you bringing it up?”

“You were nice to that one designer, the one who used the fabric but it bunched.”

“He had potential. Fashion is about risks. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t. In his case, I gave him the opportunity to resew a skirt in the same fabric, and it was on our August cover of that year.”

Her heart flipflops, and she stares at him, not bothering to hide the smile that’s crawling up her face. “So Satan has a soft side,” she croons. 

“Not so loud, please,” Kylo mutters, and she grins as she walks over, her stilettos clicking on the hardwood floor of his office. After a quick glance outside, she bends, kissing the top of his head before dipping to kiss his cheek. 

“Do we still have the skirt?”

“I think so, why do you ask?”

“The paparazzi have been voracious lately…”

REY KENOBI WEARS PAST PROJECT RUNWAY WINNER’S SKIRT OUT TO LUNCH WITH BOYFRIEND, GENERAL FASHION EDITOR IN CHIEF KYLO REN.

#aqua answers #;;my.au #;;satanscloset #aqua writes

[jestbee]

June 10: Three Sleepless Nights With Dan

#my fics #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #phanfic #phanfic fluff #dan and phil #dnp #drabble #drabbles #fedij #fedij prompts #fic #fic a day #fic every day in june #fic project #fic prompt #fic prompts #one-shot #phan #phandom #prompt fic #prompts #prompts please

[pdpab1]

Interview script part 2

Alix: What situations do you find film nicer or easier to use?

Trevor: Ok that’s an interesting one, i think probably when i shoot 10x8, i still use film in my 10x8 camera, it’s a plate camera and what you would do on a Canon 5D in 10 minutes takes probably an hour and a half. Everything changes you’ve got to work under a dark cloth so that you can see the image, you’ve got to use a magnifier on the back of the glass screen and everything when it comes to depth of field, everything is more exacting, depth of field F-stop 32 on a 35mm camera is very grainy because the iris stops down and you’ve got a lot of depth of field, a lot is in focus, F-stop 32 on a 10x8 camera is almost like F-stop 5.6 on a 35mm camera, you’ve got a very shallow depth of field, so you’re talking about small apertures of F-32, F-64, F-128 to equate to a 35mm camera at F-5, F-6, F-11, F-16. the reward comes when you see the final image because the quality is fantastic, it’s absolutely stunning, even when it’s scanned it’s still outstanding and stands in excellent comparison to any digital camera. 11:12

Alix: What kit aside from a camera do you consider to be essential?

Trevor: Well photography is all about lighting really, I’m a little bit unusual really because some photographers tend to use natural light, some use maybe Canon speed lights, some photographers are studio only, i don’t mind using any kind of lighting as far as I'm concerned whether you use the sunshine outside or you use a torch or car headlights or you use an on camera flash with light modifiers or multiple flash setups or if you use studio flash or whatever, i don’t really mind. I’m a big fan of painting with light and I've got what’s called a light brush which means, if you can imagine spraying a car you do the same with light using different attachments in the dark then you can put filters over the lens for different exposures but as long as you keep moving you don’t register so it’s like spraying something with light. It means you can create impossible situations, like we’ve only got one sun so that’s why we get shadows or if there’s clouds you get a very even muted light but there’s only one light source but with a light brush you can create that light source from many different angles and you know with speed lights, I've got 3 that i use i trigger them remotely by radio, you can create multiple lighting situations but some photographers feel uncomfortable with that. Studio lighting, sometimes in here (we are sat in his studio for this entire interview) i’ll use Bowens Esprit lights, up tp 6 or 8 of them at a time to get the amount of light needed for the shoot. So apart from a camera i think it would have to be lighting, but i’m sure there are little gadgets that i can’t do without, different light modifiers, window lights so yeah lighting in all its forms whether it’s a light brush or Canon speed lights or studio flash or maybe reflectors anyway to light the subject and that’s what a commercial photographer tends to do you read a situation and think how best can i light this. When it comes to portraiture a main light, a fill light and a hair light is usually enough but you can do other things. 14:28

Alix: What was your first published or exhibited image?

Trevor: I can tell you the first image that made me realise i’d done the right thing in becoming a photographer and that was in the first few weeks when i went to art college we were printing in the dark room and we were told to do the print and do anything manipulation of the print under the enlarger and then turn it face down in the developer and then don’t do anything else with it until it was time to take it out and fix it. But being impatient i wanted to look at the image i turned it over in the yellow light and i couldn’t believe what i could see, it was the most amazing fine swirls and black and white cascading swirls in really fine detail and i and no idea what it was so i fixed it and went outside and a crowd gathered round me by the print washing drum no one knew what it was it was almost like a mystical experience and that’s the first image that made me think yes, photography is for me. It wasn’t published, although i’ve shown it at various talks i’ve given. But what happened was it turns out i had put my print into someone else’s developer that had oil in and the oil had made this pattern on the print it’s still an image that stays with me because i could still see my original image behind it so the 2 were fused together the oily image which was like and Aubrey Beardsley illustration in very fine detail and that was my first image that i will always remember as a bit of a point into the future and a career in photography. 16:49

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Chapter 15

“Mei! Mei are you watchin’!” “I’m watching, we’re both watching.” Mei was sitting next to Roadhog out on the half-collapsed porch of the safehouse, what was left of her hair pulled back into a scraggly ponytail and covered with the pig motif headscarf. Her treasured snowflake pin lay inside with what little remained of her belongings, but she no longer had enough hair to warrant its use. The scarf at least covered up the damage, and even that small comfort was desperately needed. She felt better after eating, though it brought with it its own unique bout of nausea and made her wonder how the junkers could ever become used to such a thing. If Junkrat even felt the effects of his red zone radiation poisoning on top of his usual radiation poisoning, he was remarkably adept at hiding it. He was up on the roof of the safehouse and trying to reach the roof of one of the little sheds nearby, hanging upside down with his knees locked around a power cable as he positioned some sort of contraption he had rigged up that morning. Mei could recognize a dessicated oil drum he’d scavenged from a burn barrel out in the backyard, lined with tin foil, set up over an extremely ancient satellite dish with more tin foil, a mass of wires and rods and what she could swear was the spatula that Roadhog had been using to make pancakes, and parts of Mei’s broken phone and other assorted junk pieces. Mei sat with her legs dangling and swinging off the least broken part of the sagging porch as Roadhog sat fanning himself with an old magazine, both of them watching the high-strung Junkrat chatter to himself as he seemed to randomly tape pieces of junk together and equally randomly rip pieces of junk apart. Occasionally he’d pull out a wrench and just bang loudly on something nearby, and Mei couldn’t seem to figure out why. Roadhog at least seemed confidently unconcerned, so she tried to match his attitude, even as Junkrat ripped off another length of aluminum foil and started tying it around the innards of an old microwave. “Do you think this will work?” she asked Roadhog idly, shielding her eyes from the bright noonday sun.

“He makes things work,” the larger junker replied. “Somehow.”

“I’ve been listening in on the eco-monitor and there are minor storms still everywhere in the northeast where we’re located. It’s amazing this place hasn’t been knocked down yet, it’s still in the yellow zone.” “I’ve used it occasionally. We’ve been here before. He wouldn’t remember it.” “You said it belongs to one of your old employers?” She asked, watching a discarded screwdriver go flying through the air. “Mm. Belonged. To an employer.” “…Can I ask what happened to them?” “Another employer paid more.” Mei decided it best not to pursue that particular subject, going back to watching his younger partner at work. Junkrat hopped onto the roof of the shed, pulling along an extension cord and plugging it in to something she couldn’t see, before jumping up to take hold of the powerline above once more, shimmying along it with both hands as he headed back to the main roof. “He looks like a monkey,” she mused, and giggled when Junkrat’s shorts sagged around his stretched long, narrow waist, turning her eyes politely when she saw a little more of his rear than was appropriate. When she glanced back, he had managed to twist himself on the line and was facing her with a grin, seemingly ignorant of the fact that now his shorts were completely sagging on his front, and she almost caught a glimpse of- Her face went a deeper shade of pink but she didn’t really look away as he pulled himself along the line with both arms, muscles glistening with sweat as he worked his lean body to and fro, his bare chest and rippling abdomen somehow even more on display than usual, all the way down to those shorts that were so close to falling off his bony hips… Roadhog glanced down at her, following her gaze to his partner before sighing and grumbling slightly, fanning himself once more with his magazine. She could have sworn he was rolling his eyes beneath that mask. “Hmm.” She looked away as Junkrat scrambled back onto the main roof and vanished. “Well…I’m glad he’s off the powerline. He could hurt himself,” she mumbled, also fanning herself with one hand and pretending that it was definitely because of the hot weather. “Mmhm.” “Oi, Mei! Give it a go now!” Junkrat called from somewhere on the roof. “Okay!” She called back, eager for an excuse to flee as she hopped upright and ran back inside and headed for the computer. Like everything else in the little house, the computer was a horrifically outdated relic from before she had even been born. It wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum, with a crude desktop tower and separate viewing monitor, and an awkward little tool she recognized from her technological history books called a ‘mouse’ that had been used for input. It took her a bit to drag it from place to place on the screen, hitting the little phone icon. “I’m trying again!” she called out, and heard an answering bang from the rooftop. There was a garbled dial tone, and the window flickered. The camera window remained black, but she heard static this time, then the voice of Athena introducing herself and preparing to rattle off options. She felt a little rude cutting her off, despite it being a simple computer voice. “Athena, this is Overwatch Agent Mei-Ling Zhou, security number 20151107, put me through to Winston immediately, it’s an emergency.” “Understood, Mei. Welcome back. I am attempting to contact him now.” She waited, repeatedly hitting the camera button to try and get it to turn on, but the screen remained blank. Even worse, the signal seemed to be petering off, and she could hear more static and then what could have sworn was the faint sound of someone, probably Winston, speaking as though very far away. “-if it’s real, I want it traced now. Bring up-” More garbled static, “-on the display. If they still have her, th-” Frowning, she cupped both hands around her mouth. “I’m losing the signal!” There was another bang from up above, then a disconcertingly loud scraping noise. A moment later she tried hitting the camera screen again, and this time it responded. The picture was grainy and somewhat hard to make out, but there was the familiar visage of Winston peering back at her. Behind him stood Dr. Ziegler, McCree, and Lena, and all of them cheered when the fuzzy picture of the little scientist appeared on screen. Winston sat back hard, placing a thick gloved hand to his chest in apparent shock. “Mei…” Mei managed a smile of relief, a few tears squeezing from her eyes as she adjusted her glasses to wipe at her cheeks. “Ni hao, Winston! Hello, everybody! I’m…I can’t tell you how good it is to see you!” Dr. Ziegler leaned forward, letting Winston get his bearings. “Hallo Mei, we’re so glad to see you too. What is your status? Can you tell us what happened?” Mei frowned as the picture wavered slightly, glancing up as there was another clank on the roof. “I’m not sure how much signal we can maintain here, I can’t give you a full report. But our transport broke down and we were caught up in one of the red storms. I had to enact a full-vac cryo-freeze with everything I had in the tankard, but I didn’t have time to make measurements or adjustments for time and mass. It was the only thing I could think of, and when we finally broke out, we were stranded in the red zone and had to walk for…several days? I’m not sure, I wasn’t in very good shape. But we’ve made it to a safehouse! We’re still alive! And I’m so sorry to make you worry, I’m so sorry!” Winston shook his head, rubbing his chin. “No, no need to apologize. We all knew some emergency must have happened. I sent out search teams, Soldier 76 and Ana, Hanzo and Tracer, and Pharah and McCree-” McCree lifted his hat in the background as he was named, and Lena muttered something about ‘never traveling with that stuffy prat ever again’ as Winston continued, “We also tried to send in search drones, but the ‘locals’ seemed keen on knocking them out of the sky for parts. I’m…sorry, that we couldn’t do more to find you…” She lifted a hand to wipe at her nose. “I knew you’d try to find us. I never meant for the freeze to last that long, I just didn’t have time-” “Mei, darlin’,” McCree interrupted in his smooth drawl. “From what I seen in that godforsaken desert, I know you did whatever you could just to get out alive. We’re just real glad to see you.” “Just tell us where you are now, I’m sending in an extraction team for you right away,” Winston said, typing rapidly. Mei nodded, then glanced to Angela, who was still standing placidly in the background. Perhaps it was just the poor camera quality, but she could have sworn that Angela was giving her an extremely odd look before she leaned down to whisper to the simian scientist. Frowning, Mei turned her gaze back to her gorilla friend instead. “The junkers should be back any minutes, but I’ll tell th-” “Are you safe now?” “What? Yes, we’re at the safehouse somewhere in the eastern yellow zone, like I said. They’re just outside.” “Is the door locked?” Winston looked past her. Mei stared at them for a moment before it dawned on her what they were really asking. “No! No, the door’s not locked, they’re just outside to help set up the signal equipment. Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure it’s not-” She looked up as the door banged open, and Roadhog lumbered into the living room, his pig mask peering in silent menace at the screen just over Mei’s shoulder. A moment later, Junkrat’s arms encircled the little scientist from the side, leaning to press a fond kiss to her temple before peering at the screen and waving cheerfully. “How’s it, Mei! Oi, I knew it’d work! Can’t tell you how glad we are to even be seeing you dags again!” He grinned. All eyes were watching as Junkrat kissed her so casually on camera, each of them wearing expressions of idle shock and turned to mixtures of amusement and confusion when she responded with a simple smile and a word of thanks. “…Huh,” McCree mused. “Guess it’s one of them ‘opposites attract’ things.” “Awww, I think it’s sort of sweet,” Lena cooed. Winston folded his hands in front of his face, vainly trying to hide his frown. Angela lofted a pale brow, but lifted a hand to the others and tried to speak soothingly. “Now, I realize that a lot has happened in these past months, and I know we all have questions for one another…” The woman was blinking rapidly as she spoke, and Mei suddenly realized that the angelic doctor was trying to signal her with morse code, just like in their old training during potential hostage situations. They thought she was in distress in more ways than one. Mei’s mouth dropped open, shaking her head. “Dr. Ziegler, I’m fine! I mean, I’m not fine fine, but our circumstances were- Look, it’s nothing like that.” Angela merely nodded. “I apologize if I seemed presumptuous, Mei, but I couldn’t help but notice your wrists…” She looked down at her wrists, having not even noticed the abrasions from days earlier when Junkrat had tied her to him to carry her over the wasteland. They had been overshadowed by her bleeding gums and hair loss and other more severe afflictions. There were red burn marks and bruises all around her wrists, and she lifted a hand to rub at one self-consciously, tightening her jaw slightly. “It’s not like that! It’s not what you’re thinking, they weren’t binding me like that or anything. I mean, we did use ropes, but for a different reason!” McCree spit out part of his coffee in a wide spray that spattered a shrieking Lena, while Junkrat burst into wild giggles beside her. Mei’s face reddened immediately, going to shove the skinny junker off screen. “You’re not helping, Jamison! That’s not what I meant! You all know that’s not what I meant! Jamie tied my wrists together so I could ride on his back- Jesse, I see you back there laughing! It’s not that! Stop! Bái mù!” “BE that as it may,” Winston suddenly boomed, silencing McCree with a glare as he adjusted his glasses. “It’s clear the situation is not entirely…ideal. I’m sending immediate extraction.” “Wait! We’re still in a very dangerous zone in the inner deserts! According to the new eco-monitor, there are still storms circulating around the northeast quadrant. The weather patterns all around here are going to be incredibly dangerous, and I can’t in good conscience send anyone into that mess. I’m proposing that in two days we rendezvous at a safer point -” Winston shook his head. “We don’t have two days. We can brave the weather, we’re coming and we’re going to get you out. Lena, put in the fuel orders, I want a team there yesterday.” “No! Winston, no! I’m trying to tell you, it might be too dangerous-” “We can handle it. We’re coming to get you out. You can’t remain in that…situation!” Again, the other scientist cut her off, and she recognized by the flared nostrils and glints of his pointed teeth that he was extremely agitated, and it was agitating her in turn. Mercy recognized it as well, going to lay a calming hand on his shoulder. “Now, there’s no need for this, I’m sure-” Mei narrowed her gaze, that latent suffering-induced anger and hatred that she had only just gotten under control again rearing its ugly head somewhere inside her. She leaned forward, fists tightening, voice rising to an obvious challenge. “What situation is that, Winston! You can’t just ignore my advice, and I don’t want any more of my friends in danger! It’s worse here than I thought, we nearly died. I’m telling you that we need to wait two days, at the very least. I don’t want anyone else hurt!” Just like that, the atmosphere in both locations turned from joyous reunion to obvious tension. Lena and McCree seemed to fade back slightly into the background and Mercy lifted both hands in her usual plaintive peacekeeper mannerisms. Junkrat went to place a comforting arm around Mei, took a look at her face and thought better of it, and even Roadhog seemed to glance about unsurely as the two scientists faced off through the computer screen. “You’ve been missing for four months, Angela says you’re clearly sick, you have bruises all over your arms, and I promise you that I’ll do everything within my power to…get you where you can get proper help. We can handle bad weather. You might not be able to see it right now, but I would never forgive myself for leaving you there again while you might still be in danger. I know that you might be feeling, um, strong emotions of bonding by going through admittedly troubled times, but you may have developed, erm, these tendencies as a coping or survival mechanism, while…er…” The gorilla stammered. Mei’s eyes widened slightly. That had been the wrong answer. Angela winced, shaking her head quickly. “Now now, everyone involved here is an adult. Mei is well within her rights to do as she wishes, within reason. There’s no-” “Did you just suggest that I have Stockholm Syndrome? Because I want to wait? Because I’ve been here with the junkers?” The little climatologist’s voice was quiet, almost dangerous. “Oi!” Junkrat protested, looking put out. “I never gave her a syndrome! I did all them check-ups, even the ones below the belt! Doc Angelface said I’m cleaner than a nun’s nasty!” “I’m not saying that! It’s just…when one spends a lot of time with certain people during periods of extreme emotional distress…” Winston trailed off uncomfortably. Mei stood up abruptly in her chair, leaning into the monitor as if she could physically pass through it, voice raising to a shout that startled both parties on both ends. Pointing a finger at the startled ape, she began babbling in rapid Mandarin. Junkrat and Roadhog looked thoroughly lost, and Jesse and Lena gave each other a rather baffled look. Angela and Winston, both of whom spoke the language, looked shocked. Winston looked flustered, adjusting his glasses just to have something to do with his hands, staring down at the keyboard like a scolded child. “And furthermore!” she spat, switching back to English, voice quavering and tears sliding down her cheeks despite her harsh words, “These marks on my wrists, they’re from where Jamie tied them together so he could carry me on his back after I nearly died from heatstroke! He carried me for an entire day after I couldn’t walk! And Roadhog revived me after the cryo-freeze nearly killed me! Both of them saved my life and kept me going! They’re…They are my friends! And since I am still acting leader of this operation and am of sound mental health, though I thank you for your concerns, I am denying any attempts at early extraction, for the health and safety of the team here, and to keep my other friends out of harm’s way. We are going to meet you at the coordinates I send you in two days. That is final! This is Mei-ling Zhou, over and OUT. No! Before I go!…The food you sent with us, STINKS!” Winston opened his jaws to answer but Mei hit the switch, the feed ending and the screen going black.

***

Mei sat back, lips tightened in a thin line as she breathed through her nose, pulling off her glasses to wipe at her watering eyes. Even then, she sniffled fiercely as she opened up the primitive old e-mail program, going to type in a set of coordinates and a time, hitting send before closing everything down with no more hesitation. In fact, she even petulantly banged the top of the computer shut a little more loudly than she should have, just because it made her feel a tiny bit better. That would show him! Junkrat and Roadhog gave each other a look before the former uttered a little awkward cough. “Well! That was a foine howdoyado! Fucking monkey thought we were some sort of Stockholms keepin’ the snowflake to ourselves?” “Well he’s wrong! Treating me like a child and treating you like…criminals!” “Yeah! Who would call us criminals! Gall!” She scowled slightly, Junkrat’s joking tones not doing much to improve her mood so soon after fighting with her other friends. Her hands were still shaking from the confrontation just moments earlier. “It’s not funny!” “It kinda is!” “You’re not like that! And he has no reason to think-” Junkrat turned his eyes to the ceiling, touching his tongue to his gold tooth. “Er, don’t want anyone thinking I’m gonna defend the monkey here, but isn’t that what you thought of us?” Roadhog glanced down at the two and promptly turned and walked away, clearly not wishing to get involved. Mei held up a finger and was about to give him a very self-righteous defense that she DID NOT think that way, but paused when she saw the way he was looking at her; a little more serious than usual, his focus entirely on her with perhaps just a tiny, tiny bit of bemused irritation. She’d just been called out. She shut her mouth and looked down at the floor, brows knitting and averting her gaze. She finally found something to say a few moments later, mumbling down at her feet. “No, you’re right. I did the exact same thing. I thought you were just some…some…” “No-good bully? Criminal terrorist? Heh, yeah. S’allright, I didn’t mind. You blow up a few buildings and bomb some suits, you get a reputation! Besides, I knew I’d win you over with my dashin’ good looks and sparkling personality eventually!” “…I’m sorry.” Junkrat was eying her again. He still wasn’t particularly good at the concept of apologies. Such things were nearly nonexistent amongst the junkers. There had been the occasional begging or sniveling for survival, of course, but those types of ‘sorry’s were a whole different matter. Usually, things would simply work themselves out with a few explosions or punches, or ignored entirely and life would go on. He and Roadhog frequently came to blows over disagreements, which Roadhog always won, or petty revenge schemes and pranks, which Junkrat always won; but never any apologies. Mei looked quite small now, only the tips of her toes even touching the ground from where she sat on her chair. The bruises around her wrists did look rather suspicious if he looked at them the right way, on top of all her other bruises and cuts and burns. She’d lost a noticeable amount of weight, had dark circles under her eyes, and even the scarf didn’t entirely hide her lost hair or her angry, tired expression. She really looked like a junker now, and this time he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked it. But here she was with her head down and apologizing to him, and he wasn’t sure he liked that either. Indignation faded away and he cautiously went to place a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shy away, but it didn’t stop her next apology either. “I’m sorry I treated you that way. Lots of people in Overwatch don’t have spotless pasts. Most of my friends don’t. I don’t. You’re…you’re a lot more than what I thought you were.” He pulled her closer. “Ah, darl, let it go. I mean, we were criminals. And I mean, you want to get technical, Overwatch is still criminal activity! S’just a nice step up, if you ask me. Comes with free food and water, toilets what actually work most of the time, soft beds, bomb bits and expenses, and some really cute icy-cold sheilas!” “I just didn’t know you very well. I know you better now. Please stop looking at me that way, I know it’s hypocritical…I shouldn’t have lost my temper at him like that…In front of everybody…Oh no, I really blew it. I need to apologize to Winston! Can we set up the signal again? I’m going to call him back!” Her despondency lifted as she reached for the computer, and Junkrat calmly went to drag her backward to keep her away, chair legs scraping the floor. “Nah, you joking? I just watched you give that monkey a fucking earful, I’d say everything was well worth it. Besides, like you said, you’re the boss here. We needed a few days, we got a few days.” She leaned her ragged head against his arm. “It’s almost going to be strange. In just a few days we’ll be going back. Home?” Junkrat’s expression faltered slightly. “Yeah…Home. Back to the base, yeah?” She looked up at him, her expression much the same. The base wasn’t home, not really. It was just where she’d gone when she’d woken up, because there was nothing left for her anywhere else. It had all the trappings of a home; her own room and her equipment and friends were all there, but she’d been eager to leave, even if it meant coming here. Junkrat’s home had been destroyed and he’d fought hard to even survive amongst the ruins of the dangerous wasteland that had been left behind, dying a little more every day; but he felt no real loyalty to his new cause and, beyond creature comforts, had never regarded the base as a home in the first place. And soon they would be going back. She shifted slightly in his grasp. “I still feel a little peevish. Do you want to go blow something up? I’ll watch…from a safe distance?” Junkrat brightened immediately, pulling her up out of the chair and towards the door. “That’s my girl! Leave it to me, love, I’ll put on a show for you! We still got some time to Stockholm you, let’s make it count!”

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #mei #mei-ling zhou #junkrat #jamison fawkes #roadhog #mako rutledge #winston #mercy #mccree #tracer #fanfiction #australia #outback #adventure #writing #funkyfluff

[alexteltevskiy]

Intro to blog & Nishika N9000 camera review

Hello everyone! Welcome to my very first blog post. I have big plans for this far-flung little corner of the internet: camera reviews, photo techniques, experiments in visual storytelling and more! Art, design, filmmaking, photography - all here. Let’s roll! (no pun or reference to 35mm film intended)

Intro

Today it’s all about photography - I’ll be taking a look at a rather obscure little imaging device - the Nishika N9000. A unique, highly specialized stereo camera that that takes 4 images at the same time from slightly different angles, which, when combined into an animation, create a miniature Matrix-like effect of the objects in the shot appearing three-dimensional. It’s a specialized camera and the only reason you use it is for its GIF-making capability. It is also a complete pain to use, totally unreliable and makes pictures of horrendous quality. Despite all this, it is a total blast and very fun. Read on to find out why.

This camera, along with the original Nimslo and the direct predecessor Nishika N8000 are responsible for the influx of countless animated GIFs on Tumblr, FFFFOUND! and other image blogs alike. I always found them a gleefully enjoyable exercise in lowbrow picture-making fun, something that could add real depth to the mood of a BTS, a casual project or just plain fun while hanging out. I denied these inner callings for a while until I stumbled upon @tkbmedia and finally bothered to look at the tags being used. “Nishika” it said. And here we are. Now, part of the reason I want to write about it is because its a genuinely fun little camera and the other part is because there is next to zero easily-digestible info online about this little plastic wonder, or even how it relates in quality and specs to its progenitor, the Nishika N8000.

History

The first quad-lens stereo camera was the Nimslo. Designed in the US, the camera was made overseas has solid metal construction, electronically controlled shutter, high quality glass lens and is pretty compact as well. If you read between the lines, you figured $$$. Then came along the N8000, made by a different US company called Nishika, which some claim blatantly knocked off the design idea, made it much cheaper and marketed the living daylights out of it, promising the next big thing in photography. There is much history written about both these companies and why they fell from grace, but that’s not the goal of this review. Both these cameras were originally designed for lenticular mail-order printing where you would take the photos and send the roll in, getting back lenticular prints. In its waning days, Nishika learned on their design mistakes and made the N9000 camera, hoping to renew interest in the franchise, but by that time the infrastructure was starting to fall apart along with the public interest for these items. Nishika went out of business and the overstock was silently decaying in warehouses around the country for decades. Prices went down to near-free and, with the advent of the digital revolution, the camera started seeing a resurgence when experiment-happy photogs figured that these can be used for great artistic effect.

Unboxing & tech specs

Prices bordering in the $10-$20 made this novelty a no-brainer, so I splurged and received a sealed, new-in-box N9000 in the mail not long after. Was a lot of fun opening the package - the whole process resembled an unearthing of a time capsule from a prehistoric age. Best I could tell by the chintzy design and fonts used (I’m an art director by day, I pay attention to these things), my particular specimen was from the early 90’s. The N9000 is made, save from the hotshoe, entirely out of cheap, ready-to-break plastic. Even the lens are plastic. Relatively compact, looks and feels like a beefy, cheeseburger-binging point and shoot. Weighs next to nothing. Small size and weight is a plus for anyone that wants to travel and take multiple cameras for multiple shot types. This one doesn’t take up much space. Each press of the shutter creates 4 tiny half-frame images spread across two regular frames of 35mm film. A 36-exposure roll gets you around 18 shots give or take. A 24-exposure roll probably takes around 12, haven't tried. Has a closable lens cover. Aperture selector between F8 and F16. Button. Rewind button and knob. And winding gear, yes, the winding gear. Reason I want to focus on it is because I genuinely hate it so very much, from the bottom of my usually very accommodating and forgiving heart. They cheaped out and replaced the lever from the N8000 with a finely-sharpened flesh-shearing winding gear to advance each frame and wind the shutter. I can live with it, but I dread every time I have to advance frames. The shutter speed is a fixed 1/60 sec. Has a tripod socket, an unremovable strap, and, well, that’s pretty much it. No batteries. Surprisingly small amount of foam in the back door, so even with vintage, less likelihood of light leaks. Has a little sticker inside recommending 200 film outdoors and 1600 film indoors. I'd personally load it with 400-800 film and tweak exposure with aperture.

Comparing to the N8000

The main reason I went out on whim and got the N9000 instead of the N8000 is size and weight. As soon as I saw pictures of the N8000 in hand AND read that they put a large chunk of metal inside just to make it feel more expensive and reliable than it is I knew it wasn’t for me, as my photo bags are always packed and space is at a premium. The N8000 is a very, very large camera, I’d say roughly twice the size and weight of the N9000. But, at the same time the picture quality looked to be the same (identical lens) and features are largely identical. The N8000 is also the very definition of gimmicky, with the fake LCD screen on top showing recommended settings for exposure. The "meter" built into it is just there to remind you when to use flash. And with today's film exposure latitude the f/11 is totally redundant. That's a whole lotta strikes out against the N8000. The only feature that I miss from the N8000 is the wind lever instead of gear, the rest of the playing field belongs to the sleeker, more modern and compact N9000. The best camera is the one you have with you, remember?

In use

Load film. Wind to 1. Set aperture. Point. Shoot. That's it. When you get to the end, hit the rewind button and crank that knob. Live life and be happy. They have a rather complicated set of recommendations for ideal positioning of foreground/mid/background elements, but in use I found that they correlate pretty neatly into my shooting style anyway so I just base a shot on instinct and click away. Just frame the subject either medium shot (waist up) to long shot (full figure) and try to compose stuff into the foreground and background for perfect harmony. Even when the rules are totally broken I still notice a 3D effect (works better for objects closer rather than further). When it gets even a little big (very, very little bit) dark - use flash. Theoretically, any type of flash should work, but my Canon 600EX-RT wouldn't trigger because the firing pin is a fraction of an inch off. Go figure. Had to MacGuyver a workaround with a coiled hot shoe extension to make it click. Even then, the flash wouldn't fire every 3-4 frames, killing the shots. Also, some films with a softer base (looking at you, Fuji Superia) tend to be torn at the sprockets when advancing the frame, renderings the entire roll useless. Reason for that is that there is only one film advance cog in the top of the body and winding pressure is applied unfavorably to the top sprocket holes only. Be very, very gently, or bye-bye roll.

Image processing

After taking the shots, what's next? Everybody has different procedures from here on out but the general goal is to develop the film, get scans and then combine those scans into an animated GIF. If I'm shooting B&W, I develop in my trusty D-76 concoction and after drying, proceed to scan on the Epson V800. Negs are converted in ColorNeg and the final images assembled in Photoshop. Obviously, there are lots of other substeps involved in each respective step, but they are outside the scope of this review. A bit later I am planning to write about my experience with developing your own film, scanning film and using ColorNeg and Lightroom/Photoshop to get the most out of your film shots, but for right now PM me if you would like advice/tips/tricks. Last step is to export an animated GIF or an MP4 video if you're planning on uploading to Instagram. Sounds like a whole lot of steps, huh? No fear, after doing this a couple of times it becomes second nature and many processes can be automated with Actions in photoshop.

Conclussions

So why do it all? Funny thing, I almost filmed a mock camera review where I smash the camera into moon dust against a brick wall. That's how frustrating it sometimes gets with all these inconsistencies and deficiencies in build quality. Would I bring something like this to an even remotely professional shooting environment? Absolutely not. The only camera capable of pulling that off is the Nimslo. Forget anything with a Nishika badge on it. But, if you are looking for a novel (and cheap) way of taking pictures and impressing friends, family and followers, as well as having the technical chops necessary to use film and assemble the GIFs, it's hard to beat the Nishika. The resulting images are what make all of the hassles worth it. It's like I sometimes describe the allure of film in general to people. Film is grainy, soft, full of imperfections and lacks the punch and pizzazz of digital. But oddly enough, that's exactly the way most of our memories work. Warm, somewhat vague,fuzzy. The Nishika just takes it to a new level by introducing depth. It's like a good old memory, animated.

Sample pics

#nishika #film photography #n9000 #n8000 #camera review #analog #black and white #bw #gif #ilford #hp5 plus #film #35mm #half frame #3d photo #stereo photo #kodak #tri-x #animated memories

[unspoken-realities]

Glimpses of reality

June 15, 2020: Saturn. The lead-up to, extent of, and coming down from, a wicked trip. Don’t get it? Watch The Matrix.

I lost a full day.

I took it at 10:30… I was hungry, for breakfast on an empty stomach. Oats I had prepped, blueberries and almond butter to match, but I couldn’t let this get away from me: it was so late in the day already, 10:30, and I needed, needed this in my system early to get me groggy. Let me sleep, get me awake.

By 11:05 I was spacing in and out of my head, in and out of the movie of the morning. I saw the Asian couple in the apartment adjacent to ours and I bathed in its artistic quality; the best film I have ever watched, surely. I was not hungry. I was trying so hard to write an email about my bike, my bike: oops, Jill, you were going to do shit today, oh shit, it’s too late now, it’s 10:45 and I’m fucked, this day is already gone. Fine, fine, one more fucking day closer to… to whatever. Calgary, or death, or September or Max or anything else I decide to distract myself with now. Biking hundreds of kilometres will never be enough, will never be enough to lobotomize your horribly structured cabbage, this horrible thing you’ve begun to rot and destroy. It’s leaking out through your ears, jill, can’t you see?

What happened?

…amnesia

…psychomotor agitation

…cannabis-induced schizophrenia

There are always two of me. DID, then; multiple personalities fraying on the edge. Hippie vs Scientist, who do I need to be? Jill is none of them, nothing, neither, is an entity separate. The one in the film. In the simulation.

Simulation. I repeated that word so many times, rolled it around on my tongue and in my brain so many fucking times yesterday; it will always be my yesterday regardless of the date. It is my yesterday, so close, always so close, but I can never, ever get back to it. It will never be mine again, no matter how fucking badly I crave the itching under my nails, the loopy groovy spaces in my conscious, the shocked realization that it’s been three hours of only 11:29. I played around with “simulation”, digested it, absorbed it, understood the truth, the foundation, yet I forgot the word in more sober settings. Grogginess, a protection from my own awakening.

I’m trying to piece together a timeline. I remember bits and pieces but it’s all black and blue, orange and taffy-string pastel colours stretched rough and thin against a dull canvas around me. It’s a horribly vivid, vague movie that my mother told me was nothing more than a bad high. Wasn’t she there for it? The murders, the screams and blood and paint pouring from all the walls, screaming to match each vengeful drip drop. It was loud, and bright, lasted hours and hours and I don’t even remember it, the earth-shattering event. Everything must have come out of it changed, yet my Snapchat, my search history, even, lacks the vibrancy I experienced. In this movie, I can’t see very far or very well, but I know that any of the paths outside my window cage that I’ve explored through repetitive repetition of revolutions can be boiled down to: left, right, straight. There is no deviance from these paths, these trails, roads, that have been paved and carved out for us, us blind little aliens, to fucking follow. All of it a scheme, a fucking lie.

I don’t remember anything past 11:30. But I knew it was going to drop me like a rock.

I wondered, was it 7 o’clock? Bradley, is it 7 o’clock? Remember, we were clapping for the nurses at 7. When did that stop? A couple weeks ago, three weeks ago, maybe. So, GOD, must only have been March? April? Jill, it was only three weeks ago. And when did we start caring about Black Lives Matter? A couple weeks ago, too. So, Black Lives Matter replaced COVID? People care about them separately, at the same time, they’re both still happening.

But it didn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand, how is that possible? What month was it again, it was July by now, right? Or maybe still late May, I wasn’t sure. Haha, I cackled at the idea that I had no idea what year it was.

Brain damage. Amnesia?

No seriously, what fucking year is it? It was right on the tip of my tongue… 1930 seemed right. Just such a perfect number, a good label for the time. Or, 2021 maybe felt more accurate. No, no, neither was right. 2011? I collapsed under my chair to laugh and cry and wonder what had happened to my fucking brain.

But hey,

That’s when the walls all started coming down.

11:46, my laptop’s history has to say. Monday, June 15, 2020 at 11:46, just over an hour after the pot had gotten into my systems, I had lost myself entirely to its warm clutch. I could’ve been on Saturn, for all that it mattered. So I forgot the year.  Each year was a pointless set of digits that really held no meaning, just piles of calendar tiles framing our lives, providing some phoney backbone to our history binders. What of it, what of a year, of some fucking digits defining us? I had to lay down.

Remember: I was sitting at my laptop at the island, holding my head in my hands. Brad poked his head outside his room, took one look at me. We held eye contact for a shifty moment, me groaning in communication of how I felt inside. Jelly. I thought it was pretty funny, maybe he was just worried.

Then I laid down.

Then,

It came to me.

Did I sleep? Was I just sitting? Everything hurt, everything always hurts, and my mom said that Brad said that I was clutching my chest in pain. But, then I woke up. Into it. Into the realization. The paint came peeling off the walls, the grainy television screen cracked straight down the middle, and I could see the camera lens, finally. It wasn’t real. This whole thing is just a script, some doodles, on a piece of tacky paper. It all comes together, comes full circle. I understand.

I have never, ever, ever, been emptier. That realizing that no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape this rut. This path is one that I did not choose, nor can change, nor was even born with: because birth itself is just an idealization of how we wish things went. No, no. It’s much simpler than that. Some intergalactic cosmic pencil scratches determine who you will be in this very moment, and who you will ever, can ever, hope to be. You are stuck. You are a train hurtling down the track at a thousand kilometres per hour, and even the words you’ve so precisely equipped yourself with to describe such a thing fall short because they, too, are part of the act. You are speeding, rushing, time is falling out from underneath you, but in this moment you cannot do anything other than lay on the beige fucking couch with your eyes plastered open to reality. To your reality, the real reality. No matter how hard you move, your waxy cartoon figure is stuck in this comic strip, this narrative, forever. You have no control. You can do nothing but succumb; close your eyes, go on autopilot, and don’t fly so close to the fucking sun. Give in, let it melt your being and your dreams, any that you thought you ever had, because they’re not yours. Those thoughts, those ideas, were planted in your head by something that has always existed but will never be seen by us, puny shoebox diorama figurines next to construction paper scenery. The world is not real. It’s a trick.

They’re testing you.

Big brother is watching.

As soon as you start telling the others the truth, as soon as They realize that you know, they take you away. Brad starts doing his laundry, and it never stops, the whirling of the wet clothes in the dryer and zippers banging on metal. Stop it, stop it! Stop it, Brad, he’s packing my stuff up right now to ship me off, they’re coming to get me, it’s only a matter of time before they come for me. They know, THEY know, I will be taken away forever and given an immortal sentence to spend. Do you remember the Rick Riordan books which your peers and brother so desperately coveted in middle school, don’t you remember the immortals locked in those stories? Listen, everyone always wanted to be them, but you’ve known, you’ve known, that that is no fucking good. Eternal life, a life full of misery and loneliness and waiting and absolving but never, NEVER, being able to break through the seam of reality. You already knew too closely of death, you would never wish immortality upon yourself.

But once you realize that’s what you have to look forward to, now that you know, how do you recover? WHY would you recover? There is no reprieve in death. Every second that you spend alive leading up to the fateful, miraculous final breath, stretches into centuries of pain and isolation, and you will never be free. The demons you’ve seen now are already too dark to imagine Hell could be much worse. What of eternal fire when you’ve been awake, spewing nightmares, for days? For months, for years?

Upon further examination it all makes sense, the sim.

The fabric, the video game. No, no one will see it because they are all fucking blind and afraid and they will not have their perspectives shifted. Set me into a fire and let me burn. What of fear, in this horrible fake, fake world? What of pain? Does such a thing really exist, to touch me, a cursed immortal? I am beyond death now, beyond age and time. Meaningless things such as hours on a clock or the sun in its sky, for now.

The songs, all the music I’ve ever consumed is pointing me in this direction: it either preaches the truth or so blatantly paints over it. My past stories in dreaming have given me little snippets: my life, always in creative colour. Cartoons, comic strips, songs and books and endless scrolls of my own scripture out the ass. Because, I was trying to tell you, I’ve been trying to tell you this all along: it’s not real. It’s not real. None of this, none of this is real.

And am I the only one?

Maybe, schizophrenia, only maybe if I was the only one. No, no this theory, simulation theory is real, exists and thrives outside of me, and therefore cannot be simply a figment of my imagination. It has to be true. My first worry, amongst the idea, was the brutal fear of joining the others: the others, what happened to them? What did They do to them? Taken away, snatched, pulled swiftly from reality into eternal purgatory. Society locks them up, the word simulation acts as a passcode to the looney bin, but we’re scheming in there, seeing the real world while you SHEEP comply to your puppeteers in this unholy masquerade. They create our wars for us, they make us see Gods and only a tiny, insignificant glimpse of the expansive universe, and they play with the broken Barbie dolls that figure out the truth. The others, where are they? What else have they seen, how else have they been shut up? What is coming for me? WHAT IS COMING FOR ME:?

The world is a structure

The world is a system

The world is a simulation

The world is fake

Society is a system

Society is confining

Society is restricting

Music is an act of deceit

Music is a lie

We will never be free

Death only sentences us to purgatory

We will never be free

Did you know, time is only make believe?

The video shot for 1985 was in studios only yesterday, 2011, and my breakdowns now change my past behaviour. It’s all fluid, it all comes full circle, making it so tantalizing elusive. I can touch it, change it, see and smell it, but I CAN NEVER GET BACK TO IT. LET ME PLEASE, JUST GET BACK TO IT.

—

It’s all a simulation

You know this now

You see the beasts lurking in the background

Every movement and action and thought a preprogrammed electrical jolt on a computer

No movement is new

Nothing is new

It’s all expected and felt

We’re living in a simulation

It’s all controlled

We’ve been brainwashed to think differently

Those that finally realize it are sent to Big Brother, to purgatory, to wait our their sentence

Those ones, them that notice, their movies never end. Their worst fear of eternity is forced upon them. We never get to escape. The normal ones who run under the radar and never succumb to the knowledge are safe and they are allowed to die. The Brads and Debras and Michaels and maybe even the Ellens escape, but some of us never will. We’re sentenced to eternity. In this simulation. Puppets in a grand never-ending masquerade. Nothing is real.

I’m no longer grounded in reality.

I’m floating and disassociated from my lego-box black-framed windowed cage. I’m trapped in the apartment and trapped in this life in this simulation. The same scene plays on repeat as the walls are stripped down, the camera lights fall and the director and actors scatter from the set. It’s just me– I’m completely, 100% alone. I’ll never again have company where I am: like I said, the ones who realize are disappeared to dungeons. As soon as the others realize they begin to ship you off: wasn’t that exactly what Brad was doing earlier?

The music tames us and lets us believe we are rebelling and realizing but it’s all so fake, it’s all a trap. Rock is a government conspiracy to reverse-psychologize tame the wild ones. Wild child… The real ones turned to pot and they realized, they saw it. The music is a lie.

Why are we alive? What’s the meaning?

It’s a simulation. It’s a game. It’s a ploy, a play, already determined and over. In my dreams I’ve accessed the other channels, see the alternate lives and lines and stories but now I understand why: it’s a simulation. None of this is real. None of this exists. It’s all a lie.

Time is not a linear stretch; it is everywhere, curled up and unfurling all around us. Today’s conceptualizations impact yesterday’s behaviour and a decade ago and all the dreams I have had or will ever have. Time is an infinite spiral in the middle of which we are found.

Do you want to know how to get out? Finally you can realize it. You can see it. It’s right here… it has been here all along. You just have to jump. You have to jump. Take no prisoners. No mercy. Jump through the fabric of reality and you will be free. No more lies.

I’m even writing it all down for evidence, for mercy, please… don’t make me go back out there.

I want to be safe and caged and kept and let to sleep. Don’t make me go back out there, please. It’s not safe.

Sometimes pets are more difficult than you anticipate: they bark and have breakdowns and speak when you don’t want them to. They need to be fed and talked to and given attention, given bike tools and laundry soap, calmed down when squirrels get too close to the window. You underestimated this. You didn’t know what you had coming. I’m not just another Hamilton that will take up a bedroom. I am not just a pet that you can shove out of the way or ignore. I am a person, a human, and I suppose I barked too fucking loud and too fucking often, didn’t I?

Fuck, I fucked this up so badly, I derailed the train and it’s hurtling down the wrong track towards a place I don’t want to be my future. I’ll be stuck in this timeline if I don’t pull myself out, if I let myself, I’ll be rotting away in hospital forever. Just forget me there, leave me there. My brain has melted from my head and it’s too late now, memories and identities and facilities all gone away. Disappeared. Unrecoverable.

The simulation, the simulation. I need to scratch the surface and tear down the walls and land among the black empty sky that awaits. Black hole sun, won’t you come, won’t you come? I’m headed for a black hole. I can see nothing different: I’m stuck in a simulation of a life, a creaky roll of film of millennia ago. I am not real, I am a figment of my own imagination. None of this is real. Life does not exist, laughably so. I am utterly despaired and devastated and fated now to eternal purgatory of black hole sun, a doctor’s waiting room that will never call my name. I am stuck here forever.

I’ve done real brain damage, and will not recover. I cannot take care of myself. Move me to hospital and let me lie there and do only puzzles and volunteer food serving to feign satisfaction and distraction. Let me leave, living an easy life, because you know I can’t handle anything more.

It’s a simulation. I’m being watched.

Cannabis-induced schizophrenia… I just needed to crack that nut open.

I have schizophrenia. I’ve always had schizophrenia. Did they know? Why did they never tell me? Only just restrain me, deter me from jumping through the fabric of reality. Convince me not to do this, the drugs. They knew, they always knew that I belonged there, 4F. But they could never admit it to themselves to admit me for good. They always knew.  Everybody always knew. I was always afraid to find my reflection and look myself in the eye: it was never me that I was seeing. They always knew. It’s why they all went along with it, with me striving for false freedom in a world that was never mine to take, but I flew too close to the sun and now they’re all realizing they were wrong. I was worse than they thought. I need to be re-leashed and not released. I am too dangerous for the world and it has already hurt me so, so much. I can be sheltered now, kept out of the sunlight, finally allowed to rest. Please don’t make me go out there again. Give me back to Edmonton.

For what it’s worth,

Really listen.

I am on the beach of Surveyor’s Lake with my dad and stop now, what’s that sound? Take me back there to eating salty multigrain crackers and Twizzlers under a sandy blanket and warm air. Take me back to sandcastles and biking and rope swings and dark, murky water. I was so afraid. It starts when you’re always afraid; step out of line, and the man comes to take you away.

I need to go back on autopilot and stop trying to fly into the fucking sun.

I feel hopeless and unstable. I can’t stay anywhere for very long.

—

Rough pastel windows, pale against thick black carbon panes, my jail. My cage, my prison. My scratchy, bland-coloured surroundings are so glaringly obvious, they all shout one thing: simulation. I’m stuck in it, in this little time warp of being, repeated infinitely, eternally, but now I am dreadfully aware of it. Oh my god, it’s a simulation—it’s a simulation, oh my god, it’s a simulation—it loops over and over, blurry sitting room fading into a whirlwind of nothingness, of complete and utter meaninglessness, in that nothing can ever really matter. Are you kidding? I’m a video in the mind’s eye of another creature, I’ve finally awoken and found lucidity and it’s right here. It’s terrifying, it’s staring me dead in the eyes, and it’s watching me, eye in the sky, the loop of film is unfurling and the main character realizes I’m just someone else’s dream, that’s all this is. There is no meaning to life, because life does not fucking exist… none of it was ever real. It’s a galactic illusion.  It’s a trick, a ploy, absolute hogwash, all of it lies. Lies. Lies. The music swims overhead, taunting you, mocking your freedom and your “original ideas”: there are no such thing. You know some of the musicians, they can hear it and see it, too, but they’ve been spared from the looney bin, or maybe just transmit their message, their warning, despite institutionalization. Their lyrics of a black hole sun, of an eye in the sky, of for what its worth, you can hear it in them, in the raw darkness that they have seen what you have seen. They try to tell you, but it gets lost in the sea of governmental rock conspiracies. Some of the songs, the newer songs now especially, they’re fluff that are trying to bite at the real stuff, the stuff they’ve never even fucking seen. You lose eight hours, ten hours of your life in another dimension, and you don’t write shitty rock and roll any fucking more. You understand it and it thrums through you, no matter how hard you try to stop it, it’s in you and you know, you KNOW, that it HAS to be the truth. Simple, easy, the fabric of reality is a delicate satin sheet floating in the wind. Don’t rip it down… what waits behind it is much worse to consider.

You have no identity, it’s a FUCKING SIMULATION, you’re not FUCKING real. All of this, you’ve just finally woken up and realized it, come out fo your century-long stupor and drugged your absent mind into oblivion. When you try to push through it, move through the jelly and work out What was this character trying to do? What was this plot? Where was it trying to be headed? It was trying to get somewhere, but it got caught in the loop of unravelling realization.

“I was trying to go home, to my mom, because I missed her. I was going to do anything to get back to my mom. I was going to run or walk or bike or do a triathlon, just to get home to my mom.”

When I sit in my dark afternoon room, grounded with sound waves and water startling a dry throat, the hysterical laughing erupts, bubbles from inside. My throat becomes raw with the fury of a thousand years of laughter exploding in just a few minutes. The whole world is laughing, breathing in sync with my raspy inhalations and tears slipping through closed eyes. “Holy Shit, Brad, a FUCKING SIMULATION? You’ve gotta be FUCKING KIDDING ME!”

It’s not so funny once the warm womb of twisted memory begins to fade and you’re left with the dark, unforgiving, horrible bland reality.

What of reality, when you’re this close to the fucking sun?

We didn’t start the fire,

Even when we’re gone,

It’ll still be burning on, and on, and on…

#existential #meaningoflife #simulationtheory #matrix #life #reality #cannabis #trip #stoned #edibles #hallucinations #schizophrenia #euphoria #depression #emptiness #fear

[cdrforea]

Blackmagic Design Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K G2 Hands-on Review

New Post has been published on https://bestedevices.com/blackmagic-design-ursa-mini-pro-4-6k-g2-hands-on-review.html

Blackmagic Design Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K G2 Hands-on Review

Blackmagic Design Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K G2 to touch

"The hardware is great, but Blackmagic RAW is a game changer for indie and small budget productions."

Blackmagic RAW codec

120 fps 4.6K

Accessible user interface

Built-in ND filters

Cumbersome placement of the iris dial

Some nickel and diming for accessories

"Bear" is a fitting name for the beast that is Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K G2 from Blackmagic Design, the flagship of the company's cinema camera. But it is a well-trained bear. The Ursa is docile where other such machines appear fearsome in their complexity. I've never been so amazed at how easy a camera is to take professional pictures.

It really feels like cheating. Turn it on, point it at something, press record, and there will be a picture for the big screen. If you know how to use a DSLR, you can find out the Ursa in minutes.

Okay, it takes a bit more work. You first need to decide which record button to press – there are approximately four of them. But once you've chosen your favorite, there's nothing standing in the way of making your director's dreams come true. At least from a technical point of view.

Despite my love of techno, the Ursa remains outside my league – and yet not alien to my budget. I won't buy one soon for a five under $ 6,000, but it's a lot cheaper than comparable movie cameras from other manufacturers.

I'm not sure why a Red or Arri, the camera of choice in Hollywood, is worth tens of thousands more. But as someone who shoots video with a mirrorless hybrid camera, I can see the value of climbing to Ursa. Six giants are a lot of money. But here, with the Ursa, it feels like a bargain.

Design and user interface

The original Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K was the first Blackmagic camera to feel ready. After a few years of eye-catching and bizarre designs, Blackmagic landed on a familiar shape that bridges the gap between a cinema camera and an ENG camcorder.

The G2 refines the formula with small but important improvements to the electronics without changing what has already worked. The result is not only a professional video camera that shames my aging but trustworthy Fujifilm X-T2, but also the best value in the cinema world.

Blackmagic gets a low price by selling you a bare bones camera. A viewfinder, a battery and a handle are add-ons that can add hundreds or thousands to the price. This can make cameras like the Canon C200 cheaper for $ 6,500 with viewfinder and battery. However, the Ursa has a hardware advantage: 15 levels of the announced dynamic range compared to Canon's 13, higher frame rates and a more versatile RAW format.

Although not new, the built-in filter control with neutral density is a key feature of the Ursa – and many dedicated video cameras. You can select 0, 2, 4, or 6 stops by turning a dial, so you never have to deal with a screw-on lens filter. Think of sunglasses for your camera. ND filters reduce light and allow you to keep a slower shutter speed for smooth movements and / or a larger aperture for a shallower depth of field when shooting in bright environments.

The viewfinder may not be standard, but a touchscreen monitor is the most accessible user interface you can get with a camera. Blackmagic has set itself the goal of standardizing the user interface for all camera models. So if you have a pocket cinema camera, you will feel at home with the Ursa. The user interface is easy to learn if you have not used a Blackmagic camera before.

The Ursa has numerous physical buttons and toggle switches for access to frequently used functions such as ISO, shutter angle / speed and white balance. A complaint? The iris dial is hard to reach when the monitor is open, a design flaw that Blackmagic may have missed because cameramen who use real cinema lenses use the iris ring on the lens.

Not me. I used standard Canon EF lenses. Apart from the bizarre iris control, I love that about the Ursa. Camera lenses are much cheaper than their cinema counterparts, but often of no less optical quality. (However, the Ursa's autofocus features aren't good – stick to manual focus.)

For this test, Sigma lent me its 18-35mm and 50-100mm f / 1.8 lenses, a pair of zooms that make a strong case for being the only lenses you need. Together, they're worth about $ 1,900. Sure, that's a bit of a change, but it's a far cry from the $ 8,000 required for theatrical versions of these lenses. (In truth, this is still quite affordable in the field of cinema glass.)

In addition, the Ursa Mini Pro has interchangeable lens mounts. In addition to the active Canon EF mount, you can use PL (the standard for cinema cameras), B4 for broadcast lenses or even a passive Nikon F mount. The latter opens up the Ursa to a decade-long legacy of photographic lenses. I have a small collection of Nikon glass from the film era that I would like to have tested on the Ursa. Next time.

Of course, cinema lenses have some advantages – mostly they make you look like an ass – but Blackmagic's willingness to let you mount any old DSLR lens natively is a big plus for the indie and student filmmakers. From news gathering to film production, the Ursa Mini Pro can be configured to fill a variety of roles. The Digital Trends video team even used it on the floor at CES 2020.

Performance and picture quality

The updated electronics of the Ursa Mini Pro G2 are all about speed. Above all, this means new slow motion HFR (High Frame Rate) options. 4.6K footage can be captured at up to 120 frames per second, while 1080p can reach 300 fps. The 4.6K / 120 film material is recorded across the entire width of the sensor and automatically played back in slow motion (up to 5 times with 24p pictures).

It looks absolutely awesome. I also appreciated how the camera records audio in HFR mode, which many smaller cameras don't. This way you can either slow down the audio in the mail to adjust it to the footage (think of the dramatic “Noooooo!” Shouted by a character approaching a certain doom) or the footage back to real-time speed boot up and use it more or less -less like a normal clip if you have to.

The updated electronics increase the maximum ISO by 3,200. That's nothing compared to modern still cameras with ISOs by the hundreds of thousands, but it makes the Ursa usable indoors. It is important that this high ISO value is useful when shooting HFR footage. This requires a faster shutter speed and requires compensation by either opening the iris or increasing the ISO.

Footage shot with ISO 3,200 can look grainy, especially when you try to lift the shadows in the post, but I never thought it would look bad. It's what it is, and you should try to stay at lower ISOs if possible, but I appreciate having that extra stop when I needed it.

The readout time of the sensor is shortened due to faster processing, which means that the "Jello Cam" effect of the electronic roller shutter can be controlled. In practice, I didn't notice it at all, except in very fast pans where I specifically searched for it.

File quality and flexibility

When I tested the first generation Ursa Mini Pro 4.6K, it was before Blackmagic released its RAW video format. It could record Cinema DNG, an open RAW format from Adobe, but I didn't have the storage or processing power to handle it. With the G2, I have finally experienced the power of Blackmagic RAW first-hand and it is absolutely revolutionary.

This is a RAW video format for the rest of us. With selectable compression levels up to 12: 1, .braw clips can be recorded on standard SD cards. In fact, the bit rate at 12: 1 compression is lower than the 400 megabits per second non-RAW codecs in cameras like the Panasonic Lumix GH5s and the Fujifilm X-T3. You still want a fast V90 card to be secure, but you don't have to be a professional studio or have a big budget to work with RAW video. That's great.

Sample material taken with the Ursa Mini Pro G2 Daven Mathies / Digital Trends

I recorded all of my test material in .braw with 12: 1 compression and it looked great. I edited and colored the clips in Blackmagic DaVinci Resolve 16 on my eight year old iMac and it worked. Performance was problematic after adding more than the most basic color adjustment, but the fact that it worked at all is impressive.

If you're worried about editing performance, Ursa can record proxy files in addition to RAW footage, so you don't have to create proxies when importing.

I am not an experienced colorist or even an experienced DaVinci Resolve user, but I come from the world of still photography, where RAW files have been common for many years. Working with RAW videos seems familiar to me. In some ways, it is easier than working with other codecs like h.264 or even ProRes, which are often recorded with a flat logarithmic tone curve to maintain dynamic range and look like garbage before color correction is applied.

In contrast, Blackmagic RAW material can be used directly from the camera. It is also flexible. Even at 12: 1 compression, I was amazed at how many details I could pull out of the shadows.

Not everyone needs RAW video, but as Blackmagic explained to me, Blackmagic RAW offers the best quality to file size ratio at any compression level compared to non-RAW formats. There is no reason not to use it. Well, unless you want to import directly into Final Cut Pro X, which currently doesn't have a plugin to support .braw files. (There is a plugin for Adobe Premiere Pro.)

Conclusion

The Ursa Mini Pro G2 is proof that we are living in an incredible time for photo and video equipment. I am jealous of today's film students who may have access to it. They can produce large-screen movies in their dormitories and never know how difficult it is to record and edit standard definition footage on MiniDV tapes.

Of course, for many of us, $ 6,000 could just as easily be $ 60,000. If it's out of your budget, it's out of your budget. However, some of the Ursa's most important functions – such as Blackmagic RAW – are available in the cheaper Pocket Cinema Camera series. The Ursa Mini Pro may still be a desirable product for people like me, but unlike a Red or an Arri, it's not a dream. I can at least afford to rent it.

Editor's recommendations

#46K #Blackmagic #Design #Handson #Mini #Pro #Review #Ursa #Product Reviews

[aking82-blog]

Best easy photo editing software to edit a photo

Great best easy photo editing software for photographers to powerful cut a photo

It is appealing to focus in on anything particular you are attempting to shoot when a person shooting a photograph at a default radius. It is actually much better not to focus, otherwise the picture will be grainy or even fuzzy. Rather, try to obtaining closer to the theme, apart from it's a wild object, in this instance persons would suggest to keep your distance or produce the photo from a default area, as well as crop it after. By doing this, you will not endanger top quality, as well as it's much easier to mess around or enhance a larger image.Best easy photo editing software does have a few of the features is actually well-known for, which comes rather valuable when you have actually determined you've like to try your hand on one thing a lot more high end than cropping photos as well as photo color correction. Best easy photo editing software can easily likewise bring in freeze frames from online video clips, in enhancement to diverse files. And when you are actually experiencing a bit careless or even it is merely ordinary unconcerned concerning exactly how to use a few of the devices, an assistant can support you modification the basics like lighting, concentration, color, and turning of pictures. For this people who love their photos in different screen versions, the software application assists you perfectly assembled images to make a panoramic picture. And also when it is actually time to series off your photography skill-sets, you can select among the image bunch concept themes to immediately print them in a specific dimension. More help about colorize a photo and photo color adjustment with the best easy photo editing software free download or smart best easy photo editing software for experts for powerful invert images or very easy photos colorkey. Best easy photo editing software for Computer or edit a picture software to enhance images. Get this best easy photo editing software for fast and simple sharpen an image.

Best easy photo editing software for starters and pros

This best easy photo editing software is actually better for enthusiastic students with a great deal of attend their manpower to discover the also technical features that would fear away extremely first opportunity photo editing individuals. It likewise comes geared up with a full circle scenic view course. Likely the glossiest treasure in the strategy would be the lovely skin layer impact, which evens and clears away reddish areas out your complexion. As there is actually no self-regulating shade solution alternate rather necessary to solution the bad illuminating very most electronic web cams document, there are the conventional components of change the size of a photo. One of the most well-known misunderstood parts of electronic photography is what takes place once you make the photograph in fact modifying your photos. Here we will cover some suggestions for editing your images, from the basics like noise reduction or draw in a photo, through a lot more challenging effects. The crop item enables you to alter the dimension of your picture, as well as also to change the aspect ratio. As an example, you can cut out an image from a rectangular form to a round form. There are numerous reasons you would certainly intend to cut out, consisting of for posting in various layouts and element relations. Contrasted to the initial, I have chopped the photo with best easy photo editing software to eliminate the colored part of the left side of the image and recomposed making use of the policy of thirds. That makes the darkness bolt extra the focus of photo shot. When taking the shot, you might wonder why I didn't just compose effectively. Well, in this situation, I was performing a long exposure photo shot without any a tripod stand, so had actually the camera stabilized on the side of the sidewalk for security. That quite restricted my ability to completely frame the minute, so I simply shot broader, knowing I had the ability to chop the shot properly shortly after the truth. In both cases, chopping is really basic and also it is simply involves you choosing the cropping item and afterwards selecting the location you wish to keep with your PC mouse. After that you use the changes and also your brand-new chopped photo prepares to go. When we was searching the web for a superb photo editing software, we suddenly tripped over this very good software free download. Get your free download for this photo editing software or very simple best easy photo editing software for PC and pros to easy flip photos. Best easy photo editing software for Computer or edit image software to blur photos. Free download best easy photo editing software for pros and software to edit photos to colorize images and dynamic blending.

Crop pictures is very simple with the best easy photo editing software

Crop photos made simple with the awesome brand-new best easy photo editing software

Additional reading to resize a picture with the photo editing software download and new best easy photo editing software for experienced to comfortable rotate an image. Best easy photo editing software for uncomplicated photo manipulation or uncomplicated soften a picture. Download best easy photo editing software for experienced or edit image software to resize photos or photo mosaic. When the horizon boundary in a pic is not degree, a particular of my own petty aggravations in digital photography is. Often whenever we are taken up in the moment, this simple regulation is forgotten yet fortunately is such editing and enhancing your shots with the best easy photo editing software to make them level is additionally extremely easily done. Leveling the camera on the corner of the pier indicated that the photo was not level this is notably obvious to the sight whenever the picture has actually a clearly specified perspective line, such as the seashore. This leveling technique is element of the cropping tool, and you may just revolve the pic to match. Whenever you take the focusing device, a grate will show up to aid you obtain the placement proper. Level a photo is a really simple task this will take simply a few minutes, leading to a far more aesthetically charming photo. From time to time while we make a photograph, parts of the photo might end up being actually brighter than we want. We refer to the less colored areas of the picture as darkness, as well as the intense areas of the photo as highlights. Compare is about highlighting the difference between the light and dark parts of the image. Enhancing the variance of an image can substantially improve the aesthetic influence that had, by making the boundaries in between these light as well as dark components clearer. Color adjusting is yet another significant part related to the best easy photo editing software. We are able to adjust image color in every kind of methods, from transforming the overall warmth of the image like how blue or yellow it shows up, to independently changing the shade and concentration of specific colorations within a photograph. I simply wish to go over a few really basic shade corrections you can easily make use of to help to make your photography nothing but a little bit more aesthetically amazing. The simplest means in order to change the color or texture in regard to a picture is with the shade technique of the best easy photo editing software. That modifies the visual appeal of every single color scheme inside an image to help make it essentially saturated. Similar to several changes, the trick is definitely to choose an excellent evenness excessive saturating the photos have a tendency to look instead not naturally made. Hue photography can easily be actually extremely reliable, and also certainly dark and white color is an outstanding choice for almost all type of situations, specifically, family portraits, as well as particular garden pictures.

Occasionally there will be a thing in an image that you definitely do not really intend to be there, such as a bothersome furuncle on a person's forehead. This is quick to get rid of in all the main photo editing software. It is actually very easy to clear away any kind of things taken away a photo yet the photo editing software performs well on unique, smaller items that are certainly been around by uniform color or textures. This is due to the fact that the heal device has to change the location you desire to get rid of with something else, and this works finest when it has an area close by that looks similar. For instance, red spot on a face is surrounded by a lot of likewise colored skin, so the heal device can conveniently calculate what to replace the dark spot based on the bordering location. That is normally since the photo editing software needs to displace the sector you will to erase together with another thing, as well as that works most effective anytime it has a sector close by that seems similar. Best easy photo editing software has come to be truly complicated and helpful and it is actually possible to control photograph so they become completely various out of the initial. There are loads of photo editing software and also multitudes of solutions of getting the exact same or very similar results. My intention very most for many photos I post process is normally to produce them appear being natural as actually possible. I believe this is an outstanding point to make a beginning, also if you intend to go on as well as develop more unique seeming pictures. Hue array inside a picture is just one of the main concerns. Your eyes have the ability to normally see a wider variety of shade than your electronic camera most likely make. The definition of picture modifying is the process of modifying a photo, basically. But that is oversimplifying a subject which is more or less difficult. You can generally carry out basic photo editing best easy photo editing software techniques like softening photo fairly easily as well as rapidly but complicated strategies as well as digital editing might require best easy photo editing software and also even more years of experience. Best easy photo editing software is a gadget which you can easily work with to control as well as enhance images. Because pictures come with a boosting variety of uses, more services are finding techniques to reutilize images as well as utilize them on larger number of channels.

#best easy photo editing software

[felixeberstark-blog]

February 7, 2015

During my first week of college, I wasn’t sure how beneficial the university’s photography program was going to be; so far, I’m glad to say I’ve been learning a few things here and there. Most of the other students aren’t as experienced as I am, so they’re definitely learning more, but I’m still getting some interesting tidbits from some good teachers. While some of them follow a strict and simple rulebook in their teaching (which I think is boring), others provide rare and insightful information they’ve discovered through years of experience instead of reciting theoretical guidelines I can easily find on the internet. I’m personally looking to break the classic rules of photography and engage with individuals who are capable of thinking outside the box. That said, I’m definitely staying away from people who overthink and analyze their art to the point of showing off.  If I had to describe my type of photography, I’d call it spontaneous; I look for unique moments and unusual elements in my surroundings, and I capture them. I like paying attention to details and seeing things people wouldn’t normally stop to look at. So far I’ve bonded with one person in my class: Carly. She’s one of the few girls who are actually talented and down to earth. She’s artistically versatile and has a particular fondness for shooting with film. When I asked her why, she said it was because of the unexpected surprises she’d face while filming; things like light leaks, color fluctuations of expired film and other cool camera quirks. In today’s world, artists are so obsessed with everything being high quality that aesthetic seems to be the main point of every art form, and although I do appreciate the details and slickness provided by digital photography, I find it refreshing to be able to go back to older cameras; I have a thing for grainy images and so does she. I’ve had some very interesting conversations with her, and I love how at the end of the day each of us goes back to doing our own thing with our own particular style.  Living with Joey is proving to be a difficult challenge day after day. Some days he’d stay home all day and watch TV with the volume up to the maximum which drives me insane. He also rarely leaves the apartment and so his constant presence is blocking my ability to have private shows online which is obviously affecting my financial situation. Yesterday he went on a road trip with one of his friends and I was so relieved when he walked out the door. I had the place all to myself and I didn’t have to worry about him coming in unexpectedly and catching me performing. It was fine when I started, but I couldn’t help but be distracted by little noises coming from people in the building; noises I kept on mistaking to be coming from the apartment itself, thinking Joey was here although I knew he wouldn’t be back until the next day. I tried to remain calm and reassured, but apparently I was too paranoid that my performance turned into a weird, unsynchronized stimulated choreography with jerky gestures; it almost looked like I was so inexperienced and didn’t know what I was doing. I was hoping my nakedness was enough for the viewer I was privately performing for, but I quickly noticed that it wasn’t.  You’d never think men behind computer screens can be incredibly perceptive when it comes to my mood. They can immediately sense if I’m not into what I’m doing even when I try to fake it. Getting off isn’t always easy for me so going the extra mile to satisfy those captivated viewers takes a lot of will and effort. I’d stroke my penis repetitively until I orgasm, and by the time that happens, it feels like my hand is about to fall off. Being a performer isn’t about yourself or your satisfaction, it’s about the people paying you. My vanity is slowly diminishing day after day, and I don’t need to be watched or complimented to boost my confidence anymore. I’m just another body in the sea of online sex. I don’t want to quit doing this, but I think taking some time off would be good for me.  I acquired myself a bicycle left unattended across the street from Prairie Lights and rode it around as I looked for decent apartments. I found one on Van Buren street that I’ll most likely be moving into, but the landlord won’t cut me any slack and demanded two months of rent in advance as well as a ridiculously high moving-in fee. I still haven’t paid the money I owe Ryan; that alone is stressing me out. I need to prove to him that he can trust me. I have to think of a way to get the money — fast.

[droneseco]

Insta360 Evo: Now Anyone Can Make Movies for VR

Our verdict of the Insta360 EVO : Great quality footage for immersive viewing makes this convertible 360/180 stereoscopic device the best way to start making VR movies right now. It's only let down by a non-removable battery and weak plastic clips to lock the position. 910

If you have a VR headset, you’ll know how immersive 180-degree 3D videos can be. But the hardware to produce such videos has been either too pricey or only capable of grainy, low-resolution video. Insta360 EVO changes that. Now you can make beautiful 5.7K resolution 3D, VR180 videos … for less than $500. I’m confident in saying it’s the best consumer-grade camera around for VR moviemaking.

If that wasn’t enough, the convertible design means it can transform back to a 360-degree camera. This gives it the same “shoot now, point later” magical freedom of the Insta360 OneX.

Check out our video review below–preferably on a VR headset if you have one–to find out exactly what we thought of the Insta360 EVO. Nearly all of the review was shot directly on the EVO, so there’s no better way of sampling the footage. And as always, at the end of this review, we’re giving one of these amazing devices away to one lucky reader. Enter using the competition widget at the bottom of the review.

Insta360 EVO: Specifications and What’s In The Box?

Insta360 EVO Insta360 EVO Buy Now On Amazon $419.99

Insta360 EVO Hybrid 360/180 stereoscopic camera

Mini Tripod

Clip-on phone lenses for previewing videos on your phone

Felt carry case

Max video resolution (combined): 5760×2880 @30FPS

Max photo resolution: 6080×3040

Fixed f2.2 lenses

1200mAh non-removable battery, about 45 minutes continuous shooting

Bluetooth 4.0, micro-USB port

MicroSD storage slot (no card included in the basic set)

I’m not usually one to comment on packaging, but the unboxing experience of the EVO was exquisite. The camera is secured in the box mounted to a large metal stand with a tripod screw from underneath. I’m not sure if this is supposed to serve a later function given the inclusion of a mini tripod, but it’s quite dramatic if you want to keep your device out on display.

Also in our review set was the Holoframe, an accessory for your phone that enables you to view 3D content without the need for a VR headset or special glasses. More on that later.

Convertible Design

You can either use the EVO as a 360-degree camera, with each sensor recording a hemisphere of video; or it can be flipped open to become a stereoscopic 180-degree camera, with sensors recording the left and right eye viewpoint respectively.

When folded, the EVO is a neat little two-inch cube, weighing no more than four ounces. It’s minuscule and extremely easy to carry around.

Swapping between the two modes and locking them back involves some flimsy plastic clips. These seem like they’ll be the first things to break. The buttons to unlock those plastic clips are small and fiddly too. I found myself not actually knowing if it was locked, or halfway in. Just keep it unfolded if you’re unlikely to use the 360-mode.

Controls and indicators on the EVO device itself are sparse: there are two buttons and two LEDs on top, and two LEDs on the front. One button is a dual purpose power and shutter button; the other switches mode between photo and video. The current mode is indicated by one of two LEDs. All of the LEDs flash alternately when recording. There is no menu system or LED panel: any setting beyond photo/video and record/power are done through the app.

The battery is a little larger and therefore lasts longer than the OneX, but on the flip-side it’s non-removable. Still, when shooting for VR, it’s easy to plug the camera into an external power source, since the rear view is invisible (unlike 360-degree videos, where you can’t hide anything).

360-Degree Features Too? Why Would Anyone Buy the OneX Then?

Despite being a convertible design, don’t think this model is a replacement for the OneX device. They do share many of the same features: the core ability to shoot now and point later, automatic removal of the magic selfie stick, TimeShift and FlowState Stabilization, as well as some of the more obscure modes like Tiny Planet. You’ll find all that when shooting in 360-mode on the EVO. I’ve glossed all of this, despite being incredible, because they can all be seen in our Insta360 OneX review.

But two features are noticeably absent. You can’t LiveStream to social platforms, nor can you record Bullet Time sequences. If those were things that really stood out to your from the One X, stick with that. In addition, the lenses are physically further from each other, so the stitching along the horizon may contain more errors. This is a relatively minor gripe, but my point is that if 360-degree shots are your primary intent, buy the OneX instead.

FlowState Stabilization for VR Too

One feature that really differentiates the EVO from competitors is the FlowState Stabilization technology, which gives you ultra-smooth footage by using the onboard gyroscope. This works in both the standard 360-degree mode, as well as 180-degree stereoscopic.

That said: it’s important to remember that most new VR users (and even some experienced ones) will find artificial motion in VR makes them nauseous. It’s a bit like motion sickness, only in reverse. Your eyes perceive movement, but your body isn’t feeling it. For a while, the advice when filming for an intended VR audience was to remain static and simply observe the scene, but this has relaxed a little as most users develop their “VR legs” quickly. Still: know your audience before deciding whether to use camera movement.

If you do intend to move the camera, do it slowly. The FlowState Stabilization certainly helps to smooth things out compared to not having it all.

Preview the Shot in VR

When previewing something intended for VR on a flat screen, it’s practically impossible to get an idea of scale or presence.

But if you have a Vive Focus, Oculus Go or Oculus Quest, you can preview the footage live through the Insta360 VR app. This is yet another standout feature that sets apart the Insta360 EVO. You can view both the videos already taken and stored on the microSD card, as well as a live viewfinder. You can stream directly from the camera, while you’re shooting. This takes away the guesswork of framing correctly or ensuring objects aren’t too close. There is, of course, a small delay when streaming over Wi-Fi, and you can’t watch at the full resolution.

While it is an incredible feature to have, I didn’t find myself using it to preview shots that much. It was useful for checking out what I’d already recorded, though, and the whole process is about as seamless as it could be. Put on your headset, connect to the camera’s Wi-Fi, open the app. Done.

The Editing Workflow

If there’s one serious drawback to the EVO, it’s the amount of effort required to edit the video. This isn’t a unique problem to the EVO, but it is compounded by such high resolutions!

While the mobile app is perfectly functional for short clips, it’s limited to producing 4K content. For the full quality 5.7K resolution, you’ll need to process the files from the Insta360 Studio desktop app. It took about half a day just to output all the footage I took for the review video, with my MacBook Pro fans running full speed. You’ll also need an enormous hard drive: it works out at about 1 GB per minute.

That’s just to output the raw footage: you’ll need a professional editing suite like Adobe Premiere or Apple Final Cut Pro X to take advantage of 360-degree editing. (Pro-tip: For Final Cut, make sure you select horizontal 360-degree stereoscopic top/bottom as your output format. It’s the last option on the list, and not the default).

After you’re done editing, it will, of course, take longer than usual to render your final video, given such a high resolution.

But you’re not finished yet: for uploading to YouTube and displaying it as a VR180 video, you’ll need to use Google’s free VR180 Creator tool to inject the required metadata. Otherwise, YouTube doesn’t know it’s designed for VR, and will just try to compress it to a regular viewing window.

In short, it took an inordinate amount of time to process, edit, render, inject metadata, then upload the 15 GB review video you see embedded!

You’ll need a powerful machine, a big hard disk, an unlimited internet connection, and a mountain of patience. I should note that there is apparently a more direct integration with Adobe Premiere, but I don’t have that to test with.

The Holoframe and Clip-on Glasses

The Holoframe looks like a regular gel phone case, and is designed to be used as one when you’re not previewing videos. When you do want to use it, just snap it off the back and clip it onto the front of your phone instead. It works in a similar way to other glasses-less lenticular screens, but uses the phone’s front camera to see where your eyes are and adjust the 3D effect accordingly. Previous attempts at glasses-less 3D viewing through lenticular screens required you to sit in a particular place; the Holoframe uses the phone’s processing to adjust the image, rather than you needing to adjust your seat. If you want this, you’ll need to buy the model that matches your phone. Only a handful of the latest handsets are supported.

It works, but the 3D effect was overall unsatisfying, I felt.

In fact, I preferred the stereo separation and depth offered with the included clip-on 3D viewing glasses, which work with any phone.

Moreover, use of the Holoframe requires a scene to be processed before you can watch it. The processing time depends on the length of the clip, but even a relatively short clip will take a minute or so. And if you move your eyes, the app will need to “capture” where they are before you can resume watching. It just felt like far more effort than it was worth. The clip-on glasses could be used without any additional processing time: it’s just a generic side-by-side 3D output.

Should You Buy an Insta360 EVO?

The main attraction of the EVO is the ability to shoot for VR. If you’re not sure you even want to do that, and are primarily interested in the 360-degree features, go for the OneX model instead. You’ll get better quality stitching, a removable battery, and a few other features like the ability to shoot bullet-time that aren’t found on this device. Consider the EVO mainly for VR video production, with 360 features as a little bonus.

Insta360 EVO Insta360 EVO Buy Now On Amazon $419.99

The hardware isn’t perfect. The non-removable battery and flimsy plastic clips are annoying, but not enough to detract from the overall fantastic package on offer here. Finally, it’s feasible for everyone to produce good quality VR video content.

Just don’t bother with the Holoframe. The included clip-on glasses are fine for previews on your phone. For the ultimate live VR preview, put on your Oculus Go or Quest!

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Insta360 EVO VR180/360 Convertible Camera Giveaway

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