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sinnamonrasinslut · 3 years

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The Ease With Which We Hurt [I] ICorpse Husband x Fem!ReaderI

A/N: You guys. I have never simultaneously loved AND hated a piece that I wrote. I really don’t know how I feel about this, but I promised myself last year that I wouldn’t overthink my writing, so here we are. This is part one of most likely four, but we’ll see about that. Thank you to everyone in my inbox who gave me ideas to turn this into a multi chapter fic! They’re all coming, I promise :)

SYNOPSIS: Corpse loves her, she loves Corpse. But both of them are too dumb to realize it, and too afraid to admit it.

It started, like most good things in his life, out of the blue.

He met her three years ago. Well, not met, but befriended her three years ago when her podcast was just taking off. He remembers sending her a DM about how great her work was, remembers her being gracious in her praise of his own narrations after and he remembers talking to her well into the night until she fell asleep. The rest, to Corpse, is history.

And yet, all he knows of her is a voice, a name, and the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. she chooses to wear a mask every time they FaceTime, just for the formality of the entire ‘faceless’ situation. She’s told him she thinks it’s ironic, how she feels like he knows her inside out, and she’s still afraid to show him her face. It’s not like corpse can blame her. She doesn’t even know his name, let alone what he looks like, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t filed him away as some no face creep by this point.

But she hasn’t. She’s still here, after three years of being her friend, and almost a year of seeing her eyes and convincing himself that she’s his friend, damnit, she’s still here. It’s already a lot more than he can ask for.

He’s been holding himself back from falling in love. Or rather, he’s been in love for as long as he can remember, but he's been adamant on denying it; because he knows how this goes. It’s never gone well for him in the past. And he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s afraid. But sometimes, she tells him things that make his heart break, just out of the realization of how absolutely fucking stupid he's being, holding back from her.

He’s convinced that when he dies, she’s going to be the light at the end of his tunnel. That heaven means nothing more to him than a place in her world, however small, however insignificant, as long as he gets to see her eyes for the rest of eternity.

Every part of corpse tells him that it's love. But he tries to push it away, suppress his own feelings till he's nothing but a walking contradiction, overflowing with voices that only say her name.

But he’s tired. And he's scared. Because he’s been down that road before, opened himself up to people who haven’t liked what they saw and left with pieces of him he’s not sure how to tape back. He’s unsure if he's willing to let her try.

So, he settles for a small corner of her world, a little piece of her existence that gives him life, and every time he talks to her, hands flailing as she animatedly tells another story, he pushes the yearning to the back of his head till it crawls down and clings to his windpipe, unsure and immeasurable, and he can’t speak anymore without choking. But then she says things that make his heart jump into his throat, and then he’s choking but for entirely different reasons.

“What would you do if I was gone?”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he does, a little bit, but his brain isn’t taking over every part of his body trying to convince him he’s unwanted, so he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s only curious, maybe in need of a little reassurance. And nobody does reassurance better than her.

She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Corpse knows the gist of her impending answer but the pause still blooms unnecessarily in his chest. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before.

“I’d write about you.”

“Huh?”

She only huffs a laugh at his confusion. She pulls a blanket closer around her and props up her phone to rest against what he assumes is a wall.

“You’re not easy to forget, Corpse,” her voice is soft, truthful without flattery, provides comfort without justification. “if you were gone, I’d write about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s the least I’d need to cope.”

It’s not what he thought he’d hear, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that it’s exactly what he needed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

“Besides,” she continues, hair falling in her face as she adjusts the blanket, “there is no place for me in a world without you in it.”

And he physically feels his heart stop and clench in his chest. The thought of meaning this much to anyone, to her in particular, is more than he knows how to handle. So, he doesn’t follow that up with a quip, no teasing laughter, no suggestive, exaggerated winks that only he can see. He only lets himself bask in the warmth of her honesty, lets her smile at him in that way only she does, the way that makes him freeze and ache and crumble.

He chooses not to talk after that, settles for listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Her voice is the purest thing he’s ever heard, he’d hear her talk till the world ended if he could, and the sweet lilt of her voice lulls him to sleep hours after she’s hung up the phone.

He doesn’t get to talk to her for almost two weeks after that. He misses her a little, but he keeps that to himself, and instead, tags her under dumb twitter memes and sends her pictures of cats that he’s saved specifically for times like these, and another video of two geckos fighting on a tree captioned ‘u and me’ .

There’s no place for me in a world without you in it.

The words wrap around his ribs like a noose, tightening by the second. Some days, when his heart is fast enough to beat out of his ribcage, it grounds him just as much as it hurts. But when she’d said it to him, it passed through him like a train wreck, distorting all semblance of control he’d convinced himself he had.

He knows it’s ridiculous, but he loves her. She’s only a voice through his phone and eyes on his screen and he has no clue what the rest of her looks like, but he’d be damned if he lets himself deny it one more time. He loves her. And that’s the most terrifying thought he’s ever entertained.

It doesn’t take long after that realization takes root, for him to send her a picture. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Taking pictures of himself is still new to him, but he tries his best. Don't think about it too much, he reminds himself, and unsurprisingly, it's her voice in his head that does all the soothing. He captions it something stupid, more out of habit than anything else (my hair makes me look like Dora the exploraH), with his name across his forehead and ‘Dora’ in brackets beside it.

Momentarily, he wonders if he’s ever asked her if she even wants to see his face. (He has, and he distantly remembers her agreeing as long as he’s comfortable with it.)

He hits send before he has the chance to stop and think.

Then he waits.

Her response is quicker than he’s prepared for, her name flashing across the facetime request on his phone. He’s giggling before he even picks it up.

“CORPSE, WHAT THE FUCK!”

For a very long moment, they just stare, taking each other in. This is his endgame, corpse thinks, he’s never going to need to show anyone his face after this, nothing, no one will matter as much.

With a jolt, he realizes that she’s not wearing her mask. He can see her, all of her, and that on its own should be enough to take him out.

And then she smiles.

If there was any doubt in his mind before about how head over heels he is, she’s taken it out of his mind and stomped it to the ground. He’s not the poet in this friendship, but he’s assured he could write entire paragraphs about the way she smiles. And he tells her exactly that.

“I’m curious to see how that would fit with fine lass nice ass cat ears and she uwu,” she teases, eye twinkling with mirth, “but I'm sure you’ll figure it out.”

He’s both amazed and amused at how quickly they go from fawning to bantering. But perhaps that’s the thing about her that feels so familiar.

“I will write a song about you baby, don’t tempt me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a confession,” he shrugs, suddenly shy, unsure of where to lead with this. Thankfully, she interjects before he has to say anything else.

“That’s an awfully bold confession for a man called Corpse.”

“I’m also awfully alive for a man called Corpse, but you don’t see me complaining.” Awfully alive and not enough husband, he wants to say, but he keeps that to himself.

“You complain about being alive everyday, Mister Husband,” she counters and Corpse groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“I say that to you in confidence,” he grits out, playfully glazing at her.

“You also tell about a million people on stream, I’m not special,” she laughs.

“You are very special to me.” His voice is soft, shy, almost afraid to tell her the things he’s saying, “I did say I’d write a song about you. Pretty special if you ask me.”

She hums, taking a huge gulp of water and nodding enthusiastically.

“Correct, me, the cat girl and the e girl. What’s the next single, Corpse? Faceless Girls are ruining my life?”

“You’re a rascal,” he chides as a familiar warmth settles around his heart, and grips.

“It is one of my finer qualities, yes.”

Distantly, some part of his brain registers that this is the first time he’s seen her, but there is no sense of hesitation in his head about her. It feels just like it always has, with her on the phone saying the silliest things, and him responding with equal enthusiasm. This is the way they’ve always been.

While she talks, hands animatedly moving around, Corpse allows himself a small moment of reprieve to think. He knows he loves her, but he wonders briefly if it’s too soon to be in love with her (he concludes that probably it is, given that she remains unaware of his feelings, but he finds that it doesn’t really matter)

Because while Corpse loves her, he’s sure he doesn't know how to love her. Doesn’t know her favourite flowers even if he knows her coffee order by heart, doesn’t know her ideal date even if he’s memorized every poem she loves.

The meanest parts of his brain tell him she deserves better, and he knows they’re wrong. But a small part of him can’t help but dwell. He’d rather have her and her unnecessary hand movements in his life as his friend than not at all. So he pushes away his feelings for another day, and just listens to her talk.

Corpse is perfectly content with that.

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #the ease with which we hurt #coco writes #friends to lovers #we love that trope in this household #if you reblog with stuff in the tags i WILL read it and cry #also if u reblog it with ur favourite part quoted i will cry #i just will cry thats a personality trait lmao #Sometiems i feel like the continuity of his chapter feels rushed #but idk i dont have the patience to fix it so i wont

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ji-yaaan · 4 years

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Anonymous asked:

Hello! I like your blog and the little comments here and there makes me laugh at times hehe ^^ May I request headcanons for Vil, Leona, Mal, and Floyd reactions and what they'll do to reconcile w/ the reader after a very hearted argument to which Reader may have said "I hate you" before storming out. Would they wait for a bit? A few days or hours? Or would they be upfront with their apology immediately? Reader also apologizes at the end, crying slightly if that's okay. If you notice me, thanks!

°•°•𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞?•°•°•

HC's with: Leona, Vil, Floyd, and Malleus.

Note: Ofc, I was late yet again. Pls forgive me dear sir... And ofc tumblr hates me so it won't cooperate! Drafts got deleted 3 times.... so if it somehow becomes inconsistent... I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE! STONE ME GENTLY! anyways, i hope you enjoy this, actually no, I beg that you enjoy this?! Idk lololololololololol.

[𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚍? 𝙸𝚍𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚕]

°•°•°•𝙇𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙖 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙧 •°•°•°

“I HATE YOU!” with bits of tears in your eyes, you slammed the door shut behind you leaving Leona dumbfounded all by himself.

You hate him?You hate him!?!? Is that like for real??? He’ll scratch the back of his head in shame of pushing things too far to the point you were in tears.

But what can he do? His pride caught the best of him and he acted rash in the heat of the moment. This prideful lion just doesn’t know when to shut up smh.ಥ‿ಥ

He’ll try to remember when did everything started to go wrong, but he'll just get more and more guilty the more he thinks about it.

“Tchhhh... I messed up big time...”

It's not his style to give up easily, but his mind was set in a frenzy the moment he thinks about you leaving him.

A day without you started to become dull and boring the moment he grew fond of you. So it somehow became a habit of his to constantly seek you unconsciously. Whether it's a whiff of your scent, your voice ringing in the hallways, even the sound of your footsteps is something he could easily recognize.

But now that the two of you fought, this lion will find any way possible to avoid you seeing him.

Yeah... it will probably take a while for him to apologize...(꒦ິ⌓꒦ີ)

But when the time does come, expect Leona to prepare a simple yet sincere apology.

“Oi herbivore... Sorry about the other day ok? I missed my pillow for a while now...I lose...”

Simple yet sincere :') The prideful arrogant lion somehow learned to apologize despite his ego way ahead of him. He can't stand the thought of loosing you ok? (｡•́︿•̀｡)

°•°•°•°•𝙑𝙞𝙡 𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙣𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙩•°•°•°•°•

“VIL STOP IT! I hate this! I hate everything! I hate you!” you quickly ran away to the door as vil stood in his spot stupefied.

You hate him? You hate the Vil Schoenheit himself?Then so be it...

Vil is basically pissed and angry™. Moreover, you had the guts and audacity to tell him you hate him. His pride was shattered in front of him. And he's not happy about that (꒦ິ⌓꒦ີ)

Nope. Nah. Never. He's not apologizing anytime sooner now. He'll be waiting for that spicy well deserved apology you have for him...

He'll try his best to avoid you and give you the sassy cold shoulder treatment™. It will probably last for a few days or maybe a week. He has his pride y’know?

Not until he hears a muffled sob in the hallways and realized it was your voice. You looked visibly upset and sad as you cried your heart out, all alone in the empty hallways.

Oh no... What did he do? Was his nagging that bad? Did he take it too far with the makeovers? Guilt ate his soul away as he tried to sort out his thoughts with the clear image of your crying face embedded in his mind.

“Okay... Maybe I did take it a little too far...”

Making up his mind, Vil will try to make everything set for tomorrow and apologize to you to fix this feud you both have. ( ╹▽╹ )

When classes are over and the two of you finally get to be alone, Vil will try to straighten this misunderstanding now! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

“Hey Y/n I just want to tell you... I'm sorry.” “Vil I'm so sorry for the other day!-”

The both of you stared at each other with shock... Did the both of you just say sorry at the same time?

“Pfffttttt-” The both of you laugh from how hilarious this moment was. It felt as if the fight you had didn't happened at all. (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

“Y/n I'm sorry... I took it too far with what I do without asking your opinion first...”

“Yeah... I'm sorry I lashed out at you too... That was petty...”

Vil will definitely make a million dollar once in a lifetime seen smile, so you better treasure this rare sight!!!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

“No more fighting, okay? ”

•°•°•°•°•𝙁𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙙 𝙇𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝•°•°•°•°•°

“Floyd I hate you!” you slammed your way out of the table, running away from Floyd.

Angering Floyd was not the brightest Idea in the book. His infamous “bad moods” was not something anyone would like to experience. But somehow, he was really pushy and annoying today and you were fed up with it.

“Ahhhh~ Koebi-chan hates me now? what do I do?”

Thankfully, Floyd wasn’t really angry, though he was sad and heart broken that his favorite person said they hated him.(╥╭╮╥)

Floyd is an impulsive boi, so he might secretly follow you to see your face or something lol.

Ofc, Knowing Floyd, he’d definitely skip classes and skip his job at the Mostro Lounge due to his mood swings. Ofc, a certain octoboi wasn’t really happy with this.

Azul will probs tell Jade to help out his brother or something, lol Azul be secretly worrying for the two of you loooool.

However, with the help of Jade, the mushroom eel himself, he can guide his brother to make up with you!!!

Thank god mushroom eel is here to save the day! ( ´◡‿ゝ◡`)

A fight with Floyd won’t really last long. Because Floyd being Floyd, he’ll naturally come to you like nothing ever happened! That’s why you have to be patient and understanding when it comes to Floyd ok?

With the biggest hug from behind you. There was a cute eel boi that has come to ambush you with love!

“Shrimppy! Don’t avoid meeee! I miss you so much so hang out with me at the Mostro Lounge againnn!”

Floyd is not really good with his words nor his apologies. Though, his blunt and honest demeanor is definitely one of his charming points!!!! (☆▽☆)

“Shrimpy! I have some takoyaki with me! let’s share them together ok?!”

Ugh, Floyd is too cute... It would be a capital sin to not forgive him and decline his offer! Tsk I’m watching you, you better accept that apology!

•°•°•°•𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙖•°•°•°

“MALLEUS I HATE YOU!”

Shock. Pure shock. You hate him? The last thing Malleus wants is to hurt your feelings. In his eyes, humans are delicate and vulnerable beings, so he tries his best to protect you and treat you with utter delicacy. Yet it seems as if he failed to do that...

Just before you slam the door behind you and escape this fight, a hand grabs your wrist in attempts to stop you. Nonetheless you still make your way out, leaving Malleus standing there alone.

Malleus was deeply hurt and sorry for making you sad and angry. His heart was shattered with the thought of you leaving him, someone who made their way this close to his heart, someone he cherishes deeply.

But this fight wont really last long because Malmal would definitely try and apologize as quickly as possible!(ᓀ˵▾˵ᓂ)

Malleus is the soft type of person and I feel like he’d give up easily if it was you lol.(｡•́︿•̀｡)

Even if his apology was heard but not accepted, he’d gladly say his sorry no matter how much time and patience it will take, just for you to forgive him.༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

He’ll try to give you and Hour or two to clear your mind, then he’ll apologize!

Standing in front of your room, he’ll knock lightly at the door in front of him... No answer... So you’re still mad huh?

Leaning his forehead at the door, He’ll try to talk to you in hope for you to come out of your room. But nahhh, no signs of you leaving your room soo (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

He’ll mutter apologies after another just in case you hear them :’D

“Y/n I’m sorry for hurting your feelings earlier... that was rash of me to say, so I truly apologize... I hope my feelings reach you.”

Hearing his voice, it would prolly sound as if he’s ready to cry any moment by now. You’d be a monster if you don’t forgive this fae cutie!!!(┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻

When you finally come out of the door to see him. I bet you he’s moment away from his tear dripping down. Ó╭╮Ò

“You’re not mad now right? Then is it fine to ask if we eat some ice cream later?”

You bet that Malleus would give you the biggest cheeriest grin in the entire world! oh the things you keep doing to him never surprises him. Pls dont leave this cinnamon roll or else-

That's it cuties! I need to sleep now- my classes are thriving, but I'm not!!!

God, school stuff are taking away my precious freedom and time for writing smh.

Oh god, I'm ranting again... What's new? AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Anyways, I need to woosh now and I hope you enjoyed this one!!!

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unsettledink · 3 years

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Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

#mysteryspider #spiderio #quenter #quentin beck x peter parker #quentin x peter #mcu #spiderman #gotcha #wip #my work #fanfiction

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kunrengui · 3 years

Text

just sum venting, ignore :)

dont read if you have like some sort of family issues- trauma or something LOL

my family has been going through a lot of stress in these past 2 years and i feel like im in the only reason this family hasnt lost their minds yet. my dad takes out his stress by screaming at my mom, my mom takes out her stress by screaming at my (younger) brother and me, my brother is NUMB to all disappointment and im genuinely scared because my brother acts psycho and like actually full-on sobs and screams if he isnt allowed to watch vids or play video games all day or the wifi connection is weak or gets cutoff for a moment and thrashes things around but hes 10 and nobody is listening to my pleas of reducing his screen time because they cant deal with his tantrums when they try to. i feel like im losing my brother and then theres my parents who are on the verge of exploding all the time and im always on edge so im never seen scrolling on my phone or watching something kpop related because my parents are fking racist. Im always around the house doing things like getting my moms phone from the kitchen or getting my dad some water as soon as they ask me irrespective of what im doing and like if i hear my parents arguing about who is less tired to turn off the light while im the one actually sleeping i have to get up and turn off the light so my dad doesnt accidentally say something hurtful to my mom and my mom doesnt forget to make breakfast the next morning.

and like recently its been worse cuz my grandfather passed away 2-3 months ago idek it feels like forever so were staying at my grandmothers place that isnt even in the same city and i can feel my mental health deteriorating because i used to live here as a kid and i have a lot of bad memories i want to forget but here i am reliving them. anyways its 4 of us plus my grandmother so that makes 5 people sharing 2 tiny bedrooms a hall and a kitchen but the house feels like its divided into two because my dad and my grandmother dont talk to each other so they just stay on their own side and i share a bedroom with my grandmother and my brother. my brother sleeps in the middle but the bed is actually 2 twin cots with rock-hard matresses from the 1980’s awkwardly put together so the middle is uneven and uncomfortable but my parents wont let him sleep with them because he never lets anyone around him sleep peacefully (explains my eyebags) and he refuses to switch with me so now im also genuinely worried about his back. he also sometimes randomly screams at my grandmother and i glare at him and ask him to stop because its disrespectful but my grandmother screams at me instead because she is partial to him to the point where if she had to push me off a cliff to save him she’d do it in the blink of an eye and im not even exaggerating because this is a fact that everyone who knows her is aware of. shes rich and my family already knows shes going to write off her entire inheritance to my brother and idrc about the money but it hurts. like this one time my mum was talking about how she was going to preserve the land my grandmother owns so my brother can build a farm house there in the future like OKAY i get it we live in an indian society where youre just supposed to marry off the girl and give her 0 inheritance but that shit hurts lady. most of the time i even have to give up my portion of the food when my brother is suddenly in his psychotic mood where he wants other peoples stuff- my grandmother is my brother’s bodyguard, personal attendant and lawyer who’s current job is to either train me to be her successor or if I disagree then turn against me.

i cant blame anyone for the stress part tho. we werent as affected by my grandfathers death as we were by its after affect- he has a business and now my dad has to take care of that and 2 other businesses while also opening a new one and it doesnt help that all 4 require full-time attention. and in hopes of being helpful and fucking fixing this family, i promised to help with the advertising and the managing of the social media accounts of the new business. not even kidding ive been spending the last one month skipping classes saying they were either cancelled or unnecessary to work on photo and video edits for the store and promoting it. idk the last time i touched my textbooks and my parents dont know because im hiding the report cards. my limbs hurt from constantly using the stairs of the 4-floored store.

about half an hour ago my mum told me to refill all the water bottles while i was brushing my teeth and my dad loudly replied with a “Why does everyone give her all the work” out of spite for my mom. everytime he says that it makes me so mad i want to punch the wall because no matter how genuine he is, it sounds sarcastic to me because he makes no effort to help me. and it did NOT help when i lost the soft thing on my earphone 5 minutes later, making me feel like crying because my earphones are the ONLY thing keeping me sane here. the only escape from this. the only excuse i can give my mother when she asks why i didnt hear her call me in such a small house.

i just want to go home. i want my own room back. i want a pair of earphones plugged into my laptop, and i want to drown myself in Kris Wu music. i want to spread my limbs on my queen sized bed and pretend like i have all the time in the world to be bored.

i dont get why we have to go through this when were actually rich. im usually humble about it in rl but atp idec because i really dont get why we have to go through this when we can even afford a house in beverly hills or something. actually, maybe its because my parents dont have enough time or patience left to fix the bed or get a bigger house.

and then i open instagram to see people my age hanging out with their friends, having the time of their lives while im just rotting away here. the only 3 closest friends i have- one just stopped calling me after changing schools and making popular friends and the other blocked my number over some petty fight from months ago. thank the universe im still chatting with my 3rd at least.

but im okay because i tell myself im doing great. im patting myself on my back. im going to go back home at some point and im going to get myself a new pair of earphones.

im proud for staying strong. im proud for not nearing the breaking point. im proud for keeping it up for 2 whole years and im proud that i wouldnt hesitate to continue.

bless you for reading this.

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fairycosmos · 4 years

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hi chloe idk if youll see this but i only have a year left until college and i live in an abusive household. no one understands me and my mom and dad especially don't. my older sister doesnt seem to hold the patience to listen to whenever i do try and call her once annually. i dont know how much longer i can hold on. it literally hurts my mind so much thinking about all of it, especially after abusive episodes from them. im scared to live alone but i just cant wait to

gosh im so sorry to hear that love :( while i’m proud of you for making it this far and for being able to talk about it with me, it’s really awful that you’ve had to deal with it for so long, and that it’s happening to you in the first place. especially during your adolescence, which is a time when we’re all super impressionable. a time when we all feel like nothing is ever going to change. and i can definitely relate to nobody even taking the time to understand you, and to feeling like you’re being overlooked or forgotten. when we experience something like this our brains often to try to make sense of the actions of those around us by turning towards self blame, and internalizing all the negativity + manipulating it into self hatred. but i think its important to remember that you are not responsible for what others do, in this context. how they choose to treat you is not a reflection of you or of what you deserve, alright? your sister’s selfishness is a trait of her own. your parent’s anger is a result of their lack of control and self regulation. none of this is on you. it may be hard to truly believe that in this moment, but nonetheless i think it’s a sentiment you should try to keep close to your heart. it’s not your fault that you have been failed by the people who were supposed to protect you, and it doesn’t mean that any future bonds you form will turn out the same way. it’s normal to want to give up at times, but you must know that there’s a difference between temporarily feeling that way and actually acting on it in a very permanent way. i said this another anon the other day, but i mean it just as much: you have so much waiting for you. and you didn’t survive all of that for nothing. once you’re in college and you have autonomy over your own life, once you get to choose how much time you spend with your parents and how much you let them in - all of the pain and toxic beliefs you’ve built your world view around will begin to slowly dissipate. and that may be a life long process, but it’s supposed to be. you have all of the time in the world to build your own existence and to heal from what’s happened to you. there are so many different tools to utilize, paths to walk down and people to meet who will show you what it’s like to be truly loved. including yourself, the person you will grow into. if you just give yourself the chance. i know it’s not that much comfort in this moment because you still have to deal with your parents and their bullshit, but it’s good to consciously remind yourself of all the good that is out there. when you’re an anxious and hurt person, it’s common to suffer from a sense of impending doom or failure, but the reality of it will be so much more of a calm, gradual process than you realize.

that being said, i’m quite worried that you’re still in this situation and that your parents are just okay with periodically putting you through ‘episodes’. it’s NOT okay. and you have every right to process hurt, anger, bitterness, sadness, numbness because of it. while it may be painful, there is no shame in crying or in feeling whatever you need to feel. it’s a normal human response to such emotional turmoil, so try to go easy on yourself honey. you’re doing what you can with what you’ve been given. however, it’s important to understand that the presence of these negative emotions is never an excuse to harm yourself or worse. i understand that it’s extremely overwhelming, and that it may sometimes feel beyond your control. but even just attempting to put some positive coping mechanisms in place may make all the difference, even if they don’t work every single time. this can be anything from creating a safe space for yourself (in your room, or could be somewhere outside like the park or a library) to researching breathing techniques and self affirmations, to journaling or venting to your friends, to meditation to finding a comfort hobby/show to simply lying in bed and sobbing the feelings out and then going to sleep, maybe practicing some self care. every small effort counts, even if it feels like the dumbest thing in the world. if you keep it up on a semi consistent basis, you will notice a shift eventually. it’s possible to hurt and grow at the same time. i also think it could be a good idea to consider reaching out to someone about this - perhaps a school counselor, or a mental health hotline, or a support group in your area. maybe make an appointment with your doctor to see if they can recommend any resources, if possible? whatever works for you. i just really think it’s important that you understand on a very fundamental level that you have every right to talk about what’s going on, and that there are so many ppl out there who understand. who have even been through the same thing, and survived after it and thrived. i know this is one of those suggestions that feels very scary and like you just can’t do it, but if there’s any service available to you i’d really recommend utilizing it, or at least not ignoring the option all together. having someone you can be honest with and who can enable you to develop some self esteem, plus some added perspective so you don’t feel as ‘trapped’, will really make it all feel a little less heavy. consistent therapy/counseling will show you how to unlearn all of the mental habits you’ve developed over the years due to the treatment you’ve endured, and you deserve that relief. i get that it all feels like a lot of effort, and i’m not saying that doing this stuff is a quick fix. i’m saying that you have a life and an existence that is worth investing in, that is worth caring about. you are worth the world, FUCK your parents for making you question that due to their own mental and emotional issues. regardless of your past, you’re here and you deserve better. you will find better. you’re so much closer to getting ‘out’ than you realize. while it’s normal to be scared of living alone, humans adapt quite quickly. and you wont be alone in the way that you imagine, you’ll simply have agency over your own choices. like i said before, there are so many ppl who are going to show you what it’s like to truly treasured, who you haven’t even met yet. it’s just a matter of treating yourself softly, the way you’d treat a friend going through a hard time, until you get to that point. and also a matter of knowing your parents are full of shit. but anyway, this got far too long. i just have a lot to say, i hate how adults choose to have babies and then do this to them.....if you want to talk about it properly, or if you need a friend or anything. please feel free to send me a message. i’ll be here, and i believe in you !! one day at a time 💌

#anon

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bonbonswirl-blog · 5 years

Text

Perfect

ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING. This is like..uhhhh idk?... a 'batim' au idea? I guess? Im Not sure idk..its just that I got the idea from there and Instead of bendy its jokey, but not really exactly what happend there in batim. Plz ignore the bad portrayed scenes XD blondie is a lot OOC here. Enjoy if you only can thx.

It was a typical afternoon, the sunlit clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, fresh air filled the atmosphere swaying the palm trees gently by a breeze. David was at the recording room, a mellifluous melodic singing voice rose high, following the sweet, piping notes produced by the musical instruments around. After such a lilting, everyone toke a break, david sat on a chair, holding the lyrics for the new song in his hands. He saw a shadow approaching him, revealing his only cheerful boss. "Oh hey Mr. Blondie!! How are you in this lovely day!" "Hello david! Just checking on my young talented singer! How is the new song going?" "Its going great! Im just reading the lyrics again now!" "Thats good!...you know david...have you ever thought about how much the children love your jokey voice?" "Oh! Thats intresting...im sure everybody enjoy listening to it!" "Yea! they do....have you ever felt some...connections...to jokey?" "Connections? Mmmm well...I do feel that we both share a good love for the stage and thrilling the audience! along with the love to asssist other people and spread some optimism in the air!" "Thats beautifull!...Have you ever considered before...becoming this star that all those kids appresciate?" "That...looks pretty Mr. Blondie! But what do you mean?" His boss began to equivocally chuckle, it was low but icy, wasnt like his usual gleeful ones that gave an auditory hug, but david overlooked that, remaining unruffled till the answer. "David. Can you come with me for a while?" "Sure thing! But..what about the new song?" "Dont worry! It can be done in another time! now follow me!" They both left the recording room, the animator leading the ginger boy across the studio, while on their little trip to the unknown room they are walking to, david catched from away a sight of henry, tommy and norman talking together until a rueful rob drew near them, starting a conversation. David didnt mean to eavesdrop anyone, but their high voices did reach his ear. "Guys! Have any of you heared ANYthing lately about harriet? I cant find her anywhere! She didnt come to work and she is not at her home! I called her many times but she doesnt reply! Im really so scared..." rob vented, the three told him thag they didnt see her too. David felt sorry for the fellow worker, hoping that harriet is alright and will be back soon. He looked forward, though he only saw blondie back and his wheelchair, he could feel that he is trying to ignore something, he may have heard a little of the talking out there, maybe he feels sad too? But david was in his mind for a bit, wasnt aware of the time until he sensed that blondie stopped moving. This is when he noticed he is in an unrecognizable area he didnt see before, maybe this was a new place that got built recently?, " Here we are david!!" In front of both was a dark long way of stairs, it was only one storey up, just like one of those half open basemant stariecases. David knew not both will be able to clmib this, he was ready to push that wheelchair up, he looked at blondie concerned, whom just returned a grin. "Dont worry about me! I have my own ways for climbing those!" David didnt really get it, but he just let it go and left blondie to use to his own way, watching him in every step making sure he wont be close to any harm.

Dont ask how blondie climbed the stairs, he just did. that was a really narrow hall they were both in, in front of them a wooden door, blondie toke out his keys and opened it, only for both to be greeted by. "Finally!! Where Were ya!!" an angry wallaby yelled, looking as if he lost patience, it seems blondie was late to whatever meeting they should have done earlier, the room wasnt so small, almost looks like a little hallway with a wall at the end. The view was...tensed, it was a dark room with only a little bulb barley lighning it, orange colored light struggling to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays. It was almost as if candles were the ones giving the slight shine here. Wallaby, paul and murphy were there, standing near the sides of the walls, everyone in a specific place, two at the right wall and one at the left one, only a mile spearting each two. the menacing aura holding david in a tightening grip, why do blondie have such a grisly decorating tatse...He wasnt sure if entering this room is a safe idea. "Guys!! I Brought Our Last Guest!!" Blondie exclaimed in a chirpy tone, closing the door behind himm Last guest? What does he mean? "Can we PLEASE Finish This Now And Go out?" "Come on paul dont be such a killjoy! Enjoy the place!" "If you are telling us to enjoy this creepy atmosphere then I had lost all my faith in you." murphy sneered, clearly not comfortable or trusty with how this 'gathering' is going to end, nobody knows the goal behind it. "Come on David! Here! This Is Your Place!! Stay Still And Dont Move Ok?" Blondie said while putting david on a specific spot on the left wall. "Sure! Wont Move A Shoe!" David obeyed, blondie looked at him, but this time, although he had his usual smile that showed his white glowed teeth spreaded on his face, his eyes had shimmers with some inexplicable spite. "Everything is set~" He whispered this under his breath while walking to one of the corners, nobody heard that one. Three of the invited four toke a look at blondie whereas he was doing something uncanny at that distant corner. David turned at the person in front of him, which was paul. "Oh! hey Mr.Paul!" But being the tedious man he is, paul didnt respone, only focusing on the book on his hand, thats why wallaby seemed as if he was gabbling to himself. The young boy then looked to his right side and saw murphy, still keeping an eye at blondie in a suspicion, despite not understanding a thing from what he was doing, nobody can just fetch someone to a room like this without being not up to something. "So Guys! Why are we here?" "I Dunno david! Mr. Blondie just went to me and told me that I gotta get here cuz he needs me for somethin, well I dont see anything! All I do is just standing on dis here spot not movin a leg!! What about ya paul?" "I dont care I just came here so he can stop nagging me." " I came here after he told me that I can be a 'star' like jokey." "Wait you gonna be a star? Ooh! Thats why we standin on a star!" "What?!" Wallaby words strongly drived murphy attention, making him watch the ground, they all noticed it now, they are standing on 'stars' that are drawn on the floor. David felt inside him a very straied premonisition feeling that was telling him to move, he didnt understand it, why would his guts tell him to move away from a single drawing on the floor? He promised his boss he will stay still there....how could a star drawing hurt anyone? Since whe do drawing harm people? But no matter how much he tries to brush off that feeling, it feels like a stiff weigh was being held on his chest, it made him feel so sick, maybe he just needs to move because his legs hurt him? Yeh yeh thats just it. The cheeky lad toke one step only out of that star shape, he tried to persuad himself its his legs aching and not because of a sixth sense, and that was really something he should be thankful for because. "Guys! I think we gonna be a stars!" "Wallaby...I dont think this star shape is used fo-" "GOODBYE MATES!!"

And with a casted spell and a flash of an eye, everybody was drowned with an unknown colorful sticky liquid that fully covered them, gluing them to the ground. Expect David, who fell down to the ground aspect with a horrible fear that rised behind his eyes from the grisly vision that immediately happend.

Blondie Stood there, watching him in enmity.

Blondie turned around, only to be so bothered by seeing the surviver. "Oh it seems I missed a shot! Im going to fix this~" The words had deserted david, the color quickly drained from his face, a cold wave embalmed him and his mouth ran dry, sweat poured down his body, Heart began to hammer against his chest, every muscle in his body shouted at him to flee. To escpae this imminent threat. He hurried to the door, using every little cell of power left to open it, but no matter how much he quickly moves the handle in fright, the door didnt open, oh yes, blondie locked it. Seeing no hope, he knocked on it so expeditiously and hardly, trying not to make his words stumbled, begging for someone outside to hear him. "HEEEEELLLP!!! HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!! ANYBODY OUT THERE?!?!? PLEASE HELP ME!!" "Come on David, why so nervous?" Blondie snickered from behind him, his voice hinting he is oncoming, his tone ringing in a sick icy way, sending chimes ringing in david ears, but he kept screaming for a rescue, he was not frightened nor afraid, he was beyond such mere nouns, he was going crazy, his boater hat fell from his head, it only reminded of how much he wants his family NOW in this profound situation, he just wanted to go back to them again, stay with his father marley at home and go to beach together or golf or car or wherever his father wants to go, staying in his parents arms was all what he desired, he would never wish anything anymore after this. He could no longer control his hands they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm, his legs collapsed underneath him, teeth chattering in fear, He slid down the door, bringing his knees up to his chest.

"I-I-I-I-I-I D-D-DONT UNDERSTAND!!!!!!"

"You dont understand? I hated you! Im who created jokey! He was my friend since the childhood! My friend since the start!! But you! I saw every little detail I gifted him in you! You were perfect, perfect for him, more perfect than me! Now that I had a studio of my own, I wanted him to be alive! I reached my wish by the help of you all, by animating and presenting him to all the children around the world, they loved him, just like me! But lately, I didnt feel that I made this dream come true yet...how can a cartoon character offset me of a friend who always stayed by my side that I cant make real! But now I found a second chance, a second chance to revive him, to this reality. Thats it! Thats the chance! By using some souls to bring those stunning characters and that convival cartoony world I created to reality...that was always my biggest dream...and whats a better chance than to have the voice actor whom I influenced the traits for the children 'star' right at my hand~ People will love you david~"

Blondie was right, if david dyed his hair black and wore some cheeks make up, he could exactly like a real life jokey, but who would need a cheap costume when you can bring jokey himself to reality. David recalled the times when he sometimes thought uncle harry may have been a little overprotective of him. He thought his uncle needs to ease a bit, nothing so dangerous will happen for him. Now, he regret thinking this, and wants him to overprotect him forever and ever. Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over him like some hungry beast, immobilizing him and his brain, holding him a captive and took control of his entire body, Shadows and echoes play on his senses warping shapes and sounds. That outlandish substance already reached his legs, his life flashed before his eyes and he ushered his bright unearthly ones shut.

Yeb, this is the angel end.

#brueklynn #blondie rodgers #wallaby wallstone #david angel #murphy hillsborugh

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juunshua · 6 years

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henlo! can u post a gif tutorial cause your gifs are so pretty and look amazing, even on mobile which messes up with everythjng 😆

ahh anon u flatter me!! thank you for your kind words!!! i honestly have ways to go, but it means a lot that u say this thank you

so for starters i have a mac + photoshop cs5 so a lot of this tutorial will be based on what you do for that, but i’m sure u could do the same thing on pcs (actually pcs have more programs available so i highly recommend, if u have a pc, finding a tutorial that is based around pcs) and other photoshop versions too! but i think the general process is still the same, a different tutorial might just be more nuanced^^

1. Finding/downloading your video~so for normal mp4 videos on youtube i use this website. it’s pretty useful it can download from actually a wide variety of sites like naver (up till 1080p!) ~for v app videos i use this site~ts files i find on kpopexciting or kpop24hrs (u need an account for kpop24hrs i think to download video but! signing up isnt difficult and its nothing fishy. i use it a lot esp for older ts files it has a good archive, kpopexciting tends to be faster though.)~the higher quality files you find the better! i find that it tends to go mp4~honestly finding the right high quality video is a HUGE part of making gifs look nice2. Extracting your video~there are many many many ways to extract your video but I highly recommend downloading avisynth! There are ways to download it for pc! avisynth is beautiful because it doesn’t really reduce the quality of your video to the extent that photoshop does, plus it can extract 60fps from ts files. some gifs ive made through avisynth ( x x x ) if you’re interested in avisynth further, tumblr user @/brandinator is a good place to start! if you want to know more regarding how to use it and a different tutorial through that, let me know! ~now i’m not sure if there is an avisynth tutorial for mac anymore, BUT theres another great program, vapoursynth, that mac users can look into. here’s a tutorial that i’ve found~Before I got avisynth I used VLC player for ts files but I had to basically screenshot each frame individually. Some gifs I’ve made through this method ( x x x ). these gifs are 60fps only bc i found a user who uploaded the ts file in 60fps. usually you cant get 60fps w/o avisynth. but this is also me saying that if you cant get avisynth or vapoursynth, there are still ways to work around it i think! one of my fav giffers for the longest time didnt use either!! and sharpening and coloring were always on point.~I think pcs can use kmplayer? id look into that if you have a pc~for normal mp4 videos I just use photoshops ‘import video frames to layers’ option (under file in the menubar)! you can use avisynth as well, but for me it takes forever to extract what i want in avisynth (minimum like a minute ish), whereas ps can get the part of the video i want to gif in a couple of seconds. I think it’s self explanatory but basically you find the video you want to extract, find where u want ur gif to start, and for photoshop cs5, you hit the ‘shift’ key and let the part u want giffed in the video play. when youre done u lift the shift key and hit ‘ok’ (idk if it differs for different versions of ps). i extract all!!! frames!! it makes it look smoother too :)

3. Coloring/Sharpening/Cropping/Etc~now this is the step that I can’t really give a tutorial on because honestly it varies for everyone! but i feel that this is the step that a lot of ppl need guidance with (me included) because it is the hardest step, probably because it is so ‘up in the air’ for lack of a better word? there is no one right way of doing it the possibilities are literally endless but here are some tips~Coloring: ~most important rule: don’t whitewash ur gifs!! ~other than that, the world is yours. ~honestly have fun with this part! coloring is something that i haven’t fully learned yet ~i tend to play around mainly with the curves, selective color, hue/saturation, and color balance layers ~you can also download psds other ppl have made (i dont do this myself) and use those! ~also i feel that a lot of the times, the right coloring can make ur gif seem higher quality. coloring can also play a role in reducing gif size if u do it correctly. ~honestly this part is just a lot of experimentation, over the course of a gifset and over the course of time in general. some people find their coloring style easily, but i was not one of those people. ive spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to adjust what layers to get the colors that i want and i think only as of this era ive been able to execute the coloring i had pictured in my mind. so patience is a virtue!!! ~Sharpening: ~ah yes my biggest enemy: sharpening ~first things first, i sharpen my gifs using smart sharpen + topaz ~settings for my smart sharpen are 500%; 0.4 ~check the box that says ‘more accurate’ and i personally remove ‘gaussian blur’ ~some people also use topaz denoise, and/or topaz clean ~ honestly topaz is a lifesaver for me bc it smoothes out a lot of grain that can be introduced via coloring! also!!! it can reduce gif size by a lot!!!!!!!!!!! ~on topaz denoise i hit the ‘light’ setting on the side and adjust the settings accordingly ~idk how to use topaz clean even though I have it, because it refuses to work ~to apply topaz you have to hit ‘flatten frames into layers’ ~some gifs i’ve made with just topaz and no avisynth ( x x x x) ~there are ways to make it look nice without topaz but i’ve forgotten how after i got it ~id duplicate the frame then use smart sharpen and ‘gaussian blur’ under ‘blur’ ~then adjust the opacity levels in some way. ~my settings for the opacity levels aren’t good so i’ll refrain from sharing ~some gifs ive made through this method ( x x ) ~last but not least i’ll bring up avisynth again. avisynth is nice at preserving video quality ~a lot of ppl i know say they don’t even sharpen gifs out of avisynth ~here are some gifs i have made with avisynth + topaz ( x x x x x x x ) ~honestly when it comes to sharpening, im still floundering with it. my sharpening needs a lot of work but, amongst the people who i consider good sharpners, most of them use avisynth, topaz denoise and/or clean, and smart sharpen! so all the resources are here !

~Cropping: ~it’s super important to follow tumblr dimensions otherwise gifs come out looking grainy! even when they’re not ! (case in point: x in which i used 168 instead of 178 for the dimensions)~Timing: ~Timing is so important!!! I almost forgot!! Always make sure u dont have duplicate frames for starters! for 60fps source videos i use .03, for mp4s i typically use .04 but sometimes the frame rate is kinda funky so you may have to go slower accordingly! and the important thing about timing is that if u use smart object, when u save ur gif, it’ll be in a different timing? like .04 gets changed to .07 but in order to fix that, u can simply just save ur gif in the wrong timing, and then reopen the gif in ps, simply change the timing to what u want on all ur frames, and then save it again!! idk if that made any sense but laskdjf this was the biggest mystery for me for so long omg4. Saving the gif~personally the save settings I use are “Selective/Adaptive” ; “Diffusive”; Dither: 100%; 256 colors. sometimes this makes the gif super grainy so i use “pattern” instead of “diffusive” in those instances5. Pray Perseverance ~a lot of the time when you’re giffing, gifs won’t come out the way you want it (i’m sure for every gifset i’ve uploaded on tumblr, there’s a gifset that i started making and never finished because it looked really bad). idk sometimes it feels like photoshop has its own will, sharpenings wont always work the same way each time, video quality won’t be the way you want it, i’m honestly still very experimental right now I don’t have ps figured out at all. so yeah…sometimes all u can do is that when u hit that save for web button (that ruins everything alskf), pray that ps doesnt mess it up too bad ahahaha but also that even when it does, its okay and you can try again! or try something new!

this is a super generic guide! let me know if you need more information!

#anon #replies

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