apparently all i can do is this grainy color thing now

The Night Ahead (Part 1)

summary: bucky came out of cryostasis after just a few months. with the help of steve, he’s trying to piece the fractions of his mind back together. while flipping through old HYDRA files, he remembers something from his days as the winter soldier: you.

pairing: bucky x reader (sort of?? it’s complicated)

series contains: angsty angst, sadness, bucky reliving memories as the Winter Soldier, violence, people die a lot, bucky trying to cope, really awful translations of German, Russian, and Romanian (thanks to google translate i apologize in advance)

a/n: so like all my followers know what a pain in my ASS this fic has been. started off as a one-shot based off the song “house on a hill” by the pretty reckless, and has slowly mutated into a freaking series. this part is in bucky’s POV, but after this the rest of the series (save for one other part) will be in the “reader’s” perspective. there’s a lot of flashbacks in this fic, which is a new kind of thing for me. all flashbacks are written in italics and put in blockquotes. this fic is something new for me, so if you could leave me messages letting me know what you think i would be eternally grateful!  also, if you like this fic, please check out my master list

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

BUCKY

Bucky flipped through the files, trying to ignore Steve’s gaze weighing on him. Most of the folders were thin. There was maybe a page or two of mostly useless information. Possible aliases, possible contacts, and activities. It was all varied, and its accuracy debatable. There was only one thing each file had in common – every file, every person, was a HYDRA associate.  

He tossed a file onto the table, his gaze lifting enough to unsurprisingly find Steve’s glacier blues focused on his face. Bucky held the look for a brief moment before he dropped his eyes and opened up the new folder. “I’m fine, Steve.” 

I’m fine. I’m fine. After three months, the phrase felt almost like bile in his throat whenever he said the words. A simple expression that has transfigured into something pale and flat from overuse. Bucky had said it when he came out of cryo three months ago, when Wakandan scientists thought they had found a way to negate whatever HYDRA had put in him, only to have the experiment fall through. He said it again when his future was discussed, now that he was thawed and still a ticking time bomb. The possibility of going back into cryo was discussed, but Bucky refused because he was fine. And the relief he saw in his best friend’s face at the refusal was Bucky’s main argument every day since that he made the right decision. 

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Stop the press!

Forget everything you’ve ever learned about the tale of how the propane bombs were planted at Columbine High. We all know how slick and cool REB and VoDkA  came across in the famous scene of Zero Hour. They strolled into the Commons with fierce purpose shrouded in their uber school shooter dark aesthetic: black trench coats, combat boots and shades carrying their pièce de résistance bombs in their “bags of terrorism” (yes, they referred to them as that).  Casually kneeling down and setting their instruments of terror with ease right in front of their peers. 

But in reality?  

Well, reality paints a very different picture demonstrating how banal the entire thing looked. Amazingly ordinary and casual..yet as we’ll later learn, they almost look a little too slow pokey considering their very tight schedule.

I lightened these images up and sharpened them as well.

‘Eric’ approaching the column from the left
wobbling a bit with his orange gym bag held in his right hand

A wild ‘Dylan’ lopes forth approaching the column from the left
carrying his navy blue gym bag in his left hand

slowed down…

Here be some ordinary looking dudes hauling their heavy but lethal gym bags near the columns in the cafeteria. ‘Eric’s’ small frame is struggling a slight bit barely managing to prevent the bag from coming into contact with objects or people walking by. The two are having no trouble being themselves, looking effortlessly awkward yet casual af while ironically implementing something deadly.. 

Of course, we didn’t really expect that level of dramatic professionalism from Eric and Dylan now did we?  Nah.. Not really.  

This is going to be long. so read on under the cut. :)   

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So, this is for the Caffeine Challenge #18, for @caffeinewitchcraft. I, erm, cannot follow directions, apparently. :grins: I wrote for an hour (though later in the day because the original time is v. early for me), and then just decided to finish the story. I also used all the prompts, because I liked all of them and wanted to see if mushing them together would give me something interesting. 

~~~~~~

It’s snowing, which is how she knows that her lover is lying to her. The very air responds to Devareb’s words, a sphere of small flurries that expands the longer she speaks. At this rate, she’ll plunge the planet into a new ice age. Stubborn, inexorable, she forges ahead with what they both know are lies.

It’s not invisible snow, after all.

“Look,” Devareb says, her lashes wet with flakes and only flakes. “Look. We did everything we could and half a dozen things we couldn’t. There was nothing more we could have done.”

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anonymous asked:

can you explain to a non-gif maker why 2A was so awful for gifmaking???

Because someone thought it might be an awesome idea to not use all the lamps/lights to save money and instead just put on a wonderful ugly green/yellow filter on most of the scenes to get a .. you know, darker and grittier feel.

Here are three of my favorite scenes to color when giffing. Such a joy to get rid of this ugly filter while struggling to not end up with a grainy gif when brightening it and getting some color into it.

Remember, the source of this cap is a 1080p video (the original capture is only sharpened). See how dark it is in the original? And most important: how grainy the background is???

Another example? The whole balcony scene is one big coloring disaster!

“Basic” being a joke here because this coloring alone has 10+ layers and I am not perfectly content with it will do for this. See how much green there is in the original capture? And the once again grainy background? Because yeah, the more you try to change the colors and brighten it, the worst it gets. Not to mention the scene with the bright light in the background when Alec nods and his face is kinda a dark contrast to that light in the same scene? Fun times, really. Fun! 

And the 3rd example, one of my all-time faves. Then again, that whole Malec date is so much fun to color, you have no idea! ahsajhjajhs

This is also a perfect example for this amazing filter. Because the thing is… green and yellow love each other (blue+yellow=green). So, when you use saturation to get rid of the green, it doesn’t really work that well. Not without also desaturate the yellow parts. Which is problematic because if you are not careful you end up whitewashing Magnus or well poc in general because the skins have a lot of yellow (and red) in it. So… Again, fun times, you see, fun times! Don’t even let me start on the graininess again.


Okay, so, I am not saying that 2b is completely un-problematic. But they finally found their missing lamps apparently because even though the show is still kinda dark, you can actually make out colors and it is not just a green/yellow mess with a fucking grainy background  although the filter of the 2nd Malec flashback in 2x18 is a disaster, too, because… I did not need that reminder of that filter from ep 2x07, thank you very much!!!

Here are two examples.

Okay, so this has pretty much the same angle as the balcony scene in 2x01. See the huge difference when only looking at the originals? It’s again a scene that is set in the darkness of the night with artifical light and all, same as 2x01, but see how you can still make out the different colors f.e. the blue of Magnus’ shirt?

Not to mention that I only used 2 curves layer and 1 level layers for the coloring in the second capture. Remember how I said above when coloring the balcony scene in 2x01 that I had more than 10+ layers? 

Or look at this:

I picked this scene because it shows two things: It’s very dark in the alleyway with bright spots which makes coloring this a bit problematic and it can easily end up being too grainy, too. But when you look at the original cap, you can see that the lighting is so much better so that brightening this up is easier, even with such a dark scene. See what I mean when I say that 2b might be dark but you can make out various colors still? Like, compare this to 2a… the difference is huge!

In conclusion, 2b is a blessing not just for every gif maker but it is also nicer to look it. Because now you can actually make out things and persons and colors and all. Like I said before, 2b improved on a lot of things—and the better lighting plays a huge part in it.

The Copycat Neighbors

Note: All names have been changed to protect the identities of the people I know.


My parents used to live in a small subdivision about 45 minutes outside of Seattle. According to them it was a relatively normal middle-class development with decent neighbors. Of course, there were occasional scream-filled arguments from the newlyweds across the street, but nothing one could consider out of the ordinary. Tonight they explained to me why they moved across the country to the outskirts of New York.

~~~

My dad was really good friends with the family right next door, but the breadwinner was offered a posh new job in upstate NY.

“Dammit, Richard. So you’re leaving us? Who’s gonna host the 4th of July barbecue now?”

He was pretty upset, but my mom said he got over it pretty quickly. Three weekends later, the Snyders’ house was put up for sale and they were long gone. My mom didn’t really get along with the wife so she was really excited to see who would move in next door to them, but that excitement was short lived.

“There was something off-putting about them.”

That was my mom’s reaction the first time she saw the new neighbors.

“They were constantly smiling. I mean 24/7 the smiles never left their faces and they were whiter than bed sheets. Like, they never went outside or something.”

My dad chimed in. “Yea, and your mother wasn’t being overly judgmental either. They just looked…different. That’s the only way I can describe it to you.”

They didn’t just write them off though. My parents aren’t like that. After they were situated in their new home my mom baked them cookies and they both went over to introduce themselves. The new neighbors answered the door shoulder to shoulder, the thin-lipped smiles still plastered on their pale faces. My dad said they looked exhausted, but the grins still stayed.

“Hey, how are ya? We live right next door. We thought we would introduce ourselves and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you. Please come inside sir and ma'am. We like you and you are welcome here always.”

My parents stayed for about an hour and during that time barely any words were exchanged. They both tried asking questions about their careers, previous locations, etc., but The only things they said were very short and vague. The questions were never reciprocated and they sat on their couch shoulder to shoulder the entire time, even when my parents left their house.

“We sort of waited for them to walk with us to the front door, but they just sat there.”

“Ok, that’s really, really strange.” I said.

“Andrew, listen to us. That is just scratching the surface of who these people really were. The weeks that followed were surreal and terrifying. We decided we are just going to tell you everything, but you have to promise us that you won’t be scared or anything.”

I should have just walked out of the room at this point.

Things started to become odd the third day after they moved in. Before all of their boxes were even unpacked, the husband began painting their house exactly like my parents’. Their’s was a light creme color with a thin blue stripe around the perimeter, and by the end of the day so was the house next door. Apparently my parents didn’t bring it up right away. The next day my dad was out mowing the lawn, and so was the man. He was wearing the same hat and using the same brand and model of mower.

“That upset me, so I sort of confronted him about it. I wasn’t aggressive or anything, but I insinuated how there was no way that was just a coincidence, especially since he had painted his house like mine the day before. He just looked at me with that ominous smile and didn’t say a word. It was weirding both of us out, so we watched them intently for a few weeks. It just got more and more insane as the days went by.”

A week after the house painting incident, the neighbors next door decided to purchase a new vehicle, and you guessed it, it was the same car as my parent’s. A 1987 BMW 3 series convertible in red. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. The next day my dad invited himself over to ask them some questions.

“I just tagged along for the ride.” My mom said. “I was just curious as to what they had to say about all of this.”

When they got there the neighbors opened the door shoulder to shoulder just like last time. Their smiles were wider than ever.

“Welcome back, sir and ma'am.”

“Yea, ok. Can we talk for a second? I just need to ask you guys some things.”

“Yes, please come in.”

They stepped inside and sat down with them.

“We were just wondering why you’re like, copying us. I honestly just want to mind my own business, but it’s getting kind of weird. Wouldn’t you agree?”

They paused for a minute, looked at each other, and responded, “We like our neighbors. We like you.”

My dad noticed something was upsetting my mom at this point. Her face went flush and she grabbed his leg.

“Are you…whats wrong?”

She whispered to him under her breath, “James, we need to get out of here. We need to leave right now”

“Sorry, guys we need to go, my wife isn’t feeling very well.”

They left in a hurry. My dad was flustered with my mom asking her what the fuck was going on and why she got so upset all of the sudden. They got home and she slammed the door.

“Jesus Christ, James. Jesus Christ.”

“What the hell is the matter, can you please just tell me?”

My mom was almost in tears at this point.

“James, I looked into their bedroom. They had the door wide open. James, they have the same fucking bedroom as us. The comforter on their bed was the same pattern as ours, they have the same curtains on their windows, and they have the same night stands that we do. How the fuck would they know that, they’ve never been over to our house before.”

“What the fuck. Are you being serious right now?”

“James, have they been inside our house?”

I asked them why they didn’t just go back there and actually confront them or call the police, but they told me they were just kind of in the denial stage. They didn’t want to believe this was actually happening, but they knew it was. They knew exactly what was happening.

Neither of them got very much sleep that night. Right before they went to bed, my dad set up an old VHS camcorder on a table in the corner of their room facing their bedroom door.

“I just had to know.” He said.

My dad pulled out an old cardboard box full of tapes and popped one into our VHS player.

“Watch this.”

He fast-forwarded the tape till about an hour in. I was in disbelieve. The video showed the copycat neighbors standing at the edge of my parents bed shoulder to shoulder. Their smiles were gone. Instead they had a murderous look on their faces, wrinkled and contorted. They stood there, just watching my parents through the night until the grainy video cut out 3 hours in.

“I nearly had a heart attack when I watched the tape the next morning. I was scared and then extremely angry. I grabbed my baseball bat and sprinted over to their house. No one was answering, so I beat their door down.”

“Jesus. What did you do to them?” I asked.

“They were gone. All of their stuff was neatly boxed up in the living room. The bmw was still there, but they were gone and never came back. We filed a police report that day. After we showed them the video they worked extremely hard to find these people, whoever the hell they were, but there were no leads. The information they used to buy the house and the car was stolen from another couple from Arkansas and there was nothing else on them. We got the hell out of that neighborhood and moved over here for peace of mind.”

“Oh my God, I’m not even sure what to think right now. I am so sorry.” I was truly at a loss for words.

I asked them why they waited so long to tell me this story.

“Remember our old neighbor Richard Snyder we were talking about? Your dad still keeps in touch with him occasionally.”

“Ok.”

“He called last night and told us he has some new neighbors. The third day they were there they painted their house just like his.”

Misfire

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 2,046

Prompt: “Stop lying!”

Tagging: @bloody-woman-in-white @pocketmonsterqueen @selyons01

Fic:

    One bullet. One bullet, faded silver, left in your pistol. One bullet, one shot, one chance for you to blow away a monster who be anywhere disguised as anyone. One chance to save everyone in this building. One wrong shot, and you take an innocent life and put the other twenty-seven in harm’s way.

    Rule number one: save the innocents. Keep the number of casualties to a minimum, preferable no higher than the number that brought your attention to the job in the first place, and your work is half done already. Hospitalized isn’t ideal, but it’s acceptable as long as the person is stable. So far, the shapeshifter you’re hunting hasn’t left a trail of dead bodies. Deaths stopped the day you rode into town with the Winchester brothers, but with the way you’ve got it locked down and cornered in this small town, two-story office complex, it’s probably more than willing to up the body count if it offers a chance to escape.

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Warped Echo

Derek Hale has been presumed dead, along with most of his family, since the Hale house fire nearly seven years ago. Stiles and Scott run into a glowing-eyed wolf out in the preserve… as though they don’t have enough on their plate in the aftermath of their sacrifices to the Nematon.

So this is going to be an experiment of sorts. I’ve decided to stick Derek, more or less, into Malia’s role starting toward the beginning of 3B. But, while the arc will be similar, there will be a lot of differences along the way, to accommodate the change in characters and the way I would handle the situations/their recovery. Not totally sure where I’ll end up going with it, honestly; it’s just been on my mind for the past few days so I thought I’d play.

I.

All things considered, the lithe black wolf that launches itself down the stairs the second Stiles steps through the door shouldn’t be a surprise, really. They’ve been through enough impossible situations in the past ten months that the whole “wolves don’t live in California” thing being debunked by a snarling, furry squatter lurking in the burnt out shell of the old Hale house really shouldn’t rate at all.

It wouldn’t, except that it’s right in front of Stiles, still snarling like he’s invaded its territory, like it would like nothing better than to rip his throat out with its gleaming, drool covered teeth.

Scott’s there less than a second later, tugging Stiles behind him with a jerk that sends him stumbling back onto the porch. He’s all wolf too now (well, as wolf as he gets), ducking low to meet the other at eye level, and Stiles can see the edges of his ears going long from behind, hear the warning snarl in his breath.

And then the wolf’s eyes glow blue.

Stiles stumbles again because fuck. Ok, not a wolf.

They’ve never seen a werewolf do this before. Sure, Peter had gone all gross-wolf-beast back when he’d been an Alpha, and the creeper twins had pulled off some kind of bizarre Megawolf meld, but this… this is different. This looks exactly like the real deal, a person actually transformed into a wolf.

That’s kind of amazing.

Dude, it’s a…” he starts, voice high. Trails off because obviously, and because the were’s attention flits back to him, growls going loud again, the second he opens his mouth.

Scott puts one hand up, probably doing that alpha eye flashy thing he does, because a second later the wolf’s snarling melts into a whimper. Its ears go down and it shuffles back a step, belly to the ground, and Stiles feels a second of sharp relief – haha sucker, bow to the awesomeness that is Scott McCall – before it shakes off the Alpha zen compulsion or whatever, before its hackles go back up, whine bleeding into a bloodthirsty bark, before it’s launching itself straight at Scott.

And Scott’s an Alpha, yeah, but that thing’s a wolf. Body all muscle under its matted, dark fur, jaw full of snapping, flesh-rendering teeth.

Scott does the sane thing, and backs up. Stiles moves too, tripping down the porch steps.

The second their feet hit ground the wolf stops chasing. Its eyes gleam that bright, electric blue before flaring out to a kind of multihued hazel that scans over them with way too much intelligence on its wholly animal face. Like it’s measuring them up - Stiles’ racing heart and Scott’s still lifted hands - running risk assessments until it turns away with a dismissive chuff.

It disappears back into the house like it owns the place, leaving Stiles and Scott staring after.

“So, new werewolf,” Stiles offers, once he feels like his voice isn’t in danger of breaking embarrassingly.

As though they don’t have enough on their plate with the lingering aftermath of their sacrifices to the Nematon. Now there’s a new werewolf – emphasis on the wolf part – running through the preserve unchecked, shacking up in the Hale house like this is its territory, which, sorry dude, Beacon Hills is Scott’s territory, down to the last burnt-out wreck. He doesn’t even get why the thing would want to hang out here anyway; there have to be nicer burrows, caves, and old abandoned cabins that don’t smell like ash and death and look like they’re about to fall in on your head at the first strong breeze.

Whatever, bigger problems, right?

One look at Scott’s face, though, is enough to tell him his friend’s really not going to let this one go.

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