𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖉

[skippingframes]

⠀ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── 𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖎𝖊. 𝖘𝖍𝖊/𝖍𝖊𝖗. 25+. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

SKIPPINGFRAMES ─ a selective, low activity indie blog that touches on the darkest parts of the soul, grief, fame, & trauma. mature themes present.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀🕸 guidelines 🕸 muses (mobile) 🕸 opens 🕸 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 🕸 bounded by ink to @likecavities @grinninglikeadevil @tragiclike 🕸 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[skippingframes]

CLOSED for @loveisliquor

the win still clung to chase in bright, electric pieces — the roar of the arena, the hard slap of gloves against his helmet, and the ridiculous RUSH of getting mobbed by teammates against the boards after the final horn. by the time he made it to the party, tie loosened and grin already too pleased with itself, he had a beer in one hand and enough adrenaline left in him to make standing still feel impossible. he liked this part almost as much as the game itself; the messy afterglow of victory, the music turned too loud, and how everyone wanted to clap him on the shoulder and tell him he’d played a hell of a game. usually, chase ate it up without thinking twice. attention had always fit him easily, especially when it came with free drinks and pretty people looking his way, but tonight his focus snagged on one face and refused to move. lola. the woman from the other night. for half a second, his confidence caught on the memory of her smile, how she’d looked at him as if she could see EVERY trick he was about to pull and still hadn’t decided whether she wanted to stop him. that’d been the problem, really. chase was used to being wanted. he was less used to being read. his grin shifted into something sharper and unmistakably PLEASED, and he excused himself from his teammates without even pretending to be subtle. “well, look who decided to make my night better,” he said as he approached, eyes dragging over her with open appreciation before landing back on her face. “careful, lola. you keep showing up after i win, i’m gonna start thinking you’re my good luck charm.”

[loudbarks]

OPEN TO: anyone <3 MUSE: frankie knox, immortal siren so age is a big ol' question mark, left the sea to pursue a normal life but it still calls to her. CONNECTION: someone in the band, a stranger, someone charmed by them, whatever.

frankie had never been very good at pretending she didn’t belong in rooms like this, even when half the people packed into the low-lit afterparty were trying too hard to PROVE they did. the show had ended an hour ago, but the venue still hummed with leftover noise; laughter spilling over the bar, amps being hauled out through a side door, someone from the band yelling their name from across the room before getting dragged into another conversation. she only lifted her vodka cran in vague acknowledgment, red straw caught between two fingers, her mouth curving around a private little smile as she drifted near the edge of the crowd. it was easier to watch than join in right away. easier to let their eyes move over faces they half-recognized, over glittered eyelids and leather jackets and sweaty post-show hair, while they hummed under their breath to whatever song the dj had thrown on next. frankie looked relaxed in that dangerous, expensive way she had learned to wear like perfume, but there was a SHARPNESS beneath it too; a creature who knew exactly when someone was looking, and whether she wanted to let them get away with it. their gaze caught on someone across the room then, lingering a beat too long to be accidental, and the corner of their mouth lifted around the straw before they finally looked away, like they had been the one to decide the moment was over.

[rageisinourveins]

[REBOOT] (x)

[skippingframes]

CLOSED for @likecavities

by the time katrina made it out into the backstage lot, the noise from inside the venue had dulled into a low, distorted thrum behind the door. out here, the air smelled like old asphalt, rain-damp concrete, and the faint metallic bite of load-in gear baking under floodlights. she slipped away without announcing herself; that was usually EASIER. a cigarette sat between her fingers, unlit, the filter already marked faintly from where she’d held it between her lips while checking every pocket of her leather jacket twice. no lighter. of fucking course. for a second, she considered going back inside and stealing one from suzi or frankie, but the thought of being dragged into another conversation made her stay put. her gaze shifted toward the only other person lingering near the trailers, and after a beat, she lifted the cigarette slightly between two fingers. “you got a light?” her voice came out even, quiet and almost bored, but there was a tiredness under it she didn’t bother trying to HIDE.

[skippingframes]

i luv it when bad omens are on tour bc that means @grinninglikeadevil get to go crazy in the dms

[skippingframes]

might drop a siren!frankie starter icl

[periperiz]

[+300 GIFS] KIM GOEUN b. 1991, south korean in LOVE IN THE BIG CITY (2024) all gifs can be accessed by clicking the source link. please remember to cast correctly, read my rules and like or reblog if you find useful.

cw: flashing lights, smoking, fighting, blood.

[gasolinelighter]

for jude & lottie (@skippingframes) !!

it started off like any other day. he got to jude’s exhausted from work and immediately started bitching. “how the fuck do you tell me not to rotate your tires,” peter demanded, throwing himself onto the couch, “and then ask me to move the back tires to the front and the front tires to the back?” jude was already laughing. “no, seriously. explain it to me.” “can't.” “exactly.” peter pointed at them. “and then this guy gets pissed when i charge him for the thing he asked me to do.” “tragic.” “thank you.” he kept going, because he was on a roll now. jude kept laughing, which only encouraged him. at some point, jude's arm ended up around his shoulders. then peter leaned into him. then somehow he was halfway sprawled across the couch and –  well. the next thing he knew, they were kissing. and god. peter really fucking liked him. everything else faded into the background. work. the shitty customer. the rest of the day. all of it. he barely registered the sound of the front door opening. it wasn't until he heard a laugh that his brain finally caught up. his eyes drifted toward the doorway. lottie. well. shit. peter jerked back so fast he nearly threw himself off the couch. heat flooded his face as he looked at jude, then at lottie, then back at jude. for a second, nobody said anything – it was just lottie grinning. then he cleared his throat. “uh.” another beat. “so we're datin'.” he gestured vaguely between himself and jude. “surprise.”

[skippingframes]

jude had been laughing right up until peter LAUNCHED himself backward with all the grace of a startled deer, and honestly, that almost made him laugh harder. their mouth was still warm from kissing him, one hand still half-curled in the front of peter’s shirt, their body angled toward him on instinct before their brain caught up with the sound of lottie letting herself in. for one suspended second, jude just looked at peter’s red face, then at lottie’s grin, then back again. OF COURSE this was how she found out. not through a normal conversation. not over coffee. not with jude trying to pretend he knew how to be casual about being this happy. no. she walked in unannounced, caught peter nearly throwing himself off the couch, and got a relationship reveal delivered like he’d damaged someone’s mailbox. “yeah,” jude said, voice rough with laughter, fingers still resting against peter’s side because they didn’t want to move them. “surprise.” then, because peter looked two seconds away from dissolving into the floorboards, jude gave his shirt a gentle tug. “you don’t have to flee the scene, idiot. she was gonna find out EVENTUALLY.”

lottie stood in the doorway with her coat halfway off, her expression bright with the kind of smug delight that meant NOBODY was surviving this. “oh, wow,” she said, deadpan. “i’m shocked. devastated. completely blindsided by the thing i’ve been watching happen in real time for, what, months?” jude groaned her name in warning, which only made her smile sharpen. “no, please. continue. i only let myself in because i thought you’d be doing boring little producer stuff, not finally confirming what everyone with functioning eyes already knew.” she shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over the nearest chair, moving farther inside like she had every right to be there — which, in her mind, she ABSOLUTELY did. her gaze shifted over to peter, still too pleased with herself. “also, incredible announcement. really elegant. ‘so we’re datin’. surprise.’ very moving. i almost cried.” underneath all the sarcasm, though, there was fondness; not surprise, never that, because lottie had seen the way jude looked at peter when he thought NOBODY noticed. her sibling had spent so long acting like wanting people was inconvenient. seeing them caught with it all over their face felt dangerous in the sweetest way. for half a second, her expression gentled. then, she ruined it on purpose. “for the record, i support this.” her grin came back in full. “mostly because keeping quiet was getting exhausting, and also because watching you two pretend you WEREN’T obsessed with each other was starting to affect my mental health.”

[skippingframes]

i got sooo many drafts done last night that all i have left is 10 soooooo like for a starter <3

[skippingframes]

i will get to these after i sleep a lil bit longer bc ya girl is Sleepy

[skippingframes]

i got sooo many drafts done last night that all i have left is 10 soooooo like for a starter <3

[likecavities]

noah notices all of the things that rory pretends don't matter. he never ment to sidestep any rules, but rory keeps sliding in between his own boundaries. like they somehow just don't apply. all of the things he's done to protect himself just seem useless, because all he wants is to pull rory closer. the noise of the bar fades in the background, and the only thing he can see is the softness in rory's eyes. his knee nudges noah's, and heat climbs up his neck again. god, he wants so much more than either of them get to have. every time he's around rory, he gets this stupid hammering in his chest like his heart is begging to burst free from his ribcage. but it doesn't scare him. and isn't that the difference ?? sure, this is casual, this is easy, but couldn't it be more than that?? "well, i've already reckoned with the fact that you've got severe cte to keep puttin' up with me." laughter runs easy all over again. "combine that with your love for beatin' a dead horse, and we ended up here." somedays, it feels like the only thing noah considers at all is how much time he can spend making rory laugh. he follows in suit, taking a sip of his own drink. "enough tequilas and i can go fully insufferable." a grin, "but you already knew that."

[skippingframes]

rory barked out a laugh at that, immediately shaking his head as he dragged a hand down his face. “see, this is exactly what i’m talkin’ about. i say one nice thing to you and suddenly I’M gettin’ diagnosed with severe cte at a bar.” but there was no real bite to it. if anything, he looked too amused by the whole thing. too fond. it was getting harder and harder to pretend noah’s attention didn’t affect him. harder to ignore how quickly his eyes found him in a room, or how naturally he leaned toward him whenever they were together. somewhere along the way, being around noah had stopped feeling like effort and started feeling like RELIEF. his grin lingered as he watched him take another sip of tequila. “love beatin’ a dead horse?” he repeated with a snort. “buddy, you play defense. i’m pretty sure your entire job description is doin’ the same thing over and over until somebody gives up.” he nudged their knees together again beneath the bar, unable to help himself. “and yeah, i already knew that. enough tequilas and you go from regular insufferable to advanced insufferable.” another laugh slipped out before his expression softened slightly. “doesn’t seem to stop me from wantin’ to hang out with you, though. which honestly says way worse things about me than it does about you.” he lifted his beer in a lazy toast. “guess we’re both STUCK with the consequences now.”

[likecavities]

i've seen interviews. oh, it's a good thing he has another fucking joint stashed in his back pocket. because if he wants to talk shop, cam's gonna need to smoke enough NOT to feel like he's fucking bragging. because firstly, he's not. he's like so incredibly aware that this is the only thing that he's ever been really great at. he takes the joint back, and takes another drag. the smoke billows out around him, stupid mocktail abandoned on some ledge. smoke some weed, feel normal, focus again, whatever. "so you know all about me, and i don't even get your name." he chuckles, eyes casting over to chase once more. "i'm starting to think you might just have a little crush on me or something. makes it way harder to be a nuisance." he laughs, "consider a burnout stereotype, multiply it by five, and that's about how much fucking weed i keep on me." a grin crawls across his face, "'and i'm stupid generous. 'd say that's a pretty big benefit." a beat, "now you gonna tell me your name, pretty boy ??"

[skippingframes]

that got a GENUINE laugh out of chase, head tipping back for a second before he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "okay, that's fair. in my defense, i wasn't exactly trying to hide anything." his eyes dropped to the joint, then back to cam, amusement still lingering in the corners of them. the crush comment earned a scoff, though it wasn't particularly convincing. "might?" he echoed. "jesus, your ego's worse than mine." but he was grinning when he said it. the pretty boy nearly did him in, too. chase shook his head, reaching over to steal the joint for another hit. "chase," he finally admitted, offering it back. "chase fontaine. professional hockey player, occasional stalker of skateboard interviews, apparently." his shoulder bumped against cam's once more. "and for the record, being generous with weed is a strong selling point. calling me pretty boy might be an even stronger one."

[bloodrodeo]

Trent uses all his willpower to not let out a huge, dramatic sigh. In its place, cheeks bubbled up, holding in air, and letting it go in one thin, stream — which ends up sounding a lot like, one long, big dramatic sigh. "I get you." He doesn't get anything the guy's just told him, not really a car guy. "Tonight." He repeats, trying to envision the phone call that he'll be several hours late, miss the movie at the drive-in where he was planning on macking on her in the flatbed, and how much of an ass he'd sound like asking to just stay in at hers instead. "Um...Hold on. Maybe — thank you. I jus' gotta call someone."

There's not much privacy to begin with, so he just backs out of the garage. His ex picks up on the third ring and the call goes worse than expected, pure exasperation by the end of it. He mopes back to the guy. "Keep it. Take however long you need, you don't gotta stay late or nothin'." And he really does, try to not air out his shit but, "I was tryna link up with my ex, so I'm tellin' her, like, hey my car's dead, and then she's like, I told you to take it in when we were together. Sayin' this wouldn't be happenin' if I had listened to her then." Which, saying it aloud, is true, but then she just kept on chewing him out. "We've been good too. Before this. Wild."

[skippingframes]

a low hum left him as he listened, wrench turning lazily between his fingers while trent talked. he didn't interrupt or offer one of those fake damn, that's crazy responses people threw out when they weren't really listening. instead, he let a few seconds pass after the story's over, eyes dropping back to the engine. "well." his mouth twitched slightly. "first mistake was tellin' somebody who warned you about the problem in the first place." the amusement in his voice took some of the sting out of it. "ain't a person alive who can resist an i told you so in that situation." another turn of the wrench. metal clinked softly somewhere beneath the hood. "second mistake was thinkin' gettin' chewed out means y'all ain't good." he shrugged one shoulder. "sounds t'me like she was annoyed 'cause she was right, not 'cause your truck broke down." growing up around small towns, horses, and families who expressed concern by giving each other grief had taught him THAT much. "if she didn't care at all, she'd probably just say 'that sucks' and hang up." that earned a quiet chuckle from him before he glanced over. "though for what it's worth, i probably would've kept the part about tryin' to meet up with your ex to myself. folks tend to hear my truck died a lot different than they hear my truck died on the way to see you. makes it sound like they're part of the problem." he wiped his hands on a rag and nodded toward the waiting area. "go grab a coffee or somethin'. i'll see what kinda miracle i can work."

[khadijha]

—  𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗴𝗼 𝗽.𝗱.  ꗃ  𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗌𝗒  .  by  clicking  on  the  source  link  ,  you'll  be  redirected  to  (  328  )  gifs  of  shawn hatosy  in  chicago p.d.  ,  s12  (  2024  )  !  they  were  born  in  1975  &  are  of  white  descent  ,  please  cast  accordingly  .  all  of  these  gifs  are  made  from  scratch  .  you  may  edit  these  ,  but  do  not  claim  as  your  own  .  this  pack  is  free  &  accessible  through  a  page  &  zip  file  .

this is a birthday present for @madelyncilne! love you, el-word<3

[makemearobot]

“okay, no, that's not what i said,” he laughed despite himself, only slightly distracted and anxious that his eyes lingered on him. “you don't have to connect with the camera. that's my job. you just have to look like you're into it.” he shrugged. “you know how many people i've photographed that give me absolutely nothing to work with?” his head tilted. “i'm getting the impression you're gonna try harder than that.” the smile that tugged at his mouth lingered when chase pushed off the wall. “c'mere.” he waved him over and pushed open the doors to the studio balcony. the space was almost unfairly photogenic. plants crowded the edges, the city stretched out beyond the railing, and the late-afternoon sun spilled across everything in soft gold. it looked less like a balcony and more like a set. “sit right there.” arch pointed toward a chair beside the table, already squinting as he pieced together the frame in his head. then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and held it out to chase. “yeah, you're gonna need this.” he paused. “you don't actually have to smoke it.” another beat. “but it's hot, and you can't really argue with me on that one.” arch pointed at the cigarettes like it was objective fact. “it just IS.”

[skippingframes]

“oh, i’m ABSOLUTELY gonna try harder than that,” chase shot back with a grin, following him out onto the balcony. “you say that like i’ve never had a camera pointed at me before.” the second he stepped into the sunlight, though, he found himself glancing around. the place looked ridiculous, but in a good way. all warm light and city skyline and plants that probably cost MORE than some of his teammates’ cars. archer fit here, he realized. there was something about the way he looked at the space, already building the shot in his head, that made it obvious this wasn't just a job to him. chase dropped into the chair without complaint, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched him work. then archer held out the cigarettes, and chase barked out a laugh. “jesus christ.” he took the pack anyway, turning it over in his hands. “see, THIS is why you're the artist and i'm just some idiot who gets punched for a living.” his smile pulled a little wider as he looked up at him. “you didn't even hesitate. just decided cigarettes are hot and that's the law.” he tapped one lightly against the pack, eyes narrowing with amusement. “y'know, for a guy who gets embarrassed every thirty seconds, you're weirdly BOSSY when you've got a camera in your hand.” the observation slipped out before he could stop it, but he found he didn't mind. there was something kind of fun about seeing archer forget to be nervous for a minute. “alright, boss. what's next?”

[likecavities]

rory always seems surprised by the kind of insane and off the wall facts that noah knows about animals. livestock. like he wasn't practically raising himself in the middle of a cornfield. "sure, evil." he agrees, laughter evident. of course he does. rory looked so CONVINCED! he almost loses his balance, and noah can't help the chuckle that pulls through him again. noah kind of looks at rory like he's the most important thing in the world, the only thing that ever mattered to him. noah doesn't hold many things close to him, he has never really found anything that stuck but hockey. and GOD, hockey is fucking complicated for noah. he loves hockey, he hates hockey, this closet is suffocating him, and he's only ever made it out because hockey carried him here. if anyone were to ask, noah would lie. but noah's feelings about hockey can be summarized in one sentence. noah loves hockey, hockey doesn't love him back. but he never talks about it, because why would he? it's not worth it to him. he likes the softness he sees in rory, and he loves that it's all his. that this isn't a version of rory that everyone has access to. "yeah, i dunno. they hiss." a beat, "cats hiss too." a shrug pulls at his shoulders. "i love when you insult me for my midwestern opinions." a beat, "quick question, where's chicago ??" a shake of his head, and a laugh pulls through him. "ducks aren't lookin' for weakness, they're just hungry." a beat, "don't give 'em bread though. 's bad for their digestive systems." a beat, "my neighbor had ducks on their farm." rory says he's honest like it's physically painful, and noah nods. "well like – yeah–" he laughs. "i play hockey and i'm from indiana. what'd you call me – emotionally constipated ??" it's all humor, he's having so much fun. but then rory's gaze trips soft and open, and god, noah loves it. "i think – i do it too y'know." a pause, "i think you're really sweet."

[skippingframes]

“okay, first of all, cats have EARNED the right to hiss,” rory shot back immediately. “cats are tiny. swans are, like, six feet tall and full of hatred.” he was absolutely making up statistics now, but that had never stopped him before. the laugh that followed was easy and bright, his shoulder bumping lightly against noah's. “and chicago doesn't count. chicago is basically its own thing. you grew up in a cornfield. that's different.” he listened to noah explain duck digestive systems with the same attention he'd give a coach drawing up a game-winning play. maybe even more. there was always something funny about it; noah could casually drop the most RANDOM fact he'd ever heard into a conversation about absolutely nothing. most people would've gotten bored halfway through. rory found himself smiling instead. he liked hearing noah talk about things he knew. liked hearing PIECES of the life that existed before hockey, before the league, before they'd ever met. “your neighbor had ducks,” he repeated. “see, this is exactly what i'm talking about. every time i learn something new about indiana it sounds fake.” the emotionally constipated comment got another laugh out of him. “i stand by that diagnosis, doctor vanek.” but then noah said i think you're really sweet, and the teasing drained out of him all at once. it always did. somehow noah could say the simplest thing in the world and leave rory feeling a little off-balance afterward. not bad. just... EXPOSED in a way he wasn't used to. for a second he just looked at him, their hands still tangled together between them. “yeah?” his smile tugged smaller, softer. “well, i think you're pretty sweet too, noahs.” a beat. “which is annoying, by the way. i had a whole thing goin' where i was cool and mysterious BEFORE you showed up.” he squeezed his hand once, unable to hold the sincerity for too long without hiding it behind a joke. “now look at me. sittin' here learnin' duck facts and bein' in love and shit.”