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canarysage · 7 months

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PSDs For Dummies <3

— as written by a dummy

hello dear readers and welcome back to canarysage, the world’s least comprehensive tutorial blog. today, we’re back at it again with photopea for dummies, and we’re tackling something i probably should have done first: psds.

example psds are: 1 (@cutesiplushi) 2 (@didlivio) & 3 (@lumieron)

what is a psd?

excellent question, dear reader! psd stands for photoshop document, and it’s a type of file format (like .png or .gif) that allows you to store a project’s individual layers! it’s a file format that, for obvious reasons, is exclusive to photoshop and photopea.

in editing circles, psd has become shorthand for filter. people use psds to save configurations of adjustment layers that are then used to filter images consistently, without having to remake them every time. when someone posts a psd, they’re posting a folder (hopefully it’s in a folder) with their specific set of adjustment layers for anyone to use!

where can i get psds?

right here on tumblr! check your favorite edit blogs, as they may have posted some, or search ‘free psd’ or ‘psd coloring’ in the search function. tumblr doesn’t allow you to upload psds directly, so you’ll be redirected to a site outside tumblr. probably either deviantart, google drive, or ko-fi, all of which are easy to use. deviantart requires you to have an account to download anything (luckily, an account is free!) and ko-fi may require you to pay money. google drive doesn’t have a search function in and of itself, but it’s extremely easy to download off of.

also, shameless self plug, but i post psds right here on canarysage! i personally use deviantart, but again, an account is free. if send me an ask, i may be able to provide you with a google drive link, if you ask really nicely (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

and of course if you don’t want to use someone else’s psd, you can always make your own.

how do i use a psd?

once you have a psd of your choice downloaded, open up photopea! or photoshop, if you’re rich like that.

once you open photopea, click this here button right in the middle of the screen, the one that says “open from computer”

from there, go to choose files and open up your psd! depending on from whom you got it, psds will look different once you open them. i’m using one of my own as an example.

you can see there’s two layers in my psd, a folder, and an image. the image is just for me so i know which psd this is once i save it—i like to save all my psds with images of real people so i know how it looks on moodboards or stimboards.

the folder is the important part here, that’s where the adjustment layers are contained. to transfer a psd, you can either go to file > new

which lets you start an entirely new project, or you can open an image using file > open

which will give you the image you selected.

as an aside, if you’re opening a psd and you already have a project in progress, make sure to click file > open and not file > open & place, as open & place won’t give you the adjustment layers.

then to move the folder, go to layer > duplicate layer into while having selected the folder (just tap on it, that will make it a lighter gray to show it’s selected) and duplicate the folder into whatever your image is

i’m moving mine to a random image of honami i found which is why it’s named like that. once the folder’s duplicated into your project, go over and take a look!

you should now see something like this! ensure that the folder is on top, as otherwise the adjustment layers won’t work.

here’s the difference between the unfiltered image and the image with my psd!

to save images in photopea (like i did just now) go to file > export as > (your preferred file format)

which will pull up something like this

i recommend either saving as a png (for still images) or as a gif (for… gifs) but that’s up to you! in order to save a psd, go to file > save as psd! that will save your project to your device

bear in mind that tumblr doesn’t accept psds as a file format, so if you’re going to post an edit, you have to save it as something else. also, don’t just save other people’s psds and claim them as your own—psds take a lot of time, effort, and skill, like any other art form.

can i make my own psds?

100% yes! i can’t give you a step-by-step process unfortunately, as there really is no one way to make psds. i recommend familiarizing yourself with adjustment layer and seeing what works.

shameless self plug again, but you can check out my other posts in this series to find out about some of the adjustment layers!

basically, i like to think of adjustment layers as a few different categories. light/darkness adjustments (ie: brightness/contrast, levels, curves, exposure, black & white, and threshold to a certain extent.) saturation adjustments (vibrance, hue/saturation.) color adjustments (hue/saturation, color balance, photo filter, channel mixer, selective color, gradient map depending on how you use it, and replace color.) and also, miscellaneous (posterize, which gives your images a pop-art crunchy kind of effect, invert, which… inverts your colors, and color lookup, which is a set of filters unto itself)

how you utilize adjustment layers is up to you! i personally like to use a variety and see what happens, my personal favorites being channel mixer, photo filter, and hue/saturation. you can also utilize blending modes (shameless self plug again,) or opacity.

if you have no idea where to start, you can look at other people’s psds to see their process. don’t copy or steal, for obvious reasons, but you can toggle layers on and off and see what happens and what each layer does.

making psds isn’t as intimidating as it sounds, you just have to start a project and start creating! it gets really fun once you get the hang of it (*'▽'*)

i don’t edit with photoshop or photopea, can i still use psds?

short answer: nope!

long answer: if you want use psds but you’re super used to ibis paint or whatever you currently use, have no fear! you don’t have to switch all your editing to photopea. you can make your main project in ibis or whatever as normal, then upload it to photopea and add a psd.

you can also make perfectly fine filters in ibis paint in your own right, with enough tweaking. there’s also apps such as polarr and picsart which come with filters, but i’ve never used them so i’m unable to vouch for how they work.

do i need to use psds when editing?

nope! psds are 100% optional. they’re a style like anything else—some people prefer them and some people don’t. it’s up to you.

did you genuinely write 1178 words answering questions no one asked?

yep.

what if i have a question you didn’t answer?

feel free to shoot me an ask! i don’t mind explaining further, and i promise i don’t bite. as with anything, this is just meant to explain to anyone who needs assistance—photopea for dummies by a dummy, after all. we can be confused together!

are you done now?

i am! congratulations for reading this far!

yours truly, canarysage

#photopea for dummies #ʚɞ — tips.

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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Um, Joy, hi. I hesitate to ask, but what is a Phangs arc request and why are you getting so many that you can make them a pile out of 700+ emails??? Do you want, like, a banner or something that says "can't answer these!" because I know how to make one.

Phangs arc requests are when I give copies out in exchange for reviews or from the “donate” pile people regularly contribute to via my Payhip.

And lol, thank you. I appreciate that. I’m spending today and tomorrow looking at my workflow and setting up tighter filters on my email to hopefully catch more things.

The arcs are honestly fine. It's the people deliberately censoring words to get around my autofilters that are the biggest problem.

The abuse I just kind of eyeroll at. It’s really quite ridiculous seeing someone tell you to “un@l!ve” yourself or calling me a “m*nchi3”. But it really wears me down when it’s people doing it with health queries.

Some people really don’t like getting my generic “here are some MCAS resources” email and go out of their way to make sure they get my individual attention, even though what they’re asking is answered in the links I provide.

I’m sure it pisses them off no end when I reply to their c3ns0red emails with the same copy-paste response they just got, but hey, if you’re not going to read the things I put time and energy into curating and then send your email again with keywords filtered so my autoresponder can’t catch it, I don’t much care. I feel bad for you, but I will guard my limited time and energy. (and going forward anyone doing that will just get blocked)

Also, most of the time I’m not qualified to do what they want. I can’t diagnose anyone or tell them what meds to take. I’m just a sick bitch sharing the resources I spent literal years curating to try and make things easier for others.

(covid absolutely made this 100% worse. I’ve got so many people reaching out because unlike a few other well known MCAS bloggers I don’t charge for my time or push supplements via my website. I’ll tell you what supplements I use, but I don’t profit from it. Legally, I can’t, but it also just feels a bit morally icky.)

Hopefully when I get around to my website update, having just a page I can easily curate and update as new studies come out will help with this.

And to those who send me apologetic emails saying they tried to find things on Tumblr but the search engine wasn’t working: it's cool. Tumblr doesn’t show me half of my MCAS info posts at this point.

Functional webbed site.

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jarofstyles · 1 year

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FICTOBER DAY 5- Can I Hold Your Hand?

Here is day 4, a bit of cutie dadrry <3 Enjoy!

FICTOBER Prompt list and Masterlist

Patreon

WC-700+

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“Can I hold your hand?” The small voice peeped up at him. Their son in his train conductor costume had been insistent that he was too big to hold his father’s hand, he was a big boy now and he could do trick or treating all by himself.

Y/N pushed the baby carriage, his little sister still a drooly little baby with a plush pumpkin costume on her body and a tiny hat on her head to keep her warm as the october air chilled up. His wife was dressed up in a poodle skirt and letterman jacket, a little tie around her neck and a bouncy ponytail bobbing as she walked. Harry had chosen function this halloween, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. His saddle shoes were the only thing he purchased for the getup, his hair slicked back in a 50’s like manner- except that one strand that escaped and curled over his head. Y/N had been adamant he not try and fix it, it apparently did something to her.

“Yeah? Not too big to hold my hand now, mate?” He teased, placing his hand down for the smaller one to take. Their gait was slow, their son not the fastest with his Thomas the Tank Engine soft cut out around his body. It made him a big more clumsy, too, which is why Harry was glad Y/N had put knee guards and gloves on him.

“No. I’m am big, but I don’t like all the noises.” He tried to maintain, but the spooky music filtering through the neighborhood and sound effects of the motion sensor activated decor making the poor thing jump. Hell, one of those things had even made Harry clutch his chest as he had approached the front door to ring for candy. What was with these things getting more and more accessible to the public? He remembered the only time he used to see these things were in haunted houses he went to in uni. Now it seemed everyone on the block had a jumpscare waiting to strike. Stupid screaming skeleton.

“It’s okay, baby.” Y/N crooned. “Did you know that on one of our first dates, Daddy took me to see a movie and got so scared he screeched?” It was true, but it was justified. Most of the room had jumped or made a noise too- it just so happened that his had been a bit more loud and high pitched than he would have liked.

Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes, scoffing as his wife grinned like the little shit she was. Really? “Are you ever going to let me live that down? I told you, it was just a bad jump scare. You jumped too.” He looked towards their son, who was giggling simply because Y/N was. “Mumma’s being silly. It’s not a bad thing to scream either, it’s natural.”

“But you’re so big and old, Daddy. You can’t get scared.” He giggled, his fingers squeezing on to Harry’s as they approached another pathway to go up to the house. It was decked out in cobwebs and had some cool orange and purple lighting, spooky sound effects filtering through hidden speakers in the bushes. The howl of a wolf sounded, having him step closer to Harry’s leg. “You go with me?”

“What’s this, then hm? Make fun of me for being scared and then asking me to go?” He ruffled the conductor hat on his head. “You’re lucky I love you loads and Mumma is afraid of the spiders in those webs or I’d made you go with her.” It was all in jest, Y/N simply shrugging. How was she supposed to know what spiders were fake or real? It would be a perfect place for one to hide and jump into her hair!

“It’s okay to be afraid of things, baby. Your father is just silly. Even sillier than me.” Her hand came up to squish Harry’s chin, letting her lipstick give a big kiss mark on his cheek, the bright red in the perfect shape of her lips. When she pulled back, there were loud giggles as the mark was revealed. Harry didn’t mind, clearly, blushing slightly as he knew exactly what she had done, but to their son it was apparently the funniest thing in the world. Y/N shot him a playful glare before threatening him with the same. “Go on, then. Or you’re getting a kiss mark from me too. Grab Mumma a chocolate if there is one.”

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sister-lucifer · 5 months

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What Do The Magic Items Do?

Did you see this poll? Curious to finally find out what your gift does? The wait is over! Here’s what your mundanely helpful magic items do:

Glass Rose 🥀

You’ve been given a beautiful glass rose! When you set it on the window sill to be displayed, the sun filters through it’s delicate glass petals and shines mysterious runes onto the floor and walls surrounding it. Your home is now imbued with plant magic; never again will a house plant, succulent or flower wilt on your watch, and never again will your fruit trees be barren!

Ancient Tome 📖

You’ve been given a dusty ancient tome! The moment it touches your fingers, you can feel its power coursing through you. The veil between life and death has been lifted in your eyes only. You can now see, communicate with, and sense the spirits all around you, in your home and the earth itself. They aren’t all that interested in most small talk, but they give great advice. Listen to them and spread their wisdom! After all, no one understands life like the dead.

Quill Pen 🪶

You’ve been given an authentic quill pen! When you sit down to use it for the first time, you find yourself working with passion and fervor like never before. It’s as if your hand moves with a mind of its own! Never again will you have to battle art or writer’s block, nor will you be dissatisfied that your creation does not compare to the vision. Go forth, and create!

Sea Glass 🌊

You’ve been given a smooth piece of sea glass! When you take it into your hands, you immediately feel a sense of calm flow through you from the glass itself. The spirit of the ocean soothes you, melting away all of the day’s stress and allowing you to complete that task you’ve been putting off for days. If you listen closely, you may even hear the faint sound of a siren song that has been imprinted on the glass itself!

Blank Scroll 📜

You’ve been given a mysteriously blank scroll! When you take hold of it, it doesn’t immediately do anything, but the next time you wonder aloud where a lost object is, it starts to glow. In a moment an image of the object’s location has formed, and the closer you get to it, the brighter it glows. Never again will you spend hours searching for a hair tie or the cap that fell off your drink bottle or that one specific sweater!

Golden Bracelet 💛

You’ve been gifted a priceless golden bracelet! Never again will you be left without the proper outfit or accessory for an event. This magic piece of jewelry can transform into anything that can be worn; earrings, a dress, shoes, what have you, and it knows exactly what you need for that special night out. You’ll forget what it’s like to feel underdressed!

Bejeweled Dagger 🗡️

You’ve been given a wonderful bejeweled dagger! The impossibly strong metal of its blade can cut through anything except flesh. Duct tape, annoying clothing tags, plastic packaging, none of it will ever slow you down now, and never again will you have to explain the embarrassing story of how you sliced your hand open while trying to get the Amazon box open!

Preserved Moth Wings 🦋

You’ve been given a perfectly preserved pair of moth wings! They’re frozen in their resin case, but their magic is not lost. Clumsiness and a heavy-handed nature are no longer your foes. Never again will you accidentally swipe something off a shelf or make the embarrassing mistake of running directly into a countertop while visiting someone’s house. You’re as light as a moth!

Obsidian Mirror 🪞

You’ve been gifted a spotless obsidian mirror! Do you have memory problems? Do you often forget important objects, events, or tasks? Are you often frustrated because you know you’re forgetting something, but you don’t know what? Not anymore, you don’t! When you hold this mirror in your hands and stare into it, it shows you a vision of what you’re forgetting. It also functions as a regular mirror, which is pretty helpful too!

Vial of Glowing Liquid 🧪

You’ve been given a small vial of glowing liquid! If you often find yourself too indecisive, tired, or short on time to make food, this little bottle is going to be your best friend. Just a drop on a plate will instantly transform into the meal you’ve been craving; steak cooked exactly how you like, a PB&J without that one bite that’s just peanut butter! No more fighting sensory issues or a lack of energy just to have a meal. And don’t worry, it’s magic, the vial will never empty!

Antique Pocket Watch 🕰️

You’ve been given a hand crafted antique pocket watch! If you’re often scrambling to meet a deadline or finish that awful task when there’s just not enough time, this magic watch will take a weight off your shoulders. Just click the button once and instantly circumstances will warp in your favor. Your boss just extended that deadline! Your friend wants to come over for dinner, they’ll help you do the dishes in half the time! Sometimes life just goes too fast, everyone needs a bit more time now and then!

20 Sided Die 🎲

You’ve been gifted an ornate 20 sided die! Except…all the sides are blank? That is, until you ask a question and give it a good roll. In an instant the die will come up with advice to aid you in your endeavors! Whether you need to choose between two amazing outfits or figure out how to gently reject that guy from the supply store, this little roller always has just the thing.

What object did you get? How will you use it? And most importantly, will you use it wisely?

#magic #fantasy

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drewharrisonwriter · 25 days

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One Day at a Time - Ch. 3: A Busy Day

Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader

Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!

Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Dave’s room. You stirred, nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting sound in the early light. For a moment, everything felt peaceful, almost surreal, as you recalled the events of the previous night—how naturally things had unfolded between you, how right it had felt to be with him.

But the tranquility was short-lived. The distant sound of commotion from outside gradually pulled you from your reverie. You frowned, sitting up slightly, straining to hear. It was the animals—something wasn’t right.

“Do you hear that?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern as you looked over at Dave.

He was already awake, his brow furrowed as he listened. “Yeah… sounds like trouble.”

You quickly slipped out of bed, throwing on your clothes as you headed for the door. Dave was right behind you, pulling on his pants and a shirt before following you outside.

The scene that greeted you was chaotic. The chickens had somehow gotten out of their coop, scattering across the yard, while one of the cows had wandered too close to the fence, its head stuck between the slats as it tried to reach for some grass on the other side.

“Oh no,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you assessed the situation. “How did this happen?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dave said, his voice calm but firm. “Let’s just get things under control.”

Together, you sprang into action. You grabbed a bucket of feed, using it to coax the chickens back into the coop while Dave worked to free the cow from the fence. It was a hectic start to the day, the two of you working side by side, but despite the stress, you couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly you and Dave functioned as a team.

“Got it,” Dave grunted, finally managing to free the cow. The animal gave a disgruntled moo before lumbering back to the pasture.

“Thanks,” you called over, catching your breath as you secured the coop door, the last of the chickens safely inside. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He flashed you a small, tired smile, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Glad to help. Besides, I think I owe you after last night.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think we’re even.”

As the morning wore on, you both found yourselves immersed in the tasks of the day. There was always something to do on the farm, whether it was tending to the animals, checking the vegetable garden, or handling the endless paperwork that came with running the place. Normally, the routine was comforting, but today felt different—busier, more intense, like there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you could quite place.

By the time the afternoon sun was high in the sky, you noticed Dave beginning to slow down. His movements were more deliberate, his expression pinched as if he was in pain.

“You okay?” you asked, pausing in your work to look at him.

He nodded, but the slight grimace on his face told a different story. “Just a headache,” he said, trying to brush it off. “I’ll be fine.”

But as the day wore on, it became clear that this was more than just a simple headache. Dave’s condition worsened, the pain in his head growing more intense, his hand occasionally pressing against his temple as if trying to hold the pain at bay. You caught him stumbling slightly, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he tried to steady himself.

“Dave, you need to rest,” you insisted, concern lacing your voice. “You don’t look good.”

“I’m fine,” he tried to argue, but the strain in his voice was evident.

“No, you’re not,” you said firmly, moving closer to him. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Reluctantly, he let you guide him back to the house, his steps unsteady as you led him to the couch. By the time you got him to sit down, he was pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

“What’s happening?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why does it hurt so much?”

You didn’t have an answer, panic rising in your chest as you grabbed your phone and called for an ambulance. “It’s going to be okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “Help is on the way.”

As you waited, you sat beside him, holding him against your chest, feeling helpless as he fought against the pain. He didn’t say much, his breaths coming in shallow pants, but you could see the confusion and fear in his eyes.

When the paramedics arrived, they quickly assessed his condition, noting the severity of his symptoms. “We need to get him to the hospital,” one of them said, motioning for the stretcher.

You followed them to the hospital, your heart in your throat as they rushed him inside. The doctors took over, running tests, asking questions you didn’t have answers to. All you could do was wait, pacing the sterile hallway, praying for good news.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached you, his expression serious but not without hope. “He’s stable for now,” he said. “But we need to keep him for a few days to monitor his condition. He’s experiencing severe migraines, which could be a result of past trauma.”

“Past trauma?” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

The doctor nodded. “It’s possible that the migraines are being triggered by something in his past—memories that his brain is trying to process. We’ll need to keep him under observation to see how he responds.”

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. “Can I see him?”

“Of course,” the doctor said, leading you to his room.

When you entered, Dave was lying in bed, his eyes closed, a look of exhaustion etched on his face. You approached quietly, taking a seat beside him, your hand resting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you said softly when he stirred, his eyes blinking open slowly.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Sorry about… all this.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “The doctors say you’re going to be fine. They just need to keep you here for a few days.”

He nodded weakly, his gaze distant, as if he was lost in thought. “I keep seeing… flashes,” he said after a moment, his brow furrowing. “Like… memories. But they’re all jumbled. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

“What kind of memories?” you asked gently, leaning closer.

He shook his head, wincing slightly at the motion. “It’s hard to describe. There’s… a tower, I think. And a fight. Someone was there, someone… dangerous. But it’s all blurry, like a dream that’s slipping away.”

You listened, your heart aching for him as he struggled to make sense of the images in his mind. “Do you recognize anyone in these memories?”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus. “Maybe… I don’t know. It’s like trying to grasp smoke. Every time I think I’ve got it, it just… disappears.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “What if… what if these memories are bad? What if they’re things I don’t want to remember?”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a comforting smile. “They’re still a part of your past that might help you remember the rest….”

He nodded slowly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Thanks… for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You stayed with him as long as the hospital allowed, but eventually, you had to leave, promising to return the next day. The ride home was a blur, your mind occupied with worry for Dave and the strange flashes of memories he’d described.

In the rush and stress of the day, with everything happening so fast, the Plan B pill slipped your mind completely. Between worrying about Dave and dealing with the chaos on the farm, it simply didn’t cross your thoughts again as you made your way home.

The next few days passed in a haze of worry and exhaustion. You visited Dave everyday, but each time you saw him, it seemed like he was slipping further away, lost in the maze of his own mind. The doctors assured you that his condition was improving, but the frustration of not knowing what was real and what wasn’t weighed heavily on both of you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dave was cleared to go home. The ride back to the farm was quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When you finally arrived, the familiar sights and sounds of the farm seemed to have calmed the man sitting beside you in the car.

That evening, after settling back home, you both found yourselves sitting on the porch, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. The silence between you was comfortable, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken—something that had been lingering since Dave’s return from the hospital earlier that day.

Dave finally broke the silence, his voice low and thoughtful. “You know… I’ve been thinking. Maybe what happened between us, that night… maybe it triggered something in my head.”

You turned to him, curiosity and concern mingling in your gaze. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his eyes distant as they fixed on the treeline in the fading light. “When I was in the hospital, I told you that I started getting these flashes—like memories, but they were all mixed up. There was this one… a tower, a fight… It felt real, but at the same time, it was like a bad dream. And it keeps repeating…”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. “Do you remember anything specific? Anyone?”

He shook his head, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Not really. Just… fragments. Faces I can’t place, voices that I recognize but can’t make out the words. It’s like trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces.”

You reached out, placing your hand gently on his. “That must have been terrifying.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “It was. But what scared me the most was that I don’t know if those are real memories, or if they’re just my mind playing tricks on me.”

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, offering him a warm, encouraging smile. “Whatever they are, they don’t define who you are now. You’re here, and you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

His gaze finally met yours, the hardness in his expression softening. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You chuckled softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. “I try. But I’m serious, John… Whatever those flashes are—if they are really memories—good or bad, they’re just pieces of the past. They don’t have to control or define your present and your future.”

He was quiet for a moment, mulling over your words. “I guess I’m just worried,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “What if remembering changes the way I feel about everything? About us?”

Your heart swelled with a mix of emotions as you held his gaze, your eyes searching his for understanding. “Then we’ll deal with it when it happens. But right now, we’re here. And I care about you… a lot.”

A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips. “I care about you too. More than I thought I could, given… well, everything.” You both chuckled, the sound lightening the mood just a bit, a shared acknowledgment of the complicated history between you.

You leaned in closer, your voice soft and tender. “Then let’s not let fear of the unknown ruin what we have right now. We’ll take it one day at a time, remember?”

He nodded, his expression relaxing as he gently pulled you into his arms. “Yeah… one day at a time.”

As you rested your head against his chest, you felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. The worries and uncertainties were still there, hovering in the background, but for now, you were content to let them be, trusting in the moment. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the feeling of being held so close, so securely.

But then, as the quiet deepened and the night settled in around you, Dave tilted your chin up, his gaze searching yours with a newfound intensity. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with a tension that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

Slowly, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips as he hesitated for just a fraction of a second, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was as tender as it was filled with unspoken promise.

When you finally parted, breathless and slightly dazed, you kept your foreheads pressed together, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. The unspoken words, the fears, the hopes—they all hung in the air between you, but the kiss had said more than words ever could.

“You know,” you began with a teasing smile, “the last time we started making out like this, you ended up in the hospital the next day. Maybe we should put a warning label on our kisses.”

Dave laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? You’re saying kissing is bad now?”

You grinned, poking him lightly in the ribs. “I’m just saying, I’d like to keep you out of the ER for a while. Can’t have you back there… the nurses swoon over you...”

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. “Well, maybe I should kiss you again, and if I do end up back in the hospital, kiss me again… in front of the nurses.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “Wow, that’s pretty bold!” You laughed.

His smile widened, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, that’s something I want to do.”

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a light-hearted passion that made your heart skip a beat.

Any lingering tension melted away as you both laughed softly against each other’s lips, the playful banter turning into something sweeter, more intimate.

Next Chapter 👉🏻

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedropascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fan fic #pedrohub #dave york equalizer #dave york x you #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfic #dave york x female reader

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hunterevie · 7 days

Text

Once in a while somebody will ask if there is a way to remove kudos on Ao3 on the subreddit and that normally leads to people putting their opinion across about whether we should be able to remove kudos from stories. Whether this is because they’ve accidentally pressed the button; they’ve found the author has some troubling views or they got to the end of the story and decided they didn’t like it.

Of course I am very anti this idea because Ao3 is not social media. It’s an archive for people to put their stories out for all to enjoy regardless of the content. A kudos is just a way of somebody saying ‘I’ve perceived this, and at that moment I liked it.’

But it’s deeper than that. It’s about how this function can be used to run authors out of a fandom. Either because they’ve upset a BNF and that person wants to get revenge, or because they’ve written something problematic a lot of the fandom don’t agree with. Essentially, it’s about brigading.

Whenever I put this view across. I’m told I’m being too sensitive. Or I’m overreacting. And all I can think is, well isn’t it nice you’ve never been attacked on social media and didn’t almost stop doing something you loved due to the actions of others?

From my perspective, I can easily see how a remove kudos function can be used to completely destroy the reputation of authors. And that is just because of my experience on Twitter.

Because my profile wasn’t just outed to 6000 people because I happened to say something a highly aggressive BNF believed was aimed at her. No, it went further than that. She actively told people to block and unfollow me. How do I know this? Because I still have friends in that fandom who told me.

People I respected and thought were decent didn’t allow me to put my story across and decided to do exactly that, block and unfollow me. Because her ‘receipts’ included something anonymously sent to her, and something I wrote on my account that was vaguely similar. I mean anybody who can’t work out I wouldn’t say something on my account and then attack a person anonymously isn’t worth my time anyway.

But I digress.

Imagine you had the ability to remove kudos from a story on Ao3, and that person knew I was a fanfic writer and knows my profile on Ao3? (Which they do because I used the same username). That co-ordinated attack could leak over onto Ao3. They could ask anybody that’s ever read my work to remove their kudos so that my stats go down and it looks like my stories are more unpopular than they really are.

Sometimes people filter by most kudos. They may decide that a story with 15k hits and 50 kudos because of a co-ordinated attack isn’t worth their time. Because ultimately that person doesn’t know why the author has so low kudos. It could be because the quality of their work is bad? Which means they may skip over it.

And yes, whilst we are told as authors to ‘write for ourselves’ we don’t upload to Ao3 for fun. We do it because we do like the engagement with others and we do want to share our stories. So imagine how demoralising it would be to see stats go down just because somebody decided they didn’t like you?

Basically if this ever happened to me I’d never write again and I would just remove all my stories. Which would be a loss to me, and those who do like my stories. Because they’d be left with no answers on my current WIPs.

And I can see many authors taking the same course of action if a ‘remove kudos’ button was ever added. Because it’s an easy way to trash the reputation of an author, and it’s naive of people to think it wouldn’t be used as a tool for attacking others.

Anyway, enough of that. Thanks for coming to my TED talk about Ao3 kudos and here’s Jensen and Misha as a reward for sitting through it.

#supernatural #writing #writing community #ao3 writers #ao3 author #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing thoughts #ao3 kudos #ao3 #ao3 writer #spn #fandom #supernatural fandom #her little spies can tell her I’ve called her out again because I don’t give a flying fuck anymore #jensen ackles #misha collins #fandom bullying

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tired-fandom-ndn · 1 year

Note

I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m curious about what your take is on the claim that ao3 promotes/doesn’t properly regulate racist content. What are your thoughts on that?

Well, to start, the claim that ao3 promotes anything is false. There is no algorithm on ao3; everything is found and filtered by the users, not recommended or promoted. So I tend to see any claims about ao3 "promoting" fics as ignorant of the site's functions at best, deliberately misleading at worst.

In regards to regulation/moderation. . . who is the one deciding what fics are racist and should be removed?

Is it fics where a person of color is assaulted or killed in the story? What about ones that use racial slurs? Would a fic that plays into racist beliefs about a culture or ethnicity be removed and if not, why are those acceptable but other forms of racism aren't? Would fics about historical events be removed? What about general explorations of racism? Stories about racialized violence and hate crimes that are darker than other exploration fics? Where do depictions of racism in a fantasy or scifi setting fit into this?

Would the author be consulted for their opinion and the context over the accusations of racism? Would it make a difference if the author is a person of color? Would they have to prove that they're "allowed" to explore racism in their works?

And again, who is deciding this? Because people of color and other non-white people aren't a monolith and for every single person saying that a trope or story or whatever is racist, there's another person who thinks it's totally fine. People in the same cultures and communities can't even agree on what counts as appropriation when it comes to the use of our sacred cultural artifacts, why would I trust any tiny number of people to decide which fics deserve to exist and which don't? And that's not even getting into how there's so many kinds of racism and so many groups people can and are racist to, we would end up having to depend on people making decisions about what qualifies as racist for communities that they absolutely are not part of and have no authority over.

In terms of things like just adding an archive warnings tag for racism, the only actual purpose that would have is maybe making an author think about whether something in their fic qualifies as a depiction of racism. Otherwise, we have plenty of tags relating to racism that authors already use.

At the end of the day, racism is not going to be solved or curtailed by censoring fucking fanfiction. Racism on ao3 is a reflection of racism irl and the only way to combat it is by fighting racism in our everyday lives, including in fandoms. Fiction will continue to be racist as long as there's racism in society and fanfiction isn't the exception to that.

#Anonymous #ndn tag

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infestedguest · 1 year

Text

Something I’ve never heard anyone talk about that bugs me is that on stranger things ao3 crosstagging has rendered the stancy tag functionally useless without filtering.

I would not be surprised if the vast majority of fics in the stancy tag are steddie and/or ronance or harringrove.

I have the most recent page of the stancy tag open in a different tab right now. 4/20 of those are actually stancy fics. I don’t even mean that it’s just a background ship for most of the other fics, 15 of those 16 remaining fics clarify in their other tags and in their summaries that they are about a different ship involving Steve or Nancy and are only using stancy as a narrative device to further the romantic storyline of the ship the fic is actually about. (In the 16th fic stancy was a background pairing, but even that one is also tagged “Nancy and Steve don’t stay together.”)

Some of these fics have additional tags that either:

Express the author’s distaste for stancy

Explicitly state that it isn’t a stancy friendly fic.

The latter of which completely baffles me! Scratch that, both baffle me! Do these people not realize that people who ship stancy use the stancy tag? Honestly I’m not sure if some of them are aware that people who ship stancy actually exist.

Yes, I can just filter out other ships, which I do, that feature is a godsend, but I shouldn’t have to plug in every single ship involving Steve or Nancy into the filter just to be able to see more than one stancy fic in a row in the stancy tag.

This isn’t a problem for a lot of the other ships in the fandom (thought definitely not all of them). Hell, I haven’t encountered anything like this in the twelve years I’ve been reading fanfiction, it’s ridiculous.

To those considering crosstagging stancy in their steddie/ronance/etc. fic: just tag it “Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler.” I don’t care if they’re relationship/breakup is a major plot point, it still doesn’t belong in the actual stancy tag. When you go into the steddie/ronance/etc tag are you looking for fics where that ship breaks up in order to progress a different ship involving one of its characters? Because that describes a good 80% of the stancy tag right now.

“Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler” is better than “Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler” in my opinion, since last time I checked fics tagged with the latter still show up in the stancy tag.

Edit: I have been informed that “works tagged "minor [pairing]" are wrangled into that pairings tag if it's in the relationship tags. Has to be in Other Tags to not get wrangled there.” Thank you @monstrous-femme for your ao3 tagging wisdom.

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xamaxenta · 5 months

Text

Marcosabo smoking together its a thing they do

Marco only says it once like, that shitll kill you yoi

And sabo looks up from where hes lit his own cigarette with a snap of his fingers

He looks awful, huge dark circles under his eyes, theyre deep purple and bruised looking, his cheeks hollower than usual and his scar looks particularly mottled and pronounced when cast in the light of the cherry red tip

He shrugs and exhales a thin stream of smoke through his nose “its comforting.” Is all he has to say, mumbles around the filter

Marco gets it. Being a man of flames himself, the Phoenix whets the effects and burns away the impurities, he wonders if the mera mera functions in a similar way, Ace never was the smoking type so he never thought to ask

“You should find better comforts” Marco replies

Sabo doesnt look at him, focusing on something far out in the distance on the sunset horizon from where they stand on the ocean torn cliffs together

Its quiet for a long while, the sound of night critters and crickets singing and chirping, the gentle whip of weather aged fabric fluttering beside them, Sabo brushes a hand over the sun warmed stone, stone that remained warm even on the coldest nights, bare fingers tracing the carved letters of his deceased childhood couldve been—

“Like what.” Its not a question or a demand or anything really.

“A hobby perhaps.” Marco suggests and Sabo smiles, lips curving into something a little mean and a little sardonic “I went out of my way and made the time to visit you on this shitty little island and all you have to say to me is get a hobby?”

“What would you rather have me say?” Marco turns to look at him properly, its their first eye contact since Sabo arrived with his bag of tributes, flowers of course. White roses, sake and a prayer for Newgate, and pink hibiscus, orange firelilies and sunflowers; for Ace.

Sabo says nothing continues to sink his fingertips into the grooves of the letter A and bites down harshly on the filter of his smoke.

“Marco I want you to ask me to stay.” Marco changes his voice, altering it deeper and accenting it in that infuriatingly posh and mocking tone that he often adopts when mimicking Sabos voice

“You know I cant.” Sabo says quietly, feels the heat of his burnt down cigarette dangerously close to his lips, he doesnt care though, if he closes his eyes he can pretend.

“Then what about when its all over?” Marco doesnt sound hopeful

“When its all over? Id be lucky to even be alive when its all over.” He doesnt usually do bleak, but Sabo doesnt expect to see the future hes been fighting so hard for

Marco heaves a great sigh, it comes from his belly and leaves his mouth ashy and smoky.

“I don’t particularly cope well with loss.”

Sabo flinches. Draws his fingers away from Ace’s headstone sharply and looks away. Guilt sinking sharp claws into his stomach and tearing him open from the inside.

Of all the foolish and tactless things he couldve said.

“I dont think this is working out for us.” Is what he says instead.

Instead of sorry

Instead of i didnt mean it

Instead of i love you, i want to come home to you

Marco remains quiet, its too dark now with the sun having fully set a few minutes prior, to figure out what exactly his expression had changed to.

“You made time just so you could break up with me?”

It’s a little ludicrous, when spoken aloud like that.

“This isnt love.” Sabo rasps, that tiny blip of heat sitting just on the tip of his tongue now, he’s tired, its always hard coming here.

“Couldve fooled me.” Marco drawls, his tone betrays nothing but theres a difference in the way he says me, he steps closer regardless.

Sabo cant exactly see him now, refuses to ignite to sate his curiosity, just his general silhouette because the moon tonight is new and the island of Sphinx is very quiet and very dark.

“Here.” Marco proves a personal hypothesis— the phoenix has some kind of night vision— because Sabo has no other theory to explain when Marco finds his hand with ease, threads their fingers together with familiarity, “at least spend the night.”

Before i leave you and this place forever. Sabo doesnt vocalise this.

“And let you have the opening to convince me?” Sabo doesnt pull away

“Im not beneath begging.” Marco replies and Sabo watches his silhouette move, that half cigarette gets flicked off the side of the cliff with a smart snap of the phoenixes wrist

“Then beg.” Sabo whispers through a mouthful of ash and blood, snarling because Marco will beg, when he doesnt have to and Sabo will stay and see in him what Ace always had and loved and will continue to

#marcosabo #WAH!!!!?#xam writes #WAAAAJ!????#WAAAAAAAHHH 🥺?#marco will beg on his knees head tipped back because sabo has yanked his head back by the grip he has on his hair #his expression furious because he has the audacity to love—to even want someone #hhh

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kaihuntrr · 4 months

Text

part nineteen: a new friend.

Skizz makes an 'uneasy alliance'.

Their two horses trotted along the forest path, the busy city now behind them as Skizz and Tango slowly rode back to their base. Skizz had gone back to get a new basket of baked goods, even paying for it despite Zed’s protests, and neither commander wanted their new set of snacks to fall on the ground. Skizz glanced to his right, seeing Tango in a huff as Skizz shook his head and smiled.

“Ah, don’t be so annoyed, Tango!” Skizz tilted his head. Tango huffed again, glaring off at some point in the trees. Skizz tapped the basket tied to his horse’s saddle. It’d been bundled up and attached there so Skizz could still control his horse properly. He just couldn’t have it move at a gallop, otherwise that would be food wasted. “We got our goods, and now we’re going home.”

“We would have been gone a lot sooner if it weren’t for those two jerks.”

Skizz grit his teeth. It was inconvenient, but Skizz tried to rationalize with himself. He didn’t know the situation for those two, maybe they needed it more than he did. That girl looked a bit confused, maybe she was new to the concept of the navy. It sounded… strange, but Skizz didn’t know her long enough to deduce her situation.

“Don’t worry about it,” Skizz shrugged nonchalantly, pushing his own thoughts aside. “We have other things to think about–”

The communicator in Tango’s pocket began to blink rapidly, the blonde going wide-eyed before grabbing the device.

“Tango! Skizz! You there?” Impulse’s voice sounded a bit like static, crackling in almost all of his pauses.

“Impulse!” Tango put the device near his mouth. “What’s going on?”

“El, Sniff, and Olive got the drones to work!” Impulse’s voice rang with excitement. “We caught something on audio!”

Tango and Skizz looked at each other. The drones weren’t busted– at least, if they were somewhat functional? Tango would likely have to give it a look-over later with Impulse, but that was an issue for later. The fact that they got something recorded was fascinating enough.

Just audio? Skizz thought. No visuals? Was there something the drones couldn’t catch?

“We’ll be there soon,” Tango grinned. “Give us some time to get back!”

“Got it!” The crackling noise immediately shut off as Impulse clicked the device shut on his end. Tango placed the communicator in his pocket, turning his gaze towards Skizz. His eyes burned bright with giddy excitement and interest, “Can’t we go any faster?!”

Skizz shot a glance at Tango. “If you’d want all this to get dirty, be my guest,” he laid a protective hand over the bundled pastries and shook his head. He could see the eagerness on Tango’s face, so Skizz reassured him with a nod and a small smile. “We’ll head there as fast as we can.”

Skizz gently tapped his horse’s sides with his legs, causing it to trot a little faster. They couldn’t run, but it wasn’t like the recordings would run anywhere.

Besides, Skizz’s mind burned in thought. What caused him to forget?

—————

The familiar, salty air of the sea wafted through Skizz’s lungs as he breathed it in. He and Tango rode through the tall walls of the naval base, saluting other soldiers as they entered. Everything looked the same, despite the place looking less populated than usual. Skizz sighed as Tango looked at him in worry. How many people were still bedridden, still shocked by this morning? They likely were just as clueless as he was. What would’ve happened if no one snapped themselves back to consciousness and they’d all drowned in the sea? Skizz shivered at the thought.

I could have died today.

Skizz and Tango got off their horses, walking them to the stables. It was a fairly large building and it was one of many. Skizz pushed the door open slowly, the light of the sun gently filtering in from the door as some passed through the upper windows. There were multiple horses inside, as expected, resting as they laid against the comfortable hay beds. Some stalls were empty, their occupants likely with other soldiers going in and out of the base. Skizz led his horse to its stall, removing the saddle and placing it on the gate of its pen. He took out a brush and combed its fur. The horse whinnied in enjoyment, bobbing its head and pawing at the ground.

Skizz stroked the horse’s head, “You did great, bud.” The horse nickered, almost in reply to the words of affirmation. Skizz smiled, getting the towel next to the saddle and wiped off any sweat before closing the pen’s door and grabbing the pastry basket from the saddle.

“Let’s get a move on!” Tango raised his fist in the air, already done with his horse. He was still buzzing with excitement as he looked at Skizz eagerly. Skizz nodded and the two left the stables, closing the doors behind them.

Tango ran ahead, his head buzzing with ideas as he followed the path to the tower. Skizz followed behind, trying to keep up with his friend’s pace as he carried the basket full of goodies with him.

Tango lifted the communicator from his pocket. “We’re here!” He stopped and waited for Skizz, then began to briskly walk. “What exactly did you hear?”

There was a moment of static silence before Impulse answered. “It sounds like… humming.” Confusion rang in his voice as he continued to speak, “I think it’d be better if Skizz gave a listen.”

“Maybe you should be the one carrying this,” Skizz leaned over to Tango and held the basket out. He spoke clearly so the communicator could catch his voice. “I’ll be right there.” Tango clicked the communicator shut to end the conversation, then fumbled it as Skizz unceremoniously dropped the basket in the blonde’s hands. The communicator landed on a soft patch of dirt.

“Aw, come on!” Tango leaned down to pick up the device. He dusted it off on his clothes and shoved it in his pocket.

Skizz rolled his eyes. “It’s not that heavy!” He gave Tango a friendly nudge. “Just don’t let anything fall out!”

With a loud, boisterous laugh, Skizz ran ahead, Tango mumbled and complained incoherently as he ran after him, being careful enough to not drop any of the baked goods. It smelled good, but both of their focus was on the information. But he was glad Skizz was acting like himself again. Without having seen it, no one would’ve known that Skizz had almost drowned today.

The two arrived at the tower, hearing the waves push against the shore in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic pattern. Trees nearby rustled their leaves against the strong noon gusts. Skizz shielded his eyes for a couple of moments to prevent any stray sand from entering his vision.

Skizz looked back to see Tango catching his breath, shooting a glance of annoyance at his friend. They shared a nod before entering inside, trying to get back into a more professional mindset as they walked up the steps to start climbing the ladder to the top.

Skizz pushed the trapdoor open. “We’re here!” He stretched his arms above his head as he reached the top, watching Tango ascend the ladder and walk up to the table. “We got you guys some food, too!”

Skizz could see the hunger in his team’s eyes as they gazed upon the baked goods. Impulse and Etho walked up first, taking a cinnamon roll and a muffin respectively, and beckoned for the Herons to join in. Owen walked up first, taking a neatly made sandwich held together by a piece of paper and rope, then Water picked up a muffin. Soon, the rest of the Herons followed suit, taking something to bite down on and enjoy.

“Dig in,” Tango chuckled. He glanced at Skizz and gave him a small smirk. “Skizz spent a lot of money on this.”

“Anything for the team!” Skizz rolled his eyes and smiled, nudging Tango forward. “You go on and eat, too!” Tango shook his head with an amused sigh, picking a cinnamon roll taking big bites out of it.

El took a bite at a muffin, closing their eyes and savoring the taste. “Aw, thank you both!” she nodded at the two commanders, “These are really good.”

“A good friend of ours runs a bakeshop nearby,” Skizz motioned behind him with his head, tilting it towards the city. “It was a nice visit.”

Except for the part our first basket got stolen, Skizz bit his tongue. It didn’t really matter, so there was no point in bringing it up. The good parts were being out of the base, seeing the city life, and meeting Zedaph again. It lifted his spirits knowing he was protecting the people he cared about, even if they don’t see him as often. He hoped they would picture him protecting others all the time!

“You should eat too, Skizz,” Impulse looked up at his friend, motioning to the basket. “We’ve got something to analyze, after all.”

Right. The audio from this morning.

Would listening to the recording trigger some kind of memory? Skizz hoped it did. He couldn’t just forget something as crucial as almost dying in the blink of an eye. What if it was magic? Skizz chuckled to himself.

Yeah right, as if magic exists.

Skizz blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “Of course,” he spoke slowly, nodding to Impulse’s words. He walked up to the table and leaned close to Etho and Impulse, picking up a muffin and biting into it. The taste was good. The pastry melted in his mouth before he chewed and swallowed. “So… humming?”

“Sounds like it,” Etho nodded. He took a bite out of his muffin, “We’ll let you two listen to it and see what you think.”

Etho walked over to one of the monitors. He pressed a few buttons on the controller and on the monitor, the screen lighting up to respond to every motion. It was quiet for a moment, then the room rumbled to life, filling with a powerful sound that almost shook the walls.

That voice.

Hazy details slowly came into Skizz’s mind as he closed his eyes. He was on a sandy beach, following the sound of that voice. The floors rumbled in the sounds, a slight tremor in the earth that Skizz couldn’t remember. Each image that flowed into his mind was of the blurry sea and the feeling of cold saltwater against his skin. He could feel himself slip away at the sound, as if wanting to drift away to an endless sleep.

“Haunting….” Skizz was breathless, opening his eyes as Etho switched the sound off.

Water walked up to Skizz. “Isn’t it?” she stared into the distance, a wistful sigh escaped her. “At first we thought it was some kind of mating call, but I don’t think it was.”

Etho turned his head to Skizz and Tango. He beckoned the two closer, “Most of the video got corrupted, but we salvaged this from the near shore drone.”

With another set of clicks and button presses, the screen changed into a blurry recording. It wasn’t perfect, nothing close to replacing human vision, but the glimpses were enough. The audio of someone– something singing played again, but this time, the rushing water of the beach overlaid the sound. Skizz expected to see someone standing far off the shores, but to his surprise, it was just more ocean. More water. It was an average early morning.

Until Skizz heard the sound of footsteps.

One. Then two. Then three. Multiple sets of footsteps approached and passed by the drone, soldiers walking slowly and sluggishly into the water. Nothing was forcing them, at least nothing physically, and none of them would budge as they began to tread into waist-deep waters.

Then the screen went blank and the audio stopped.

Skizz felt a shiver up his spine.

“We think it’s some sort of lure.” Olive placed a hand on their chin, their words soon became mumbles as they crossed their eyes in thought. “I mean- clearly.”

“For humans?” Tango popped the last of his cinnamon roll into his mouth, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Olive nodded eagerly at him and he looked at the ground, thinking as he chewed and swallowed. “That’s… strange.”

Owen nodded. “It is. We have reason to believe it could lure sea monsters too but…,” she sighed, her eyes narrowing as she spoke, “The singer was too far out of sight for us to get any visuals.”

How could a voice stretch that far…? Why was it singing? They had never seen anything about a singing monster in all their times at sea. The Herons had never mentioned anything about one either. There was nothing like that. Nothing that was… magical? Skizz attempted to wrap his head around in his thoughts. How was that possible? What was possible? What kind of monster would…?

A single thought crossed his mind.

Could a sea prince sing?

Skizz paused. His eyes slowly gazed over his friends. “You don’t think….”

Impulse’s eyes widened, understanding it as he stared blankly at the black screen. Etho leaned closer to the screen, as if the darkness might be hiding something.

Tango spoke, but his voice was quiet. “That should be impossible, shouldn’t it?” he mumbled. He shook his head, looking at Skizz with curiosity and worry. “Then again, we were advised the monsters here acted strangely. Do you think this could be why?”

It had to be, hadn’t it?

Skizz looked over at the Herons, trying to see if one of them was going to object, to say something to disagree with their commanders’ dawning conclusion. Nothing. No one said a word.

Did they find a new kind of monster, or did they just find themselves a sea prince?

“We should leave the island soon.” Skizz’s voice was stern. They had to act quickly. The thing was around a few hours ago, there was no way it could leave that quickly, right? Maybe this was its territory. It could be why the monsters were acting so strangely around here. “If that thing– that beast is still nearby, we could trace the voice to its source.”

“We still have time, I think.” Impulse broke his silent stare at the screen to look at Skizz. “Maybe a quick patrol out in the waters would–”

“Commanders!” All four of TIES’ communicators lit up in surprise.

Etho was quick to answer. “What do you need, soldier?”

“A ship is requesting to dock in the base. Its captain wishes to speak with you four immediately.”

“What kind of ship is it?”

The soldier paused, taking in a deep breath. “...A Watcher’s ship, sir.”

A Watcher? Skizz narrowed his eyes. What are they doing here? Why would they want to dock at a naval base?

“Just a moment,” Etho said into the communicator. Then he turned to the rest of the room.

“Those guys?” Sniff raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “What are they doing here?”

Skizz wondered the same thing. They could ask for a myriad of things, and Skizz wasn’t sure he’d like any answer he got.

“You can all come with us, if you’d like,” Skizz motioned to the trapdoor behind them. Maybe if they were really friendly and approachable, maybe this meeting with the Watchers would work out well for everyone… maybe. “You could share your research with them.”

Water narrowed her eyes. “Not in a million years,” she shook her head adamantly. She leaned against the table next to the monitor. “I’ll stay here, the rest can choose whether or not to go.”

“I’m not a big fan of those weirdos,” Owen smiled awkwardly, deciding to sit on the table. “I’ll stay here too.”

“I think it’ll be good to go, we might be able to get something from them, so I’ll go.” Sniff shrugged, but he looked uncertain as he glanced between Owen and Water, then looked at Skizz and walked to stand by the commanders.

“I’ll go too, just- hang around in the back,” Olive walked forward, standing next to Sniff as they gave him a friendly nudge. The two shared a friendly glance. “Though I’m not sure if they’ll start asking any of us for anything.”

El waved their hand dismissively. “I’ll stick around Owen and Water, we’ll check over our notes and see if anything aligns with this… anomaly,” they glanced at the monitor, their eyes squinted at the screen. They looked back at their commanders, “I must recommend that none of you mention this to them, sirs….”

Skizz, Tango, and Impulse looked at Etho expectantly. “Alright,” he said into the communicator. He glanced at his friends then back at the device. “Let the ship through, we’ll join them at the docks shortly.”

“Of course, commander.” The soldier clicked the communicator shut on his end, and the tower went quiet.

“Watchers,” Olive muttered to themselves, shaking their head in thought. “Just as creepy as their namesake.”

Skizz sighed. “Well, get ready to see them soon,” he gave Olive a reassuring smile, “We’re leaving.” Skizz waved at the remaining Herons and opened the trapdoor, exiting first.

The group was silent as each descended down the tower. Skizz assumed they were all in their own heads, trying to assess the situation. He was thinking too. The Watchers never showed themselves too often. Always busy. Always doing something. They had highly advanced technology, as far as he’s heard. But the fact that they were so secretive about everything felt strange. If they had things that might benefit all of humanity, why wouldn’t they want to spread that knowledge to everyone?

Skizz led the group down into base, eyeing up the Watcher’s ship as they passed by saluting soldiers and the sounds of training. More soldiers were moving around, on horseback, marching, training their weapon and melee skills, the works. Some soldiers pushed around carts of weapons while others periodically went to check in on the wounded. Surely, most of the people who nearly drowned should be alright by now. An uneasy breeze blew through him, and Skizz took a deep breath as he continued to walk forward.

Impulse walked next to Skizz, looking at the Watcher’s ship as a chill ran up his spine. “What do you think they want from us?”

“I’m not sure,” Skizz looked at Impulse and shrugged. “But let’s hear them out.”

Another round of heavy silence, and the group had arrived by the docks. Docked next to the pristinely white, elegant, and sea-green navy ships was a black and purple ship. Its darkened colors likely used to hide the ship as it sailed across the night but it was clearly visible in the daylight. It was blatantly obvious to tell that this was a Watcher’s ship, what with their symbol marked on their mainsail.

“Greetings, naval officers, Herons.” Skizz looked up to see the cloaked figure speaking to them. “I hope my arrival hasn’t disturbed anything.”

A gangplank dropped from the ship, and the cloaked figure walked down, pulling back his purple hood to reveal a warm gaze staring back at the commanders. He didn’t look like anything Skizz expected- usually, Watchers were these cold, masked figures that hid their identities from the world. The man had warm brown eyes and dark skin with his hair short and neat and a five o’ clock shadow.

This one casually revealed himself as he smiled softly. Though… it felt more hollow than it was soft. Despite not wearing a mask, his smile felt like one.

Skizz raised an eyebrow and looked at his friends to check their reactions. Olive and Sniff looked wary while his friends glared. Don’t mention the weird singing. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he shook his head. “Are you the captain?”

The Watcher motioned to the boat behind him with his hand, “For this ship? Yes.” His face barely showed any emotion. It was unnerving. “I would like to inquire about one of the Canary’s captains, Grian. You know him, don’t you?”

Grian? Why would they–

“We do,” Tango spoke quickly. He put a hand on his hip, cocking his head to the side as his eyebrows furrowed, “But why are you contacting us and not the Canaries?”

The Watcher shrugged helplessly. “Grian’s signal was lost, and the rest of the Canaries' crew along with him. The last known location was near the south, close to the world border,” he glanced away and waved his hand, “We haven’t been able to track him since.”

That was a first. Since when were the Watchers tracking Grian? He’d never mentioned anything about the Watchers. Then again, Skizz didn’t know much about the guy. And that wasn’t exactly something you mentioned to your… acquaintance?

“What do you need him for?”

“All you need to know is that the Watchers wish to speak to him,” the Watcher tilted his head. “I’ll remain in contact, so you can update me when he’s done with his little… royal assignment.”

That didn’t sound creepy at all. Skizz looked warily at the watcher as he continued to give him and his friends a blank stare.

His thoughts ran free. ‘Royal assignment’. How did– did the Watchers know about the king’s commission? How? Why? Since when were they involved in a mission that was only meant for the navy and the Canaries? Maybe they were meant to be extra backup when it came time to actually hunt a sea prince, but…

The Watchers? Skizz shook his head. Too many questions, too little time.

A name, Skizz thought. A name would be a good start for now.

“...What’s your name, Watcher?”

The man’s expressionless face finally cracked as he smiled, a dark expression slowly spreading over his face as he looked down at the commanders with piercing eyes.

“You may call me Big B. It’s nice to meet you.”

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canarysage · 2 months

Text

…color correct an image in photopea?

so, you’ve finally finished a psd. it’s everything you imagined and more. you go to apply it to your image and get…

…well, that. what the fuck, you may be thinking, this looked fine on my tester images! and it probably did! the problem with this image is that it’s just. overbearingly purple.

which may be fine for the image itself, but it doesn’t work for editing purposes. you end up with weird bits (why’s her hair blue? why’s the contrast so low?? what the fuck is happening) and an image that frankly hurts to look at. so, the question remains. how do you turn that into—

—something more like this? well, don’t worry, because i’m canarysage and i make things more confusing instead of less, and i’m here to save your eyes and psds

i. white balancing

if you keep up with photopea for dummies, you probably recognize this term from my post curves for dummies. i’ll go ahead and re-explain it, though.

white balancing is done using either a curves or levels layer—it doesn’t matter which, they both do the same function. i use levels because i don’t have to scroll to reach the eyedroppers on mobile LMFAO but they both do the exact same thing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

add a levels/curves layer below your psd folder and turn the psd off. look at your image and determine what you think are the darkest and lightest parts—or, if it’s easier, what parts you want to convert to #000000 black and #ffffff white. once you’ve figured that out, go into your levels layer.

see those three squares at the bottom? that’s the important part. first thing i’m going to do is tap that black square. the black square turns whatever color you pick into #00000 black, so i’m going to use the eyedropper it pulls up and select a darker part of my image

for this picture, i selected ena’s pupil, because it’s rather grayish in the original. this will help add some contrast. (also i zoomed in really far because i have shaky hands and wanted to make sure i was “aiming” correctly. you don’t have to do that i’m just insane)

repeat this process with the white square. the white square turns whatever color you pick into #ffffff white, so pick a lighter part of your image. also, for the sake of my sanity, do not choose a skintone when doing that. for the love of god

mega zoom to the rescue again. i picked the whites of her eyes because those look really weird if they’re not white, frankly. other good choices are highlighted areas on objects or things that are already white (like the paper in her sketchpad)

now we’re going to do the gray square. this is the part which is trickiest, so don’t be annoyed if it takes a few tries. choose the color in your image that you want converted to gray—in other colors, figure out which color is most overpowering and select that. i recommend not picking a saturated color for this, because it’ll look—

—really bad. ow, green. i recommend picking a color that’s reasonably close to gray already, but it depends on how much correcting your image actually needs. you just have to eyeball it.

pixels. for this image, i chose the decals on this picture frame in the background; they’re reasonably close to gray but still purple enough to do the correcting i want.

after white balancing, your image should look significantly better already. here’s mine at this stage:

it’s a little strange, but that’s going to be covered by our psd anyway, so don’t worry about it. if your picture still looks really off, you can add a second levels/curves layer and white balance again, and you can just repeat that until it looks how you like it. i’m pretty happy with this, though, so we’re moving on.

ii. photo filter

(photopea refreshed on me so i had to recreate my white balancing, forgive me if it looks inconsistent. let this be a lesson on saving your wips as psds)

okay, step two! this one is way easier, don’t worry. add a photo filter layer above your white balancing layer and below your psd. fair warning, this step requires bare minimum knowledge of color theory—as in, what colors are opposite each other on the color wheel. godspeed

look at your image and figure out what looks off about it. feel free to toggle your psd on and off as you do this, it’ll help. in my case, mine ended up too warm and too saturated. so, to fix this, i’m adding a very low saturation green photo filter

which, obviously, made it… green:

to fix that, we’re just lowering the percentage of the photo filter here. how much you lower it depends on your image and your personal preference, but, for reference, i set mine to about 30%. if you want to, you can mess with blending modes and opacity in this step, but i just left it as is

yay, less green ^_^ like with the white balancing, you can add as many photo filters as you want. i’m real lazy so i’m just doing one, but you can just keep stacking them until your image looks right—sky’s the limit. for me, i’m going to step three:

iii. brightness/contrast

pretty self explanatory. brightness/contrast isn’t a color corrector; it’s a lighting corrector. it adds brightness and contrast, obviously. look at your image again with and without the psd, and figure out what it needs. the psd i’m using for this is pretty dark, so i’m adding brightness and lowering the contrast:

like so. this step can also be accomplished with curves, levels, or exposure, but brightness/contrast is the simplest and least finicky of those options, so i personally prefer it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pretty minimal change, but i wanted to demonstrate this step anyway, as it can be pretty important on some images. with that done, time for the last step:

iv. selective color

like all the previous steps, this goes under your psd and above the other layers we’ve added. what exactly you do with selective color once again depends on your image and psd, but what i did was darken my blacks and whites,

very minimally adjust the neutrals,

remove magenta from magenta and add magenta to green,

and remove cyan from my reds and yellows.

which, all in all, gives me this:

which, if you’ll recall, is a far cry from our original image. now, if you turn the psd back on, you’ll get this:

which i consider a marked improvement from what we originally had. these steps can be mimicked on pretty much any image as long you tweak it enough. obviously you’ll have to finagle and adjust depending on your image, but it’s actually pretty easy! observe:

…so that’s how you do it.

#canarysage‚ how do you…?#ʚɞ — tips.

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

Text

I am afraid, even, to start eating tortillas from the packet in case the rustling is as annoying as everything else I do, so I ignore my craving for them and let the time crawl on with the speed of creeping molasses, as above the garden, the edge of the sky, a deep, moonless blue, is tinged rosy with the first blush of dawn. It’s that hour of the morning that people always swear they are the only ones awake, but I know better. Too many times I have walked the streets at this time, somewhere between four and five, when the streetlights tint the city sepia. I’ve watched the sunrise in dew soaked clothes in somebody’s back garden, from a bench on the seafront, cocaine eyes manic and unblinking while nurses, bin men, delivery drivers climbed into their vehicles on the silent residential street and started their day where I ended mine.

Somehow, at this table with Michelle I feel entirely alone, invisible, like some ghost that insists upon haunting her with annoyances, knocking over a glass here, opening a door there that she’ll only have to get up and close. There is no silence more deathly than the one between us tonight in the absence of our only mutual friend, and I can’t ignore the sting of it. I don’t really understand why it is like this, it just is.

My mind drifts to King Lear, of a quote from the second act that I can’t fully recall, and in that desperate, panicked manner of someone hours away from an exam, I toss my maths book to the side and fan through the text books on the table in search of the play. I find poetry, I find exam papers, I find the text book but the play is not here.

“Do you have your King Lear on you?”

Michelle glances up from her notebook, “Not here.”

“Is it… in the house?”

“Yeah, my room.”

“Okay, will you get it for me? I left mine at home, I think, and I really need to look over something for the exam.”

She pauses reluctantly, but sighs as she rises from her seat, “Yeah, hang on.”

When she’s gone I take the opportunity to polish off the cheese tortillas and a penguin bar or two, then, thirsty, I head back into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. The coffee machine is plugged in, its filters stacked in a little bowl upon the counter, and I surmise that Debra wouldn’t mind, she told me earlier to help myself to anything in the kitchen. I take a cup back into the dining room and sip it, staring blankly at the wall as my brain buzzes so restlessly with information that I can almost hear it aloud.

The notebook Michelle has been writing in is open across the table, and I flip it around to read, nosily, though nothing very interesting is written in it. Something about Oliver Cromwell. Her handwriting is nice though, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen something she’s written, and… she’s been gone a while.

I lift my eyes to the ceiling and listen, though I can’t hear her walking around up there, and all ideas I have about texting her go out the window as soon as I see her phone is still lying on the table next to her pen, so I debate going up to find her. What if she succumbed to exhaustion like Jen and collapsed into bed? The last thing I want to do is go up and disturb her, but what if she’s still looking for King Lear? What if she’s forgotten about it? I picture her rifling helplessly through an impossibly large, overwhelming stack of textbooks while growing increasingly distressed, and I feel bad for even asking her to go.

Perhaps it’s my own exhaustion overtaking the already poorly functioning rational part of my brain, but I leave my cup of coffee on the table and go up the stairs to find her.

Hers is the only bedroom with stickers on the door. They’re not recognisable anymore, after years of being bleached by the sun that comes in through the south facing landing window all day, and half peeled away, but I remember they were flowers and stars once, and little bubbly letters that spelled out her name in a silver arc.

MI HELL

It says now, missing letters and all, considering this room is where she spent six full weeks wailing over Evan is pretty apt, but this is probably hilarious to me alone.

I knock gently.

Her voice is muffled from within, “Yes?”

“Did you… did you find the play?”

“Oh. No, sorry, I was-” she comes to open the door, “Shh! I don’t want to talk too loudly, no, I couldn’t find it.”

“You couldn’t?” I peer into the bedroom behind her to where a notebook is open on the duvet, “and then what? Were you reading your own diary or something?”

She scowls, “none of your business, I just got distracted.”

I hesitate, “Okay, but like, King Lear?”

“Ugh, King Lear. Look for it yourself,” she steps away from the door and I’m not sure what to do. Has she given me permission to enter? Hesitantly, I let myself in.

“Shut the door,” she commands as she snaps the notebook shut and stows it away beneath her bed, “I don’t want everyone waking up with you talking in the hall.”

“Well I was whispering.”

“You don’t know how to whisper.”

“What? Yes I do, I’m whispering right now.”

“You aren’t, you’re just talking in a quiet voice, that’s not whispering.”

“It is whispering. If I was talking in a quiet voice I’d be talking like this.”

“Oh my God, shut up.Just grab the play and go back downstairs.”

“Yeah. Okay. Where is it usually?”

“Over there somewhere,” she gestures vaguely to the corner of her room with a shelf and a desk, both stacked high with a mound of various books, which isn’t an encouraging sight.

“Uh, okay,” I try to muster up the strength to search for Shakespeare, but my sleepy eyes drift aimlessly from the shelf to the desk, where a laptop sits next to a cup of paintbrushes and pencils. There are clean clothes folded and stacked on the chair and a wicker basket on the floor beneath the desk. It’s full of crumpled up pieces of note paper, like she’s written and thrown away a hundred furious notes about someone. Evan, probably, but potentially me. Michelle, who is fussing with the pillows on her bed, turns to stare at me.

“What are you gawking at?”

“I’ve just realised that I’ve never been in your room before.”

“Well that’s because my dad didn’t want you to be.”

“Yeah. I always wondered what you and Jen got up to here.”

“Nothing, really, we usually just grabbed whatever games or magazines we came for and went back down to hang out with you,” she folds her arms, adding, “I suppose we didn’t really get why you couldn’t even just come up back then. It all seemed a bit dramatic.”

“I don’t think your dad liked me.”

“He does.”

“Back then though, I think he thought I’d get up to some freaky shit if he let me in your room.”

“I don’t think he thought that.”

I huff out a laugh, “I’m pretty sure he did.”

“No, he always calls you ‘that nice American boy’, and lectures me about how I should study hard and focus on my school work to be more like you.”

“He doesn’t know me very well then, apparently. Maybe I would have tried something freaky.”

The corner of her mouth curls up, “No, I suppose he doesn’t know you. You’ve fooled him. I think that he just hated Evan so much that you were like, the preference. He definitely started coming around on you when you were tutoring Jen.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

With her frosty demeanour somewhat thawed I seize permission to look around the room a little bit more. It’s odd, I often pictured what this room might look like as I sat in the living room below and made strained conversation with Michelle’s parents, but it wasn’t like I had many girls' bedrooms to compare it to. I guessed that she had purple walls, because purple seemed like a Michelle colour. Her school bag was purple, and the clips she wore to pin back her hair. I imagined that maybe she’d have glow in the dark stars and a funky, wavy mirror on the wall.

Michelle’s walls are blue. The room is nothing like how I’d pictured it, but she’s seventeen now and this room is like all teenage bedrooms, a hybrid between a child and an adult space. Her favourite toy, a fluffy tiger, is perched on a shelf next to a series of fantasy novels and a pink, childish bedside locker has The Bell Jar on top of it, along with her reading glasses and a digital alarm clock. I’m struck with the knowledge that I will never know what it looked like back then, like the child version of Michelle herself, it is gone. I turn to a cork board on the wall behind me, filled with concert tickets, wrist bands, postcards, photographs, a map of the things she’s done with her life in all of the time that I sort of imagined her sitting around being angry and miserable. I touch a picture pinned to the bottom corner, of her and Jen at the sea when they were eleven. I know exactly where they are, it’s seapoint. I know because I was there too.

I bend so I am level with it and give it one, sharp flick, “You tore me out of this photo.”

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#lucky boy 2009 #sims 4 story

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