#anyway first gifset made on my new computer it was such a better experience i love life

[eskildtryggvasons]

every series of the shows i watched in 2022 ✩ (6/??) ↳ SUPERSTORE (2015-2021) - season 2

[allegra-writes]

Just my type

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

The request:

This is actually a combination of two different requests An anonymous reader who asked for a dominant reader and @asuperconfusedgirl who wanted an imagine about the "let's try that again" gifset, because, I quote: "Damn!". I wholeheartedly agree. This might be a little darker and shorter than you're used to from me, but I wanted to do something different. Hope you still like it🔥

“More than meet the eye, to tell the truth would be a lie”

Just My Type - The Vamps

Peter didn't know how he had gotten here: One minute, he was just dodging another one of Flash's caustic remarks, minding his own business, just trying to get out of one field trip unscathed; and the next he was here... With you, the new girl, on his lap bouncing on his cock, in broad daylight on the top floor of the bus. Where anyone could come up at any minute. Where anyone could see.

It was wrong. It was dangerous. It was insanely hot.

And you were relentless: Labored breath, fine sheen of sweat covering your face and your breasts, but you still showed no sign of being tired or slowing down, chasing your release. Riding him, using him, mercilessly. And he knew he didn’t have any experience whatsoever so his input would probably be useless, but there was still one thing he could do.

He put his hands on your waist, to help you ride him faster, bunching the fabric of your pretty dress a little, making it ride up your thighs just enough to give him a glimpse of his thick cock disappearing inside you. He moaned at the sight, but you quickly slapped his hands away.

“Remember the rules, Peter…” You reminded him, breathily, “touch me, and this is over…”

“No… no, please!” He begged, pathetically, “please, I’ll be good… I promise!”

“Atta boy” You approved, leaning over to place a little kiss on his lips, surprisingly chaste for your current activities, “And good boys get their rewards…”

You tighten your pussy muscles up, tearing a groan out of his throat. You pushed him around until he was lying flat across both seats, his head pillowed by the window. Satisfied with his new position, you leaned back a little, reaching behind you to cup his balls under your dress.

“Fuck!.. oh fuck! Right there!” he sobbed, “right there!”

“Shh, I know, baby,” You cooed, soothingly, “I know…”

“I-I’m gonna…”

“Oh no, Spidey. You are going to wait your fucking turn” You reprimanded him, turning your massages into a hard squeeze that had him crying out. An alarm went off inside Peter’s head at you calling him 'Spidey', but soon your punishing rhythm and strong grip on the base of his cock had him rolling his eyes inside his skull, brain melted into a useless puddle of goo.

You weren’t any better, jumping up and down his hard length, your clit hitting your knuckle every time you took him in all the way, the sharp sting of the head of his cock colliding with your cervix giving you the extra edge you needed for the tight coiled spring inside you to finally snap.

You could have ended it right then, after all, you had already gotten yours. But he had been so obedient, so good… He deserved a reward. Besides, it was going to be easier if you tired him out. Yeah, those were the only reasons.

Or at least, that’s what you told your self as you braced yourself placing both hands on his muscular chest, drool worthy even hidden as it was under his plaid shirt, and rocked your hips in short quick strokes, your sensitized walls fluttering around him in the tiny aftershocks of your orgasm.

Peter’s hands were blindly searching for purchase, and one of them found it on the edge of the seat he was lying on. You heard it crack under the force of his grasp and knew that, as reckless as you were being, you had been smart in not letting him put his hands on you.

“So good… you’re so good… oh, fuuu-“ His voice was pitched high and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. You leaned over him to whisper at his ear,

“Come for me, baby” Baby? You frowned. Where had the endearment come from? He wasn’t your baby. He wasn’t yours, period. You would do better to remember what you were doing this for. “Come on Peter, come all inside me…”

It was all it took, almost as if he was waiting for your order. You felt his hips involuntarily thrust up into you as he came with a final curse.

“Woah… Oh God!” He was breathless, completely spent, melting into the seats, “That was… let’s… let’s try that again!”

That made you chuckle despite yourself. You hated to admit it, he was cute. And that debauched, fucked out look was really hot on him.

Peter’s brain was trying to get through the fog, trying to pin point exactly what felt wrong, you saw it on his eyes. It was a shame, really, you could have bask in the afterglow for a little longer if it wasn’t for your earlier slip-up. You probably didn’t have more than a few seconds before he remembered you calling him Spidey, so you reached for your backpack under the seats and pulled a small golden cylinder out of it.

As you opened it and applied your lipstick, you noticed Peter’s eyes on you.

“What?” You asked a little harsher than you probably needed.

“Nothing, it’s just… God, you’re so pretty!” Peter reached for your face, cupping your cheek and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch a little.

“Really? You like me?”

Peter nodded. Your smile turned a little sharper,

“And what about my lipstick, you like this shade?”

The question struk him as a little weird, but, whatever, it wasn’t as if he actually understood girls most of the time.

He nodded again,

“It’s almost as pretty as you”

Your smile was definitely wolfish now.

“Thank you! It’s vintage, you know?” You commented casually. He perked up at that; he liked vintage things too. Granted, he liked vintage computers and videogames, but maybe you guys could find something in common.

Emboldened by that thought, he chanced snaking his arms around your waist. His heart did a little jump when you didn’t immediately removed them.

“Really? That’s pretty cool!”

“Yes, it’s from the forties, actually” You explained, “This specific shade was a favorite amongst the female agents of the SSR. You know, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Later known as SHIELD…”

Peter’s blood turned to ice, and his grip around your waist, vicelike. There were no traces of the lazy, spent smile on his face, or of the adoration that up until two seconds ago had shone bright in his eyes.

“Who are you?” He demanded, tightening his hold on you minutely. To his surprise, you didn’t struggle or tried to get away: You did the exact opposite thing, wrapping your own arms around his neck and leaning in closer.

“Wanna know the name of this shade?” You breathed against his lips, right before capturing them in an open mouthed kiss, slow and dirty, and by far the most sensual one you had ever shared.

By the time you released his lips, his head was spinning. No, wait, it wasn’t his head, it was the whole bus. Scratch that, it was the whole world. Your smirk as you looked down on him, the only thing on focus, everything else was blurring, shifting and twisting fast.

“It’s called 'Sweet dreams'…”

Realization dawned on him as the blackness overtook him, you had drugged him. With your lipstick.

“Who are you?” The demand came out as more of a beg. You sighed.

“I'd tell you the truth, Peter, I'd do” You confessed, “But even that would be a lie”

The last thought on Peter’s disjointed mind before succumbing to unconsciousness was that at least now no one could make fun of him for being the last virgin on senior class anymore.

You knew it was a mistake, letting him live. Just as you knew it was a mistake as you were climbing into his lap in the first place. Your soft spot for Peter Parker was a weakness, a dangerous one that would surely come back and bite you in the ass some day. But he wasn’t the enemy, not really, and your mother had thought you to minimize the casualties anyway; people weren’t numbers, they weren’t “collateral damage”, they were sons and daughters and brothers and mothers, they were someone’s whole world.

Just as your mother had been your whole world, before she was taken away from you.

And now, thanks to Peter Parker, you had exactly what you needed to find the real responsible for your mother’s death, and make him pay. You took the glasses from his face and put them on. They remained unresponsive but it didn’t matter, you were a hacker the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since Daisy Johnson, your мамочка had said so herself. If there was anyone in this world capable of hacking into the interface, it was you.

You finally stood from Peter’s lap, letting him slip out of you, and tucking him back into his pants, cause you figured he was going to be plenty humiliated once he woke up, he didn’t need the losers of his school to make fun of him anymore than they already did. You hurried to get your things and jump out of the bus, knowing that with his peculiar metabolism, he was going to burn through the narcotic a lot faster than a regular man.

And if you felt the smallest pang of regret as you saw the bus driving away, or if you dreamt about Peter Parker for weeks after your little encounter, well, no one actually needed to know.

To be continued...

[hawopro]

Thoughts of a rare soul who enjoyed DMBJ’s Time Raiders 2016 adaptation (1/2)

[SPOILERS]

So I got into DMBJ bc of Reboot Zhu Yilong’s Wu Xie, I’ve been comparing all the Wu Xie, and came to check out Luhan’s. I just didn’t expect to fall in love with Jing Boran’s ZQL/MYP and catch feels for Pingxie?? Once again falling into niche fandom life??

Apparently within the niche DMBJ fandom, there’s a tinier, almost nonexistent niche for Time Raiders, so I have to rant about it.

Incredibly long post, so here’s a summary:

Action, A-Ning’s insole blade

My favorite Wu Xie adaptation

MYP whump and his damned smiles

A-Ning & PangZi + Badass tomb-raiding crews

Questionables things, prop & plot

Pingxie + 2/2

Foremost, this is an action movie. The action sequences are very nice, even with the occasional flying/floating people/objects in cdrama. As an action movie nerd, I approved and gave it 6.5/10 (and my standard is The Old Guard okay.) There’s everything--swords, guns, grenades, A-Ning’s insole blade. I particularly enjoyed ZQL vs Da Kui & Pan Zi, and ZQL vs A-Ning cut.

Characters are pretty fleshed out for a movie, motives and development are clearly established. 

I really like this Wu Xie, personally I think he came closest to what I imagined to be novel’s WX. He is inexperienced, incredibly curious, and daring, but knowledgeable, he thinks outside the box and pulls his own weight, even aiding the crew. He’s BABY, naive, kind, and cheeky af. Refer to How to make friends--a guide by Wu Xie.

But by the end, you know that he matured, he’d seen deaths, hell, he broke his promise to take care of MYP, he grew up. STILL, he made me so protective over him, I finally understand how the entire Reboot casts feel about ZYL’s WX now.

Zhang Qiling/Men You Ping is still mysterious, indifferent; he’s very lost in life, has a goal but almost no will to live. Still OP af, but the WHUMP--so much ZQL whumps with bloody mouth, self-sacrificing tendency and everything. But he appreciates his experience more after knowing WX, like even without shipper eyes, you can tell he cares for WX--the first person who insisted to be his friend, who told him ‘I’d take care of you.’

I like drama MYP but, I completely fell in love with this angsty boy who needs some good sleep. Also probably bc of HIS DAMNED SMILES!! I’m a sucker for poker-face characters who can smile/laugh naturally. Bonus that he only did so with WX! Refer to ZQL smiling at Wu Xie.

I also dedicated an entire gifset on him because uhh I accidentally got attached?? LOOK AT HIM HE’S BEAUTIFUL

ANYWAY 

Here is our favorite forced-to-cooperate gang again. Sadly, the Iron Triangle dynamic isn’t developed in here at all. 

A-Ning has a bigger role than Pangzi, she’s still freaking competent, badass af, almost equal to ZQL. She is not so heartless at the end, obviously cares for her men, somewhat for WX. Seems to have a mild connection with ZQL over their fighting prowess LOL, and somehow bonds with PZ. 

Pangzi is still comedic relief, unfortunately, has little motives and developments. His interactions with WX are hilarious though. They’re dorks together. Although, I found an easter egg: PZ wearing pot on his head again.

I appreciate the side characters in this movie a lot (especially Pan Zi with his kickass martial art). I think they made very badass tomb-raiding crews, both San Shu’s and A-Ning’s; it's clear that (some of) these men know what they were doing, and they aren’t afraid to die. 

Also the props in here, holy cow, elaborated af. CGI is better than drama, but can always be improved... 

BUT the time period is confusing as hell? This looks like old-school vibes, but they had incredibly high tech, drones and holograms? Uhh okay. Xie Yu Hua’s people used drones in The Lost Tomb 2, but this is a whole new level of sci-fi blue-screen computer stuff. And it’s probably very historically inaccurate, bc what queen back in the day had steampunk technology installed in her tomb?? The coiled machinery-ness bothers me. Ignore it if you can. 

English is only better than The Lost Tomb 2’s English hahaha, but not so unbearable that I had to give up the movie. What hit me out of the left field is WX’s flute ability?? LMAO he pulled a Wei Wuxian bc what the heck? How does that even work? But I let it slide.

The plot is very basic: heroes go on quest, heroes face typical mastermind villain and powerful endgame monster. Featuring not-immoral-enough-to-destroy-humanity Hendrix, also known as, can’t-say-no-to-WX-baby-face Hendrix. And final boss: worms-queen with armors and tentacles and everything.

There are plot holes, but it’s an action movie, come on, nobody watches action movies for the plot.

But if you're a shipper, you should watch this movie for the SOFT AND WHOLESOME Pingxie content! 

I didn’t expect it. I honestly didn’t watch the movie for Pingxie because I didn’t even ship Pingxie prior to this. I knew it existed, I liked the idea of it and I would read fic of it, but I didn’t feel a lot for it until now. 

And then BAM, pokerface MYP with a very visible soft spot for WX? Hell yes. Worried and protective MYP who will catch WX when he falls? Also there.

MYP telling WX about his existential crisis of forgetting who he is? “If I totally lost myself one day, there’s still someone who would remember me.” WX insisting on being MYP's friends, and walking around recording memories for him with his little camera?“You won’t be lost.” YEP.

MYP and WX saving each other? “I said I’d take care of you.” Oh, for sure. Not to forget my standard for (b)romance: prolonged eye contact, smiles, so much smiles, and HANDS! They're all there!

Now, there are even more subtle things that told Pingxie’s story on a deeper level, which I talked about in continuation post 2/2 here.

Anyway, I know Time Raiders isn’t related to the main story aside from the characters and certain tropes. BUT as someone who just dipped their toes in DMBJ, out of everything I’ve seen--Lost Tomb 1, 2, Reboot, I’m in the middle of reading Book 3-- this installment is my favorite, barely beat out Lost Tomb 2 and only below the novel. 

[thetigershymn]

The Way Things Are Gonna Be From Now On (And Why I’m Back And Shit)

Part Two: The Way Things Are Gonna Be From Now On

(a repost)

Sit your asses down, kids, we gotta have a talk.

See, I can’t talk about how this shit is gonna roll without talking about why I left Tumblr to begin with.

Plot fucking twist: turns out you fucks are the maladjusted ones and I’m the mature adult. I fucking know, right? Blew my mind too.

Basically, shit started to get good for me, right? You know, you read part one. You know how that went down. Islands and shit. Anyway, part of that was like, a fuuuuuuuuuckton of high grade triple-A-plus primetime therapy. Fucking years of it. I’m a model citizen now. I’m the dependable one. No shit, someone told me that a while back, I’m the dependable one. Fucking times sure have changed.

I kid. Anyway. At a certain point in the evolution of every hot mess, there comes a knife’s edge moment. Things coalesce, and the realization is had that two choices lay before you. You can seize recovery with both hands – that phrase has deeply symbolic and vital personal meaning for me, it’s literally my name – and you can decide to GROW THE FUCK UP, stop being a giant pissbaby crying about how shit a hand life dealt you, and stand up and do something to actually fix your life instead of just complaining about how unfair your situation is. Or you can wallow in your illness for the rest of eternity, using it as an excuse, and embracing misery because it’s the only thing that makes you feel special. 

I reached that moment, through Ares. And I decided that I was NOT, in fact, addicted to being unhappy, and I DID, in fact, want to be not-unhappy, and I WAS, in fact, willing to put in the work to make that happen. And lo and behold, it started to happen. Wonders of modern medicine. Science is amazing. 

But then something else started to happen, too. Something I hadn’t planned for. I saw the toxicity leave my psychology, I saw the scar tissue across my psyche healing over and fading away, I felt Actual Human Joy Emotion, and then I looked around….and I saw everyone around me still surrounded by that black miasmic soulsucking cloud of misery that I was slowly crawling away from. I saw my enemies for what they were: meaningless dumbasses caught up in their own fucked up shit who had no real impact on my life. I saw my friends gathered around spending all their days stagnating in their own filth, blind to it as they preened about their superiority to all the lesser beings around them. I saw my loved ones still clinging to that deepseated addiction to being unhappy that I was trying so hard to dig out of my own heart. Things around me crystallized, I saw my surroundings more clearly than I had in years, and I realized I was just…..tired. So, so tired. I just didn’t care. About any of it. And I didn’t have time for it. Things were taking off for me for the first time in my entire life, and I just didn’t have time for anyone around me who was content to stand still.

So I left them behind. I left them behind in person, I left them behind over the phone, I left them behind online. Friends, significant other, family, acquaintances, whoever. Whereever I saw that happening in my life, I just…let them go.

I’ll go ahead and give you a moment to be shocked that there’s a lot of useless toxicity on tumblr. Go on, I’ll wait. 

But Solo!! You’re on Tumblr RIGHT NOW!! The misery cloud will swoop in and eat your soul again!!!!!!

Nah, bro, it won’t. We ain’t playing that game again. 

So here’s the new laws of the fucking land. These aren’t for you to follow, mind you. They’re for me to follow. You’ll notice some recurring themes.

1. None of this matters. 

Literally none of this. Tumblr is not and has never been the real world. I knew that back then, too, but I’m done being fucking quiet about this fact. All y’all? You stop existing when I walk away from the computer. Y’all bask and wallow in your complex codes of moral purity that only exist on tumblr, your shoulds and shouldn’ts, your shunnings, your manufactured obligations, whatever. I don’t care. I literally….I don’t care. Don’t like me, go away. Don’t like my blog, don’t follow it. Don’t like what I said, don’t read it. I’m not answerable to you, and I don’t care about trying to deduce the delicate nuances of your subculture’s societal mores and taboos, and if I anger your little internet godlings by crossing the wrong one, I don’t care about that either.

2. We aren’t friends.

We can be friendly, sure. I’m a friendly person, ask anyone. Well…maybe not anyone. But we can be friendly. We can be fun internet buddies, even. But…you don’t know me. I don’t know you. There’s a whole wide life out there I have that you will never see. Y’all need to be better about remembering that than y’all were last time, because I’m done feeling bad about leaving one of y’all behind if you don’t suit my life.

3. I don’t really care about co-religionists, honestly.

I could be the only hellenic polytheist on the planet for all I care. I could be the only Ares dedicant. It’s nice to compare notes and all, or chat, or whatever, and I’m more than willing to help someone out or give some advice or share some experience. I’ve been around for a while. But you, none of you, literally not a one of you is my priority, either in life or in this blog. My religion is about the gods, and one god especially. My religion is not about community. So…..yeah man, I’ll be helpful, sure, happy to be so. But I’m not obligated to do fucking ANYTHING for you I don’t want to, and I’m not answerable to what you think I should do or be or say as a hellenic polytheist or as a pagan. I’m not your fucking mentor and you’re not my fucking priest.

4. Blah, blah, blah.

Let me be really clear about this, because this is the part people are going to really, really struggle with. If it’s from before the posting of this fucking post, February 23, 2020, I don’t fucking want to hear about it. I don’t owe you shit, I’m not explaining shit, I’m not responding to shit, I’m not justifying shit, nothing. Boohoohoo I’m problematic because four years ago I called someone whose name I’ve probably (definitely) forgotten a moron and it hurt their feelings and now they piss into a jar with my name on it and call it a hex or whatever. Do tumblr witches still do the pee jar thing? I don’t remember. Whatever. I don’t care what wrong you’ve decided I committed, I don’t care even if I was actually wrong. I don’t care if something I say now contrasts with something I said three years ago so I’m a hypocrite or whatever. I don’t care whether you think people can change. I don’t care even if I haven’t changed. I’m not putting up with it if it’s from before me coming back to tumblr. I’m just going to laugh at you and hopscotch my ass away. Get over it, yo. So….I’m not going to be going through and purging old posts on my old blog, I’m not going to be ~hiding the evidence~ or whatever the fuck you want to accuse me of. I’m just not going to humor your dumb ancient bullshit. Sucks to be you, chick from four years ago who’s still holding a grudge against me because I made fun of her.

5. I’m not here to waste my time.

Those of you who know me offline know so very well how SHEER FUCKING INFAMOUS I am for walking away from conversations midthought. We’ll be talking, I’ll lose interest, and hey, that’s it, I’m done. No goodbye, no winding down the conversation, nope. We’re done, you’ve lost me. Guess what, not only am I not going to correct that behavior, we’re fucking porting that shit to Tumblr. I’m done with time wasters. I’m done with conversations I don’t want to be a part of. I’m done with arguments that serve no tangible need in my life. Don’t fucking @ me with your bullshit, or your drama, or your petty dumb shit. Because I am definitely, definitely sitting there on the other end of that conversation doing a cost-benefit analysis of what I think will be the possible positive outcome of interacting with you vs the possible negative outcome, and if you fail that assessment, I ain’t wasting my time on whatever you’re bitching at me about.

6. I actually really do hate Tumblr.

Gone are the days of lol fun tumblr meme bro and the ages of ooh cool fandom gifset my dude. I hate this fucking site on a fucking gut level and I don’t like to be here. The only reason I’m back is because I think I can use it for my ~pet project~. Which means…..yep. This is finally, finally a religion-only blog. 

[accio-ambition]

I‘M SORRY THIS IS LATE BUT MY COMPUTER POOPED OUT. But it’s okay, we’re gonna do this now.

This chapter has what the MPAA would call thematic elements and there's also mention of character death(s?). GUYS, SHIT GOES DOWN IN THIS CHAPTER. In the original draft, this and the next chapter were one, but then it was like 10k and I was like THAT'S TOO LONG. So now you get two. You're welcome.

As always, so many thanks to you, @sotheylived, @queen-icicle-fandom, @captainswanbigbang, and @shipsxahoy, who made ANOTHER image for this story. It's gr8, thank you Bianca my dear.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations Chapter warning: Death, violence, thematic elements

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset

Chapter Fourteen

When she finally gets on the Jolly Roger a few days later, it’s a surprisingly pleasant day. The sun is bright and warm, but not so overbearing that she wants to die from holding 20 pounds of camera equipment for four hours straight or longer. There's a slight breeze that smells like summer and it seems like the perfect day to go sailing.

Killian looks to be the only one on board at the moment, standing in the door at his post on the captain’s roost. His hair moves in gentle waves, which Emma takes to mean that the windows behind him are wide open. His face is set in a scowl, which genuinely surprises her. Who would frown at this type of weather?

She jogs up the gangplank and then across the deck until she stands on the bottom stair leading up to him.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Emma asks, mentally trying to plan out what she needs to film. Jeff told her to get more talking heads, but in order to get better talking heads, something big has to happen. She doesn’t expect to get any of that action today, but it’s the sort of day that she could persuade and trick herself into thinking as a day of leisure instead of another day on the job.  

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to head out today,” Killian says, shaking his head.

Affronted by the idea, Emma visibly recoils. “Why not? It’s beautiful out.”

Jerking his chin up toward the sky, he responds, “It’s going to storm.”

“What?” Looking up, Emma is stunned to see nothing. Not a cloud, not a bird. Just blue, blue skies for miles in each direction. “Have you gone blind, Jones? There aren’t any clouds or anything and it just rained for three days.”

Killian sighs and stands up. “Exactly.” He says it with such conviction that Emma almost doesn’t question it.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you aren’t crazy?”

“The sky was red this morning,” he explains. When she doesn’t respond, Killian sighs again and crosses his arms. “’Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’ Ever heard it?” Emma nods. “It’s true. Even if it looks beautiful, the sky was red this morning,” he gestures out to the water before them. “Storms are coming and the Jolly Roger isn’t steady or large enough to handle them.”

Emma sighs and rolls her eyes. “Is the Jewel heading out?” she asks.

Rolling his eyes right back at her, Killian spins on his heels, nearly mows her down as he grabs his phone from inside, and begins to stalk back toward the house. “Despite my better judgement, yes.”

“Then why - ”

“You said you trusted me, Emma” he says frustratedly, whirling back on her. His eyes are alight with something, challenging her to interrupt him. “I’m not taking my men out on the water today.”

His request doesn’t exactly leave a bad taste in her mouth, but it doesn’t make her see reason either. Jones knows that he’s got to go out as certain number of days during the season so she can film it. It’s in his contract, one that she signed as well with different words.

Emma whips out her phone and calls David, glaring at Jones as the line connects. David picks up on the second ring. He barely greets her, so accustom to Emma calling him to talk work.

“Hey, I was thinking that we could switch - ”

“The Roger’s not leaving port today,” she interjects. Even though she knows David can’t see her expression, she makes sure to send a sneer toward the captain of said ship. “Apparently, Jones’ spidey sense is tingling.”

“What does that even mean?” David asks.

Sighing, Emma turns her back to Jones. “He said it’s going to storm real bad.”

“Has he looked at the forecast? The weatherman was saying Maine’s on the verge of a drought.”

Emma shrugs. “I know, trust me, I know,” she mumbles. “Anyways, I’m gonna stay in and film some talking heads with the boys, try and get some footage out of today’s mood swing. Text me anything you want to me to address or record.”

“Alright.”

“Have fun, David.”

“You too, Emma.”

She hits the end call button, an angry red she thinks fully expresses the emotions she’s trying to control right now, and glancing over her shoulder to continue silently glaring at Jones.

“Trust me, Swan,” he says, as if he can read her mind. And maybe it’s not necessarily her mind that she’s reading. A couple times before, when she’s been in this sort of mood, others have told her that her anger and frustration played out on her face.

That knowledge has her sighing, the tension that’s set in her shoulders relaxing a shade as she turns to face him head on. He approaches her, slowly. “I have been doing this for far longer than you have,” he reminds her. “I have made the mistake of going against my gut feeling before, of going out when I know I shouldn’t. Never again.” His hands gently lay on her shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. “I told Henry I would keep you safe. This is how I’m doing it.”

Now that he’s semi-explaining his decision to her - not that he should have to, but it's nice that he is - Killian makes sense. Sometimes she gets so focused on doing her job that she forgets about the others who might be affected by it. Jones does have the experience and, despite being still somewhat new to the title captain, he practically breathes the sea. He knows her far better than Emma could ever wish to.

And hell, she isn't the only one who has people to come back to, who would be devastated if something went wrong. Whale has to have a handful of conquests to return to, Scarlet as well. She’s got Henry and the Nolans and Robin, he’s got his wife and son and baby on the way.

He’s thinking smart. He’s thinking for himself and not following Liam’s suit, as Emma realizes she was trying to do in getting him out on the Jolly Roger.

On a groan, Emma rolls her eyes, grabs Killian’s wrist, and begins dragging him off his damn boat.

“C’mon,” she grumbles. “If we aren’t going out, I’m going to sit you down and annoy you to death with questions.”

She hears his chuckle, but refuses to acknowledge the apparent joy he finds in her threat. “I did say I missed our sessions, didn’t I?” he quips, catching up to her and pressing a kiss behind her ear.  “As long as I’m with you, Swan, it’s a lovely way to die.”

Her jaw drops in annoyance and she rolls her eyes without another thought.

0000

Normally, talking heads are filmed in a studio, but since this whole endeavor is still technically in it’s infant stages, the network executives haven’t afforded them the luxury of an actual local studio.

Luckily enough, the Jones’ house has a guest room, which, for the time being, Jefferson has converted into a studio. There’s a little stool that the crew members can sit on in front of a dark blue backdrop. A tripod is set up across from it, and a window looks out over the backyard and harbor.

(When she first walked in the room, Emma wondered what happened to the bed she’s sure was in it. She was going to asking Killian, but then she could imagine on the tip of the iceberg of innuendos she’d be asking for.)

She’s texted the boys and told them she’s expecting them in an hour and a half for talking heads - planned interviews to go in between scenes and explain the more complicated aspects of trawling. In the meantime, she’s found a little solitude in the makeshift studio.

Henry’s back at home by himself, technically under the watch of Mary Margaret even though they’re in their separate houses. He texted her a couple minutes ago asking if he could go over to Phillip's after lunch. She’d given him the okay so long as he stopped by next door and told Mary Margaret where he was going.

(She doesn’t admit that Jones’ words hung in her mind as she added “And bring a slicker” as an afterthought to the message.)

She relishes in her silence, staring out the window for god knows how long. All she knows is that when she started watching the waves, they were gentle. Now, they’ve worked up into storm swells hitting against the docks and ominous clouds have rolled in the stead of sunshine.

“What d’you know?” she murmurs to herself. “He was right.”

“I know.” Killian’s snuck up on her, his voice coming from right above her shoulder, causing her to jump. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Her hand resting over her heart in an attempt to calm it, Emma shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she gasps. “It’s totally and completely fine for you to scare me shitless.” Then she smacks his shoulder. “Don’t fucking do it again.”

He chuckles and takes a step back as she goes to hit him again. “Again, my deepest apologies. I won’t knowingly do it again.”

Gesturing toward the stool, Emma’s murmured, “Asshole,” is thankfully overpowered by the crackle of the Coast Guard radio in the corner. It’s happened on occasion, in the middle of interviewing Killian at the wheel on the water or when doing talking heads. The communication comes to life and let’s them know the status of the harbor or the sound. None of them really pay attention to it except to pause the recording and start once the update is finished.

Right now, the radio warns of worsening conditions, waves reaching 10 feet and expected to grow larger.

“Do you believe me now?” His voice breaks her concentration on the camera. Looking up, smugness is written all over his face.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be mean about it,” she says. “Remember, I’ve only been around boats for a couple months.”

Killian closes his eyes and looks up toward the ceiling, as if he’s saying a silent prayer for patience. “Ship, Swan,” he finally groans. “You’ve been here a year. I thought that’d be enough time to get it through your stubborn head.”

(It has gotten through, for the most part. Nowadays, she does it because of how badly it ruffles his feathers.)

“Alright, whatever,” she sighs, and starts recording. Opening her phone, Emma pulls up the notepad app on her phone and scrolls through the mixture of questions she keeps and the ones she thought up after her conversation with Jones this morning.

“Why didn’t you go out on the waters today?” she asks first.

He furrows his brows. “Come now, Swan, I told you earlier,” he answers.

“You told me,” she says, pointing at herself for emphasis. Then she points at the camera, its lens focused on him. “You didn’t tell the audience.” Killian gives her a baleful look and Emma rolls her eyes. “You know how this works. Humor me.”

After another annoyed look and a sigh, he sits up straight and stares directly into the camera. He launches and delves deeper into the explanation she heard earlier this morning about red skies and old wives’ tales. Even hearing it a second time is fascinating, but she finds herself being a little biased.

(She also finds herself drifting off into dreamland, the cadence of his voice lulling her into a contented haze.)

Once he finishes, Emma asks the next obvious question: “How do you feel about your brother and his crew going out?”

A flash of something like concern flashes behind his blue irises and she knows it wouldn’t be evident on TV, but she knows Killian these days. There’s something about the weather and the current conditions that has him worrying over Liam and the rest of the Jewel.

“I’m not pleased, as you can probably tell,” he says, his voice getting low with disappointment. His hand scrubs across his face. “Liam taught me all that I know about sailing, trawling, all of it. And to see him explicitly go against everything he taught me today.” He looks up at the ceiling again and this time Emma can’t tell if it’s a prayer or an attempt to censor his feelings toward his brother. “He’s his own man, he can do what he wants.”

She falls out of interviewer mode, looking up from her phone and taking a step out from behind the camera and tripod. His head comes back to straight and Emma looks at him in a different light. “That doesn’t sound like the Jones brothers I know,” she says quietly.

Killian sighs and looks to her, not the camera. “There’s a lot about the Jones brothers you don’t know,” he says just as softly. “Liam always told me growing up a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” A self-deprecating chuckle falls from his lips. “He still tells me that, at least once a week.” Killian shrugs and throws his hand toward the window. “If this is what he wants, then he’s fighting for it. Whatever happens to him happens.”

“Don’t say that,” she murmurs, stepping further away from the camera setup.

“Why not?”

She comes to stand beside him, staring down at his still-seated position. “I know you’re angry with him right now, but don’t say that Liam deserves whatever happens to him out there.” Contemplating her next words, Emma finally settles on almost telling him a little bit about her past. “Look, I never had any siblings, but I know that if I had, I would’ve protected and loved them with everything I had.”

“It’s not that I don’t love my brother,” he corrects her. His hand runs through his hair. “It’s just he’s such an insufferable, stubborn arse sometimes and it more often than not ends up bad for him or me or one of the crew.”

“But you’ve all survived so far, haven’t you?” she counters.

That makes Killian laugh, his head thrown back and the sound a bit jarring compared to the previous quiet of the interview.  “Yeah, we’re all survivors. Somehow, some way,” he admits. Still, he shakes his head, then glances up at her with a funny little twinkle in his eye. “You’re not trying to get some heartfelt admission out of this, are you? Not trying to use your womanly wiles against me?”

Scoffing, Emma takes a step away from him. “Womanly wiles?” she asks, walking toward the window and looking out it. The rain has started and it is coming down in sheets. “What is this, the 19th century? Afraid I’m going to bewitch you body and soul or something?”

Under his breathe, she thinks she hears, “You already have,” but the next thing he says aloud is “Austen. I can definitely see you as a Lizzie Bennett. Maybe even Lydia.”

“Don’t insult me like that,” she says jokingly. A glance over her shoulder proves that he’s raised his hands in defeat.

“Worry not, I only meant it in jest,” he assures her. When he lowers his hands, Killian’s expression takes on a more - she doesn’t want to say adoring, but that’s the only word she can think of right now - tone. “You’re my own Emma Bennett.”

She grimaces at him even though her stomach does a little clench-and-flip move at his words. “No, I won’t use this footage if you don’t want me to,” she tells him, effectively changing the topic. “Although I bet some of it would pull on viewers heartstrings. Make you more human and stuff like that.”

“No need for that.” Emma hears him stand from the stool, his footsteps falling heavy on the floor until they come to a halt right next to her. She can feel the warmth and comfort that radiates off his jacket without even trying. “Everyone I want to know about me is already well on their way to figuring me out.”

She turns to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? What does that even mean?”

He sighs. “I’ve lived my life with my brother and our ships in this small town for a very long time,” Killian says, turning to face her completely. Emma, in turn, mimics him. Taking a step closer, he continues, “It’s not very often we have new residents move in or even longtime visitors such as yourself. I care about everyone in this town and they know exactly as much as I want them to about my life.” A grin forms as his face as the tip of his tongue licks at the corners of his mouth. “But you…”

Killian’s leaning into her space, a shy smile on his face and the tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from hers. She feels a blush on her cheeks.

He’s going to kiss her. And she’s going to kiss him back. Again.

But the siren sounds and all hell breaks loose. Killian’s eyes shoot up in a flash, and he’s across the room staring directly at the scanner.

“Be advised,” a Coast Guard’s voice crackles over the radio. “We have reports of a crash on shore 15 miles due south of Georges Bank. Three persons reported missing. Two deckhands picked up by passing vessel. Be advised.”

“How awful,” Emma mutters, moving back to the camera, a finger pressing the record button and effectively pausing the film.

Killian turns around and winks at her. “Now do you trust me, Swan?”

The scanner comes back to life, repeating information they already know. Emma turns back to the camera, just about to ask him to take a seat, but new information reaches her ears.

“Vessel confirmed as Jewel of Realm. Captain among missing.”

She feels the blood run out of her face and before she can fully process what the radio dispatch said, she hears the quick clunk of Killian’s boots sprint down the stairs.

As Killian runs out the door, Emma grabs at the camera and follows closely behind him. She’s catches footage of him running through the storm, down and through his yard  to the docks where he stands for a moment before sprinting back to his truck. Emma races after him, internally debating whether she should follow him in the Bug or hop in the passenger seat.

“Dammit, Swan, get in and let’s go,” Killian shouts, and she dutifully follows. Of course, she’s worried about Liam and his crew, but she’s been in this business long enough to know what makes the best television, and this is the shit that, for want of a better term, is fucking gold.

(In hindsight, and even in the moment, Emma feels horrible for seeming like she’s putting her job first. She’s grown to care about the brothers and the rest of the crews more than she ever thought she could. But this is something that could cost her the job that brought her to them if she doesn’t film it.)

Her camera isn’t the best in these close quarters, but Emma thinks it’ll add to the franticness and desperation of the situation. It also doesn’t hurt that she’s trying to rationally think about what she would would do if she weren’t tasked with catching the moments. With the back end of it steadied on the rumbling truck door, Emma sends a quick text to Jeff alerting him of the situation.

Jewel crashed. Three missing.

And then she jumps into camerawoman mode, asking Killian questions as he hunches over the steering wheel to make it down to the Coast Guard’s station.

“Talk to me, Jones,” she urges him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” he shouts, the anger reverberating around the small metal cab. “Really, Swan, is that the best you have for me?” Killian flicks on the turn signal and the truck’s wheels screech as he rounds the corner. “My brother’s ship was just reported wrecked and he’s among the three unaccounted for.” He glances over at her ruefully and sarcastically asks, “What do you think I’m feeling?”

“Anger,” she supplies easily. “Worry. Fear.”

“Yes, fine, if that’s what you want me to say, then yes.”

His voice is hollow and somewhat frightening. This isn’t the Killian she was just joking around with, the soft Killian she’d kissed before and nearly did again just now. Reading the tension in the car, Emma does something she’s been told to never do: she lowers the camera and turns it off.

“He’s going to be okay, Killian,” she says softly. She can barely hear her own voice over the sound of rain splattering on the windshield and windows. “You know that, right?”

“But I don’t,” he spits out. “I don’t know Liam’s going to be all right because the sea is a fickle bitch.She takes whatever men she desires whenever she cares for them, no matter if it’s their time or not.”

“You can’t afford to think like that.” With a deep breath, Emma decides without really deciding to reveal a story from her past. A real story that hurts to recount, because the only way she knows how to make Killian feel better is to tell him she knows what he’s going through. Sort of.

“I met David and Mary Margaret at community college when I was 17,” she starts. “During my second year, I met a guy who supposedly loved me. But Neal set me up to take the fall for his thefts.” She sighs. “I was young and pregnant and incarcerated and all I wanted to do was give up. Nothing was going my way and I honestly woke up sadder every day.” She gulps at the lump that’s formed in her throat. “But then I had Henry and it was alright.”

She looks up at him, grateful to find his laser focus on the road in front of them. “Whatever happens, whatever you find out at the Coast Guard station, you have to realize that it will be okay. And I know you probably don’t want to hear about me right now, but hopefully it took you mind off of the entire situation right now and you get - ”

Killian slams the gearshift into park. They’ve made it to the station, where some other cars are parked, getting soaked in the rain. He leans his forehead on the curve of the steering wheel.

“You’ve got to have some hope, Killian,” she murmurs. “Otherwise, you’ve already lost him.”

There’s silence. Then, “You truly are your son’s mother.”

Emma checks the camera, one hand strapping it back to her body and the other hand on door handle. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” she says, pushing the passenger door open. “Let’s go.”

They both run through the rain, up the wooden stairs and into the warm and busyness of the building. Killian checks in with a woman behind a desk scanning a computer screen and reports back to Emma, who’s turned the camera back on and is catching footage of the Coast Guards running about.

“She said August and Mulan were found on the jetty. They’re banged up and a little worse for wear, but okay.” His hands akimbo on his hips, Killian stares at the floor and seems to get choked up. “Graham’s dead. They found him with the wreckage and he was already gone.”

Emma nearly drops the camera, hand covering her open mouth. Her eyes get watery. “No,” she whispers. “Killian, I am so sorry.”

Killian takes a deep breath to maintain his composure. He shakes his head. “He didn’t feel any pain. I’m sure he’s in a better place now.” Letting out a gasp, he finally looks up and into the camera. “He died doing what he loved.”

Emma takes a moment for herself, to let the news sink in. With him being on the Jewel’s crew, she’d never really had many occasions to hang out and truly get to know Graham, but they’d interacted often at crew dinners. The conversations they did have left her in a good place. He made her laugh. And now he’ll never make anyone else laugh again.

But then she’s thrown back into the hustle and bustle of the Coast Guard station. “What about Liam and Arthur?” she asks.

Killian shakes his head. “No word yet, nor David,” he says.

“What?!”

“He was out there too, remember?”

“Shit.” Whipping out her phone, Emma sends a hurried text to Mary Margaret. She needs to know, would want to know, especially before dinnertime.

Killian’s hand rests on her shoulder. “They’ve got men on shore and the copter overhead. They’ll find them.”

She nods and continues filming the hubbub and tension of the post, every once in a while glancing around to check on Killian. He paces the little lobby in front nervously.

A few more minutes pass before Mary Margaret storms in, more furious than Emma’s ever seen her, asking anybody in uniform about her husband’s welfare. Then she spots them in the corner and rushes up to them.

“Are they telling you anything? What’s going on?” she asks frantically.

Killian opens his mouth to answer her, but an officer calls Killian over to get some insight into Liam’s head, see if Killian can give them some pointers on where Liam might’ve been heading or where he might have been, just to narrow down the search fields. That leaves Emma to fill Mary Margaret in.

“They found Mulan and August, they’re alright,” she says. “They’re still looking for David, Liam, and Arthur.”

“What about Graham?”

Emma gulps. “He’s dead.”

Just as Emma did earlier, Mary Margaret covers her mouth in shock.

But that moment, too, is blessedly cut short.

“They found someone!” an officer shouts over the din of the station. “Four miles north on the shore.”

While Emma’s and Mary Margaret’s heads snap toward the man, Killian runs to him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the computer screen before them. “Who is it? Describe him.”

The officer presses his hand to his headphones, listening intently as his colleague describes their victim. “Medium build, Caucasian, light hair.”

Killian sighs while Mary Margaret runs to the other side of the officer, completely disregarding those who say civilians aren’t allowed back there without permission. “Is he okay? That’s David, is he okay?”

“We don’t know quite yet, ma’am, but initial reports still have him breathing,” the officer assures her.

“Oh, thank god,” Emma sighs, her hand coming to rest over her heart in relief. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she lost David. She figures that she wouldn’t be as heartbroken as his wife or his mother might be, but David was the first person to accept her for who she is without trying to change her. He accepted and helped her become the person she is today, whether he likes to admit to it or not. He’s the closest thing she has to family besides Henry.

“The others,” Killian asks, voice just this side of frantic as he addresses the officer. “Have your men seen any sign of the other two? Both Caucasian, darker hair, one curly.” A bit taken aback by the ferocity with which Killian speaks, the officer merely shakes his head slowly. “Nothing?” Killian slams his hand on desk in frustration. “Dammit, keep looking.”

Left with nothing to do but worry over whatever may happen, Emma - a little bit too easily - falls back into camerawoman mode. She catches shots of Killian bustling about, of him discussing coordinates and the like with the Coast Guard officers. When she figures she’s gotten good footage of everything she can think of, Emma phones Jefferson to let him in on the situation.

“I trust your judgment, Emma,” he says when she tells him what she’s recorded, his voice crackling over the connection. The storm must just be hitting his side of town, or ruined the phone lines as well as crash the Jewel. “Just make sure you capture the moment Killian discovers Liam’s okay.”

Emma gulps at the insinuation in her next question: “But what if he’s not?”

Jefferson doesn’t say anything for a long while - has Emma pulling back to look at her screen to make sure the line hasn’t gone dead - but ends the call with, “Get whatever happens. Don’t let your eyes leave him for one moment.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she mumbles before hanging up.

The next few hours are a blur. Logically, Emma knows that she should go home and get some rest. A watched pot never boils and all that. But the thought of leaving Jones alone to deal with this...she can’t do that to the poor guy, even if she was in one of her crueler moods. She knows what that’s like - to be at a low point, perhaps the lowest of your life, and have to suffer through it alone. That’d been her life until she met the Nolans, until she had Henry. And, though she doesn’t think they’ll ever be best friends or anything close to it, just ships passing in the night when alcohol or the mood hits them, Emma’s come to kind of care for Jones.

(She tells herself she likes Liam better, that's no question, but Killian holds his own in her book.)

Her back is up against the wall as she dozes, the camera set up on the action going on around her. It’s getting late and she’s put in a full day, despite not setting foot on the Roger. And she’d keep an eye on Jones if he would stop moving for a second, stayed stationary or maybe even paced a rut in the floor. But no - when he’s nervous, he’s a flurry of action.

It’s just as she’s rousing to text Ruby, asking her to stay with Henry at their house tonight - no one has any idea of how long the Coast Guard is going to keep this up - that all the mayhem comes to a pinnacle.

“Captain Jones!” an officer shouts. Killian rushes over to his post and she grabs the camera. Though Emma can’t hear what the officer is saying on her way over, the camera is trained on Killian. And she spots the moment his shoulders relax and his head falls forward in relief.

[borntosavethedoctor]

Lately, I have received several messages here on tumblr asking: How do you do it? How do you colour gifs? What? How? Whaaat? So… I decided to share some of my deepest secrets and commonly used technics with you. Be my guest.

I would like to stress that this is not a step-by-step tutorial. There are tons of there on tumblr already, I don’t think there’s a need for another one. What you are about to read is a list of my personal tips. Having said that, please note that there are million ways how to make gifs. Everybody has their own unique style and that is amazing; that is how it should be. Maybe you will find here something useful, maybe you will not.

To be honest, I can’t colour properly. I can’t make bright, vibrant, high contrast gifs. Whenever I aim for them (and I really do that from time to time), it’s a disaster. That is why I use all those below listed hacks; to cover the fact that I can’t colour the way everybody else colours. Welcome to my personal Photoshop hell.

Oh, and one more thing, before we really start. It is vital to acknowledge that everybody has a different monitor with different settings. You might spend hours colouring a gifset and be really proud and satisfied with it and then you look at it at your friend’s computer and just go FUCK! Suddenly, your perfectly coloured and balanced gifs are too yellow or blurry and everything is runied. Well, you must count with it, although there is nothing to be done about it, I guess.

~~~

Let’s start with the most important rule ever. The golden rule. Number one rule. It has been said many, many times, but I must repeat again. Are you ready? NEVER use one colouring on two different scenes. This barely ever works. If you make a nice PSD, of course, save it, but be careful about using it on different scenes. Every scene is very individual – the lightning is different; the basic colours are different too. I recommend everyone to colour every gif from a scratch, it does pay off. You asked for a proof? Here it is.

I coloured this lovely scene from the The Rings of Akhaten.

Then I thought that I might use the same PSD on a different scene. Let’s say I’d like to colour a scene from Dark Water; the one when Clara stole they keys. Both are orange-based, right? What could go wrong? Here is the result without prior editing.

Ewww, ugly, so ugly.

Even though I made it brighter and did not touch the actual colours, it doesn’t do the scene justice.

~~~

Technical background

To extract frames, I use KM Player. For the actual giffing, I work with Adobe Photoshop.

The better the quality of the video you extract is, the better your gifs will look. That’s quite a simple, yet important fact. I usually use 1080p, sometimes 720p, but never 480p. Working with original DVDs is, of course, the best way, if you have a disc drive.

When extracting the frames in KM Player, I extract every or every other frame. Both are fine, but don’t forget to change the speed of the gif accordingly. I use 0,9/0,1 for gifs with every extracted frame, 0,12 for the other options. Oh yes, I like my gifs to move slooowly.

Rescaling

This way of rescaling might be caused by the fact that I can’t do it properly; so I came up with my own way. When I was younger, in the old and dark days of my Photoshop adventures, I used Image Size to make my gifs smaller. But it didn’t quite work out. Years have passed and I discovered that using Canvas Size + Manual Scale is much better. How do I do it?

In Canvas Size I choose the dimensions I want and then rescale the gifs manually by Edit > Transform > Scale. Do not forget to hold Shift to contain the proportions! FIRST rescale your gif, THEN convert it into timeline and smart objects. If you do it this way, the gif will be neat looking. Why do I do it anyway?

The first gif is was rescaled my way. The other one was not. Can you spot the difference? I think that the first one is neater and cleaner.

Oh, and one more thing. When I rescale my gifs, I always make sure that it is one or two pixels bigger than the canvas itself. When you sharpen the gif later in the process, you will not have to put up with those ugly oversharpen edges.

Sharpening

Here’s how I do it. Enough said.

Colouring

Now this is the tricky part. It always depends on the scene you are colouring, but I don’t use many tools to colour a gif. Six or seven layers and I am done.

I always start with Curves/Brightness and Contrast. I think it makes sense to first adjust the brightness and play with the colours afterward.

I never use Vibrance. Why? Vibrance works with all colours at once and that is the main problem. I think that the best way is to work with the colours separately.

If you want to make a certain colour brighter and more vibrant, use Colour balance and Selective colour instead.

Work with Colour fills. They can do miracles! And I’m not even exaggerating. Work with different opacity settings and opacity fill. My most favourites are:

Lighten/Screen

Multiply/Darken

Soft light

Black and white gifs

That is impossible to colour, damn it! What do I do, I tried everything, but it still looks so crappy! The other gifs are fine, but this one looks horrible? What do I do???

Yeah, what do you do? What do I do? I make it black and white. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yes, it might be considered lazy, but it, is fact, lifesaving. And I do think that taking this risk or whatever you people call it, can make you gifset more interesting. Again, try to play with colour fill to make the gifs look softer.

Using a texture

Textures are my best friends. And I really mean it! They can help you hide those ugly visible pixels in dark gifs.

If you want to use a texture on a gif (as I often always do), applying it should be the first thing you do. The texture will always be present and you must adjust the rest of layers to it. I usually use Lighten or Screen setting. And don’t forget to play with opacity! It can make a big difference. But always make sure that the texture is the TOP layer.

Saving

When I save my gifs, I use the following settings. I think that almost everybody uses them. In case you need them anyway, here you go.

Putting a gifset together

To be honest, this, after all what has been said above, is the most important thing to me in the whole giffing experience. I can’t just sit, open my laptop and think: Hmmm, today I might gif something from… let’s say The Name of the Doctor, pick up eight random scenes, colour them separately, put them together and click publish. I just can’t do it. I must plan every gifset to every single detail. I think about the colour scheme, proportions. I combinate, experiment, put a gifset together one by one until I am fully satisfied; until it is perfectly balanced in every aspect. If you think that it takes a lot of time, you are right! But in the end, it is worth it, because the results will be… well, not bad. Example one / two / three.

~~~

And that’s it, my friends. Don’t forget – don’t be afraid to experiment! Look at me; I started with this. And look where I am now. Everybody can make an improvement. Make special gifs, look for new ideas and methods, look for interesting parallels and, most importantly, have fun! :)

(So… what do you think? Was it OK? Helpful? Interesting? Share your thoughts and comments!)