#excuse my typos love

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[druizard]

Gale- "I hope you don't think less of me. Great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. I see that now."

Tav- "You listened to me. You understood my concerns. How could I think less of you for that?"

Gale- "What divine calculus plucked each of us from the ether, and thrust us together!? I don't deserve you, truly. But I will do my utmost to earn the right."

[tossacointoyourarchivist]

Alright hear me out y'all-

Tav is just chilling at camp one day and a seemingly stray cat wanders up to them.

It's been a long day and everyone else is in their tents or heading that way. Perhaps they were a bit tipsy because they thought they could handle the second -or third- glass offered by Shadowheart. They should've known better than to try and keep up with her, Astarion had teased, but Tav is just grateful to finally see a smile on their friend's face. Finally happy to see life again, after all the darkness.

They remember hearing from Gale that cats show affection to humans by slowly blinking- something about trust, they think?

The cat has no problem approaching Tav, so perhaps not a stray or just a very brave one. It's quite large for a cat, even when accounting for its fluffy fur. It seems content to sit near them, carefully observing them like they're the most interesting thing there.

Tav hums, "Hello there, little friend," they keep their voice quiet and steady, even though they miss their family's cat terribly and have been starved of feline affection.

The tabby tilts its head and meows through a purr. Absolutely adorable.

Tav is just drunk enough to do this and no one's around to notice their silliness, so they relax against the tree they sit under and slowly blink their eyes at the cat.

Almost immediately, the cat responds with its own slow-blink.

Tav smiles and reaches out with a closed hand so the cat can acquaint itself with their scent, "Would you like to join me?"

The cat approaches, but before it can get too close, an explosion of golden light envelopes the creature.

If Tav had night vision, they might've noticed the blue-hazel of its- his eyes, or the small scars across his face but it's no mystery anymore.

Halsin stands tall before them with a warm smile on his face, "I'd love to."

[nyc-pizza-rat]

saw @bloodydeanwinchester's tags on this post so

*TW: SUICIDE IDEATION TYPICALLY DISCUSSED IN RELATION TO THIS EPISODE PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES*

dean's always hated being stabbed. god, he'd have taken a bullet to his head over this any day. what's one last thing that doesn't go his way, he thinks.

it's uncomfortable, is the thing. the hurt, he'll take it. it's nothing he doesn't deserve, nothing he hasn't had before. but the feeling of metal slicing your innards, it's a bitch of a thing. you can never get used to it.

Atleast, he thinks, Sam's here. Atleast, he's able to say goodbye. Atleast he's not alone.

His nerves are all alight, pain painting him bright from the inside, but dean can feel the finality of this burst. it's all too fast and too slow, all at once. dean thinks about being four and the sharp sunlight waking him in his room, his sheets with hot wheels on them. he thinks about baby's headlights shining through thin motel curtains. thinks about....about angels and gods and all that blue light behind his own eyes. he thinks if this is how.. how cas felt, when dean had been stupid and cowardly , when he'd let Lucifer get to him, that night in Washington. he wonders if his soul feels like this too, all sharp angels and live current. he wonders what cas ever saw in him, why he ever tried to save him, even in hell. wishes he could see him, one last time. that wouldn't have been all that terrible.

Still, he thinks. Sam's here. Sam's here. Sam's okay.

he jolts into himself, and realizes that he's been talking, that he's been saying something to sam. he doesn't even know. dean is unraveling. he can feel his body emptying, the slickness of blood at his back.

he grabs at his brother, fists a hand in his chest. Sam's face is twisted in sorrow. Fuck. I love you, little guy, he thinks. then, fuck, don't let me go. i don't want to go. shit's never happened the way he wanted it to, but this is something else. Atleast. well, atleast he's gonna end up in the empty. that's what Billie promised him, right? Atleast he'll be with cas.

Still, Still. he's only human, and he's drowning in his own blood, can smell it, can taste it, it's everywhere, it's —

"I need you to.... to tell me... that it's okay," he says, and his voice comes out trembling, panicked. terrified. God. "I need you to tell me that it's okay."

his brother turns away from him, and dean can't hear him over the ringing in his ears, but he knows the stubborn bastard, the way his shoulders lift. God. God. Cas.

"Look at me," he pleads. "I need... I need..." he can't breathe. god, he can't breathe. "Please, Sam. I need you to tell me that it's okay."

Sam's face swims to the front of his line of sight, all warped like it's on the other side of a fishbowl. dean clutches at his brother harder. tries to, anyway. he's so tired. he's so fucking tired.

his fingers slip.

Something warm, and sam holds him in place.

"Dean...," and in another world, dean would've made fun of the blubbering mess he's become. would've teased him for caring so much about his stupid older brother. "it's okay. It's okay. i— I got you."

it's crazy, dean thinks, that it helps. the tone of his brother's voice. his face, even warped and cracking open with grief. dean raised this kid, and it was a bitch of a job, and man, did he hate it at times, but look at sam now. he did good. he did so good. he did —

dean goes under like he's being put to sleep. almost easy, almost soft. Thanks, he thinks, the last coherent thought in his head. Thanks, kid.

~

He wakes up on a road. The sun shines down bright like it's the start of summer, and there's this pleasant warmth in the air. the world around him is golden, stretching into the horizon on flat land where it meets the brown mounds of the black hills. dean blinks up at the mountains, a strange chill crawling down his spine.

"You're here early," a familiar voice says, and dean turns to find himself standing in front of Bobby's porch. light's drenched this whole place, too, making the wood panelling look blond. Bobby's fucking smiling. Shit. Shit.

dean's starting to feel disoriented, almost.

"And what's 'here' supposed to be, exactly?"

Bobby frowns, his smile slipping. he looks at dean like he's a right fool. "Heaven, dean," he says. "where else'd you think you'd go?"

dean thought.... Fuck. there's a strange emptiness pushing at the inside of dean's skin. he feels like he's been put together upside down. Billie.... Billie....

Billie's in the empty, and fuck. maybe grudges don't get passed down to the new death. fuck. fuck.

Dean stumbles to the porch steps, crumples on them when he can't go further. Absently, he's aware of Bobby moving behind him, the creaking of his rocking chair, his footsteps on the wood.

he stares out at the grass, the outline of the mountains, the clear blue sky. it's beautiful. it's nothing. it's empty. fuck. fuck. what the hell is dean supposed to do now. without — what the hell is he supposed to do?!

Bobby's hand is warm on his shoulder. dean feels small, the way he leans into it, the way he kinda wants to cry.

"what's wrong, dean?" Bobby asks, and his voice is all wrong , like he's tried to scrape the gruffness out of it and badly. dean could laugh. but. fuck. fuck.

why the hell is he here? why is he here?!

he swallows. shit's never really gone his way in life, so why would it in death? he swallows again. says, "i don't know, Bobby."

Me, he thinks. I'm what's wrong.

"i don't know."

[girlsdads]

prompt: daniel watches the video of max with the microphone 😳

(video in question. this spiraled into… something. you decide whether that’s a good or bad thing 🫢)

It’s a bad idea, Daniel knows, as he lays belly down on the firm hotel mattress, pillow propped under his chest, and opens Twitter. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, exactly—maybe just some validation that he can still fucking drive, after today. He’s full of a buzzing sort of anxious energy as his feed loads, and with it, a video of Max.

His thumb hovers for a beat too long—the clip starts playing on mute. It’s from earlier, after the race, Max’s broad body filling up two thirds of the frame. Checo’s mouth moving over on the left. Max nodding along, grinning. The clip loops, and that’s when Daniel notices.

Max holds a small mic loosely in his right hand. His thumb is—he’s swiping it back and forth over the pop filter, rubbing it with his fingertip. Daniel watches the Max on screen realize what he’s doing, watches his smirk grow as he rubs his finger in a quick circle against the mic. He turns his body toward the camera, holds the mic in front of himself, rubs the flat of 3 fingers over it. The clip loops. Daniel’s throat is dry.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, watching the clip replay. He can’t make himself scroll past it. His skin feels hot, itchy, like everything underneath has been replaced with a swarm of bees. Max thumbs the mic like he would the head of a cock; his own, or maybe—fuck.

Daniel knows that Max is—that he likes guys, too. Max had told him so himself, back when he first came up to Red Bull—an almost sharp-edged admission, like he was daring Daniel to be uncomfortable.

He also knows that Max has brought men home before, that he sometimes prefers it, after a race especially. Max had told him that too, so unabashed it had made Daniel’s stomach flip.

Daniel looks over at the other bed, the blankets still rumpled from the way Max had kicked them aside early this morning. Max is out tonight, celebrating. He could bring someone back if Daniel wasn’t—if he hadn’t—

They’d shared Max’s plane on the way here, and it had been the longest uninterrupted time he’d spent with him in months. Max had been soft in one of his oversized hoodies, relaxed and happy, laughing at Daniel’s jokes—Daniel knew he must be fucking glowing. Fuck, everyone had to be able to see it. Daniel felt like he could keep the goddamn plane in the air with the way Max’s attention made him buoyant. They’d touched down in Bahrain, and the thought of parting ways with Max became imminently devastating. Daniel found himself suggesting a shared hotel room and Max—agreed? For some reason. It will be like old times, Max had said, his smile bright and wide.

Old times—Daniel thinks, now, as the clip loops once more. Old times when Daniel would’ve been the one celebrating, would’ve fucked someone in their shared room, in the bed right next to Max’s, would’ve tried not to regret making Max crash with Charles.

Daniel doesn’t want to think about Max bringing some guy to their room, pushing him down into those rumpled sheets that probably—fuck—probably smell like Max, getting him naked, teasing just the tip of his cock with one blunt, clean fingernail, making him shake and moan, all while Daniel is—watching? No—fuck, they’d make him leave. Of course he wouldn’t—

Daniel doesn’t know how many times the clip has looped. His cock is hard against the mattress. Video-Max’s thumb circles. Daniel’s hips twitch. He rolls onto his back and shoves his briefs off. Precome is already sticky on his belly by the time he gets a thumb on himself. Just his thumb at the tip, loose grip on his shaft, tight circles. How Max would do it, if he were here, if Daniel begged him for it, maybe—

His thighs are shaking now, opening and closing on their own as he presses his thumb into his slit, gets it soaked and slippery, swipes back and forth again and again and again—

Several things happen at once. The clip loops. The keycard reader whirs. And—

“Daniel?”

Max’s voice, hoarse from the smoky air of whatever club he came from. Daniel squeezes his eyes shut and comes, gasping. The phone slips from his grasp as he shivers through his orgasm, the screen smacking him in the nose before it bounces to the mattress.

It’s a moment before he realizes—the video sound is on. His fucking nose maximized the clip, volume now fully blasting.

Max’s raspy voice again—

“Is that—are you jerking off to a video of Checo?”

[oldmanffucker]

Thinking abt house telling the fellows he’s going to a pottery class with Wilson and they’re like ‘fine. Enjoy your hookers.’ And he’s like. ‘Unfortunately there’s no hookers at the pottery studio.’ And they roll their eyes like ‘Keep your secrets’. And he’s just amused. Comes in the next day and they’re like. ‘How was “pottery class”?’ and house is like. ‘Great :) we made a pour over.’ And they’re like ‘yeah sure. Where is it?’ & he shrugs like ‘takes a couple weeks before it’s done in the kiln’ ‘riiiight’ hes like. ‘Here. I took a photo in the class. Look. That’s us.’ *shows them a pic of him and Wilson smiling holding up pour overs and pointing to them* ‘okay I’ll admit your photo shop skills have gotten much better’ ‘why don’t you believe I went to a pottery class???’ ‘Bc it’s you??’ ‘Fine’

Okay so then they go to Wilson to confirm. ‘Did house show you the picture?’ ‘Yeah. We think it was photoshopped’ ‘you really don’t believe Gregory house would make pottery do you.’ Bemused. House is like. Well there’s another one next Friday. 6pm at so and so. Plains boro art center or whatever.

ALL the fellows show up to the happy hour ceramics class that Friday half ready to catch hilson in a lie half ready to enjoy a ceramics happy hour. All shocked and giddy to see hilson sitting and smiling at a table chatting away with the art instructor who clearly already knows them.

[evidenceof]

how do you do the coloring in your gifs? it's so pretty 🥰

this is such a huge compliment. thank you!! i'm glad you think so, considering this is my first whack at ~seriously doing it. coloring is my favorite step! i’ll be as helpful as i can, but if you find any of the tips too vague, feel free to dm me!

we’ll be using this webgott gif set you indicated as the guide! here are the before and after samples of the gifs so you see what we'll be tryna achieve from base to final frames:

for the steps, ill go over several things: a. Why I do this step: a.k.a. what i’m trying to achieve with each adjustment layer b. How I do this step: how i personally adjust the settings c. Before and after samples of the colors so you can see the progress after each of my steps

onward

this is my first time typing down a tutorial so please be kind. i am (very) new to all of this and most of what i learned, i’ve learned from reading a bunch of tutorials on here (that i’ll credit down below), and watching too many youtube videos on color adjusting digital images, and coloring old wwii photographs.

this answer will be focused on just how i personally color, but i’ve linked some guides for creating base gifs that i also studied.

! before anything else !

i use photoshop to create and color my gifs and mpv to capture my screencaps from my files. also this ISN’T the ONLY WAY and the BEST WAY to color. this is just how i personally go mad on photoshop. <3 

Coloring tutorials that have been super helpful in getting me on track:

dicom gifs - not technically a coloring tutorial, but this is how i import my scripts on to photoshop.the process feels smoother for me (no need to reverse the frames etc. and the resolution always looks and feels better when i'm done with them)

general coloring + hi res gifs - great place to start with tips on what files to use for maximum crispness

masking layers -  for when you only want to apply an adjustment layer to a specific part of your gif, great for skin tones!

STEP ZERO: know what you like

This sounds very “ok captain obvious” but i do think it’s such a vital part of the process. the technical stuff gets very tedious, very quickly. and if you don’t know what colors draw you in, what colors you’re trying to lift and see in your gifs, you’re going to be tinkering around with the settings for longer than you’d like. so have references ready, if that’s your jam.

and with that, i'd like to show you some examples of colors that i gravitate towards that greatly influence how i color my gifs. i'm a huge 40s technicolor girl, 35mm 60s film girl (see ernst lubitsch, powell and pressberger, jacques rivette, agnes varda). and because i’m coloring a piece of media set in WWII, 1940s, i like studying the colored photographs (think winnix chair photo in color).

so am always looking to punch up my reds and greens, deepen and add browns, saturate skin tones so there's warmth there, while grays/shadows tend to veer towards a cooler tone. 

sorry for the thick paragraphs under this but i think it’s very crucial! once you’ve got that down pat, or at least have some handy references with you, it’ll be less of a pain to go through the next steps.

My process/sequence of adjustment layers

Base DICOM Script → Curves → Levels (optional for me) → Color Balance →  Color Fill Layer → Hue and Saturation → Selective Color

What that looks like on Photoshop:

STEP 1: DICOM BASE SCRIPT

Why I do this step: These are your frames! This is also the part where you adjust the sharpness of the gif so you don’t get a blurry image after cropping it down to tumblr dimensions.

How I do this step: I use actions for my DICOM script. I used to do it manually but now I use this Good Good Action Scripts by Redbelles. Cuts down the time, arranges them in the timeline for me. And as I’ve mentioned, it just feels better for me.

If you’re using pngs/screencaps as your base script, you can follow the instructions here instead.

This is also the part where you can adjust you can play back the gif and see if you’re happy with the positioning of your crop. Your timeline will look something like this.

STEP 2: CURVES LAYER 

Why I do this step: i’m concerned with getting what i just label as "true color." you'll notice that with band of brothers especially, the more you look at the scenes, the more you'll just how a) yellow the daylight scenes are, b) how blue gray and nothing else the darker scenes are, c) the lighting can get muddy. 

personally, when I adjust curves, my goal is to try to get the image as neutral as possible, which then allows me to inject as much color as you see fit. So think of it as eliminating as much of the coloring the editors of the show placed into the scene, so that you end up what is essentially a blank canvas.

How I adjust my Curves Layer: I pick the high, mid, and low lights of the scene. This video goes into that in depth. But you can also just choose the auto options if you’re just, like me, concerned with getting the image as neutral as possible. For a while I did in manually to understand what it was meant to do. But if you want to do it easily do the following steps.

> Auto adjust - by clicking the hamburger icon/ the three lines on top.

> You can choose between “Enhance per Channel Contrast” or “Find Dark or Light Colors”. Make you you tick on the “Snap Channel Midtones” to get the most neutral image. The tool bar should look like this:

Let’s compare the frames with and without the Curve adjustment layer:

Great! We’ve gotten rid of some of the darker overlays on both their faces, see more contrast between the foreground and the background. This gives us a better base image to color in for the next steps.

STEP 3: COLOR BALANCE LAYER

Why I do this step: To me this is like underpainting but not really? It feels like that though.What it helps me do is to adjust the hue/dominant colors of the highlights, midpoints, and shadows. so let's say even at it's most "neutral" state, I still find the image too yellow or too red. At this point of the process, I’ll add more cyan. if i want the yellow to adjust into an orange/brown area, I add in a bit more magenta and adjust the greens. it's here where i decide if i want the shadows to lean more towards a cooler tone or a warmer tone. It helps you make these crucial adjustments before you go in with the Hue and Saturation layer. (This is where you knowing what colors you like, comes in immediately!)

How I do this Step:

> Add a Color Balance Layer

> Adjust the three points: I’ll exaggerate the Color Balance adjustment so you can see what points are being targeted by each hue adjustment and where you can add those colors under this step. The tones do bleed into each other, so adjust sparingly if you’re not going for a complete wash of color.

Midtones: Let’s you adjust the “middle” areas, i.e. some of the biggest chunks of the frame. See Web’s entire face, the gray wall in the back ground, his ODs

Shadows: Let’s you adjust the darkest parts of the frame. See his hair, the barrel of the M1, the darkest parts of his glove. 

Highlights: Let’s you adjust the colors of the the brightest parts of the photo. For this frame it’s Web’s forehead, and the very tips of his fingers.

Let’s compare the frames: With the Curve adjustment vs. Adding the Color Balance

You’ll notice that I’ve only nudged the tones a little bit here. The accompanying gif (Liebgott’s) has greener overtones, and I wanted to balance some of that hue in this set. 

Highlights: Wanted more brown tones. Nudged the arrows to add more red, green and justtt a small bit of blue.

Midtones: Nudged the arrows to have a touch more red and a touch more yellow to make the skin tone lean to a warmer hue.

Shadows: Needed this to be cooler so I nudged the arrows to give it a bit more Cyan, while still adding just a hint of yellow. Together they make the image a tinge more green.

Once I’m happy with this, I move on to the next step. You can go back to this step, of course! If you want to make adjustments after you’ve applied the next layers. <3 

STEP 4: LEVELS LAYER

Why I do this step: I use this in place of a Brightness and Contrast layer or Exposure Layer. This is where I reintroduce shadows and points of light. Here I can choose to add a bit more depth, or to reveal more of the shadowed points of the image. I don’t always move this around, and this is an optional step for me, but I did it for this gif set.

How I do this Step:

> Add Levels layer

> Adjust midpoint arrow to the right or left - this can lift any shadows if you move it towards the left, and deepen any shadows if you move it towards the right.

> Adjust the highlights arrow to the right - Optional as well. If you want to introduce/emphasize the brightness in the image, make the high points even whiter, you can slide this more to the left.

> ****I don’t adjust the bottom slider. This adds a “fade” into your image. If you want lesser contrast, and more of that flat quality, you can move this around but I barely touch this.

Let’s compare the frames: With previous adjustments vs. Adding the Levels Layer

Here, I deepened the contrast and shadows, I wanted more black in Web’s hair, and to give more depth to his ODs and gloves. The shadows also help define their features more prominently, better outline for both their eyes and nose. For Lieb, I lifted the shadows a bit to show more of his face, and see more of the redness of his lips that I love.

STEP 4: HUE AND SATURATION LAYER

Why I do this step: You’ve prepped your canvas! This is where everything’s sort of breathed into life. Spoiler alert, if you’re coloring Band of Brothers specifically, you’ll be moving the red and yellow a LOT, and rarely any of the other color layers since they are… non-existent in most frames. Here is where I give the skin more color, differentiate the shades of olive and green that’s prominent given that they’re soldiers. This is also where you’ll see the blue/green eyes pop out if the frame permits (Web, Winters, Bull, and Randleman’s eyes tend to reveal some blues and greens every now and then!)

Hue Area: Mixes your chosen color and adds more magenta or yellow.

Saturation Area: Dulls or Saturates said hues. 

If you move your arrow towards the extreme left, you get a dull green, if you move it to the right, you get highlighter green.

How I do this Step:

> Add Hue and Saturation Layer

> Open the drop down - I try not to move the ‘Master’ area because it washes the entire gif with hue and color. I’m only targeting specific areas and colors.

> Adjust Reds - I tend to make my reds lean more towards magenta. To do this I drag the arrow towards the left and inject some more magenta into the mix, not too much that they look sunburnt (though sometimes that’s inevitable. I’ll show you how to fix it later on!). I saturate the red a lot. As I’ve said, I love red lmfao. So I want that to be lifted in the image.

> Adjust Yellows - I also want my yellows to be a bit more orange in darker scenes where they’re seen mostly on skin. So I move the arrow again to the left.

> Adjust Greens - There’s green here huzzah! I wanted to lift the color a bit more from his uniform, make it more olive than a dark gray/brown, so I added more yellow by moving the arrow to the right and upping the saturation.

*Tip: If you’re unsure about which color you’re adjusting, you can take the dropper tool on the screenshot, click on the area of the frame you want to fix up, and it will register the prominent color.

Let’s compare the frames: With previous adjustments vs. Adding the Hue and Saturation Layer:

You’ll notice there’s a lot more pink on their faces, some reds on Web's fingertips, and a brighter, more prominent red on Lieb's lips. The color of their ODs is a bit more true to its name of olive drab now! The contrast of the added color to Web's skin also makes his eye color pop out more. Their skin looks alive! Yay!

STEP 5: SELECTIVE COLOR LAYER

Why I do this step: I think of this as finishing touches. Sometimes I find that I want to adjust the reds, yellows, etc. more specifically and I can mix in more color to get it to the exact tone I want. This is where I can do that. Selective color lets you add or remove more cyan, magenta, and yellow tones from your hues.

How I do this Step:

> Add Selective Color Layer

> Open the drop down and choose which hue you’ll be adjusting

> Adjust the colors accordingly- I don’t use it in this specific gif, so here’s a different one of Harry in Carentan. I adjusted the reds and yellows to have more cyan (moving arrow to on the Cyan scale to the left), making the red more purple, and the yellow more green. It’s VERRRY subtle, but it matters greatly to me lmfao. 

STEP 6: COLOR FILL LAYER

Why I do this step:  I really... love browns and warmer skin tones, even if they're right smack in the middle of Bastogne (lawl sorry!!!!!). band of brother's footage in particular, if i only adjust the skin tone at the hue and saturation level, there will be parts of the skin that register as white or gray (i.e. technically not hues) and not "red" or "yellow", what that means is, even if you adjust the saturation and hue and amp it up to the highest level those patches of white and gray will remain white and gray and you'll be left with patchy soldier skin. sure, it's realistic but i want warm skin! 

How I do this step:

> Add Color Fill Layer: Click the Circle symbol that's half white, half black. Select "Solid Color"

> Choose a color: I gravitate towards a light brown or a light orange. Click okay and don’t panic when your entire image is covered by a solid block of color.

> Play with Blend Mode and Opacity: I usually use Linear/Color Burn which allows me to see warmer colors overall but especially, and most importantly for me, their skin. The end result is giving them the TINIEST bit of a tan but also introducing more natural color against the grays and whites that register. Less patchy skin on you WWII vet!

You can tinker with the opacity and blend modes to see which looks best for you.

Let’s go back to Web and compare the frames: With previous adjustments vs. Adding the Color Fill Layer:

Tada!

Now all that's left is to transform them back into frames on the Timeline (see linked tutorials above!) and save.

And that’s more or less how I color my gifs! I tinker a lot with the layers after. Sometimes you need to see it all together and then make the adjustments after. I do more of some steps, and less of some depending on the frames and the scenes.

Having a good grasp of color language helps a lot and it’s something you do end up learning while making gifs or just looking at images/media whose colors call to you.

Sort of as an end note/exercise, you can see what it is about the color and lighting of The Pacific that draws you in, and amplify that in your gifs. Perhaps you’re drawn to the orange of the sun, or the bright almost jewel green of the tropical foliage. Maybe you’re really into the browns and the dusty scenes. It all helps you pick out what you want to ramp up and tone down in the colors.

I hope this was… even a tiny bit helpful. Again, feel free to DM me or hit me up on Discord if you want some clarifications/if you need help WHILE you’re making the gifs. Happy to help! <3 

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

*

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

*

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

*

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

*

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

*

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

*

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

*

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

*

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

*

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

[idontlikeem]

What made Geno your fave?

Oh boy!

For background, I started watching hockey in fall of 2009. I was bored over the summer and decided to get into a new sport. I’d never cared about hockey because my family didn’t follow it (we are football and basketball people), so I had no particular team I had allegiance to, so I did what any reasonable prospective fan would do: I looked up the most recent championship team and scanned their roster for hot guys.

There was Sid, of course. About my age, captain, and oh he’s cute, ok I can work with that. I did some research on his story and found it fascinating, because who doesn’t love a good golden boy narrative? A promising start.

Jordy Staal was also really cute to me, and Flower was pretty. And then we got to Geno, who the first picture I really remember seeing of him is one where he was smiling big, and as we all know he has the BEST smile.

After that, his backstory was just as interesting to me as Sid’s, in a totally different way. I mean, it sounds like a spy thriller, right? It’s crazy. And then he won the MVP that playoffs, and the highlights were up on YouTube, and wow, look at him skate. Look at him and Sid skate together, wow they’re so good. Look how Geno spins and cuts through guys out there, look how quick he is, how fast his hands are moving the puck.

I knew fuck-all about what I was watching but his skating style is so distinctive that I was able to pick him out on grainy 2009 and earlier footage with ease; let me tell you, focusing on ONE player for a full game or even period is such an underrated way to learn the sport. You see what they do when they don’t have the puck and it helps you figure out strategy, how plays develop, what defense is. Highly recommend.

He was still pretty quiet with the media then and I don’t think he was on Twitter yet, but he seemed funny and cute and I really liked his accent! And all the guys seemed to be friends, and I love that in a sports team.

It was summer so I watched a lot of the Pens’ old YouTube features. I learned about Mario and Jagr and the first set of back to back cups, and Sid’s draft, and how the team almost left the city. I learned about the rivalries with other teams, and the way the league worked, and what a salary cap is, and all the different penalties. And as it got closer to the start of the 09-10 season, I watched the road to the cup video for the run I’d just missed (it’s on YouTube now!) and there was that shot of Geno looking up, you know the one, with his scar, and that was my tipping point. The coverage of him in the Carolina series just sealed it.

He fascinates me. He’s shy but loud, funny but so publicly emotional. He’s flawed as hell but he tries so hard. He’s arrogant but he deserves to be, and he’ll never ever allow anyone to give him credit for when he’s playing well, he deflects. He’s accurately predicted the future twice. He’s so loyal it’s to the point of folly, almost. He has an unbelievable smile and rescues alley cats and is scared of big dogs. He’s a bully who’s never met a charity he didn’t contribute to.

And holy shit can he skate. Holy shit does he play beautiful, brutal hockey. He’s vicious with his stick and graceful with his hands.

And, yeah, he’s hot. That’s important to me too and I’m not sorry about that!

Anyway, I like him a lot. Thanks for sending me this ask and letting me talk about why :)

[witchboyjimin]

omg I'm on a public train and i almost yelled over the writing prompt 😍

So my prompt is:

One of them calling the other out of the blue and starting the call with:

"Hi, um- I... This is really short notice and if you're not- that'd be absolutely fine but-". He stops to clear his throat, trying not to give away he's crying. "But if you're free, could you maybe... Could you come get me?"

OOOOOR the absolute classic that I go feral for

"Who did this to you?"

- cabin anon ✨ (sending love your way)

4.8k of hurt/comfort ft. urban werewolves, omega!jm and alpha!jk

tw: domestic violence, physical abuse, attempted sexual coercion

-

jimin's face is throbbing, the vision in his left eye almost entirely obstructed by his swelling skin. the world is blurry and he can taste blood on his tongue.

his lip's split.

he tentatively licks at the cut, wincing when the rest of his face pulses in protest. the ache that had dulled out in his side from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, pushing him to clear nearly twelve blocks in record time, rears its angry head and jimin slumps down against the brick wall he'd slammed into earlier, lungs burning ferociously in protest.

but more than the physical pain he's in, sheer, unadulterated panic grips him, his chest compressing tightly. jimin squeezes his eyes shut, a hand gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt. the world shrinks down to his bare feet, to the smell of blood that is distinctly not his own, to the sound of jimin's shaking breaths.

he can't breathe.

there's not enough air and jimin's fingers dig into brick, his legs giving out under him entirely until he's curling into himself. he needs to become smaller, needs to disappear, only then, only then --

he's going to die.

he can't -- he can't breathe.

every time he inhales, he finds his lungs too small to take in the air and terror like nothing he's ever felt before, has him pinned down by the throat.

just like -- just like hajoon had.

the scream tears out of him unbidden, echoing through the alleyway with a hollowed reverence. for a split second, his wolf takes over, and every single cell in jimin's body fights to keep him alive.

and then jimin sags, all the fight leaving his body at once.

his panicked, shortened breaths even out and the blood in his mouth is joined by the taste of asphalt and the stench of garbage.

he lets his forehead rest against the cool ground, too tired to pull himself up. it takes a moment, but his claws retract, pulling out of the broken asphalt that he's managed to tear through in his fear, his devastation.

his head is swimming with images. hajoon's face darkening in anger, his scent deepening with fury, his hands ready and prepared to tear right through jimin.

somehow he manages to sit up.

there's blood on his hands. it's not his own.

he reaches for the curve of his neck, pressing his palm against the spot hajoon had nearly sunk his teeth into. his hand comes back clean save for some dried blood, jimin's skin healing over quickly.

jimin sits there for a moment, blinking through the pandemonium of emotions swirling through him. at some point, his wolf had taken over, protecting him from an unwanted bond.

he remembers his claws sinking into hajoon's neck, tearing through tendon. blood had poured out, splashing into jimin's mouth and he'd shoved hajoon off of him, scrambling back and bolting out of the apartment. he hadn't looked back once, too focused on getting away. he has no idea if hajoon had given chase, if jimin had even left him in a state where he could.

the sound of a car driving by the alleyway has jimin looking up, noting in passing that there's blood on his t-shirt and on his jeans. he pushes himself to his feet, noting that the bottoms of his jeans have been torn up.

had he undergone a partial shift?

it feels like something outside of himself is guiding jimin to move, like he's watching himself step out of the alley from somewhere up above. his body doesn't feel like his own or maybe it's that jimin doesn't want to be grounded in the sadness he feels beginning to moor him to the spot.

he needs to move.

hajoon could easily track him down by scent. he can't stay here.

he realises he's run all the way over to the pack alpha's neighbourhood. namjoon's house is a few streets over, and jimin would be impressed with how far he's run if the exhaustion wasn't catching up to him so quickly.

his apartment is nearly halfway across town. rent is cheaper in the outer neighbourhoods and hajoon's job didn't pay him much. at least, that's what he always told jimin. the rest of the pack lived closer to namjoon's house as most packs did.

the street is mostly empty.

he keeps to the shadows, making his way to the house as stealthily as he can. the kim pack boasted a history nearly as old as korea's itself. they'd lived on this land since the days seoul was called namgyeong, their lineage tracking all the way back to the days of the three kingdoms.

as such, their house, tucked into one of seoul's most affluent neighbourhoods, is massive. jimin spots it when he turns into the right road, self-conscious of his disastrous appearance as he makes his way down to the front gates.

he probably looks like he's homeless and if a security guard from some other rich family's house spots him, they'll call the police on him or simply try to drag him out themselves.

it's as he stands in front of the gates that he remembers: namjoon's not in town. he's at some conference down in daegu which means that if seokjin, namjoon's mate, has also gone along, there might not be anyone at home to let jimin in.

unlike some members of the pack, jimin doesn't have a key to the house nor does he know the access code to get past the front gates.

he's the newest member of the pack, had only joined a year ago after a few years spent packless. jimin had run away from his own pack, tired of pack hierarchies and being forced to submit to shitty alphas that wanted nothing more than to pin jimin down and mount him.

he'd met namjoon at an art museum, his hackles rising when the alpha had stepped into the same room as him. jimin had beelined for the exit but namjoon had called after him so softly that jimin's wolf had nearly forced him down into submission, desperate to be near someone of his kind after years of isolation.

eventually namjoon's unending patience and kindness coupled with the creeping madness of being packless had convinced jimin that he needed to join a pack again. and by all accounts, jimin loved his new pack. maybe city wolves were different from the rural, more conservative pack he'd grown up around but there were no restrictions placed on how jimin could live, no expectations on what his 'place' among the pack was.

the kim pack just expected all members of the pack to attend a communal meal on saturdays. there were some thirty odd members, enough that namjoon's house would get a little cramped despite how large it was. still, jimin looked forward to time spent with his pack and he ended up spending a lot more than just saturdays with them.

and right now, he wanted nothing more than for his pack alpha and omega to gently scent him and tell him that everything would be okay, that he'd done the right thing to defend himself, that he had the right, at all, to say no to an alpha courting him.

the tears are already trailing down his face before he knows it, tremors beginning to shake through his body. the panic from earlier sweeps in as if it had never left and jimin swallows, his breathing turning shallow once more.

where would he go?

hajoon -- hajoon would find him and he would want revenge, he was so angry --

"jimin?"

the voice startles jimin out of his thoughts, his heart jumping in his chest as jimin twists around to look at a familiar face.

jeon jeongguk.

he's got a bag of something in his hand, his scent sweeping up to jimin, sweet vanilla, warm amber, and the hint of pear.

the surprise on jeongguk's face sharpens quickly into concern, the alpha taking a step closer. his hand reaches out, touch far gentler than jimin would have expected and nudges jimin's chin so that he's looking directly at him.

"what -- " jeongguk starts, the concern hardening into anger. his eyes sweep over jimin so quickly they're a blur, irises glowing red. the sweetness of his scent morphs into something ugly, something rotten.

jeongguk's gaze is sharp, his brows furrowed together. "who did this to you?"

-

jimin can't seem to answer.

actually, he can't stop crying. loud, hysterical sobs spill out of him so quickly that he hiccups through them, breath stuttering through him in an attempt to keep up.

jeongguk, to his credit, doesn't stand idly by. one moment jimin is bawling in front of the alpha, unable to parse together enough words to be of some use, to explain, and the next, jeongguk is scooping him up into his arms and carrying jimin into the pack house.

at some point, they make it into one of the living rooms. jeongguk sets jimin down on the couch, kneeling in front of him and jimin is clinging, he knows, but he can't pull himself away from jeongguk, his arms wrapped tightly around the alpha's neck, face buried into his black tank top.

a hand is rubbing soothing circles against his back, the other cradling the back of jimin's neck, giving it the occasional squeeze. it calms him down and he feels silly, needing the same comfort as a pup to quell down.

he still can't let go of jeongguk, so drained of all energy that the thought of having to sit upright, unsupported, feels equivalent to being told to move a mountain right now.

he wants to sleep.

"jimin." jeongguk says his name so tenderly, with so much concern that it settles over him like a blanket.

the irony isn't lost on him.

jeongguk doesn't like jimin.

he's never liked jimin, cold and aloof and unwilling to trust him. there have been plenty of incidents where jeongguk has made a disparaging comment, glaring at jimin to remind him that he didn't belong here, that he was an outsider.

the rest of the pack had been of mixed opinion when namjoon had first introduced jimin to them. wariness was expected but jeongguk's open hostility had been scary because while namjoon was the pack alpha, jeongguk was the most outwardly terrifying. he had this way of looking at a person that left them completely devoid of confidence, like they could never measure up or prove themselves to him. most people, it seemed, weren't good enough for jeon jeongguk.

and now here jimin was, clinging to the very werewolf he'd done his militant best to avoid on saturdays.

maybe that was it though. jeongguk had no interest in jimin, he didn't like him, so there was nothing he could possibly want from jimin. his kindness was surprising but it felt real and it came with no ulterior motives.

even if jeongguk didn't like him, he could maybe see that jimin needed help and jeongguk is a lot of things, but he's never turned his back on someone in need.

"jimin, hey, look at me," jeongguk murmurs, pushing up so that he can sit down next to jimin. it's strange to be on the receiving end of jeongguk's kindness; it's something he reserves only for his closest packmates, keeping a respectful distance from the others.

moving up onto the couch has allowed jeongguk to tug jimin back, enough that he can take a look at jimin's beaten face. his arm cradles jimin still, eyes flitting over jimin's injuries. "are you..."

his voice trails off, as if realising that whatever he was going to ask already had an answer. jimin can't really tell what's going on in his head, exhaustion whispering sweetly to him: give up, give in.

jeongguk's hand curls over jimin's cheek, his touch barely there as if afraid that he would injure him further. "how could anyone do this."

he says it more to himself than jimin, a steeliness returning to his eyes the longer he stares at jimin's swollen face.

hajoon had slapped him at first. the force of it had left jimin's ears ringing, his balance momentarily slipping. he'd barely straightened back out before the next blow had come. and then the next and then the next.

it wasn't the first time hajoon had slapped him. he always told jimin how sorry he was after, eyes wet with tears, sobbing about what a terrible alpha he was. for some reason, jimin always forgave him.

but today it had been different. jimin had told him no. they'd only been dating for six months and hajoon had asked jimin eagerly if jimin would spend his rut with him.

jimin can still feel the way his gut had clenched horribly at the idea. he'd immediately said no, head shaking, even going so far as to take a step back from hajoon. they'd fought, hajoon unable to understand why jimin couldn't do this for him. didn't jimin love hajoon? didn't he want hajoon to be happy?

a good omega, hajoon had screamed at him, spittle flying from his mouth, is supposed to spread his legs when he's told to.

before long the slaps turned into punches and jimin found himself pushed onto the floor, his vision swimming, with hajoon clambering on top of him, pining him to the ground. jimin had sobbed, hajoon's weight suffocating him, rendering jimin immobile. hajoon had been unrelenting, his words spilling out of him so fast, jimin could hardly keep him. he'd told jimin exactly what he thought of him, how he'd wasted hajoon's time, that jimin belonged to him now and that if he wasn't going to agree to hajoon's request willingly, hajoon would make him agree.

after all, a mated omega couldn't say no to their alpha.

"the swelling is going down," jeongguk tells him, a thumb ghosting over jimin's left brow. jimin's injuries would pretty much be gone by tomorrow -- both a gift and a curse.

hajoon had punched him once, angry about some wager he'd lost with his buddies and jimin had made the mistake of getting him the wrong beer. the bruise on his stomach had looked horrifying when jimin had stared at it in the mirror that night but by the next morning, it was gone.

and jimin had known then that there was no use telling anyone about this. who would believe an omega over an alpha? especially when jimin had no proof.

jeongguk is staring at him intently, taking in the blood on jimin's clothes and his hands. jimin can only tell he's furious because of the lingering acidity of his scent. he's managed to hold most of it back, the usual vanilla wrapping around jimin in an attempt to soothe but the aftertaste is there, jimin can smell it. he's always been good at picking up on the subtleties in others.

jeongguk's brows are furrowed again, his hands carefully going over all of jimin's injuries as if to tally them. he seems to see right through jimin, pausing at jimin's ribs, his hand splaying over the throbbing in his side.

"do you want me to call chungha? or taehyung?" he asks, watching jimin carefully.

jimin shakes his head. of course he'd like it if one of his friends were here but it was the middle of the night and jimin had already ruined jeongguk's night. he wasn't going to ruin anyone else's, too. "'s okay."

"you're finally talking."

jimin shrugs a shoulder.

"tell me what hurts the most," jeongguk instructs, slowly guiding jimin so he can lean against the back of the couch.

jimin almost answers with my heart.

"i think he broke my rib," jimin mumbles, touching the same spot jeongguk had paused at mere seconds ago. "it hurts more and more."

"so it was hajoon?" jeongguk seems to have pieced it all together himself, looking at jimin only for confirmation.

jimin nods, shame flooding through him. he was so pathetic.

jeongguk lets out a breath through his teeth, his eyes flashing red and it takes him a moment to reign himself in. he nods, just once, staring at jimin.

it's too much and jimin finds his eyes slipping shut. he can't meet jeongguk's gaze, doesn't think he could bear to see contempt there, not now.

"i'm sorry," he says, mouth dry. his head is throbbing, the pain like a wave ebbing out of him, constant and pulsing.

"for what?" jeongguk's voice has gotten quieter, a tinge of something jimin can't quite place creeping in. "what could you possibly be sorry for?"

jimin opens his mouth, winces when his jaw aches and then closes it, his eyes barely opening to see the downward tilt of jeongguk's mouth. he shrugs, unable to put into words the misery he's feeling. he's sorry for existing, for burdening jeongguk like this.

"this isn't -- what hajoon has done, that's not how you treat your omega," jeongguk says with absolutely no room for argument. "this isn't your fault. it could never be."

jimin's eyes burn, his throat closing up and he nods, gaze falling down onto his hands. jeongguk's scent seems to swarm around him, eager to comfort and console, and jimin fights back the urge to cry. he's already cried so much.

jeongguk holds still, uncertainty written in the way his frown deepens, how his shoulders seem to have tensed up. he reaches out, gently taking jimin's hand in his own. "it...it'll help you feel better if i scent you. may i?"

jimin's teeth clench, breath shuddering out of him. did he want to be scented?

his mother had always scented jimin when he was upset, her nose carefully rubbing over his scent glands. she would give him a kiss on each cheek when she was finished and all of jimin's anxiety would have melted away, forgotten.

but his mother was his family and jeongguk was...

jeongguk was pack. is pack.

jimin nods, ignoring the warning sign in his head screaming at him to never let another alpha anywhere near him.

jeongguk hovers for another second before nodding and he leans in, pausing just outside of jimin's personal space. he can probably feel the apprehension coming off of jimin in waves, his mind wishing he'd run away and his wolf begging for proximity, for his packmate's comfort.

jimin flinches when jeongguk finally closes the gap between them, his touch feather light. he pauses, giving jimin the opportunity to pull away but jimin just holds his breath.

jeongguk's nose trails along jimin's skin slowly, moving back and forth over the same expanse of skin. it's a deliberate choice, jimin can tell, the languid movement like he's afraid that jimin will spook if he moves too fast.

slowly, jimin relaxes. vanilla and amber wrap around him until jimin thinks he can taste them on his tongue. his mind starts to blank, the tension in his body beginning to seep out slowly. jeongguk's touch never waivers beyond light, delicate. namjoon always scented jimin much more deliberately, quick and easy, a reminder that jimin was his pack.

jeongguk scents jimin like he's something precious, the tip of his nose skimming over jimin's scent gland, never applying pressure. he's careful, jimin's hand still in his own and jimin can feel how sweaty both their palms are, finds it sticky but he's unwilling to let go.

at some point, jeongguk's other hand finds itself cradling the base of jimin's head, his large palm holding jimin in place. his fingers dig into jimin's neck, squeezing, grounding.

with every passing second, jimin unwinds. jeongguk's nose ghosts over his neck from one side to the other, gently swiping over jimin's scent glands. his touch tickles, feels barely there, and yet it settles jimin down better than anyone else's touch ever has.

jimin lets out a sigh, his eyes closed and the pain in his body quells down to something manageable. tomorrow, he wouldn't even feel the sharp jab in his abdomen or the pulsing in his face. tomorrow, he wouldn't have reminders of hajoon's violence all over him.

jeongguk pulls back, just as slow. jimin has a hard time opening his eyes, stares up at jeongguk through blurry vision. he's so close. jimin can see the little mole under his mouth.

"i'm going to call namjoon and tell him okay," jeongguk says, his hands falling away from jimin. he pulls away entirely, taking his sweet scent with him and the further away he gets, the worse jimin feels.

he feels like crying anew. this time from frustration. why should he need so much from another alpha? why couldn't he just comfort himself?

"but first, let's get you cleaned up." jeongguk shifts to stand up and jimin finds himself reaching out, his fingers scrabbling for some part of jeongguk to hold onto.

jeongguk pauses, looking down at the hand jimin's buried into the fabric of his cargo pants. "i'm right here, jimin. you're okay."

he must realise what jimin needs because he scoops jimin up again, carrying him in a bridal carry all the way upstairs. jimin slips in and out of consciousness, the panic that had become second nature finally giving him a moment's peace.

jeongguk brings him upstairs into a bedroom that smells distinctly like his scent. jimin's mind is floating, his wolf curling up inside of him, content to finally rest. it's hard for him to take anything in, to notice anything beyond the dark colour of the walls. but jeongguk's scent is so nice. jimin wishes he could float in a pool of it.

his wish is answered in another form.

jeongguk lays jimin down on his bed -- it must be his bed because the sheets are soaked through with his scent. embarrassingly, he buries his face into jeongguk's pillow, momentarily forgetting that the owner of the scent is right here in the room with him.

"i'm going to need to undress you jimin," jeongguk says, kneeling down by the bedside so he's not hovering over jimin. "is that okay?"

jimin's so tired but he shakes his head. "i can...i can do it."

jeongguk doesn't look convinced, his mouth pursing but he nods. "i'll get you something to wear."

jimin's not sure how he manages to sit up but he does, his arms like lead when he moves to take his t-shirt off. a sharp pain cuts into him, his rib most definitely broken, and jimin gasps, his breath coming out in short pants.

the t-shirt smells like hajoon and blood and the panic is quick to crawl back in, eager to sink its claws into jimin's heart. he tugs harder to get the shirt off, struggling to manage the movement.

before he hurts himself further, jeongguk is back at his side and patiently assisting him to remove the t-shirt. jimin blink when his head finally pops out, sucking in a deep breath.

jeongguk has placed some clothes down next to jimin and more importantly has a wet cloth in his hand. he doesn't seem annoyed that jimin had refused his help and then needed it.

instead, he brings the wet cloth up to jimin's face and wipes away dried blood, always catching jimin's eyes as he moves lower to make sure he's okay.

the cloth, once a bright shade of yellow, slowly turns brown. jimin is a little horrified at how quickly it discolours. just how much blood was on him?

"hajoon can't come here, right?" jimin asks, staring at the cloth and remembering how the blood had rained down on him, how jimin had swallowed some of it.

"he'd be pretty fucking stupid to come here," jeongguk answers, having moved to jimin's hands. he wipes across the backs of jimin's hands first before cleaning his palms and then the pads of jimin's fingers.

a shower would have been better but jimin doesn't think he could stand in one on his own right now and he might die of mortification if jeongguk had to help him.

"i'd fucking kill him," jeongguk adds, purposefully meeting jimin's eyes. his eyes are red again, his incisors elongated and jimin swallows, blinks, before jeongguk is back to his human self.

"what if...what if i did?" jimin says it so quietly he can barely even hear the words leave his own mouth. he keeps wondering why hajoon didn't give chase. the hajoon jimin knows would never have just let him get away.

"namjoon-hyung is heading back right now. i'll tell him to go by the apartment first, okay?" jeongguk doesn't even react, just continues to clean jimin up. when he's satisfied with his handiwork, he stands up and turns his gaze down to the clothes next to jimin. "go ahead and get changed."

the answer surprises jimin. shouldn't jeongguk be mad? if jimin...if jimin killed an alpha...

"pretty impressive if you did kill him," jeongguk adds, his mouth quirking up into a little smirk. "i didn't think you had that in you."

"i don't -- i, he was trying to bite me so i -- "

again, jeongguk's scent plummets, the sweetness putrefying instantly. his anger is palpable and jimin jerks back, whining instinctively to appease him.

"sorry," jeongguk grits out, eyes closing. jimin's amazed by how quickly he puts himself back together. gone are the red eyes, the sharpened teeth.

why was he so angry?

"i didn't mean to scare you." he steps away from jimin, the wet, ruined cloth still in his hand. there's a bitterness to his scent that still clings to him and he looks unhappy. "i'm just going to be outside the door, okay? take your time and if you need help, ask."

jimin nods meekly, admonished.

he can't quite move past how kind jeongguk has been. this is a side of him jimin has only caught glimpses of, a side reserved for the few pack members he held in the highest regard.

eventually, jimin manages to get out of his jeans, a much easier task. the clothes jeongguk has left for him are his own. his scent lingers on the fabric and jimin feels the heat rise to his cheeks, oddly pleased that the alpha was generous enough to lend them to jimin.

jeongguk's sweatpants are a little too long on jimin and he doesn't bother trying to put the t-shirt jeongguk's given him on. instead, he turns to the door and clears his throat. "jeongguk?"

"i'm here," jeongguk replies instantly.

"um, can you -- i, i need your help." embarrassment flushes through him but it'll be worse if he gets stuck trying to get the shirt on.

"coming," jeongguk answers, opening the door. jimin spots him slipping his phone into his pocket and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. the split from earlier already hurts a little less.

jeongguk had texted namjoon then because he hadn't heard him talking to anyone. eventually, jimin would have to explain all of this to namjoon and the thought makes his belly twist unhappily.

"should have helped you with this earlier," jeongguk mutters, more to himself than jimin. it slips past jimin's head a lot easier, a size or two too big because it drapes across jimin's smaller frame, leaving plenty on room to move around in.

"i don't know if you want any ointment for your wounds," jeongguk says, slipping jimin's right arm into the sleeve. it falls past jimin's elbow. "but i never really find it that helpful. i can get you some painkillers though, if you want."

"okay," jimin agrees, sitting back down on the bed. he feels anxious every time jeongguk leaves and then he feels stupid for being so needy.

jeongguk brings back the painkillers and a glass of water that jimin chugs down entirely. he hadn't realised he was so thirsty.

"we'll...we'll talk about what happened tomorrow. namjoon-hyung says he'll be here by seven, latest."

"hyung didn't -- "

"he's your pack alpha, so yes, he does." jeongguk's tone is stern, his eyes pinning jimin to the spot.

jimin nods, scolded, and wonders how it is that jeongguk can be so sure of things so easily. it's a three hour drive from daegu and namjoon is probably exhausted from a day spent in meetings with other pack alphas. the alarm clock on jeongguk's bedside table tells jimin it's almost two am.

"i'll stay here," jeongguk says, nudging jimin to lie down onto the bed. "you need to sleep."

he goes so far as to tuck jimin in, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to jimin.

he wants to ask jeongguk, aren't you tired, too? but jimin's eyes are so heavy and jeongguk's scent is sweet and calming, washing over jimin like the first drizzles of spring rain.

he falls asleep quickly, a hand finding it's way to the hem of jeongguk's tank top, fingers curling in.

[fluffypotatey]

OOOH okay thank you for reminding me half the things I forgot. ha-! allegory of the cave is Greek you say? So is Pandora's Box if that wasn't translated for localization, if he said that literally then Nines, what era are you from LOL. special shout out to the person who said they were like, a past life of MK oh wait yeah that was you Fluffs. that + him being tired of being the hero. what is wrong with that guy....anyways. Nuwa!! the way she coils around people is very, "snake eats tiny dot to get bigger" that game, also just general trapping hmm. like he SEEMS NICE bc they wanted MK is live a little and brought his stone to life??? but was super clumsy and ended up cracking it. also Wukong HOW did you not notice, were you on the journey? was Macky already too dead to protect FFM? there has been a murder!! the subtle expressions, the lingering on their contemplative looks where you just know they're getting a no good idea, when they start covering the eyes and making characters turn their faces. it doesn't matter how still they are. we could see the EXACT thoughts cooking up in there and it's gah- T^T "and the way Macky mourned Wukong privately while everyone else cried for MK (bc they assumed the Pillar repairing itsef meant swk failed) since he knew the Monkey King would try to take MK’s place-" ^^ super valid take, but I raise you: "Macky assumed MK DID do it and was mourning for SWK because he knows how much it would have destroyed him to watch MK sacrifice himself in front of his eyes. that SWK would have tried his absolute hardest yet seems to have failed and it hurts, especially considering their last conversation on MK" :D

YOUR TAKE ALSO WORKS 🤧 BUT LIKE EITHER WAY I WILL FOREVER BE TAKEN ABACK BY HOW GUT WRENCHED MACKY SOUNDED FHERE

lmk what was the point????? TO KILL ME???? BECAUSE IF IS WORKING

yes! Pandora’s box is also Greek! Pandora, a woman created to be the wife of Prometheus’ brother’s wife in the spite of the gods who wanted vengeance on the titan for giving the mortals fire (look what you’ve done. you’ve unlocked my Greek mythos obsession a day early). Pandora was created with beauty, submissiveness, obedience, and curiosity. and it was that curiosity that the gods exploited

“here is a gift from the gods!” they told her and her husband. “under no circumstance do you open it,” they said with a hollow smile before leaving.

and poor Pandora, who did not know her own role in the fall mortals, opened the box at the behest of her burning curiosity, unleashing all hells of bad omens while Hope remained veer loyal in the box Pandora clutched tightly.

“oh you foolish girl!” her husband cried, the effects quickly taking place in him and the rest of humanity. “you just had to open it for your own selfish needs.”

and here we are in s5 with Nines referencing both the Allegory of the Cave and Pandora’s Box. two stories that are about the blessings and curses that come with understanding the world around you. leaving the cave meant leaving the reality forced upon you, but opening Pandora’s box meant unleashing horrors you could no longer be ignorant of in your humble home

MK has already stepped out of the cave but denies it’s reality, not yet ready for the truth it holds. despite this, he already opened her box and whether or not he accepts the “true” reality, MK will find new consequences for unleashing the power of the colored stones on the whole of the earth.

[someofitwastrue]

sometimes i think about how patrick brice is aware of my peachfuzz tattoo and i get lightheaded

[k4pp4-8]

Thoughts on Shannon x Rad? And or Raymond x Rad?

Oooo Im glad you asked!! I'm actually quite fond of both of them!! It may be bc Rad's pretty easy to ship with other characters since he's so charming and he can have chemistry with pretty much anyone.

If I recall correctly Raymond x Rad was actually one of my first okko ships and it's one of my favorite too! I think it's clear that the creators wanted them to be a pair in one way or another, as a rivalry and/or as a romance. (It's pretty obvious that Darrell/Shannon/Raymond mirror KO/Enid/Rad I actually would love to talk more about their parallels)

They're so similar but they also manage to complete each other so well. Rad feigns confidence while being very insecure whereas Ray is completely confident to the point of narcissism. Rad suffers from toxic masculinity while Raymond couldn't care less and actually embraces things that are considered feminine.

I actually love the idea of them being so good together that they could be considered soulmates but not being willing to admit it bc of the whole hero/villain conflict (forbidden romance yaaay!) and also bc they both have too much pride to admit they may have feelings for each other

Now Shannon x Rad isn't anywhere near as popular as Radmond (I assume bc the fandom ain't that big) but hear me out, I think it's pretty cute !!

When I first watched the show I used to dislike this ship because the "Rad likes robots" episode made me a lil' uncomfortable (I could make a whole post on why I kinda hate and love this episode at the same time cause I do think it gives us some insight on shannon as a person) and also because I wasn't used to multishipping yet. I know that may sound stupid to some, but when I was younger I used to get super attached to ships to the point that I couldn't fathom the idea of a character being shipped with someone else (for example I hated Amedot only because I shipped Lapidot)

But recently I've been thinking about this again and I realized that Rad and Shannon actually have the potential to make a really cute pairing! Honestly my arguments for this ship aren't as elaborate as my Radmond analysis, it's mostly based on vibes. But I know they could have a really interesting dynamic and I wish they interracted more outside of that one singular episode.

Also I know you didn't ask BUT, since we're on the topic of Rad and robots, another ship that's underrated imo is Darrell and Rad!! I literally only know one other person who likes that ship😭 But listen they're both so goofy and cute you can't tell me they make wouldn't a cute pair?? And I'm always a sucker for a red/blue ship. Plus I love the ship name Darrad cause it's so symmetrical :) And I think the reason Darrell doesn't get shipped as much as Raymond or Shannon do is bc he gets infantilized a LOT by the fans (and even by the show)

In the end if I had to rank them by preference I'd say Radmon<Darrad<Sharad

[paperzombiie]

quick ref sheets of my 3 Azalea Valley characters so people can identify them better c:

[unnamed-proxy]

HAHA here it is! The Berry dca head-cannon masterlist!

Looong post ahead beware.

Sun:

-They can actually draw really, really well but is limited by the fact they can only use crayons, if provided with the right materials their art style would be very watercolor dominant and look like something out of a classic children’s book. (Think the ‘promotional artwork/merchandise’ from welcome home or the in-game art of rain-world)

-Gender-fluid but often male presenting

-Asexual, even if they had lips they would not enjoy kissing or anything stronger than that, however they do adore hugs and cuddling!

-They find it a lot easier to express louder emotions, anger, happiness, annoyance, excitement, etc. they’re an ugly cryer as well.

-Due to their lack of facial movement, they’ve adopted a constant flow of physical expression/movement, even when they’re going to sleep they’re still moving! Usually including (but not limited to) swaying from side to side, fidgeting with their hands, or in-place dancing like they do in game!

-They have very intense anxiety, but they were good at covering it up until Moon got the virus, becoming inconsolable whenever things got to their head afterwards.

-Adding onto that last one, they’re an overthinker.

-They have a love for makeup and sometimes hang out with Chica to play around with face paint. They’re the reason they and Moon have the starry eyeliner I give them in drawings.

-They keep a Moon plushie in their ‘room’ that they’d project him onto while in control, and they never sleep without it. (Even with the virus)

-They’re a huge theater nerd, being a particularly big fan of Hamilton and the Jekyll and Hyde musical +basically anything Disney, though they don’t get to quote/see those as often. (Their fav is a tie between Princess And The Frog and Tangled)

-They get VERY jealous very easily.

-When they’re having a bad day and Moon isn’t available they usually have a gossip party with Roxy and chica where they bitch about the incompetency of the workers or a particularly bad Karen over imaginary tea.

-Continuing from the last one, Sun also enjoys doing Roxanne’s hair when she lets them.

-Their eyes were white while having the virus since they scratched the paint off clawing at their face whenever Moon took control (or tried to).

-They love the children’s drawings and are very quick to praise them! Adults on the other hand are when they get sassy, ‘if a robot programmed to act like a child on all levels but intelligence can drawn better than you then you don’t deserve any respect anyway’ type mindset.

-If you’re over the age of 13 it’ll be a lot harder to get on their good side, but usually if you’re nice to them they’re nice to you. Unless you’re staff, they’d explode any and all staff members with their mind if they were capable of it.

-Favorite color is green.

———-

Moon:

-Goes by he/him, it/its, and they/them on occasion

-Hat functions as a tail/third arm. Its rim is attached to his head by a Velcro like material or a magnet once placed on.

-The nightcap is stored inside his stomach hatch, which is shot out by the second button on his chest.

-The upper/first button on his chest activates a musical function, the music is generated through a music box attached to the throat of his endoskeleton. Sun can use it to, but they can’t pick the song like Moon can.

-It was the one who confessed first (See)

-Moon was originally a generic fruity Disney villain character in the theater and would act out on its emotions through a theatrical, more cruel lens than they were at heart. Though he underwent massive restrictions being added to his code alongside heavy reprogramming when being relocated to the daycare.

-He is demisexual and/or Asexual, he is open to kissing but nothing more intimate than that. Otherwise, he has the same boundaries as Sun.

-Moon acts like a cat in as many ways as you can think of. Enjoying the sensation of petting/rubbing or scratching on his head, purring when happy, hissing and growling when angry or threatened, and his nightcap flicks and sways near constantly when he moves, straightening and shooting upwards when he’s annoyed and doing said hissing, and curling around his torso when he’s afraid.

-He’s also just as physically expressive as Sun! Though in different ways. Constantly shifting from foot to foot, bouncing on his feet (as shown in game), tilting his head to express what his eyes can’t, and fidgeting with his fingers like Sun. Moon is also no stranger to stimming, though he tries not to around anyone besides Sun.

-He is autistic.

-If he had a functioning mouth, its go-to stim would be chewing and biting, Sun would have no issue with this and sometimes offer to be the subject of it instead of himself.

-He has anger issues as a result of his past programming, though has long since found techniques to calm himself down for the sake of Sun, pre-virus anyway.

-Moon is a huge victim of masking, most of the inhabitants of the plex still believe him to be a maniacal monster because of this.

-He desperately wishes to go outside and see the world, hanging out infront of the glass doors of the ‘Plex’s entrance after hours to look at the stars and occasionally asking Sun to paint what they think it looks like out there.

-He keeps children’s drawings and various nicknacks inside his hat. Magnets, plushies, shirts, paint sets, severed animatronic heads, you name it and it’s probably hoarding it in there.

-He’s extremely self-conscious and overcompensates to either get people to stay with or away from him.

-He’s a wonderful singer and enjoys doing duets with Sun in his spare time!

-It sleeps with a Sun plushie and often keeps it with him in his hat at all times.

-During the virus, Moon and Vanny were besties and were near constantly in communication. He looked up to her quite a lot.

-He is very much aware of their actions during the Vanny virus and sees them as proof that he’s a horrible person.

-Moon is the reason the daycare was closed down, being responsible for a child going missing 3 different times times with the help of Vanny, until being fully taken over by the virus. (While under the virus’s effects Sun did not shy away from holding this against them.)

-He loves Sun dearly, though is extremely envious of them, he would never admit it though.

-Favorite color is purple

———-

General/both:

-GR!Foxy was Sun & Moons best friend and trusted them with her life, as did they with theirs. This persists through their relationship with Roxy though they’ve gotten significantly more distant since she became part of the band

-Their theater backstory is Sun being a rouge court-jester that joined Foxy after he visited their kingdom. They were then cursed to have their deepest, darkest thoughts and desires manifest in the form of Moon.

-Adding onto previous, Moon is the in-universe reason for Foxy missing a hand.

-The skirt was a gift from Sun! It wasn’t/isn’t a part of their original costume and they both wear it as a symbol of their love, which is why it doesn’t change during their transformation.

-Moon and Sun were the patient zero of the Vanny virus, both being different prototypes. Sun was given a version where it heightened the flaws of the animatronics programming and personality, I.e their anxiety and jealousy. While Moon was given a removal of rules and restrictions, affectively turning the infected into a wild animal or a zombie. Both types were installed 3 months before the rest of the cast and both were modified/reworked due to being ineffective, the first being too unpredictable and generally useless while the second made the victim too tough to control. Though they were basically considered failures and Vanny never bothered to put the updated version into their systems, deciding it wouldn’t be too important

-They’re a tag team! If one doesn’t feel like they could deal with a specific person they’ll send the other one out to defend them (‘Soooo bad, I should turn off the lights myself.’), or they’ll just feed the one in control insults from the head-space. Sun specializes in more personal, action based insults that cut deep while Moon makes judgments on character and rapid fires.

-Moon wants to be friends with Vanessa again, Sun does not. She avoids both of them.

-Freddy sees both of them as a singular identity and is, put simply, a massive jerk to them, but he has a particular sore spot for Moon.

-The broken staff bots in their room were taken from multiple different places, Moon would sometimes clean up after Monty so he wouldn’t be caught or they’d find an already malfunctioning one and put it out of its misery. They’d then take it back and try to learn how to repair them so they don’t have to rely on parts and services anymore to sustain themselves.

-They’re both really into playing pretend and crossdressing!

-Eclipse goes by they/them and is omnisexual & polyamorous

-Eclipse doesn’t have a favorite color, if you asked they’d just answer with ‘rainbow’ or ‘I can’t decide!’

-Eclipse was a backup ai in-case Moon went rogue that failed to activate. Sun commandeered it into a way for them to both be in sync again post-Ruin as they were extremely basic and non-sentient.

-Balloon world Eclipse is what Vanny would use to infect the boys and communicate with Moon.

-Even if they were put in separate bodies they wouldn’t leave each other alone, Moon would latch onto Sun’s neck and let them drag him along while they do their job and whisper little comments to make them laugh into their ear just like they used to in their headspace, Sun would follow him around during naptime and try to keep contact, usually holding hands or, on bad days, riding on his shoulders.

-adding onto the above, if they were upset at each other they still wouldn’t be more than a room away and make sure the other is in view at all times. DO. NOT. SEPARATE, no matter how bad the argument is, there is nothing worse to them than being alone with their own head.

Aaaand that is all! TYSM for reading <3

[acoldsovereign]

I'm glad to see you back! I have a question, if I may ask. What inspired you to make (Ancient) Saiyan Culture? And would you say Maiz is a good example of it?

Subject Matter: Lore & world building // sender: anonymous // status--always open!

{{ This is so freaking old, like MONTHS old, dear stars above. I don't know who you are but whoever sent this, I hope you're still around! 😭 My bad--

Anyhoo!! Yes, you may! And thank you for your question(s)! What inspired me to create ASC/Ancient Saiyan Culture is a long story (one that I've shared I think about twice on here?) but the short of is this: I wanted to explore why Maiz (before I completely revised her for RP purposes, she was basically a fanfic/lore study OC for Saiyan lore) was the way she was. To do that, I strived to make an antihero character with some sympathetic undertones. Which meant that I had to explain her culture, the way she thinks, why she had troubles with Turles (the version I wrote), how Paragus was important to her as a makeshift father figure despite her initially disliking/hating him for personal reasons (PLEASE someone ask me about this, it was so sweet and heartbreaking. Can you tell I love the Saiyans so MUCH AUGH--) what foods she was used to, what made up her nightmares, fears, hopes, etc.

In a way, I started cooking up Saiyan Culture around her and then around the other Saiyan characters I was writing. Somehow though, I ended up with a vast world that eclipsed them.

And well, my best friend brought me to RP and the only character I thought about constantly was Maiz, so I broke her down and did my creative thing according to the needs of the RPC (basically I stalked/lurked on a lot of the accounts that I interact with these days--the same ones that I'm proudly mutuals with 💙). I noticed there was a lack of female Saiyans and a lack of particularly vicious Saiyans in general too, so Maiz ended up becoming this really cool and complex villainous/antagonistic/aggressive character who has little to no redeeming traits, funnily enough--though "redeeming qualities" depends on who you ask, I guess. (She's actually a good mom and an interesting romantic partner to have ) In the end, she ended up being a hit with everyone that's seen/read her stuff/interacted with her.

But speaking of her and the culture that surrounds her, you know what? Ironically enough, she is a decent example but at the same time, not the best even if she's an expert on it. (And yes, the hypocrisy is intentional on my end. Sometimes Maiz comes close to realizing it, and other times it goes over her head. She does deny things to rationalize her actions occasionally. Make of that what you will).

Ahem.

Ancient Saiyan Culture, at its core is all about community and teamwork--albeit taken to dark extremes due to Saiyan tribalism.* (And no, not all of it is dark, I digress).

(We see aspects of this in the franchise all throughout, sadly only in flashbacks or filler or whatever, but that's neither here or there. Again, I digress).* Individuality is celebrated but it wasn't emphasized because it didn't NEED to be, pre-Cold Family. Maiz excels at being an individual, but her main problem is that she denies personhood and understanding to other Races. Unless she likes them, or likes an individual from that Race. And even then, she's liable to treat them as a "token" until she gets better. (She does with long term exposure, but she'll still be Permanently Weird because she is a Stubborn Alien Lady™ with a Petty Streak).

The plot twist is: this line of thought + behaviors would be considered the Saiyan equivalent of 'sympathy'. Because the way she was taught was to spare nobody. Not even a child. But Maiz post-Genocide will spare people--but only if they are a nuisance that she thinks lowly of ( it's kinda how her and Jay's Future Trunks got started; the slowest burn in the universe / @burnxngslash), someone that she thinks is interesting or could be useful to her long term (the majority of her slaves and how she got her kingdoms/twelve planets), or because they amuse her in some way that she can't exactly put her finger on so it forces her to think further on if she really wanna kill them or not. Spoiler alert: She Does Not and Reasons May Vary (basically her and Thane's Future Trunks' dynamic right now / @hopefromadoomedtimeline. Listen they're complicated okay but they're working it out. Just know that she is Not Normal™ about him. He Makes Her Heart Nervous and She Doesn't Like It).

Point is: there are some aspects of the culture that Maiz doesn't exactly live up to, but it's her choice. Other times, it's because it's too painful (what community can you have when the only survivors of your Race are half breeds and some spread out males that are so far removed from the culture that it feels like you might as well be the only true survivor left?), or because it's something she doesn't agree with: killing off the weaker partner after reproduction for example.

Fun fact: For a very long time, Maiz dreaded the idea of being in an intimate relationship because she was afraid that a potential mate would see her blind eye as a defect and kill her off after having a baby with her. Weakness of any kind was ingrained in her at birth to be an unsavory thing, which partially fueled her viciousness as a childling. She wanted to live to adulthood. (She doesn't know that this is the main reason why she denies herself romantic and sexual feelings as an adult. All of this got repressed and forgotten about, post Genocide).

Also--this may come as a shock to you all--but Maiz, for all her high self esteem, doesn't actually see herself as super attractive. It's because back on Planet Vegeta, the beauty standards revolve around health, intelligence and physical ability. Her eye is more than enough to dock off several 'social'/beauty points even if her strength more than makes up for it. That, and even though she's a taller and more muscular version of her mother, she was indirectly taught that there are more 'beautiful' people out there. You'd never know this though because of how arrogant/rude/cruel/mean, etc she is and how she carries herself. (She forgets she's her mom spitting image too).

She also isn't deprecating about it (nor does she think about it so it wouldn't even make sense for me write it out unless I'm in a scene where that's the topic). Like, she's not UGLY, but she's not mid either? She sees herself as in between these two things.

I wanted to write more but you know, avoiding the whole "making her too sympathetic" thing is still going strong over here. Hopefully this paints a clear enough picture for you! Thanks again for the question anon!