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xamassed · 3 years

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｢ @shrapnelsong ｣

She'd been working up the courage to do it for the better part of the day. Alice was not about to subject herself to all manner of teasing from the other brothers, so it had to be just the two of them. So she waited until they were back from school and everyone had gone off to do their own thing. "Hey, Mammon..?" She called out softly, holding her hands behind herself and looking quite timid about it. "Can you do me a favor?" Despite being well aware that phrasing it in such a way would immediately prompt the demon to ask for compensation, she couldn't bring herself to come out with it right off the bat. Color still rose to her cheeks even after he agreed and she brought the magazine forward, right at his center spread picture. "Will you sign it for me, please?"

Hearing his name, Mammon was tempted to wave the human aside. His day had started off pleasant enough, but his brothers and a frustrating string of classes had gradually soured his mood. Even someone as angelic as Alice couldn’t possibly drag him out of the pit he found himself in — except when he turned to scowl at her, he was dumbfounded by the bashful look she wore. The dread and disappointment and bone-deep exhaustion weren’t totally whisked away, but a small fraction of it shifted from a bleak darkness to something softer, lighter and significantly warmer.

Damn her! How was he supposed to mope when she looked so cute all the time?

“Depends. You got the grimm?” He tilted his head to the size, the gold flecks in his eyes flashing hot and nearly overpowering their usual deep blue. The sudden rush of greed was blindsided, however, when he stared down at a photo of himself. Mammon made it a point to mention at every given opportunity that he was a model, hoping that Alice might catch on and give him the attention he wanted so badly. It wasn’t until she reached out with his magazine, centerfold open and at the ready, that he realized she had been listening.

A deep, dark red burst in his cheeks — not because she had discovered the pages, but because she wanted his autograph.

“Th—That’s what ya stopped me for? Can’t really blame ya. Who wouldn’t want my autograph?” His chest puffed and gave a cocky sniff before taking the magazine from her. His other hand motioned for a pen, a marker, anything that he could scribble his name down with. As soon as she handed him a suitable color, he tore the cap off with his teeth and. . . stalled.

He stared down at the pages, a frown forming around the cap, the truth that this was his first ever given autograph occurring to him in that instant. The fact that it was going to her didn’t elude him either. All of this felt fairly significant to him, but what if it didn’t mean as much to her? For all he knew, she planned to sell it — that’s what he would have done, anyway. In fact, it took him a saint’s worth of control not to tuck the magazine away and sell it himself.

“Hey, listen up.” He mumbled and brought the pages closer, brows furrowing as he left long, swooping letters in the corner ( as well as a small doodle of himself winking and an even tinier heart beside that. ) “Don’t go thinkin’ you can sell this! I know it’ll be tempin’ as Hell, seein’ as how it’s got THE Mammon’s signature on it, but you ain’t allowed! This is yours, and yours alone! I mean it!”

He popped the cap onto the marker and handed it over, but kept the magazine out of reach. There was still a swath of red across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but the look on his face was both honest and firm.

“Seriously, don’t let anyone have this. It’s a one of a kind, and I’m givin’ it to ya for free. ‘Cause, y’know. . . you’re my human, and my only fan as far as I know. If I find out you made a load’a money offa this, I ain’t gonna forgive ya!”

#shrapnelsong #「 ( mammon ; ic ) 」#「 v. ready to face THE mammon? ( mammon ; obey me ) 」

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dahtwitchi · 3 years

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Hello there! I absolutely adore your art style, it's clear enough that even when scribbly you can tell who everyone is and simple enough that you probably don't need to spend hours doing a single pose. Any tips for how to speed up how long it takes to draw characters? Or just drawings tips in general? Thank you for your time and for getting me thoroughly on the MadaTobi bandwagon, I've been coloring some of your coloring pages for them and they're always adorable.

When it comes to speed, there is only one way. Do it over and over and over again. Get familiar with the character, draw them in different situations, different clothes, different moods. Sometimes to hit just the right expression, I have drawn (when it's eluding me the most) upward twenty versions of the same expression and then still picked attempt #2. I've drawn Tobirama and Madara well over a thousand times by now. Doodle doodle doodle away without intent to make grand images, sketches you can be ready pick out one or two and throw the rest away, because they were just training for your hand and brain for when you actually do make those drawings you want to be the more refined ones.

(unrefined babbling under cut)

When I make sketch studies I often do so with a timer, and, important to me personally, a pen that can't be erased. What ends up on the paper ends up on the paper (spending too much time with digital tend to slow me down overall, way too easy to stop to fiddle with everything and make it into a habit x'3 for example go in and change the angle of an arm individually for half an hour, instead of having to draw the image all over again). Trying to get sketches down under five minutes, three, single minute, is a horror, but oh so useful and can be a real fun challange. The feeling when you finally manage more than just a head and an arm during the time is such a reward! I spent six very stubborn months a couple years back making speed studies every day. I barely had energy for any other arting, but built skill in a way that make me grumpy about not having done it again, but it is so exhausting and a chore... :p (I mostly made not humans, though. I chose weird things, objects placed together that weren't usual, emptied a penbox on the table, and so on, no pre-concieved ideas how it should look when you have some potatoes on a glass jar.)

Things like inktober or huevember or dogaust are good, too. To within a contained timeframe sit down every day with a very focused theme or excersise make a good difference. If one has little time, just make sure to pick something small enough to focus on that you can do it as many days as possible. A five minute sketch every day for example. Or just doodling, but always with the same tool. Or, as you mentioned characters, make something with the same character over a month. Drawing patterns help the penmanship, drawing dogs or cats every day will make a difference over a month. Arting a big full drawing everyday because a few fulltime or very very experienced artists do, when oneself tend to take a week or at least a cuple days and rarely make one on top of another? That's setting oneself up for failure. Set yourself up for success, it's more fun and better for the mental health <3 All the small repeated things matter a lot in the long run for putting tools in your skill toolbox for when you want to level up :3

The only times I spend hours on a pose, is sometimes for the elaborate full colour drawings. But, with those, I'm usually refining a sketch by redrawing it with small iterations of changes many times over before having a basis I'm pleased with.

Complete rambles, hope some made sense, and it wasn't too tiring hearing the same old omg DO EEET AGAIN AND AGAIIIINNNNNN x'p

#how I art #how long ago was this ask I don't know?#the phone app is SUPER stingy telling me about the ask inbox #tumblr peak performance :thumbsup:#I forget to check few times I'm on a computer x'D #maybe I should make sketch studies for inktober this year #it's about time #it was ages since last I regularly kept that up and it's noticable x'p

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lucky-bucky-boy · 4 years

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Muse

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve’s little art hobby wasn’t necessarily a secret, but how good he was at it? That part was.

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: Fluff, eluded angst and insecurity from Steve

A/N: This is for a writing challenge by @jbbuckybarnes. I truly tried my best to make this my absolute most inclusive piece of writing, so if you have any constructive criticism on how I can do that better please message me.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcome and highly appreciated.

Bright sunlight pranced throughout the small Brooklyn apartment, flittering and flickering through the air. A few tea light candles were strewn around on flat surfaces, emanating a soft vanilla scent that enhanced the sweetness that lingered from the nights dessert, a rare thing but a necessity with what was bound to happen in the next few weeks. Soft blankets and a peaceful quiet, comfortable silence that only made the warmth of the moment stronger.

Your eyes flickered from the book in your hand to your sweet boyfriend sitting opposite of the room in his favorite chair. A colorful pallete and a dirty cup of water sat on the table next to him, his hand moving in thoughtful flicks as his teeth nibbled at his lip in concentration. A few pieces of his blonde hair had fallen into his face, occasionally shaking his head to move it from his view and causing a smile to spread across your lips.

Steve has always painted. A fun little hobby to fill the time. Sometimes it'd just be a drawing, a simple sketch with charcoal. But lately, since meeting Dr.Eskrine late last week he's been specifically painting more and more. The colors on his pallete have even become brighter and move varied, but he never showed you the pictures. You assumed they were just personal little doodles, nothing big and extravagant, maybe something that would be somehow embarrassing for him.

However, you did know why he had been painting more. Steve had been recruited, kind of. He'd be the subject of an experiment called Project Rebirth. Neither of you knew too much about it, but you did know that within the next week or to Steve would be receiving his letter for him to be wisped away.

At first, Steve was excited. He finally had managed to find a way to get what he wanted, a way to serve his country. And you were excited for him as well, how couldn't you be? His blue eyes lit up so bright when he told you, so excited and talking so fast he was practically reminiscent of a puppy. He nearly gave himself an asthma attack with how much energy was coursing through him.

But the reality quickly set in for the both of you. He'd be leaving. Your Stevie, your perfect gentleman of a boyfriend, your number one supporter would have to leave you, and there was a good chance he may not come home. You two cried that night, a whirlwind of emotions laying catastrophy to your bliss, and vowed that every moment between then and him leaving would be the most special time you could imagine.

Some would argue that there wasn't anything special about this; About sitting feet apart, in the most peaceful quiet only slightly disturbed by the sounds of people going home after a long days work outside, doing your own thing. But you couldn't have this with anyone else, this comfort and feeling of home was something you never felt until Steve. Everyone was shocked when the two of you moved in together, but you hadn't wanted to let this feeling slip through your fingers, and you were even more grateful now that you had made the decision to do so.

Without thinking much of it, you sat your book down and stood up, moving to Steve. After pressing a kiss to his forehead you grabbed the dirty cup of water and moved to the kitchen just feet away to refresh it for him.

You felt his gaze follow you, as it always did when you moved about. He tried not to admit it but he was truly shocked as to how he got so lucky to be with you. Someone so caring, driven, and open minded. Someone who's inner beauty matched their appearance, who was definitely way out of his league in his opinion and didn't have a care in the world for how small he was. A girl who was almost too ambitious and too determined for her own good. You inspired him, way more than you knew at this point.

"Whatcha painting, dear?" Your voice cut through his thoughts as you came back with the fresh water, only trying to peak at the pad of paint paper a little.

The flush that covered his skin was far too obvious for him to play off, and he tripped over his words as he talked, "it's uh, nothing - really - I mean it's not nothing but-"

The light laugh that fell from your lips caused him to blush even darker. Steve watched as you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before kneeling beside him. The look you gave him was too pure and sweet and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist whatever you requested of him next.

"Can you please show me some of your paintings, Stevie? You paint so much and I feel like this is a piece of you I don't know much about." The sweetness and curiosity had him cliff diving head first into falling in love with you all over again.

"Uh, s-sure." Steve did well of hiding the one he had been working on, sitting it aside and out of view as he flipped through a few pages of his painting paper and showed you a picture he painted of a garden.

Your breath was practically stolen as your gaze danced across the intricate detail of the picture he was showing you. Variants of almost every shade in the rainbow were whisped across the paper, creating a beautiful scene of blooming flowers and bushes, caged in by a white picket.

"You can paint? Like, really paint?" The statement came as more of a question, almost in disbelief with what you were seeing. You had sworn painting was just a pass-time type of hobbie for Steve, but you were wrong, way wrong. It wasn't a hobbie, it was a talent.

"A little bit, yeah, I guess," he mumbled, bashful and still not use to any type of praise. "I had- I had painted that one night after we had talked about buying a house one day. You said you wanted a little cottage with a white picket fence and a huge garden. I figured, if I couldn't give the real thing to you, I could at least paint you something close to it."

Your heart practically broke and swelled all at once. The sincerity of this man never ceased to baffle you. "Stevie! You call this a little bit?" You exclaimed. "This is beautiful. Can you show me another?"

He smiled, shy but hopeful and nodded. Steve moved down to sit on the floor with you, pulling a few of the papers out to lay across the floor, all different scenes of things you had talked about wanting to do together. A little bakery, a blue cottage, a cabin and lake. Your eyes scanned across every one, seeing every little detail and color, feeling like you were seeing a scene out of a movie, feeling like you could have actually been there.

"Steve, love, these are amazing," you breathed out, voice soft and quiet.

"I painted them for you," he admitted, voice just as hushed. He avoided looking at you, but you couldn't help but look at him after that admittance. "When I found out about getting recruited I starting painting everything we ever wanted to do together so you could hang them up or keep them to remember me, so you wouldn't forget me."

"Forget you?" The little pang of hurt was evident in your voice. "Stevie," you leaned over, cupping his face with your hand and making him look at you. A quiet exchange of sad smiles before you pressed a kiss to his lips, a promise, "I'll never forget you. I love you."

Steve smiled a little more brightly. "I love you too, doll."

"But," you voice had a tease, trying to keep the mood light and happy. It wasn't time for tears, not yet. You wanted as many happy moments with him as possible before he left, "you have to promise not to forget me."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head, "I couldn't if I tried."

And little did you know, the painting he set aside was his way of making sure he didn't forget you. That he wouldn't forget the way your hair sat against your skin, or the bridge of your nose, or any freckle and smile line. The warmth that emanated from you or the curve of your lips in a resting smile.

No picture could do any of that, any piece of you justice. So, Steve didn't rely on a picture, instead he just painted his favorite muse. After a moment of hesitation he moved to grab it. It wasn't quite finished, but almost there and done enough to show you.

"I painted those for you, but I'm painting this one for me, to keep with me while I'm away."

Steve sat back down, showing you the all too realistic portrait of you reading a book, in the position you'd taken comfort in over the last week. Your breath had truly caught in your throat this time, times welling as emotions bubble in you. "See, doll, I can't forget something I've painted."

Tags: @lokilvrr @hurricanerin @kcd15

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