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#i had to do all the shading on the same layer because of the lighting being weird which was a whole challenge
coridallasmultipass · 21 days
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TG: bro flew off the handle TG: theres seriously something weird going on with him TT: So you finally noticed. TG: no i mean it TG: just beat him in a strife for the first time TG: he fucking lost it TT: That would imply he ever had it to begin with. TG: if you saw what i saw TG: ugh i dont even know TG: forget it
So listen, everyone loves a Decap Dirk, that's my main excuse. I thought about what if Bro tries to get Dave to finish him off early. IDK. It was a shitpost kind of idea, but I just kept making the drawing a more finished quality, and so I had to commit to finishing it.
Bro and Dave are trans men.
Still HQ versions and image text under the cut:
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Image text: Fuckin' do it, Dave. C'mon, man. You won. Finish the job. DO IT! Haa Haa... [Image is from Dave's point-of-view. Bro's neck is pinned under Dave's sword, his sunglasses are askew and he has a wild grin and facial piercings. Bro holds Dave in place by grabbing his shirt. Bro's eyes are wide, and his left one shows a flash of billiard ball patterns before returning to normal.]
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sixosix · 27 days
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5k event request :P
Kazuha, light stick, and fluff please
a/n hi anon! when i saw light stick, i instantly interpreted it as those kpop light sticks,, im not sure if u meant something else like those glow sticks, so i am hoping this was what u meant HAHA
wc 700, idol!kazuha/fan!reader, im sure u guys have heard of the 6REEZE group somewhere, meet-cute; disclaimer i only know how auction works from my classmates roleplaying them so ignore accuracies for fic’s sake. bless.
5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST
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Kazuha, to be frank, felt a little embarrassed.
His features stood out too much, his friends told him. To go out and enjoy the fresh air of the day, he had to not enjoy the fresh air with a face mask, conceal his red streak of hair by clipping it back and burying it under a cap, and wear green-tinted sunglasses (also to disguise the red of his eyes) that he was struggling to get used to.
In his defense, His friends weren’t any better. Aether’s braid could be recognized with only that, Venti’s glowing braids weren’t any better, Heizou’s shade of hair and green eyes would stand out—if not his unique voice, and everyone knew Xiao even if he were to shave all his hair off. Scaramouche could be salvageable, but one word from his mouth and his fans would fall to their knees—it could be his voice, but it would be the attitude.
Kazuha felt a little too hot with his disguise, but he wanted this, so he would go through with it. He tugged his mask under his nose, relaxing at the scent of the open air. The mall had an open area with trees all over; the leaves fell to the ground, and the wind brushed past. Kazuha couldn’t feel it, having been stuffed under layers, but he was satisfied.
Although it felt embarrassing to be clothed in this disguise, he couldn’t go outside this freely before. He was going to make the most of it.
And then he passed by a stall that had him doing a double take. Kazuha took a few steps back, lighting up with recognition. He couldn’t be mistaken, not with that familiar symbol of Anemo. The stall displayed a light stick of their group, released only a few days ago.
His friends would have a blast if he came back with it, most likely, Kazuha mused. Maybe he could bring it back as a gift.
A hand shot out from the side, blocking his view of the light stick. Kazuha blinked, a little surprised. He followed the arm's stretch and came face-to-face with an angry stranger.
“Hey, you!” you said. Kazuha felt like he needed to stand straighter at the tone. “I had my eye on this one first, ‘kay? Whatever number you have in mind—keep it. I finally get my hands on one of these; I’m not letting it go!”
“Oh, this was an auction?” he asked curiously. The stall didn’t seem to be being run by anyone at the moment, and no one else was there.
“Well, no,” you sniffed, “but I would win. I already told the seller I called dibs on this one—wait until she gets back.”
Charmed, Kazuha smiled. “Two thousand.”
“Three.”
“Three-thousand, five hundred?”
“Five-thousand, three hundred.”
Kazuha had to wonder: “How much do these usually cost?”
“Five thousand, if you’re lucky. I’ll make it ten thousand, easy. Are you still not backing down?”
Kazuha laughed under his breath. Were you serious? Were you actually willing to drop that much for this? “Alright, I cede. I apologize for attempting to defeat you.”
You grinned, eyes sparkling quite literally as your gaze slid back to the lightstick. You were very pretty. “Yeah, I thought so.” You eyed him curiously; Kazuha suddenly felt a little shy. “Are you a fan as well?”
Kazuha nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from your genuine smile for a few moments. His eyes drifted down to your shirt, which had the same Vision of the lightstick—but there was something else. “You could say that.”
Your shirt had maple leaves swirling around the logo, and Kazuha could recognize it all too well because he was asked to sit down and draw it for their merchandise—something personal for each member. Did Kazuha have the right to suspect what it meant that you were wearing his?
Emboldened, Kazuha gestured at the lightstick. “As a fellow enthusiast, may I extend my offer to cover this purchase?”
You blinked and stuttered. “W-What— You don’t have to! I literally stole it from you!”
“So you confess that you pried it off of me?” Kazuha teased.
“That’s not—Listen—” You stared at him, then got flustered. “Hold on, are you hitting on me?”
“Yes.” He took off his sunglasses and tugged down his mask, flashing a sweet smile that he knew was utterly unfair. Your face bluescreened out of pure shock. Without the mask muffling his voice, it was clear as day. “So, will you let me?”
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undercoverpena · 5 months
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stockings and stars
javier peña x f!reader
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summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back
from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k
an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.
text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi
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Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.
one time I come to yours in a red shirt
You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.
keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone
Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...
you don’t play fair
I think I’ll be in stockings too…
youre killing me
Maybe they’re white and red, and…
baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now
Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.
how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby
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The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.
He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.
Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.
He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.
Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.
Tremendously so.
While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.
Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.
It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.
Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.
Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.
But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.
The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.
He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.
Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.
Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.
He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.
An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.
Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.
Because nothing ever fucking is.
Least of all when you’re waiting for him.
His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—
“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.
It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.
He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.
And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.
Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.
It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.
Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.
There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.
It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.
Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.
Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?
He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.
You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.
He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.
He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.
Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.
Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.
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You still fighting with the garland?
baby its torturing me on purpose
Do you want me to come and help?
will you come in the stockings
No!! Your dad is there.
then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me
Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.
ive got other plans for you
Because I’m the star?
yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back
Hurry then.
i’m hurrying
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He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.
As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.
It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.
He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.
Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.
On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.
The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.
For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.
You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now
There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.
He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.
Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.
“You finally made it!”
Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.
Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.
“Cariño, you’re…”
You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.
“Fuck me.”
“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”
His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.
“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.
“Right now?”
Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”
“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”
“I’m your menace.”
Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”
Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.
“Need to ask you something too.”
And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.
“Go on.”
Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”
His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.
He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.
“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”
The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.
But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.
What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.
You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.
“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”
“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”
It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.
“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”
You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.
“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”
Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”
Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”
“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.
“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”
Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.
“Baby,” you whisper.
And he hums.
It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.
“Undo me.”
Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.
“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.
Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.
Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.
Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.
“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.
His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.
“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”
Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”
“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”
Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.
“All for you.”
“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.
His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.
“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.
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an: merry christmas, love you
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morebird · 4 months
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Do you have any tips for how you draw faces so good? Besides just visual references? Do you ever free draw them? I've been trying to figure it out but it's been frustrating to try to find the write way to start I feel the more I practice the more complicated it gets
Is.... the way I draw faces that good? I feel like a lot of you see the final artwork and think that it looks this good from the very start, when actually my art with only the line art looks goofy af, at least for me.
I am going to bare you my soul anon, because I think all the lighting and shading makes everything look better than it actually is:
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So here it is Mr. Priest himself in various stages of progress, as you can see the face with only the line art is nothing special, the lighting and shadows is what makes it great.
Now for the advice part. For me at least getting the right shape of everything helps. Forget it's a face, it's just pieces that have to fit together. Don't just look at the shape of each part, but also the space between each of them. I wish I had some examples but most of the times I delete that layer once I have a good sketch. But here is a simplified version of what I do:
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So I guess this is an advice of how to properly use visual references. I don't draw without references, because I don't trust my brain, some things are fine to draw from memory but faces aren't one of those things. Also this is just me and how I do things, doesn't mean you cant learn and draw from memory.
Maybe your problem is not the same as mine, for me all the individual pieces are easy to draw but it's all of them together what messes with my brain, so with a rough rough sketch I have everything in its place and then I can work on making it "pretty"
This is without getting into perspective, because that's something that I don't know how to teach or explain and it takes some time to get it right. I have been drawing Destiny stuff for 3 years from all kinds of crazy perspective so after all of that practice drawing a face in a 3 point perspective is not that complicated. References help too 😅
I also would like to mention, I am not an expert or professional. I am still learning too, so maybe this is not the best way to approach things. I know that there are multiple more correct ways to draw faces, with all the circles and lines but that never worked for me. I tried to learn it like that, got frustrated and stopped. And then I started treating faces as robot parts that all have it's place and shape, and it worked.
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nightdiary · 1 year
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last night's story (jake) – preview
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word count: estimated 15-20k genre: surfer!jake, friends to enemies to lovers, angst, attempt at humor, fluff, eventual smut author's note: the odysseus concept demon got my ass. i cannot get surfer jake out of my mind so this was born .. whew! let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for when this is released <3 FULL STORY HAS BEEN POSTED!
summary: lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim.
“You should come watch me at the state titles next week,” Jake leans over the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing you with an impish look. The movement sends a few droplets from his fringe landing by your hands, and he sheepishly apologizes before reaching out to wipe them away.
Instinctively, you want to reach out and shove his forehead with your fingers, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t the same Jake you’d grown up with. Whatever you’d once had was left decaying in the past.
“Sure,” you say, ignoring the nagging warmth in your chest. Feigning nonchalance, you busy yourself with tapping on the checkout screen of the iPad, if only to give your hands something to do other than to fidget with your shirt. “Me and how many other chicks?”
Jake laughs good-naturedly, but the momentary lapse of insecurity in his voice isn’t lost on you. You feel guilty for just a moment, but don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. As you finalize his order on the screen, you look up to find Jake already looking back at you, almost expectantly.
“Your total’s $270.59.”
Jake’s face falters the slightest bit, but you don’t think it’s because of the ridiculously high price. “Does that factor in the ‘good friend discount’?”
The phrase makes something sour flood in your mouth, and you resist the urge to scowl. The receipt machine prints out his total, and you rip the paper out with more force than admitted necessarily. You nearly slam it down on the counter in front of Jake, peering up at his shocked face through your lashes. “Yea? What’s my favorite color, Jake?”
Noticeably taken aback, Jake’s confident demeanor slips away as easily as a receding wave. He stutters around his next sentence, and you try not to let your satisfaction show as you open the register. Jake looks down as he counts through the bills in his wallet, pulling out several and passing them timidly across the surface. “Uh–, well, hmm. Something… blue? Wasn’t it blue?”
“I hate blue,” you spit the lie out a bit too quickly, and hope Jake can’t see right through you. You accept the bills you’re handed with pursed lips, slipping them into your register and handing back the few cents you owe him.
“You don’t,” Jake answers immediately, not bothering to reach out and pocket the change. “You love blue. That light seafoam shade you see on the shore. Used to say it reminded you of summer.”
Despite how much you want to disagree, your throat feels all dry and your eyes are stinging and you don’t think you can bear to look at Jake much longer without saying something regretful. But something about letting him think he still knows you makes your fists clench and gut boil.
“People change,” you say with an air of finality. “I changed. You changed.”
Jake takes his bag and steps back from the counter with the expression of a kicked puppy. He looks back at you like he wants to say something, something long left untouched, and you resist the urge to hide behind your counter and stuff your ears with cotton.
You feel naked and vulnerable– like Jake has carefully stripped away every last layer of your defenses and he can see the rotting remains of everything you didn’t say. You hate how he looks at you, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind and the inner monologue you’ve been fighting since you first met him. Like he still knows you in and out, despite moving away and changing every last bit of yourself that reminded you of him.
“Thanks for shopping with us,” the smile you give him is anything but warm, and you shut the register with a bang that echoes around the shop. “Have a good rest of your day, Jake.”
likes and reblogs greatly appreciated ♥
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writeforfandoms · 4 months
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A Lonely Place - 1
Find my Soap masterlist
My first entry for the SoapItUp challenge by @glitterypirateduck - I used the prompt "Don't move" for this chapter.
This is set in the same universe as my Gaz zombie fic "Little Talks", but you don't have to read that to understand this. This starts six months later.
Reader is female and described as American, no other descriptors used.
Warnings: Zombie apocalypse, swearing, canon typical violence, alcohol mention.
Word count: 1.6k
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You shifted your pack on your back, resisting the urge to groan. You'd been walking most of the day, you were tired and sore, and you wanted nothing more than to find a safe place to collapse for the night. 
Fortunately, you could see a building up ahead. 
It didn't take long to clear the area - no infected around, no bodies either. Which wasn't all that surprising. You weren't sure where exactly you were, but this was the first building you'd seen in a while. 
The door creaked as you pushed it open, and you winced at the noise. But when you looked, you still didn't see any movement around. 
Good enough. 
Your pack thumped against the floor, and you took a few moments to stretch out your neck and shoulders, hoping to alleviate some of the constant ache. Next was some food - you were running low, hopefully you'd find more soon. You chewed while you cleared the rest of the house, checking for anything useful as you did. 
No weapons. Of course. But some of the clothes would work, including a thick jacket. That would be helpful - the weather was already turning cold, and you couldn't exactly jog down to the nearest store to buy more. Socks were always handy, too. 
You brought your new loot down to your pack, humming a little as you carefully re-packed things. 
One more perimeter check, because you didn't want to leave anything to chance, found you outside just before sundown. You shaded your eyes against the light, admiring the splashes of color across the sky, even as you checked the ground for movement. 
You had just turned to go back inside when you heard the engine. 
It took a moment to register what you were hearing. It had been a long time since you'd heard a car. Since before the end, really. Your head swiveled towards the sound, eyes wide. 
A car! Someone had a car! They could–
Well. They could do all kinds of things, possibly. Not all of those things were good. 
So you went back inside, hunkering down near a window to watch outside. The car, a big SUV, rolled down the road outside, slow enough to you guessed the inhabitants were looking for infected. Or survivors. 
You were suddenly very glad you had come back inside, and had no lights. 
The car rolled on out of sight and you breathed out in relief. Good enough for you. 
You used the last of the light to knit, working on the sweater again. Sure, you'd found the big jacket, but it never hurt to have layers available. You weren't sure what to expect from winter in this part of the world. 
The night passed quietly, and you were on your way again the next day, knitting once again securely tucked away. This spot wasn't bad - maybe you'd come back, after you found some supplies. 
Like food. 
With a soft groan, you shouldered your pack and followed the road. That was your best bet to find more food. 
Walking by yourself was, quite honestly, boring. You'd seen so much of this damned country by now that the sights no longer inspired awe, and the way your feet ached from constantly being on the move didn't exactly make you want to stop and sight see. You'd learned the hard way that knitting while walking was a terrible idea. 
Which left you with time to think, and lots of it. 
You still weren't quite sure what you were doing, not really. You just knew that you were stranded on a different continent, unable to go home, unwilling to trust anyone enough to get close. 
Not after last time. 
You got lucky - there was a town less than a full day's walk from the house. Everything looked silent and deserted, signs long gone dark. A liquor store door was smashed in, glass precariously littering the ground. 
You avoided the glass as best you could, all too aware of the potential noise, and crept inside. This place had probably been looted, but you could hope… 
You didn't find much. Some chips that had been overlooked and a half-empty bottle of scotch.
You took it with you. 
The rest of the town was just as quiet, and you went through all the stores. Most of them were empty, looted. 
But you struck metaphorical gold. One store had a stash of yarn tucked away in the back, in the office. You nearly did a little happy dance. That would come in handy. 
You were stuffing the third skein in your bag when you heard the shuffling. You froze. 
Silence for long moments. Long enough that you wondered if you'd imagined it. Then the shuffle came again, the scrape of a shoe across the floor.
You swallowed hard, hands shaking a little as you closed your bag. The zipper made almost no noise as you pulled it closed so, so slowly. 
There was a back door, you'd seen it past the office. You could get out that way. 
You took one step out of the office, hands clenched so tightly around your bag that they ached. 
The wet thunk of something, or someone, being hit hard nearly made you startle. The soft swear that followed it was no better. 
“Nice kill,” a soft, masculine voice murmured. 
You shuddered at the wet squelch, like a knife being removed from a piece of meat. Okay. Probably two of them, at least. Maybe more. 
Time to hit the road.
You moved down the hall as silently as you could, pausing in front of the back door. One deep breath in helped steady you, at least long enough for you to shove the door open. 
A shout behind you made you move, booking it out of the building. You spared a wild moment to look, searching for the nearest good hiding place, and then ran for the trees. 
Maybe you could lose them in the trees, or they'd decide you weren't worth the trouble. 
That notion didn't last long. Only as long as it took to be tackled to the ground. You fell with a yelp, hitting the ground hard. 
“Got a runner,” came the voice from the person perched on your back. A man, you guessed from the voice. Local, from the accent. 
“Get off!” You tried to twist out from under him, heart beating hard, nearly panicking. 
“Don't move.” Something firm pressed against the back of your shoulder. Kind of rectangular. Hard. 
Your blood went cold at the implication. A weapon of some kind. Possibly a gun. You stilled, though you were still breathing fast, gaze darting around for any possible escape route. 
“Let her up, Soap.” A pair of boots planted firmly in your vision. The weight lifted from your back suddenly, unexpectedly. It took you a moment to push back up to your feet, a little wobbly, pack clutched to your chest.
Two men stood in front of you, both armed. One wore a kind of bucket hat, while the other had a mohawk, gone a little shaggy. They were both imposing, and your shoulders curled in. 
“What are you doing skulking around here?” The hatted one asked, eyes a little narrowed as he visibly sized you up. 
You thought about being snarky, you really did. But fear won out. “Looking for food.” 
He blinked, just once. “Sounds like you're on the wrong side of the pond.” 
You grimaced. He wasn't the first to point out your obviously American accent, but it still didn't feel friendly. “I was on vacation,” you answered shortly, looking down, fingers tightening on your pack. “When it all started.” 
They were both silent for a few long moments before the mohawked one stepped forward. “Mind if Ah look in yer pack?”
You eyed him. If you said no, he'd probably take it by force. “Just… be careful, please.” You held out your pack, trying to hold back your nerves. 
He nodded, taking the bag and taking a look through it. “Hate to tell ye, bonnie, but ye cannae kill infected with yarn.” He shot you a grin, clearly amused. 
You huffed, warming with some mixture of embarrassment and indignation. “Of course not,” you grumbled. “But you know what I can do with yarn? Make a sweater.” 
He looked at you again, assessing, before he handed your bag back. “How long ye been on yer own?” 
You shifted your weight from foot to foot. “I mean… It's… been a while.” 
He looked back to the hatted man, and the two seemed to have a silent conversation. Two more men came out the back door you'd used, walking over to join the little meeting. Your gaze flicked between all of them, nerves rising the longer their little conference lasted. 
“Right,” the hatted one said with a sigh, looking at you. “Come with us.”
“Why?” You pulled back a little, clutching your pack to your chest. 
“We've got supplies,” the Scottish one volunteered. “Safe place to stay.” 
You eyed them warily. Sure, they could be telling the truth… but there was a good reason you didn't trust people anymore. 
“Here.” One of the newcomers stepped forward, pulling out a bigass knife. He flipped it easily, hilt towards you. “Any of us try to hurt you, you defend yourself, yeah?” 
You took the knife slowly, fingers curling around the hilt. It wasn't a lot, but it did make you feel better. You breathed in deep, looking between them all. The Scottish one looked kind of hopeful. 
“Okay,” you finally agreed, cautiously hopeful. “I'll go with you.”
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mochiiniko · 2 months
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follow up to this ask! this time im just gonna be talking about my coloring process (i also want to let you all know that im not an expert in color theory since im still learning, im quite literally just going random bullshit go on the blending modes 💀 lots of explanation under the cut)
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the three blending modes i mainly use are exclusion, hard light, and overlay. from the guide above you could see how the blending modes work on their own, and how they look like combined altogether. the cool thing about blending mode layers is that it really is all about experimentation and finding the best combination for a piece (also to any fellow inabakumori enjoyers GRAHH lagtrain pose jumpscare)
i went through a bunch of blending mode phases before i ended up with those main three, though it's funny how ive been using the same overlay color for about 4 years now (multiply used to be one of them, and i still use it from time to time, just not as much). im gonna be honest the whole reason why i know about blending modes being helpful was because one time i accidentally had the fill bucket on and had a certified eureka moment 😭
the best way i could explain these three modes is:
exclusion - honestly i still dont understand how it works either 💀 when i use a really saturated blue color and lower the opacity, it gives a cooler feeling to the palette. feels like a mix of multiply and overlay with how it adjusts the colors without making it darker
hard light - gives more saturation and color
overlay - gives off a glowy effect, especially if the lineart isnt completely solid (this is why it isnt clipped on the folder as shown in the example below, keeping it above the layers gets that glowy effect)
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i still use the same colors for exclusion and overlay (while i do alter them with hue saturation brightness from time to time, i just use the same blue and brown for most of my works) though hard light is what i use to make drawings lean towards a temperature
i tend to use warm colors a lot because i think theyre neat and also im biased sorry <3. as a warm palette example, i drew yinu and used this orange color on hard light and lowered the opacity
cold colors have a similar process, it's just the matter of adjusting the hard light layer. i wouldnt really say it's completely cold since i still add warm colors because im still biased </3. as a cold palette example, i drew sayu and used this purple-pink (??) color with the same settings
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when it comes to drawings that have characters with contrasting palettes, it does take a bit of trial and error but i most of the time i mix both warm and cold methods like the example above. this also helps for art with several characters in general, since the blending modes help make the colors go well together despite the variety
theres also instances where i dont always use the warm + cold combo, since sometimes drawings lean towards a specific temperature instead (like environments with set lighting/shading, so usually i follow that even with characters with different palettes)
tldr; there are lots of palette combos you could make, not necessarily with just the three blending modes i mention. random bullshit go genuinely helps with experimenting with colors!!
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horseshoegirl · 4 months
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Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You
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📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...
❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.
#4.8 k words
Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6
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Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee? 
Yeah. It got worse. 
Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.
All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.
It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.
I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.
But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.
You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.
It was making everything that much worse.
As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.
The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.
Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.
You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.
You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist. 
If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.
Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.
Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.
But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.
Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.
It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?
As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.
They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you. 
"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.
You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great. 
 While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own. 
The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.
No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.
And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.
There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.
Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.
Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?
In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall. 
He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.
Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.
Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.
Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.
The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.
He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then. 
You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.
The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag.  After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.  
After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.
The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.
By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.
With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.
While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.
 Or, so you thought.
Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.
Then, she screamed.
You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.
The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face.  Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened. 
You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.
As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.
But were you sorry for how that turned out?
Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.
Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.
She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben. 
It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.
Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.
You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.
It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.
"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."
You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"
Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.
You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."
He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."
Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.
Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.
Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way. 
She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.
As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.
All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.
"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."
God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!
Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.
You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.
He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.
"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"
Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.
You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.
Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.
And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.
"You've been avoiding me all day."
You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."
As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin. 
You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."
News flash - You're not.
"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."
"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.
Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.
It's a stupidly optimistic thought.
"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"
He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?
"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"
"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"
He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"
"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"
He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."
"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.
"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"
"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."
But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.
"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"
You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"
"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"
You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.
Fuck.
Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.
Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.
She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.
But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.
You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.
"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"
You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.
"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."
Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.
You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.
"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"
Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.
"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.
"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"
Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.
"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.
"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."
"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.
You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”
This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.
They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.
Or worse... Someone would confirm it.
Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.
The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.
"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.
You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.
"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."
Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"
"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.
You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.
"Bradley... I didn't..."
"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."
He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.
Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.
He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.
He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.
There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?
But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.
Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.  
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So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)
Taglist:
@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky
@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani
@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15
@atarmychick007 @trickphotography2 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo
@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader
@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30
Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress
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jaelaxies · 7 months
Text
𝟏𝟐:𝟎𝟎
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12:00
fluff; wc: 635.
Soobin x fem reader!;good sugary fluff; friends to lovers au!; makeup artist au!; tw: none.
Song recommendation:  Daylight — Taylor Swift. (lover)
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・
—Choi Soobin!
She cupped his cheeks softly, making him look even more cute in the dim light of the room. The only other thing that was distracting in every sense was the mess of different reflections of glitter in transparent components, but Soobin couldn’t be more focused on anything but making sure he wasn’t as red as a rose and the way his best friend was chewing at her lip, so concentrated on delicately placing her fingers on his skin. A very childish yet adorable smile adorning her features. — I told you to stay quiet!
When she called him at 10:00 pm, practically begging him to come for help; this isn’t what he had in mind, nor did he expected other stuff, but surely, being a model wasn’t one of them and his body just had to react to her. To her touch. Because what a big boy he was with a crush he didn’t want to confess yet. After shooting her a playful glare and a huff, he shifted closer. Just an inch, because he really did wonder if she could hear his loud and thumping heartbeat.
Another soft dab at his cheeks, she inched closer to his cheekbones. Her minty breath suddenly grabbing his attention. The way she softly touched his skin while applying layers of glitter was as calming as a breeze, something unexpected for him. — You really suit this concept, Soobin.
Now she was grabbing his chin, her gaze locked into his. Soobin was mesmerized by the way her eyes shined even brighter than the particles she had spread all over his cheekbones and the ones who glimmered behind her in the moonlight. Her gaze was something that always made him flush; the way her round and big eyes just softened and looked at him trough long lashes and a half smile. — I’m sure you’re going to steal a lot of hearts.
She said eagerly while grabbing another jar this time with a blue tint to it, leaving his chin and face to rest for a bit. Playing with the jelly like texture of the glitter, she absentmindedly let her thoughts out of her head. — Just like you stole mine.
Wait.
Wait.
What?
She widened her eyes as she let the thought of what she had just said sink in, while Soobin snatched his look onto her figure again. She was no longer holding the jar but her sweater paws were covering her mouth; her face covered into the prettiest shade of pink, Soobin could ever describe. Is this how he always looked? And of course, he couldn’t let this one go, he couldn’t make an excuse or thought he misheard because those same big eyes were expecting an answer: silently but still pleading to hear something from him.
He did what his brain thought it was best to convey his feelings. He positioned himself closer to her and brough his plush plump lips to her cheek, kissing it softly but just for long enough to feel the warmth of her skin and the butterflies in his own stomach. As he separated himself a little bit, she reached for her cheek, still having the same bambi eyes.
— I always thought I would confess first. — He said while looking for her free hand, gently caressing it with his thumb, he could feel the heat in his face and neck but it didn’t matter to him that much right now, he always wanted to hear that. To feel this.
—Yeah, me too…— She chuckled to herself, as she intertwined their fingers this time; causing the boy to relax even more; her touch was like Midas. — But I guess I couldn’t hold it anymore.
They looked at each other and smiled, just as the clock stroked midnight, a new love story had just started.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・
Ever since i saw these concept photos i always wanted to do a small drabble like this, bc blonde soobin and glitter and omg 🥹😌🤝🏻
Also I hope you all dont mind that I'm starting again with shorter drabbles for now; it's a temporal thingy tho, i just wanted to write again but with a plan in mind 🧘🏼
Remember that feedback is always appreciated and i love reading you guys comments! 🤍
Taglist is also open! just comment and i'll add you to it! Im sorry if somebody was in my old taglist but i kinda forgot with the whole hiatus thing.
Hoped you enjoyed reading,
xoxo, stella! ☁️🤍🪄
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kisses444katie · 10 months
Note
hi babes, I love your reading so much-I got a request for you. Tom kaulitz in love wit the tokio hotel assistant? Since the job interview with the band, he fell in love idk😭😭
hiii lovely, sorry i took a while to reply and that this may not be too well written - ive had sooooo many assignments lately
i might end up rewriting it as well, but nevertheless enjoy ml ♡
(not proofread 😭 so sorryyy for any mistakes)
-love always, katie
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˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
despite the ‘smoking prohibited’ sign, you found yourself leaning upon a cubicle wall, lighter clutched in one hand, as you used the other to place the cigarette between your rose tinted lips. your finger hastily flicking the click and producing a flame. Inhaling the addictive smoke, letting it explore your lungs, before releasing it into a swirling cloud of grey.
after a few drags, you tossed it to the floor, before stubbing it out it with the bottom of your heel. you were too anxious to really care about littering. 
stepping out of the cubicle, you let the door swing, taking in your appearance in the mirror set in front of you. 
bringing a digit to your lips, you noticed the rosy stain had left them. looking for a gloss or lipstick, you fumbled between the discarded cash, pens, and papers of your purse. finally finding the first gloss you could, you twisted the cap open and applied a crimson layer to your parted pillows. fixing any smudges swiftly, and spritzing a light prolific coat of perfume. 
taking one last glance, you smoothed down your outfit and slung your purse on your shoulder.
clutching a paper copy of your resumé, along with your portfolio, you entered the room. your gaze immediately laying upon him. 
“please, take a seat.”
˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
you couldn’t quite tell when the flirtatious remarks, or lingering glances had become more. but every time you so much as glanced in his direction, you felt a wave of heat washing over you, leaving you a bright shade of rose in its wake. 
for him, he couldn’t quite understand how you, some random girl, had left him so consumed. perhaps it was your alluring good girl facade. always so punctual, always so organised, so sweet, so pretty, so perfect - he knew there was more to you, that this was a little act. your beauty, to him, was ethereal. the way you had left an ingrained image of you in his mind. he only had eyes for you.
˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
your eyes fluttered shut, bringing your fingers to your temples, massaging away as if you were to dismiss the boy’s effect on your head. 
you had so much to do: scheduling, organising, planning, and yet all your thoughts were invaded with the idea of that immature teen with the guitar. 
hearing the blasting music, you weren’t sure you could help yourself, maybe you’d give in and distract yourself from the work. sure, tom would be there, but maybe that’s exactly what you wanted. 
stepping out from your make-shift office, you were in a trance; watching, listening from behind the scenes.
midway through the band’s performance, instead of his view set on the thousands of crazed fangirls, he found it lingering on your figure, standing in the stage’s entryway.  
your hips swaying side to side in sync with the rhythm, your hair wild, the clipboard clutched in your hand. 
catching a glimpse of his stare, your lips parted subconsciously, before forming into a smirk.
you couldn’t lie, you adored how infatuated he’d become with you, because you found yourself feeling just the same about him. 
˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
a calloused hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you through a slight crowd of people. the performance had just come to an end, and in a blurred rush, tom had come off stage, dropped his guitar off, and almost dragged you away.
pushing you up against some backroom’s wall, you were lost, seeing stars just from his touch. he’d held an arm against the wall, the other draped around your warm body.
his face glistened with the light layer of sweat painted across it, parted lips just mere centimetres away from connecting. “not so professional now, hm?” he mumbled breathlessly, a slight sense of smugness intertwined between his words.
you wanted to reply, but failed to. you were drowning in lust. the hand once wrapped around your figure, found its way travelling to your face, before tilting your chin upward. “you looked s’pretty, dancing like that,”
“shut up,” you closed the gap between you, pressing your soft lips on his. 
the kiss was hasty, reflecting how much of a long time coming this had been. so dangerously, obsessively, wonderfully heated. 
when he reluctantly allowed for you to come up for air, you rested your forehead against his, a slight blush tinting your plush cheeks. “wanted this for so long, so long”
bringing his head to the nape of your neck, nuzzling into it, “so long,” his voice vibrating against your heated skin, leaving you shuddering. 
˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
you justified it with post-concert adrenaline, but deep down you knew it was more, you wanted more.
and in your absence, he could smell that sweet sillage of your perfume all over him, leaving him wanting more.
˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹------˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹
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crystalreydraws · 7 days
Note
Hello hi I just found out you're the artist of my favorite pic of Jamil from all time 🥹 I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO MUUUUCH his bday art from 2020!! It's my favorite one from every art and he looks so pretty and hot and cool and like he's in a music clip and about to drop a fire verse!! I LOVE your painting style so much, as a baby artist, would you one day show us how you color? I'm sure you put so much blood, sweat and tears into your hard work and it would great to get a little bit of that wisdom. Please keep drawing, keep doing what you love because it makes the world a better place to live!
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Sketched my sleepy and tired oc to do a very quick demonstration but it covers how I color when i render things:
Start with rough greyscale first, it's a good start to roughly decide light direction and value of your overall work. Especially if you have no idea on your shading.
Next, apply base color to greyscale. I'll use gradient map if I want to keep the details of my greyscale. But if not, I'll just start with a flat base color, and try whatever I can to apply color.
Rendering phase. Add layers and just paint on top to refine it. Merge all layers if it's too messy. Then add layers again. My rendering really depends on how much time taken because it's just a loop of paint over and refining. Thats why i do more simple fanart cuz I sometimes get bored of rendering Also at this stage when doing lineless style, I merge lineart with layers and cover up the lines.
Final touch. Merge all layers and use [filter gallery > paint daubs (brush size 1, sharpness 2)]. It will sharpen your work and look detailed. Or add some very fine noise texture, it will look detailed too.
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Another very rough demonstration on how i apply color mood. This will be after step 2. And same will be more refining and even paint over to ensure the colors look ok.
Other tips:
Add warm and cool colors especially on skin.
Use pinterest. Always find more than one reference for a subject if you want to draw better than yesterday. Pure ref is a nice tool to gather reference on your pc. When i draw a single hand I had a lot of ref. (pose, color temperature, lighting, photos, artwork, all diff ref)
Color theory is so important I still struggle a lot. I highly recommend beginners start from practicing Marco Bucci's ball practice. After that slowly change to adding character into movie scene and photographs, the purpose is to adapt different color moods and learn the lighting from the image. Learn more from famous movie and cinematic. They did their best to nail the colors.
Anyway,
this is a long answer about how I color. My previous job influenced me so much on coloring so there's a lot of thinking and struggle on my colors.
So, I suggest you be more experimental and try new ways, at the end what remains is what fits you.
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juubli · 8 months
Text
Here are some process shots for this one of Raphael from BG3! That magnificent bastard...
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So I started out with a sketch of Raphael. He's got such a charismatic swagger doing the whole "What's better than the Devil you don't know? The devil you do" scene. I just wanted to do a caricature study and have a bit of fun.
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Moving from rough sketch to clean line art is always challenging for me as I often get bored or what was originally loose and fun can become stiff.
I had to redo the linework twice because I didn't like how the first one turned out! Second time is always the charm.
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I initially only planned to draw the character but I love the design of House of Hope too much, so I went back into the game and took a bunch of screen shots and sketched out the rough bg.
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Then I went ahead and cleaned up the bg. At this point is when I group the layers properly, so there is a clear separation between foreground, and background as well setting up the layers for animation. (Making sure the fireplace guards overlaps the walls behind it.)
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At the next stage I adding in the flat colors. I wanted to keep the style treatment of this piece more on the cell shaded/cartoony instead of super painterly. So I keep the color treatment fairly flat with a small amount of texture with the intention to add lighting as a fx overlapping treatment instead of painted in.
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I work on the characters and the bgs at the same time to keep the values and color temp consistant, constantly adjusting as I go. From habit from work, I always paint the entire BG JUST incase I need to make changes or make adjustments to subject in from. Here is the bg all done, with fire painted in as a place holder.
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And finally, adding the final lighting layers added on Raphael. I keep it simple here, just a redish/purple multiply player with the areas in the light masked out, and inverse mask on an orange/red overlay layer of the areas in the light.
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Animating the fire took ironically the longest, the animation tools in photoshop is clunky and I haven't animated since school days. I looked up a lot of references and tutorials! It's not perfect but good enough for me!
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afreakingdork · 2 years
Text
Crush Too Much - Part 4
RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader
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Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles
Synopsis:  So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see  him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something  more than you bargained for.
FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS
“So….” Was the melodic tone of his voice when he was joking grating or was it just the fact that Leo had insufferably been avoiding said topic of your meeting with Donnie while heavily implying he was going to ask about it at any given moment. Either way, after the first 7 fake-outs, you were no longer holding your breath.
“Mhm?” The response was automatic at this point. Using his tiny plate as a useless middleman, you watched as 5 tiny sandwich triangles disappeared into Leo’s mouth.
“I sort of liked the huge piece that takes up a whole section over on the left.” He pointed towards the said piece and the two of your wound around the packed gallery to get closer to it.
“Is it because it’s blue?” It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying the event or even his company, but you wished he would just rip the bandage off already.
He looked at your with genuine offense. “I will not be reduced to a  mere shade. I can’t believe you would think moi to be so one-note.” He placed a dramatic hand to his chest which absolutely did not help his point. When you’d first arrived at the venue, he gushed over the same brand new trademark blue crushed velvet dinner jacket he now happened to be emphasizing. One of his eyes popped open to find you unamused by the layers of nonsense he was spouting so he straightened up as if properly inspecting the art. “I was going to say I like how you can’t see the brush strokes from far away, but you can up close.”
For the first time that whole evening, he’d had an actual astute observation. The change of pace was like a breath of fresh air. This particular topic was also something you’d heard your friend mention. “I think it has something to do with relationship between color and form.” You turned to look up at the piece. The muddled shades of blue reminded you of the good parts of the evening thus far. It felt like the two of you had successfully conned your way into what was very much a public event. You'd both snatched away a good portion of the free food and no one seemed to think you were freeloaders because of Leo’s outrageous ability to fit in amongst the art crowd by just saying the most the most ridiculous things you had ever heard. Different factions of critics ate up his nonsense and you were only alerted to the deception because every time it worked out, Leo would shoot you an obnoxious wink.
“’Color and texture are ends in themselves.’”
That one sounded like a quote, but you weren’t sure. Maybe he wasn’t all mouth and had been picking up on the cacophony of conversations that drifted amongst the high ceilings. You took a sip of a sparkling cider that you had been nursing since eating a few too many deli meats. “So what kind of feeling do you get from it?” You tilted your head to one side wondering yourself. Blue was usually synonymous with sadness, but that didn’t seem right.
“Curiosity over what happened when you kept my darling brother out for several hours last week.”
You sputtered into another sip and tried not to let your choking fit disturb the other patrons. Leo patted you on the back and after you were able to force oxygen into your lungs once again, you looked up to find him gazing down at you with an self-satisfied grin spread wickedly across his face.  You wanted nothing more than to smack it right off. He'd dangled the bait in front of you all evening and you'd been able to resist. You were so mad at yourself there was little room to be mad at him. Further frustrated by your brain's lack of response, you did the next most petty thing and walked away. You dress shoes pinched your feet from their otherwise disuse.
“Aw, Y/N, come on!” He called after you and you stubbornly inserted yourself amongst a crowd of people surrounding a oozing statue of liberty sculpture. You could feel Leo catch-up, but your humility had yet to do the same. “Don’t be like that. You knew it was coming! It can be difficulty when you’re going up against a number 1 player like myself, but I’m sure by tomorrow you will deeply appreciate how hilarious that was.”
A warped reflection of the blue trickster shrugged in your glass. “But right now…?”
“You are mad, yes I got that.” The crowd dispersed to the next piece and Leo stepped up beside you.
“I thought you made the boundary lines pretty clear about Donnie the last time we talked.” You cradled the glass across your chest to telegraph that you were still closed off.
“Donnie, hm?” You weren’t looking at him, but you could just tell his eye brows were waggling.
You were just annoyed enough that you were able to mentally stomp out any flames of blush that the comment may have otherwise sparked. You had been able to strike up a few, albeit short, text conversation with Donnie since your bao meeting. The purple-themed man had even gone so far as to text you that same night about his family’s response to the food. Needless to say you lost more than a few hours of sleep just trying to get your heart to stop beating uncontrollably out of your chest.
Even though you were now only silent out of contemplation, Leo still took it as a cue to drop that particular part of the subject and return to the matter as a whole. “Fine, D is his own person! Yes, you got me! I said that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not super curious about the little impromptu date you went on!”
“It wasn’t-!”
He held up a hand to stop you. “Phrasing, don’t get to tied up in it.” He waved the hand off as if the stop signal he’d given was too serious. “I’m not saying he’s as pure as freshly fallen snow, but people don’t catch his fancy as much as things and nerd stuff do.” Leo shrugged his shoulders as if it was a silly uncontrollable fact of the universe. “So what if we don’t focus on him or the content, but maybe what you did?”
“I didn’t do anything…” You finally offered him a side glance out of how absurd the question was. He was acting like you had duped his brother somehow.
“Come on!” You hadn’t realized you were wearing Leo’s nerves thin until he actively starting to unravel. His knees buckled and his shoulders slumped down until his hands almost touched the floor. “You have to give me something. I thought you were just going to ask for his number!?”
His youthful dramatics were cute so far as it brought out the kid side of him that was far more manageable. “I asked him to go eat first is all.”
“Donnie isn’t really the one of us you can bait with food…” Still crumpled over, Leo narrowed his eyes at you.
“I don’t know what else to tell you.” It was your turn to mimic his earlier cosmically unhelpful shrug. “It’s the truth.”
Leo was uncharacteristically quiet for awhile. You lowered your drink barrier and turned to look at him. He was staring at some black and white photographs. His brow had the slightest crease in it. Just as you were about to ask, you saw his lips part instead.
“So crush, infatuation, or something else?” He was slow to turn to you for your response.
The significance of the question created a mental blowback so strong your whole frame shifted. He turned to stare and his gaze was so intense that you dropped yours to the floor. Your dress shoes shone back at you. You knocked them together at the toes ever so slightly.
“I’m still not sure.”
“Take you time…” You could hear a movement of Leo’s jacket as he presumably turned away from you. “But don’t take too long. Donnie is smart, but he’s also just as dumb as the rest of us in a lot of ways. Don’t even think about hurting him.”
“I would never!” Your gaze snapped up to meet Leo’s back. “Not intentionally… at least…”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
Your hands fisted at your sides, but Leo did his characteristic mental 180 and bounded back into his bubbly self as a carter came out with a new tray of canapés.
-
Stumbling out onto the street, the darkened sky disoriented you. Hadn’t the clock rolled over to morning. You took a few weary steps before leaning against a wrought iron fence. You used the brick they were built off of to sit your backpack down. It took some fishing, but you unearthed your phone from between your textbooks and notepads to find the time around 5am; just long enough from sunrise where the sky hadn’t reflected the oncoming dawn. Both yours and your phone’s batteries where lethally low. You sighed and packed your things back up, wrapping your coat tightly around you. Your late night cram session turned video game night had run so far over that you had no hope of getting back to your apartment for any sleep before you’d need to be on your way to your morning class. You made it several steps down the sidewalk as the loaming burden of today’s test seemed as dark as the ocean above. You needed to reorient.
The street was empty so you led a leisurely pace and closed your eyes to check your most pressing needs based on importance. The omnipresent sleep was out of the questions so you shoved that top notification to the side. In its place a new item appeared in the form of caffeine. Opening your eyes and seeing you’d made it a good way down the road without running into anything meant your luck was faring well. An energy drink this early was not something your stomach would tolerate so that meant sustenance was on the menu also. At this hour and on your current budget, you could hit a cheap coffee shop. Some of your facilities returned to you as a streetlight glowed overhead. It would also be a great place to charge your phone. Walking with more purpose now that you had a plan, the next hurdle appeared instantly: without your phone you couldn’t look up the closest or cheapest shop.
You paused, doing a minor heel turn to look up and down the street. This wasn’t an area you were really familiar with. The study group had been hosted by a classmate you’d only met this semester. After brains were thoroughly stuffed with knowledge, the video games had come out. The others, weaker to sleep, had filed out on by one until only you and the host were left. They’d ushered you out, bleary eyed, and were presumably already unconscious which meant so going back for directions was out of the question. Another breathy sigh and you resumed your trudging. You’d have to find somewhere the old fashioned way. You let instinct lead you, turning corners whenever you felt like it. On one particular street, there seemed to be a two or three people mingling down the block. You carved your path outward toward the street and saw there was some sort of break between building rows. It was the most promising lead you’d had so far. If nothing else, you could try to ask the people for directions.
Reaching the break you slowed as everything took on a dream-like quality. Lights were strung all around a plaza bathing it in a golden hue. Cute café table sets were tucked into one side and two open mini food trucks were operating out of the opposite end. The brick inlay of the space shifted outwards from a center point into a mesmerizing swirled pattern.  You stepped along a row watching the way your shoes followed the lines. It brought a smile to your face which was made all the brighter when you realized one of the trucks was serving coffees, teas, and pastries. You resisted the urge to run, but only succeeding in instead speed walking your way over.
There was a man hunched over with his back turned to you in the truck. It gave you time to nervously check their hand drawn chalkboard. You were pleasantly surprised to find the prices were reasonable the limited menu seemed tasty.
“Can I help you?”
You turned to him and started off your order with a warm drink. He commiserated on the ever approaching winter. When you ordered your pastry next he offered to warm it up and that could not have sounded any better. You thanked him and paid before remembering something else needed a pick-me-up also.
“This probably sounds ridiculous because we’re literally outside, but do you have a place where I could charge my phone?”
The man chuckled between grinding coffee beans. “You’d think we wouldn’t, but we actually have one outdoor outlet.” He wiped his hands on a cloth before pointing to the café tables. “Though it looks like someone’s using it so you’ll have to share.”
Following his finger and throwing a gratitude over your shoulder, you felt time slow. The only person in the seating area looked ethereal under the twinkling lights. His head was tipped down, but his purple hoodie was unmistakable. One of your hands moved up to your face and you pinched your cheek hard, wincing at the sharp sting. You couldn’t believe it was real. You crossed the bricked space and approached Donatello.
“Mind if I use the charger too?” It felt like an out of body experience.
“Knock yourself out, I’m only using one plug.”
He hadn’t noticed yet, that was somehow even better. You slowly set your bag on the table to fish out both your phone and charger. It took a little longer than it should have because your eyes were glued to him. He was hunched over and oddly enough, not on his phone for once. He was a bit too shaded to see, but it almost seemed like he his eyes were closed. Leaning over the table to where the socket was, you plugged your phone in.
“Wait… Y/N?” You wondered what had finally tipped him off.
“Hey, Donnie.” You smiled at him, straightening up.
“This is…” He straightened his posture and looked at you with a cocked neck. “How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.” You smiled, zipping your bag up.
“I need to work out the exact calculations, but I can assure you that the odds of us running into each other outside of our respective neighborhoods in a city with a population of a little over 9 million is extremely high. There must be some kind of outside interference.” He tugged on the edges of his hoodie to cover the exposed parts of his legs.
“Trust me, I thought I dreamed you for a second.” You shook your head and took your bag from off the table.
“Does that mean you dream of me often? Your psyche better be doing me justice.” His monotone delivery didn’t read flirt, but the contents of the sentence had you swooning.
“Hm, maybe someday you can read my dream journal.” You muttered, looking back to the coffee stand.
“Ah, so you also keep a log of your dreams? There’s no exact science to it yet, but I feel as though sometime in the near future we can learn a great deal about how long-term memory is utilized in the dreamscape.” He held out a hand of glory. “Someday the future generation will look back on the data of Donatello Hamato as the greatest scholar of his time. Also, I will definitely be remembered for the presumable number of Nobel prizes I’ve been awarded.” Creating an L-shape between his thumb and first finger, he brought it to his chin as he devilishly imagined his illustrious future.
You had meant the journal bit as a joke, but you adored that he took it seriously. It didn’t keep you from being sarcastic about the rest. “Speaking of dreams…”
“I consider myself a scientist foremost and a realist after that. I've simply stated a given!”
“Ah to be young!” You crooned, shouldering you bag like it was far too heavy.
“Another unknown, I might be older than you.” He pointed out both literally and figuratively. You both shared your respective birthdays and he cackled. “I’ve got you beat!”
“Fine, but only someone with youth on their side would be out dressed like that in this weather.” You pointed down to the green branching out from between purple coverage.
The look on his face soured instantly and you debated retracting your statement. Instead he clicked his tongue and gestured for you to take a seat. You took the one across from him and could feel some sort of story coming on. “So the lair lost power and I was given not a second of peace while I alone was tasked with the repair. Unable to take the constant barrage of 'when will it be done, Donnie?' and 'what happened to the backup generator, Donnie?' nonsense any longer, I told them I needed some air. I was just going to take a walk and start anew, preferably with some music to drown them out, but my precious phone was about to die.” He groaned and wiped a hand down his face. He then reached for a drink cup that had been otherwise left forgotten. The moment he lifted it a pathetic whine struggled it's way up his throat. In an act of pure frustration, he crushed the apparently empty cup in hand. “Great! Just great!!”
“Order up!”
You gripped the table, torn between getting your much needed drink and leaving an obviously distraught Donnie behind.
“Just-" He didn’t have the energy for further words and waved you off.
“I’ll be right back!” You pressed before heading over to pick up your breakfast. Your backpack thumped against your back as you gave a meager jog to the counter. You slowed on approach, passing the chalkboard sign which gave you an idea. “Uh, can I do a last minute addition?”
“Sure! What’ll it be?” The man anchored an arm to the counter, ready. You leaned in as if it were a secret and placed the order with a hushed tone. Thankfully the barista was game and leaned into the demonstration himself. When you were done, he glanced across the plaza and pointed at Donatello. “For him?”
“Yes.” You bobbed your head.
A laugh bubbled up in the man, but he seemed to remember the classified nature of the order and cleared his throat. “That’s perfect. I love it.” You paid and he gave you a beaming smile. “Wait right there and I’ll whip it right up.”
You did as you were told with only a few nervous glances back at Donnie. The man was in a purple heap and thankfully didn’t seem to be going anywhere. You were glad you’d forgotten to take your backpack off when you had sat down.
“Here we go!” Instead of the to-go cup that both your drink and Donnie’s previous had been in, the man handed you a tall glass with a matching stirring spoon. You gawked at it in amazement. “Hurry and get it over to him before it mixes. Oh, and I’m sure you will, but be careful with the glass. We’re not actually supposed to give those out to the customers, but I figured this was a special occasion.” He punctuated his sentence with a wink and you felt almost weepy at the kindness this man bestowed upon you.
Juggling your order and the delicate cup, you brought it back over to the table. Donnie’s head was down and folded into his arms. Ypu struggled with a tinge of guilt over the fact that you were grateful for it. Hoping the reveal would at least make up for it, you steeled yourself. “Donnie…” You urged, carefully setting the glass down in front of him.
“Hrm?” He grumbled from underneath his layers. “It’s best if you just leave me. I might as well try again tomorrow.”
“Then I have bad news for you about the time.” You couldn’t keep the airy tone out of your voice. His dramatizations were too much.
“Don’t tell me it’s sunrise already!?” He raised his head and froze. His eyes widened at the concoction in front of him. In the glass was a steaming, cascading mix of rich golden coffee and purple cream. “What…?”
“It’s an ube latte.” You smiled and carefully took a seat. Setting your bag aside, you palmed your cup to warm your hands and watched as Donnie uncurled out of his ball. He gave the drink a stir with stick and you took your first delicious sip of your caffeinated beverage.
“It is my color…” He remarked with a sense of fondness. You nodded and resisted the urge to scarf down your whole pastry. The mix of food, drink, and Donnie’s rising spirits warmed your body.
He grasped the glass and took a sip. “Hmmm.” He then acted as if he were a sommelier, twirling the liquid and sniffing it between small tastings. “It’s a bit sweet for my tastes, but the nuttiness pairs really well with the espresso.”
“As long as you don’t hate it, that’s a win for me!” You nodded, just finishing off the last flaky bite.
“It’s not your responsibility to cheer me up.” Cradling the cup in a similar way for warmth, he continued to sip the beverage.
“Is that what I did? I was just thinking purple goes with purple.” You gave him a catlike grin and took a long luxurious swig of your ever emptying drink.
“I would like to reinstate the line of questioning about this being a set-up.” He pointed at you and there was an air of playfulness to the otherwise staunch delivery that was not lost on you.
“Damn, I knew the barista wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut.” You snapped your finger in frustration and both of you chuckled.
Several moments of silence passed before Donnie gave a long winded sigh. “I believe I left off when I was about to lose my phone?” His brows hung heavy with effort.
“That’s right, but you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to.”
He shook his head. “I like to finish what I start.” He leaned back in his chair and took the latte with him. “So I change course for the nearest cafe and catch a glimpse of orange which means I was definitely followed!”
In rapt attention it occurred to you that must mean his other siblings were also color coded. It seemed like it should be obvious seeing as how the only one you knew was too, but it somehow wasn’t.
“I catch up to Mikey and he says he was just worried about me, but he’s a terrible liar.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “His phone goes off and after a short grapple for the device, I find that the others are using him as a gauge to see when I had ‘calmed down’ and to give an ‘eta when the power would be back on.’” You were impressed that he was able to inject so much anger into air quotes. “Like that’s all I’m good for! They act like my emotions are just a hindrance when they pop up because I usually don’t have them!”    
Your eyes widened. That was a particularly loaded sentence. You wanted to interject to reassure him that it had never crossed your mind that he didn’t have emotions, but interrupting him didn’t seem right either.
“Cue a long winded chase where Raph and Leo came topside in pursuit and…” Donnie rolled a wrist in demonstration before flattening out for the finale. “Needless to say I lost them since it’s been… Oh.” He smacked the hand to his forehead. “I had asked about the time?”
Waking your phone up, your read off the number. “It’s almost 6am.”
“I lost them about two and a half hours ago, so I would rate it as a pretty successful escape.” He took a long swig of his drink, almost finishing it off. “Since I ran out, I didn’t have time to throw on pants as I would have if I had known I was going to be stuck out in the cold for so long.” The weight of the story lightened into his characteristic dry tone.
Finishing off your drink, you ruminated over the tale as Donnie continued to recuperate. The words ‘lair’ and ‘topside’ were jumping out to you as particularly strange. Were they a family of super villains? They didn’t seem like it, but it was such a strange word choice. You really wished you knew what they did for a living. As you came out of your thoughts, you watched Donnie chug the rest of his latte and give a long breathy exhale that seemed to blow out his concerns.
“I did not yet thank you for this.” He set the glass down with the stirrer tinkling from the movement. “Still too sweet overall, but I suppose one could say it was ‘just what I needed.’” He put on a different voice for the quote and you wondered who he was mimicking. “Though to be more accurate there were many factors that improved my current mood.” He paused, his lip pursed before eyeing you. “If you did track me, you picked a very good time to reveal your location. To reiterate: thank you.”
Oh how you wished you had any liquid left in your cup to justify hiding behind it. “Any time!” You were torn between upholding the gesture and playing your skipping heart beat off with a joke. “My sensors are specifically tuned for when Donnie is in distress.” Your mouth jumped ahead of both your brain and heart. You wanted to bang your head against the table.
Donnie, on the other hand, smiled softly. “That might be something I should consider adding to my repertoire.” He tapped his device and made a quick note with nimble fingers especially considering how many he had.
“Are you saying you track your brothers?” You wondered through a laugh. This meeting might have charged you up just as much as your breakfast had.
“Nooo…” He drew out the word and looked left to right with narrowed suspicion. "I definitely do no such thing."
That was not convincing in the slightest, but also seemed to absurd to be a real thing. It wouldn't keep you from teasing him for it though. “And you said Mikey…?” You really hoped you had gotten that name right. “Was the a bad liar?”  
“Yes, Mikey, but otherwise, I don’t care to know what you mean!” He retorted, folding his arms. Pale hues started to color the sky. You saw them as you craned back, enjoying the moment.
“I have a mid-term in just over an hour.” You told the single streaked cloud above.
“I’m sorry, what?!” Donnie banged the table with a sudden jolt and the glass cup tipped violently. Slow motion horror spread across your face as your brought uour gaze back down only to see the cup suddenly right itself before your eyes.
“Wh-“ You muttered in disbelief, raising a hand to feebly point at the action.
“No!” He ordered, pointing his own finger in a more accusatory manner. “We’ve been focused on me this whole time when I should have been questioning you! Why are you up so early? You look like you haven’t slept at all! You’re going to take a test in this state? Where’s your academic honor!? Did you even study?!”  
You stared back at him weakly. The ever growing light overhead was certainly not helping the bags under your eyes, but all you could think about was how much he must value education. That and he apparently had the reflexes of a ninja.
“If you aren’t going to answer me then get up. Up!” He flung his arms in time with the command, picking up his glass and standing himself.
You scrambled to follow suit while gathering your trash. “In my defense, I was up all night studying.” You would just leave out the gaming part out for the time being. It was something you could consider texting him as a fun teasing surprise after your class.
“An all-nighter?” He seemed utterly revolted as he strode over to the drink truck where a line was starting to form.
After watching him deposit the glass, you pouted and turned your head away as he approached. “I’m hearing a lot of lecture from the guy who is also awake… What did you say you were doing? Electrician work?”
His inhale was so sharp he almost whistled. “How dare you!? Tradespersons have honorable professions, but my arsenal includes so much more that comparing what I do to a single line of work is utterly disgraceful!” You walked out of the plaza together, but the indignity was too much for him. He rounded you and pressed a finger right to your forehead. “Apologize to me while I’ll still accept it!”
The best you could do was crinkle your overjoyed smile.
“And stop smiling! Why are you even smiling?!”
If only he knew how lucky you counted yourself.
💜 NEXT 💜
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napoleon-usher · 1 year
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Here’s a coloring tutorial for how to make vibrant single color backgrounds for gifs. This way relies on the color you want the gif to be already existing in the original scene or the background color already being mostly just one solid color. It should also require minimal to no layer masking which normally results in a cleaner coloring. There will be a second tutorial which will explain how to do more complicated manipulations.
For my example, I chose a scene that had yellow and green most prominent in it. Scenes like this can be changed to many other colors so they tend to be very versatile.
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I always start my colorings with Levels, Curves, Black Selective Color, and Exposure. This is not absolutely necessary but I prefer this set of adjustments to begin with because it increases contrast and brightness, and helps make colors more defined (which makes them easier to manipulate). If there are other ways you know how and want to achieve a similar effect, do whatever looks best to you. This is the scene with my base coloring on it:
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As a rule of thumb, if there are people in the scene that I'm giffing, keeping their skintone looking as normal as possible is my first priority. This is especially important if there is a person of color in the scene so as not to white/light/orangewash them. This tutorial is a great resource for learning how to avoid that so I won't go into depth about it, but I will explain some of the steps I take because the method is a bit trickier for when you're also doing a vibrant coloring.
To begin with, Cal's skin has already been lightened a bit by my base coloring. To start with I use a layer of Red Selective Color to darken the skin tones and remove some of the yellow. The more yellow you remove  at the beginning the easier it will be to manipulate the yellow and green background later without affecting their skin. Then a Hue/Saturation layer that desaturates and darkens the reds so that their skin doesn't look unnaturally red.
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These are the adjustments I made for this scene. They may need to be further adjusted later, but this is a good start.
The next layers will focus on manipulating the background. The first step is to convert the mix of yellow, green, and minor cyans to a single, less muddy color. The easiest way to do this is changing them all to a more distinct green. In a Yellow Selective Color layer, increase cyans so that it becomes more green. In a Cyan Selective Layer, increase the cyans and yellow. Finally, in a Green Selective layer increase the cyans. You'll see that these adjustments have made the background a much more vibrant and solid green.
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If the background color of your original scene is not green like this one, still try to get all of the different colors to become one base color to work off of.
At this point, you get to be creative with what color you want the background to end up being. I have previously made gifs of this scene in a yellow orange scheme. It could just as easily be changed to cyan or purple, etc. Sometimes, in order to end up with a certain color, you must first convert it to one or more other colors.
YELLOW
For a yellow background, use a couple of layers of Green Selective Color and take out all cyans and maximize all yellows. Two to three layers of the same adjustment should be enough. Next add layers of Yellow Selective color, also removing cyans and adding in yellow. This should only need one or two layers, depending on the shade of yellow you want. I personally like a warmer yellow, so I do one layer with Cyan at -100 and Yellow at +100 then a second layer with Cyan at -30 and Yellow +100. These settings will of course change depending on the scene, but the theory is the same.
These are the settings for the group of adjustment layers (in order) that I used to change the background to yellow.
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You'll see that you can get vibrant and clean colorings with just a few selective color layers and sometimes even no layer masks. The last step is to check on skin tones again and make sure that the adjustments added did not change the color or tone too much. A good way to check the difference between the original and your coloring is to use the marquee tool and place a small marquee somewhere that will show you both when you use it as a layer mask. I usually group all my adjustments together then use a small circle marquee on part of a face and create a layer mask with it on the group. Then you can see how much everything has been altered.
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I always find it very satisfying to see how marked of a difference my coloring has made, especially when I make such drastic changes. It also allows me to verify that I've kept skin tones looking natural and not whitewashed.
I'll demonstrate how to change this scene to a couple of other colors as well. Even if the adjustments might be different for your respective scene, the main idea of what I do should still be applicable.
CYAN
To change it to cyan, I started again with Green Selective Color layers, but with essentially the opposite settings as what I did for the yellow coloring. On your green layers, add Cyan +100 and remove Yellow -100. Two to three layers should be enough. I found there was a bit of yellow that my previous adjustments did not catch, so I put a Yellow Selective Color layer before the green ones and added Cyan +100 and removed Yellow -100. 
Sometimes you have to change the order of your layers around to see what's going to look best. If the yellows don't get fixed before the greens, then the adjustments to the green layers will not affect the yellow. Placing the yellow layer before the green ones turns the yellow to green which then allows the following layers to also affect it.
At this point, the yellow and green layer adjustments have made the background fairly close to cyan. To clean it up and get the shade I want, I add a couple of Cyan Selective Color layers. 
With Cyan, the more Yellow you remove and Magenta you add, the more of a true blue it will become. The less Yellow and more magenta you remove, the more of a true cyan/blue-green it will become.
To get the shade of cyan I prefer to color with usually, I use a Cyan Selective Color layer with Cyan at +100 and Yellow at -50; then another Cyan Selective Color Layer with Cyan at +100, Magenta at about -20, and Yellow at -50. These adjustments result in this:
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At this point you probably get the point, but I'll also explain my process for purple.
PURPLE
Any adjustment that involves magenta tends to be just a bit trickier. The more you mess with magenta, the more it can mess up the quality and overall coloring. Green does not convert directly to purple easily, so I would suggest you start with the Cyan coloring and make your changes from there.
From the adjustments that make up the cyan coloring, go to the first Cyan Selective Color layer and put both Cyan and Yellow at -100, then Magenta at +100. Repeat with the second Cyan Selective Color layer. Then add a Blue Selective Color layer  with the same adjustments.
Blue and Magenta have a lot of overlap so if you're trying to magnify the Magenta in your scene and working directly in a Magentas layer doesn’t seem to be doing as much as it should, try making changes to the Blues (and vice versa).
These adjustments give this shade of purple:
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As always, make additional adjustments as needed to achieve the shade you desire. 
Sometimes I use a Hue/Saturation layer to increase the saturation of certain colors, but most of the time the result I want is achievable by the Selective Color layers. There is also a greater margin of change you can do with Selective Color versus Hue/Saturation. Selective Color gives you the ability to fine tune colors with a lot more precision. Hue/Saturation has a threshold of about +30-40 on the saturation bar before it starts to degrade quality and distort pixels.
Here is the final gif with each color I explained vs. the original scene:
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taybatwo2 · 7 months
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Vampire Heart Draculaura Review Part 4 of 4
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In this final part of my review, I’ll be comparing her a bit more to some other Monster High vampires.
Including my G1 Elissabat (who really needs her hair de-glued) and I’ve had her hair “restyled” like that ever since I got her just because I liked how she wore it up in the flashbacks in “Frights, Camera, Action.” The picture above has mini-dress Draculaura with Elissabat, the true Vampire Queen. Luckily she’s pretty cool with this Draculaura playing dress up, as long as she gets to try on her outfit too.
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Also, I had never undressed my Eissabat before and didn’t know these were two separate pieces!
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And here is she is!!! I kept her puff purple sleeves to make it fit more with her color scheme. It’s not a bad look at all and I would have loved to have seen a true Vampire Queen Eissabat Collector doll.
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Something like this, but even more dramatic. Give her some large vampire wings, layers of bows and bats and deep purples, a better looking tiara to house the vampire’s heart than what she wore in the movie, the works!
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I think her boots look better under the dress than Draculaura’s though.
Her purples and large bell skirt gown are also kinda reminding me of this collector Barbie:
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The true Vampire Queen….
….and now
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Jump scare!
I wanted to compare G2’s hair play Draculaura (my favorite of my G2 Draculaura) due to the light pink steaks in her hair (as I thought it was the same light pink Saran) and her “darker face-up.” Turns out, it is actually a shade darker than Vampire Heart Draculaura’s and her makeup is not as dark as I remembered.
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The difference in these dolls are night day, so onto something a bit closer.
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Draculaura’s 50 dollar Amazon Exclusive collector doll vs Amazon’s Exclusive Collector 90/100 dollar doll.
I never thought I’d say this, but I actually way prefer the new doll over the old one in every way except for the lack of diary in the current release.
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I was actually never a huge fan of the Collector Draculaura’s eyes (they look better far away and look like they were designed by Tim Burton) or her extra long body (I did like the chest articulation though, but thought an ever TALLER Draculaura looked odd), and prefer the new face up and eyelashes on the newer doll.
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It does look like they have that same really light pink Saran.
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They both have crumby stands that don’t hold the doll very well (at least Collector Draculaura’s is beautifully detailed).
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And surprisingly non of these lace/lattice patterns were present on Vampire Heart’s Draculaura’s skirt. The embroidery on Collector Draculaura is still unmatched though, and she’s still an extremely lovely doll.
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Buuuuut, she surprisingly has more in common with Haunte Couture Draculaura than Vampire Heart’s and visa versa.
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She’s like the in between of Vampire Heart’s and Haunte Couture (similar colors to Vampire Heart’s, buuuut the same layered skirt with bat wing edges, heel/sole to her shoes, and a cape that attaches to her wrists…and I guess hats and rooted eyelashes that Haunt Couture has).
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Well, Draculaura likes to reuse and update pieces of her wardrobe from her long life.
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“Come play with us Vampire Heart Draculaura.” For fun, I compared OG Draculaura (whose hair has been degreased with LA’s Totally Awesome, but she just needs to be retro-brighted and I haven’t had time to do that).
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She has the much skinner eyes of the OG Draculaura than the more “show accurate” Creeproduction Draculaura, but has the darker pink skin tone of the Creeproduction.
Well, I think that’s everyone, let’s get you to the Vampire Heart ball, or whatever ball your vampires are celebrating this week.
Huh. Looks like Valentine has offered to dance with you Draculaura. I wonder if he’s reformed in this timeline too….
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Wait, now the famous movie star -and nothing else- Elissabat wants to dance with you instead. I’m sure Lord Stoker will be glad at all the attention you’re receiving….such a graceful model Vampi-
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Tripped over Fangelica….it looks like she’s in this timeline too…
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Anyways, all bow down to the Vampire Queen, the most beautiful of Monster High’s Skullector’s dolls (to date and my opinion).
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….seriously I really want a diary to go with her…stop leaving those out Mattel!!
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vaguely-concerned · 2 years
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-another layer of 'ow ah ouch' to everything pyrrha says about lyctorhood in nona the ninth is that she and g1deon may very well have been the first necro-cav duo to have done it fully mutually consensually, eyes open. it's heavily implied mercy and augustine had their hands forced by cristabel and alfred and wouldn't have done it otherwise ("I have built a myriad on the idea that I could have talked him out of it, given five minutes"), and they're the first and second saints... g1deon's the third. he and pyrrha presumably saw what it did to mercy and augustine, and they still decided to go through with it.
I WILL REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU KISSED ME—YOU APOLOGISED—YOU SAID, I AM SORRY, DESTROY ME AS I AM, BUT I WANT TO KISS YOU BEFORE I AM KILLED, AND I SAID TO YOU WHY, AND YOU SAID, BECAUSE I HAVE ONLY ONCE MET SOMEONE SO UTTERLY WILLING TO BURN FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED IN, AND I LOVED HIM ON SIGHT, AND THE FIRST TIME I DIED I ASKED OF HIM WHAT I NOW ASK OF YOU
imagine the extra weight over the years in knowing you chose this. at least augustine can cling to that desperate fantasy world where he did stop alfred in time, but pyrrha and g1deon thought they knew exactly what they were doing. they thought it was love. john let them think that was love.
-...do you think mercymorn and augustine begged john for the same thing harrow did, after? Please, undo what I've done, Lord. I will never ask anything of you ever again. (Also one of my all time favorite Harrow moments where she gets to ask the question they aren't allowed to for ten thousand years: How dare you ask me to live with it?) did he comfort them? tell them he's so incredibly sorry, but he needs them?
at least pyrrha’s understanding of how the process works does corroborate his claim that he can’t extract a cavalier’s soul from their necromancer's after the lyctorhood is complete without destroying both souls, which I guess makes for the one thing he isn’t totally lying about lol. though while referencing their own situation paul tells ianthe there's still hope for her and naberius, a duo where the soul absorption did seem to complete, which suggests another layer here john might not know about (out of lack of interest?) or doesn't want anyone else to find out about.
actually let's reexamine some things from the Gideon the Ninth epilogue now in light of Nona I'm on a roll here:
-[God] said, "I know you became a Lyctor under duress."
"Some may call it duress," said Harrow.
"You aren't the first," said the Emperor.
screaming. howling. clawing at him like a wild animal. the two people who have loved you the most, and you stood by and watched as this happened to them, as you engineered it to happen to them, you've seen up close what it did to them, and now you're repeating the process with new children a myriad later without a blush. you suck so bad john I have no words fhksajfhsa.
-"I have three teachers for you. And a whole universe for you to hold on to, for just a little while longer."
a) oh yeah just wait for those three teachers they're a real barrel of laughs they probably won't even try to repeatedly murder you or anything lmao and b) what's that supposed to mean john. 'for just a little while longer'. why does it only have to be a little while longer. as far as I can tell you're no closer to the fullness of your revenge than ever. does it have anything to do with 'good morning, annabel' and 'it gets dirty, you clean it again'?
So, the universe was ending. Good. At least if she failed here, she would no longer have to be beholden to anybody.
could this also be some kind of foreshadowing? from the dialogue on page here harrow's conclusion that the universe is, for sure, ending is not necessarily a natural conclusion (john only speaks of the empire slowly dying) so like... does pre-lobotomy harrow know something we don't? or is it just that she's the saddest person anyone's ever seen pre-nona seeing gideon? (most heartbreaking shade of drift compatability discovered :') )
-He said presently, "Most of my Lyctors have been destroyed by a war I thought best to fight slowly, through attrition. I have lost my Hands -- not just to death. The loneliness of deep space takes its toll on anyone, and the necrosaints have all put up with it for longer than anybody should ever be asked to bear anything. That's why I wanted only those who had discovered the cost, and were willing to pay it in the full knowledge of what it would entail."
so... in the same way g1deon and pyrrha decided to pay that price willingly, then. I am 100% calling bullshit on him here, though, because if any of that had been his real intentions he would have taken at least a modicum of time and energy to write ANYTHING to that effect in the invitations haha. but I think he does recognize in some way that mercy and augustine are burning out under the ten thousand years he's asked of them, like cytherea just did, and maybe mistakenly thinks g1deon is handling it better, because his and pyrrha's decision seemed more informed/less coerced? loveday always knew it was her life or cytherea's, after all, that wasn't ever a real choice either. huh.
-god, harrow literally states all her (frankly very modest and doable) goals and needs to him -- to return to the ninth at least once, to find her cavalier's body, and to figure out what happened to the other survivors of canaan house -- and once she is incapable of remembering them........ he does fucking NOTHING to remind her or help her follow up on any of them fhsdkajfhasdkj I am losing it! at least there is the delicious irony that he could have saved himself a massive headache if he had helped her with any of these, so his own fecklessness and narcissism is its own punishment in this case I suppose lmao
-another observation: harrow is not as deferential or worshipful towards God in this epilogue as she will be in HtN or beyond. she's angry with him! she's kind of sharp and a bit rude, even! she seems more to feel begrudgingly beholden to him because fair enough he is god I guess than to emotionally buy into it as sacred service. I wonder how she'll think of him after nona the ninth, now that she knows him so much better and has more of herself too -- ironically my sense from their last scene in nona the ninth is that her worship of him seems to have all but disappeared, but she loves him more, despite uh the everything of him, in all his awfulness. not in that she doesn't recognize him for what he is or that she wants his approval anymore, she's grown so far past him already, but I do think there's still love there. 'I still love you' is the real power he has, I guess
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