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maiji · 9 months

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fight / flight part 3 thumbnails and page sketches

This is the behind the scenes work-in-progress overview for fight / flight part 3!

I feel like I’ve exhausted my current level of ability to compose and draw fight sequences. It was a struggle, to say the least! But it was also a lot of fun and deeply satisfying when I figured out how to get (something close to) the effect I wanted to achieve. I started the thumbnails and page sketches in early August and worked on it intermittently, with a chunk of about a week or two where I got most of the pages inked (on the computer). Then it was more intermittent progress until this past weekend when I finally powered through the rest!

All sketches of the pages are below the cut, spoilers for Part 3 progress.

With regards to the thumbnails versus the final pages:

I learned from last time and did my thumbnails bigger (2x2 instead of 3x3 a page) so that I can better compose the sequences and tell what the heck is going on.

You can see I actually started the first page as Hokushin stretching his arms out to grab for both swords. At some point I decided to then squeeze another page in before that one, giving a bit of a pause for Hokushin to collect himself before he charges at Otake. The goal was to build up that scene a bit more. The text on page 16’s thumbnail reads “slowly getting up first?” and I think we lost the sense of that in the page by itself, but the reader can (hopefully) make that connection in their brain when actually reading from Part 2 to Part 3 without a break). The important thing is that still maintains the pause, so.

Page 18, the head-on charging page. I was already thinking about this moment back in 2021 - it’s the test panel here of Hokushin crying with rage/despair as he attacks Otake. It seems like a no brainer now that this section is done, but when I first started scripting/thumbnailing, I actually wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to work in the scene. But I did it! It’s just drawn from a slightly different angle and with more details only possible now that I’ve gone through this part of the story, which I think works better to convey the forward momentum.

Page 19 is pretty much exactly as I thumbnailed. I was very happy with this page and the dialogue! Also it was lots of facial closeups so that is always a joy/relief to draw, hahaha.

Page 20 also pretty much as I thumbnailed

Pages 21-23 were the most difficult and last pages I finished. This is mainly because I didn’t figure out the panelling on page 21 till the very end. That page was very tight, trying to pack in an eventful but short sequence of Otake getting more injured, dropping his sword, and doing some sort of attack that would land Hokushin on the ground. At the last second, when I was pretty much done inking everything else, I came up with the idea of basically smacking Hokushin across the head hard enough to flip him over - and snap his neck, if he weren’t a rokurokubi. (I always like to take advantage of opportunities in the story that highlight Hokushin's stretchy nature.) Then I had to redraw a batch of panels on the following page to make it better follow the motion. I still think it could use more work, but short of reworking a lot more - it is what it is, which is done!

Pages 24, 25 also pretty much the same.

Other thoughts:

Continuity was a challenge. I kept forgetting what damage Hokushin and Otake had already sustained and had to keep going back to retouch pages. In fact, after I reposted to tumblr (which I usually do last, after waiting a day or so in case I catch more errors I want to fix before sharing it there), I then realized I had forgotten to draw all of Hokushin's upper arm injuries from Part 2, sighed and reopened the files to blob some more blood on him. I also realized some of his facial injuries/cuts are not technically rendered the same but at this point it really is a "probably only I would notice if I didn't say anything about it" so eh. May the record of this inconsistency serve to educate lol.

Had a bit of a hard time trying to get Tomoe Gozen to look on-model from how I drew her in Survive.

I am very grateful for splatter brushes. Splatter splatter wheee. There’s a fine balance of… finding the balance though, as I found sometimes the blood splatters got in the way of actually seeing and conveying the impact of the action. But between blood splatters and speed lines that helped a lot with creating a sense of action and FIGHT without having to draw every single blow.

I’m still not entirely happy with the finished pages. Currently the thing that’s still bothering me is Hokushin’s position on page 23, in terms of the angle he’s lying at and how far he is from Otake. At one point I debated even repositoning them so that Tomoe was stepping over Hokushin to block Otake, instead of standing in front of Hokushin. But I don’t want to redraw the rest of that page because getting Tomoe Gozen’s pose looking decently believable took me a lot of wrangling, haha.

Here are all of the page sketches - without the text.

[Image set follows, showing the rough sketch stage for all 10 pages in part 3 of fight / flight.]

A few more things to note:

On the opening page, you can see that there is a panel of Hokushin taking a step towards Otake that I dropped. It seemed to interrupt/disrupt down the pace between this and the next page in a way I didn’t feel was effective.

On page 22, the angle of Hokushin crashing into Otake is a lot more extreme/exaggerated, but when I started inking it ended up looking a bit ridiculous, so I rotated them to a more conventional angle.

Here are the two panels for page 22 top left that I had finished and then decided to completely re draw after figuring out the progress of page 21. You can see Hokushin has landed on his back instead and dramatically coughs up some blood. (Then I was like, "Oh I made him do that in Part 2 already. Seems redundant.") His landing also didn't make sense anymore with the action/impact coming from the side in the previous page.

Phew! Part 4 will have a lot less people whacking each other with swords and a lot less Hokushin being flung around. Thankfully!

#yu yu hakusho #hokushin #otake #wip #sketches #thumbnails #comics #fancomic #making art #making comics #comics process #yyh north bound #art by maiji/mary huang

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flame-shadow · 2 years

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Traditional Art Commissions [Trial Batch]

Hi there! You hopefully noticed my cool watercolor character art lately. I'd like to offer them as commissions, but I'm still working on prices. This first batch will be a trial to get a better feel for what I should specifically offer and at what prices. Therefore, I'll likely be undercharging myself, so uh, yay for cheaper art?

What I will do for this batch:

- Single Character (no humans)

- Limited props*

- Simple background*

* if applicable. These aren't required if you only want the character drawn. I won't do anything more complex than what you see in the below pieces.

Examples:

What to expect:

- A digital image of a lined and textured pen drawing that is colored with watercolors.

- The option for the real thing to be shipped to you for an additional fee (assuming shipping is feasible).

- Communication and check-ins to share the progress at various stages.

- No changes after the final sketch has been approved.

Prices:

- Starting price is 50 USD for a simpler piece like the dragon bust or the goodra.

- Starting price is 100 USD for a more complex piece like the daisies or the spider in the greenhouse.

- The price increases with more complex designs.

Process:

- DM me if you're interested (DMs can begin here, but if you have Discord, I will ask that we move there once we've determined that you for sure want to proceed).

- Tell me information about what you'd like to see, and provide a colored reference of the character as well as an email for the invoice.

- When we've worked out the piece via discussion and sketches, I will give you a price estimate.

- I make the final sketch, and you approve.

- I work on the piece, sending you updates as I finish stages or if you ask for them.

- Once the piece is finished, I will send a small, watermarked image of the final product along with a paypal invoice of the final price.

- Once the invoice has been paid, I will provide a full-sized image of the piece.

- We can discuss mailing the actual artwork to you, but this is completely optional and will cost more, separate of the price of the commission.

I reserve the right to refuse a commission for any reason. If you have questions, please ask!

Slots: (0/5)

#commissions #commissions open #watercolors #there's been some interest so! here we go!#fingers crossed this goes well because i think these are fun and i'd love to do more

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

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I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x female reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics

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steamberrystudio · 3 years

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25/04/2021 Devlog

Hey everyone!

Here is the bi-weekly update for Gilded Shadows. It's coming pretty late in the day because...frankly I just forgot about it. LoL

Summary:

Finished editing Magnus' Route

Finished scripting Magnus' Route

Finished scripting Jack's Route

Edited up to Chapter 8 of Lance's route

Received all the BGs from the last batch

Worked on some sprite additions/variations

The Ramble:

Okay so the last two weeks have been pretty busy!

I finished line editing and scripting Jack's route.

I also finished editing and scripting Magnus' route as well. About 84% of the base game is scripted. I have about 580,000 words in the game now.

I am currently working on editing Lance's route and have gotten up to Chapter 8. After this I will do a final edit for typos and script his route. And after that, it'll be focusing on art and asset coding. Currently the editing is about 90% complete. So...so close to being officially done with writing and editing the base game.

I will probably complete and code assets on a per route basis to break up the monotony a bit. But I'm not totally sure which route I'll start with. I usually work in alphabetical order but Ari's route showcases a lot of side characters. LoL So I may do him later. It's kind of nice to work from least to most in terms of asset needs because usually by the time you get to the "most" end of the spectrum, you've already completed a lot of the needed assets and don't have as many to create.

Speaking of assets, I have worked on some of the main character sprite variations lately. All the main sprites have a lot of different outfit/hairstyle changes but a lot of them are still incomplete so I'm trying to work on them here and there to give everyone their full selection of variations.

I'm also making some minor tweaks to various things just to liven them up a little. There are sooo many outfits to do. Training outfits, body armor, casual outfits…

Morgan has a different casual outfit for nearly every route and needs several additional hairstyles. But I'm trying to get many of these done now so the main cast is set and I only have to worry about side characters.

I can't remember if I mentioned it last time or not but I'm also starting to brainstorm and plan the KS love interests....so yeah!

Sneak Peeks and Previews:

Here's the main cast in a different type of uniform.

And here is Caleb in his training clothes

Upcoming Week:

So in the next two weeks I expect to:

Finish editing and scripting Lance's Route

Start asset coding……*SOMEONE.* I don't know who yet

This will also start me on the path to finishing up the remaining sprites - but there are quite a few side characters so it'll still take a while. (But side characters from here on out only get half-body sprites so that makes it easier)

CGs are still lower on the to-do list since I typically reserve those for after sprites are completed and coded. But I'll continue to sketch out concepts and things like that for CGs. No particular schedule for those, though.

So yeah, that's all for now. Once I get the writing done, I may bring back the progress chart. I temporarily retired it because when I'm focusing on writing that thing just does not move. LoL

But once I move to other things it'll actually be changing between updates.

Anyway I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks!

#upcoming game #otome #oelvn #english visual novel #interactive fiction #gilded shadows #updates

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thatslikely · 3 years

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Frosting On Your Nose - R.W.

Frosting On Your Nose- Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: marriage (to Ron), mentions of having a kid, food.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this has been an idea of mine forver, here it is. writing for ron is actually kinda fun! i’ve been feeling really bad about my writing lately, so I’m glad at least to churn something out. also I renamed Ron’s son because Hugo is not it

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl

if you want to be added, send me an ask or dm!

“I can’t believe our Benny’s already turning one year old! Feels like he was born just yesterday, doesn’t it, love?” Ron asked you from across the messy, crumb-coated kitchen, his chiseled hands steadily whisking a muckle of creamy, vanilla frosting in a bowl.

“Time really does fly when you’re having fun, I suppose,” you replied while carefully selecting a fistful of small food dye vials of various shades of the rainbow. The blank, white frosting will soon brilliantly decorate the rich chocolate cake cooling on the windowsill, basking in the sun’s lazy, late-afternoon rays.

Silence soon rose into the bright, cozy room like the soothing morning tide of the sea, calm and comfortable. Ron continued to rhythmically stir the batch of uncolored frosting while you had moved on to preparing various crystalline piping bags, selectively choosing each fine metal tip.

Inexorably, Ron soon removed the metal whisk from the bowl, long, red tongue out and ready to kitten-lick some of the deliciously sweet frosting off the whisk’s wired loops. “Ronnie, you better not be eating any of that frosting! It’s for Benny’s cake, remember,” you smoothly reminded the sweet-toothed redhead opposite you, not even needing to gaze at him to know what he had planned.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Ron denied innocently, placing the whisk back into the bowl inconspicuously. You ambled over to the tall ginger for a quick progress check, pleased to see that the frosting was now mixed to perfection, its texture silky smooth and ready for piping. You swiped your finger on the rim of the bowl, accumulating a dollop of the fluffy cream, before nonchalantly sticking it into your mouth with a pop. “Hey! You can have frosting, but I can’t, huh? That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Ronnie-kins. But I’ll let you have all the leftovers after the cake is done, deal?”

“Fine,” - he grumbled - “deal. Now what colours are we gonna frost this mouth-watering cake?”

Countless rough sketches and outlines of adorable cakes filled the smudged papers of your notebook, the same one you doodled in since your Hogwarts days. You gingerly handed Ron the dog-eared bundle of bound papers, pointing at your favorite sketches and concepts, most of which included bright colours and childish smiley faces galore. The final design of the soon-to-be Benny’s first birthday cake was circular and slathered in white frosting, dotted with yellow and orange suns wearing wide-mouthed grins, which popped against frosted sky-blue ribbons. Little spherical sprinkles added miniature bursts of colour to the central letters of the cake which read, “Happy First Birthday Benny!” in flawless, fluid cursive writing.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had such a knack for drawing, sweetheart. Benny’s cake’ll look amazing, as long as you’re the one doing all those tiny details.”

“You’re not that bad at sketching yourself. We’ll pipe it together, but I’ll be sure to do the lettering. Don’t think I didn’t see your awful handwriting back on all your old Divination homework.”

“It was only that bad because I hated the class! It always smelled like old-lady perfume and Trelawney was a nutter!”

“She was better than Snape, at least.”

Ron gave you a concurring nod, his unkempt mop of ginger hair fluffing up and down with the movement. You suppressed a giggle at his charming, goofy grin you’d come to love before squeezing droplets of brilliantly-coloured food dye into the small basins of peaked, milky-white frosting.

Ron gently clamped his large, vermillion-freckled hand over yours’, guiding your wrist in circular stirring motions to tint the heaps of icing. Ron’s chin rested on the crown of your head, his warm breath blowing strands of your hair to obscure your gorgeous, light-catching eyes. You paid no attention to the falling tresses of hair, instead you absorbed the familiar sensation of being held in Ron’s delicate arms; the knits and stitches of his homemade maroon sweater caressed your skin.

Once the pigmented frosting was tightly wrapped in the metal-tipped piping bags, you daubed a thin crumb-coat onto the layered cake. When the coat had settled, cementing the loose specks of brown to the sponge, you smoothed on another layer of frosting, this time making it a silky, uncreased layer.

Soon enough, Ron was concentratedly piping an (uneven) border of blue around the base of the cake. Even though his strokes of frosting were messy, you admired his effort. His effort that was made quite prominent by the tip of his tongue poking out from his soft lips in focus, his minimally-blinking blue eyes glued to the slowly revolving cake.

“Honey, you did a splendid job. I’m so proud of you.” You pulled in a triumphant Ron for a tight, loving hug, twirling your fingers through his messy ginger hair. You were quick to notice little ivory specks of frosting was strewn through his fluffy locks. “How’d you manage to get frosting in your hair, silly?”

“It’s just part of the process of being a great baker, I guess.”

You both let out airy chuckles, your faces inching closer and closer. He finally pulled you by the hem of your apron into a sloppy, languid kiss, each succumbing to the familiar sensations of each other’s lips. The sensation you felt all those years ago after he confessed his love for you on a chilly night at Hogwarts, the sensation you felt dressed in a stunning sea of white on the day of your wedding, the sensation of his lips after looking at your son for the first time.

In quite a few minutes, after lingering kisses and tear-jerking memories came and went, you were back in the present, the clocks still ticking forward, finishing up the piping. You trimmed the sponge with varicoloured stripes and ribbons, meticulously spacing them out to perfection.

After the last pinch of beads of sprinkles fell atop the cake like bittersweet summer rain, the cake was finally complete. It looked adorable, exactly like the baked goods that would be proudly displayed in the window of a bakery. Ron gave you a goofy high five (which was commonplace) in celebration; after your hands smacked together, he wrapped his fingers around your palm, your hand dwarfed by his’.

“You did a wonderful job, love. Everyone at his party’ll be dying to try a slice!” he praised, pulling you to his chest for a hug.

You pulled back to glance up at his handsome face with doe eyes, his features illuminated by the golden, waning sunlight. Before you could give him a sweet reply and subsequent peck on his lips, he stated with a laugh, “Y/N, you have frosting on your nose.”

You retracted your hand from his sweater-clad chest, dipping your pointer finger into the leftover stash of glistening frosting before briskly smudging a streak of white across Ron’s sun-freckled nose, teasing, “now you do, too.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Ron exclaimed mischievously, coating his hands into the bowl of sugary fluff, desperately attempting to slather your nose in white further. As the sunlight gradually faded away, and the moon elusively bathed your quaint house in pale beams, the evening was pin-drop silent and peaceful, except for the light, scampering footsteps and fearful giggling of you and your doting husband.

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operationfazbear · 3 years

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Timeline

OKAY

So the link I posted to my timeline wayyyyy back is broken, so I’m just sticking it directly here.

It’s not complete (Will it ever be complete) and stops off right before security breach, but I’m waiting until the game comes out before I actually start forming opinions about it.

1963: Afton and Henry meet for the first time, begin discussing plans for a future restaurant. -- 1966: Afton and Bethany meet for the first time, agree to start seeing each other more Bethany introduces Afton to the rest of her family, Abria’s first appearance in the story Afton kills Paige and tries to combine her remnant to an endoskeleton he constructed, it doesn’t work. Her spirit is now stuck with him Afton kills Mark and tries the same thing; gets the skeleton to writhe around a little but nothing else. Mark is now stuck with Afton as well -- 1968: Bethany (Mrs. Afton) becomes pregnant with Michael, she and Afton get married Afton and Henry meet up again, begin discussing the old plans for the place they talked about in college. Henry mentions how he went on with the plans and the skeletons have already been built. Afton asks to be included in the project and Henry agrees Building is found that will hold the place Security Puppet is built Underground testing facility is built, as well as first drafts of what would become the Circus Baby robots Mark possesses Security Puppet -- 1969: Michael is born early in the year First Fredbear’s opens Henry has minor springlock failure that permanently damages his right leg. -- 1972: Sammy is abducted by William in the Spring Bonnie suit. Restaurant shuts down for the time being while the investigation goes on William convinces Henry to shut the investigation down and open the restaurant back up. Henry reluctantly agrees William begins noticing that Security Puppet seems slightly sentient and always goes crazy when he’s nearby. Begins trying to sabotage his creation. -- 1973: Bethany becomes pregnant with Elizabeth (Ice cream girl) Charlie keeps asking people in the Spring Bonnie suit about her brother. William gets tired of it and lures her outside to kill her, after making sure Security Puppet can’t follow (Henry reprogrammed it to make sure it watched Charlie specifically, against William’s wishes). Paige helps the Puppet escape so Mark could control it outside to Charlie. First Fredbear’s closes permanently Elizabeth is born Security Puppet is scrapped -- 1975: William brings up the idea to try again, that making a new place might get his mind off his dead children, Henry reluctantly agrees Andrew Wills is hired Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy animatronics are built and go into testing phases Lacey Phillips (Concept Artist) is hired to help with Circus Baby designs Circus Baby animatronics are designed and built Circus Baby’s Pizza World also begins construction Underground Facility expands -- 1976: Bethany becomes pregnant with Ben (Crying Child) William suffers his first (Yes, first) Springlock failure Ben is born 2nd Fredbear’s opens Samuel Meller (Phone Guy) is hired -- 1978: Circus Baby’s Pizza World goes on trial run. Elizabeth is killed and the robots go underground for rental William begins the controlled shocks on the robots, Baby especially Baby gains sentience -- 1980: Two performers Lucas and Matthew wearing the Spring Bonnie and Fredbear suits are caught in a Springlock failure and die, Fredbear’s closes for a few months Ben’s nightmares begin Baby begins trying to escape -- 1983: Bite of 83 happens First five children (yes there are two groups of them) are abducted Second Fredbear’s closes Murder accusations are being pinned on Henry Henry asks Afton to kill him, Afton refuses and declares he was just as responsible for Ben’s death as Michael was Henry tries to kill himself but fails, makes accusations worse for him. Eventually goes into hiding Bethany tries to reason with William and get him to stop verbally abusing Michael. William, not happy with Bethany disagreeing with him, kicks her out of the house. She stays with Abria for the night Restraining order set on Bethany that keeps her from seeing Michael, Bethany leaves for New York -- 1984: Construction of toy animatronics begins Plans for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza begin Underground testing facility expands -- 1985: First Freddy’s opens Abria’s investigation begins Charlie inhabits the Puppet -- 1986: Abria finds some hair sticking out of one of the withered animatronics and takes it to be tested. Chased out of the back room by Afton’s assistant manager, Blake Roberts. William begins suspecting that Abria is after him for something and begins trying to keep her off his tail. Enlists in the help of Blake to help him Abria is switched to the night shift, snoops around before the night begins and finds entrance to underground workshop. Requests switch to the dayshift Baby and friends begin breaking consistently. Technicians are hired to fix them Michael gives Abria a key to the underground facility. She finds the blueprints for Circus Baby and friends -- 1987: An employee named Nathan Pike takes the night shift for the second time. nearly dies and is constantly plagued by nightmares. Pleads a switch to the dayshift Jeremy Fitzgerald is hired Nathan tampers with the bots to try and get them to stop attacking people; fails and makes it worse Fritz Smith is transferred to the Nightshift (Afton hates him because he smokes so he’s hoping he’ll die) Bite of 87 occurs Second batch of kids is abducted, murder is pinned on Nathan Blake messes with camera footage to keep the blame off Afton First Freddy’s closes Toy animatronics are scrapped -- 1989: Baby has been persistently trying to escape and Afton is getting fed up Makes Michael a late night technician to keep the animatronics at bay Michael is scooped Michael rejects Ennard and becomes a walking flesh gremlin -- 1990: Afton opens another Freddy’s location, uses the old models from the Fredbear location (they now have two ghosts stuck in each of them, they take turns controlling them) Afton Asks Andrew to test the Spring Suits to see if they’re still usable, trips the locks and kills him (Blames him for Elizabeth’s death, because this man doesn’t know what personal responsibility is.) -- 1991: Afton tries to suit up and kill another batch of kids, but Paige, Charlie, and Mark all trigger the locks. Afton is now sickly, weak, and slowly dying from rusty metal being IMBEDDED INTO HIS FLESH Samuel (Phone Guy) takes the night shift (and the record for how long someone remains on it) and gets mauled by Chica on his last week, somehow survives the attack and manages to drag himself out of the restaurant with a messed up leg and scars all over his face and chest; presumed dead by the company. -- 1992: Constant complaints of the robots stinking and weird fluids leaking out of them Abria takes the nightshift for a couple weeks Frustrated, the spirits stuck with Afton begin fully haunting him -- 1993: Michael takes the nightshift for the remainder of the time it’s open as he tries to find a way to free the spirits Freddy’s closes for reasons that surprisingly aren’t murder this time Paranoid by the spirits haunting him, William goes back to the abandoned building and destroys the animatronics, setting the rest of the spirits loose. He hides in the Spring Bonnie suit and dies in it this time -- 2020: Plans for Fazbear’s Fright begin, run by the Evans siblings: Lydia, Zach, and Dylan (Dylan is Phone Dude) Michael begins trying to sabotage the project -- 2021: Building is bought and actors are wanted Lydia tracks down Abria and asks her some questions. Abria gives her the binder full of information from her investigation Springtrap is found Dylan is killed by Springtrap in the attraction. His body is stuffed in a vent and found by Zach Lydia begins working in the attraction as the fright guard before it officially opens Lydia goes down to the now abandoned underground facility and discovers some old blueprints and some sketches from Lacey Michael burns down the attraction (did not know Lydia was in there. She lived, just has some bad burn scars on her arms now) Spirits of the children are set free aside from Mark, Paige, Charlie, Afton, Elizabeth, and Michael Henry learns about Fazbear’s Fright and goes to do something about this once and for all -- 2022: Henry buys back the rights to Fazbear Entertainment and opens a new Freddy’s with the promise of helping new entrepreneurs get a start Michael hears about this, not knowing who started this and goes to try and sabotage this too. Michael and Henry see each other for the first time in years. Henry explains his plan to Michael and Michael agrees to help. Per Henry’s instructions Michael gathers all the robots that appear in the alley behind the restaurant After a week the plan is executed. Henry sets the establishment ablaze, setting the rest of the spirits free, except Afton who goes straight to Hell Michael and Henry also parish in the fire, at last able to be with their lost family -- 2029: In attempt to distance themselves from the past and cover up Afton’s atrocities, Fazbear Entertainment sells the rights to a small game company, who begin development of an interactive experience based off the ancient pizzeria Development officially starts. Team consists of Mackenzie Wood (Tape Girl), Jeremy, and their managed Dale A client (Vanny) sends in a few things for the team to use in the game; old circuit boards that unknowingly contain pieces of William’s remnant Glitchtrap starts appearing Jeremy notices the appearances and tries to let Dale know about it. Dale doesn’t listen. Work continues as scheduled. -- 2030: Things start steadily going wrong as the appearance of Glitchtrap persists. Jeremy’s nightmares begin Game progress slows; Fazbear’s Entertainment getting antsy Nightmares worsening, Jeremy tries killing himself with the paper shredder (it’s implied. I think) Mackenzie takes over testing; learns about the coverup Mackenzie notices Glitchtrap and begins documenting her findings and hiding them within the game’s code; Glitchtrap attaches itself to the tapes Mackenzie tries to destroy him, but can only manage breaking him apart for a bit. -- 2031: Testing moves on to new studio with a new tester, Nikki, hired for the job Nikki unknowingly sets Glitchtrap (Afton) free when she assembles the tapes Afton rejoins with Vanny; begin looking for new recruits (will be added on to later)

#fnaf #fnaf au #five night's at freddy's au #five night's at freddy's #operation fazbear

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aelaer · 3 years

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Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @amethyst-noir a week or two ago, thank you!

Name: Aelaer. Laer for short.

Fandoms: LOTR, Doctor Strange (and the MCU by osmosis) are the two big ones. The former will be a constant in life; the latter has been going on and off since late 2016.

Where you post: I used to post on both ff.net and AO3, but now it's exclusively AO3 due to lack of feedback on ff.net for the Avengers category. I post Tumblr prompt posts on said site first, before moving them to AO3 within a few weeks/months (just... depending on stuff).

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Post 2016, it's still "Strange in a Strange Land", funny enough (The LOTR/DS crossover). Maybe if I get another modern story to 10 chapters, it'll get near those hits/kudos. Crosssssing fingers!

Favorite story you’ve written so far: I don't tend to have one favorite. I'm fond of most of my stories for one reason or another. Generally speaking I can reread all of them because I generally enjoy them - I write what I want to read. (And I'll reread my older stuff sometimes to try to motivate myself to write.)

Fic you were nervous to post: I was a little nervous about "Untitled" due to its very serious topics about depression and attempted suicide. I was similarly a bit nervous about fic #25 - Humiliation for Whumptober because the narrator/antagonist references real world horrors in order to bring down and demotivate Stephen. But generally speaking, I pad these stories with so many warnings that if people stumble into it, I don't feel bad if someone didn't heed the warnings. If I ever purposefully tagged "chose not to use warnings", I'd probably warn on that too lmao.

How you choose your titles: Amy wrote in her answer that she has random post-it notes to lyrics she'd like to write to. I'm somewhat the opposite - I created a 4,000 word document with all my favorite lyrics from all my favorite bands and then choose from there for chapter/one-shot titles. I've been doing this for the last uh, year or so. Sometimes a lyric doesn't work out and I choose something that works thematically instead. The latter is how I came up with the title of #4 in the Earth-197320 series - which is gonna be called Illuminating the Shadows (bringing back an echo to the first story in the series and also going well with the chapter titles theme, which are all lyrics from one song that I just addddoooorrrreee). But the chapter titles, all lyrics from one of my favorite songs.

Do you outline: Yes, even one shots tend to get mini outlines. Sometimes it doesn't happen, but it's more rare for me to write in order than it is out of order, or without a sketch of what's to come. The last multi-chapter fic to actually be written in order was the LOTR/DS crossover; all others since have been out of order.

Complete: A lot. It was over 60 on AO3. If I ever commit to revamping my old LOTR one shots surrounding Aragorn, that number is only going to get astronomical. (It is something I have been considering on and off this year.)

In progress: Ughhhh more than I like. Four or five prompt one-shots and two active multi-chaptered stories. And one very long term project in the back-burner.

Coming soon/not yet started: The other half of my tumblr prompts. Getting through those is my next project after this story’s written out.

Do you accept prompts: Yes. It is just very likely it will take over a year for me to get to it. I'm doing my darnedest to get through more of the 2019 batch before the end of the year, but I may not reach that goal just because all of my writing effort has been towards Illuminating the Shadows the last few weeks.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Sequel #4, aka Illuminating the Shadows. It's currently at 23.5k and is the pivotal tale in the series when it comes to the emotional aspects of Tony and Stephen and their growing bond. I really hope I can do what I'm envisioning justice. The difficulty lies within the short time frame the story takes place, so I'm just hoping that it feels real, even if it is over a month rather than a year. *wrings hands* (But good news, I had a draft of this survey from about 2 weeks ago waiting on my phone for a bit and it was ‘just over 10k’ then, so progress *is* being made! And by the time this scheduled post comes out, it’ll be even further along! Wheeeeee!) (and post update it's now 30k since less than a week ago wheeeee)

Upcoming story you are most excited about: Uh, see above. Hopefully I'll be able to do it justice.

Thanks for reading!

Tagging: The writers who replied a couple weeks back! @an-odd-idea @dragonnan and @lifeofroos (though poke me if you’re also a writer who likes to get tagged in stuff).

#tagged #fanfic #about me #writing

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mfb-better-fury · 3 years

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February Update

-claps- Okay! For once I have some semblance of actual progress!

Things happening in life have been keeping my focus away from this for a while - winter, housekeeping, mental issues - but yesterday I made myself sit down and break everything down to what really needed to be done. I can say with near certainty now that the first batch of episodes to come out will have 5 episodes.

There is still the issue, of course, of writing the final two. I briefly lost my notebook that had plans for those during this month and after finding it was too stressed to actually use it. Next month, though, after I handle a few more life things that are being thrown at me, I’m going to try to dedicate a lot more focus and time to writing episode 4.

I’m finally coming out of my wintery aimless drifting and I’m exciting to try writing something again!

Also, I’ll be posting a second teaser sketch on the extras blog later, so keep an eye out for that~

#mod post

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padalickingood · 5 years

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-NEED HELP MOVING OUT-

Hi everyone! This one’s gonna be a long one but I hope I can implore you all to take a quick minute of your time to read this and hopefully share it with others TvT. I’ve really been taking my time procrastinating from writing this because I never liked talking much about my own personal situation and dumping that on people, but I’ve unfortunately reached a point where I'm a bit desperate for any kind of help If I am going to try and make this happen.

Recently I’ve started a serious goal of saving up enough money in order to move out by early next summer. I have attempted to make plans to move from my family home many times in the past couple of years and unfortunately have never managed to get anywhere near to achieving that goal due to my financial situation. Things have gotten increasingly stressful and emotionally exhausting in my current situation and I’ve officially hit that point where I’m willing to ask for assistance online.

As a freelance artist, even with my Etsy, Patreon, ko-fi, and commission work combined I barely manage to make enough for basic living essentials which doesn’t include any sort of insurance or homeowner/apt owner expenses. Currently I do my very best to pay for as much as I can on my own and even so I still require support from my parents by them allowing me to live with them and them providing internet etc. What I pay for out of pocket is limited to things I need personally such as food, clothes, basic living supplies, art/store supplies etc. I’ve also recently limited myself from buying anything that is not completely necessary for essential living like eating out, movies, buying gifts over a certain price limit for friends, as well as canceling any travel plans from here on out.

At this point I feel like It’s important for me to explain why I am a freelance artist as opposed to having any other type of job that could potentially be easier and pay better. This may be a bit of a tl;dr but I feel like it should at least be mentioned because the impact it’s had. Several years ago (I wanna say 2013 ish?) I dropped out of my community college because of essentially having a breakdown. The entire experience had left such a negative impact on me that my mood had very noticeably 180’d from high school to 2nd year of college. It was probably the closest I've come to being any level of depressed, which is not a word I throw around lightly as it’s something I don’t think I've felt anywhere near the level of those who struggle with it. Overall those years were so incredibly demoralizing and difficult for me that I made the tough decision of leaving school, something I had never even considered doing in my past (I never even skipped class in high school up until last day of senior year lol). Deciding to leave when I did though was probably the right decision because to this day, I still feel the lasting negative effects those years had on me. After I left school, I picked up a retail job and worked there for about a year and half. It wasn’t something I was really eager to do but was necessary as I wasn’t going to school anymore. With no degree though a minimum wage job was my only real option. Unfortunately, my experiences working weren’t all that positive either (as something I'm sure many of you also experience). I struggled to maintain motivation and continued to feel incredibly negative. It got so bad that it effected my relationships with family and friends as it kept me in a very antisocial mood. I ended up quitting that job shortly after and decided to try and go full freelance. Ever Since then I've worked on building up my store, commissions and anything else I could to try and make money from my art. To this day I still struggle with building up my online presence to the point where I can make a living off of it, but one thing that drastically changed for the better was my mood. My mental health has always been an absolute priority for me and I make a conscious effort to never force myself into anything that I know will have a negative impact on my health, which is why I dropped out of college and quit that job. I knew that if I stayed there it would have absolutely gotten so bad that It would have left much deeper scars than it has. And Although working in Freelance is no easy task and comes with its own degrees of stress, I find it far more rewarding and worth managing that stress.

But as a result of those years I’ve been afraid of going back to either school or a minimum wage job. I know if I return to a job like that it will pull me back into a mental space that I'm just not willing to sacrifice myself to, and as far as College goes, I simply can’t afford it. However, with deciding to become a freelance artist I've dedicated my time to trying to build myself back up with my art and create a presence online where I can simultaneously do what I know makes me happy while also earning a living off of it. My progress has been slow and over the years I've felt like I've hit a standstill which brings me to my overall goal of wanting to move out. As I mentioned before I had been making attempts to move since around the time I worked in retail. Things haven’t panned out since then as I am still struggling to try and build up my store/Patreon/overall customer basis online. Unfortunately, also within these past few years tensions have been at a pretty constant high in my household because of it. There’s an added weight of still being so reliant on my parents after all these years and it being used against me, that the stress I’ve accumulated from it has kept me from being as productive as I would like. Recently with some current events I’ve just about hit a breaking point and am willing to do anything I can in order to save up so I can officially move out. I’m incredibly tired emotionally from still being here and I’ve started to take serious steps to making this move happen. Luckily I’ve been able to find a friend I can move out with so I won’t be paying rent on my own and I’ve calculated how much I could potentially make a month if I stick to a packed workload schedule. It’s not ideal but I’ve committed to this freelance work and I’m willing to work as hard as I can to reach my goal, and if all goes well then by this time next year i’ll be able to move out.

In writing this I hope that I can ask for support in helping me raise enough so I can try and move out of an unhealthy situation into hopefully something better.

And to be clear I'm not doing a kickstarter or gofund me. That’s just simply not something this warrants. I know have options and I know that all I need to do is to work much much harder than someone with a 9to5 in order to earn what I need. The only reason I decided to write this out is to share WHY your support is so incredibly important to me and why sharing my work to anyone you can is very essential to my livelihood. Right now, I am very far away from earning nearly enough on a monthly basis in order to move out within a year, but I'm hoping that can change for the better. I simply ask for those who support my work to continue to do so and for those who haven’t and are absolutely financially able to consider supporting my work and share it with anyone you know. Whether it’s commissions, store merch, Patreon rewards, ko-fi etc. Every tiny bit helps me so much!

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

Here are the ways you can support me!

✪ Patreon: With the cheapest tier being 2$ a month you guys can get early access to all of my artwork a month in advance as well as other bonus content at the 2$ and above tier that is exclusive to patrons only. I have details about my rewards and goals on my Patreon that you don’t have to pay to view! Simply visit my homepage and browse through the rewards and bio to see if it interests you!

✪ Ko-fi: I recently added a moving goal fund there which will show its progress with each kofi donation! The goal is ambitions and I don’t really expect to reach it but I wanted to just aim high and try and earn as much as I can. Also, I do sketch commissions there occasionally and may do other types of small commissions. So, if you’d like to support me while also getting something for yourself keep an eye out for my announcements on my twitter!

✪ Commissions/adoptables: I’m going to officially be opening up my commissions soon but before that I wanted to try my hand at selling some adoptables! I’ll have more information about them after I finish up my current batch of commissions but I'm going to try and stick to those for now with some small YCH commissions sprinkled in between. After those though I’ll be opening up regular commissions again ^^

✪ Etsy: I’m actually not sure If I'm going to keep my store up for much longer since I get charged a fee on each listing but before it closes you could help support me by buying merch from my store!

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

And lastly, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read through this and for those who follow me/support me in any way that you can. Even your reblogs/retweets on my work mean so much to me and help me so much I could never fully express how much I’m thankful to have such an amazing and lovely following of people <3 Thank you for your time

#I honestly don't know what to tag this as #signal boost #aib's rambling #patreon #ko fi #ko fi donations #already want to delete this hhhh......

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echonidae · 5 years

Photo

edit nov. 23rd: alrighty, break is over !! the seven main slots are back c: for now commissions will be done in a slower pace while i sort out schoolwork (but i only have classes for two more weeks !!) so there's that c: ,,,,i ended up not having much time to revise the whole commission page ;o; but i'll also eventually make a separated page for the older completed slots, just so the page doesn't get progressively longer asdfghjfghj

——— COMMISSION STATUS - OPEN please read all the info + rules carefully before requesting a commission!! by placing an order, you're agreeing to all the rules!!

4000x4000px .png images (icons are 800x800px !) at 600-700ppi by default, digital medium only; one file watermarked for reposting purposes, another with a tiny signature off to the side; payment is done half upfront, half right before i send you the finished drawing (two invoices) after i accept your order, you must pay the first half in 72h to occupy a slot or your request will be considered null and void! waiting period for the finished drawing is 1 to 3 weeks (due to classes — i tend to work fast tho) — i'll keep you updated!

7 slots per batch — icons have dedicated slots!! once i get this batch done, i'll open more slots — for icons, i'll create a new batch and reopen slots as they get done instead :) max of 2 slots per person (icons don't count for Main slots so if you want two commissions + up to two icons, that's fine !!) , only one character per slot.

more info under the cut!! please read all the info + rules carefully before requesting a commission!! by placing an order, you're agreeing to all the rules!!

this price sheet is on dA too, in case the readmore link can’t be opened on mobile!

- first batch slot 1 - completed !! slot 2 - completed !! slot 3 - completed !! slot 4 - completed !! slot 5 - completed !! slot 6 - completed !! slot 7 - completed !!

- second batch slot 1 - completed !! slot 2 - completed !! slot 3 - completed !! slot 4 - completed !! slot 5 - completed !! slot 6 - completed !! slot 7 - completed !! -------------------- icon slot 1 - completed !! icon slot 2 - completed !! icon slot 3 - completed !! icon slot 4 - completed !! icon slot 5 - completed !! icon slot 6 - completed !!

- third batch // opened on nov. 23rd slot 1 - OPEN slot 2 - OPEN slot 3 - OPEN slot 4 - OPEN slot 5 - OPEN slot 6 - OPEN slot 7 - OPEN -------------------- icon slot 7 - OPEN icon slot 8 - OPEN icon slot 9 - OPEN icon slot 10 - OPEN icon slot 11 - OPEN

— USD (paypal invoice) only

> ICONS - 800x800px - digital painting style - full color + shading/lighting - colored lineart - optional white outline, chromatic aberration, etc. - simple backgrounds (mandalas, patterns, geometric, texture, transparent, etc.) — ICONS: $ 11 USD

> SHADED LINEART - cellshading in 1 to 2 colors - clean lineart in 1 to 2 colors - solid color bakcground with/without texture - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional — BUST: $ 12 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 14 USD

> OVERLAYED GRAYSCALE (as in, the drawing is done in grayscale and then i overlay a ton of diffrent colors on top of it) - cellshaded - clean lineart - minimal lighting - simple background with/without texture or simple shapes - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional — BUST: $ 15 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 18 USD

> BASE COLORS - cellshaded + lighting and lighting effects - base colors - clean, colored lineart - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional - simple background with/without texture or simple shapes — BUST: $ 22 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 26 USD

> FULL COLOR - full color digital painting - full shading/lighting - colored lineart - simple background — BUST: $ 38 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 55 USD

— each major change (as in: something significantly big and/or detailed, or a portion that is more than 45% of the piece, must be redone partially or completely) to the order after the lineart is done increases the price by $2 to $5 USD!

- will draw furries/anthro animals plants humanoids monsters humans body horror some gore your ocs - will not draw fanart (sorry!) nsfw/fetish/sexualized nudity hyper realistic gore mecha/vehicles/intricate armor (this sort of armor is fine! in doubt, feel free to ask!) text-only references (please send images instead!) someone else's oc (unless you have written permission!) hate speech/racism/lgbtphobia character sheets custom oc design custom clothing design (please send references!!) drawn backgrounds (as in, actual full scenes — abstract or simple shapes like mandalas or the ones in the previous commissions are fine)

feel free to ask if you're not sure whether your order would be ok or not !!

here are the full example images: - icons 1 // icons 2 - shaded lineart - overlayed grayscale (a more colorful one in this style would be [this] one!!) - base colors - full color (this was an ab extra for an auction so i can only link the preview, sorry!! most of my art is in this fullcolor style tho so here are some substitutes [1] [2] [3] [4]) feel free to check out previous commissions here!!

——— RULES / MORE INFO

- i reserve the right to refuse a commission request without needing to provide a reason — please don't take it personally!! - once i've accepted your order, i'll send you an invoice asking for the first half of the payment, which you must pay in 72h. after i receive that, you’ll occupy a slot and i’ll start working on your piece! - i'll send you some rough colored sketches for you to choose which one you like better; please make sure to think carefully and say if you'd like to change something before greenlighting one of the sketches! we can stay at this stage for as long as it is needed, no rush c: but please keep in mind that once you greenlight it, i'm not going to start over! - i'll update you again once the lineart is done (wip screenshot including the previously agreed color scheme, if applicable) — at this point, only color palette and minor changes to the lineart (small changes in the expression, moving a hand a bit to the side, more or less texture detail on faces and hair, etc.) are allowed free of charge — each major change after the lineart is done will increase the price by $2 to 5$ USD! - * i'll send another update right before finishing the piece so as to work out last minute details and small changes. * once your commission is done, i'll send a second invoice asking for the rest of the payment — after i receive that, i'll send you the full-res images! i'll also post the commissioned drawing here, on tumblr and on ig — if you don't want to be linked to the drawing once it's posted, please do say so ahead of time! - i won't accept private commissions (as in, the drawing isn't posted anywhere). i also will not do any edits after the commission is done (as in, after the second invoice has been sent) — again please make sure to voice your thoughts in the sketch phase! - please understand that, although i'll follow references as closely as i can * (and you can feel free to tell me if i missed a detail any time) * , i'll make stylistic choices due to my artstyle and i will not try to replicate someone else's style. - i keep all the copyrights to use, post and showcase the commissioned drawing in any and all websites, portfolios, announcements, etc. i won't sell or make prints/etc. of the drawing, and i'll make sure to add info on who the commission was for. - the commissioned drawing is for personal and non-commercial use only; you may not claim my art as your own nor profit in any way from the drawing. the resolution should be good for printing and you may do so for personal use but please don't sell prints of the drawing. * the commissioned drawing is a digital file, and i won't send any physical items to you. * - you keep all the rights to your own ocs, designs, concepts, and stories. - do not trace, copy, or edit the drawing in any way. and please do not erase my signature in the unwatermarked image, it won't be obstructing anything. - i'll send you a watermarked and an unwatermarked version of the drawing — only the watermarked version may be reposted (with credit) to prevent misuse/theft! the icon's file i'll send you does not have a watermark — still, credit is appreciated! i'll post icons together in a single post, and those do have watermarks for the same reason as mentioned previously ;v; - please don't commission me with a deadline in mind — your piece may take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to finish, though i'm aiming for the former. i'm currently in classes right now and they, of course, have a greater priority over commissions — if something comes up that results in a significant delay on your piece, i'll notify you of it! - i'll refund your payment if i wasn't able to finish or start your order. if you must cancel your order for any reason, please contact me asap so we can discuss it! if you give up on the commission mid-way or after it is done, i will not refund you and won't take commissions from/sell adopts to you in the future. - that being said, please do not commission me if you're unsure you can pay or unsure you actually want it!

by placing an order, you are agreeing to the terms and i assume you have read all the info i've written down! i'm not going to negotiate the terms! feel free to ask any questions!!!

——— IF YOU'RE INTERESTED

send me a note/PM with the following information:

subject: commission request paypal email: (so i can send you an invoice) type of commission: (icon, lineart, grayscale, base colors or full color?) type of composition: (knee-up or bust?) description/ideas: (please write a detailed description of what you want from this piece! what sort of mood/expression/pose/color palette/etc. do you have in mind? do send any ideas for composition and other elements even if they feel vague, we will work together on shaping your order c:) reference image links: (other than character sheets, these can be palettes, pictures of outfits, pose references, etc.! please keep in mind i won't do text-only descriptions/references, nor will i design characters/clothing/etc.!! also please make sure that the character sheet is colored or send a specific palette! if you have a quick sketch or doodle of what you have in mind [even if it's just stick figures!], it would be greatly appreciated if you linked it too!!!)

anyway yeah thank you for reading this far!! i realize this is very very long, still haven’t quite set up a dedicated page for commission info orz if you have any questions feel free to leave a comment or send a note, i'll get back to you asap!! c: ♥

#artists on tumblr #my art #commissions open #paypal commissions #artenidae #commissions #price sheet #artists on deviantart #illustration #digital art #portrait commissions #<3 here we go again !!

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sirkkasnow · 5 years

Text

08 If You’ve Gotta Fight, Fight Dirty

Ao3 link

07/17/13 Wednesday

Most of the old tools turned up in Soos’ usual closet, packed away into a not-new but well cared for hinged toolbox. The manual-crank drill and a batch of bits came easily to hand. Tracking down the hardware took a little longer. Staying in motion was automatic, his brain whirring all the while, settled by the steady incremental progress of physical labor.

There were a hundred good reasons not to get involved. He counted them off in the back of his head without much regard for keeping track as he sifted through jars of salvaged bolts and screws.

Stan padded down a few steps to the sublevel at the back, an odd space whose roof was too low and too slanted to be good for much of anything but stuffing boxes into. The great purge of last autumn had cleared out an eccentric pile of junk. Potentially useful odds and ends of machinery and materiel accumulated over decades had been rendered moot overnight. Between Soos and the brothers they’d hauled most of it out over the course of a few sweaty days. There wasn’t much left to clear from the center.

He was living the dream right now. Everything was going well and there was no reason to screw with a good situation.

The hand drill bit into wood in near silence. He routed out holes in each corner beam and mounted heavy screw eyes there, twisting until the steel squeaked. Absent, precise twitches of his fingers braided eye splices into the ends of the heaviest nylon rope he’d been able to find. Those got crossed at the corners of the room, bound and padded with strips of salvaged bubble wrap and triple thicknesses of packing tape.

Baltimore might as well be on the moon relative to the places he’d been in the last year and the places he and Ford were planning to visit next.

Stan looped S-hooks into the ropes’ eyes and set it all up, spanning from corner to corner. By the time he finished it was a bare suggestion of a boxing ring. When he leaned into the lines they stretched and shifted, the screw eyes groaning faintly in protest, but everything held to his satisfaction.

Complicating everything right as it was all going well for once should have been the very last thing on his mind. Fuck’s sake, she was just a tourist.

The background rattle of his thoughts ground to an abrupt halt. Stan sat on one of the crates he’d pushed off alongside the door and plucked off his glasses, laying a hand over aching eyes. He knew lies, he knew perfectly damned well when he was lying to himself, and that right there was a thin lie poorly told.

She hadn’t been just a tourist since she’d stuck her neck out for him the night he’d made some reckless choices regarding car repair and home décor and dragged her along for the ride. Hell, that had pretty much gone out the window the minute she started spitting bad lawyer jokes back at him. Dammit.

The thinking had tired him out more than the improvised engineering but he was, at last, worn down enough to snatch a few black and dreamless hours of sleep well after midnight.

Intensifying sunlight through the curtains kicked him out of bed again earlier than he would have liked. Stan managed to get halfway to respectable before he decided coffee pretty much had to trump everything else and dragged himself down to the kitchen. The kids were already up, empty cereal bowls ignored on the table as they bickered out their plans for the day. “Mornin’, gremlins. Anyone else up yet?”

“I think Grunkle Ford is still passed out in the lab,” Dipper volunteered. “At least no one’s gotten around to making coffee.” Stan set up the coffeemaker with fresh grounds and dumped in a potful of water.

“And Clary was here for a few minutes, then said she was heading down to Greasy’s for breakfast. Craving bacon or something.” Mabel’s chin rested in both her hands, her smile uncharacteristically sly. “How did you sleep, Grunkle Stan?”

“Just fine, sweetheart.” Stan reached way up for a mug. Both niece and nephew looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You like her.” Mabel was showing teeth in a wide knowing grin. Dipper tapped fingertips anxiously against each other, but nodded in agreement.

Stan leaned against the counter with a groan - god it was too early for this. “That woman’s been nothin’ but trouble, I’ve caused her nothin’ but grief, and if we’re both lucky I’ve got that junkheap of hers fixed enough that she can get the heck outta here and never look back. We both got places t’go and things t’do, kids.”

“Responsibilities,” Mabel sang, syllables stretching out, and Stan’s eyes narrowed a little. “So I guess you didn’t spend half the night running around to do something nice for her.”

“You two were supposed to be asleep.”

“I might have been working in my journal,” said Dipper. “Mabel might have been a little wired on sugar and getting stuff down in her scrapbook.”

All three of them eyed each other, Stan weighing the possible merits of turning this into a lecture on minding your own damn business and discarding the idea as way more trouble than it’d be worth. “All right,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I’m tryin’ t’do somethin’ nice since yesterday went completely sideways. If you wanna make plans for the day that get you the heck outta the house, then I might overlook your total failure t’go to bed on time.”

“Deal,” they chorused, sweeping up phones and notebooks and vacating the table in an instant.

“Library first, Mabel?”

“Yup! I’ve got a couple of confidential stops to make after that.” Mabel shooed Dipper out ahead of her, spun on her heel in the doorway and winked at him on her way out. “Have a swell day, Grunkle Stan! See you at dinnertime!”

Stan grunted in vague assent, pouring a cup of coffee and sloshing in a little milk. Yeah, that wasn’t ominous at all. He killed time collecting the twins’ breakfast debris, finished off the first cup of coffee, then headed upstairs to scrub his carcass a little closer to presentable.

He was well into the second cup of coffee half an hour later and getting restless when his phone, stuffed into a back pocket and forgotten, buzzed. Startled, he fumbled it out for a text message from Mabel - a contact, he realized after a moment’s confusion - CLARY trailed by a bunch of winged hearts and smooches. After a few false starts he stabbed enough buttons to save the thing to his tiny contacts list. It twinkled there at the top, above DIPPER and FORD and then MABEL.

Indecision made his fingers twitch. Finally he punched the number and jammed the little chunk of a phone, thick in its waterproof case, up between ear and shoulder.

After two rings he got a reply, all cool professional velvet. “C.J. Merrick.”

For a long second that didn’t compute at all. “Uh, Clary?”

A startled pause hung there before she replied, voice warming. “Why, Mr. Pines. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

That voice did things to him. He shoved the thought down. “Listen, I know you’re out but I’ve got a surprise for you back here at the Shack. Can y’wander back in when you’re done with breakfast?”

“Sure. I just got done, actually, let me settle up and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“So you know, it’d be worth your while to get out those tennis shoes again. And maybe a t-shirt.”

She chuckled darkly, a low rumble that made his toes want to curl. “If this is another round of errands, I’m out.”

“Absolutely not, we’re stayin’ on house grounds this time.”

“Thank mercy. See you at the Shack, then.”

Stan shoved the phone back into its pocket and paced the kitchen for a minute, knowing he needed something else, trying to remember it and finally settling on a plastic pitcher full of water and all the ice he could scrounge out of the freezer. By the time he rounded up that and a couple of glasses, he’d heard the door and footsteps heading off towards her room. In another minute or two Clary stuck her head in at the doorway. His jacket was draped around her shoulders and she looked amused as hell about something. “Good morning, Stan.”

“G’mornin’, Clary. You doin’ all right? Got some sleep?”

“I did, thanks. I was pretty worn out last night. What’s up?” She shrugged out of the jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. Today’s kerchief was some kind of patterned yellow. The bike shorts, tennies and faded t-shirt she’d changed into - this one read ‘REAL MEN PLAY GAMES’, right under a crudely rendered 38-sided die - would do fine.

“You’ll see.” Stan handed off the two glasses and led the way back through the house, pitcher heavy in his hand. “How was breakfast? You look like you enjoyed it.”

“I met a man from Washington state,” she said, and he looked away because he didn’t trust himself to keep a straight face. “His name’s Mike, he has a lovely new speedboat, and you wouldn’t believe how glad he was to talk to someone who isn’t a local. His SUV is stuck at Gleeful’s while they fix a flat tire.” There was a tiny wicked smile curling a corner of her lips. “He has been having a little trouble making friends in town.”

“Damn shame, that.” Stan tugged open the storage room door with a flourish and she swanned past him only to come up short against the rope lines a couple feet inside. He eased in after and set the pitcher down on a crate, then plucked the juice glasses from her nerveless fingers to put them alongside. “So I was baskin’ in the glow of my shiny new Klouneng, thinkin’ about last week….”

“You weren’t kidding,” Clary murmured, looking over the sketched-out boxing ring.

“Well, no, of course not! Anyway, you said - uh.” Stan put an awkward hand at the back of his neck, watching her carefully. Her expression had gone flat neutral. “I know a few things about how t’stand and fight, you know? Thought I’d show you how to throw that punch.”

The silence stretched for one or two seconds too long, one of her hands absently flexing. He was beginning to think he’d really stepped in it when she bent and slipped between the ropes. “Let’s do it.”

“All right.” His chuckle was half relief as he scooped up the spare handwraps and the old gloves, ducking in to stand beside her. “Gimme the right one, let’s make sure you don’t go bustin’ a knuckle here.” Clary laid her hand into his, the other tucked behind her back. He started binding across the palm, then between the fingers, with a bit of exaggerated care he couldn’t seem to help. She watched him all the while from behind downtilted lashes. “So this’s all about protectin’ the little bones. Whole thing goes under the gloves. Not that you’re gonna do a lot of hittin’ here, but these are your livin’, so….” The end of the wrap sealed off neatly at her wrist. “Next.”

“I could probably type with a pencil clutched in my teeth if I had to.”

“Let’s make sure y’don’t have to.” The outside fingers of her left hand twitched delicately as she gave it over into his grip and he frowned down in brief confusion. There was a notch in the outer edge of the palm, a long-mended scar from some deep, sharp cut. Stan wrapped her up with the same precise care he’d given the right hand, watching the pinky and ring finger twitch again as he cut between with the wrap. “This gonna be a problem?”

“It hasn’t been. The nerves never quite came back.”

“You’ve seen the handwraps before?”

“I did take self-defense classes for a while. Never boxing.”

“I can tell. You can’t hit worth a damn. I’m just gonna step behind you,” which he did, letting the thump and creak of his steps telegraph his position.

Clary huffed a soft laugh and he felt a bit of the tension ease. “The whole principle was to let gravity and concrete do most of the work, then run like hell. Besides, you were singing a different tune the other night.”

“I was tryin’ to make you feel better about bloodyin’ my nose!”

“Liar.”

“Prove it.” Stan tapped Clary at back and hip and wrist with the bare pads of two fingertips, guiding her gently as he explained the stance. She actually had a little understanding of the basics, weight well distributed, pivoting to let force flow all the way from core to knuckles. There was some wiry strength to work with in that square-shouldered frame. A lot more leg than arm, he absently noted, his bicep brushing hers as he reached to straighten her wrist. “Elbows in, that’s it. Snap it back.”

Defense came easy to her. Getting her out of the shell was clearly going to be the problem, so he coaxed and cajoled and got her to take swings at empty air - decent jab, he decided, but hesitant on anything stronger - until she was just bored enough with it to stop thinking so damn much, then reached for the gloves. “Not bad! So now you get to actually hit somethin’.”

Clary’s glance skittered around the mostly-empty room, then back to him, narrowing. “What, you?”

“You can try.” Stan dangled the gloves, read the doubt sketched in broad strokes across her features, and considered. “I’ve had a lot of practice at this, Clary. You just tag me real light - “ He held up a palm, and at the expectant sidelong flick of his eyes, she grudgingly jabbed him there. “Yeah, like that, easy. I can read you like a cheap paperback.“ She snorted, and he laughed, keeping it light. “Okay, okay, you’re a terrifyin’ enigma in all other ways, don’t worry ‘bout that. But you are not gonna hurt me.”

The flicker of her expressions was complex, but after a moment she released a held breath and offered her right hand. “Attagirl. Now, this won’t be so bad, I promise, you’ll learn somethin’. Just think of it as a dance.”

“With fists.”

He pulled the laces on the first glove wide and eased it over her fingers. “Sure, with fists. You watch me, I watch you. A shift in weight, a twitch in the shoulder or the eye, you can see where your partner’s goin’ an’ react. Get enough practice an’ it’s reflex, straight from the gut.” The gloves were a little too big, no shock that, and Stan took his time snugging down the laces. Clary flexed the right hand, testing the glove’s give, then offered him the left. “Not that one round of practice is gonna get you the reflexes.”

When he was done he looked her over. She’d been silent the whole while, watching with teeth set lightly into her lower lip and a line drawn between her brows. Stan enfolded her wrist in his hand, a fleeting squeeze of reassurance, and her smile flickered for a bare instant. “I’ve had some practice in taking an opponent’s measure, you know.” Clary stepped back to give him some room. “Go on, Stan. Wrap up. Let’s give this a try.”

“Right, right.” His own wraps took a minute to slap into place, fingerless sparring gloves over those since he wasn’t expecting to hit anything. Relaxing into the familiar half-coiled posture was almost comforting. “Come an’ get me.”

She was stiff as hell at first. Reluctance dragged at her limbs, and it took a good few minutes of him catching or deflecting her tentative strikes before that began to improve. The worry on her features chipped away with each swing, replaced by furrowed focus as sweat began to bead at her temples.

Dusty sunlight tracked along one edge of his improvised ring. By now it must have been close to lunchtime, the room heating up.

“I know you can put a little more force into it than that.” Stan caught another jab. “You don’t have to move quite so much. If you’re gonna run, then run, that’s the right response sometimes an’ you’re fast, but if you gotta stand up an’ fight you’ve gotta commit to it. Conserve your energy, ‘cause you’re gonna need it to hit.” He held up a hand to signal stop and left her standing there while he retrieved cold glasses of water for both of them. “Drink up.”

“Thanks.” Clary clutched the glass between both gloved hands and sucked the water down in long, relieved gulps, dumping the last couple tablespoons over the crown of her head. “I think I’ve got one more round in me before I collapse.”

“Tough bird like you, worn out so soon?”

“Mmhm. How’re you holding up, old man?” She licked her lips and grinned up at him, all brass despite the sweat and her obvious weariness.

Stan plucked the glass out of her awkward grip and dropped it off back on its crate. “Old age an’ treachery will beat youth and enthusiasm every time, kid.”

“I’m not that young.” Clary came at him warily at first, then loosened up - he almost felt it as something clicked behind those grey eyes. Damn it, she was younger and probably a little more fit and she’d finally figured out how to get her legs into it. One solid swing whiffed way too close as she poured her weight in from toes clear up to knuckles. It was an overextension and he had ways to counter that weren’t strictly fair, but she took advantage of his hesitation and followed up with a couple of well-angled jabs that forced him back a step.

They were both breathing in hard gasps at this point. She still had some juice in reserve, not much, but enough to push him back once more. When he caught her next blow it was a sharp, stinging impact, and he grinned to see her satisfaction. “All right,” he got out, catching her other fist as she lunged in to follow through. Momentum nearly smacked her into his chest; she pulled herself up short just in time. “Whoa, easy! Nice work - you could maybe get decent at this if you wanted to.”

“We done for now? Because that’s about all I’ve got.” Clary backed off a bit, which was just as well because cripes she was close, and Stan remembered to let go of her gloves.

“Yeah, we’re done before one of us keels over of heat exhaustion or somethin’.” He beckoned and she gave over the right hand, tugging with her teeth at the laces on the left glove while he worked on the other. Once those and the wraps were off they both collapsed gratefully onto the couple of crates by the door.

“Thanks for taking it easy on me.”

“Didn’t take it that easy. Your instincts aren’t bad.”

“So how’d a - “ He watched her sift through words, lips half-shaping a few options until he chuckled at her struggling to be tactful. She canted a brow at him in reproach. “How’d a showman of your caliber pick up all this expertise in fisticuffs anyway?”

Stan winced, peeling off his handwraps one by one. “You know Jersey. Town didn’t have much goin’ for it other than the boardwalk. Neither one of us fit in real well - I mean, you’ve seen Poindexter in action, an’ he’s always been like that, maybe worse, so focused on whatever that big brain can get goin’ that he loses track of the practical end of things, y’know? So it was my job to protect the both of us. Somebody had to be the tough one, and it’s what I was good at, ‘til Ford an’ I - “

He caught himself, swallowing words that’d just be too much - man, they’d both really worn themselves out, his guard was down - and when he continued it was with more caution. “When I left home I spent a fair few years on the road. I was a worse trouble magnet than you are. Knowin’ how t’fight is what got me through. I mean, it wasn’t all bad - “

Clary watched him with a sort of quiet weight, like maybe understanding, which made no damn sense. He tugged up the shoulder of his damp shirt and dabbed uselessly at his upper lip. “It wasn’t all bad, you stay tough long enough and you kinda forget how not to be - and hell, at least I was in the right place to run into you - “

Stan stiffened in his seat, blinking. “Oh,” he said. “Damn. That’s what I forgot. Towels.” He made to rise and bolt to the kitchen. That’d buy a minute to clear his head, because he really needed to shut it. “I’ll be right - “

Clary pressed something into his hand. Distracted, he stared down at it, registering yellow, then plucked at the fabric. Tawny gold, a soft and heavy weave, patterned with tumbling circus strongmen and their tiny barbells. Her kerchief.

Stan shook it out, patted down his neck, and only then ventured a glance.

Clary sat on the edge of the crate with elbows braced on her knees, hands loosely interlaced. The scar was…not so bad, as clean-cut and faded as the one in her palm, until she turned her head away and a little tension made its twisting length and angle along the left slope of her throat clear. The worst of it stutter-stepped to cut sharp and deep over the sheltered thrum of her carotid artery.

That had probably come close to killing her.

Something protective and furious sparked behind his breastbone.

He tilted his chin to indicate his focus, and saw her eye swivel to track him.

“That of a piece with the hand?”

“Yes.”

“Plate glass?”

“Yes.”

“Accident?”

“No.” Clary straightened where she sat, watching him with subtle apprehension.

“There a face I should be lookin’ to break?” he said at length.

“He’s dead. He’s been dead a long time.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I punched a dead man.”

Her lips parted. She blinked twice, then dissolved into low shocked laughter. He smoothed the fabric of her kerchief between his fingers and felt his heart lift a little. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Oh no. I believe you completely.” Her hand slipped into his for a quick squeeze that lingered. “You’re a treasure. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He squeezed back lightly and found he didn’t feel like letting go just yet. “What’cha doin’ after dinner?”

“Didn’t have any plans, really.” A faint tired smile softened the line of her mouth. “Got something in mind?”

His throat was dry, her hand was still linked into his and come on he’d been done with being nervous over this kind of crap when he was like fifteen. “Movie?”

A huff of surprise caught on her teeth and she tipped back until her shoulders hit the wall. “Yes,” after a still moment. “Sure. Please.”

Stan let out a half-held breath, pressed the kerchief into her palm and closed her fingers over it. “G’wan now. That’s enough dancin’ for one day. You should go get a shower, drink as much water as you can stand, get some aspirin because you are gonna be feelin’ it by nightfall, I can tell.” He waved shooing hands at her. “I’ll handle cleanup and it’s someone else’s job to cook tonight, you got it? Go get a nap or read a book or actually make like it’s vacation. I’ve put you through the wringer enough the last couple days.”

She didn’t argue. Clary snapped out the kerchief and tied it loosely around her throat. Habit lent precision to the process - she centered the widest part over the scar, brought the ends around, offset the knot to the left without a hitch. “I can tell I’ll barely be able to move tomorrow.”

“After our fishin’ trip, I’m surprised you got outta bed.”

“Places to go. People to see.” She came to her feet with a sigh and pressed his shoulder in passing. “That nap sounds like a great idea. Thank you, Stan, that was fun and educational.”

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Clary doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look back at you, studying her hands, vulnerable with her neck bared.

At least you got out alive!

Is there someone I can punch?

Silent support.

#gravity falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

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smallamountsofmonster · 7 years

Text

Clexa - 2k words

She wakes up in the bathtub again. The hallway light flickers and her arms feel sticky with the potion she definitely remembers starting, but not.. not really anything else. She slumps a little deeper into the tub and wipes a hand against her t-shirt, noticing belatedly that it’s the only thing she has on. Honestly, at least she’s wearing clothes at all this time. This isn’t the worst state she’s found herself in after a magically induced blackout.

It’s not that Clarke is a bad witch. She’s not - she’s arguably a very good witch. It’s just that sometimes she gets a little hyperfocused on a project and forgets that contaminants are a thing, and her apartment isn’t, she supposes, the best environment to be experimenting. But it’s not like she can just haul these side projects into the lab, tinkering with unstable ingredients and questionable legality next to Susan from Accounting, who has been working on a charm to remotely collect past due balances for the past year and a half. So what’s a few nights she doesn’t remember. She usually finds her progress written in a soggy notebook on her kitchen counter in the mornings, anyway. It was a fine system. She turns the tap on with her toe and lets the water rise around her. When her arms start to float and the water hits her chin, she stays like that until her skin feels less.

Eventually, though, she does have to start moving. She sloshes water across the floor and doesn’t bother changing clothes, grabbing a towel from the rack and dripping towards the kitchen in search of her notes. Her heel skids against the floor when she hears a surprised grunt coming from her living room.

“Holy shit.”

Clarke has had these mornings before. She’s gotten caught up in ideas, eyeballing ingredients, and not being as strictly careful about stray crumbs or bits of paint on the counter as she should be. She doesn’t really know why she always wakes up in the tub, but she imagines her mid-blackout self has her best interest in mind. The point is, this isn’t her first time. Except it is the first time she’s ever walked into her living room with zero pants on to find a sleepy stranger staring wide-eyed at her from her couch.

She folds into herself so quickly she nearly falls over. “What the fuck?”

“Holy shit,” the stranger girl says again, and she takes three fumbling steps backwards before she thinks to avert her eyes. Clarke gets her limbs and heart rate under control enough to wrap the towel around her waist, so at least there’s that problem covered.

“Who are you?”

“I,” the girl has turned around completely at this point. “Lexa.”

“Okay.” She tries to relax her hand from where is it clutching her chest. “Okay, but like, who are you, why are you here?”

The girl - Lexa - turns around slightly, a little confused and very red. “You invited me.”

Clarke’s forgotten a lot of nights, but she’s never forgotten a girl. She takes a second to feel a little bad, and then another to examine Lexa a little more closely, and then she feels a lot worse for not remembering this.

“No,” Lexa turns back to her completely and raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t - you didn’t invite me for that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Lexa starts to fidget.

“Are you sure?” Clarke asks. She leans back against the kitchen counter and crosses her arms. She’s still wearing a hand towel and a t-shirt she took a bath in, but now that she’s had a moment, she doesn’t really believe she wouldn’t make a pass at the girl across from her.

“Yes,” Lexa nods, and then pauses. “No. No, actually I don’t remember anything after you invited me in.”

“You’ve got more than I do,” Clarke shrugs. She turns and rummages through the papers on the counter for clues. There’s a paint brush soaking in a plastic tupperware half-filled with a memory aiding potion, and she sighs. Perhaps not her best batch.

“I remember before,” Lexa hums as she grabs a sweater from the floor and tugs it over her head. “Something burning. And a sound? Like steam?”

“That sounds right.”

“And then I woke up. There was a dog licking my neck. I,” she pauses. “I don’t know where it went, though.”

At that moment, because Clarke’s entire life is a joke, her front door clicks open and slams against the wall.

“You had better be dead, Griffin,” Raven stomps into the room, a tiny, scowling stormcloud. The dog bounds in behind her.

“Taco,” Clarke nods at Lexa. “My familiar.”

“Your what?” Clarke doesn’t respond, just turns to look at her.

“There is something purple splashed all over my kitchen,” Raven shoves her finger into Clarke’s chest. “You always come in all drippy. Did you touch the boxes I told you not to touch? Because they suddenly have polka-dots and won’t explode.” Clarke gives her her best innocent face, and Raven growls at it.

“Your familiar was licking my neck?” Lexa

“Sorry,” Clarke ignores Raven completely. “He’s - Well, he does what he wants.” Lexa sits down.

“I’ve never met anybody with a familiar before,” she breathes. Her hand moves up to skim against her neck and she’s staring with wide eyes at the happy blonde dog.

“He’s honestly more trouble than he’s worth. You can take him.” Taco stops short, midway through snuffling into one of Clarke's new boots, completely affronted. “Don't act surprised,” she says to him, and he huffs back at her.

“Clarke Brando Griffin.”

“I’m am not telling you my middle name, Reyes,” Clarke finally addresses her. “And it’s not Brando.”

“Did you,” Lexa shakes her head. “That’s part of your soul. You can't just offer someone part of your soul.”

“Dramatic,” Clarke rolls eyes.

“Clarke,” Raven snaps again.

“Are you hungry?” Clarke turns back to Lexa. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You can’t ignore me forever,” Raven says.

“Um, sure,” Lexa stands, but doesn’t move.

“Great. We’ll talk later, babe,” she presses her lips quick against Raven’s cheek, who clenches her jaw until the whole bottom of her face is scrunched and grimacing.

“I’m going to charge you an entry fee,” Raven says when Clarke breezes away in search of clothing.

“Bye, Raven.”

Lexa gives her a silent, confused wave goodbye on her way out.

Clarke orders a coffee carafe full of mimosa, and Lexa wonders just what the fuck kind of week she’s having.

There’s something she’s forgetting. Clarke is hunched over her kitchen counter, one eye on a half-finished canvas propped up against her toaster, and the other skimming through lists of almost-potions - potions she’s just about cracked, but need that final kick. The kick, to be fair, is normally what lands her in the bathtub with a wicked dehydration headache, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. She hears a shuffle at her front door and she actually groans out loud, because she can’t negotiate an entry fee with Raven any more, she just can’t.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice lilts in instead, and she finds herself smiling. “Your door was open and it smells like burnt hair in the hallway.”

“Sorry.”

“There’s that noise again,” Lexa moves farther into the apartment. “It’s like - simmering. But louder.” She pauses, head tilted. “Is it you?”

“No,” Clarke laughs. “Probably not. Don’t be weird, get away from me. What are you doing?”

Lexa looks like she’s still listening pointedly at Clarke, but she drops a take out container on the counter in front of her. “I was out, I picked you up a salad.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’ve never seen so much beige food in my entire life and I’m worried for your heart.”

“I have a potion for that,” Clarke scoffs.

“I am literally watching a tube of paint drip into an old chinese food container labelled ‘witchy vitamins’ right now, Clarke.”

“Okay so my organization isn’t the best,” Clarke scowls at her and grabs for the container. “Are there pecans in here?”

“No?”

“Next time get pecans.”

“Have you picked a specialty yet?” Lexa is laying upside down in an arm chair while Clarke sketches absentmindedly, sprawled on her stomach on the living room floor. She’s spent more time in Clarke’s apartment over the past week than she has in her own, and while she keeps complaining about the stacks of fraying, unlabeled notebooks and open tubes of paint left on the floor and waiting to be stepped on, she hasn’t stopped dropping by when Clarke leaves the door open for her.

“Sure,” Clarke shrugs.

“That’s great, Clarke.”

“I’m going to quit witching altogether to draw caricatures of tourists on the sidewalk.”

“So we’re still deciding.”

“Sure,” Clarke shrugs again.

Clarke’s door is open more often now, since Raven has enforced a strict boundary that prohibits either one from entering each other’s apartments and has resulted in them just shouting from across the hall. Raven is considering a charmed tin can and string situation, but those plans are firmly on hold once she catches sight of Lexa and her older sister pushing a couch down the hall, swearing the entire way.

“Griffin,” Raven shouts, and Clarke wonders how any of their neighbors haven’t tried to have them killed yet. “Who’s the hot blonde?”

“I don’t know, Raven, why don’t you ask her?”

“Hey,” Raven calls. “Hey, Lexa. Who’s the hot blonde?”

“These are my neighbors,” Lexa tells her sister, who just nods.

“Hey,” Raven says again.

“That one makes poison,” Lexa nods her head towards Clarke’s apartment, and Clarke lobs a shoe in her direction. “And I don’t know what that one does, but she makes a lot of noise,” Lexa nods towards Raven’s door.

“I sure do,” Raven ambles over to lean against her doorframe and smirk at them.

“Very charming,” Lexa notes, and Anya rolls her eyes. “This is my sister.”

“Come here often?” Raven crosses her arms and adjusts her slouch. Anya is glowering at her, but it looks like that might just be her face. Regardless, Raven’s into it.

“Ask her how she feels about dates,” Clarke shouts. “No, wait. Raisins. It’s raisins first, and then dates.”

“Nice as this is,” Lexa huffs, “We should get this inside.” Raven grin widens and Lexa holds up a hand at her and just says, “No.” Anya looks a little amused.

“Sure,” Anya shrugs. “Why not.” Raven looks surprised and gleeful all at once.

“Clarke,” she shouts. “Clarke, I’m going out with your girlfriend’s sister.” Clarke feels something twisty in her stomach and Lexa tries very valiantly to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Clarke, we’re gonna be sisters.”

Clarke wakes up in the tub again, but this time there’s a bottle of water tucked under her arm and a blanket has been settled over her. She is wearing underwear this time. Her apartment is quiet and empty, and she feels just a little off all day.

She drinks a bottle of tequila in the hallway with Raven and stumbles into a bookcase on her way to bed. She knocks a tupperware into the corner and leaves it - it had a lid, probably.

In the morning, there is a six-inch hole in the wall that separates her apartment from Lexa’s. She puts a brownie on a plate and slides it through in apology.

She invites Lexa over the next afternoon to help her fix the wall, but Lexa just prods her towards the couch and sets to it alone. She has a toolbox that has no actual tools in it, but whatever she’s doing seems to be working. Halfway through the patch, she catches Clarke staring.

“I wasn’t looking at you,” Clarke says when she’s met with just a small smirk. “You’re very close to the TV.”

“Okay.”

“And the window.”

“Right.”

“There are a lot of things I could be looking at.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

“This is mostly done. Do you want to paint it yourself?” Clarke shrugs, and Lexa packs up her toolbox and sets it on the counter.

“Thanks. You should let me buy you dinner or something.” She clears her throat. “To apologize.”

“Like a date? Are you asking me on a date?”

“No,” Clarke says. “Of course not.”

“No, of course not,” Lexa agrees.

“But,” Clarke hesitates. “But I mean. I wouldn’t be opposed. I mean if you wanted to maybe do something sometime.”

“We do stuff all the time, Clarke.”

“Oh,” Clarke nods. “Okay, you’re going to make this painful.”

“Yes.”

“I would like you to finish the paint, then. Could you bend down just a little more this time? Be a little more fixy, give me something to work for.”

“Like this?”

“Go out with me.”

“Alright,” Lexa grins. “I guess.” She moves in a little closer, a little slow, and Clarke just rolls her eyes and grabs for the front of her shirt.

“You guess,” she scoffs. They do very little talking after that.

#is it too late for a slightly halloweeny fic #this is rushed and i havent even read it over but its only halloween for 20 more minutes #so #clexa fanfic #theyre witches

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