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littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 days ago

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bella PLEWSDE WRITE A GRAYSON HAWTHORNE BLURB OR WHAYEVER WITH READER WITH LOW IRON AND LIKE SHE ALMOST FAINTS BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY ZERO. ZERO FICS THAY HAVE THE READER WITH LOW IRON SO PPELAPSPESLLEPWDLEEL

AHHHHHH BELLE LET ME JUST BEGIN WITH AN APOLOGY BECAUSE I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS FIC HAS TAKEN ME THREE BILLION YEARS TO GET AROUND TO WRITING!! THANK YOU FOR YOU REQUEST AND I PRAYYYY THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED…. (if not I will redo)

title: I’m fine

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: a story where ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m totally not fine but I’m not going to admit that’

warnings: dizziness, fainting

a/n: dedicating this to the beautiful @midiosaamor 💖💖 ily <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi @peppapigsposts @foreverwinter22

It only started as a headache, not bad enough to be classed as a migraine but bad enough to be considered more than your average headache. Still, I carried on typing the words out on my computer, my brain pulsating in pain.

I didn’t have time to rest off a headache, there was too much to do. I’d only started working four hours ago and if I didn’t get this done by tonight then my boss would not be happy. I mean it wasn’t exactly my fault she decided set me an assignment with a deadline on the same day but still, I had to work it all out and push through.

The tasks seemed endless, I typed word after word, in a state of not really registering what I was writing, just making the robotic movements to write. Clicking the keys and forming coherent sentences without anything being properly processed. It wasn’t unusual, I was used to my brain working faster than my body sometimes.

Still, my head throbbed on. For a second, I stopped the incessant tapping on my keyboard and pressed two fingertips softly to each temple. My hands were ice cold. I breathed in and out deeply a few times with my eyes shut before beginning to work again, praying a tiny reset would be what I needed. I knew I was lying to myself, I knew it would take more than that to soothe any pain but I carried on like I didn’t.

“Are you alright?”

As small gasp escaped my lips as I looked up to see Grayson standing in the doorframe, one hand at the top taking most of his weight. I wondered how long he’d been stood there and I hadn’t noticed.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in reply, going back to finish the sentence I was typing before I lost my train of thought. Then I looked back up at him again, “why?”

He walked in slowly looking at my face intently, “you look a little pale.”

He took my face into his palms and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. Small, gentle, long strokes, that made me lean into him further. I wanted to just curl up in his arms and sleep, but my work clearly had other ideas.

“Just a headache,” I brushed it off, pulling away from his touch reluctantly, “is there any aspirin?”

“There is,” he nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, “but I really think you ought to lay down if it’s this bad.”

“I don’t need to,” I shook my head stubbornly, standing up to look him dead in the eye, “I’m fine.”

What a lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he told me softly, the anxiety rippling across his perfected features. His hands curved around the small of my back and I tried to enjoy it instead of thinking about the throbbing of my head.

So despite my ache, I smiled, “well I feel fine.”

Sometimes I lied so easily and so well it worried me. I shouldn’t be this good at something so cruel. But maybe more than him, I was lying to myself to convince a part of me that I wasn’t as feeling as bad as I thought I felt.

Grayson gave me another worried glance, thumb running up and down the base of my spine rhythmically, the softness of his touch sending a chill through it.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked me, the tingling up my back dying down.

“Earlier,” I nodded, my eyes flicking the time in the bottom corner of my screen realising my ‘earlier’ actually meant six hours ago. On cue, my stomach seized in a hungry protest, sending a tight knot like sensation across my abdomen. I prayed it wouldn’t grumble, betraying my lies to Gray.

“I haven’t seen you eat or-“

“Stop the fussing,” I grinned to bear it, “I’m fine, just need a tablet and some water.”

“Maybe lay off the work then,” he suggested, cocking his head towards my computer screen.

“Grayson I need to get this done,” I sighed gently, “a little headache can’t stop me.”

“Okay…” he said unsurely, hesitating for a few seconds.

“Stop worrying,” I forced a laugh through my searing brain, glancing up at him and looking through those truth-reeling gray eyes.

“I’m not,” his right hand twitches at my side. Liar. “Sit down and I’ll go and get you the aspirin, okay?”

“Okay then,” I nodded, sitting down. Another chill ran through my spine, though this time it was because of the empty place left where his hands had just been.

I took a few more deep breaths, feeling a little out of it all of a sudden. It was like I was in the room but I wasn’t at the same time. I closed my eyes and let the weight of my skull fall into my palms, breathing even deeper, heavier.

I let myself hang, like a lifeless marionette forgotten by her puppeteer, everything leaden and dopey. When I heard Grayson coming back and quickly opened my eyes and sat up a little bit straighter. If he saw me like that he’d get stressed and that’s the last he needed. It was only a headache after all.

Just a really bad headache.

“Thank you,” I kissed him on the cheek as he passed me the aspirin pill and a glass of water.

He cupped my face in his hands, “you promise me you’re fine?”

“I promise promise promise you,” I whispered, feigning another smile. My jaw was starting to ache. I don’t know it’s it from the guilt of lying or the forceful action of smiling or maybe it was just the headache transferring.

I took the tablet between my fingertips and put it at the back of my mouth before swallowing it quickly with water. I shivered afterwards. I hate taking tablets.

Grayson squeezed my shoulders softly, “do you want me to stay here?”

“Didn’t I just ‘promise promise promise’ you I was fine?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He looked at me and sighed. Worry ran riot across his eyes, swirling anxious thoughts into pools of grey. How bad did I look?

“I haven’t got much work left to do, okay?” I said, “I just need to get through this.”

He took his time walking out and although I didn’t look at him I was convinced he kept looking back every through steps to check on me. Finally he left and I downed the glass of water.

I sat still for a moment, analysing how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible but my head had worsened. I internally groaned as dread filled my body. It wasn’t supposed to worsen. I prayed the tablet would kick in, after all I hadn’t really given it a chance.

I took a long breath out and continued tapping away at the keypad. After a while the continuous clicking and clacking was beginning to irritate me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. My already pounding head felt pounded with the small noises over and over like they were making a mockery of it. Still I continued, there wasn’t much left now and if I could just finish it l, all would be okay.

After about a billion spell checks - seriously why does psychology have a ‘p’ and ‘h’ in it, it’s so irrelevant - I thought I might be ready to finish when I realised I’d missed a whole section.

By now my head was almost unbearable. Torturous agony was creeping up behind my eye now as well as the front of my head. A whole section felt like it would be the death of me. And I’d noticed something weirdly unnatural about my breathing. Every breath in didn’t feel like enough oxygen. So I began to breathe more deeply and when that wasn’t working, more quickly.

That only fuelled my rising panic about the weird nature of these symptoms. They were familiar. Why couldn’t I breathe normally? What was wrong? Maybe it was more than a headache? Questions raced through my head faster than it had time to process them all.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head pounded on and like the idiot that I am, I carried on writing. My vision blurred out for a fraction of a second then cleared shortly after. I rubbed my eyes. It was just the screen. Just the screen.

It happened a few more times, so I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jumper for good measure. More notes, more notes, more notes, more notes. I quickly hit save in the document for fear if my computer crashed I would lose it all. I sighed as I then went to drink from my water glass only to realise it was empty.

“Gray!” I yelled, “could you grab me another glass of water please?”

I barely registered his reply, my only focus being the stupid piece of work. ‘I can last a little longer’ I repeated over and over in my mind. Until I was bored. Until I was delirious. Until I was too brain dead to care.

I could hear Grayson approaching so got up to meet him at the door. I wanted a ten second break from staring straight at the glowing screen. Suddenly, mid step, I stumbled. Straight away Grayson had one hand around the small of my back gripping tightly and the another on my upper arm, steadying me. I try to laugh it off as a I mistake but even that sounded weak.

“Woah sweetheart,” he said, his hold firmer as he set me straight, “what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, trying to get back to my chair, my legs feeling too much like jelly for my liking.

I could see he didn’t believe me completely, he didn’t have to say a word. Grayson, instead, took me in his arms. I couldn’t ask to sit down after that, then I’d be admitting that something was wrong. So I stayed standing, my body against his. The only thing holding me up was him.

He looked at me, tender eyed and consumed with concern, “you’re clearly not my love.”

“Gray, I just tripped,” I said smoothly, praying he’d let me twist the truth as I tried to stop my legs from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured in a low voice, curling his other arm around my waist for support.

“I’m not lying,” I shrugged, continuing to be in denial as I gripped to his shirt so tightly my knuckles went white, “I’m fine.”

As soon as the words left my lips everything spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against his chest, hoping it would all just go away. My feet swayed a little and panic seized my throat at the unsteadiness. I made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a silent scream.

“It’s okay,” Grayson whispered softly, “I’ve got you.” He brought a hand up through the back of my hair and gently held onto the back of my head to steady it.

“Dizzy,” I murmured into him, my voice slurred and slowed. I felt so out of it.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. My concept of time was as hazy as my vision. I just remembered staying very still, Grayson’s hands not leaving my body and how hard my forehead was pressed against him.

After a while, I tried to stand back on my own, thinking the dizzy spell was over but as soon as I did the room became a whirlpool of colours and blob-ish shapes. I felt myself lose my footing completely and before I knew it was falling backwards.

Strong arms tensed around my torso and quickly caught me, “oh sweetheart,” I heard Grayson say as he safely lowered me to the ground.

My legs became lifeless pieces of flesh, heavy as led but weak as a flimsy childhood doll. My head felt heavy in his lap as it pounded on. I sewed my eyes shut, it helped a little with the dizziness. His cold fingers tentatively touched my forehead and I leant into them ever so slightly with what energy I had left.

“I’m going to carry you to bed,” he told me gently, as I felt one arm around my back and the other under my legs.

“But my work-“ I groaned, feeling a little nauseated from the dizziness.

He held me tightly, “no sweetheart, forget about work, you need to rest.”

I didn’t reply and instead feebly gripped my deadened limbs around his neck and prayed for all of this to just go away.

“Gray,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine,” I said, somewhere between a sob and mumble.

“I know sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a shaky kiss on my temple, “I know.”

He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed, before tucking me under the covers. Not letting go of my hand, that gripped him so tightly I don’t know how he didn’t complain. I heard him dialling a number.

“Who are you calling?” I slurred.

“Someone to come and help you,” he responded swiftly.

“Mhmm,” I could only muster in response.

His thumb rubbed circles up and down my hand, “I’m going to stay right here okay?” he comforted, “can you still hear me?”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, feeling quite pathetic but not self-conscience enough to care.

“No I’m staying sweetheart,” he squeezed my palm in his, “I’m staying.”

My eyes fluttered open as my head lazily lolled to one side, “I’m dizzy,” I groaned, not remembering if I’d mentioned already.

“I know,” Grayson whispered, a hand pushing my hair out of the way, “I know.”

“Can I rest my eyes?” I asked him, closing them anyway.

“No, you can’t go to sleep,” he told me.

“No just rest my eyes…” I trailed off, pausing for a long while, my train of thought wavering, “…to stop the spinning.”

“Squeeze my hand every three seconds then,” he said, “so I know you’re awake.”

“Deal,” I barely managed to whisper before I felt the need to increase my breathing rate. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my system.

I squeezed his hand every three seconds, just about keeping track of the numbers. But with every squeeze I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker, like all of my energy was being drained slowly and mercilessly. The only thing that kept me from closing my eyes was Grayson’s gentle touches. His soft fingertips trailing over my face, tracing the contours or drawing spirals on my upper arms and neck.

I opened my eyes for a moment, when the darkness was just as bad as the light, when I felt dizzy no matter whether my eyes were closed or open. Things blurred and cleared, darkened and became normal again over and over and over. Until, a piercing ringing coursed through my ears and everything other sound seemed to be submerged under water. I knew what that meant I was close to.

“Gray,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out,” I told him, a single tear trailing its way down my cheek, “I can feel it.”

I knew the signs well enough and every sign was pointing that way.

“It’s okay,” he said, positioning himself behind me, so my back was pressed against his torso and he could support my head, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to pass out,” I sobbed, black spots dancing across my vision in mockery.

The worst part is always before you passed out because when you’re out you feel and remember nothing. But before, you know what’s coming and you know you can’t stop it.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled into my hair, slowly, comfortingly, “you’re safe, if you need to pass out, you can and your body will, whether you like it or not.”

My hands were shaking, fingers rocking back and forth, bumping into one another clumsily, “I’m scared,” I said between uneven breaths.

I grabbed Grayson’s forearm to attempt to still them, my fingers so brutally desperate in their clinging that they constricted his blood flow. No matter how many times I’d passed out,, I always felt just as scared.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed gently, “I’ve got you, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise,” I panted, looking up at him, chest rising up and down harshly.

“I promise,” he leant down and planted a sweet of kiss on my nose.

I kept looking up, until his gray eyes clouded with dark spots, until calm expression replaced with an endless see of nothingness, until the whisperings of sweet words ceased. My breathing was heavy, growing heavier by the second and then… then there was black.

***

I felt thick and heavy with drowsiness. My body felt so weighted it ached. My back was against the mattress, my head flat on the pillow, I was anchored to my bed. The covers had been adjusted to just under my neck and I could feel someone’s hand in mine.

I winced as I opened my eyes, the light attacking them too viciously. Immediately Grayson dimmed it down, holding my cheek tentatively in his palm.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Gray?”

He traced a soft thumb over the bone where my eyebrow sat as he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Here,” he said gently, “have some water.”

Slowly he helped me prop myself up, his hand pressed up against my back, the other tipping the glass towards my lips. I swallowed, the water feeling odd against the dryness of my throat.

“How long was I out for?” I coughed.

“Only a bit,” he said, laying me back down, “the doctors have come and gone, they say you’ll be okay with some rest.”

“Why did I pass out?” I asked tiredly, “do they know?”

“You hadn’t taken your iron tablets in three days,” Grayson explained, cocking his head towards my table.

I glanced to my bedside and gasped. Three days worth of unconsumed tablets sat there. I never usually forgot, one day maybe but three whole days. That was unheard of. Guilt permeated me, all the stress I’d probably put Grayson under could’ve been entirely prevented.

“I must’ve forgotten,” I sighed leaning deeper into my pillow, “work has just been so hectic lately and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t tell you to worry you, I told you so you wouldn’t overthink what was wrong,” he said softly, “but it’s okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay because it’s all my fault,” I bursted into tears, the shock wave of random emotion leaving me senseless, “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you I wasn’t fine and then I just passed out and that probably really stressed you out and I could’ve stopped all of that if I’d just taken the stupid tablets.”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a palm flat on my chest, “breathe, it’s okay.”

His voice was the constant in my current of chaotic overthinking. This had happened before many times, my low iron deficiency had always been an issue, but even the very first time I’d passed out he was so much calmer than I’d expected.

He kept calm for me.

“God I feel like an idiot,” I choked out a pathetic laugh, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

“You’re not an idiot, love,” he soothed, taking my hand gently into his and replacing with with the pad of his thumb, as he gently wiped away the tears that were left, “it happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” I shook my head defiantly.

I don’t forget things. I never forget things.

“Hey,” Grayson said, “look at me, you’re fine, I’m fine and that’s all that’s important.”

He held my face in his palms and looked at me like I meant the world.

“I’m sorry,” I let the weight of my head fall into his hands, taking the ache from my neck.

“Don’t apologise,” he said, “there’s no need for you to, just relax.”

I closed my eyes, his palm warm and comforting against my cheek. His fingers found their way to the top of my head, soothingly running through my hair over my scalp.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” he asked.

I nodded sleepily and watched as he slipped into the bed beside me. I was quick to snuggle close, intertwining my legs with his and burying my face into his chest. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear as his arms curved around my waist.

“Tired,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he ushered, “you can go to sleep.”

“What if you go?” I asked, like a child.

“I won’t, I promise,” Grayson said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

I smiled to myself, and squeezed his arm, “I love you,” I murmured, “so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he planted a kiss on the top of my head, “more than this world. Get some rest now.”

So I shut my eyes and fell longingly into sleep’s arms.

a/n: hope you enjoyed guys, sorry I haven’t posted much 💖💖

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson x reader #tgg #jennifer lynn barnes #jameson winchester hawthorne

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captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago

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Um, was writing a fic, had a thot, this is my explanation why sometimes Clayton seems to only wear one chain and other times two... Thot: Clay giving you one of his chains, hence why he now only wears the cross. Possessive little thrill going through him because you never take it off and that's his. 18+ MDNI: Possessive Clayton because I would set Feminism back 100 years for him...but I know he wouldn't ask me to.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It starts as a little thought, a little thought that grows until he can't get it out of his head. Niggling at him, goading him, following him everywhere he goes until it's not so little anymore, until it's large and loud and far too proud for what it is.

Just a little thought he has when he's leaning over you, your legs tight around his hips while thrusts into you, hips pressing into your own, sweat beating on his forehead. Just a little thought as one of your hands reaches up and grasps as his chains like they were made to be tugged on, pulling until he slants his mouth over yours in an all consuming kiss that's harsh and hungry. Just a tiny little thought that one of his chains would look so fucking good on you, that it would be so good to see you wearing his chain, showing everyone who you belonged to. That it would look so good round your throat while he fucked you, even better if he tugged on it the same way you do now.

That little thought spirals out of control. Your neck looks so bare without it, cold and lonely, a blank canvas. His marks aren't enough, the hickeys littering your skin not enough of a claim staked. It has him taking off the plain chain he wears, leaving his cross around his neck, and slipping it around your neck one evening after he's cum inside you, when the two of you lay there coated in sweat, chests heaving. Has him caressing the length of white gold against your skin and while yellow gold is your preferred colour he knows, can already tell, you'll never take it off.

It looks so fucking good on your skin, his chain around your neck, almost as good a look as when his hand gets to rest there, but better in some ways. Better because it's always there. You don't take it off. It's on when you shower, it's on when you sleep, you wear it all day every day. Every man who looks at you sees his chain. Every time you reach for it he knows it reminds you of him. He's with you whether he's there or not and it strokes a possessive sort of need in him to see you covered in him from head to toe.

It's only made worse when you combine it with a jersey with his name across the back, number 9 big and bold on the back and both arms, Keller in bold font that's unmistakable. You come to one of his games like that, jersey on, chain visible around your neck, cutesy little skirt on and big boots and it's not his fault he can't wait till you get home to get his hands on you. Not his fault that he pulls you into a little cleaning closet to bend you over and pull that skirt up, not his fault his hand finds that chain, tugging just a touch and makes you keep the jersey on so he can stare at his name across your back.

He wants to think you don't realise, wants to believe you're so innocent in this whole thing, oblivious and ignorant of the effect you have on him, but that is so far from the truth. You've seen the way his eyes darken, heavy lidded and blown out at the sight of the chain around your neck, at his jersey on your back. You know what you're doing and you'll keep doing it because you love being his, being consumed by him as much as he's consumed by you.

The only way to make it any better is a ring around your left ring finger, one more pieces of jewellery that screams to Clayton 'mine'.

#18+ mdni #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #huggy bear writes

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 day ago

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hello! i'm wondering how i should approach a Black female character with a complex relationship to violence. plot context: she herself does not commit any, but she does enable and encourage her white girlfriend to kill and maim people. it's not in a fantasy context, and she's not at all framed as manipulating her love interest into doing bad things. more like two fucked up people making each other more fucked up. she's never going to be harmed or in danger around the violent character, but she will witness it and find it fun. characterization context: she's a college student making the best grades she can with aspirations of going to a good law school and becoming a patent lawyer. she was raised by working class parents and is determined to make enough money to provide for her and her younger siblings. to a certain extent she feels pressured by the idea of her Black Excellence and the need to represent her family. she's hyper-feminine and enjoys y2k fashion, anime, and old technology, but sometimes second guesses if she should be open about her hobbies for fear people will take her less seriously. <- she will actively overcome this in the narrative as she leaves an abusive relationship and cements her sense of self. she learns about her love interest killing people after said character kills her ex. she processes this as a huge romantic gesture and swoons over it. while she finds her girlfriend's murderous tendencies very hot, she demands that she's careful about it because she doesn't want any hot water splashing on herself and ruining her chances at becoming a lawyer. ^ please let me know if any of this at all raises red flags to you as racist! FTR her ex-boyfriend is not Black, because i don't think its a great look to have a white woman kill a Black man to "protect" his Black girlfriend. this does come with the downside of my character being a Black woman in an abusive relationship with a non-Black man and finding solace in another non-Black person, which is something i think could also read in poor taste. should i nix the abusive ex in general? many thanks for taking your time to do this for us all, and so sorry if this is too long!

I mean, Black characters in toxic situations can be very fun too (I love a good 'We Murder Folks While In Love' story)! It's not that we can't be written in these situations, it's that 1) we are cognizant of how we are writing them, so as not to lean into stereotype to strengthen our story and 2) that we recognize some viewers are gonna have their biases against them regardless and perceive that story in that way.

I can see where your concerns are in the ex story and him being Black, good job for considering it. That story could be written, yes, but I think it would require a deeper understanding of misogynoir and not white savior writing.

If it were ME, one way I'd handle this situation would be allowing her some more autonomy in what's happening. Like, maybe she gets the chance to lash out at her ex, and she is the one in theoretical control of the knife in her new girlfriend's hand at that moment. Just give her some empowerment in it, in who dies.

I also think as long as you focus on the why's of your Black character falling in love with this woman (and it not leaning towards a "look, she is the pinnacle of the safest choice, she the White Woman"), you'll be fine. Again, focus on her autonomy, and how she makes space for this woman in her life as it develops, versus a narrative of that woman saving her.

#creatingblackcharacters #thatsjusttips

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kradeelav · 21 hours ago

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I've been using a mix of Krita and Paint tool SAI. I'd appreciate resources for Krita specifically too. Thank you for answering by the way. ♥️

Of course!

So! Here's my guide to making comics with Krita, down to the details such as layer setup, borders, speech bubbles, and SFX.

preface: it took me at least a year to figure this process out; but once when you've figured out the system & a template, it's smooth sailing. let's use this finished spread from the selfship comic last year to go through the process:

i'm going to assume a certian level of digital program proficiency (knowing what layers are, having a general idea of what vector vs raster graphics are, etc) since otherwise this post would be a book lol.

(if the read more does not work: the static permanent link for the full tutorial is on my website here: https://kradeelav.com/diary/tegalog.cgi?postid=312&1740096282

rest of the post under the cut; this one's going to be a long one as is.

let's start with talking about the layers for a single page of the above comic image.

(ignore the "orbs" and "titania bubble" layers - those were oddities for this specific spread.) Going from the top downwards:

SFX - sound effects. this is an optional layer to have if you don't have a lot of sound effects. you can use either render the sound effects by drawing them out (raster) or vector SFX; whatever you're most comfortable with. more on that below.

frame - this is the comic page borders.

speech bubbles - self explanatory. contains both the text inside the bubble and the bubbles themselves.

ink - main lineart & drawing layer; self explanatory.

tone - the shading layer.

(deleted) ruff/sketch - this is the sketchy thumbnail layer that is imported when i first start working on each spread, and naturally gets deleted when the lineart starts looking good on its own.

so!

there's two types of digital rendering krita can do: raster (most similar to drawing with a pencil or tablet) and vector (computer draws mathematical lines and shapes and text that you can manipulate). a lot of programs fully specialize in one or the other but the killer feature of krita is it can do both on a single page; you just need separate layers depending on the rendering..

that's what this "fx" symbol stands for by the way - these are the vector layers....

... and the symbols circled in purple clue you in that they're raster layers (ink, tone, sketch) where you do the actual drawing. with me so far?

speaking of those:

borders/frame

here's what the borders layer looks like + (the print layout layer above everything in black/yellow). the print layout layer is really only useful if you're physically printing this comic (it's basically bleed/trim if you've heard of those terms, ignore this otherwise).

i really struggled with doing borders in krita until finding this tutorial:

youtube

- since the thing is i make a lot of last minute changes. i need to be able to move and edit borders around easily if a panel's not working for me. so the method above makes it incredibly flexible to just ... up and move one, or to make a gutter wider.

i also really need to be able to see what's behind the borders while i'm drawing it to check anatomy sometimes -- the beautiful thing is you can simply turn the layer style to "multiply" and it's effectively transparent with one click.

like this, voila!

lettering

here's the lettering layer(s) with one bubble's text selected.

fair warning: krita is absolute ass with the text tool. it's the biggest failing but in newer versions i do believe they're slowly working on improvements. thankfully this program can do just enough to letter bubbles.

essentially, i use the same trick as the frames shown in the video above. if you slap a "layer style > stroke" on the whole "bubbles" layer, that's where that 2px black border comes from, and that layer-style-as-a-border "follows" every bubble so it's consistent.

(rule of thumb aesthetics-wise is speech bubble borders should be slightly thinner than frame borders, and on average about as wide as your lineart.)

SFX (sound effects)

technically you can hand-ink all of your SFX if vector art scares you or if you don't intend on doing much, but the vast majority of pros use vector work for efficiency. hentai/erotic work also has a lot of SFX versus other (non-NSFW) genres for the immersion factor with bodily functions.

the spread above didn't need a lot, though.

as you can see it's mostly the inorganic orb clinks and then the big SHING. (i put my for-the-web-kradeelav.com signature on the same layer for laziness).

here's part of my current sfx library below just to show you what i start with for erotic strips; usually i start with some base fonts and start moving the letters around individually.

(a lot of these are redone for every project; there's some in here that are already "outdated" in my eyes.)

miscellaneous

my favorite inking brushes are from this free resource pack. my favorite halftone (shading) brushes are from this (also free). thanks for reading!

#not art #resource #krita #comics

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secretgcrdens · 2 days ago

Text

Callum listened intently as William spoke — he was passionate, talented, and hard-working. Sure, Callum had passions — he loved working with horses, reading in the gardens with his dogs, and writing poetry late at night. But he didn’t think he was good enough at these passions to be able to refer to them as passions. “I just worry that perhaps I was not made to be skilled at what I’m passionate about,” he admitted. His self-doubt always crept in and made things that should be enjoyable a chore, simply because he bullied himself for not being better at them. He was ever chasing a perfection that he couldn’t reach and the stress got the better of him most of the time. He quickly shook his head, giving William a reassuring smile. “Please don’t apologize, Mister Erwood. I appreciate your candor,” he told him earnestly, “It’s nice having someone to speak openly with.” Chuckling, he glanced around the stables before reverting his gaze back to the groomsman, “My family appreciates you and how you care for our horses.”

As William brought Callum’s attention to Cledwyn, his jaw dropped. “Wow,” he muttered, “He really is remarkable.” He turned towards William and smiled, “I do hope you and Cledwyn are enjoying life here. We’re happy to have the both of you.” Shrugging, Callum looked at Cledwyn once more, “He’s as fine a horse as I’ve ever seen and I’m certain his future offspring will be as well.” He stepped further into the stables, “Mr. Erwood, should you ever need any help in the stables do let me know,” he cleared his throat, “Rather — I want to come help sometime…to learn more. I don’t doubt you can’t handle your work alone, but I’d appreciate learning from you.”

Callum’s eyes lit up excitedly, “I must introduce the two of you, then. I’m sure it’d make Cassandra feel more at ease having someone she can talk to about Margate, someone she can bond with over it. I worry she’s homesick and perhaps talking with you could remedy it, if only a little bit.” He pondered William’s next words and shrugged, “There may be some truth in that. But I believe one can move forward successfully into their future while still paying homage to their past — it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get stuck.” An idea popped into his head and he grinned, “The three of us should take our horses out together sometime soon. It’d be a great way for you and Miss Lockridge to get to know one another.” At the quick change in subject, Callum smiled — thinking fondly of the Sinclair’s countryside estate. “Our country home is near Nottingham. It’s truly breathtaking and so peaceful."

There was a lot that William owed his uncle, and he could never repay the man for his kindness or the stress he brought upon his door. “Not too much, I’ve found that the key is to find something you truly love, that consumes your very being…” William caught himself. The young Sinclar son was easy to talk to, which could only lead to trouble further down the road. “I’m sorry, my lord, I forgot myself.” William bowed his head in embarrassment.

“If you are new to horses, then allow me to introduce you to my own.” William gestured to his own stallion, its pure white coat gleaming under the lantern’s light. “This is Cledwyn, I’ve had him since he was a yearling and rides him at least three times a day.” The latter was becoming increasingly difficult to do with his never-ending chores. “He’s not as high of a breed as yours but I have plans to breed him with another mare. The blacksmith has one I think will make a fine foal.” Dogs and horses barely shared any similarities, but that's none of Wiliam’s concern. If Callum wanted to learn, William would do his best to help and maybe the lord may lower himself to manual chores. He almost laughed at the very thought.

William stood still, frozen at his own carelessness but not so much that he was completely unaware of Callum’s words. He spoke fondly of Cassandra, perhaps it was out of politeness, but William had a pit in his stomach that gnawed away at him. “I doubt we ran in the same social circles.” William said in jest, not completely lying. “Besides, it’s always best to look ahead and embrace the unfamiliarity unless you become stuck.” Those were the words of his uncle, something William had tried desperately to believe. “Where do you all go when you have to escape the city?” It was a quick change of subject, but as their employee, William also needed to know where he would be travelling in the future.

#𓍢 ・ interactions.#callum x william

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