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teememdee · 10 months ago

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2023 ART SUMMARY!!!

2023 was uhhhhhhh a year! And I made art! And I’m going to talk for a long time about everything I did month by month! Yippee!!!

original individual posts can be found in my #tanner art tag!

JANUARY

Started off the year with my favorite skrunklies sleepy and snuggling. Then sleeping together while holding one another is so incredibly important to me, they’re so cute and I needed to draw it. Struggled with Kai’Sa’s face but I particularly like the drapery of the pillow behind them.

FEBRUARY

First off, just a simple Kai’Sa piece for the Vibes(TM) and background practice. I was also fairly miserable and when I get miserable I draw Kai’Sa being miserable as well. I love my favorite character of all time <3

Then a quick Valentine’s Day piece, soft gradient map stuff. Love my skrunklies, hopefully this year I can make something for the day that isn’t rushed

MARCH

In March I FINALLY finished my Star Guardian Kahri fic, be the light to carry me, and drew Kiko and Ina being adorable together to go along with it. They’re SO cute and people LOVE that fic. Chapter 3 ended up being a whole 20k words and every time I re-read I’m amazed that I wrote it.

A kiss for Kai’Sa’s birthday! This was actually two sketches mashed together because I had a good Kai’Sa and a good Ahri on separate attempts. Love Kai’Sa’s smile on this one.

NOW. Strong contender for my favorite piece of the year. Captioned “please don’t lose yourself,” my K/DA-verse Kassadin’s very dead wife’s ghost weighs on him, begging him to not get lost in his grief and lose sight of their daughter. Kassadin feels lost and broken without her. I love the emotions in this one, and I think the idea comes across even without knowledge of my headcanons. Love it so much.

APRIL

Full-body piece that took me all month. I just love this one so much. It’s just pure Kahri, pure love, pure joy. Pose inspired by Blake Belladonna from RWBY’s leg pop during the long-awaited Bumblby kiss. This piece just makes me so happy.

MAY

Oops! No art! Was too busy being on a (student) film set every weekend as well as dealing with classes and multiple other stressors. I did START a piece though, but wouldn’t finish it until the middle of June.

JUNE

I actually did the first sketch of the Evelynn piece in February, but I decided to revamp it in May, and then when school finally set me free I finished it, and it turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Her hair was a labor to render but I'm so so pleased with how it looks, as well as the blood. The first time I've finished a fully rendered Evelynn piece!

Naafiri is so fucking cool. Upon her reveal, I was seeing so much incredible fanart and I just needed to get in on it. The shapes and points are just so good. I used to draw dogs all the time as a kid, and my younger self would absolutely flip out at seeing this. I did this piece in one day, and I have no idea how I pulled that background off but hopefully I can do it again some day lol

JULY

Two drastically different vibes here. Realized it had been forever since I had drawn Kahri so I just wanted to make a cute summertime piece. Their hands should be bigger and it bugs me but this is still really cute, I missed my girls dearly.

And then my very very sad man Kassadin being very very sad about his very very dead wife. This is what I call his phase 2 design, when he's at the peak of his grief (spiraling, as emphasized by the background) and feels just so sad and alone. In my head this and the March piece are part of a series that I hope to continue.

AUGUST

Just one piece that took me all month because I was quite busy in August, and Runeterra Kahri pieces take forever, but as I always say, it's always worth it. This pose comes from mellon_soup on instagram, who makes a lot of really great pose references for artists to use, highly recommend checking them out. This piece is just so soft to me. Captioned "'you're beautiful, you know that?'" they're saying it to each other, two people that struggle with their self image finding love and confidence in the other. Also I'm so very happy with the background. I love these two so so so so much, they're my world.

SEPTEMBER

One of my goals for this year was to branch out in the fanart I made. Baldur's Gate 3 came along and I love watching my best friend play it, we love Shadowheart and I just wanted to draw her. This came after a lot of sketches of both her and our favorite Tav that ended up changing how I draw eyes. The rendering of her face here is also something I'm proud of, her nose looks great. And again, the background! This piece didn't get a lot of attention at all but that's okay, I made it for me and I'm very happy with it.

OCTOBER

STAR WARS TOXIC YURI WENT CRAZY THIS YEAR!!! Wolfwren (Sabine Wren x Shin Hati, from the Ahsoka TV series) had me by the THROAT for a solid two months or so, I haven't been that feral and deranged over a ship in a hot minute. They had me frothing at the mouth every episode even though I did not like the show overall. Anyways. First piece is a redraw of the part in episode 4 where they just have the most charged eye contact of all time, and I decided to take that in stride with inspiration from Horimiya, a favorite anime of mine, during particularly emotionally charged moments, the background changes and there's a particular color silhouette behind them. It really fits that moment of the show and I am SO proud of these faces, especially Sabine's. Drawing from a real human face reference was kinda new to me but it's taught me a lot. The file size also ended up enormous somehow idk lol

Then, my most popular piece of the year, on both tumblr and twitter. I LOVE hand imagery, I love subtle hand touches, I churned this out in I think exactly one day, it's so soft it's so cute and I totally understand the overwhelming positivity it received.

NOVEMBER

I was not doing well at this time in the year. The state of the world just had me in a horrible mental state, I wasn't taking care of myself well at all, I couldn't get myself to make art, especially something happy or cute, it just felt wrong. But then sometimes you feel something so strong and specific there's no other way to process it than to make art. To make a long story short, earlier in the year I thought a girl liked me, I liked her back, but it turned out she did indeed have a boyfriend the whole time. We didn't see or talk to each other for a few months but in November we (and the bf, lol) met up again. When she saw me at the door she smiled at me so sweetly and it was just the worst feeling ever and I just had to hide it behind a smile and a wave. Oversharing aside, this is a style I'd wanted to execute for a while and I'm really pleased with how it turned out, would love to make more like this.

DECEMBER

All of this was done / finished in the first two weeks of the month because then I got sick + was visiting family + jet lag took me out. Kinda sad I didn't get something done for Ahri's birthday or a traditional Kahri Winter piece but that's what January is for. Anyway.

Sometimes you just want to draw girls kissing and sometimes you wanna make it a little suggestive. Not much to say. Proud of the drapery on Kai'Sa's sleeve and you can always tell I love drawing hands.

Now it's time for classwork. Here I just have two pages but I've posted the whole comic on its own, this was for my "Art and Text" class, I have it printed in a booklet and my classmates + friends have responded to it so sweetly I'm really proud, I really really want to make more comics. This project was a culmination of so many inspirations from other artists and I'm really happy with the execution even if it was really rough for me to manage my time well for that class.

Then for my "Fiction and Allegory" class, two of my friends and I made a storyboard film (which I don't want to share publicly, but if I know you you can ask for a link) and during the all-nighter two of us pulled to get it done on time, I decided one scene needed music instead of diegetic sound, so I churned this out on garageband in about an hour. Would definitely love to try my hand at making more music in the future. Wish my classmates / teacher liked / understood the film more but oh well. I learned a lot and for the thousandth time, I'm proud of what I did.

IN CONCLUSION:

I ended up with less full pieces than 2022 but what I did create in 2023 are big, detailed, emotional pieces, and I'm more than satisfied. I think my skills in rendering, backgrounds, and colors really improved and I'm looking forward to how I continue to improve in 2024. This upcoming year has a lot of scary stuff ahead (namely graduating college) but I will come out the other side regardless, hopefully with just as much art I'm proud of.

If you read all of this, thank you!! If you've liked, shared, or commented on any of my art, thank you!!!!!! It means the world, always.

#2023 art review #long post #this year had some good highs but also some drastic lows so idk #but making art is always a high #happy new year!#artists on tumblr #tanner art #tanner talks

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mimopsd · 4 months ago

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Crumbs // Dev Notes

youtube

Summary:

Crumbs is a text-based game. You play as a cookie (Kooki) that has just woken up after baking in the oven. Your goal is to escape the house before the time runs out and the Witch wakes up and eats you!

Notes:

As one of the very first games I created from scratch (art & coding), I had no idea what I was doing HAHA. Due to this being a school project, I had a limited timeframe to get everything I wanted done. In the end, I had to cut some planned features out to make the deadline on time.

I thought of this concept because admittedly I was quite addicted to Cookie Run: Kingdom at that time (the cookies are so darn cute and edible!!), so I wanted to make a cookie-themed game.

Art Style

Originally, I was going to 3D model all the background scenes, then import the rendered images to Photoshop to colour, in the hopes of making my life easier if I ever decide to change angles. But apparently my math wasn't mathing. I took a whole day messing around in Maya before deciding it's not worth the time trying to work it out so I tried changing my approach.

I scrapped the idea of 3D and started working on 2D instead.

I did a quick sketch of the Bedroom, and towards the end of the project, my eyes were cleared and I thought it was really ugly, so I redid it again but made it simpler this time :)

I used this video as a reference for the kind of style I wanted to emulate.

Final Notes:

I think despite everything, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I did most of the things I wanted to, added some secret options / dialogue, etc.

Credits:

Programs used: - Unity - Visual Studio Code - Adobe Photoshop

Music used: - Main Menu BGM: Chilling Monkey by VOiD1 Gaming - Lose BGM: Hide and Seek (i cant find the link anymore?) - Win BGM: toy piano by Wayne Jones

Art Assets used: - Created by me :)

#my games #game development #Youtube

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luveline · 3 years ago

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you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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christopher5418183 · 2 years ago

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Week 10

This whole course we have been learning how to create physical sketches, physical sketch models and digital models. This has provided many different opportunities to learn new skills and improve on old skills that can be used for future course as well as during full time work.

The first few week of the course, we learnt how to use engineering tools to create a variety of different types of sketches such as orthogonal, auxiliary and perspective sketches. I have quite a bit of experience sketching orthographic views in high school so relearning how to do them was not that hard. However, I definitely think I have improved from my high school days as I have learnt how to format my page better, add additional relevant information to the title block and used fineliners with different line weights to create a crisp sketch. Auxiliary views took a bit of time to wrap my head around, but once I understood its purpose and how it was drawn, it was quite easy to sketch. These first few weeks for the first assessment were relatively fun and interesting. Next time I will try to improve on my speed since the drawings did take some time but also would like to make less mistakes when I create the sketch such as misplaced lines and measurements. This can be remedied through continuing the practice doing more and more sketches.

For the next assessment we learnt how to do create perspective sketches, free hand sketches and digital rendering. Perspective drawings were definitely much harder than learning auxiliary sketches but I slowly got the hang of it. It was challenging to figure out how to draw some of the detailed areas of different objects accurately. But the more perspective sketches I did, the easier it became and the quicker I could do them. We also learnt how to free hand sketched different designs of a perfume bottle and use many drawing techniques to create something realistic. I was never really good at drawing and the decent drawings I create take me a long time. However some of these drawing techniques were able to assist me to make cleaner sketches. However I struggled quite a bit when creating a perspective sketch for the perfume bottle since there was so much more detail compared to the previous perspective sketches I made. It took a while but in the end I was satisfied with my result. Digital rendering was quite intimidating to me because I have virtually never used photoshop before. Because of this, I chose bottles that looked similar in size and didn’t have super complex shapes. In the end I was pretty happy with how it turned out. Overall this assessment was definitely a step up for me but I think I was able to manage relatively well. I enjoyed the perspective sketching but not so much the freehand sketches and digital renders.

For the final few weeks we learnt to create physical models and use a 3 dimensional modelling program to create models and clean up digital scans. Creating the physical model wasn’t too hard. Because I love creating craft at home and have had 5 years of experience in wood working at school, I didn’t find it too difficult to create a foam model. The only setback was that I had very little experience with foam so I was definitely a lot more cautious than usual and took a lot more time and care. This was worth it because I’m quite pleased with my end result. However, when I began using 3ds max it was quite a roller coaster. I have little to no experience using autodesk apps and 3ds max was a completely new experience. I followed the videos for tutorials and it took a bit of time to understand but was not super difficult. But when I tried making my own model in the program, I was not sure where to start. I found it hard to think of what functions I should use to make any object. I eventually figure out how to do it but it definitely wasn’t the best model and quite a painful experience. We then learnt how to prepare a 3d scan in rhino and 3ds max so that it can later be 3d printed. Considering my last encounter with 3ds max I was quite intimidated but in the end I didn’t find it that difficult. It was honestly quite interesting how we could modify a scan of a physical model digitally and then create digital iterations to be later 3d printed so we could have physical iterations. After that we learnt how to put it into the 3d printing software to be printed at any time. These final few weeks I found were equally as challenging as the previous three. This assessment had its ups and downs but overall was helpful for future projects.

All in all, this course has definitely been helpful and useful. Not everything was that enjoyable but most things were definitely informative and helpful. It was definitely useful to look at my peer’s work to share our knowledge and advise with each other to improve on both our strengths and weaknesses. I look for to be using these skills I’ve picked up sometime in the future.

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straysinfiltrator · 3 years ago

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Thronebreaker: The Real Ending

The heavy gates of Lyria Castle opened to deafening trumpet calls. Gascon rode in first, his mounted retinue and carriages following with great fanfare. Festive banners flew from the towers, the Lyrian eagle lifted amidst royal blue and red and gold, soaring in glorious agitation. Gascon glanced up in sympathy. He had waited months for this, and it had felt like longer, until his new estates’ affairs were ordered enough to be left in the hands of his administrators, until Meve had finally relented and believed him when he wrote her, yet again, that there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her.

Guards and nobles bowed as he entered the yard. He nodded to the assembled gathering, then dismounted smoothly and tossed the reins to one of the several stewards who materialized at his side. His hands absently pulled the embroidered silk of his sleeves over his wrists; the chill of irons haunted his memory of the last time he had walked this path.

He scanned the far end of the courtyard, and his heart lurched as he saw footmen snap to attention, then part for their queen. Her face looked at once comfortingly familiar and brilliantly fresh, her smile radiant; she was resplendent in her armor and crown, the consummate picture of royalty. Reynard walked just a pace behind her, silver to her gold, an ever-steady mountain of strength. It would not have been appropriate to simply run up and into their arms, and for once Gascon forced himself to follow protocol, with no small effort.

The rest of the day was taken up by a formal reception, several official audiences, elaborate feasting, and a casually pompous hunting event that took hours and would have left them all starving if they’d actually had to rely on the game they caught for their dinner. It was not until the evening that he finally found himself in the company of Meve and Reynard alone, in one of the castle’s lavish private sitting rooms.

“Some peace, at long last,” Meve said, collapsing into a chair. Reynard poured them all some wine and sat down himself. They toasted, to the old times and the new. Gascon took a sip as he paced restlessly, tasting the sweet sharpness, wondering if nothing or everything had changed.

There was a massive book on the table, open to a page with an elaborately intricate illustration in earth tones. He glanced at it sidelong, intrigued.

“Take a look,” Reynard said, gesturing.

Gascon set down his cup and bent over the volume, then flipped slowly through the gorgeously illustrated pages, careful to only touch their very edges. The drawings were shaded in astounding gradients, looking almost painted, and there were even a few that were in full color. And as for the text—

“An account of our journey, and our fight, to preserve for the future,” Reynard said. “Copies have been sent to monarchs across the Continent, as well as important academic libraries. Our friends in Mahakam have shared their latest printing press technology for the illustrations; they seem to think our story will make others reconsider before treading again on their neutrality.”

“It’s incredible,” Gascon said with genuine awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He paged through perfect renderings of Meve and her companions, and landscapes sketched so accurately he felt himself transported back to the places they portrayed. He stopped at a picture of himself; it showed him stashing away a scroll while glancing suspiciously over his shoulder. “Hah! Is that when I stole the document for the dwarf lass in Mahakam? I look pretty sharp in that one, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s a good likeness,” Meve said matter-of-factly. Gascon glanced up and met her sparkling eyes; she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.

Heat rose in his cheeks. He looked down, turned more pages.

There was an illustration towards the end, showing Meve in full armor, majestic and beautiful as always, sitting on the throne while Reynard stood proudly behind her. Gascon read aloud: “She ruled with an iron hand, not fist, Reynard ever at her side, tempering, supportive. That’s news to me—did you truly manage to temper her, Reynard?”

Reynard made a dismissive sound and waved the notion away: “As if anyone could.”

“Certain passages may have been, shall we say, smoothed over—for easier reading,” Meve said. “But the ‘supportive’ part is right, at least.” She set down her goblet, leaned over and kissed Reynard full on the mouth, pulling him close with one hand on the back of his neck. Gascon watched as the proud general melted under her touch. It was good to see them again, good to see them like this.

Gascon flipped to the next page idly and choked out a surprised laugh. “You had me riding off into the sunset, really? Atop some wild stallion that’s about to throw me off, no less!”

“It seemed like your style,” Meve replied with a bright smile. “Anything understated would hardly do you justice.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Gascon said with a lopsided grin and a shrug. “And I suppose you couldn’t exactly lay out the whole truth, considering the intended audience.”

“Some things are best left out of the history texts,” Meve agreed, rising. “The events of tonight, for example…” She circled Gascon as she spoke, then ran a hand through his hair, firm and sweet and cool. It was the first time she had touched him since his return. The shiver went all the way to his bones. She trailed a single fingertip down the side of his throat; he swallowed involuntarily and felt his heartbeat pounding against the gentle pressure, frantic with craving.

Reynard lounged back into his chair across from them, one arm resting casually on the hilt of his sword. He met Gascon’s eyes and raised his cup in salute; then his lips curved in a knowing smile as he settled in to watch.

#my writing #thronebreaker #ot3 #reynard x gascon x meve #the witcher tales #meve #queen meve #reynard odo #gascon #gascon brossard

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kakashiswilloffire · 3 years ago

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STEAM, not STEM

ao3

word count: 1.6k

kabuto x sai, college au, enemies to lovers ish, same age au

this is my first server collab with @konoblog-simps! the prompt was college au for august, and you can see the rest of the multifandom fics and artwork here!

***

As a biochemistry major focused on pharmaceuticals with a five year plan included finishing this undergrad degree, moving across the country for a masters in organic chemistry, then likely moving again for a doctorate in organic, along with four internships along the way, so that he could become a renowned creator of antianxiety medications, he was pretty confident in his knowledge. There was nothing a chemistry professor could ask that he couldn’t answer. Calculus came to him as a breeze. His psychology courses presented absolutely no challenge to him. Statistics, courses in professionalism and building his portfolio, and meetings with potential employers never caused him to break a sweat.

This fucking art class might kill him, though.

He had resented for years that humanities courses were required in science degree paths. It was his junior year and he had fought with his advisor for the past four semesters before finally giving in and agreeing to take a class on charcoal sketching. There was no way he would be caught dead in the hugely popular pottery class taught by the blond professor with tattoos of mouths on the back of his hands. Nor would he voluntarily take any basic introductory course in drawing or painting.

That was how he found himself in an advanced charcoal techniques course, prepared to blow through a handful of drawings and easily earn high marks.

However, in a class size of eight, he was drawing attention for the wrong reasons.

To start, the others all seemed to know each other from previous courses, which immediately made him the outsider. To make matters worse, the professor greatly preferred their work to his own. A part of him couldn’t blame the man who insisted he be called Tenzo rather than by any title or honorific. His drawings were definitely in a different style to the rest of the class, and it was a style that didn’t seem to be changing or improving as the weeks passed.

It wouldn’t be so frustrating if it wasn’t the first thing he had ever tried that was proving to be a struggle. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, the asshole in the front row seemed to take to charcoal like breathing.

On the first day, when Tenzo had gone over the syllabus, he had also made them all introduce themselves and play a get to know you game. They all pretended that it wasn’t for Kabuto’s benefit. Fu and Torune had begun, making a point of making physical contact with each other the whole time they spoke, though he had never seen Torune take off his gloves. The had tuned most of the others out as they spoke, noting Shin seemed decent enough, though he’d prefer if the man stopped coughing for more than a moment. What grated him to no end was the final person to speak.

Sai.

He spoke with a fake smile plastered across his face, eyes closed and voice dripping with confidence. He listed his credentials off without any thought, and it infuriated him that the list of accomplishments and certifications rivaled the length of his own. Sai listed his specialty in art as black and white realism, and his preferred medium as painting, though he was looking forward to learning more about charcoal. From there, he had turned to Kabuto with that same overly-relaxed smile and offered:

“Your turn, flash cards.”

The familiarity rubbed him the wrong way and he had been irritated with him ever since. What made it worse was that Sai was actually really good in the course. He hadn’t been lying about his skill in realism—anything he rendered looked like it was about to run off the page. He seemed to prefer birds, in all species, but every individual feather breathed and flowed and he never got the black dust accidentally smudged on his paper. In fact, he never got the dust anywhere. Kabuto always left the class covered in black smears on his skin, clothing, and bag, and there would always be some hidden patch of charcoal that he never found until he showered that night.

It infuriated him to no end that this shallow jerk who modelled his personality around whoever he was with was also, genuinely, so much better than him at this class that he desperately needed to pass.

Midterm grades had come back the other day and a vein had nearly popped out of his forehead when he saw the disastrously low score. Tenzo had noted that he saw improvement between this and where Kabuto had began the class, but it was still not on level with the rest of the class and where he would need to be in preparation for the next level pastels course. Apparently, it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be taking the next level course. If he didn’t pass this course with a reasonably high grade, his scholarship sponsor, Orochimaru, would be furious. Risking the scholarship not being renewed meant risking the entire five year plan, and for that—

He’d have to suck it up.

“Hey, Sai?” he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone level. Admitting weakness was not his strength and he had no intention of making this a habit.

The crop top wearer glanced up from the hyper-realistic sheet of mice that he was effortlessly rendering. “Ah, Kabuto,” he said, the same smile from before falling across his face. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

He gritted his teeth, then forced his jaw to relax. “The rain we’ve had all week? Sure, Sai.” He pulled up a stool, settling in to the easel next to him. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Sai nodded, not pausing his movement as he gave life to a mouse’s tail. “My answer is yes.”

Kabuto blinked. Was asking for help really this simple? “You’re willing to tutor me for the final?”

That caused Sai to hesitate, tilting his head slightly to the side. After a beat, he replied “I suppose I could do that. You appear to be capable of learning how to improve your questionable techniques.”

Ignoring the dig, he pressed on. “I would appreciate that. Tenzo said that my linework is improving but my shading is still not where it needs to be. Something about being more mindful of my light sources.”

“I agree with his analysis,” Sai said, continuing on his sketch. “Your grasp of line weight is abysmal, which is a step up from your initial attempt, which was horrific. Your shading on our last assignment, the brickwork, was essentially nonexistent. All of your pieces so far have had at least four light sources that have no apparent source. It’s clear from your work that you have no regard for art and no passion for creation at all.”

He delivered the critique without halting a single graceful stroke on his canvas. There was no malice in his tone, and he said the words almost pleasantly, despite the cutting content.

“I am willing to teach you more technique and skill so that Tenzo is able to assign you a passing grade in this course. However, I do not believe you are capable of being an artist or creating anything of value in the world as you currently are.”

Kabuto froze. He had only meant to ask for a few tips, not to be dragged for all he was worth in this godforsaken art course. How dare this arrogant prick think he was incapable of creation?

He gripped his charcoal stick so tightly in his fist that it crumbled. “Listen, inky. Just because I’m focused in science doesn’t mean I can’t create anything meaningful. My goal is to be a pharmaceutical chemist, to create medications to change people’s lives. Just because I can’t draw some fucking—I don’t know, a fucking rat or a bowl of fruit or whatever, doesn’t make you better than me. So fuck off with that.”

Sai smirked, his eyes closing in his familiar pattern. “I never implied anything about our worth relative to each other. But I do think that it’s cute that you’re concerned about appearing to be less than me. That will create an excellent motivation for self-improvement for both of us in our relationship.”

The light caught Kabuto’s glasses, a white reflection flashing across the lenses. “We don’t have a relationship.”

Finally, Sai put his rectangle of charcoal down on the easel and sat up. “Do we not? What was the intent of your original question to me?”

Kabuto spluttered. “What do you mean? I came up and asked if you’d help me with the final and you said yes, then you were an ass.”

It was now Sai’s turn to blink. “You said that you had a question for me. I replied that my answer was yes. As a result, we are now boyfriends.” He wiped his fingers on a handkerchief hanging on the corner of his easel. “Was your question you intended to ask me not if I would be interested in a romantic relationship with you?”

He flushed a deep red. Sai was attractive, that was undeniable, but that was not how this encounter was meant to go. Romance was not in the five year plan. “I—”

“Just do it,” sighed Tenzo, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. “For the love of God, both of you, stop staring at each other and bickering and just go out, would you?”

Sai smiled, the classic closed-eye smile that looked more genuine each time he did it. “Thank you, Tenzo.”

Kabuto was confused, but in order to learn the skills he needed to pass this class, he’d need to go along with the game. Without another word, he reached out and took Sai’s hand. Might as well give it a shot, right?

#kabuto x sai #sai x kabuto #kabuto fanfic #kabuto yakushi #konoha simps server collab

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onedivinemisfit · 4 years ago

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2020 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza

Boy howdy, but it has been a year. So much so that I felt the need to dig up this meme so I can lavish myself with a little TLC, ‘cause you know what? I deserve it! And so do you. This year has been tough, and even in the best of times it can be a real struggle to remember that, instead of being your own worst enemy, you should strive to be your best cheerleader. Remember to be kind instead of cruel, to forgive rather than condemn yourself. Creativity is hard, and it is always a journey, never a final destination, so let’s take a moment and sight-see where we’ve been this year, yeah???

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

Tagged by @bubblesthemonsterartist <w<

1. Shirayuki and the Black Bear-King - I won’t lie, this one meant a lot to me, personally. I had been dying for a theme native to my home country, so when I got the opportunity, I swore to myself up and down and sideways that I would deliver. It’s rare that I get to unite fandom and my own culture, so this was immensely pleasing. And detailed... and time-consuming...

2. Those were the days my friend - To be fair I didn’t really want to pick only one work from this year’s Obiyukiweek because WOW. I didn’t think I had it in me. Rarely have I overcome my own expectations in so solid a manner. But this too, was the work with the most emotion going into it, I just knew that if I was going with this sort of theme, it had to be well-done. It was also my first time making faux-screenshot type art!

3. Mothers - This is actually a three-picture series, but I’ll just preview the one I loved the most <w< I’m still in shock over how quickly these were sketched and rendered, I can barely remember creating them - tis what happens when I zone out completely, and why I suck so much at tutorials~ But I was really pleased with the result, because I wanted to symbolize the softness, the age-worn longing for a mother who is gone. ;;

4. The Story Paneling Redraws - here too it’s rather a series of pictures instead of a single one, but wowie was I surprised I could actually do this?? I had drawn AUs and changed a scene or two before, in big, single pictures, but never had I attempted to take it to this level, where I redrew whole segments of a manga, to fit my own AU. And it worked?? I actually could “retell” a story, in simple formats, to make my points visually easier to convey. That was an amazing feeling - and shocking, too.

5. The Snuggle Fight Club - ah yes, the sketch that took forever to turn into lineart that took another eternity to colour and render... ewe Most of the reason I’m so pleased with the outcome here is that my track record for finishing art that gets that old, is really really bad. At some point I usually end up abandoning them to the sands of time. But not this time! Hah!

Gosh this made me realize a lot of things about myself actually >/////> I’m proud even, what the heck.

I tag; @claudeng80 @sleepykaru aaaaaand @jhalya - and anyone who feels like doing it <3

#tag meme #about me #2020 art meme #I never in my dreams imagine this year would top last year in terms of productivity #but boy it did and HOW #I remain in awe of all the people who sublty give me that slight push to do this #and it's not in order to achieve perfection of my art #but an expression of love that I can look back on next year #and the year after #without feelings of distress or cringe or oh gosh was I in that mindset #just simply the love of creating #thank you #ans #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #man this fandom XD

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

Text

Complexities Unknowable Chapter 3

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/57175900

Chapter Two link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/614327945408987136/complexities-unknowable-chapter-two

MasterPost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus says some things (mentions of biblically accurate angels, gore art description), food mention, mild sleep deprivation, cursing. As always everyone is sympathetic. Roast me if I forgot something.

Word Count: 1,851

Remus was, once again, sitting on the counter in the light side kitchen. It was an ungodly early hour of morning, so the Commons were deserted. He was supposed to be waiting for Morality, according to the spiteful little plot Dee had offered him that he hadn’t listened to all that well, but he surmised it meant he was supposed to fuck with a light side, so… Duh. Of course he was in.

Truth be told, three out of four of the self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ hardly bothered him! They were stuffy prudes, sure, but their insults slid off his back like blood off of steel. As long as he was doing his own thing with Deceit alongside him, everything was fine (he was still pointedly ignoring the existence of another Creativity). But looks like what Deceit wanted to do was torment Patton into, like, repenting? Or something? Like he said, he wasn’t listening.

Anyway! Waiting and watching was what he was doing! And doodling, because sitting still was literally impossible in Remus’ experience. Thankfully, he soon saw the paternal trait springing down the stairs. Straightening his back, The Duke put on his best intimidating face (which he thought looked rather silly, but Deceit assured him was very unsettling). He set down his sketchbook and blurred his edges. It didn’t work very well up here, but it was a little trick that they’d all- Virgil included- learned years ago. Honestly, he just used it to get cheap scares every now and then.

Patton strolled into the kitchen, whistling some jaunty tune and holy shit , Remus had figured it was some shtick, but was he just a cartoon character all of the time ? That was- sure, very adorable- but mostly all the more entertaining to scare!

“What’s up, Dilf!?”

Patton shrieked, nearly dropping a mug. With wide, startled eyes, he found the source of the noise. Said source watched the emotional trait force his expression into something amicable, laughing loudly.

“Um- good morning, Remus! I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“That was the point, MoMo,” Remus replied, dragging his claws screechingly down the side of a cabinet; Patton winced at the sound.

“Can I help you with anything?” Read: Why are you still here? Sometimes Remus wondered if he was too good at his job!

“Nope! Just enjoying the atmosphere, sketching, terrorizing…” He flipped onto his back, throwing his arm out and presenting his open notebook.

“You draw?” Patton seemed weirdly happy about that fact, managing a more natural smile. Seemed he thought he’d found something to work with, but that was likely to change.

“Of course I do, I am Creativity, after all! Here .” He handed over the sketchbook with a Cheshire smile. The creative trait had ensured it was flipped open to a detailed depiction of a being composed of several flaming rings, all of which absolutely covered with bloodshot eyes. It had an indiscernible amount of wings that could only be counted as ‘too many’. In the center of the rings was a swirling black void (a type of ink that took Remus weeks to conjure properly, thank you very much).

He watched carefully as Patton studied the image, looking bemused.

“It’s an angel!”

That seemed to only confuse the moral side more, making him tilt his head to a few different angles to look at the drawing. But he still didn’t seem upset by it, oddly enough.

“It certainly is an interesting interpretation,” He responded at last, “and all of these little lines must have taken you forever, that’s so impressive!”

Truth be told, they had taken a while, and Remus was very happy that the effort had been noticed- but that wasn’t the point!

“That’s nothing,” he took the sketchbook back from Patton and flipped through more pages. Aha! This would fuck him up, for sure! A full-color illustration of someone hung up on a meat hook, rib cage pried open like a spike trap to reveal very painstakingly rendered organs. He was actually quite proud of this one.

The only response that Patton gave, however, was a slight wrinkling of his nose when he first saw it, followed by more quiet observation.

“What do you think?” Remus prompted, watching as Patton set the drawing back down on the counter and began to assemble things for breakfast, seemingly unaffected.

“I wish I could draw that well, but I’m still not super good at it,” he said admiringly.

“I had to crack open my own ribs to make sure it was accurate, you know!”

Morality yelped at that one- score one for Remus! Finally!

“You wanna see my re-imaginings of my favorite Final Destination deaths? I’ve painted some with real- well, conjured- but real enough blood!”

But Patton didn’t even flinch this time; he looked more determined even!

“Art is a healthy outlet for expressing yourself,” he was almost certainly parroting Logan there, and he even seemed to believe the statement. Perhaps Remus would have to be a little more creative to get more reactions.

. “I agree! I didn’t expect you to have such an open-minded point of view. I’ll be sure you’re the first side to know when I make my next amateur taxidermy sculpture! Emphasis on the amateur!”

“Great!” Patton practically shouted, very stubbornly staring at the stove.

Before Remus had the chance to continue, the distinct sounds of Logan and Roman arguing their way downstairs met his ears, and he cut himself off. That was enough for one day, he decided. And anyhow, he looked forward to trying new ways to bother Patton next morning.

Deceit rose into the shadows of the Light Side commons with a smirk. It was an awful hour of the night, which was part of the plan. Not only was Patton the first awake in the morning, he was also often the last to sleep. Deceit supposed that Logan was looking after Roman and Virgil’s sleep schedules nowadays, which made it much easier to catch the artificial patriarch alone. That isn’t to imply that Dee had been tracking their schedules or anything, but the overwhelming lie that Morality surrounded himself with made him easy to track- especially in the night, when he had to pretend even harder that he was fine without the presence of his little family. Deceit entertained the idea that he should feel bad for the side, and maybe he did somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down. No, further than that.

Regardless of any such feelings, he was here to mess with Patton. Still unnoticed, he watched quietly as his target scrolled through Netflix, illuminated only by the dim glow of the television. The side looked so tired that he could’ve passed as a corpse, but gave a tiny smile after finally selecting whatever it was he was going to watch.

Wait. Wait. He was watching that ?

Deceit stared at the unmistakable green text that was the intro to The Good Place playing across the screen. If there was one thing he was expecting Patton to watch (Cartoons? Friends reruns? Slime videos?), it wasn't his own favorite show.

“Hm.” Deceit hummed.

In response, Patton shrieked and fell halfway off the couch. His head darted around until he finally spotted Deceit, who had slid down to sit on the sofa as well.

“Oh- um- good evening, Deceit! Wow, today is just full of surprises!”

“ Surely you won’t mind if I join you? This is one of my favorite shows, after all.”

Patton fixed his position so that he was no longer partially on the floor and looked the snake up and down. He paused the episode.

“ Really ?”

“Really,” and then, after some trepidation, “Honestly.”

Suddenly, Patton lit up dramatically, a happy smile stretching across his face. Fuck, wrong direction, Deceit wasn’t supposed to be cheering him up!

“I’m surprised that someone like you would like it,” Deceit continued hastily. Patton’s smile fell a little and he tipped his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ,” He lounged back against the couch, “I didn’t think you’d approve of a show where all of the characters are such bad people .”

“What?! The whole point is that they aren’t bad!” Good, Back on track .

“Oh? Then what are they? Last I checked, the main character was very selfish .”

“I- okay, I see what you’re trying to do,” Patton turned to face Deceit entirely, “But they’re- they also-”

“Also what ?” Deceit was also sitting sideways on the couch now, his eyes glinting. He was certain that he’d talked the trait into a corner, which was why he was so utterly unprepared for Patton’s response.

“It’s, like, they all start off not great, but that’s because they were all set up for failure before the afterlife! They had it hard before dying, but when they were finally given the chance to actually get better, then they got better! They aren’t perfect , but they care about each other! And I think it really shows that sometimes, somebody can be wrong over and over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that they’re hopeless, or that they’re a bad friend, or…” He trailed off, looking down at his lap and blinking very quickly. “Or that they’re a bad person.”

Suddenly, Deceit wasn’t that sure that he wanted to see Patton upset anymore.

After a very uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long for his liking, the scaled side realized that he should probably be the one to say something.

“That’s… a very in depth analysis, Morality. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Thanks,” Patton replied. When he looked up, his eyes held an odd recognition. It was a look that no Light Side had ever given Deceit, but they gave it to each other plenty of times. The side in question wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure knew that he was uncomfortable.

“So… The show…” He prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Patton pressed play.

Deceit had planned on doing some more provoking of Patton as they watched, but he found himself rather caught up in the program. The conversation he did end up making with the other incidentally slipped into chatting about their shared views on the show. It was almost nice. Maybe. Whatever.

After a few episodes, Deceit elected to return home for the night. As he was sinking out, he heard a sleepy voice bidding him farewell.

“G’night, Kiddo.”

He popped up in his bedroom after that, eyes quickly landing on a half-asleep Remus half-watching Saw 4 . The lights were dimmed to a glow, and the TV’s volume was so low that it might have been inaudible to anyone other than the more animalistic sides.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Deceit murmured warmly, sitting beside his fellow Dark side. The trait yawned and rubbed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him.

“Wanted to,” he responded, voice groggy, “How’d it go?”

Deceit snapped his fingers to change into sleep clothes, reaching across Remus to flick off the lamp. As he settled in to semi-watch the movie, fingers automatically moving to card through his partner’s hair, he carefully considered the question.

“Fucking. Weird.”

Chapter 4

Tags: @deceits-left-glove @princemesscharming

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snow-pitch-grimm · 5 years ago

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Better Than Any Fantasy

Summary: Simon finds some of Baz's sketches of him. His reaction isn't what Baz had expected.

SIMON

I didn't mean to see it.

I've seen him write and doodle in his notebook before, always with it turned away from me. I'm curious as to what he's doing, but even I have my boundaries. No matter how much I'm convinced that he's plotting, there are some lines I wouldn't cross.

Going through someone's private diary is too much, even for me.

So, I really didn't mean to see it.

I'd been looking for a paper of mine through all the clutter on my desk when my elbow had knocked over Baz's neat stack.

I curse as I quickly pick up his things. As I pick his leather-bound journal, a pape slips out.

It was a drawing, a very familiar drawing.

It was me.

In the picture, I was shirtless and lying renaissance style on the sheets, with the sheets covering my waist to my mid-thigh.

I looked...I looked good.

Why would Baz draw me like this? Was it a trick? No, it couldn't be. He's always hidden the contents from me.

Despite my better judgement, I opened the journal. Skipping over the writing I only looked at the drawings. Specifically drawings of me. There I was, writing, laughing, smiling and generally just doing normal things. There was even one of me stuffing myself with scones. Baz somehow made me look beautiful doing that too.

It didn't make sense. Could it be that he liked me? That didn't make sense either.

The last collage of pictures answered the question for me.

It was the only page that involved him too. In one corner, we were holding hands, at the bottom edge we were looking at each other with smiles on our faces. At the side of the page, he as leaning against a brick wall with him leaning over me. At the bottom, we were lying together in the grass.

Framed by all these doodles is a picture of us kissing. It was just our faces and my hand. Our lips are carefully melded together, and my hand is cupping his cheek, the one not turned toward the viewer.

The pictures have a soft, wavery quality to them like they are from someone's dream.

Did Baz dream of this? Is this his fantasy?

I was still trying to figure it out when the door clicked shut behind me.

Turning around, I came face to face with a shocked and angry looking Baz.

BAZ

He found it.

Of course, he found it! Snow has no concept of privacy!

I stomp forward and grab the things from him.

"You couldn't leave it well enough alone, could you?" I snarl

"Baz- no. I didn't-" he starts, waving his hands and looking at me beseechingly, "I don't-"

I don't want to hear the rest of it. I turn around and stalk out of the room.

I walk and walk until I'm at the edge of the woods. There I sit down on the rocks and let my head fall into my hands.

What's he going to do now? Would he tell people? Would he make fun of me? Or would he just ignore it? Which one's worse?

"Agh," I grunt and throw the journal on the ground.

This was a disaster.

I had fantasies of him finding out and telling me he felt the same way. I would bring him flowers, and he would thank me with a small kiss. Or we would finally snap and kiss each other, ending up together in bed. There was one where he confessed and asked me out on a date.

But they're only fantasies. I know he's never going to love me the way I love him.

And now he knows exactly how much I love him.

Tears gather in my eyes as the severity of the situation finally hits me. Simon knows now. He could tell anyone. He could decide to finally make my life miserable. He could-

"Baz," says a hesitant voice from near me.

Snow's standing there, a sheepish look on his face. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he's fidgeting on his feet.

"What do you want," I ask, sounding as defeated as I feel.

He's silent for a moment before speaking.

"I really didn't mean to see it," He says softly, "It fell off your desk when I was looking through my stuff. The loose one fell out and well...after seeing that how was I not supposed to be curious,"

I snort but keep quiet. He did have a point.

"And I didn't read or look at anything else," he continues, "I only looked at the pictures you drew of me...and you,"

"Right," I say

There's silence again and Snow comes to sit beside me.

"What are you doing," I ask him

"Sitting," he answers

"Snow-"

"You like me?"

He's looking at me with curious eyes. I look for any malice but his eyes clear.

"I think that much is obvious,"

"You know I've never thought of you that way," he says, "But it's kinda sweet. Do you really think I'm that pretty? Because honestly, I don't look as good as in the mirror as I do in those drawings,"

All I can do is stare at him.

"Snow I can't tell whether you're letting me down easy or-you know what I have no idea what you're doing,"

Snow smiles at me, that bright smile that makes my heart beat fast.

SIMON

It hadn't taken long to make my decision. Only five minutes to be exact.

Five minutes is all it took to look at my feelings and think if the conclusion I wanted to this whole event.

The fastest decision I have ever made, and it still feels right.

Poor Baz, though. He looks so confused.

BAZ

Snow is still smiling when he answers and nearly stops my heart.

"What I'm trying," he says, "Is to get you to ask me out on a date,"

My jaw drops open and I'm left speechless.

SIMON

I think I might have broken him

BAZ

"Hey Baz," says Simon, waving his hand in my face, "Are you still here? Do I need to take you to the infirmary?"

I snap myself out of it and stare at him incredulously.

"What do you mean, ask you out on a date? You're not gay. What about Agatha? And where would we even go on a date here?"

Simon smiles, "I mean, ask me out on a date. I'm not gay. I'm bi. Figured it out when I first saw you shirtless. Agatha and I broke it off, mutual decision and if you're smart enough to be head of the class, you're smart enough to figure something out for a date,"

I stare at him, once again rendered speechless

SIMON

Did I break him again?

"Did I break you again?"

"I'm still stuck on me shirtless being your bisexual awakening,"

"Trust me I was surprised too," I tell him

"You really want to go on a date with me," he asks, looking a little shy

It's unusual and adorable, solidifying my decision to give us a chance. After all, its not every day you find a boy that spends his time doodling you in his secret notebook, all because fo how much he likes you.

"Yeah," I tell him

His face brightens, and my heart skips a beat.

Without intending to, I slide my hand in his.

BAZ

I'm holding hands with Simon Snow.

Merlin Above, I'm holding hands with Simon Snow.

I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming again.

Nope, Simon Snow is definitely holding my hand right now.

"We should probably head back," he says

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

We walk back together, still hand in hand, and surprisingly we don't run into anybody on the way back to our room.

When we get back, we spend some more time sitting on my bed and talking. Simon tells me about some of the mischiefs he and Penelope get into, and I tell him about my family and my the little terrors that are my siblings.

We finally decide to go to sleep when the clock strikes midnight.

As he gets off my bed, Simon bends down to kiss my cheek, making the skin tingle under his lips.

This is definitely better than any fantasy I have ever had.

#simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #coc 2019 #snowbaz #trope/cliche #carry on countdown #carry on fanfic #carry on #fluff

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patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

Text

If A Moment is All We Are (5.2/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr.

AO3 link: here

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Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

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“...Dazai-san, could you hang on a second?”

“Hm?”

He paused just a short distance ahead of me, waiting patiently as I pulled my light jacket a little closer around me and buttoned it up as high as it could go. I had no idea how long I’d been in the infirmary but it had to have been hours—in the time between nearly dying at the art gallery and stepping out of the Armed Detective Agency building, the temperature had dropped significantly. The sun had long since set (which made sense, given the sunset was the last thing I saw before I broke my neck in front of Yosano), a full, pale moon shone high in the sky and the night was as cold as it was dark. So much for spending a balmy, spring evening sketching with the windows open...

As I suddenly sneezed into my elbow, Dazai stepped forward.

“Here,” he said gently, taking off his trench coat and draping it around my shoulders. “The place we’re going isn’t too far away. Think you can handle the cold for just a little longer?”

As the residual warmth from Dazai’s large coat slowly seeped into my body, I felt a soft heat bloom in my cheeks. The coat was too large on me and it smelled faintly of coffee and cologne.

Here, walking along the river with him at night, in a part of the city I’d never been to, the whole day felt so far away. It was as if the static inside my head, the darkness inside me—they weren’t just gone, they didn’t even exist. Though I’d had nothing but strange encounters with Dazai, my heart suddenly felt light. I pulled the coat a little closer around me and smiled.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to...”

“Of course I did,” Dazai replied smoothly as we continued walking forward. “When you’re walking a beautiful lady back to her apartment at night and she gets cold—”

“It’s more than just that!” I insisted, hoping my face didn’t look too red.

The street was fairly deserted but to any passing onlookers, it might seem like we were coming back from a date, given I was wearing his coat and he was walking just a little too close to me. I took a small step away from him to try to slow the pounding of my heart.

“I wanted to say thanks for vouching for me back there. I’m actually surprised you did, given everything that’s happened... and how I reacted to it all...”

Without meaning to, I glanced at the bandages covering his arms, at the gauze that was slowly peeling away from his cheek—the tape must have come loose after I’d thrown the pillow at him and I abruptly looked away when I felt his eyes searching for mine. For a while, we walked in silence. I stared down at my shoes, Dazai’s coat suddenly feeling oppressively heavy on my shoulders. The words I really wanted to say kept sticking in my throat when I tried to get them out so I cleared my throat and tried to talk about something else.

“Dazai-san, do you really think I’m Agency material? I mean, I am an Ability User just like many of you but... I remember now. There were always so many rumors told around campus about you all. They say you’re strong, strong enough to take down monsters, and that when the Military Police or even the government has its hands full, they call upon you.”

My fingers fidgeted with the material of Dazai’s coat.

“If that’s true, then... why would you ask me to join you? I said it earlier, back at the infirmary. I can’t fight. I barely made it out of the gallery alive, thanks to the two of you. What makes you think—”

“Kusunoki-san.”

Dazai stopped walking. Standing under the glow of a nearby streetlamp, he studied me, his soft brown eyes compassionate, the top of his head framed in a warm, coppery halo.

“Some of the most dangerous and useful Abilities out there have nothing to do with fighting,” he said quietly. “Think about the fact that the Port Mafia came to collect you. Sometimes it’s not the Ability but the potential. And not everyone has potential.”

Taking a moment to let his words sink in, he smiled and inclined his head up, indicating I should look behind me.

“By the way... we’re here.”

I turned around and looked up to see a small, three-story apartment complex with soft sand-colored walls, tucked just inside a six-foot high barrier which hid the first floor of the complex from the streets. A set of stairs descended from the side of the building towards ground level and I trailed behind Dazai as he approached the main entrance, a modest opening in the barrier wall where a set of cheap, black wrought-iron gates separated us from the tiny courtyard within.

As he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, I found my eyes drawn to the patch of dried blood on the palm of his bandaged hands—my blood, I forcefully reminded myself—and in an instant, the words I’d been struggling to get out all evening finally left my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dazai asked, turning to look at me.

The tape holding down the square of gauze on his cheek had peeled off even more and I felt a fresh stab of guilt when I saw the deep scratch underneath that was just starting to heal.

“For throwing that pillow at you.”

I looked away.

“And for everything else I’ve troubled you with... I’m really sorry.”

Dazai chuckled, a low, humorless sound and sauntered up to me as I took off his coat and gave it back. He placed the keys in the palm of my hand and closed my fingers over them.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he murmured, throwing his coat back on and guiding me towards the main gate. “You were just trying to survive.”

“Yeah, but...”

I sighed and leaned back against the barrier just inches from the break in the gate.

“Dazai-san... I couldn’t help noticing you were covered in bandages when we met. Now you have even more. Was there a reason you didn’t ask Yosano-sensei to heal you?”

I twisted the keys around in my hand.

“Was she unable to heal you because she spent so much time on me?”

Dazai shook his head.

“That’s not it.”

“Then, why—?”

“She can’t heal me, Kusunoki-san. Not in the same way she can heal you.”

I stared at him.

“What...?”

The corners of his lips turned upward and he slipped his bloodied hand out of his pocket and placed it on the wall, just beside my face.

“Would you like to take a guess?” he asked, looking somewhat amused at the prospect of a game, “At what my Ability is? I’ll give you a reward if you get it right.”

He moved a little closer and the scent of his cologne wafted through the air.

“In fact, I’ll even give you a hint, because I like you so much...”

Shadows danced within his eyes.

“It’s called ‘No Longer Human.’”

No Longer...?

Unable to guess, I shook my head and his smile grew even bigger.

“Like yours, my Ability is activated through touch. And like yours, it’s always active. What my Ability allows me to do... is cancel out all other special Abilities I come into contact with.”

I sucked in a breath. So that’s why I couldn’t see his future when he held my hand at the police station and earlier at the infirmary. It wasn’t that time stopped; my Ability had been rendered inactive. But that means...

“Yosano-sensei can’t heal you?”

I looked once again at the layers of bandages wrapped around his neck and forearms, the patch of gauze stuck to his cheek. I felt something thick and oppressive bubbling up in my throat and I swallowed thickly to push down the rising sense of fear.

“But then, what happens if you get seriously hurt working a case? What if you...?”

“What’s this?” Dazai laughed, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Kusunoki-san, you’re...?”

His laughter slowly fading, he leaned in close, so close I could count his eyelashes, taste the coffee on his breath. His gingerbread-brown eyes sparkled as they held my gaze.

“Are you worried about me, my sweet Camellia blossom?”

“I-I guess? I don’t know,” I admitted, looking over his shoulder as my face burned anew.

The moon was high in the sky and the building’s front wall felt cool against my back.

“I just wish that there was something I could do for you...” I mumbled at last.

Dazai grew quiet. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving my face.

“You wish to do something for me?” Dazai repeated, his gaze unwavering. “Don’t tell me, you’re feeling sorry for me?”

“That’s not it,” I lied, shaking my head. “It’s just, for a second... back at the infirmary...”

I swallowed.

“You just looked so lonely back there.”

His smile faltered. I heard the soft scratch of his fingernails next to my ear as his hand slipped a fraction against the wall.

“Lonely, huh?”

Slowly, the look in his eyes changed, subtle longing transforming into hardened purpose.

“I have been searching for a companion as of late,” he admitted, surprising me. “If you’d like to do something for me, there is this one thing...”

“What is it?” I asked a little too quickly—my guilt and my budding feelings were getting the better of me and judging by the contemplative look on Dazai’s face, he knew it too.

Still smiling, the shadows lengthening under his wine-dark eyes, he traced the corner of my jaw with one slender finger and whispered:

“Come away with me. We’ll go to a museum, have drinks at the bar, maybe take a nice long walk in the park by the sea... And then, if you’d like, we can end the night at the bridge. Have you ever been there? The view is to die for...”

“Dazai-san...”

I grasped his hand.

“Are you asking me on a date or are you asking me if I’ll join you in that double suicide you talked about?”

My fingers curled around his.

After rescuing me and stopping me from doing something stupid... after taking the darkness away... He asks me this...?

“The answer is no.”

I pushed him away and moved away from the wall, towards the gate, only to see that when I looked back at him, rather than appearing hurt, he seemed calmer than ever. Something about that serene smile unnerved me and I took another step back as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets.

“Why can’t it be both?” he asked. “Double suicide—no, a lovers’ suicide. It sounds romantic, don’t you think?”

“Not really.”

Dazai sighed. Heavily.

“Alright,” he said, shrugging. “It was worth a shot.”

He turned away from me and made to go.

“Dazai-san...”

Bitter disappointment welled up in my chest.

“Did you offer to walk me home just so you could try this out on me?”

“Not at all,” Dazai declared. “I was actually hoping you would say yes. Then all my hopes and dreams would finally come true.”

I sucked in a breath.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I was,” Dazai affirmed, turning back around to face me. “And I am. You don’t have to say yes right away, Kusunoki-san. Take your time, think about it. Just know that if you ever change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.”

A cold wind began to blow. As we stood opposite each other before the wrought-metal gates, our figures bathed in the harsh light of an enormous, full moon, an odd chill settled into my bones, one that had nothing to do with the unusually wintry night.

Dazai rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Actually, maybe you don’t. I should probably give you my number.”

“No, thanks.”

“Just to let you know,” he said, taking his own cell out of his pocket and shooting a text. “My apartment’s not very far from here. If you ever need anything—anything at all...”

The burner cell he’d given me buzzed in my pocket and I realized he’d just sent me the text.

“Just give me a call. I promise I’ll be right over.”

He winked.

“I look forward to hearing from you.”

And with that, he walked away into the night, his sand-colored trench coat billowing in the wind and the sound of his footsteps slowly fading away. I was left standing in front of the gates of my new home, alone.

***

The lock on the front door finally gave way and I fumbled for the light switch as I pushed my way inside the apartment. Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered to life, illuminating a modest one-bed, one-bath studio apartment, not unlike the one I had just vacated. I was relieved to find my old laptop and charger sitting on a table in the kitchen area and a small bag of familiar-looking clothes underneath. My excitement at finding my favorite pair of bunny-print pajamas quickly turned to embarrassment as I pictured the strict Kunikida, the elegant Yosano or even coolly casual Tanizaki stepping into my old place and finding the walls covered in anime posters and the once-pristine tatami-mat floor fully concealed under all the layers of dirty laundry and plastic snack wrappers...

Pushing aside my embarrassment, I changed into my pajamas and went to the bathroom to wash up before bed, making a mental note to thank whoever was kind enough to not only retrieve some of my most important belongings, but also leave me a new toothbrush and cup. I’d probably slept most of the evening away already but after that last conversation with Dazai, I felt confused and drained enough to sleep for another week. As I rummaged through the closet in search of a futon, a jarring, piercing set of chimes rang loudly throughout the apartment and I dropped the futon in surprise.

It was my burner cell—I’d forgotten to take it out of my jacket pocket and it was bumping up against the door as it buzzed, the shrill tones barely muffled by the thick denim encasing it.

Praying it wasn’t Dazai, I picked it up and held it to my ear.

“H-hello?”

“Ah, Kusunoki-san?” Kunikida’s now-familiar voice came through the speaker. “Sorry to call you so late. Is this a good time?”

“Kunikida-san!” I exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief as I flopped down, laying with my back against the tatami-mat floor. “Yes, yes it is. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s about your request to join the Agency.”

Kunikida paused.

“I’ve spoken to the President. He’s agreed to let you take the Entrance Exam.”

“He did?!”

I sat up at once, pressing the speaker as tightly as possible against my ear.

“What else did he say? Is there something I should be studying off of? When’s the—”

“I’m very sorry, Kusunoki-san,” Kunikida mumbled (and he definitely sounded like it), “But I’m not able to give you any more information right now. I can call you again tomorrow morning if there’s anything more I can tell you—if that sounds alright?”

I slumped.

“Okay...”

There was a pause, followed by a quiet sigh on the other end of the line.

“Get some rest, Kusunoki-san.”

Kunikida’s voice was as soft as it was kind.

“It sounds like you could use it.”

#dazai x oc #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai #bungou stray dogs

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valentines-in-london · 5 years ago

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I Need Fire (Part 15)

Authors Note: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for being patient while I was away! I saw a lot of new readers were binge liking the chapters while I was away also, so hello to all the new readers! Please let me know what you think, what you think might be coming next, things you like, things you don’t. I’d really appreciate any feedback! Word Count: 5,700 Warnings: light smut, fluff Taglist: @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches@samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1 If you’d like to be added please let me know!

Previous Chapter // Master List // Next Chapter

Chapter 15

“Tommy sound check is at 3:15. You have to be back by then okay?” Doc said firmly from outside the hotel’s automatic doors.

“I know Doc, I promise I’ll be on time.” Tommy smiled shaking his head while handing Rayne’s bag to the driver. “I’ll be back.”

Tommy got into the backseat of the car to join Rayne, immediately taking her hand in his. She looked up at him with glassy green eyes. Her week on the road with Tommy had come to an end all too soon. Road days were like dog years, it was as if she had been out with him for six months when you considered the miles they traveled, the hotels they stayed in, and all the people they met. “Being without you is going to be like not being able to breathe.”

Rayne gently placed her forehead against Tommy’s, closing her eyes, breathing in his scent. A scent she would be without for another four months. “Well if it’s any consolation I’m going to be empty without you.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around Rayne holding her as close to him as possible. The car made its way to the airport far too quickly for either of their liking and soon enough Rayne found herself sitting with Tommy outside her gate. Rayne’s legs were casually thrown over Tommy’s lap while Tommy caressed her calves. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t care if that made her seem weak. “Final boarding call for Flight 761 with service to Los Angeles. Final boarding call.” The flight attendant announced over the loud speaker. Rayne sighed and reluctantly slid her legs off of Tommy’s lap to stand up.

They hugged as if it was the last time they would ever embrace and Tommy pulled her in for a kiss that could make the North Pole warm. “I love you.”

“I love you too Tommy. With my whole heart.”

“I’ll call you every day.” Tommy said as Rayne led him to the gate.

“I’ll wait for the phone call.” She smiled up at him before she stepped over the threshold and released his hand. As soon as she did Tommy reached back out and pulled her in for one final kiss. One single tear fell down Rayne’s cheek as she returned his kiss. Pulling away Rayne said one final time. “I love you.”

She turned to walk down the ramp, wiping away the tears streaking down her face. The flight attendant walked to the gate and closed the door, she looked to Tommy sadly and said, “Wow, that is one lucky girl.”

Tommy thought to himself, No I’m the lucky one. Vacantly he turned and walked to the large glass window watching as the plane pushed off and made its way to the runway. He looked at each window on the plane until his eyes locked on where Rayne sat. From the plane through glassy eyes Rayne saw Tommy and put her hand against the glass window. She couldn’t help smiling as she watched Tommy run through the airport waving at her until he reached the end of the building and the plane turned rendering him out of sight. Rayne pulled the curtain on her window down, put her head in her hands and cried.

Two Weeks Later

The hit-and-run plead sanctuary, 'neath a holy stone they hide They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection Nuns run bald through Vatican halls, pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood

Sticker smiles sweet as Gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud And I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's qucksand, that's quicksand, that ain't mud Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood?"

Rayne sat in Stanley’s design studio with a big salad in front of her, absentmindedly picking at the greens. She had put a record on the turn table tapping her feet to the music while she was lost in her thoughts. She had been spending lots of time with Stanley lately to fill time without her best friend and boyfriend. Rayne glanced at various sketches, seeing everything from gowns, to pant suits, to leather outfits. “Hey Stanley?”

“Yes my love?”

“You know how you’re always asking me to work for you?”

He poked his head out from behind his sewing kit almost immediately. He smiled wide, removing his glasses, “Yes!”

“What exactly would working for you entail?” Rayne questioned casually taking a bite of her salad.

“Well, it would start with dealing with the stack of mail on my desk from promoters for shows. I need a “take no shit” type of person who will make the right decisions for me and our design house. Of course knowing you I would want you to contribute creatively to designs because that mind of yours is stunning when it comes to fashion, and obviously you would be compensated and credited for those ideas. And maybe just maybe help me by walking in my shows if we decide to do that.” Stanley charmingly said. “I could have my lawyer draft up a contract for you to sign with more specific things, and any of your input if you’d like.”

“Full time?” Rayne questioned.

“Oh it would have to be.” His smile got wider with every question.

“Would I be able to go out and see my boyfriend if I wanted to?” Rayne asked fluttering her eye lashes.

“As long as it wasn’t during a show and your work here didn’t suffer, I think we could work that out.”

“Salary?”

“What are you making at the hell hole you work at now?”

“It’s not a hell hole Stanley.” Rayne laughed. She’d been thinking a lot about what Tommy had asked her when they were in the tub in their hotel room. She really was not inspired by her work, it was important work and she did love it at one time but she had consistently felt distant and coldness from the people working in the office with her. When she came back from her vacation no one asked her how it was, in fact she got more grief about taking a vacation for the first time than anything else. That’s what did it for Rayne. It didn’t feel like home. And even though she had not known Stanley for that long the time she spent with him, she always felt at home.

“Whatever it is you’re making I’ll pay more. That’s how much I believe in you.” Stanley said placing his hand on Rayne’s shoulder. “I think we can do very big things bella.”

“Let me put my two weeks in at my job.” Rayne nodded her head, her statement made Stanley cry out in happiness and throw his arms around her. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“I have some champagne here somewhere, this calls for a celebration!” The older man said happily disappearing from view.

One Month Later

Rayne threw herself into her new job with Stanley, which she was happy to do, it made the time separated from Tommy move faster. She didn’t know shit about the ins and outs of the fashion world but she did know a little bit about business and suggested some quick changes to what Stanley was doing to help him be more profitable. They had gotten a few fashion magazines to feature the clothing and there started to be some rumblings that had gotten back to Stanley about his unique designs and people’s interest in him showing his clothes at a few shows.

“You’re going to walk for me.” Stanley said coming out of his office with a calendar in his hand, pointing to a date. “February 13th!”

That was a few months from now. Rayne looked up from her desk and sighed. “Stanley why me? I can find you some curvy girls who are far more beautiful than I am, who’d be happy to do it.”

“Oh no bella. You are my vision. I said it when I first met you. You are every man’s fantasy and you don’t even know it.” Stanley said passionately while Rayne rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look. You’ve got a body for sin, an extreme hour glass figure. I’m not even attracted to women and I can say your body is a dream. Ask your drummer boyfriend, what he thinks of your body. I’m sure he’ll agree with me. And besides it was in the contract you signed. You my dear, are going to have to do it.”

“I hate you so much.” Rayne laughed putting her pen down in the desk, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t be the only one showing off the clothing, you’re going to need more girls.”

“That’s fine, but they will all follow after you. You are my ace in the hole.” Stanley lowered his glasses on the brim of his nose.

“Uh huh.” Rayne shook her head, picking up her phone. “Give me the calendar and I’ll call some agencies and have them send over some girls.”

“Perfect, then I want to see you in my design room. I have some fabric for the sketches we came up with and want to see what you think will work best.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, don’t call me sir. That reminds me of one of my ex boyfriends, real kinky type.” Stanley turned smiling wide.

“Stanley! No way you’re doing kinky shit.”

“You’ve never met men that have spent most of their life closeted my dear. A little kink is a good thing, but I think you already know that.” He winked before disappearing into his workspace. Rayne let out a chuckle before dialing the number of the first agency on her list. You would think she was asking for a million dollars from these people with the responses that she got.

“Plus size? What’s that?”

“We don’t have any models over the weight of 110 pounds, why would you want anyone heavier?”

“Oh yeah we can send you some of the ones that got fat.”

One even hung up and laughed at her for her request. Sighing and putting her head in her hands Rayne took a deep breath. The responses had lit a fire under her. Girls with curves and bigger girls were just as beautiful as traditional models and the fact that some of these agencies were so small minded to think that anything outside a certain box was not wanted or desirable made her sick. Rayne picked up the phone and called another agency.

“Hello Valley Modeling Agency how can I help you?”

“Yes, this is Rayne Sykes from Poison Ivy Designers I was hoping to have some models sent to us for some features we have coming up.”

“What are you looking for?” The woman asked on the other end of the line.

“Well we’re looking for women specifically with curves and meat on their bones.”

“Really?” The woman asked on the other end. Rayne braced herself for the inevitable snarky comment that would surely follow. “I think that’s amazing! I could have a handful of girls over in two hours.”

Rayne couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at the positive response. “That sounds great. What was your name?”

“Ally.”

“Well Ally, thank you very much. I look forward to seeing your girls. Have a good day.”

“You too Miss Sykes.”

Rayne pushed her chair away from her desk walked into Stanley’s office smiling at him. “You know Stanley, I can’t believe the shit I just heard on the phone calling agencies for models.”

“Oh I’m sure a lot of them laughed and hung up.”

“One did.” Rayne shook her head, pushing herself off the door frame. “We have about ten girls coming in a few hours.”

“Good, good.”

“I’m serious Stanley that really pissed me off. I get what you mean now about making a difference with all of this. I think I’m beautiful but I’ve never seen anyone that looked like me in a movie, or in a magazine, or in a music video for that matter be portrayed as sexy. The big girl is always the less desirable friend, or the funny friend. It’s time we get to be the leading lady.” Rayne said passionately.

“Now you’re speaking my language gorgeous! I knew you’d get galvanized eventually.” Stanley just knew in his heart a fired up Rayne was going to be an unstoppable Rayne.

Later that day Rayne and Stanley finished picking out fabrics for some of their new ideas when Ronnie, Stanley’s assistant, came back to the room. “I’ve got our first model here to see you guys.”

“Thanks Ronnie.” Stanley nodded. Both Stanley and Rayne stood up, Stanley grabbing a rack of clothing he had designed recently to show. He wanted to put the models in some pieces to see how the clothing fit their bodies, and if he needed to make any alterations if he did indeed book the models. Over the next hour or so various women came in with their portfolios in hand to see Rayne and Stanley. All of them looked absolutely incredible and more than a few said it was so nice to be a first choice girl for a designer. One girl even expressed that she was once booked for a show and the piece of clothing she was chosen to wear basically made her look like she was in a garbage bag because it was the only piece that fit her.

Stanley had told each of the girls if they knew of any women who had been cast aside by the modeling world because of their weight to reach out. The rest of the day was spent fielding calls and booking appointments to bring those women in the over the following days. It was as if they sent up the bat signal and everyone ran towards it, it was absolutely incredible.

Rayne looked at the clock and saw the time, “Shit is it seven already?” The phone rang and Rayne contemplated answering it because they were technically closed. “Poison Ivy how can I help you?”

“Hey baby.” She immediately smiled hearing Tommy’s voice on the other end. “I called the house and you didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry we were working late tonight.” Rayne smiled sitting down on her desk.

“It’s okay baby! We just got off stage.” Tommy said enthusiastically, at first it didn’t make sense but then she remembered he was a few time zones ahead of California. “Is everything still going well with the new job?”

“I love it. Today was a really good day. I think this can be something big Tommy.” Rayne smiled. Seeing how happy the women who came in today were to be treated as beautiful and in stunning clothes, it filled Rayne with pride. And she couldn’t wait to make agencies and other designers green with envy over what they were going to do. She was ready to turn the fashion world upside down with Stanley.

“I know it can be, you’re involved.” She smiled at his eternal optimism. “I’m so proud of you baby. I can hear it in your voice, you sound happier.”

“I am happy. As happy as I can be with you on the road.” She said sadly as she saw Stanley come out of his office, turning the light out. Rayne mouthed that it was Tommy on the phone.

“I’ll be home soon, and then we’ll be on a break then we’ll make the new record. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?” Rayne asked concerned.

“Well, this tour is going extremely well, the album is selling like wild fire. What would you say to when I get home, moving out of the condo and into a house?” Tommy asked and Rayne’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Rayne asked shocked. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not?” Tommy smiled. “We can pick it out together, I know I surprised you with the condo.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. We’ll look at houses.” Rayne nodded her head. “I’m just totally shocked right now.”

“It’s a good shocked though right?”

“Of course.” Rayne nodded her head. “Hey I should probably go, Stanley and Ronnie are looking at me like they’re gonna kill me if they don’t get out of here. Call me when you get back to the hotel?”

“Of course. Maybe you and I could play a little tonight.” She could practically hear Tommy’s grin on the other end of the phone.

Flipping her red curls to the other side of her face, hiding herself from the two sets of prying eyes she smiled and said into the phone. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll call you later babe.”

“Bye.”

Rayne turned toward Stanley once she hung up the phone with a smile on her face. “You two are so cute. Oh to be young and in love.”

“Oh shut up.” Rayne laughed, “Are you two ready to go?”

“Yep lets go.” They both said in unison.

Three Weeks Later

It was Rayne’s birthday and she treated herself to a delicious fettuccini dinner that she cooked herself. She sat on the couch in the condo watching MTV do another story about Motley Crue and the show their shows getting picketed.

“Our fans are smart kids. When we wrote Shout At The Devil, we’re talking about the oppressor’s parents, teachers, and bosses. We’re not saying shout with the devil.” Nikki spoke to an interviewer.

“Yeah we want the kids that come to our show to be able to blow off steam from anything they’re dealing with in their lives. You come to a Motley Crue show and you can give us your anger. And if that helps people deal with their issues, we did out job.” Vince built off Nikki’s answer.

“Motley Crue continues their tour with the prince of darkness himself Ozzy Osbourne for the next month, we’ll put the dates on screen now.” The VJ spoke before the last run of dates flashed on the screen. Fifteen more shows, just fifteen, at least the last five were in California and Rayne was able to go to them. Rayne put her plate of food down on the coffee table and rushed to the phone that had just started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday my love. Happy birthday to you.” Tommy sang out.

“Happy birthday Rayne!” She heard a chorus of voices surrounding Tommy.

Rayne laughed, “Tell the boys I said thank you.”

“She said thanks. Now fuck off so I can talk to her.” Tommy playfully shouted at his band mates. “How was your day babe?”

“It was good. I met with a realtor, and told them I’m waiting for you to get back before we look at anything or make any decisions. But she was nice. And I just sat down with a plate of pasta that I made.” Rayne smiled.

“I can’t believe we’re going to buy a house together.” Tommy said enthusiastically.

“I mean we’re living together in the condo, it’s not that different.” Rayne reasoned. If she was being honest she couldn’t believe they were going to buy a house either. Never in her wildest dreams did she think her life would be going the way it was, she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Something just feels more adult about buying a house. Have you thought about what you want it to look like?” Tommy asked.

“I think I’ll know it when I see it.” Rayne smiled. “I mean we want to live by the beach, so I’m sure everything will be beautiful.”

Tommy and Rayne through various late night conversations had decided they wanted to move to Malibu. Tommy had always wanted to live near the water and Rayne liked the idea of that herself. Growing up in New Jersey she was always close to the coast and missed being able to take a short ride to dip her feet in the water. The water had always been a solace for her, a place to go when she was stressed or feeling down.

“I got you something for your birthday.” Tommy whispered.

“Tommy, you know you didn-“

“Yeah yeah I know, I didn’t have to get you anything. I think we both know at this point I enjoy giving gifts to you. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” He said happily through the line.

“Well it better not be a house. You promised me that we were going to decide together.”

“It’s not a house baby.” Tommy said while there was a knock at Rayne’s door. “Speak of the devil. Go open the door.”

Rayne walked to the door and looked through the peep hole to see a delivery man. She opened the door to see a sea of sterling roses. “Sign here for me.” Rayne signed the form. “I’ll be back there’s more for you on the truck.”

“More flowers?”

“No just packages.” He called back to her as Rayne reached down to grab one of the enormous bouquet of uniquely colored roses to set on the kitchen counter. When she walked back to the door to get the second the delivery driver was back with a cart of packages.

“These aren’t all for me are they?” Rayne asked in disbelief.

“Afraid so.” He said wheeling the cart into the condo before shimming it out from underneath. “Have a good day.”

Rayne walked over to the phone and picked it back up, staring at all the boxes and flowers in disbelief. “Tommy? What did you do?”

“I felt bad that I was missing your birthday baby. So I wanted to make sure you felt like the Queen that you are on your birthday even though I’m not there. Go on, open them.” Tommy urged while Rayne walked over to the boxes, bringing them over to the couch one by one to open them while on the phone with Tommy.

Two Weeks Later

Rayne got caught in traffic and was running later than she wanted to on the way to the venue in San Francisco. When she arrived she immediately went to the backstage entrance and showed her pass that had been given to her when she went on vacation to join up with Tommy months ago. The security guard allowed her back and she quickly heard Motley sound checking and made her way towards the music. As she approached side stage she quickly greeted Danny who worked their on stage monitors.

Rayne watched as Tommy was lost in the song, drumming his little heart out to Shout At The Devil. Eventually he looked over at Danny to get an adjustment in what he was hearing behind him, he did a double take when he locked eyes with Rayne. Smiling wide he jumped off the drum stool and ran over to Rayne wrapping his arms around her, lifting her off the ground.

“Doc said you were running late.”

“I know I was hoping to be here before sound check started.” She smiled kissing Tommy. “Now go and get back on that kit, Mick is giving me the death stare.”

“Do you have something for me?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

Rayne smiled and handed a tiny remote over to Tommy. He immediately rushed back to the stage taking his spot behind the drum kit. He looked back at Rayne with a cocky grin and with a push of a button she almost jumped out of her skin. See, Tommy had given her very specific instructions when she came to San Francisco. One important instruction was directly related to one of the gifts he had gotten her for her birthday. He wanted her to be wearing it. So when she felt the new underwear he had given her start to vibrate against her unexpectedly it was a shock needless to say. “Hey you!” Jo cried out from behind her, the mixture of surprise from her friend catching her off guard and Tommy being a little shit caused her to jump. “Woah, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Rayne nodded her head trying to focus on her friend in front of her. “You just startled me that’s all.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Jo said with a tinge of sadness in her voice. “I’m not talking to Vince right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“The band did an in store signing yesterday in Seattle, and some bitch grabbed Vince and started kissing him. He didn’t push her away in fact he pulled her into his lap and kept going.” Jo said sadly. “That’s not part of the agreement.”

“Oh!” Rayne cried out feeling the vibration against her clit pick up. Rayne quickly tried to gain her composure. “Oh Jo, I’m so sorry.”

“He did it to get back at me. He thought I was flirting with Ozzy’s guitarist the other night because he found us alone in a room backstage. We weren’t doing anything, we were just talking about the tour. Honestly!”

“You two fight like fire and gasoline.” Rayne shook her head.

“Speaking of fire, are you ever going to spill what exactly was going on that night we all heard you and Tommy screaming at the hotel? It sounded pretty great.” Just thinking about that night with Tommy did nothing to help the fact that she currently had a vibrator moving between her legs. She could feel herself start to peak and looked over to Tommy who quickly lowered the vibration. He smiled like he knew exactly what he had just done and she could’ve killed him for it.

“You’re still wondering about that? It was so long ago. But regardless nope my lips are sealed.” Rayne tried to play it cool. “It’s not like you and Vince are talking right now so he couldn’t use Tommy’s moves even if I told you.”

“You fuckin tease.” Jo narrowed her eyes at her best friend. No that’s the tease out there, Rayne thought to herself.

Thankfully sound check wasn’t that much longer because Tommy was getting trigger happy with his new toy and kept bringing Rayne right to the edge before backing off. As he walked off stage Rayne hit him in the shoulder. “You are such an asshole!”

“What did I do?”

“Oh you know exactly what you did.” Rayne laughed. “What you’re doing is basically cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Oh I think you like it.” Tommy teased wrapping his arms around her.

“Payback will be a bitch.” Rayne threatened pointing her finger into Tommy’s chest. As soon as she did she jumped into him as she felt the vibrations pick up again.

“Oh will it?” He winked. “You threaten that a lot, so far nothing’s been done.”

Oh she was so going to kill him. She narrowed her eyes at Tommy only to be pulled away as Vince and Mick greeted Rayne while they walked back to their dressing room. Nikki approached her and Tommy and wrapped her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground in the process. “Hey you.”

“Hey Sixx. How’s everything going?”

“Same as it was when you left.” Nikki said before lowering his voice. “I told Doc to fuck off with all the mom stuff.”

“I’m glad.” Rayne smiled patting his back. Tommy who was in a playful mode chose to turn on the vibrations once more causing Rayne to shoot board straight and sharply intake a breath.

“You okay Cherry?” Nikki gave her a quizzical look.

“Yeah, fine. I just had a pain in my back, girl stuff and all.” Rayne brushed it off.

“Ugh say no more.” Nikki held his hands up before looking at his best friend. “Sucks for you dude, you haven’t seen your girl for months and she’s on the rag.”

“Fuck off Nikki.” Tommy spit the words out causing Nikki to chuckle before making his way back to the dressing room and eventually the bus.

“God, what is wrong with you? You almost made me fucking cum in front of your best friend.” Rayne gasped before grabbing onto Tommy, who just turned the toy to what had to be his highest setting. Burying her head in his chest Rayne grabbed and twisted his tank top as she felt her orgasm wash over her. Tommy wrapped his arms around her as she began to shake, her sounds of muffled whimpers were a total turn on.

“That was so fucking hot.” Tommy smiled kissing the top of her head. “That’s not going to be your last of the night either. Consider them birthday orgasms since I couldn’t give you any for your birthday.”

“Mmmhmm.” Rayne moaned, still resting her forehead against Tommy’s chest. She could’ve protested that he had given her birthday orgasms over some great phone sex on her birthday but she couldn’t form the words just yet. Her boyfriend was into her getting off in public. Just another daily revelation about being Tommy Lee’s girlfriend, Rayne thought to herself.

Two Weeks Later

Once the tour ended Tommy insisted that the two of them meet with the realtor right away, he said if he took a moment to relax he’d just sleep and sleep. Rayne could see he was tired, he was still stunningly handsome but little things like his unshaven stubble, and dark circles under his eyes were telltale signs of his exhaustion when she had met up with him for the first time in months.

Rayne and Tommy had gone to three houses already, one Tommy liked but Rayne wasn’t crazy about and the other two neither of them liked. Diane, their realtor, turned to the couple as they walked hand in hand up the driveway to the next place, “Now this house isn’t even listed yet, but the owner told me he wanted to sell as soon as possible. I think this might be what you’re looking for, and you could get in the place by the end of the week if you make an offer.”

From the outside the house was beautiful, it was painted a light grey, with white shutters and front door, there was beautiful lush landscaping leading all the way up to the garage. “Well the outside looks promising.”

“Come on, follow me. Now you’ll have to use a bit of imagination, it’s not furnished.” Diane said leading them towards the front door. As soon as they walked in Rayne’s jaw dropped. The large bay window on the second floor brightened the entire foyer. They followed Diane a bit further into the house to the living room which was spacious and open with a fireplace and built in book shelves. Sliding glass doors opened up to the outdoor patio, flooding the living room with more sun. Rayne looked up to see that the upstairs hallway could see down into the living room. Everything about the house was open and spacious. The kitchen was attached to the living room, it had a six top stove with a center island and marble counter tops.

Tommy smiled down at Rayne who was standing at his side wide eyed. “This might be the one baby.”

She simply nodded and kept following Diane through the house. When they reached the master bedroom, that sold it for Rayne. It was a huge space, with large walk in closets and a balcony that looked right out over the ocean. The master bathroom had a giant claw foot tub with a sky light above it and large shower enough for two. Diane left the room and before Rayne could follow her Tommy quickly tugged on Rayne’s hand, standing in the center of the room. “I can picture a bed here, a nice big bed for us, a small love seat on the back patio,” Tommy paused before pointing upward to the ceiling, “And a mirror up there.”

“Tommy what are you talking about, why would we put a mirror on the ceil- oh.” Rayne stopped herself once she had realized exactly why one would want a mirror above their bed. She gave him a smack on the shoulder before turning to walk out of the room. “Don’t even start.”

“What?” Tommy laughed rushing after her to catch up with Diane who was waiting for them downstairs.

“I have one more thing to show you before you decide.” She smiled before walking out the door to the back deck. The deck was huge, it was covered in smooth stone, had columns where the upstairs patios were which provided nice shaded areas, and a beautiful outdoor fireplace. Where the stone ended there was sand and beach grass with a trail leading out. “You can walk right out onto the beach.”

“Oh my god.” Rayne gasped grabbing Tommy’s hand walking down the trail and onto the quiet private beach. This place was heaven, absolutely an oasis. Rayne turned to Tommy looked up at him, “What do you think?”

“I think this is our house.” Tommy smiled.

“It’s our house.” Rayne returned the smile before jumping up into Tommy’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“So is that a yes?” Diane smiled at the couple.

“Yes!” They both said in unison.

“I’ll draw up the papers and get them to you this week.” Diane smiled.

“Holy shit. Tommy it’s perfect.” Rayne said elatedly.

“Vince is gonna flip when he sees this place. His new beach house doesn’t hold a candle to this. Speaking of which, don’t forget the party at his place next week.” Tommy reminded her.

“How could I forget?” Rayne replied giving him one last kiss before he let her back on the ground. “We have a lot of packing to do.”

“I’ve got nothing but time. If all goes well we’ll be in this place right after we sign the papers.” Tommy held out his hand for Rayne to take. Everything was absolutely perfect, he had his girl, a new beautiful beach house, the band was taking off, only one thing could make it all better. The wheels started turning and he made a mental note to call Vince ASAP for some help.

Take me to the next chapter...

There you have it! Was it worth the wait? I hope so! These “in between” chapters are always hardest for me! What’s Tommy up to? Any thoughts?

#the dirt #the dirt fanfic #I NEED FIRE #motley crue fanfic #motley crue imagine #the dirt imagine #Tommy Lee #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee x oc #fan fiction #fanfic #My Story #Original Work #tour life #airport #beach house

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vegeta897 · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

I have finally completed the animation I started 9 months ago. It’s about my friend being stranded in the woods. It’s almost based on a true story and the audio comes from actual videos of his ordeal.

Notice I said “started 9 months ago ” and not “worked on for 9 months.” There were long periods of inactivity. But I did know the whole time that I would finish it eventually. Unlike many projects of mine! I am very excited to premier this to my friends (and some family!) tonight and feeling very fulfilled.

It started with my friend Milly (Mills) posting several short videos he recorded while waiting for a towtruck to pick him up when he got his motorcycle stuck in the mud.

Something about the videos and his monologue made me want to create an animation based on them. So I cut and stitched various parts together in Renoise, and came up with the whole audio track.

The principle of my workflow is to get the entire audio track, including music, finalized before ever picking up my pen. Timing and pacing scenes by audio only is a good way to get it right, I think. If I can make something that flows just by listening to it, it’s a good bet the final animation will flow too.

With the audio track exported, my first step was storyboarding. A quick sketch for every scene or cut, sometimes with arrows or rudimentary animation to illustrate the intent. It’s during this storyboarding that most of the ideas were established. I really enjoy how I have to be creative to come up with visuals to match an audio track that was created without much regard for what it would all look like.

Here’s a rendering of the animation with the storyboards overlaid on top:

youtube

Holy heck are there a lot of cuts in this animation. It feels like a shot is rarely held for more than 5 seconds. I could go and count exactly how many shots there are but I’m lazy.

So I had the storyboard and audio track for an animation that weighed in at about 4.5 minutes, spanning almost 4000 frames. My New Years animation was longer, but that was barely animated. This was definitely going to be up there in terms of work required.

My next step was drawing in very angular outlines for the backgrounds. The triangular/polygonal style in the final product didn’t come until much later. I really didn’t know what I wanted the backgrounds to look like, and this loomed over me for almost the entire time I spent doing everything else.

I was itching to get down to the raw animation work, so I began taking on scene after scene of character animation.

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The flat-color-with-no-outlines style was a choice I made quickly when I considered how much extra work it would be to give it my usual treatment. It was also refreshing to try something new.

The animation is 15 frames per second, but many parts were done at 1/2 or 1/3 rate (twos and threes, in animation lingo). Sometimes the decision came down to how "in the mood” I was to animate at the time.

Guides are important. A lot of scenes were free-handed though. When you draw a character enough times you get pretty good at it.

When I crack open a Rockstar, you know it’s time for some serious animating.

With most of the character art done, I moved on to the motorcycle. Oh, that friggin’ bike. A Benelli TnT135. Even after studying literally dozens of photos and videos of it, it’s still a tricky 3D shape to grasp at some angles, particularly the tail end of the seat.

And then I had to animate it in that penultimate shot of our hero driving away. I shamelessly took as many shortcuts as I could to avoid as much redrawing as possible. The end result is okay. I hope the significance of what the bike is doing means the viewer isn’t focused on how realistic it looks.

At last I had to face the backgrounds. My first attempts failed miserably.

So, Adobe Animate does not really have great tools for coloring (by hand, anyway). Trying and failing to come up with a workable style was discouraging. Forests have a lot of variety in texture, all around. There’s all kinds of colors and shapes. How could I convey all that?

Go abstract.

No, Adobe Animate does not have some cool 3D mesh feature or fractal generator. These triangles were drawn line by line, fill by fill. That includes the animated water.

I managed to re-use some backgrounds in many of the simpler shots, but some locations, like the bike and road, had angles too varied to copy and paste.

I had determination, though, because working on these backgrounds was part of the final stretch of getting this thing done. I could see the finish line.

When the backgrounds were done, I made pretty quick work of drawing and animating the various props. Basically anything that wasn’t the character or bike, like the log, the can, the foil cup, and so on.

The last few days were spent creating the title and credits, as well as polishing stuff like the color correction used to illustrate times of day. Yesterday I sent a preview of the whole video to my good friend Viper, whose critical yet supportive feedback I value the most. I must say, his generally positive response helped me sleep that night. The night before, I was tossing and turning, stuck in a mind loop of drawing triangles in my imagination. That is not a joke.

Thanks for reading! After keeping this mostly-secret for so long, it’s nice to get it all out there.

#animation

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sirkkasnow · 5 years ago

Text

14 When All Else Fails, Make Amends

Ao3 link

07/27/13-07/28/13 Saturday - Sunday

Good luck with cleanup, was the message that chimed Stan awake in the morning.

Clary had already gone down to Greasy’s by the time there was enough daylight to work by. The usual suspects, minus the kids who were still sacked out upstairs, gathered to bring the Shack’s yard back into something resembling order before the first tours of the day showed up. They settled for getting some of the tables and chairs stacked away into the loaner truck and leaning folded tents against the lee side of the house. Another few trash bags got added to a mountain that would require a special pickup from the town garbage truck.

Stan had gotten a report on the night’s numbers from Soos, though, and that kept his steps light no matter how many discarded party cups he had to pick up.

A chill wind had blown through somewhere in the wee hours which kept the work bearable until the sun finally made it above the treetops. Dipper and Mabel eventually staggered out to collapse on the couch. They’d recovered enough energy to razz the cleanup crew, at least until another text from Clary chimed on all the Pines’ phones at once.

Lunch special is complete! Who wants a full pancake breakfast on me?

“Heck yes!” shouted Mabel. “Come on, people, wrap it up, it’s free pancakes!”

They’d managed the equivalent of sweeping most of the trash under the rug, as it were. Soos waved them off as Stan loaded himself, Ford and the kids into the El Diablo and ran everyone down to the diner.

The Saturday morning crowd was more dense than usual. Someone had written Clary Merrick’s Chicken Dumplings! on the chalkboard at the front door. “Good grief,” Ford muttered.

“Cursed by our own popularity,” Stan agreed as he shouldered the door open and held it for the kids.

Susan met them with a pink-cheeked giggle. “That was some party, huh? Come on, we’ve got a booth reserved for ya.” She shooed the four of them down to the far end and poured coffee. “Server’ll be out in a minute!”

Stan was expecting Clary. When she showed up in a pink uniform and a crisp white apron, pen tucked behind one ear, he cracked up and couldn’t quite stop himself. They’d even slapped a bit of masking tape over her nametag and scrawled in CLARY with a marker. She looked down her nose in wry disdain. “Very funny. I’ve got another forty minutes to go and then I’m done for good, so order up before my employee discount evaporates.”

“You look lovely,” Ford said, valiant as ever. She winked, smile widening, and Stan hit him with a warning kick under the table.

“So.” Mabel’s eyes were gleaming. “We can have anything we want?”

“Anything at all, honeybee.” Clary flipped out a ticket book and readied her pen. “What’s it gonna be?”

Ford and Dipper were relatively straightforward. Mabel’s order rattled on for most of a ticket-book page, Clary making swift notes as she went. Finally she glanced in question at Stan, who smirked. “Anything?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled, though she kept a straight face. “Anything. Keep in mind that I already know you’re a lousy tipper.”

“How exactly d’you expect me to figure a tip on zero dollars?”

“Maybe you should give some consideration to services rendered.” Clary tilted her pen over towards the wall clock. “Thirty minutes.”

“All right, all right.” He made a show of studying the menu, then settled on the best of the club sandwiches - extra turkey, extra bacon, extra pickles, easy on the mayo - with a short stack of pancakes, hash browns, and everything else he figured he could get away with stuffing into a takeaway box. Clary didn’t flinch, mildly taking it all down as the kids’ eyes widened.

She ferried it all out over the next fifteen minutes. The scarred surface of the booth table was jammed near to overflow with pancakes, side dishes and Mabel’s assorted syrups. Stan chomped into his sandwich with gusto. Nothing was quite as delicious as free food. He watched in amusement as Clary waltzed up and down the diner to refill coffee and clear plates.

The clock had about made it to noon when she swung by the Pines table again. “Got everything you need, hon?”

“Doin’ fine for now but I wouldn’t mind seein’ the dessert menu - “

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pines, but it’s time for my shift change.” Clary straightened, reaching behind to untie her apron. “Hey, Susan?” she called out.

“What’s up, sweetie?”

“I quit!” Clary tossed the apron over the counter and slipped into the booth, Dipper scooting over to make room. She reached across the table and nimbly stole the untouched half of Stan’s sandwich.

“Hey - “

“Who’s paying for this?” she shot back.

Stan must have looked crestfallen, because both the kids were beginning to giggle and Clary was struggling not to join them as she took a bite. “Fine. I’ll consider this my tip. Sorry I missed you all this morning - did cleanup go all right?”

Ford pushed his empty plate to the middle of the table. “I believe we managed to get it all under control. Will you be coming back to pack this afternoon?” Stan settled for the pancakes, still sulking a bit.

“I’ll get started. Looks like I’ll be staying through the weekend, so long as that’s okay. I want to get a decent night’s sleep or two and I still have some unfinished business in town.” Clary settled back with a sigh and accepted a spare napkin from Dipper. “I’m so glad everything went well.”

Mabel squinted down the table from her seat by the window. Her eyes flicked to Stan, who did his best to radiate innocence. “So maybe until Monday?”

“Tuesday, I think.”

“Great.” Mabel clapped hands together smartly and turned her razor focus to Ford. “Grunkle Ford, now that we’ve got all the obligations out of the way, can we make time to head out on that ghost expedition of Dipper’s? I’m pretty sure we could get it done in one overnight hike.”

Dipper blinked in surprise next to Mabel, then flinched - Stan was pretty sure that was a pink Mary Jane tagging him in the ankle. He caught on quick, though, and leaned forward with eager eyes and steepled fingers. “That’s right. I’ve figured out a route that’ll hit everything worth investigating and it’ll be one day out, one day back. If we head out tomorrow morning, we could make it in plenty of time for dinner on Monday!”

Ford tensed up, unused to being the center of both their attention. “...I’d hate to abandon our guest for the last couple of days before she departs.”

“Oh, I’m stayin’. Lots of cleanup t’do, yet.” Stan swabbed up maple syrup with another forkful of pancake.

“I’ll get the truck back to Tate and clear up the last loose ends,” said Clary. “I still owe a few people favors.”

“We can’t go incommunicado - “

“I can show Grunkle Stan how to use the tracking rig, and we can carry your uplinks, right? We’ll be in touch the whole time! Listen, we’ve already sketched out what we know are the safest stretches of the woods after the glitterbomb thing, and we can check on the aftereffects while we’re at it.” Dipper fished out a notepad and started scribbling.

Stan felt his brother’s resistance begin to crack. “Mabel, you want to come along on this - ?”

“You bet. I’ll be your documentarian.” Mabel tugged out her phone, sat back and got a snapshot of the whole table. “We can borrow that action camera thingy and get some video too. Come on, the weather’s going to be perfect for a couple days and we have to get it all done before we start doing birthday planning!”

Ford blanched. “We just finished the biggest party we’ve ever thrown - “

“That’s no reason to rest on our laurels. We’re about to turn fourteen, we’re going to high school in the fall, we’ve got to throw one heck of a bash. What we did over this last week? Nothing but a rehearsal!” Both Stan and Ford inched back a bit in their seats.

“Easy, Mabel. I need some recovery time and they probably do, too.” Clary polished off the last bite and dabbed at her lips with the napkin. “If you’re done, why don’t we pack up and maybe we can figure it out on the way up to the Shack?”

They were still hashing it out when Susan came over with a couple of takeaway boxes. Clary settled up and left too much of a tip, as usual, which wasn’t even going to her. Some of the things that woman did made no sense.

Stan held the door for everyone as they headed out into the sunshine. He turned a palm out behind his back and scored low-fives from both Dipper and Mabel as they passed.

By the time they were back home - Clary had walked that morning, so she joined them in the car - Mabel, Dipper and Ford had negotiated more or less exactly what the kids wanted. The house echoed with voices and footsteps as camping gear, cameras, maps and backpacks were rustled up from various corners.

Stan left them to it and sidled up to Clary. She’d barely made it up the outside steps and simply leaned into the side door’s frame, watching the chaos swirl past. “So?”

“So.”

“We on for this weekend?”

She shifted enough to catch his eye. “We’re on.”

“Tomorrow lunchtime?”

“Perfect. Looking forward to it.” Clary pushed off from the doorframe, her smile a warm flicker. “See you for dinner. Me, I’m going to go sleep like the dead.”

She was as good as her word, too, disappearing into her storage room for the remainder of the afternoon. Stan gave up almost immediately on keeping up with the kids and sacked out on the couch for a good couple hours.

Dinner came early, thrown together from admittedly excellent leftovers. The conversation consisted mainly of intense discussion about safe trails, the most sheltered spot to set up camp and various anomalies that both Ford and Dipper wanted to catalog on their overnight.

Clary didn’t even blink save to ask a question or two. She was playing it frosty, which meant Stan was too, which meant Mabel was glaring daggers at both of them after half an hour of innocuous discussion and list-making.

“I’ll get the plates,” Mabel declared loudly when they were mostly done. “Grunkle Stan, help me get all this back to the kitchen!”

He obeyed, trailing along after with an armload of dishware, and dropped it off in the sink only to be accosted by Mabel standing on the stepladder and towering over him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I am not spending two whole days distracting the nerd brigade so that you can finish cleaning up the lawn, mister.” Mabel set hands to her hips and stared him down. “She’s done being mad and that’s great. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Take it easy, pumpkin, I’ve got it all handled.” Stan dragged the stepladder a few inches closer so that she could help dry dishes.

“You’re going to tell her how you feel?”

“I’m gonna tell her I hope I can still see her again after all this.” Because oh boy anything else might be more complicated than he could handle. “An’ then we see what happens, I guess. Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetie. Your grunkle’s a master at the art of romance.”

He winked and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t you dare let her get away. This one’s a keeper.”

“Uh huh. Pressure much, Mabel?”

The expedition headed out bright and early on Sunday morning after a hearty breakfast. Clary and Stan waved them off from the porch, watching them strike out into the forest with packs and walking sticks. Mabel made a point of spinning on her heel as they hit the treeline, flashing a wink and a double thumbs-up with such enthusiasm that Stan wondered if she’d sprained an eyelid.

Clary's smile was brilliant even behind the cover of her hand. “She’s about as subtle as a sack of sledgehammers.”

“Definitely gets that from my side of the family. Think you can make yourself scarce for an hour or two?”

“I have a few people to visit, a couple bills to pay, and then I’ve got to start packing.” She hooked the car key out of her pocket and gave the miniature Mystery Shack dangling from it a twirl. “Meet you for a late lunch?”

“Anytime before three’s probably fine. You be careful in that thing, all right? I haven’t had time to really go through the guts...drives all right, at least, but with McGucket messin’ with it…”

“I will be careful. Scout’s honor.” She flashed him a three-fingered salute and jogged off to the Fairlane. Stan watched warily as she buckled in, fired it up, and headed out down the long drive, then fished out his phone and started making calls.

He had a productive few hours in her absence, helping Tate load the loaner pickup with the last batch of party chairs. Dipper had left the laptop behind, and after some fiddling Stan managed to get the tracker going. A trio of colored dots marked Ford and the kids on a projected trail map.

Mabel answered first when he toggled the uplink console, her bright voice warbling with distance. “Love Patrol Alpha Summer Expedition Number One, reporting! Is that you, Mystery Base?”

Stan grumbled in resignation. “Yeah, yeah, Heartbreaker, that’s me. Listen, I got the map goin’. You three holdin’ up all right?”

“We’re making great time, and I am documenting everything! Not a single track, not one tiny clue is going to escape our notice while we’re out here. Grunkle Ford says it’s about another two hours until we get to the spot Dipper wanted to look at so badly, and after that we’ll make camp.”

“Uh. Great. Keep us posted, okay? I might be doin’ dinner or somethin’ with Clary so maybe we’ll check back in before bed and then at breakfast time.”

“We’re not going to have any emergencies while we’re out here, come ooooonnnn.” Stan closed his eyes for an exhausted moment, unwilling to lay odds on that. “It’s all under control. You two have a nice time and be ready to tell me everything later, got it?”

“Roger, Heartbreaker.”

There were a few other bits and pieces he wanted to line up for the day and those fell into place easily enough with a quick trip down to Greasy’s. By the time he heard the distinctively smooth, deep note of the Fairlane’s engine as it rolled up around two-thirty, he had a couple of trout butterflied, deboned and laid out on ice. Stan fired up the skillet and had butter sizzling merrily as Clary leaned into the kitchen doorframe.

“All done for now, and what, pray tell, have we got for lunch?”

“Only the good stuff. Fresh this mornin’.” He waggled brows at her as he strapped on an apron, dredged the fish and tossed the first fillet into the pan.

“There is no way you had time to go catch that.” She headed for the fridge, reaching in to pull out a few containers of leftover sides.

“Hey, I delegated. Tate came by to get the pickup and he dropped these off. Guy’s, like, a fish whisperer or somethin’, he walks down lakeside and they jump into his creel, it’s weird.”

They swung around each other comfortably in the confined space. Clary set up the table with plates and glasses, not bothering to do more than pop the lids off a motley assortment of Tupperware. The conversation was relaxed and drifting - the most scenic route to Portland, the best lunch counter on the way to Seattle.

Clary sat back with a sigh once she’d finished off her trout. “That was worth the wait.”

“It’s nice t’have lunch right out of the lake, isn’t it? Saved my bacon a few times the first couple years here.” Stan gathered plates as she scrubbed the serving containers. “So, if you can put off packin’ for a little while - you seen the new exhibit yet?”

“You know, I haven’t? Things were too nuts last week.” She leaned aside to let him drop the plates off in the sink, kept on washing and handed them off one by one once he had a dishtowel.

“Up for a private tour? It’s Sunday, last batch of payin’ customers was like half an hour ago.”

“With pleasure.”

Once they’d stacked away the last of the glassware, Stan offered his arm. She laid a hand lightly at his elbow with a quirked little smile and he led her out through the unaccustomed quiet of the Shack.

“So we’re already gettin’ rave reviews.” The museum was silent save for their footsteps, sunlight pouring in bars of honey gold across the plank floors. “‘Mr. Mystery’s still got it.’ And ‘It’s Air-Conditioned!’ I think Soos is already workin’ up a plush or a keychain or somethin’.”

They ducked through the exhibit’s moss-draped doorway, the interior almost chilly and dark enough to disorient after the main room. Stan laid his hand over hers to keep her close as they wove through the narrow corridor. He and Soos had done a hell of a job here on short notice, he thought, with some nifty projection work and vents set up to blow cold air across the feet of tour-goers.

He’d written most of the spiel and leaned over to half whisper to Clary as they walked slowly through. “Dark things dwell in the far corners of these northwest woods, y’know. Things that slumber under our mountains an’ spread nothin’ but shadow when they wake an’ roam the world.”

“This all sounds suspiciously familiar.” Excitement hummed under her low murmur; she was as thrilled as any tourist.

“‘Course it does - this’s all new to us, missy, but the Shack’s crew of intrepid adventurers just got back from a dangerous trek all the way out into the far reaches - “

They rounded a corner, the sound of tinkling glass drifting up over a tiny hidden speaker, and she actually flinched at the forced-perspective replica of the crystalline stag set up to sparkle ominously at the far end of the space. Stan squeezed her hand in reassurance, trying not to laugh. “Mabel did that one. Nice, eh?”

“This is fantastic.” Clary looked up into the darkness overhead, where he’d set up a scatter of glinting glass eyes picked out by pinlights. “You did all this in like two weeks?”

“Well - not alone. Soos an’ Melody have been crankin’ up the exhibits since they took over the Shack. This’s what kept us all so busy while you were cookin’ for everyone in town. C’mon.” He tugged her down past the Crystalline Abominations display, where the lighting came up by subtle degrees. “Check this out.”

Clary’s original taxidermy critter, tidied up and reworked a bit, perched on a branch in a glass case. The placard read ‘mustela merrickii’, explaining its exotic origins and its favored diet of nightmares, and beside that sat a portrait of ‘Dr. Clara J. Merrick’ in old-timey explorer’s gear rendered in sepia inks.

Stan rocked back a step, utterly pleased with himself, as her eyes popped wide and she clapped both hands over her mouth. “This all okay? Ford did the watercolor over there. Seemed only fair t’name it after you.”

She was quiet for a few seconds too long. He shifted his weight from foot to foot until she turned, splayed fingers only half hiding her sly, delighted grin. “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me when I first got here. This whole routine was designed to creep me out and scare me onto a bus.”

“...yeah, that’s fair. You turned out to have a stronger stomach than I expected.”

“Ha. I’m glad I exceeded expectations.” Clary bumped her shoulder into his. “Thank you for letting me leave a mark here. I must have a copy of that portrait - I had no idea Ford was an artist, too.”

“We may or may not have included a nice rendition in your partin’ gifts.”

She cracked up as they wended past winged weasels tangled in shadowy papier-mache tentacles. “Do I get the home game? Have I scored the grand prize?”

“You’ve got a workin’ car, I guess, but as for the rest of it, what were you hopin’ to take with you?” She pulled the curtain aside at the end of the walkthrough and Stan brushed past, half holding his breath as he stepped out into the light.

Clary looked him up and down, her mouth quirked with something between amusement and regret. “I cut a bulk deal with Soos for snowglobes and a couple bobbleheads, so that’s covered, but I can’t say that’s all I was interested in. What’re you doing tonight?”

“Might have somethin’ in mind. I mean, y’know, if you’re up for it.” He held up both hands as she drew indignant breath. “All I’m sayin’ is that there’s no way you went thrift shoppin’ with Mabel and got out of it without somethin’ glittery, right? Show me the gaudiest thing you’ve got. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What time?”

"Right around dark? Don't worry about dinner."

She shook her head at him but her eyes were sparkling. "Sounds good. I'll track you down out on the porch."

They split up for the rest of the afternoon. Stan spent half an hour tidying up the car, vacuuming out the random debris that had accumulated through the summer’s errands and adventures. Clary steadily trekked back and forth between the Fairlane and the house. Boxes and bags slowly filled in the wagon’s wayback, more stuff than she’d come in with for sure.

Once the day began to fade, she slipped off to take over the bathroom for a quick shower, then vanished into her storage room. Stan went through after and took some time scrubbing himself to respectability. He shook out the old bronze hustle suit from the back of the closet, the scent of cedar sharp in its synthetic fibers. This thing had never needed an ironing since he’d picked it up years ago and it didn’t need one now, which was great, because he had stuff to do.

He still looked damned good in it. Stan squared himself up in front of the mirror, splashed on a bit of his favorite aftershave to make him extra irresistible, got his hair where he wanted it and strolled out to the yard.

Striking a casual pose against the front fender of the Stanleymobile was fine for like, a minute, but his back was beginning to creak in protest by the time Clary finally stepped out onto the porch. Stan pulled himself upright with a suppressed grunt and headed over to meet her as she came down the steps.

Mabel had delivered, all right. Clary’s outfit was some kind of barely-structured 80s-vintage tunic top over skinny leggings, all steely spangles that managed to both drape and cling distractingly, one shoulder and its black bra strap left bare. The scarf was amethyst silk shot with silver threads, hair twisted up and secured with a couple of borrowed glitter clips to tumble down in waves. Her fancy purple eye makeup was definitely out of Mabel’s makeover kit.

“Not half bad,” he said as off-handedly as he could, and she flashed him a grin.

"Sauterne gold." Clary reached out to straighten his lapels and tapped the heavy medallion at his breastbone. "Don't you embody an entire decade of regrets. You wear it a lot better than that old sedan did."

“It was a good decade! They don’t make ‘em like this any more, am I right?” He swept an arm out in a grand gesture, indicating his own awesomeness as he caught her hand in his. “C’mon, let’s book it, we’ve got the evenin’ to ourselves and I don’t wanna waste a minute.”

'Where are we headed?"

"That's a secret." Her eyes rolled heavenwards but she trailed along at his side, allowing herself to be handed into the car and buckling in as he headed around to slip into his own seat.

“No hints whatsoever?”

The car rumbled reassuringly to life and he piloted out along the drive, fingertips tapping along the window frame. “Only if you close your eyes.”

The sky was darkening rapidly, a smudge of deepening blue through the trees, and her smile was a bare glint in the passenger-side shadows. “We’re going to Greasy’s.”

“There is a lot more to town than Greasy’s!”

“I’ve spent most of the last week at Greasy’s and we are absolutely going there, because you know better than to take me to the local bar.” Clary leaned against the window and obediently closed her eyes.

“There are actually a couple classy joints in this burg, I’ll have you know.” Which of course they weren’t going to. The El Diablo rolled smoothly on down to the diner. Stan glanced over to make sure she hadn’t peeked, then hopped out, scooted around the front of the car and drew her door open. “All right. You good to step out blind?”

“So long as I have you to lean on.” She got her feet on the pavement, her hand latched in at his elbow, and he leaned back a bit to get her upright. Stan managed to kick the door closed behind them and got her up to the front step.

“All right, all right, take a look already before I regret this more than I do.”

She obliged him, lashes fluttering up, and gasped in delight that was at least half manufactured. “Why, Stan! It’s Greasy’s! Only it’s all twinkly!”

“Very funny.” He had managed to get the twinkle lights going with the bribed-and-blackmailed help of a couple of the staff, and the diner glowed against the dark backdrop of late evening. “Look, I thought we’ve had more’n enough big drama for the week, right? So this way we can snag a snack, someone else can cook an’ handle the dishes, it’s Sunday night so it’ll be pretty dead….”

“Do we get to dance?” Clary’s hip grazed his as they stepped inside. The late-night waitress spared a cheery little wave from behind the counter. As he’d hoped the place was pretty much empty since he’d kept his preparations so modest - no sound system and definitely no inviting the locals.

“All taken care of.” He pointed down to the booth at the end, where Mabel’s karaoke machine sat sparkling on the table, a tiny disco party light duct-taped to the top. Stan walked Clary down with solemn dignity even though she was laughing into his shoulder. “Lady’s choice. Anythin’ you want.”

“Anything at all?” she needled, kneeling on the bench seat to flip through the tunes on offer. “You’re leaving yourself wide open there, Stan.”

“Princess, I am at your disposal tonight.”

Clary glanced back at him over her bare shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Ditch that jacket and show me how fancy those feet can get.”

He tossed his jacket onto the unoccupied booth seat, then ducked his head to grin as a familiar disco bassline overlaid with swooping strings welled up on the karaoke speakers. “What, no Glenn Miller? Not gonna wring another couple slow dances outta me?”

“This is no ballroom. We’re going to have to improvise.” Clary crooked a finger at him, pacing backwards onto open floor where the smaller tables had been moved aside. “Come here, loverboy.”

Stan rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles and stalked out after her with rising glee.

The world contracted to the circle of his arms and her within it. No paying customers, no expectations, no obligations, nothing but the determined steady thump of the beat and the faint insistent nudge of she’s leaving at the back of his head - he pushed that down and aside.

He had better things to worry about. Balance and counterbalance played out in turns and dips. Clary leaned into his palm at her waist and spun away, strain and flex flowing through his frame according to rhythm and melody and her trust in his grip.

For three tracks there wasn’t a word to say, just an occasional huff of breath or a chuckle. The fourth song was a slow one and he cautiously eased into her space. Clary looked up to him with narrowed, knowing eyes. Her arm slipped around his shoulders and she settled against him - no ice block this time - so he laid his cheek against her hair, their feet light, tracing out overlapping box-steps without a hitch.

He wanted so fiercely to stay there in the bubble of the moment that he had paid no attention to the slow trickle of people who’d wandered into the diner, but a faint cough from a booth somewhere down the line drew his attention. Stan swore under his breath as he counted heads. They’d picked up an audience and at least one idiot was angling a phone down their way.

Clary laughed dryly as a pivot gave her the same view. “Why don’t we take a quick break and let some of them come take over the floor.”

“Long as you’re willin’ to DJ, that sounds fine to me.” She left her arm linked in his as they returned to their booth and swept her professional hostess’ smile across the room. Embarrassed observers picked up menus or sheepishly shuffled down to dance in the space they’d just vacated.

“Chocolate shake? We should split it. Lunch was late.”

“On it, sweetpea.” He left her fiddling with the music queue and caught the waitress in passing to place the order, watching the swirl of traffic up and down Greasy’s center aisle. Apparently word had gotten out that Clary was about to go, and Gravity Falls wasn’t quite done enjoying the novelty of the Shack’s temporary-resident lawyer.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Clary said gently to Manly Dan as Stan stomped back down to their booth with shake in hand. “My dance card’s full tonight. Perhaps I’ll be back for a visit sometime. I won’t forget!”

Stan skewered Dan with a glare that actually shifted the big fella back on his heels and slid onto the seat alongside Clary, between her and the rest of the crowd. “You’d think they’d move on to somethin’ else by now,” he groused as she unwrapped the straws.

“What can I say? People keep telling me it’s been a dull summer compared to last year.”

They only got through half the shake. Constant interruptions from well-wishers grew more frequent as the place became more packed - no way this was a normal Sunday crowd, people were coming in for a last gander at Miz Enigma - and Stan’s patience was stretched painfully thin by the time Clary finally leaned over to murmur into his ear. “Why don’t you bring the car around to the side. I’ll be right there.”

“About time we skipped,” he gritted out, cutting through to the front door with heavy strides. His last glance caught her perched upon the table’s edge, microphone in hand, thumbing through songs and chatting with a couple of the museum staff.

The El Diablo glided smoothly up alongside the diner. He sat and waited, thumbs tapping an annoyed staccato on the steering wheel, listening to the muffled racket of enthusiastic singing from within.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen. He was about ready to charge in there and throw her over his shoulder, scandal be damned, when the side door opened a sliver and Clary slipped through with his jacket over one arm. She dropped into the passenger seat and fumbled with the belt in her haste. “I got the sheriff going on a medley. Get us out of here, please.”

The tires were already squealing as he backed up and peeled out along the main drag. “So am I rubbin’ off on you or what? That was pretty slick, though I like a little flash an’ dazzle on the way out.”

Her low chuckle was edged with sharp relief. “Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two. Any chance we can find some peace and quiet?”

Stan took a left, cutting away from town into dark, dense pines. “I know just the place.”

Tumblr masterpost

Clary plucks the pen from behind her ear and flips open the ticket book, looking over the table expectantly. “What’s it gonna be?”

Sandwich!

Pancakes!

Everything!

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bigsquinky · 6 years ago

Photo

quick sketches from a shapiro and mulligan alien au ::3c i wrote something too for this scene. I dont write stuff very often so its rough but i will put it under the cut here

the storage corridor was dimly lit, sparks from exposed wires lighting the way down the destroyed passage. the alamanium steel doors were crushed, thrust open unnaturally with an inhuman force that rendered them useless. all the way down to the end, large dents and ruptures could be seen along the walls, identical to the ones leading back down the main hall.

Shapiro was not happy. Not happy at all

she had been away for just a moment, something to do with confirmation for a shipment or going over some trivial documents, nothing out of the ordinary of what usually happened during the day. a lot was expected of her, but there was no way she could supervise training cadets, overseeing daily maintenance, and everything else in their quadrant of the ship. she was only gone for the smallest moment, but thats all that was needed for everything to go wrong. a large crash echoed from the training bay, followed by the audible screaming of a few cadets, as well as, oddly enough, the odd roars of cheering.

whatever ruckus had occurred while she was gone left the bay in shambles, large craters on the ceiling and the walls, lights and equipment broken, everything would have to be replaced, everything brought back to code. it was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. oh, and that one cadet would have to be taken to the emergency wing. but he was the least of Shapiros worries at the moment, he would be fine anyways, Grutians were known to be virtually indestructible, if anything, only his pride was wounded.

No, Shapiro's worries were down that busted up supply hall, and as the appointed quadrant manager, she needed to bring everything back to efficiency quickly, before more reports would be required. A large group of cadets and employees gathered behind her in the hall, all murmuring in fright and surprise at what was happening. Shapiro clicked at her belt and put a regulatory protection field between her and the crowd, preventing them from moving any closer into the supply hall. the frantic chattering of a cockroach in a labcoat was heard coming closer to the scene of the mess, as O'Reilly banged on the field, his muffled pleas to Shapiro to wait for an armoured squad fell on deaf ears. It was her responsibility, and this mess was going to be fixed, even if she had to make another one.

She made her way down that hall, mentally preparing herself for the struggle that could happen. From day one, that cadet only got in trouble, and caused her trouble. She thought that keeping him on probation would solve at least some of her problems. its not like he was doing any of this on purpose, but this Cadet Mulligan seemed to attract trouble wherever he went. It was everyone else that seemed to have problems with him, stemming from eons old beliefs in superstitions that beings like him were considered cursed, or biological mistakes. she at least knew how it felt to be looked down upon, being Atharian meant that from birth she had to work harder than most to even get to where she was now, but she still had more of a privilege than the cadet did, even if he was half Arachnian. But because Shapiro worked so hard and gave up so much to get where she was, it jsut meant it could be torn away from her so much easier, her higher ups were just waiting for her to fail, giving her all of this work knowing full well not even the most able of commanders could not complete what she managed to in a day, and she knew it. Despite all her successes, all she needed was one slip up, and it could come crumbling down beneath her. She could not afford to show weakness in a time like this, not again. not ever. she reached the end of the hall, and pushed the big storage room door open

to say it was a mess was an understatement. Shapiro could barely creak the door open enough to squeeze through with the large shelf of various supplies toppled over in disarray. the only light in the room from the working emergency lights lit the clutter in a dim, cold blue light. She quietly navigated the maze of toppled over supplies and stock, taking expert caution to make her presence in the room unknown. if one did not know about the events leading up to this mess, one would assume the ship had made course through an asteroid belt. Shapiro's pointed ears perked up as she finally heard the source of her troubles. Mulligan was there

Shrouded in the darkness, he was hard to make out. Shapiro squinted, as hard as the emergency lights tried to do their job, they were beyond overdue for repair after the beating they took today. What she could make out of his figure however, broke Shapiro into a cold sweat. Finally, she clued into the seriousness of the situation she put herself into, wishing in the back of her mind that she did listen to O'Reilly, although she would never admit he was right if she ever got out of here

Even though he was sitting, he towered over her, his head short of hitting the ceiling. the once recognizable Atharian frame that he had donned was gone, instead a colossal figure grunted and snarled, writhing in confusion as his he tried in vain to reconstruct himself. he panted heavily, clutching his head with two large arms, while four other appendages scratched at his body and braced himself to the steel storage case. Mulligan twisted and contorted but to no avail, a large fist slammed into the wall behind him, leaving a large dent. Shapiro silently stared petrified, her breath ragged. She attempted to shuffle herself backwards and out of there without being noticed, a hand moving slowly to her belt for a plasma taser, in case she needed to defend herself, but instead she misstepped, her foot knocking a small provisions can into a panel, causing the latter to reverberate, and her presence to be known

Mulligan stopped and jerked his head unnaturally towards the sound, breathing heavily, his face partially blocked by his arm. Shapiro froze, and their eyes locked. Mulligan's expression changed from a look of fury, to distress, as he let out a booming cry. he shifted back into the dark as far as he could go, his back against the wall. His breathing was rapid, with a look of horror on his face, it was like he was a scared animal backed into a corner. Crying out in a foreign tongue, what sounded like a plethora of backwards wailing to Shapiro, Mulligan's arms frantically moved into a defensive position, and attempted to cover his face. He continued to wail as Shapiro got off the floor and steadied herself, cautiously moving closer towards the creature. Mulligan tried in vain to move further back and away, but he could not move anymore, his large form made it impossible to break out of this corner. His breathing quickened, and his speech became broken and more unintelligible as he choked back tears. He violently flinched as Shapiro brought up her hand to her scouter, combing through old catalogues of alliance data to find translation as to what the cadet was saying. The scouter laboured for what seemed to be an eternity before it made a cheerful beep as it finally calculated a basic translation of the cacophony. Mulligan continued to cry out in panic as Shapiro finally read what he had been saying this whole time

" GO AWAY! AWAY FROM ME! MONSTER! AM MONSTER!"

the script had scrolled across the screen multiple times as Shapiro stood there in silence. Mulligan closed his eyes as he continued to shake and repeat the devastating message. His fingers dug deep into his face as all the sounds around him started turning into static, letting out one last painful cry before he quickly stifled himself in a swift jolt. His eyes shot open, his breathing ragged, as he looked down and saw a small purple hand lightly touching at his knee

Shapiro sat up tall, facing away from Mulligan with her hand on him, her three fingers slightly stroking and patting his thigh. He brought a quivering hand down, dwarfing her hand as he gently brought it into his. Shapiro continued to look straight forward, as Mulligan's breathing slowed and became controlled, his shoulders relaxed, and he slowly leaned forward away from the wall, and the two sat in silence

She waited a while, before she finally spoke. "Mulligan, what happened?" He sat there. Shapiro repeated herself in the same unwavering but quiet tone. "Mulligan, what happened?" Mulligan swallowed, his entire body still shivering. "It-It-It happened so fast, I couldn-couldn't stop- I just-" "Mulligan, what happened in the training bay while I was gone?" Shapiro didnt want to escalate things, but she had to get Mulligan to talk before a security squad busted through that temporary field. Mulligan stammered. "It-it-it was Giraldi. He came up to me, saying it was my fault he was taken off the scouting mission. He-he slammed me against the wall, I didnt do nothin', I just took it until-" He paused "-'til he brought up YOU." "Me?" Shapiro finally turned slowly to look up at mulligan, the faint blue glow partly illuminating his face. His expression darkened, his fangs were bared and a low growl escaped his lips. "He said shit that was deplorable, about Atharians, about you, that it was beneath him as a Grutian to take orders from a bug. Disgusting shit about what he could do and no one would stop him, and he called you, he called you a-" Mulligan's grip on Shapiro's hand tightened. She let out a small yelp as Mulligan gasped and pulled his hand away "IM SORRY!! Im sorry-im so sorry i-". Shapiro grabbed his hand with both of hers this time. She looked at him intently, her spots glowing faintly revealed the makings of a pained expression, the first time she had bared any resemblance of feelings to anyone since that time. She took his hand and rested her forehead on it, as Mulligan's breathing calmed down. Mulligan exhaled. "Af-After that, I lost it. i lost control, i could only see red as i flung him around that room. When i remembered what was happening and where i was, I freaked out and ran off here. I got, so scared that what happened last time was gonna happen again, i had to calm down fast, but i couldnt! i was still so upset about everything, and then-" He stopped. He turned his head to look at Shapiro, his purple, polycoria eyes the only thing visible in the shadows. "Im so sorry, Lieutenant Commander"

Shapiro closed her eyes, and exhaled, still keeping her grip on Mulligan's hand. "Whats done is done, Cadet. We cant change that. I dont know what will be decided by the Commander, or if a higher council will be brought in but-" She smiled slightly "- i thank you for standing up for me, Mulligan" She felt Mulligan's hand shrink in her own, and felt the growth of another finger, until it finally slowed, and he locked his fingers with hers. She looked up at him, his form back to that of a fake Atharian, and a tired smile on his face. His two eyes, once four, while displaying no signs of his metamorph mutation, are slightly red. "Thank you Shapiro." She smiled back. "Dont thank me just yet, someone will have to clean up this entire mess!" Mulligan chuckled, and the both of them walked out of the storage hall, still holding each others hands.

#my art #sketches #shapiro and mulligan #alien au #my writing #lmao its a lot but i got into it :3c

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