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harmonytre · 2 months

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What to Expect Coming Up

I am still sick, but thought it’d be fun to mention all the projects I have going on and my sort of process.

I’ve gotten into the flow of 3 art -> animate an hour -> 3 art -> reference sheet; and repeat! Now the “3 art” doesn’t include warm-ups, which I’ll discuss in a moment. This usually varies but does have a pattern of priority to it.

Commissions (none atm, but one has discussed interest) -> Deadline art (contest entries, featured character, birthday gifts) -> “Required” art (raffle prizes [2 remain], Benrey project, 11 Bulbasaur gifts, 42 late Artfight attacks) -> Other stuff

When it comes to warm-ups, I’ve gone 32 times in a row of purely HLVRAI. It’ll still be thrown in the mix, but I’d like to add Pokemon and OCs as a chance too! Warm-ups include any requests I get, and those increase in chance the longer they’re there. Meanwhile there’s still the chance my random wheel will choose something like “Sunkist” three days in a row lol.

Now to discuss all the projects! First off, my next three art will be: raffle prize, a small special RTVS animation, and a doodle of my next hyperfixation which I’ll then open up for requests as well!

HLVRAI

“Cabinet Man” Animatic: A more long-term project that’s fully storyboarded so far, but I plan on making rendered (or at least colored) illustrations for.

I have two parts in my Multi-Animator-Project! One part is Benrey and Gordon focused, while the other part is Tommy, Bubby, and Coomer focused, so I get to animate the whole Science Team and that excites me!! (One part still open by the way, hint hint.) The MAP itself is a third of the way complete let’s goooooo!

Other animation projects include: “Two Birds” Tommy and Benrey friendship animatic (fully written), “Eighth Wonder” Tommy animatic (just an idea, focusing on the others first), and occasional clips or mini animations.

Benrey Fanart (and then the other characters too!): I have 12 people left to reach out to, but I gotta do it slowly so my account doesn’t get shadowbanned again (that was scary ngl). But once I do, the sign-up post will be updated regularly as I work and I’ll DM everyone individually as I finish theirs!

@sweetvoicecafe ! I am very excited to get this up and running! I have 3 references remaining, and then I can work on the introductory comic. (I mayyyyyyyy call for voice actors.)

HLVRAI-based OCs: This is a more minor thing, but I want to finish 9 more designs before Artfight, as I’ve only finished Joshie.

Pokemon

It’ll be a while longer until it’s ready, but I’d like to restart my Shiny Living Dex Challenge. And it’ll no longer be discord only, I’ll extend it to tumblr as well! Especially since there’s art prizes involved.

I have 11 remaining Bulbasaur/Ivysaur/Venusaur gifts to finish!

The occasional warmup, request, doodle, etc.

“Close Up Meme” Phanthop AU Animatic that I would love to polish and color.

“Never Love an Anchor” Hop and Leon animatic that I have indeed started (just an animatic this time, not polished)

I’ve started releasing collab (with @mr-web ) Art Podcasts on my youtube channel hint hint ;)

Misc.

Streams: Over on my Twitch (same name): I stream weekly (maybe more, depending on my new work schedule, just finished moving after all). At the moment, I’m taking turns with Half Life (nearly done with game one) and Omori (collab with Doglord15). Soon it’ll (hopefully) include Pokemon, but I’d also like to try Undertale Yellow, Portal, Hollow Knight, and more! As well as a return to art streams, that’d be cool.

Artfight Prep: I am mostly done, but remaining I have: 3 SVC refs, 9 HLVRAI OC refs, and fully updating my spreadsheet, which will also be updated on tumblr! (I may do this today, as it’s something I can do while bed-ridden.) Plus the 42 leftover revenges.

Among Us “Bark Bark” Animatic: nearly 3 years in the works but it’s chugging . . . there were complications with the cameos involved that hurt my motivation and the progress, but it’s still in the works haha…

“Haunted House” Vent Animatic: This is 2/3s of the way complete! As it’s something personal, I worked on it quickly after a certain event, but I’d still like to finish it. <3

New Hyperfixation: Surprise reveal! It’s Wreck-It Ralph (and specifically Hero’s Cuties). It won’t be a huge thing, but I’d like to doodle here and there, open requests for it, and draw up three AU designs that have been in my mind for nearly 13 years.

@theairshipexperiment : Yes yes, I knowwwwwwwwwwwww y’all are mad at me. It’s been three years and I still get people upset that it hasn’t continued. It’s not completely canceled, just very very slowww. I’m nearly done writing chapter 3, but that means there’s 7 chapters to go. At least I’ve started giving myself completely random reminders for times to write haha. It’s my only writing project atm, but writing takes so much more effort from me than art, I’m sorry.

@absurdamongus : Very low on my list, but I still enjoy their designs and would one day like to continue finishing their refs and maybe reopen an ask blog. An animated series would still be cool, but it’d be a long way off if so.

So yeah, a lot of projects and a lot of excitement! I’m going at a fair pace (when I’m not sick) and art continues to be my passion! <3

#hlvrai #pokemon #among us #ocs #artfight #wreck it ralph #HarmonyTRE

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syneilesis · 10 months

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[fic] a quiet glow

a quiet glow

Ikemen Sengoku | Naoe Kanetsugu x Main Character!Reader | G | 1.3k words ao3 link

Making no sound Yet burning with love, Fireflies far More than chirping insects, Move me. —Minamoto no Shigeyuki

A/N: For @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess's Summer Days Sultry Nights event. It's my first time participating in an event! :D The prompt I chose is fireflies and it's a Kanetsugu fluff fic. Dividers by saradika. Forgive the slightly anachronistic prose lol

I haven’t seen fireflies since I was a child.

It had been a passing remark, a slide of fingers across the textured roll of fabric patterned with glowing fireflies. In your gaze an odd sheen flickered and faded – blinked away – that Kanetsugu caught, stole his steps and his attention. But you’d already moved on to the next item.

He lingered, however, arrested by this seemingly negligible thing, eyes falling upon the object in question – a column of benighted forest hue, spattered with yellow-green dots that counted as lights, nostalgic in a way that invited a quiet contemplation.

You hadn’t seen fireflies since you were a child.

Later, as he’d lay with you on the futon, your warmth seeping into his skin, Kanetsugu would dream of floating orbs amidst a beautiful night, playfully dancing, up and up and up.

“Summer is upon us,” Sasuke said, falling into step beside him.

Kanetsugu ignored the man. He had just finished meeting with Lord Kenshin for an update about his territories and was on his way to the library when the ninja suddenly appeared.

It didn’t deter Sasuke at least. “Make sure your face is UV-protected.”

Not knowing what that meant, Kanetsugu continued walking.

But Sasuke kept on, unbothered by the lack of conversational reciprocation, “You’ve already done well with your body – covered and all that.” He glanced at Kanetsugu’s clothes, then hummed in thought. “I suppose it’s not that difficult to invent sunscreen …”

Kanetsugu let Sasuke talk some more.

“That reminds me – according to my calculations, it’s approximately three weeks from now that the Nigami Firefly Festival will begin.”

That rendered Kanetsugu pause.

He turned to Sasuke, felt his brows dip low. “What?”

“I once took my niece to a firefly viewing in Joetsu – which, by the way, is the future name of –”

“I see,” Kanetsugu interrupted. He pivoted to another hallway and left the ninja blinking, confused.

He’d forgo the library today, it seemed.

Lord Kenshin ordered Kanetsugu to quell a minor rebellion three towns away. That required him to travel a week or two, depending on the size of the men and the number of horses his lord would allow him.

On the way to his destination, he and his men stopped by a village at the foot of a mountain to spend the night. The villagers were welcoming of them, having met Kanetsugu a year before in another mission. He was a familiar and memorable face, one that brought a delighted smile upon the village leader – and a score of young women.

“Lord Kanetsugu,” the leader greeted him warmly, “it is an honor to have you rest for the night in our humble village.”

They made him and his men a sumptuous dinner – rather, a feast – which he tried to refuse at first. But his companions stared at the offerings with great eagerness, so Kanetsugu relented with a condition or two.

In the middle of the meal a girl came up to him with large, trusting eyes and an enthusiastic smile, and told him, “There are pretty dancing lights outside!”

Food set aside, Kanetsugu permitted the child to lead him to the forest right outside the village. They walked for a while, the child never breaking pace, and before Kanetsugu questioned the girl’s knowledge of the area she skidded to a halt, spun around to grab Kanetsugu’s hand, and with a vibrating grin she proclaimed, “We’re here!”

Kanetsugu blinked and looked around, and found what the girl was talking about. He heard himself take a sharp inhale, his body frozen taut with a memory.

Moments later he patted the girl’s hand on his and murmured, “Thank you.”

As they stood there, an idea formed within Kanetsugu’s mind.

“Clear your schedule for a week,” Kanetsugu announced right after coming back from his mission, opening the sliding door of his office with solid intent. “We will go somewhere.”

Perched at the center of the room, you paused from your work, wide-eyed surprise melting into excitement. The garment you’d been commissioned splayed on your lap like fishtail. “Oh! Is it a date?”

A barbed denial spiked through his mouth, but you’re blooming like an eager flower facing the sun, so he swallowed that reflex. Instead he answered, “Yes.”

Your smile rivaled the sun, your hands curling to form a heart. Kanetsugu squinted, and shifted his stance. “Then I’m looking forward to it!”

Kanetsugu exhaled, tamped down the rush of heat in his veins, and went back to work.

The journey back to the village went faster than last time. The residents welcomed them again cordially, and you and Kanetsugu stayed there for a while before he took your hand and led you outside.

He remembered the directions the little girl took the first time. Night had arrived, the full moon illumining the leaves with its silver light. It was also a good time for stargazing, but Kanetsugu had another plan in mind.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice inquisitive, your hand kept warm in his.

When Kanetsugu peered at your expression, shafts of moonlight sliced through the canopy and grazed parts of your face, one iris aglow – a tenebrist diptych of curiosity. It made you seem ethereal, a part of the forest night’s wonder. Something translucent and could easily slip through fingers. Kanetsugu let out a quiet breath, returned his attention to the front, quelled the nervous pace of his heart.

He stopped all of a sudden, which elicited a sound from you, almost colliding with him. Still holding your hand, Kanetsugu whirled around, and the spill of moonlight shifted to illuminate your whole face.

“Watch,” he said.

And you studied your surroundings, waiting for anything. Then: one by one, in the near-complete darkness, they sprung to life. Fireflies. Little yellow-gold lights playfully whirling and twirling in the air. One brushed past Kanetsugu's nose and then flickered away, and your silverbell laughter filled the spattered night.

“They’re beautiful,” you tell Kanetsugu, the curve of your mouth soft and warm. You extended a hand, palm up, and one hovered for a couple of seconds then moved on. The look you gave him afterwards arrested him. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“After what you’d said before, I had to do something at the very least.”

There’s a puzzled silence, your head tilting in question.

“You haven’t seen fireflies since you were a child,” he elaborated.

It wasn’t immediate when you put the pieces together. But when you did, surprise rippled throughout your body, and Kanetsugu was tempted to push closed your gaping mouth.

“Did I say that?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Kanetsugu sighed. “When you were perusing some fabrics in the market. There was one designed with fireflies, and you commented upon it.”

“Oh,” you said, dazed. “You remembered that? I didn’t!”

“Of course I remembered,” he said, tone almost offended. But then – a whisper: “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

It sounded like a confession, but you knew the depth of Kanetsugu’s love and devotion. Still – it felt embarrassing. Vulnerable, even.

Still.

“Kanetsugu,” you breathed. Like a prayer. Like a marvel. Like the hundreds of fireflies dancing around them.

Kanetsugu swallowed.

“I love you,” you said, impeccably, implacably, an arrow hitting dead center. “I love you so much, Kanetsugu.”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know. And I you.”

You smiled, and it was more radiant and more beautiful than the fireflies and the moon and the star-filled sky tonight. You stepped closer to Kanetsugu, wrapped your arms around him tight, and sighed happily. He reciprocated the act, his arms molding snugly across your back.

Around you the fireflies continued dancing, their lights burning brightly.

#summer days sultry nights ccc #fic #my fic #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen x reader #ikesen kanetsugu #ikemen sengoku kanetsugu #ikesen kanetsugu x reader #ikemen sengoku fic #ikesen fic #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfic

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studymustelid · 1 month

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April 25th at 10:27 p.m. Hello all!

It is I, everyone's favorite health data studying mustelid (or something of that sort)

My classes are coming to a close soon which is really great for my brain! All As this semester!

I feel kind of full in there sometimes, like I'm at capacity and deviating from routine or exploring will kind of blow up the remaining shred of brain-power I have left. It's like that meme with the ball

I'll have a little more capacity for thought in about a year which is nice though. Last semester and the beginning of this one, my father chastised me a bit for not taking 4 classes (which requires dean approval) but

1) I had to drop a class last semester (my first semester)

2) 4 classes would have honestly rendered me nonfunctional

I think *part of it* is that I'm honestly a much better student (in the studious sense of the word, I study better and more actively absorb information) when I'm controlling more facets of my life -- when the pandemic happened I insisted on moving back to my apartment and despite the general lack of social interaction being kind of insane for my head I was significantly better for it.

But the other part of it is very obviously that I am in grad school, in a technical field, learning a lot of new things! My dad has a masters but it is not in a super technical field (a masters is a masters) and he mentioned that it should be easy to take 4 classes because I took 5 - 6 at times in undergrad and grad school is "mostly writing and talking"

which...eh, I guess. Reasonable amount of programming too though, at the very least sub-par technical skills. Anyways, basically AHHHHHH!!

I still have to finish off grading which is tiring, but apparently! Apparently! Both my professor and the administration are chill will me leaving the country for a couple weeks lol. So that's nice. I'll be a TA until I graduate it seems!

I do sometimes feel rather self-conscious about not having a real job or not doing anything (despite the fact that I am in fact, in graduate school and doing things as we speak!).

Especially since all but two of my friends are working (some in a professional capacity, some while waiting for grad school). I think if I were at a more traditional program and not living at home this feeling would be lessened a smidge, but as of now it kind of remains and likely will until I'm gainfully employed.

On the bright side, I'll have my practicum in the fall semester and it'll likely be a paid internship!

I do feel like being a little overachiever would probably leave me falling apart but I am really tired of having no brain power while feeling bored with nothing to do, so ideally I'll have no brain power AND feel busy lol

#grad student #gradblr #studyblr #grad studyblr #informatics #studymustelid

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stillalittlelostngl · 2 years

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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Pt 3 Dabi/Reader

Of Kamino ward and complicity. Reader deals with a world forcing kids to grow up far too quickly and a surprise visit. Again, just have to keep reiterating it's an old wip and that i will go back and edit at some point lol

“You won’t tell my mom will you?”

You gave the boy a dry look, your brow raised at the question 1he had asked over twenty times at that point as you finished healing the exit wounds that had littered his torso not an hour before.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you shrugged, trying to focus on creating new cells to replace the ones beyond repair, “She’d skin me alive if she found out I didn’t tell her…”

Yuichi’s face lost all color, your words rendering him far paler than he was when his friends had dragged him to your door earlier. You had to bite your lip to contain the smile that threatened to break across your face at the kid’s meek expression. You were positive the thought of Mrs. Ishimori’s temper had reduced you and your sibling’s faces to the same look a time or two.

His mother was a kind woman no doubt, going out of her way more often than what was required of her for you and your siblings growing up - practically treating the lot of you like her own children. Even now, at your big age, she still treated you like you like the same scrawny kid who would follow her around like some lost duckling. But, damn, if that woman didn’t have a temper on her - especially when she thought one of you kids were up to no good or lying to her.

And you weren’t looking to lying to her again to cover for Yuichi, but the only alternative would be to tell the woman what her son had gotten himself caught up in. Seeing how her face broke once she found out her son got into pushing for a local syndicate, and all the extra money he was bringing in for her medication wasn’t from extra shifts from the job he had quit months ago, wasn’t something you were looking forward to, funny enough.

No doubt the guilt of not saying anything to Mrs.Ishimori would eat you alive as you laid awake in bed that night, and you had made a promise you’d tell her eventually if Yuichi didn’t. Just, not today.

“Wouldn’t have to worry bout me tellin her nothin if you knew how to keep yourself outta this kinda shit.”

You’d been annoyed to hear the banging on your front door after having arrived home from a twelve hour shift at the clinic. You were planning on making your rounds in an hour or two, visiting neighbors whose condition required more regular monitoring, and you’d have to stay up a bit late tonight to make sure none of the local sects needed your help.

The weather was getting better after all; warmer weather always meant more work for you.

You had been hoping for some peace and quiet until then, however, that sentiment had quickly vanished when you opened the door and saw the wild eyes teens carrying the boy, begging you to do something.

They’d given you some rushed explanation you didn’t care to hear, far too focused on the boy you’d spent years chasing after bleeding out on your couch.

It always felt like you had the wind knocked out of you anytime you saw the kids of the ward being brought in. Their small hands used to cling to your school uniform when you’d walk them home after school and now that they were older they’d cling to the sidewalk they’d been more than ready to die for.

Now that things had calmed down, you could feel irritation bubbling to the surface and replacing the adreniline and anxiety that had clouded your head the moment you had seen him broken and bleeding. The boy had known better than to be selling on territory that had been the cause of a turf war between his group and a rival sect.

When he let out an aggravated groan at you words you had to remind yourself that smacking him upside his thick skull, which he was very much deserving of, wasn’t going to help things or get your words to actually stick with him any better.

“It ain’t nothin-”

You really couldn’t hold back your scoff then, the kid was really pushin it today. “‘Ain’t nothin’ when them kids dragged you here half dead?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he grumbled as he refused to meet your eyes.

“You got shot six times, Yuichi.” It was like he didn’t understand that he could’ve just as easily died on the streets today than be havin this conversation with you. Of course this willful ignorance didn’t seem to be something of his own design - you’d noticed it a lot with the younger kids. It was like they’d convinced themselves as long as you were there to fix them up they wouldn’t have to worry about their own mortality or something. The older folks never seemed to have that same sentiment; they’d be brought up and active before you became the resident healer for the ward. Maybe there was some correlation there?

Maybe you were making things worse? You could feel your insides twist at the thought.

“What if the next time they got a better aim? Or what if it’s the police or some hero that rolls up?”

“I ain’t stupid,” he insisted, “ I ain’t never been busted”

‘And of course that’s the part he focused on,’ you thought bitterly.

“Yeah, cuz you’ve been lucky - don’t get it twisted.”

Your words caused the stubborn boy to sit in silence, his head turned away from you as he practically pouted. You’re positive he would’ve got up and left if there still wasn’t a hole in his chest.

You always hated bein the one to have to have this conversation with him.

“Look,dusty little boy, I’m only sayin this cuz I like you.” It had become second nature for you to look out for the little hot head, you’d spent far too many years makin chasing after him to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble to just stop now.

Too bad it seemed like it hadn’t mattered in the end considering what he was choosing to do in his free time.

“And cuz your mama’s heart would be hurtin somethin crazy if you ain’t come home one day.” You couldn’t imagine she’d be able to survive that kind of heartache. You felt like you couldn’t most days. “And cuz I like you and your mama I ain’t gunna say nothin - You break her heart yourself I don’t want no part in it.”

The boy had the nerve to roll his eyes before giving you a stiff nod. He was more than aware of how his mother would feel, you’d only told him as much every time he’d come to you to get fixed up. You weren’t sure there was much else you could do for him at this point, he needed something but you weren’t sure you were the one who was able to provide it for him.

You fixed bodies. Not homes or communities or people - you didn’t know how to do all of that. You weren’t sure where to even start. Some days it felt like maybe just fixing the bodies was enough, like if you put managed to have a week or month with no unnecessary deaths then you was doin something right.

This wasn’t one of those days.

“How is she by the way?” you ask, trying to get out of your own head as much as you were trying to pull the sulking teen out of his,“I haven’t seen either of you in awhile.”

Neither of you mention how you’ve avoided the corner their apartment was on for the past few weeks. The one where a memorial to Twiggy had sprung up from where his blood had dried on the concrete.

“Fine, I guess.” The light from your quirk dimmed and you gave a nod to the boy. He rose from the couch and gave an experimental poke at where the bullets had torn through his chest, “Her heart ain’t been giving her problems since your last visit.”

That had lifted a weight from your chest you hadn’t realized was there. You wondered how long it had been since the last time you could breathe easy.

Probably before Mrs. Ishimori’s condition had deteriorated. She had always been a sickly woman but it never stopped her from chasing after you and the rest of the neighborhood kids. Not until her condition began attacking the connective tissues in her body. Suddenly she’d been in and out of the hospital weekly and your mother would always send you and your siblings to watch after Yuichi or run errands for her that you’d seen her do just fine on her own a million times before.

It had been odd to see her so unlike herself. No doubt Yuichi felt the same.

She’d rejected your help for the longest time, insisting she wasn’t in nearly as bad of a condition as some of the other people you helped. No doubt she was just too prideful to ask help from one of the brats she spent so much time taking care of. Her ego would surely take a hit from the change in the dynamic. Yuichi no doubt got his own stubborn streak from her as much as the woman complained about it.

Mrs. Ishimori had held onto her pride for sometime too, until the hospital bills had piled up far too high and the cost of her many medications became far too much for her to handle.

It had been touch and go there for a bit, you’d have a session with her but the symptoms would return a month or two later - alleviated by some measure but still present. You’d scoured any source you could on her condition, looking up as many treatments and studies on the disorder as you possibly could. The most recent session you’d had with her had been experimental, an educated guess based on the findings of one of the more recent trials done by some researchers overseas. Translating their work had been a pain in the ass but apparently it had paid off.

“I might stop by later this week ,” you said, rising to your feet and giving the boy one last look over to make sure none of the wounds had opened from his poking and prodding before sending him on his way, “just to make sure.”

He didn’t call you out on how bad of an excuse it was.

“Yeah, she’d like that.” He turned to walk to the door but you’d seen the small smile on his face before he had. You hated having these conversations with him but you’d hate them even more if he left on bad terms with you. He wasn’t clueless, a bit reckless sure but he knew what he was doing. All you could do was trust that he’d come to you when he needed help.

You walked him to the door, teasing him about some girl you’d seen around the neighborhood that rumor had it he was being sweet on, as you prepared to send him back out onto the streets that would’ve memorialized him, just like they did Twiggy, had he not made it to you.

Your eyes widened in surprise when there’s someone in front of the door when it swings open. You wouldn’t have recognized the man on the other side if he didn’t have such a distinctive look, it had been a week or so since you last saw him after all.

His hand had been raised as if he was about to knock and there’s a beat of silence as you shoot him a questioning look. He doesn’t offer an explanation, his raised hand just moving to rub the back of his neck as Yuichi looks between the two of you with a raised brow.

You gave the boy an unamused look as you watched the ‘knowing’ smile grow across his face.

He really was pushin his luck today.

“Aight you go on home now,” you said, leaning against the door frame, “and at least try to stay outta trouble.”

‘Yeah, yeah I heard you,” the little brat said with a wave of his hand as he hurried out.

You gave a huff as you watch him make his way down the hall, the little smart ass would no doubt be buggin you the next time he saw you about why some guy he’d never seen around the ward was visiting you.

“They hit a certain height and start thinkin they grown,” you sighed with a shake of your head, mostly trying to fill the uncomfortable silence than actually trying to make conversation with the man beside you. You turned to your eyes to the stranger, eyeing him to see if you could find any visible issue with the wounds you had healed before. “Ya know, most people visit sooner if there’s an issue with the healing.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, “Don’t usually remember all the houses I leave at four in the morning. Had to ask around for you.”

And that must’ve been a pain in the ass to do. Most people around here don’t like folks asking too many questions, especially if they don’t know them. Asking for you tends to set off red flags for people considering the type of people you usually work with.

You gave a nod in understanding as you pushed the door further open, inviting him in with a lazy flourish of a hand as you made your way across the threshold.

He made his way to your couch and got comfortable as you activated your quirk, the light filling the small space of your living room.

Just looking at him, he didn’t seem to be in any extreme pain. There was no limping, his breathing was strong and even, there were no visible bruises or open wounds. You were wondering if he came to you just to fix some aches and pains, those kinds of visits always annoyed you. You had much more important things to be doing, like helping someone with an actual problem or shit just sleeping. Of course you never turned those types of visits away, so it wasn’t like you were helping the situation.

Not like you could judge him just based on appearances before you could check how things were looking on the inside or at the cellular level, either.

It was a bit different doing this when he’s not half delirious and in pain, it was the type of unfamiliarity that had your skin crawling and you searching for something to say to drown out the silence as your hands moved to where you could faintly remember his body had been torn up.

“So, you not from around here.”

You wanted to smack yourself for such a cliche opener. You made sure to keep your eyes on your hands to avoid whatever weird look he must’ve given you.

Lucky for you he seemed to find it amusing if the low chuckle was anything to go by.

“That didn’t sound like much of a question.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Wasn’t really spose to be one, I ain’t ever seen you round Kamino before - at least not this side of the ward.”

Kamino wasn’t too big and people tended to know which faces were regulars and which weren’t - if he had a hard time asking about you then you could only assume nobody in the ward recognized him and he was some fresh meat for one of the syndicates or looking to make a name for himself.

You could feel the vibrations running through his chest from the small hum he gave in response.

“Well, you caught me - I’m new in town, only been here a few weeks.”

“Oh? Seems like you wasted no time pissin the wrong person off.” He could probably tell you were fishing for information, it wasn’t like you cared all the much to be subtle about it.

“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Word? And how’s that workin out for ya?” From what you could feel it seemed the wounds had closed up well enough as far as his lung was concerned, the new cells weren’t being rejected and none of them were dying off or creating new ones at an alarming rate. Happy with how well the healing for that area had went you shifted to focus on the less serious wounds, trying to find which was causing him irritation.

“Not as bad as you’d think,” he said with a small shrug, the movement disrupting your quirk and you had to focus it back to the area it had been examining.

You let his statement hang between the two of you unchallenged. While you would’ve argued a punctured lung wasn’t all that great you didn’t feel like getting into it with someone you didn’t know and decided to leave well enough alone for once.

You were more than ready to sit in silence for the rest of the session, the small conversation having set your nerves at ease, but it seemed like he had other plans.

“So why do you do all this?”

The question caught you off guard.

“You gunna have to be a bit more specific.” You both knew what he was asking about, but you didn’t feel like spilling your guts to some stranger who probably couldn’t care less.

“When I was asking around, they said you go around fixing people up, free of charge - that doesn’t sound like a very good business model.”

Your eyes lifted from your hands to meet the sharp teal of his own, you wanted to judge his sincerity before actually giving him an answer. Plenty of people have asked why just to try and start an argument with you about it and you weren’t about to sit through another one of those.

“It’s not about money,” you shrugged, eyes going back to your hands as you moved on to the next area, not bothering explaining how you’d rather be literally bankrupt than morally bankrupt.

“Obviously, but what is it all about, then?”

A frustrated huff left you at his insistence. You struggled to find the words to explain the behavior just to yourself let alone trying to make it make sense to some stranger who hadn’t been in Kamino that long.

“Who else is gunna do it?” It wasn’t meant to be a literal question, after years of asking you already knew the answer was nobody. “There’s no hospital here and the two clinics that are can’t do nothin for the cases that are the most common.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t have known this on his own - it was pretty common knowledge in the ward and something he should’ve looked up before deciding to try and make a home out of it.

“And how did healing villains and criminals become a part of that?”

Your hands paused in their movements, you were far too focused on trying to find the right words to explain something like this to someone who didn’t seem to have any real ties to Kamino.

You settled with a shrug before beginning your work again, “They’re members of the ward too ain’t they? Ain’t none of my business what they do.”

“Even if it means they’re killing people? Some people might say you’re complicit.”

“And those people ain’t know what the fuck they’re talking about,” unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, “They’ve agreed to settle some things down since I started, less people been dying - I’d take that over how things used to be.” You remember a time when it seemed every other week there’d be flowers and candles posted up on some corner and your class at school would be one or two people smaller. You were tired of every other corner had a story where someone ended up hurt.

“Why not just go to the government for all of this? Seems like every other year they got some plan for how to fix Kamino.”

You couldn’t hold back the resentful scoff at the suggestion. “How you figure I ask them?” you could feel the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth - the thought of those big men in suits ever thinking to invite someone like you to sit and talk with them was just so far removed from reality, it made you wonder just where the hell this guy had come from to be suggesting that sort of thing. “They think everyone in Kamino is ignorant or a criminal, ain’t no way in hell they making space for us. And you’ve seen how well all their plans go over, yeah? They either never go into effect or fall through. They all wanna say they know how to fix Kamino but ain’t ever been to Kamino”

“And you know how to fix it?”

“I ain’t say all that,” you insisted, “I just know whatever they have planned ain’t gunna help the people here. It’ll just make people in the surrounding wards feel better.”

More heroes and police patrolling the area made others feel better, the bad guys were getting locked away after all, but they never actually fixed anything. The violence and crime never went down because the reason people were drawn to it were never addressed. But it was easier to just label the ward as ‘Villain Prone’ instead of actually implementing new policy to help a ‘villain prone’ population.

No, they could keep their plans and all that shit to themselves, let them make finger paintings with all the blood on their hands to try and convince the rest of the country they had done something extraordinary. You knew the truth.

“So they’re playing at some fake savior shit?” the stranger questioned.

You met his gaze as you eyed him apprehensively. He had a smirk tugging on the surgical staples in his cheeks and his eyes seemed distant, like he was looking through you.

“Yeah, something like that,” you murmured as the light of your quirk dimmed, the warmth of it leaving you to be replaced by an unfamiliar chill.

While the two of you spoke you had checked and triple checked your work but couldn’t seem to find what had been bothering him. There was no sign of remaining damage from his wounds, all of the tissues had healed, the replaced cells had been accepted and weren’t dying or multiplying at a concerning rate - he was as healthy as he could be.

So why had he come to you?

You rose to your feet, wringing your hands together to try and hide how they had began to shake, “I couldn’t find anything wrong with my work, you’re probably having phantom pains - I’m afraid I can’t help with that sorta thing.” You offered a small shaky smile, fighting off the fight or flight reaction to his lie as adrenaline sent blood ringing in your ears.

He gave a nod as he rose to his feet, you’d noticed before but hadn’t really paid attention to how his form towered over you - now it was all you could think of as you walked him to the door.

You hoped he took your out and left, that your gut feeling was wrong and he had lied because he was curious or something. It would certainly explain away all the questions he had asked.

But you’d survived reading men like him, his demeanor as he walked behind you was relaxed, but you had seen his eyes before you had turned to walk to the door. They had been sharp and predatory.

When you went to open the door and his arm reached around you to lean against it, effectively caging you in and closing off any exit, you closed your eyes as you cursed yourself for not noticing how off he was earlier.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, hoping to school your emotions so that just a confused and unassuming look was left on your face.

“Do you need something?” you questioned, your voice far smaller than you were used to; you almost didn’t recognize it.

You watched how his sharp eyes scanned your face, looking for something and when a smile worked its way onto his face you felt your stomach drop. Apparently, he’d found what he was looking for.

“Just a bit of your time.”

Panic seeped through you at the words and you went to move, where exactly you weren’t sure but anything to put some distance between you and the man was preferable, but he was far quicker - probably having anticipated your feeble attempt at escape. He pulled you close to him, an arm around your middle and the other stabbing a syringe to your neck before you even had time to understand what was happening.

You tried to fight him off, grabbing a hold of the arm with the syringe and activating your quirk - your heart beating far too quickly against your rib cage and your brain too clouded by fear to think of what you were doing. You could feel blood streaming from where you had a hold of him, could practically hear the bone shatter under your hand as he cursed before wheeling away from you.

The sudden lack of support and no doubt the sedative that must’ve been in the syringe had you crashing to the floor, struggling to keep your eyes open let alone get your limbs to cooperate with you so you could get the hell out of there.

You tried to stay awake, tried to move away from him as he neared you, the damage to his arm not having been enough to stop whatever he had planned, but your head was already swimming and your movements were weak and uncoordinated when you went to catch his good arm, or any part of him really, in your hands so your quirk could go to work.

He restrained you easily enough and you felt tears rush down your face, wondering just what faction you must’ve pissed off to have them send someone to do god knows what to you.

____

Dabi watched as their lids became heavy and their resistance slowed to a stop, seconds later their breathing evened out as their eyes closed and the drugs took hold. He released the hold he had them in and bit back a pained noise as the sharp aching pain from him arm finally began to fully register with him.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the mangled state of it, as if the staples holding it together before hadn’t been an issue...they had damn near pulverized the bones and the deep tears in his charred skin allowed some of the fragments to be visible.

It was nauseating to see and it had been more of a struggle than he cared to admit to pull out his phone to get the asshole on the line as his head began to swim with pain and adrenaline.

He had a bit surprised the little healer had some bite to them, he was a bit impressed to be honest. As sloppy as they were, the damage was still pretty damn effective - he’s sure if he hadn’t already put his body through hell and back it would be a hell of a lot more distracting.

As he talked with Shigaraki and told him to get Kurogiri to open a warp gate for him, he couldn’t tell if it was excitement or irritation building in him. ‘Probably both,’ he thought with a glance to the little menace. Or maybe it was just the pain doing weird shit to his head.

Either way, things would be a lot more interesting around the base.

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pictureamoebae · 6 months

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Omg i feel so stupid now lol.. thank you for helping! That seems to be the problem why DOF doesnt work for me in bg3 since i’ve only tried using the regular shaders like cinematic or adof.. i’m gonna try Otis shader and see!! I have another question tho, you said it can take long like 30min to render the picture - is that the case even if you chose to not hotsample too, or only when hotsampling? And in cutscenes etc when I wanna be quick with getting a specific shot or serveral, is that possible like can i screenshot serveral times after another immediately and it renders like 2-4 pictures then, or do i have to take one - let it render - before i can move on to take a new one? Hope that makes sense. I usually smash the screenshot button sometimes cause i dont want to miss a specific scene/shot. Or get several screenshots of like the same moment. Thank you so much anyway!!!

If you want to use IGCS DoF you have to be slow and considered.

Otis' website has instructions how to use it, make sure you read them carefully and you'll understand what's involved, but the tl;dr:

Basically, the way the DoF works is completely different to a DoF shader. It moves the camera very slightly over and over again and takes a temporary screenshot each time to slowly build up the final scene (all of those temporary screenshots will be deleted once it's done). This way it gets very accurate information about what's in the scene, which is why it produces such an excellent result.

You set up a shot, you go into the addons tab and choose IGCS, click start session, and the DoF controls will come up (make sure you have the IGCS DoF shader enabled first - that shader does nothing, but it's required for the addon to work).

Then you choose your bokeh strength, and you set up your focus. You have to be very, very precise with the focus. You choose a few other things, like the shape of the bokeh, and you choose the quality. (Those settings will carry over to next time, but you'll have to set up your focus again.)

The quality is what determines how long the shot will take to render. It will tell you at the bottom how many pictures it will take. The higher the quality you choose, the more of those temporary screenshots it needs to take to get more accurate information and a better image quality. Imagine pressing the print screen key 1,000 times and how long that would take.

The lower your fps the longer it will take. If you have high fps it can fire off those screenshots nice and quick. If you have low fps each screenshot takes a bit longer. If you're hotsampling, you're going to have lower fps.

Because my PC is old, I have a quality that results in about 800 screenshots. When hotsampling and using RTGI etc that can take a long, long, long time to render.

Once the shot is rendered you take your own screenshot as normal, and then you end the session.

One thing, anon. You know you can pause cutscenes, yes? Any current dialogue animation may keep playing until that line has finished, but otherwise it will pause.

The thing about using premium tools from Otis and others, if you're just firing off cutscene screenshots hoping one will look okay you're never going to get the most out of them. They're designed for serious screenshooting (obv anyone can use them if they want). Taking your time to set up a shot, being precise about the composition, the lighting, the aspect ratio, the whole scene, is a lengthy process. I'm not especially great at composition, so my screenshots are only so-so, but I try very hard with each one, and it can take me an hour to get one I'm happy with (this is why I'm still in Act 2). Slowing down improves your skill.

#Anonymous #igcs faq #dof faq #otis camera tools faq #screenshot faq

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knittingwithhighlighters · 2 years

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Some musing about epistolary books

Hello everyone! My name is Markiplier KWH, and I’m here to discuss a theory...a book theory. More specficially, lately, I've been reading the Princess Diaries (return to the early 2000s!!). And while I was reading, I noticed something interesting. So, Princess Diaries is an example of an epistolary book, which includes books written in journal or diary entries, logs, newspaper articles, letters, e-mails—so on and so forth. Other examples of epistolary books include Frankenstein, The Martian, Bridget Jones’s Diary...and yes, Dracula.

(For what it's worth, I subscribed to Dracula Daily more than a month ago, but I haven't even cracked the story open yet.... Good thing I have until November, lol. Maybe I'll start reading it properly once I finish the other four books I've already started.)

One thing I noticed about Princess Diaries—which would apply to many epistolary books in general—is that the protagonists are seemingly able to remember large swathes of conversations they were involved in, and verbatim. Word for word, they're able to remember these huge chunks of dialogue, even though in real life this would be out of the range of possibility for most humans—and even hours or days later, in some cases, depending on when the entries are written in the book.

Of course, a Doylist perspective (out-of-universe/meta) would state that, well, the author(s) wanted the story to flow and go a certain way, and it simply made sense for them to render those conversations within the context of the story.

A gentler Watsonian perspective (in-universe, named after Sherlock’s right-hand man John Watson) might state that, for example, the character writing the journal isn't remembering all their conversations word-for-word. Instead, they're simply remembering the general gist of conversations, and filing in the blanks after the fact with sentences that would plausibly fit into the gaps in their memory.

But I thought of it another way, relating to the concept of Required Secondary Powers, as discussed on TV Tropes, a website that catalogs different kinds of tropes and other conventions used in media. (Fair warning: TV Tropes has been known to be addictive; memes about it will go along the lines of, for example, you start reading, and then realize you're still reading it 4 hours later. Will this apply to you, not necessarily. But I just figure I'd throw it out there regardless.)

Anyway, according to the netizens of TV Tropes, Required Secondary Powers are when, for example, a power with a given supernatural skill would need—if the real-world laws of physics were to apply in their universe—additional, unstated powers to make their explicitly stated powers make scientific sense. To make this clear via illustration, TV Tropes provides the examples of super strength (in real life, you'd need super-strong bones for your super-strong muscles); super speed (you'd need the ability to think as fast as you can move, and a way of naturally preventing friction-induced burns); and invisibility (real-world physics would have it that—if a person was well and truly invisible—they wouldn't be able to see via human eyes).

To wit, this discussion of Princess Diaries, and other epistolary books like it, brings up an interesting thought. Following a diametrically opposed Watsonian perspective than the last one I talked about, the protagonists of epistolary books must have the Required Secondary Power of a supernaturally good memory, able to remember thousands of words of conversations exchanged between them and other people at any given time.

(Final note: it would make sense that this kind of memory does exist in real life, but my quick search on Wkpdia was inconclusive, so I couldn't tell you whether or not it really exists. What I will say, though, is that, sometimes, people and animals do have what would be considered superpowers, if their lives were works of fiction. Take the adrenaline-induced strength that has allowed people to lift cars off loved ones trapped beneath them, for example. Not to mention science—I could totally see science someday allowing us to create mechanical tentacles like Marvel’s Doctors Octopus have got. And in the animal kingdom, take your pick. Bombardier beetles, for example, will emit a toxic chemical when disturbed.)

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agoddamn · 2 years

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Kenobi countdown hour, so it's TCW catchup time!

I know the real reason is retcons, but is there any in-universe reason why Asajj has a round head and Talzin/generic nightsisters have pointy heads? On that note, is there a reason they're not Zabraks even though the nightbrothers are Zabraks?

why does Talzin have that fucking demonic voice echo that not even Sidious gets?

oh wow, they actually rendered wa-PFFAHAHAHAHA

oh, I feel a little bad. Water is one of the hardest things to render! But still. lmao

oh wow, a generic nightsister got a face. She about to die?

Yeah

we should call "hearing a character's name for the first time when they're dying dramatically" clone wars syndrome

reminds me of my old D&D games..."no, not my old friend, Gin Erick!"

nightsister powers are so...lol I don't mean to devolve into weird CinemaSins nitpicking, but I wish I had just a rough approximation of what they can do/the rules for it, you know? They just do random shit as the plot requires and then they can't do that shit any more when it would be inconvenient for the plot

oh, those tree bulbs are funeral pods for sky burials? Cool actually

Hold on, am I really here for 30 minutes of Asajj and a bunch of generics? Fuck, I'm gonna need another drink

I was bitching about random nightsister powers but I really like the speed ghoul beast look for them, it works

Sure, voodoo, why not

Hey, remember when you were trying to, like, assassinate him last season? Why didn't you pull this out th--*brick'd*

FaceTiming him via his chest is a great visual

Old Daka didn't really look the same species as either Asajj or Talzin with that huge nose--more classic witch, bubbling cauldron and all. But I guess your cartilage does keep growing, so if she's that old...

>fucking Boba Fett AGAIN

yeah, another drink

Asajj is dressing more like a Jedi than ever, though I'm sure that's not by accident. Those tabards have her looking more Jedi than some of Ahsoka's outfits

She orders "prow, straight up"...whatever that is. Looks like shots

Look, we're doing the Mos Eisley cantina scene! Remember the Mos Eisley cantina scene?! I've seen Star Wars!

Embo cameo

idle GFFA note: dude here crows "boss, who's your girlfriend?", indicating casual sexism holding strong. Kind of a weird comment since Bossk's female partner is the one looking super femme, though? I dunno, maybe it's ironic and I'm just not smart enough for it

who's this white g--

...

...on a completely different subject, this Highsinger guy, cool robot! V much channeling the Metropolis vibes of the original C3PO design, I super dig it

good god Boba looks like a really short 35-year-old, what the fuck

He's got wrinkles!

cool quad-mouth alien design

so is the human in a scarf also somebody we know? Statistically...

Boba's accent is wandering..."why HIYAH six expensive bounty hunters to move caRGO?" Admittedly I'm no expert in kiwi, but I thought it was usually a bit more consistent on the Rs

So now we got Asajj, Boba, and generics. I'm gonna finish this bottle by the time Kenobi comes out

You know, it's good business to know what you're transporting. You're the one that's gonna blow up if it turns out to be volatile

Ain't this the set from the Black Panther climax?

This feels a bit like that one R2/C3PO/Wolfpack episode, where someone clearly had a lot of fairly developed alien ideas and built an episode around it

--that subtitle didn't say "Digger", did it? Captain Boomerang moonlighting?

Why's Bossk taking orders from the ten-year-old, again?

Who am I supposed to be rooting for, again? The alien ninjas look cooler and I dearly want to see Boba get his ass kicked

Not Boba trying to whiteknight immediately after "doesn't matter what the cargo is"--oh nevermind he's IMMEDIATELY back to "we'll deliver that brat," I guess human trafficking is nurture rather than nature

these ARE extremely Asian-looking aliens (again)--from the ninja outfits to the wakizashi to the kimono-looking dress the girl has

I call Asajj dumb a lot, but I gotta give her more points than Boba for being able to make the "actually human trafficking is bad" call

#boots watches tcw

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chellishere · 7 months

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Character Modeling...p1

I started working on my characters for my short film for school (technically starting early-- maybe a good thing, maybe not...)

Luckily I get free/cheap licenses for these expensive programs that are required to even function as a 3D artist with my tuition (which is way more expensive than those licenses ever would have been...)

Anyway-- to start, I modeled a character in zbrush. I save a lot of backups, so I can go back and see most of the steps of my process (pics below)

Then I brought the highres mesh into maya, did a little retop fun where I zoned out for like 3-5 hours as I made my cute little loops and such:

Then the whole operation was brought back to zbrush for that sweet sweet projection action to then bake maps in substance...(lowres(subdivided a ton but pre-projection) vs highres mesh below)

So I imported the maya retopologized file into substance, baked my mesh, and got to work painting by hand <3 (base color display on left, material display on right)

She's beautiful! For my first real attempt at painting textures, I think it looks pretty good, if a bit scary without... hair and eyes and such.

And I'm realizing the retop job I did might not have enough topology, especially since I'm planning on using her for a short film, so I didn't really need to worry about having too many verts or anything, especially since she has soo few that I can see issues around the edges of the geometry where (I'm assuming) the normal maps are adding shadows to where the geometry oversteps the map, for example this black line on her arm:

But I'm not even sure if I'm going to use the normal maps anyway because I want to experiment with trying to make the renders look painted/flat (rip to all that sculpting work... at least it helped me figure out how to paint details in substance even if I don't end up using the map)

...

So onto hair! I wanted dynamic hair so her gorgeous locks could blow in the simulated wind, and I wanted her to have curly hair. When I looked up how to use nHair in maya, I saw people recommend xgen. I have some limited experience in xgen thanks to one class of one course I took last semester, but really I had to relearn it through a YouTube video (thank you J Hill on Youtube! linked at end of post). It seems like I might've gotten rid of the file that had my xgen attempt so I don't have a picture to show, but... my girl was balding, and xgen wasn't letting me create maps because of issues with the file paths that I coudn't resolve despite going through the path and not finding any issues?? so I gave up. I tried to mess around with it for a bit, but really xgen wouldn't have fit the style I was going for anyway. I wanted chunky hair that I could paint textures for. To fix the mess I made, I would've needed time, and though it would've been good practice and a learning experience, I really wanted to focus on finishing my project following the intended aesthetic than branching out and forgetting about my original goal. So, raincheck xgen. We'll meet again on another day. To make up for no xgen pics, heres a screenie from the file I do have where I tried paint effects on my hair curves:

lol.

I wanted the hair curly anyway, and I didn't really want to use paint effect hair so... onwards:

Then I saw a video on using curve warp deformers for hair (GGP_Animation on Youtube) which was a cool introduction to something in maya I didn't even know existed (plugin wasn't even loaded on my machine) but I realized that if I had the curves and wanted curly hair, I could just make a sweep mesh that followed the curves! So I did, and then followed ANOTHER tutorial (CG MAGUS on Youtube) on how to make dynamic hair to figure out which option in the nHair menu I should choose ^.^ and finally! the curves were moving! --But the sweeps weren't... So I saved the preset I had made for them and applied it to the NEW hair system curves-- and finally, she had beautiful dynamic curls (ignore the eyes--temporary, just a quick 3-color ramp on spheres).

Just kidding, they're kinda ugly lol :,) but that's hopefully just because it's just a generic aistandardsurface shader with no texture. I'm going to repaint the texture on the scalp so even if it shows through it doesn't look like her hair is thinning. I'm also planning on using flair renderer (linked below), so I have to pay for that and do some testing with it to figure out how I can get the final look I'm going for. Concept portrait design below:

youtube

#autodesk maya #zbrush #3d modeling #art student #im learning!#critique welcome #ama

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kittenshibaloaf · 1 year

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Heyo!

It’s been suuuuch a long time since I’ve posted! I had such a great winter break off college, am not excited to start the next semester ha!

Anyhoo, I recently finished this headshot drawing. I was trying out how to light the character better or at least make it look more ✨Pretty✨ and I think I did a decent job. I am opening headshot commissions, I’ll talk more about that in the next paragraph.

Welcome to the next paragraph, lol!

Okay, so yeah commissions are opened, please look at the prices and my TOS!

These are emergency commissions, as I am in university and need to pay the rest of my bill asap.

If you want a commission you can just dm me or email me and we can get started on your commission or I can put you on a waiting list and contact you when you’re up!

My TOS

🐈I only do furry or fantasy characters, no humanoids or robots (I can’t do those yet lol) but I love dogs and wolves 🐶🐺🥰

🐈Payment through Venmo, Cashapp, and Paypal: @kittenshibaloaf

🐈Full Render: 50% upfront, 50% when done, Others: 100% upfront

🐈No refunds after the finished line art for flat color comms and no refunds after flat color for all others comms.

🐈I will provide multiple WIPS during all stages to ensure you’re satisfied with the drawing.

🐈Each change in the line art after shading will cost a charge based on the amount wanted changed (Min would be $5).

🐈At least 1 Reference is REQUIRED

🐈If you want to add an object in your commission, you will be required to find the reference you specifically want and it will cost money depending on the object.

🐈If you want another character it’ll cost 75% of the original price (ex; 75% of $30 is $22.50 so it would cost $30 + $22.50 = $52.50).

🐈My email: [email protected]

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coffee-bat · 3 years

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sure i do! (posting screenshot of ask for easier formatting)

(also, i have a whump headcannons ask that i've been compiling the response to for the past weeks (anon who asked, i'm so sorry it's taking so long, i'm not ignoring your ask), so this one will focus strictly on everything OTHER than whump.)

- he often bites his nails when stressed, or even just bored (or when he has no cigar on hand. he has a thing for chewing/nibbling on things). stopping himself from doing it is one of the reasons he wears gloves (other than for warmth and to shield his hands from damage), as having his nails bit too short is painful and can make his work almost impossible. (saying this as a nail biter. you literally CANNOT use a finger that you bit the nail of too short)

- speaking of stimming, aside from biting things, he uses the compass around his neck as a stim toy. it's useless around him, as his own magnetic field renders it impossible to point north as it should, but he'll often play with it by making it spin through altering his field. it requires both focus and a small bit of physical effort, effectively taking his mind off whatever's stressing him, at least for a short bit until he gets bored.

- he thinks he can cook, but anyone who's ever tried his cooking strongly disagrees. while his techniques are okay, like he doesn't burn or undercook stuff, the things he makes are borderline inedible. (he once made a party cheese salad for a family meeting and lowkey bonded with moreau over him being the only one to like the atrocity)

- he's the youngest of the lords (with the age order being alcina>moreau>donna>karl). donna looks younger than him, however it's mostly because of his healing factor being worse than the others', making him actually age (even if very slow) instead of being stuck in time.

- he DESPISES family meetings, along with the family dinners miranda keeps insisting on (which take place either at the castle or at donna's place, as moreau's reservoir and the factory are unsuited for that to say the least), but the latter's redeeming factor is that, if he's lucky, he gets a unique opportunity to fuck with alcina. which usually means eating her out of house and home (using the fact that she's too proud of her good manners to refuse a guest), getting drunk, wrecking her house (muddy boots who?) and then passing out somewhere. it gives him the opportunity to make himself her problem and he loves that. (i've actually started work on a comic a few weeks ago where alcina kicks karl off a random couch she finds him on (in a food coma), a shitposty thing with a SLIGHTLY wholesome-ish ending (as wholesome as alcina gets), but it was taking so long that i just gave up at some point. though, if any of y'all would like to see it finished, let me know, it'd be easier to motivate myself to do it if i knew anyone actually wanted me to lol)

- he holds animals close to his heart but would hate to admit it, in fear of appearing weak or soft. claims that he lets the one (1) cat stay in his factory ONLY because it helps with rats, totally not for company because he's a sad lonely man, what are you talking about.

-he's neither a cat or dog person, he likes both equally, but it'd be far harder to keep a dog in his quarters, seeing as it would require both more space and regular walks + playtime, while a cat is perfectly happy with just getting to sleep on him at night (in terms of contact/bonding).

- though, while he doesn't have a dog, he lowkey treats the lycans as such. keeps them under his control solely through giving them dog treats he buys from the duke. (took him a long time and lots of claw/teeth injuries to figure that out, but hey, better late than never).

--warning: the next few paragraphs discuss weight insecurity and body dysmorphia. i'll let you know when the segment ends so you can skip it if it's triggering or makes you uncomfortable--

- he's insecure about his body, both the scars littered across it and his weight. the first can't be helped and he's aware of it, however the latter TECHNICALLY CAN be and thus it bothers him far more. he used to be in a better shape, both mentally and physically, before his life was completely consumed by his work and plans of the rebellion, however these days, he just can't afford to focus on keeping himself in shape (he doesn't have the time and energy to exercise outside of the weight lifting he has to do while working, and same goes for taking care of his diet. cooking and eating balanced food takes too much time and energy, making him resort to whatever is the quickest to make and will keep him going through the day). he feels intense discomfort when looking at younger pictures of himself, he can't help but feel that he has "let himself go" in the recent years, however simultanously doesn't have the time and energy to do anything about it. it's frustrating and makes him feel out of control.

- alcina once touched on the topic while arguing with him, and it fucked him up. up until then he clang onto the small bit of hope that maybe noone has noticed the changes in his body, that maybe it was just him that was hypersensitive to it and in reality it wasn't that visible, and alcina's comment instantly shattered it. not only did she notice, but she apparently considered it worthy of using against him. there goes his last bit of confidence.

- it was one of the very few times she has seen him actually cry (before storming off to hide himself in his factory). it was also one of the few times she had apologized to him. she has made comments about his height and general looks before, and it never seemed to bother him, he always retorded back with a snarky remark targeted back at her, so she truly thought he had no insecurity issues- but this time, for the first time, he just looked hurt, almost disbelieving, and ran away without a word. it made her initial anger melt away instantly, realizing what she did. she ran after him a few minutes later, hoping it wasn't too late and she hadn't done unreversable damage. the whole incident was a major blow to her ego, especially as she was forced to beg karl over the intercom to let her in, but she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she didn't tell him that she was sorry and didn't mean it. she had to admit to herself that it truly was a low blow and she couldn't let herself be carried away like this ever again.

- karl's confidence never really healed from the incident, it's not something he can just forget. but he did get a kick out of having alcina beg for forgiveness, so he considers at least that to be an upside of the whole thing.

--weight/body dysmorphia discussion ends here--

- he gets sensory overloads easily, especially from loud noise, making him snappy if there's too many people talking/making noise. he also often has issues with things touching him when he's already stressed - due to this, he keeps a hairband in his pocket at all times (to keep his hair out of his face), and has tied the belt of his trench coat behind his back so it wouldn't touch his arms while moving around (that one is actually part of his character model). having things hanging off him irritates him greatly.

- he has a tendency to cling onto/hug whatever is in his reach while he's asleep. usually it's a pillow or his blanket, but it's also a risk one should be aware of when choosing to sleep in one bed with him. you're gonna wake up in a death grip. and he's a heavy sleeper, so don't even think about going to the bathroom.

- speaking of physical affection, he loves massages, they're one of his favorite types of affection to receive. any kind of them, really. he's sore most of the time, so a bit of relief is always greatly appreciated. back/shoulders after a long day of work, tummy if his cadou is bothering him or his eating habits fucked him over again, maybe even hands if he's worked manually for too long and his palms are starting to cramp. it's all really appreciated. (another factor contributing to why he likes them is that they're completely selfless acts of affection. his partner isn't getting anything out of it (like they would with anything sexual or romantic), its only purpose is to help him feel better. makes him feel loved.)

- speaking of, he literally cried the first time ethan gave him a shoulder rub. feeling the decades worth of pain, tiredness and muscle strain that he didn't realize he felt finally fade, be washed away, made his eyes water, he couldn't help it. it wasn't long after they had moved in together (as roommates, since karl had nowhere to go), and to karl, it felt like an affirmation that it's over, he can relax, he can rest now. no need to keep overworking himself, to keep not letting himself ever catch a break because "he might like it too much and stop chasing his goal", to keep doing anything to keep himself going for years on end despite knowing it's ruining his body. it's done, it's over, he finally deserves a rest. it made ethan deeply confused and concerned before karl sobbed out why he's crying.

these are all for now, i think! at least all that comes to mind at the moment. if you'd like me to talk about headcannons on a specific subject/topic (or expand on any of these ones), let me know! i'm sure to think of something that i haven't already, or forgot to write down. i just love talking about headcannons, man.

#this bitch took me 2 hours to write i really hope you like it #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #headcannons #long post

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qimindu · 2 years

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canvas size + brushes + avg amount of layers used??

Also I love your art I would literally eat it if I had the chance and I wanna hear from the king himself

Omg thank you ^^ thats definetly one of the best compliments I ever got in my life

So um

Canvas sizes

As for canvas sizes everything is pretty simple. I used to experiment with it before but nowadays I just start with this basic 2048×2048 square canvas and then when the sketch is finished or if in the process I see that there’s not enough space for it to be finished I adjust the format.

Brushes

Right now my favorite brush is this pixel brush ^^

I was feeling kinda nostalgic for the good old times when I was just a kid drawing shit in ms paint on my mom's computer so I wanted to find some brushes for procreate that would be similar to ones in ms paint. And this is the best I found. It's basically the first set of brushes google gave me when I searched "pixel brushes for procreate" lmao

Tho this one is only used for sketches.

For something more serious I like using these ones which are just average procreate brushes

literally the first two in the set :/ I use them for sketching as well as for colouring the traditional art from my sketchbook.

And the last one of my favorite brushes is this Abel Eraser one. According to it's title I am probably supposed to use it as an eraser but obviously I don't care ^^ I downloaded it years ago so I can't remember where I found it but i guess the set I stole it from is called "Abel Essentials". I just took it from its original set and put it in between the previous two brushes so its easier for me to find

I use this brush to colour most of my digital art.

Layers

I don't use too many layers actually. I think the average amount is about 5 for works like these two, which are the most complex ones out of all that I've done lately.

It's basically because i do all the colouring on one layer that being the one I did the sketch on. So this is the reason why the sketch layer can't be seen in the layers of the pic with Misa and there's only a very simple one in the layers of the pic with Mikami, the final sketch was combined with the colour layer lol.

Other layers are used for some very specific details, filters or rendering.

However in the process up to 10 layers can be used. Usually I use multiple layers to sketch in the beginning because it's easier that way to experiment a little to find the right pose or face expression for the character. Also I add base colours on a separate layer under the one with the sketch but then again I combine them as soon as all base colours are there, and all the details are added on the same layer since then. So yeah basically I add layers for everything I'm not sure about while working on a pic, but once I am sure I combine everything and delete all the extras.

For more simple works like these two there's usually only about 1 or 2 layers left in the end because such pics to not require any filters or rendering.

Coloured sketches are a different case... As you can see there's a bunch of layers used here....

I think the amount of layers used can go up to 20. Thats because there's at least some kind of lineart present so I gotta be a bit more accurate with the colouring and it becomes easier to just add a separate layer for every detail. Also I don't care so much about deleting the extra ones or even trying to organize anything at all with this kind of stuff so that's another reason for having so many layers.

Well that's all I guess. Hopefully this can be helpful at least in some way :")

#ask

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sumbacky · 2 years

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For the artist asks: 5, 6, 27 👀

5. What’s your favorite thing to draw? character interactions but specifically romantic love ❤️ i also like painting nature and landscapes

6. What’s your least favorite thing to draw? complex details, flowers, buildings.. i haven't drawn a lot of them but cars!

27. For digital artists: how many layers does a typical piece require? i'd say generally it should "require" at least 5 layers if you're doing a completely coloured piece. but i usually go from 5-10 1. sketch 2. lineart 3. flat colours 4. shadows 5. lights/glows (+additional 6. for finishing touches) of course it depends what kind of drawing/style we're talking about. my flat colour pieces usually have 5 or less. a rendered painting would definitely have more than 5 LOL. i try to keep the number as low as possible bc i hate clutter

thank you for the asks!! 🥰

#yavannie #asks

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway.

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore.

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse.

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was.

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable.

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll. But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though.

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

#tw suicidal thoughts #rwby #fic things #rwby fic #Ironwood #Watts #Maria #Pietro #idk what this IS #post-apocalyptic RWBY I guess #with a side of questionable people not talking to each other #Anonymous

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Ok I had to send a prompt haha 13 saying to River “have you still got those red heels?”

First off, deepest apologise to anyone still waiting for their prompt to be answered, I promise I will get around to all of them, I just get distracted easily lol! But I just fancied doing a little short tonight so here goes! :D

Rating: G

Words: 1800

Red Heels

“Get a move on Sweetie, we will be late for dinner.“ River called.

“Oh, right, yeah, okay…“ The Doctor couldn’t form coherent thoughts but managed to just about close the bedroom door. “Dinner, yeah, I remember.“ The Doctor bit her bottom lip as she watched her wife take of her shirt. She should have probably turned around or better yet, left the room, to give her privacy, but her brain had short circuited.

“Don��t tell me you forgot.“ River chuckled and looked around, realising her wife had frozen by the door. “I told you, the only way I would go to that ridiculous theme park with you is if we go for a candle light dinner afterwards!“ She smirked blatantly facing her now as she unbuttoned her trousers. It had been weeks of linear time now since the Doctor had rescued her from the Library. Weeks of mad adventures, weeks of getting to know each other again, weeks in which they had barely stopped to think and feel and well… River thought it was high time they stopped running for an evening.

“Yes, dinner. Of course. Like dressing up and candles and wine and dessert…“ The Doctor’s words tumbled over her lips without any actual thought behind them. She just stared at her wife. She had forgotten how beautiful she was.

“You look like you’re just about ready for dessert.“ River smirked but took pity on her wife who clearly could only command about two braincells when confronted with her bare skin. She enjoyed how still, after all these years, she could render the Doctor speechless. “What are you going to wear?“ River marched over to the wardroom and opened it. She didn’t stop to comment on the fact that half the space was taken up by her own clothes. Even after all this time, when the Doctor should have long given up on her, she had left her things untouched, as if this would always be their rightful place. If River stopped to think about it for too long she knew she would well up with tears so she focused on her wife’s clothes instead. There were numerous copies of what she was wearing right now and seasonal variations of it, jumpers instead of t-shirts and such, but on the whole, more of the same. “I mean, I know you’re a creature of habit and you like to make a statement but, darling…“ River shook her head.

“Why can’t I just stay in this?“ The Doctor finally managed to move from her spot by the door. It wasn’t quite as hard to function when River had her back turned to her.

“Absolutely not.“ River shook her head. She had already picked out her dress for tonight and she was determined to get the Doctor into something appropriate. Black tie was a requirement for the restaurant she had picked and she wasn’t going to get turned back at the door. “Now what is this?“ River pulled out a suit from the back of the wardrobe.

“Oh that… that was sort of an undercover thing… for a party… needs to go back in the wardrobe hall…“ The Doctor gave a half smile remembering the adventures she’d had in that suit.

“Let me see it on?“ River grinned and held it out to her.

“Uh… right now? Right here?“ The Doctor blushed.

“We’re a bit pressed for time, seeing as you just had to have one last go in the ball pit.“ River reminded her with amusement and the Doctor huffed, taking the suit from her. She hesitated for a moment looking around, and River took pity on her again.

“I better get a move on too.“ She winked at her and walked to the bed where she had draped out her dress. She picked it up and disappear into the bathroom with it, giving the Doctor some privacy. The Doctor let go a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. She looked to the door River had disappeared through. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of adventure and emotion, she knew it was time to slow down and get acquainted with her feelings again but there was something scary about that. She had lived with the expectation of losing River for so long, it was hard to shake the habit and rejoice in their new lease on life. It was so hard to trust hope and joy when loss and disappointed was all they had known. But River was right of course, this was where they should finally slowed down and faced forward.

The Doctor took a deep breath and put the suit down on the bed. It was time she let go of her fears and worries. She shrugged off her coat and pulled her braces down. It was time she took her wife’s hand again and move forward, together. She pulled her shirt off and kicked her boots off. It was time they went on a date, an actual date again. She pulled her trousers off and picked up the white shirt. Her anxiety slowly ebbed away when she buttoned up the shirt. She pulled on the black trousers and fastened matching braces. The anxiety was replaced by excitement and anticipation. She slipped back into her boots and picked up the bowtie.

“Silly old Doctor, just get over yourself.“ She told herself as she folded up her collar to tie the bowtie around it. It was stupid really, to stand in her own way and hold herself back, when she wanted nothing more than to pull her wife into her bed and never leave that happy place, but life had made her cautious. She didn’t trust as easily. She didn’t laugh as freely. And she certainly didn’t believe in herself as she used to. She had been through a lot since River had last seen her and somewhere, in the back of her mind, there was a nagging voice questioning whether she was even still the person River had fallen in love with. She had changed so much, perhaps too much? She shook her head to herself, trying to silence her doubts and finished the bowtie.

“Well that, my dear, is a suit.“ River’s sultry voice pulled her out of her thoughts. The Doctor looked up and any sort of response died on her lips. River was wearing a beautiful navy gown, her hair was down and she fastened sparkling earrings, she was a vision.

“You… uhhh…“ The Doctor couldn’t form words.

“You too, my dear.“ River smirked and walked up to her. She reached out to straighten her bowtie for her. “You know I’ve always been partial to a bowtie.“ She winked.

“Were you?“

“Yeah… just not in combination with a fez.“ River chuckled.

“Right…“ The Doctor forced a smile at the memory of it. It felt like a lifetime ago now and just like that, her doubts returned and suddenly, the words just started tumbling out, she had held them in for so long. “River, about that…“ She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I… I’m not the same person anymore, not since… so much has happened… since Darillium, with Gallifrey and the Master and…“ She gestured wildly trying to explain somehow, she didn’t even know where to start. But when she met River’s eyes she could tell she already knew what she meant.

“You’re still the Doctor, are you not?“ River asked softly, giving her a smile full of understanding.

“Of course…“ The Doctor replied, confused.

“When you see people in danger, you help?“ River carried on.

“You know I always do…“ The Doctor didn’t understand what she was getting at.

“You travel around the universe in a silly blue box?“ River questioned.

“River, what…“ She sighed, waiting for her to get to the point.

“You still act like an absolute idiot when I flirt with you?“ River smirked leaning a little closer and the Doctor huffed:

“Hey, that…“

“You still love me?“ River asked softly and it stung more than the Doctor had anticipated.

“Of course, how could you even doubt…“ The Doctor was hurt that she even had to ask the question but the expression on River’s face was disarming.

“Then you haven’t change, at all, my love.“ River smiled warmly, her eyes full of love and adoration. “And I love you as much now as I did when I was in Stormcage. As I did on Darillium. As I did all those years I was trapped in the Library… no matter which face you wear, I always love you.“

“River…“ The Doctor didn’t know what to respond to that, she looked away, down to the ground trying to compose herself.

“And again, you came when I needed you, as you always do. And yes, maybe it’s taken you a little while longer than we both would have liked but you came and you saved me.“ River reached out and took her wife’s hand in hers. The Doctor couldn’t reply, a lump formed in her through as she tried to keep her tears at bay. “Remember the time you told me that you weren’t always going to be there to catch me?“ River asked, tilting her head a little. “And remember what I told you in return?“

“That I was so wrong about that…“ The Doctor mumbled, remembering it well.

“And as you can see, you were.“ River cupped her cheek and made her look at her. “You are still the same person. My Doctor. My mad-woman in a box… No matter how much time passed in that Library, I always knew you would come back for me. Because you’re always there to catch me.“

“That reminds me… have you still got those red high heels?“ The Doctor managed a half smile, fondly remembering the time she had quite literally caught her. She couldn’t do justice to what she wanted to say with words so she didn’t try. So, she promised herself she would show River instead. Tonight, and every night that was to come.

“After all that, that’s what you come up with?“ River started laughing, melancholy and seriousness giving way to relief and joy.

“Well, like you’ve always had a secret thing for the bowtie… I have a thing about those heels on you…“ The Doctor admitted with a little smirk as she look a moment to look her up and down. The heels would go perfectly with this dress.

“Do you like the idea of me being taller than you, do you?“ River replied flirty, brushing her hair back.

“Makes a nice change.“ The Doctor admitted with a grin.

“Oh Doctor, nothing has changed at all.“ River grinned in return and pulled her into a kiss. The Doctor kissed her back, relief washing over her as finally, certain realisations were coming to her: River was back. She was alive. And she was here. With her. River Song and the Doctor in the TARDIS. Next stop: Everywhere.

#Space wives #river x thirteen #river x the doctor #river/thirteen #doctor who #fanfiction #prompt #short #femslash #river song #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #jodie whittaker #Alex kingston #Also the Tux™

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