People kept tagging stuff like “HOWW??” and “wtf why not me??” in my last post on Tumblr, and… it’s really just practice.
So, here’s some old subway/metro sketches.These are from a few years ago actually lol
Keep a pen and sketchbook on you at all times, no eraser or pencil, and you’ll get better at freehand sketches. Force yourself to do it. Mess up? Sketch right beside it and try again. I bought the cheapest pen and sketchbook that I could find (dollar store stuff).Also, I’m that creepy girl staring at you and drawing on the subway. Lol
On the other hand, I’m going back to work tomorrow for the first time in about half a year so I might not post as much…but I dont post that frequently here anyways so…XD;;
If you want quick, cheap, and radical commissions draw by an average student in America trying not to fail eleventh grade, then this is the place for you!
Rules about commissions are listed below!
Things I won’t draw:
~ Buildings/Architecture and vehicles ( I haven’t practiced enough for like, hardcore metal stuff and perspective angles yet.)
~ NSFW (I’ll draw butts, yet I’m like, seventeen…so I don’t wanna mess with the law or whatever. Plus peeners and guts are hard to draw, guys. Suggestive stuff is fine, but keep it PG-13 for now)
~ Hate art (Dude why would you spend five dollars on something mean to make someone feel bad in the first place, don’t ask me to do that, man)
~ Backgrounds (Once again, still learning. I still need practice in that area too, and I don’t want to disappoint you.)
Things I will draw:
~ Pretty much anything as long as I get a proper reference and as long as it doesn’t make me uncomfortable (I am allowed to deny a request though.)
EMAIL ME AT: firstname.lastname@example.org
Paypal payment only! Send me an email with your request and whether or not you have other preferences or questions. I am still in school, so I’ll try and draw them as quickly as I can with the time I have available.
One commission can have two characters total, any additional character is another $5! Once again, please provide references so it will make it easier for me to doodle them, then you’ll be all set!
A majority of her clothes are already at his place, so most of the boxes they employed Callen and Sam to help load and unload consist of bedding, books, movies, and her sentimental junk he has no idea where they’re going to put. A borderline creepy baby doll she informed him was named Pete, jelly bracelets, the shell from the first bullet she fired, a tiny stuffed tiger he got her from the dollar store as a joke, stuff like that. Most people cherish treasure chests and old cards. Not Kensi. (He really shouldn’t be surprised.)
She’s upstairs taking a shower, probably trying to wash away some of the tension from the day. Jack had been an unexpected surprise. And not really a welcome one. Deeks hopes he stays away for good this time.
It’s not that he doesn’t like Jack. (Then again, it’s not like he likes him, either.) A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, he gets that, but what type of man abandons their committed fiancée on Christmas? What type of man leaves an amazing woman behind for a foreign country and starts a new family without exhibiting any remorse, knowing that all the while she probably thinks he’s dead and blames herself?
Not much of a man, that’s what he is, Deeks has figured. Mostly, he thinks Jack’s selfish. It takes an egotistical man to do what Jack did to Kensi. He was only concerned with his own agenda and not that of the heartbroken woman he abandoned for another world. He was able to disregard Kensi like she was invalid, break her heart without apology. Deeks has seen the way he hurt her, the way she cried in that interrogation room years ago, the way she broke down that very night, with a quiet, “I’m sorry,” before she retreated to the shower.
A box toppling down from the stack he’s rifling through almost knocks him right in the head, breaking him out of his thoughts. On the side, the word “trash” written in red and scribbled out with a black marker stretches sideways, slanting slightly in what is unmistakably his girlfriend’s scrawl. He moves on from the box of junk he’s sifting through to start the process of digging into the one that nearly crashed into him, because he figures it almost concussing him was a sign, or something.
He picks it up off of the side it fell on, sitting it upright and peeling back the untaped cardboard folds. It’s light, and he discovers the reasoning behind the weight when he finishes opening it. It’s mostly styrofoam peanuts and wadded tissue paper, but there’s also a stack of opened envelopes, some torn down the middle, a small picture album, and a smaller velvet box. He knows what those types of boxes contain, he has one himself, sitting in the bottom drawer of his desk at work, where she never looks. He opens it even though he knows what’s inside, mostly because he’s curious to see if Jack picked out a ring similar to the one that he got her.
But the box is empty. He imagines Kensi going at the symbol of her engagement with a sledgehammer, or maybe tossing it into an acid bath. That makes him smile a little. He flips the palm-sized container closed again, letting it drop into the puddle of packaging peanuts. He goes for the album next, because he hasn’t seen any pictures during the moving process with the exception of a few old ones of her dad. We need to take more pictures, he thinks absently, and turns the cover page.
There’s only three pictures in the entire album. One of Kensi with her arms around Jack, probably for an engagement photoshoot. Another of him in uniform, kissing her at what looks to be an airport. But the last one takes his breath away.
It has a page of its own, and it’s a big picture of professional quality. Her smile is captured in high definition, as is the white gown she has on. The picture was snapped when she had her hand clasped over her eyes, awaiting the big reveal of looking in the mirror and seeing herself as a Mrs. for the first time. It’s a stunning picture of a beautiful bride that never was. "Woah,“ he finds himself murmuring aloud as he traces the lace on the trail of the dress, following the contours of the silken fabric up to her face, which is radiant and young-looking. So like his Kensi, so unlike his Kensi. This specific version of Kensi has only ever appeared in his dreams.
He doesn’t bother hiding the album when he hears feet padding down the stairs. She’s wearing his LAPD t-shirt and nothing else, from what he can tell. Maybe a thong. Either way, it’s a good look for her. "Hey, you okay?” she asks, unaware of what’s open in front of him yet. "I heard a crash.“
“No, yeah, um…” He looks down at the album in his lap, and she directs her attention to what he’s holding for the first time. "This box fell from the pile, so I started to go through it.“
She sits down next to him, looking at the picture resting in front of him. "I wanted to trash it.”
“No, I get it.” He doesn’t think she’s trying to hold onto her past by saving this stuff, or anything like that. These are the only traces he’s ever seen of Jack in Kensi’s belongings, and he can understand why she wouldn’t want to part with the picture he’s looking down at. "It looks good on you,“ he tells her. She knows what he’s referring to.
“Really, Kens. Maybe we can get you another one soon?”
She knows that they’re too far into their relationship for her to get weird when he mentions things like marriage, but old habits die hard. The last experience she had with The Big M didn’t go too well. She shakes her head to clear away the thoughts regarding commitment that the old her used to despair over all the time. Here and now, she loves Deeks. And if she decides that marriage isn’t right for her, then she’s sure he’ll respect that. "Let’s see how this living together thing works out for us first.“ She smiles at him, a sad sort of smile, and closes the album, putting it back in the box to be sorted later.
She wraps her arms around his back, kissing the corner of his mouth, allowing herself to sway against his steady torso. His voice is tinged with humor and honest curiosity when he asks a moment later, “What did you do with the ring?”
“Taped it to a railroad track.”
He laughs. Of course she did. "Of course you did.“
She pats his shoulder, standing up and offering her hand. "Bed,” she says, and he intertwines her extended fingers with his as he rises to his feet.
“Sounds good, Princess.”
She stops leading him up the stairs halfway to their bedroom, turning around to face his chest. She’s standing on the step ahead of him, so when she wraps her arms around him, his head fits into the crook of her neck. "Thank you. For everything you did today.“
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You were there. You’re here now.” She kisses his head, holding him tighter. "And that means the world to me, Deeks.“