#really beautiful inking and composition

[ruebossanova]

professor o'connell: the mini series - 1

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension

summary: you never expected your literature professor to be young, sharp-tongued, and devastatingly captivating - but professor eilish is all that and more. between tense lectures, stolen glances, and secrets that linger after class, you find yourself tangled in a dangerous game of curiosity and control. how long can you keep it professional when the air between you burns with something more?

masterlist

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the hallway smelled like coffee and printer ink. lockers lined the walls even though no one really used them, and the sound of someone's sneakers squeaking across the linoleum echoed faintly. it was too early for anything to feel real, and liora was still half-dreaming when she pushed open the classroom door.

the light was soft inside, filtered through high windows that caught the morning haze. students filled the back rows first—classic. liora drifted somewhere near the middle, dropped her canvas bag beside the chair, and sank into the seat like she'd been holding her breath all morning.

she barely glanced at the front of the room at first, too busy unzipping her hoodie and smoothing out her notebook. then a voice—low, even, and almost too smooth—cut through the sleepy chatter.

"morning, everyone."

liora looked up.

and froze.

the woman at the front of the class wasn't what she expected. not even close.

tall, loose-fitted shirt hanging just right, her dark hair pulled back under a knit beanie like she hadn't tried at all and still managed to look—cool. cool in a way that made your chest tighten. her eyes, pale and unreadable, swept the room with a kind of calm confidence that didn't ask for attention but got it anyway.

professor o'connell.

liora didn't breathe until billie looked away.

billie set her laptop down on the desk and clicked something open on the screen. the soft tap of keys echoed, then stopped. she glanced up.

"so," she said, voice light but clear, "i'm professor o'connell. billie's fine, too, if that's more comfortable. i teach this course in creative composition and lyrical analysis—basically, it's english lit, but with more music and fewer essays you'll want to set on fire."

a few people chuckled, sleep still hanging off their voices. liora's stomach twisted. she didn't laugh, but her mouth tugged at the corner like it wanted to.

billie's eyes drifted back to the roster on her screen.

"let me just get a sense of who's here," she murmured, then started reading names.

"elliot abram?"

"here."

"cassidy baines?"

"present."

"liora... rai?"

"i'm here"

billie nodded slowly, her gaze lingering just a moment too long. "beautiful name," she said, like it meant something. "thank you."

liora stared down at her notebook. the top of the page blurred slightly before she forced herself to breathe again.

billie continued reading names, but the heat in liora's cheeks didn't go away. her full name never rolled off anyone's tongue like that—never without hesitation, never with intention.

when roll was done, billie leaned against the desk, her arms folded. "okay. i don't like icebreakers. they're awkward and fake and you all secretly hate them."

a few students laughed—this time, liora included.

"but i do want to know who you are. not in the cheesy way. in the why-are-you-here way."

she pushed her hair behind one ear and nodded toward the board.

"your first assignment's simple. it's not graded. i just want you to write a page about this question—what does music say that words can't?"

the room quieted.

billie continued, soft and serious now. "i don't care if you've never written anything in your life. this isn't about being good. it's about being honest."

someone raised their hand in the back. "can we write lyrics?"

"you can write in blood, for all i care," billie said, and a few students laughed again. "just don't be boring. if you're boring, i'll know."

her eyes flicked back to liora—quick, but unmistakable.

liora swallowed.

the lecture started slow.

not boring, just... soft. like billie was setting a mood more than teaching. she talked about metaphor, about musical phrasing as narrative structure, about the way a repeated lyric could punch harder than a paragraph. her voice never rushed, never cracked. she didn't fidget, didn't pace. she just leaned her hip against the desk, fingers tracing the edge of her water bottle like she was thinking out loud to a room full of ghosts.

liora watched her the way someone might watch a fire—entranced without realizing it.

she was used to professors being either stiff or overcompensating. too many tried too hard to prove they had authority. billie didn't do that. she just was. and it did something to the room. made everyone quieter. made the air feel heavier.

"there's something music can do," billie said, tapping the board with a dry erase marker, "that essays can't. it cuts through memory. not around it. through it. the right song doesn't remind you of a moment—it puts you in it. like time travel, but with better lighting."

liora didn't write that down, but she knew she'd remember it anyway.

the girl next to her had started doodling in the margins of her notebook. someone behind her was chewing gum too loudly. the boy by the window kept checking his phone. but liora didn't move. her pencil rested against the page, unmoving.

billie walked to the board and wrote:

"when language fails, music answers."

the chalk squeaked slightly. her handwriting was slanted, imperfect. under the lights, the ink on her exposed wrist caught liora's eye—lyrics tattooed in a fine line script she couldn't read from this far away.

"that's the quote we'll work from next week," billie said. "write it down. argue with it. prove it wrong if you want. just don't ignore it."

liora lowered her gaze. her fingers gripped the pencil. write it down, billie said. like it was just another sentence. like it didn't already live inside her ribs.

billie glanced toward the back row where a group of boys had started whispering. one of them smirked and said something too low for liora to hear, but she caught enough—something about billie's age, the word hot, the phrase bet she's not even a real professor.

billie didn't flinch. she let the silence stretch. then she walked slowly back to her desk, closed her laptop, and looked out across the room.

"if anyone's confused about whether i belong here," she said evenly, "you're welcome to drop this class. i promise your refund window is still open."

quiet.

no one moved.

liora felt something tighten in her chest. not pity. not admiration, either. something in between. like respect, but more personal. she hated the way billie had to defend herself for being young. for being her.

billie's gaze swept the room again, slower this time.

when it landed on liora, it didn't move away.

chairs scraped against tile as the clock hit the hour. papers rustled, bags zipped. the usual chaos of everyone rushing to leave—except for liora.

she moved slower. not on purpose, but something in her refused to follow the current. she tucked her notebook carefully into her bag, slung it over one shoulder, then pretended to fumble with the zipper a second longer than necessary.

billie was still at her desk, sliding her laptop into a worn leather sleeve, fingers moving with practiced ease. her head was tilted slightly, earbuds resting around her neck, a lazy kind of calm on her face that made it impossible to look away.

most of the room had cleared when billie glanced up—and caught her.

"you good?"

liora blinked. "oh—yeah. i just..." she hesitated, then stepped forward. "i had a question. about the assignment."

billie nodded once and leaned her elbow on the desk, fully facing her. "shoot."

liora hated how loud her heart sounded. she tried to ignore it.

"when you said we could write in any form... did you mean, like, lyrics? or poetry? or just... freewriting?"

"any form," billie said. "i meant it."

her voice was gentler now. less classroom, more personal. and now that they were this close—no rows of desks, no audience—liora could see the pale freckles scattered across her cheeks, the faint smudge of eyeliner just barely under her lashes. her eyes weren't just blue. they were gray, soft and stormy, with something behind them liora couldn't name.

"so if it's a poem that doesn't really make sense," liora said slowly, "that's still okay?"

billie tilted her head. "does it make you feel something?"

liora nodded before she could stop herself. "yeah."

"then it makes sense."

the words settled between them like warmth. not cheesy, not condescending—just simple. true.

liora looked down, letting her fingers curl around the strap of her bag.

"what do you usually write?" billie asked.

liora hesitated, then answered honestly. "stuff i never show anyone."

billie smiled—just barely. "those are usually the best kind."

she stepped around the desk then, close enough that liora caught the faint scent of something warm and clean—like sandalwood and fresh laundry. she reached for a printed syllabus on the edge of the table and handed it to her.

their fingers touched. just for a second. but it was enough to send a pulse through liora's spine.

"just in case you didn't grab one," billie said, casual again, but her voice had dipped lower. "i keep forgetting people actually read these."

liora took it with both hands, as if it were heavier than paper.

"thanks," she murmured.

billie gave a nod, slow and deliberate. "see you thursday, rai."

the way she said her name made liora's stomach flip. it wasn't just the pronunciation. it was the intention. like she wanted to say it again. like she liked saying it.

liora turned and walked out, heart pounding behind her ribs like it was trying to outrun her.

[silvershadow1711]

So, I redid the cover image for my first BSH fanfic, Syzygy.

Now, if you're thinking "but Silbur, that looks almost exactly the same as the old one!" You're right! Because I really liked that composition (hint- they're a syzygy). What I didn't like was the execution- I hadn't drawn anything for almost a year prior, I was super rusty, and it was my first time trying to draw any BSH fanart. Needless to say, it was very wonky. So I used my original ink drawing as a sketch and redid the whole thing digitally, complete with different fonts!

Fun fact- did you know you can go to Hubble's website and get high resolution pictures of stars and galaxies entirely for free? And did you also know that they're some of the most beautiful things you will ever behold with your mortal eyes? Yeah!

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

Can I get headcanons for the TEC boys with a reader who’s good at art?

Never A Frown With Golden Brown

Summary: TEC x Artist! Reader

TW/CW: mentions of crime scenes

A/N: Good news, guys! REQUEST ARE NOW BACK OPEN!

Knocked out the majority of my queue, so fill free to request anything (as long as you read my DON’Ts first! <3

Reblogs are appreciated!

- Bill isn’t a muse, and he told you as such

- Anytime it was time for portraits for school, his mom was too poor to pay the extra money (though it became more obvious it’s because she didn’t want to have any reminders of him)

- It would be no different with you. He spotted you during art class actually paying attention to the assignment, and scoffed

- “You know, there are better ways to put your normie brain to the use���

- You simply pretended not to hear him as you continue to draw the still life in front of you

- Overtime, you would catch him watching you draw, paint, photograph, even write sometimes. He got red faced and mad when you pointed it out, but that didn’t stop him

- In fact, you just made him more curious. He’ll admit: your inking was acceptable, you knew how to compose a shot and he guessed your coloring was alright

- You probably drew him Major Violence with Battle Broad for his birthday, and he just held onto the piece of paper like it would be lost forever if he didn’t

- Will stuff every doodle/unfinished drawing you’ve threw out over the years. Will get pissy if you point this out, saying that “YEAH! Well, maybe I want to draw better than you!”

- I actually think he does know how to draw, just doesn’t apply himself. If he’s feeling generous, he’ll return the favor by drawing you in a notebook and tear it out for you

- Would die of embarrassment if he was asked to be your muse for photography. Of course he’s going to agree to, just that it’s embarrassing he’ll be seen in this light! DUH!

- (Later on, would ask if you have any copies he could take home)

- It’s weird being admired like this. He’s only seen this with artists from a long gone era…not with his pimply nerdy self

- ….but maybe he’ll accept it. Maybe.

- Josh saw you drawing for the journal club. They needed a cover, and you were the “art kid”, so you were made to take the burden of it

- He likes to think he’s artistic himself (writing wise), but the way you effortlessly blended in the watercolor onto the paper…it entranced him

- He stayed up all night writing the “perfect” sci fi story for you to visualize. Maybe you can draw it like Frank Frietrzza, or even Jack Kirby

- Slides it in your locker and hopes for the best.

- Waits a couple of days, and calls himself foolish for even thinking someone of you fallible (while also stating that “you couldn’t handle the caliber of my art skills!”)

- It isn’t until he sees you also slip in a visualization of the drawing that he was sold!

- Loves to watch you in art class while you produced the most beautiful landscapes within just your imagination

- Wants to hear about your process at all times and would get giddy hearing you talk

- Secretly? He’s jealous. He can never seem to get the ideas in his head right onto the paper. It’s like a mental block for him or something.

- So, he may or may not steal some of your drawing ideas from you. Will adamantly claim he didn’t, but you knew. You always knew

- I’m you can get past that, maybe you two could be a creative writing duo

- Josh takes control of the writing; you take control of the illustrations

- It’s a weird harmony of sorts, but it works nevertheless

- For Pete, I think he would actually like a photographer

- I don’t know why, but staring at movies all times of the day means he has a keen eye when it comes to the little details

- Saw you at the darkroom while you were about to finish up. He (sort of) followed to the light and watched you examine the last photograph

- Woah…even in black and white, you know your stuff! That lighting really hits the plants well, and the composition almost wraps said plants into something…monstrous

- You end up catching him in the act, but unlike the others, he just continued to stare…creepy

- When he got home, he spread out his favorite horror films and capture every one of his favorite shots (probably stole a camera or used a shitty camcorder)

- Maybe asks you if you can take shots like this (yes, he be one of THOSE people who want free requests)

- He’s a little sleaze ball as well. The type that would BEG you to go into crime scenes and take pictures of everything, but especially the bodies

- If not…maybe a portrait of himself? Probably never got one because his parents were too poor to get one themselves

- Since Pete’s also a creative person (FXS), those “self portraits” are him in his zombie crawl look

- Internally kicking his feet when he gets them done, but acts all tough when you asked his opinion on it

- Even if you guys did break up, he still has them, sometimes even looks at them when he’s feeling bitterly nostalgic

- Jerry would love a sculptor. Someone who can seemingly make fantastical stories with just a piece of clay and such

- You met because he accidentally destroyed one of said sculptures. You were letting it air dry and Jerry was tripped up by some bullies (or even the club), crashing right down onto one of them

- After helping him clean up, he started to also notice your other work on the ground and WOAH! Is that Xena the Princess Warrior?!

- Didn’t have time to stick around, but would watch you sculpt during free time in art class

- The way your hands meticulously move around the clay itself…how it made these blobs into impossible shapes…fascinating

- It distracts him every day of his life. Even at club he’s starting to feel flustered when thinking about you and your work

- Will eventually ask if he could watch you up close while you sculpt

- He’s a romantic at heart (a little). Absolutely red faced and flustered watching you. He’s never met anyone this talented since…well, forever, really

- I think you could inspire him to create a little. “Checks out” (stalks) your profile and tries to replicate some of your more simpler pieces

- It’s…something, but he’s trying, alright?

- Would bond making mini figurines of DnD characters and keeps them up his shelf to admire

- He loves his artistic S/O so much <3

[n1ght0f-nyx]

I LOVE the way you wrote that last photo fix where reader sings a duet with Erik, I LOVE the way you write him!! would you be able to write a hand appreciate scenario for Erik? It’s the one part of him reader really gets to experience and he uses them so well as a musician and I just… think about his hands sometimes…

phantom of the opera (erix x reader)

word count- 652

warnings/tags- established relationship, erik being insecure (as usual)

The first thing I noticed about Erik were his hands. Long before I saw his face—what little he allowed me to see—it was his hands that captivated me. They were elegant, impossibly graceful, each motion a quiet symphony of intent. The way they hovered over the keys of his organ, his fingers gliding across the polished ivory, weaving melodies so intricate they seemed almost supernatural. The way they moved when he wrote, ink staining his fingertips, his quill scratching out compositions and letters in a hurried yet precise scrawl. Even the way he adjusted his gloves with a fluid flick of his wrists, his movements unknowingly mesmerizing.

Erik’s hands were his truest voice. They spoke more than his lips ever dared, more than his eyes ever revealed. In their movements, I saw joy and frustration, longing and restraint. I saw a man who had spent a lifetime crafting beauty with the very things he could not hide, even when he wished he could.

I remember the first time I touched them. It had not been planned, nor had he allowed it with any great willingness. I had only been watching him play, enraptured by the hypnotic movement of his fingers as they coaxed sorrowful notes from the organ. He had not noticed me creeping closer until I was beside him, my breath mingling with the notes lingering in the air. A final chord rang out, fading into the dimly lit space between us, and before I could stop myself, I reached for his hand.

He flinched. A sharp intake of breath, a subtle jerk of his arm as if expecting pain. But I did not recoil. I let my fingers trace the lines of his palm, the callouses at his fingertips where years of music had etched their claim. His hands were strong, sculpted by discipline and relentless practice, yet soft in ways I did not expect. There was warmth there, a surprising contrast to the cold walls of his underground world.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice was hushed, wary.

I met his gaze—or what little I could see of it in the shadows. "Because I want to know the hands that create such beauty."

He exhaled sharply, almost a laugh, but not quite. His hands twitched under my touch, unsure whether to pull away or stay. "You are a strange creature."

"Perhaps. But so are you."

Silence stretched between us, a fragile thing. And yet, he did not move. Emboldened, I turned his hand over, my fingers ghosting over the veins that ran along the back of it, the slight crook of his knuckles, the rough pads of his fingertips. How many years had these hands spent crafting melodies, writing notes that would never be played for an audience? How often had they built and destroyed in equal measure?

I brought his hand to my lips before he could stop me, pressing a kiss to his palm, reverent. "You are always so focused on what you hide. But Erik… do you know how exquisite this part of you is? How much it speaks for you when you cannot?"

His breath hitched. The muscles in his fingers twitched, as if fighting the impulse to curl into my touch. "You are playing a dangerous game."

"I think you're the one who plays dangerous games, Maestro." My lips curved against his skin, my words sinking into his palm, into him. "I'm only listening."

He let out a breath, a quiet, shuddering thing, and slowly, his fingers curled around mine—not in resistance, but in something far more precious. Acceptance.

In that moment, I knew: If Erik was going to allow me to know him, it would not be through words or even the unmasking of his face. It would be through his hands, through the music they created, the letters they wrote, and the way they—hesitant yet certain—finally, finally held on to me.

[meichenxi]

in the spirit of interaction: what are your thoughts on chinese calligraphy? have you ever taken classes? (i ask because it's something of a closet hobby of mine and your header is calligraphy as well ^.^) also, what would you say the most challenging part of studying is for you?

in the spirit of interaction: thank you, and apologies it inevitably took me this long to answer!!

my actual experience with calligraphy goes hand-in-hand with my ability to handwrite: as in, not much! whenever I do end up restarting my handwriting journey (and I'm going to have another crack at it soon), however, I find the calligraphic component of it the most satisfying by far. I'm going to focus on the practical element of calligraphy as beautiful handwriting that you can actively study, rather than as an art form or studying its history.

one of the things I focused on right from the get-go with learning to handwrite chinese was to copy chinese handwriting and not typed fonts. the balance was always important: chinese is such an elegantly written language and my ugly beginner's handwriting physically hurt me. I also love handwriting in english and deliberately crafted my own cursive style when I was around 14, so I knew I wanted to pay similar attention to it in chinese. that meant I spent a lot of time 'handwriting' without knowing the characters I was writing in the beginning, purely to get a feel for the balance and shape of characters.

I think calligraphy is especially interesting to deliberately study from a practical perspective when learning to write because it provides an answer to the 'how to fit X character in a box' conundrum that always plagues me: fat characters, complex character, lopsided characters, thin and narrow characters. looking at calligraphic representations of whatever character you're trying to learn to write can show you that often this desire to fit into the box is a little misplaced: most natural chinese handwriting does have characters that are taller, broader, longer etc, and you can learn in what circumstances such a re-balance is considered beautiful and acceptable, and in what circumstances the size difference or relationship between different characters on the same line is too extreme and veers towards awkward or ugly.

I find making an effort to separate your handwriting practice (for learning the strokes) and handwriting practice (for practicing balance and style) can lead to really excellent results!! I would add a separate half an hour of practice at the end of my general handwriting daily ritual to specifically focus on one aspect of handwriting: a type of stroke, the way I held the pen or pencil (I don't regularly use brush and ink), the composition and balance of similarly composed characters.

for this, I would go to a chinese calligraphy app on my phone and search for, say, a common character like 也 that I already knew how to write. this would show me examples from different styles of calligraphy, and where the line might be between 'readable and beautiful' and 'artistic but illegible for daily life'. from there I would go on a little bit of a youtube rabbit hole watching other tutorials for that particular character - I found searching for the kanji in japanese if it's the same as the chinese character to be very helpful, as there are lots of videos for a japanese audience! - and pay attention to the key things that go wrong, its balance, where its 'centre' is and so on.

I would then go and practice writing the character, but not only that: I would try and deliberately make certain parts of it exaggerated, as much as I could, to see which parts of the writing process are 'loadbearing'. for example with 也 - the middle line often in calligraphic styles begins way above the left-most line and the hook. so from that it would become clear how the character might look sped up - I would also try and find cursive examples of each on youtube to understand which strokes are commonly joined.

all of the characters that I can write - still, after a long time away - in a way that I find pleasing or well-balanced for a non-native and unpracticed writer, are ones that I spent the time and effort into studying in this amount of detail, or ones that are analogous to other characters whose compositions I studied. the best thing about this sort of method is that, even though you might only be 'learning' one character a day, the rules and general guidelines for form, weight of the pencil, balance of composition etc are very similar across many different characters. and you learn to spend time before you write a new character examining it and figuring out where the weight of it is, what it would look like in a square, what it would look like calligraphically on its own, where it would sit on a line with other characters etc. so it all carries over to other characters you later learn, and your handwriting in general begins to improve.

in terms of calligraphy as an art form: I think part of what draws me to chinese and specifically traditional chinese culture is the emphasis on morality within craft - excellence in learning is a moral virtue. the harmony of technical excellence and virtue is something which makes me kind of go insane. and it makes sense: there is not the same separation of duty and social life and other confucian values to family, state etc with art as there is in western culture: who wrote the poems? even the poets with the most overtly daoist and/or rebellious themes had often been officials at court, even if they were hermit-ing out in the mountains or had fled their official positions. a gentleman of good standing was expected to master calligraphy, but also painting, poetry composition and so on.

with the same brush and the same paper, the three arts are inseperable: a painting is a poem and a poem is a painting, and both are enriched by the fervour or restraint or elegance or curtness or wildness of the writer or painter's brushstrokes. of course there are individual artists who are remembered more as calligraphers or painters or poets, but most 'gentlemen' and respected educated rich women (though about this I know less, being honest) would have been expected to excel at all three.

and the 'literati' was a social class, tied up of course with land and money and huge privilege, but in theory a class which anybody with the luck to receive a good education, pass the imperial exams and join the ranks of government, could enter. (of course you had to have money to be tutored in the first place since there were not schools and private tuition was the norm, but anyway...). even if you failed the exam, or failed at one of the increasingly challenging levels, your life could be transformed: you could find a job as a tutor or teacher and escape the crushing weight of a peasant's life, with room to pursue leisure.

so my appreciation for calligraphy I think ties in to my appreciation of this way of thinking and the emphasis on a well-rounded gentleman of letters, and the idea that learning and painting and writing are all forms of self-betterment and cultivation. that too ties in with the martial arts aspect of it - like you can see in films like zhang yimou's hero, where calligraphy is held up as proof of a swordsman's mastery of the sword - in a way which is kind of mocked in the west, or seen in anime with the old master at the top of the mountain, but something that does have its basis in reality. the idea that creativity itself must be based first on a solid mastery and understanding of the classics, of the works of antiquity; the idea that learning and exercising that - like you exercise your body - is a morally good thing to do. the idea that because it is moral, your own moral virtues or lack thereof, your own character, can be revealed in your calligraphy or your swordsmanship or your poetry or your art.

I don't have any especial knowledge of calligraphy itself, but the underpinning idea is very compelling to me. I suppose it's similar in some ways to the greek strenuous education of body and mind in antiquity, though I really don't know much about that. I know that the heavy and weighted respect for the classics can be stifling in a lot of education, and has worked to repress and suppress the rights of women and the lower classes. so of course there's nuance, and having taught in east asia three times I'm well aware of the frustrations and cruelties, sometimes, of a confucian-based classroom. but I still think it's something we can learn from in the west, with discernment and respect.

(I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE SECOND PART OF YOUR QUESTION!! will do another post on that, sorryyy)

[atompalace-official]

hello!I hope this finds you well ^^ the names magpie,I was wondering if you could tell me some basic tips for your art style or a time's lapse of one of your drawing for me to analize? I love the art style so much and I want to be like you! if you cant/won't I completely understand!sorry if its to much to ask,have a good day/night! ><

hello magpie! thank you so much for sending in a question and I’m delighted you like my art! 🩵✨

to start off with, the only person who can truly do the atompalace art style is me- it’s my own uniquely personal way of drawing, so I cannot tell you how to wholly replicate it nor would I encourage it. BUT! every single artist’s art style, including my own, is a patchwork of effort and practice, techniques you enjoy using, and influences from the things you love- and that’s beautiful!!! 🌈💕 so instead I’ve written four ways to help develop your very own art style:

1. Gather Inspiration 🌟

what inspires you? this can be any type of art, photography, character design and so on, or anything made by a favourite artist, but also delving into nature, places, feelings... now try and identify what specifically you love about these things!

I like to save any artwork or photo that particularly resonates with my tastes into a folder, then I analyse the specific traits about each piece that I admire, especially if I aspire to improving that trait in my own work. artists who have influenced my style recently include Mia Ikumi, the Kamikita Twins, Lisa Frank, Naoko Takeuchi, and Elena Kucharik; I also find lots of inspiration in Sanrio character artworks and Pretty Cure cards and merchandise ✨

it’s a wonderful feeling to reach a stage where you’re naturally drawing the type of art you love to look at, and by delving into why you enjoy the art you enjoy, you can use that knowledge to your advantage to achieve that!

2. Practice, Practice, Practice 🔥

I always tell aspiring artists that the most important way to develop your skills is to draw as much as possible. yes, fundamentals and going out of your comfort zone are important, and many artists tell you to focus on these when you start out… but personally I think drawing the things you enjoy and often is an equally valid method, because it gets you into the habit, and you will still learn lots!

when I was in school, I drew OCs and Pokémon on spare paper using ink. I didn’t really focus on anatomy or composition at that point, but it certainly helped develop my line control/confidence and drawing speed- and my art style, too!

a good specific way to practice is to pick artworks that you love and make studies of them! this way you can learn from the various techniques of the original (such as ones you identified in the previous section!) by trying to redraw them. IMPORTANT: if you make studies/reproductions of illustrations, particularly by contemporary independent artists, please keep them private and don’t post them, because that can give others the impression that you’re imitating them 💧

another fun way to do studies that you can post publicly is by choosing a TV show, film, comic, or video game with a style you like and try to draw your character (or even a character from a different media) in that style! for example, I enjoy drawing my Pokémon trainersona in the official Pokémon style occasionally- I improved with every attempt because of the time I spent practicing and looking closely at art made by professional illustrators, which helped me really understand the trademarks of that style. learning by doing!

3. Making It Yours 🎀

a recognisable or “iconic” art style is made up of multiple trademarks; no single trademark is ever exclusive to one artist, but it’s a unique combination of them that makes a style stand out.

for instance, I love drawing heart shaped shines in my characters’ eyes, which is something lots of artists do. but in tandem with multiple other trademarks common to my works (pastel colours, lineart quirks, typical subject matter and more), that’s what makes them say- “I’m an atompalace piece!”

to make sweet, glittery art, drawing your very own effects brushes or textures is a fantastic way to express your own style effectively. I programmed all of my sparkle brushes! some of my base brush shapes are referenced and some are entirely from my own imagination, but I drew them all myself. you can find free tutorials on making your own brushes for most art programmes online if you need help, or just edit default brushes that came with your art program!

4. No Restrictions 🪽

don’t be afraid to experiment! especially as a digital artist, a good few of the exclusive techniques I use were ones I discovered unintentionally or by trial-and-error, and when you work with digital layers it’s a lot easier to play around with colour palettes. tweak colours and mess around effects, and you might come up with a happy accident that you can use in the future as a building block to your style!

this might seem contradictory to the previous section, but you don’t have to tie yourself to any one art style. we all change and grow all the time, and especially if you’ve only been drawing for a relatively short time, it’s good to keep an open mind and allow your art to evolve. (for me, only the last 2-3 years has been the longest my own art style has been consistent!)

even if there’s a main style you always return to, it’s absolutely fine to deviate from it. I do, and I have fun with it, too! switching things up every so often is fun and can even help your main art style improve! conversely, if you try too hard to stick to a method that you don’t truly enjoy or have become bored of, it can be creatively stifling, so allowing yourself to branch out is key.

if you’re a hobby artist, your own enjoyment and personal satisfaction should be your priority- not the approval and attention of others. one of the best ways to let your art style shine is by letting yourself draw as self indulgently as you like without holding back!

before I sign off, I do have two timelapses of two detailed illustrations to share with you! The Sylveon Sanctuary and The Mermaid and the Fairy 🫧 notice how I use the golden spiral or a grid to help make balanced compositions; I don’t always make a colour draft, but I did for these; and I sometimes do “mini sketches” to help me visualise from my base sketch.

thank you again for your message, I enjoyed answering this and I hope you find it helpful and motivating to draw lots of lovely art!!! 🎨

- Princess Sol ⚜️🎀🩵✨

[idrawprettyboys]

I'm sooo happy with how this turned out! Aren't my boys beautiful?? This is Mitsuo and Kenji from a manga that I'm working on called Carkour. These guys take part in a Carkour tournament, which, as you can probably guess, is a mix between car racing and parkour. There's more to the story, but it's a secret! <3 

I colored this with watercolor and tried my best to give it a cel-shaded look with solid blocks of color, to make it look like an anime screenshot or official anime art. I'm really happy with the premise and aesthetic of this story so far. It feels like something that I could see being made into a real anime! I just have to make sure I stay motivated and don't give up on it when I encounter roadblocks. Like Kenji and Mitsuo, I too must overcome obstacles to get to my goal! 

My plan for this picture is to combine it with a background illustration of Chrome City, where the story takes place. I'm still working on the background, but I plan on digitally compositing it on Clip Studio once the backdrop is inked and painted. I'm excited to see it all together! I might use this for the cover of the first volume or the title page of the first chapter.

Just some notes: Mitsuo's hair is supposed to be white. It might look gray here, but that's because I wanted the shines to be visible. I ended up making all or most things that are meant to be white light gray instead. I wasn't sure whether to go with black or dark gray for the details on his outfit, but I decided on dark gray since he has a rather pastel aesthetic. As for Kenji, I adore his design even more than I thought I would! He's wearing one of my favorite color schemes and has such a nostalgic 90's/early 2000's protagonist feel, so I can't help but love him! I'm still working on his personality though. That will come with time.

[minnie--verse]

Pen Pals — A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 4!!

(link to pt. 1). (link to pt. 2). (link to pt. 3)

Summary: You, Ren, are a college student, taking what you thought would be a normal composition class— until you're assigned a pen pal with your professor's second class. What happens when you fall for someone you know... but dont?

pairing: sunghoon x f!reader(ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include possible angst//comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: college students!me, slow burn, love square, swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~6.7k

this is not proof read!

thank u for reading< 3

— — —

Sunghoon burst through the door of his apartment, a grin plastered across his face. He had just received Sunny’s latest letter, and her words had filled him with an indescribable warmth. It was as if everything had fallen into place, and he couldn’t help but feel giddy. It was impossible to shake the sense that they were growing closer with every letter exchanged.

As he walked into his room, his eyes landed on the jacket Ren had borrowed from him. It was neatly draped across his bed, a simple reminder of their last time together. He felt a surge of affection just thinking about her.

Absentmindedly, he reached into the jacket pocket, half expecting to find nothing, but his fingers brushed against something soft and crinkly. Curious, he pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. As he unfolded it, his breath caught in his throat.

---

Thank you for the jacket.

—Ren

---

The note was written in neat, elegant cursive with purple ink. Sunghoon’s heart began to pound in his chest as he stared at the familiar writing. He blinked, his mind racing. That handwriting—it was the same as Sunny’s.

For a moment, he stood frozen, the weight of the realization slowly sinking in. Could it really be true? Could Ren and Sunny be the same person?

His hands trembled slightly as he rushed to his desk. He frantically dug through his drawer, pulling out the stack of letters from Sunny. His heart pounded in his ears as he carefully laid them out, one by one, alongside Ren’s note.

There it was—every curve, every loop in the letters, every detail—it all matched perfectly. The same purple ink. The same delicate script. It was unmistakable. Ren was Sunny.

Sunghoon’s head swam with the implications. His breath hitched as the truth hit him in waves. The girl he had been falling for through her beautiful, poetic words was the same girl he had been spending time with, laughing with, and learning about.

A wide grin spread across his face, though his heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. He couldn’t believe it. All this time, he had been falling in love with Ren in two different ways, and they had both led him back to the same person.

The door creaked open, and Jake wandered in, noticing Sunghoon’s widened eyes expression. “You look like you just won the lottery or something.”

Sunghoon quickly folded up the letters, his heart still racing. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Sunghoon forced himself to calm down, not quite ready to share this newfound revelation just yet. It was too precious, too personal. “Just, you know... thinking about some stuff. Got some good news today.”

Jake smirked, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide. “Uh-huh. Well, whatever it is, I’m glad to see you in such a good mood.”

“Thanks,” Sunghoon said, his voice lighter than it had been in a while. “I’m just... things are starting to make sense.”

As Jake wandered off, Sunghoon turned his attention back to the letters, his heart swelling with a mix of joy and anticipation. The revelation that Ren was Sunny filled him with a new sense of purpose, of excitement for what was to come. He knew things would change now, but he was ready for it.

Sunghoon sat at his deck, his hand steady as he picked up his pen. The familiar purple ink on Sunny’s letter staring back at him as he gently scrolled his pen across the lines of his paper. Every word that came from him came effortlessly. He knew who Sunny was now. But he couldn’t reveal that yet. Not til he found the best way to do it. For now, he wanted to savor this moment, the knowledge that the girl he has been falling for through letters was the same girl who had invaded his life in person.

— — —

Dear Sunny,

It’s hard to put into words how much your last letter had meant to me. Reading your thoughts, feeling the connection between us grow stronger with each letter—it’s been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. To know that you’ve been feeling the same way… it’s a relief, a joy, and honestly… a little overwhelming in th best way possible.

I never imagined that exchanging letters with a stranger would lead to this, but I’m so glad that it did. Your words have a way of reaching deep into my thoughts, of making me feel understood in a way that I’ve never felt before. It’s like you see the world the same way I do, and that’s something I didn’t know I needed until I found it in you.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that snowy night I described to you, the way you said you had painted it—your interpretation of it… I can’t explain the thoughts I have—I feel like I can picture them perfectly. Like I can see it the way you view the world through your art, and it’s a perspective I want to keep exploring and understanding.

I’m not sure how this will all unfold, but I’m not worried about it in the slightest.I just know that I want to keep writing to you, to keep learning about you. It’s exciting to know that someone finally knows me the way I craved to be known, this feeling of knowing that there’s someone out there that gets you in a way that no one else does.

Thank you for sharing your world with me, Sunny. My artist, tell me… how do you picture me in your world? Or… how do you picture us?

Talk to you later—Love, Snow.

— — —

Sunghoon set his pen down and reread his letter, a small smile tugging on his lips. He didn’t have to tell her that he knew just yet. He didn’t know how. For now—he would keep writing, keep enjoying what he had and let things unfold naturally. The relief of knowing that Ren—his Sunny— fell the same way was enough to keep him going, to keep him grounded. He couldn’t wait to see her again, the once conflicted stir in his chest was cohesive and set in stone. He had always had conflicting feelings between Ren and Sunny, but it was like he was seeing her through a different lens, a sharper one that brought all the little things he had noticed before into sharper focus.

Before, he had admired the way Ren’s eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, how her laughter would fill a room and make everything feel lighter. He had already been captivated by the way that she would show up to their study sessions covered in paint, or the way her nose would scrunch when she focused—and when she looked at him… he wondered if she knew. If she felt it too, the connection that seemed to transcended the words on the page and the moments they shared in person.

Sunghoon’s mind raced as he thought about how to navigate this new understanding. Should he tell her? Should he let her know that he had pieced it together? Or should he wait, let things play it out naturally, and see where they lead?

One thing was clear: He couldn’t look at Ren the same way anymore. She was more than the campus crush. She was Sunny, the person who had shared her heart with him in letters, who had made him feel seen in ways that no one else ever had.

— — —

Dear Snow,

I’ve been thinking about your last letter, and I have to admit it made me smile—actually it made my entire day. It’s kind of amazing isn’t it? How we’ve come so close to understanding each other so deeply without ever meeting. How words can feel so much more human than sitting with someone in person, I almost forget that we’re strangers.

You asked me how I think you look in my world, and I keep trying to picture it. The truth is, it’s less. about what I see and more about what I feel. I imagine you with a presence that feels warm and steady, like the way sunlight glows through the trees in early spring. It’s comforting and familiar—like I’ve known you all my life, even though I’ve only met you in these letters. I think if I were to paint you, it wouldn’t be about the details of your face but rather the light you bring into the space around you. It would be soft and golden, with hints of blue—the kind of blue that reflects off the snow in the late evening. It’s calm and inviting despite the cold.

As far as how we would look in my world… I guess we would just fit. I picture us sitting together somewhere like a park, and I could paint the way the sun hits your face just right as the leaves are beginning to fall as the seasons change. I think it would be one of those moments that could last forever, even if they’re just a fleeting glimpse in time.

It’s strange, but I feel like I know how it would feel to be near you—like we’ve done it a thousand times before in some other life. There’s this sense of ease I get when I write to you, like I don't have to hide anything, like you’d understand me without words as ironic as it sounds. I feel like that’s rare, to feel seen, even through words or understood without them.

So, in my world, I suppose we would look like two people who were meant to find each other--two people who fit together in all ways that matter. We’d be the kind of painting that doesn’t need much explanation, where the emotions speak for themselves. And even though I don't know what you look like, I know that whatever it is, it would make sense to me. Because, in a way, I think I’ve already seen you deeper than physical appearance.

Thank you for your words, Snow. They’ve made this world of mine a little brighter. And yes, I think I’ve fallen for them too, in the same way you’ve fallen for mine.

With warmth--Sunny.

— — —

You’re sitting on Sunghoon’s couch, the comfortable cushions sinking slightly under you as you lean back, your fingers rolling the hem of your shirt between them. The air between the two of you is light, filled with the soft hum of conversation and occasional laugh. Sunghoon’s apartment was basically an extension of your own space. You’ve spent enough time here that you know where everything is, from the game controllers to your favorite blanket of Sunghoon’s--it smelled like gardenia and rain, just like his jackets he loaned you from time to time.

Sunghoon’s presence beside you is as steady as ever. He’s scrolling through his phone, looking for something to show you, and you take the opportunity to study him for a moment. You’ve always thought he was attractive, in that quiet, almost intimidating way, but lately… lately, it feels like there’s more to it. More to him.

He catches you looking and smirks, raising an eyebrow. “What, do I have something on my face?”

You shake your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “No, just… zoned out for a second.”

He doesn’t press you, just gives you a small, amused smile before turning back to his phone. You find yourself exhaling a little too deeply, trying to settle your thoughts. It’s been happening more and more—these moments where you catch yourself staring at him, where you notice things you hadn’t before. Like how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or how his lips curl when he’s teasing you. And every time, you can’t help but think about how those letters you exchange with Snow make you feel the same way—warm, seen, understood.

Your thoughts drift to the letter you received just the other day, the one where Snow admitted he was falling for you. The memory of reading his words makes your chest tighten, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. Snow feels like a mystery, a secret that’s almost too perfect to be real. And yet, here you are, with Sunghoon, who makes you feel just as seen, just as understood, but in a completely different way.

You’re not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, you started to feel more than just friendship for Sunghoon. It’s confusing, this duality of feelings, as if your heart is being pulled in two directions—toward the safety of being a mystery to Snow’s and his words and the grounding reality of Sunghoon’s presence.

“Found it,” Sunghoon says, breaking you out of your reverie. He shifts closer to you, holding his phone out so you can see the video he pulled up. His shoulder brushes against yours, and the small contact sends a shiver through you.

You lean in, grateful for the distraction. “What is it?”

“It’s a new anime trailer I thought you’d like. It’s got that dark, moody vibe you’re into,” he says with a slight grin, knowing how much you enjoy that genre.

As the trailer plays, you find yourself relaxing into the moment, your earlier tension fading away. But even as you watch, there’s this underlying current of awareness—of him, of how close he is, of how easy it is to be with him. And yet, there’s this gnawing at the back of your mind, reminding you of the letters, of Snow, of the connection you’ve built with him through words.

As the video finishes, the screen fades to black, leaving only the soft glow of Sunghoon's phone lighting up the space between you. The eerie music still echoes in your ears, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease, lost in the dark, moody aesthetic that’s right up your alley.

“So, what’d you think?” Sunghoon asks, his voice cutting through the silence. He leans back, his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, his eyes still focused on you. There’s something expectant in his gaze, as if he’s waiting for your approval.

You turn your head slightly, offering him a small smile, “It’s cool. You know me too well.”

He chuckles, a low, comfortable sound that makes your chest warm. “Figured as much. It’s got that vibe you’re always talking about—dark, mysterious, a little tragic.”

“Yeah, it’s like they made it just for me,” you reply, though your thoughts are only half in the conversation.

“Isn’t that the same studio that did Death Parade?” Sunghoon asks, keeping the conversation going.

You nod, trying to focus. “Yeah, I think so. They’ve got a knack for the heavy stuff.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, considering your words. “Yeah, that’s what I like about them too, but it’s not all doom and gloom either. There’s always something worth holding on to.”

His words linger in the air, and you can’t help but think of the letters again, of how Snow’s words have that same effect on you—pulling you into the depth of your emotions, but always leaving you with a sense of warmth, of something worth believing in.

“Yeah…” you murmur, your thoughts drifting.”

Sunghoon watches you closely, sensing that your mind is somewhere else. “You’re really into this one, huh?” he asks with a light tone of sarcasm as he shifts beside you, the couch dipping you two to lean against one another.

You blink, realizing you’ve been staring off into space. “Sorry, I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been kinda…” Sunghoon gestured to the air, “elsewhere. You okay?”

His concern tugs at your heart, making you feel a little guilty for not being fully present. You force a smile, trying to shake off the thoughts that have been clouding your mind. “I’m fine. Just thinking about some stuff.”

He leans a little closer, his eyes searching yours. “Anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitate, the words on the tip of your tongue. Part of you wants to spill everything—to tell him about Snow, about the letters, about how you’re feeling so torn between this mysterious pen pal who seems to understand you so well and the boy sitting right next to you who makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. But then you swallow the urge, forcing it down.

“It’s just… school stuff,” you say, brushing it off. “You know how it is—assignments piling up, finals coming up soon, and I’m not sure if I’m happy with my final art project yet…”

He nods, though you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah, it can be a lot. But hey, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You’ll get through it.”

His words bring a small smile to your lips, but there’s still that lingering feeling of unease. You glance back at the phone in his hand, trying to redirect the conversation. “What about you? You’re usually not into this kind of stuff—dark themes, I mean.”

Sunghoon shrugs, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, I’ve got layers, you know. I’m not just into sports anime and shounen.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Really? Since when?”

“Since now,” he quips back, his grin widening. “Besides, it’s good to try new things. I figured I’d give it a shot since it’s something you’d be into.”

His words make your heart skip a beat, the casual way he says it makes you feel strangely flattered. You’re about to respond, but the thought of Snow creeps back in, making you hesitate. Snow would probably understand exactly why you’re so drawn to dark, introspective anime. He’d get it on a deeper level, and would probably write you a whole letter about it, dissecting the themes and characters with that poetic flair of his.

But then there’s Sunghoon, who’s here with you, in the moment, making an effort to connect with you in his own way--it’s real. He shows you effort in a way that reminds you that he’s not a stranger hidden behind ink, he brings you your coffee the way you like it when you study, and knows your schedule well enough to make sure you’d eaten properly and sends you a goodnight text right as you’re brushing your teeth… and that’s what makes it so confusing.

“Thanks,” you finally say, your voice softer. “For, you know… taking an interest in something I like.”

Sunghoon’s smile turns more genuine, less teasing. “Of course. It’s not just about what I like—it’s about finding common ground. I want to understand what makes you tick, too.”

His words make your chest tighten in that familiar, confusing way, and you find yourself looking down at your hands, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re good at that,” you murmur.

“At what?”

“At… making me feel understood,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, and you can feel the warmth of his attention on you. “That’s because I’m trying, Ren. You’re… important to me.”

Sunghoon's expression softens, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper, more serious. When you tell him he’s good at making you feel understood, his gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the anime playing on the screen, the hum of the apartment, even the confusion in your own mind.

There’s a silence between you, heavy and charged, as if the air itself is holding its breath. You can’t look away from him, from the way his dark eyes seem to see right through you, cutting through the layers of uncertainty and doubt. The way he’s looking at you right now, it’s like he’s searching for something—something he’s not sure he’s allowed to find.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a rapid thrum that you’re sure he can hear. You’ve known Sunghoon for a while now, and you’ve always been comfortable around him, but this… this is different. The way he’s looking at you isn’t just friendly or affectionate—it’s something more, something you’ve never really let yourself acknowledge until now.

You’ve always noticed how attractive Sunghoon is, of course—how could you not? With his sharp features, his intense eyes, and that quiet confidence that seems to draw people in without him even trying. But now, as you sit here with him, your knees nearly touching, you realize just how deep your feelings for him go. It’s not just that he’s handsome or kind or that he makes you laugh. It’s that he gets you, in a way that no one else has ever really managed to.

You’re frozen in place, lost in his gaze, you feel a pull—a magnetic force drawing you closer to him, like the universe itself is pushing you together. You see his eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a second, before returning to yours. It’s such a small movement, but it sends a shockwave through your entire body, making you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something that you can’t take back.

He leans in, just slightly, testing the waters. Your breath catches, and your body betrays you, swaying forward, wanting to close the gap between you. It feels natural, like this is something you’ve both been building toward without even realizing it. His eyes search yours for any hesitation, any sign that you might pull away. But you don’t, because part of you doesn’t want to. Part of you wants nothing more than to close the distance, to feel his lips against yours, to finally give in to the feelings that have been building up inside you.

But just as his face is inches from yours, your mind snaps back to reality. Snow. The letters. The way you’ve poured your heart out to him, confessed your feelings, and felt so deeply connected to this person you’ve never even met. If you let Sunghoon kiss you now, what would that mean? Would it be betraying Snow? Or would it be betraying yourself, the part of you that’s been holding onto the hope that your connection with Snow is something real, something worth protecting?

Your heart twists painfully at the thought, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you pull back, just slightly. It’s enough to make Sunghoon pause, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“Ren…?” His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to break eye contact as slight fear overcomes your whole body. “I—I can’t.”

He leans back, giving you the space you suddenly feel like you desperately need. “I sorry—that’s… my fault—”

“No,” you quickly assure him, your voice trembling. “No, don’t be sorry, you’re perfect and I care about you. It’s just… I’m sorry, Hoon. I just… I can’t right now.”

He nods slowly, clearly trying to understand. “It’s okay, Ren. You don’t have to explain.”

But you feel like you owe him something, some kind of explanation, even if you can’t tell him the whole truth. “It’s just… There's a lot going on in my head right now. Things I need to figure out.”

For a moment he looks panicked, then his expression softens even more, and he gives you a small, understanding smile, “I get it. I didn’t mean to-- freak you out. I’m still here when you figure things out.”

You nod, grateful for his patience, but it doesn’t make the ache in your chest any less painful. The truth is, things are already complicated, and now they’re even more so. Because now, not only are you caught between your feelings for Snow and Sunghoon, but you’re also dealing with the guilt of almost letting yourself fall for someone else when you’ve already given a part of yourself to someone else entirely.

The silence between you stretches on, and you force yourself to meet his gaze again, trying to smile, even though it feels weak and forced. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For understanding.”

Sunghoon just nods, his smile warm but tinged with something that looks like disappointment.

You both sit there for a moment longer, the tension slowly fading, but the awkwardness lingering. Eventually, you force yourself to stand, needing to put some distance between you before you do something you’ll regret.

“I think I should go,” you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “I… I need some time to think.”

Sunghoon stands as well, and though he doesn’t say anything, you can see the concern in his eyes. He walks you to the door, and as you step outside, the cool evening air hits your face, grounding you.

“Take care, Ren,” he says quietly, and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt as you nod and walk away, your mind still spinning with the realization that you’re now more torn than ever.

You practically flee down the hallway, trying to ignore the way your heart aches at the thought of what almost happened—and what didn’t. You feel a confusing mix of relief and regret, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about how close you were to crossing that line, how close you were to giving in to the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to keep at bay.

Sunghoon watches as you practically flee his apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. His heart, which had been racing just moments ago, now feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest for an entirely different reason.

“What the hell was I thinking?” Sunghoon mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he paces the small space of his living room.

Sunghoon stood frozen in the middle of his living room, his heart still racing from the near-kiss with you. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, panic tightening in his chest as he replayed the moment over and over in his head.

How could he have been so stupid? He’d almost kissed you. Almost crossed that line without thinking. But you didn’t know—she didn’t know that he was Snow. The guy she’d been falling for over letters. The guy she poured her heart out to, thinking he was a stranger.

And he almost kissed her.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. What was he thinking? He knew better than this. He knew what it would mean if he let things go too far with Ren without telling her the truth. But in that moment, when she was so close, looking at him with those wide, beautiful eyes, all he could think about was how much he wanted to close the gap between them. How much he wanted to feel her lips against his, to finally act on the feelings that had been building up inside him for weeks.

He hadn’t thought about the consequences. He hadn’t thought about how she might react if she found out the truth afterward—how she might feel betrayed or manipulated. No, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

The door to the apartment swung open, and Jake walked in, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Bro, what the hell? Ren just bolted out of here like the place was on fire. What happened?”

Sunghoon took a deep breath, the words heavy on his tongue. “Ren… she’s Sunny.”

Jake blinked, clearly not processing what he’d just heard. “What?”

“Sunny,” Sunghoon repeated, his voice more urgent now. “The girl I’ve been writing to, the one I’ve been falling for in the letters. It’s Ren. She’s Sunny.”

Jake’s eyes widened in realization, his jaw dropping slightly. “Wait… what? Holy shit, man. Does she know?”

Sunghoon shook his head, frustration and panic flaring up again. “No, she has no idea. And I almost kissed her just now, Jake. I almost kissed her, completely forgetting that she doesn't know that I know she loves me—Snow.”

Jake let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn, bro. That’s… that’s some serious shit.”

Sunghoon dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been trying to keep it together, trying to figure out the right time to tell her, but I fucked it up. I didn’t think, and now I don’t know what to do.”

Jake sat down next to him, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. “Okay, okay. Let’s think about this. She doesn’t know you’re Snow, right? So she probably doesn’t suspect that you know she’s Sunny. She’s probably just freaked out because you almost kissed her, not because of the letters.”

“Yeah, but that’s the problem,” Sunghoon said, lifting his head to look at Jake, his expression pained. “She’s falling for Snow. And I’m falling for her, but she doesn’t know it’s me. What if she finds out and feels betrayed? What if she hates me for not telling her sooner?”

Jake sighed, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a tough one, man. But honestly, you need to tell her. Sooner rather than later. You can’t keep it a secret forever, especially not if you’re already this deep in.”

Sunghoon nodded, knowing Jake was right, but the thought of confessing everything to Ren made his stomach churn. He’d always been good at keeping his emotions in check, at playing it cool, but this… this was different. Ren was different.

“I just don’t want to lose her, Jake,” he admitted quietly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising even himself. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

— — —

My Sunny,

Your last letter was heartwarming, like a blanket and a warm cup of coffee. I was touched by how you described your vision of the snowy night I wrote about. It’s as if your brush captured the essence of my words perfectly, making me feel as though I was walking through your painting myself.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said—how you see the two of us in your world. It’s fascinating to me, the way you imagine our lives intertwining through your art. Sometimes, I wonder if our paths have ever crossed in real life, if there was a moment when we were so close to meeting that we almost brushed past each other without even realizing it. Do you think that’s possible?

And if we had met face-to-face, do you think you would recognize me? Would you know it was me, even without being told? Or would you be surprised, perhaps even disappointed, when you finally found out who I am? I can’t help but wonder how you would feel if you knew who I was in person. It’s strange, isn’t it? This mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

I hope my curiosity doesn’t come off as intrusive or unsettling. I just find myself increasingly intrigued by the thought of us potentially meeting, and what that might mean for us. The connection I feel with you through our letters is so profound, and I often think about what it would be like to extend that connection into the real world.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts, Sunny. Your words have become a cherished part of my days, and I’m eager to know how you envision this unfolding.

Yours, always. -- Snow.

— — —

You were sitting across from Callie at your favorite little café, picking at your sandwich. The hum of conversation around you fills the space, but you’re not adding to it. Callie was seated across from you, staring at you with a raised brow and a shake of her head.

”Either stop thinking so hard or tell me what you’re thinking about,” Callie finally asks, her tone flat and matter of fact as she eats her food, “essay? Comp? Your cute little snowflake of a pen pal? Your broody boyfriend?”

You looked up at her before rolling your eyes, your head still hung as you sigh. You sit back against the chair and press your lips together as you blink and shake your head.

Just rip it off like a bandaid, Ren— “I almost kissed Sunghoon.”

Callie freezes, halfway to biting through her sandwich, “I’m sorry, you what?”

”I almost kissed Hoon,” You repeat with a shrug and an incredulous laugh, saying it like if you didn’t believe it, it wasn’t real..

Callie’s eyes widen, and she puts her food down to lean closer to you over the table as if she might miss something if she doesn’t, “Beloved, you cant just drop a fucking bomb like that and not give me details—I’m a nosy bitch—What happened and why almost?”

You feel your face warm as the horrific memory floods back, “It just… happened. We were just hanging out and he was showing me some trailer for a new show. We were joking around, and then things got kind of quiet. We were just looking at each other, and he started to lean in, and I almost let him but—“

“Not the ‘but’—“ Callie groaned out, her arms falling dramatically against the table.

”I backed out. I couldn’t kiss Hoon when I had already admitted feelings to Snow. The letters, the confession, all of it. I felt like I was betraying Snow if I kissed him.”

Callie blinks at you, trying to process everything you said, “Wait, wait, wait, You’re telling me that you almost kissed Sunghoon, but you didn’t because of some anonymous guy you’ve been writing letters to?”

You nod, feeling a bit ridiculous as she says it out loud.

Callie stares at you for a moment longer before throwing her head back in laughter, “Ren, seriously what did I tell you about this turning into a Rom-Com? It was literally fate that you stumbled into Sunghoon, and on top of that, you’ve got this mystery love interest.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands, “I know, it’s a fucking mess. But I can’t help it. Snow gets me in a way that feels transparent, and I’m scared that if I kiss the one who’s made me feel warm and safe and seen, I’d be betraying that connection I had built from scratch.”

Callie takes a deep breath, a wide grin on her face, “Okay, but hear me out. What if—and this is a massive what if—what if Snow is Sunghoon?”

”No��They aren’t even alike,“ You immediately shut down. There was no way those two were the same person. Snow was always so eloquently spoken and put together, and Sunghoon would wander off alone like a toddler if you didn’t keep an eye on him.

”Aren’t they?” Callie says an octave higher and a scrunchedb face, “You’ve only been reading letters from Snow, you’ve never met him. The broody type spend a lot of time in their head, and you’ve never read anything he’s written.”

The idea seems actually insane, but for a brief second, you let yourself imagine it. You shake your head, pushing the thought away, “No, they can’t be. Hoon is… just Hoon, you know? Sure he’s cute and attentive, and… he’s got the most perfect teeth and smile? He’s funny and he’s interested in my interests, and—UGH! No, I cant keep doing this…”

Callie is starting at you unamused as you ramble on, “Maybe. But you don't think it’s worth figuring out who what you really want? I mean, you cant keep torturing yourself like this.”

You sigh, nodding, “You’re right. I just…I don't know what to do about it.”

”I say kiss Hoon, see if it sparks anything, you’ll have an answer regardless if it does or doesn’t,” Callie says with an obvious tone.

”You are actually insane.” You say with a laugh and a scoff.

She puts her hands up in mock defense, “I’m just throwing it out there! But you gotta figure something out, Ren. You don't have a lead in either direction, and if both boys take interest in you, you’re leading the one on. So it’s time to choose.”

— — —

You sit at your desk, the soft glow of your desk lamp casting a warm circle of light over your sketchbook. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the scratch of your pencil against the paper. You’ve been drawing for what feels like hours, your hand moving almost on autopilot as your thoughts whirl around inside your head.

Sunghoon’s face slowly takes shape on the page. You capture the sharpness of his jawline, the wya his hair falls over his eyes, the dark brown ones that seem to see right though you, and that mall rare smile that has a way of making your heart beat faster. You pencil lingers on his lips for a moment, remembering how close they were to yours just a few nights ago,

You couldn’t wipe the way your heart pounded in your ears, or the way his eyes seemed to soften as he leaned in, like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time. He looked at you as if life made perfect sense with you beside him. You almost let him kiss you. You wanted to let him kiss you. But your mind had other plans, the letter that was in your pocket that night pulled you back.

You glance at the previously mentioned letter, the neat stack of papers written to you for the entirety of this semester. You can almost hear his voice in your head, the way he writes to you like he’s known you forever, like he understands every part of you. It’s like he’s a piece of your soul that you never met. And he’s right here on campus, somewhere.

But as you smudge the graphite across Hoon’s lips, you cant help but groan out. Hoon, who has become such a constant presence in your life, who makes you laugh and actively shows his interest in your words and actions. Hoon, who makes you feel seen in a beneath the surface kind of way that no one else had done before… except maybe Snow.

You scoff and drop your pencil onto the desk as you lean back in your chair, slouching in defeat. Callie was right. She was always right. You were torturing yourself and baby proxy Hoon and Snow. You have to find some way to choose—but how was that supposed to be easy when you have to pick between someone whose words have infiltrated your every waking thought and someone who has taken up every physical waking moment of your day.

This is fucking ridiculous. Who has ever landed themselves in such a romance-novel-esque situation like this. You card your fingers through your hair, frustration bubbling up inside your chest. What if Snow is nothing like you had imagined? What if you built him up onto a pedestal, only to be disappointed when you finally meet? What if you disappoint him? But then… what if he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve wasted all this time by not putting in the effort to ask who he was?

Your eyes look into the eyes you had drawn and then to the most recent signature you had received from Snow.

Yours always.

Snow had mentioned the possibility have having already crossed paths, wondering if you would recognize him without being told. You feel a pang of guilt, thinking about how you’ve been with Hoon. If you let yourself get closer to him, how would snow feel if he knew? If Snow turned out to be someone you know, someone who has seen you with Sunghoon, would he be hurt? Betrayed?

You close your eyes and look up at the ceiling as you sigh, “I have to know who you are,” you say, the weight on your chest feeling heavier as you made a decision.

But even as you concede to Snow, your hand betrays you. You trade your pencil for an ink pen, deepening the details of Hoon’s face. They freckle on his nose, the other by his eye, the tear stain on his outer corners of his eyes, the gaze the same one he gave you before he leaned in. It’s almost like your heart is trying to tell you something your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

When you push the finished sketch away, you can’t help but feel worse now that you’ve decided to pursue Snow. The image on the page looking at you like he’d never see anyone the same way he sees you, and your chest tightens when you realize how deeply you had fallen for him. But you know you cant move on with Hoon if you don't know the truth about Snow.

You grab a notebook and the recent letter from Snow, skimming it again, reading between the lines and admiring the silly little snowflakes and penguins drawn in the margins. It’s time to just ask—you owe it to yourself, and to Sunghoon, because if you don't know… you could lose him for good.

— — —

My Snow.

Your letter left me with a restlessness I can’t quite shake. I can’t stop thinking about the longing I have to put your words to a face. I need to know who you are. The connection we’ve built through letters is so profound, yet it feels incomplete without the reality of who you are standing before me.

I’ve been working on the painting of the snowy night you described. It’s become a consuming obsession, almost desperate. Every brushstroke is infused with the hope that one day I can show it to you, that you’ll see the scene through my eyes. The thought of sharing this piece of my heart with you keeps me awake at night. I find myself unable to rest, yearning for the day when the painting and the person behind the words can finally come together.

I need to meet you. I need to see the person who has so deeply affected my world through your writing. The anticipation of it is almost overwhelming, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to finally bridge the gap between the beautiful imagery of your letters and the reality of you.

Please. I need to see you, to understand the person behind the words, to feel the full depth of the connection we’ve created.

Love, Sunny

— — —

ending note —

I LEFT U ALL ON A CLIFF HANGER AND DISAPPEARED FOR A WEEK—THATS MY BAD !! I’ll try to get more of this written and pumped out within the week. I think there’s about two or three parts left depending on my cute little noggin and its poor ability to stick to my outline.

i love you all and thank you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

[velichorus-k]

Ranting about animation and gushing about trolls under the cut. Dont mind me I love sharing opinions nobody asked for on the internet

We all talk about the 'spiderverse artstyle/clones' blah blah I won't get into how much I hate that term. But while we're on the unique animation bandwagon. I think what Disney got so so wrong with Wish (haven't seen it yet, just speaking of the artstyle) is like, yeah, they were clearly going for 'storybook' in some aspects, but rather than make it more textured-- like, I would expect pastels and watercolours for something along those lines-- maybe even something reminiscent of the hella-lined-and-textured ink illustrations that appear in classic fairytale collections like Andrew Lang's Fairy Books-- they make everything feel flat, with a blend of 2d and 3d that... doesn't really work. They were so close to GETTING it, to making an artstyle that fit their story, but this is the only movie in the recent age where I feel 'spider-verse clone' COULD (not would, could) fit; they didn't quite get it. The only thing I really love from what I've seen is that some of the plants have like? A pop-up storybook effect?? That's enough about that. I do love the masterful compositions of Spider-verse, but in terms of actual art, TMNT takes the cake for me in the 'animation revolution' sphere. The grime and grit of New York sewerboys! The comic-book and hand-drawn feel! Beautiful, and a perfect artstyle for the turtles. Puss in Boots didn't capture my attention quite as much artstyle-wise (though the art was gorgeous, still), but it still does have that painted feel they were going for and that fits storybook characters (cough cough, Wish). I bring this all up because of my most recent 'unique animation' obsession, Trolls. Surprise! Another excellent example of an artstyle that upholds the overall feel of its story. I noticed this in the first movie, but I only really started to look closely after now seeing the sequels, so excuse me while I gush a bit. Immediate love for letting Poppy, a very girly character, have small eyes and a big nose rather than the typical babyface look of female disney protags. Though, Dreamworks was always better about this. I love the fuzz and crochet textures on everything. Even the little earrings on the pop trolls, something you might expect to have a metal or plastic texture, has fuzz on it! The water that floods Rhonda in the third movie is made up of those little plastic orb things (the name escapes me)! They all look like they're made out of felt, which is absolutely perfect for the scrapbooking/toy theme they've got going on. They're little creatures! And we get to see a whole bunch of different textures when we see the other species in the sequels. I want to stare at the textures all day. UGH SO GOOD

[wojtekaneko]

kyaaa giving you like 17 double high fives in a row isn't canis absolutely gorgeous

Yeahh it is!!!!!!! The lines are so pretty and flow-y! >:] and the panel composition is just amazing! I have so many favourite panels from this manga! (I'm using my copies as examples, it's not going to be of great quality)

Love those mirroring back shots! And oh the way Zakk draws smoke?!?! Beautiful!!!

One of my favourite scenes and probably the most memorable in the story for me is the fashion show one. The paneling and usage of halftones and inking are just chefs kiss!!! Gorgeous

This has turned into Canis art appreciation post xdd I just really love the art style and I'm so happy to yap about it here hehe!

[galacticcosmologist]

TG: save me doomed yuri. save me

CC: i t)(ink id be )(appier if my boobs were replaced wit)( small and friendly s)(arks

GC: WHO W4NTS TO G3T TR4PP3D 1N 4 N4RR4T1V3 W1TH M3. 1T DO3S H4V3 TO B3 W31RD

CA: (13 consecutivve reblogs of fanart of a podcast ivve nevver listened to)

EB: hey check out this insane piano composition youll be zonked out of your gourd

AC: :33 < (insanely detailed and vibrant art) drew this in the bathtub lol

TG: what if wolverines invented religion. they could make vehicles out of abandoned shopping carts

AT: i LOVE MY BLORBOS, wHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE MY OCS, fROM MY BRAIN

GG: theres something so beautiful aboutmaking fun animal noises. BARKBARKBARK AWOOOOO

CG: (SCREENSHOTS OF A STRAIGHT COUPLE) THEYRE LESBIANS TO ME. THEYRE DOOMED YURI. DO YOU SEE MY VISION

AG: I love violence. Women who love violence, hmu.

TA: the iibm 2y2tem/360 ha2 an almo2t 2exual qualiity iif ii'm beiing hone2t

TT: (art that could easily be seen displayed in a museum as a work of a fine master) its the yaoi

GG: My idiot cat ate my entire fucking cake??? (# He's ok!)

GT: Oh hatsune miku we're really in it now

AA: (image 0f a character wh0 has killed th0usands and injured many m0re) shes like a s0pping wet pathetic cat t0 me

CT: D--> I think I huave autism

TC: (tHe sAmE CrYpTiC MeMe rEbLoGgEd 50 TiMeS, iNtErSpErSiNg wItH ThE ReSt oF ThE DaSh)

GA: For Vampires Drinking Blood Is Like A Sluttier Version Of Eating Pussy Especially If Its Gay

TT: (responding to an incredibly vague and mysterious ask with no context) Hello ectoBiologist. I know it's you.

[rad-roche]

been on a mike mignola kick as of late, and enjoying a lot of beautiful midcentury magazine art. i'd like to borrow from both, so i'm going to try out those krita ink brushes from the other day. i might do the huge slab of colour, i might not, but i want to give those really dramatic inky compositions a try, they seem so suited tonally to my thing. i've been doing some thumbnailing

[doingstufftime]

The blue moon filled Smarfy’s entire vision with its ethereal light. She blinked, still in disbelief of herself being here. The ‘Picture CapturerTM’ - as she had dubbed her creation, was working perfectly as expected. She had so many ‘captures’ of various different angles and locations of the moon. Soon, when she travels there, she’ll have a lot of material to make the first map - unless the Moon people have already made one. Or she could sell the ‘captures’ to people that never got to see the blue moon - which was her whole village, if she wasn’t mistaken. Either way, she had some sick compositions and had achieved a large part of her goals.

Going immediately up here, in one of the furthest and tallest rooms in the castle, had turned out to be a great idea. Smarfy hadn’t seen anyone else wander this far, which was ideal. Largely in part to the fact she’d never been invited, but also any distractions would be annoying when she was so focused on this. Smarfy scanned her collection of captures one more time. Is this enough? She thought. Then sighed, and prepared another piece of card.

Speaking of distractions - she had tried to ignore it, but now that she was nearly done, Smarfy was realizing how hungry she was. Perhaps not eating for two days before this ball out of anxiety hadn’t been a good idea. Perhaps. 

But now she had to deal with the fallout, and her stomach was not happy with her decision making. Smarfy wished she could just tell it to wait until she snuck to her hideout, but stomachs apparently didn’t listen to common sense. It didn’t help that they were clearly eating down there, because the smell was entrancingly good and seriously, why was this ball so fancy? To be fair, it was working in her favor, but it also kinda wasn’t at all.

Smarfy bounces on the balls of her feet, cursing herself for even thinking about this. Now she was imagining all the different kinds of food that must be there, better than her own musty crusty bread and plarefruit. Maybe even better than her mother’s food, which was surprisingly easy to imagine when she could smell it, no offense to her mum. 

Finally, the capture was completed, and she carefully takes it out of the device, making sure the ink has completely dried out. A little moon just there, in her hand. Beautiful, she thought, placing it in a pile of 16 other identical photos. She had at least 10 of every angle. 

Okay, maybe this is enough.

And then the forbidden thought.

Should I take some food as well?

____

Sometime between her last thought and this one she must’ve blacked out, because all of a sudden she was standing at the far door of the feast hall, staring at the sheer amount of food piled onto the tables. Tables that looked like they were made out of gold. 

She barely even noticed as she stepped closer, staring at all the beautiful platters, with mouthwateringly roasted porknuffs, patneys, and even beantans. Salads, snack trays, sauces, wines, beers, breads, other things. Smarfy can only recognise about 10% of the food, the rest a wonderful mystery. A potential investigation.

Smarfy feels like a mouse about to eat the cheese from a mousetrap. She needs to leave, because if she stays too long she’ll bring too much attention to herself and reveal the fact she wasn’t invited. Her dress, her stature, it all looked out of place here. Thankfully she’d hidden the Picture CaptureTM safe outside beside her exit, so it wasn’t like she had a suspiciously large bag to make her stand out even more. Still, it was bad. And she was tempted. Really tempted.

She glances around at the people surrounding her. There were 5 musicians with various instruments Smarfy couldn’t recognise playing pleasant music in the corner. So many people in fancy clothes. A lot looked already drunk or tipsy. Some were dancing in the dancing area in the middle of the hall, others engaging in conversations. Others alone like her. 

One caught her eye, the person's eyes momentarily flashing with recognition before they looked away. Suspicion narrowed Smarfy’s eyes. Had they seen her on the tower? When she was sneaking on? Sometime before that?

Smarfy decided it was probably fine. She was not panicking at all. Nuh uh.

____

In the end, Smarfy had stuffed her purse with various random foods, not even bothering to be discreet except for making sure nobody was looking. Hopefully they really hadn’t. 

Then she had downed at least three shots of straight vodka because she could (and the anxiety was kind of getting to her again,) almost throwing them up straight after because of the foul taste. Finally, after that, she left. 

…To the bathroom.

What am I doing? Smarfy thought, her hands shaking as she washed her hands. She made a delayed flinch as a person seemingly dropped right beside her out of nowhere.

“Tsup. Lit ball, aint it?” the person - a woman in her 20s slurred.

What is this? A college party? Why are we calling it “lit”?

“I s'pose,” Smarfy answered. Her tongue felt like an uncooperative wet sponge.

“Lit,” the woman said.

Smarfy dragged her hand through her hair and sighed.

_______

AN: Smarfy's not really having a good time, but at least she likes the food? I've found through trial and error that the easiest way for me to write something is making it less serious, so that's why it's kinda funky. ╭( ๐_๐)╮

[medeaft]

Vision of Shaman Das (originally: Das, a sámán látomása) 2024 Acrylic on paper, ink on paper, digital composite

Wizardry 8 fanart this time. I went about it in a very strange way, because I wanted it to look visibly intangible.

So this is Shaman Das, traversing the Seventh Bough of Trynton in a vision. I think his mask is really cool, and he is definitely my favourite Wizardry 8 character, ever since the time I first heard his voice from the riddle fountain. Maybe I just have a thing about mysterious keepers of secrets and arcane knowledge who live in weird and beautiful places.

I don't think we ever see him walk in-game, and so we don't know if (aside from a symbol of power) his staff is also a mobility aid or not; I have always had the impression that he leans on it, and so I have always imagined it probably is.

I do want to paint him more. Trynnies in general perhaps (including ones who have their heads visible, so we can see their round shiny eyes), because they are just really cute beings both in appearance and in personality. But him in particular.

[druidx]

Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 25

CW: None AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster @mr-orion

Room 23 is a basic meeting room, one level up. There's nothing particularly remarkable about it, except it's where Elo tucks herself away when they are struggling with a case. Maybe it's the smooth chalkboard or the windows that catch a lot of morning light. It could be the big table in the middle of the room that is perfect for laying out her thoughts. Whatever the reason, it feels like a home-away-from-home as she walks in.

From the shelves in the corner, Elo takes a recording device, slots in a new cassette tape and hits 'record'. As she prepares her workspace, she explains the details of the case in a penetrating and measured tone. "Detective Sarg– Lieutenant Elowyn O'Toreguarde, Special Cases, recording observations on examination of new evidence for the Evelyn Strucker murder, case number 1-2,1-1, 2-0, 1-7." She snaps on the gloves, lays out the towel and, with care, pulls out the book and the cloth. "Evidence being recorded is a book of some kind. It was delivered sometime last night by an acquaintance of my Confidential Informant on this case. The cloth is a maroon colour, although it's still damp. My CI said that the book may be a key part of why the victim was killed, as my CI alleges it was on the same scuppered barge as she was. Quite how it has been retrieved, I don't know. It does not appear very water damaged, so one assumes it was kept somewhere water-tight." Elo picks the tome up, examining the cover and spine, and continues, "It appears to be hand-bound in a type of red stained leather, rather like that case from a few years ago with the Kurtulmak worshipper and his homemade text of human skin. Once my initial observations are complete, the book will be passed to our forensic tech, Candice Green, for her analysis." Elo pauses and regards the thing in her hands. "Cuthbert's Scales, I hope this one isn't human skin too."

With a small shudder, she places the book back on the towel. "The cover is tooled with strange lettering vertically down each side, and in the center is a tree reminiscent of the Wiccan 'as above, so below' image. That is, the top half is in the full flush of summer, but the bottom is bare branches, indistinguishable from roots. It's really quite beautiful," she adds reverently, smoothing her hand over the cover. Elo grips the cover, bracing herself as she opens the book. Only the front page greets her. Her sharp-gasped breath is slowly released. Flipping over a few more pages, she continues her narration, "While the pages are damp, they're not sticking together, nor is the ink running. They're made from a coarse material, quite unlike paper. Ms Green will be able to confirm their exact composition. "Many of the pages seem to be filled with text in the same style as the front cover, following a vertical pattern, such as in Oriental writings, and are interspersed with crude drawings of plants and creatures, perhaps mythological in nature." She flicks a few more pages. "The whole book seems to be written in the same language. It's a unique writing style… Makes me think a little of the sway of rain falling down a window pane." Elo blinks as the text swims in her vision. For a moment, there is a strange kind of recognition, as one might get trying to read German; sharing the Latin alphabet and the same linguistic root as English, the false friends are inviting. She feels like if she had enough time and space, she could intuit how to read the poetic, dancing words. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. Gods, she needs another cup of coffee.

To distract herself, Elo flips to the center of the book. "Ah, now this is interesting. The center spread of the book contains a double-wide illustration of a wolf, displaying a use of perspective which is not present elsewhere thus far. It's depicted face-on, standing aside two coloured islands – one purple and one green. The wolf is black and grey, and its eyes are two different colours also – one pale blue and the other yellow." Hoping to find some hidden clues to explain… well, everything, Elo leans forward to examine the picture. The wolf twitches its head and winks at her.

Elo yelps and falls back, shaking her head to clear the spinning in her vision. "My observations must pause for a moment," she says. "An injury sustained previously seems to be affecting my… vision. I'm going to crack a window and get some air…" She doesn't pause the recording – it is enough to state what she is doing – as she cracks a window open, taking a breath of cool air. It helps for a moment, but as she returns, she is overcome with a wave of dizziness and a sick, lurching feeling, as though she has taken a corner too hard on her motorbike. She immediately sinks to one knee – because it is always better to jump than fall – and stays like that for a moment. When she feels able, Elo stands and reaches to sit on a chair. Another wave of dizziness hits, and she feels nauseous. Despite the blazing spring day outside, the room is getting darker and she feels cold in her chest. She hunches over, clutching her head, trying to draw a breath, to keep herself warm. "Hey, Bug? It's gone a lot longer than– Elo!" Then the darkness is receding, rushing away from her. Warmth returns to her core as he holds her, and she uncurls to give Farren a shaky smile. "I'm fine," she warbles. "You are not fine. Gods, I can't leave you alone at all, can I?" Elo takes a deep breath, gently pulling away from where Farren still has an arm around her shoulders as he kneels in front of the chair. "I'm okay, really. I just got a little overwhelmed for a moment." "You're ice cold," he points out. "Elowyn, go home. Get some rest." "I can't," she says, a stubborn frown pulling at her brow and lips. "I have work to do." "You'll get nothing done at all if you work yourself into a pit now." "Brek, I know my limits. I haven't had enough coffee today, is all. Please, stop worrying over me." Farren sighs heavily. "But Bug, who else is gonna do it? Despite what you keep saying, you never look like you know when to stop. You don't worry about yourself, you never have, which leaves me to pick up the slack." She stares at him, mouth agape. She'd never thought of it like that. "I must be such a burden to you," she whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. "No," he says, cross. "You are not a burden. But, just for once, maybe accept that there's the possibility you can't do it all? You haven't quite been yourself since we were given the Strucker case." Elo blinks. Now she thinks about it, she has to admit he's right. Between the case, the King, and the Fairy Stories running around her city, she has felt a touch pushed. It's made the odd dream-like quality of her life more pronounced. "A little longer," she says. "Give me a little longer. I'll take it easier. I'll focus on His Majesty's sight-seeing and leave the case to you and… the team. And I won't go off hunting dragons on my own." She isn't quite sure why she said that last part, but it gets the message across. Farren gives a reluctant nod. "Alright, Bug. That's fair. But the moment you need to stop, you tell me. You know I've got your back on this?" "Yes. Thank you." "Good." Farren nods to where the book still lies open on the table. "What d'you want to do about that?" "Oh, crap! The recording!"

She stands too quickly, gets a wave of dizziness for her trouble. But it feels more like a blood rush than whatever happened before, and subsides quickly. She reaches over to switch the recording device off and pops out the magnetic tape. With a flush rising to her cheeks, Elo waves it at Farren and slides it into the case. "I'm afraid," Elo says with an apologetic wince, "your declarations of worry and the affirmations of my stubbornness are now part of the chain of evidence." He grins. "Both those things are already a matter of public record. I hardly think one little recording is going to make much difference." She gives him a wane smile. "Did Candy get a hold of that professor yet?" "Yeah, but last I heard there was some argument about a consultation fee, so he hasn't been by yet." "Hm. I think the text in the book matches the one on the artefact, so he'd better take a look at both. I also want her to evaluate what this thing's made of. And if it's anything other than normal materials, tell her to stick it in a report because I'm not sure I want to know." "Worried it's human leather?" Elo gives him a tired, pensive look. With a grin, he says, "You got it, Bug." Elo slides the book and cloth back into the evidence baggy, laying the cassette on top. "And it should go without saying it needs to live in the safe as well." "Roger that." Farren gathers the evidence and towel. "Might wanna warn Candy what's on the tape, so she doesn't get–" What – embarrassed? Psh, says the little voice, Farren isn't wrong: the whole precinct is well aware already. "…surprised." At that, her partner just grins. As they walk downstairs, Farren says, "Since Irvine is the only one who can operate the copy machine, I sent him to make duplicates of our interim report. Cap said the Acting Magister needed to be kept in the loop, as well as the General." "Thanks." Elo is grateful for all the work he and Cobbleskater have been putting in during her absence, she is. But it feels weird, this giving orders, hardly doing any real police work. Then they are in the ground floor stairwell. "I'll run this down to Candy," Farren says.

Elo nods absently as he trundles off, whistling some pop song. She wonders if this is what it'll be like from now on. She isn't sure she likes it. Despite what Fugit said about the City needing her, it feels less and less true. Like she can stand back, take a breath – and won't be missed all the while. The thought leaves her feeling cold. "Yo, O'Toreguarde, you forget where your desk is?" Elo blinks. Hughes is walking backwards on his way to the gym with Komens. "Ah, leave her alone," Komens rumbles, smacking his partner with his towel. "She's been away with the fairies a lot." Hughes snorts. Elo sighs – because if nothing else, it's accurate. Komens looks back at her as he passes through the doorway. "Keep your head up, kid." Elo gives a tired smile. "Trying my best."

Back at her desk, Elo finds a Manilla file folder containing three sheets of paper filled with Cobbleskater's neat handwriting. "Ah, Lieutenant?" The man himself materialises at her elbow. "I rather stuck my foot in it, didn't I? About your promotion." "Yes, you did." Cobbleskater heaves a sigh. "I would like to apologise for that." "Accepted. You weren't aware he hadn't yet been told, so your first mistake was forgivable. However, you must be more observant. The way he reacted should have given you a clue about that fact, so you could have stopped talking then." "Ah, yes, I see," Cobbleskater frowns, thinking it through. "Not to worry, I shall amend my behaviour in future!" He smiles at her, and she has to smile back – he is that damn cheerful. "See that you do," she says with an approving nod and a smile in her tone. "I've organised a patrol car to give you a ride to City Hall. They're waiting for you in the breakroom, whenever you're ready." "Thank you, Cobbleskater. Your efficiency more than makes up for any personality issues." And if anything, it makes him beam larger under the hand of her praise. Elo sucks in a breath. "Would you mind doing me a couple more favours?" "Of course. Anything I can do to help." "Thank you." She smiles and hands him some cash from her wallet. "Can you find who our attending officers were and get them a beer each as my thanks for finding Ms Strucker?" He nods as he takes the money. "I've already taken the liberty of locating them. Just in case." "You are a scholar and a gentleman." He accepts this with a smile and an inclination of his head. "And the second request?" "I want you to look into what might have caused Iceland to suddenly reinitiate trade." "You want to know why the King is really here." "Yes." He smiles. "No problem." "Cheers, Irvine."

Elo wanders into the breakroom then. The patrolling officers due to take her to City Hall greet her with an affable nod. They've not been in long, so a doughnut and coffee are pushed her way.

While they all finish up, Elo takes the time to skim the report from Cobbleskater. In the victim's apartment, it says, they found a stack of notepads and journals, all written in a strange code, like nothing either of them has ever seen. There were books about mythology and maps of the city marked out, again in a code of coloured circles and crosses. They found nothing else pertinent to the case, and the report continues with conjecture. Judging by the disastrous state of her apartment – with the pantry nearly empty, sink filled with dirty dishes, and clothes strewn around – the Detectives believe her state of mind was frenzied by the feeling she had discovered something big. This was echoed by the handwriting in her journals becoming messier towards the end of her work. Her editor knew nothing about whatever she was working on, and had no inkling either, as all her fluff pieces were submitted as usual. They will not know what the victim was working on, Cobbleskater reports, until they can find a way to decipher the text. At the bottom of one of the sheets are two additional notes. One is about a cat – since it appeared in no ill health and could freely come and go, the Detectives topped up its food and water and left it alone. The other is a sample of the code, with a request for more information from the General regarding it. If Elo squints, she thinks maybe it looks a little like the text in the book… But then the patrolmen have finished their doughnuts, so she can't double-check.

They make a stop-over at her tenement, where she leaves the bag of clothes in her room with 'For Snotgrut' pinned to it, and then on to City Hall.

[maiji]

This is the behind the scenes work-in-progress overview for fight / flight part 4! (part of the YYH North Bound prequel project)

I finally got around to scanning the thumbnails for this part! I remembered to do this mainly because part 5 (which is also the final part of this story in the North Bound series!) will be posted here soon.

Because it's been so long since I worked on part 4, I don't have as much to say compared to previous behind the scenes posts. Basically time heals all wounds (or at least these ones) and thus I forgot all the details of my screaming/crying/complaining, hahaha. That and possibly because this part was "only" 6 pages.

More character design commentary and part 4 page sketches below the cut!

Character design commentary and more sketches

For part 4, I had designed a new character who didn't already exist in Yu Yu Hakusho.    

The second drawing above (with the Chinese characters, just my calligraphy practice on the same page) was actually from pretty far back, I was thinking about her (and her dialogue) for a while. You can see I was playing a lot with the design of her face, how old she might look, and how I might distinguish her from other female characters and Spirit World guides, especially with the stylizing of her eyes. 

Outfit-wise I don't think she's that unique as far as classical sky maiden-type designs go, but I do enjoy drawing her hair. I gave her a beauty mark at the last second while inking the comic.

Here are all of the page sketches - without the text, followed by more commentary.

Comparing my thumbnails to my sketches, there wasn't much change.

The "Otake, stand down" tennyo descending page got adjusted a bit with a close up of her lips for her dialogue. I still feel a bit ambivalent about the composition, whether I should have positioned her higher, but I like the feeling of descent and the fluttering of her hagoromo.

Second last page, second panel after Otake says "hmph" - I took so long working on this that the doodle in my page sketch was undecipherable to me, and I was at a complete loss as to what on earth I had been intending. Fortunately, my script at this part said "sheathes his sword" which saved me. Though, if I had bothered going back to look at my thumbnails, I would have realized my thumbnail of this action was ten times clearer than my page sketch.

Other comments:

First page, large panel with the sparkle of the tennyo appearing - I had a heck of a time with the forest background on this one. Blob blob blob it seems serviceable enough. Like I've said before, my environments are mostly rough vibes, haha.

"EUGH YUCK GROSS" page - I had a lot of fun with the tennyo's expressions, and I really like how Otake's face turned out in the last panel. Drawing annoyed people with bloody faces is fun!

Last two pages: I was very proud of how Tomoe turned out on these two pages, her looking up poses. I also was pleased with the forest in the last panel. More vibes!