beeleafinurself

[beeleafinurself]

some progression shots from my recent leakira piece :3

[beeleafinurself]

"See you, space cowboy."

Akira leans back in surprise, his bewilderment clear in his expression. The stranger simply turned, raising one hand above his head in a backwards wave as he walked lazily out the door.

Something didn't sit right with him about their conversation. He'd clearly recognized the description of the map as Akira had given it. His immediate denial about any knowledge of the map... there was no doubt. He knew something.

He kicks his seat back, its legs scraping loudly against the smooth flooring as he burst out the door. He snapped toward the sound of rapid footsteps at his back to find the retreating figure of the man from the bar skirting quickly around the corner.

"Bastard!" He curses, sprinting behind him.

Rapid fire questions blur through his mind as he runs, keeping the vision of his back within view as he dodges foot traffic through the intersection, a ship screaming past just inches from his chest. Why would he lie? Had someone tipped him off? There was no chance he'd known his face beforehand, if he had he would've peeled out the moment he walked through the door. He must have the map on him.

"STOP!" He shouts as he gets close, thrusting a hand out in front of him. Dragon-Tattoo flits to the side, avoiding his grasp and changing directions.

The alley they run down now is less populated, steam pluming from water drains on either side that obscure his view. Dragon-Tattoo grabs the edge of a garbage bin and topples it in front of him, spilling refuse into his path. He vaults it, hardly losing momentum, and he smirks when the guy curses loudly. His sprint turns frantic as he starts looking for a new escape route.

Gotcha.

He grabs him in two strategic places. the small of his back where the cross of a shoulder hostler offers him a perfect grip, and his shoulder, his finger pads digging harshly into his skintight shirt. He cries out as he hits the ground, but it's hard to determine whether it's from pain or fear.

"Sorry, friend." He growls, replacing the hand on his back with his knee, earning another groan from him as he began searching his pockets. "But Kempler reeeeally wants that map."

He raises his head, craning backward to look at him with wide eyes before scoffing, his chin hitting the pavement with a dry chuckle. "Shit..."

"Where is it?" He asks, more to himself than to the man with the Dragon Tattoo, but as he brushes his hands down the sides of his pants, feeling the thin fabric hugging his ribs... "Where's the map?"

"I'm so sorry," He wheezes, not sounding sorry at all, "but I don't have what you're looking for."

"Then why did you run?" His gaze lowers, the cocky smirk that had formed disappearing. He says nothing.

"I'm talking to you." He digs his knee into his back, another satisfying cry of agony spilling from his mouth. "Where's the map, Dragon Tattoo?"

[beeleafinurself]

[beeleafinurself]

everything costs money

[beeleafinurself]

Here’s something I’m curious about.

Picture this. You’re reading a book, a standard book divided into chapters. Let’s say it’s fiction (don’t know if nonfiction would get different results). You’ve been reading for a while and you want to stop for now. Assume you are not literally falling asleep, you’re still awake and lucid.

You are in the middle of a paragraph, in the middle of a page, somewhere in the middle of a chapter in the middle of the book.

“Power through and finish the book” is not an option, but if you really do that you have my sympathies.

[beeleafinurself]

Spin the wheel. That's who's trying to kill you.

Spin the wheel again. That’s who’s trying to protect you.

(If you have zero idea about the name you got, spin until you see someone you recognize.)

(Six months ago, I did a version of this poll with about five hundred options on the spinner wheel. For this one, I more than doubled it.)

[beeleafinurself]

do you own anything that's older than you?

[beeleafinurself]

[beeleafinurself]

i love dress up games

[beeleafinurself]

hmmmmm how do I spice this up

[beeleafinurself]

[beeleafinurself]

el and nancy's experiences of girlhood being dichotomised in season one kills me. el looks at the pretty girl and the pretty pink bedroom and this life she's crafted that she parades in pictures and she craves it, so deeply, that she spends the whole season wearing nancy's old dress, this hyper-feminine pink thing, peter pan collars and frills. it sits on her so jarringly, resolutely at odds with her shaved head and death stare and face permanently stained with dirt and blood and tears, and mike's crumpled blue jacket doesn't match, doesn't fit, and she looks so small, but she wants to be the girl in the picture. she wants back the innocence that she never got to have, scrounges off the scraps of nancy's girlhood where she can find it, while nancy loses it at the exact same time. she loses her virginity and her childhood best friend and she ties her hair back and learns to shoot a gun and she learns, through the pain and violence, that her life as a small-town good girl behind a picket fence was lost with everything else that went that day, died with barb. she's a slut and a monster hunter and a woman at sixteen and now she's looking at the girl in the picture and craving her life too. she left her girlhood by the poolside, torn and bloodied and ripped fresh from her chest, and el picks it up, dusts it off, and wears it like armour.

[beeleafinurself]

talk too much by coin plays in the background

[beeleafinurself]

I want to make a drawing series, a bunch of drawings of mha characters with AC/DC songs as references. I'm torn between two for Kaminari, so help me pick one.

[beeleafinurself]

rough klance sketches to get me through exam season I breathe them like air

[beeleafinurself]

in some other realm, you are waiting for me

[beeleafinurself]

i was born for loving you