kenyakoforlife

[kenyakoforlife]

Figure painting book of Chinese Ancient gorgeous style comic drawing training books self-learners illustration Tutorial textbook

Part 5

I don’t own the book or the drawing only the scans don’t repost without crediting the original owners first.

[kenyakoforlife]

Figure painting book of Chinese Ancient gorgeous style comic drawing training books self-learners illustration Tutorial textbook

Part 2

I don’t own the book or the drawing only the scans don’t repost without crediting the original owners first.

[kenyakoforlife]

Kenyako 👀

[kenyakoforlife]

Digimon Adventure OP - Glorious World by Takayoshi Tanimoto!

[kenyakoforlife]

kenyako part time job at geek squad romance LMAO

[kenyakoforlife]

in good times and bad, it’s good to have a hug always within reach💝💝💝

[kenyakoforlife]

A lot of descriptive detail does not make it good descriptive detail.

dear white male writers: DO NOT DO THIS

These horrific, sexist, racist paragraphs - screenshotted and shared for posterity by James Smythe, to whom we are all indebted - are the work of one Liam O’Flynn, a writer and English teacher. Evidently, they come from his book Writing With Stardust: the Ultimate Descriptive Guide for students, parents, teachers, and lovers of English, and are intended as examples of good writing.

UM.

Dear white male writers: DO NOT DO THIS SHIT. IT IS SUPER GROSS AND FETISHISTIC AND ALSO TERRIBLE WRITING. THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS. 

Like I just. “Her virility-brown eyes -” WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN? How can you have an “Amazonian figure” ON a “wafer-thin body” when “figure” is a word that describe’s a body’s shape, and Amazonian means pretty much the DIRECT FUCKING OPPOSITE of “wafer-thin” in the first place?  What the shitting fuck does ANY of this mean, apart from “I am only nebulously familiar with the concept of women and completely at a loss if I can’t compare their various bodyparts to jewels, animals and footstuffs”?

STOP 

GO TO WRITING JAIL

GO DIRECTLY TO WRITING JAIL, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200

[kenyakoforlife]

[kenyakoforlife]

Were you missing the Kenyako? Mh, why? Here’s some! This one is a drawing made 5, FIVE, years ago! How is it even possible, time passing like that…  I cleaned a bit my lineart that used to be a bit messy and colored it <3

[kenyakoforlife]

Digimon + Cat

[kenyakoforlife]

Quick drawing…

Kenyako in Blue

[kenyakoforlife]

Omg here is a throwback to 2002. Wow. I can’t believe I found this, let alone saved it.

I have been trash for literally ever. And wow I’ve come such a long way. I’m gonna do a redraw of this sometime.

[kenyakoforlife]

*n* Kenyako is life, Kenyako is love ♥

[kenyakoforlife]

Valentine’s day strip, no text so everyone can guess.

[kenyakoforlife]

*n* Kenyako is life, Kenyako is love ♥

[kenyakoforlife]

Drabble of the Day returns!!

Easy read, glimpses of moments as the 02 kids move forward and are grown up. Cute adorable fluffiness. Some Takari and Kenyako. Rated PG for some suggested themes. R&R, Enjoy! Title: Summer Playlist 1: You Were Meant For Me     Miyako rolled over and slapped the buzzing alarm. She turned and rubbed her eyes. The day was barely starting. She scratched her head through the tangle of knots in her hair and pushed up from the bed and slowly crossed the room, pausing only a moment to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. A grimace pulled on her face at the sight of the mess she’d become. Her eyes lowered and she picked up the phone from her vanity. There was a list of texts. At some point she would have to respond, she couldn't keep ignoring everyone. Miyako sighed and continued on her way to the bathroom, phone in hand and scrolling through the texts.     Her friends were checking in again. They were worried about her, that much was evident. She stopped outside the bathroom door and hung her head. Her barefeet were warm and pink from her bed. The dream was over. All that was left was the hangover from deep sleep. She was sure it was the real thing and yet, he was gone. He was gone and not coming back. Miyako’s eyes shut as she winced with pain from the stinging tears that pooled in her eyes. She sucked in a shaking breath. It was time to let go. There was no use in mourning and grieving any longer. She held up her phone as a new text came in, making it vibrate in her hand.     “Still on for coffee?...-Ken” It showed in the preview box.     There was more than that. The message continued but she felt no point in reading it. A weak smile turned up her lips and she clicked the reply button. 2: Mess Is Mine     Words were his speciality. A rose was a thousand words or more. Love was volumes of books, entire libraries hardly touched the concept. His mind could spin together the most poetic telling of dullest moments. Yet when he opened his mouth, only gibberish fell out. He was hopeless at times when it came to just speaking. Takeru sat on the bench, legs crossed and busy pondering the right words to pen down before they escaped his mind--heart--words that echoed in his head but never crossed his lips. Across the street, Hikari tried on a hat with a large gaudy sunflower. She smiled and laughed with her friend as the breeze whirled through the market. Takeru’s attention turned to her as if caught in the magnetic force of her joy. She was always so happy and he felt as though it kept her distant and unreachable. She was radiant and pure, a diamond among the rough. His gaze lingered too long. She looked over.     Her overflowing joy melted away and she gave a smaller, more shy, reserved smile and clasped her hands in front of her dress. The breeze came through again rustling the skirt bottom and caught the hat. Her hand jumped up and clapped it down on her head before it escaped. Her attention was back on her friend. She smiled the way she had before. Playfully. Takeru’s heart skipped. Did she know? 3: Stone     Daisuke’s finger gripped the plastic wrapped stems tighter than he’d ever held anything before. He’d never been so nervous. Looking skyward, his heart raced and he was sure he couldn’t catch his breath. How was this so hard? They’d been good friends for so long, these feelings had built up slowly. He’d fallen for her gradually and leg work itself up into an undeniable burning desire and yet he kept enough nerve to ask her on a date. She had said yes, she’d been delighted, beaming with happiness. So what was so hard now? Daisuke breathed out fast and hard, blowing through his lips. He was determined to get this right. She was the world to him. And this was where they began. 4: Photograph     Smoke rose in curls in front of the picture. The sun had bleached the image and the colors were fading. People shuffled behind him. The bells in the distance jingled and rang melodically. Iori bowed one last time. It had been years, too many worth counting, since he’d heard the sound of his father’s voice. The memory of it had faded but something inside said that it sounded much like his own. He’d grown into the man his father had once been. The girl beside him rested her head on his shoulder, hand gently set upon his arm. She seemed as solemn as Iori in her quiet stillness, though she’d never met his father. The way her hair fell around her face with such beauty and the way she would push it away with lithe fingers, he was sure his father would have loved her as much as he did. Bringing her along during the festival made it feel less sad. Her colorful yukata and kind disposition made the weight of the world feel lighter. Iori looked to her with a small pleased smile. It was important to him to hold on to his father, to not forget him, especially now. He’d missed so much of Iori. And Iori missed him. And she knew it. 5: White Iverson     The water rushed over Hikari’s hair. Her hands combed through, pulling free the loose strands. It was a moment of freedom. Of solitude. The world washed away. There was nothing but the sweet smell of the water and soap. It purified her. The stink of cigarette smoke ran off and disappeared down the drain. The tacky sweat from the hot humid day disappeared. She breathed in the steam. Droplets caught on her eyelashes. If only it would last. Hikari reached back and switched off the water. The air prickled against her wet skin. She reached for her towel, grabbed it, and wrapped herself tightly. Her lips felt so swollen and yet in the mirror’s reflection, they were no different than usual. Maybe it was guilt that she felt for having lost her self control, for that weak intimate moment with someone who wasn’t her boyfriend. With a friend, the blonde boy she’d known for so long and hadn’t given much more than a second thought about. Hikari dried her hair with a towel and sighed. It wasn't fair. She couldn't keep the boyfriend she had betrayed any more than she could keep her friend as simply a friend. She couldn't unring the bell. And so it rang on in her ears. 6: The Worst     He ran his hand through his hair for probably the hundredth time. It was a lot to listen to her go on and on the way she did about...him, the man with a name and no face. A man who didn’t matter and had abandoned her with little regard the moment he was bored. Her whole body shook and trembled from time to time and she would look away, stare down the street as if he would suddenly appear and ease the ache of the hole he left in her heart. She hadn’t touched her drink. Not even once. Ken looked down at his lap, eyebrows furrowed. He’d taken a chance, went out on a limb, and now her found himself second guessing. He turned his eyes up to her. She was at it again, choking back tears. Ken’s lips pressed into a line. He didn’t know what she was saying, he wasn’t listening to the words anymore. Just the sound of her voice was enough. She had cared about him more than anything else and had fully thrown herself into the broken mess of a relationship they had right up to the end. Ken pushed back on his chair, sighing loudly. This caught her attention at last. Miyako stopped. Her eyes locked on his, round and wide. Ken sat still, pressed hard against the chair. He didn’t need this, but for whatever reason he was sure he wanted it. He wanted the misery and a recklessness. He wanted the worst she had to offer. He was a glutton for it. 7: It Won’t Stop     Takeru woke up. His arm was numb. He looked over. She was still asleep. Her breathing was slow. Rhythmic. Her chest rose. It fell. Slow. Steady. He pulled his arm. She shifted. He wriggled it free. She rolled over. The blanket rustled. Her shoulder slipped under the cover. Takeru smiled. He leaned closer. Her hair smelled sweet. Her skin was warm. The scent of honey drifted off. He’d loved her for years. It was a single moment. A second when he took a chance. He risked it all. It was dangerous. She could have said no. She could have rejected him. But she didn’t. She leaned in. Just like him, she took the chance. Blind in an excited fervor. And now she was there beside him. She was asleep in his bed. Her hair spread out on the pillow. Takeru slid his arm around her waist. He snuggled against her and kissed her neck. If this was a dream, he didn’t want it to end. Hikari hummed and rolled over again. She smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. This was a mistake, but well worth making. 8: Great American Novel     Flashing lights and neon signs have a way of distracting people. The chaotic streets with rushing bumper to bumper cars and thick throngs of people busily hurrying somewhere was too much. It was suffocating. He felt claustrophobic. Steam rose from the manhole covers. It was so loud and yet static. Daisuke looked around slowly turning his head and trying to take in as much as he could. He’d never been in New York City before and it was awesome. It was magnificent and terrible all at once. Had he breathed once since he’d found his way to Time Square? Maybe not. The buildings reached to the sky. They seemed so impossibly tall. He felt tiny. He’d grown up in a city and knew skyscrapers but it was nothing like this, and he chuckled with delight. This was the Big City. It was everything. If he could make it here, he could make it anywhere. Not long ago, he was filled with doubt and uncertainty about leaving everything he knew behind to chase a dream. But as horns honked and voices blended into noise around him, he knew he was right. A bus rolled by and diesel exhaust engulfed him, people shoved bt. It was filthy and dense and not at all as picturesque as in brochures and magazines, but that made it all the better. Daisuke spun around slowly, staring skyward, and took in the city a little more while he had the chance. Next, he would have to finding the apartment he would stay in and meet the roommate waiting there. 9: Last Request     Iori set the flowers down on the side table. His grandfather was asleep. The monitors beeped steadily. Iori knew his time was ending. His teeth clenched. There wasn’t a single thing he could do. He was dying. He reached out and touched his grandfather’s hand. He was the man who had always been there for him. His grandfather had been the father figure after his own father had died in the line of duty. When he thought back to every moment growing up, his grandfather was there. The way they laughed together, practiced Kendo, and stared into the afternoon clouds musing about their dreams. The little boy back then couldn’t ever imagine the man he would become or the day he’d have to come to terms with his grandfather leaving him. His eyes peeled own. Iori smiled and greeted him in hushed voice. The old man, looking smaller than usual, gave a sleepy grin. He knew his time was ending and yet seemed unfazed by it. Iori looked to the window, “I just wanted to stop by and see you since I might not be able to tomorrow.” “Iori, a word of advice,” He sounded dry, weak, “for as busy as you are, you should marry that girl before you don't have the time.” 10: Lights     It was a beautiful night, one of those not easily forgotten where the air is thick and muggy but the breeze is cool and fresh. There was the slight scent of rain in the air. It’s not far off, looming in clouds just behind the horizon. The sun was nearly set, falling down low behind the buildings and only a faint hue of orange and gold lingered while the rest of the sky turned dark. Streetlights crackled and flickered as they switched on in the deep twilight hour. An amber glow took over the city, illuminating the sidewalks and brightening the impending night. His touch was familiar, but now it lingered and crept and wandered with little restraint. His hand slid so effortlessly along her back and down her side while she absently leaned against the balcony wall staring across the cityscape. It felt simple. It felt normal, the way he wrapped around her, drew her back against his steady chest and rested his chin on her shoulder. His warm breath swept along her cheek. He was watching her with that soft and gentle gaze that lured her in. Her arms folded over his, and her fingers raced along the back of his hands. “What are you looking at?” Ken spoke quietly, innocent and kind. “Just the lights.” Miyako breathed. The edge of his nose lightly brushed along her cheek, and from his lips came a soft kiss and a lingering smell of coffee. Miyako smiled, knowing he could tell and was truly glad for it.

[kenyakoforlife]

meteor