#but for now I hope you like my silly mini zine :)

[sicklyjelly]

my silly, indulgent mini zine, "Goro Akechi Says Stuff By Raymond from OK KO," is available for online purchase!

Zines come in either pastel green or pink, and each come with a sticker I made! ☕️ 🌹🤖

[sawamura-daichis-thighs]

genesis

My fic for the Beyond!! zine; unfortunately it was canceled, but you can find the free pdf ezine here! :D

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Character: Oikawa Tooru Rating: G Words: 1,573

Summary: There’s a thrumming in his chest, electric and tingling, though he’s unsure whether to attribute it to nerves or excitement. Maybe both; tomorrow marks the start to the rest of his life, after all. Well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but still. College isn’t exactly a walk in the park—he doesn’t expect to breeze through four years relying on just his charm and pretty face to get him onto the World Court. Tooru’s earnings have never been handed to him and he doesn’t plan to expect it now.

Tooru can’t sleep.

He could blame it on the bed—too firm, less giving than the one he’d slept in for fifteen years, and a bit too short for his long legs—or the stuffy air of the room (he’ll have to remember to buy a fan soon). It’s possible that the streetlamps’ light trickling in from under the blinds is distracting (or that the lack of glowing stars above his head is unsettling) or that Bokuto is snoring away in his own bed just a few feet away—or the unfamiliar drone of a restless city outside of his window rather than the soft cadence of cricket-song to lull him into dreams.

He could list a plethora of reasons, really, but overall it comes down to an overwhelming sense of new, of beginnings.

There’s a thrumming in his chest, electric and tingling, though he’s unsure whether to attribute it to nerves or excitement. Maybe both; tomorrow marks the start to the rest of his life, after all.

Well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but still. College isn’t exactly a walk in the park—he doesn’t expect to breeze through four years relying on just his charm and pretty face to get him onto the World Court.

Tooru’s earnings have never been handed to him and he doesn’t plan to expect it now.

Sighing, he flips onto his side, closes his eyes, and reviews all the necessities for tomorrow, hoping it’ll mimic the effects of counting sheep. Maybe if he knows he’s one-hundred percent prepared, sleep will finally grace him with it’s precious presence (nevermind that he double-checked everything an hour before he laid down to begin with).

He pictures everything in his mind’s eye as he makes a conscious effort to gradually relax his muscles. His class schedule is sitting on his desk, detailed with each respective building name, room, number, and floor level; there’s a second copy tucked away in his backpack, just in case he forgets or loses the first, accompanied by a map of campus (he’s fairly certain his exploration on move-in day was thorough but he’ll be damned if he’s late to any class on the first day). He even added a shorthand version to the notes app on his laptop as a backup measure.

His notebooks are all in order, each with their own syllabus, and he’s filled his trusty Star Wars pencil case with pens (pencils are for quitters), highlighters, and various other supplies he might need. His books for morning classes are packed while the others wait their turn, stacked according to subject, on his desk next to his favorite photo of the Seijoh third years and the Godzilla keychain hanging on the edge of it’s frame.

A smile tilts his lips at the memory that image brings to mind. A candid shot, courtesy of Yahaba, of all four of them in a semi-circle shooting the breeze as usual. Makki’s leering suggestively at him, Mattsun leaning casually on Makki’s shoulder as he grins; Oikawa’s expression is, in his opinion, appropriately offended, one hand over his heart as he defended his honor. Iwaizumi stands to Oikawa’s right, openly laughing at their antics.

Thinking of them sends a brief pain shooting through his chest, so he flips onto his back and catalogues whether he has his volleyball gear prepared for tomorrow’s afternoon practice. He knows it’s all sitting in a sports bag at the foot of his bed, though he’ll have to remind Bokuto to grab his water bottle from their mini-fridge before they go. He knows he’ll have no problem finding the gym thanks to both his first tour with his parents and Iwa-chan, plus his and Bo’s exploration a few days ago.

He’s rehearsed his introduction to himself at least twenty times now, knows it’s a perfect mix of respectful, determined, and just a little cheeky, but butterflies still swarm stubbornly in his stomach. He circles his palm over it in an attempt to calm down—it’s silly to get anxious over something like this, he was scouted for this team and was literally Captain of Seijoh just a few months ago when they used to practice with university players—but, unsurprisingly, not even logic can convince his heart to leave it’s current residence in his throat.

That’s just it—he was scouted, this university sought him out, he has to do well. There is no other option; he must succeed. Of course, he doesn’t expect to become a starter immediately, but he’ll have to work just as hard, no, twice as hard as he did in high school just to make sure his coaches notice his resolve, his skills—

A faint buzzing near his head jars him from spiraling any further into a panic. Blowing out a shaky breath, Tooru flips onto his stomach to retrieve his phone from it’s place charging on his nightstand; the timing is impeccable and there’s only one person who could pull that off.

‘oi dumbass u better be asleep’ ‘8ams come early u know’

Tooru has to muffle his giggle into his pillow (though a small sound like that is unlikely to rouse Bokuto in the slightest, honestly) and types back impishly, ‘Iwa-chan shouldn’t you worry about yourself? You need all the beauty sleep you can get or you’ll scare off your classmates tomorrow.’

‘don’t make me skip my 1st class just to come sock u 1’

‘Aww Iwa-chan, I didn’t realize you missed me so much already! (´▽`ʃƪ)’ Tooru replies, grinning. His previously thundering heartbeat has already begun to slow.

Iwaizumi’s retort is immediate and predictable: ‘as if’

His grin softens into a knowing smile and he hums to himself thoughtfully. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be awake at this hour if he weren’t experiencing his own bout of nerves; medical school is kind of a big deal, after all.

Tooru teases his friend for a while, falling into a familiar rhythm as easily as he breathes, as he contemplates asking the question that’s really on his mind. He’s probably—definitely—overthinking all of this but it just feels so important. He wants to stand on The Court, wants to set to teammates sporting his nation’s colors, wants it so badly it physically hurts sometimes, and tomorrow marks the start to getting there. He doesn’t even want to think about thinking of failure lest it jinx him.

He can’t be the only one, right?

‘Are you nervous?’ he finally sends, biting his lip as he waits for the reply.

‘ofc i am, what kinda question is that??’ is Iwaizumi’s near immediate answer. ‘not like we’re starting our futures or anything’

The reassurance courses through him, palpable in its effect; the tension in his shoulders melts away, breathing feels less constricted than it has all day. The smile that curves his lips is soft as Tooru cradles his phone gently, reading the words again. Leave it to Iwaizumi to ground him in only a couple of gruff sentences.

‘u’ll be fine so go to sleep alrdy’ is the next text, sent in response to the radio silence Tooru accidently created in his moment of relief. He laughs quietly to himself. Iwa-chan knows me too well.

‘Of course I will be! I’ll have the entire Uni swooning over me before the day ends (•̀���•́)و✧’

‘ugh. gnite dumbass’

‘Sweet dreams Iwa-chan!’

Heart light in his chest, Tooru plugs his phone back into it’s charger, rolls over and falls asleep with a smile, warmth lulling any remaining butterflies to rest.

***

Roughly fourteen hours later, Tooru steps into the gym and basks in the familiar air, letting the encouraging calls of “nice receive!” paired with the squeaking of sneakers and scent of salonpas wash over him. The rhythmic slam of volleyballs against the court floor sounds like home.

He’s jittery with excitement, anticipation, and, admittedly, nerves. He’s back to being a first-year, after all.

Bokuto shows no such hesitation, bouncing on his toes at Tooru’s side as they enter the gym together. He tugs on Tooru’s arm, nearly vibrating with restrained enthusiasm, and points in various directions as he babbles happily about everything he sees. Tooru nods along at appropriate moments, knowing Bo will repeat himself later about half a dozen times, while they make their way towards the sideline where other first-years have gathered to watch the practice match currently in session. Tooru inhales sharply at the sight of them.

There are more than he predicted; apprehension churns his stomach briefly and the unwanted feeling of competition slides into focus.

But just as quickly a stern voice lectures, ‘These are your new teammates. Strongest six, remember?’ and Tooru thinks it sounds suspiciously like Iwa-chan. A phantom pain flares in the bridge of his nose, four years past and quick as a blink, and he grins to himself.

The practice match concludes and the captain calls for the first-years to gather around for new member introductions. They perk up, jogging eagerly across the gym to fall in line before their new senpai. Bokuto takes off at full tilt (with a holler that sounds like a cross between a war cry and an owl hoot, much to Tooru’s dismay) leaving Tooru to catch up on his own.

He takes a moment to watch everyone move ahead and the electric tingling from last night thrums through his chest anew.

This is it, something echoes within him. The beginning of the rest of your life.

How frightening.

How exhilarating.

Tooru takes his first step forward.

[pikaland]

On personal projects and purposeful digging

While I was in Singapore for the Illustration Art Fest, I had the pleasure of hearing a talk by Raphael (one half of duo Icinori – his partner is Mayumi) on how they got to where they are today.

I was also very lucky to to learn about the works of Anouck Boisrobert and Louis Rigaud  as well as hear Louis speak about their work as they create pop-up books, apps and workshops for children.

What they had in common was their love of personal projects. Icinori continuously pushed the envelope when it came to self-publishing their ideas and graphic experiments in the form of limited edition zines, books and prints. Anouck and Louis experimented with pop-up books and pushed the boundary of creative learning by creating apps as companions to their beautiful books.

It wasn’t solely about the money (that came later), but it was a lot about quality, craftsmanship, attention to detail, creativity, ingenuity and about having a whole lot of fun while trying to find out who they were and what they wanted to do. And because of this, people started to knock on their doors. Clients didn’t tell seek them out to emulate another artist. They wanted their work. Their style, their story, and their spin on things. Not anyone else’s.

I wasn’t surprised. It was a common thread that I find come up again and again as I talk to other artists, illustrators and designers.

Pikaland was is my personal project too. It’s where I began to spread my wings by continually striving to go deeper into what I loved – illustration – and had lots of fun experimenting with wild ideas. Right now I cannot remember if there was a bigger purpose beyond it being a place where I could talk about the things that fascinate me, and where I could talk to the people who inspired me. I didn’t plan things out, and I didn’t write for others – I wrote for myself. I chipped away to create a small space in the interwebs, just for me.

Then interesting things started to happen. I met many like-minded people, and opportunities that I wasn’t even looking for began to come my way. Illustrating, researching, teaching, writing, speaking – I said yes to many of them. I created mini projects that were fun and sometimes silly. What surprised me the most was how others came along for the ride too.

I had never thought that 10 years would fly by as I go about digging and feeling my way through my thoughts. I sometimes I dig myself into a corner, and there has been many a time where I hit hard ground, unable to continue because of a setback, or because life just happened.

But I’m still digging.

Perhaps you’ll notice that I don’t come up for air sometimes – only because I’m deep underground, chipping away, even if bit by bit. It can get frustrating. It can get lonely. I’m very aware that there might be no gold, no reward at the end of the tunnel – but for me, this whole underground chamber that I’ve built is it. I’ve twisted my way around obstacles and figured out rocky bits as I charted new territory for myself (and I hope for others too).

I come up for air from time to time to share with others how my process has gone, and what new discoveries I’ve uncovered. Sharing this with others allows me to evaluate what I’ve done, what I did not get right, and what I could improve on. I come up for air to get away too. I’ve traveled more in the past few years to get away from life a little, and to take in more for myself.

But I still go back underground, every single time.

As I step back, I see a vast labyrinth of underground tunnels, pathways and passages. It looks like a map – one that I’m continuously building as I put one feet in front of another. There’s dead ends, and there’s plenty more unexplored territory. I catch myself asking sometimes: Why are you digging? What are you looking for? What’s the plan here?

I don’t have an answer.

I still don’t.

Maybe I’ll know it when I see it.

But until then, I’ll keep digging.

[Illustration: Icinori]