#doodle for the sake of getting back into coloring/shading

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite (and some of my personal doodles)

Alrighty, so I finally found the motivation to draw up the entire I.M.P crew and finalize their designs! Introducing my version of the new and improved Immediate Murder Professionals!

I'm so freaking lazy so I didn't add shading or anything extra like that because ughhh. I also decided on some defining traits for imps depending on their ring, but only for the gang and the rings we've seen in the show so far

Wrath imps are larger, stronger, and spikier than other imps. Lust imps have varied bodies, but all have heart shaped barbs on their tails and leathery wings on their lower back. Greed imps are more slender than other imps and often wear jewelry. Gluttony imps are small and fast, high metabolisms so they can gorge. Sloth imps are easy to identify because they usually are just lying there doing fuck all and lack barbs on their tails.

Also, the scarring for imps is the same. White markings indicate scars. In the show I feel like it’s hard to tell what’s a scar (like Blitzo’s facial marks) and what’s a birth mark (like Moxxie’s freckles) so for my own sake, white marks are scars, black marks are birth marks or tattoos, end of story. Millie got her scars from fighting in the wrath ring, Blitzo got his scars from the explosion, and Moxxie’s freckle-like scars are cigarette burns. Should also note that imps are immune to hellfire, but not normal fire because... uhhh idk honestly it just seems more logical. 

~ Helluva cutoff starts here ~

I kinda wanna show off my own imp designs for my little demon thing because helluva boss posts get traction and I just wanted someone to see them, so if you only came here for helluva content, feel free to stop reading lol 

Okay, so I wanted the imps to all look like the same species but at the same time not at all. Essentially the imps in my series are based more on folklore surrounding them. In christian folklore imps are straight up evil, but I want all of my imps to just be little guys. Look at em, they’re just little guys. Imps were sometimes thought of as the familiars of witches, taking forms of different animals, so I wanted some of the imps to look animalistic, but it’s their behavior that reflects it more (which is hard to show in a still doodle). Also the imps are just color coded here so I know which is which, imps aren’t actually these specific colors in my world. 

Greed imps tend to bind themselves to objects that they particularly adore – in some tellings imps were bound to objects like crystals and could be summoned by their masters. So Greed imps often have a specific item bound to them that they guard with their lives.

Sloth imps are the most harmless when they’re tired, it’s when they’re awake that they become the full on imps of folklore. They’re often paid in sugar cubes and used as servants in the sloth ring. 

Gluttony imps are alluding to the fae origin of imps in Germanic folklore, having wings and being generally bug like and little shits. I wanted them to look like pixies almost.

Envy imps are the more attention seeking type who play tricks on humans to garner a reaction. Tricks such as attempting to drown people and such – harmless fun, you know? They’re actually a little based on Kappa I'll admit. 

Lust imps have the habit of snatching babies, as in a lot of demons associated with lust (such as Lilith) tend to be obsessed with babies/pregnancy. The lust imps are nearly infertile, so they love taking babies to raise, then discard them once they’re annoyed.

Pride imps are based on the Lincoln imp (in short an Imp threw a rock at an angel and got turned into stone). They’re fluffy and covered in shiny fur since they live in the frozen layer of hell. Their horns are the largest of all imps, and their biggest source of pride – like if they break their horns, they’d rather die than live with the shame because their horns don’t grow back. 

Wrath imps are based on the old art of imps you can find – bald little creatures with horns and tails. They’re the more feral animalistic imps, often acting on pure instinct and lacking much social structure. They do tend to exercise in their own way, as strength is their greatest feature. 

Anywho if you read all that omg thank you for feeding my ego teehee. But for real, as much as I hate digital, I did enjoy drawing out the imp gang, I might (keyword MIGHT) draw out some rewritten scenes in comic format the most daunting part is actually doing it lmao.

I probably won't shove my own stuff into posts too often, I mostly did it because I wanted to compare my ideas for Imps to Viv's because I think mine are better sorry not sorry lmao. I like to actually research what I'm doing and incorporate it into my art and creations because i think of it like little easter eggs for people who like the things I like. Viv's version of Hell is my least favorite mostly because everything she does feels like bible fanfiction written by a middle schooler who thinks shouting penis in class is the peak of comedy.

[nuclear-smash]

IF YOU WANT TO SPEND MONEY THIS PRIDE MONTH ON A TRANS GUY'S ART LIKE MESELF SO I CAN GET BACK ON T.... ☝☝☝

So not to get sappy on main, but been very much broke and haven't been on hormones for like 7 months now, so I really need to get back on it plus pay for phones bills and whatnot. I'm really dry this month, a fly flies out of my wallet every time I check it, ya'know how it is.

Here's more information that this animation may or may not has; FULL BODY ART - €40 Just a simple illustration of any character of your choice, put in a colored void box! However, I can also add simple props and make it any color for free

RENDERED ILLUSTRATION - €100+ So, imagine if I put your guy in a situation. Yeah, what are you going to do about it. Jokes aside; if you want to see a character of your choice in a setting where they're actually part of, including lighting, shading, everything making sense AND it's fancy, then this one's for you! However, depending on the amount of details asked for it might go up for my own sake :']

ICON - €25 Simply, an icon, yeah. Usually I work within 3000x3000, but if necessary I can always change the size that fits more! Think of it as a headshot commission!

MS PAINT - €30 This is just a 'doodle' commission, I know it's worth more than an icon, however, you get full body art of your character for less AND it's in a fun art style! For easier pre-existing fictional characters it's only €20 (Like Yoshi, Waluigi, Mr. Saturn, you name it!)

EXTRA! For every extra character (including matching icons) it's +100% of the base commission! So if you were to ask me to draw two characters, just simply full body art, that'd be €80 instead of 40!

WHAT I CAN AND WON'T DRAW! ✔️ Human/humanoids, furries, almost anything, really! ❌ Bigoted art, NSFW/fetish art.

I only do invoices thru PayPal! When the commission is paid for, the commissioner is allowed for any edits/changes before it gets to the lineart stage! Afterwards it'll cost extra to change anything! All of my customers always get frequent updates on sketch - lineart - then finished product, however, if you want to see anything in between do let me know! I may take some time, but I'm always responsive and will happily communicate about it!

If tumblr's too weird to work with, you're free to send any inquiries via my email: nuclearsmashing@gmail.com or DM me for my Discord!

Any reblobs and word of mouth really do help out a lot 🙏;_;

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

#12 (2)

(Continuation of 12 (1))

Immediately as Ayano and Raibaru entered the art club, they were met with a dramatic sigh. “Just my luck, too.” Enpitsu huffs. His back was turned to the girls, but he saw them through the reflection of his favorite mirror. “Ayano, you’ve immediately dulled my image.”

Ayano sighs, already exhausted despite having just walked into the room. “We’re here to decide if this club is fit for Raibaru or not.” She explains briefly, folding her arms.

“It’s probably not.” Enpitsu says immediately, not hearing Raibaru mutter an agreement to Ayano. “Anyway, that’s something you wanna talk to Geiju about. And he’s not attending school right now.” He explains, although he clearly didn’t plan on being too helpful. “It’s just me and this weirdo.”

Enpitsu nods to Maka, or more precisely Maka who was laying on the table and leaning her chin on an empty bucket of paint. She seemed to be drawing in a variety-pattern color book with a pen. Only that singular pen. The whole picture was ending up completely black.

“Right..” Ayano murmured, looking from Maka back to Enpitsu.

“Well.” Raibaru smiles at both of the art club members. “Can either of you give me a run-down of your club, then?” She asks, folding her hands over her lap politely.

Enpitsu mumbles something as he returns to his self-portrait, ultimately not repeating himself to be heard.

Maka glances back to Enpitsu and hums in thought. “We have equipment fit for almost every type of art. Light painting, sand painting, digital art, anamorphosis if you really try.” She taps her chin in thought before continuing to doodle on the coloring book. “The headmaster hasn’t approved of butter sculptures yet because it might be too expensive…”

“..butter sculptures.” Raibaru repeats quietly, attempting to keep her voice just as quiet for the sake of Maka not explaining any further. “That’s nice… I see you also have painting and coloring books. Do you have any other simpler types of art?”

Nodding, Maka stands up and leaves her finished picture there. Ayano leans over and looks at the picture. While it did look black from a distance, it seemed that Maka had actually “color-coded” the picture with different patterns rather than different colors.

Maka opens a couple of cabinets attached to the walls. One of them was filled with nothing but several different shades of paint, others filled with dozens of canvases and some with pencils and crayons. “We have plenty of everything, really. Art supplies are kind of cheap down here if you just want a space to draw. And since the regular supplies are super cheap, we’re able to save effortlessly for the more extortionate items.”

“Awfully big words, huh?” Ayano comments, not even knowing what ‘extortionate’ meant. She was shocked because Maka was so popularly known for being the weirder of the art club. And Akademi in general. Maybe ‘weird’ for the school was just her using over-the-top language?

Seeming proud, Maka’s expression lights up immediately from her lax expression pretty quickly. “Right?! I mean- I agree!” She puffs out her chest with a cute smile. “Horo said that big words would make me sound smarter- ah, perceptive!”

“It certainly does.” Raibaru agrees, “Just make sure you know the definition. Using big words incorrectly does the exact opposite.”

“Hmm, duly noted.” Maka hummed, before closing the cabinets. “Anyway, Geiju hates it when the club room is messy- unless he’s the one who messed it up. So, you’ve had, like, experience in art at all, right?” She asks, putting her coloring book away and neatening up the rest of the room. “Cuz if you don’t that’d be… weird.”

“Not unless it was in mandatory classes, no.” Raibaru replies with a thoughtful expression. “...in fact, whenever I was in those mandatory classes my hands would get very dirty, which I disliked a lot.”

Maka stared at Raibaru for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before blinking and returning to cleaning. “Weird.” She says simply, running around the room a bit more before looking back up to the two. “Oh, yeah, I guess that means you wouldn’t be a really good fit. Geiju usually just points us to the art books if we have a question, so it’s not likely that he’s going to teach you anything.”

Raibaru exhales with a wry smile. “Well, I appreciate the honesty.” She says, waving briefly to the two, although she didn’t receive a wave back.

After the two leave the room and as they’re heading upstairs, Raibaru speaks up a bit. “You know, I’m only now realizing how strange the students in our school are.”

“Is that right?” Ayano tilts her head to the side as she looks at Raibaru, who nods.

“Yes… Similar to you, I never bothered socializing. Osana was really all I needed, hence why I don’t plan on socializing outside of school. Now I’m stuck between disliking socializing but not exactly wanting to be… alone..?” Raibaru trails off, not exactly being able to put her thoughts properly in place.

Ayano hummed a bit, looking back to the ground as they walked. “Maybe try studying in your free time. Like psychology. Maybe you’ll learn a bit more about why you think certain things.” She explains, shrugging lightly.

“Maybe…” Raibaru mumbles, raising her hand to her mouth.

__

“Heeeey..” Rojasu lazily waves his hand in a greeting to Ayano. “I know you. You’re Fureddo’s girl, aren’t you?”

Ayano blinks in shock. Surely, he didn’t mean that in the way that she thought. She hesitates, before repeating, “Fureddo’s… girl.”

“Yeah! Like..” Rojasu then pauses for a minute as well before slowly starting up again. “..not like that, I mean. I don’t think so. Like- you’re not dating Fureddo, are you?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, now having confused himself.

“I am not.” Ayano states clearly, keeping her hands folded over her lap.

Rojasu tosses his head back a bit and offers a low chuckle. “Right, right! Yeah, no, Dafuni would be pissed if she heard that, haha..” He shrugs, leaning back in his chair with a tired expression on his face. “Yeah, my bad, Yan- Ay-”

Pausing in thought, Rojasu seems to have forgotten Ayano’s name. Before Ayano can tell him what it was he snaps his fingers. “Yan-chan! I got it.” He nods, not noticing Ayano’s disappointed sigh as he continues speaking. “Yeah, sorry about that, Yan-Chan. Fureddo just talks about you a lot. Sometimes I forget you’re not here with us, he talks about you so much, haha.”

Ayano’s mouth pulls into a straight line in disinterest. “Yes…” She starts, before inhaling and raising a hand to Raibaru. “Speaking of Fureddo… do you know where he is? Raibaru’s debating on a club to join.”

“Oh, yeah, man, I think he’s busy right now. I thought I saw him chatting with Musume earlier? But, I mean, I’m usually half-asleep so I totally could have been hallucinating.” Rojasu shrugs. “So, uh… you need some info on the club, Rai?”

Raibaru nods politely, “That’s right. Are you able to give me any info on what you all do around here?” She asks, looking from the club’s little hang-out spot to the rest of the club, that definitely looked more professional. “What do you all usually take pictures of?”

Rojasu stands up from the chair with a grunt, stretching his limbs before allowing his arms to flop to his sides and walking past the two. “So, I’m pretty sure each of our club members get a little section of the wall dedicated to their pictures. On the left here..” He walks to the leftmost door, where the two girls entered through. “...pretty sure these are Beruma’s.”

Beruma’s photos seemed to mainly be of aesthetic-looking scenes of book stacks, library shelves, coffee, rain from behind a window. The color brown was recurring in her photos, so it was likely that her pictures were meant to carry that certain theme. In addition to whatever was closest to the camera, there was also quite a scene behind the main object. For instance, in the cup where she has a mug of coffee. The coffee cup is closest to the camera and slightly blurred as a result. The focus seemed to be more so on the decorative wine case that the cafe she was in had instead. Ayano hadn’t recalled seeing a cafe like that anywhere around.

Rojasu seems to notice Ayano’s curious gaze and points to the very picture she’s looking at. “Beruma took this on her vacation to Scotland. Said they had the coolest-looking cafes cuz they all looked super old fashioned.” He explains. That explained why the overall design of the building looked so foreign to her.

After the two girls were finished looking, he led them to the next section. “This is Dafuni’s, she sort of focuses on people who she thinks looks nice. She’s also the only one who ever bothers to walk up to random people and ask them for a photo.” He chuckles at the thought and raises his hand to the photos pasted onto the wall.

Dafuni’s pictures mostly carried an area with pink lighting. Ayano wondered if Dafuni usually tried to make her pictures less spontaneous and more planned out in order to catch someone in pink lighting specifically. One picture featured an older woman in a fancy-looking trench coat on a somewhat rainy evening. She seemed to be beneath a sign with neon pink lighting and was smiling off somewhere in the distance. Some other of her pictures seemed to be her and Kokoro and Kashiko in a bathroom showing off their nails. Kashiko’s was obviously purple, Kokoro’s were pink, and Dafuni had both colors. The bathroom also had neon pink lights, so she could assume that it was one of their homes.

“These look cute..” Raibaru says, smiling at them. She seemed to like that most of them were of other people, whether that be strangers or friends. “I usually take plenty of pictures with Osana, I kinda want to take more after seeing these.” She comments with a light giggle.

Rojasu stepped to the side and held a hand up to what seemed to be Sukubi’s clutter of photos. “This one’s my pal, Sukubi’s. I think it’s obvious but he loves animals.” He says, and it really was obvious.

Sukubi’s pictures didn’t have any sort of aesthetic or special lighting, some of them weren’t even focused. He just seemed to take pictures of whatever animals he came across. One photo was a selfie of himself at a zoo, a giraffe leaning in closer than it needed to. Funny enough, a zookeeper seemed to be reaching out to him behind him, as if warning him to back up. Another photo was of what looked to be a random, collarless dog who was jumping up onto Sukubi. This one seemed pretty blurry, but you could tell what was happening.

“You know, this one was actually Sumire’s dog.” Rojasu commented, pointing to a picture of what looked to be a brown Great Dane with a few black spots and a blue collar, similar to the one that Sukubi wore, ironically. “Apparently, his name was Donny, but Sukubi never actually got to meet him. He just asked Sumire for a picture.”

“Aw, he looks very sweet.” Raibaru said with a smile. “Hehe, and that’s coming from a cat person.”

Next was Rojasu’s own part of the wall. “This is where my stuff’s hung up. I kinda just take pictures of food.” He says simply and with a shrug. Despite him being so simple with the explanation, he does an outstanding job with the shots.

“Oh, my gosh! These look professional!” Raibaru exclaims. “Both the picture and the food!”

“Aw, gee, thanks.” Rojasu blushes a bit at the compliment, looking at the pictures. “I usually take pictures of my homemade food or food I get from food trucks. Ooh! In fact..” He pointed a finger at one of the pictures, one that showed a fancy-looking cheesecake with strawberry sauce on top. “This is the most outstanding- the most bomb cheesecake I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. It’s this food truck called Torte’s Torte- I’m pretty sure they come from Rome..”

Rojasu seems far more enthusiastic and awake now that he’s talking about food. As he rambles to Raibaru, Ayano looks at the pictures. You could tell the difference between the food truck photos and the homemade photos pretty easily. The food truck photos were taken outside and usually at night, it seemed, while the homemade food photos were taken on the same counter- likely in Rojasu’s own kitchen.

After Rojasu finished with his one-sided conversation with Raibaru (Rojasu chatting and Raibaru just politely nodding), he held his hand up to the final display. “And this one is obviously Fureddo’s.” He didn’t really have much to say, just smiling at the pictures.

Regardless of where, what angle, what aesthetic it took, what lighting, each one of the pictures always included the whole club. They were hardly even ever looking at the camera, just at each other or whatever event they happened to be in. The zoo, one of their houses, a kitchen, a cafe, even just the club room. Each picture was very cinematic, and showed each of the club members’ unfiltered emotions at the time.

“He’s pretty good with the whole picture thing, huh?” Rojasu asked with a chuckle.

“He really is.” Raibaru fawned, smiling at the pictures. “Everything looks so unfiltered! He must be really good at catching you all by surprise, huh?”

Rojasu grins. “Totally.” He nods, before walking past the two once again with a sigh. “Well, that’s us taking pictures. If we did that 24/7 there would be waaaay more. But we usually just sit in this little area and check up on each other. Share drama. That kind of stuff.” He shrugs, sitting down in the area in question. “We usually take pictures outside of school since there really isn’t much to look at inside of school. You know?”

Raibaru nods. “I understand. Taking pictures sounds… nostalgic.” She says, smiling at Rojasu. “Thanks for the explanation. I’ll definitely think about this one!”

“Coolness.” Rojasu flings the two ladies a peace sign as they leave. Once they’re out of the room, Raibaru exhales.

“It’s a really lovely club. It’s probably nice to have friends like that.” Raibaru says with an almost bittersweet smile. “I’d…” She hesitates. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt that.”

Ayano hums at her comment. “That’s a unique way to think about it.” She mumbles, although she doesn’t get much of a response as Raibaru looks to the ground in thought as they walk.

__

“Hey!” Yaku trotted over to Ayano immediately as he noticed her enter the club room. “I know you! Ayano, right? I’ve heard some good things about you!” He reaches his hand out to shake her hand, and once she hesitantly takes it he shakes it excitedly.

Ayano didn’t expect for anyone to be this excited to see her, especially since she and Yaku have never officially spoken. “..thanks.” She nods, albeit awkwardly. If Yaku notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Ayano. What brings you here?” Meka asks, looking her way. She had a couple of plastic cases near her area of the club room, and looked as if she was about to bring them somewhere.

“I’m looking for a club to possibly join and Ayano is helping me out.” Raibaru explains, “If you aren’t too busy, do you think either of you would be able to give me some information about your club?”

Yaku immediately jumps to the task. “Yes! I can do that!” He says, looking at Ayano, as if expecting her to react in some special way. She only tilts her head to the side at his gaze.

Meka lifts up two of the cases and exits the room, leaving Yaku to tend with the two girls. Yaku clears his throat and opens his arm, gesturing to the whole room. “If you didn’t know, science has a lot of divisions in it. Sub-genres, if you will. Even what each of us club members work on varies.”

Yaku points to Meka’s section, and lists off his member’s specializations. “Meka works with robotics. That includes engineering to some extent as well as computer science due to the coding, as you would expect.” He points over to Horo’s area, “Horo works with holograms. His whole goal is I think simplifying holographic technology so that it’s something that every household has. He really, really believes that the technology he’s working on can help people out. Or at the very least make their lives more convenient.”

“That’s incredibly impressive.” Raibaru says, her expression one of awe. She then smiles somewhat nervously. “I don’t think I could ever accomplish something so vast.”

“Well, the Science Club isn’t necessarily about making a dent in history. Take Homu for example.” He brings a hand up to Homu’s station, which held what looked to be a robot replica of herself. “She’s trying to develop AI to fit her needs. Her studies might help people who are interested in furthering the development of AI, but Homu is really just tailoring it to her needs specifically, since it’s just supposed to help herself.”

Yaku then points to his own section. “I just experiment with chemistry. I guess in that case I’m the only one who doesn’t mess with robotics.” He then taps on the metal visor over his eyes. “Outside of this, but it’s a necessity.”

“And Kaga?” Ayano asks, her arms folded nonchalantly. She couldn’t confess that she cared much for Kaga personally, but while she was here it was probably best if she got every bit of information necessary.

“Hmm, well…” Yaku hums briefly in thought. “Once he said that he deals with ‘the science of psychology’, but that was all. Regardless of what he actually focuses on, he’s good at everything. Whenever he isn’t having conversations or working on private projects, he’s usually fixing our mistakes or helping us out. I’d… like to say willingly but he usually seems pretty exasperated whenever he helps us.”

Raibaru laughed lightly. “Well, it’s nice that he helps, right?” Yaku nods in response and Raibaru continues, “This has all been very… informative, but I honestly don’t think I’d be a great fit for this club. I’ve never been very interested in science, whether that be psychology, robotics, chemistry… I can’t say I’ve ever been any good with the subjects either.”

Yaku simply smiles and crosses his arms. “Well, I can’t blame you. Science is pretty complicated in general. I’d like to point out, though, the only reason each of us club members are working on such complicated projects is because we’ve been in the science field for years.” He explains. “It’s not likely, if not just impossible, that you would be working on the things we’re working on even if you were interested. That’s just an experience issue.” He reassures her.

“I understand.” Raibaru nods with a wry grin. “I’ll definitely leave all the science to this club. But, on another note..” She looks at the remaining plastic cases and asks, “Where is Meka taking those?”

“The, uh, right..? Storage room in the gymnasium, I believe. I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you brought those to her.” Yaku claimed, successfully guessing why Raibaru had even asked.

Raibaru nods with a smile, taking four of the cases, which left Ayano with the last two. She walks past Yaku and nods at him approvingly. “Thanks for your time, Yaku. You’ve been a big help!”

Ayano follows Raibaru downstairs as Yaku happily bids them farewell.

__

“I’m sure Asu would appreciate having you as a member.” Hojiro says with a smile, crossing his arms in a similar fashion that Itachi does. “Your history with the martial arts club might help you adapt to the club if you plan on joining.”

Both Itachi and Asu hadn’t come over when Ayano waved at them. Itachi didn’t seem like he wanted to be interrupted, and Asu either didn’t get that Ayano wanted to talk or just wanted to focus on running. Both had very valid reasons, possibly. So, Hojiro came over instead.

“I agree.” Raibaru nods, although she didn’t look particularly interested. “So, you’re called the Sports Club, but I’ve only seen you all run or swim. Do you do anything with the equipment in the storage rooms?”

Hojiro exhales, “Yeah, we get that question a lot. We used to last year a lot, but since Asu became the leader, she’s kept her focus on running and swimming. I couldn’t tell you why exactly.” He explains, shrugging with a sympathetic frown.

Ayano speaks up, “I heard that swimming was her favorite sport, with running or jogging being a close second.” She comments, frowning, “Isn’t it kind of… unprofessional to have the Sports Club equipment wasting away?”

“Well, yes, probably. Maybe she just saves it for the Sports Festival? That’s coming up in a few weeks.” Hojiro guesses, although ultimately he doesn’t know the answer himself.

Raibaru hums in thought, “If I don’t end up joining, I’ll make sure to come to the Sports Festival. That sounds fun.” She claims, actually seeming to enjoy that idea. Then again, as per usual, it could just come down to her liking the thought of doing something special with Osana.

“One more club.” Ayano mumbles, although Raibaru catches it.

“Yup! And it might be the one I’m most drawn to.” She says, smiling happily. She gives Hojiro a quick bow, “Thank you very much for the information.”

Hojiro simply nods. “Sorry I couldn’t be much help. Good luck with whatever club you choose.” He waves the two off briefly and tosses his towel on a nearby bench before continuing to the track.

As Raibaru and Ayano walked to the Gardening Club, Ayano’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

Info-Chan: Smash your phone.

Ayano: What.

Info-Chan: You don’t have a plan for how you’re going to get your hands on Raibaru’s phone, right?

Ayano: Okay, but what does breaking my phone have to do with that?

Info-Chan: Say you need to take an important call.

Info-Chan: Whenever she looks away, throw it on the ground.

Info-Chan: She’ll likely offer you hers since she doesn’t use it much anyway.

Ayano: Then I’ll have her phone, but not my own.

Info-Chan: Just slide it under my door before classes. I’ll fix it by the time classes are over.

Ayano: Alright. I guess.

__

“Hello.” Sakura greeted in a quiet voice, almost too quiet to be heard. She had a habit of being quiet and sometimes unnoticed due to that and her short height. “I’m sorry, Uekiya isn’t here right now. Do you have any business with her?”

“Not Uekiya specifically.” Ayano shakes her head.

Raibaru finishes for her, smiling at Sakura. “I’m just looking through the clubs to see if I’m open to joining any of them. This is the last club I’m visiting.” She says softly, somewhat matching Sakura’s own tone. “Can you tell me a bit about the Gardening Club.”

“Hm.. I suppose I can.” Sakura says. She was holding a book in her hand, one that Ayano had seen before in the Occult Club. Sakura places the book in her bag, which was resting on a nearby wooden chair.

Brushing off her skirt briefly before picking a corner of the gardening club to walk to. She decides on the back left corner, stopping in front of the small garden where the club usually grew vegetables. “This is where we…”

Immediately, Ayano tuned Sakura out. Despite her attempt to ignore it, her eyes were glued to a certain plot of soil. It almost seemed as if the soil there was looser, despite the fact that the gardening club has likely watered it constantly and kept it in place. It was deep enough, she was sure of it.

Ayano had done all of the research. It would take a very long time for Saki’s body to decompose given the conditions, but in the end, it’s likely that she would stay hidden. She spent over half an hour making sure that that was the case, so it had to be true. As she stared at the plot of soil, she almost felt light-headed.

She hadn’t bothered closing Saki’s eyes when she buried her. Were they aimed at her right now? Staring directly at her through the layers of dirt and roots? Saki’s hair was long. Would it eventually stick out if the earth were worn away before the body decomposes? Hair wasn’t really made to decompose like bodies- it could possibly take longer than her body.

Saki’s body was down there.

Ayano felt a hand creep up onto her shoulder and she flinched hard, immediately whipping her head to see who it was. It was Raibaru. She looked concerned. “Are you feeling alright? You look pale.”

It took Ayano a moment, but she slowly shook her head. “I’m okay… I thought I saw, uh… one of those..” She gulped, attempting to calm her nerves, “...one of those winged spiders.”

“There’s such a thing as a winged spider?!” Raibaru gaped, looking mortified. Ayano couldn’t tell if Raibaru was trying to change the topic off of Ayano’s clearly unnerved expression, or if she was genuinely terrified of bugs.

“I don’t think so, hehe.” Sakura reassured Raibaru quietly. “I’m pretty sure that that’s a fictional species. And even if it was real, it’s not native to Japan, so it’s unlikely that it’s anywhere near us.” She explained briefly with a calm smile.

“Oh… good to know..” Raibaru sighed in relief.

Sakura led Raibaru to the shed and greenhouse, holding both of her hands to either of the two small areas. “This is the shed- where we keep all of our tools, and this is the greenhouse- where we usually grow herbs. We don’t grow them with grapes or carrots or anything because they’re more susceptible to bad weather.” She raises her hand to the shed again. “Fair warning, there are some dangerous items in the shed, hence why only Uekiya has the key. She keeps all the dangerous items inside the locked part of the shed.”

“Does the headmaster allow that?” Raibaru asked, tilting her head to the side. Ayano took it upon herself to pay close attention to this part for the sake of knowing everything that needed to be known about the available weapons in the school.

“Yes. In fact, he’s the one who offered them to us, I believe. He offered us access to these to make pruning and such easier, but also so that we would give a helping hand to getting rid of pesky plants that are harder to remove.” Sakura explains.

She then walks to the middle of the gardening club, holding her hands out to the space around her. “We usually specialize in flowers, but we try to keep them all vastly different. Mainly because we need them to do something outside of sitting there and looking pretty when others need to be planted.” Sakura folds her hands in front of her. She looked somewhat out of breath, but wasn’t finished yet. “So, sometimes we try to make perfume, dyes, air cleaners, oils- sometimes we give some to the cooking club for food. And so on and so forth. But that’s just the flowers.”

Raibaru smiles giddily. “It sounds extensive! And well worth the effort.” She hesitates before saying, “I’m not… usually one to actively get dirty, but maybe I’ll decide to start sacrificing my cleanliness after this?” She wonders aloud, looking generally happy. Maybe it was after completing her and Ayano’s mission, maybe she just really likes the thought of the gardening club.

“Well, we’ll be here whenever you decide to join. Outside of Scilla, you will have been our newest member this week!” Sakura claims.

“Scilla joined?” Ayano wondered aloud, surprised that he, someone who couldn’t speak without apologizing, had actually gained the nerve to join the Gardening Club. Maybe he hoped that since the whole club was generally very sweet, that he’d be more comfortable?

Sakura nods, and Raibaru speaks up with a quick bow of her head. “Alright, it’s almost time for class, so we’d better get going. Thank you so much for your time, Sakura!”

“Oh, I’m happy to have helped.” Sakura nods with a calm smile, waving the two off.

Now that they were finally finishing up their task, Ayano had to put her plan to action. Raibaru turned to look back at Ayano with a satisfied smile and opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sudden ring of Ayano’s phone. She waved her hand as Ayano gave her a questioning look, as if asking if she could take the call. “Go ahead,” She mouthed.

As soon as Raibaru turned her back to continue walking, Ayano answered the phone. “Hel– ah–” She immediately slammed it into the floor and gasped, this time, flawlessly acting out the accident. “...oh.”

Raibaru whipped her head back with a shocked expression and grimaced at the shattered glass on the ground. “Oh, jeez, Ayano..” She looked around, making sure that she could see every piece on the sidewalk. “That’s not good… I didn’t realize phones could break so easily..”

“Ugh, I–” Ayano sighs, “That was a… very important call.. I’m not sure how I’m going to…”

Like clockwork, Raibaru fishes her own phone out of her pocket and holds it to Ayano with a smile. “If you remember the number you can take my phone for a minute. I don’t really use it anyway.”

“Oh.” Ayano looks shocked at the phone, but hurriedly takes it, “Thank you. I’ll…” She quickly dials Info-Chan’s number and holds it up to her ear. She looks around briefly, to the nearby bench, to the sidewalk, to the broken phone, “I’ll be right back. I’ll go get a broom or… something.” She says, turning on her heel and walking the other way. Raibaru nods to her and begins picking up the bigger shards.

__

Info-Chan hadn’t bothered actually saying anything, it was really just quiet static that played on the other side of the phone. Eventually, she finished the Info-Install process- much quicker than before- and returned the phone to Raibaru. After they parted ways, Ayano took her broken phone and slid it beneath the door of the Info-Club.

As promised, Info-Chan delivered her phone, which already had the information about Lori and Frankie already messaged to her. First, it started with information for both Frankie and Lori.

Name: Francesca Komai

Gender: Female

Class: 3-2

Club: Martial Arts

Persona: Phone Addict

Reputation:

Overall: +38

Liked: +75 Respected: +30

Feared: +10

Crush: None

Strength: Strong

Likes & Dislikes:

Likes: Money, School, Socializing, The Photography Club, Combat

Dislikes: Gossip, Justice, Solitude, Family, Animals

Bio: “A girl with fashion similar to the gyaru girls, despite having a much different personality. She enjoys the gyaru fashion, but doesn’t entertain gossip like the gyaru girls do. She joined the Martial Arts club under the simple claim that she liked going out at night, and wanted to know how to defend herself just in case. The truth is that she’s being harassed by a lower-classman and wants to know how to keep herself safe until she can eventually run away.”

Most of what was said about Francesca was ultimately what Ayano expected, although she didn’t realize that she actively enjoyed combat. Of course, there’s a difference between being beat up and sparring, but what was the difference between that and what were the differences in regards to that for Frankie herself?

The information that really surprised Ayano was what she read about Lori.

Name: Lorelai Bier

Gender: Male

Class: 1-1

Club: None

Persona: Violent

Reputation:

Overall: -16

Liked: -100

Respected: -50

Feared: +100

Crush: None

Strength: Extensive Training

Likes & Dislikes:

Likes: Combat, Money, Solitude, Martial Arts, Social Media

Dislikes: Justice, Socializing, School, Cooking, Family

Bio: A boy who cross-dresses as a girl. Not many- if any knows that he’s a male, and he’s known for being violent when bothered. He’s usually left alone, but rather than being hated, some students give him gifts or offer him nice things as a way to brighten his mood. This doesn’t change his violent nature, but it does coax him to stay out of others' way and hide elsewhere so as to not bother anyone or be bothered. He cross-dresses because he’s learned that doing so gets him more lenient treatment if he’s caught fighting.

For a moment, Ayano wondered if Info-Chan had entered Lori- or Lorelai’s information wrong. The revelation of Lori actually being a male wasn’t necessarily important, but it did make sense to a certain degree regarding Lori and Frankie’s strength difference. To everyone’s knowledge, Lori didn’t train for anything, and Frankie was actively training in the Martial Arts club. Not to mention that Lori was smaller than Frankie (or appeared as such beneath his sweaters), and younger than her by at least two years.

From the point of view of anyone else who knew Frankie and Lori, the thought of Lori actively attacking Frankie to the point that she had to flee didn’t make any sense. Now, with the reveal of Lori’s information, both in gender and in strength, it made more sense to Ayano.

Ayano looked at the final few messages, which successfully explained Lori’s motives.

Info-Chan: Lorelai Bier is hired weekly to attack and physically harass Francesca Komai. I don’t know by who or why right now because Lorelai doesn’t bring a phone to school. He doesn’t make calls so I have no access to who he talks to while he’s in school.

Info-Chan: I do know that Francesca is aware of Lorelai’s real gender and strength-level, although I don’t know what led to her knowing this. I also know that she doesn’t want to tell anyone at school because she’s nosy, and wants to know why Lorelai is attacking her. According to her, she doesn’t think that no one attacks someone for no reason, and is actually concerned for Lorelai.

Info-Chan: If you want to learn more about how to help them, then bring me information about Francesca and Lorelai’s interactions outside of school. For a massive bonus, also bring me information about who is hiring Lorelai.

Ayano inhales deeply, and then exhales just as hard. Truthfully, the interactions today had worn her out. She wasn’t at all ready to deal with whatever the hell Frankie and Lorelai had going on today. She’d deal with it tomorrow, she decided.

Watching Taro’s actions for the next couple of hours would be the perfect break for Ayano.

[watcher-comic]

okay hi

did i promise to make an art... lore dump post literally last month? yes. did i not do it for nearly a month? also yes. and im Very Sorry.

anyway! onto the ranting

So starting off with the obvious, Nanehi's color scheme is based off of the Shawnee tribe's flag!

Obviously more desaturated, but the blue sweater and two yellow stars were meant to show that he's native.

Alright, going in page order I'm just gonna throw around some easter eggs or fun facts or commentary...whatever....

Because this is the only good image I can find of it, Nane wears his parents' wedding bands on a necklace. Because his parents are divorced </3

On page 2, Nane has a poster up on his wall which is my current sketchbook cover in my art class. I believe it's somewhere on my art blog

Nane has a ziptie on his backpack! It doesn't mean anything.

Page 6: The white text that says "what?" is actually a reference to the first debut of Nane - an askblog!

(technically his first word was "huh" but i changed it to what for plot's sake)

Continuing with the black spaces on page 6, the panicked eye doesn't really mean anything. However, the twisted light switch was supposed to represent the noose that shows up at the end of the comic.

For page 7, there's obviously the audience design to talk about, but the things I actually wanna focus on are:

The doodle on the top left, which is Nanehi saying that he thinks he has tinnitus [which he then goes on to immediately deny in the next page]

And the doodle on the bottom right. His fursona is a bunny and if I could, I would've tried to fit more bunny imagery into the comic. But alas :pensive:

Page 13: All the different colored text were the responses I got from a select few people. I showed them the previous panels of the page and asked them what they wanted [there is one distinct person I didn't ask but I will get to them later].

I also want you to keep the... 3rd shade of green in mind [the "i want to see where this goes"]

For this panel on page 15, I wanted it to be known that Nanehi isn't a real person, and they know it. Everyone else's face is squared, even the simply doodled character in the background and the barely visible person in the foreground. Everyone except Nane.

Page 16: Man that's just mold on his shower curtain.

Page 17: There's actually a lot I want to talk about with page 17. Firstly, the design of The Audience. It changed, clearly. Before it was that weird circle thing, but now it's more humanoid - to the point of having hair similar to Nanehi's. The reason being, it's not entirely The Audience anymore. It's The Creator too. Nanehi was based off my fear of being watched and constantly having an audience. The little amount of comfort that the figure gives was... sorta supposed to be an apology to the character- as cheesy as that sounds.

(Also the fact that their text originally said "didn't they already answer that" but was crossed out to say 'we'. The Creator disguising themself as The Audience. And truly, what is to separate them?)

Another thing I want to point out is the dark grey panel. It's the same shade of grey I used for the askblog, and he's smiling in that panel, because during the askblog he was much happier around the audience- or the concept of them, rather.

And then of course, the dark blue text that reads "I know how this ends." That actually wasn't a response I took from someone, but rather a piece of... I guess dialogue, that I felt like someone would say. That specific someone being my friend Classi, who was the only person besides me that knew how Watcher ended. Purely because she had a very similar character and we thought that they'd be buddies.

On page 18, we have 3 entire panels in a different style. That being the style of the askblog.

(some examples)(the last image is where the avatar came from, haha)

On page 19 we have this panel, which you can probably assume what it is. It, I suppose, could both be seen as Nane standing, back to the audience, or as Nane hanging without the noose. You choose.

And of course, the last page. For some reason this fucks me up. Because this is The Creator talking to Nanehi. The Creator knows that Nane has no say in how their story ends, but they're given the illusion of control, because that's all they've been looking for. They wanted control over something, so the only way to prove such control was to show The Audience that they could end the story whenever they wanted. He doesn't know that he was talking to The Creator, he just assumed it was still The Audience. He doesn't know that he didn't really have a say.

This was what he wanted. That's how he's ending the story

[demonicup]

Lately I’ve been interested in a different kind of devil.

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[thebigqueer]

Uhh I don’t know if you’re still taking fanfic prompts (if you ever were-sorry my Tumblr is MESSY) but uhhh I saw this headcanon where Nancy Bobofit is on a date with her boyfriend and sees Percabeth and is jealous of their relationship and your writing is pretty frickin good and if you’re not too busy if you could give your thoughts on this?

oh my god i remember seeing that headcanon on pinterest ahhh memories of my baby days ahahahahahahh but anyway yeah! sure!

(and yeah you’re fine. i’m still taking requests, but i have quite a few to get to so i’ll be taking a while to get through them.)

thank you for the prompt, and i hope you like this one! and, as always: i do little to no editing on these fic prompts, so please don’t be too judgmental on them because i’m not gonna be giving it my absolute best. 

Droplets of sunlight drip through the leaves, sprinkling over Percy and Annabeth in dapples of gold. A breeze gently caresses the demigods’ faces. Today, Percy and Annabeth soak in the afternoon sunlight, allowing the moisture of the air seep into their skins. Percy’s arm lies lazily over Annabeth’s shoulders as she draws her sketches.

Annabeth has been more focused on her work since the two have been planning on heading to New Rome in just a few weeks. She’s been working hard on new sketches, brilliant designs, muttering under her breath ideas to improve her structures. Percy's been watching her, admiring how easily she can brush past all her school work in just the matter of hours and turn right to her new designs. He supposes that’s because she’s truly passionate about it; of course she’d make time for it.

Percy, on the other hand, has been struggling quite a bit with time. He’s only ready to let go of this place, go on new adventures with his girlfriend and start making a new life for himself. He’s too focused on the future ahead of him, which means he hasn’t exactly spent too much time worrying about his own work. He knows he should keep up with it, but he’s already been accepted to the university. All he wants to do is think about that new future, about all the possibilities.

Percy twirls his fingers through Annabeth’s curls, feeling the softness under his fingertips. The golden locks spill out again, gleaming under the setting sun, and his breath hitches as he looks at her. Her tanned skin emanates a certain kind of glow as the sunlight drapes over her, and her gray eyes sparkle with an intensity he’s so used to seeing. She’s absolutely beautiful. 

He leans his head against her shoulder, a dopey smile coming across his face as her body heat seeps into his skin. Annabeth keeps doodling, and Percy keeps thinking about her, basking in this familiarity with her. 

This is just the way things are. It’s the way he always hopes them to be forever. 

~

Several feet away, by a different large tree, a girl sits by her own boyfriend. They’re turned away from the sunlight; only a shade spills over them. The girl’s usual flaming hair droops under the darkness, almost washed out of color. A hollow feeling spreads through her chest as she watches her boyfriend lie next to her, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he wastes away in his dreams. 

She isn’t sure why she feels this way. Why can’t she just be happy with him? Why does she have to feel these... feelings? 

As he dozes off, she finds that she’s able to slip away from him again, wander back to her own fantasies and daydreams. She thinks of the girl in her AP Stats class, the one who lent her a pencil the other day. They haven’t been friends long, but something about her strikes Nancy in her core; it’s a warm, gooey feeling, something she’s never quite felt before with anyone else.

Nancy sighs; she just doesn’t understand why she has to think about her right now. Isn’t she supposed to enjoy her time with her boyfriend? Why can’t she just... stop?

She watches over the landscape of the park, her eyes absorbing all the people, the colors, the vibrancy of the place. It seems as though only she lies in the shadows of the tree, isolated from the rest of the world.

As she roves over the features of the place, her dark eyes fix themselves upon a boy and a girl lazing around several feet in front of her, smiles gleaming under the golden sunlight. The boy lies over a blonde girl, his own darker hair falling into his eyes as he speaks to her. The girl’s mouth opens as she offers a silent laugh in response. They seem to be living in their own world, Nancy notes, but not in the same lonely isolation that she’s in. Their world is bright and warm and sunshiny, filled with an intimate laughter. 

Hers is dark and lonely, filled only with despair. 

A flame bursts in her, a hot rage that she had no idea she was capable of. Since sixth grade, she’s been working on her anger issues and kleptomania; she even stopped going to that stupid school. But now, as she watches them, she can’t help but to want to steal one more thing - their happiness. 

They watch each other adoringly in a manner that indicates that they’ve found some kind of comfort with in one other. Their eyes sparkle with love, with pure admiration, with something so profoundly happy that an even hotter burst of anger erupts in Nancy’s chest. Why can’t I have that? she wonders.

She thinks again of the girl in her AP Stats class. Nancy couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by her features the other day, the way her dark hair swooped gently over her eyes, the way her lips seemed permanently glued into a small, mischievous smile. She’d doodled on Nancy’s notebook, a little flower, and laughed quietly as if they were sharing a secret. 

Nancy looks over at her dozing boyfriend once more, watching his eyelids flutter as he slips farther and farther into his dreams. She knows she’d never be happy with him; she knows that she only started dating him for the sake of dating. She felt like she was falling behind on something, and she only wanted to catch up. 

She sighs, her breath blowing out into the Spring air. She leans back against the tree now, letting her head swivel left and right as she watches the people of New York City mill about, allow the sun to sprinkle over them. 

And then, just to the left, she spots her: the girl. Today she’s wearing white shorts over black tights, with a dark purple top to match. Her short hair flows dreamily with the gentle breeze, its dark wisps trying to keep pace with the current. A sweet, tingling laughter flows from her lips, drifting along with the wind. The soft sunlight catches her skin and a dim glow surrounds her skin. 

Almost as if she can sense Nancy staring at her, the girl’s head turns. For a moment, she merely stares at Nancy, not quite registering her. A beat of silence passes, and Nancy swears that her heart has stopped working. The air stills as if waiting for something to happen. 

And then the girl smiles brightly as recognition swoops over her features. Her mouth opens and moves, but her voice drowns out before it can reach Nancy. Nancy shakes her head, confusion written over her features. The girl, after thinking for a moment, pulls out her phone and taps furiously over it. 

A moment later, Nancy’s phone pings with a new text:

Claire The Stat Sage: hey!!! wanna come over here? we’re doing a small picnic!! you can bring the bf too!!!

Nancy reads the text several times, absorbing each letter, letting the words imprint themselves over her mind. Some exhilarating burst of joy gleams within her chest, bright enough to rival the sun. Her blood tingles underneath her skin, saturated with excitement. 

For a second, she contemplates the invitation. Should she bring her boyfriend? Nancy turns her head to him, watching for a movement, watching for some kind of opposition. 

When he doesn’t move, she makes her decision. 

She steps forward, towards Claire, the warmth of the Spring evening blanketing her in its comfort. 

Claire smiles at her as she approaches. “Hey! You didn’t bring your boyfriend?”

A pang of guilt strikes Nancy, wondering if perhaps it was a better idea to just wake him up and bring him. But then she gazes past Claire, towards the sun, basking under the glory of it.

She likes not being under the shadows of the trees anymore. 

Shrugging, she plops down, a small smile floating over her lips. “He’s sleeping. He can catch up when he wants to.” 

[bandaged-writer]

“you are my soulmate.” || dazai

lyric prompts are still open ^.^

➤ Requested by: nonnie (I accidentally deleted the ask instead of saving it)

➤ Lyric prompt: "You are my soulmate."

➤ Pairing: Dazai x Reader

➤ Genre: fluff, romance, soulmate! AU, friends to lovers-ish(?)

➤ Warnings: none

➤ Word count: 2k

The remains of steam trickled down the foggy bathroom mirror while you were busy rubbing your wet hair dry, the smell of showering gel and shampoo lingering in your nose and relaxing your tense nerves. It had been quite the rough week at the agency; a couple of fights, tons of paperwork which your back hated you for and more than enough complaints from the neighbors about the noise and damage. Of course, you couldn't help but reward yourself with a nice, long shower.

Wiping the steam away from the mirror, you tilted your head at the monochromatic reflection staring back at you. There were no colors whatsoever, only a gloomy mix of black and white painted your world once again. Suddenly, you were reminded of the time your mother had told you about soulmates who would paint you a clear blue sky overtime, but what the hell was blue? What did it look like? You were already in your 20s, you doubted that your soulmate was close by - for all you knew, they could live across the globe or died already. Fate wasn't always kind, after all.

Shaking these memories away and wrapping a fluffy towel tightly around your torso, you finally stepped out of the comfort of your bathroom only to be greeted by a pouting mummy lazing around on your couch. "[Name]! Good that you finally finished your shower, the remote control isn't working anymore!" Dazai whined dramatically and held the defective device in his hands as if it had committed a felony. "I've been stuck having to watch a documentary about dogs! Dogs of all animals! Only your beauty can cure my eyes from what they had witnessed-"

Embarrassment heated your cheeks up while your hands were clutching your towel to your chest, your friend's words fell on deaf ears. "What the hell are you doing here?!" you yelled at the brunette and swung a trained leg at the suicidal man whose hand easily grabbed your bare ankle. "My sweet [Name], don't you know how lonely I am without a pretty lady to spend a Saturday with?," by then, you were already used to Dazai's flirty antics and only rolled your eyes at his sugar-coated words for they were nothing more but just that. "That gives you no right to break into my house while I'm showering!," you were beyond flustered, although even this wasn't exactly new. Dazai had seen you half naked numerous times over the course of your friendship and it had never gotten under your skin so deeply. "It's not breaking in when you showed me where the spare key is," a smug expression settled down on Dazai's handsome features as he showed you the glimmering key which was usually hidden in the flower pot in front of your door.

Just as you were about to give in, something weird happened.

For a moment, you could see Dazai's eye color, the shade of his hair and clothes. It was a mere flicker of faded paint filling your vision before your world went back to its monochromatic state and left you staring at your friend like a deer caught in headlights.

"Earth to [Name]," Dazai snapped his fingers in front of your eyes and whipped you back to reality where everything was very much black and white and not colorful. "Wait here, I need to get dressed," pulling your leg from Dazai's grasp, you made a run to your bedroom, slammed the door shut and let your back collide with the cool wood, small gasps leaving your lips as your breathing picked up in a horrifying realization.

The one person you were closest to made you see colors. The one person who knew you better than the back of his hand, knew every little flaw and imperfection and was the epitome of a suicidal womanizer.

No, it had to be a mistake. A simple miscalculation, a cheap trick of the eye. Yes, nothing but a mistake - you had heard of some people seeing colors from birth or they randomly gained the ability to see them without developing feelings towards anyone.

This would be a disaster.

_____________________

And oh boy, were you right.

With each passing day, the dreary monochromatic life you were used to, gradually disappeared and tainted your vision with colors you didn't want to see, because you could finally see that everything your co-workers had told you about Dazai was indeed true.

"What does Dazai look like?," doodling on a random sheet of paper and with coffee resting next to your computer, you threw the sudden question at Naomi who was one of the few people at the agency who could see colors. The ravenette raised a fine eyebrow, looking at you like you had lost your mind. "You don't suffer from long-term memory loss, do you?," a teasing cadence laced in her voice. Letting your body slightly slide down the chair, you leaned your head back against the furniture and pouted. "I know what he looks like! But like..what colors is he made up of?," it was a funny question - you considered Dazai your best friend and yet, you didn't know the color of his irises, of his coat, of the silly pendant he always carried around his neck. You wanted to see your friend.

Naomi's gaze softened at that, a tender curve finding home on her lips which made her eyes smile. It was a question so trivial that only few people worried about, and yet there you were, oblivious to the feelings that were so painfully obvious to everyone at the agency.

And so, Naomi told you about every color that was Dazai Osamu: from the black shoes, to the beige coat, to the blue pendant and his brown locks.

"I envy you for seeing so much more, Naomi."

Those words turned out to be a blessing and a curse alike.

On one hand, you could faintly make out the sparkle in Dazai's coffee-colored orbs but on the other hand, that sparkle was reserved for the pretty waitress of Uzumaki's whose hand he was currently holding, his mind smitten with the mere idea of committing a lover's suicide. You wish you wouldn't see them light up even though the color you saw was barely there, washed out.

"Would a fair maiden such as yourself allow me the honor of you accompanying me to the afterlife?," a moonstruck smile stretched Dazai's lips, his calloused thumb stroking the delicate knuckles of the waitress who remained unfazed by Dazai's attempt to woo her. It was a typical sight, yet why did it bother you? You had witnessed such scenes countless of times and even acted as the brunette's girlfriend just so he could get rid of another woman's unwanted affection. "Hmm, maybe if you have a life insurance," the waitress twinkled, clearly uninterested in Dazai's proposal.

You realized that not even a soulmate could tie Dazai down.

"Are you alright, [Name]?," Atsushi pulled your attention to the matter at hand which was assigning several cases to different colleagues, but even Atsushi could tell that you weren't really with him. He saw the way your gaze would travel to the counter where Dazai was keeping himself busy with the waitress, he noticed the way you'd only ever give him an occasional "mhm" or a short "yes".

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm good. Don't worry, Atsushi," you waved a dismissive hand in front of your face and put on the ghost of a smile which never reached your eyes.

"I was just thinking about how blue the sky is today."

_____________________

"Have you ever seen colors, Osamu?," mindlessly, you stared at the sake in the small cup held by your fingers, your body resting on Dazai's floor with the wall supporting your back. It was a lazy night of having a few drinks at the brunette's place, talking about anything that came to mind or letting silence and unspoken words fill the space.

Dazai effortlessly downed a shot and let the liquor burn his throat. At least, the drinks were less bitter with you around. "Well, have you?" Ah, that bastard once again avoided your question by asking his own and putting the spotlight on you. It was such a painfully obvious tactic to dodge personal questions, but it still worked every damn time. Or maybe you just needed to get some thoughts off your chest and run the risk of Dazai figuring out the secret you had only told Atsushi about.

"What do you think about it?," stupid how the two of you danced around the topic like it was poison which could bring death upon the both of you.

Sitting down opposite of you, Dazai scanned your face. The way your gaze was fixed on him like a magnet, the missing makeup, the slightly disheveled hair from work and the way your lips shone thanks to the lip balm you always carried with you. "You're a curious thing, aren't you?," a chuckle caressed your ears and you wished it was a bit more lighthearted, a bit less closed off. Dazai rested his elbow on his propped up knee in a lazy manner as he gathered his thoughts; it was something he had never talked about.

"I don't think I like the concept of a soulmate. After all, your soulmate can be dead or be against the beliefs you hold on to so tightly. It'd cause unnecessary conflict over and over again until both individuals grow tired of each other and eventually break up, no?," Dazai paused then sighed, his eyes drawn to the night sky outside. "Isn't it a bit mean to gift color only those who feel something like love towards someone?"

Those words were as bitter as the liquor scorching your throat, but could you really disagree? A soulmate was only a partner suggestion given by the universe and whatever created it. Many soulmates eventually got tired of one another, yet no one broke things off since having someone to come home to was comfortable. It was comfortable, but it was no longer love. "It is. I've been dying to see what colors you are," you admitted softly, hoping he couldn't tear through the lie and discover that you saw the color of the cut that he got from an earlier fight.

At that, Dazai smiled at you with tender eyes and tilted his head to the side, brown strands of hair framing his stupidly dreamy face. "Honestly? I've been wondering what your eye color is."

You swore the world just got more colorful.

_____________________

The day the colors reached their peak of vibrancy was the day your heart skipped a beat for the first time in quite a while.

In the background, you could hear Kunikida scolding Dazai and threatening to kill him with his own bony fingers jus because the brunette was trying to shove his reports to Atsushi. "I swear I'll make you see the end of your life!," the blond man yelled, clearly fed up with his colleague's antics and non-existent work ethics. "At least let me die with a beautiful woman by my side!"

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Their arguments never failed to squeeze a laugh out of your lungs even when you didn't feel like laughing at all. The agency was your safe place, it was your home.

"Oh, I spent an entire minute dealing with your crap although we should get going. Let's go, Dazai," Kunikida let go of his partner's collar, dusted off his pants like nothing happened and grabbed the keys for the car; no way in hell would he ever let the suicidal maniac drive, again. "Punctual as always, Kunikida," Dazai mock praised the blond and crossed his hands behind his head, a smile on his face.

"Ah, good luck, guys!," you called after Kunikida with quite the stack of paper in your hands and smiled up at Dazai who just..looked at you. You were about to tell him to hurry up and head out before Kunikida would scold him again, when he spoke in a hushed tone which was only meant to be heard by you.

"I like your lip balm. Red suits you."

[seyaryminamoto]

Do you have any advice on how to draw clothing? I’ve been trying to get into making my own art and all my characters look like they are walking around in socks 😂. Idk how you do it so well

... that the day has come when someone has asked me how I draw ANYTHING is genuinely mindblowing to me xD I know I've upped my game in fabrics lately but this is surreal xD Am I really gonna do an art tutorial, for the first time ever in my whole life?!

Well, for you, Anon, I shall try xD

First off, you're going to want to doodle a basic body shape. I am not going to pretend I am good at doodling body shapes. Nope. But what matters there is getting the position of your character, figuring out what goes where. Once you have that, you go to stage two, and that is putting clothes on 'em!

You can start with basic clothes, the way I did. I simply draw them atop the body outline, then erase whatever bits of the body the fabric will cover up. Depending on what kind of clothes you're drawing, the fabric behaves differently. But what you need to keep in mind is that fabric usually has its own volume, weight, and is affected by a body's movements and positioning. As this body is in a general, simple standing position, the fabric doesn't need to move around MUCH... but it does need to move around a bit if we want it to feel legit.

For the sake of making it look more real, you have to account for where the folds show up more often in clothes. My typical choices for that are locations where fabrics overlap, or where there are joints. Feel free to add a few extra folds here and there, of course, especially if the clothes are meant to be baggy and with a lot of air! The clothes that aren't baggy, however, like (in this case) the gloves or the arm bandages, as they're meant to be tight on the body, won't need folds unless you're drawing something highly detailed with a very peculiar hand shape.

After that, it's base color time! Base color is very very important, as the shades and lighting will be derived from that initial hue. Gotta pick each color right!

Now... SHADING! This is something I used to do with air brush tools. Currently, as I'm working on Clip Studio Paint, I use this fabrics' brush and it has really improved my fabrics' game, so if you can find a good brush that gives your fabrics more texture, it'll help heaps :D if you can't, however, the basic air brush tool, on any art software I've used, can achieve good results on its own.

Normally, when I color, I select the fabric's color, all of it, to avoid unwanted accidents with color bleeding out all over the place. I believe some people just make different layers for everything, but I like pain (?) So, believe it or not, the most important part here is selecting the right color: I leveled up big time in art on the day I started choosing more saturated colors for shadows. I typically went for gray-ish shadow tones, back in the day... but in my humble opinion, it does not hit the same way as more saturated shadows do.

The first one there is the base color, the second one the shading color and the last one is the lighting color. As you can see, I'm not that far inside the black area of the color wheel in the shading one, but I'm choosing a much more intense shade of blue, and that results in a contrast that doesn't require a lot of darkness to feel right.

As for where to apply your shading? That's in fact what the folds are for! :D they serve as guidelines, pretty much, for how you'll shift the color across the fabric. At the shading stage you can even add extra folds you didn't place in your lineart too, if you want, but what matters most is that they will give your clothing volume and texture.

Just as it is with the shading, lighting will lean on the folds as well!

(don't fret, we ain't done yet xD gotta soften that lighting later, naturally...)

I picked a much brighter color for the lighting, and far closer to white. This can work fairly well, but you can also choose a more saturated color if you want to, in some clothes. Makes them feel extra luxurious in my experience xD One of my tricks here is that there will be parts touched by the light that will be brighter than others. Hence why you can see that, while I applied my brush all over the folds, some parts are softer than others. This as well provides texture to the piece, and a dynamic feel that offers it extra volume.

With my base color once again, I've softened the lighting by brushing the base color over it veeeery lightly, and lo and behold! Looks a lot more normal now, right? :D and the colors blend well into each other (if you can't achieve this with a simple airbrush, the blending tool, applied carefully, can result in a similar outcome).

You can use the lighting and shadows to highlight some body shapes too: see how there's shading on that thigh, but instead of flowing right back into the base color, it shifts into the lighting color directly? That helps in giving the fabrics some shape too, therefore, the lineart isn't the only bit that matters in giving fabrics the behavior you may be looking for.

And as I wasn't even sure what number we were at anymore, here we go, step number ?, finish up lighting and shading everything XD I left it with very basic lighting and shading because Tumblr won't let me add any more images to a single post *shakes fist* but usually I play with layer modes, namely Multiply, Glow Dodge, or Color Dodge, to get some extra volume and feeling in clothes. Still, the bulk of the work is what you've seen here :D

Alright, some last tricks I want to share: if you take the lighting shades and brush them veeeeeeeery softly over the edges of each element in the artwork, you can get a really nice contrast that makes the clothes more realistic, to a fault. And one last important thing to point out is... commit to your shadows and lights xD if one area of the shirt is bright and, say, there's another layer of fabric right below it, you have to try your best to follow the pattern of lighting and shading that you set up in the first clothing item you shaded and lit up (?) if that makes sense xD if it doesn't, I'll try to explain it better in another ask, if you send one :D

Anyway! I hope this has been helpful, if it's not thorough enough then I'll have to think of some other way to pack up a proper tutorial that Tumblr won't attempt to destroy x'D but good luck with your next art ventures, and may all the fabrics be on your side in the future! :D

[franeridart]

Anon said: How are you just like "Oh these are just some warm up sketches" and post a full finished piece, while I'm over here sketching a triangle person and calling it a finished piece.

I dunno if this was a legit question asking for a legit answer, but I do happen to have a legit answer so I might as well give it! If I wanted to go into detals with it it’d take me forever though, so allow me to separate it into two points to make it easier

I learnt how to be very fast in putting down my lines and trained myself into not overthinking every single dot I put down. This took about five or six years of drawing daily and a whole life of drawing occasionally before then, because to do so you need to reach a point where you’re drawing something you’ve drawn so many times that by now your hand sort of goes without you needing to think about it much, so it’s not a fast process, but boy is it worth it. Mostly learning how to not overthink it, overthinking it used to be 90% of my time spent on a drawing and dear god did it suck the joy out of everything I drew

I have two very distinctive ways of approaching a drawing, one where I actually put effort in it and the other where I just want to let the squiggles out of my pen, and warm ups are the second one - the lack of effort I’m putting in can have different forms and show in different ways, so a warm up could be a fully colored piece as it could be just a pencil doodle, depending on where and on what exactly I’m being lazy: it could be the type of tool I’m using that allows me to draw without having to line, it could be a very tiny canvas that lets me avoid a ton of details a big canvas would demand. I might be cutting the time I usually put in making sure my anatomy is correct, I might be using a shading technique that takes a tenth of the time my usual one would, I might be using a style that’s just easier and faster to draw, or drawing characters I’ve drawn a trillion times in extremely generic poses and clothes. There’s a lot of things that I can do to make things faster for me! It’s skills you gain as you draw a lot - you learn how to draw things the hard way, and then you realize that along the way you learnt how to do them the easy way too

hope this actually answers your question! If it was a question at all lol if it wasn’t then sorry for rambling, please pretend I didn’t say anything hahaha

Anon said: I love your newest comic!!! So adorable!! I noticed Bakugou's mom does the affectionate hair rustle thing to him in the manga/anime, do you think Bakugou subconsciously does the same to show affection cause of it? I love the way you draw faces and poses, it's so expressive!!

Ahhhhh thank you so much!!! And yeah, it might be! After all we do take a lot from the people we live with even without realizing, and he’s already so similar to his mom!

Anon said: I saw your bakushima comic from October 9th (2019) where Bakugo falls asleep studying and Kirishima sets him down on the table properly and it was so soft my heart is crying

;;;;; !!!!!!!! I’m glad you liked it!! <3<3

Anon said: If it not to much, could I possibly get a Ochamina doodle pls? I just love some sweet lesbeans 👉👈

Awww I’m not taking requests right now, but I’ll keep it in mind for next time I want to doodle and don’t know what!

Anon said: I love your art! I envy you.

Please don’t! There’s a lot of reasons why being me isn’t a lot of fun - if it’s just my skill you envy, then all you gotta do is draw a lot! 

Anon said: i just went through your entire kiribaku tag and omg it was beautiful seeing the progression in your art skills but still keeping the same funny/cute/heartwarming/etc traits you thought up for their dynamic!! i hope that makes sense haha !! love your art keep it up

It does make sense!!! Thank you so much both for looking through the whole tag and for thinking so, it means a lot to me!! ;;; <3<3

Anon said: Hey fran! I hope you're doing well(especially with quarantine and all)!! I really love your anatomy and how fluid and stylistic it can be! It's super fun to look at! I wanted to ask you if you ever did any in depth studies on anatomy? Like muscles and bones. I've heard a lot of artists mention the necessity of studying bones/muscles, i'd really like to know your opinion on the subject

Ahhh god thank you so much!! And... hmm let’s see if I can word this properly and have it make sense - always keeping in mind that this is just my opinion, of course!

If all you want to do is to draw, then all you need to do is to pick up your pencil and draw - it’s really that easy as far as I’m concerned. You don’t need to know anatomy in depth to just draw, everyone has seen a person, everyone knows how a person looks. That is, if all you want to do is to draw for the sake of drawing. If you want to draw an anatomically correct looking human being, though, you do need to know how anatomy works - and the deeper you’ll go into studying it the more correct your people will look. It’s kind how everyone can draw a bicycle, but if you want to draw a realistic bicycle you’re gonna need to look up references for it, you know? It’s all on the level at which you’re interested in drawing, the more technically skilled you want to be the more you’ll have to study

As for my personal experience with this, I hate studying with a passion. Studying puts a damper on my enjoyement of everything, and drawing isn’t excluded from this - you put a book in front of me expecting me to study it and suddenly I never want to pick up a pencil again. This means that I never sat down and studied anatomy in depth and all in one go just to learn how to draw a human being, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t, slowly and now and again and in bits and pieces, study parts of the body to get a better understanding of it. I know better about the skeleton than I do about muscles, and I still have enough to learn about everything that anyone who’s studied anatomy properly would find a trillion mistakes in everything I draw, but my way of going about drawing has always been and always will be putting my enjoyement of it first and foremost, so I’m not interested in putting myself through a tour-de-force to learn everything there is to know about anatomy just to make my doodles look appealing to someone with a medical degree haha I’m just doing me, and when the mood is right I look up how to properly draw something, but until then I just do it as best as I can with my limited knowledge, being fully aware that what I’m producing is far from accurate but being willing to make that compromise for my own comfort

So that’s my opinion on it lol it all boils down to how important it is for you to know how to properly draw the human body - of course it’s gonna look more professional and better if you’ve studied it, but everyone has their own priorities, you know?

Anon said: Thank you for your hard work, seeing an upload from you is so nice, and the colors are so pretty

Thank you so muuuuccchhhhh!!!! TTATT <3<3<3

Anon said: Opinions on Tokoyami Fumikage 💕

One of my top faves in the whole manga, actually! I have a drawing in the making of him, I should get back to it..........

Anon said: HOLY SHIT FRAN THE TOES HOW YOU DRAW THE TOES SO WELL FEET ARE THE DEATH OF ME AND YOU’RE OVER HERE DRAWING TOES THEY’RE SO GOOD PLEASE TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!!! -❤️

Thank you!!!!!!!! So pretty much my way of learning this specific skill was being obsessed with elves when I was fifteen and wanting to draw them all the time  and also for whatever reason being convinced that they were not supposed to wear shoes so I just drew a lot of feet with references and tutorials and stuff till I could draw my elves properly. Which isn’t necessarily what you need to do to learn how to draw feet, but, I mean, it worked for me lol

Anon said: I love ur Bnha ships and all but what would u do if some of them didn’t become canon??

Oh, I actually don’t care about that at all? I don’t expect most of them to become canon anyway - like, ochadeku sounds reasonable and kamijirou seems to be getting there, but everything else I never even considered it as an actual possibilily. I don’t really ship because I want to see my ships become canon, I just like the potential in what I can make with them? If that makes sense? They’re just fun to think about and I like making fancontent, that’s all there is to it really haha honestly if I had my way no ship would ever be canon ever ha ha ha

Anon said: Slep is for the wek

No actually sleep is for Frans who want a chance at getting up tomorrow morning without an headache for once, so I should do that and go to sleep already lmao

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter seven: off to the races

“my old man is a bad man, but i can't deny the way he holds my hand and he grabs me, he has me by my heart. he doesn't mind i have a las vegas past; he doesn't mind i have a l.a. crass way about me; he loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart.” -”off to the races”, lana del rey

She couldn't hardly shake the taste of Cliff's lips from her own for the whole rest of the day, nor could she rid the feeling of that bristling hair over his lip. Even after he had left her apartment, Sam kept on bringing a hand to her mouth to make sure it had actually happened. Even with the sips of coffee shortly thereafter, she could still taste him. She could smell him. She could feel him.

His essence followed her even when she strode into the neighborhood to pick up some things for breakfast and for the next week. It was official: she had a boyfriend. Or perhaps he wasn't. But if he kissed her, then surely that would mean boyfriend status. However, he never went any further than that kiss. He never said anything other than that last thing and thus the whole thing left her wanting more from him.

Even when she returned home, she considered calling him up and asking a little more from him. But then again, he was going to be in New York for the next day or so: she could wait on the call to him for at least a few days. With nothing else to do, and Anthrax having gone out of town, Sam was alone for the whole entire day with nothing more than her art journal and her own imagination. She wondered if she see those photographs from Aurora at some point as she doodled up a quick drawing of Charlie and Marla together. She tried to recall the direction of the sun on their heads as she sketched down Marla's hair.

Brighter orange, almost pale yellow, in the direction of the sun. Deeper, richer orange and scarlet on the underside. Of course there was the deeper shade of violet and royal blue for the streaks. She couldn't completely recall which way the sun was pointed at their backs all the while.

Then there was that boy Alex. The boy with the small stripe of gray in his hair. He was so elusive and so far away from her that she couldn't hardly tell if he was even a real boy. He felt more of a dream to her than the dreams she had had of Cliff. But there was that drawing she had started in that first journal.

She needed to fetch that journal from Frank's apartment, but she knew he had locked the door prior to leaving. If only there was a way inside because it felt like an itch she couldn't exactly scratch. If she redid it on another piece of paper, it wouldn't have the same look as the initial drawing. It was something that simply couldn't be repeated. She needed it at her finger tips: she needed to see him.

But first things first: this drawing of Charlie and Marla right in front of her, in all of their bright colors under the bath of sunlight. She pressed on with it even when the sun began to shine through her bedroom window, directly above her in a single column through the glass.

Sam stood to her feet and lifted the base of the window pane off of the sill, and she was greeted by the softest of spring breezes on her face. The air smelled sweeter in the wake of that kiss. She returned to her seat and the drawing in front of her. The glints of gold in Charlie's curls made her think of that gray stripe again.

Boys with stripes and different colors in their hair. They seemed so odd and yet she wanted more of them for herself. To know more of them. To connect with them.

But then there was Joey. The boy whom she owed a drawing to, something beyond those markings on his hands. She needed to go above and beyond with him.

So much to do and yet it felt as though she had hardly any time to do it. A whole month before things picked up again with the side of attending the short tour with Stormtroopers of Death, and it felt so short even when she thought about it.

Careful not to give it too much of a shadow, she lightly ran the dark burnt umber pencil all around both of Charlie's eyes. She had made his face a little too full near his chin and thus, she ran a bit more of the dark brown to slim him down and add a bit more shadow. He stared back at her from the paper, and even though she couldn't add too much of a glimmer to them, she did leave a tiny white speck in his pupils for just that tiniest bit of gloss against the soft sheet of bright sunshine behind them. She did the same for Marla's eyes as well. It almost looked as though she wore eyeliner but at least she wasn't about to turn into the school for the sake of getting in.

This was nothing more than her desire to draw a couple of friends who had become like her muses of sorts. Sam looked on at them for one last glance over before she signed her initials at the bottom of the page. The shape of Charlie's round jawline hovered around the real thing, as did the full tip of his nose and the bow in his lips. A soft glow from the sun lined the crown of his head. Meanwhile, Marla was as orange as a sunrise following a heavy storm.

She then nodded her head and she signed her initials right over Marla's shoulder.

She sighed through her nose. That other journal was downstairs and she needed to get it out of Frank's apartment. Indeed, she rubbed both of her temples with her fingertips. It was like an itch she couldn't exactly scratch. But she needed it to finish that drawing, to finish that thought, to finish the man of her dreams.

Sam climbed to her feet and she made her way over to her bedroom doorway, but then she hesitated there with her hands on the edges of the door frame. It was such a long shot and one contingent on mere chance. The chance that Frank left his place unlocked and it felt so unlikely and out of reach.

She fetched up a sigh and pressed on to the front door. That journal was needed more than anything.

Sam headed out of her place and she made her way down the stairs. She caught Emile's crown of black hair atop his head once she was halfway down.

“Emile!” she called out.

He turned his head: she could only make out the shape of his nose and his chin.

“Emile!” she called out again, and that time, she pressed on down the stairs to the landing. She moved quick enough to catch him before he did anything more. He turned around all the way and greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Miss Shelley! What's happenin'?”

“I—left something in Frank's apartment the other day,” she explained at a careful pace as she chose her words. “Like, right before he left for their tour.”

“And—what's that got to do with me?” Emile slipped a little keyring into his jeans pocket.

“Well, I figure since you're the landlord, I thought maybe you have the keys to all the rooms in this building.”

“I do, actually.” He paused for a moment. “You want me to break you into Frank's apartment,” he said in a flat tone.

“If it's not too much trouble,” she said as she shrugged of the shoulders.

“Well, I was headed out just now and I'm kinda runnin' late,” he admitted, “but if it's something that belongs to you, and it's just gonna quick—”

“It'll only take me a few seconds,” she interjected with a shake of her head.

“—I'd be happy to get ya in, though,” he finished, nonplussed. Sam brought a hand to her chest and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank you, Emile!”

“I just have to fetch the big keyring,” he continued with a raise of his finger. She watched him double back into his apartment for a few seconds. She didn't want him to be late, but at the same time, she could feel herself wanting to scratch that proverbial itch some more. Every second felt like a whole minute with him in there. But within time, he returned with a big silvery keyring loaded with a myriad of keys. He left the door ajar as he led her back down the corridor to Frank's apartment: prior to reaching the front door, Emile shuffled through the keys to ensure it was the right one. Sam held still behind him: she could hear the low, nondescript sounds of the pipes in the wall next to her as well as the low drone of someone's air conditioner running nearby. It was a nice day and yet one of her neighbors was running their air.

It was right there she felt a little more thankful for Emile and his helping hand.

Indeed, he stood before Frank's front door and unlocked it for her. He let the door swing open and then he held a hand out as a signal for her to go on inside. Sam wasted no time going inside, although she could feel him watching her as she made her way over to the couch: it felt so intrusive not hearing Frank's voice or feeling his presence there in the apartment. Careful not to bring too much attention to herself, she knelt down before the cushion on the far right side and she lifted it up. The journal remained there atop that smooth mesh covering.

She swiped off of there and she set the cushion back down in place. She was quick to return to Emile, who had turned away a bit to give her some privacy: he turned in her direction and showed her a smile.

“D'you find it?” he asked her.

“Yes!” she told him as she tucked the journal under her arm. “And thank you so much, Emile.” Sam stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind her, and Emile was quick to lock the door.

“Oh, y'know I'm more than happy to help,” he admitted as he tucked the keys back into his jeans pocket.

“Sometimes I can't go for very long without my journal,” she confessed as they returned down the corridor towards his apartment.

“I feel ya on that,” he replied, “I'm havin' to finalize my divorce as quick as possible and it kinda blows.”

“Aw!” Sam showed him a sympathetic look and he nodded his head at that.

“But I'll catch ya later, though, Miss,” he told her, “don't stay up too late.”

“You, too, Emile.” He pressed onward to the front door. Sam watched him go, right outside to the bright afternoon sunlight as it shone down on his jet black hair, and then she glanced down at the journal in her hands. She held it to her chest for a moment before she returned upstairs to check on that unfinished drawing.

There he was.

It was definitely Cliff now that she had a second glimpse at it: those deep set eyes and those prominent features that poked out at her from the nothing. It was just her memory playing around with the vision of the dream. The blank space upon the crown of his head was pure white but it made sense: she needed to see his hair for herself.

She set the drawing of Charlie and Marla atop her dresser, and she lay the journal upon her desk so she could finish the drawing. No colored pencils this time around, just mere soft, dark graphite. He gazed back at her as the graphite took on the shape of his face and the crown of dark hair upon his head. He gazed back at her with fear laden inside of his eyes.

His fingers fanned out from his hand like the legs of a spider.

Someone had pushed him down to the ground and he needed a bit of help climbing back up to his feet.

At one point, she paused with her hand over the paper so she could look deep into his eyes. Something didn't feel right, and she had no idea how to describe it. Was it the way in which she drew his hand? Or the way his hair was shaped? Or perhaps he was missing something, like his hat.

That was it!

Careful not to smear the graphite, she sketched out the wide, dark brim of his hat right next to him. She then followed it up with the round shape of the crown as it rested on the ground upside down. Her memory was foggy as to whatever else resided within the dream, and in fact there was a lot of it she couldn't fully recall anymore now that it had long passed, but she still could feel and see the grand scheme of it as it were in her mind.

At one point, she held back for a good long look at the drawing and she let out a low whistle. She wondered if she let this original journal to the admissions office, would she have made her way into the school regardless of all else. All of the drawings she had made in this journal were from deep within her. They needed protecting from everything in the world.

Sam closed her eyes and she rested her hands flat on the desk in front of her. There was something in there, something that needed no explanation, something that needed a release.

The phone rang right then, and it jarred her eyes open. It rang again and she climbed to her feet without closing the journal first. She skidded into the next room; she nearly dropped the phone itself on the floor upon answering.

“Hello?” she said as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Sam Shelley?” She recognized that voice.

“This is her,” she replied.

“I'm Bill, from the admissions office. I was just calling to say that the next step following admissions itself is to sign up for classes this coming fall and the sooner, the better.”

“Oh, excellent!” Sam could hardly contain her excitement.

“Would you be willing to come in again on Friday?” he offered her. “Friday at three? It's the only slot I have open.”

“I'd be happy to,” she replied with a smile on her face.

“I'll just sign you up for a spot on here—” The sound of papers rustling caught her ear and she closed her eye at it. That became a sound associated with all that was good in the world.

“So I can just swing by the school and you can do that for me with me?” she asked him.

“Yup, just be here by three and I'll walk you right through it,” he answered her as silence fell right behind him. “The spring term has already started so in order to get it in for the fall, it's imperative you be here soon.”

“Okay! I'll write it down to remind myself.” Her face began to ache from smiling so hard. “Thank you, Bill.”

“You're very welcome, Miss Shelley!” he replied. “You have a good rest of your day.”

They hung up in unison, and Sam leaned her back against the wall and fetched up a sigh. It was really happening. It was all about to happen for real for her.

She peered to her right to the kitchen window. It was a lovely day outside, and one that didn't warrant staying inside under the whir of the air conditioner. Add to this, she hadn't really gotten to know the neighborhood all too well given everything that had happened to her so far.

Sam doubled back to her bedroom to fetch her shoes and her sunglasses. She headed outside to the bright afternoon sunshine and the whiffs of blossoms from the nearby trees. She put on her sunglasses and she headed towards the sidewalk with her hands tucked into her pocket: she figured it would be best to have left her purse at home and thus she could feel her house key against her fingertips. The soft breeze kissed the crown of her head as she peered up at the New York skyline in front of her. The trees that lined the street were lush and green with life.

She reached the corner when a shiny brand new black car rolled up next to her: it pulled up right behind her and she staggered back a bit to give him some room. Confused, she peered over her shoulder, and she beheld the sight of those thick black curls upon his head and those dark lenses over his face. He showed her a pretty wave and she stopped right in her tracks on the sidewalk. She bowed down a bit to come eye to eye with him.

“Hey, what're you doing here?” she asked Joey. “I thought you guys were on tour!”

“Yeah, we still are!” he replied. “But we got a couple'a days off so I was able to get this car here and show it to ya.” He yanked on the parking lever and he switched it off. Joey climbed out of the front seat and he showed her a big lopsided smile. Sam lifted her sunglasses for a better look at it: she noticed the black paint was actually a rich deep cherry red color that melted away into blackness depending on where the sunlight hit it.

“Brand new?” she asked him as he sidled up next to her.

“Brand new, my dear,” he announced with a gesture to it. She glanced up at him as she lowered her sunglasses back over her face. “Bought it yesterday after our gig down in Philadelphia. I was able to get it fer a reasonable price and everything. It wasn't really a lot of money but it was sump'n, though.”

“Every penny counts,” she pointed out.

“Exactly!” His face lit up at the sound of that. “By the way—since we've got another day off before our next stop here in the City, what're you doin' right now?”

“Well, I was just taking a walk,” she replied, and then she stopped right in her tracks. “Why? You wanna do something with me?”

“I owe you a trip upstate,” he stated. “To Poughkeepsie and also out to Syracuse.”

“You wanna take me all the way out to Syracuse?” She gaped at him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Again, if you're not really doing anything more than your li'l walkie here,” he repeated.

“I don't have my purse with me right now,” she pointed out.

“That's okay—it's not like we'll be livin' the jetset life after all,” he said. “If we want sump'n on the way out, I'll care for it. I've got a bit of money finally. Not much but it's sump'n, though. C'mon, we'll have fun! It'll just be you and me.”

Sam nodded her head and she reached out for the passenger door handle. She climbed into the front seat there and she was greeted by that new car smell: the fresh, pristine deep red leather underneath her and the soft felt upon the floor beneath her feet. She fondled the arm rest under her left arm as Joey climbed into the seat next to her.

Sam peered over her shoulder to the small back space behind her: nothing more than a little strip of carpet which extended back to the hatch.

“No back seat,” she remarked.

“Don't really need a back seat,” he pointed out as he held onto the key.

“What if you have kids, though?” she teased him.

“I ain't gonna have kids, Sam—gonna tell you that right now. I'm too bone broke and I worry 'bout fucking them up with my nonsense, too. I've always felt better with animals anyway.”

She nodded her head at that.

“Me, too,” she replied. “Come to think of it, I'd rather care for a dog or a cat myself.”

“A dog, a cat, or a horse,” he pointed out as the car quietly returned to life.

“A horse?”

“A horse, a horse, of course, of course.” That brought a laugh out of her. They rolled forward to the corner and Joey hung a right down the side street there.

Soon, they reached the freeway which was to take them back upstate, towards Poughkeepsie. They passed that spot where his old car ignited as though it was something that couldn't hurt them anymore.

“So what's your next show, you said?” she asked him at one point.

“Down in the City,” he answered as he merged lanes towards the center divider. “It'll be the first of two nights, too.”

“I should see you guys play,” she remarked as she folded her hands across her lap.

“You totally should! I think Marla, Aurora, and Zelda are all comin', too—you ought to join us. It'll be a full on party.”

“Aurora never told me about it, though,” she pointed out.

“Probably hasn't been able to,” he suggested. “She works real hard for us and for Jon, too—more diligent than me, if you can believe it. She's just totally relentless with it all.”

They fell back into silence for a brief moment before Sam spoke up again.

“Are Metallica gonna be there?” she asked him.

“No idea to be honest,” he confessed. They rounded a slight curve in the freeway and Sam made sight of a stretch of the Hudson River next to the pavement. Those cold blue waters swirled in cool silence next to them. She noticed the low hills looming all around them, the thick lush trees that made up the wilderness shielded them from the bright afternoon sun. The car was silent, even as the pavement roared underneath them and the air conditioner had a bit of a noisy fan. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she recalled the taste of Cliff on her skin.

She hadn't told a soul about what had happened that morning, and Emile gave her all the privacy one could ask for. But it was something that she needed to share with someone, especially given Metallica were so close to them. Sam leaned closer to him.

“Please don't tell anyone this,” she begged him in a low enough voice for him to hear, and he moved in closer to her.

“What's that?”

She swallowed.

“It's kind of important,” she added.

“What is it?” Joey knitted his eyebrows together and bowed his head forward so he could better hear her. Sam shifted her weight. She hadn't even told Aurora and Marla about the moment in her apartment, and now the words had already left her lips with Joey. At one point, he gazed on at her with intent: those big brown eyes swallowed her whole, like a pair of big black holes gaping back at her. She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Cliff—kissed me,” she said in the softest whisper. Joey froze and then he raised those eyebrows into his bangs.

“He kissed you?” he asked her with a bit of a break in his voice. She brought a finger to her lips.

“He kissed you,” he repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod of her head.

“How'd he kiss you?”

“He—kissed me. He leaned in and put his lips onto my own.”

“Wow,” was all Joey could say right then.

“Yeah. I haven't told anyone about it, either.”

“Until now,” he said.

“Until now.”

“So I oughta consider myself lucky then.”

“Absolutely!” A rush of blood swarmed to her head and she could feel the warmth as it bloomed across her face.

“You know why else we should consider ourselves lucky?” he asked her in a broken voice.

“What's that?”

Joey gestured out of the windshield: she followed his gaze and she made out the sight of the low city skyline nestled in a small shallow bowl of a valley before them.

“The city by the river, my dearest Sam,” he declared. “I hope we get to record a record up here at some point.”

“Just go out to the wilderness here and play down by the river,” she followed along as she nudged her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I kinda wanna show you Syracuse now,” he confessed as he merged lanes again. “That's just a straight shot that away.” He pointed off to his left.

“Let's do it,” she quipped.

“You wanna?”

“Yeah!”

They neared Poughkeepsie but Joey was quick to take the next exit onto the road to Syracuse. Everything was green and lush as they crossed the river: Sam peered out the windshield at the sight of the low dark mountains right outside of town.

“The Catskills, my dearest one,” he declared. “The infamous Catskills.”

It would be another few hours before they made sight of signs that guided them to Syracuse All the way there, Sam kept her eyes on all the lush greenery around them. She did not miss California in the least right then: she didn't even want to leave New York, either. It was all so quiet and so serene, and yet so chilling at the same time. A quiet place for nothing more and no one else than her and Joey. A quiet place within the quiet place.

At one point, she rolled down the window and she slipped her fingers out to feel the cool wind on her skin.

She knew the lake had to be near there: things were cooling off and dampening up with the setting sun in front of them. The shadows of the trees on the other side of the road stretched over them like a tapestry of dark splatter paint. It all felt so alien and yet so exciting: a place she needed to be at and a place she needed to be in forever.

They rounded a slight corner in the road and Joey held out his hand before him.

“Welcome to Syracuse!” he declared. Off in the distance, she made out the small sliver of blue that was Lake Ontario; but in front of them stood the short skyline: somewhere in there stood that inner city donut Joey had talked about before.

“So this is home,” she said as the road widened out and Joey moved the visor over his head to protect himself from the low hanging sun.

“This is my home,” he replied with that lopsided grin on his face. “I grew up 'round here and all my friends are either from here or 'Swaygo, where I was born. It's about an hour from here. I don't really wanna go that far out, though. Y'know, 'cause it's gonna be dark soon and neither of us have much money and whatnot.”

“I'm starting to get hungry, too,” she confessed.

“Yeah, I am, too. There's a place my old hockey team and I used to go to, up in the north side of town. It's not too far from a lake itself.”

He led them into that donut shape of freeway near the inside of town. The buildings rose high over their heads, while off to the left, in the heart of town, there wasn't much to be seen. A hole in the earth.

Meanwhile, the pavement needed a bit of polishing up given every time they rolled over a small dent in the road, they bounced in their seats a bit.

“Easy now,” she muttered as she held onto the bar over her head.

“Yeah, that's kinda the only drawback with this beastie,” he said as he adjusted his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. “It's kind of a bitch to go over the smallest of bumps, especially out here where they seem to be all over the streets.”

They rounded the hole in the city, and the setting sun shone upon the side of his face: even from the side, Sam thought Joey resembled to a dark Indian chief right there in the seat next to her. All he needed was a war bonnet to crown his head.

Within time they reached North Syracuse, a cozier, more buttoned down part of the city and one that indeed, straddled a small lake. She wished to see Lake Ontario at some point, but it was something. It was something more than what she was used to out west. The glassy black waters loomed low in the thick green trees as Joey took the next exit to the heart of the borough. Even more lush green trees and ornamental cherries lined the streets as he led them towards the lake shore. Sam gasped at the sight of it as they rolled up to the stoplight. Right in front of them stood a small walkway and a low metal railing.

“The best part, ain't it?” he remarked with a befuddled look on his face.

“There's like hardly any lakes out in California or in Nevada,” she confessed, “so this is like science fiction to me.” He chuckled at that; the light turned green and they rolled forward to the vista point: off to the right stood the cafe in question. He hung a right and he took the spot closest to the railing. Eager, Sam climb out of the front seat and she hurried towards a piece of the railing. She closed her eyes and took in a big whiff of the fresh air from the lake.

She gazed out to the waters: beyond the far lake shore stood a low ridge lined with even more trees. She knew Lake Ontario was past that, as well as Joey's hometown. Everything was calm and still: the only sound came from the little birds nestled up in the trees and the small bit of traffic behind them. Everything smelled fresh and sweet with springtime.

“Wow,” she breathed under her breath.

“Absolutely beautiful, ain't it?” he noted as he ambled up next to her. He folded his arms over the railing and showed her a little lopsided grin once again.

“I've never seen anything like it,” she confessed: a small gust of cool lake wind sent a shiver down her spine and she huddled closer to Joey. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets but he never shivered from the sensation. She turned to him and the cool reflection of the sky upon the dark lenses of his sunglasses: the shadows caressed over his brown eyes to make them look as though he had covered them up with dark lacy veils.

“I feel like I'm home here,” she said in a soft voice.

“Well,” he started, “welcome home, then. And I'd be more than happy to show ya around.” He flashed her a little wink and put his arm around her.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 27 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul draw each other, and Gene makes his confession. The sky is falling and we’re getting pretty near the end.

It felt like a shorter lunch than it really was. Paul ate all of his soup, but only half his sandwich, while Gene dove into both with as much relish as usual. In fact, he ate two sandwiches and Paul’s leftovers.

“I hope you didn’t want to do it right after we ate,” Gene said awkwardly. Paul was looking at the plates and silverware, debating cleaning things up. In the end, he just wiped off the counter and stuck all the dishes in the sink.

“Nah. Give it awhile.” He shrugged. “The only trouble is, we’ve pretty much exhausted all our entertainment options at my place.”

Gene smiled.

 “Paul, are you really telling me all you have over here is a T.V., an album collection, and some self-help books?”

“I’ve also got sketchpads. And painting supplies.”

“You still paint?”

Paul shrugged again.

“It’s not great. I don’t have time to really…”

“Let me see.”

Gene was actually a pretty fair artist. He never drew cartoons of his bandmates like Paul was prone to, in a bad mood, but he liked to sketch out comic book characters. He’d never taken any classes that Paul knew of, but he was talented. Talented enough that Paul was a little wary of showing him any of his efforts.

It occurred to him how stupid that was. He was about to fuck this guy—had spent the last four nights in bed with him, even—but somehow showing him some acrylic paintings was making him nervous. Somehow what passed for his body of work was more vulnerable than his actual body.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

“C’mon, they’re in the guest bedroom. I’m surprised you didn’t find them earlier.” He’d had aspirations of having his own studio, or at least using one of the rooms for that express purpose, before the reality of nine or ten months on the road at a time hit him. He didn’t even paint enough while he was at home to justify that kind of expense.

Gene followed him over to the guest bedroom. Paul leaned over, dress hiking up as he yanked some cardboard and canvases out from under the bed.

“Here we go.” Instead of holding the pieces up for Gene’s inspection, he just set them out on the bed. He hung back a bit, heart thumping, not quite daring to want to watch Gene look at his work. Actually showing it to Gene felt a little like hearing his own voice on the answering machine, or the echo from a microphone, all the flaws bouncing back at him, magnified a dozen times.

The pieces didn’t have too much meaning behind them, nothing really far out or deep he was trying to convey. Bright streaks of color, some of it in splatters, but most of it in strokes, with no consistent pattern. Purples and pinks tended to dominate. There were points where he’d tried to layer on the colors, fooled around with it, only he’d half-forgotten the proper technique to do it the way he wanted. Most of the art didn’t really have a focal point, except for an odd one-off where he’d tried to paint a sunset while it was still in the air. That one was on a piece of cardboard torn off a refrigerator box. It had maybe a found art, rustic quality to it or something. And the color scheme wasn’t too bad, either, the red sun spilling over a hasty backdrop of orange and pink clouds and trees instead of his neighbors’ houses.

“I like this one a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Superman couldn’t fly with that sun.” Gene picked up the piece of cardboard carefully—too carefully, a piece of paper that had been beneath it starting to flutter towards the floor. Paul snatched it before it got there.

“What’s that one?”

“Oh, it’s only a sketch,” Paul tried to dismiss, but Gene seemed curious enough for him to hold it up for Gene to see. Part of him wanted to hide it back under the bed like a child, for all that it wasn’t particularly incriminating. Just a sketch of his own face. The hair was probably the most accurate part, hopelessly unruly; he didn’t quite think he’d gotten his own nose right, or eyes, but…

“In the makeup.” Gene’s finger touched the edge of the star on his eye.

“Well, sure. It kept me from having to shade much.”

“You look depressed there.” Gene still running his finger down the sketched-out lines of his face made Paul feel stupidly warm, like he was touching him by proxy.

“I don’t look good?”

“I didn’t say that.” A pause. Paul could always recognize when Gene was about to start a critique with him. He’d hesitate, which was kind of funny, because he never did it with anyone else, just plowed through with whatever comment he had. Paul would usually get offended anyway, but he was trying not to, at least for today. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”

Not a critique at all. Paul was vaguely surprised.

“What’re you wanting?”

“Let me try my hand at it.”

“Gene, I’m not letting you go over my drawing—”

“No, no. Let me borrow one of your sketchpads.”

“You wanna draw me right now? What for?” Paul could feel himself tense up slightly as he reached over, gathering up the paintings and stuffing them back under the bed. Despite himself, he was yanking out another pad of drawing paper from there as well. “If you wanted your album photo, all you had to do was check the newspaper.”

“I don’t want your photo. Just you.”

Paul handed the sketchpad over. There was an odd sting somewhere in his heart.

“You can’t want what you’ve already got,” he said quietly. He didn’t wait for Gene to respond, clearing his throat hastily. “I make a terrible art model.”

Gene’s expression, a little unreadable earlier, quirked a little.

“I’ll let you draw me, too.”

“I feel like you’re hard to draw.” But he’d gotten another piece of cardboard to bear down on after tearing off a page of the drawing paper for himself. Then Paul was gathering the rest of the supplies—pencils and gummy erasers—from where they lay in a coffee mug on the nightstand. It wasn’t exactly the most put-together setup. He just wasn’t around enough for any extra effort to be worth it. The guest bedroom’s only real use was as another place to stash his tour and art stuff. He could count the number of times anyone had slept there on one hand. “You don’t… really have one feature that really stands out—”

Gene stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, God, I’m not drawing that. Just your face. C’mon, sit down.” Paul gestured towards the bed, scooting up on it himself, sitting cross-legged on the pillows, dress bunched up. The cardboard and piece of paper were resting on his thighs, one of the pencils in his hand. He gave Gene the mug and sketchpad, scrutinizing Gene’s face. “Let me try first, okay?”

“Go for it.”

He’d never really studied Gene’s face before. That sounded a little stupid, given everything. Gene still wasn’t exactly attractive, though he looked a lot better now than he had when they’d first met. That hadn’t been the draw. It still wasn’t the draw.

Paul didn’t ask Gene to try for any particular expression as he started in, drawing the circle, the center line, mapping out the sections of his face in the half-remembered way he’d learned back in school and trying to adjust from there, only to, as usual, abandon the mapping about two minutes in. Gene’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as his, and his nose was bigger—you can’t hide the hook, Totie had said, back on their stint on the Mike Douglas show, and Paul remembered snickering with everyone else about it backstage. She’d had his number. Gene had struck up a friendship with her after that, excited to get to know another Jewish entertainer. Paul privately hoped he hadn’t banged her in the process.

He was distracting himself. It was hard to do the expression lines around Gene’s mouth without making him look forty-eight instead of nearly twenty-eight, so Paul abandoned all but a light insinuation before skipping over to his hair. He thought he could get that right, at least. Gene’s hair was somewhat coarse, and tended to frizz even worse than Paul’s own did, and it wasn’t as thick. All of the teasing and backcombing and tight ponytails had done a number on it. Paul pursed his lips, trying to approximate the texture with his pencil, and the sheen with his eraser.

“How’s it coming?” Gene asked, after about fifteen minutes. He’d been pretty patient, not shifting around much, even stopping himself the few times he tried to scratch his face.

“I think I did a damn good job on your eyebrows.” Paul turned the sketch around with a slight groan. “Everything else is a little…”

“You made me look really sad.”

Gene wasn’t wrong. Paul hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Gene’s lips when he’d drawn them, so he’d had them sink down a bit. The eyebrows really were pretty good, to his own estimation, and the hair was okay, and he’d at least started with the proper face shape, but—he hadn’t really caught Gene properly. Whatever his essence was, it hadn’t transferred onto the page.

“Frowns are easier to draw. Smiles, you have to get just right, and get the light in the eyes…” Paul shook his head. “Not a lot of room for error, right? And if you mess up, your drawing ends up looking like Norman Bates.”

Gene laughed, shaking his head.

“But you’ve got me looking like myself. It isn’t just the eyebrows. The chin and the mouth are right--”

“But it’s not great, either. I’ll try again later on.” Paul set the drawing down. “You can do me if you want.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Oh, shut up.” Paul shifted, suddenly antsy. He’d only ever seen Gene draw his own fanzines and doodle on napkins. He knew Gene wasn’t going to take this as a serious art study, but… but on the same token, letting Gene draw him felt--revealing. Almost too revealing. He wasn’t as bothered by the face Gene was going to draw as what it signified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Gene saw when he looked at him. What stood out to him.

If he drew a pair of tits, Paul grimly promised himself he’d keep denying Gene at least until tomorrow.

“Tilt your chin up a bit,” Gene said, and Paul did so. His fingers worried unconsciously at the straps of his dress. Paul waited for more instructions, but they didn’t come. Just the scritch of the pencil against the sketch paper, and the occasional fuzzy sound of the eraser rubbing back and forth on the page. Gene kept such direct eye contact on his face that Paul was getting a bit intimidated.

“You took art in school, right?”

“Only a couple of terms. I liked it, but I wanted to get in all the electives I could.”

“Even weight training?” Paul scooted to the side.

“Your art school had weight training?”

“God, yeah. We even had a football team.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never said we won anything.” Paul paused. “Do you want me to pose?”

“No. You’re fine like you are.”

“Should I smile?”

Gene looked like he was considering it for a second, and then he shook his head.

“Just relax.”

Paul tried to, but he kept fidgeting. Not getting any direction was making him nervous. He wasn’t gutsy enough to try to look alluring without the makeup as a shield. Gene had stopped talking as he’d gotten more into the drawing, only responding to Paul’s attempts at conversation with a few “yeahs” and “uh-huh”s. He was taking longer than Paul had, too. But he seemed pleased with himself far before he signed the bottom and held it out for Paul to see.

“Here you go.”

Paul was a little stunned.

He was nearly right there on the page. Big dark eyes greeted him. Full lips, slightly parted, revealing a little of his front teeth. High cheekbones. Gene’s portrait of him was more thorough and detailed than Paul’s attempt, stopping at the shoulders, where the dress straps drooped. More attractive than Paul knew he actually was; Gene had, oddly, been kinder about Paul’s nose and jaw than was accurate, but all the same-- he’d captured something of Paul on the page. Some facet. Tenseness or intensity or both. The sketch was clearly of a chick, sure, but-- it was him.

“Gene, this… shit, this is really good.” Part of what impressed him was the self-assured pressure and definition of most of the lines. Paul’s own tended to fade out, like he was mentally erasing them after committing them to the page, but Gene went into it with a much heavier hand overall. The contrast was interesting. “And I thought all you could draw was Batman. You’ve been holding out on me for years.”

Gene shrugged.

“I had someone cute in front of me. That makes all the difference.” He paused, moving to sit beside him, pointing at the sketch. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“Since just lately?”

“No. Since always.” Gene seemed to hesitate. “Paul, in a way, you don’t really look all that dif--”

“Peter told me they made me look like a beagle,” Paul stumbled out before Gene could finish. He wasn’t sure why he interrupted that way. Gene snorted, reaching over and draping an arm behind Paul’s shoulders. Paul let him.

“Maybe more like a moppet. You remember those posters.”

“Yeah. Julia had them in her room when we were kids.” But he wasn’t displeased at the comparison, somehow, reaching to put the sketches and supplies on the crowded nightstand, before leaning back against Gene’s arm and shoulder. He could feel Gene start to tense, so Paul turned his head, impulsively, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “One of them was a harlequin or something, I don’t remember.”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t look all that different.”

“Come off it.” Paul could feel something cold and odd trickle up his spine, something he was almost afraid of. “I’ve had tits for a week and a half, don’t try to kid me.”

“I’ve been kidding myself.”

“Gene, what’re you talking about--”

“You’re the same as you always were. You’re beautiful.”

Paul sat there stunned. The icy feeling up his spine seemed to melt and dissolve in an instant. He didn’t want it to. He wanted to hold onto it. Use it as something to protect him, something to chase away any hurt, any vulnerability. His face was going florid, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t look directly at Gene, staring instead at the hem of his dress.

“I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. But I think… I think there might still be something there after we break the curse.” Gene’s hand found one of the shoulder straps on his dress, fixing it back up, though his gaze was still firm on Paul’s face. Completely unwavering. Paul’s heartbeat felt like it could smash straight through diamonds. “I know that’s not enough for--”

“It’s enough.”

“Paul, look--”

“It’s enough.” Paul was surprised at the slow strength starting to rise from his voice with every word, like a newborn foal wobbling to its feet. “Even before all this happened. Any time I’ve ever gotten to have with you is enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He was able to look at Gene now, right in the face. The warmth he’d tried to avoid was blazing inside him. It felt funny, somehow, to feel so sure, so certain, in the face of a maybe, that things would still be all right, one way or another. It felt like the bulk of the burden, the fear, was really, truly beginning to dissolve. “Gene, I…”

He couldn’t say it. Gene was waiting on it, face so near his own he could feel his breath. He kissed him instead, reaching his arms around him half-blindly, clenching tight. Paul was panting as soon as Gene broke the kiss, pressing another and another against his cheek and chin and throat, climbing into his lap as though he belonged there, and maybe, for just a little while, he did.

Gene was so warm, so unbelievably warm. Paul could swear he could feel Gene’s own pounding heartbeat against his. His breaths were coming only a little bit better than Paul’s were, his dark eyes dilated. Gene’s mouth was back on his before Paul could think clearly, needy and wanting, and it was all Paul could do to pull back and manage one last request.

“Hey. Before we-- do you think you could take me back to o-- my bedroom?”

Gene had him gathered up in his arms in seconds. Paul held tight, pressing his face against Gene’s shirt for all of the minute it took to cross from one room to the next, taking in his scent as he finally dared to hope.

[insomniaticgoblin]

Note: This is an old post I made on another blog ages ago but I'm still fucking pissed about this. This was back in September 2020, I believe. Could be sooner than September, but I'm not sure.

It was later on after making the post below, probably a couple weeks to a month when I asked my stepsister about the tattoo artist she hired. I had told her, before she got the tattoo, that there was one guy that she ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT GO TO to get ink done, he was well-known in the area for being a shit artist with shit skills.

Yeah, guess who she went to.

That's right. The exact guy that I specifically told her NOT to go to. Fucking pisses me off to this day.

I am fucking livid right now. There aren’t enough words in the world to describe how fucking pissed I am.

My stepsister wanted me to design a tattoo for her based off some doodles of creatures I’ve made (never posted them anywhere) so I did. I spent at least a week drawing it out and getting the colors right, getting everything perfect. I gave her the finished product last year.

This is the finished design. He’s cute, right? (the lighting’s a little off so you can’t quite see how vibrant the colors are, but they’re pretty fucking vibrant).

Well, anyway, she finally got the tattoo done (I don’t know why in the fucking nine realms of hell she would get a tattoo during a pandemic but that’s beside the point.) She got it done a couple weeks ago and sent me the result but I wanted to wait until the skin healed because it looked a little raw, and…off. I thought maybe it was because she had just gotten it done.

Nope.

This is the tattoo (again, the lighting’s off but that’s because this was a picture she took).

Now, at first glance, one might think that it looks good. I know one of my friends did, in fact, he said there was nothing wrong with the tattoo. But there’s a lot wrong with it.

Here’s everything that’s wrong with it -

the colors are off. I’m not talking about the ink either. No, the bandages of the mummy are in chunks of green and pink whereas I did strips in most places.

the skin is supposed to be grey, not pink and green (the fingers of one hand and the face are green while the other hand and toes are pink). There’s no consistency.

The line work isn’t the best either. It’s not as noticeable as some of the other errors listed here but - the lines are shaky in most places, some are thicker, some thinner, a few lines don’t even connect, and there’s some fuzziness along the outer lines.

The shading is terrible. There’s chunks of black in there to act as shading but it looks terrible. The shading’s in the right areas where it should be but it’s patchy and splotchy and looks like it was slapped on there with little thought.

There are places that’re missing color. The eye is supposed to be yellow but instead it’s left blank. Same as with the skin around the heart, it’s supposed to be grey but it’s not. And it’s okay that those two spots aren’t colored in (well, not really) but what’s not okay is the other spots. On the stem of the flower, just above the ring of leaves, that was left blank too when it should have been green. If you look closely, you’ll notice that the bandages aren’t even fully colored, they’re supposed to be fully colored, not have blank spaces in there.

Now, it’s okay for a person to take some creative liberties with a work of art, I could understand if he had changed things up to make it look even better, but he didn’t and it looks terrible.

I may be overreacting but for fucking God’s sake, I put my fucking heart and soul in this design and he fucking butchered it, and now my stepsister has it permanently on her skin. The tattoo artist is supposed to be a fucking professional who should know how to do line work, colors, and shading, but he obviously doesn’t. It’s all basic-level knowledge and he fucked up.

I need a fucking break. Rant’s over, I’m out, gonna go calm myself down now.

[masterfuldoodler]

Here's for all my artist followers/mutuals. Some positivity and tips on art, even if you already know some of this here's your reminder so you don't forget, cuz this is important. ;)

• Be ambitious but don't expect perfection.

It is okay to sit down with a great picture in mind, or a brilliant idea. Go ahead and draw it. But don't get upset with yourself if it doesn't turn out exactly how you wanted. It's a hard thing to learn but your mistakes truly do teach you. Very rarely do you get things right first try. First you have to learn what you can't do before you realize what you can. And that can be different for different people. Some might trip over the same thing many times while others don't and that's just something about being different people and having different art.

I believe that there is no "perfect" art. There is always room to grow and more things to learn. So don't "expect" or "hold yourself" to a level of perfection if there is no such thing.

• Milestones.

Now, you can push yourself to a certain place. Set smaller milestones for yourself leading to the place you want to be. More like steppingstones through art. Start smaller and at the level you are, there's no shame in that. Stretch yourself slowly and more gentle and you'll have a better time, emotionally and in your actual art.

Set a milestone for starting, set a milestone for drawing half bodies, set a milestone for full body, a milestone for hands, a milestone for profiles. And each one of these doesn't mean perfection or exactly to your liking, but actually trying to do it and making the effort. And when you reach the point when you're ready to try hands, just draw a bunch of hands, let a lot of the pictures you have, have hands in it. But don't feel like that's all you have to draw too.

• References.

There seems to be this thing that if you can't draw without a reference you're not making real art. That the only valid art is reference free. BUT THAT IS NOT TRUE. It is very not true. Art IS an expression of your surroundings, you are allowed to use your surroundings or pictures of them to help you. So don't feel bad. Look up the shirt you want to draw. Look up a picture of the pose, look up the hand in that position, it's valid and fair.

• Consume art.

Now I don't mean literally go eat art but I'm pretty sure you got that. I mean look at art, study it, look up different artists. You know how when you're learning a new language it helps to hear natives speaking it, even if you don't know those words they're saying right then? You're in all it, it's being spoken around you and you can hear the accent and you get a better grip on it. Art is the same way. You get to see the other artists work, see how they tackle the kinds of things you're doing, and how they created stuff. So not only are you making things, but you get to see all the amazing things other people have. And it can inspire you. Be in art and it will help because! Onto this next point-

• Art Study.

Study the art you like. Or study famous artists. If you see a piece you like don't just stop at "oo I like that!". Stop and actually look at it, take the time to realize why you like it. Look at how they drew their lines, look at how they colored it, look at the different shades they use and how they portrayed they light and shadows. Look at how they expressed what they did. How they drew the eyes, the nose, the mouth. Figure out how they conveyed what they did. And then apply it to your own art. It will help you grow in your skills. And it will also help you appreciate art more! So win win.

• Be diligent.

I know that everyone always says "practice art and you'll get better." And the thing is they're not wrong. It's only annoying and not useful when they don't say anything else. The reason practice is so useful is because when you are practicing you're doing it everyday consistently. Practice drawing the shape of the head, the hand, folds of fabric. But don't just redraw the same thing! Try drawing the hand in a different pose, or the folds falling in a different way, or the head at a different angle. That is practicing, that is stretching your skill.

But a very important thing though. You do not need to be practicing everytime you draw. And you do not need to practice everyday. You are definitely allowed to draw something just as a doodle for fun, and you're allowed to not draw that day, it's all fair. Don't ever push yourself to learn and grow so much so that it becomes a task and not something you are doing because you want to. If you push it that far you'll loose the fun and love you had for it and you'll never feel the enjoyment of it, it'll just be something you can't get right.

• Draw what you want.

I can guarantee you that if you draw what you actually want to draw you will have much more drive and motivation to finish it. If you draw it just for the sake of doing it you might not ever draw it, or finish it, or be proud of your accomplishments. Draw the things that you think of and want, the ideas you have, the stuff you love, and you'll have much more success.

• Don't worry about your style.

You might look around you at other artists who have their own style, nice and polished, and then look at your own that's changing all the time and doesn't seem to be consistent. You want to have your style ™. Don't worry about your style! Your style comes with you through your art journey, and if you try to get a style right out you'll actually hinder yourself. While styles can help you express things differently or quickly, they can also stop you from progressing. You'll be stuck drawing in the "style" and won't be free to shake things up and broaden your skill. You'll find your quirks and art style as you learn how to draw, and how you want to draw.

• Have fun.

Enjoy the drawing while you're doing it! Have fun! Drawing is a joy not a chore.

If you ever feel like it's becoming burdensome or difficult and you're just not having a good time anymore stop. Set back. Relax. Do something else for awhile. And come back to it later, maybe even a different day. You don't have to finish every piece when you start it. So just enjoy drawing while you are and stop if you're not! Having fun is more important.

Thank you for listening to me ramble, have a good day and enjoy it!

[melonkooky]

a birthday surprise [hirai momo]

requested

word count: 4725

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, school!au, female x female reader

author’s note: i know it’s may, but i’m setting this one shot to be in november for the sake of momo’s birthday. this was a cute request and i really, really enjoyed writing something that’s different from what i normally write. i tried to make it fluffy near the end. also, sorry for any spelling mistakes or inconsistencies 😅😅  but, nevertheless, enjoy!!!

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

[day one]

momo nearly jumped out of her seat when you, who was sitting next to her, stood up abruptly. you laughed at her reaction, apologizing. “sorry, momo.”

“why are you so excited?” she questioned, standing up with you.

class had just ended for the day. you and momo were best friends, such good friends that a lot of fellow friends and students always say that they’re first impression was that you and her were sisters. you and momo would laugh and sometimes even press your guys’ faces together, asking if there was a resemblance, before strongly denying it. in the end of those encounters, you would always notice that momo’s cheeks would be a little redder than normal.

you and momo packed up your school supplies and put them into your backpacks. momo glanced at you as you replied. however, you simply shrugged. how could you be so excited about something but just shrug in response. “just because it’s, um, november.” you said, nodding. “yeah, i love this time of year, you know.”

momo tried to smile and nod, but she couldn’t deny the discouraged feeling that soon followed by your very vague and very unconvincing reply. she knew you wouldn’t lie to her ever in your life, and she also knew you also had your own life that she didn’t necessarily have to be a part of 24/7. she understood, but momo couldn’t help but be curious.

you and momo left the classroom together, heading towards the lockers that were across the hallway, but a little ways down. you and momo shared a locker because momo’s locker was assigned near a group of boys and she didn’t feel like conversing with them ever. besides, they were always loud and energetic, sometimes it was too much for momo. “so do you have any plans?” momo asked as you began to unlock the locker.

you looked at her, and then avoided her eyes. “i do actually.”

there it was again. momo stared at your side profile as you began putting things into the locker and then taking them out. you were biting your bottom lips, seeming nervous. but ignoring all of that, momo smiled slightly. she always thought that you were the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. you and her have been friends for years, ever since momo transferred from japan to south korea, but recently, she’s been feeling sort of different around you. she always got excited to see you, she always tried to look her best… but then every time you would talk to her or even just be near her, momo’s heart would begin to race, sometimes beating so loud that she couldn’t hear you if you were talking. then her stomach would twist and flutter and make her feel nauseous. and then she’d meet your eyes and you’d give her the prettiest smile, and her cheeks would flush the color of scarlet, if that was even possible.

she often wondered if you’ve noticed those very signs. if you have seen her scarlet-colored cheeks, you surely haven’t said anything about them.

“so, what are your plans?”

you moved aside so that momo could get into the locker. you held your backpack in front of you, slightly hugging it. your back was pressed against the locker next door. you hesitated, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. should you tell her what you were planning?

you quickly dismissed that thought. “just my family have plans. it sucks that it’s after school, they could’ve planned it later.”

momo nodded, understanding. she knew your family.

“anyway, momo, how do you feel about surprises?”

the girl next to you put on her backpack and closed the locker. “depends on what the surprise is, i guess.”

you nodded. “same.”

“why?”

“just curious.”

you and momo walked out of the school together before going your separate ways. “i’m sorry we couldn’t hang out.” you told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

momo smiled, shaking her head. “it’s okay. as long as you don’t completely ditch me.”

you grinned at her. “you know i’d never do that. anyways, see you later.”

“bye!” momo watched as you hurried in the direction of your house.

after you disappeared from her view, momo turned and headed home. she took her time. she decided to put in her earphones and listen to music on her way. it was a way for her to get lost in her thoughts or to ease her emotions.

finally, momo arrived at her house and walked in through the front door. as she slipped off her shoes, “i’m home!” she yelled.

her family had moved with her from japan to south korea. momo heard something coming from the kitchen. her mother must have begun cooking dinner.

momo set down her school stuff near her bedroom before entering the kitchen. “hi, my love.” her mom greeted her, turning around to cut some vegetables. she looked at momo and smiled. “how was school?”

momo sat down at the kitchen table. “it was good.”

momo didn’t notice that her expression included a frown, until her mom was looking at her worried, asking her what was wrong.

the young girl wondered if she should talk to her mom about you, her best friend, and how she’s been questioning her feelings for you. she also wondered what you were up to, what secret you were hiding.

momo sighed, and waved off her mother’s question. “i’m probably just overthinking. i’m going to take a shower.”

“okay.”

[day two]

the next day at school, momo waited patiently for you to arrive. you seemed to be taking a little more time than normal. she grew a little worried, even to the point of checking her phone to make sure you haven’t sent her anything. and then, right before the bell rang, you practically flew into the classroom. your cheeks were red and you were panting, and your clothes were a little wrinkled. momo couldn’t help but laugh at you, and you stuck your tongue out in response.

you sat down, taking time to fill your lungs with oxygen again.

“what happened?” momo asked, subconsciously using her hand to brush your hair into place.

you blushed and stared at momo, but momo didn’t seem to think much of it. you brushed it aside. “i accidentally slept in.”

momo nodded. “that’s new.”

“i know. i stayed out late last night.”

that confused momo. “why did you stay out late?”

you glanced at her and a panicked look flashed onto her face before you smiled. “just hanging out with my family.”

the way you acted confused momo. this was unlike you. as class begun, she became lost in her thoughts. momo doodled mindlessly in your notebook, barely listening to the teacher. she wanted to know what was going on in your life. was this...normal...for someone who was in love? or was it because they were best friends? momo felt like she was going mad. normally she’d voice these kinds of concerns to you, but she couldn’t possibly talk to you about you.

the rest of the day went by in a blur for momo. you and her would be walking in the hallways, heading to class, or going outside, and you noticed that she’d be spacing out. her smile wasn’t as bright as it normally was, and it was causing your heart to sink. you couldn’t help but assume that it was because of you.

if you decide to tell you, it would be ruining the surprise.

“momo,” you gently called during lunch.

momo had sat down next to you on the bench and had taken out her lunch, but was barely eating it. you were staring at her food, mouth watering despite you having your own lunch. but momo wasn’t eating and she seemed upset.

she glanced at you, trying to smile. but you knew her better.

“you should eat.” you said, scooting next to her.

momo shrugged. you eyed her before setting your lunch aside and scooting even closer. you had a mischievous smile on your face, causing momo to smile. “what are you doing?”

you smiled as you grabbed her lunch and her chopsticks, and from there, you began to feed her. “please eat.” you said.

momo rolled her eyes and fought back a smile. and there her heart went, throbbing against her ribcage. her cheeks burned as she looked at you. you held the chopsticks close to her mouth, and momo hesitantly ate the food. both you and her laughed. “stop, you’re embarrassing me.” momo said teasingly.

“i’m embarrassing you? maybe if you ate your lunch, i wouldn’t have to feed you like a baby.”

momo bursted out laughing, causing you to laugh as well. if other students happened to look over or pass by, they would think you and her had gone crazy. you grinned as you saw momo begin to eat. she was obviously hungry. you smiled fondly, before reaching over and grabbing your own lunch.

you and momo began to talk again. even though neither you and momo noticed, you and her remained close on the bench, no one wanting to move away from the other.

[day four]

you were a little nervous about the day ahead of you. as you got ready for school, you kept glancing at the stack of envelopes sitting on your desk. they were different shades of pink. you had spent most of your evening yesterday making them. you wrote and decorated every single envelope yourself.

you could understand why you were nervous. november ninth was just around the corner after all. but, it also was how you were going to hand out the envelopes without momo seeing and noticing. of course it didn’t help that they were pink, and were labeled with ‘you’re invited’. if momo saw or got her hands on one, she most likely would catch on. and then, you wouldn’t be able to lie or make an excuse. you knew you wouldn’t be able to, this was momo. she was your best friend, and you loved her. it was hard enough keeping such a secret.

you showed up to school early, knowing momo wouldn’t be there yet. you hoped more of your friends would be there. you wondered around the hallways finding friends and friends of momo. you handed them the envelops, explaining what you were planning. many close friends offered to help and you gladly accepted their help, relieved that you wouldn’t be doing everything alone anymore.

just as you were handing an envelope explaining the details to someone, someone called your name. it was momo, you’d recognize her voice anywhere. you hurriedly told them to hide the envelope, just in time before momo walked up next to you.

“oh, hey, mina.”

mina smiled not so inconspicuously before saying she had to go to class. momo scratched her head, “everyone’s acting weird to me today.”

you played along, feeling guilty for lying to her. “oh, really? do i need to fight anyone?”

“no, not like that.” she said while shaking her head. “they are all happy, excited, but around me.”

you cursed everyone in your head. they were not trying their best to act normal or hiding it from momo. “what’s wrong with that? it’s friday, and we have a small break next week.”

momo began walking. instinctively you laced your arms with her, leaning against her slightly. momo enjoyed the warmth your skin radiated, and how you enjoyed skinship. she could imagine what you and her would be doing if you and her were dating. momo quickly shook her head, and then remembered the conversation she was having with you. “yeah, i’m pretty excited too.”

you turned to her, worried that she had plans next week, especially since it was her birthday week. did you forget to tell her parents about your plans?

you did. anxiety erupted throughout your body.

“do you have any plans next week?”

momo hummed. “not that i know of. besides my birthday.”

before the conversation topic could be turned to be about momo’s birthday, you turned to her. “hey, do you mind if i come over today, since it’s friday? maybe we can have a sleepover.”

momo’s eyes lightened and she smiled widely. “we haven’t had one in so long, oh my god. and you know you’re welcome at my house.”

you blushed slightly as you stared into momo’s eyes. she grinned. “now i can’t wait for school to end and i just got here.”

you laughed and led the way to the first class of the day.

----

the day seemed to go by slower than normal. you were trying to pay attention to class, wanting time to go by faster, while momo would stare at the clock as if willing the hands to move at the speed of light.

soon, however, the bell rang and you and momo were packing up. you and her talked endlessly as you stopped by the locker before heading to momo’s house.

as you stepped into the home, momo yelled, “mom, y/n’s staying the night.”

her mom came out of the living room, “oh, okay. hi, y/n.”

you grinned. “hello, mrs. hirai.”

you and momo brought everything to momo’s bedroom. you and her talked and did some homework that wasn’t due until after break. then around dinner time, momo said she had to use the bathroom. you nodded. this was your chance. you grabbed one of the extra envelopes and hurried into the kitchen, where momo’s mom was plating some dishes.

“dinner’s almost ready.” she said to you smiling.

“great. um, mrs. hirai,” you lowered your voice to a whisper, “i just wanted to give you this. it had all the information but basically i’m planning a surprise birthday party.”

her mother gasped, pocketing the envelope. “that’s so sweet of you. why didn’t you let me know sooner?”

you laughed, “i kinda forgot.”

“well, i can help with money.”

you shook your head. “don’t worry about it. my parents and i got it covered, and a few students and friends are helping out as well.”

“ah, you’re too kind. i’ll help with whatever else you need.”

just then, momo came into the kitchen. “that smells delicious.” then she bumped you with her hip. “i was wondering where you went. i can’t resist the smell of delicious food either.”

you smiled, blushing slightly, only five more days.

[day eight]

luckily you had a few days before today to take a break from party planning. during those few days, you hung out with momo of course. you couldn’t think of anyone else to spend your break with.

you and momo were bonding even more than ever. you and her were constantly hanging, and you’ve noticed that you and her were slowly beginning to flirt with each other. it came naturally and you were beginning to wonder how momo felt about you.

there was one day when you and momo went shopping and begun trying on clothes. you were taking this chance to see what momo would possibly want for her birthday. you were too nervous to blatantly ask her the question. but when momo tried on one outfit, you blushed so conspicuously, your cheeks were red, and it was because of how hot she looked. of course momo could pull anything off. she grinned at you. “am i that sexy?”

you weren’t sure of what to say. “it’s perfect on you.”

the way momo looked at you could make you faint. the smile she had, the look in her eyes as she twirled around, “yeah?”

you were head over heels for her.

you hoped that she would like you back the same way you liked her. you weren’t sure, and your anxiety and thoughts were telling you not to talk about it. the time will come when it’s ready.

you were thinking about momo, beginning to feel nervous about the party. her birthday was tomorrow after all, and tomorrow you would be spending the day with friends and your parents decorating the restaurant that had been rented. you hadn’t realized just how expensive renting an entire restaurant is, but you were thankful for everyone who had contributed.

you could only rent the restaurant for one day, so you were only able to use tomorrow to decorate. time was flying by. in a large groupchat that you created with everyone that was helping, you made sure that everyone knew who was bringing what and who was doing what. momo’s parents decided to help pay for food, that was why they were renting a restaurant. the restaurant had all of momo’s favorite japanese and korean dishes. your parents arranged for a cake that you helped to decorate as you wanted everything to be special. some students were bringing balloons, some were bringing streamers and fairy lights. you wanted everything to blow momo’s mind. the goal was, obviously, to surprise her but to also make her feel special. she was an important figure in your life, and you wanted her to know that. you wanted her to know just how much you love her.

you decided to visit momo. you didn’t want her to be suspicious. but you also were feeling anxious. maybe she won’t like the surprise. maybe she’ll be mad at you for keeping it a secret from her. it was crazy, and rather pointless, thoughts, but they were bothering you. momo would be able to take your mind off of all your worries.

you texted her that you were coming over.

when you arrived and rang the doorbell, momo answered. she was still in pajamas, prompting you to tease her slightly.

you and her hung out most of the day, snacking, watching movies, rating actors and actresses.

a romantic scene came on, and you couldn’t help but glance at momo. sure, the scene was between a girl and a boy, but it still was romantic. and you wondered what momo thought about it. you could imagine yourself in the girl’s shoes, hugging momo like that, planting a kiss to her cheek. maybe even her lips.

you blushed at the thought.

momo suddenly looked at you. she was blushing. “that’s one of my favorite scenes.” she admitted, her cheeks and ears getting darker and more vibrant.

she looked cute, the way she looked right now. no makeup on, natural hair, a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“is there something on my face?” momo asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

you shook your head, blushing even more. “just beauty.”

momo was drinking from her glass of water and almost choked. “that was smooth.”

both you and her laughed.

“you really are beautiful.” you said, leaning against her, bending your legs and putting them on the couch.

momo was shocked by the fond look you had in your eyes, the small smile on your face. she could really tell you meant it. “even when i look like this?” she questioned quietly.

“especially when you look like that.” you sat up and playfully pressed a kiss to her cheek.

she gasped and blushed, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. “you haven’t done that in years.”

you shrugged and laid back down, this time placing your head in your lap. you were smirking, holding back any laughs that wanted to leave your mouth.

momo shook her head, suppressing a smile, before turning her attention back to the tv. that may have once been normal between you and momo, but kissing each other’s cheeks haven’t happened in quite some time. it felt new again, but there was a whole new feeling behind it. it was a feeling that warmed momo’s insides, that caused her stomach to twist, that caused her heart to beat rapidly, that caused the tiny section of skin on her cheek to tingle.

momo was beginning to grow impatient. she was unsure of how long she could hide her feelings for her best friend.

[day nine: the day of the party]

momo woke up late. it wasn’t something new.

she woke up knowing it was her birthday, but it didn’t feel like it. she checked her phone, and the only messages she had were from her family back home in japan. there weren’t any from you, which she was upset about, or other friends.

she checked the time on her phone. it was almost noon. that’s a new record for sure.

momo got up from her bed and left her bedroom. she wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. looking around, she was alone. her family was nowhere to be seen and the house was quiet. now, momo felt more confused than upset. she grew anxious.

just then, her phone vibrated. she hurriedly opened her messages and saw that it was a text from you.

“finally.” she said to herself, only it wasn’t a birthday message.

‘i hope you’re awake by now, momo!! if you don’t mind, please take a nice, warm shower and dress nicely. imagine you were going on a date with someone, how would you dress?’

your text only made her brain hurt more as she tried to figure out what was going on. but a nice, warm shower sounded absolutely heavenly, so momo did just that. the young lady took her time, no one was home to complain about her using all the hot water.

afterwards just got dressed in a nice dress, one that she could see herself wearing on a date if she were to ever go on one. then she did her hair and makeup. she was anxious yet excited as to what you were talking about. it had to be related to her birthday somehow. there couldn’t possibly be another explanation.

when momo left her room, she noticed that her mom was home. “good morning, my love. you look absolutely stunning.”

momo smiled, looking at her mom with slight confusion on her face. “where were you earlier?”

she shrugged. “i just had to run some errands.”

“oh.”

“anyways, are you ready to go?”

“go where?” momo asked cautiously.

her mom simply grinned. “it’s a surprise.”

momo and her mom got into her mom’s car. she wondered where her mom was driving her too. she tried to think of all the places they were going, but momo was surprised when she pulled up to a restaurant that she’d never been to before.

“oh, are we eating here?” momo asked, getting out of the car.

her mom smiled at her. “more or less.”

what does that mean?

momo grew anxious as she and her mom walked in. the restaurant was completely dark, which momo didn’t expect from all the windows that she noticed from outside. why was it so dark? and why was it quiet and empty?

“mom, did you get the address wrong?”

suddenly the lights were turned on, and everyone was jumping up from their hiding spots. momo jumped back, her eyes as wide as an owl’s.

“surprise!” everyone yelled, some blowing party horns and some using the party cannons that shot out confetti.

momo stared at everyone, “what is this?” she asked quietly, a smiling forming on her face.

seeing her smile, you felt relief wash over your shoulders. she wasn’t mad. you stepped out from the side, “happy birthday, momo.”

she looked at her with surprise but was smiling. “did you organize all of this?”

you nodded. “i did. they all helped, but this was my idea.”

the party begun. the lights were dimmed again and some fairy lights were turned on. it was a casual party. music began to play and everyone started to dance or hangout and talk.

people kept coming up to momo to say happy birthday, and as much as momo appreciated them, she wanted to talk to you.

you approached her with a party hat that said birthday girl and put it on her head. you had to get close to her, and momo was dazed as how close you were, how close your lips were to hers. “there.” you said.

and you barely stepped away. you were looking at her with a wide smile. “do you like it?”

she nodded. “it all makes sense now. how you were too busy to hang out with me…”

“i felt bad about it, i didn’t want to give off the impression that i was hiding something or going behind your back.”

“well, you did i decent job. i did know that you were hiding something.”

you winced slightly. “i’m not the best liar…”

momo laughed. “good. it makes me feel better.”

you laughed along with her.

after more light conversation, you grabbed her hand and led her over to the food. “what do you want first?” you asked.

you were licking something off of your finger, chewing on some food that you found. however, as you were eating, you didn’t realize that you got something on the corner of your lips, close to your cheek.

momo noticed it and blushed. you were oblivious to the mess on your cheek. you looked adorable, and momo wondered if she should say something.

“oh!” you suddenly gasped, reaching for a plate.

momo laughed at your reaction as you hurried around her to fill the plate with momo’s favorite food. then you stood in front of her holding the plate up and grabbing a bite with chopsticks. “here.” you offered her.

the birthday girl wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was the food on your lips and how oblivious you were to it, or how cute you looked just standing there with the smile on your face, or how you were offering her food… momo was unsure of what it was, but it was you. and it was you that was making her feel with way. she was almost overwhelmed with emotion, her love for you was consuming her. before momo could stop herself, she was blurting out. “y/n, i love you.”

you stared at her surprised. you were worried you were going to drop the plate, but momo was there holding your wrists, steadying you.

her own eyes widened. “oops.”

your cheeks burned. “you...love me?”

both you and momo knew that she didn’t say it in a platonic kind of way. momo was worried, perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. but then, you stepped closer to her, a smile forming on your face. “you love me.”

momo nodded, blushing so much, she was worried she might overheat.

then, you were setting down the plate of food in order to cup momo’s cheeks and look her in her eyes. “i love you too.” you whisper shouted.

momo was taken back for a split second before you were pressing your lips to hers. she was definitely not expecting for you to do that. but, as new as it felt, it felt right. it felt like it was very much needed by the both of you.

finally, you pulled away blushing. then you looked at her mouth. “oh, you got a little something…” then you wiped some food, the very same food that came from you, off of her.

momo bursted into a fit of laughter after realizing what you were doing, and suddenly you felt embarrassed. “what?” you questioned defensively.

“that came from you, silly.”

“what do you mean?”

momo reached for a napkin from the table and wiped off the remaining bits of food from your mouth. you were blushing, both from kissing momo and from the embarrassment of not noticing the food. “and you didn’t say anything earlier?!”

“you looked cute! i couldn’t bring myself to.”

you glared at her before grabbing the plate of food. “you may be the birthday girl, but you’re not getting any of this now.”

momo gasped and pouted. “no! i’m sorry.” she whined slightly. “i said i love you…”

you blushed, “so what are we now?”

momo hugged your arm, resting her head on your shoulder. she was looking at the plate of food but was thinking about you. “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

you fought against the smile that was trying to form on your face. “yes.”

“can i have some food now?”

you offered her a bite. momo grinned happily, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before chewing the bite of food. “thank you!”

[lover-of-sans]

Apparently I have to post my rules this way.

When requesting anything from me please be patient when waiting for me to post it. My physical and mental health come first I struggle with a few mental problems that I am getting better at managing but I do still have bad days. I am only human so please be understanding.

SHIPPING!

Tell me every little thing! Name of who you want me to ship (yourself or OC), personality, looks, likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc. anything you feel is relevant that I may need to consider.

If possible send me a pic of who you want me to ship, in the submission section just tell me that it's for your ship and it will help me out if you feel the looks description is too complicated

Ask for your ship in the questions in the “ask me anything” section of my page please

Fan fics by request

If you have an idea for a fic I would love to hear it

Will only do Character X Reader

You may ask for specific traits about the reader such as: gender specifics, particular sizes, specific looks

Don't be afraid to if your idea is super detailed or not

Though if I need more input I may ask for more info if I don't understand

Fic ideas can be submitted in “ask me anything” or if your idea exceeds the text limit of the questions section go ahead and send it to me in the “submit a post” section

AS THE AUTHOR OF THESE FICS I CAN DENY ANY IDEA I AM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH WRITING

Art request

If you wish for some art you MUST keep the following in mind

Most of the time request will be sketch/doodle (most likely back and white)

Unless i'm super into the idea

Black and white (with no shading) works are much easier for me to make and will be posted faster than colored, if you are willing to wait I can color your requests but it will be flat color (no shading)

Like mentioned above if I am super into the idea I will put a good effort into making it like shading and an honest attempt at background (still working on my background skills)

Keep in mind I am doing this FOR FREE so I have the right to do this at my leisure and take as long as I please

AS THE ARTIST I AM ALLOWED TO DENY ANY REQUESTS THAT I AM NOT COMFORTABLE DOING

If you want examples of my art my icon is made by me and I have several post featuring my own art

YANDERE

When it comes to yandere I tend to be iffy about it, I have a hard time with violence and abuse against S/O (or S/O against characters). I understand that it’s the entire idea of a yandere but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to write about. I have issues in my past and some subjects that go along with yandere can really be distressing to me.

That being said there are some things that I can handle

No violence towards the non-yandere in the situation like beating, wounding stuff like that

If you have a scenario that you are unsure about you may submit it and I will either reply that I’m not comfortable or if I’m fine with it I will write for it.

These rules can also be found on my “submit a post” page for the sake of ease.