#i might? open commissions??? to force myself to draw on a deadline and for a reason rather than for myself and on no deadlines

[doodleodds]

Hmm...it’s been two months......I think it’s reasonable to post akeshu week day 2 now

hahahaha day 2 am i right fellas? only a week late....haha...........

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

The Centre of Attention

This is a commissioned piece for @jihyxnkim, thank you for your support!

They asked for Zen x V x CMC smut featuring their OC, Minyeong.

Mystic Messenger | Zen x CMC x V | Explicit

~~~

Deadlines sucked at the best of times, and this was certainly not one of them.

It felt as if Minyeong had been struggling over the same set of panels for several years, even if they knew for a fact it had only been a matter of days. Drawing action sequences was far more complicated than it ought to have been and they spotted new mistakes every time they set down their pen. Someone’s arm would be at an impossible angle; one particular panel would be unclear. It was just one page and it ought to have been simple, but the closer their deadline came, the messier their sketches seemed to become.

It felt as if they had been locked away in their study forever, and they leaned back in their chair with a heartfelt sigh, stretching out their arms and legs and staring at the sketch on their computer monitor. They rubbed their eyes and got up from the desk, meaning to get a glass of water from the kitchen and hopefully restore what little motivation they had had from the beginning. Maybe, just maybe, they would come back into their studio and find that their linework had been perfect all along.

Minyeong stepped out into the corridor and took a left, stretching their arms up high over their head and breaking out into a yawn despite themselves. Something somewhere smelled delicious and it didn’t take them long to figure out what. The mouthwatering scent of stir fry greeted them as they stepped into the kitchen, along with the telltale crackle of a frying pan.

Zen stood at the kitchen counter, stirring with one hand and pointing out spices with the other. Jihyun pored over the spice rack, lifting up whichever containers he was asked for.

Minyeong’s fiance had a lot of skills, but cooking wasn’t one of them. He was relegated to rice cooker duties more often than not. Zen, on the other hand, was good enough for all three of them, perhaps in part because he had spent so long cooking for himself and making the most of cheap ingredients.

They opened their mouth to announce their presence, only for their stomach to gurgle loudly and do so for them. Zen and Jihyun turned to them, each breaking out into a smile.

“How long have I been in there?” Minyeong groaned, all too aware that when they went away to work, Jihyun had still been eating breakfast. “Are you making dinner?”

Jihyun set down a jar of red pepper flakes and rushed over to greet them, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his chin on the top of their head.

“You need to take more breaks,” he said. “When we moved in together, I rather hoped I’d see you more often.”

“Yeah,” piped up Zen, still stirring the pot, “you might get carpal tunnel.”

Minyeong glanced from one to the other: their boyfriend, who went back to work a day after breaking his leg; their fiance, who sometimes fell asleep on the floor of his own studio.

“Okay, as much as I love you both, neither one of you is qualified to complain about me overworking.”

Zen at least pretended to pout. Jihyun, by comparison, found their outburst more amusing than anything else.

“So did you manage to make any progress?” He asked, letting go of them and heading back to the stove.

“Nah,” they said, reaching into the cupboard for plates. “I just can’t get the transition right. Like I can see it in my head, but the moment I get it on paper…”

They shrugged, grabbing a stack of plates and crossing the room to set them down on the kitchen counter. By now just thinking about the fight sequence made them tired.

“Seems like you need a distraction,” said Zen, switching off the power and moving to plate up, all while Minyeong took a seat at the dining table.

“I need something,” they said, flopping down and resting their head on their arms. “At this rate I’ll never get it in on time.”

“I have just the thing,” said Zen. “Hold still.”

Minyeong raised an eyebrow and watched as he and Jihyun set the table. Zen hovered behind them, so close that when Minyeong lifted their head to look up at him, the back of their head rested against his stomach.

“Hold still,” he said again, before reaching down and stroking his fingers over their back and shoulders, working out each and every knot.

“Where did you learn that?” They asked, sighing into his touches.

“Here and there...where next?”

Jihyun took a sip of wine, admiring Minyeong’s half lidded eyes and urges for Zen to move there...right there...breaking out into moans when he hit exactly the right spot.

It was innocent enough, though as was almost always the case, it was only a matter of time before it became more.

“I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep making noises like that,” said Zen, leaving Minyeong to shoot him a wry smile.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Who says I want you to stop?”

They had a deadline, that much was clear, but right then they were only too happy to fall into escapism.

Zen laughed, so softly that it sounded like a growl. He leaned over to offer Minyeong a hand, only to lift them over his shoulder the moment they made contact. They squealed in a combination of delight and surprise, watching the kitchen disappear into the distance as Zen carried them off to the bedroom. Jihyun followed suit, closing the bedroom door behind them as Zen dropped them down onto the bed.

Minyeong gasped as their body hit the mattress, watching as Zen peeled off his shirt and Jihyun took a seat next to them on the bed. He helped them up into a sitting position, sliding a hand under their shirt and dragging it over their shoulders.

Zen got to his knees as Jihyun crushed his lips to Minyeong’s, pulling at the fastenings of their bra. He tossed it aside without much care for where it landed, running his finger tips over their exposed breasts. Minyeong gasped, having spent so long in their study of late that they had lost track of exactly how much they had missed the attention. More specifically, being the center of it.

Zen rested their legs over his shoulder and dragged at the waistband of their jeans, slipping them off and casting them over his shoulder. He spread their legs wide, so wide that Minyeong couldn’t help but blush, holding his hands firm against their hips and running his tongue over their clit.

Minyeong gasped, breaking their lips away from Jihyun’s at the sudden contact. Jihyun’s response was to plant kisses across their jawline, running his finger tips over their nipples.

They had gotten used to the subtleties in their actions; the difference between them that no outsider would know. Zen was rougher and far more impatient, while Jihyun was a people pleaser even in the bedroom, falling in line with whoever else took the lead. He grazed his teeth over Minyeong’s neck at precisely the same time Zen pushed the tip of his tongue against their clit with far more force than before.

They gasped, bucking their hips off the bed without meaning to, though never getting very far. Zen took the chance to suck them harder, burying his lips and tongue even deeper. Minyeong gripped the bedcovers, barely noticing as Jihyun eased them down onto their back. They stared up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything but the wet sounds of Zen’s tongue against their cunt.

“How is that?” He murmured, his breath hot against their folds.

Minyeong knew damn well he already knew the answer.

“Good,” they murmured, “but it could be better.”

“Oh?”

They could hear the challenge in his voice and it left butterflies in their stomach.

“The pair of you are wearing far too many clothes for my liking.”

Zen peered up from his position at the foot of the bed and across at Jihyun, who had already loosened half of his shirt buttons and currently fiddled with his belt buckle.

“I see how it is,” he said, letting go of Minyeong’s legs for the time being and getting up to remove the rest of his clothes. He unbuttoned the rest of Jihyun’s shirt, shooting them a knowing glance as he dropped it onto the nearest chair.

He rested against the bed to drag off his own pants and kicked them aside without any sort of grace, Minyeong only too aware when his bare skin brushed against their legs. Even though he had long since let go, they still left them parted, desperate for either one of them to address the growing ache inside of them.

Zen crouched down onto his knees to tug at Jihyun’s waistband, dragging both his pants and underwear to his knees and smirking as Jihyun’s hardened cock sprang free. Jihyun was incredibly good at hiding exactly how hard he actually was, which proved a never end source of amusement. He only ever started to beg and plead at the point of no return, when he was about to come all over himself and anyone else nearby.

Zen dropped his own boxers, leaving them both naked in front of Minyeong, who sucked in a single breath in anticipation of what was to come.

“Enjoy the view?” Zen purred, inhaling sharply as Jihyun reached out to give his cock a gentle tug.

“You have no idea,” said Minyeong, only to giggle as they actually approached.

Jihyun reached for their hand and guided them up onto their knees and up towards the middle of the bed. Zen laid back down behind them, shuffling up the bed and easing their thighs apart until he could comfortably fit his head between them. Minyeong gasped as he slapped their ass without a moment’s hesitation and ran his tongue over their folds, so close to where they needed him that they barely noticed the sting.

Jihyun sat up in front of them, placing a hand at the back of their neck as he kissed them, with the other roaming their body. Minyeong reached for his cock and he moaned into their open mouth, all while Zen swirled a figure eight over their clit with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he whined. “I’m so glad we chose this over dinner.”

Minyeong and Jihyun both giggled, remembering the hot food that they had abandoned in the heat of the moment.

“That’s what microwaves are for,” said Minyeong, too far gone to even entertain the idea of pulling their clothes back on and doing anything else.

Jihyun eased them forward, sighing in pleasure as Minyeong grabbed onto his waist to steady their weight. They reached for his cock and ran their tongue from shaft to tip before wrapping their lips around the first few inches, squeezing him tightly as they moved to take even more.

He sighed in delight at every touch, stroking his fingers through their hair to urge them to continue. Minyeong tried to match their every touch to the rhythm of Zen’s tongue against their folds and moaning into every sensation. Before they knew it they were grinding their hips over his face, squirming into his touches even as they pumped at Jihyun’s cock.

The ache inside of them was too much to bear. It weighed on their every thought and action, every touch to their clit and burn of the bedcovers under their knees. Every touch sent them tighter- a spring deep inside of them that threatened to unravel at any second.

They came delightfully slowly, holding their hips in place and gripping onto Jihyun so tightly that their nails scraped against his skin. He stroked their hair, though, so taken over by the feel of their lips against his cock that the pain barely phased him.

Minyeong gasped at the flutters deep inside of them, flutters so strong and deep that they felt them all of the way from their stomach to their cunt to their ass. They let go of Jihyun and took a deep breath, letting the ripples of pleasure flow through them.

When they fell still, Zen guided them back across the bed and down towards his middle. Minyeong blushed, knowing what was about to come, Jihyun got up and rifled through the bedroom drawer, dragging out two condoms and handing one to them as he put the first on himself. Minyeong shuffled further down the bed, shooting Zen a knowing look before sliding it onto his hard cock. He gave them a non too subtle wink in response, pulling them back across the bed and holding out a hand so that they could steady their weight as they sank down onto his cock.

Even in the aftermath of coming so forcefully, he stretched them in ways that only satisfied them more. Minyeong took him in slowly, adjusting their weight and rocking forward, sinking the nail of their free hand into their breasts. It felt so good-too much and yet not enough.

They turned to Jihyun, motioning for him to come closer and finish off what they’d started.

They had tried this particular movement only once before in the past. It was daunting, to say the least. Luckily Minyeong was blessed with patient lovers, neither of whom minded putting lewd ideas on the back burner when necessary.

Minyeong rocked their body on Zen’s dick, slowly and tentatively, though never nervously. When they had gotten into a comfortable motion, they leaned forward, resting one hand on the bed and the other on Zen.

Jihyun took a step forward and reached for their hips, gently pushing his tip at their entrance until it was stretched enough that he could slide it in. All three of them moaned at the intense sensation-Jihyun’s dick pressed tightly against Zen’s in an already tight space.

“Oh my god,” moaned Minyeong, leaning back into Jihyun. “Oh my god…”

It took some getting used to; Minyeong had come so hard that they felt everything with several more layers of intensity. They felt the sting as they reached the base of both cocks; the quiver as they rubbed each one of their sensitive spots. They didn’t know what to say, nor how to describe it and so settled for letting their body do the talking, picking up a steady rhythm and growing faster as their confidence grew.

“Oh shit,” Zen groaned, “oh sh---”

He was the first to come and Minyeong felt it; a twitching deep inside of them as he reached up to grip their breast. Jihyun came only fractionally later, gripping onto their waist and holding them still as he moaned numerous, garbled praises. Their moans and the pressure inside of them was enough to leave Minyeong rocking on their knees with even more force than before, chasing the building need inside of them until they saw white.

Their cry was the loudest, echoed by both men as their walls tightened around their cocks.

In that moment, there was no deadline, no comic panel, no sketchbook. There was only them, panting in the silent room.

Well, not silent for long.

Minyeong opened their mouth to crack a joke, only to be interrupted by the increasingly insistent growling of their stomach. Then, and only then, did anyone remember how hungry they had actually been.

~~~

“Like that? No… no..like that.”

Minyeong did not go back to their computer, instead forwarding an incredibly apologetic email to their editor before curling up in bed with a plateful of microwaved stir fry, which had never tasted so good.

Jihyun and Zen stood at the foot of the bed, stretching out their arms and legs in poses of their choosing, all while Minyeong sketched at lightning speed.

“Like this?”

Zen held out an arm in a pretend punch.

“Yes, perfect,” said Minyeong. “Now Jihyun, put your hand on his chest.”

They had been only too enthusiastic to pose for references.

“Yes, just like that!”

Miyeong didn’t know how to tell them that they had become so preoccupied with their naked bodies that in the end they hadn’t drawn anything.

[tuxedaaron]

Hello, all.  Yes, it is now official.  I am finally accepting commissions.  Believe me when I say, for those who have been following my work for a long time, there is not a single one of you who can possibly know how long I've been wrestling with this decision.   But my current employment situation (specifically, the temporary layoff period I currently find myself in) has more or less forced my hand to at least TRY to go down this road.  I won't lie, I'm not 100% certain that I can actually make enough money through commissions to keep my head above water, financially.  But I guess we're about to find out, huh? For those of you who have made non-commissioned requests of me, prior to this announcement, and are suddenly worrying about what this means for you, have no fear.  I WILL be getting those projects completed, and no, it won't cost you a dime.  But from this point on, for anyone else who would like to see me draw something for them, I'm afraid I now have to ask for money.  I'm sorry, but this is the bridge we've come to now, so we all have to cross it together. Well, that's all I have to say about that.  So let's get down to business... 1.) PRICES - Lineart ($30.00 USD) - Simple Colors ($40.00 USD) - Shaded Colors ($50.00 USD) 2.) ORDERS/PAYMENT - Anyone who would like to commission me for artwork can either email me at tuxedo52@hotmail.com or contact me on DeviantArt (https://www.deviantart.com/tuxedaaron). - For anyone messaging me on DA, a Note would be preferable, so I can file it properly and no commissions get lost.  However, I will still require an address from you, so I can email you the image once it's completed. - If I agree to take on your project, let me know if there's a specific deadline you'd like to see it completed by.   Deadlines will obviously be given priority.  But, please...don't ask for it to be completed the very next day. - Size of the image is negotiable.  Personally, I prefer my images cut to a height of 950p, so you can fully see it on your screen.  But if you'd like something larger so you can print a physical copy, we can discuss it. - A cropped thumbnail will be emailed to the commissioner, to inform them of the project's completion.  However, an email containing the full image will be contingent only upon my first receiving payment for the work. - Payment (for the moment, at least) will be exclusively through Paypal (paypal.me/TuxedAaron). In time, I may be open to other payment methods (possibly even a Patreon, down the line), but for right now, this is what I have. 3.) NSFW RESTRICTIONS (Yes, it now comes down to this.  To be honest, I don't really have an issue with NSFW commissions.  But I won't do just anything.  Below is my strict list of Don'ts for NSFW requests.  These are NOT NEGOTIABLE!) ABSOLUTELY NO...! - Loli/Shota - Piss/Scat - Rape - Violence - Gore - Vore - Snuff - Or anything else I might generally consider offensive (If it isn't specifically listed here, don't assume it's fair game.  ASK-ME-FIRST.) Well, I think that just about covers it.  So for anyone, going forward, who'd like to see me draw a picture for them and is actually willing to pay me, by all means drop me a line.  For everyone else, thanks for putting up with this shameless plug and I hope you continue to enjoy my work as more postings are made.

[oreopata]

Ending 2018

Well, this has been a rollercoaster of a year. One of very mixed highs and lows. This year, it’s been more extreme than before.

The Shite:

First, I’ll get the bad stuff out of the way. But a lot of it can be boiled down to struggles with toxic family that have ended up messing my head so much that it’s lead to a couple of breakdowns, my confidence in my career, appearance, and control over my own life almost being tarnished. And on the 15th of August, lead to me seriously contemplating suicide. Only just being talked out of it by a new friend I’d made that summer. 

After that, I made the drastic design to recluse myself from everything that was upsetting me, and it seems from that very day onwards, things only improved. I finally got to piece myself together, and thanks to my friends, see my own worth and find reasons to love myself and have hope for my future. 

Then again, when I have one side that screams in my face for hours on end, calling me a “pig”, a “disgrace”, or “Your gran would be spinning in her grave because of you.”. And then there is the other side that call me all these wonderful things, love the peculiar things about my work, goals and even my appearance - whose’s a girl to believe? For years, I only ever listened the former side. Every day I would be scared and hear the voices at the back of my head, telling me how everything I was doing was wrong and how horrible I looked every day. There is plenty more i could discuss in terms of the bad of this year, but going too much into the details might be a little risky to say the least. Besides, my close friends already know about the worst shit-shows I’ve been through, including this Christmas. Not to mention I want to talk about--

The Great:

The very next day after I managed to hold off from doing something incredibly fucking stupid, I got a message. A Youtube reviewer I’d been a fan of for years and whose art contest I had won, approached me to do a commission for his channel. The very next day. And soon, I had finally done my very first paid commission, and there could be more on the way. 

From then on I had one hell of a busy autumn. Including completing Inktober for the very first time and getting experimental with India Ink. I also got to do the aforementioned commission, two different contests, a self portrait of myself as a Ghostbuster and quite a bit more. I was getting up at 5:00am and working through my routine very carefully. I hope I can keep this up next year. 

I took part in quite a few contests this year, including the Blackstone, Bendy & The Ink Machine and Dolan Kart art contests. The latter of which, I became one of the winners. So my Ned Kelly skin for Zaraganba is now in the game. (But I have been told it’s currently missing from the game. I’m going to need to get in contact with them about that). 

Even with the other contests, I soon didn't care about winning as much as I loved the thrill of trying to draw something I wouldn’t usually and getting practice at meeting a deadline. I felt proud of myself for just doing it all. 

Because my art just wasn’t being seen on this tumblr, or even in the search results, I opened a blog exclusively for my artwork and art related matters. So I hope you’ll follow me over there if you haven’t already.

I finally joined twitter, and things only got better from there. My first uploads Included my previous Dolan Kart entrees, which got far more attention than I thought they would. It was especially humbling to have people come up and tell me how much they loved my comic contest entree from over a year ago.

I drew this image of Walter Peck which actually got a like from Dan Schoening, the artist behind the IDW Ghostbusters series that I love so much. 

But the best part about this image was how it allowed me to gain some of the most amazing new friends from the Ghostbusters fandom. Including the one who saved me from the suicidal ideas earlier. It’s made me so happy that people are loving my thoughts, posts and art related to Ghostbusters. I’m hoping to get more done with the 35th anniversary next year.

Hell,  I even got an adorable one-shot fanfic made about me and one of my favourite characters as a present! That’s fucking amazing! I read it all throughout my Christmas. Just to reminds myself of how adorable it is and what fucking amazing friends I have. 

And with twitter, means I get to find all sorts of interesting things. One of my favourites being when I started following the actor Peter MacNicol. For one, he’s always been one of my favourite character actors since I was younger and he uses his twitter to showcase art, writing, classical films, nostalgic Americana etc. So his daily tweets are a delight to me. I can’t deny I got a buzz whenever he’s reply to a comment I’d leave and it might lead to a bit of a back and forth. 

So imagine my surprise when I check my feed one day and discover this...

... Holy shit! 

Now I feel equal parts anxious and excited. Because if he’s going to be following me, I want to make sure i produce some good shit. Given how this man has great taste in art that’s way beyond my skill set.

And before I forget, I got to be part of a private art exhibition my art class was having. It was an honour and a privilege to be alongside all these older, and more experienced mixture of professional amateur artists. It helped me gain such a new passion for our local coal mining history and pay tribute to it. Even though I didn't get to finish all the pieces I wanted to, I’m determined to come back to it again.

I also had the opportunity to visit my local disabled riding school’s open day. I did some messy sketches, but few things can compare to when one lass would peer over my shoulder, telling me how she wants to an artist and said to me “I’ve never met a real artist before.” What a thrill to be called that! It’s a bit like how my little nephew would get so excited and happy whenever I drew him a picture. Only two years old and he’d arrange them neatly, look at them, show them to his parents saying,  “Look! Look! Aunty Leo drew!”  And yet still asking they don’t touch the image as he didn't want it to get damaged. 

When I got to see mu uncle after he came over from America, I got the opportunity to open up to him about my fears and anxieties about my work and hopes for my career. We both got to admit that we share the same anxieties and worries. Even for a professional director working in LA like him. He’s recommend me to set up an instagram account and get into contact with artist’s he’s worked with. I do have an account, but sadly I don’t have a phone I can use to upload my work on.  

Hopes for 2019:

So it seems I got to learn quite a few lessons this year. Such as how friends really are the family you choose. They can love you unconditionally, be supporting and won’t force their exceptions of what they think your appearance should be on your life. They will lift you up, treat you and make you feel like a queen, keep you sane and alive.

I can do more on my own than I thought I could. Once I let go of my fears more and not be afraid to do what I have to for the sake of my mental health. Even if there are people that complain that I’m not dedicating my time to them and rather my work, the results in my craft and improvement in my mind have paid off tremendously. Perhaps now I can finally achieve the things I always got so close to but then lost due to another stress related breakdown.

And the goals for next year includes: 

Setting up an art business and being open for commissions. 

Surviving a family wedding 

Keeping distant from toxic family members 

Losing belly fat. 

Finish plot outline for my graphic novel 

Make art for the Ghostbusters 35th anniversary 

DRASTICALLY Improve my art 

Etc, etc etc.

As for tonight, I’m going to order a Chinese takeaway, watch some telly, play some more of the Ghostbusters PS3 game, down some wine and brace myself for the year ahead. 

Good luck everyone!

[thecrazydragonlady]

Coffee Shops and Board Games- Chapter 6

Author’s Notes: Sorry it's been a while. Life and all that jazz.

BTW, Pegasus is showing up and I've all but buried myself in plot points I'm going to have to address before the end of this whole thing. Go figure.

Enjoy!

AO3

 Days Remaining Until Deadline: 12 and ½

Yugi knew that his smile was plastered on his face. It didn’t even feel natural to him but he couldn’t let the confusion still circling in his mind ruin the brand new partnership he’d formed with Yami but, much to his dismay, the other man brought it up as they were walking out. Ryou and Bakura bid the two of them goodbye when they left. The two white-haired men went one way while the two of them started back the other way. Yugi fell silent. The lunch rush was ending, the sidewalk was clearing of people and the world seemed to take on a new level of silence that was mind-numbing to him. His brow furrowed.

A gentle hand grabbed his own. Yugi froze, his eyes going wide. He turned a bit to face Yami who’s own face was just as concerned and twisted and he swallowed hard.

Damn him for being so cute.

“Yugi,” he asked softly.

Oh. Dear. God.

The voice.

Why did he have such a goddamn magical voice?

“You alright? You’ve been… quiet. Is everything okay?” He turned all the way then, smiling brightly at his partner.

“Everything’s good,” he chirped. “Just got busy thinking. I might have a couple of new ideas for the game.” Yami blinked. The worry disappeared off his face and he smiled softly, brightly, at him.

“Excellent! I can’t wait to hear what you have.” He nodded.

Suddenly, their hands began to feel oddly warm. It hit them. Their hands. Yami still held his, gently, but Yugi was able to feel how long and slender his fingers were, as well as how strong he was. Time seemed to stop for a second. As did his breathing. Now his head was spinning for a nearly one-eighty reason and he wondered if this was going to be the day he embarrassed himself by passing out in public. Together, their faces flushed red. Yami let him go suddenly, waving his hands in front of his face to hide his own embarrassment. He didn’t move for a second. The artist regained himself for a moment before walking past him, mentioning, “W-we should get going! Before you forget that idea.” Yugi looked at his hand for a second, wiggling the fingers to see if they were real (they were) and noted how warm they were before he turned, following him back to coffee shop.

*****

Yugi wasn’t sure how many times he could be confused in one day.

Today had to be a record.

When they pushed the door into the store open, the little bell ringing, he nearly died of a heart attack on the spot when he spotted a tall, white haired man standing at the counter. For the early year weather outside, he was wearing an appropriate sweater, tan slacks, and loafers. Yugi knew that form far too well; it was a form that still haunted him on occasion in his nightmares and he nearly turned to run. Jounouchi, who had spotted him, made a face at him, trying to secretly motion him back out the door but it was too late. The man noticed the change in the young blond. He spun, the half of his face that was exposed lit up into a bright smile which somehow did not conceal how bright the rest of his face.

Yami had to blink too.

Standing in front of them was Pegasus J. Crawford, founder of Industrial Illusions and the developer of the ever popular card game, Duel Monsters.

“Yugi-boy,” he cheered. Yami continued to blink but he turned his head a bit when he felt Yugi reach up, grabbing the back of his shirt and somewhat hiding behind him. The taller man approached. “It’s been such a long time desu! I didn’t expect to find you in a place like this desu.”

"Pegasus," Yugi greeted, tight lipped. "I could say the same to you in all honesty." His smile didn't dim as he motioned to his chest which also had an apron on it with the name Millennium Bakery stitched so delicately across it. He blinked, looked at the logo, looked up at the smiling man, looked back to the logo, before eyeing him one more time, completely confused at this point as to what was happening; the problem with being Yugi Mutou though was that his mind was bright, and sharp, easily catching on to the concept that was being presented. His face flushed. A sharp cry came from in between his lips and he gripped tighter to Yami's shirt. "No way! What about your company?" He waved a hand.

"Industrial Illusions is doing just fine desu. It'll survive if I don't show up every single day desu." He motioned to the counter where Jou was clearly shaking his head as he pulled out something and put them in the display case. "Baking is my hobby desu. I find it to be rather relaxing desu." Yami raised an eyebrow.

"So you're telling me... those baked goods...." Pegasus beamed.

"Millennium Bakery's specialties desu!"

Yugi made a note to never eat of the baked goods here. Yami scratched his cheek. "That's.... great...?" Pegasus clapped his hands.

"It is isn't it desu?" He took a look at his watch. "Well, it's time for me to go make my next delivery desu. I hope to see you again soon desu!" He waved to Jou at the door before finally walking out. Another sigh of relief seemed to circle around the room as it had earlier that day with Kaiba and his departure. Yugi, most of all, released one. He also let go of Yami's shirt.

Yami in turn frowned.

He nodded at the door, "What's up with you and Pegasus?" He flinched. Yami's face twisted as his aibou seemed to twist inward on himself, becoming shorter as he hunched over and he brought his hand up, rubbing his shoulder. Before he could answer, a shadow crossed over them and he turned, finding Jou there; he held out his arms and Yugi, without any level of hesitation, moved closer, allowing the taller guy to wrap his arms around him. Yami couldn't admit he wasn't the tiniest bit jealous. He bit the feeling down as this was clearly not the time to be. Jou patted his back.

"Sorry Yug," he sighed. "I couldn't get away to warn you."

"It's alright," he mumbled into his chest. Jou looked up at Yami, his face seemingly weary.

"It's a long story," he addressed him, "but it's also not my place to tell you." He nodded to Yugi and Yami nodded back in reply; he understood. Yugi sighed and straightened.

"Thanks Jou," he whispered. "It's been years and he still wears me out."

"After what he did? I wouldn't be surprised."

Yami was practically squirming. As much as he wanted to know about Yugi and the creator of Duel Monster's relationship, he understood and knew that there were somethings that couldn't be so easily addressed. He, most of all, had no room to ask. It would make him a hypocrite. The biggest jerk of them all.

Jounouchi's eyes stayed on Yami for a moment. His stomach twisted. After having been in a gang for so long, he knew that his gut was his best indicator of the things around him; currently, it was telling him that the artist was probably the best person for Yugi to be around. Sure, he could be there. He'd always been there. After, you know, he stopped bullying Yugi after all, but he was there for everything that had gone down between Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. Despite this, he'd never been able to fully heal the scars on his friend's heart. Jou cleared his throat. "I gotta head back Yug," he gently said. "Why don't you go take a seat? The next drink's on me." The shorter man straightened.

"I can't ask for that Jou!" He waved a hand.

"You didn't. I'm going to anyway." He patted his shoulder before gently pushing him towards Yami who blinked. "You two go sit down and get started planning. Your deadline is coming up real fast."

"Thanks Jounouchi," Yami returned. He waved a hand before stepping back behind the counter to fix their drinks. Together, they went to his usual space and, for a moment, neither of them moved. What a crazy and unpredictable day it had been. Yugi spoke first after a couple of minutes.

He started slowly, "I guess you're wondering... about what's up between me and Pegasus uh?" Yami flinched.

"You don't have to tell me. I can tell it causes you a lot of distress...." Yugi chuckled darkly.

"That's putting it mildly," he practically spat. He ran a tired hand over his face before burying it in them, his elbows propped up on the table. "I... I want to let you know. In case we run into him again and I bolt for the door or something. Do you want to hear it?" He peaked through his fingers to see Yami nodded slowly; Yugi took a deep breath, "It started when Kaiba wanted my grandfather's fourth, and legendary, copy of the Blue Eyes White Dragon...." He went through the whole story: how Kaiba had stolen the card and challenged him to a duel, how he had summoned Exodia to win the match, how Pegasus had caught an interest in him and invited him to Duelist Kingdom, how he had turned it down, completely uninterested in going pro in the card game, and then....

Yami slammed his hand on the table. Yugi jerked, surprised. His face was twisted, brow scrunched in fury, his shoulders and body shaking, as he forced out between his teeth, "How dare he? What gives him the right to kidnap your grandfather?" He clenched his hands. "If I see him again, I'm going to punch him in the face." Yugi's shoulders slumped. Slowly, he reached out a hand, grabbing the appendage much like he had done earlier for him, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Yami froze.

"Thank you," he whispered, "it makes me happy to know how kind you are." He smiled softly, "But don't do that. Your hands are really important. I'd hate for you to be out of commission because you broke them on Pegasus's face or something." Yami huffed.

"Only you would be worried about my drawings at a time like this."

"He's also the only one in the world," Jounouchi added, coming up with a couple of drinks, "who would even remotely think about forgiving a jerk like that." Yugi smiled.

"To be fair, Pegasus did pay us back for all the trouble he caused. Besides, he hasn't done anything like it since and he's actually been doing quite a bit to make up for everything; remember when he helped to set up that charity duel a couple of years ago for the orphanage?" Jou huffed this time.

"He could do good deeds for the rest of his life and it still wouldn't make up for half the shit he's done."

"I agree," Yami noted. Yugi shook his head, accepting the drink Jounouchi offered him gratefully.

"Grandpa always taught me to not hold on to my grudges. Life's too short for it anyway. I'd rather forgive and move on than keep beating myself, or Pegasus up, for everything that’s happened." His face slumped again. "That doesn't mean he still doesn't wear me out when I'm around him."

Yami raised an eyebrow, "After all that? To quote Katsuya, 'I wouldn't be surprised.'" He leaned forward, lacing his fingers in front of his face. "We can always go to work at my apartment if being here makes you uncomfortable." He waved a hand.

"I'm perfectly alright here."

"I'm going to leave my phone on me at all times from now on," Jou stated. He put the tray he had been using under his arm, "I'll try to make sure to text you if he shows up so you can head to Yami's apartment instead; I know you Yugi and pretend all you want, I'm still not going to ask you to keep facing Pegasus every damn time he shows up." Yami was the one who nodded.

"Maybe I should give you my number Katsuya. Just in case." He nodded in return.

"Good idea." He paused. "Oh, and you can call me Jounouchi or Jou. Any friend of Yugi's is an automatic friend of mine anyway." Yami smiled and held out a hand.

"Alright then... Jounouchi." The two shook hands. A warm feeling spread out from Yugi's stomach to the rest of him as he looked at the scene.

What a beautiful way to end a rather chaotic day.

Previous

[doodlewash]

I can call myself the Nancy Who Drew because (a) my name is Nancy, (b) I draw, and (c) I solved a mystery. Not exactly like my childhood heroine Nancy Drew, but in my own way, through drawing (and painting), and writing about it. The two-volume memoir called The Nancy Who Drew has taken up the last twenty years, but never mind. It’s been worth the effort to paint a picture in the reader’s mind, which opened my own mind to the story my pictures had been telling me all along.

The ones from my imagination anyway. When you have a brush in your hand, you never know what the subconscious will release. But I trusted it because painting, that silent, wordless activity, was my voice when I had no other.

I began with oils, and at first only switched to watercolor when I couldn’t afford a new roll of canvas. Later, I turned to watercolor when the umpteen canvases stacked against the walls began taking up all the floor space. But then something else happened, which I can only describe as a feeling of becoming lighter, and wanting a lighter, less dense medium.

My easel now serves as a clothes rack, and instead of a canvas six feet tall, I’m happy with a six-by-six-inch watercolor sketchbook. When I post an image online no one can tell the difference.

I have three watercolor stories to share with you. One took place at the Art Students League during my first stab at the medium. As I watched the instructor do a demonstration, making it look effortless, I thought he was a magician. I was in despair when he came round to look at my work that day. But he said to me, “Have you done a mile of watercolors yet?”

A mile? I had a flash of watercolor paper stretching into space, on and on for an unimaginable distance. “No,” I said.

He smiled. “Well, wait till you’ve done a mile.”

If that story was about the value of experience, this next one is about power. Power and control. Other than when I was a child and drawing and painting were simply pleasurable activities to engage in, making art has had a lot to do with having some kind of control over my life. In the sense of being in charge of my own interpretation, asserting my own expression. Then, reproducing what was outside of me became a way of taking it in, feeling its energy, connecting me to whatever I happened to be painting.

For those of us who quail at the fleeting nature of time, who miss loved ones before they’ve even left, who find the beauty and pain of existence more easily borne through color and form—because that’s one thing you might have control over—there’s nothing quite like picture-making.

My mile of watercolors picked up speed when I read Burt Silverman’s Breaking the Rules of Watercolor, and realized there was a way to manipulate the medium that put me more in charge, less fearful of making a mistake. With oil, if I didn’t like what I had done, I could come back the next day and paint over it. Or whitewash the whole canvas and start again. Now I learned that I didn’t even have to use watercolor paper! I could use Bristol plate, as long as it was heavy enough, and taped down securely to a board. It buckled, of course, and there were waiting times for it to dry and smooth itself out again, but I used that time for starting another.

I had to buy it by the sheet to get the thick, heavy weight, but I cut it into halves or quarters. The beauty of Silverman’s method was the ability to put color in and take it out again. Take it out with a sponge or a brush, and put it back in to create layers. Or to find that white space you purposely neglected to save because you were encouraged to be reckless and impulsive. I’ve included two examples of this method, the self-portrait and the one of Pegasus, which looks more like a gouache than a watercolor, but it’s not.

The book is out of print, but Amazon has it through third-party sellers. When I went to check its availability and read some of the comments, one man complained there wasn’t enough actual instruction or how-to’s, which came as a surprise to me because wasn’t that the whole point of breaking the rules? To find whatever way works for you and to heck with the rules.

I was off and away then, on paper meant for anything but water. Later, I found certain kinds of paper that could absorb water, yet allow you to lift the color out again. It was all about finding what would give me the result I wanted, whether or not I knew in advance what that would be. It was a dialogue between brush and paper, water and colors, and all I did was watch it unfold.

I began with tubes of Winsor & Newton and have tended to stay with them simply because I knew what I was getting. But if I neglected them too long, the lids sealed themselves shut, and lighting a match under them was the only way to pry them open.

All manner of brushes do the trick for me, because it’s never the brush; it’s the hand that holds it. This is the third story, noticing the importance of touch. At the League, I watched how my drawing instructor used her fountain pen like a divination tool.

How she let it hover a millimeter above the paper before making a mark. Her concentration was fierce, as if her hand was being guided by an unseen force. Or maybe she was just allowing the drawing to direct her next move. She was bent over as if in prayer, oblivious to us, her students, gathered round, watching the dance of her nib with the paper.

You couldn’t help but feel it was more than a drawing class; it was a lesson in Oneness. A lesson in reverence for the medium, letting it do its thing and getting yourself out of the way. I thought about her years later when I had a heavy-handed, beginner student of my own. We were doing a watercolor of tulips. When I saw her charging into the paper like the 1812 Overture, I tried to explain the importance of touch. Strokes can be heavy or light; it’s the sensitivity that counts, much like a violinist applying bow to strings.

My watercolors have become rather miniscule of late, and I doubt that mile will ever be reached. But there was a time when I did watercolors 30×40 or 34×40. The paper was cut from a roll, stretched like a canvas and stapled to wooden stretchers. Thirty years later, they’re still on those stretchers and in pristine condition even without glass and a frame.

Yet how I wrestled to get them on the stretchers. The paper had to be totally immersed in the bath to make it pliable, then taken out to be fastened with staples while it was dripping wet. I was drenched and the floor needed mopping, but the paper dried tight as a drum, and no worrisome buckling to contend with.

Three of the disjointed architectural scenes were painted on stretchers. They were a response to all the ‘normal’ architectural renderings I did throughout most of the 1980s. Before you marvel at my drafting abilities, I confess I took slides as well as prints, and projected the slides onto my paper so I could copy the lines. It was still a lot of work, but I don’t think I would have even attempted it if not for this drafting shortcut.

My rendering business came about through a friend in real estate. One thing led to another, and after a few years I was able to earn my living through commissioned work. (Rents in New York were cheaper in the 1980s—and so were art supplies.) But as others have found, turning your passion into a job has a downside if you end up painting only for other people. I kept my soul intact with work from my imagination, like the bird lady and the figure dancing with the moon. But it was through renderings that I developed the habit of detail.

I prefer working in daylight, but having deadlines caused me to find that special ‘blue-light’ bulb which gave the effect of daylight no matter what time it was. With the onset of scanners at the end of the 80s, commissions became scarce, and with digital photography they dried up completely. Yet my love for painting buildings lived on when I moved to Brooklyn. Thanks to the protection of the Landmarks Preservation Commission of NYC, I live in an area of beautiful historic homes from a bygone age that call out for my pen or pencil or brush.

I take pictures when I’m outside, then do the work indoors. At least in New York City, because the first time I tried sketching on the sidewalk was a spectacular disaster. A story best saved for the memoir as I’m running out of space here. Meanwhile, this January it’s even been too cold for taking pictures, so I’m doing watercolors of food. In the next few months, I’ll have to curtail those as well in order to get Volume Two of The Nancy Who Drew out there. This is the one that tells the whys and wherefores of becoming an artist and how I kept going.

It often comes down to just keeping on, doing the next picture. And the next. That 95% perspiration thing that involves guts more than talent. Or maybe having guts is a talent too. I once found solace in a book called On Not Being Able to Paint, because lying fallow has a purpose too. Robert Henri’s The Art Spirit inspires me.

“What a writer or painter undertakes in each work of art is an experiment whose hoped for outcome is an expanded knowing. Each gesture, each failed or less-than failed attempt to create an experience by language or color and paper, is imagination reaching outward to sieve the world.” ~ Robert Henri

But then social media inspires me too, because having a place to share our work, knowing people will see it, is a great impetus. Thanks Charlie O’Shields, and thanks Doodlewash!

Nancy Wait Website Facebook Fine Art America Instagram Doodlewash

#WorldWatercolorGroup - GUEST ARTIST: "The Nancy Who Drew" by Nancy Wait - #doodlewash I can call myself the Nancy Who Drew because (a) my name is Nancy, (b) I draw, and (c) I solved a mystery.

[smokesontheroof]

OOooh Okay  So I was tagged by @andrewminyarrr ! Thanks for tagging, Idk if you realized what you were gonna be in for.  Prepare. This is actually going to be good because I can see visually where all my projects are instead of having a billion different lists ok. This could get long. Ahhh I’m not going to tag anyone because this kinda got away from me lol please consider yourself tagged if you want to do it! Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, whatever. 1) A piece! (Actually probably 4- one “big” one and 3-4 little ones) for the Dishonored Big Bang!!!  I’ve been putting this off because I had been working so long on my Give Your Back to Me Zine comic but now I’m fighting a deadline and it’s A LIL stressful but I like what I’ve got so far I just hope it’s ok??? I’ve never done a Big Bang before so I hope I’m on the right track haaahaaha. 

2) A piece for the AFTG Big Bang! Which I still need to get started on so I don’t actually have a physical WiP but I’ve got WiPs on my mind so it counts ok haha.

3) A Check,Please! Related commission (Jackparse (aka Jack Zimmermann/Kent Parson)) which I am SO eager to work on I have to force myself to work on these other things first. Self denial man. I am....not very good at it. Regardless, I’m super excited about it. I have Plans. (Commission info here)

4) Another OmgCP commish (of Ransom <33) Still in thumbnail stage.

5) A non-fandom commish for a long time commissioner for an opening/closing title page for his podcast....this is one of the things I have been putting off to work on number 3 >.> 

6) Another non-fandom commission to fill a sketchbook. I’m working with the commissioner’s rpg characters and the world in which it’s set which is SUPER cool, but also there’s SO MUCH freedom It’s kind of intimidating and it makes me freeze up whenever I think about working on it so THAT S NOT VERY FUN. but I got some good progress done on a page yesterday so there’s hope for this weekend.

Wip images Here and Here

ok ok now we’re on to purely personal projects with no deadlines/obligations (but also things I haven’t worked on in months and might not work on for more months) So I’m gonna put this under a cut cuz this could get long and irrelevant

7)  I sketched out a couple things based on this post >.> by @fabbittle So I kinda hope to finish that this weekend but I mean look at the rest of what I’ve got going on haaaahaha so who knows. 8) Uhhhhhh I’ve got a sketchpage (2 actually??) of some characters that Idk I felt ‘em for a while but now I’m not entirely sure if I liked the trajectory i had so I might want to revisit. but it was like. a Catholic-raised, trans, werewolf photographer (read: complete self insert), a park ranger, and a medical examiner and like they’re good sketches, I like where the character designs were headed but idk shit about story. 9) A LONG TIME AGO I was planning on doing some mock magazine illustrations and layouts about my fam’s (fam = myself, gf, & our partners) homestead kinda thing...like the ideas are still good, I still like them, so once this summer calms down (got the above listed projects, top surgery, a trip out west, etc. lots of things going on) I would like to revisit those. 10) A LONG LONG time ago (idk like a year and half maybe 2 lol) I was working on a tarot deck. I have more sketches than these two but: The Fool The Magician And then there’s the list of things that I kind of count as works in progress because I think about them a lot. This is my “To Draw” list. I already have a pretty extensive one for AFTG typed out -I really want to draw some of the *places* from TRC like Adam’s parents’ trailer, 300 Fox Way,Cabeswater, etc. -I want to do a couple tarot inspired drawings of the Raven Boys (and others) My Check Please To-Draw list - I want to try my hand at doing portraits of Actual Hockey Players in the same vein as these pieces:  Jack Kent Georgia -storyboard of Jack & Kents feelings regarding eachother post-OD inspired by and directly correlating to (in the form of music video storyboards/comic) the song “Hate Me” by Blue October -MORE NHL!BITTY -something with Bad Bob, Uncle Wayne and Uncle Mario -Kent Parson + crop top + desert -MORE PUNK AU -Bitty in the penalty box (based on that gif of Conor Sheary) “PLAY PROUD” magazine covers/spreads (aka my fake gay sports magazine that I have too much fun thinking about) I already have THIS ONE and then I’ve got this one as a thumbnail but I’d like to revisit that, and I’d like to DO MORE using it as a platform for illustration&text about aftg and omgcp. <3 With that in mind I forgot I also want to draw literally all these fictional athletes at the olympics.