#overlook concept sketches

[cankersaurus]

Concept sketch type drawings

[fatedroses]

Finally I can post the comic for Adventurer!Zenos that has taken hold of my brain for the past week.

AKA a man who is currently running off the fumes of the literal souls of the damned being very desperate to be out of the void he was stuck in (and for the first time actually being able to just enjoy something mundane), only to get absolutely overwhelmed but all the stimuli he had just... ignored until now.

[krazyyyyyy]

Forever Longing Solivan Brugmansia /Reader

Synopsis: A small glimpse into Sol's elementary life, where he abruptly meets the single most important person in his life...You

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Words: 2553

Notes: Don't know how many more of these I'll write, but I'm hoping to get around three more done if not a few more.

Hope you enjoy this short story <3

Children’s happy laughter echoed loudly throughout the playground, as they began to spill out of the school building; marking the beginning of their cherished recess time. Kids ran freely playing around with friends, swinging giddily on the swing sets, and continuously going up and down the slide.

Well, all the kids but one…

A young, small, and quiet Solivan stood far away from the other kids, staring at the ground at his feet, avoiding any eye contact with anybody within the area. He knew he didn’t fit in with the others, given his introverted nature, he was considered an outcast amongst his classmates. People tended to overlook him, barely acknowledging his presence even when they were standing right next to him.

He was used to it, though…. He had his drawing supplies and stuffed animals, the only things that really made him feel anything close to happiness. The stuffed animals would never judge him, and, they’d always be around to listen to him when he needed it, an idiosyncratic concept to him growing up in a loveless household.

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to lift his amber gaze from the ground and into the familiar brown orbs of his teacher, Mrs. Baker. A woman with a skinny frame and curly auburn hair that just slightly exceeded her shoulders. It took everything within him not to scoff at her arrival. She was keen on pushing him towards being more sociable with the other kids, a goal that would always fail in his favor. So why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

 She crouched down to his height and spoke to him in her usual soft and steady voice, “Solivan, Why don’t you play with the others today? It seems they're playing a little game of freeze tag, doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Solivan spared a short glance toward where the kids were running wildly at each other, while some others stayed frozen in place, showing signs of annoyance at being frozen; he retracted his gaze back to the ground shaking his head, mumbling a small “No”

Mrs. Baker smiled understandingly at the timid young boy before her, “I know it might seem scary, but give it a chance, you might like it more than you think.” She attempted one last time to try to convince the boy to open up, even if it was just a little.

The boy remained silent, having lost interest in the conversation completely and hoping that his teacher would simply give up and leave him alone for the rest of the recess period.

Thankfully, it seemed fate was on his side, as he heard his teacher sigh next to him before standing up and walking away to a different part of the playground to supervise a group of rather exuberant children. Leaving him alone at last.

The little raven-haired boy sat on the ground, back pressed against the steel fence that separated the playground from the busy streets that lay not far behind. Settling down, Sol pulled out a small sketchpad from his back pocket; a notebook that was filled page to page in his numerous doodles, which he usually did during class time to pass the time.

Pulling out a pencil, Sol began to doodle, head buried in the notebook; heavily embarked on the mini sketches that required his utmost attention. After a while, he finally cranes his head back to admire his work; his sketch was that of a small horse with a small sketched figure of him seated cheerfully on its back.

He beamed at the drawing, proud of his work. While marveling at the sketch, the notepad is quickly ripped from his grasp. Startled and confused, Sol snaps his head up to look at the culprits. Standing above him, were three kids, obviously much older than he was, possibly four grades above him.

Sol was quick to spring up to his feet to try to get the notebook back, but to no avail, as the blond boy who held the item towered over him. He held the sketchbook high above his head, so even if the little boy tried to jump for it, it would prove pointless in the end

“Give it back!” Sol shouted at the kids as he continued to try to reach for what he considered to be one of his only sources of comfort. All three of the boys laughed at him, “Aww, is the little weirdo gonna cry.” a boy with red hair teased, pointing at him.

“You drew yourself riding a horse? What are you, some kind of girl?” The blond boy jokingly flipped through the pages of the book, briefly observing its contents.

“Stop it!” When Sol tried to reach for his sketchbook once again, the blond boy laughed, before tossing the book over to another boy; then that boy proceeded to also flip through the book and laugh before also tossing it to the next boy. Sol found himself playing in this miserable game of monkey in the middle; a game where he could only watch as his book flew through the air above him, out of reach, with no hopes of ever reaching it.

Eventually, Sol got the courage to defend himself from these bullies, and with all the strength he could muster with his tiny form, he tried to shove the bully who had the sketchbook in his possession. But, the shove proved unhelpful, as the bully didn’t even move an inch.

Sol could barely catch his breath before he was harshly shoved to the ground. A sharp pain pulsed through his body as his back was met with the hard ground; Sol opened his eyes to notice that his sketchbook had fallen next to his body, the bully had more than likely dropped it in outrage at Sol’s sudden rebuke. Sol swiftly snatched the book off the ground and held it close to his chest, shielding it from the bullies.

Sol lay on the ground in a fetal position, with his back facing his bullies, arms still tightly wrapped around his sketchbook. There was a sudden sharp pain on his side as a bully directed a fierce kick toward the young boy; another boy directed a kick, of similar intensity, toward his other side, leaving the little boy only to whimper in pain.

The group of bullies continued to relentlessly kick the defenseless boy, not showing any hint of mercy toward him. Tears ran down Sol’s cheeks as he could only endure the endless kicks that the bullies threw at him. He closed his eyes and hoped the boys would soon grow bored with this and walk away, or maybe a teacher would notice this assault and interfere.

It felt like an eternity that the kicking would continue, he almost thought it would never end…

Until a loud voice rang out and suddenly the kick stopped.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Sol heard the unknown voice shout at the group of boys. He peeked from his position to glance at where the shouting came from; upon opening his eyes, he was met with his saviors back facing him as they spread their arms out wide to shield him away from the sight of the bullies.

“Get outta the way Pipsqueak! Or you're gonna be next!” He heard one of the bullies shout at the person before him. Sol noticed the stranger's visible shakiness as they stayed rooted in their spot in front of him; they were just as scared of these bullies as he was, yet they still chose to throw themselves in the middle just to protect him. He felt a surge of admiration for the stranger; this had been the first and only time someone stood up for him… his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“No! I-I won't l-let you!” The stranger's words came out shuddered and breathy as if they were holding back tears. Luckily, their voice had been loud enough to possibly draw the attention of others nearby.

The twisted grins on the bullies' faces faded at the realization, and they looked around the area to see if anyone had caught the drift of what was happening.

“Shit!”  Was the last thing Sol heard from them, followed by the frantic pattering of feet in the grass as the bullies quickly fled the scene. Leaving behind two frightened kids as a result. 

Sol, who was still lying on the ground, breathed heavily, the fear coursing through his veins still running wild. He flinched when a blurry object suddenly came into his vision. As his vision slowly cleared, he noticed that the object was the outstretched hand of his savior; they looked down at him with a concerned expression, tears still lingering in the corner of their eyes.

Hesitantly, Sol took the hand, which helped pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance with a bit of effort and help from the person next to him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked him, their voice a bit hoarse from all the yelling yet still holding a subtle gentleness to it. Sol looked at them for a second, before shyly shifting his gaze off somewhere else and slightly nodding his head.

They smiled, their gaze landing on the item that Sol continued to hold tightly to his chest. “What’s that?” They pointed out the sketchbook, which, unknowingly to them, had caused the whole ruckus that just happened moments ago.

“... It’s my sketchbook,” Sol murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze away from the person in front of him. He never did well talking to people, never mind kids his age, this person wouldn’t be any different.

Their eyes lit up as he spoke, “You draw?! I wanna see it! Can I see pretty, please?!”

 Sol was taken aback by their sudden interest in his sketchbook, his eyes were blown wide at them; he had never shown anyone his work before, nor had anyone ever asked to see it… this person was achieving a lot of firsts for him. He supposed he could show them, considering they had just saved him from a harsh beating.

“Umm… Okay.” Sol pulled the sketchbook from where it rested on his chest to hold it out between him and the stranger. He slowly navigated through the pages, properly allowing the person next to him to take in each piece of art. They were a bundle of excitement, commenting excitedly on almost every single little doodle in the book; it brought a small smile to Sol’s face, knowing that someone enjoyed his drawings just as much as he did.

“These are so good! You're so talented! Do you think maybe you can draw me something?” Sol felt his cheeks flush with an odd, unfamiliar warmth. They wanted him to draw something for them. Him? Out of all the people they could have asked? They wanted him to draw for them…

He fidgeted with the pages of the notebook in his hands, keeping his eyes glued to the ground, nervously. “Sure–”

“Wait! Before I forget, my name is Y/N!” They cheerfully cut him off, “What’s yours?” They talked a million words per second, which was a bit overwhelming, but Sol still found himself intrigued by them.

“My name is Solivan…” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for their newfound acquaintance to hear. “Solivan?” They tested his name out, “Well, Solivan from this day forward you are now my friend!” Sol stared at them dumbfounded. He never had a friend before, but didn’t think it would ever be this simple, yet here he was.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to their declaration when they continued to speak, “I’m thinking maybe a butterfly–No wait! A gecko… no…” They continued to list through a variety of animals, as Sol would stand and watch them in awe. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt some sort of connection to his new friend, it wasn’t unwelcome, but it was still strange.

“Oh, I got it! How about a dove? Mom says those are her favorite!” 

Sol raises an eyebrow at them.“Like the bird? Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” They cheer.

Sol only nods his head in response, but a smile remains on his face at their jubilation. He sees the opportunity to speak after your moment of triumph and takes it, “I-um… thank you… for helping me. Not many would’ve done the same.”

They shake their head at him with a smile,“ Don’t mention it. You needed help…so I helped!”, the sincerity in their tone set Sol at ease. He wondered if had truly been missing out. If other kids acted just like Y/N, then maybe talking to others wouldn’t be so bad.

A mature voice suddenly rang out through the playground, catching everyone's attention, “Kids, recess is over! Start lining up with your class!”

“Aww man!” The child next to Sol groans, “Just when we were having fun, too!”. If their definition of fun was getting nearly trampled by a couple of older students, then Sol supposes he had the time of his life… Not really, though, but meeting Y/N was a nice surprise.

Children from all around the playground started to depart, moving to their designated class lines. Y/N started to make their way toward their line before they stopped to turn around to look at Sol one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Solivan! Can’t wait to see the drawing!” And with that, the energetic second-grader gave him one last wave before running over to their class.

Sol gave them a little wave in return, watching as their figure got further and further away. It wasn’t long before he himself started making his way toward his own class, to continue the rest of his day. Of course, his attention wasn’t drawn toward that of his classwork, but rather that of the little dove drawing he spent the rest of the day drawing for that special someone he met.

~

Sol paid no mind as his art teacher rambled on and on about the importance of elements in art; his focus mainly on the small, worn-out sketch pad that lay open on his desk. He lazily drew his fingers along the delicate pencil marks of his old drawing from way back then.

Out of the drawings he had created during his entire childhood, that little dove that he drew for you in the second grade always held a special place in his heart. He remembers how bright your face lit up when he showed it to you the very next day; you insisted that he kept it in his sketchbook, under the circumstance that you get to view it anytime you want–which you would do on the daily.

He shifted his gaze from the paper to where you sat near the front of the classroom, trying your best not to fall asleep during the lecture. His heart ached for you to look at him the way you did when you were kids, now it was like he was a total stranger to you; another student who simply attended the same art class as you.

But with time, you’d eventually grow aware of his existence, you’d have too.

After all, you were his soulmate, just as he was yours.

[vomitspit2]

concept with jade leech.

as most colleges do, NRC has a weekly newspaper that is run by the student body.

though one would imagine someone as busy as jade leech would never pick it up, he happens to routinely pick it up every monday in the lobby where they are put on display. he reads through all of it, thoroughly and carefully.

there are a multitude of reasons for this: mostro lounge sometimes puts articles in the paper about new menu items (as vice-housewarden, jade always double-checks their formatting); he likes to be alert about the by-and-by at his college (as vice-housewarden, it’s opportunistic to see what events may happen or what poor unfortunate soul might need a little help in the ‘anonymous student grievance’ section); and lastly, he had found himself enthralled by this new running comic strip at the start of his second year.

it seems to be two completely different artists who are running this new newspaper section.

one works in logical fallacies and bizarre humor; the drawings are crude and very sketch-like; jade has found himself biting a smile at some of the satire sprinkled in.

the second works in baroque influences; there is no humor found within it and it is very mature in ornate detail; jade particularly likes a certain strip where a sentient mushroom fuses with a human body, creating something lovecraftian.

though not a fan of ‘manga’ like azul’s fellow club member and ignihyde housewarden and not a good artist like his brother, jade finds himself looking forward to the comic strips on page thirteen at the start of his monday class.

so, when he sits down in his first period, thermos full of pu-erh black tea and a good five minutes left before the bell rings, a frown cross his face when he finds that page thirteen is absent of a certain section.

it’s a bit … odd.

as there are two different artists, should not the other one pick up the slack when the other is out of commission? one person cannot fulfill duties flawlessly. that is why NRC has a system of housewarden and vice-housewarden. by having two artists, one can ensures there is always going to be a weekly comic strip.

while only a bit disgruntled, jade decides to overlook this slip of management, only slightly knocked out of his rhythm in unnoticeable ways.

except next week again, there is no comic strip.

this time is surprising.

that section had done particularly well for getting the newspaper’s revenue up. as the son of a ‘businessman’, jade always notices the little things. the stack in the student lobby has been a bit lower in the past months; something anyone can equate to the new inclusion of this comic strip — more people are buying the product because it has something of new value in it.

they would surely be losing money because of this sectional cut? is the artist sick? why has the other one not taken up the helm?

the third week it happens, jade finds himself momentarily vexed. at lunch, floyd pulls the newspaper out of jade’s binder and asks annoyed, ‘hey why did they cut the comics??’ jade is wondering the same sentiment.

have these two people conspired together to rid him of his morning entertainment? no, that’s an utterly ridiculous notion … but it does not stop jade from being so thoroughly annoyed.

it is not like he needs that particular part of page thirteen. but it feels like something has been stolen from him. it is not often that he finds a person who shares his love for surrealist humor and surrealist horror. the loss gnaws at him.

on the third monday, clocking into his night shift at the mostro lounge, jade finds you — the ramshackle prefect — biting the straw of your drink to death, not an inch of the foaming drink drunk. you seem to be very enthralled with a piece of paper. but much like how you have not drank your beverage, the paper is blank and there is nothing to be enthralled with. always the observer, jade thinks you look … empty.

it is not jade’s most favored expression on you, but he still likes viewing each part of you — much like observing the value scale! one needs to understand each part of it or the jump in tones with leave to an ugly, incorrectly shaded artwork.

however, before he can make his way over to you, jade watches as you crumple up the paper and slam down a thaumark for a beverage you did not drink and storm out of mostro lounge like someone has just personally insulted you and you’re making a swift escape.

though it is not the table he is charge of waiting, jade picks up the cash all the same and clears the table of your existence. he takes a sip from your bitten straw. runs his ungloved hand over the plush leather of your booth just to feel the warmth of where you sat. yet, as he slipping the glove back on his hand and setting down your drink, something in the discord of empty papers happens to catch his attention.

having already snooped around in your business before — sometimes you have caught him, other times you have not — jade feels no guilt in picking up the piece of paper. his eyes widen comically when he takes in the sight of that baroque-influenced artwork (this piece depicts a sleep paralysis demon with furry hands and crowning horns) paired right next to crude, sketch-like figure (a man with only nine simple circles to make up his body).

well, now he knows who to hassle.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[critter-catch-them-all-fella]

After spending most of the day just drawing for it, I am excited to introduce my take on the Zorua/Zoroark submas au concept!

I haven’t decided on a title for it and the Google doc is just called “Zoro-character ark” but I do have many thoughts about it. The ways it differs from other Zoroark aus is that a) it is one of the ones where both twins are pokemon and b) they are an incredibly rare phenomenon where their human appearances aren’t illusions but are instead actual fully developed forms that are indistinguishable from a regular human in almost every way. They were found in the forest as human children and taken in by Drayden and had to learn how to access and control their pokemon forms later in life.

Emmet was the first to accidentlly discover what he actually is but Ingo proved that neither was fully human not long after. They have three kinds of forms as described in these VERY quickly made guide sketches

Other than that, which just outlines the base world the au takes place in, any of the au I write would focus on Hisui and/or post reunion. In Hisui, during a terrible storm near the cliffs that overlook the sea, Ingo ordered his Pokémon to prioritize getting themselves to saftey and ends up dying. His pokemon find him as a Hisuian Zorua very quickly, before he is really conscious, and take him in. When he becomes strong and healthy enough to regain access to his human form (he thankfully still has one) he excuses the many months of absence as getting caught up in bad weather. Only Akari ever learns that he isn’t only human in Hisui and she meets him a months after he has already convinced everyone that he never died so she doesn’t know that hewas ever different. The only other creatures he speaks to in Hisui, his pokemon and charge, already know the story- knew what happened to him before even he did. Due to this, he never had to really think about or explain what happened to him. When he gets back to modern day and his family, he avoids as many situations where he would otherwise shift as possible before finally running out of excuses (and his pokemon’s patience). He didn’t want to acknowledge what happened and he feared that learning of his fate would make it harder for his family to look at him but being able to be himself around them again and gaining help on carrying the burden turns out to be verrrrry much so worth it.

Here are the rest of the sketches/information pages I have so far, focusing on their adult designs/life. I hope you’ve enjoyed looking at this au and hope to write or draw more for it in the future.

[sugareimon]

Hot take!

Light being a symbol for ✨GOOD✨ and Dark being a symbol for 💥e v i l💥 is lame, actually.

I say this as a white Kingdom Hearts fan and fantasy lover in general; light and dark ≠ morality. Day and night ≠ morality. White and black ≠ morality.

(My reasoning is beneath the cut.)

Anyway, in rebellion I’ve decided to list what I actually associate to white and black on the level of just vibes.

The color white (🤍) feels like beautiful lies; psychological horror, deception, daytime, cold, bright, immortality, “unnatural” goodness, innocence, artificiality, etc.

The color black (🖤) feels like organic truths; cosmic horror, honesty, nighttime, warm, dark, mortality, “natural” goodness, awareness, ancientness, etc.

White is snow; beautiful and delicate but unloving, cold like bleached bone. You enjoy it as a child, but when you grow, you realize that frost can kill. To chase the color white is to chase an impossible ideal, to try to catch a shimmering promise…. but promises aren’t always kept.

Black is soil; rich and full of life but overlooked, warm like the kiss of sleep. It’s decay and death and rot, but it’s also life and birth and love. It is everything, it is always, it is inescapable. To make peace with the color black is to find true happiness. It’s to make peace with the cosmos.

How to apply to a character design? Me, I use darkness for inescapable and lightness for unobtainable.

So, if a character is fighting to escape something and they’re failing, that’s a good darkness thing. If a character is fighting to achieve something and they’re failing, that’s a good time for lightness. For example; my beloved boy Margo here (excuse the sketch);

He had dark skintone, dark hair, and dark eyes, because his main conflict is about the inescapable. A keen eye will notice that his clothes are light and he has a streak of light hair— the villain which he serves is obsessed with the unobtainable, so he’s really “light”.

Morality is a human construct that we invented, while light and darkness have existed since the beginning of existence itself. White and black are just colors, not good and evil.

To equate these things in your art is to attribute morality to amoral colors, which is dangerous in a world full of fear. Even if you don’t do it on purpose, you might open yourself up you criticism for those who see colorist interpretations of your work.

Light wouldn’t be beautiful without shadow. Life has no meaning without death. We need balance to find true peace— like yin & yang, a very ancient concept (that I’m not qualified to properly explain).

To try and cut away everything you don’t like is to fight a losing battle. Nature was here before us and will exist after we’re gone. You’ll be unhappy if you chase satisfaction through perfection, because perfection is a beautiful lie.

(If you want to learn more, this is part of the Woven Dream— my personal worldbuilding project! I’ll make a blog for it soon!)

I put a lot of effort into articulating this concept— and I think it’s really cool— so I’ll summon my most yappable moots from their respective habitats! It’s a discussion I want to have & want to share; @abiamantha @avestars @imfckngfantastic @metalfortunecookie1216 @vamppuppyboy @lucst-r @wolfthedrolf @kitkatk1ra @angry-oil-slick11 @jiabae

[idkhowtomakethis]

So this happened a while ago but I saw a video while going for my reels because I don't have a life and I was like fuck I gotta talk about this

so I entered a sidewalk art competition and the piece that I did was a bit surrealist i was not catering to my audience at all I was just going with the flow cuz originally it was just a landscape piece is based off of something that's unfinished in my room right now and in my unfinished concept I did mermaids like that's that's what I wanted to happen I did not draw those mermaids in this surrealist piece instead I did like an eye overlooking the water pushing away like maybe it's a giant or something I don't know but I got really sick of the piece really early in and was like

"wow this actually sucks I hate it"

but I pretty much just stuck through and finished it because I'm not a quitter but also I am kind of a quitter

whenever I got home and we were talking about the winners so the girl that won did an amazing job she did this realistic photocopy of her brother holding a cat it was great it looked amazing she did an awesome job she she deserved to win you know I was not salty or anything I was very happy for her that she did a great job and like we actually talked we were next to each other during that period so I got to see the piece while she was going through it got to see her sketch process kind of and she even lended me some gray chalk like she was so nice she deserve to win

I get home and my family is pissed they're complaining that she just copied from a photo and that anybody could have done that and I'm looking at them like are you serious? have you lost your mind? because my family absolutely could not do that nobody could just do what she did, she did an amazing job

And they wanted me to be angry that I didn't win???? Like I'm an adult. I can take an L -I've been taking them my whole life tf?

But it really pissed me off that they were degrading her hard work like it would make me feel better, especially when I lost all interest in winning after the third hour lmaoooo.

They were also pissed about the 3rd and 2nd place winners, I only ever saw the 3rd place winner and his was a fox head. It looked really good, it was very eye catching.

I👏got👏sick👏of👏mine👏half👏way👏 through 👏I👏missed👏the👏point👏

Art is supposed to be fun, I didn't deserve to win. The people who had fun and enjoyed the process and showed off their hard earned skill deserved the win.

Idk why this is such a revolutionary concept guys

See this is the piece ^

You can tell I got tired. You can tell I didn't care after a while.

Idk I need this rant ig

[deathbydarkelves]

I realized I completely overlooked where the kaldorei get their eggs from, so I decided they domesticated a species of pheasant and one or two species of geese for that :)

(the wild type is based off the irl Mikado pheasant)

Many, many households outside of city centers have their own little flocks. You get eggs, meat, they function as waste disposal, and produce fertilizer for your garden. Win-win.

By the way I just roughly and quickly sketched out these ideas. I'm not familiar enough with domestication and genetics to really get into the weeds of what breeds would arise (and in fact I mostly just copied irl chicken breeds), this is just a proof of concept.

[tomoleary]

Honoré Daumier (1808–1879) “Man Reading in a Garden” preliminary sketch and final work (ca. 1865) Source

"I remember very well being most impressed by a drawing of Daumier's: an old man under the chestnut trees in the Champs Elysées. . . . What impressed me so much at the time was something so stout and manly in Daumier's conception, something that made me think it must be good to think and to feel like that and to overlook or ignore a multitude of things and to concentrate on what makes us sit up and think and what touches us as human beings more directly and personally than meadows or clouds." Vincent Van Gogh

A more recent use of the image (1993) Source

[yuesya]

Hello! I've been browsing your blog and then I saw this under the first ask of Toji ver. Bastard AU:

I saw the Shiki angst and jumped to the opportunity. Here's the sketch of their first meeting:

Did Toji buy her or did he sneak in to steal her? Who knows(it's probably 2)

Also: Does pre-MEoDP Shiki in this AU has green eyes or brown?

It’s been a long time since Toji had last stepped foot in this place.

… Back then, he’d only just left the Zenin Clan behind. Doing a job for the rival Gojo Clan had sounded like a great idea at the time, in his petty, vindictive mind. There had been no real reason for him to refuse such an easy job that paid well.

Similarly to the Zenins, the Gojos meticulously warded everything on clan grounds with seals and barriers… but tended to overlook the little things that sorcerers never paid attention to. Really, what good was warding a house against eavesdroppers relying on hiding seals? For someone with sharp hearing like Toji, they could easily just lean back a considerable distance away and listen clearly through the walls.

… think he’ll come? Only a bastard child…

He’s the father, isn’t he? … Besides, if he doesn’t want her, then we could always…

… to the Kamo Clan, right? Weren’t they looking for a bride for that unworthy heir… at least she’ll fetch a good price, useless thing…

Toji silently listens to the dull conversation droning on and on behind closed doors.

His own childhood in the Zenin Clan hadn’t been a happy one, not by any stretch of the word. As someone with zero cursed energy, in a clan that exalted sorcerers –there was no kind fate that awaited a child like him. And, if he was hearing things correctly… then, for ‘Gojo Shiki’ as well.

He’s not entirely sure how to explain it, this sudden urge to come back to the Gojo Clan that he’d left behind him and see the girl with his own two eyes. His daughter, a child whom Toji feels absolutely no attachment to and only ever registered in a distant corner of his mind like some abstract concept. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, here he was.

Toji stands in front of a set of sliding doors to an unobtrusive, out-of-the-way room. The one where the disgrace was kept, according to the information that he’d gleaned during his eavesdropping just now.

It’s not in his nature to hesitate. Toji raises a large hand to push open the doors, and sees his daughter for the first time.

Small, is his first thought. The kid looks small and scrawny –is the Gojo Clan even feeding her? No, wait, that’s a stupid question. The clothes that she’s wearing are servants’ clothing, too-large and hanging loosely over bony wrists.

Her hair is white, the stark whiteness that the Gojo Clan so liked to take pride in. But the dark eyes that steadily gaze back at him from that pale face are all Toji.

… She looks more like Hina than she does Toji, though. Probably a good thing, for a girl.

For a long moment, the two stare at each other in complete silence.

Toji… doesn’t really know what he’s doing. It had been a decision made on the spur of the moment, to sneak back into the Gojo Clan after they contacted him with some drivel about ‘buying his daughter.’ Cheap, for a kid from a sorcery clan –but it made sense, if she didn’t have a cursed technique. In a sorcery clan, if you didn’t have a cursed technique, then you were useless. Utterly worthless.

There’s no room in Toji’s black, shriveled heart for things like compassion and sympathy. As far as he’s concerned, any child of his can claw their way out of the dark pit of sorcery clans on their own, just like he did.

But this girl… aside from her eyes, she doesn’t resemble Toji at all. She’s shockingly small and scrawny, where Toji had always been filled out and physically gifted, thanks to his Heavenly Restriction. It’s also thanks to his Heavenly Restriction that his eyes can pick out details like the clusters needle-pricks on her wrists and fingers, no doubt accompanied by even greater numbers of such marks tucked away beneath her clothes.

Painful injuries that were discreet, and would leave no marks under the average eye. Meant to torture, rather than teach.

“… Are you the one buying me?”

Toji scowls. “No.”

The white-haired girl blinks, and nods curtly. “If you’re not buying, then you shouldn’t be here.”

Somehow, even though Toji doesn’t care one jot about the child, something about her words makes his scowl deepen.

That toneless voice, wholly uncaring. Frigid like ice, even as she holds herself carefully still. But her act of unaffected boredom does not fool Toji.

“I’m not handing over a single yen of my hard-earned money to the Gojo Clan,” he tells her. Then, in a move that surprises them both, Toji steps over the threshold of the room and scoops the girl up with a single arm.

She’s… light. As light as a feather, which makes Toji want to kill something, weirdly enough.

“… I might be worthless to them, but the Gojo Clan will still want compensation for me,” the girl says.

Toji rolls his eyes. “This is a kidnapping. If the Gojo Clan wants you back, then they’re the ones who’ll have to pay me a ransom, got it?”

A rapid blink. “They won’t. Are you going to sell me off, then?”

Toji tightens his grip on the girl. “Only if you don’t stay on your best behavior for me, 'cuz I don't know how to deal with kids.”

[blaithnne]

Early concept sketches of Midnight Giant Lauren! You can see me figuring out the style, colours, as well as Lauren’s outfits, plus a little Hilda that I wanted to include but gave up on cause I couldn’t get her to look right.

Johanna switches outfits about 3 times in this comic, so I wanted Lauren to do the same. Also, since Johanna’s deerfox outfit in the flashback is based off one of her looks in mountain king, I wanted Lauren’s to as well! So one of these outfits will be repurposed for teenaged Show!Lauren in the deerfox later down the line, which I think is fitting because she’d be around the same age in the flashback as Comic!Lauren is here

I didn’t talk much about my design process in the original post, so I’ll make a couple notes on that under the cut!

Here’s the final product for reference-

Though Johanna changes outfits about 3 times in this comic, one of these outfit changes is just the same outfit but with trousers instead of a skirt. So I wanted one of Lauren’s outfit changes to be more subtle, keeping most of the same items of clothing but only changing the jumper!

In terms of her outfits, I tried to add a little bit of a late 2000s - early 2010s vibe, which I think makes her fit in a lot more

Whilst this style still features quite noodley characters, it allowed me to bulk up Lauren much more than the troll did, so I took advantage of that and started adding in juuuust a little muscle! But she’s still kind of twig looking, so I brought back the same trick I used in the troll and gave her a big ol’ pile of logs and a heavy axe to weild in one of the sketches just to show that she’s a strong girl. I swear I tried to think of something other than an axe but it’s surprisingly hard to think of heavy objects that a character would just be. Carrying around lol

Looking back at this design a few months later, the biggest thing I’d change is I’d make her look a bit younger. It’s a little hard to design a unique character when you only have two points of reference lol, one of which is an adult and the other of which is a child, so I think I made her look a bit too much like an adult, oh well!

One thing I kept though to help her look younger is her freckles, same as Hilda! I love freckles but I swear I never use them in character designs. This design feature disappears from Hilda in the later comics, but I wanna keep them for Lauren for as long as I can tbh…

I mentioned before that I thought it would make sense for Lauren to go through a couple different hairstyles before reaching her final one in these early comics - the designs in the show are based off the ones in stone forest, which was the most recent comic to be released at the time the show came out. The style and characters designs had changed a lot from the early comics, and one of my favourite things about reading through the series is seeing how the designs changed and progressed before reaching those “final” versions, so I’m kinda reverse engineering Lauren’s design process to get that effect here, and I think one way that’d be shown is through her hair. Here her style is getting closer to the final version, her fringe has been lifted so it no longer covers her eye, and she’s got more of a curl! But her strands fall a little differently, so we’re not quite there yet…

I struggled a LOT with colouring this one, and that’s because I got the colour count wrong! One of the most overlooked ways to emulate a style is to count how many different colours appear per character - Hilda The Series generally has 6, 2 for hair and skin, and 4 for outfits, though the number can change. I miscounted here and thought the comics had 4 outfit colours like the show, but they actually only have 3. Once I realised that it made things much easier, though I still sent a little over it with some varying shades of green in her shoes. These kinds of rules generally aren’t firm, and might not even be one’s the original artist is even aware of, but when you’re trying to emulate someone’s work these little things can make all the difference

Show!Lauren probably doesn’t play guitar, I’ve mentioned before that I think she’s decent at piano and I stand by that, but I thought it was fitting for Comic!Lauren lol

That’s everything I can think of right now!

[samaeljigoku]

Character concept sketches from my horror game project, 'Good Night, Tortureland' - finished version! (@thecourtofindigo) A bit about them - Top right is a side protagonist who goes by 'One Beyond the Core', or Core for short, and would be playable in a few chapters if the game idea ever works out. She is a creation of the main villain, and was likely a human being that she corrupted.

The other three are major side characters or companions. Clockwise from top left - Julian Chords, a recluse who is under a cosmic blood curse; M. Fortunehouse, the phantom owner of a grand haunted house that overlooks the town; and Robin Rondo, a man who ran away from his family's estate after a curse supposedly befell them, and now lives among the fair folk in the woods.

[sirmanmister]

I’m very out of practice so this is just a sketch but! Inspired by a convo with @/serknighted on insta where we talked about our old ocs and like. Things old ocs have in common to new ones. Not many people know this but when I was like. 11-12 I got SUPER into CallMeKevin’s fo3 series and fallout in general. and As a 11-12 yr old I was very very into writing “original works” and I started writing a “novel” about a guy that got locked outside of a bunker on a hill overlooking his city being blown to smithereens, and he was gonna go on this big ol adventure and end up living 200 years as an irradiated husk. But he WASNT A GHOUL!!! IT WAS ALL VERY ORIGINAL AND OBVIOUSLY NUCLEAR FALLOUT IS OBJECTIVELY THE BEST CONCEPT YOU CAN WRITE ABOUT AND ITS ***NOT*** FANFICTION!!!!!!! <- legit how I thought abt it back then LMAO WHICH IS STUPID CUZ I LITERALLY WROTE FICS AS A KID

Anyways his name was Tom and he was a 19 yr old delinquent and I was obsessed with him for a good while until I moved onto other ocs and then finally Damien in 2021 when I got back into fallout for realsies. Tom and Damien don’t actually have much in common character wise, but it healed some part in me to draw them together 🥹😊😊 I think they’d have a similar relationship that Damien and Mac have which just makes it even more 🥺 to me tbh LMAO

Anyways this was really fun to do even if I’m out of practice w/ drawing and I included some OLD ass pics of Tom under the cut. Oldest were Made in GIMP. The most recent art of him besides this was from 2020!!

[s4tvrnsays]

Excuse me if this is a complicated question but are the akumas in your au any different from the show? Like in execution, idea, or design. Also sorry for this little rant but to go a bit more on the design side, for any original/redesigned akumas do you have any ideas of what they might be like. For example is there any designs elements that connects all of the akumas together in some aspect, like some hidden butterfly in all of them or something.

Once again, I’m sorry if this just comes off as a badly put together rant or if I brought up stuff you don’t really care about. Anyways thank you for taking your time to read this mess and another thank you for responding to this.

Hello, hello! This is totally not confusing or complicated, don't worry :)

The topic of akumas and hawkmoth have been something I've always had trouble with in this au, it feels like I've been brainstorming a good concept for it for months haha.

But, eventually, I've decided that I won't change too much about the technicality of how akumas work since I really like how it works in canon. But, of course, before i talk about akumas I need to talk about their maker first.

Most of the changes I've made were to fit with the settings and motivations of my Gabriel Agreste. A lot of my changes to the characters come from miraculous classic (aka concept mlb), so that's where i started with him. I took some aspects of Richard Sphinx and applied them to Gabriel, mainly his personality.

Gabriel in ffafw was a social recluse long before Émilie's death. After though, he became desperate to find a way to get her back. He's cruel and ruthless, and his akumas reflect that. While canon gabe' strategy is just throwing out akuma after akuma hoping one succeeds, ffafw gabriel is more selective with his akumas. He targets people with especially strong and violent emotions, such as criminals. Ffafw akumas are less frequent but more deadly, forcing our heroes to train themselves to prepare for them.

As for how they look, I'd probably just make them less sparkly and bright. I don't have any designs sketched up right now, but don't expect to see any canon akumas when i do. If there are ones that fit this au that I've overlooked here, please let me know, my memory is trash and I wouldn't put it past myself to forget lol. I do think the idea of a mark connecting the akumatized like in @/sillysiluriforme 's la terreur is fun, but since that idea is already used there i wouldn't be comfortable using it myself :) though I can see myself using other elements to connect transformed akumas, I am a big of like visual consistency in my designs. But for now my brain is totally empty, I'll probably reblog this post when I do come up with something.

Thank you so much for your ask!

(I've been wanting people to send some so I have a chance to rant lollll)

[definedvines]

As a cripple I'm devastated that canon overlooked Ryuji's disability so much. Like he could have had a leg brace!!! He already uses a swinging style weapon, he could have used a cane!! (Cane fighting is a real fight style, too!!) Openly using disability supports IS radical and would definitely be part of how he'd view his rebellion!

Tbh I wish fanon would acknowledge it more too... Like I want to read a fic where he hides a bad pain day and they go into a palace until he physically can't take it anymore and the thieves take care of him 🥺 I should just write it myself but I'm terrible at time management

yeah it would have been cool to see that! I'm honestly of the idea that it had a bigger presence in the earlier iterations/concepts of the game because of its presence in some of the 2d animated cutscenes, which were made pretty early on and before fine tuning on the characters.

from what i can see-- ryuji is obviously not unable to run or walk, but too much strain on it will make it flare up and i can definitely see bad days that just take it too far even if he hasn't been doing anything hard on it. that... final scene where he runs for everyone, there are little things that tip off that it's hurting him but he pushes through anyway, because that's what he's meant to do, his friends are relying on him, to run.

i've actually seen lots of fics with this concept you probably just have to look a bit deep! it's something i'd like to acknowledge more as well but haven't gotten far other than sketches i don't have posted where he has a scar there (because there's no way just a cast could have helped a damn BROKEN FEMUR, surgery was probably done to get it on track).