What’s screentone?

Screentone is a transparent patterned sticker traditionally used to make the gray tones and sometimes effects in manga! They come in big sheets. You can see part of the sheet I used for Harrow's veil in the bottom right of the photo showing my materials.

Here's a vid of one of my favorite mangaka using it! You cut out a bit and lay it on your drawing. It doesn't stick right away, so you can cut the shape you want with a knife right on top of your drawing and then press the sticker down. I used a hard and porous eraser made for screentones to lighten the screentone over Harrow's face and doubled up on it for the parts of the veil that overlap.

Injury - Inktober fanfic

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Yang leaned up against the lockers behind her, shoulders slumped, dragged by the weight of her exhaustion. She let gravity do the rest as she was pulled down. The floor was hard and the cold metal sent a shiver up her spine where it connected with her bare skin, her shirt riding up as she collapsed. That was the worst exam of her entire life. If this was what she had to look forward to in her third year, she wasn’t sure graduate was going to be a moniker she would ever earn.

Yang stretched her arms high above her head, trying to pull the strain out of her trapezius muscle. It had been bothering her all day. She blamed falling asleep on the couch whilst studying. Waking in the most uncomfortable position of her life she’d barely enough control over her body to roll off her temporary bed. Everytime she moved her head in any direction or arms higher than her shoulders there was an accompanying pull all down her neck and into her shoulder blade. It was absolutely killing her.

“That was not a fun test.” Pyrrha spoke up, closing the classroom door behind her. Yang could still see a handful of her classmates struggling to answer the questions before time ran out. She knew they had little of that left and she pitied them. Pyrrha sank to sit beside her. “How do you think you did?”

“Failed,” she said through a groan as she rolled her shoulders.

“I’m sure you didn’t do that badly.” Pyrrha smiled, pushing her with her elbow. Yang sucked in a breath as the movement aggravated her muscles once more. Pyrrha was quick to apologize. “Is it getting any better?”

“Yeah,” Yang lied. “I’m sure it’ll go away after a night's rest in an actual bed. I am never sleeping on the couch ever again.”

Pyrrha stood, holding both hands out to her, “Let’s get out of here. Sitting on the hard floor like this isn’t going to help your condition.” 

She let Pyrrha drag her to her feet. A concerned look was aimed at her even as she tried to bury a grimace behind a smile of her own. It was nice of her not to make a big deal of the small injury, even if Pyrrha could tell how much it was bothering her. Yang hated being babied, which Pyrrha learned long ago. 

“How did you do?” Shouldering her bag she changed the subject. Pyrrha’s clipped footfalls were quick to trail after her.

“I did alright, but a couple questions definitely tripped me up.” She continued only after Yang tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

“Where the hell do you think I was leading us?” She chuckled and Pyrrha joined her.

It was a kind of ritual with them. After every test, exam or major project and presentation they would go to the cafe on the far side of campus. It was the least busy of all the shops on the grounds. The walk was completed in comfortable silence, both replaying the exam back in their heads. Yang wished she’d studied more, though she knew she hadn’t failed -as she told Pyrrha- but she didn’t want this affecting her average in the class. It was difficult enough to keep her GPA where she wanted it. They were both competitive, which wasn’t odd to find of the students in the Athletics college, but both felt the need to excel not only physically, but also academically. 

“We’ll focus more on Kinesiology the next couple of weeks.” Yang looked up from her trainers, surprised to see Pyrrha holding the door to the cafe open for her. She needed to stop autopiloting like that. The test was over and there was nothing to be done now besides look to the future. “My treat today.”

“You owe me for kicking your ass in that race last week anyway.” 

Pyrrha waved away her cockiness. “If that’s how you want to remember it. You want the usual?”

Throwing her a thumbs up, Yang wove her way around the chairs to the back corner to claim their usual spot. There were only a handful of students taking up the other tables. Most were single occupants, studying with laptops, texts and notes strewn across tables for four. One was reading a newspaper and there was a dark haired girl reading near the fireplace along the opposite wall. Her heart stopped for a beat; it was long enough for Yang to realize she’d never seen the other girl before in her life. 

“What’s up?” A mug was placed on the table, vapors snaking up from the froth. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.” Careful lips pressed to the cup as caramel sweet caffeine slid over her tongue. “Thanks.”

Pyrrha’s gaze followed where Yang’s was a moment before. Understanding crossed her features but when she turned back she didn’t mention what they both knew. Yang was relieved. She could barely put words to her reaction to Blake in her mind, there was no way she could yet speak any of it aloud. 

Pyrrha spoke up, talking about her weekend with Nora and Ren, how they all went to a party just off campus. It was easy to fall into the innocent tales of Nora challenging everyone to arm wrestling competitions, or how Ren was secretly very good at beer pong. It was simple. And it succeeded in what Yang assumed was Pyrrha’s goal. It distracted her.

“You have to come with us one weekend.” Pyrrha voiced, calming from a fit of laughter.

Yang took a steadying breath. It did sound like fun. “I don’t know. It isn’t exactly my scene, ya know?” 

“You only say that because you haven’t experienced it.” Pyrrha pointed out. “And it doesn’t have to be a party. You could come the next time we all hang out. Sober,” she added, thinking that was Yang’s problem.

“I’m not against drinking.” She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t like the idea of a bunch of drunk assholes eyeing me up like I’m the answers to all their wet dreams.”

“That’s disgusting.” 

“Exactly. Which is why I’m not in a hurry to experience it.”

There was a moment of silence. “You know I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, right?”

“I don’t doubt you for a second. I’ve been on the receiving end of your right hook, remember?” 

“That was an accident. You moved the mat in the middle of my swing.” Pyrrha took a sip of her cappuccino, glaring at her over the cup’s rim.

“Maybe, but I wore that bruise for two weeks,” she teased.

“Don’t exaggerate.” Drumming her fingers on the table, Pyrrha stole another look at the girl reading in the corner. “You need to socialize more. I worry about you.”

“I know.” Hands wrapped around the comforting heat of her own cappuccino. “You’re a good friend for that and I appreciate you more than you know.”

“But?”

“But, I…” Yang grimaced. The truth was she didn’t have a single reason to refuse Pyrrha’s offer. There were plenty of times she invited her for study sessions, or to join her and her other friends doing exactly what she and Pyrrha were doing now, getting coffee. There were no excuses that could logically explain why Yang held back from getting to know Pyrrha’s friends. “I-”

“I think that you’ve become accustomed to being alone.”

“Ruby lives with me.” she rolled her eyes, brushing the idea aside.

“That’s recent, and she’s hardly home anyway. You told me as much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking solitude.”

“No, but you don’t like it.” Pyrrha deadpanned. The green of her eyes peering into Yang’s accusingly. “You say as much when you complain how quiet the apartment is, or when you tell me of your boredom. I’ve heard you speak of your high school days.”

“What does that have to do with what’s so obviously wrong with me?” She knew she was getting defensive. She could feel it in the way her muscles tensed and her jaw locked, in the sound of the forced words pushing passed her clenched teeth. She also knew Pyrrha didn’t deserve any of it.

“Yang.” Voice lowered, Pyrrha placed a gentle hand on hers resting on the table. “Nothing is wrong with you. But you were always surrounded by a lot of people up until you moved here and I know you miss that.”

“Yes, because why wouldn’t I miss being surrounded by superficial barbies, and eager to please puppet boys?” Yang tapped a finger against Pyrrha’s wrist. “I’d much rather a friend that cares about me, not my body or looks or what I can do for them on the basketball court.”

“I do!” Her voice rose in indignation.

Yang laughed. “I know. I would rather have just one of you than a hundred of the type I hung out with in highschool.”

Placated with Yang’s compliments Pyrrha relented. “Fine, you don’t have to come out with us. But I don’t think making more friends like me would do you any harm.”

“There’s no one like you, and we both know it!”

A soft smile was Yang’s reward. “Save your flattery for your lady love.”

“What if I’m trying to seduce you?”

“You’re doing a piss poor job.”

“That hurts, like a knife to the guts kinda hurts.”

“That would imply you have any, we both know you haven’t the guts to ask that girl out.” Yang’s jaw hung low, impressed with Pyrrha’s comeback. “Should we test your spine too, or has that abandoned you as well?”

“Let’s not get nasty.” Yang pouted. “If you don’t like me that way you could have just said so. No need for slinging insults.”

“You deserve it.”

Yang could still see the worry behind her friend's smiling eyes. “I’ll come out with you- not this weekend!” She quickly added when Pyrrha looked at her excitedly. “I promise I’ll agree to an outing. Just one.”

Pyrrha settled, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll have to make it worth it then.” 

Yang had a feeling she would live to regret her words. She could see the wheels spinning in Pyrrha’s mind. 

“Thank you.”

Yang could only nod, knowing that all jokes aside, Pyrrha was only thinking of her well being and she’d been such a great friend to her. If this one thing could help her friend worry a little less than Yang would agree to it.

A sudden crash of a cup breaking behind the counter ripped through their silence. Both spared a hasty glance to the young girl behind the till who was beat red with embarrassment. Yang hissed at the strain the sudden movement caused, pain flaring up once again.

“Are you sure you will be alright?”

“You’ve worried over me enough today, don’t you think?”

“Not really. If I don’t do it who will?”

“You make a good point, but the strain will go away with sleep.” Turning her gaze out the window Yang could see the sun was already setting and dusk was sweeping its way across the campus. “Speaking of sleep, it’s getting late. We should probably head out.”

“Yeah,” Both stood and collected their things before exiting the building. “Meet in the library during our break tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we can go over what we remember of the test and try to get a head start on the next section.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

They split up, Pyrrha to her dormitory and Yang to the parking lot, hoping she remembered where she’d parked. 

Taking a shortcut through the Arts building would save her a good five minutes rather than taking the long way around. She didn’t visit the building often, only having had one class in it during her first year. It was nice enough and Yang enjoyed looking at the sketches, paintings and sculptures previous students had completed over the years. The building housed a few art exhibitions a couple times a year and Yang realized, as she came up to a group blocking the hall to her escape, that was exactly what was happening now. She thought the paintings on the walls looked more professional than usual.

Sticking to the wall, Yang skirted the majority of bodies, excusing herself when she had to brush up on anyone too closely. She was sure that the last guy had heard her ask him to move but remained planted, ignoring her as one of the sculptures would, so she had to press very close to pass him. The smirk he sent her as she passed confirmed the creep she pegged him for. She wished he was a sculpture she could topple over. She’d take pleasure watching him break into a million pieces. 

As she shot him a look of her own she noticed a familiar figure in the middle of the crowd. As if sensing eyes on her, Blake looked up from the notes she was taking. Yang lifted her arm to wave and gave her a wide grin. It was a surprise when her greeting was readily returned, with almost as much enthusiasm. She was glad that Blake didn’t seem as reserved around her as before, even if they hadn’t had another chance to hang out since the movies. Yang could tell they were in some night class of sorts or an on campus field trip, so she gave Blake another wave and continued on her way. She was bound to come around at some point, seeing as every one of Ruby’s stories involved both Weiss and the girl behind her.

Pyrrha’s earlier comments filled her head. Had Blake not been in class would Yang have had the guts to talk to her? Would she have the backbone to stand there and ask the girl out? 

The skittish way she seemed to react to Blake told Yang that her friend was probably right. Nothing short of a neon sign from Blake letting her know she was interested would be enough to give Yang that push she needed. 

Maybe Pyrrha was right about everything. Maybe she was getting too comfortable in the past two years of her solitude.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late to rectify that.

Inktober 2020 #30: Ominous

A sharp and bitter autumn day, the kind that made you glad of the classroom's warmth.  Danielle Corbeau and Belle Resone walked down the street to the Okusanya house, with a bookbag floating behind Resone, trailing her like a patient pet.  Ayumi had stayed home today, ostensibly due to illness, but they both knew better. Ayumi couldn't get sick.  Most likely her father had kept her home to help him with something.

"He could have asked us," Danielle groused.  "I'd have been glad to stay home."

"So'd Ayumi.  And Dr. Okusanya's not our father, much as we might like."  Resone was uncharacteristically cheerful-- not that she was normally depressed; normally Resone was an emotional cipher, showing about as much emotion as your typical android.  Today she walked with a spring in her step and a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips, which for Resone was what skipping down the street singing would have been for anyone else.

"I wish," Danielle muttered.  "What are you so happy about?"

"Am I?" Resone frowned slightly. "I suppose so.  Look, Danielle."  She turned and gestured at the patiently floating bookbag.  "I can control it."

"Wow." Danielle was not impressed.  "You've been able to control the teek ever since I met you.  You just need to be in the right mood."

"No, I--" Resone stopped in some confusion.  "This is the first time, isn't it?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh, right." She had lost the faint smile, though, her face reverting to its usual expressionlessness. The only way Danielle and Ayumi knew she wasn't an android was the few times the floodgates had opened, and Resone had gotten violently emotional. Andys did have emotions, but they didn’t have hormones, so that kind of behavior was not a thing they’d do. She never admitted to these episodes afterward, but they were enough to prove that she wasn't an andy.  That, and the fact that andys didn't have psi, according to Dr. Okusanya, and he was the world's top cyberneticist, so he'd know.

They turned a corner and passed a group of guys.  "Woo-oh!" Danielle turned her head to watch them as they passed, leering. "Check out the buns on the blond there!"

"Danielle, you're almost as obnoxious when you do that as the guys are when they do it."

"Come off it, Resone. Either I'm every bit as obnoxious or no one is.  Hidden sexism, you know. Oh, wow!"  Resone followed Danielle's gaze to a stunning redheaded girl.  "Excuse me."

"She's got a boyfriend," offered Resone as advice.  "And she doesn't like you."

"Who asked you?" Danielle slid into an alleyway and transformed, taking male form. Resone had seen this scene before-- she didn't need her precog to tell her how it would come out.  Daniel, now, would attempt to charm the girl, and either get into her pants or get hit.  Most likely get hit.  Resone had already divined the girl's opinion of Daniel.  She didn't need to watch.

//don't you?//

Resone lifted her head slightly.  Someone had spoken.

Who's there?

No answer.

Something was happening. Resone tried to analyze it, but it was no more yet than a prickling at the edge of consciousness.  She'd have to wait for it to come.  Perhaps it had something to do with Ayumi.  She continued on a path for the Okusanya house.

Once there, she paused at the threshold.  She's not here.

`Something was happening. An electric current in the air. Something she hadn't seen, yet. From somewhere inside, Resone felt the first faint uneasy stirrings of fear.  She liked things predictable.  If she saw it ahead of time, she could compensate.  Predictable and safe.  The other way was nightmare.

mommy please don't i'm sorry

No.  The fear went away, like that.  Like a circuit breaker in her mind, shutting off emotion.  She pushed open the door-- and turned, startled, as with a thud her bookbag fell to the porch.

Wasn't controlling.  I must be more careful.  Resone picked it up, brushed it off and went into the Okusanya house.

Dr. Seye Okusanya was working on something.  Resone waited patiently outside his door for ten minutes before realizing that he was far too distracted to notice her when her whole field projected a don't-notice-me aura.  "Excuse me.  Dr. Okusanya?"

He turned his head. "Ah, Resone.  Is Ayumi in detention again?"

"No..." Resone was esper.  More than simply meaning she had psi, it meant she had perceptions outside the sensory realms, and she integrated faster than most.  It occurred to her, now, that Dr. Okusanya had not kept Ayumi home. Therefore, something else had kept her from school.  Due to Ayumi's desire to be a Peacekeeper, that something was more than likely trouble.

"I think she's in danger," Resone said.  "She and Danielle both."

"What?" Dr. Okusanya turned all the way around.  "Why do you say that?"  He then remembered that "why" was a nonsensical question when dealing with Resone. "What sort of danger?"

"When did you last see Ayumi?"

"Why... last night. She said good night to me."

"She was abducted between here last night and the school this morning," Resone said. "Or perhaps enticed.  It's hard to say.  I left Danielle behind on the way here, but I shouldn't have.  I didn't sense the danger."

"What's the danger?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's have you do a psychometric location, see if you can find her.  And Danielle.  Does the danger know what the three of you are?  Is it targeting you three in particular, or is it going after the population in general?"

"I don't know." The fear was beginning to stir again.  That wasn't right.  Resone was never afraid, not of anything.  But then, she always knew how it would come out.

Ayumi's scarf, from her bedroom.  Ayumi loved that scarf, wore it whenever they were going on a job.  It had to be something with emotional resonances. Resone picked it up and wound it around her tiny hands, picturing Ayumi.

Ayumi Okusanya-- tall, with deep brown skin, the flawless body of an African goddess, Japanese features that might have been delicately beautiful if they weren't pulled into a scowl all the time, and frizzy pink hair.  Everything about her screamed "attitude."  Teachers hated her, and she returned the favor with interest-- unless they were that rare breed of teacher that could see through the tough-girl pose to the wounded child inside.  Ayumi was a full-body cyborg, made so at the age of 5 by an accident that had killed her mother, and now very little of her was still organic, as of course she'd had to transfer bodies every two or three years to accomodate her growth.  The body she wore now was a state-of-the-art android with an interface to her human brain and actual hormonal glands to enable a full range of emotional experience, since unlike an andy Ayumi had a brain that could interpret emotional inputs. It looked, felt, and smelled fully human, and had been designed by her father to Ayumi's own specifications.  

But it was the first body she'd had that couldn't be pegged as a cybe.  The first body she'd had, as a small child, had been crude and robotlike, matching the then-current android technology, and though each new body had been cutting edge, the edge hadn't reached humaniform until now.  

In fact it could be argued that Ayumi's pain at being a freak had been part of what had driven android bodies to improve so rapidly, as her father was the leader in the field and was probably so because he'd been personally driven to make his daughter the best bodies possible.  But having a fully humaniform body now didn't erase ten years of being a freak.  Ayumi couldn't quite believe that people were no longer laughing at her clumsy metal body, and it made her lash out.

At the same time, despite her reputation as a JD, Ayumi was truly committed to helping people.  She wasn't a school nark or a monitor, because she couldn't handle toadying to the Establishment.  But she had, for the past schoolyear and change, used her rep to get the lowdown on the gangs and the deals, and reported to her father, who reported to the police.  Tifaret High was a lot cleaner now than it'd been this time last year.  Ayumi wanted to be a Peacekeeper, and she didn't want to wait the three years until she'd be 18 and it'd be legal, she wanted it now.  She wanted to prove that teens could be effective Peacekeepers too.

When Resone had first detected the dimension warp and recruited Ayumi and Danielle against it, it had been Ayumi who gave the group its strength.  Resone was the brains and Danielle was the guile, but Ayumi was the heart of the three, her passion driving the other two.  Since that time, the three had actually become best friends, despite their differences.  It would hurt, if Ayumi was suffering.  It would hurt, and Resone pulled back, not wanting to see what she would see.

But of course, she saw it. The ice came down, freezing her in perfect control, blocking away the pain, as she saw Ayumi trapped in a genie bottle, shouting curses.  Resone couldn't see Ayumi's body, but could tell where it was likely to be-- hooked into a virtual reality simulator.  Ayumi was inside a computer, and didn't know it.  She was no linerider like Danielle-- she would be totally unable to alter her surroundings, even if she knew it wasn't real.

Resone couldn't see Danielle, even when she held Danielle's mojo stone, but that wasn't surprising. Danielle was quicksilver, a water elemental, flowing and changing shape, with little constant enough to make a firm psychometric imprint.  She did, however, get a very distinct impression from touching the stone. Words, symbols, resolving into a phrase.

OUR LADY OF MERCY HOSPITAL.

"The hospital," Resone said.  "Mercy Hospital.  A virtual reality, and a hospital..."

"What's happened to them?" Dr. Okusanya asked.

"They were lured. Tricked into going to the hospital, separated from the rest of us.  Each of us, one by one.  Dani, they used sex, of course.  Ayumi, they presented with one in need of rescue."

"And you?  How will they go after you?"

"Oh, they already have. Obligation and loyalty.  I'm going in after them."

Dr. Okusanya considered. "They'll be prepared for you, if they're luring you.  I think you need some kind of equalizer."

Resone stood behind ice, insulated, and watched herself say, "Don't worry, Dr. Okusanya.  They don't know me well enough to prepare for me."

***

Resone was a tiny, albino female of fifteen, still not quite 5 feet tall, with a mane of fluffy white hair, watery blue eyes she generally concealed behind extremely dark prescription sunglasses, and a girlish, undeveloped body.  One would think she would be very difficult to disguise.

One would think.

With hair braided and hidden under a short, dark blonde wig in a boy's cut, with dark contacts replacing dark glasses and makeup to make eyelashes and eyebrows look brownish-blond and not white, with tape wrapped around her tiny breasts and a boy's school uniform on, she felt very masculine in a boyish way.  Not Resone anymore.  This was Jason.  Jason turned this way and that, surveying his appearance in the mirror.  He wasn't very objective, of course-- he always saw himself as male, since that was what he was-- but Resone could be objective, and objectively she looked like Jason.  So let it be.  She let herself be Jason, and strode off purposefully, heading for the hospital.

//Something's happening, and you don't know what it is, do you, Belle Resone?//

Nobody here by that name. Sorry.

He walked to the hospital, sensing dimly a gathering storm.  The warp was active.  This was another stage of the strange war the intruders waged.  The hospital was not the hospital.  The street was not the street.  Like traveling between air and water, he stepped onto the street and everything was different.  Yet he couldn't tell exactly how it had changed.  Everything looked the same.  Change of refractory index-- inside, it was the same. It was the outside that was different.

Jason was afraid.

He wanted to be Resone again.  Resone was sheltered under ice, cold and insulated from fear.  But Resone couldn't do this.  They were looking for Resone, so she could never walk in directly under the eyes of the receptionist.

"Young man, where are you going?"

The receptionist was a pinched and dusty old lady with piercing glasses and the smell of moldy fish, not quite drowned by antiseptic chemicals.  "I'm visiting someone," he said.

"It's not visiting hours," the turtle-mouth snapped.

A stained clockface on the wall read a dreary four o'clock.  "When are visiting hours?"

"Not until five."

Hands of the clock spun, aged and rusty things responding to Jason's will.  He was dominating, not like passive Resone.  He was free to act, to control.  "But it is five," he said.

"It's only--" The receptionist glanced up.  Jason worked the same alchemy on her watch as she looked away, so it confirmed the lie. "That's strange.  Where does the time go?"

"The time eaters get it," a tall black man said, and laughed at his own joke.

"Who are you here to see?" the receptionist asked.

The lobby was filled with people, loud and chaotic.  Old smelly women with bulging black handbags as weapons against the world.  Young women in loose t-shirts with huge breasts and screaming dirty children clinging to them.  Snot-nosed brats of 11 or so flinging slingshot spitballs at each other. Dirty unshaven men in undershirts with beer bellies.  And the black man with the spiked dreadlocks, the mishmash mismatched clothing that covered plaid, solids, spots, in bright and loud colors, a ridiculous leisure suit and a ridiculous bowtie, askew, over a Day-Glo yellow shirt.  The man with the piercing grin.

//Something is happening, but you don't know what it is-- do you, Belle Resone?//

Jason pulled a name and a number out of the air.  "Room 23B," he said.  "Rachel Buscaglia.  I'm her brother."

"You have to be over 14."

"I'm 15.  I'm short."

//You're also a girl, girl-child.//

Shut up.  I'm a boy.  "Can I see her?"

Unable to find another reason to prevent him, the receptionist muttered, "I suppose so. Elevators are back that way."  She gestured vaguely.

Jason lost it as he left the waiting room.  The man in the mismatched clothes was following him, and a surge of fear swamped him. Be Resone, cold, controlled. Resone turned to face the man, safe behind a thin but strong layer of ice.  "Excuse me, why are you following me?"

"We're going to the same place," the man said cheerily.  "I'm Rachel's brother, too."

Resone frowned. "Rachel who?"

"Rachel Buscaglia. You remember, girl-- or maybe you don't, oh well.  But we're going to the same place.  You're gonna need help."

"I don't need help. I don't know you."

"I'm the March Hare."  He grinned broadly.  "Also known as the Cat Who Walks Through Walls.  That was a book by Heinlein, long time ago.  Good book."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Resone.  I'm Resone."

"I like your first name better."

"What?"

"Belle. Bella.  Beautiful.  Vous erez La Belle Dame Sans Merci, n'est-ce pas?  The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy.  Ah, Bella."

Resone stiffened. "Don't call me Belle.  I don't go by it."

"Somebody does."

"What?"

"For someone who's supposed to be such a hot esper and have so much on the ball, you can be dense, chère Belle."

"Don't call me that! I'm Resone!"

A white heat threatening to crack the ice.

my belle my beautiful belle come to daddy belle

The ice engulfed.  The anger drained out into the encroaching dark. Why should I care what he calls me?  "I have things to do."

"So do I.  By some strange trick of fate, many of them are the exact same thing as yours.  How's that for coincidence?"

"Hmm.  You're an esper, I take it."

"You know all about me, Bella.  All you have to do is think."

"Perhaps I don't care to."

She headed for the staircase.  Danielle should be found first, because she could hook into the line and find Ayumi. Resone might be esper, but she wasn't a linerider.

"Perhaps not. Where to?"

"Find Danielle."

"Could be rough. I think our friends are about to find you."

"Really." Resone didn't sense any danger-- but then, her senses seemed to be somewhat dulled here. “What am I expected to do about that?”

“Well. You in the mood for a fight, or you wanna hide and keep your powder dry?”

“I think I should hide,” Resone said, looking around. The elevators were coming. 6, 5, 4, on one elevator. 5, 4, 3 on the other. Her eyes fell on a set of double doors that she wasn’t supposed to go through. There.

The March Hare, or the Cat Who Walks Through Walls, or whatever his name was, followed her. “Interesting choice.”

As soon as she was through the doors, she whispered to him. “You are too distinctive. There’s no way I can not be here with you beside me. Go away.”

“Mm, no.” The Hare opened the nearest door. It was an empty examination room, darkened. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t join forces. Hide in here.”

Resone raised an eyebrow. “A fifteen year old girl hides in an empty hospital room with a grown adult, probably in his forties at least, that she doesn’t know. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He sighed explosively. “Bella. Such a correct and careful girl you are. Do it or don’t, but I can’t help you if I can’t talk to you, and we can hardly talk while you’re not here.”

“I think you can talk to me when I’m not here,” Resone said. “I think you’ve done that a few times today.”

A broad grin split his face. “Guilty as charged, but there’s can do the thing, and then there’s can do the thing and still have the juice left to run a mile or jump a fence. C’mon, Belle, I gotta save it for the parkour.”

Resone was used to knowing everything she needed to know. Remain passive, remain quiet, but look at everything. She was legally blind, and her mother couldn’t afford to get her cybeyes – Dr. Okusanya had offered, but for some strange reason her mother hadn’t been willing to entrust the father of a random school friend of Resone’s with doing surgery on her child, even if he was well regarded in a field she knew absolutely nothing about. Imagine that. But she watched everything, and she listened to everything, and if she held still, knowledge just came to her.

This man was an incomprehensible black hole. He was a singularity where knowledge went to die. Resone wouldn’t tolerate that.

With the faintest sag of her shoulders that on anyone else would be an explosive sigh, perhaps with eye roll, Resone went into the hospital room and let the March Hare shut the door.

“I’m going to begin by saying you’re an asshole,” Resone said. “And extremely creepy.”

“Oh, now ‘asshole’ I’ll own to, but when you say ‘creepy’ it sounds less eldritch horror and more Uncle Grabbyhands. If that’s what you’re picturing there then you got it all wrong.”

“You keep calling me by a name that’s not mine. You’ve referred to me as ‘beautiful’ and ‘the beautiful lady without mercy.’”

“A man can’t make a play on words about your name? I was joking, child. Have I touched you? Looked at you anyplace below the chin? But I’ll admit, I’m not used to dealing with kids, and I’ve been around a long time. Was a time they’d have strung me up for talking to you, white girl… if they could catch me. I’m gonna talk the way I know how, but I don’t mean nothing creepy about it. Unless you mean creepy like Slenderman or the man hook door hand story. In which case I absolutely mean it.” He grinned.

“Are you going to call me by my name?”

He sighed. “I suppose. You know, a fellow has as many names as I do, he doesn’t get so hung up on them. And you’ve got a lot of names, too, but then again… I’m guessing you don’t. Can’t read you as well as I’d like, to tell the truth.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Indefinable pressure. Time, pushing at her, and a sense that space was congealing around her. If she didn’t move soon she never would. “Who are the enemy?”

“Well, chère, thereby hangs a tale.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is all I have on a story called “Welcome to the House of Fun”. It’s quite old; I had to revise a good bit, mostly for cultural reasons (Ayumi’s dad, for instance, originally had a name that was African, but it was an African woman’s first name and the last name is a word but not a name, mostly because in the 90′s and early 00′s we did not have the resources for research that we do now.)

The time stamp on the file before I started working on it claimed I started this in 2001. I’m pretty sure it’s older. Ayumi, Danielle and Resone are a trio of teenage heroes (do not call them magical girls) who are essentially a mishmosh of elements from other stories. In Ayumi I’m counting Asamiya Saki from Sukeban Deka, Cyborg from Teen Titans and The Major from Ghost in the Shell, at least.

There is some stuff in here that is very, very 90′s, DC Vertigo-inspired, that I am likely to pull back on. I may rethink what’s going on with Resone, or maybe not. 

Ineffable Inktober: Day 15: Rome

Ineffable Writing Inktober, NSFW Edition.

It was only natural, as one navigated the upper echelons of Roman society, to find oneself at more than a few orgies. They were the high-class party of the time, after all, attended by everyone who mattered, all-night and occasionally all-week events with all the wine, food, laughter, and sex anyone could desire.

And so Aziraphale found himself in the corner of one of those decadent parties, lounging on a couch with a lapful of an attentive young man. Felix was quite pretty, with bouncy blond curls much like Aziraphale's – and he used much more tongue than was strictly necessary to accept the intermittent morsels of food from Aziraphale's hand. Still, until Felix pushed the subject or left to find a more willing target, Aziraphale was quite happy to bask in the intellectual conversation he offered on astronomy.

He wasn't so distracted that he didn't notice Crowley's arrival; there was something different about a fellow celestial presence that made his senses chime. Behind his dark glasses, Crowley surveyed the room, and Aziraphale nodded genially just to be polite – then nearly groaned when Crowley took that as an invitation and headed over, scooping up a goblet from a passing servant as he walked.

"Having a good time?" Crowley asked, gesturing at Felix as he sat himself on the heavily-cushioned floor.

"Well, I was," Aziraphale said pointedly. Not that Crowley was truly interrupting anything with his appearance, but he mustn't be seen getting too comfortable around the demon.

"Well, if your night is ruined anyway," Crowley drawled, raising an eyebrow, "Can I borrow him?"

Aziraphale frowned, even as Felix perked up. "You can't ask me to borrow Felix, he's his own person."

"Felix. Oh, I do hope you're effeminate or this will be embarrassing," Crowley grinned, holding out an inviting hand. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, unimpressed. The Roman association of political status with sexual role was so <juvenile> sometimes.

"As effeminate as you like," Felix fairly simpered. So agilely did he climb from Aziraphale's lap to Crowley's that he barely touched the floor, and Crowley accepted the burden with an anticipatory leer.

From this angle, Aziraphale thought with a strange twist, Felix looked much like a younger version of himself. He made to get up and find some other dining companions – ones that weren't actively having sex, for example – when Crowley caught his eye.

"Don't leave, angel. Won't be a minute, then you can get back to your conversation. If that's what you still want."

Aziraphale hesitated. He had been enjoying the conversation with Felix, and it was nice to catch up with Crowley every few hundred years or so, just to keep abreast of happenings on their respective sides. It wasn't like he found sex distasteful, and it was happening all around them in some form or another... and then Felix added his hopeful gaze to Crowley's, and Aziraphale's will to refuse dissipated.

"Oh, all right. Someone's got to keep you two supplied with water."

Felix looked so gratified that Aziraphale almost felt guilty, though he didn't know why. He folded his hands in his lap and relaxed back into the soft couch, but his attempt at poise was ruined immediately when Crowley shifted forward, pressing the human's back into Aziraphale's knees. Tilting his head back was all it took for Felix to meet Aziraphale's eyes; his bright grin was marred by a gasp as one of Crowley's hands disappeared underneath him.

Aziraphale found himself watching Crowley instead of the young man. This was a new experience for the two of them, and though he was nervous, he was also intrigued. Would Crowley be kind? Brusque? Generous? Felix made a quiet noise in his lap, and Aziraphale stroked his cheek soothingly, but couldn't tear his attention from Crowley's face.

The demon caught his gaze and bared his teeth in a grin. A rolling thrust of his hips had Felix moaning, clutching at Aziraphale's shins to brace himself; Aziraphale glanced down to steady him and happened to meet the boy's eyes. Blue, so blue – like his own. How had he missed that? This blue-eyed, blond-haired cherub... was that why Crowley was so eager to have him?

Was Crowley mocking him?

Sitting abruptly upright, Aziraphale studied Crowley's face, trying to decipher the expression behind his glasses, but Crowley circumvented his distraction. "Give the boy a hand," he suggested. Felix whined in agreement, drawing Aziraphale's attention to his flushed cheeks, his bitten lip.

He could hardly refuse.

The loose garment parted easily for his hand, until Aziraphale could see the straining muscles of Crowley's stomach, could almost glimpse the shadowy place where the two bodies joined. He took Felix's cock in a loose grip, knuckles almost brushing Crowley's skin, and shivered. Though he should really be paying attention to the human caught between them, Aziraphale couldn't concentrate, could only think that every time he stroked Felix's cock, the boy's body must be tightening – as if he were stroking Crowley's cock.

It was almost too much to bear, but just as Aziraphale thought he should really rather excuse himself, Felix gasped – Crowley grunted – and just like that, he was watching his counterpart come. Those terrible dark glasses were in the way, but he could still see the way Crowley folded in on himself, how he panted and tensed and tried to hold in his reactions.

Aziraphale wanted the opposite: he wanted to drag out every little reaction and examine it, to forbid Crowley from holding them in, or push him so far he let them loose anyway –

"I have to go," Aziraphale gasped, standing abruptly. He had a brief glimpse of Felix's startled face, jostled out of position, before he was fleeing the party. But where Felix had looked startled, Crowley had looked hurt.

Aziraphale refused to think about that.

Animal Guides

I've been studying into animal guides and their symbolisms as a part of the studies that I do in my own personal time, the reason behind it is because for the past few months I've randomly been noticing more groups of certain species of animals, insects, etc...while I'm out and about. None of them have ever really been by themselves and if they are then there is usually at least another one near by of the same species that I would notice moments later, so as of lately I've been taking these occurrences as a sign.

Today my animal guide book that I ordered came in at the local metaphysical shop I'm a regular at, I drove down to the shop to purchase my book and before I officially purchased it I paged through it a bit to make sure it was a book that would be worth my money and time spent reading. Once I opened the book the first page I turned to was "Daddy Long Legs", I didn't think much of it nor did I read the page..I kind of brushed it off and continued paging through the book until I finally decided to make the purchase.

Tonight after I got home from running my errands for the evening while I took my dog out to get her business done when I came across not one but FIVE daddy long legs as well as two rather large wolf spiders all in separate areas on the same sidewalk, mind you I haven't seen any daddy long legs all summer so I kind of got a little shook at the irony of this being a sudden occurence. I let my pup finish her business and immediately got back inside and I opened back to the page about daddy long legs and also looked up the page on spiders since I also saw the two wolf spiders and didnt want to leave anything out. I about fell over from the accuracy of it, I'm completely mind fucked (pardon the language).

Let me reiterate a bit so that way were all on the same page for the accuracy - For a while I've been getting heavily back into my artwork (not that I ever quit) because I've decided to finally make the effort and give myself that push I need to try and sell my artwork and focus on working to pursue potentially becoming a full time artist. It's something I've always wanted to do for years and never had the confidence to take the first step to where I can get started down that path partially due to the fact that I never knew where to start and also dealing with a lot of toxic people in my life who dont support me by constantly telling me that this goal is a bad idea or there's a high chance I can fail and that I may be left with nothing in the end, I'm slowly working on eliminating these people from my life as I go because in order for me to reach my goal and work hard I must remove all obstacles that may slow me down along the way. I use a lot of different materials when it comes to my art but my main medium is watercolor/ink and to get back into the feel of things I decided to use inktober as an excuse to pull myself back in and make some art that I can potentially sell later down the road. So that's pretty much it, I'm striving to sell my paintings as prints full time to the point where I am able to live comfortably with confidence knowing that I'm stable and if I of course have to I will have a part time day job as my fall back until my art really takes off or if there's ever a time where business gets slow. Now that I've caught everyone up, go back to the part when I mebtioned all of the daddy long legs - Here's what the book had to say.

**If anymore of these occurrences happen again I will make sure to post more about my experiences for all of you to read!**

Also if anyone is curious as to which book I purchased in case you're interested in checking it out yourself, I've posted about image of the cover below. Enjoy!

Inktober 2019 Retrospective

This is mostly for my own benefit.  Fair warning, I slipped into “self assessment at work” mode, so the language is a bit odd.  A reminder, I have no formal art training, but do have formal engineering training.

So read on if you want my thoughts on my own work.  Or, y’know look away.

Summary

My goal was to “finish” Inktober, posting 31 fully inked drawings over the course of the month.  A secondary goal was to use and practice with the shiny new Copic markers my dearly beloved, @godsdamnednamethieves, gifted me back in September.

I achieved both these objectives, and while there were some rough patches, and many nights where I stayed up far later then I should have, I’d say it went fairly well.  It was helped that I took a week-long “staycation” in the middle of the month.

That said, there is clearly room for improvement in my art, time-management, and process.  It is my next objective, moving forward, to incorporate what I have learned, about my self-discipline, art, and tools, into a stable plan that promotes growth.

Onto specific issues.

Tools

For Inktober 2019, I used three sketchbooks, Pilot’s “color eno” mechanical colored pencils, gummy erasers (I’ve had them so long I don’t know the brand), my Copic Multiliners, and my Copic Sketch markers.

Sketchbooks:

Adhesive pinding, flip-on-short edge.  This was the book I started on, and has been my primary sketchbook this year. The pages were already tearing out infrequently, but once I got started in Inktober this accelerated and many pages tore out.  Would not recommend.

Slightly yellow paper, bound with thread in smaller numbers.  For Inktober I just used this to keep sketch ideas and play with layouts, and did not put any “final” illustrations in it.  It lays flat on the scanner, and no pages have torn out.  I’ve been very happy with this style of book, and plan to continue with this style for my future sketchbooks.

Hard-bound thick paper, thread-bound and glued to the hardback.  About a week into October I ordered a new sketchbook, and ordered this one.  Thick paper, holds the colored ink well, looks nice.  Does not easily lay flat for scanning or drawing, though this was mitigated by leaving more margins.

The colored pencils worked well enough, though I quickly discovered that colored pencils and Copic markers do not play well together.  This led to me refining my technique and relying less on detailed pencil sketches before I began inking.  Need to order more light blue lead, as that is the color I go through fastest by far.

Multiliners are still a hit-and-miss.  My 0.3 multi-liner from the B-2 pack had the nib fall out, and from what I can tell that style of marker/pen/whatever can not have the nib replaced.  My 0.3 Multiliner SP wound up being my work horse pen, though I also used my 0.1 Multiliner for fine detail, and my 0.8 and 1.0 for borders and some lettering.  Oddly, before my 0.3 multliner failed me for the last time, it was reliably giving narrower lines from the 0.3 multiliner SP.  I don’t know if this was just a lead-up to the nib-failure, or if there’s a bigger difference between the SP and the pens from teh B-2 pack.  But even beyond that, the SP feels nicer in my hand, and was more reliable.  When I need new pens, I’ll probably bite the bullet and get more of the SP variety.

Copic Sketch markers.  This was mostly a learning experience, figuring out what works, what doesn’t, how to use them, and so-on.  Overall I’m very happy, but I’m still very bad at choosing colors.  I repeatedly went to my husband to make color choices for me, often to great effect.  So if you like my color choices, give him the credit.  If you think my color choices are awful, give me the blame.  A few things that bothered me were that I noticed some of my drawing picking up little splotches or dots far away from where I was working.  This is particularly notable on the “Warrior of the Beach” picture.  My theory is that either I’m getting ink on my hand, then transferring it to the page when I rest it, or that when I’m putting caps on/pulling caps off, I’m sending little droplets of ink flying.

A few of my markers gave me a little trouble, but I’m not sure if it’s just because I don’t know what I’m doing or because I really did use W1 and C1 that much.  I need to get a small scale so I can see if they’re actually low on ink or if I’m just a noob.

Process

The days where I was most happy with my work was when I had an idea, toyed with layout in my sketchbook, and then redrew the whole thing.  When I was least happy was often when I floundered about with no ideas, and then tried to draw something, anything, around 9 pm.

What this means (to me) is that I’m still relying too much on “inspiration” rather then discipline, which is a long-term problem.

Beyond that,taking the time/luxury of a full sketch (in a different book) to plan layout, workshopping text with the hubby, and splitting up inking from coloring (by hours or days) improved the quality of my work.  Even still, some of the pieces I’m very happy with had little to no planning.

For example, “Ripe” was done with basically no planning.  After deciding to do a dude doing pull-ups, I started on the text on the bottom with a ruler.  About half-way through drawing the dude I decided to make it Dave.  At some point I hit the “clever” idea of making it an immovable rod instead of a mundane pull-up bar.  And then I cursed myself, because I came up with a better text layout, “Immovable Rod, Ripe Bod”, but it was too late to use it.

The Art Itself

The big part.

Some days I was very happy.  Some days I floundered (can you guess which category my “pattern” piece falls into?).  Overall though, I think I showed improvement, both in line-work and color-work, over the month.  That said, “Mindless” and “Bait” still make me very happy.

I also realized that I strangely enjoy text.  Whether it was using little banners, comic-style speech and narration boxes, borders and fancy fonts, it was a lot of fun and helped contextualize the pieces.  Incorporating text is definitely something I want to continue to do.

Playing around with layouts, borders, framing was also unexpectedly fun.  The later pieces where I restricted my “work area” with borders I think turned out much better for the limitation, with the framing devices often helping tell the story.  In comparison, pieces like “Overgrown” or the early “freeze” and “build”, don’t have a firm ending, and felt lacking to me.

Flaws: hands, feet, and legs in general.  And as much as I enjoyed playing with layouts and borders, I can’t use that as an excuse to not draw feet and more complicated leg positions.  I clearly need to spend more time doing simple figure sketches, both whole-body and specific body parts.

Conclusion

Inktober was great, if time permits, I’ll probably do it again next year.  But probably not the “full marathon”, dropping down to “half marathon” so I don’t stay up quite so late.

Also, I need to do a nicer illustration of Xanadeux.  She’s only got that one panel.  She needs more love.

I started this at 11:30 this morning and it’s just now 10:12 at night :/ Even having left for groceries and whatnot for a few hours, this still took SIX AND A HALF HOURS OTL Honestly though? Four of them were for the face

So today’s prompt was “freeze” and I’ve been really looking forward to it because I was like “omg I want to draw a yukionna so bad” cause they’re a Japanese yokai where the spirit of a woman froze to death. They wander around freezing other people to death until their spirits are put to rest. Depending on where you are, they freeze you if you don’t open when they knock on your door. In other areas, they freeze you if you do. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Anyway, we joke that my wife is a yokai because his mom is one so he was the face model for this. Thus why I took so long on the face. I wanted it to be recognizably him but also frozen dead and the typical red makeup going on. I know there’s not a lot of creativity for the rest of the piece but after four hours on the face, I was kind of burnt out for creativity for this project. I didn’t realize it until it was too late that I accidentally made the haori masculine instead of feminine. My excuse is this particular yukionna borrowed her husband’s haori before leaving their house

I used google for more reference photos. I relied heavily on one to figure out the pose and where shadows should go and how hair kind of blows sideways. After Inktober, I’ll probably make a huge post showing all my reference photos and sketches before the final pieces. So far, I’m really enjoying the experiment of getting away from lining things as much as possible and just relying on the brush almost entirely. It’s really pushed my art in a new direction

This was super fun for me! I can’t wait to see what I do tomorrow! And, as always, my donations are always open. My inbox is open for commissions too if you want me to draw you something. Just hit me up!

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Writing/Art Update 10/14/19:

Heyo, remember these?

I have... produced... so much art. I might eventually make a masterpost, because you know I love doing those, but in the meantime, you can just check out my Inktober 2019 tag.

I am very proud of myself. I don’t know if I can pick a favorite, but that Isshin one was just stupidly good, I don’t even know. Seireitei Unsolved is the current reigning popularity champ. I also have a soft spot for Byakuya in that Pineapple Slut t-shirt and I’m not gonna get over it.

I’ve actually done a little writing, too? I am back on Lt’s Exam, and it’s... going okay? The beginning is shaping up actually? As in, I have almost 36 consecutive clean pages (that 17k) words with only about 5 TODOs? I mean, I have another 45k words after that which are in rougher shape, but it’s exciting to have something that I might be able to send off to the ol’ beta reader in the next.. uh... month? I had to make a new tab of my character tracking spreadsheet. Congratulations, Squad 13, you now have your own tab.

Also, on a whim, I started writing what comes after One Final Training Montage. It will be a million years before that would see the light of day, if ever. I am still constantly contemplating whether or not to kick OFTM out of A Heart is a Muscle, and I am mostly doing this as an experiment to see if I can get it to work. It’s only about 1500 words, but I love the part that I’ve written.

Hey, y’all want a Between Tides Deleted Scene? I have roughly 50 pages worth deleted scenes, most of which are variations on actual scenes, or make sense only to me because they correspond to major direction changes or things that never panned out. This one was just sort of... tonally incorrect, but it cracks me up every time I come across it. It’s from the early chapters, where they’re training in their gigais at Squad 2. Also, if I ever get a chance to recycle Akon saying “I’m not really into humanoid anatomy” into an actual fic, you better believe I’m gonna.

    Rukia ducked low, hooking Renji’s ankle with her own, and bringing them both down in a pile of gigai arms and legs.

    Omaeda tapped his foot crossly. “Kuchiki, do you actually know any hakuda? There are actual techniques to it, not just some street fighting moves you made up.”

    Rukia shrugged. “First year hakuda at the Academy is a joke, especially if you’re my size. I know maybe three things that this guy taught me when he was bored between classes.” She jerked a thumb at Renji.

    “Why’d they let you graduate after a year if you didn’t know anything?”

    “My brother’s rich?” 

    “Riiiight.”

    “And you,” Omaeda turned his scorn on Renji, “seem to know all the moves and yet I would bet my lunch that you’ve never used any of them in a fight.”

    Renji made a face. “I kinda made a review of it last year when I was prepping for the lieutenant’s exam. But why bother with a heaven-and-earth throw when you can just hit someone with your sword? Also, it’s really hard in these gigais. Rukia, how the hell are you managing to use your reiatsu in this thing?”

    Rukia wiped her face with the neckline of her t-shirt. “It’s tricky. You have to push the reiatsu into the gigai, but because of the suppression system, it all stays in the gigai. You can only use it to make yourself stronger or faster, you can’t affect the outside world with it, so you can’t ground or harden your skin or anything like that. Remember, I was in one of these for two months last summer, and I had almost no reiatsu at the time. This is easy in comparison, although I keep getting overheated.”

    “Eh? You feel like you’re overheating?” Akon asked.

    “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the gigai,” Rukia hedged. “My reiatsu is cold, you see? Keeps me cool, normally.”

    “Abarai, how about you?”

    “My reiatsu runs hot, so I’m actually cooler than usual.”

    “Yeah, you’ve managed to keep your shirt on this whole time,” Rukia teased him.

    “I don’t… always…” Renji tried to excuse.

    “Yes, you do.” Rukia frowned, and hauled her sweaty t-shirt off and threw it in the corner. “Here. You deserve this.”

    “Rukia! C’mon!” Renji complained, trying not to look at her.

    “I’m wearing a sports bra! I’m more covered up than Matsumoto usually is!”

    “What’s a sports bra?” he asked, still not looking.

    “This,” she replied, pointing to it. “It’s like a chest wrap, only it takes about 10 seconds to get on and off instead of 10 minutes. Also, this one is purple.”

    Renji tried to look at it without turning his head. 

    “Hey, look sharp!” She launched herself at him.

    Renji blocked her punch, and tried to hip throw her, looking at her only out of the corner of his eye. She drove her feet into the ground, however, and since her reiatsu-augmented strength was currently much greater than his own, flipped him over her head. 

    So much for being being gentlemanly. He managed to tuck into a roll, and came up on his feet, facing the wrong direction. He spun wildly, and caught her foot just as it came flying at his face. Fortunately, he’d seen her to that to Ichigo about a thousand times. He threw her toward the ground, but she got her hands behind her shoulders in time to catch herself and thrust back up, driving her feet into his chest. He went over backwards, and the next thing he knew, he was on his back, with her sitting in his chest, pinning his shoulders with her knees, and holding his wrists in her hands. His hips and legs were free, and he might be able to buck himself up again if could manage to get some reiatsu into his legs. There was another problem, though, which was that she was sort of leaning over him, and her chest was right in his face. 

    “Look at them!” she demanded.

    “Why are you doing this to me?” he wailed, squeezing his eyes shut.

    “Because you always make me look at your dumb pecs when we’re fighting, and you deserve this!”

    “You two are so strange,” Omaeda frowned, shaking his head.

    “They aren’t even yours!”

    “They are now.” Rukia looked down and examined them herself. “They’re pretty good, I think. Akon! Tell Urahara good job on the tits!”

    Akon started to write something down. 

    “They aren’t that great,” Omaeda interrupted.

    Akon looked up. “Are they good or aren’t they? I’m not really into humanoid anatomy myself.” He looked at Rukia and Omaeda’s scowls. “Abarai, you’re the tie-breaker.”

    “I’m the what?”

    “Are Rukia’s gigai tits good or not? This is important. For research purposes.”

    “It is not important! This has nothing to do with anything!”

    Rukia glared at him. “Well?”

    Carefully, Renji opened one eye, and then the other. He looked at her glowering face, then quickly down to her chest, and then back up again. “They’re, uh, pretty good,” he reported. “Not as good as the usual ones, but perfectly fine.”

    Rukia smirked at him. “When’ve you been checking out my tits, Abarai?”

    “Abarai approves of tits,” Akon read off his own notes.

    “Don’t put my name on that!”

2019 Art Summary!

It's that time again when we all look back on the year we've had and reflect, and then look forward to what's to come in the New Year. This only my second year doing a yearly Art Summary piece (I didn't miss February like I did last year!) but I'm grateful for the tradition now. Looking back, 2019 had a lot going on for me and my art; I started out not that different from how I've been handling my art and myself online for the past couple of years, but as the year went on, I feel like I've done a lot of growing, finding myself, and even though I didn't start off in a terrible place, I think I'm in a much better one now. This really was a year of tremendous personal growth for me, both in art and just in life, and I can only hope that continues through the New Year and beyond. (As sappy as that is to say, I really mean it.) That said, let's look back on 2019 in a little more detail, shall we? January: Birthday Wishes I actually didn't have a ton of options to choose from for this month, as I think I was a little burnt out from the last couple of months in 2018 and giving myself some breathing room.  Still, this Shopkin colored to match my actual birthday cake actually remains one of my favorite mixed media pieces I've done. I don't know why, there's just something I really enjoy about how it turned out, for as simple as it is.  And for the record, I think I will be doing another custom Shopkin drawing for my birthday again this year, but I haven't decided anything beyond that yet. February: Floating Away (+ Time Lapse!) So as I mentioned earlier, on last year's Art Summary I discovered I didn't have any submissions dated in February and I hadn't yet gotten in the habit of documenting completion dates for my artwork, and so I didn't have an artwork to put there that I could definitively say was done in February. This year, however, February was actually one of my busiest months and I had a pretty wide variety to choose from. I ended up going with my little hot air balloon, as while it's a bit different from my normal work, I still think it's really cute and it also represents one of my attempts to start making videos of my artwork...Which I've been too lazy to do since the few attempts I did during this month... But who knows? I have a better camera and slightly larger workspace at my disposal, so perhaps I'll try again and be a little less lazy about that in 2020. March: Once a Killjoy, Always a Killjoy Oh boy, if past-me had only known what was to come later this year! March saw a lot of pieces from me practicing with watercolor and new supplies, but I think my favorite to come out of the month was my annual artwork to honor March 22nd, the anniversary of when My Chemical Romance, my favorite band, broke up. Only this time instead of doing pure fanart, I made myself into a Killjoy for the occasion.  (The design of which needs to be revamped a little because my hair is purple now, but that just means I already have one option for the anniversary this coming year!) And once again, this is a mixed media piece that I look back on very fondly. The concept is fun and the end result looks pretty cool. April: Doodle Moon I leaned pretty heavily into honing my watercolor craft in April, and among those efforts, this one is definitely my favorite. (Even if it doesn't fit on this template very nicely ) This one was a bit of an experiment in branching my traditional and digital art together in a different way, and I still really love how it turned out. Although unfortunately, I've yet to return to this technique, simply because I feel weird a lot of the time about "half finishing" a traditional piece and then making a lot of modifications to it digitally. It feels like cheating or being fake in a way to me. But I think I get that hangover from the concept of editing photos online and then passing them off as real & unedited...in which case it's a personal problem that I just need to deal with on my own. May: Butterfly Babe I didn't have a ton of artwork in May, but what I did have were usually bigger/more involved pieces, and this one is no different. I think 2019 is the year when I really came into owning my love for mixed media (which comes in large part from "I'm not good at x thing with y supply, but I can do x effect with z supply really well!") and this piece is a really great example of that. Once again, still one of my favorites and the scan really doesn't do it just with all the sparkle/metallic accents I incorporated. And I think I want to do more involved almost crafty projects like this more often, but that usually comes down to having the right inspiration to make it happen. June: Bug Girl Funnily enough, June 2019 is now my busiest month of all-time (in the almost 9 years I've been here on dA), and yet I only had one "real" piece of art for the Summary.  This was the month when I really got heavy into making my own Swatch Charts/Swatching Resources, and while some did carry over into July, the bulk of it was posted in June. I have to say, I don't think a ton of other people are using the charts, but I've certainly been getting good use out of them! And if I'm being honest I mostly wanted them for my own personal use anyway.  But for the artwork that you see here, this is another mixed media piece, this time commemorating one of my favorite books I've read this year, How to Make Friends with the Dark by Kathleen Glasgow. The artwork itself had some annoying problems in development, but the result is really beautiful to me, and so I think it was worth it in the end. July: Homemade Mini Sketchbooks! This month is more of a craft project than artwork, but I couldn't help myself as these little sketchbooks I made myself are probably one of my most favorite projects I did in 2019, and these first two spawned many more afterward.  It's funny to me because I've always wanted a way to combine my loves of books and art beyond just illustrating my writing (which isn't always something I feel like doing) and this, while maybe not a perfect solution, is definitely a unique way to do that. Plus, while making each book does take a little while, it is usually a pretty fun process now that I've gotten the better hang of it. These first two books aren't perfect, but they kicked off something I think I'll be sporadically doing for a good while to come. August: Mon Cher It feels like a lot happening this month, despite not having quite as much art as other months this past year. The month started off with the end of our family vacation, and I posted a journal when I got back where you can see that part of the reason this month felt so busy is that this is probably when I had the most new art supplies available to me to test out/play with during the year, including some items that I got at the tail end of July.  Out of the options I had though, this artwork seemed like the best choice to represent this month, as just like in April I leaned pretty heavily into using and practicing with watercolors and painting in general (as I dipped my toes into seriously painting with Acrylics this month too) and this is one of my more ambitious watercolor pieces. As I said when I first posted it, it has its mistakes and growing pains, but I still think it's really lovely. September: Fly By the Moon I was actually surprised, looking back, at how busy September was. My second acrylic painting (this one more in-depth than the first), an array of cute kitty drawings which have sort of become a series now, some personal pieces, and two contest entries. (One of which actually won!) I went with the acrylic painting since I'm still very proud of how it turned out, given that I don't use acrylics terribly often and hardly ever I go for realism (even semi-realism like this painting) either. Plus, this one is a nice memory of the two real luna moths that visited us, and I had to admit that it is just really nice to have a full painting on a canvas to hang up too.  I haven't done much more with acrylic painting yet, but I definitely want to. My main issue is that for me it's hard deciding on a good subject for the way I like to paint that I don't feel like would look equally as good if not better with a different medium. But hopefully, I'll find more excuses to break out the acrylics in 2020. October: Ink Dance Oh boy, what a month this was!  Inktober, new mini-magnets, trying gouache for the first time, and on the very last day the news of the decade (at least for me) that My Chemical Romance is back!  I followed my same principle as the art summary last year where it just doesn't feel fair to pick a favorite Inktober or use the wrap-up picture, so that left me with my gouache pieces or this one that looks more like a normal person's Inktober artwork, and out of my options, this is the one I like best. The gouache paintings aren't bad, I just need more practice and this one has more charm to me. And it's also funny to me that I was so concerned about ending up hating this one for the stippling and yet it turned out to be one of my favorites from this year. November: I will be with You The artwork for this month was pretty much a no-contest. I made this piece as a love letter to My Chemical Romance after the news of their Return, and likewise, I poured my heart and soul into it. It just might be one of my most favorite artworks to date; perhaps even worthy of being a "portfolio piece" on my website. Even more so after the fact now that I've seen the Return concert (albeit over a Livestream and not in person because California is like 2-3,000 miles away from me ). I was pretty busy throughout the month trying to keep up with a prompt challenge from Art Philosophy, but even so, I pushed myself to get this piece done and I'm so glad I did. December: Daises on Strawberry Hill Ah, and here we are at the very last. It's funny, the first half of this month seemed to drag by pretty slowly, but then after the second week things picked up pretty quickly (what with the Return concert and all) and I have to agree with my mom that Christmas went by so fast we almost missed that it happened at all. I don't have as much to show for this month, but that's in large part because I've been taking time off for my mental health and to spend time with and enjoy my family. I'm pretty happy with everything I produced this month, but my Looking for Alaska inspired art is definitely my favorite of the bunch. It's very graphic-design-ish and despite at the time having been done rather quickly and not super precisely, looking at it now it reads very cleanly. It's a little outside my normal art realm, but if anything I think that makes it stronger on its own.  I'm still chipping away at my longer review of the Hulu series I originally made it to talk about (like I said when I posted it, I have a lot of thoughts I want to talk about and not rush through), so I am indeed still planning on finishing and posting those...I just don't know when that'll be, considering I've already got a bit of a content schedule for myself going into the New Year, but eventually! Eventually, it'll be done! Overall, I'm honestly very happy with what I've managed to accomplish this year. Just like last year, I did a lot of experimenting with new supplies and new mediums--this time some I thought I'd never touch--and I hit even more milestones, including my first Daily Deviation in November. I feel like I've grown significantly more as an artist and a person this year though than I did last year. And in many ways, I feel like this year has renewed my confidence in my own skills and work. I'm not much of a "New Years' Resolution" type person, as I think the concept as tied to that particular phrase has been...I'll be generous and say overinflated and mistreated...but some of my Art Goals for 2020 are: Post more consistently/regularly (which I worked on a lot in 2019 too) Be more active & engaged on social media (I've already started working on this a little, but for some reason, this is honestly kind of hard for me as I always debate what's worth sharing online and what isn't ) Promote me and my work/art outlets more (Also something I find hard to do) Keep experimenting (Not really a goal so much as my artistic state of existence but whatever ) This past year has been one heck of a wild ready, but I'm more than ready to see what 2020 has in store for me. Cheers for the New Year ahead! ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings Art Summary Template: 2019 Summary of Art Template (Blank) ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

Hopelessly Devoted to You

@thatsthat24 makes a list for inktober prompts and I really liked day 18: Draw your OTP in Halloween costumes that are designed to go together! (Shout out to him for the inspiration) But I am unfortunately not an artist, so I wrote a fic instead. So...yeah.  (also available on ao3)

“Thank you for your patronage. Please come again,” Kazuya repeated for the umpteenth time that day. He focused on maintaining his gentle bow and smile, trying his best to ignore the giggling girls as they walked by him.

“Miyuki-kun looks so handsome,” one of the girls whispered.

“The waiter uniform really suits him,” her friend agreed.

“Ahh~, I should’ve taken a picture for my phone background,” chimed the third.

Once they rounded the corner, Kazuya let out a large breath he didn’t know he was holding. He whipped his head over to the clock. 12:45pm. Good, only 15 minutes left of wearing that ridiculous outfit.

It was the annual cultural festival at Seidou High School, and Kazuya was designated as a waiter for his class’s café. Usually he’d weasel his way out of things like this, using baseball practice as an excuse. But this year, the girls had guilted him into it.

“We know you don’t have baseball practice Miyuki-kun. Maezono-kun already told us,” one complained.

“It’s not fair if you make us do everything,” said another.

“You can at least do some work the day of…”

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Kazuya said, his hands at his chest raised in surrender. “Just give me whatever job there is. I’ll do it.”

That was how Kazuya found himself in a well tailored, form-fitting waiter costume that looked like it belonged to a high-end café. The flattering uniform made him stand out way more than he liked, earning him unwanted attention not unlike the girls who just left. He inwardly cursed his past self for giving in so easily and not getting the details beforehand. And just when did his classmates get his measurements? These clothes fit waytoo well to be a coincidence.

“Hey,” Kuramochi called out. “Stop slacking off and bring these orders to table 4.”

“We’ve been doing this for the past 2 days now. I’m allowed to complain,” Kazuya argued, yet still walked over.

“It’s just until your shift is over.”

Kazuya picked up the desserts one by one and placed them onto his tray. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been hiding behind this curtain all weekend.”

“You’re fault for saying you’d do whatever,” Kuramochi muttered as he cooked some fried rice.

Kazuya pouted, but quickly replaced it with a professional looking smile as he approached table 4. “Here is your parfait and pancakes. Please enjoy,” he said to the couple at the table.

“I agreed to help out,” Kazuya continued when he returned to Kuramochi’s cooking station. “What I didn’t agree to was being stared at by so many girls.”

“Don’t pat yourself too hard on the back,” Kuramochi commented sarcastically.

“I’m not bragging, I’m uncomfortable,” Kazuya corrected. “Why are there so many girls anyway?”

“You can thank our classmates for that,” Kuramochi explained while cooking an omelette. “Ever since the fall nationals, you’ve been really popular, especially among girls. So, they’ve been telling everyone that you’re the waiter here as our selling point.” Kuramochi scooped some rice into his omelette and began folding it up. “So, congratulations. They’re all here for you Mr. Ladies Man.” He drizzled ketchup onto the finished omurice and handed Kazuya the plate. “Now quit whining and take this to table 1.”

Kazuya took the plate to the corresponding table and came right back to Kuramochi. “Don’t get mad at me. I didn’t ask them to take my picture.”

“I bet you’d be okay with it if it was Sawamura,” Kuramochi countered.

“Why would I let Sawamura take a picture of me?”

“Besides the crush you have on him?”

“I don’t have a crush on him,” Kazuya said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure you don’t,” Kuramochi replied unenthusiastically, clearly more focused on cooking than he was on the conversation.

“I don’t!”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Because that’s the truth.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

“You think I lose sleep thinking about Sawamura?”

“I didn’t say that. You did.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Kazuya said matter-of-factly.

“How’s this? Haruichi and I know you keep a picture of you and Sawamura in the side pocket of your duffel bag.”

Kazuya froze in shock, but brushed it off before Kuramochi noticed. “You’re just making that up.”

“It’s from the time the newspaper club asked to write an article on the baseball club after we won the fall tournament. Sawamura has his arm around you and looks cheerful as ever, but you weren’t looking at the camera.” Kazuya didn’t retaliate, so Kuramochi continued. “I’m guessing the photographer caught you off guard, ‘cause you had quite the gentle expression while staring at Sawamura.”

Kazuya’s eyebrows scrunched up. “How did you…?”

“A few weeks ago before practice, the picture fell out without you noticing. Haruichi picked it up and was going to call out to you, but then saw what it was and thought better of it. After practice, he gave it to me and I slipped it into your bag while we walked to class.”

“…Okay, so maybe you do know about it,” Kazuya reluctantly admitted. “But there’s no special meaning to it,” he quickly added.

“Oh?” Kuramochi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s…it’s just a good luck charm,” Kazuya answered.

“What an interesting choice of a good luck charm. Why that one?” Kuramochi inquired.

“N-no reason…”

“You sure about that?” Kuramochi pointedly asked, his gaze boring holes into Kazuya.

The conversation was cut short when Kazuya and Kuramochi heard the familiar sound of a cell phone camera shutter. They turned towards the sound and found Sawamura had snuck up on them, a self-satisfied smile on his face and his cell phone primed and ready to take photos.

“Hey, no pictures,” Kuramochi called out.

“Whoops, already sent it to Onii-san,” Sawamura unapologetically said.

“I thought I told you no,” Kuramochi retorted, a scowl on his face and his fist raised as a threat.

“Sorry Kuramochi-senpai,” Sawamura replied more seriously, “But Nii-san asked for it. And to be honest? I’m more scared of him than you.” The look on Sawamura’s face was more than enough proof that he wasn’t messing around.

“…Yeah, that’s fair,” Kuramochi reluctantly said, recounting the not-so fond memories he had with Ryousuke.

Rather than sympathize with the two of them, Kazuya was more concerned about something else. “How long were you standing there?” he asked Sawamura.

“Hmm? Oh, not long at all. I just got here,” Sawamura replied.

“So, you didn’t hear us talking?”

“About what?” Sawamura gasped. “You were bad mouthing me, weren’t you?”

“Actually, we were complimenting you and that last game we played. Your pitching was the best you’ve done so far,” Kazuya said.

Sawamura blinked in disbelief, though it quickly turned to prideful acceptance. He folded his arms and upturned his nose. “Hehe, it’s rare to hear that kind of flattery from you Miyuki-senpai. Of course, I did work hard on those pitches, but…”

Sawamura happily chatted away while Kazuya let out a small sigh of relief. Thankfully, Sawamura didn’t hear the conversation from earlier. Even so, Kazuya couldn’t help but smile at Sawamura’s energy; it was quite infectious really.

Kazuya felt a pair of eyes staring at him and found Kuramochi to be the offender.

“Still don’t have a crush?” Kuramochi’s raised eyebrow seemed to ask.

Kazuya waved his hand in dismissal causing Kuramochi to roll his eyes and go back to cooking. Kazuya, wanting to forget Kuramochi’s ridiculous ideas, returned his attention to Sawamura. “So, what brings you here?” Kazuya asked, interrupting Sawamura’s monologue.

“Huh?”

“Did you really just come to take Kuramochi’s picture?”

“Oh, yeah. I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out with me.”

Not only did Kazuya freeze, but so did Kuramochi who had been eavesdropping. “Go…out with you?”

“Yeah. Go out and see all the booths in the courtyard. I heard there’s a really good yakisoba stall down there.”

“…Oh.” Kazuya felt a little disappointed, but paid no attention to those feelings. “Why me?”

“Well, everyone else I asked said they were working at their classroom booths. And since I needed a picture of Kuramochi-senpai, I thought I’d might as well ask you too.”

“…I see.” Again, Kazuya wasn’t too happy about Sawamura’s response. He tried not to show it because he knew Kuramochi was still watching and would comment on it later. “Unfortunately, I can’t walk around with you, Sawamura.”

“Aw, why not?” Sawamura asked.

“Yeah, why not? Your shift is done,” Kuramochi chimed in, pointing to the clock.

Kazuya’s eyes followed Kuramochi’s finger to the clock and sure enough, it was a few minutes past 1:00pm. He glared daggers at Kuramochi, but Kuramochi was unfazed. 

“Just take him Sawamura. He’s been whining all day and I’m sick of it already,” Kuramochi added.

“Yay!” Sawamura cheered. He grabbed Kazuya’s wrist and began to drag him out of the classroom. “Let’s hit every stall we can!”

“H-hey, wait!” Kazuya protested. “At least let me change first!”

…

“Man, high school cultural festivals are so much fun!” Sawamura exclaimed.

Kazuya chuckled. “You say it like it’s your first one.”

“Well, it kind of is. Last year, we were so busy with club activities that I didn’t get to enjoy the festival. It’s the same for you too isn’t it?”

Kazuya shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

For the past hour, Kazuya had let Sawamura drag him around the school, trying out the many different food stalls and booths other students had set up. It was honestly a lot of fun and it was a shame the festival would be over by the end of the day. But at least he got to experience it before it was gone.

Kazuya suddenly heard paper crinkling next to him and looked over to see Sawamura taking a large bite out of a taiyaki.

“Mmm,” Sawamura said as he happily munched away.

“You’re still eating?” Kazuya asked. “Aren’t you full?”

“But it looked really good! And I was right. Here, try some.” Sawamura extended the treat towards Kazuya.

Kazuya looked down at the taiyaki in Sawamura’s hands, debating whether or not to take a bite. Wasn’t this the infamous ‘indirect kiss’ girls always talked about? Wouldn’t he be giving people the wrong impression about them?

…Wait a minute. Why was he concerned? This was simply his junior offering Kazuya a taste of some food. Thinking about this any longer would mean he wanted something from Sawamura. But that couldn’t be true. Nope. Nuh-uh. That’s something someone with a crush on Sawamura would think.

Kazuya leaned forward and took a bite out of the taiyaki. He straightened back up as he chewed. “Mmm, it is good,” he said in between bites. He turned to his side to see Sawamura was no longer there. Confused, he craned his neck behind him to find Sawamura frozen in place, shock and a light blush dusting his cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Kazuya asked when he returned to Sawamura’s side.

Sawamura’s eyes wouldn’t meet Kazuya’s. “I…I thought you were going to hold it yourself,” Sawamura answered, his hands slowly returning to his chest.

It occurred to Kazuya that he basically let Sawamura feed him like a real couple and what they did was quite embarrassing and intimate. “…Oh,” was all Kazuya could lamely say as the heat crept onto his face. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes suddenly very interested in whatever he could see through the building’s windows.

“Did something happen?”

“Are they fighting?”

Whispers from other students reached Kazuya’s ears. He realized they were drawing in an audience and needed to keep moving. He cleared his throat before speaking. “You said you wanted to visit Kominato’s classroom?”

“Y-yeah. It’s this way.” Sawamura pointed down the hall and they resumed walking in that direction.

Though the noise and energy of the students around them continued, the silence between them grew thick. Kazuya wasn’t quite sure how to approach the situation. Should he brush it off like it was nothing, or completely forget about it all together? And again, why was he so concerned?

Kazuya suddenly felt something nudge his arm, bringing him back to reality. He looked at his elbow, but figured he must’ve been imagining things when he saw nothing wrong. A second nudge prompted him to look again, and he realized they were coming from Sawamura.

Sawamura didn’t say anything, only gave Kazuya a look. Being battery mates for so long, Kazuya became accustomed to reading Sawamura’s non-verbal communication.

I’m sorry.

Kazuya raised an eyebrow.  What for?

I kind of…made it weird. Sawamura diverted his eyes, letting his shoulders droop and his head downcast.

Kazuya hated to see Sawamura like that and gave him an ever so gentle nudge back. Don’t worry about it.

Sawamura peeked at Kazuya through the side of his eye. Really?

Kazuya shrugged. Wouldn’t be the first time you did something weird.

Sawamura’s cheeks flushed red as he shoved Kazuya. He didn’t put much force into it, but it was enough to make Kazuya fumble a little with his steps.

Kazuya chuckled at Sawamura’s antics, knowing that Sawamura wasn’t as hurt as he seemed. Eventually, Kazuya could hear Sawamura quietly laughing along with him. He smiled at Sawamura and gave him another nudge. Yeah, really. It’s okay.

Sawamura reciprocated the gesture with a soft smile of his own. But instead of a nudge, Sawamura left his arm to rest against Kazuya’s. Kazuya was surprised by the intimacy, but welcomed it all the same. He kind of…liked it.

They continued to walk shoulder-to-shoulder until they heard…

 “Miyuki-senpai! Sawamura-kun! Over here!”  

Kazuya and Sawamura turn their heads to see Toujou standing by a classroom, one hand holding up a large sign while the other beckoned for them to come over. Kariba was standing beside him, waving as well. Sawamura dashed ahead to meet with his friends, leaving Kazuya behind to catch up.

Kazuya didn’t want to admit it, but he was a little hurt by the lack of hesitation from Sawamura. He also didn’t want to admit how he almost reached out to stop Sawamura from leaving his side, how surprised he was with himself when he realized what he was about to do. Kazuya actively ignored how he missed the warmth of Sawamura’s arm against his own, and how Sawamura’s bright and cheery smile directed at other people made his chest feel funny.

Acknowledging all these things would mean acknowledging Sawamura had an affect on him. Coming to terms with that was hard, and a little bit scary. Worst of all, it would mean Kuramochi could be right and that Kazuya might actually have a…no. No, no, no. It’s not a crush. Infatuation maybe, but definitely not a crush.

“Senpai! Hurry up!” Sawamura shouted.

Kazuya shook his thoughts away and made his way over to Sawamura.

“Miyuki-senpai, let’s take a picture!” Sawamura said.

“Picture?” Kazuya questioned.

“Our class is running a photo studio for the cultural festival,” Kariba explained. “We have a bunch of props and costumes you can use to take pictures with your friends.”  

“You can trust Kominato, he’s really good with the camera,” Toujou added.

“So let’s go!” Sawamura said.

“Yeah…I think I’m good,” Kazuya responded. He had enough pictures taken for one day.

“Aw, please?” Sawamura begged.

Kazuya wanted to resist, but found it incredibly difficult to do so. Since when was he so weak to Sawamura? Probably when he started thinking Sawamura was cute…but when did that happen? “All right, but just one picture.”

Sawamura’s whole face lit up with excitement and Kazuya hated how adorable he thought it was.

“Right this way,” Toujou said as he gestured to the doorway.

Kazuya and Sawamura walked into the classroom and were surprised to see how elaborate the makeshift photo studio looked. There was a hair and makeup stations, racks of costumes, boxes of props, and a blue backdrop in front of Haruichi. A group of guys were making silly poses as the camera flashed before them.

“Whoa, this almost looks like the real thing,” Sawamura commented in awe. Kazuya had to admit, it did look quite professional.

“Hello there!” One student said as they approached the duo.

“Hello,” Kazuya replied. “How much are the photos?”

“You can get 1 photo for 200 yen, 500 yen for 3, or 600 yen for 6.”

“Could we just get 1 picture, please?”

“Certainly. Would you like to try on some costumes?”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary,” Kazuya replied.

“What are you talking about, Miyuki Kazuya?” Sawamura exclaimed. “Of course we have to put on a costume!”

“We can just take a normal photo.”

“We can NOT ‘just take a normal photo’. Where’s the fun in that?” Sawamura linked his arm around Kazuya’s and began to drag him towards the racks of clothes. “Come on, we’re going to find really cool ones!”

“H-hey, I don’t…” Kazuya tried to protest, but to no avail. Sawamura was already sifting through the costumes, trying to find the ones he liked the best. Kazuya sighed and began to look at the costumes as well, but was doubtful of finding something he would agree to. A butler’s suit? No, he already felt like a butler all weekend. A vampire? Yeah, no. He wasn’t too keen about wearing a cape.

Kazuya went through an entire rack of costumes, each one worse than the one before. He made a silent prayer that Sawamura wouldn’t make him wear any of these. He looked to his side expecting Sawamura to be there only to find that Sawamura had stopped moving in the middle of his rack.

Kazuya approached Sawamura and saw Sawamura’s eye sparkling at one particular costume. Kazuya took one look at the costume and knew exactly why Sawamura was so enamored by it. You could only see the back, but Kazuya could tell it was a Yomiuri Giants baseball jersey. A big number 14 was centrally located on the jersey, but the most important detail was the word ‘SAWAMURA’ written in capital letters above the number.

“It’s like it was made for me,” Sawamura whispered, his eyes wide in amazement.

“It’s the jersey for Sawamura Eiji,” Kazuya explained. “He was the pitcher. The ace even.”

“Really?!” Sawamura’s head whipped over to Kazuya so fast, Kazuya thought Sawamura might’ve hurt himself.

“Yeah really. He was so good as a player, he retired the number 14.”

Sawamura’s jaw dropped in bewilderment and turned to look at the jersey again. “I have to wear it.”

“I mean, do you have to?” Kazuya asked.

“Yes!” Sawamura quickly replied. “And look! There’s another jersey here. So we can match!”

Kazuya looked at the jersey Sawamura was pointing to and saw another Yomiuri Giants jersey. This one had the number 10 and ‘ABE’ written on the back.

“You told me Abe Shinnosuke-san is a catcher, right?” Sawamura asked.

Kazuya nodded in reply.

“Isn’t he the captain as well?”

Kazuya nodded again.

“See? It’s perfect then! An amazing pitcher and catcher, just like us!” Sawamura exclaimed. His enthusiasm and excitement were so blinding that Kazuya forgot how to say no.

The two boys donned the jerseys and found the matching baseball caps in a prop box to finish their ensemble. They walked in front of the blue screen and turned to face the camera.

“Hello Miyuki-senpai, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi said.

“Hey Harucchi!” Sawamura replied.

“I see you’ve found the baseball jerseys,” Haruchi said, gesturing to their outfits.

“Yeah! Where did you find these?” Sawamura asked.

“I brought them from home,” Haruichi answered. “My dad is a big fan and so I asked if I could borrow them. I figured there would be some baseball fans who’d want to wear them.”

“Nice going, Harucchi!” Sawamura complimented, giving his friend a big thumbs up.

Haruichi chuckled. “You’re welcome Eijun-kun. So, how many pictures would you like?”

“Just one is fine,” Kazuya said.

Haruichi nodded. “Just let me know whenever you’re ready.”

Sawamura quickly threw his arm around Kazuya’s waist. “Ready!”

Kazuya wasn’t sure he should do, but eventually let his arm settle around Sawamura’s shoulder. “Ready.”

“Okay, I’m going to take the picture on the count of 3,” Haruichi said as he positioned himself.

“Hey, Sawamura?” Kazuya whispered.

“1…”

“Yeah?” Sawamura whispered back.

“2…”

“Thanks for taking me out. I had a great time,” Kazuya replied.

“3!”

Click!

Haruichi caught the picture as it came out the front of the camera. “All done,” he announced.

“Huh?” Sawamura said confusedly.  

“This camera is a polaroid. That means the picture develops right after you take it,” Haruichi explained. “So, who wants to keep the photo?”

“Sawamura can have it,” Kazuya answered as he took off the costume. He gave it to the student waiting on the side.

“Really? Are you sure?” Sawamura questioned as he began to take off his outfit as well.

“Yeah, you’re the one who wanted to do this, right? So you should keep it.”

Sawamura smiled brightly. “Thank you, Miyuki-senpai.”

Kazuya smiled back. “Don’t mention it,” he replied as he walked to the front of the classroom to pay for their photo.

…

“Here you are, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi said as he handed the photograph to Eijun.

“Thanks, Harucchi.” Eijun looked down at the photo and was surprised with the results.

Haruichi had zoomed in so only their upper body was showing. Miyuki’s playful charm was captured in the picture, with his all too knowing smirk and his angled baseball cap. Eijun on the other hand, wasn’t even looking at the camera. He had a gentle smile while staring at Miyuki.

Eijun realized the camera shutter must’ve went off when Miyuki was whispering to him. He never expected Miyuki to thank him, or even say something so nice. But Eijun was glad he heard it.

“Now I have a good luck charm too,” Eijun whispered as he smiled at the photo.

“What was that?” Haruichi asked.

“Nothing, it was just something I heard Miyuki-senpai say before,” Eijun replied as he slipped the picture into his pocket.

“Sawamura, hurry up or I’ll leave you behind,” Miyuki called out as he exited the classroom.

“Coming,” Eijun called back. “Thanks again, Harucchi,” he said before lightly jogging after Miyuki.

“What took you so long?” Miyuki inquired once Eijun caught up to him.

“Just admiring the good job Harucchi did,” Eijun explained.

“Is it really that good?” Miyuki asked. “Let me see it.”

“No,” Eijun rejected.

“What? Why not?”

“If you wanted to see it, maybe you should’ve said you’d keep it,” Eijun cheekily responded.

Miyuki looked appalled, but it quickly changed to a playful smile. “You little brat,” he said as he locked an arm around Eijun’s neck and began to ruffle up Eijun’s hair.

“Hey, cut it out,” Eijun said through laughs, trying to get out of Miyuki’s hold.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Miyuki said.

“What if you make me lose all my brain cells and then I can’t pitch?”

“Do you even have any up here?”

“Hey!” Eijun shouted.

Miyuki laughed. “If that happens, I’ll take responsibility.”

“Then you have to promise to catch for me every single day until I die!” Eijun negotiated.

Miyuki’s grip on Eijun loosened as Miyuki started to laugh again. “Aren’t I already doing that?” Miyuki continued to laugh, seeming to have forgotten all about the photo.

Eijun stopped trying to escape Miyuki’s arm and smiled at Miyuki instead. He liked it a lot when Miyuki genuinely smiled; it was a rare and beautiful sight. It made his face feel warm and his heart beat fast, but he made a mental note to not say anything until Miyuki’s feelings were the same as his.

Hurry up and say you like me too.  

A Few Thoughts

First: If you’re here for more of Inktober or Writetober soundbites: they’re coming.  This past month has been horrifically chaotic and I haven’t been near a computer.  Pain meds make my head loopy and stringing words together that aren’t this is a bit too hard still.  I’ll post some tomorrow or the day after, hopefully.

Please allow me to take a few minutes of your time on this day after National Coming Out Day. It has taken me until now to really put my feelings into words my feelings surrounding this day.  Please excuse me if this seems a bit train-of-thought, but I feel like if I let myself edit it too much I won’t be able to communicate the struggles (and joys) that have come with being part of the LGBT+ community and similarly, staying part of a church. To begin: To all my LGBTQ+ friends who feel unsafe in partaking in this day, I love you, and please stay safe.  If you ever want to talk away from people, I’m here and I’m all ears.

For those of you who don't already know, I'm bisexual.  I'm a bisexual Asexual.  I'm married to the beautiful Tiffany, and I'm happy.   I've known since I was young that I didn't just like boys.  Growing up in the Christian bubble like I did, I never said anything until I was in college.  At University of Cincinnati, I met this boy who was very kind and open.  We talked about everything, and I finally admitted to feelings both ways.  It was absolutely freeing.  I had a safe space with that small group of friends who didn't judge me for my sexuality. I spent six years in that relationship and I feel like those who surrounded me at the time with love helped me to this day understand myself. I'm not going into how I've come to terms as Ace, but know it wasn't until last year that I finally stopped feeling absolutely broken and that something was wrong with me (thanks to a small app called Tik Tok where people get strangely open about these things). Near the end of my relationship, I was part of a children's camp for inner city youth to help bridge the gaps in summer reading.  That was when I met Tiffany.  Tiffany had a son and was assigned to assist in my room at the camp.  I swore up and down she was older than I was (she had a kid, my brain was like "I don't have a kid therefore she must be older), and it was solidified by the fact she's a wee bit more mature.  I just chalked it up to life experience.  It wasn't until later that year I realized she was four years younger.  She and I became fast friends (once we started talking) and stayed friends over the school year.  When my trip to Israel came about, I spoke to her almost as much as my boyfriend at the time. Shortly before Christmas, I broke things off with my boyfriend of six blissful years.  I had grown a lot in that relationship, and I'm still so happy I found both him and his group of friends. I stayed at college and spoke exclusively to about two people back home in Cincinnati.  Tiffany was one of them.  When I left Asbury and got a job at home in Cincinnati, I started spending more and more time at Tiff's house instead of going home.  By February of that year, I just stopped going back to my parents altogether and basically moved in.  By April that year, we started dating.

Yeah.  April.  She and I are coming up on six years together.  Surprise!

At the same time, I was still working at my church with the children.  I honestly felt like I was living a lie - coming home to a same sex relationship but working in a house of God.  It was a toxic situation since I was hearing from a few sides that there were people that I was working under were strongly against the inclusion of LGBT+ community within the church.  I was terrified of anyone finding out so I didn’t talk about it and eventually stepped away from my position and left the church for a lengthy period of time (I have still been attending a church in my neighborhood, don’t get me wrong!)  Honestly, I’ve still found it hard to return just from some of the toxic tales of people (even though some of them are no longer there).  

If you’re wondering what getting together with Tiffany was like and what led me to realize I liked her?  That’s a funny story.  I didn’t know I was crushing on her at the time.  It was one late night drive that I finally realized.  She was telling me about a new crush she had without using names, and I felt my heard drop into my stomach.  I HAD NO IDEA UNTIL THEN I LIKED HER TOO, Y’ALL.  Love is weird.  Love is strange.  But we fit together so well.

A few weeks later, I got a random text from her telling me that the person she was crushing on was me.  I felt elated.  We proceeded to start dating a few weeks later.

Fun Fact: I broke up with Tiffany a month before Christmas a few years ago.  I moved out, and into my own apartment (those of you who remember the apartment, I broke up with her a week before I officially moved in there).  I ended up staying there maybe two weeks over the year my brother and I co-owned that apartment.  I felt strange when I moved out though.  I was incomplete, I was sad, and I hated having Tiff by my side.

I couldn’t live my life without her suddenly.

So come Christmas, I bought a necklace and a teddy bear and asked her to marry me.  (Forget just getting back together.  I went straight to “Will you marry me?”)  Obviously, she said yes.

We got married a little less than six months later.

I guess what I’ve been trying to say is being part of this community has it’s highs and lows.  I’ve found a soulmate who I can’t live without.  I’ve found love and I’ve found I’m not broken.

However, I have seen some horrific discrimination and judgements within the community itself and outside.

If you take nothing else from this tale, then please understand this: It is not a choice.  Love is Love, and love who you were meant to love.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  I love you all!  (And you’re all safe here on this blog.)

Inktober for Writers/Fictober:

Day 14- Haunted (Darejones)

So I’m still behind, and later than I meant to be. I’m going to stop saying I’m hoping to catch up, because I continue to jinx myself with that. Eventually I will, but until then, please enjoy yesterday’s prompt. General enough to fit with my other stuff, and takes place right before they’re together, just as she’s finally getting over her denial about how well they fit together. Prompts here, just in case, and links to previous days at the bottom. Thanks for reading, everyone. I appreciate you all!

Oh, and just to be safe- Tw: for mentions of her time with Kilgrave and descriptions of her PTSD symptoms and experiences, including almost having a panic attack.

Day 14- Haunted

She’s still not sure why she called him, specifically. She could try to make an excuse, to explain it away by pretending she didn’t have any other options. She could say that it was because she was sure that Trish was busy with a work function- but that’s a fucking lie, and she knows it. She could say that it’s because Malcolm was out of town, visiting his family (but it’s not like she would have told him anyway, unless he had miraculously showed up at her door in the midst of everything). Or, she could say that it was an accident or that she butt-dialed him in the world’s strangest coincidence, but that thought is barely even worth the effort it takes to think it for how ridiculous it is. Eventually she’ll have to face the fact that she intentionally chose to call him because she wanted to. But that day is not today, if only for the fact that she’s still reeling from the flashback. And all because of that god-forsaken perfume.

J’adore by Dior.

In all her life, she doesn’t think she’s ever hated an inanimate object as much as she hates that fucking perfume. And it’s a shame, really, because it is a fairly pleasant scent in and of itself. But she will never be able to smell it and not be reminded of the worst year of her life- being a slave to that bastard’s every whim, being violated in every conceivable way, being a shell of her former self and being helpless to do anything about it. It’s just another thing that has been ruined for her by him, one more example of the way his influence lingers in her life, haunting her relentlessly. And all because the entire time he kept her captive, he made her wear that perfume every goddamn day.

But never again.

Unfortunately though, the rest of the world hasn’t received the memo about never using the perfume again, to her continual dismay. And so, there are days like today, which she can never prepare for or predict, when she’ll encounter it accidentally. It’s usually a day that starts out fairly well, lulling her into a false sense of security and complacency while she’s just trying to live her life… until she catches the scent of it on someone else. And it could be anyone. A passer-by on the street, someone in Hogarth’s lobby, or in this case (and in the worst scenario yet) a client coming in to try to hire her. And her reaction is always the same as time stops and her world descends into chaos.

First, her composure melts as her pulse skyrockets, her breathing shallows, and her temperature spikes. And then her lungs start to feel too big for her chest, as panic creeps up her spine from the pool of dread collecting in her stomach, until it crawls around her ribcage and constricts around her organs. Then, the walls start to implode, seeming to close in and trap her with no way out. And at this point, it’s all she can do to focus on the rhythm of her breathing as she recites a familiar and calming, if ridiculous, mantra.

Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. Main Street. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane.

It’s enough to keep her mind from unspooling entirely into a never-ending stream of flashbacks, but it’s a close thing, just like it always is.

Today, though? Today it goes a little differently after that. Because today, the first thought she has after she finishes with the mantra is of Matt.

Matt, who makes her laugh. Matt who makes her smile. Matt who seems to understand her more than he has any right to. Matt who anchors her like no one ever has, even if she can’t explain why.

All she knows is that she needs to speak with him.

She dials before she even realizes she has her phone in hand. He answers on the second ring, and the amount of tension that drains from her body at the sound of his voice would be surprising if she wasn’t so relieved. And somehow the words come out without any coaxing or thought, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hello?”

“Murdock, you home?” She tries as hard as she can to keep her voice flat, to keep from letting any emotion creep into her voice. But part of her still worries that he can hear it anyway, even over the phone.

“Hey, Jess. Yeah, I’m home. What’s up?”

She covers the receiver for the amount of time it takes to blow out a steadying breath. “Just suddenly got the urge to pop open that bottle of Macallan you got me. But for once, I don’t want to drink alone.”

“Wow, okay. Rough day?” She can hear how concerned he sounds, and it makes her want to hang up and burrow a tunnel underground. Or at the very least, rescind her offer. But instead, she just lets a threatening edge into her voice to keep him from asking more questions.

“Look, I don’t want to talk. I just want to drink. If you can’t handle that, I’ll just have to drink alone.”

He’s quick to respond, trying to reassure her and calm her with his softest voice. “No, it’s fine. I can handle that. If it’s what you really want.”

She nods once to herself because she thinks she can handle this, so long as she just doesn’t say anything to him about what happened. “Good. I’m on my way. See you in 20.”

She wastes no time gathering her things and books it to his apartment. But she can’t help but think about everything on her way over, turning replaying the memory of his reaction and the interest he had shown in trying to help her.

And it’s strange because, by the time she’s there on his couch, with him pouring them both a glass of some very nice whiskey from where he sits across the coffee table from her, a part of her actually wants to say something. To offer some kind of explanation of what happened to him. But more importantly, to let it out. To let go of these painful, poisonous memories that continue to haunt her and follow her around by speaking them aloud and stripping them of the shame they create for every second she remains silent. Because she doesn’t need to be ashamed of anything that happened as a result of that son of a bitch’s influence on her. And something about the look Matt gives her helps her remember that.

So when the silence lingers for a moment, and she hears him shifting in his seat- likely as a result of the effort it requires for him to remain silent- she makes a decision. And she takes a gamble that she prays doesn’t backfire spectacularly. She opens her mouth for the third time tonight, surprised by the things that come out, but relieved at the same time.

“… So, uh, you probably already figured it out, but… Something happened earlier. Something that reminded me of him, and I freaked out a little bit. That’s why I wanted to come here. Because it’s harder when I’m by myself.”

Up until this point, she has been staring at the floor, afraid to look up and see whatever emotion might be written all over his face. But finally she does. And the genuine concern and acceptance that she sees there steals her breath. Thankfully, he talks next so she doesn’t have to.

“Jess, thank you for telling me that. I can imagine how difficult it was for you, but I do hope you know that I’m always willing to listen to whatever you’re willing to say. About this or whatever else.”

His words don’t do much to help her regain her breath. But she can’t help but believe what he’s telling her, with every fiber of her being. And that makes her happier and calmer than just about anything. So, with another drink of her whiskey, she opens her mouth to try to share something else. To shed light on another one of the awful truths she has been carrying on her own, for longer than she’d like to admit. And it’s unexpected and terrifying, but also exhilarating. Because she thinks she’s finally found someone to help her banish her demons and bury her ghosts. All she has to do is just talk. And for the first time she can remember, that doesn’t feel like an impossible task. As long as she’s talking to Matt.

Day 13 | Day 15

As uncomfortable as it is making art and putting yourself on display, in order to grow and improve as an artist you have to start getting familiar with that feeling. The mix of chemicals and neurons firing you experience when having awkward conversations with that girl/guy you like, before going on stage, or trying to draw something you are uncomfortable with is often described as fear or nervousness, but I’ve been trying to look at those moments when you can feel your blood pulsing through your body with a new lens. I think that feeling is actually the feeling of excitement which through social conditioning has been transformed into that of anxiousness. I think deep down people are excited to be talking to that person, performing, or learning different ways to approach art.

One thing that’s not hard for me to do,  because of my terrible self esteem, is admitting that my art is bad or needs improvement. . . actually it’s much harder for me to accept a compliment about my work then anything else. Which is also bad, because if you deny someone’s compliment it’s like telling them subconsciously that their point of view doesn’t matter, don’t devalue them just smile and say thank you. Although I do wish they would stop using the “It’s better then I could do” seriously stop saying that to your friends who do art because that doesn’t make us feel better. Back to the main point! I know I needed to improve my digital art skills, but I had no idea how to go about doing it. There are a lot of resources online that are available, but the problem was there was just so much free information out there that I had almost drowned in it. I stumbled across this website called https://www.ctrlpaint.com/ which seemed to have everything in a nice organized fashion, had a plethora of free content, and I liked the way Matt Kohr presented both his philosophy and lessons.

I began plugging my way through the lessons one step at time. Although I had taken art classes in college, I figured that like in League of Legends, Fighting Games, Basketball, and now art fundamentals are extremely important and it can never hurt to refresh and sharpen those tools. So I started from step one and worked my way through the Digital Painting 101, Traditional Drawing, And Most of the Drawing 2 segments until I reached this challenge called When In Doubt, Draw 100.  Before I watched it I thought one hundred is a pretty large number, I mean I tried to do Inktober and a thirty day original character drawing challenge and I couldn’t even manage to do those, there is no way I could manage to draw one hundred of something I’m uncomfortable illustrating.

As if the challenge itself wasn’t hard enough, I had trouble even getting started on it. What should I draw? How many drawings a day should I try to do? What medium should I use when illustrating? Were all questions were allowed me to procrastinate and satisfy the instant gratification monkey in my head with some League of Legends. It took me a couple days browsing twitter and looking at amazing art to become honest with myself and say that it doesn’t matter what I draw because I’m so bad at everything the improvement alone will be worth it. But two areas I know that every artist struggles with, even my better peers on the social networks, are hands and feet. I mean just look at some of my earlier work

The feet and legs are more like blobs and the hands are pretty much mittens, both needed to be improved, but I decided to go with drawing feet first.

And I know what you’re thinking eww feet gross, people find feet gross, and repulsive for some reason? Maybe because you walk on them all day and they are close to the ground? I  don’t know, but I’ve been looking at feet my whole life. . . my view of the world is often looking down at the ground. Most people will look at other people’s faces when communicating, which is something I’m trying to do now, but my whole life I’ve had terrible self esteem and probably some form of depression so I’ve gone through it avoiding eye contact. The easiest way to avoid eye contact and not run into everything and everything is to look down at the ground. This way you can still see where people are going and where objects are in the world. If you do make it out into a more open area looking up at the sky isn’t a bad option either, but your neck would get tired after a while of stargazing.

They say a lot of information is conveyed through the window to the soul, the beautiful eyes human beings, and that probably  is true, but for me I got my information by looking everywhere, but people’s faces. Which mostly was their feet. Which can convey feelings all by themselves. You can tell by the motions of legs and feet whether someone is excited, proud, or tired by the way they walk or tap their feet nervously during the middle of class. Even the type of shoes they wear can tell you a little about their personality. For girls you can tell who the pampered rich ones are by how often their toenails are perfectly painted or if they are chipping. I remember a  girl I was crushing on in highschool got a pair of fresh new white vans. . . still my favorite pair of shoes to this day. All the super liberal art theater kids wore toms. . . to help the world out or something. But yes feet can tell you a lot about a character, I think a big influence on me is my favorite animation studio Kyoani, where one of the animation directors Naoko Yamada uses images of feet and legs to describe human relationships and interactions on a regular basis.

Legs and feet can be cute,  should  be able to describe the whole character,  even actions and motion are able to be extrapolated by through the feet by are posed,  or be fetishised(but I mean what can’t now a days am I right?), but you have to be able to illustrate them well for that to happen. Some of my favorite illustrators and animators can draw characters performing a variety of actions and because they can draw feet well the characters appear grounded and real. Even actions such as falling and being weightless have the feet react in some way shape or form.

This drawing challenge began six months ago in march of 2017 I had begun this challenge thinking  I’ll be able to knock this out in 10 days if I draw 10 feet a day. Which doesn’t sound to hard and in a perfect world that might have happened. These are probably just excuses but it was a combination of school, waning motivation, frustration, and laziness that I hadn’t finished as fast that I had wanted to. The challenge also started out being a way for me to learn to digitally sketch better, and probably woulda paid off too if I stuck with using my wacom or my surface pen to do the drawings. One drawing was even in color, which I don’t know why I decided to draw that one in color? I think it had a pretty night background, that I couldn’t execute well because it was wet pavement and streetlights.

I used a variety of sources for the feet in this set here, some from anime still frames, twitter drawings, League of Legends fan arts, and even some pictures of real life subjects.It took another four months before I started to make more drawings towards the study, but eventually I decided to start doing them in my sketchbook, because there are so many extra steps involved when drawing in a program that my procrastinating self couldn’t be bothered to deal with. First of all as much as I love my Surface Pro, the battery life is not ideal, the pen has a battery that runs out, and I don’t think my version of the surface is powerful enough to draw at the resolutions I like to illustrate digitally at. The only program I have for illustrating on my surface is manga studio, which isn’t bad because one of my favorite artists redjuice999 uses it, but it is different than what I am used to. Also when drawing on the go, which I do a lot now, you have to create a new folder, file, choose the resolution/document size, save it then find it again. It was a hassle to say the least so with an investment of  a little under 10 dollars I saved myself all those extra steps and got a new sketchbook and some mechanical pencils because no sharpening pls. Another reason that I stopped drawing was I was just getting too frustrated with drawing things I’m not comfortable with, not getting anything out of LoL streaming, my art and music had netted nothing for all the work put in, I really was just frustrated with life and started hated everything I was and was doing.

When I picked it up again four months later I started looking at comic books I enjoyed, both american and Japanese artists I admired I looked at more closely. The two main ones being Pokan8 illustrator of the Yahari Ore No Seishun Love Come Wa Machigattiru and Hiro Illustrator of Akebi Chan’s Sailor Uniform. I did look at the illustrations of an hero I could not read being as the whole page was in Japanese, but it was a random stroke of luck that I found his image on Pinterest. An interesting thing happened to me a third of the way through the drawing challenge. At about the mid thirtyish drawing I found myself enjoying the process and having fun drawing feet. This really showed I think in the 30-40 drawings of the “Gothic Loli” shoes as they were called. I don’t know why but those ones turned out really good I think? Maybe I liked Rem more than I thought and no I’m not a Lolicon those were literally what the page called the shoes. During the later 25 Drawings I found myself frustrated again I thought it was because the overall proportion and drawings seemed to be off, but that wasn’t it. Looking at the drawings the overall shape is pretty good, but upon retrospection I had realized that I was getting angry at the smaller details of the foot that I had completely brushed off before. All the small curves and nooks of the feet were becoming something I was aware of at those moments, and because my mind couldn’t wrap my head around some of the most subtle curves I was frustrated again.

I drew some feet even without photo reference, but looking at people as they passed by downtown on the street. Something that would have been not possible for me doing this challenge I was able to take a quick glance at pedestrians walking and make a quick sketch of the shoes they were wearing. I tried to do some without any reference at all, but they turned out super bad so I stuffed that Idea real quick. My later drawings I tried to look for more challenging angles, and gave more attention to clean linework and putting down darker lines where I wanted and I think that shows. The lines are less chicken scratchy than the previous drawings. I’m glad that my final drawing in the challenge had a tiny bit of shared joy as I had a viewer on my stream while completing the final piece. Thanks Zukeyni!!

For some reason I felt when i completed this challenge I would be able to draw feet with no reference easily and that I would feel like a better artist. Like completing this would give me a noticeable stat in some sort of rpg, but sadly that didn’t happen. I think that I would still need a lot of reference to draw a foot that would count as passable to my current standards. But I did improve!! Maybe? I don’t know you be the judge. To get more value out of this drawing challenge I think next time I would include more more shots from movies, challenging obscure angles, and action poses where people are in motion. As feet change when people are doing things like in one of the drawings up there I used a drawing of Akebi’s Little sister Kao chan throwing a paper airplane, and because Hiro is a good artist he captures the excitement of a kid throwing a paper airplane all the way down to her cute sneakers with little birds on them.

What I learned: I could’ve got this done much faster, you get faster as you go, take it one step at a time, lastly I still have a long way to go!

The next challenge I will do is drawing 100 hands, but I will wait until doing some other art tutorials on CtrlPaint before doing another one of these tasking, but rewarding challenges.

  Thanks to my stream that Supports me mentally during my fiascos.

SpectralFire, Derpiestder, Lord_Vath, and DirgeofRuin,

P.S. I think They all have secret foot fetishes . . . they watched the entire time.

The Draw 100 Art Challenge Feet As uncomfortable as it is making art and putting yourself on display, in order to grow and improve as an artist you have to start getting familiar with that feeling.