#Anyways this is the last page of my school sketchbook and I was feeling sentimental

[pangolinsandnewts]

A zombie, a ghost, and an oni walk into a bar...

(pspspsps you wanna reblog my art you wanna reblog my art so bad)

[ask-the-sinclair-brothers]

11! Special memory for any of yall, im feeling particularly sentimental today

Well back when we were kids momma would use Bo's face as a base for my wax masks so I could go out in public with them without everyone staring at me, or talking behind my back. However we couldn't stay out for long if it was a very hot day.

So when Bo and I were in 3rd grade there was this kid Randy Wellington being just your typical bully. He always seemed to have to take out his anger on me. Since it was a hot day I had to stay inside and couldn't play with the others. Randy saw this and thought it was the perfect time to stay behind and pick on me, he stole my lil sketchbook that I got from momma and started tearing the pages out.

And I couldn't stop him because he was two inches taller than me, but before I knew it Bo saw what was happening and punched him straight on right in the nose. So hard that he knocked him over to scare him, and he didn't put his hands on me for the rest of our elementary school time.

` Vinny

Well I gotta say senior prom I guess? There was this girl called Darlene Smith that I had a crush on, however she was a sophmore and I a senior. Oh and she was a tiny 5'5 but damn if you pissed her of she could take ya down. Darlene worked with my mom on the clothing for her wax sculptures.

But anyways she didn't had plans to go to prom, her parent's didn't like me, so they where trying to convince her not to go with me or buy a dress at all. This was still when mom was alive and next to making wax sculptures mom made the clothing at all. So I busted my ass of for the past 4 months before the prom to try convince her to go with me. And she caved in 2 weeks before prom but she didn't had a dress.

That's when my mom stepped in, the saint that she was and she made Darlene a custom dress that just fitted her so I could take her to prom. Come promight and our school decided to host it in a hotel in a town over because Ambrose was tiny as heck. So in the middle of the road my damn truck broke down and I thought. Yep dates ruined, but Darlene didn't care. We decided to walk the last few miles to the prom but ofcourse I didn't let a pretty lady walk all these miles in her dress ruining her look. So I carried her all the way to the prom, by the time we got there at the venue I was a bit worn off. And we just sat a bit and talked and I thought I had ruined the night, untill she just leaned in to kiss me and well let's just say we had something other on our minds then dancing at that moment, and a certain supply closet was locked for a while.

~ Bo

Well before we got our current dog we had a dalmatian named Bella. I remember this all vividly because Dad took me with him when we picked her up from the shelter. I was about 5 and scared shitless of dogs, but dad just decided "Aye Lester get over it for fucks sake." So he took a 5 year old scared Lester to the dog shelter and I don't even remember how many dog were there.

And at one some point, my ass got so scared because a dog barked that I decided to run like my life depended on it. Not realizing I was seperated from dad. I cried my eyes out and was scared because youknow I was a 5 year old lil' shit. Untill I felt something licking my hand and there was a tiny dalmatian dog looking at me and giving me cups. She was calm and grabbed me by the shirt and somehow got me back to my dad. Who was pissed at me, but when he saw the dog he decided. Well atleast I got a dog that doesn't wanna eat my kid. And that's how we got our first dog Bella.

~ Les

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Chapter 7: A Sentimental Journey

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,095

Warnings: None? I mean probably swearing but this is straight fluff

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​ @boredoomfm​ @voidnarnia​ @anonymousonion33 @the-passionate-freak​

“Steve, take me to prom,” Steve nearly shot milk out of his nose. He’d spent the morning counting down the hours till school was over. The final essay for crabby old Lawrence was due in less than a week and you still hadn’t handed over his essay for his final rewrite, which wasn’t a problem, he could just wait until he was back in your bedroom. Steve liked your house a lot more than his. He liked your grandparents, especially Maude who’d sit him on the couch and show him photos from your childhood. He liked your bedroom and digging through your sketchbooks, he liked how comfortable you were in your own space. Samantha would sometimes join the pair of you there, eating popcorn and playing her 48s on your dusty Mickey Mouse record player. But most of the time it was the pair of you alone, working on assignments and swapping stories. He’d forgotten about Vicki entirely, he’d only joined Tommy for lunch after he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over.

“What?” he sputtered, swallowing hard. The whole table was watching him carefully. Vicki merely shrugged, batting her eyelashes at him. Steve’s stomach soured. It wasn’t as if Vicki wasn’t an attractive person, she was very pretty, but only on the outside. He didn’t really have it in him to stomach another night with her.

“I…I kind of have my eye on someone else, Vicks.” Steve watched as she deflated, looking down at her untouched kernel corn. “Besides, Hargrove’s probably itching to take you anyway.”

That was the wrong answer. Vicki immediately burst into tears, pushing away from the table. Carol rushed to console her, Tina taking up the rear. “They broke up last week, jackass.” She bit out, flipping Steve off angrily as she followed behind the crying Vicki.

Steve stood from the table, heading away from the mess he made. He didn’t want to hang out with Tommy anyway, especially with him glaring him down from across the table. He didn’t get why it mattered so much to Tommy that he do things the way he wanted. Dating Vicki didn’t make him more or less popular. It literally didn’t matter. They were going to graduate soon anyway.

Samantha grinned as she caught Steve walking over. “Harrington, twelve o’clock.” She whispered. You didn’t look up from your pad. The light had caught his hair right and you wanted to finish your shading before you lost the image in your mind. You heard Steve pull out the chair next to you and then your pad was tugged away.

“Hey!” you cried, your charcoal making a wide black streak down the page, effectively ruining the drawing.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” he held the sketchpad in front of him and then next to his face. Samantha chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Well, it was going to be till you ruined it.” You grumbled, snatching the pad back .

“That looks nothing like me!” Steve laughed loudly. In truth, he thought the man in the picture was too symmetrical and handsome to be him.

“On what planet?” Samantha scoffed, pulling her butterscotch pudding cup away from Steve’s greedy hands. He was a notorious pudding thief, and food thief in general, much to her annoyance and surprise.

“I get the best of everyone’s features…” you muttered, working on removing the mark he’d made “Not that there’s much to discard from you…”

“You missed the scar on my nose.” He replied with a shrug, grabbing your vanilla pudding. You both knew that you wouldn’t eat it.

You looked up “What scar?” Steve pointed to the bridge of his nose. You inched closer, getting a better view of the mark. Steve held his breath, utterly paralyzed. He felt like such a doofus. He was usually so smooth with girls, but you made him utterly tongue tied.

“Hm, yeah you do.” You pulled your face back, turning back to your pad, adding a thin line to the strong bridge of his nose. “How’d you get that?”

“Got hit in the face with a baseball bat in pee-wee t-ball.” Steve admitted. The participation trophy he had was from that game, his father took him out of the sport after getting hit. His whole team won the season, but because he didn’t play he got a tiny trophy from the league as a consolation prize.

“Seriously?” You and Samantha said in unison.

“Yeah, I made the paper and everything.” That was a point of pride for Steve, he had the clipping somewhere in his room. You and Samantha laughed at his cockiness. The image of elementary aged Steve with a huge gash down his nose and a toothless grin, holding up a dinky little trophy for the poor, underpaid reporter taking down the story.

The bell signalling the end of lunch blared over head and the three of you rushed to collect your things. Steve grabbed your tray, waiting for you to pack up your things. Samantha left without you, bidding her goodbyes to the pair of you.

Steve reached out to touch your elbow lightly, drawing your attention to him “We still good to hang out after school?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, we can look over your essay.” You shrugged, trying to get the electric current blazing up your nerves to settle. Your breath caught in your chest every time he touched you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you liked him. You more than liked him; you didn’t even know how to explain it. You’d say it was love but you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to feel. All you knew is that the world seemed better when he was around and it wasn’t everything seemed greyer and duller. He was summer personified. He was sunshine and summer evenings and flowers and everything beautiful. And you never used to like all that shit. But now you wanted to bask in the glow of the sun that was Steve Harrington.

The hours till the bell always ticked slower and slower after lunch. The individual grains of sand cascaded past your eyelids as you zoned out in your other classes. When the final bell rang, the pair of you rushed from opposite sides of the school to meet in the middle. Samantha was walking disgustingly slow to your shared locker. “So, yeah I was going to ask Robin but I figure it might be suspicious enough to go with a girl, besides I don’t think I can snag another ticket so close to the deadline as is,” she’d been going on about whether or not she should invite her little junior paramour to the prom.

“Yeah, I mean most people already think you’re weird enough, showing up with a random junior might totally ruin you.” You sneered. Graduation was just around the corner, and Samantha’s acceptance to Wellesley was well taken care of. She was almost out of Hawkins; there was no point in trying to pretend that she was straight.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s her. She’ll still be stuck here after I leave, I don’t want to make things hard for her.” Samantha replied with a shrug, pulling her gym kit from the bottom of your locker.

“Just take my ticket. You know most of the soccer team is going anyway.” You replied, shoving her cleats into her bag. You dropped your textbooks onto the tiny top shelf and pulled your messenger bag across your body.  You spotted Steve from across the hall. He’d just left his gym class and his hair was wet and dripping on his face. He bounded over to you, grinning like a fool.

“You ready?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You ever going to dry your hair?” Samantha mused. Steve shook his head hard, water flying off his to dry it like a dog would. You and Samantha screeched, holding up your hands to hide your faces from the water.

You smacked Steve’s back “Enough!” you cried. Steve stopped immediately, laughing softly.

“I’m gone, catch you tomorrow.” Samantha waved, jogging off to probably find little Robin. You and Steve headed off towards Steve’s car. He drove the pair of you home even when you weren’t hanging out. It was nice to have a ride home, Hawkins weather wasn’t kind in spring and even in May when the weather turned warmer and the sun shone brightly, rain could still hit at any moment. That was how you rationalized making maps in your mind of Steve’s hand on the gear shift and the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to cut him off or turned too slow in the left hand turn lane. He was too beautiful. It was painful to watch him, like staring directly into the sun. You thought about kissing him more than you’d ever admit out loud. It felt like wanting to kiss the statue of David, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, too self-flagellating to even attempt. You didn’t know why you felt like his creator, but you did. You’d done nothing to build him, to mould him, and yet you left as if you knew him better than anyone else. You understood his nature, the way his mind worked.  

Steve parked in his driveway and the pair of you headed across the street to your house. Your house seemed to be a specific choice for both of you. For you, being in your own home was comfortable and safe. You knew it like the back of your hand and it felt correct to be there. A cocoon of security for you to burrow into. Recently, Steve’s mother had been home much more than a month ago. You couldn’t read his mind, but being somewhere else than his own bedroom was probably a nice change. He seemed to keep you away from his house when his mother was there.

You unlocked the front door, kicking off your shoes in the doorway and tossing them on the rack. Steve followed suite mindlessly, calling into the house “Hey, Maude! Mr. Y/L/N…” he still wasn’t certain that your grandfather liked him; he seemed at times disinterested and at others cruel and cutting.

“Nice to see you again, Steve.” Maude smiled, poking her head out of the living room to smile at the pair of you. Your grandmother liked Steve. You were certain that she’d like anyone new you brought home. She was desperate to meet any of your friends and refused to believe that she’d met them all.

You and Steve headed upstairs, taking your usual seats in your bedroom, you on your desk chair and Steve laying flat on your mattress, constantly staring up at the stars. You read back his essay to him, noting the problems you’d found. This was the third time you’d edited it and the words were well worn into both of your brains. He’d decided to write on way Heathcliff is painted as a monster within the text, a fine topic which Mr. Lawrence had suggested as one of the topic choices. His argument was that Heathcliff is painted as a monster because of his interest in a woman he’s come to find in a sisterly position in his life. Basically, incest isn’t cool. It was a hard argument to proof, because the answers weren’t in the text itself, you had to push him to find points within the spaces in between the words. You were proud of the final piece that he’d created; it was a strong case and a decent attempt at a college level essay.

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to address you fully.

“It’s good, there’s still a few sentences that need reworking and a quote that I think you could axe, but even without those edits you can still swing a solid B.” you handed the papers over to him. The pages had the least amounts of edits you’d done for him all semester. He’d really improved his writing.

“You think?” Steve replied, flipping through the pages quickly, noting the wide circle around a bit of dialogue from the fifteenth chapter. He couldn’t help but smile at the wide, bubbly ‘B+’ you’d scrawled at the top of the page. You’d drawn a little smiley face next to the grade, a small touch you’d started doing after editing his second paper, a little one pager about the thirteenth chapter of Wuthering Heights. He liked the little smiles, they made him happy whenever he saw them, they were a little touch of you on his work, a detail he refused to miss.

“Duh!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Steve stood from your bed, turning his attention to your shelf. You’d let him go through your work before, a small feat of trust for you. You didn’t usually even let Samantha go through most of your work. You’d usually choose what people could see of your work. But Steve seemed to like the strange, unfinished, or messy works hidden in binders or pads shelved. He pulled out a grey binder, labelled in masking tape ‘Hawkins’ Most Beautiful’. He held up the binder to you, raising an eyebrow. “Now, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“That was my first attempt at a portfolio, before I learned what a portfolio was.” You replied with a small length. Steve opened the binder, which you’d turned into a sort of album with plastic viewers holding sketches in place, both in black and white and colour. He recognized the first one immediately as Nancy from about a year ago, judging by her ringlet curls. It looked so much like he remembered her, but he knew the girl you’d drawn wasn’t who she really was. Steve flipped the page. He didn’t recognize some faces, strangers to him, and you hadn’t labelled them with names. You done a couple recreations of yearbook photos, he remembered signing a picture of Carol, Tina, and Vicki from the previous year, the trio grinning in Hawkins High merchandise.

“You could do a whole like show with these, they’re really cool.” He held the binder up, pages flipped to the portrait you’d done of Barbara Holland. When you’d drawn that, you hadn’t known that she’d go missing or wind up dead, she was just the girl sat across from you in the library with interesting glasses.

“I’d want to redo them first. They’re all rough drafts. I planned to redraw them, choosing to emphasize one colour for each of the drawings, but then I also planned to black out their eyes, and then I thought they were all stupid ideas.” You explained sheepishly.

“No, don’t touch them.” Steve cut in “They’re perfect the way they are.”

Steve wasn’t much of an art critic. He certainly wasn’t an objective judge. But despite logic, you blushed heavily, turning your gaze away. You wished Steve would look away but he didn’t, you felt his eyes on you. “You really don’t have to be so nice, you know…” you muttered, looking up to meet his eye with a shy smile.

“Go to prom with me?” Steve hadn’t thought about the question before he said it. The subject had been on his mind since that afternoon and when he told Vicki that he had someone else in mind for the dance. At the time he didn’t think much of the statement, now it seemed obvious who his subconscious was alluding to.

“What?” you breathed out wide eyed and confused. You hadn’t planned on going at all. Samantha wanted to go, and you’d bought tickets but when she gained interested in Robin you relinquished your ticket easily to her. She’d have more fun on a quasi-date with the junior.

“Go with me,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have a date yet do you?”

“I don’t even have a ticket…I gave it away.” you replied, looking at your feet instead of him. You felt like such a little geek. You knew Steve wasn’t laughing at you, but you still felt small.

“I have two. And I want you to go with me.” Steve said simply, reaching out and taking your hand.

“Are you sure? I mean your friends all hate me and I don’t think your status as king will be damaged if they see you with me.” You replied, shaking your head as if the statement was funny. You couldn’t imagine spending the night with Tommy and Carol, and having it go well.  You knew that it wouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be whatever you want.” Steve said easily. He just wanted you to feel comfortable and it was so obvious that you weren’t. “And I don’t care about those guys. I’ll kick their asses if they try anything.”

“Whoa, calm down, we don’t want you getting hurt.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t have to know Steve personally to know that he was not a fighter, losing to freak Jonathan Byers was not a small story in a small town. Steve laughed at his own expense. Internally, he knew he could fight when he needed to, to protect people, but he couldn’t exactly tell that story. It still scared him too much to speak of.

“So, will you?” he asked. You rubbed your lips together, unsure what the right answer was. If there even was a right answer. Your gut instinct said yes without a doubt, but your mind fought back at the notion of even humouring the idea. You’d get laughed out of the place. You’d get mocked. Steve was playing a cruel prank. He couldn’t want to be seen with you. But you met his eye and you didn’t see any malice there. His wide, expressive eyes screamed kindness and patience.

You swallowed hard, pushing away feelings of worry. “Yeah, okay…” you said softly, taking Steve’s hand again to steady yourself. Steve would protect you if he needed to. He’d promised to. And you trusted him.

“Yeah?” he asked, matching your tone.

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, almost as if to convince him as well as yourself. Steve’s face split into his wide grin and you found yourself smiling too. Despite yourself, you were a bit excited. You spent the afternoon with his hand in yours, not letting go unless you did, looking over the portraits and discussing what you saw in the faces. It was the first moment of peace your heart had found in a long time

[cloudywriter]

i never got to say i love you - 2

~~~

A/N: heyy i wanted to update vanilla pudding cups but i’ve really kinda hit a block in that story so enjoy this while i move pass my stump with the other story. also i’m working on some masterlist so navigating stories will be easier!

masterlist & AO3 

also here’s my other feysand au if you would like to check that out! -> vanilla pudding cups

~~~

As classes begin to start up Feyre finds herself adjusting well to her new schedule. Most days she has one or two classes in the morning and one or two in the afternoon. Alis almost always brings her some lunch or snacks as she spends every free moment she has in the studio. If it weren’t for Alis she’s convinced she might’ve accidentally starved to death by now. 

Honestly, Feyre hadn’t made many friends besides Alis who she had grown pretty close with. She had brief conversations with Mor in the hallways and had eventually met her roommate, Viviane, but most of the time she saw Mor outside of the dorm building she was with that group of boys from the dining hall. Yes, the same group of boys Alis still managed to bring up every other day, especially when they’d first seen Mor walking with them very comfortably. Alis was convinced Mor would be their way in. 

What Feyre had never told Alis was a week ago Mor had invited them to come play monopoly in her dorm one Friday night with said boys, Viviane, and her boyfriend, Kallias. Feyre had declined. 

Mor is always extremely sweet and a constant ray of sunshine but so much so it unnerved Feyre a bit, she could easily turn into one of those girls Feyre avoided like the plague in high school. Viviane is similar, but a bit more subdued, however Mor was completely right about her being with her boyfriend more often than not. 

At the moment Feyre was making her way back from her last class of the day to her dorm, mentally preparing herself to pull an all-nighter. She had an assignment due for her drawing class that she had been putting off for weeks until the due date had crept up on her. Therefore, Feyre now had approximately 12 hours to draw an entire portrait. Mostly she had procrastinated up until this point because she just had no idea who she wanted to draw and her options were already limited.

When she finally arrived at her dorm room, having stopped at the vending machine for snacks on the way, she pushed the door open, threw her bag on her bed, and slumped in her desk chair, letting out a loud sigh. 

She was hunched over her sketchbook feeling utterly defeated only a few hours later. The sun was beginning to set which had her hopeful, usually she did her best work in the dead of night anyway. But her fingers ached from gripping her pencil so long and she wasn’t sure she could sit up straight without an immense pain flaring in her back, even her neck and shoulders felt stiff. Not to mention, her efforts only produced a half dozen crumpled balls in the trash and a mound of eraser shreds. 

Luckily, Feyre started to get her rhythm back as the night progressed, it was dark out now the only lights coming from the city buildings surrounding the campus. Alis had yet to return which she found a little odd but it was safe to assume she was studying late in the library. 

Unluckily though, the dorm next to her, Mor’s dorm, was getting increasingly noisy with the darkening sky. The constant sound of muffled voices, laughing, and music poured through the wall. 

Feyre was about halfway done with her portrait which had turned into a drawing of Alis, it had started coming together nicely but the added distraction of all the commotion next door was throwing her off her game. She’d been debating with herself for half an hour now whether or not she should say something to Mor; she knew Mor would probably tone it down if she asked. 

At last, nearly two hours later, Feyre was at her absolute breaking point. She hadn’t made much of a dent in the rest of her sketch throughout those hours due to the ever growing disruptions. How Mor had not gotten a noise complaint yet she did not know. The music was louder, the voices went back and forward between intense bickering and cheering, and even random slamming sounds could be heard every once in a while. 

Feyre tried desperately to tune out her surroundings but just as she was finding success a loud banging on the wall followed by yelling brought her right back. She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Before her mind even processed what her body was doing Feyre found herself outside of Mor’s door knocking with intent. She heard a frenzy of shushing and the music turned down a few notches. 

The door then swung open.

“Hey, sorry - oh, you’re not the RA.”

A hulk of a man stood in the doorway dressed in a tight black t-shirt and batman pajama pants. The man flashed her a big shit-eating grin. Feyre thought there was something familiar about him.

“What brings you around here, sweetheart?” He added, leaning against the door.

That’s when the familiarity donned on Feyre. He was one of the boys from the dining hall, specifically the one who had half his hair up. She also then realized it was in fact Friday night, game night for them.

She had yet to respond to the boy but made herself look up to meet his gaze, making sure she had her best scowl on. He was quite tall.

“You look cute when you’re trying to look angry.” He smirked at her. His eyes dragged up and down her body slowly, intimately. Fuck, Feyre noticed too late she had really left her room with only a random cropped band t-shirt on, barely there baby blue shorts, mismatching socks, glasses, and her hair wrapped around itself in a ridiculously messy bun with only a chunky wool beige cardigan thrown over herself. 

“I’m not cute.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart.” He winked at her.

“Don’t call me that,” Feyre ground out.

“Sure, I can switch up pet names. What would you rather instead?” He raised his brows at her in question. 

Before Feyre could stomp on his toes Mor came up from behind him, a red solo cup in hand. “Stop bothering Feyre with your incessant flirting, you brute.”

“Feyre, you say? I don’t believe we’ve met.” He spoke, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Right.” Mor opened the door wider causing the man to stumble and shoot her a glare, Mor only giggled. Now that Feyre could see inside she noticed the small foldable table set up in the center of the room and an array of uno cards scattered across the floor. “Okay, well you’ve kinda met Cassian, he’s an ass. But this is Azriel, Rhysand, and Amren,” she spoke, indicating to each person with her hand. 

Azriel gave her a small, half smile while Amren gave her a disinterested wave of the hand. 

Rhysand, however, studied her with an intense gaze that Feyre returned. She hadn’t seen the front of his face up close until now and she could not say she was disappointed whatsoever. Gods, he was like a greek god or something. He looked as if his face and body had been expertly sculpted out of the finest marble. He had black hair that was longer on top and adorably tousled, eyes that were such a specific shade of deep blue they might appear violet in some lights, and bronzed skin. Azriel and Cassian were definitely not bad on the eyes but Rhysand was just something else in her mind. It didn’t hurt he was also wearing the batman pajama bottoms.

Feyre might’ve thought he was having a similar inner monologue to her own but the harsh reality of what she was wearing right now, her bare face, and her hair’s state had her banishing that possibility. He too seemed as if he were in a bit of a daze, studying her. 

“And this guys is Feyre. She lives next door,” Mor finished off. 

Cassian gave Rhysand’s ribs a sharp jab. Rhysand looked a bit startled at first but recovered swiftly, giving Feyre a small tilt of his head in acknowledgment. “Well, it is lovely to finally meet you, Feyre,” Cassian smiled at her. 

Feyre nodded her head, still a little distracted by Rhysand. “You too, sorry for interrupting.” 

“No, no, you’re all good. I’m really sorry were we being too loud? Were you trying to sleep?” Mor asked so sweetly and genuinely Feyre almost felt bad for coming to ask her to quiet down in the first place.

“I-I no, um, it’s alright actually. Have a good night.” Feyre stammered, turning on her heel to end this embarrassing exchange. 

She heard Mor reply with the same sentiment before disappearing back into her dorm. She closed the door and leaned her head against the solid wood. 

That was not the smoothest interaction she’s ever had, that’s for sure. 

She sat back down at her desk and stared at her work before picking up her pencil once more. It was substantially quieter now, Mor must’ve known what had bothered Feyre in the first place. 

She tried to finish her sketch of Alis but her inspiration to do so had dissipated. With that, Feyre turned to the next page, letting her mind take over as her pencil flowed across the paper. She was somewhat aware of who she was now outlining but couldn’t find it in herself to stop. When she got an idea or saw something that intrigued her she had to draw it, like an itch that wouldn’t go away until it gets scratched. 

In record time a completed portrait stared back at her, more specifically Rhysand’s stupid, perfect face stared back at her. Feyre groaned and put her head in her hands.

~~~

please leave feedback & let me know if you wanna be tagged!

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

No Romo - chapter 2

Long overdue new chapter, and it’s almost the end of Aro/Ace August already, oops! Anyway have some more of the museum kids being best friends

AO3 | 1

“I’m pretty sure Juleka’s about to get akumatized,” Nathaniel said, sitting down on the steps in front of Alix. “Rose was telling me about it. Apparently Juleka missed the class photo because she got locked in the toilets. By Chloé, of course.”

He had opened his little sketchpad on his knees and taken a pencil out from behind his ear. Alix leaned over to watch what he was drawing – now that she was part of the art club, she tended to spend a lot of time watching Nath work on his art. Not only was it helpful to learn new skills, but it was an excuse to hang out with him even more. These days she used pretty much any chance she could get to talk to him.

“What kind of akuma villain do you think she’ll be?” she asked. “Juleka’s all gothy, right? Maybe she’ll be a vampire or something.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Nath was drawing a figure outline on his sketchpad, his red fringe falling over his face as he looked down at it. “Her eyes are already red. Maybe her skin will be deathly pale, though, like a sheet. And she’ll have those vampire fangs.”

“And a cape. Vampires have capes, right?”

“I think it depends on the vampire. But yeah, I’ll give her a cape.” He added a loose triangle onto the back of the figure. “One of those big collars, too. Wait… will she sparkle? Is she one of those vampires?”

Alix shrugged. “I have no idea what her opinion is on sparkling vampires.”

Nath paused to think for a second, before shaking his head. “Nope. No sparkles. I can’t be bothered to draw them.”

He had a grin on his face now, and Alix continued to watch him draw with interest. These days he was much more open with her than he used to be, cracking jokes and encouraging her ridiculous sense of humour. She hadn’t realized quite how attached to him she had become until she found herself paying attention to him even when he wasn’t interacting with her. More outspoken now, he talked to other members of their class fairly often, and it was all too easy to let her focus rest on them, all the way on the other side of the room, than on whatever work she was supposed to be doing.

Why did she even find him so cool in the first place? She couldn’t put her finger on it. But it was undeniable – Nathaniel was absolutely, definitely, 100% the coolest kid in her class. He had to be. Why else would she be so dead-set on being best friends with him? No one else in the class was worth quite that much effort, even though they were all pretty cool too.

“What kind of powers would she have?” Nath continued, head resting on his arm as he carried on sketching. “I guess there’s always biting people, like actual vampires do, but that would be kinda, uh… weird. Hawk Moth hasn’t been giving people overly weird powers yet.”

“Well vampires don’t have reflections,” Alix suggested. “And Juleka’s got that curse thing where she doesn’t show up in photos, right? So maybe she’ll curse everyone else to have no reflections or appearances in photos, something like that.”

“Hmm. That would make sense. Though it’s not a very aggressive power, is it? It’ll take forever for Ladybug and Chat Noir to notice something like that.”

“True…”

He suddenly held up the sketchpad at her, a sunny smile on his face. “Done! What do you think?”

It was a quick little sketch, unmistakeably Juleka, but seemingly dressed more like Count Dracula. Alix nodded, smiling back. “Perfect. I bet that’s exactly what she’s gonna look like.”

“We’ll just wait and see, then…”

At that moment there were shocked gasps from others in the courtyard. Alix and Nath turned to see that an akuma villain had just landed, one that was now making an announcement, and sure enough that was Juleka’s voice echoing through the school – a crueller version, but certainly her.

And she looked nothing like a vampire whatsoever.

“Welp, we were so wrong,” Alix muttered.

“Yep.” Nath ripped out the piece of paper and scrunched it up. “So, so wrong.”

“I wasn’t expecting a giant pink clown.”

“That’s the last thing I was expecting.”

“I’m gonna say it. She looks ridiculous.”

“Hard agreed.”

“Uh, she’s zapping people, do you think we should get out of here or…?”

“Shit, yeah. See you in art club later!”

Nathaniel leapt to his feet and sped off. For a second Alix had to restrain her laughter – she’d never heard Nath swear before! He had always seemed like one of those goody-two-shoes kids who wouldn’t curse if you paid them. But evidently all he needed was to be around someone he was comfortable with. Like her.

A shot from evil Juleka zoomed past her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts. Oh yeah, akuma attack. She needed to get away. Being turned into a weird pink clown clone was not on her to-do list today.

-

-

It was much later than usual when the members of her class finally made it to art club. After Reflekta’s attack, everyone had banded together to help take a proper class photo with Juleka in it, which took up quite a lot of time. Alix didn’t mind at all, though. Juleka was a pretty cool friend too, it just seemed right to help her feel better. Or maybe Alix was just getting friendlier in general these days.

“Alix, there you are!” Nath was already sitting at the table and waving her over. She hurried to join him.

“Dude, you didn’t wait for me at the park–”

“I had to get my surprise for you ready.”

“Surprise…?”

He tapped the little sketchbook that was on the desk. “I’ve been working on a new comic idea, and I think you’ll like this one.”

A new comic? Yes! Nath’s comics these days were always fun to read, now that they weren’t just pages and pages of self-indulgent Nathanette fluff.

“Is it another superhero one?” she asked.

“No, it’s… um…” He lowered his voice. “Look, I know I’m not really good at coming up with story ideas, and so much of what I draw is all sappy and lovey-dovey and you’re not into that stuff.”

“Who cares if I’m not into it? Just draw what you want.”

“What I want is to draw something you’ll like! So here, I did this…” Nath opened the sketchbook to show her the first page. “It’s a soulmate AU, but from the point-of-view of someone who’s aromantic.”

Just hearing the words “soulmate AU” had already set Alix’s brain to fight mode, at least, until the second part of that sentence registered in her brain. An aromantic character, in a soulmate AU? Surely those things were mutually exclusive. She looked at the page to see Nath’s artwork of the aromantic protagonist, a moody-looking girl with frizzy green hair.

“In this AU,” he continued, turning the page, “people see hearts when they fall in love, and red hearts if it’s their soulmate. This character has never seen the hearts, though, and it’s highly unusual to have reached her age without seeing them even once. She wonders what’s wrong.”

There were more sketches on these pages, fit into comic-style panels with captions over the top. The moody girl was even grumpier now, her peers all swooning over invisible hearts while she looked on from the corner, unable to understand what she was missing.

“But sometimes, when she looks at people, she sees stars. She doesn’t really tell anyone. Until…”

He turned over another page. The girl was no longer moody – all of a sudden her eyes were wide in surprise, and the panel around her filled with golden sparkles.

“…one day she meets someone, and for the first time, she sees bright yellow stars. It’s never happened before. And this person sees the yellow stars too when they meet her. They’ve seen hearts before, but never stars like this.”

Sure enough, the page was covered in glittering stars. It looked like Nath had got a yellow gel pen and just gone wild with it. The girl and her new acquaintance both appeared in awe of what they were seeing, stars around them everywhere.

“And then, uh… well I haven’t thought so much about this part but I guess they make best friends forever and live happily ever after. The girl realizes she can be happy without romance and the only reason she was miserable before was because everyone else was making her feel that way. Or something. You’re the aro one, you can help me with the inner turmoil bit.” He closed the sketchbook and turned to look at her. “So, what do you think?”

What did she think? Well, considering how much she was having to internally restrain herself from just glomping him in a hug and never letting go…

“It’s awesome!” She settled for giving him a little punch on the arm instead. “Seriously, you’re really gonna make a comic about that?”

“Yeah! I really need to branch out and draw comics about characters who don’t have love interests. Well… romantic love interests, I mean. Friendship is fine.” He blushed a little. “Actually, it’s kind of for me. I was really heartbroken for a while after the Evillustrator thing, and I need to remind my brain that it’s okay to focus more on friends, than on… Marinette…”

His voice had gone rather quiet, considering that Marinette herself was in the room.

“Are you still into her?” Alix asked.

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Then you should make friends with her too.”

He blushed even more. “I’m not really good at making friends.”

“Are you sure?” Alix said, putting an arm around him. “Because you seem to be doing an awesome job at making friends with me so far. I mean, convincing me to join art club? Drawing the aro comic thing? Nerf gun battles? Dude, you are top notch friendship material. Best friendship material. I really mean it.”

He seemed quite taken aback by her compliments for a few seconds. Alix herself was surprised too – she didn’t tend to say things like that directly to people’s faces, usually too wary that being overly nice might be mistaken for flirting, which was just… ew. But at least Nathaniel would properly understand the sentiment.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “If I could make friends with you, I can make proper friends with Marinette too.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!”

“Thanks, Alix. And…” He gave her a sunny smile and put the sketchbook in her hands. “Thanks for being my friend. You’re top notch friendship material too. Making this comic with you is gonna be so much fun.”

Top notch friendship material… man, it was so nice to hear someone other than Jalil saying that. Pretty much everyone else in the class already had their own top notch friend, and there was no room for Alix there except as an undignified third wheel, a hanger-on, uninvited and unwelcome. Now Nath had changed all that.

She watched as he got up and went to go compliment Marinette on whatever fashion thing she was working on. He still seemed quite shy, but at least Marinette was one of the nicest members of the class, even going so far as to organize Juleka’s rescheduled class photo earlier. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to make friends.

Alix flicked through Nath’s sketchbook, taking a closer look at the draft work for his new comic. He really was very good at art, wasn’t he? This green-haired girl looked real enough to leap out of the page any second.

You’re the aro one, you can help me with the inner turmoil bit. So he wanted her help with story advice. That, she could definitely offer. There were too many stories to tell, stories of angst, frustration, disbelief, confusion, tears… the usual run-of-the-mill depressing aro experiences. Plenty of those to pick from, unfortunately.

This green-haired girl, though. Something about her seemed familiar to Alix. Nath didn’t base the character on her, did he…?

-

-

-

-

Nathaniel worked hard on his comic. He worked hard on all his comics, of course, but this felt different. This time he wasn’t just drawing to cater to his own whims. This time he wanted it to be a present for Alix.

There were too many reasons to pinpoint just one. There was the fact that they were pretty much best friends at this point, true. There was also the fact that both of them being ace gave him a sort of connection to her that was hard to describe in words. Was “ace solidarity” a thing? It sure felt like it.

And she inspired him. It had been so long since he’d had a close friend that he was used to keeping to himself all the time. Even now he was still quiet, of course, but things were different. He could casually chat with the rest of his classmates without the nerves to accompany it. He felt freer to say what was on his mind, to share his true feelings.

He still wished he could be more like her. How amazing would it be to be as cool as someone like her? As much as he tried, he couldn’t do it. But then maybe that was a good thing. After all, she seemed to like hanging out with him just the way he was.

-

-

“How is it?” he asked as she read the finished comic in her room one day after school. “Is it good? Should I change anything?”

There was a spark in her eyes. “Dude, this is so cool! I love it!”

“You do?”

“Hell yes!” Within a second she had put down the comic and clung onto him in a hug. Considering how small she was, it was… kind of adorable, actually. Like a koala on a tree. “Listen, I’m… I’m not a huggy person, so don’t get used to this. But uh… if you ever need anything, like ever, at all, I will help you with it. Up to and including murder.”

He gladly hugged her back. “What, because I drew a comic for you?”

“Because you drew something that’s more relatable than anything else,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “It’s hard to get into stuff when everything’s so damn shippy all the time. But you went out of your way to do this for me, so yeah. Thank you. I will lay down my life for you in the skeleton war.”

Nath grinned and gave her hair a ruffle. “I forbid you from sacrificing yourself in the skeleton war. But I’m really happy you liked the comic.”

“The main character, is she based on… um, anyone you know?”

“Yes, that’s you.”

“I knew it! So the guy she makes friends with, is that you?”

He simply shrugged, though the answer was a resounding yes. From the way she was looking at him, he could tell that she knew it perfectly well. It had been pretty obvious. Maybe it would be best to keep this particular comic just between the two of them for now.

“Anyway, you need any help with anything?” Alix asked. “Not murder or skeleton wars, I know. But really, I’ll do my best to help.”

“Nah, I don’t think there’s anything I need help with right now, unless you can come up with an idea for a new comic…”

“The adventures of Alix and Nathaniel sock-sliding around the Louvre after hours and avoiding security.”

“Uh… was that a suggestion for a comic, or a suggestion for real life?”

“Both.” She had a smirk on her face now. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you drawing the Louvre in the backgrounds of all your drawings, you know.”

“Well, it’s easy to draw…”

That was only partially true. Yes, a quick sketch of the iconic pyramid was easier than bothering with a proper detailed background, but the truth was that this place was starting to feel like a second home to him. The art exhibits had always had a soft spot in his heart, but now this area did too. The Kubdel quarters.

“But yes, let’s go sock-sliding!” he said quickly.

“Yeah! And let’s not get caught this time…”

“I’ll be stealthier now, I swear…”

He kicked off his shoes and followed her out of her room, looking forward to this. Silly adventure shenanigans were a lot more fun than he used to think – but then maybe that was because he was with Alix.

-

-

It was a while before her offer for help was actually needed. Those several weeks were some of the best yet – Nath worked on new comics, became more sure of himself, made friends with more of his classmates, and even made friends with people outside his class. Like Marc, that blushy new kid in the art club who was even shyer than him.

That didn’t last.

It was all that diary’s fault. “Ladybug’s” diary. Marinette had given it to him, and she was friends with Alya, who ran the Ladyblog, right? She could feasibly have acquired such a thing, right? Nath didn’t have any reason to doubt that this was the real, legit diary of Ladybug. He expected it to be.

So when it turned out to be Marc…

It was strange how, when in a situation where Nath was not the shyest one around, it was so easy to become complacent. To lose his temper. To assume the worst. It reminded him all too clearly of his birthday, where Chloé had taken his sketchbook and made a fool of him in class, announcing his crush on Marinette to the world, followed by Evillustrator being betrayed by the girl of his dreams.

Was this Marinette’s revenge? Was she teaming up with Marc to make a fool of Nath again?

Please pick up, please pick up…

He held his phone to his ear as he strode towards the Louvre, having left Marc back at the park with that stupid diary. His brain still wasn’t working right – well, it didn’t seem to work right around Marc anyway for some odd reason, but that was beside the point. The blind panic that this situation had put him in, that he was being humiliated again, it was impossible to control, and he just needed to talk to–

“Hey Nath, what’s up?”

“Oh Alix, thank god you’re there!” He clutched the phone tighter, his pace increasing. “Are you at the Louvre right now? Can I come over?”

“Sure, what’s wrong?”

Could she tell from his voice? Maybe she could. “I need to talk about something that just happened, I… I’m scared I’m gonna get akumatized again, I’m just in such a bad mood…”

“Aw man, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. See you soon.”

“Alright, take care of yourself…”

He hung up and hurried on. Even despite all his new friendships recently, they were all seeming so superficial right now. Any one of his classmates could suddenly turn on him, the way Marinette and Marc had just done. Taking advantage of his feelings. Playing a cruel trick on him.

And yet… he still trusted Alix. Somehow, instinctively, he found himself gravitating towards the Louvre – the one place where he always felt welcome no matter what, where he could let his guard down and just be himself without any worries clouding his mind. He used to wonder if it was the feeling of being in a museum, surrounded by art, that put him at ease. Now, he was beginning to believe it was more to do with the tiny little lifesaver who “allegedly” lived there.

Alix was his best friend. If there was anyone he could turn to for help, it was her. He never had been any good at letting his guard down, but for once in his life he needed to confide in someone. She had promised to help him, and he was counting on that.

[rodpupo2]

Research: Draw Draw Draw Project.

Mike Parr Mark making artist

Parr's performances explore physical limits, memory and subjectivity. They often depict self mutilation or extreme physical feats.

Parr spent his childhood in rural Queensland, Australia. He was born with a deformed arm, and this physical feature is prominent within his art work.

Parr’s impression taking is a striking contrast, both emotionally and visually to his video/ installation work, composed of beautiful engravings featuring many different types of lines, using the mark making technique. Parr was fascinated with observation and the possibilities and responses of memory distortions.

Parr’s early work was designed to get a reaction from the audience, although he also focused on exploring issues of identity, memory and states of being. He particularly used his body as a performative tool, often using his prosthetic arm and testing his body’s physical limits through resistance challenges.

In the early 1980s he started a collection called “the self portrait project”, Parr’s self portrait studies first took the form of painstakingly hand drawn copies of performance photographs. Subsequent drawings acknowledge accidental blurs and smudges, with parr generating purposeful distortions through the introduction of a mirror and manipulating the grid.

Life after death collection, combines charcoal, pastel and acrylic on paper; it depicts the artist’s face over and over, in varying states of distortion, as though disappearing or disintegrating.

Paul Verdell

Is an American artist, who is specialized in drawing portraits of many different people that he can find as reference, by using different kinds of colors and lines with his crayons.

Verdell was born in Long Beach, California. At the age 13, his family moved to Fremont, Ohio.

Paul Verdell paints and draws a variety of people with plenty of personality. Like most artists, he has drawn since he was little, but didn’t make a real go of the medium until he was in his mid 20s. That he was decided to go back to school, enrolled in Bowling Green State university, and took a painting class when the first semester came around. Paul eventually developed his unique artistic style, by doing drawings, that him doesn’t consider that good, but he is comfortable with that style. His mark making technique is assertive, created with force and with energy. Paul’s work may seem as if it has loss control imbued within the lines, but his artworks are also vividly representative of the person or object he’s depicting; it’s delicate balance that he’s mastered without purposely pushing his style in a certain direction.

What I like most about his work, is his use of colors, with oil pastels , where he creates different tones on the skin of his characters, using the technique of mark making, which is perhaps more impressive, since it is a very different or unconventional technique for making portraits, that’s why it’s so interesting.

With time, he realized how much colour and expressiveness the textured medium adds to the canvas, and started to experimenting with more and more different types of colors.

The artist isn’t trying to make a statement with his work. In his words, “I’m just here to paint. The viewer can take whatever that want to take out of it”.

Saul Steinberg

Romanian artist by birth was one of the most important artists of 20th century. A designer and cartoonist in the publishing industry from 1936 to 1999, he spent a considerable part of the 20th century publishing in prominent magazines on the world stage, specially in the New York. The famous cover for the New Yorker that showed the view of the world according to the average American.

In his drawings, Steinberg’s lines seem to reinvent themselves as they progress, creating different kinds of shapes and sizes, sometimes using one single line.

Steinberg’s greatest contribution was his demonstration that the drawn lines is equivalent to thought. Indeed, Steinberg is rarely concerned with outward physical appearance and is much more interested in what and how people perceive what they see. His interest in the human psyche isn’t academic. His playful, childlike doodle quality maintains an elegant deftness that succinctly describes a wide range of subjects. His quirky way to draw, sometimes reminiscent of Dada art, also crossed over into the fine arts world.

much of the humor and mystery in his work occurs in the way he relates humanity’s lack of understanding.

Urban Sketching

The drawings of urban spaces are gaining more and more admires, and this work certainly has a good baggage to please this audience, as it addresses a range of drawing techniques, which ranges from elementary theory to the more specific technique used by illustrators this modality.

Techniques and perspective tips combined with the composition tips presented in the work, are a combination that certainly makes all the difference when choosing and enhancing the scene that we will sketch, whether it be designing buildings, mansions, parks, people, animals, etc. the inclusion of the curved perspective is also another highlight, as it goes beyond the usual three vanishing points that the author usually address. The techniques, in this sense, are not many, but the author certainly selected those that generate the most impact. The watercolor for example, is his primarily tool, where he uses for the most of his drawings.

This book has been very useful for me for a long time, even today I use it as a reference. I always preferred to draw on my desk, with a reference photo. But I know that I need to let go, and learn to draw outside, just by watching, and trying to finish quickly.

I live in São Paulo for a while, and sometimes when I walk I always have a small sketchbook in my pocket and a watercolor kit. Sometimes I paint trees, sometimes buildings with interesting shapes and colors, from time to time some birds. Anyway, I learned a few things from this book, although I still prefer to draw in my studio, calm and do the drawing with all the time in the world, it is very important that I draw what is around me, so that I learn to train my eyes, in addition to drawing totally random things, which sometimes the internet cannot provide.

Alexander Calder Animal Sketching

Alexander Calder is a renowned sculptor and inventor of mobiles, and here he brings the simplicity of lines and spirit of movement to the art of animal sketching.

The purpose of the book is to help people like me to draw animals as we can see them.

Calder captures the emotions and attitudes of animals in a few quick lines, the person can quickly obtain a lasting groundwork in animal sketching.

This book really helped me, because I drew animal few times, and I was always thinking in the proportions and finalizing the drawing, but I learned that before doing that perfect drawing, I have to understand the movement and the poses, not necessarily making a masterpiece right in the begging, but train and have some fun on doing it.

This book contain several animal sketches, like cats, dogs, deers, cows, horses. All this animals doing different poses and actions for training.

Juan Linares

Juan Linares is a Spanish illustrator and painter, who specializes in drawing mainly different environments (Urban sketching), from streets to buildings with a different style of architecture. He mainly understands the perspective and depth of the environment. Uses various types of materials, such as acrylic markers, even alcohol-based pens. But his preferred tool, of course, is watercolor, which he always uses, when walking in the streets of his city Barcelona, ​​where he paints narrow streets, with the small bistros, from the famous  La Sagrada Familia church made by Gaudi.

Linares says, that he’s been drawing professionally since 1984. Starting his architecture studies. He drew in sketchbooks, notebooks, and in blackboards. He has a preference in drawing food and buildings.

What I like about Linares's drawings, is the way he can put light and shadows, besides the buildings being magnificently well done, very carefully and calmly (he explains that if you are drawing in some environment it is good to be calm, and patience without feeling the need to finish quickly).

He has traveled to some places in the world, including Brazil itself, where he sketched the museum of Niterói, designed by the architect Oscar Niemeyer, besides the Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro.

Juan Linares is a great artist, and I really admire the passion he puts in each of his drawings. And I wish to see more of his works, of famous architectures of the world.

Laura Carlin

Laura Carlin was born is Glastonbury, England. She studied at Buckinghamshire university, followed by The Royal College of Art.

Laura has illustrated many children’s books for Walker Books Ltd, including The Iron Man by Ted Hughes which won many awards, specially praising for Laura’s illustrations.

She has also drawn for a whole host of publications including The New Yorker, The Guardian and Vogue, among many others.

Laura’s works frequently touches on emotionally complex subjects and adult themes of loss , social injustice and environmental change.

As an illustrator Carlin has worked with several contemporary children’s authors including Nicholas Davies for her book The Promise about a young thief whose life has changed after stealing a bag of acorns and Michael Morpurgo’s book The Kites are Flying ! , a story centered on the conflict between Israel and Palestine.

One of the reasons why, I like so much her work, it’s because she has the ability to convey a plethora of emotions through the smallest details on the pages, combining with childlike drawing style and with a sentimental narrative, it’s very brave of her, to do books for children, with such difficult themes to explore.

Research: Show and Tell Project

Frank Frazetta

Frank Frazetta was an American illustrator and painter, who became extremely well known for having defined the look, of the character Conan the Barbaro, created by Robert. E.Howard in the 1930s.

Frank was born in Brooklyn, New York, and from an early age he showed his skills as an artist. As a child, at the age of 8, he studied at a small art school called Brooklyn Academy of Fine Arts.

His illustrations are inspired by the great painters of the late 18th and 19th centuries, who portrayed mythological legends.

For me it’s not just the wonderful color palette he used, the wild and original streak or the phenomenal technique he developed. Of course, these things are fundamental, but in my understanding, the most important thing is that he defined practically everything we know in terms of visuals, mainly in the fields of fantasy, witchcraft, barbarism and even a little bit of science fiction.

His paintings defined some characters that we know today, like Tarzan and John carter, that he brought a new life to the characters of Burroughs, not to mention the images of Conan, who made the illustrator famous. Imagine that before him, the Sword and Sorcery look did not exist. The Conan that appeared on the covers of books since the 30s of the last century gets to laugh today. Frazetta was the first to understand the world created by Robert E. Howard.

The reason I chose frazetta as a reference is because I like fantastical worlds so much, and I love to learn anatomy, and frazzetta understood a lot of that, with his extremely vibrant colors, and extremely strong characters, who faced terrible monsters, who disturbed the peace.

Claude Monet

Claude Monet is the main and most dedicated representative of the impressionist movement. He always preferred paintings outdoors, regardless of weather conditions,in order to capture all the effects of nature. Early in his career he was misunderstood, especially by his family, resulting in financial difficulties for years. Only around the age of 40 did he start selling his paintings, he died as a rich and well known artist.

He started to paint from a very young age which earned him some money, selling caricatures, with the money he bought painting materials. In 1858 he met Eugene Boudin, a landscape painter who encouraged him to paint outdoors. The following year he moved to Paris to specialize his techniques. At that time Paris attracted the most varied artists in the world and there Monet met Camille Pissarro and Manet among other avant-garde artists.

In 1874, the first impressionists exhibition was held in Paris, featuring works by Monet, Renoir, Degas and Cezanne. The term Impressionism, derives from Monet’s painting called Impression, Sunrise (1872).

It was the art critic Louis Leroy to call the artistic movement: Impressionism. It was a way of understanding this type of painting that did not follow the standards established by the academy and its realistic paintings.

When looking closely at an impressionist work, you see only separate brushstrokes that look like blotches without contour. Seen from afar, the brushstrokes organize for our eyes creating shapes and luminosity.

His works of art followed, as a main theme, the landscape of nature.

He worked harmoniously with colors and lights, creating beautiful and strong images. In the artistic context, is good to mention the series of paintings that he made on the Cathedral of Rouen (1892-1894), where the artist portrayed the constructions at different times of the day, with variations in brightness.

Monet and the impressionist artists, were no longer interested in themes related to the nobility, to the church, or to producing portraits that were true to reality. They wanted to see the painting as work in itself.

Ridley Scott

Ridley Scott is one of the most well-known film directors of all time. He made several films of different genres, but his most well-known genre is science fiction, making films like Alien, Blade Runner, The Martian and Prometheus.

But before before of being a director, Scott was applying to the Royal College of Art, one the most acclaimed art colleges at the time, to be a designer.

Scott always liked drawing , but he saw that he had no way of being a painter. His teachers always argued that his paintings were more illustrations than paintings.

So he saw that the Royal College of Art, had a particularly strong Graphic Design Department, which would give him a more specific creative target and a broader canvas. He was accepted by the college, and started his studies in 1958 and finished in 1961.

In his words, he considered design college to be extremely competitive, everyone in his class tried to compete with each other to see who was better. And Scott realized that he needed to fight hard to be among the best. “It could be very competitive, with no much being given away and everything kept close to you chest. You observed all the time, watched everyone else did and tried to do better and be the most original”.

Since graduating, Scott has said that he has become extremely perfectionist, and has tried to do as much of his work as a designer and a filmmaker in the best possible way.

After working as a set designer, and director in British television, he began in 1967 to direct commercials, eventually numbering more than 2,000 for his own company. His attention to visual stylization in his commercials, including distinctive atmospheric lighting effects, continued into the feature films that he began to directing in 1977.

In 1979 Ridley Scott releases what is considered his debut film and his masterpiece, the movie Alien. Starring Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley, Scott is credited with having a heroine take point in the ensuing hunt aboard the Nostromo spaceship. Scott’s paintings and illustrations are close to pointillism with tiny points that result in images of high definition and extreme detail.

A highly detailed approach marks his style. His eye for composition, lighting, and design seems to explain his ability to visualize a movie in his mind. He claims to have and eidetic memory and the ability to recall images with high precision.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjD82nKybUA

Roxie Vizcarra

Roxie Vizcarra is an artist, who worked as the senior illustrator of Rockstar Games, who worked closely on the iconic Grand Theft Auto v and Red Dead Redemption 2 marketing campaigns.

The Peruvian-American artist was just out of college- she earned her bachelor’s degree from the Parsons School of Design in New York- when she was approached by Rockstar games in 2009.

Vizcarra was Rockstar game’s first female illustrator. The first project she worked on was Grand Theft Auto IV: Liberty City.

The first game Vizcarra worked on since its inception was the original Red Dead Redemption, released in 2010.

Vizcarra draws her art from spaghetti western movies and holds the work of “Golden age” illustrators such as Bob Peak and Robert McGinnis in high regard.

For most of her career, Vizcarra’s process began by drawing in sketchbooks (she’s a fan of traditional ink), which she then uploads and adds digital colors through Photoshop.

However, for a year or two she has been using Procreate on the IPad, which is very flexible for her purposes. She also takes references photos when she doesn’t have a clear idea of what the illustration should look like, either of others or of herself, in the desired pose.

Vizcarra shows unusual humility; she insists on not taking credit for herself and repeatedly refuses to attribute specific drawings to one person or another, or to go into the why’s and how’s of illustrations.

Vizcarra’s work is really interesting, and it explores the more of the side of markenting. In making covers and posters extremely flashy for the public, and in addition to using references to posters from old western movies, maybe that is what attracts me the most. I really like the western theme, and I always liked the way she created the poster for games like red dead redmeption 2 and GTA, with extremely warm colors, with references of very old artists, who perhaps few remember, but she always tries to put some of them into her work.

Show and Tell Digital Collage research

Terry Gilliam

Is a famous American-British director, screenwriter, animator, artist and comedian, and who is known for directing and acting in some of the films of the English comedy group Monthy Python, in addition to making films that are extremely difficult to understand, as if madness were the main character in all his films.

Terry Gilliam began his career as an animator and photographic cartoonist; one his first jobs was for the Help ! Magazine.

Gilliam preferred cut-out animation, which involved pushing bits of paper in front of camera instead of photographing pre-drawn cels. The process allows for more spontaneity than traditional animation along with being comparatively cheaper and easier to do. He also preferred to use old photographs and illustrations to create sketches that were surreal and hilarious.

Gilliam was one of the founders of Monty Python. At first, he was accredited as an animator ( his name appeared separate from the remaining 5 members in the credits), later he also joined the series as an actor. Their animations linked the sketches of the program and defined the group’s look in other types of media ( such as Vinyl discs, book covers and the opening sequence in the films).

Gilliam polished a unique style, created fantastic worlds, worked with great stars for the biggest studios, and sweated tight budgets to execute his vision, not always sharp but always brilliant.

Caco Neves

Caco Neves uses digital collage as a platform, he created, for the past 10 years, illustrations for zines, magazines, advertising pieces, vignettes for TV and the web and, more recently, he was summoned by the Vogue art team to create the cover for the Vogue Experience 2017.

After spending a season in London, where he learned to give movement to his creations with the techniques calls Motion Collage, Caco returned to Brazil and, in a moment of creative rest, when he was creating for himself and not for a client, worked on a psychedelic vignette, then he sent it to MTV, to see if they liked the style, and they asked to use this commercial but to make some adjustments.

For Caco, the success of digital collage in the last decade is a reflection of the time we live in. “ The internet brought access to images- digital collections became public- and photoshop became popular.”

He has worked for several national and international companies, and his work is very dear to his collaborators, very much for his creativity, and for the choice of technique.

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter six: good pilgrim

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

kind of forgot it was an update day because i have something i need to finish for a friend and i'm stressed

enjoy!!!

“It wasn’t a date,” Marinette says, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she unfolds fabric. “We sat on the couch and watched a bad Hallmark movie.”

Nino scoffs on the other end. “Mari, I hate to break it to you, but that’s basically what mine and Alya’s last date was.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “This is the difference: you two are dating. Adrien and I are not.”

“Sure, sure,” Nino drawls.

“The intention is different,” she insists. “Anything can be a date if there are romantic intentions.”

“How do you know there weren’t any?”

Marinette puts down the fabric. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because you love me,” Nino says with a smile in his voice. “And because I gave you crackers on our first day of school.”

She hums and goes back to her fabric. “I’m still pretty sure you’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

“And I think you aren’t letting yourself consider the possibility that Adrien likes you back because you like him so much.”

She scoffs. “If you say that I’m afraid of getting hurt—”

“Isn’t everyone a little afraid of getting hurt?” Nino asks. “I feel like that’s a very human thing to be afraid of, you know?”

Marinette raises her eyebrows. “That’s very deep, Mr. Lahiffe.”

“I can be deep if I try.”

“Yeah I remember our three in the morning sleepover talks.”

Nino laughs. “Aw man, yeah those were great. We should do that again.”

“We’re grown adults,” she reminds him.

“And? Who cares. Let’s have a sleepover, Mar. Just like old times. You, me, Alya— hell, we can even invite Adrien to the fun.”

“Oh god no.” Marinette steps away from her kitchen table. “If you really loved me, you would never do that. I do not want Adrien witnessing the disaster that is me after one it the morning.”

“But after one in the morning Mari is the best Mari!” Nino protests.

Marinette collapses onto the couch. “Hard no.”

“We could play spin the bottle. Seven minutes in heaven.”

She snorts. “Okay, are we in uni again? I remind you that you have a very serious girlfriend who you love very much. Spin the bottle is very hard to rig.”

She can almost see Nino shrugging. “If some of the kisses don’t match up exactly it’s not the end of the world. It’s not like we’ve never kissed before.”

“True,” Marinette murmurs, checking her nails.

“Same with Alya. So really…to complete the square, we all have to kiss Adrien.”

“Is that what counts as initiation into our friend group?” Marinette asks. “Kissing?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “If you didn’t scare him away before, you’d definitely scare him away now.”

“We were plenty nice!” Nino says. “It’s been two weeks since we exchanged names, you sure we can’t get his number or something? Alya is going to have a cow.”

Marinette huffs. “Don’t tell, Al but… I don’t even have his number.” She makes a face at the long silence.  

“Goddamn, Mari. Why not?”

She shrugs. “We live next to each other. I’ve never…needed it? I mean, would it be nice to have? Sure. But I don’t want to push him and he’s never offered so…”

“Do you need me to take on the Alya role because she’s working?”

Marinette sighs. “Is saying no going to stop you?”

“Get his number, girl!”

She clicks her tongue. “So many demands. Last names, universities, phone numbers— do you need his blood type too?”

“I’m sure Alya could find some use for that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We’re lucky she didn’t go into like, espionage or something. She’d be scary.”

“Are you saying she isn’t scary now?”

“No,” Marinette admits. “Alya is still very scary now. She’d just be way more terrifying in covert operations.”   

“She really would be,” Nino muses.

Marinette smiles to herself. “You love her a lot.”

Nino sighs happily. “Yeah I do. It’s a good thing I’m such a dumbass. Probably wouldn’t have gotten her attention otherwise.”

Marinette raises her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, weren’t Alya and I friends before you two started dating?”

“Yeah, but nothing really gets someone’s attention like chugging a Monster-coffee combo ten minutes before class.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s true. How did you survive lycée again?”

“A good question, my dude. A really good one.”

Marinette looks up as there’s a knock at her door.

“Is that the boyfriend?” Nino asks.

“Shut up,” she mutters. “I’m not sure, but I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Sure thing, man. Remember all the details for, Al.”

“I always do. Bye.”

“Peace, dude.”

Marinette pulls open the door and Adrien holds out a book. She stares at it — the book, not the hand holding it out to her, definitely not — for a long moment before looking up at him. “Hi?”

“I totally stole this from you the other day,” he apologizes.

Marinette takes the book and flips it over to skim the summary on the back. “Honestly, I didn’t even know I had this book. I’m not sure if I ever read it. Was it good?”

Adrien shrugs. “It was okay. Kind of predictable ending, but it passed the time.”

“Hm. Not sure if I’ll ever read it, but I’ll keep your indepth review in mind.”

He smiles. “Thanks for letting me borrow it, even if you didn’t notice.”

“Of course, what’s mine is yours,” Marinette says before realizing that may be a little too revealing. “I really like your ring by the way.” She gestures to the silver ring on his right hand. She’s noticed him wearing it before, but she’s never really gotten a good look at it before. Plus she needs to change the subject as fast as humanly possible.

“This old thing?” Adrien asks, holding up his hand. “Thanks, it’s an old family heirloom. It’s sentimental, but it’s not really worth anything.”

Marinette shrugs. “Sometimes sentimentality is all that you need.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, examining the ring. He shakes his head. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you later?”

She nods and tries not to smile too widely. “Yeah, that sounds great. Have fun at your kitchen table.”

“Always do,” he says with a crooked smile as he turns to his door.

Marinette closes the door and cleans against it, clutching her book to her chest.

She’s so gone.

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette skips dinner.

She’s been working on an idea for a new line all afternoon and her mind feels like jello. It’d probably be a good idea to take a break and let her mind rest, but she’s kind of in the zone, and she doesn’t want to risk losing it.

It takes Alya sending thirty two texts about something that happened at work for Marinette to finally put down the pencil and grab a quick sandwich and a drink while she reads through Alya’s rant.

And then she goes right back to work.

Page after page of failed design and scribbled out notes. She resists the urge to scratch things out and rip pages out of her sketchbook so she can crumple them up and throw them away. She tries to keep everything she designs, even things that she doesn’t like that much. It’s good for learning.

But when she’s low on patience, she scribbles them out anyway.

She almost breaks her pencil crossing out a pantsuit that makes her want to quit her job and return her degree.

“I hate this,” she grumbles to herself, hitting her sketchbook against her forehead.

She stands up with a sigh, doing a quick stretch and pacing around the apartment for a few minutes. Then she turns on her laptop and finds some music to listen to it and plugs in her headphones because it’s too late to blast music aloud.

She starts a dress and gets halfway through the skirt before she realizes she’s already designed this dress.

Back to the drawing board.

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette drags her hands down her face and glances over at the clock. Half an hour after midnight.

Time to give up.

She packs up her laptop and tablet and puts them into her bag by the door. She thinks about her plan for tomorrow before adding her current sketchbook and some markers to it as well.

She wanders around the apartment for a few minutes, drinking a glass of water and trying to calm her anxiety. A little bit of artblock never killed anyone. She’ll get past this hurdle and be back to designing things she’s proud of in no time.

She’s looking forward to work in the morning. She’s looking forward to having some direction. Any direction.

Marinette flops on her bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time.

Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette jerks awake as a loud beeping pierces through her dreams. She didn’t know what it was in her dream, she just knew it was annoying, but now her heart is pounding and she feels like she’s about to be sick.

Fire alarm.

For a moment, she wonders if it’s a drill (do they even have those anywhere other than school?) or was pulled on accident, before the alarms in her mind start going off because that doesn’t matter.  

She snatches her phone from her charger as she runs out the door, nearly tripping as she slips on a pair of flip flops she always has by the door and grabbing her work bag because her entire life is in that bag and she knows you’re not supposed to take anything in an emergency but it’s right there.

As soon as she throws open the door, she can smell the smoke and she doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it before now. She blames the adrenaline.

People are rushing out of their apartments. Someone’s child is crying and heavy footsteps echo through the stairway.

This is actually happening.

Marinette can’t move.

She gasps as someone grabs her arm and drags her along. She finds herself looking at Adrien with terrified eyes.

“We have to go,” Adrien says, running a hand through his hair. He has his phone in his hand and his long black trench coat on, but he’s barefoot and each time he drags a hand over his hair it gets messier.

She probably shouldn’t be focusing so much on him as they follow the crowd out of the building, but he’s strangely grounding. Him, his face, the pressure of his hand on his arm.

They always say to be calm and quiet if there’s a fire in school, but everyone is running and pushing. People are screaming and crying and yelling out to others.

The smoke gets thinner as they go down, but it’s still starting to burn Marinette’s eyes. A mother next to her covers her child’s mouth with her sleeve.

Marinette gasps as they step out into the humid night air. She feels like she’s about to start crying; there’s a lump in her throat and a pressure in the back of her head.

Adrien freezes next to her. He lets go of her arm and shoves her forward. “Go!”

“A-Adrien?” she asks, twisting around to look at him.

“Just go!” he shouts.

He turns and pushes back inside of the building.

Back into the smoke.

Back into the fire.

“Adrien!” Marinette screams, her voice breaking.

The crowd drags her forward. Someone crashes into her. She can hear sirens down the street above the screaming.

Adrien is gone.