#When the eyes are unshaded while most of their face is it just gives this certain “GOD THAT LOOKS SICK” feel to it😌

[ilikeicecoffee-blog]

GRRAAHH THE DILATED PUPILS, THE BLOOD, THE DAMAGED LOOK, SO GOOD🔥🔥

I know this is so random, but this quote popped up in my mind seeing this Maro💯 There's a line in Justice League Unlimited that Superman says regarding Batman always willing to fight their opponent no matter how powerful or unstoppable they are, and it works so well for Mario here, too😌🔥

"That man won't quit as long as he can still draw a breath!"

Super Mario is supposed to be this powerful figure to the Mushroom Kingdom, this beacon of hope with little to no weaknesses. With everything on his shoulders, he has to keep going.

Or else he'd let them all down.

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - chapter 1

read on ao3 🤍 next chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍 Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Word count: 4.9k

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Chapter 1:

“Alex, honey, can you pass my gun?” my dad calls over his shoulder while he bends over his worn, stuffed rucksack. 

I straighten on the couch, pulling myself from whatever daze I was lost in. My focus flicks to the cushion beside me and the weapon that rests on it, and I narrow my eyes at the casualness of my dad’s request. Guns and ammo were a feature of the apartment, practically as common as the dust and bedbugs, and yet my skin still itches as my hand wraps around the gun, the cool metal sending a spark of fear across my body.

I look to the window. It’s dark, curfew is already in place. The apartment is lit by a singular flickering bulb in the corner lampshade, and the constant flashing makes my head feel like it's going to burst. I’d already worked a ten hour shift at the market, where the sun beat down on my unshaded stall, plastering me in sweat, and all I wanted to do was climb under the frigid water in our shower and pass out on my sorry excuse for a mattress. 

But instead, I’m holding a gun. 

With my other hand, I push myself off the musty couch, peppered with holes and blotched with stains I never want to know the origins of. When I'm standing, I find it difficult to move my feet. They’re rooted in place with the knowledge that my dad is leaving again, going on another smuggling trip with his partner. These are the days I dread; when he walks out that door, I never know if he’s going to walk back through it. 

The thought occurs to me that if I refuse to give him his gun then maybe he won’t leave, maybe he’ll be forced to stay. Maybe he’ll stay safe. 

“Alex?” my dad repeats, now standing opposite the coffee table, staring at me with his eyebrows raised. 

I tilt my chin up and reluctantly stretch out my arm, letting the gun dangle from my grip. My dad’s eyes lift from the weapon hanging between us to my awaiting eyes and his shoulders stiffen. I must have forgotten to wipe the disgust off my face.

“How long this time?” I ask through gritted teeth as he carefully takes the gun from me and my arm drops back to my side like I’d just narrowly avoided being burned by a potential fire. 

My dad sighs and pockets the gun, then swings his head around to catch a glance at the apartment door. When his eyes return to me I can see the worry carving deeper lines into his forehead. 

Joel was late. 

His irritation dilutes as he scans my face, and his expression begins to soften. My hands curl into fists by my side. 

“Not long, few days at most,” he answers in a pitying tone, as though I was the one who was leaving the safety of the QZ to risk my life for another job. 

I blow out a breath and turn, stalking with heavy steps towards the kitchen table. I swipe a glass from the hardwood surface as I pass, revelling in the sound it makes as it strikes off the edge. It’s the closest I’d get to expressing the anger that was building in my blood.

“You’ve said that before,” I mutter, but my words are lost in the water that rushes into my glass when I forcefully twist the tap. 

A month he was gone the last time, bypassing “just a few days” by a longshot. My eyes hit the ceiling as I stay shielded from his gaze, then I lift the full glass to my lips and take a long drink before turning back around. 

“Just be careful, okay?” I caution when my back hits the countertop and my eyes find his awaiting stare. 

The sad, pitying smile returns to his lips and I start counting backwards from ten. 

“Always am,” he attests with a firm nod.

My lips part with the pressure to voice the screaming concerns in my head, to tell him that the job isn’t worth it, that it’s lonely here without him, that one day his luck is going to run out and I’m going to be the one to pay the price. 

But none of it comes out, because before I can even consider it, a quick knock attacks the apartment door and my head turns towards it with the speed of an incoming bullet.

My dad’s sigh is loud and his footsteps are eager as he makes his way to the door and aligns his eye with the peephole, even though we both know who’s standing on the other side. I hope, for a second, that I’m wrong, that Joel’s decided not to come this time.

The spark of awareness that rushes my skin as the door opens tells me that, unfortunately, Joel is a man of his word.

“What took you so goddamn long?” my dad grumbles as he steps backwards to let Joel brush past him before he double locks the door. 

The glass squeaks in my hand as my grip tightens. Joel Miller is standing about six feet away from me, turned in the other direction, forcing me to witness the way his hair is drenched with rain and curled slightly at the top of his neck.

He stands with his large hands perching petulantly on his hips and his shoulders tight. Joel shakes his head sharply before he speaks. 

“Fuckin’ enforcers everywhere tonight, had to wait them out,” he explains as his eyes flick to the window just as a truck rumbles past, illuminating the apartment with the threat of a spotlight in the street below.

“Shit,” my dad curses as his head follows the sound.

Joel makes an impatient noise and jerks his chin in the direction of the door. “We gotta get movin’” 

The worries that wait on my lips, existing in the space between being voiced and swallowed, start to build and I feel myself struggling to force them back down my throat. Leaving the QZ was already a death sentence when there wasn’t a large enforcer presence on the streets, but with those spotlights scanning every inch of this city… they’d be lucky to get two steps out the door. 

My dad is bent over his bag again, ammo in hand as he shares it with Joel. Their quiet conversation is muffled by the thoughts churning in my mind and I feel a sense of dread settle deep in my stomach. 

My glass hits the countertop with a dull thud and the water splashes over my fingers. I flinch and inhale sharply when Joel’s head suddenly swings towards me, acknowledging my presence for the first time since he walked through the door. His dark eyes are hard and his expression is one of reluctant curiosity. I instinctually press my back harder into the edge of the countertop, at the mercy of his cold attention.

My heartbeat stutters when he quirks an eyebrow and slowly, so carefully, crosses his arms over his chest in a way that makes it impossible for my eyes to avoid noticing the muscles straining under his damp shirt. His jaw moves in another act of impatience as he seemingly waits for an apology or explanation for so rudely pulling his attention away from more important matters. 

Recovering from my momentary shock, I shake the water off my fingers and push myself from the countertop as I avoid Joel’s pointed stare. I start to make my way towards my dad, who still focuses on his packing and is ignorant to the battle of wills taking place across the room. 

I’m unsurprised, however, when a hand wraps around my upper arm, halting all movements. 

The breath that exits my mouth is shaky and I want to kick myself. Grudgingly, I lift my head to meet Joel’s furrowed brow and surveillant eyes.

“You got somethin’ to say, you say it,” he orders, his voice dangerous and husky like a knife being dragged over a ragged edge. 

At his demand for my words, my mouth instantly goes dry and I consider never speaking again. 

Joel was always getting under my skin, reminding me that he’s the reason my dad is away for days, weeks, months at a time and comes home with cuts and bruises that he refuses to talk about. Joel Miller has his teeth in my dad, making him believe that he likes this life.  

My jaw clenches with tooth crushing pressure. 

I shrug out of Joel’s grip and, surprisingly, he lets me go with one last searching look across my face. Released from his hold, I stumble as I attempt to step around his hulking figure and I clench my fists so tight that my nails begin to dig into my palm when I hear his snearing laugh rumble in response. 

“Dad,” I bite out, the ire in my voice is fueled by the irritation of Joel’s presence hanging behind me. 

My dad stands with a loud grunt and swings his rucksack over his shoulder, wincing as the weight settles on an old injury. The fight in me dies at the sight.

“What?” he asks and looks down at his watch. 

I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my spine.

“Don’t go,” I plead as I step closer to him, forcing him to look at me. “Not tonight at least, it’s too dangerous with all the enforcers hanging around.” 

There was that pity again, shining so clearly in his eyes, he didn’t even try to hide it. His poor, lonely, daughter was worried about him, what else was new? I could practically see the thought floating through his mind. 

“Honey…” he trails off and I watch as his focus darts to the man behind me. Help me out here, my dad silently asks his friend with his quick shrug.

The anger I’ve been holding back all day, since my dad told me he’d be leaving again, finally reaches its breaking point and I feel the blood under my skin start to boil, bringing a flush to my cheeks. 

“What?” I demand, raising my voice so it doesn’t tremble. “What is so important that you have to get out of the QZ again?” 

My dad’s lips thin and his gaze flicks between me and Joel. 

The groan that comes out of my mouth is overly childish and I would be embarrassed about it if I weren’t so annoyed. When my dad doesn’t answer, I lose my patience and whip my head around to face the man behind me, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes as I tighten my crossed arms. 

Joel looks down at me with a fury that rivals my own. I know I’m fighting a losing battle, I know that nothing I say is going to change their minds, but I can’t ignore this dread in my stomach. 

If I’ve already lost, I’m going down swinging. 

My anger is directed at Joel, as it often is. I find him in my apartment more often than I can handle. I come home from work and he’s there, at the kitchen table, scheming up plans with my dad that neither of them ever share. I know they sell drugs around the QZ, I’ve seen Joel lingering around dark alleyways with small bags of white between his fingers. I don’t care what he does, but I don’t want this life for my dad. 

“Can’t you handle a deal by yourself for once?” I challenge the man in front of me, and I force not to retreat when his dark eyes slide down my body, sizing me up. 

“Alex,” my dad pleads from behind me with a sigh, exasperated. He’s heard all this before. I hear him turn and walk over to the radio, leaving us to fight it out. 

“You don’t have a clue what you’re talkin’ about,” Joel accuses, and his hands land on his hips again. I can see the impatience vibrating on his skin. 

A laugh escapes my lips and I fight against the urge to roll my eyes. 

I uncross my arms and my voice drops lower as I inch closer, chin tilting up until I’m so close I can smell the rain drying on his skin. “What is it this time? Oxy? Coke?” I ask.

Joel’s lips draw back and his eyes narrow as I watch that rage he usually keeps locked up start to rattle at the bars. 

A hint of a smile twitches at my lips before I dangle the bait over the cage: “Can’t fund your own habit? Need to bring my dad into it too?” 

His hand flashes out to grab my wrist before I even notice the movement. Joel uses his hold to tug me even closer until the front of my body is flush with his. My breath catches in my throat, held back by the fearful realisation that maybe I’ve gone too far. 

Joel glowers down at me, his eyes surveying my features like he’s gathering evidence in a case he’s building against me. I’m frozen, entirely at the mercy of his burning hot judgement. 

I watch with wide eyes as his gaze darts behind me, probably checking that my dad is still focused on the radio before his mouth drops to my ear and his breath feeds the flush on my skin. 

“You wanna act like a child?” he murmurs as his other hand grasps my chin, increasing his custody of my attention. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it against his chest. 

He’s waiting on a response to his snide question. I don’t give him one. 

I can feel the sick smile on his lips as it brushes the shell of my ear and I shiver as my eyes shutter closed. 

“Maybe I’ll have to take you with us then, keep you by my side so you don’t get into any trouble,” Joel taunts and images of me leaving the QZ, being out in the world with infected and raiders, cross my vision and fear spikes in my bloodstream. My eyes flash open and I struggle out of Joel’s grip, stumbling backwards as heavy breaths escape my mouth.

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw, looking down at me with a satisfied expression. He succeeded in frightening his friend’s daughter, the war has now ended. 

“It’s just a weapons deal, anyway,” Joel reveals when his hand leaves his face and drops back to his side. His fingers begin to drum against the dark material of his jeans as his lips turn up and amusement dances in his eyes. “But I appreciate the concern for my ‘habit’, sweetheart,” he drawls. 

My hands curl into tight fists as I feel my dad walk up behind me. I force myself to swallow down every bit of anger that Joel unleashed. He isn’t worth my rage, I remind myself. 

“Everythin’ okay?” my dad asks cautiously as strides past to the door and begins to fiddle with the locks. 

I look up at Joel and want, so desperately, to wipe that smug expression off his face but, instead, I release a slow calming breath and meet his eyes.  

“Yeah, dad,” I say cheerfully, not breaking eye contact with Joel, even when his eyebrows furrow and his shoulders tighten. “I was just reminding Joel to be careful out there, neither of you are young men,” I add with a laugh. 

My dad chuckles and slaps me on the shoulder. The movement slices through the strange thread holding me in Joel’s gaze, and I turn towards the door with a feeling of disappointment I’m unable to explain. I shake it off as Joel and my dad go through their last few checks, then the apartment door is open and I draw my lip between my teeth, biting down hard. 

“See you in a few days, honey,” my dad murmurs against my forehead. I sigh and pull him in for a hug, trying to hold back the urge to beg him to stay. 

Joel stands by the door, his hand gripping the edge as he holds it open, impatience dripping from him again and I get some satisfaction from the way his foot taps on the floor. 

“Try and fix that bulb while I’m gone, it’s given’ me a headache,” my dad says over his shoulder as he walks through the doorway, wincing when the flickering light casts over his face. 

I roll my eyes and look away, then turn to make my way towards that much needed shower I’ve been dreaming about since I got home, pushing down the worries that are still lodged in my throat. But just as I start to walk away, a hand on my arm stops me, gentler this time without the same threat, and I inhale a sharp breath when I look up to find Joel pinning me with that dark stare again.

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” he warns, pupils flaring. 

Then, before I can process his words and attempt to understand where this sudden concern has come from… he’s gone.

I stumble forward to lock the door and drop my head to rest on the cold wood as I fight to catch my breath. 

Eventually, once Joel and my dad’s footsteps disappear down the wall, I finally peel myself from the door and walk to the bathroom to find solace in the shock of the freezing water sputtering from the broken shower head. 

But not even the frigid water could erase the heat that lingered on my skin even hours later from the vice-like grip of Joel’s hand.  

………………………………………… 

The sun streams through the window when I open my eyes, making the room I’m lying in look far more worn and dishevelled than it did when I went to sleep.

I groan and throw a hand over my face, turning away from the reminder that another day has begun in the Boston QZ. In a few minutes, I’ll have to untangle myself from my sheets, drag myself off the mattress and mentally prepare myself for another shift at the markets.

The apartment is quiet without my dad, he’s not standing in the kitchen counting his ration cards and mocking me for wanting another five minutes of sleep. 

I lift my hand away from my eyes and push myself up, feeling the weight of those lost hours I spent staring out the window last night. They’re fine, I tell myself. They’re safe. 

I walk to the bathroom, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to erase the tension that’s creeping into my spine. The monotonous tasks involved in getting ready help to distract me from thoughts of my dad and whether he got out of the QZ okay. I brush my teeth, throw water over my face and try to control the frizzy mess that my hair transformed into overnight. 

Not long after, my boots are on and I’m out the door, splashing through last night’s puddles as I trudge along the pavement, dragging the bag of clothes I’ve been tasked with selling. Joel gets them from his friends Bill and Frank, they live outside the QZ and always seem to have a limitless stock of essential items. At first I rebelled against Joel’s order to sell the old jeans and jackets at the markets, irritated at the implication that I’d be joining this “crime ring” he was creating, but it beat shovelling shit so I agreed. 

The markets aren’t far from our apartment so it’s not long before I arrive, slowing my pace as I navigate through the many tables and their workers setting up their goods for the day. My stall is near the end of the row, away from the worst of the crowds but it still gets a good amount of business. 

I tap my foot on the ground in a repeated nervous gesture as I wait for customers to find their way to my stall. The majority of clothes stay under the table, in black bags, hidden from any enforcers who might look my way. The stock on the table has to look like I just happened upon these clothes, maybe I decided I didn’t want them anymore, maybe a neighbour threw them out���

It didn’t matter much anyways, even if an enforcer noticed it was unlikely they’d say something. This city ran on the black market, those dressed in black with shotguns under their arms were just as complicit as anyone else, but appearances still mattered.

“How much for the jacket?” an older man grunts out in an almost illegible mutter, appearing before me as his hand runs over the plaid material.

I blink up at him, suddenly noticing how busy the markets have gotten. I can hear a screaming child a few stalls along from me and I feel that headache forming again. 

“Five,” I say, rubbing my eyes. 

I hear the man make a dismissive noise with his tongue and I internally groan. I didn’t have the energy to barter this morning. 

I sigh as I drop my hands back to the table. “Four, then.”

That gets a smile growing on his face, revealing a wide toothless grin. The man nods and hands over the ration cards before he gathers up the jacket and tucks it under his arm. 

“Nice doin’ business with you,” I mutter as I count the four cards and watch as the old man stumbles along to the next stall.  

With the ration cards tucked safely in my pocket, I roll up my sleeves and cross my arms, leaning back in my chair as I settle in for a long day. 

The screaming starts up again and I flinch, somehow it seems louder this time and I wonder what terrible injustice has befallen this child. Reluctantly, I lean forward and turn my head in its direction just as another, deeper, scream joins in. Fear slams into me and I stand quickly, pushing my chair back as I round the edge of my stall.

The slow moving crowd picks up speed and the flow of people start to head towards the square opposite the markets. I stand on my toes to get a better look just as a man staggers into me from behind and I lose my balance, tipping to the side. I catch myself on the edge of the next stall and my head whips in the man’s direction.

“Hey! Watch it!” I shout at his back as he races through the crowd, disappearing as people start to push and shove their way to the end of the markets.

What?

My ears are buzzing from the chatter that surrounds me and I begin to turn in circles, trying to catch hold of peoples’ conversations in an attempt to understand what was going on here and calm my racing heartbeat, but every word just fallsl through my fingers. 

I look back at my stall, now abandoned at the edge of a crowd that was heading in the opposite direction. I grit my teeth and allow myself to get swept up in the rush. I don't know what’s going on. 

As I reach the edge of the markets, I see the old man I sold the jacket to staggering to keep up with the speed of the mob, clutching his new purchase to his chest. 

I elbow my way through until I reach out and grip his arm, holding him up. “Hey, you alright?” I shout over the noise. “Do you know what’s happening?” 

The man looks up at me, eyes wide and unfocused. My breaths rush out in quick gasps as I struggle to keep a hold of him as the crowd drags us further down the street. 

From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his trembling hand to his neck and I frown, flashing my focus between him and the mob around us. He’s staring at me as his hand makes a wrapping motion around his neck then pulls an invisible rope. 

My feet stop so abruptly that I’m knocked forward by the person behind me and I stumble, letting go of the man’s arm as I fall into the woman in front of me. 

“I’m sorry,” I gasp out as she shakes me off and I stagger to gain proper footing. I can barely hear my own voice, everything is muffled, I just keep moving, allowing myself to get dragged along like a boat about to drop off the edge of a cliff.

It can’t be, I think. They haven’t done public executions in a while, things have been calm.

My breaths are rapid and uncontrolled as I round the corner and…

I see my dad’s boots, the ones I fixed for him a couple months ago. They’re on the feet of one of the men who hang from the gallows and, at first, I can’t figure out why that is. My dad was just wearing them last night when he -  

My hands slam over my mouth as I stagger to a complete stop. I can feel several elbows dig into my sides and I’m pushed in several directions but I don’t dare move. I can’t move at all because my heart stops beating, every muscle in my body locks in place and I feel my ribs begin to shrink, pressuring my lungs to stop their inhale.

I force my bleary eyes to climb up his body, past the bloodstains that dampen his clothes, all the way up until they land on his face. 

When I was younger I found a bird who’d broken its neck. It was lying on the ground, twitching and trying to flutter its wings. I remember thinking how strange it was that his head was bent at such an angle, like someone had ripped it off and tried to stick it back on but couldn’t remember how it was supposed to look. 

That’s how I knew my dad’s neck was broken, only, unlike the bird, he wasn’t moving, he was entirely still. 

I drop my hands as I feel a scream begin to claw its way up my throat and I open my mouth to let it out.

But not a single sound is unleashed. A hand covers my mouth, blocking the exhibition of my horror from exiting my body. 

Fear plunges through me, displacing the shock momentarily as I feel another hand land on my shoulder and the firm grip over my mouth pulls me into a hard body. 

My eyes are wide, screaming for me when my mouth can’t and I begin to thrash against the person that holds me. 

“Alex, stop, listen to me,” the man grunts out when my elbow meets his chest.

I freeze. I know that voice. 

“Don’t scream,” he orders and lets go of my mouth before he whirls my body until i’m face to face with him. 

“Joel?” I croak, surprised that the scream doesn’t find its way out of my throat despite his heavy warning. 

I’ve never seen Joel so unkempt. His hair is plastered to his head, coated in sweat or water, I couldn’t tell. His eyes, always so cold and inscrutable, were wide and stricken. 

“My dad,” I choked out, feeling bile rise in my throat. 

Joel’s hands leave my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to look up at him.

“You gotta listen to me,” he demands in a low voice that I struggle to hear over the screaming around me. I want to join these people in their grief but Joel increases the pressure on my face and I nod, using him as the anchor to stop myself from drowning. 

“There’s a sniper on top of the building to your left, and one in the building behind you,” Joel reveals, his voice sharp and steady. I feel my legs begin to give out and Joel shakes me a little to keep my focus directed at him. “Only reason we’re not dead right now is cause we’re in this crowd. But the second you start rushin’ forward and makin’ a scene, they’re gonna find you and shoot us down.” 

My hands reach up to cup the backs of his hands, my fingers are trembling when they meet his skin. “What do we do?” I ask. My brain has started to disassociate, as long as my back is turned to the horror behind me I can start to pretend that it's not real. 

A muscle in Joel’s jaw jumps as his eyes lift up to the left, before darting back to me. “I’m gonna get us out of this, but you gotta trust me” he says slowly, his lips barely moving. “Can you do that?” 

I hear the uncertainty in his voice. Trust is a foreign concept when I think of Joel, and he feels the exact same way. 

Fear has taken over my body, every inch of me is trembling. Joel’s thumb begins to rub against my jaw and my eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his calloused skin. 

“Alex,” he prompts, “can you do that?” 

I open my eyes into the deep brown staring down at me. 

“Yes.”

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Hey! Hope you enjoyed chapter one! I'm off to France for a week so chapter two won't be up for a little while, sorry 🤍

[apprenticedelilah]

so this is my entry for day 1 of the @lovelikeyoursfest. this is fest so exciting, i can’t wait to see what other people create! 

the day 1 prompt is ‘start of something new’! 

this is set towards the beginning of the three year period before canon. 

delilah (mc) x asra

It had been a long time since Delilah had visited the Marketplace during the day. The midday sun beat down on the narrow, unshaded streets, warming the moving water beneath Delilah's feet until it steamed. The planks that made up the walkway shuddered nervously, and creaked under the feet of the market goers as they hurried from booth to booth. 

A few paces ahead, her master, Asra, peered between the stream of passing bodies at a stall boasting Prakran crystals. His scarf was wound around his shoulders, shading his chest from the merciless sun. Faust peeked out from beneath it, basking her head in the warmth. 

As if he sensed her looking, Asra glanced over at her, his lips turned up just enough to give the finest impression of his dimples. "What do you think about that quartz?" he asked, pointing to something Delilah couldn't see, "I was thinking of getting something to cleanse the cards between readings..." As he spoke, he turned back to the stall, stepping forward and stemming the flow of passersby. Yellow-white sunlight cascaded over him, illuminating his hair to a neon white that was almost blinding in its brilliance. His skin warmed to a glowing gold. Like that, he looked more like a painting of Asra than Asra himself. 

Delilah shaded her eyes as she approached him, not unaware of the glances they were receiving from those who stepped around them. While some were not so covert glances at Asra in his day-lit glory, most were directed at her. Probably people remembering her at her worst, babbling and clinging to Asra as he led her through town, teaching her to walk. Then, Delilah had relied heavily on Asra to make it around the few blocks surrounding her Shop, leaning on him like he was a walking cane. By now, she had come far enough to walk by herself, though her gait was still stumbling and uneven. 

Luckily, she didn't have to worry too much about falling: Asra never stepped too far out of her grasp, and if he wasn't casting her sideways glances, Faust was watching her over Asra's shoulder. 

Delilah stopped in the space beside Asra , in front of the booth. One of Asra's scarves was wrapped around her head, both to hide her face and to shade her from the sun. It didn't stop the shopkeep peered at her strangely though, as if trying to puzzle out where they knew her from. Bowing her head, Delilah ignored the weight of their gaze to examine the crystals laid out over the desk. Chippings of clear emeralds and misty moonstone sat beside amethysts and sapphires the size of Delilah's hand. They cast an array of dazzling colour over the rich cloth covering the booth. Some of the crystals were tied onto thick leather straps to make pendants and pendulums and necklaces. Others were studded into rings, held in view on various stone fingers  on shelves behind the shopkeep. 

Gesturing for her attention, Asra lifted up a palm-sized rock of clear quartz, almost as white as his hair, for Delilah to judge. "Too big?" Delilah frowned. "Too small?"

That time, Delilah shook her head, a small smile touching at the corners of her lips. Asra nodded thoughtfully and then placed the crystal down on the table. As he went back to inspecting the stock, conversing quietly with the shopkeep, Delilah set her sights on the other wares. Her fingers brushed idly over the sharp edge of a topaz, watching the way her fingers were dyed yellow in the reflection off the stone's bright skin. Next, she examined a brass ring, covered in insignia and inset with onyx. Within the onyx, she saw not her reflection in the smooth surface, but an entrancing mass of colour moving just beneath, rich and clear as a rainbow. She only found her eyes drawn away when a gentle pressure caught her arm. 

"Maybe your friend would like some jewelry? The onyx would look quite dashing against her skin," the shopkeep said to Asra. Delilah glanced at him. He was already looking down at her, his hand still clutching the soft skin above her elbow. When he realised, he dropped his hand away like she had burned him and averted his eyes.

"Well, Delilah? Is there something you want?" Asra asked, stroking his finger idly over the velvet trappings of the booth to keep his hands occupied. His eyes skirted everywhere but over Delilah. 

Working her lower lip, Delilah cast one last look at the selection of crystals. She was just about to shake her head when her eyes caught on a pair of necklaces behind the shopkeep. The necklaces hung side by side on long, metal pegs, moving slightly in some unfelt breeze. Both were made of crystals held on dark, thick cords, shaped like droplets of water. One was rose quartz, Delilah recognised, but the other was a bright teal-coloured stone that she didn't know the name of. 

She glanced at Asra, who perked up at the attention, back straightening. "What?" he asked, following the line of her finger as she pointed to the pieces. "Those?" Obligingly, the shopkeep took the necklaces down from the peg for Asra to examine more closely. He peered down at them once they were flat in his palm, running his fingers over the grooves in their glassy surfaces, ford chafing between his fingers. Eventually, he turned his gaze on her, intense with some emotion Delilah couldn't quite place. "For both of us?" he asked, voice just carrying over the noise. 

Delilah nodded, hiding the blush that rose up on her cheeks in the shadow of the scarf. As if he could see it, Asra smiled cattishly, narrowing his eyes in a way that she would have construed as vaguely flirtatious. If it had been directed at anyone else, at least.

In his hands, the necklaces looked perfect. The blue for Asra: in their lessons, Asra had been teaching her- slowly- about auras and mana, in which blue represented water. The element of Asra's affinity. And the colour too was vibrant and shining, glowing the midday light so that everything around it appeared to be underwater. Perfect for Asra, who adored anything outrageous and gaudy. Then, for her-

"Rose quartz," Asra muttered, mildly amused, bringing the necklace to his lips and pressing a kiss to the stone. "For trust, healing." He paused, "And unconditional love." 

As he said it, he lifted the necklace over Delilah's head and placed it on her. The way he moved, the way he looked at her, the way his fingers just brushed against her exposed collarbones, all spoke to a sort of reverence that Delilah had never experienced before. Shyly, she took his necklace from him and let him duck down so she could do the same. Her fingers lingered over the soft fabric of his scarf, Faust's warmth coming up through the thin shawl, still clutching the cord...

"I suppose you'll be taking them then," the shopkeep said, shattering the moment. 

Asra flushed, almost leaping back as he began digging in his bag. A moment later, he pulled out a velvet pouch and dumped the contents on the desk. Out spilled an assortment of bundled herbs, pastel seashells, and strange-looking stones. Before the shopkeep could register that Asra hadn't actually given them any money, too busy staring in awe at a pearl as it rolled into an amethyst with a chime, Asra took Delilah's hand and pulled her back onto the street proper, calling their thanks over his shoulder. 

As the made their escape, Faust poked at stone bouncing over Asra's heart. He chuckled, rubbing her chin with his free hand. Even though he'd been the one to insist Delilah walk on her own that day, he seemed unwilling to let go of her hand, even after they had turned onto another street. "You like it, Faust?" he asked, grip tightening subtly on Delilah's fingers. "We can get you something just as pretty, if you like. Delilah's taste is impeccable." There was a hint of a wink in his voice that had Delilah nudging him playfully, hiding her laughter behind her spare hand.

Later, when Delilah had tired out from all the walking, they sat at the baker's stall, splitting a loaf of pumpkin bread and basking in the golden afternoon light on the warm stone of the steps. The scent of spice and fire and yeast cut through the stifling whiff of steaming sea water and burning dust, so relaxing and familiar Delilah could collapse to sleep right there on the stairs. But when she turned to make a comment of that affect to Asra, Delilah found her voice stolen. 

There, beside her, his eyes staring sightlessly into the middle distance, Delilah caught Asra toying idly with the stone at his throat, pressing its warm surface to his chest. Over his heart. Faust curled around his arm, her tongue flicking to taste the air over the crystal, nuzzling against his hand. His profile was cut handsomely against the stone, still and calm where the rest of the market remained hectic and bustling around them. It was as if they had a pocket of space untouched by the rest of the world, where Asra's still beauty could be freed.

He noticed her looking far too quickly for her liking, drawing her from her reverie. "Oh, sorry. I'm hogging the bread," he chuckled, holding out the loaf to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him. "You're not too hungry, are you? I can cook something when we get home if you are." Light caught in his eyelashes, turning them as white and wistful as starlight, glimmering over the shadowed purple of his eyes. They cast feathering shadows over his golden-brown cheekbones, doing nothing to diminish their exaggerated glow in the soft light of the coming evening. So long had she spent with Asra awake into the night that she hadn't noticed how gorgeous he was in the daylight. Not more gorgeous than he was in the soft illumination of moonlight, but beautiful in a different way. 

Delilah shook her head belatedly, taking a bite out of the loaf to hide her smile. She was full enough already.

[rviner]

Fox has always been susceptible to the emotions around him and it's why, over his constant traveling, he has always gravitated to positive auras. Jasmine's is different, however. A sweetness to the optimism that he can't quite place, more used to high energy and chaotic happiness than the calming effect she tends to exude. Her words strike Fox, an embarrassed laugh leaving him. "That was...I mean, thanks, but I disagree. I knew a whole bunch of Fox's, honestly. Most music scenes there's a gremlin that can't sit still but I think...I think the Fox's in New York are cooler. With the accent too. But thank you." he rambles from nerves, feeling the awful strain to remain connected to the moment. To himself. Weirdly, a feeling he's had for a long time even before his new life as a shade. Not one he's ever been able to master. Clearing his throat, Fox shoots Jasmine a grin and waves his finger to her suggestion. "Yeah...easy. Just don't think about other people getting stuck somewhere. 'Cause that could...I could do that, right? Get stuck phasing or whatever if I don't...focus."

His head tilts with curiosity to the story even if a slowly horrified expression moves over his features, a vivid image of a human eared hare flashing in his ever active mind's eye. "That's a really cool album cover, though." he mutters, giving Jasmine a thoughtful frown and a slight nod of his head. "Probably eclectic rock shit, or punk. They'd love that." he refuses to get sidetracked, hand raising in the air to halt himself. "Did he like...did they fix it? The ear? Did he get a rabbit ear back? Sorry, hear. I mean hear hair. The ear of a hare." Fox stumbles, his attention flicking to and from the book before Jasmine's question has him flipping it shut and peering at the ceiling as if his thoughts scramble above him in words.

"Uhhhhhhhh..." he takes a prolonged hum, glancing back down to Jas. "Probably New Orleans, my mom and dad were hanging out there for a while a few months ago. Think they'll still be there, so I guess there. Maybe Texas, just because I keep getting...Beyonce in my head. I think if I went to Texas and sung it, it'd stop being so catchy." he shrugs to her with a small smile. "You?" Fox's curiousity is genuine for a moment before his expression slowly drops. "Are you...is this you saying you gotta...head somewhere? 'Cause I get that, it's been a while, I wasn't expecting you to like stay...until I got...unshaded or whatever. It was nice of you to come here with me to begin with." Fox can hear himself rambling, and along with his hyper speed words comes a spike in anxiety and suddenly.

"Jas?" he waves a hand in front of her face, before hearing the muffled buzz of everything around him. "Oh for...fuck...I'M IN THE SHADOW REALM, JASMINE!" he shouts, knowing it's futile but it's the most natural response he has whenever he poofs from existence. He hates how nothingness feels. When he's both present and not all at once, feeling the same as those seconds where consciousness bled back into the moment he could breathe again. "I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I'M GONNA BE HERE SO JUST-" and the blur to everything ends as Fox is still shouting, materializing once again where he was standing all along, a grounding sickly feeling that makes him feel as if he's just been dropped back on earth. "-GO ON WITHOUT M-..."

"I hate this."

;

Jasmine's lips twitch with the smallest of smirks as she hears Fox's little ponderings. One of the first things she noticed about him, other than the fact he can disappear without warning, is how he speaks his mind. He has about as much control over his inner workings as he does his own tangibility, which is why Jasmine has no issue offering her own opinions freely when with him. "Maybe because you're different in general so the universe was like...now be super rare. So people realize it even more?" she shrugs, letting out a slight chuckle. Within the next moment, Jasmine witnesses how Fox's constant thinking can be a curse as well as a gift and a frown tugs over her lips. "...maybe don't think about that." she utters, watching his expression closely. "Or they shadow stepped somewhere really cool and are there. Or there's...other kind of Asphodel's dotted around. I only knew about this one, though. My...great uncle or something came here apparently, because every time he tried to shift he'd have one ear that didn't. And a hare with a human ear is..." she shudders. "That was the 30s, though. Never knew him. Glad I didn't." Jasmine falls into her own rambling, stopping when she hears Fox's tone turn with more optimism. She pauses her own search among the shelves, a quick bouncing step to his side to peer to the book. "Aw...that does sound fun. Where would you step to, if you could? Right now?" her curiosity piques but then Jasmine is frowning again, forcing the book back open. "No, come on. There has to be something in here that can help."

[howtodrawaeyes]

Drawing a female face

In this tutorial I want to show you how to draw a face in a relatively small space. If you want to draw the entire body of a human on a sheet of paper, you need a lot of space. The head requires only a very small area, which complicates the drawing of the face.

In this Turorial I only go to the face. The Turorial, in which I explain to you how the lady Draw lady in the whole, you can find here… The goal is to draw a face like this:

Tutorial

A few info in advance: The face takes on the entire drawing sheet a very small area. This has advantages as well as disadvantages. The advantage: You do not have to draw all the details in the eyes, mouth and nose. Also, the hair does not have to be worked out in detail. The downside: even a tiny change can change the entire face or facial expression. Drawing on such a small area can be extremely difficult. You need a very steady hand and a good eye. You should be very careful with a change to such a "face small" face! As always, you should start here with a sketch. A sketched face usually looks quite different than later the finished one. So that the sketch resembles the desired face, it is best to think of all the shadows, make-up and small details of the face when drawing the sketch, and then try to grasp it roughly. On the sketch you can try to your heart's content. On the drawing sheet you first draw only outlines and rough facial contours. Do not press too hard, so you can erase mistakes later. With elements such as eyes, nose, mouth and hair an indication is sufficient for the time being. Draw them fairly symmetrically. There are still some mistakes in the drawing. The headband flies out later - it did not fit. You see, it's not a problem if the drawing does not really go down in the beginning. You can easily pre-shade the nose. Keep the nasal bone bright in the middle and make the gradient on the side slightly dark. The same thing you do at the tip of the nose. You'll leave the "bump" bright while darkening the slope slightly.

If your image has a dark background, it's best to draw it now, in such a way that the background protrudes a bit into the hair. This is illogical, but later corrected by erasing. A too-drawn background has the advantage that the outer hair appears a little transparent and the background shimmers through realistic. In addition, the object in the foreground is no longer so misplaced or "copied in". For the moment it is enough to darken the background.

Now it goes on with the face. Ignore the headband - it was a stupid idea. First, you'll darken the "outside" of the face (cheeks, chin, outer forehead). These places must be dark, because here is the most shadow and the face bulges outward. In addition, the hair cast a small shadow.

Forehead:

The forehead should remain bright in the middle. Hatch them outward dark.

Eyes:

Draw the outline of the eyes slightly . Do not create a panda eye woman. In my example, this is far too violent, one recognizes the similarity to a panda bear. No: the lady is "overworked". Details like the pupil and the iris are also easily traced. Note that the whites in the eyes should also be shaded! The further out the eye you are, the darker you have to draw the eyeball, because it archs here more. Eyelashes and eyebrows you should not draw, at best only hint. They would only cause problems in later blurring of the underlying skin.

Nose:

Again, less is more! The highest points, such as the tip of the nose or the bridge of the nose, should remain light, while the nose edge must be slightly hatched on the slope. The underside of the nose (at the holes) and the outer part of the nostrils should be dark.

Mouth:

First, erase the strong, dark strokes that sketched your lips so that they are only slightly visible. Then you draw the underside of the upper lip dark, as well as a bit of the "top piece" of the top of the lower lip. That was a great sentence. Meaning, the more the lips lead to the mouth opening, the darker you have to shade. The middle piece of the lower lip lets you shine brightly. Basically, you can do that for the middle section of the upper lip too. Thus, both look moist and shiny. The outer areas of the lips let you softly leak into the normal facial skin. If the lips are to be emphasized with lipstick, you can draw the contour more clearly. Under the lower lip is always a small shadow over the chin - do not forget it. You do not have to pay attention to the small size of the teeth, it is enough to shade the "toothed strip" outwards and under the lips.

Neck:

The neck is darker and shadier. Under the chin, you make the skin a shade darker than the rest of your face. The outer areas are also slightly darker than the middle ones.

Face in general:

Blur your hatching (if you want to blur) from the previous steps with a brush or a clean handkerchief on which there is still no graphite. Be very careful - tiny mistakes can make the entire face appear inconsistent. Go very carefully. If you cover up wrong, you can mess everything up! I erased my eyes a bit lighter. In the previous step, they were just too dark.

Mend error:

First, I removed the headband and drawn hair over it. That was terrible.

The cheeks:

They should be blurred dark on the cheekbones. The spot above the cheekbone to the nose and under the eye you leave bright or erase it brilliant, because that looks very lively.

Pony / Hairstyle:

To draw the pony, you just have to smudge the hatched brow. Then you erase the hair with a very sharp / thin eraser or an eraser. That was the whole trick with the pony. If you do so, you have a realistic vaulting of the shining brow and can later continue drawing the pony at will.

Long hair:

Shadow the long hair first with a hatch, which you then blur. Try to follow the shadow of the head on the inside of the hair and make the hair darker there. After you have roughly shaded and darkened your hair, draw a few strands with a very sharp pencil over it. Just drag down a few lines as you like to create a coarse texture. The border on which the hair falls over the face, I erased again bright. Similar to the pony.

Please compare this picture with the picture of the previous step. It now becomes very clear how much shadow and darkening (is there the word?) Affect the look of a face!

Eyes:

The eyelids are now softer - the black is no longer dominant. The eyeball looks much more real, as he is a little lighter. I also reduced the size of the pupils, which deprives the lady of the "paralyzed drug look" of the previous step.

Nose:

On the nose, the biggest change can be seen. It is not for nothing that I wrote before on the nose "less is more". The strong shadow is now much softer and less noticeable. The nose is now less dramatic. The more shadow she casts, the bigger and more striking she looks. The rest - apart from the body - remained unchanged. You can see how much shades influence the look of a face. That's why it's so hard to "sculpt" an unshaded sketch that resembles your desired face. As you will see in the next step, the face should be brightened even more.

The whole face and the eyes have lightened again (with erasing). With less contrast between the light and the dark facial parts, the face looks much younger, fresher and softer.

The eyes:

The contrast pupil / iris should be clear. If the pupil is not too small, a light reflection is mandatory, it gives the eye a lot of life. It is still missing, but the contrast pupil / iris is already better.

The hair:

Shadow the gray area, as described above, just a bit more. After that you erase light strands over it and draw their edge with a very sharp pencil and very thin lines. These lines should be peppy and drawn in one go. They can be set "randomly" in the direction of the hair and should follow no pattern. Orient yourself to the hair structure you worked out in previous steps. If your image has a background, it must now have all the details that are adjacent to the face, because it continues with the hair and the hairstyle. Some too strong dark strokes, I have removed again and erased particularly bright spots even brighter. The blond hair now looks much brighter and shinier.

If your image has a background, it must now have all the details that are adjacent to the face, because it continues with the hair and the hairstyle. Some too strong dark strokes, I have removed again and erased particularly bright spots even brighter. The blond hair now looks much brighter and shinier.

The individual differences to the previous picture are not immediately noticeable. Nevertheless, the face appears alive throughout.

The hair:

Since they are blond, they have to be bright. Logical. Thick dark pencil strokes are counterproductive. They have to be erased again - but only so far, until you can see light strokes. Furthermore, the hair is much better shaded in this step than before. This is particularly evident at the point above the shoulder and at the top of the crown. The head is now more self-contained, because the dark background is present and a bright, clear contour "framed" the entire head. The contour can be easily erased.

The eyes:

The eyelid and the area above are now much softer shaded / make-up. I have minimized the strength of the eyelashes by erasing. The same applies to the pupils and the eyes. They look much brighter and more natural now. Very important is the shiny point of light in the eyes. It gives the complete face a lot of vitality and freshness. The nose and the mouth are basically unchanged. In my opinion, her hair was a bit too "greasy" and dark in the step before. The strokes were just too dominant for blonde hair. That's why I erased a few strands of hair again and brightened up places that hit a lot of light. By better shading the hairs throw light waves and fall more realistic.

In my opinion, her hair was a bit too "greasy" and dark in the step before. The strokes were just too dominant for blonde hair. That's why I erased a few strands of hair again and brightened up places that hit a lot of light. By better shading the hairs throw light waves and fall more realistic. That's it already". As you have seen, when you draw a face you can lose yourself in many details and endlessly wander around it. Shadows and light allow the extraction of many optical effects and are able to hide a lot. I hope my tutorial helped you and made a bit of fun.

Should you want to see me like the rest of the picture and the complete one Lady has drawn throughout, please click here … Read the full article

[theplateescape]

L.A.

Los Angeles: City of fallen angels

After much too long dragging ourselves out of the quicksand of our modern lives, we touched down in the city of angels with no sleep and, by then, uncomfortable shoes. We at once found ourselves being spoken to like slow children by a large, surly black woman who had apparently seen fit to apply thick, white house paint as nail polish and eye shadow, as we negotiated passage through the broken down houses, and barred windows of Inglewood to our accom in Koreatown. After a brief glimpse of the famous Hollywood sign through the green/grey haze of the thick LA air, we arrived at our temporary home. Our driver of course, was not shy to ask me for a tip (we come from a non-tipping culture in Australia and New Zealand) an awkward exchange which consisted of him giving me change for the ride fare, and then me giving it straight back. We then stashed the bags, as we were much too early to check in and, with a much needed change into my trusty jandels/ thongs/ flip flops, set out into the 40 Celsius morning to kill some time.

Following a lot of cursing and sweating, we managed to get a tuna melt in the belly, and board one of the mobile looney bins they call buses, to the Downtown area for a quick reconnaissance mission. We stumbled into “The Last Bookstore”, and the “Grand Central Market” which was more of an immense extended food court, with great local beers, and a mind boggling array of local delicacies. With the jagged teeth of jet lag digging deeply into our ability to remain conscious, we just managed to get back to Koreatown before surrendering to sleep. Waking sticky, but refreshed, it was back to the Grand Central market for great local beers, tongue tacos and the spiciest raw prawns I’ve had since Bangkok. Marinated in lime juice and coriander and swimming in pure evil, this refreshing bowl of prawn aguachile was the perfect catalyst for a big night out.

First stop, “Varnish.” The worst kept secret bar in LA. With a great cocktail list and super authentic prohibition era speakeasy vibe, this gem is hidden behind a sandwich shop. You enter through a door that from a distance just looks like a wooden panel wall. A few cocktails down, the best mint julep I’ve ever had, and free shots from the vibrant and knowledgeable bar staff, we did what all self respecting traveling alcoholics should do, and asked the bar keep where they go to drink. Seems simple enough right? It’s like asking chefs where they go to eat. We’ve employed this technique many times in foreign lands and have yet to be disappointed. Next to “Bar Clacson” for a beer and to watch people play pétanque on their full sized indoor pitch until I notice a lot of people emerging from the back of the bar. Another hidden space is revealed as we head through to a dark, dingier space playing punk music at high volumes and finished with arcade games. Needles to say this is much more our scene and we hold up here until we can barely stand.

As we leave, we employ the old ‘ask the bar tender where to go’ trick one last time and end up in the middle of nowhere eating tostadas and tacos from a truck with a bunch of LA natives. These taco trucks are an institution here and people are pretty faithful to their favourites. I’ll admit on our way to the “Flamin Tacos” truck, it seemed like the mother of all bad ideas; heading into the unknown with no trusty internet service or cell phone coverage to get our drunk asses back home. But as soon as I tasted the “Cubano,” a two pound sandwich filled with every kind of dead animal you could think of I realised, I am home!

As a child I can vividly remember one of my friends going to Disneyland over the school break. I can also remember being intensely jealous and vowing to get myself there some day. Well folks some 25 years later this overgrown kid got his wish, and then some. We hit three theme parks in 4 days, a deceptively exhausting exercise. I’ll spare the details in favour of a brief overview of each as we experienced them.

Universal studios. This was our first one so we were naturally pretty excited despite getting in from our taco excursion at 2.30am. In short this place is like the Gold Coast’s “Movie World” on crack! Not so many actual roller coasters, but 3D motion master type rides are the go here. The highlight was definitely Harry Potter’s Wizarding World. All the lengthy queues for rides were well shaded with big misting fans everywhere, which were a godsend in the crippling heat. Longest wait time was 45 mins for the Harry Potter ride, but it was the best!

S

6 Flags, Magic Mountain. Our roller coaster lust was fully sated at this park. There so many that we couldn’t possibly ride them all in one day, though we did try. This one is a long way out of town and involved us having to hire a car and drive ourselves out there. We’d had another big night the day before. This coupled with learning to drive on the right side of the road made for a pretty exhilarating experience before we even got to the park. The highlight was probably the “Tatsu” in which you are strapped in then turned to face the ground, and hurtled head first through the most terrifying series of twists and turns ever dreamed up by some sick genius engineers. It was the first ride of the day and we foolishly thought we had picked a gentle ride to warm up with, not the most intense ride in the whole park! Parts of this park where a bit run down and shabby to be fair. Also in a week of bad theme park food, the styrofoam biscuit they were marketing as a burger here was the fucking pits. Longest wait time was an hour I think, and lines were unshaded and the park overall felt poorly thought out compared to the other two. The “Superman Escape” is worth an honourable mention as I have never screamed with such honest and complete terror as I did while being shot 35 meters in the air backwards at 100miles per hour.

Disneyland. We really did save the best for last. As soon as you set foot in the magical kingdom you can’t help but revert back to an awe stricken 10 year old kid. The obsessive attention to detail was impressive to say the least. Some of these rides are at least 40 years old now, but you’d never know. Everything was so beautifully maintained, you’d swear it was built yesterday. Beautiful design and flawless staff execution, (the other parks probably had more thrilling rides) overall immersion, professionalism, and a sense of true childhood wonder made this place on point. Highlight was the “Indiana Jones “ ride which also had the longest wait, not that that mattered as the queue lead you through an ancient temple complete with booby traps and ancient relics. Also “New Orleans Town” was fucken mint! Unfortunately the “Haunted Mansion “ and “Space Mountain” where both closed which kinda sucks but this place was still the happiest place on earth. They also had the best food with the “Dole Whip”, a pineapple soft serve that actually tasted like a real pineapple, and a Moa sized turkey leg that tasted like ham and left me greasy and defeated.

We did all the other LA staples, the Hollywood walk of fame, the Chinese theatre. We saw an orchestra performance of some of John Williams finest film scores at the Hollywood Bowl which was $20, BYO, and so epic it still brought a smile to this jaded old travellers face. I was delightfully and constantly surprised at how, despite the reputation for rudeness, the people of LA were so polite, kind, and helpful. The traffic gets a bum rap here too but to be honest, Auckland traffic is much, much worse (sort your shit out Auckland!), besides once you have mastered the “hook turn” on the mean streets of the Melbourne CBD, you can basically drive anywhere it seems (except Saigon, Saigon is fucked up!). We’re told that no trip to this town is complete without a trip to “In-n-Out Burger” and to be fair it was an experience. If you’ve never seen a drive through queue spill out onto the road, around the block and hold up traffic a road over, then you ain’t seen shit son! The burgers were good, but not that good. We went to “Five Guys” burger parlour a couple of days later which was far superior in every way, and we didn’t have to wait 45 mins for burgers and battle overweight, heavy breathing burger whores for a scrap of table space to actually eat. In a town built on hype and little substance I felt like In-n-Out’s popularity is symptomatic of an age when you can be famous for simply being famous. Sure the secret menu items are kind of a cool touch, but is a secret menu really that cool if everyone, their dog and the internet knows about it?

After cramming in as much as possible in our short time, in this very large city, we decided to hit “Little Tokyo” for drinks and nibbles. Starting with “Mumford Brewing “ we demolished their range of very delicious IPA’s before striding through what was hands down the biggest homeless tent city I have come across. The stark contrast between the “haves” and the “have-nots” in this town was never so brutally apparent as while watching my back we made our way to the next port, in this sea of misery and decrepitude. We’ve seen real poverty in places like Cambodia before, but it was a cold hard slap in the face to see this happening on such a large scale in the “Greatest Nation On Earth”; for shame America. 

Our night then took us to “Wolf & Crane”, where the barkeep directed us to a great sushi bar down the road (always ask the bartenders where to go), where we gorged ourselves on very well priced raw delicacies prepared right in front of us, and sipped giant Sopporo’s and tried our best to order what we could in poorly spoken Japanese. Back to Wolf & Crane for more beers, whiskey tasting flights, and eventually being held captive by the head bartender who knocked off, sat down with us, and proceeded to get us completely shit faced until the wee hours, and refused to let us pay for anything.

Suffering the most brutal hangover, in a week of foggy starts, we pulled our shit together, cleaned up the now unrecognisable food mess we had presumably purchased before retiring only a few hours before, and prepared to leave Los Angeles. We rented a car, packed up all our shit and hit the road for the California coast. The fresh sea breeze and coastal hillsides did much to mend the self inflicted mental wounds we sustained in the concrete jungle. Mile after mile of pristine coast line gobbled up by big business and wanky resorts the size of small towns, made me long for untouched New Zealand just a little, as we made our way down to the border to cross into Mexico.

Los Angeles, city of angels, home of the dodgers and of course Mickey Mouse. Where the air is thick, the water dehydrates you, and the sun is always shining. Looking back however, the angels are dodgy at best, with soiled, scabbed wings, and yellowed nubs for teeth that chatter incessantly to drug induced apparitions, while constantly scratching at the imaginary worms crawling under their skin. I’m no stranger to colourful characters coming from one of the rougher parts of Auckland, and now living in a once notoriously sketchy area of Melbourne, but as we catch the bus to downtown LA to rustle up something to eat, it strikes me that there are an extraordinary amount of damaged individuals roaming the streets in the broad, unforgiving daylight. It takes more than the far off gaze of a few broken souls to deter my appetite, but as I stare into the vast void pooling behind those dead eyes, I have to ask myself, “who is to blame for all this misery?” And then it clicks, who else could it be? The only logical conclusion is as obvious as the track marks on the arms of its victims, we must of course blame the mouse! That’s not to say that I believe a 5 foot rodent wearing gloves and pants is responsible for all the hurt on the streets here, rather it is an effective symbol for the dream, or rather, lies that lead so many hopefuls to over extend and wind up facedown in the gutter. We are all told that if we work hard we can do anything. But this is not necessarily the truth. Do you really think a man (or women) wakes up one day with the burning desire to clear away other people’s trash. Most of us have to play with the hands we were dealt. But that’s a necessary evil in our world. Simply put, if we all got what we wanted out of life by following our dreams our filth would ultimately pile up in the streets and choke society to death. Some ones gotta pick up the trash. Hollywood makes its living packaging up the lie, the dream, and selling it off piece by piece for the price of an admission ticket. So like moths flying too close to the light bulb, the hopefuls come to ‘make it’ in tinsel town, but instead crash and burn, and wind up chatting to themselves on the 720 to downtown. Possibly also the apparent lack of an effective welfare and public mental health systems could be a large contributing factor, but it’s not as fun as taking a swipe at everyone’s favourite bipedal magic vermin.

[georgesmithindustryskills]

Personal Illustration Process

04/06/18

For my final piece, I have pretty much decided that I will be having an illustration in my final piece, the illustration will be of me. There is more context and rough sketches of ideas in the 10-page sketchbook work post below which detail the ideas which I had relating to the illustration. Anyway, I’ll talk briefly about some ideas that I have for my final piece. My main idea now is to draw myself have a cityscape background behind me. The illustration will include me wearing a striped t-shirt, which will be added in Photoshop when I have finished the whole illustration - the stripes will be lines which I will distort so it looks like a striped t-shirt, but also not at the same time because it will look manipulated and unshaded - I think that this will look pretty good when it’s done. The background will be hopefully transparent so that I can export it into Photoshop, but if this doesn’t work, then I will try my best to cut around it using the tool available to me in Photoshop such as the pen tool, it will just come down to my own accuracy. The reason I’m keeping the background plain is so that I can have a cityscape background which I will create in either Photoshop or Illustrator, I say Photoshop as I recently created a scene for an animation there, and found that as long as I don’t use complex shapes such as shapes that involve the line tool to create, then creating a cityscape scene shouldn’t be too tricky - the whole reason for using Photoshop for this at all is because of the effects it offers as opposed to Illustrator.

So I started by sketching out some line art, which I think looks okay, but the face needs some working on. I decided to kind of exaggerate the eyebrows because I think it resembles me more that way. I think the hair looks relatively similar to my own, though probably a bit straighter-looking, but I tried to get the curl on the right hand side, and the hair which you can see at the back of my neck. The glasses may look a bit too big, but the neck and clothes look fairly good in my opinion. For this line art I used a very thin black watercolour brush with brush sensitivity on, as I’m using a Wacom drawing tablet - not really expensive one with a screen, but it does the job.

I started adding some basic colour to the segments which need to be coloured in, in this case being the hair, the visible skin and the jacket - I also thought that I would colour the shirt in white, so that when I export it when it’s finished, it’s not transparent because it wasn’t coloured in. The colours aren’t flashy or anything, but I think that it will still look good when it’s all finished. When colouring, there’s a specific way that I do it. I colour the different parts on their respective layers, and then add another layer above it, and enable something called ‘clipping layer’ or I think that’s what it’s called - basically, it means that whatever I do on this layer, will only happen on whatever I did on the layer below it, so it’s extremely useful for shading different parts of a drawing. This will take effect on the part below.

I began to start shading in places I thought would fit, like on the neck, where a shadow is cast from the head. I also shaded under the hair above my glasses, as the hair would be casting a shadow there too. For the shade I used mixes of orange and grey. Because of the blue jacket thing that I’m wearing here, I tried to reflect the colour from it slightly onto the neck shade, on the right. This was also the point at which I drew the glasses, which took a really long time to get right as I did it freehand with no shape tool or anything. I think that they turned out alright. 

Next I shaded the face slightly, so that it didn’t look so flat. I also added a shade on the face to give the impression that there’s a nose - I also added a subtle highlight on the nose too. I drew a facial expression and also a little detail under the mouth to show that the chin is there. After this I decided to start working on the hair. I started by adding shade and lines where I thought my hair kind of parts, and then I added some highlights mainly near the left hand side. I didn’t have any particular idea for a light source in this illustration, though judging from the shadows on the face and neck, I would assume that it’s coming from the front. I also added a small shade under the middle of the glasses - I haven’t yet decided whether I want to have a shadow being cast from the glasses themselves, because it would be frustrating to draw them all over again except this time I’ll need to be even more accurate. I might be able to duplicate the layer and change the colour to the skin shade and have them underneath the glasses.

I worked on the hair for a while to try and get it to look kind of smooth, which I think I’ve pulled off for the most part, although I might work on it some more when I’ve done everything else. The hair contains a range of shades. I even used a desaturated purple, as well as some saturated browns and some greys. For the highlights, I tried to smooth them out and they’re just regular browns, with a bit of desaturation to them. After doing the hair, I decided I was unhappy with the eyes once I tried adding pupils, so I changed the shape of them a bit. I also added a more noticeable highlight on the nose as well as add one below the nose. I’m not very good at caricature, so facial features don’t tend to look a whole lot like how they should, so I have to rely on getting the hair right to some degree for now. I added a kind of gradient thing to my jacket, though I may remove it - I still plan on shading the jacket, I just thought it might be a cool touch.

I decided to work on the hair some more, and added some more highlights, most notably on the left side of the hair. One of the more prominent things which I added here is the eyes. I think that they look alright, maybe it bit sad-looking, which wasn’t my intention - maybe I’ll work on them later. The face still needs things adding such as the eyebrows, which I think will be the thing to make it look more like me. The whole illustration still needs line-art around it, so I will add that when all of the colouring is done - though if line art doesn’t work then I’ll leave it as it is now. A problem that has been raised by my tutor, and that is that since my composition is going to be landscape eventually, with the illustration looking like this, the sides of my arms are cut off. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this, but I’m glad that it was pointed out much sooner than later. I suppose I’ll have to draw the arms on, which in theory might actually be quite difficult, since I’m working with quite a few layers, and also I’m not even sure if I’m able to expand the canvas, I’ll have to research this soon, as the deadline is creeping up on me, and I can’t spend too much more time on this illustration. 

Luckily, I was able to expand the canvas as much as I wanted so I could draw on the sides of the arms. I decided not to sketch them first, so they may look  a bit off, or that could be because I really need to improve on drawing anything from the head down. Alongside this, I drew on details around the eyes, most notably the eyebrows, which I think turned out well. I also changed the eyes slightly, though I still look sad. Also - I made the hair a bit rounder near the top, as I thought that it just looked a bit off before.

I am almost finished - except not, because now I have to work on the jacket, which was the part I was least looking forward to, so if the drawing doesn’t look as good now, I’ll be blaming it on the jacket. Anyway, to start, I very loosely stuck to my original lineart, though there are some differences between them. I stuck with one of the watercolour brushes that I’d been using throughout this whole illustration, though maybe I should’ve used something else because the texture just doesn’t really look like clothing. I suppose just a different type of brush may have done the trick, though it still comes down to how I handle the shading and where to put it. I usually like to draw things like hair and clothing in segments, like with hair, there’s different parts to, and with clothing, there’s folds, which I need to vastly improve it seems. After I finished with the dark tones, I decided to add highlights I deemed necessary, that or I just added them because it looked empty - though perhaps I shouldn’t have added highlights, and just worked on the darker shades because I’m not particularly pleased with how it turned out. Anyway, that was the end of the illustration, I thought I would add a kind of inner glow in the illustration, as I plan to have this illustration in front of a city. To do this all I had to do was go on each layer and use a large white airbrush. Also, I’m leaving the shirt blank as I still plan on adding some black lines in Photoshop which I will manipulate to look wavy.

Final Illustration

Overall, I think that this illustration turned out well, in particular the head and neck. As I mentioned, I’m not very happy with the jacket, but I think that no matter how many times I redo it right now, I won’t be able to make it look good - it just comes down to me needing much more practice drawing and shading clothes. Looking back at this, I noticed the head looks a bit too big for the body, which wasn’t what I had intended, but I guess after all, the whole thing is just an exaggerated drawing of me.