#oujo curls
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avernale · 30 days ago
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Zero Oakley by Chubcloud on Bluesky
Art of my OC, Ray "Zero" Oakley, by @Chubcloud. Doesn't he look fantastic? Thanks again ^_^ {Image Description: A waist-up portrait of a youthful-looking African male in a black, double breasted uniform with a white chest-flap. He has black hair in shaggy, tight curls with two giant curls down his back, a white gem in his forehead, green eyes, a goatee, and sideburns shaved into tiger stripes.}
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rose022 · 5 days ago
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post it note refrence images as i draw.
why the fuck did i make their deaign so complicated. im never fucking drawing this shit ever again once i finish.
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kurocookieemi · 4 months ago
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Ren Hua with the ringlet hairstyle
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here’s Ren Hua with the classic anime oujo-sama curls/ringlets hairstyle, cuz i imagine that she’d wear her hair like that sometimes. i used a tutorial to help practice drawing this kind of hairstyle, hopefully it doesn’t look too crappy
the outfit she’s wearing was made by @imagineforeststudio in this pic:
Ren Hua Kuang belongs to me
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sennokami · 6 years ago
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♛ (here u go u goblin)
Soul Mates AU - accepting !!
Word count: 1944Summary: Uchiha Madara is a poor kid with a full ride to one of the most prestigious schools in Tokyo. Hashirama is already there. (In which reincarnated soul mates remember their past lives the first time they touch.)
The first time Madara set foot in Azabu, home of the very rich and very upper-class, was also his first day of school. Oujo Senior Private High School lived up to its pretentious name; the campus was a massive white steel-glass complex that he spotted before he even got off the train and had a long brick wall that separated it from the rest of the district. 
What for, he wondered. To keep the slightly less rich out? He already felt out of place here – if it weren’t for his pressed uniform, he probably would’ve been arrested three streets earlier. He spotted other students in the same white-and-blue uniform walking towards the entrance. Unlike him, they walked like they belonged here.
Madara had been ecstatic when he got this scholarship. Now, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The interior of Oujo was as grand as its exterior. He walked through the bright corridors in a daze, his shoes squeaking on the million dollar tiles, until he found his classroom. 1-A. It was half full already, students clumped around the room in small groups as they chatted, waiting for class to start. Several eyes turned to him when he entered the room and Madara immediately got a sense of his situation.
This school was an institution for the children of the ultra-rich. All of them had probably gone to Oujo Private Primary before and thus knew each other for years. Madara, on the other hand, was a new face with a last name no one recognized.
He’d gone to schools with rigid hierarchies before. It’d never ended well.
Madara found a seat that was secluded from everyone else. He probably should be going around the room to introduce himself and feel out these waters… but he didn’t want to. He didn’t care to rub shoulders with these spoiled brats. He was here to learn.
More kids came in. The room steadily rose in volume but no one approached him. He was fine with that. Ten minutes passed before a bell rang and everyone shuffled to their seats. Except for one guy. He stood in front of the (pretentious) smart board like he was getting ready for a martial reveille. His back was straight, his uniform was crisp, and he was very, very good-looking. Madara disliked him immediately.
“Good morning everyone!” the guy said. “I’m happy to welcome everyone back to Oujo. Our class composition hasn’t actually changed that much, which is great, and I heard our homeroom teacher is going to be Bashira-sensei. So we’re lucky! Ahh, I just wanted to say some things before class started –”
“Ne, Senju-san, sit down! You’re not even the class rep anymore!” one of the students called out. There was laughter, but it was good-natured.
“Don’t worry, we’ll elect you again this year!”
“Haah, you don’t need to do that,” the guy – Hashirama – said. He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. Even his smile was good-looking. Madara really didn’t like him. “I’m just very glad we’re all back together again. Things haven’t been the same since Hyuuga-san left last year.”
Jeez. How sickening. It seemed like everyone in the class knew each other and Madara was the lone man out. No one called on him and he didn’t stand up – thi was fine. He could fly under the radar. After Senju was done talking, their teacher – Bashira-sensei – came in. She was a tall, broad woman with a wide, perfect smile, and her voice swelled to fill the room.
“We have a new student this year, everyone! I want you all to give Uchiha-kun a warm welcome. Will you please introduce yourself to the class?”
Madara sighed inwardly. There it was. The thing he’d been dreading this whole time. He got up and trudged to the front of the classroom so everyone could gawk at him to their satisfaction.
“My name is Uchiha Madara,” he said blandly. He had it rehearsed now. “I’m sixteen years old. I’m from Deimon High School, I transferred here on a scholarship. Please take care of me.”
Look over the room. Bow. Done. Sit down. That’d been his plan, until someone raised their arm.
Tch! Who the hell do you think you are…? Madara glared at the culprit. Senju. He’d known he had good reason for disliking him.
“Yes, Senju-kun?”
“I think it’s very impressive you got a scholarship, Uchiha-san!” Senju immediately said. “Please don’t be worried, we would all like to be your friend.”
Madara almost saw the flowers shooting out of his ass. He blinked dully and grunted acknowledgement. “Thanks.” Glancing at Bashira-sensei, he went back to his seat.
Thirty minutes into class, a little scrap of paper flipped onto his desk. Madara stopped halfway through the math problem he was working on. He looked up to see if the sender was looking at him, but everyone looked like they were working on the problems.
Curious despite himself, he unfolded the note under his desk.
Hey, Uchiha-san! Would you like to eat together during our lunch period? I know first days can be tough :^) - Senju Hashirama
What the hell? Who did this guy think he was? Madara had half a mind to tear the note up and throw it at him two seats over, but he had better things to do. He shoved the note into his pocket and went back to his worksheet.
Ten minutes later, another note flipped onto his desk. He looked up faster this time and caught sight of Hashirama. He grinned at him and gave him a thumb’s up. Madara rolled his eyes and opened the note.
You don’t have to write back anything, we can eat together, okay? OwO
If he got another fucking note, he was going to find Senju after school and shove them in his mouth. Madara put this one in his pocket too and went back to his work.
He avoided Hashirama in between the class breaks. He wasn’t interested in whatever aggressive kind of friendship he was offering, especially if it was because he felt, like, pity for him or something. Madara didn’t care. He wasn’t going to be a do-gooder’s charity project.
When come lunch period, however, he was cornered in the hallway. Madara had been counting on Senju buying his food like everyone else, but he had a bento.
“There you are, Uchiha-san!” he gushed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Godammit, leave me alone…
“Are you eating on the roof? Great, I’ll join you!”
Somehow, Madara ended up with a tag-along that dogged his heels all the way up the four flights of stairs to the roof. He avoided the elevators pointedly despite Senju’s repeated overtures and by the time they found the roof access, Senju was puffing softly.
“Wow, Uchiha-san,” Senju huffed, “you’re pretty fit, huh? You’re not even breathing hard!”
“I exercise,” he replied shortly. He sat down on the metal stairs and unpacked i bento. If he ate quickly, maybe he could get the slip on him –
“It’s a nice day today, you know!” Senju said as he parked his ass right next to him. “I think it’s gonna be a great – oh!”
His hand knocked into Madara’s hand right as he was opening his thermos. Warm tea immediately spilled all over him. It wasn’t hot enough to hurt but his uniform, once pristine and snowy-white, had a long streak of pale brown down his chest.
Dammit, Hashirama, how can you be so strong and this clumsy?
Madara blinked. Somewhere inside him, something old and big and very scary woke up.
Hashirama made a wheezing noise. Madara gurgled until he found his voice.
“You…” he said slowly. The words in his mouth felt strange to him now. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, a part of him that was very old remembering something much different. “Hashirama, you…?”
Hashirama looked at him. His handsome face was very pale and his eyes were very wide. Madara saw himself reflected in them and he was already a little bit in love.
“Ma… da… ra?” Hashirama said slowly, like he was saying a new word for the first time in his life. “Did you just…?”
“I felt that,” Madara confirmed. An old, buried instinct compelled him to put his hand on Hashirama’s cheek. It was an intensely intimate gesture beyond the scope of his sixteen years. He blushed as soon as he did it. “I’m here. You’re here.”
Sitting on this cold metal staircase, cold tea leaking into his pants, Madara remembered a time when skyscrapers didn’t exist and the phone in his bag could’ve been called magic. There were so many years in there that his head spun trying to comprehend it all, but he knew one thing very well. To-the-marrow-of-his-bones well.
He and Hashirama were always meant to do this.
Hashirama reached up and put his hand over his. The sixteen year old in Madara melted. The ageless killer just smiled knowingly.
“We found each other,” Hashirama breathed. His eyes were a rich brown that carried an inner light in them. He was young but big in way that said he’d keep on growing. He was everything that Madara recognized in this lifetime and the next.
“We did,” Madara sighed, curling his fingers against his skin. He didn’t know which one of them moved first, him or Hashirama, but they were kissing, their lunches forgotten. They had to pause to move them so they didn’t spill – and they both laughed at the mundanity of it all – before they went back to touching each other, fascinated and greedy. They only resurfaced when Hashirama’s digital watch beeped to signal the last ten minutes of lunch period.
“Let’s ditch,” Madara immediately said.
“We shouldn’t,” Hashirama replied as he began to eat quickly. “It’s our first day here! It wouldn’t look good, and you’re a scholarship student, so you can’t –”
“We can lie about it, who cares?” Madara laughed. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate now that I know you’re here.”
Math problems? Chemistry? Japanese? Who cared? What did it matter when he’d found his soul mate?
“There’s only four more periods left,” Hashirama insisted. “And then… maybe…” he grinned a little, not entirely sly but not fully innocent. “You could come over. I’ve had sleepovers before. You can take my spare uniform too since I messed up yours.”
“Oh – oh, yeah.” Madara glanced down at his stained jacket. He couldn’t care less about it. Hashirama buzzed in his senses like a drug. All he wanted to do was breathe him in and touch him, remember him, to feel him until he couldn’t tell their bodies apart anymore.
That’s not normal, whispered the young part of him. The older pieces from a forgotten age just laughed. What was the point of loving if you didn’t do it madly?
“We can go to class,” Madara murmured. He packed up his bento, appetite forgotten. All he wanted was for this school day to end so he and Hashirama could pick up where they left off. “Come on.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” Hashirama said, but he still hurried up to finish.
They walked back down together. They fell into step easily, making spaces for each other, as their bodies remembered truths older than the modern age.
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wonderlace19 · 7 years ago
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Snob Snob I mean Kizana Snoubu work in progress with my favorite hairstyle option. I like this hairstyle because the roses sit on her head like a crown and oujo curls are higher up and more exaggerated like anime usually have.
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ranichi17 · 8 years ago
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my gran, commenting on my naturally brown hair: did you dye your hair recently?
me, internally yelling: woman, you call yourself my grandmother?
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avernale · 4 months ago
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Ray "Zero" Oakley SFW Reference Sheet v1
Finally made a reference sheet for a male character!  This is Ray "Zero" Oakley, the human version of my cabbit OC Zero-Ohki.  He's an internet video game reviewer and intergalactic bounty hunter.  He scours the cosmos (local bargain bins) for the worst games and brings them to justice!  Also alien criminals.  Neither of these things pay nearly as well as you'd think. He's also Crisis' boyfriend, which puts him in the same universe as my super-hero characters.  That means every so often they're teaming up to fight (and probably review) ridiculous, video game-themed space criminals in addition to more traditional super-villain types. This reference sheet isn't quite finished yet.  As stated in the image, he has the ability to manipulate exotic matter to form a giant suit of armor, which I'm going to have to draw sometime.  By "Exotic matter," I mean the particles of a living asteroid that burnt up in the Earth's atmosphere.  The only remaining intact chunk of it got lodged in Zero's forehead during an altercation with a police officer who, according to the report, thought he "Looked like he was going to commit copyright infringement."  The chunk integrated with his nervous system and is using his bio-energy to support itself, the upshot of which is he gets to use its powers.  Kind of a like a dust-based Venom, or the Jaime Reyes Blue Beetle.
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