#semi realistic style is not something I work with often so the longer I look at it the more cursed it feels

[otaku553]

Some goodnotes portraits for discord pfps

[neonfretra]

some thoughts on capturing likeness of people

this is as much of a tutorial as stories in the front of recipes teach you how to cook

so what the hell is likeness?

im drawin guys thatre supposed to look like real human guys. if you ever tried drawin a character with no in the flesh portrayal as well as in the flesh humans, this is a totally different skill set from just drawin uh. the illusion of a person? or maybe i just had the first unique experience in ever (equally as likely)

a persons likeness is their je nais se quoi, what makes them look and feel like themselves. you see a drawin and know its your guy, no matter how representative or abstract it gets? that got their likeness down pat. you see a drawin and scramble to the tags to figure who it is? (funny enough an experience i get often with my own stuff) not only did it not capture their likeness, they caught a whole new horse and i want it OUT of my kitchen what???

tangent: realism

did you know (semi-)realism is WAY easier to draw than whatever the weird little freaks i draw are, there is so much back and forthing on if it looks enough like the guy as a doodle for me

(i dont actually know what semi-realism is, its kinda the holding bin of anything thats not realism or anime, the only two art styles that are recognized casually. this is a gross oversimplification.)

its a LOT easier to work with making a guy look like himself with 200 strokes all over 20 strokes all im sayin . you get way more space and details to work with to get the bigger picture. simple doodles do not give you the same mercy. people who work with simpler styles thatre drawin real faces, i bow at your feet cause HARD.

basically when you see my sorta realistic kinda nothing portraits, these are my hyperrealistic eye drawings in the margins of my papers. ive never had an eye drawing phase.

massively simplifying faces feels like taking every part i know about drawing a face and severely compressing it. i mean yeah literally they tiny but

the hell is a proportion

something i noticed is a really common advice on how to get good at drawin a guy is to "focus on proportions"

okay okay i admit. thats incredibly true and you cant really skip around it if you want to get good likeness. having a grip on where things go on a face is the steak and potatoes to capturing a guys likeness . gotta study the blade to draw it etc

but also i am incapable of learning anything related to art without just tripping into the concept myself LOL

which is why im goin to be real i pay a lot less attention to the proportion and anatomy than i really should and instead go off strongest impressions of they face as a whole (and then editing parts afterwards because it looks wack)

i have an incredibly unoptimized workflow

heres my secret to you! memories are a lot less accurate than we think and pushing and pulling traits to get more caricature street artist than life study class makes players look more like themselves ^_^

some examples off the top of my head: drawing william eklunds chin longer, over emphasizing joey daccords eyes + devin cooleys smile, tomas tatars eyebrows dont even look like that. its not about the individual traits, its about the face as a whole

no one checks your work! you can get away with a lot you just need to take the money and run

just add shading! ^_^

one of the easiest ways to make a guy look like himself for me is shading LOL

its funny because just add shading is NOTHING advice and i will stand by this. (learning shading is a good skill in art but you dont NEED it for EVERY PIECE. this is usually a SUBJECTIVE PREFERENCE!!! there tend to be underlying issues that make you feel COMPELED like a lack of contrast or

on the other hand, shading gives me way more control about implying how much parts of the face stick out . form! its a wondrous thing

this is something i struggle with INCREDIBLY in with drawing noses actually! without angles it gets way hard to how showcase a lot of the shapes to it. and in my case i cant imply all these without shadow.

and then i doodle them

not tryin to make the case that drawin them as amoebas is challenging. im just sayin have you ever tried havin your first shot on drawin someone be instantly recognizable in as few lines as possible.

(fun fact: i draw some features only at certain angles in my doodles because it doesnt translate well without! its mostly prominent nose bumps. try not to pay too much attention to the technical aspect of it. can you imagine my grubi or macklini head on . can you imagine willyek from the side???)

tangent: tutorials

i actually love making tutorials can i be so honest. i dont even learn or teach well i just love making a weird long winded thing about how i approach random parts of a drawing (ive done ones on shirt collars, jawlines, jacket lapels, basic color theory, and arm muscles for an idea on what kind of tom foolery im about)

honest to god i was considerin a more tutorial angle on this but the problem is that my approach on likeness is more a mix of more technical aspects of portrayin different kinds of facial features and puttin the vibes over realism.

its not even necessarily a hard craft, its just hard to explain without havin to pull up the whole root system of how it works and how to apply it! even tyin your shoes sounds like rocket surgery if your teachers bad enough

could tell you how to draw a guys nose but that doesnt tell you how to arrange the guys face with it. you know??? and i dont think anyones in a hurry to draw how i do LMAO

anyways if you ever want a collection of low res mspaint images explaining any aspect of what i get up to . just ask! ^_^

the big picture

honestly i think i get away with the shenanigans that i do because i put more care into the big picture than the details

NOT TO SAY DETAIL WORK ISNT CUTE. i love it a lot, include that close up of your lovingly rendered eyelashes or complicated shirt sleeve wrinkles mwah mwah

its more just that its nice to get the shape of a guys eyes or his freckles down pat but if his profile looks like a whole other person, its going to look like that whole other person before it looks like his eyes, you feel what i mean? (in that way proportion is actually a huge deal in likeness to me)

if i ever did a detail shot of an eye you would have NO idea who it was though HAHAHAHA its all dots!

i really do think the more broad strokes you get down the more you can hide the lazier or less accurate parts in the back. because HOH you dont want to pull a photo up when you look at my drawings

bwegh

there is no conclusion go out into the world and be cute or whatever

this is more my personal observations from drawin hockeys for like. 10 months? thats like the length of a pregnancy give or take. i know my units of time

[kankuroplease]

Hi! I've been admiring your art for a longer while now and I wanted to ask if there's a reason you don't draw the canon characters with more Asian features? I noticed how big Deidara's eye(s) is in the recent art, and I'm aware that in anime/mangas characters tend to have much bigger eyes, but you draw quite realistically - and honestly, the realism of your art is incredible! - so I was simply wondering how come they don't look Asian. I don't intend to come off as rude, it's just something that I started to notice more and more the more often I look at your work, and I think it's a bit of a pity since I'm sure you have the skill to draw POC realistically and very well. So I thought I might as well ask if there's a reason you don't? Hope you're not offended, I still admire your art a great deal <3

I’m not offended as I draw from what i see when it comes to canon characters. The truth is is that I’m not a realism artist (semi-realism at best, but actual realism is never the focus) and I draw the characters based off of their references. The rule of my art is to keep things such as eye shape in tact as that’s one of the easiest ways of identifying characters even in my own style.

If you’re familiar with my work, then you’ve seen all the POC characters I’ve drawn. I’ve also drawn people based off of references using their exact irl features, but that’s irl references which non of these characters are.

I do strongly advise in the future that you don’t use terms like “look (insert ethnicity/race)” as it can actually come across as offensive even if that’s not your intent. It can easily insinuate that you believe ethnicities/races across the board share a certain look and anyone that doesn’t fit that look is now magically not a part of that race or ethnic group.

[dominonary]

1, 6, 8, 13, 19?

how i would describe my style -

inconsistent HDHGFKDJHG

no, really though, i have so many different art styles at this point! i'm pretty bad at picking just one and sticking with it. i have a handful of ones i default to when i intend to draw something in "my" style, but i have several that fall in between semi-realistic and cartoony, depending entirely on what vibe i'm going for. if anything, i'd say i tend to fall in the area of "you can probably tell i can't decide between anime styles, western cartoony styles, and realistic". most of my art is like, semi-stylized but i also can't resist working on the anatomy if i let myself spend very long on a doodle, so when i actually do want to go for more stylized art, i have to really swallow down the urge and allow myself to draw spaghetti legs without defined knees or whatever it is i'm hung up on in whatever area i'm 400% zoomed in on

6. warm or cold colors -

aaahh that depends entirely on the piece though! i'm gonna say warm, because that's where my brain is leaning tonight, but my preference varies a LOT.

8. most and least fun parts of my process -

the most fun is probably cleaning up my sketch and getting it to look the way i want it! i try very hard to avoid killing the aspects that make the sketch look good, so a good amount of my drawings are secretly just sketches that i keep chipping at until they work as lineart.

the least fun is... usually towards the end, when everything is coming together enough that i start zooming out and spotting all the areas that look totally off and make me want to redo the whole thing DHGKJSDHG

13. how long do i usually take on a piece -

my pieces depend a lot! if i'm doing a thing with multiple characters, full (or near full) bodies, 70 coloring and shading layers etc, i can easily spend like 3-5 hours or more on it. my simpler doodles or linearts with minimal coloring/shading tend to be anywhere in the 10-45 minute range. i've been informed i'm a very fast doodler so a lot of my simpler stuff is churned out in like, 5-20 minute chunks! though i'm spending longer on pretty much all the ygotober pieces this month.

19. how often do i draw -

depends how busy i am! i try to at least doodle a little bit every week, but i have periods where i draw for hours a day and periods where i'm so busy with other crafts or projects that i have to sit myself down with pen and paper for an hour just to make sure my hands don't forget how to draw things. on average, i probably draw every other day or so.

[comicaurora]

Madam Red I love your art style so much, it is so very excellent, who influenced your art style?

That’s a good question! My style went through a lot of changes.

When I was younger, I tried to copy newspaper comics, because they were what I saw most often - dot eyes, button noses, lanky noodle proportions, extreme squash and stretch, etc. It didn’t really work for me, and I didn’t stick with it long enough to get good at it. I could never get the movement to make sense. Everyone was shaped so weird.

That’s when I discovered manga. We had a bunch of Shonen Jump issues lying around, and I started trying to figure out how that strange, angular art style worked. And I sucked at that, too, but it definitely had an impact. The extremely angular eyes of the shonen I read didn’t work for my style, and the hair didn’t make any sense to me, but when I rounded things out a bit and started focusing on the flow of movement rather than copying the line style, I settled into something that didn’t look very anime at all, but was starting to work for me.

Ultimately, when I started getting serious about art again, I fell back on what I was most experienced with - life-drawing. With a basis of semi-realism and a focus on anatomy, the cartoony and anime-y influences settled into something fairly fluid and flexible that I think still managed to communicate flow and movement without feeling too rigid.

The channel was also a big help because it forced me to practice like crazy. Even the shorter videos require dozens of frames, with the longer ones creeping up into the hundreds. And even though the style in the videos is very simplified, it still forced me to pay attention to weight and movement, which can all be applied to more realistically-proportioned figures when I switch over to the comic.

I’m kinda curious what styles you guys think my art looks like, though! I didn’t really have one of those “I’m trying to do this one style from this one thing” phases a lot of my friends did, and with some of their art, you can tell just from how they draw eyes or noses or animals what their main influences were during their formative years (in my experience it’s mostly Disney)

[shimzus-a3]

@kainan​ asked — willow + violet + goldenrod + hibiscus + hollyhock. last but not least [insertflowername]: do it [redacted] ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

once upon a time i wrote a headcanon about how shimizu handles stress , and i think a lot of the same coping mechanisms she uses to handle moments of overwhelming pressure apply regardless of if that pressure is stress / sadness / depression. i note that shimizu is the type of person who likes having some semblance of control around her surroundings , because she thrives in routine / order / security. that means for abstract stressors or emotional pressures , it’s harder for her to find something to lock into securely. usually , to cope , she finds something tangible that she can anchor herself to. in japan , the idea of ‘ seiso ’ ( 5s system ) is taught to young children as a way of keeping their surroundings clean and functional. it’s the reason why schoolchildren are made to clean their own classrooms at the end of the day , and is used to justify productivity as a direct result of a clean workspace. shimizu tends to follow seiso in times of stress by cleaning her room / cleaning her house to transfer her thoughts from abstract emotional focuses to more tangible , physical focuses. 

i also noted in that headcanon that if she’s stressed , she’s unlikely to share it with others. shimizu is deft at side-stepping or brushing away other’s concerns , or even down-playing them ( in the way she does in a hq extra when takeda finds her sick and tells her to go home , but she assures him she’s fine and can continue helping the team ). she’s highly reluctant to talk about her feelings even if prompted to by a close friend , so working through stress / sadness / depression is much like an inner battle than one she’s likely to work through with a friend. 

she probably broods and is much quieter than usual , and excuses herself from spaces earlier than the majority so she has time to herself. she doesn’t cry very often , but if the cause of her sadness / depression was powerful enough then she might as a cathartic release. but mostly , i think her focusing on cleaning / doing tangible tasks is what helps her redirect her focus into something productive and grounding.

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

it really depends. at first , i want to say that she doesn’t respond to it well. much like semi , one of her major character flaws is that she’s quick to judge people and to form opinions of them immediately. but she’s also more lenient than him when it comes to adapting her opinions of people. for example , she disliked tsukishima and kageyama at first— tsukishima because he really seemed to disregard everyone else’s efforts on the team and was very unsportsmanlike , and kageyama because he too was unsportsmanlike at first and treated others poorly. however , the longer they were on the team , the better shimizu began to think of them. they became teammates rather than new , troublesome first years , and she started to overlook their rocky start. so while she’s quick to judge , under the right circumstances she can learn to rewrite those judgments. 

when it comes to betrayal , she’s probably much the same way , but a bit more critical. despite how cold she can come across as , she has more empathy with close friends than one might assume , and if the betrayal is due to that friend being in a hard spot , then she might understand. of course , it would take her a long time to work through her own thoughts and come to an acceptance of any apology , but it’s not as if she’d never get there. more than anything— and as unfair as it is— because shimizu is quite judgmental at first , the betrayal would sting immediately and the empathy would take forever to work through. it would probably fall upon the ‘ traitor ’ to come forth to shimizu with an explanation and apology. she can’t read minds and won’t know what the person was thinking , and she’s not confident enough in her own ability to understand others , so it really needs to come straight from the mouth of the other person for her to begin her process of acceptance.

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

not really , no. her family follows a mix of shintō and buddhist traditions , because while her maternal family is shintōist her father is buddhist. but they’re not necessarily a religious family , and shimizu isn’t pressed to say that she believes in the gods. in fact , when the third years go to the shrine for new years and they pray to the gods for success , shimizu cuts them down by saying the gods won’t help them win. in this little headcanon here i talked a lot about how shimizu addressed her surroundings at face value , and that her success in track and field wasn’t really tied to anything otherworldly. rather , she only focused on the things she could see / touch / hear. to me , this means that she’s more of a realist than an optimist who looks towards luck or fortune. you can’t count on those types of things to consistently help you , which means that they probably don’t really exist. instead , we have to take in the things around us that we can see and feel and rely on those. and overall , shimizu’s concerns are not with luck and fortune but on seeing challenges and tackling them with as much effort as possible , not about winning or losing. 

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

she’s not a romantic and she’s not a pessimist , either , so shimizu probably ranks somewhere between these things. there are simple things she really appreciates in life , and in many of my threads i focus on those things because shimizu doesn’t talk / express her thoughts outwardly , but her appreciation for small insignificant details is a persisting feeling. she’s not pressed to want to protect them or to feel disappointed when they disappear ; there’s always a balance , and when one disappears she probably finds something else to appreciate. for example , she likes her family’s garden outside their teahouse because it’s beautiful and peaceful , but when she moves out into a home of her own she probably finds things that she likes about that space , too.

in japanese there’s a difficult-to-describe term called wabi-sabi , which is essentially like finding beauty in small , imperfect , fleeting things. it’s why tea house flower displays are asymmetrical and the style of japanese pottery that highlights cracks with gold glaze is so popular. shimizu appreciates wabi-sabi in life but doesn’t put too much emphasis onto it. but things like an ugly cat or mismatched socks are peaceful sometimes , and shimizu has no problem ( in all her silence ) pausing to give them a brief thought and a feeling of pleasant satisfaction.

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ? 

compared to her team , who she watches grow in ambition , shimizu is not very ambitious. she’s the type of person who goes with the flow and accepts where life takes her , even if it’s not somewhere particularly glamorous. during track and field , she thinks about how it would be nice to succeed , but she knows her own limits and doesn’t feel ambitious to be the best despite her lack of innate talent. 

at her core , i think shimizu is just looking for a comfortable life where she’s able to find things that bring her joy. she doesn’t care so much about money or fame , but maybe being able to settle down with someone and to pass the days feeling comfortable and loved would be nice. 

that being said , she has a great respect for people who are ambitious and work towards their goals. that’s insanely attractive to her and she finds that those types of people , if humble and hard-working , make the best / most outstanding types of citizens. 

insertflowername :   do it [redacted] ?

yes. under the right circumstances it does.

botanical headcanons ,

[7hyuns]

million dollar man

johnny x reader

warnings; nsfw, slight angst, social class discrimination (? kinda), semi public sex

requested; yes a reallyyy long time ago by @cloroxteen sorry and thank you <3

a/n; please appreciate her this took so long

word count; 17.8k 

songs; when the party’s over - billie eilish, million dollar man / without you / music to watch boys to - lana del rey

The ceiling was leaking again. Noticing made a sudden fatigue creep into your body, your movements slowing to a stop as you stared up at where the droplets of water began to form before falling. You wondered how long the hole had been there, if it even was a hole or simply damp again, how much it would cost to fix. Whatever it was, you knew it would be too much for you to afford. As it seems everything always is. Even with taking a home that was so closely compact to the industrial part of your city, it seemed nothing was at all cheaper.

You thought how fitting it seemed that you had gotten a leak in your ceiling just as fall began. That gave you far less time than you were going to need to scrounge up the money to get it fixed, especially if you wanted to get it done before the threat of part of your ceiling caving in became all too real. Though you heavily doubted that was something you’d be able to do, and considered the all-too-likely possibility of having to do it yourself this time.

At least last year you had been able to work two jobs, and relatively comfortably considering the length the situation of Chicago’s businesses had been going on. It was only just before Valentine’s day that something had gone awfully wrong at one of the stores you worked at, and it found itself closed down. Forty-eight people had lost their jobs that day, which seemed to make finding another forty-eight times harder in the city. For a while you had thought getting by with the one job would be enough if you were cautious – and bought nothing you didn’t absolutely need – but even that seemed a strain these days.

Not only was it fatiguing to see your ceiling giving up on you, it was painful to think that with the way you were living, you would never have anything you wanted. Even if you did eventually work enough to have the things you needed, which seemed a push from where you were standing watching a puddle form on your kitchen floor. In that moment, living had never seemed more bleak.

You walked around the splattering water to reach the cupboard underneath your kitchen sink, looking for the rusted tin bucket that you’d kept from the other times this had occurred. Dropping the bucket with a clash of hollow tin onto wet tile floors, you heard the drops begin to echo onto the surface. Taking a wary glance at the thin puddle on the floor, you realised you would be better off cleaning it up before you relaxed. You couldn’t find the energy, however, and instead made the short trip from facing the back of your couch to sitting down in the small space of the attached living room. Even these short strides seemed too much for you to comprehend doing, and that feeling remained despite you already tucking your legs up underneath you as you sat on the worn fabric.

The couch itself had seen too many years since it had been gifted to your parents on their wedding day to still be considered comfortable by any means. That was only if you stayed still on it for too long, though, which seemed the only saving grace you could find in it. Much like all of your other large furniture items that you’d filled the two main rooms of your ground-floor apartment with, you hadn’t paid for it. Or even picked it out yourself. Your parents had been kind enough to give you the old stuff that had been lingering in the garage of your childhood home for fear of losing the memories attached to them.

Thinking of them when you had a moment to yourself made you suddenly regretful. For what, you weren’t sure. Maybe being away from them both seemed a better idea at the time you left, or maybe you missed the simplicity of life on the further outskirts of the city. Maybe it was only a longing for your childhood to come back so you didn’t have to think about all of the grown-up things for yourself anymore. You had regretted running off what seemed so far since the day you had done it, but there was nothing more you could do now. Sometimes you could barely remember why you had moved to the city anyway. Chasing big dreams, or following someone who was chasing big dreams. One of you had managed to make those big dreams become real, had turned them into a tangible thing.

Looking around your cosy home, it seemed simple to tell that the one who had struck out wasn’t you. You supposed, with the ever-so-wonderful hindsight, moving straight into the city by yourself at a time so obsessed with glitz and glamour hadn’t been such a fine idea. Though you knew the largest reason you had followed the someone else into the city in the first place had been to earn your own glitz and glamour life-style.

Sitting on your parents couch in a flat with a leak in the ceiling, you were beginning to think you should have done what all other American girls did when they were seeking success and education, and moved to New York. Even your friends had spoken dreamily of the big city, saying that’s the only place you could ever hope to find real culture and, as most of your friends insisted, real jazz.

Chicago wasn’t a place of real culture or real jazz, not in any shape or form. You could guess it was warmer in New York than it was in Chicago, too. If you had flourished in a certain area, or if you had a passion, maybe you could have taken the chance and followed it all the way to New York. But you didn’t and you hadn’t. Instead you had moved further into your home city at the worst possible time and found yourself, along with all of the friends who had stayed, shrouded in fear and crime.

You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t all bad. You had to, because otherwise life seemed far too bleak to keep up with. The light rain that was pattering against your window would get worse, you knew. If not over the course of the night then in the morning, surely. The thought filled you with subdued fear. You wondered if the bucket would be enough to keep your stable through the entirety of the fall and into the winter. That was a tricky line to walk, though. If you left it too long, the ceiling would cave, just as the man who had fixed it last time had insisted.

The night seemed to be taking too long, and there was too much weighing on your mind to consider staying awake any longer. You rose up and took long, dragged footsteps the short few paces to cross over the door-frame into your bedroom. You didn’t bother even turning the light on, feeling as though the weight of the world was suddenly resting on your shoulders. You kicked the door shut behind you, tugging your work short off and stepping out of your skirt to pull an older, looser shirt on to cover yourself.

When you had finally crawled into your bed it seemed colder than you had expected. Even the sheets felt icy and uncomfortable when you tugged them up to cover yourself. There’s little more I can do, you reminded yourself, closing your eyes and hoping for warmth. The thought made you want to laugh, with its consistency in your daily thinking. I hope, I hope, I hope. But what good had that been doing you in the last few years, really? You wondered whether the hope of meeting success had been enough for the boy you’d followed. Judging from where he’d made it in such a short span of time, you could only imagine it had been far more than hope that had given him what he had now.

 ///

The books had been handled badly in, “The Ox,” for such a long time that even with having worked there for over a year, there seemed so much to do. The owner, who was only ever briefly glimpsed around the bar once a month gathering his reports, never wearing a name tag, was called Sicheng. You had never found the confidence to ask too many questions about the man – what his last name was (though you had discovered within the pages of the book that his full name was Dong Sicheng and he was around your age), where he was from, why he seemed to have a lack of interest in his own business – though that was the same for many people.

Men in bars loved to talk to anyone that would listen, which happened to be the most difficult job of the women pouring their drinks. And, as usual, women – without the exemption of yourself – loved to gossip about the most interesting things they could find out. The happiest moments in your daily life was when you would be preparing to go home, or even when one of the women would spend their break in your mini-office instead of having to leave the building into the fall chill, would seek you out to tell you something exciting they had learnt. Dong Sicheng had become a natural inquisition for most of the people who had him as a boss, as there seemed to be so little available to learn about him. All they had known upon first getting their jobs was his name and that he wasn’t from Chicago, or even America at all.

Over time, with the information the women working at the bar had collected, you’d put together a vague, blurry image of Sicheng in your mind. His name was Dong Sicheng but oftentimes in letters he received he was referred to as Winwin. He was around your age, he was from China though you didn’t know where. And he was very anti-social. Once a month was about as often as he’d show his face. That didn’t seem too strange considering what it was the women said the men who grew too brave in their drunkenness for their own good.

Most of them said he was part of a gang that had come over from China to work with the American gangs, though you didn’t know how realistic that seemed. All the stories about him seemed in ultimate agreement that he worked in some kind of dirty business. Though, with the state the city was in, you weren’t sure you would confidently say that any business wasn’t like to be dirty. Either way, whenever you looked over the books, you knew that something was out of the ordinary. Too many odd payments were made or received with no reason given, or a short, ‘donation,’ if anything. You didn’t think it was probable that anyone would be making donations to some bar on a main street of Chicago when there must have been hundreds of others in the surrounding area.

You stretched out in your seat, staring blankly at the box of papers you had to sort through today. You didn’t think it would too difficult a task, and you thought if you moved quickly you could get it finished before the half-way mark of the day. Not that that meant too much, your work day would still end at the same time whether you rushed through it or not.

Despite knowing it was a littler amount than you had expected, it didn’t seem to make the first two hours pass any faster. By the first time in the day that one of the women who worked on the bar slipped into your office, every blink was beginning to feel like dragging sandpaper over your eyes. You could still feel the ever-present worry about the tin bucket on your kitchen floor; whether it had overflowed even though the rain was only light today, whether it had been knocked over by some mysterious force.

The woman had been working there just under a year, and was, to your surprise, younger than you. She had come from London hoping to find adventure in the ‘new world,’ which to her, had only been Chicago as of yet. Instead of finding her hoped for adventure, she had found a job in a bar that was possibly run by a gang member, but seemed altogether too quiet to keep her satisfied.

She was frowning when she walked into your working room, her brows drawn and eyes shying away from yours. You rose your eyebrows at her as she began to search the room for something else to look at. “Ada?” She offered you a tight-lipped smile. “Is everything alright?”

“No, I, I need to ask a favour.” She mumbled.

��Alright.”

When she looked at you, you made yourself smile reassuringly at her. This seemed to give her a shred more confidence, though she still seemed hesitant to ask. “I forgot to pick my medicine up this morning.” She declared, looking straight at you.

The difficulty she seemed to have asking the favour made you feel an odd sense of fondness rise in your chest. You smiled warmly at her. “Do you need to go and get it now?” She nodded. “So, what can I do to help you?”

She shuffled on her feet, tangling her hands with one another. “I was wondering if, you know if you had less work to do, if you could watch the bar while I go.” She paused, waiting to see if you reacted. “I would be quick! Not any more than an hour, I promise. It’s alright if you can’t, I could just, go, I could go later.”

You judged by her insistence on going now that going later wasn’t so open an option to her. You made yourself smile again to soothe her worries before you stood up. “It’s fine, I’ll be finished with this work within an hour, anyway. I’d be bored silly with nothing else to do.”

This seemed to soothe her enough for her to nod, though still not without hesitation. “An hour.” She repeated, though you assumed that was more to cool her own guilt.

You nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

After offering you an apologetic smile, she turned and left the room. The click of her short heels resounded until she reached the room where all of the workers left their belongings in the morning. When she was gone, you fell back into your same sense of empty tiredness. The fatigue wasn’t a calling for sleep, more so for some miracle gravitational shift that would change your life for the better. Or simply enough for me to not have to return home to a ruined ceiling. The sense of dramatics in your tired eyes made you wonder how much longer you had before that worry was for your whole home. Even the far away idea of it made your stomach turn in anxiety.

You pushed yourself up away from the table, flattening your palms to provide yourself some stability. For a minute, you stayed like that; breathing deeply and expecting the worst of your future. Yes, let’s follow an old friend to inner-city Chicago on the off-chance that we’ll find the same glamour he undoubtedly will. What a fine idea! And what a find outcome it had evidently been, standing in a room that smelt of woodchips and liquor, desperate to return home to a flat that smelt of mould and old furniture.

Once the angry butterflies having their own little riot in your stomach had relaxed, you stood up straight, and heaved in a deep sigh. “An hour,” you reminded yourself, though interacting with drunk men didn’t seem like it had an amount of time to take before it became awful. It’s only the start of the night, you cooled yourself. You turned, pausing only to wish that you were hidden away in the comfort of you bed once more, before walking out in the main area of the bar.

Despite it being early into the night, it was swirling with movement. The band that Sicheng had play in the bar for most of the week were in full swing, though the awe of their music was drowned out by a collection of drunken young men singing along. You slipped to move past them without alerting them of your presence. Finding your way to behind the safety of the bar at the back of the room proved a tasking challenge, with such a mess of bodies and drinks being jostled and knocked, creating even more of real mess that someone would have to clean when this place emptied later. You felt a stab of pity for them, seeing an older man spill half a pint of his beer onto the floor after stumbling into one of his group.

When you finally shut the little gate behind you, you steadied yourself again. The rising noise of music mingling with the murmuring cacophony of too many conversations happening at once was making your ears ring. Fall had meant the lights had to be turned on earlier in the day, with no natural lighting being enough for the workers to find their way around. Even that seemed to make your head spin. Reminder: no more looking for second jobs as a bar maid.

Someone called out at the bar’s edge, an older man with slicked back hair and a three-piece on, though he seemed to have lost the jacket to his suit. The other girl seemed busy loading a set of drinks up onto a tray, so you exhaled heavily and turned to face the man properly.

Putting on a customer friendly smile made you feel the sleepiness settle more obviously on your shoulders. How much longer can I carry my life on my back? That’s not where it’s supposed to be. But that’s where it was, and if you ever wanted it to be anywhere else, you had to work for it. “What can I get you tonight, sir?”

The man smiled, and you tried to guess whether this would go smoothly or make you wish you were anywhere else all over again. If there was any hint of your distaste for the possibility of him being anything other than amiable, he took it. A friendly smile lifted his lips. “Just two whiskeys, please.”

Your heart settled a bit. Nodding, you turned to prepare the drinks. The smell of the whiskey was potent as soon as you pulled the top of the bottle, like the smell of men mingled with the ash-trays that decorated the tables in here. You poured an equal amount into the two glasses and turned to place them on the bar in front of the man.

He smiled again, dropping the money he was clutching in his hand down onto the counter. He inclined his head in the way men said, ‘thank you,’ when they didn’t particularly want to say it. You supposed that was better than nothing. As much as there was no shortage of people crowding, ‘The Ox,’ they all seemed fairly too preoccupied with there conversations, or with shouting along to the band’s music, to be making frequent trips to the bar. That wouldn’t be good for Sicheng you supposed, but it was something you were grateful for.

Then the door opened, and the bruised blue light of the sky outside was visible again. The noise from the street leaked in only slightly, just by the sound of some argument happening on the street. Take the back when you go home today. Last time, you had been blocked in by the police breaking up another fight-gone-violent, and then by a crowd of people desperate for something to see. You weren’t in the mood for that to be how your day ended again.

You glanced over to the large group of men walking in. They were all done-up nicely; three-piece suits with fine jackets that made you assume they were businessmen, slicked back hair, and cigarettes hanging from their lips. You could have written them off normal customers for a bar like this. Though on your second glance you saw enough to make your stomach drop again.

He was dressed much the same as all of his other companions; his suit was a dull grey, his hair was pushed off of his face, though some of it had slipped from its position, and he blew a cloud of smoke from his lips as he looked over to the bar. You thought, I wish I was invisible. You thought, I hope he thinks I look as good as I think he does.

Either way, you wished your were busy with something else, so you didn’t look like you were blatantly staring at him. It seemed to late for a regret like that one, though. He had seen you, and was making it no secret. You were sure if anyone was paying attention, they could see his eyes blatantly take in your figure, or as much of it as he could with the bar covering you. He turned to the group where they were picking out somewhere to sit, and shouted something over to one of them. The boy looked younger than he was, and laughed at whatever comment he made, nodding and turning to say something to another one of them.

Then he started walking towards you. The crowds of people seemed less of a problem to him than they had been for you, as he simply walked calmly on his path to the bar. When someone stumbled into that path, he didn’t seem to notice them at all, letting them tumble their way back out of it. The ease seemed attractive to you, though you guessed it was because you wished you had that same sense of confidence. Just like when you were growing up alongside him, you had to remind yourself he only had the confidence that you didn’t because he was a man. Boys were always brought up to think of themselves as important, even if they weren’t from the city. Girls, well, that was less of a concern with girls.

By the time he reached the bar, the bitterness you had felt at the back of your throat for most of your childhood had returned. You suddenly wished he wasn’t there, that you’d never had to of seen him again. Especially not when I’ve spent all day thinking of my lack of success. Seeing him in his fancy suit with his fancy friends felt like salt was being poured into your wound.

He grinned as he reached the bar, looking you up and down again. When his eyes met yours again, you held back the pride of having him look so blatantly and pleasantly surprised at the way you looked. You made yourself raise your eyebrows expectantly instead. “What can I get you, sir?” You repeated the question as you’d said it earlier. That way you knew he couldn’t interpret it a different way. Is it different? You weren’t sure. Your ceiling back home was leaking, you had to find another job so you could get it fixed, and you were covering on the bar for someone – you didn’t want to think about how much more of you it would take to start chasing him again.

He tilted his head at you, his grin not faltering. “That’s cold.”

You remembered how you’d smiled at the man before, the smile that said ‘I-am-just-here-to-get-payed-and-I-don’t-get-paid-enough-to-deal-with-you’ and mirrored that action again. “Is there a problem, sir?”

A hint of insecurity was beginning to reach his eyes. His grin slipped just slightly before he lifted it back to its original place. “You haven’t forgotten me. I saw how you looked at me when I walked in.”

You didn’t know how to seem cold when he questioned you. My ceiling is leaking, I am looking for another job to fix it, and I’m covering the bar for someone. I don’t have time to be messing around with him. You sighed heavily, letting him get the better of you as he always seemed set on doing. “Oh yes,” you rose your voice so he couldn’t not realise you weren’t serious, “I remember now, you’re Johnny, we were in the same hometown.” You stared blankly at him. “Ready for your drinks now?”

He quirked a brow at you. “Having a bad day?”

The bitterness in the back of your throat tasted like heat and the aftertaste of whisky. “Perhaps I simply don’t like strangers making snide observations of me.”

The grin fell from his face completely, replaced by a look of offended annoyance. “Good thing I’m not a stranger then, isn’t it, ___?”

“You may as well be.”

“I know everything about you. A stranger would know nothing about you.”

You scoffed. “I see getting your own business didn’t make you any smarter.” You glanced around to check no one else was at the bar waiting on you while you bickered. If I lost this job…There was no one but you and Johnny. “And it would be knew.” You corrected.

He recoiled at the comment, and opened his mouth to speak again before pausing. “You’re right.” His expression turned into one of mock understanding. “The girl I knew would never be as cold as you are.”

The comment stung, digging underneath your skin to wait there until you needed substance to be angry with yourself later. “The boy I knew…” you searched his face to try and find any semblance of how he used to be. The boy you’d chased was long gone, that seemed clear as day to see. Seeing it so up-close to you hurt more than it had when you’d simply pictured it. “What happened to him?”

Johnny shrugged. “He grew up.”

“And became a rich man. I suppose that’d change a person easily enough.”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Only for the better.”

“I’ve met enough rich men to prove you wrong there.”

“Maybe,” his grin had returned. Though it wasn’t like his old smiles used to be, it was still pleasant to see when it lit up his features as it did. “What about your friends, huh?”

Confusion became evident on your features. “What about them?”

He bevelled his head at you. “Are rich women much the same as rich men? I always assumed they were worse, since their money’s being held by the rich men.”

You laughed. “I would certainly be worse if a man was holding my money.” You paused for a moment before shaking your head and laughing again. “You think I’m friends with rich women?”

“Well, rich women tend to convene together.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Tell me Johnny,” you began, placing your forearms on the bare in front of him, “why would I be working in a place like this if I was rich?”

He seemed stunted in his point. He shook his head and searched his face to catch any impression that you were joking. “You don’t,” he paused, as if thinking his original words would be too offensive, “you don’t have money?”

I have a leaking ceiling and I’m looking for another job, and now I’m covering work for someone, though you didn’t want him to know about all of that. “I don’t know where you got that impression.” You made yourself laugh again, trying to swallow how hard the reality of how stuck you were as it began to sink back in. Talking to Johnny had almost been enough for you to forget it for a moment. Though only a short moment.

His features had become drawn and serious. Not even that rang a bell of recognition for you. “You must be alright for money if the only job you need is a bar maid, though.” He suggested. You wondered whose conscience he was trying to subdue.

Something inside of you was begging with you not to tell him that that wasn’t true. It pleaded with you to agree, or to brush it off. To do anything that would mean he didn’t figure out your financial situation. You weren’t sure you could handle that kind of embarrassment today. So you only laughed and shrugged again. “I guess so.” You made sure the smile didn’t slip, and hoped that it looked real enough for him to note see through it. You breathed in deeply again, before he could continue speaking. “So, what can I get you?”

Disappointment clouded his features for a moment before he hummed. “Five whiskeys, please.” Even thinking about the price of the order made you feel far poorer than you already were. When the bitterness rose up again, you made yourself force it back. He worked for his money, you thought, but then, so do I.

You put his order onto a tray, “Should I bring this over to your table?”

“No, no,” he took the tray away from where your hands rested on it. “I’ve got it. Thank you.” He dropped the money onto the bar-top. You thought even that much cash would be close to how much you needed to get your ceiling fixed. And he has that to throw away on drinks. The bitterness had the same aftertaste as the overbearing smell of the whisky did.

He only came back over to the bar ten minutes before Ada was supposed to be back. There was a playful smile on his lips that moved up to meet his eyes, and you tried to make yourself copy the action. You failed, only succeeding in smiling a tight-lipped, half-formed look of vague disinterest in his direction.

The expression didn’t go unnoticed. “Too long a shift?” He joked.

If he was still the same Johnny he used to be, you’d say something like, ‘oh, god, you don’t know the half of it!’ But he wasn’t. There were things your pride couldn’t let you confide in him, especially not in a place like this. So you made yourself shrug, and hoped Ada would be late getting back. “I wouldn’t believe anyone if they told me they enjoyed working.”

Johnny laughed, and placed the tray of empty whisky glasses onto the bar-top. A few of glasses clinked when they tapped together. You glanced over at the clock. “Would you believe me?”

“I meant working class people, not businessmen in fancy suits.” You chided.

He nodded in mock understanding. “Businessmen work quite a lot, you know.”

You shrugged. “So do working class people.”

“You don’t.” He grinned.

‘Oh, god, you don’t know the half of it!’ You forced a laugh to pass your lips. “Being around men like you makes up for however much time you spend tucked away in an office.” You tried to sound teasing, but the aftertaste of bitterness lingered on your words.

He didn’t seem to note any animosity, only laughing with you. “When does your shift end?” He questioned, flattening his palms against the bar-top and looking at you expectantly.

Something about the way his hair was falling into his face, with his head tilted and jaw tightened, made you fell the angry butterflies in your stomach soften enough to flutter. He didn’t look like he used to. Despite his words, and the way his brown eyes looked dark enough to be considered smouldering in the golden light, you made yourself raise your eyes in disapproval. “Flirting with a bar maid? Is that allowed for a man in your position?”

He chuckled, and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked up, you felt a blush reach your cheeks as if you were still the same young girl with a silly crush on the boy who seemed so much greater than you could ever be. “Anything’s allowed for a man in my position.”

You scoffed, “I see your confidence hasn’t faltered.”

“I see your unwillingness to answer questions hasn’t faltered.”

Shrugging, you moved to flatten your own palms on the bar-top. Though the space between your heights seemed infinite, you tilted your head up only slightly. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe they’re uninteresting.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Flirting’s too mundane for you?”

“I am a bar maid.”

Johnny hummed. “Are you now?”

You recoiled slightly, pulling your hands off of the bar-top and moving away from him. “What kind of question is that?”

“An interesting one.”

Shaking your head, you looked to the door that lead into the room before the staff exit. There was no sign of movement there. Ada was running three minutes late. Somehow that made you grateful. “An uneducated one, you mean.”

“You don’t dress like a bar maid. Or pour drinks like you do it regularly.” He pointed out.

You sighed. “Why’s that any of your concern?”

He furrowed his brows. “Because if you’re not a bar maid, that means you lied.”

“So? It’s not like you need me to tell you the truth.”

“What was that promise we made?” He asked, leaning further onto the bar-top. “That we’d never lie to one another?”

You scoffed again. “Well, we were nine. I can’t keep all the promises I made to everyone when I was that age.”

He fell into a vague silence. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something to fill the empty space, though you couldn’t think of anything. Not being able to have the right words to say to him made you feel strange, almost inept.

“Well, whatever it is that you do,” he began, “when does your shift end?”

You laughed, half in disbelief and half in surprise at the surrealism of what seemed to be happening. “When the bar closes.” He hummed in acceptance of your answer. “Why do you need to know?”

“I wanted to take you to the pictures.”

You laughed. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted to do.” You teased, still feeling the anticipation of Ada showing up despite knowing Johnny had already figured you out.

Johnny raised his hands in mock surrender. “You know me. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

I don’t, you wanted to say. Instead you made yourself smile the same smile that was a size too small for you. “As are all businessmen.”

He took the edge in your voice as comedy, and laughed loudly again, before shaking his head softly. “You know, it’s quite dangerous for a lady to be walking home in the dark at the same time as drunken men.”

You made a noise somewhere between a scoff and an amused chuckle. “Well, thank you for your concern, sir, but I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

He didn’t laugh. His features grew drawn in seriousness as he stared at you. “Do you not want me to walk you home?”

The idea of him seeing the very exterior of your building, with its brittle bricks and boarded up windows where different flats had been shut off, made embarrassment flood through you. Though you were sure even if he happened to miss those things in the dark, he would want to come in for a drink. Then he would see the old furniture, the leaking ceiling, and he would know you had lied to him more than once.

You scoffed at him. “I think your intentions might be worse than you’re implying.”

A grin turned his lips up again. The sight of him relaxing enough to joke made the nerves in your stomach cool slightly. “Would you want them any other way?”

Humming, you saw Ada appear in the doorway. She offered you an apologetic smile, seeing as she was nearing fifteen minutes later than she had promised to be. You imagined the city at this time would be crowded to navigate on foot, so you only shook your head at her. Tapping your fingertips against the bar-top a few times, you offered Johnny a quizzical look before turning your back on him.

“Is your shift over?” He asked, following you along as you walked toward the gate that sectioned off the open area from the alcohol lining the shelves.

A breathy laugh passed your lips. “No,” you responded.

You passed out of the gate, passing Ada as you did. She paused, quirking a brow at Johnny following closely on your heels. Her hand found your wrist as she stopped you lightly in your tracks. “Everything alright?” She asked.

Smiling brightly, you nodded, moving to squeeze her hand, “He’s just an old friend.” You assured.

She studied him for a moment before releasing her grip. “Give me a shout if you need me, alright?”

You smiled at her one last time before moving to make your way back to your small office. Johnny stuck himself to your side, and suddenly getting through the dense crowds of people didn’t seem such a task. There was an energy of confidence radiating off of him that other people seemed to pick up easily enough, scampering out of his path as he walked. When you reached the closed wooden door of your office, you turned to look up at him.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled, tilting his head at you. “Maybe I’d like to see your real work-place.”

Scoffing, you began to push the door open, walking in with him close on your heels. “There you go with your false intentions again.”

Laughing, he stepped inside the small room. “So I’m the one that spends all day tucked away?” You glared over at him, though he only shrugged. “It’s like those fox holes you used to get your foot caught in back home.”

“You used to fall in them, too.” You defended.

He shrugged, walking over to your desk and looking down at the papers discarded there. “You do the books for this place?”

You tilted your head at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t think I have the intelligence for it?”

He smiled, lifting the latest paper you’d last been working, eyes drifting over the words before he looked back at you. “There’s nothing you don’t have the intelligence for.”

His words flattered you more than any of the times people had called you pretty. Strangely, you wished he would notice more of your skills in the work laying out on the table, though you knew that was little enough to show for your intelligence.

When Johnny began walking towards you, you found your breath growing baited. For a moment, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know him as well as you used to. It didn’t even matter that your ceiling was leaking at home, or that you were looking for a second job to try and get it fixed, or that you supposed to be working right now. Even though if I lost this job…

His eyes were searching your face for something. Whether that was hesitancy to kiss him, or a want to kiss him, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that there was no hesitancy in your mind about him kissing you. Still, he seemed to have frozen in his position, only looking down at you, searching and searching for something you couldn’t see for yourself.

“Johnny,” you mumbled, his name feeling strange in your mouth, “get on with it.”

A grin met his features again. His hands came to cup your face, and for a moment the same searching look came back to him. You moved your own hands to grip the sides of his suit jacket, and tugged him closer. Close enough that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. There was the ever-light hint of whisky on his breath. That was the only thing you could find to dislike about his closeness to you.

When his lips finally met yours, you felt as if something inside of you was settling. Nothing else seemed to matter but the fact that you were finally kissing him. It felt unattached from the dreamy imaginations you’d had about the possibility of kissing him when you were younger. Then, you had always pictured his lips tasting like the candy he used to steal from the shop on the outskirts of the city, and you had pictured his hands feeling soft like the rose petals that grew in his parent’s garden. Now, his lips had the suggestion of whisky on them, mixed with the faintest memory of the cigarette he’d been smoking earlier. And his hands were rougher, and they seemed to shroud your entire face as he cupped it.

The girl version of you would probably have been disappointed at the idea of kissing someone who wasn’t the Johnny she knew. Things, you supposed, had changed quite significantly since you’d moved into the city. And with as little experience – or even basic knowledge – that you’d had with romance, you decided you knew barely enough to know what a relationship was back then. Now, with Johnny’s hands mapping out over your body, something in you decided that this could at least be a learning point. If not of love, then of affection.

When his lips left yours, a flood of disappointment moved through you. As much as a heavy whine wanted to pass from your lips, your pride wouldn’t let it, your lips locking closed. There was amusement lighting up his features, and no matter how hard you tried to force it you couldn’t bring up that bitter feeling again.

You wondered if you should whine again, or if you should complain, or maybe even just pull away and stop playing a game that was so childish in retrospect. At whatever glare had come into your eye, Johnny cocked his head. “Is there a problem?”

You pushed his hands away from you, scoffing as you did. “You’re a tease.”

He hummed, curling his arms around your waist and nodding. “If you don’t want me to tease,” he started, dipping closer to you again, “tell me what you want me to do.”

Drawing away from him slightly, you tried to study him like he had with you. You didn’t know what he’d been looking for, so in turn you didn’t know what you were looking for in him. You felt amusement mingling with excitement inside of you, and only when it met a burst of confidence did you let yourself speak. “Do whatever you’ve been thinking about doing to me all night.”

Another boisterous laugh left your lips. He spun you both around, turning and beginning to walk you both away from the closed door. When you felt the edge of the desk touch the tops of your thighs, you let him lift you. As one hand held you steady against him, the other swiped papers out of the way to make room to set you down. Part of you wanted to be anxious about the work getting muddled, about whatever work you’d already done in the day being wasted, but you couldn’t think about anything other than the way Johnny attached his lips to your neck. Flattening your palms against his chest, you let him begin to push your skirt higher up your legs. When you felt it bunch at your waist, you finally stopped biting back the whine that was sitting impatiently at the back of your throat.

He unravelled himself from you for a moment, “Quite bold of you to assume I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

You whined impatiently again, feeling his hands move higher up your thighs. “Of course you have. I’m a delight.”

He laughed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck to leave more kisses in the bare space there. When you felt his fingers hook into the sides of your underwear, a desperate moan tumbled past your lips. Johnny offered you a mock wary glance. “You’ve gotta be quieter than that if you’re gonna let me do whatever I want.”

You tried to shrug off the words. “I didn’t say whatever you wanted. I said whatever you’d been thinking about.”

“Same thing.” He pulled your underwear the rest of the way down your legs, stopping only to give you a quick glance as you kicked them off. A vague feeling of insecurity came over you then, with your skirt bunched into a roll of fabric at your hips and your underwear discarded on the floor. The feeling wasn’t given very long to grow, with Johnny crouching down in front of the desk shortly after.

There was a look in his eyes that told you he had a million teasing remarks sitting on the tip of his tongue for the sight that greeted him. Though he remained silent as he gripped the backs of your knees and tugged you closer to the edge of the desk. A surprised gasp left your mouth before you had the chance to recover from the shock. You wanted to say that the light chuckle that left his lips was because of something else – some joke his friends had said earlier that he’d only just caught on to – but you knew that wasn’t possible.

Johnny didn’t seem too keen on giving you a clear amount of time to overthink anything. You placed your flattened palms against the desk as he attached his mouth to your heat, curling your lip to bite back the moans that begged to leave your mouth. The noise from outside of the small office seemed distant and drowned out now that all you could fully focus on was the feeling of Johnny’s lips against you. It’s been too long, that’s all it is. Though you wondered if it was really that, or just something too difficult to accept. That maybe this was just another of Johnny’s many skills.

As the coil already began to start forming in the pit of your stomach, you were coming to the vexed realisation that that was going to be the case again. Oddly, even in such an intimate position of him having his head between your thighs, you felt that moving to thread your fingers through his hair would be too much. You wanted to think more about that, but the coil in your stomach was shifting into a pressure that made you try and stutter a warning to Johnny.

But all of a sudden the feeling stopped altogether, and he was pulling away from you slightly. Still with his knees against the floor, he bevelled his head up at you. Your head was spinning too much for you to be sure what expression was casting across your features, but you almost sure it was one of childish irritation. “Problem?” He questioned, running his hands up your thighs from your knees until his fingertips were dancing over your core.

You tried to push your hips forward to gain something more, but the short space you had on the desk prevented you. “Is that you’ve been thinking about?”

“Seeing your face when you start to beg?” He grinned, “Yeah.”

Sighing, you shook your head at him. “I’m starting to think you’re just a bad person nowadays.”

He pulled his fingertips away from you, bringing them to his lips before he spoke again. “Well, just this once, then,” he began, pressing a few light kisses to the inside of your thighs, “I’ll give in and, well, you know – be nice.”

“How kind.”

And then the room felt like it had gone underwater again. The noise that had previously just become loud background volume had turned back into distant, dreamy chatter again. Small moans fought past your mouth, but you reminded yourself of just how awful things would be if anyone caught you in this position. Well, I might finally speak to Sicheng. Nothing’s all bad. But the way Johnny moved his mouth against you made it difficult to think rationally about anything.

When the coil in your stomach began to push against you again, you imagined the worst; Johnny pulling away from you again, or maybe even someone wandering in. By the time you felt the coil snap, you were too distracted by the euphoria of it to think of anything else. It’s just been too long…but you weren’t even sure that by the time your bitterness for Johnny reappeared you would be able to say he had made you feel that good for any reason other than sheer talent.

He remained silent for a few moments, kissing the inside of your thighs softly as they shook slightly in the aftermath. When he rose to stand up, he placed your underwear back at your feet, pulling them up until they reached where your thighs met the table. You pulled in a breath to steady yourself and then let your legs drop onto the ground, lifting your underwear up until they were back into their correct place.

Johnny was looking at you with his head tilted. You glanced over at the old clock that hung above the door and saw it was two minutes until the under-boss for Sicheng would come and throw everyone out. You usually tried to get out five minutes or so before this happened – as did all the women – to give them a safe head-start. Thinking about walking home with packs of drunk men staggering around in every direction, with the high likelihood of rain, sounded like the last thing you wanted to do.

“You gonna let me drive you home or am I supposed to walk you back?” Johnny asked, pulling your attention back to him.

You made yourself laugh, even if the question didn’t directly suggest itself to be a joke. “I guess I’ll let you drive. Only because I wouldn’t want you making two journeys for me.”

He hummed, pulling the door open and waiting for you to walk out in front of him. “You’re such a delight.” He teased, falling in behind you as you made your way through the packs of people. It felt odd that not one of the people crowded into this room seemed to have checked the time enough to try and get out before the rush. Maybe you were just trying to think of anything other than the way Johnny’s hand was resting on your hip so he didn���t lose you as you directed the two of you to the main door. When your hand caught the handle, you hesitated, wondering if you should scrap this entire idea and go out your usual way. Something about leaving the building without telling anyone you’d finished your shift felt unnatural, and made a small tremor of anxiety make itself present.

But there was too little time left for you to push your way back through the crowds to the opposite side of the room. Instead, you pushed the handle down and pulled the door open to let the smell of the city into the main bar room. After a while of living in the middle of Chicago, you got used to the collide of different smells surrounding you at all times. Though in that moment, with your head feeling fuzzy and your legs feeling half as strong as they usually did, everything seemed more present than it really was.

Especially the cold. The second Johnny gave you a light push outside, the icy air curled around your bare arms and the sliver of skin exposed where your socks didn’t meet the end of your skirt. Part of you wanted to push yourself further into where Johnny had wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, but the other – still far more dominant – part of you refused to look like you needed anything from him. Rain was falling harshly against the ground, splashing up to greet your grey socks and darken in shade.

No matter how much you wanted to feel like you were entirely governing the moment between you and Johnny, you couldn’t do much more than let him guide you in whatever direction you needed to take to reach his car. You took the chance to glance up at him, and despite the lack of light, you could tell he still looked just as good as he had when he’d walked into the bar. His hair was growing damp from the rain now, as you imagined yours was, too. But more strands were starting to fall into his face, and he was looking straight ahead with the few directing lights shining in his eyes. He doesn’t look like he used to. Somehow that didn’t seem too important anymore.

He opened the car door for you, grinning tiredly as he gestured you inside. You didn’t know whether to laugh or thank him. If he was the same Johnny you used to be friends with, you would have just laughed and slapped his hand away from the car door. Now that you were both outside, in the real world, the bitterness had transformed into your usual non-purposeful nerves around the businessmen that came into the bar daily.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quickly, shifting in your seat as he shut the door for you. Before he walked to his side of the car, he offered you a quizzical look and then a polite smile. The same polite smile you’d offer a stranger if they had just thanked you for doing something kind for them. Your chest felt drawn and tight.

When he started to navigate his way away from the other swarm of cars beginning to come back to life after being sat in a parking spot all night, you began to try and articulate an excuse. Or think of another street you knew well enough to tell Johnny that that’s where you lived. It had to be somewhere nicer than the one you lived on now, but not so nice that it would seem implausible for you to afford it mostly by yourself.

Johnny turned out onto the main street by the bar you had been working out for a little over a year. A street you had walked up and down a hundred times. “So, where am I going?” He looked across at you, a few strands of hair reaching far enough down his forehead to begin to cover one of his eyes.

You hadn’t been given enough time to think of an excuse that would work well enough to go past Johnny. Instead you only rattled off your address and hung your head, too nervous to see the look on his face as he realised. Whether that was realised you had not-so-directly been lying to him or that you were poorer than he had first imagined, you didn’t know. All you knew for sure was how businessmen got when they were around people with less money than them. You didn’t want to think of Johnny looking at you like that.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. Not an awkward silence, but in the few sneak glances you took at Johnny you could only see him focused ahead on the road. Part of you was surprised that he even knew his way to your street, as you could safely assume he’d never been there before. The rain was hitting the roof of the car loudly, though you found yourself more entranced with the people rushing along the streets outside.

The car passed one of the larger shops in the city, with it’s ‘open,’ sign still high in the window. In the window away from the door, there was a sign that read, ‘Help Wanted.’ A small gleam of hope lifted into your chest. For once, you wanted to feed into the idea that luck was on your side. That hope translated quickly into worry. Worry that you wouldn’t get the job, or that if you didn’t make Johnny stop the car right there and get straight out to apply for it then it would be gone in the morning – even the worry that the other good things that had happened through the day were beginning to make you delusional to see what you wanted.

You stayed silent and let Johnny drive you the rest of the way home. When the car slowed to a stop, part of you didn’t want to get out, in fear of the dream-like haze of the day disappearing. Getting out of the car, closing the door on Johnny – it felt all too much like waking up from some sweet dream. I just don’t want to get out into the rain, that’s all. But lying to yourself seemed to be getting harder and harder.

Pushing the car door open, you tried to think of something to say. A goodbye, maybe, or maybe a flirty suggestion of seeing him again. If it was still the Johnny you had known, maybe you would make that joke. But the man sat in the car with you wasn’t.

When your pause had become awkward and unnaturally long enough for him to tell you didn’t know what to say, Johnny breathed in sharply. “Will I get to see you around, then? Or do I have to charm you into talking to me every time I see you?” He asked, making himself smile to soothe your evident nerves.

It didn’t work, but you appreciated his effort. “Maybe I like to see you make an effort.”

He laughed then, and you wanted to feel confident that it was genuine. The rain was falling harder. “Well, I better get used to it, then.”

A grin turned your lips upwards. Even if it didn’t feel like you were talking to the Johnny you used to know, the Johnny you had followed all the way to the city for the slightest hope of doing as well as he had, you thought you might be able to get used to this new one. “You better.” You assured him, pushing the car door the rest of the way open.

The light feeling had returned to your chest as you hurried to your door. An odd sense of gratitude was in your stomach that he hadn’t made any mention of your living space. You hadn’t gone back to the back room to get your jacket, so you gave morning you a congratulations for forgetting to take her key out of her breast pocket after leaving the house. Johnny offered you one more wave before he drove off, rain water rising from the floor and spraying up as you stood in your doorway to watch.

When he was gone and the door closed behind you, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Reality was sitting at your kitchen table waiting for you to accept her, as much as you didn’t want to. You dropped your key onto the bowl that held it on the kitchen side, and looked at the floor. The rusty metal bucket had overflowed, water just starting to tip over the side.

You knew you should empty it out and put it back, but looking up, the small leak seemed to have grown larger. The man did the say the ceiling was at risk. You pulled out one of the two chairs at your kitchen table and sat down, staring at the forming puddle. Where earlier in the day irritation and bitterness had been rising to press against your chest, now there was only faint emptiness and a perpetual longing for something you couldn’t recognise. It made you think of the papers thrown all over the floor of your office back at work. It made you think of Johnny, in a strange way. It made you think of the help wanted sign in the window of the shop. Tomorrow, you promised yourself. When you got that second job tomorrow, things would only be on the up.

///

           By the time you got to work the next day, you were late. Or you would have been if Ada hadn’t told the under-boss that you had an appointment to be at that morning. You took that as a thank you for her being late back the other day, and a good thank you at that. Though that had been the only positive for the day. Applying for jobs always set you too on edge, made you too nervous. I’ve done it now, but it was the waiting you hated most.

           The rest of the day you had spent tucked away in your office, picking up your papers and re-organising them while ignoring the growing want to see Johnny that was spreading through you. You had gone a year and a half without so much as speaking a single word to him, you were sure you could go a few weeks.

           And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. For the entire day as you finished the work you hadn’t done yesterday and the work you needed to get done today, you were thinking about him. From the way his hands felt on you to the way his lips felt on you. Even down to the way he spoke. All of it had made you feel almost like you had your friend back, only he was a little different. Maybe you just felt like you had a friend again.

           He showed up again when you had almost finished your day’s work. You had paused midway through writing a sentence to try and guess if the pattering noise you heard was rain or something else. It had made dread fill up within you, imagining the bucket filling up and soaking into your floorboards again. Though, partially, the blame for that is on me. But if it happened again, you didn’t know if the floorboards would hold steady or start to rot.

           Then you heard a knock on the door of your office, and out of fear of it being the under-boss coming in to press more about your late appearance you only yelled back a quick, “Come in.” And then he was walking straight into your office, hesitating only to see if there was another chair somewhere. When there wasn’t, he settled to lean against the walking, kicking the door shut absentmindedly behind him.

           You rose your eyebrows at him, like your natural instinct when you saw him in any mundane setting was to question it. “What’re you doing here?”

           He didn’t laugh in response. His lips didn’t even twitch upwards in a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. The only feeling you could distinguish from him was light vexation. “Doyoung mentioned that you went around there looking for a job.”

           It surprised you that Doyoung and Johnny even had any ties to one another. Their lines of work didn’t seem as if they’d cross at any point, though you supposed most men in any kind of business would seek each other out to grow their circle of affluent friends. Bitterness was resting in your chest again.

           “And?”

           Johnny made a face. “And why do you need another job?”

           You dropped your pen down onto the desk. “Do I need to tell you every time I consider making a decision now?”

           “We’re friends, aren’t we? That’s what friends do.”

           You thought about the events of yesterday and wondered what the answer to that was. “What do you want me to say?” You asked after a moment.

           He breathed in sharply. “I don’t know. Tell me why you need another job or something. This one seems perfectly fine.”

           Perfectly fine, but not enough. Nothing ever is. You didn’t want to have to tell him that though. But thinking of lies on the spot had never been your strong point. Now, sitting there right in front of an attractive stranger-who-isn’t-a-stranger, your skills seemed to have gotten even worse. “I need the money.” You muttered finally, keeping your voice low enough for you to hope that he wouldn’t hear it at all.

           The room was too small and the noise coming from the main room was too low. He heard, made a face of acceptance, and then fell into silence. You didn’t know whether his lack of response was a good sign, that maybe your work ethic had surprised him into silence. Though you could only guess his thought process was one of pity. The thought made you cringe.

           “You can’t get a job there.” He sounded apologetic.

           You looked up at him, screwing your face up. “What do you mean?”

           He loosened up, stepping away from the wall and further into the room. “Dirty money.”

           A light laugh passed your lips then. “I’m pretty sure all money you earn in Chicago is dirty.”

           He shrugged, though a hesitant smile was beginning to light his features up. “The job’s not for anyone who won’t be…you know, making the money directly.”

           You huffed. “Why’d he advertise it in the window, then?”

           “Usually everyone’s assumption is that every job in Chicago is a little bit illegal, at least.”

           Nodding, you picked your pen back up. All on the up. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If it was happening to anyone else, you thought you might find it funny. But the leaking ceiling, the looking for a second job, the never being able to afford anything other than necessities – that was your life. You couldn’t laugh at it until it wasn’t anymore.

           “Why do you need the money?” Johnny asked quietly, the floorboards creaking as he moved closer to you.

           You laughed bitterly, not letting yourself look up at him in case there were tears in your eyes. “You know, the normal stuff. And…” you didn’t want to say it.

           “And?” He pressed.

           “God, I don’t know.” You sighed, suddenly feeling all too suffocated, pushing your chair away from the desk. “I’ve been looking for another job for a while now.” You murmured, hoping it would explanation enough for your sudden drop in interest to the conversation.

           Johnny felt back into a silence that you could only describe as pensive. The room itself seemed to still in its wait for his answer. The only sign that the moment hadn’t completely frozen in time was the noise and movement coming from the main room.

           He cleared his throat, swiping away invisible dust from his hands before mumbling a quick, “I could help you out.”

           You were shaking your head before he finished speaking. Often times, handouts either came because of pity or in expectancy of being payed back. You wanted neither of those things. “I’m not taking handouts.” You declared, picking your pen back up to provide some security for yourself.

           For a minute he looked hesitant. Really, truly hesitant – like he didn’t know if he should say what he wanted to. In a moment of boldness, he let the words slip out. “What if it wasn’t a handout?”

           “What?”

           “What if you, sort of, worked for me?”

           You put the pen back down. The action was beginning to feel repetitive. “I thought you didn’t want me working with dirty money directly.”

           “Who said my money was dirty?” You scoffed, looking back to the desk as he sighed. “I didn’t mean, well, I didn’t mean working, as in typical working.”

           Scepticism showed on all of your features as it ran through you. “Get to the point, Johnny.”

           The same hesitation came back to him. “There’s a lot of, parties, and dinners and stuff when you’re in business.” He started. You nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Everyone brings someone with them, but I, well, I don’t.” He went silent.

           “Are you asking me to come to dinner parties with you?”

           “Sort of.”

           “And you’d pay me for it?”

           “Yes.” It was a statement but he made it sound closer to a question.

           You breathed out heavily, the confusion making your head throb. “Why would you do that? Couldn’t you just ask a girl on a date?”

           He shrugged, as if making up a reason was too much for him to be bothered with. “I’d buy you nice dresses for them, if you wanted. You could come spend some nights at my house. Maybe, if you liked it, you wouldn’t have to work here at all.”

           “Johnny,” you mumbled, standing up, “I really don’t understand. What would I be doing?”

           His arms curled around your waist. “Pretending,” he said, “pretending that you’re in love with me and that we’re one of those icy affluent couples.”

           “Why pretend when you could go out and make the real thing for yourself?”

           “How would that help you?”

           “You’re doing this for me?”

           He shrugged again. “Well, half and half.”

           Despite yourself, you laughed lightly, dropping your head against his chest. “I’d be getting payed, like I get payed here? To go to fancy dinners?”

           “If you needed me to.”

           “What does that mean?”

           “Well, you know, if you spend some time at my place and liked it, you could just move in.”

           Part of you wanted to recoil, though you stayed in your spot. “That seems like a quick decision.” You huffed. “It all sounds very nice, Johnny, but what happens when you actually meet someone you love? Where would I go?”

           “Can’t you just let me answer that question if we get there?” Something about the ‘if’ gave you a childish hope.

           This is ridiculous. I don’t even know how to make conversation. What a stupid idea. But your ceiling was going to cave in. Even if it didn’t, it was still leaking. You had been looking for a second job for far too long now. You hated the smell of whisky and men packed into bars.

           You breathed out deeply, half in a sigh and half in exasperation at yourself. “Well, things really can’t get any worse.” You untangled yourself from him, searching his face again before answering. “I accept.”

           His lips lifted, the same amusement from the day before coming back to his eyes. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered nervously. I’m ridiculous. How stupid can I be? “You accept?” He grinned.

           “Sure. Why not?”

///

           The first dinner was three days later. You had been coming and going to your work at the bar as usual, too nervous to accept that Johnny’s offer had been real and not some desperate fever dream. In those three days, he’d come by for a few moments at least on each, usually muttering the same comment about you not needing the job anymore. You never had an answer other than a shrug, too embarrassed to ask, ‘is this real? Is this really happening? Have I really gotten lucky?’

           His car was waiting outside for you when you left, just as he had promised earlier in the day that it would be. When you climbed inside, taking a nervous glance at him like you would a stranger you got into a car with, he chuckled lightly. Sometimes you wondered if he looked at you as a stranger or as someone he knew. Or maybe something in-between.

           “I wanted to get you a dress.” He told you, driving you down the main-street in a direction you hadn’t been in before. It seemed uncomfortably surprising to you to see the lines of stores you had never had the money to even consider going into before. It was even more uncomfortable to imagine spending someone else’s money in them.

           “Are you sure?” You asked, though you weren’t sure why. If he decided he wasn’t, you were back to the starting line.

           “Why wouldn’t I be?”

           “I’m not seeing how beneficial this is to you. I’m not giving you anything back.”

           He grinned over at you, laughing softly as he moved one of his hands to grip your thigh. “Would you believe me if I said the pleasure of your company is enough benefit?”

           Scoffing, you shook your head, looking back out the window. “I just might, since I’m such a delight and all.”

           Laughing again, he slowed the car to a stop. When you looked up at the shop, you couldn’t stop yourself from gaping. From the outside, you could tell the inside was nicer than your house. And a single dress inside was probably worth more than everything you owned.

           You wanted to ask him if he was sure again, but instead you just let him come round and open the car door for you. You slipped yourself out, feeling his arm curl around your waist as soon as your feet hit the floor. He walked you both up to the door, and in an odd way you felt like you were about to be turned away. In your clothes, looking at the glossy interior of the building, you felt out of place and awkward. Like everyone would be able to tell the second they saw you.

           The woman at the desk smiled brightly as you approached. “What can I help you both with today?” She asked, smiling again. You felt surprise purely at her customer service. No one at the bar was payed enough to put that much effort into their delivery.

           Johnny sensed your lack of confidence in answering. “We have a reservation under Seo.” He told her.

           She nodded, still smiling, and looked down at the books, flipping around a few pages before looking back up. “Of course, sir.” He moved then, walking you both backwards.

           He grinned at the surprise on your face. You felt like a child in a playground far too big for them. He gestured to the door furthest away from the entrance. “That’s the ladies dressing room. Tell them you have the Seo reservation.”

           You nodded. “Where are you going?”

           Laughing, he gestured to a different door. “To the men’s dressing room.”

           “Right.” You shook your head.

           He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, shoving you lightly in the direction of the ladies dressing room. “Don’t be nervous.” He assured, turning away from you and towards the other door.

           You paused anxiously, tapping your knuckles quietly against the wooden door. The speed at which it sprung open in front of you almost made you stumble back. But the woman standing on the inside was smiling brightly, and there was something in the curves of age on her face that made a strange part of you feel safe, like her face itself was friendly.

           “Seo reservation?” She asked, moving aside to let you walk in.

           “Uh, yeah.” You answered, looking at your hands as you tangled your fingers together nervously.

           She smiled softly at you, the most typical way of showing pity. She caught your hands and pulled you in the direction of rows upon rows of dresses of all different fabrics and shapes. “Is this your first time here?” You nodded. “Do you know what your reservation says you’re getting today?” Johnny had failed to mention that, you shook your head. She laughed. “Well, you’re getting a dress for a dinner party, and another for today.”

           You didn’t even want to think about how much a single one of the dresses here would cost, let alone two. “Who, uh, who picks those?”

           She smiled softly again, giving you the same look you’d give to a child who had hurt themselves. “I’ve picked out some options for you to choose from.” You nodded, watching as she moved to a certain row and pointed them out. All of them were prettier than all of the things you owned.

           It took you longer than it should have to pick two of the dresses. Every one seemed too nice to see put back on a shelf somewhere until some other rich woman decided that was pretty enough for her. Thinking of ‘some other rich woman’ was also odd, though for different reasons.

           Putting the dress on was the strangest thing you’d done in a while. Stepping into the fabric felt like accidentally stumbling into Johnny’s world. You felt inept, and the tightness of the dress only served to make you feel suffocated. Though the woman gushed a thousand different compliments as she saw you finally dressed. You wondered whether that was part of the job, or genuine joy at seeing you out of your own clothes that now seemed impossibly drab in comparison.

           When it was finally time to leave, the woman explained that the dresses would be payed for at the front desk. She handed you two price tags and wished you a nice day. You clutched the paper tightly in your hands, too scared to look at the price for either. The idea of having to add two numbers that you could only imagine were inconceivably high together was making your head hurt already.

           Johnny was already out by the time you were walking back to the front desk. His back was to your door, and he was busy throwing money down on the counter. You felt a desperate need to ask if he was sure again. But then, as he’d said himself, why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t seem like the type of person to not know what he was thinking. Unlike you, who couldn’t decide whether or not you were even okay with having two dresses bought for you. Even if I could never buy it for myself.

           He turned around when he heard your shoes on the floorboards. He breathed in sharply, and made a quiet humming sound as you got closer. Despite your wish to keep your head up high, the nerves drove you to drop your head as you reached him, handing him the paper price tags. He took a quick glance down at them both, placing them on the front desk before taking more money out and sliding it over to the woman.

           The ease in which he did it made you breathe in sharply. You weren’t sure if that was because of how much it was to throw away, or the innate attractiveness of the action. The memory of that day in your office was slowly coming back into your mind. A flush of heat was creeping up your neck to meet your cheeks.

           “Johnny?”

           He hummed as he looked down at you, slipping his arm around his waist as the woman handed you both back the clothes. “Yes?”

           “Where are we going now?” You asked, trying to keep your steps in line with his ones as he walked you both back outside.

           “Lunch, maybe. Do you want something to eat?” He asked, walking round to open the car door for you.

           After you’d settled back into your seat, you looked at him, curling your fingertips around the inward sides of his jacket. “Like back to your house?” You mumbled, feeling his free hand grip your thigh.

           A complacent grin turned his lips upwards as he cocked his head at you. “Do you think I have a café in my house?” He teased. You groaned, gripping the sides of his jacket tighter. He pressed a light kiss to your lips, moving away before you could deepen it. “You know I didn’t mean you have to sleep with me for money, right? Because that’d feel a little too much for me.”

           You laughed, shaking your head. “I promise I’m not looking to get payed for this.”

           There was an odd look in his eye for a fleeting second before it was replaced with amusement again. “As long as you promise.” You nodded, and he hummed in disapproval. “You have to use your words.”

           You paused, wondering how long you could hold out if you decided not to say it. You didn’t decide to test it out. “I promise.” Then the warmth of his body was replaced with the cold air and he was moving back around to his side of the car. You slipped your legs inside properly and shut the door, hoping to close out the promise of more rain.

           The drive back was more excruciating that you had wished it would be. Even staring out the window at the passing of new buildings wasn’t enough to keep you distracted from the weight of Johnny’s hand on your thigh. Whenever you stole desperate glances over at him, he seemed entirely unbothered, face blank and eyes staring forward. Rain was beginning to patter against the roof, though for once it didn’t worry you. It only felt like background noise. You barely noticed when the car stopped moving, too focused on the focused look on Johnny’s face. It felt stupid, and verging on childish, to be so enamoured with the simplest things that he did.

           For a moment after he stopped driving, he caught your eyes, tilting his head at you. He was searching again, looking for something that he didn’t seem to be able to find. In a strange way, it felt a lot like you were doing the same. He pushed the door on his side open and slipped himself out into the rain. You mirrored his action, though he got to your side before the door swung open properly. He caught it before it could slam into him, cocking his head at you and quirking a brow.

           “Sorry,” you mumbled, letting him offer his hand to help you out. Whenever you’d been caught in rain before, it hadn’t seemed of any importance at all. Now, wearing a dress that cost more than you were willing to think about, an anxious need to be somewhere dry was overcoming you.

           Johnny didn’t seem to have the same concern. His pace was almost leisurely, his arm curled around your waist as seemed his favourite resting place. You couldn’t particularly complain about the offhanded affection anymore, the warmth in his hold far nicer than the biting cold of the outside air.

           If you had been gaping up at the exterior of his house, the inside was almost enough to knock you off your feet. It was nicer than any house you’d been in before, let alone your own. The hall that opened straight from the front door was decorated with golden-painted wooden furniture and ornate fixtures that made your picture of the price tags from today look like child’s play. You swallowed thickly, suddenly self-conscious of every movement you made against the marble of the floor. Everything seemed impossibly fragile, even if rationally it wasn’t. The idea of brushing against any of the items in just the hall made you nervous.

           “You like it?” Johnny asked quietly, curling his arms around your waist as you stared at the painting on the wall. He littered light kisses across your neck, and you tried to clear your head enough to answer.

           “It’s rich.” You mumbled.

           He exhaled a laugh, his breath fanning across the skin of your neck. “Rich in what?”

           “Being rich.”

           He shook his head, turning you towards him. “You’re alright.” He said quietly. “It’s okay.” He assured.

           You tilted your head at him. “I know.”

           “Do you know that you fit here?” He asked, cupping your face in his hands.

           You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I don’t,” you mumbled, kissing his fingertips, “but I’m not sure I mind that.”

           He hummed, turning you in the direction of the stairs. “As long as you’re alright.” He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

           Walking ahead of him felt unnatural, especially when you didn’t know what direction you were taking the two of you. But with his hands gripping tightly onto your hips and pushing you in the right direction, the nerves felt dulled and unnecessary. “You know I am,” you mumbled. His lips were still attached your neck, now leaving marks in their path downwards.

           When you stumbled into a closed door, Johnny detangled himself from you. The few seconds it took for him to push his bedroom door open seemed like too long to have his hands away from you. He tugged you into the room behind him, slamming his lips against yours as soon as you’d pushed the door shut behind you. His hands pushed your dress up as he spun you in a different direction. Your lack of awareness about your surroundings was something you knew you should be thinking about, but the feeling of his hands mapping out over your body seemed too good to waste with letting your mind wander anywhere else.

           When you felt the bed hit the back of your knees, you were reminded again of the day in your office. A flush of heat moved through you as you tightened your grip on Johnny, letting him lift you just enough to be able to put you down on the bed.

           The sheets were soft and silky underneath you, and even the mattress felt welcoming enough to cool any nerves left over under the surface. His mouth was travelling down your neck again, though this time he was pulling your dress down to get more access. The way he adjusted the fabric so carelessly caused your heart to rise into your throat, being able to imagine nothing but him throwing away that pile of money for nothing.

           He didn’t seem too intent on letting you have too much time to think. With his body hovering over yours and his hands getting closer to where you wanted them, your brain didn’t seem to want to work properly. You couldn’t particularly blame yourself. Small hums of his name were the only thing leaving your mouth, even if the strange fear of having another room full of people so close to you still lingered.

           Johnny moved further down your body, kissing over the satin fabric of your dress that was starting to feel all too suffocating as you laughed lightly at him. He grinned lazily, pushing your dress to bunch up at your waist like he had done with your skirt. You let your head fall back further into the comfort of the sheets and the pillows.

           He curled his fingers into your underwear, pulling them down your legs until you kicked them the rest of the way off. The familiarity of the action made your lips lift upwards. His lips pressed lingering kisses to the inside of your thighs, this time, he took his time to leave marks behind. Even if his actions weren’t supposed to be teasing, you couldn’t help but feel that way. A light whine left your mouth as you lifted your hips up from the mattress.

           Johnny only laughed, slipping his forearm over your hips and pushing them back down. He waited another moment, simply observing you as you huffed at him before he moved away from you. Rising up from the bed completely and sitting on the chair at the far side of the room.

           “You want me to touch you?” He asked, eyes full of that usual amusement. You swallowed the pride bubbling up in the back of your throat and nodded over at him. “Then earn it.” He declared.

           “Or I could just do everything myself.” You grumbled, drawing a laugh from him.

           “You could, but you won’t.”

           He was right. Your curiosity was too peaked to not even try to flatter him. “What do you want me to do?” You asked quietly, suddenly too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

           He hummed, as if in mock deep thought. The sound drew another frustrated huff from you, the heat from earlier still making your cheeks flush. The room fell into silence as you stared at the silk sheets. When you worked up your nerves enough to catch his eye again, he was observing you patiently. The look in his eye made you press your thighs together.

           For a long minute it felt like he was just taunting you, waiting to see how much you could take before you had to look away again. The feeling of being challenged was enough of a reason for you to keep your eyes focused on him, even if the confidence in your gaze was artificial.

           A hint of pride was in his eyes when he finally moved, gesturing down at his lap and beckoning you forward. The same air of confidence and power was radiating from him as when he made his way through crowds and watched people move out of his path. It was something you weren’t sure you disliked anymore. There was no bitterness in the back of your throat as you swallowed, only a vague ball of nerves.

           You rose from the bed, almost slipping off and onto the carpeted floor when your dress fell back into place and glided along the silk of the sheets. You managed to balance yourself easily enough, catching your feet onto the floor before you royally embarrassed yourself. It was only when you were stood right in front of Johnny, with his eyes raking over your form, that you faltered again, pausing and not knowing what to do with yourself.

           His hands spread across your hips, pulling you to sit over one of his thighs. When you were finally in place, his hands moved away from you to rest on the arms of the chair. He looked up at your expectantly. “Go on, then.” When you hesitated again, he laughed lightly. “Or do you need my help again?”

           You felt your shoulders tighten in irritation. “Are you gonna help?” You muttered, raising your eyebrows.

           He shrugged, his hands already moving to grip your hips again. He bevelled his head at you as he dragged your core against the fabric of his trousers. The amusement was the only thing you could find in his eyes as your moans grew louder. “I always give in too easily,” he murmured, pulling your lips back to his.

           The kiss was slow and easy, though you were more distracted by the feeling of his thigh underneath you than his lips against yours. Any moans that tried to escape your mouth fell into his instead of getting any further. Though it wasn’t long before he seemed to grow tired of not hearing you as he pulled away.

           By then, the coil in your stomach had already begun to tighten, and the noises you were making were growing in volume. Just when you thought you were going to feel the coil unravel, Johnny’s palms flattened against your hips to stop you moving anymore.

           You huffed in annoyance, trying to move yourself again but not being able to push further past Johnny’s hold. “Johnny,” you groaned, gripping onto his wrist.

           “I did tell you I wanted to hear you beg.” He chided, curling his arms around your waist and rising to stand.

           You gripped to him tighter in surprise, holding back yet another huff as he laughed at you. “What if I don’t want to?”

           He shrugged, dropping you ungraciously onto the bed, making you bounce slightly as you landed. He laughed again, “Maybe I won’t give in this time.”

           You hummed as he leaned down to hover over you again. “You always give in too easily.” You curled your arms around his shoulders and tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

He pushed your dress further up to bunch at your hips again, pulling himself away from you for a moment as he dropped his suit jacket onto the floor. His shirt went next, and finally his hands went to grip his belt. When he’d finally gotten himself undressed, he put your hands together and rested them above your head. He paused for a moment, tilting his head at you as you nodded quickly. He wrapped the belt around your hands, tightening it until he knew you couldn’t get out of it yourself.

He reconnected your lips, pushing your legs further apart to fit himself back between them. The moan of surprise that left you as Johnny pushed inside of you was swallowed by Johnny’s mouth on yours. The pace he set was far slower than you wanted it to be, though he didn’t seem to take note of the whines that weren’t able to leave your mouth.

You pulled away from him, “Faster,” you whined.

He slowed down. “What was that?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. “Please,” you mumbled quietly, too quietly for you to fully hear yourself.

“What was that?” He picked up his speed just slightly.

You groaned, half in annoyance and half at the increase of speed. “Please, Johnny.” You said again.

“Please what?”

“Faster, please.”

He finally set a faster pace, letting his hand move between your legs as you moaned louder. When you finally felt the coil begin to form again in your stomach, you let out an embarrassed few murmurs of, ‘please.’ Johnny made no show of having heard you, or if he had, he made no show of caring about your begging.

He bit down onto your shoulder as you moaned louder. “Johnny, please,” you whined, feeling tears prick at your eyes of him denying you again.

He chuckled softly, nodding as his nose bumped against yours before he pressed his lips back to yours. This kiss was more rushed, his free hand wondering as you tilted your head further upwards to deepen the kiss.

He pulled his lips away from yours just as the coil in your stomach started to unravel. His lips didn’t seem to be able to choose one place to kiss. “You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, “so, so beautiful.”

Your head was too fuzzy for you to be able to form words. All you could fully compute was the silk of the sheets against your skin underneath you, and Johnny’s lips pressing lazy kisses to your neck as he slowed a stop. You weren’t even sure when he’d hit his own high, though you knew that he had.

He stayed still for a moment, just stroking his thumb across your cheek before he moved away from you. Oddly, having the heat from his body disappear from above you made you feel empty. He reached to undo the belt that held your hands, and then brought them to his lips to press fleeting kisses there.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, leaning up to kiss him lightly again.

Johnny hummed, moving away from you for a moment as you dropped back to lie on the bed again. You noted then that there was a chandelier hanging from his ceiling. The sight made a cross between a breathy laugh and a disbelieving scoff pass your lips.

“Here,” Johnny mumbled, making you look up at him. He handed you a white-dress shirt that felt clean and soft when you held it.

“Thank you,” you mumbled again, getting up to take the dress off carefully and place it on the chair Johnny had been sat on earlier. When you got back to the bed, you pulled the shirt on, only bothering to do up two of the buttons before flopping to lie on his chest. He pressed a drawn out kiss to your forehead. “Is there really a dinner party tonight?” You mumbled against his chest.

He laughed tiredly, his chest rumbling as he did. “We don’t lie to each other, remember?”

You breathed out a laugh, pushing yourself up from his chest slightly. You glared at him for a long minute before shrugging. “I suppose.”

“Better start getting dressed soon.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to your temple. Part of you wanted to groan at the idea of moving and leaving the house again. The other part of you wanted to wrap yourself in silky fabric and eat a meal that was probably more expensive than all of the food in your house altogether. You hummed in acknowledgement of his words, starting to try and think of all the reasons to detangle yourself from him and start making yourself feel pampered enough to spend a night around people richer than you.

///

           The dinner hall was more than you had expected it to be, which was saying a lot on account of your imagination being particularly overactive when it came to splendour. When you walked in, Johnny’s arm curled lazily around your waist with him dressed in his newest suit, his air tidy and slick again in a way that made him look like he could own the building, you felt immediately out of place. The people surrounding you were about as glamorous as him. And just as rich, you knew. Which meant, of course, far richer than you.

           But then you remembered just how indistinctive you must seem in the situation. Dressed in golden silk, with your hair fixed prettily, you were entirely sure no one would offer you even a second glance for no reason other than to look at your exposed legs. The idea made you feel more confident, so whether or not it was true that no one could tell you were their least favourite thing – as it was, a very common person in the working class – you weren’t particularly bothered.

           Johnny had warned you before you even set off for the party that it would be a dull affair. When you’d first stepped into the hall, with its golden floor – that Johnny insisted was not real gold but was only paint, though you weren’t sure, you didn’t think you’d seen real gold often enough to be sure – and its rows of high chandeliers, and its tables full of rich looking food and decorated glasses, you hadn’t though that possible. Now, sat on your velvet lined chair and listening to Johnny and a table full of older men talk about business, you gave into the possibility that he might be right.

           Their discussions came to a stand still only when the staff came out to clear the tables and ask after everyone’s opinion on desert. Johnny had turned to you, almost as if to check you were still there. You were distracted by then, feeling a stab of guilt in your chest for the staff who had to tidy up after you and everyone else.

           He reached out to stroke his fingertip across your bare collarbones. “I should get you a golden necklace,” he mumbled, “it’d look nice on you.”

           “Gold looks nice on anyone, I’d think.” You laughed.

           He shrugged, grinning as he listened to you speak. “Everything looks nicer on you.”

           Making a noise of mock disgust, you knocked his hand away, feeling it immediately seek out to rest on your thigh. The action made your eyebrows raise as you looked back around the table as people spoke amongst themselves. “What’re you up to?”

           He laughed, lifting his hand further up the skin of your thigh as heat flushed through you. “Can’t I just rest my hand here?”

           “No.” You decided, stopping his hand before it could get any higher.

           “Don’t tell me,” he began, putting his hand back to its original place on your thigh, “you don’t want to do anything in public?”

           Scoffing, you shook your head, “I would never.”

           He bit back a laugh, but his grin told you all you needed to know. “Is this,” he lightly nodded to the table full of unfamiliar faces, “what, too public?”

           “If we get caught, it’s your business.”

           “Hey,” he defended, taking his hand away from your thigh, “my job’s attached very intimately to yours.”

           “Then keep your hands to yourself.”

           “Do I have to keep my hands to myself if we go, well, somewhere else?”

           You rose your eyebrows. “Do you not have any respect for your associates?”

           He grinned again, clutching your hand in his own and shrugging, “Not these ones.” He pulled you to stand with him, tightening his arm around your waist as he looked down at the table with a false look of concern on his features. “Excuse us,” his voice was arid and professional as the others at the table turned to look up at him, “but my girl’s not feeling too well, so I’m just going to help her find the bathrooms.” The table rose in a quiet murmur of acceptances and quick – and most likely detached – worries for you.

           And then he walked you both out of the hall. Only when you got back into the entrance hall with its red velvet carpet leading into the double doors of the dinner room did you let yourself laugh in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

           “If you had to look at yourself in this dress all night, you would be, too.” He defended, pushing the women’s bathroom door open and pulling you along beside him.

           The woman stood at the mirror startled when she saw Johnny beside you, before you cleared your throat. “Sorry, I’m, I’m not feeling very well. I thought it would be best if I wasn’t alone.” It sounded more like a suggestion than a statement.

           The woman nodded in acceptance, smiling pitifully at you the way older women always did with young girls. “That’s quite alright, I hope you feel better soon.” She didn’t offer Johnny the same courtesy, only sharpening her eyes at him and moving past him.

           When the door banged shut behind her, the two of you snickered as he pushed you towards the closest stall. His lips quickly found yours, nose bumping against yours as his hands slid up your dress as soon as he had the lock drawn across.

           He pushed your back up against the side of the stall, his hands already trying to pull your underwear down. “This is quite possibility the least romantic thing I’ve ever done.” You scoffed.

           He pulled away from you, drawing an involuntary whine from your lips. He shook his head, “We can always wait until later, if it’s romance that you want.”

           Huffing, you pulled him back to you by his jacket, feeling the kiss speed up as his hands rushed to go back to where they had been before. His hands curled underneath your thighs, gripping tightly enough for you to have to catch a moan before it passed your lips.

           “Jump,” he mumbled, pressing your back further up against the wall.

           You hesitation for a second, pulling away to offer him a sceptical look before doing as he’d told you. He caught you, keeping you steadily pressed to the stall’s wall. The grip he had on your thighs drew a groan from your lips as his own travelled down your neck. His fingers curled around the sides of your underwear in a manner that was becoming all too familiar. When he’d finally gotten them almost all the way down, he chuckled, shaking his head at himself as they got stuck. He dropped your legs back to the floor, watching you laugh at him as you kicked them off. Johnny caught them before they hit the floor, tucking them into his pocket. You laughed breathily at him, letting him lift you back into your previous position.

           He dropped down to his knees, lifting your legs so they were resting across his shoulders as he placed his mouth straight onto your core. His lack of teasing drew a shocked moan from your lips, your head dropping back to hit the stall wall. As per his usual act, the second your fingers went to tangle in his hair, he pulled away from you. The feeling in your stomach faded as he rose to stand up again, a complacent look settling over his features.

           “Do you know how to be nice?” You huffed, wrapping your legs around his waist again.

           He struggled to unbutton his trousers, grunting at the effort. The complacent look came back as soon as he had them undone, as if he had done everything smoothly in the first place. “I could be a lot meaner.” He promised, pressing his lips to your neck as he pushed into you.

           You dug your nails into his shoulders, dropping your head onto his shoulder to bite down and keep yourself quiet. Back in the room at the bar, you had only been distantly aware of the crowds of people in the other room. Now, with the tables full of people you would have previously thought of as elite with only a hallway to separate them from you and Johnny, you couldn’t be more aware of anything.

           Even with that lingering in the back of your mind, Johnny still made it difficult for you to be able to think of anything other than the way the coil in your stomach felt like forming heat. His lips were on your neck again, leaving behind a series of fresh marks that you were sure would get you some odd stares when you returned back to the table. His hands were gripping your thighs, though you could practically feel his disappointment as not being able to map out over your body like he hadn’t done it before by now.

           This time, when his groans grew slightly in volume, you pulled your head away from where you had been softening your volume in the crook of his neck to be able to see his face screw up as he hit his high. His eyebrows furrowed as dropped his head back, the muscles of his arms tightening as his nails dug into the bare skin of your thighs. You had to drop your head back onto his shoulders when the coil in your stomach began to unravel again.

           By the time the two of you had caught your breath, you hoped that your legs would be steady enough to uphold yourself when he set you back down. On the slight heel of your shoes, your hope suddenly seemed bleak. You wavered, feeling Johnny wrap his arm around your waist to keep you balanced.

           You glared at him. “I thought we came in here to be more discreet.”

           He laughed, “You looked bored, I’m just trying to keep things exciting for you.”

           “I thought I was working? Is work ever supposed to be exciting?”

           A grin turned up his lips. “I think you’ll find this job a little more fulfilling than most.”

           He opened the bathroom door, taking a quick look out before walking the two of you back in the direction of the heavy oaken double doors into the dinner hall. “I don’t feel like I’m working at all.” You mumbled, shifting to look away from him.

           Johnny laughed loudly, pulling open one of the doors as a few sets of eyes turned to look back at you. “Don’t look at it like a job then.”

           You sighed at him, tilting your head up at him as he grinned arrogantly at you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

           His smile softened, though it stayed dashed across his features as you both reached your table again. He paused for a minute as he pulled your chair out for you, the searching look coming back to his face. This time, he seemed to find whatever he was looking for. “I’ve missed you.” He said quietly, tucking your chair back in.

           You thought, maybe he isn’t so different as I thought he was. You caught his hand in your own, gripping it tightly as you smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.” You responded. And even if the words felt foreign on your tongue, you thought, I’m telling the truth.

[anthonycrowleymoved]

HAIR SURVEY RESULTS TWO: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

i know this was a long time coming. without further ado, i’m going to show you the final scores. then, if you so choose, you can go in and see my ~further analysis and information~ as well as other details and a comparison of lev’s earlier survey.

SO. here’s how it worked. i had a total of 561 people rank 16 of crowley’s hairstyles. i wanted people to rank the hairstyles to see if the results differed from when people were asked what their favorite overall style was. each person who gave a hairstyle a ranking of 1 contributed 16 points towards that style, 2 contributed 15 points, and so on. this means the lowest possible score a Look™ can get is 561, and the highest is 8976 (16 x 561)

OFFICIAL RANKINGS:

1. 2012 BUN - 7965

2. GOLGOTHA - 7108

3. PRESENT DAY - 7060

4. 2007 HAIR - 6988

5. MESOPOTAMIA - 6820

6. EDEN - 5547

7. 1941 (CHURCH SCENE) - 5406

8. 1967 - 4644

9. 2012 NANNY - 4146

10. BOOK!CROWLEY - 3650

11. 1970s - 3408

12. 33 AD (ROME) - 3040

13. 1601 (SHAKESPEARE) - 2770

14. 541 AD (KNIGHTS) - 2751

15. 1862 - 2708

16. 1793 (FRENCH REVOLUTION) - 2477

DISCUSSION OF OVERALL RESULTS

graphic representation of all of the results, in descending order. as you can see, bun was the runaway lead, with the next four highest scoring looks™ pretty close together. similarly, the shakespeare look, knight look, and sideburn look are all similarly hated.

fig. 2: scores sorted by in-universe order of appearance. i think it’s interesting to look at this and see that there seems to be....sort of a trend. in general people seem to like the very early looks and the very modern looks, with the lowest scoring looks all clumped together.

INDIVIDUAL RESULTS

now, i’d like to discuss the individual breakdown of each look™, to determine how universally it was liked or disliked, or alternately the distribution of votes 

eden

eden had an average score of 9.89. people seemed pretty middle of the road on this look, with the occasional person either loving it or hating it. it’s a lot more divisive than a lot of his hairstyles for sure. (me, i personally thought it verged a bit into ‘bad wig’ territory, and i did see a couple people thinking the same)

mesopotamia

i was kind of surprised by this one being as low as it was! obviously it was in that grouping of popular hairstyles, but i feel like the general consensus you read on here is that this is the fan favorite. apparently not so. the average score was 12.16, however, which, not bad. people in general did tend to like this look, obviously, with a few holdouts scattered about

golgotha

fun fact! this is my personal favorite because, the headscarf. my god. iconic. and apparently y’all agree! it eeked out second place with an average score of 12.67

rome

so this is the first. not great look. people don’t seem to be crazy about this one. it had an average score of 5.41

knight look

“oh maggie why is this even here we can’t see his hair” It’s My Survey And I Get To Choose The Looks. but anyway. no one liked this. seriously. this is the first one that didn’t get a single person to give it the top spot. average score was 4.903, which also isn’t great.

1601

look, i know you’re supposed to be unbiased or whatever, but this is a tumblr survey and none of this matters. i hate this look. i hate it so much i often forget it exists out of self preservation. even now as i type this i know if i scroll up i’ll see that terrible facial hair, and i saw it like a minute ago when i uploaded the picture, but i can’t for the life of me remember what it looks like because my brain has put up a protective barrier. you all seem to agree with me, as the average score of this is just 4.94. excellent taste all around

1793

LAST PLACE. i don’t completely. GET. the hatred of this one. i found it to be. very middle of the road. fine i suppose. but the people have spoken with an average score of just 4.42. so what do i know

1862

another one no one said was their favorite. i mean. fair. this one had an average of 4.83, and many people said this was his most heterosexual look, and i agree. bad. 

1941

this one seemed to be a bit middle of the road for people, which is kind of understandable. it’s a great hat, but i get that people like the more dramatique™ looks better. had an average score of 9.64, so like. not bad

1967

now this one was ALLLLL over the place. people love it, people hate it, people are indifferent. average score was 8.28, which, again, shows how split this one was. i for one welcome john lennon and joyce byers’ demon lovechild.

1970s

i’m so mad. average score was 6.07. this is my second favorite hairstyle overall. yes, seriously. anyway you all are wrong and that’s all i have to say about that have a good night

1990s

people kept asking me why i included the illustration from the modern cover of the book, and the primary reason was because i thought it would be funny, which is why i do most things. i also was kind of wondering what people would do with it, and the answer is seemingly ‘question why it was there.’ i wish there was a way i could have included ‘your own personal headcanon for what he looked like while reading the book,’ but alas this is as close as i could get. average score was 6.51. the people who gave said this was their favorite are my heroes, and one person described him as looking like an insurance salesman, which like. thank you from the bottom of my heart

2007

yeah. okay. i nicknamed this one ‘cursed’ in my master list. i don’t get it. i’m so sorry. i am like, the singular holdout who just can’t stand this hair. but i am very much in the minority, everyone else seems to love it. average score was 12.46. good for you, 2007 crowley. i will never understand you

2012 (Nanny)

this is the last....not great look. again, a bit all over the place. average score was 7.39.

2012 (Bun)

i LOVE this hairstyle, but i was blown away by how high it was on lev’s poll and i’m blown away again with how high it is here. i just feel like we collectively never talk about how much we love the bun look, and then when we’re asked we go feral. this had an average score of 14.19. how. gender, indeed.

present

ahhh, the classic tennant hair. a solid look. no one really seems to dislike it, it’s just. not everyone’s top spot. there’s nothing offensive about it, clearly, but i don’t think it sets anyone off like some of the other top contenders. and i’m slightly surprised how little we talk about this hairstyle considering how popular it is (and i get it, he looks like every lesbian i’ve ever had a crush on who was painfully out of my league), but again, that might be because it’s Tennant Classic™. average score was 12.58.

LEV DYKEIEL’S RESULTS VERSUS MAGGIE ANTHONYCROWLEY’S RESULTS: A BRIEF ANALYSIS

the main reason i wanted to do this in the first place was to see if the results changed at all from lev’s survey when i asked people to rank their choices rather than just choose their favorite. the answer is actually like, kind of! not majorly, but a bit. the comparison as it stands without the entries that did not appear on both lists:

if you want to see the changes more easily, i’ve done some color coding here:

as you can see, there were definitely some shifts, but what i’d like to focus on is the change in rank of the golgotha hair, the two that came in last place, and the sixties and seventies looks. for the golgotha hair, i suspect that because it was so close to the mesopotamia hair, the vote may have been split a bit, whereas here you could have realistically given both a good score. lev also said that in their results, after the 2012 bun look, 2007, present, and mesopotamia were kind of always in a bit of a tie with each other, whereas this was the case with mine with the addition of the golgotha hair. taking that into consideration i think it’s interesting that that one ended up getting second place. 

i also think it’s interesting that france wasn’t in last place on lev’s poll, because there’s such a huge difference in points between the sideburn look and the french revolution look according to my numbers. however, as i said before, no one actually picked sideburns as their favorite on this survey, but there were a couple of people who like, loved the revolution hair. i think that may have ended up giving lev and i slightly different results, as the revolution hair is like ‘you either really love it for some reason (rare) or despise it’ and the 1860s hair is like ‘you either hate it or you’re lukewarm about it’. 

similarly, the shift in rank in both the sixties and seventies looks is also interesting, because they both moved kind of significantly. i think the 60s look changed because, as i said, it seemed to be a pretty divisive look. people don’t seem to be agreed on how much they like it, so there are people really Into It who voted it as their favorite on lev’s, but there are also people who HATE IT. i think something sort of similar happened with the 70s look in the opposite direction. i think not many people LOVE it, but a lot of people kind it not to be like, the worst one. as a result it went up a bit because, while few people consider it their favorite (can’t relate), a few people were like ‘okay it’s fun’ and ranked it semi-high, or at least there was more of a distribution than some of the more hated looks. also it’s almost 2 am i hope this analysis makes sense because words. the english language.

ANYWAY THOSE ARE MY RESULTS I KNOW I PROMISED TABLEAU GRAPHICS BUT I FORGOT I NO LONGER HAVE A LICENSE FOR THAT BECAUSE I GRADUATED AND ALSO IT LOOKS FINE WITH THE GOOGLE GRAPHICS AND I DON’T WANT TO MAKE MY LIFE HARDER COOL BYE!

[sureivy]

is that HALSEY? no, that’s just IVY CALDER. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR years old and is an EMPLOYEE AT DON’T FRET & PAWS 4 LOVE. rumor has it they’ve been in town for FOUR MONTHS / TEN YEARS. on a good day, they’re CREATIVE & VERSATILE. but watch out! they can also be IRRESPONSIBLE & VOLATILE. TRIGGER BANG BY LILY ALLEN (FT. GIGGS) plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

hello my pals ! i’m amy ( 20 // est // she/her ) and i am super excited to be here! we also over here bringing back a fairly old muse (i,, apparently,, play her during election years,,) with a couple of tweaks, so we love that for me! also! pls forgive me if this is lowkey disorganized, we’ve been in and out of airports all day! can’t wait to contract that sexy corona!

QUICK FACTS:

full name: ivy rose calder

date of birth: may 2, 1995

*does not perfectly reflect the below big three zodiac chart because that’s too much math

zodiac big three: taurus sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual ( preference for women bc we luv that for her but we also luv leaving things open to chemistry )

education: high school diploma

enneagram: 7w8?

mbti: enfp

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

positive traits: creative, versatile, passionate, compassionate

negative traits: irresponsible, volatile, impressionable, hedonistic

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: brief implied sexual abuse, suicide, a lot of death talk?, drug abuse ( desoxyn ), overdose

ivy lived the first eight years of her life in newark, nj. she had a mere family of three – her mother, a model-turned-stay-at-home-mom, her father, a politician, and herself. she was much closer to her mother, but she and her father were close at night.

when her mother finally found out about this, she wasted no time in taking ivy’s father’s side. what a good mom! instead, ya girl was already getting in touch with cps herself... but wow... it was gonna ruin his career in politics :\

“Now, one thing I lerned from Storys is, when something big is about to okur, a riter will go: Then it hapened! This tells the reeder: Get Reddy. Here I go: Then it hapened!” - fox 8

then it happened!

humiliated, clearly never getting a platform back, and absolutely bitter, ivy’s father killed himself before being sent to prison. 

Very Tragique™

ok. so. to distance themselves from the poor memories, but to save money, ivy and her mother moved to springhill, temporarily sharing ivy’s aunt’s apartment while her mother began collecting enough money to buy an apartment of their own and keep it.

during this time, ivy was seeing a lot of people and she didn’t know why! they asked questions about her mental health, but she didn’t know why! i mean, totally not traumatic, right?

yes. instead of managing communication well, she became very fascinated by the concept of death. she had many questions about it, she, a youth, had some extended conversations with clergymen about it –– she never killed any animals, god forbid, but she was absolutely fascinated when she ran across them.

SO CLEARLY THAT WAS ALSO TRYING TO BE DEALT WITH.

ok, i’m gonna skip ahead a little. now in teen years and still fascinated by death, but in a healthier way!, and no longer in therapy because... like... that costs a lot of money!

she dealt with it the best she could. became enamored with music... because why wouldn’t she? some covers here and there, some originals here and there, living that youtube lyf, but not expecting anything to come of it. just liked validation! mood!

she also dealt with it the worst she could! became enamored with drugs! naturally, it started out small. some weed, some lsd, some molly –– you know, just drugs that you don’t typically think of as addictive. although her grades suffered, it was harmless enough...

upon graduating high school, she figured... no college. instead, with barely any money to her name, she was like “i... will go to new york... and i will become famous.”

and she did! she did go to new york! she found a few sketchy places that didn’t charge much for a few nights as she began networking - both socially and “i would like to be known for music” (i literally just forgot the word for networking like..... employment wise.... y’all i’m so dumb). when she’d made some friends, she began crashing on couches that were not quite as sketchy! 

but :\ she did meet these friends in sketchy places :\ and they were like “ok here r some new and more addictive drugs for u to try!”

what she wound up abusing using the most was desoxyn. it kept her awake, it kept her focused, it even shed a few pounds to create an excellent figure! what wasn’t to love! 

i mean it’s literally a prescription methamphetamine,,, when abused,,, literally almost exact same effects as meth,,, but when meth mouth, skin lesions, acne, etc aren’t occurring as a side effect? who was she to care!

20, she released an actual ep with the help of a super cool friend who made everyone call him puppy mills! wow! things were excellent! it wasn’t necessarily seeing mainstream traction, but there was a decent enough following! enough to release an album at 22!

perfect timing, btw! desoxyn was starting to become too expensive for puppy to afford and trying to fake having such a severe form of adhd that desoxyn would be prescribed as opposed to something like ritalin or adderal when it’s literally illegal to prescribe in some countries now?? too hard :\ but the money from the album helped her and puppy!

*olaf vc* puppy died. *end vc*

she was there for it too. she thought it was just a freak-out, took a LITTLE too much, but not OVERDOSE worthy... then he l i t e r a l l y died. and it was a painful death!

“oh wow! maybe prescription meth isn’t super cool after all! shucks!” but that was also an opening?? to visit death herself?? like... she didn’t necessarily want to die (sort of), but she wanted... an answer to the question that had plagued her her entire life... so she was like “ok hope i die then someone revives me but if i die then :\ i guess i die!”

did not die. but also did not get a satisfying answer to her question. the only way it would’ve been truly satisfying? if she had been dead for longer than a minute - then it would’ve given a definite answer! because the answer she received was just nothingness which, while peaceful... is it true?

she tried to detox alone, what because rehab is a business, and it... only... sort of worked. she would be clean for a few weeks, then fall back in, then clean for a few weeks, then fall back in. whenever she wasn’t just naturally focused and awake, or whenever what she was focused on was the past, she would fall back in.

i mean, a side effect is memory loss, so win/win!

she made the semi-wise decision to move back to springhill. wisest would’ve been to just move to a town/city she had absolutely no memories in, but better than moving back to newark!

so... without much to show, and with an unreliable streak, she knew she wouldn’t be able to start looking for much of an occupation – but she still needed money! so she began working at don’t fret out of a love for music, then began working at the animal shelter after completing training.

the main training was, of course, for putting animals to sleep.

FULL CIRCLE.

ah yes. how she pretends it’s healthy... even tho there are studies and statistics relating suicide to veterinarians and shelter workers who euthanize animals... ah yes.

has been back for four months now. love that. do not know how to finish this.

TL ; DR:

born in newark. moved to springhill at 8. childhood trauma that she is still carrying causes fascination with death. “i love music.” moved to ny at 18 because realistic. childhood trauma also causes dependency on desoxyn. releases an ep and an album. does not become famous, but they both have decent traction. moves back after an overdose. relapses... often. now sells records and puts animals to sleep. miss american dream since she was 17, amirite?

PERSONALITY / MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

one person one week, a totally different person the next.

wants to please people, but also wants to be her own person? it’s a whole deal!

in spite of her slight icarian incident, she still hopes to maybe one day become a real musician and performer. until then, we selling records and saying ‘goodbye’ to sweet animals!

can truly flip like a switch in interactions! does love ruining things for herself! almost always feels bad after bc :\ damn :\ alright :\

i’m very bad at these sections i really hate that i always include them!

is still avoiding healthy coping mechanisms. love that for her.

favorite movie is, unironically, the bee movie. favorite horror movie is cats.

SO GOOD at memorizing random lines or trivia. could probably recite literally all of who’s afraid of virginia woolf? other than that?? her memory is so bad. hate drugs for that :\

she uses her hair to express herself! (that sounds really boring.) ...she uses her hair to express herself!

but no. seriously. wears the black shag weave the most, followed by the blue/yellow combo ( we stan the badlands aesthetic ). occasionally forays into other colors and styles when money permits, but it’s usually gonna be one of those two!!

was an envy on the coast stan in high school which makes an inappropriate amount of sense.

will go out and steal the dumbest shit when she’s drunk. has a history of stealing chickens.

once again: hate that i always include these!! feel free 2 j consult the personality parts in the quick facts!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

ok we gonna list some general ones for right now! all are open to multiple people unless there’s an asterisk by it!

close friends –– moonie, teagan,

ride or die

childhood friends –– moonie,

bad influence ( mutual or her on them ) –– veronica ( mutual ),

good influence ( them on her ) –– presley, hayden, gabrielle,

exes ( can be from high school or something like that if based in springhill, can be from 20s in new york if based in new york )

fwb –– trent,

will they, won’t they –– presley,

someone who knew her music ( can be neutral, a fan of it, or hate it afhkjsl ) –– presley, moonie, teagan, indiana, 

will also possibly be sending in some wanted connections for things that are! more specific!

truly anything!! also up to brainstorm and/or look at yours if you have them!!

UPDATE: i have created a wc page so we luv that for me.

OK. like this or hmu if you’d like to plot!

[spookdoodles]

hey how long have you been drawing? how did you create your own art style? how do i get better at drawing (other then practice that is lol) and do you have any tips for creating your own art style? because i’ve been at it trying to develop my own style for close to 3 years and i keep coming up empty lmao (sorry for bombarding you with questions but your art is juST SO GOOD-and i wanted some advice on how i could get better but uh anyway thanks buh bye

I started to get really into drawing around 2005-06 (does not feel like that long at all tbh, it feels like…5 years or something lol)

Honestly I don’t really feel like I have a style, so it’s nice to know that other people think I do! I think when you’re really involved with the process of drawing something it can be easy to lose a sense of the finished piece because you were there for literally every stage of creating it. I frequently look at my art and think it looks boring and isn’t particularly special, but other times I look at it like!! I made that!! Me!

At the minute I’ve been doing a lot of semi-realistic kinds of drawings because I’ve been trying to build up my technical skills more, but I want to try and do some more stylised work soon.

It’s really easy to place importance on style (I do it all the time) but honestly, don’t worry about it to much. Your art will always be growing and changing and that’s where styles come from in the first place really. You don’t have to have one rigid way of drawing that you stick to all the time, you can draw however you want! Draw however you feel like! My art used to look completely different from how it does now, even just a few years ago, and it’ll probably look different again in a few more years.

And it’s important to remember that there’s a lot of things that can factor in to what you would consider an art ‘style’, like what techniques/medium you’re using, what the purpose of the piece is etc.

As for improving, I know it sounds like a cop out when people say practice but…yeah. Practice. Obviously what type of things you want to practice is gonna depend on what sort of art you enjoy making, so here are some things that I’ve found helpful over the last few years for developing like…basic drawing skills.

Quick sketches and gesture drawings are really good for getting better at learning to draw shape/form. A ton of fast little sketches will be more useful to you than one sketch you spent ages agonising over. Here’s some rough sketches I did earlier this year that I referenced from random photos I found online.

Even if you don’t want to draw things realistically, if you know the shape of something IRL it becomes so much easier to translate that into your own work, no matter how stylised your interpretation is.

That’s why it’s so important to use references; if you’re stuck on how to draw something, look at pictures of it! You don’t even have to copy it directly or exactly, just look at the shapes and you’ll notice really quickly that there are little details that jump out at you that you’ve missed in your drawing.

(I didn’t do any of these for a long time bc it seemed boring, and once I started I was like…oh. This IS helping lmao)

Which leads me onto another thing that’s been an absolute godsend to me the last couple of years: tracing. If you don’t understand how to draw something, trace it. Nobody ever has to see the tracing if you don’t want them to; it’s just for your benefit so you can break down shapes and figure out what goes where.

What I often do if I have art block is to trace a picture, and then copy the tracing. I took this picture at a Civil War reenactment earlier this year and used that to do a little study this way. You’ve technically already drawn it once, so drawing again is a lot easier, even if it’s not exact.

A lot of the time I’ll draw fanart of live action films/tv etc that I like because it’s a good way to make it interesting for yourself if you’re trying to do studies you might struggle with otherwise.

I did a few studies last year from copying gifs and they were really useful for me. Videos can be good for reference because you can see how something moves, but with a gif it’s looped so you can see the movement repeat as many times as you want! And because the image isn’t still you don’t get caught up in details too much and just have to capture the basics from it.

Trying different mediums is good too, because you might find different processes that you like or different approaches that you can apply to other areas of your work. I used to hate oil pastels when I was in my teens but I started using them to experiment with colour in my sketchbook this year and I really enjoy using them for rough work now.

I would never have drawn anything like this 10 years ago! I just wasn’t at a point then to use the techniques I used here because I hadn’t learnt them yet! So it can be good to revisit things to try every now and then, even if you didn’t enjoy them the first time

Also, since I mentioned different types of art, it’s important to remember that not every art process is going to agree with you. Just because you like the end product doesn’t mean you have to pursue the style. There’s tons of artists I love that I wouldn’t try and emulate really closely because their work process just isn’t for me, but you can still learn a lot from looking at their work! Look at art you like, figure out what it is that appeals to you about it and try and find a way to apply it to your own work.

(this got very long and it could have been a lot longer tbh, but I hope some of this was helpful, I’m not really used to giving advice ^^;)

[thisgirlhastales]

after that last anon you answered, i'm now curious about how you pace your stories! i'm usually a little too excited for all the things i want to happen, so i do a lot of skipping ahead and getting to the meat for a fast-paced story. but!! your space cowboy stories are SO GOOD and i know they wouldn't be the same with my kind of pacing, so yeah. i'm curious ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hi there, honey! :D *hugs*

Okay, this was another question I had to think about for a long time … I often conflate pacing and overall story structure, so fair warning, that is probably gonna happen here.

I’m going to start off with a fairly obvious fact, which is that different stories require different pacing, and that the rules in fanfiction, I find, are a little looser.

This is because we rarely need much exposition in fanfiction, since we’re assuming our readers already know these characters and these settings, so we don’t have to worry too much about explanations or descriptions. That being said, there is always some world-building (particularly in AUs), and that can be pretty challenging to insert without disrupting the … narrative flow, I guess?

There’s a sort of … ebb and flow, overall, to a story. There are quiet times and loud times. There’s talking and then there’s action. Now, the other reason why I say fanfiction is different is because I am perfectly happy reading a story that is literally just characters being domestic, or having emotional conversations (communication, I love it so much) or … every other fun trope in fandom.

I think the way I’ve always approached pacing is to fret about it in the planning stage. Once I start writing, I’m very character-focused, so my main concern is keeping everybody as in-character and “realistic” as possible, since I usually already have an outline with all the plot/emotional beats in place (written or up in my head). But pacing does come up at times even when I have most of the story planned, and I think the biggest indicator of a pacing issue is when you get stuck while writing.

Getting stuck isn’t always about that narrative flow — there are hundreds of reasons why I get writer’s block — but I have found that sometimes it’s because I’m writing something that’s disrupting the flow. Sometimes it’s a dialogue scene that runs too long, and characters are saying/explaining things that I could just show or summarize in a descriptive paragraph. Sometimes it’s a scene that’s totally redundant, period, and I scrap it entirely. 

In other words, skipping ahead and getting to the meat is totally valid on occasion ;D 

As for the space cowboys … *throws hands in the air* … Here’s a look as to how that mess got organized into a semi-coherent flow of words — massive, likely incoherent ramble under the cut!

First off: a one-story example — The Six-Gun Sound.

That story has the most basic pacing ever. Action scene at the start, exposition/dialogue scene right after that sets up the main plot/motive for the characters, followed by a steady build that goes right into that heist. The heist then slowly builds until BAM. Everything goes wrong, there are literal explosions, and then a climax of both the main plot-line and the emotional plot-line. (There is pacing set for both of those when I plan, usually. The plot informs the emotional beats and vice versa, depending on which is more important at any given time.)

In shorter words: action, calm, build-up to more action, big action, calm, and then the resolution. That kind of “ebb and flow” is basically how most stories work, I believe. If you have that going on in your tales, then I think you’re golden :D

I totally break those rules in many of my other tales, but, yeah. There it is ;)

Now, secondly: the entire Trouble’s Making Everything All Right series.

That is just … well, a giant mess, but it’s one that I find works for me? I might be confusing pacing with other parts of narrative structure, but overall, there’s a certain ebb and flow that leads to the first huge climax (which I believe is Short Change Heroes). Um, I’m going to try and explain and hope that it helps you?

Trouble Coming is essentially my expositional story (though I initially had no idea how long this series would go). If, for example, in your own writing you feel like “skipping” all that establishing information, well, I’m gonna be horrible and give you that old cliché — show and don’t tell (much).

I still had to explain some stuff in that story, but having no Team Voltron, having Lance and Keith sitting around that poker table, cheating at cards (Keith), and flirting as a distraction (Lance), while being tough as nails, pretty much establishes that something not good has happened. Especially as Keith worries about making ends meet.

Following that, the attack afterwards, which they treat as business as usual, barely blinking at the deaths they cause … Again, I don’t think I needed to tell you guys that they had been through some bad stuff. And they were continuing to go through some bad stuff. I don’t actually explain much until more than halfway through the story, when they’re back at the inn and there’s a moment of calm. (Again, I’m not great at pacing, but I tried to put a bit of ebb and flow in this series as a whole.) (Action at the beginning, sort of, and then calm.)

Six Gun Sound is pretty much all action, and it retroactively explains partially how Lance and Keith came to be the way they are (and how they got together ;D), and since you’ve already seen how jaded and broken they are in Trouble Coming, I like to think it makes for a sharper, harsher contrast to see them more … good just as they cross that line into becoming The Two McClains. (Lots of action/emotional conflict.)

Following that action-filled, emotional story, we’ve got Broken Bone World, which jumps forward to the more jaded Lance and Keith, but this time, we get to see them relax and perfectly in love with each other — and generally more settled in their new mercenary existence. (More calm.)

And then, Shuffling Madness, back in the past, is lots of action, lots of suffering — I hoped that seeing them as Paladins after three stories as space cowboys would be quite impactful in hindsight? Basically, seeing them being so optimistic about their chances makes you wince on their behalf because you, as the reader, already know how they end up. (Plenty of action/emotional turmoil.)

This is the point where the series is actually building towards the main climax. I had hinted at Keegin Dras going all the way back to the first story. But Paradise City is where the tension, um, kicks up, I guess (some of y’all may remember that cliffhanger? Er, sorry?) (Build-up to lots of action with a sudden stop and cliffhanger.)

I really like contrast, so this is my own personal opinion/writing style, but, um, yeah, there you go.

Edit: Damn, I totally forgot to mention Heaven Above You, which was probably one of my favourites to write — it prolongs the tension between Paradise City and Short Change Heroes, but also, while it isn’t too heavy on the action, I think of it is as still tension building because it shows that defining moment when Lance chose to take a life that wasn’t a direct threat to him. It’s an almost purely expositional story, but it sets up the emotional conflict of Short Change Heroes, while Paradise City sets up the main plot conflict?(Bit of action, mostly calm, but lots of emotional turmoil.)

Short Change Heroes is a damn disaster, but it’s a disaster I kinda really loved writing. There are just so many conversations. It really shouldn’t have had that many dialogue scenes. Holy crap, that war council is a story in and of itself, and I am definitely not Tolkien, holy crap, no. 

But, um, here’s where I contradict myself and say — I didn’t care about pacing, I just wanted to get these people (Team Voltron + The Two McClains) actually talking because communication rocks, and they absolutely would’ve wanted to talk a ton after a year apart. 

I did try and chop up some of the dialogue/exposition with a few action-type scenes (the interrogation scene, then that gang ambush, and that brief attack during the war council), but those scenes were also key to the plot-line and the emotional stuff. I was focused on pacing when I chose where to place those scenes, so that things would feel balanced and move forward smoothly. 

So, if in your own writing, you feel like you want to skip ahead, but you also feel like whatever information you need to impart (or interaction these characters need to have) is important to the plot/pacing (e.g. you need a quiet moment before battle or you need to show off an action scene before you can get to that juicy emotional resolution), find a way to make it fun for you to tell! I am a sucker for gritty honesty or sappy confessions or no-holds-barred arguing, so that’s how I handle some exposition. I love creating angsty situations instead of just explaining that someone’s had a bad time. 

Basically, in summation: I try to keep action and moments of stillness somewhat balanced. 

— A huge burst of action demands a longer moment of quiet/reflection, or a longer emotional conversation and/or resolution afterwards. 

— A massive emotional fight/discussion demands that the characters either have time apart or some kind of quiet/temporary peace after (even if the fight isn’t resolved right away or the discussion hasn’t unloaded everything in their heads). 

This is my preferred rhythm to story-telling, both on small (one story) or large (series) scales. This way a story doesn’t feel too stilted, or overly long (too many quiet moments?), or like it isn’t letting up/allowing the reader to settle (too many action moments?) — an even rhythm/flow carries the reader along easily (hopefully). 

I break these rules of mine often, but this is a general rant ;D

I really, really hope this has helped you, that this hasn’t bored you to death, and that I haven’t been totally nonsensical. I am honestly not even sure I answered this question at this point — it kinda just turned into a freakishly long ramble. *sweats* Sorry! 

You are very kind to ask, and I am so grateful to you! Best of luck with the writing, dear! *all the hugs*

[applegelstore]

Hey! Just wanted to drop by and say I really love your art and seeing your content! Along with the ideas you speak of sometimes. It's so nice to see because it looks like you enjoy what you do. It's an inspiration, really. I also wanted to ask, what's your inspiration? And what keeps you motivated? And this next one might be a bit personal, but do you have moments of self doubt? How do you deal with it?

Hi! First of all, thanks a lot for the ask, I don’t get personal questions about my art very often, so it’s very cool to see that some people are actual people and not porn bots, and are actually interested in the things I post!

Now for the actual ask, which I’ll totally have to divide into parts. I’ll also set a cut because it got hella long. Now, let’s go!

I have a very bad habit of word vomiting whenever I post art. It’s not only ever since I’ve started binge drawing Zesty fanart, I’ve pretty much always been like this ever since I started posting art on the internet about… 12 years ago at the very least?It used to be a lot of musing about the art itself (like, “what do you think, should I have tried this or that?” or “I had trouble with this thing” or “I actually like how whatever turned out”), which is probably due to the fact that teenage me had still a lot to learn and wasn’t afraid to admit that and ask for advice. I mostly posted my art online to get some peer advice.Nowadays, I am still aware of my shortcomings, but I don’t talk about the technical aspects of my art that often anymore. Nowadays, I have two reasons for posting art online: 1) I’m trying to make a living out of this shit, so naturally I’m trying to make as many people as possible aware of the fact that I exist. 2) I just wanna talk about the thing ™. Honestly. Never underestimate either of these points. That’s why there’s very often so much text and ranting in the tags. Because. I. want. to. talk. about. the. thing. I have an unholy amount of sticky notes on my desktop with ideas of things I’d either like to do because I think it would be subjectively cool, or because it might be a good addition to my portfolio. (spoilers: the former usually gets done like a decade earlier)I’m very glad that the sparks fly over and it shows that I love the things I love! ♥The result is novel-length descriptions for single sketches and tag vomit, though, lol.

“I also wanted to ask, what’s your inspiration?”

There’s no easy answer to that. First of all, it sounds a bit as if I was actively looking for inspiration. Which I am not. As I said, I rather have too many ideas and end up scrapping an unholy amount because even if I only do doodle shitpost sketches there’s no way I can do it all in a lifetime. I don’t know whether you had been implying that I actively look for inspiration or not, but if you did, let me tell you that I don’t. If you didn’t mean to imply that, no harm done.However, that doesn’t mean I don’t GET any. Because of course I get my inspiration from all kinds of places. I don’t watch a lot of movies, but I love going to the cinema and hearing the sounds and get eye candy (I love epic shots with the camera panning over landscapes and cool action scenes. Also, go watch The Secret of Kells, everyone). I always come out of blockbuster movies feeling like I wanna do something epic, too. I always listen to a whole lot of music, too, and there’s way too many songs that make me want to tell stories, and that plant pictures in the cinema in my head.(there was a time before Tales of Zestiria when I did original art and most of my paintings had some kind of musical inspiration lol. My stories, too).

Then there’s style and subject matter.Style first. I stopped aiming for a specific style pretty early on (like, late teens), and just accepted what came to me and works for me. The result is the weird anime not quite anime semi realism mixture that I have going, and the ratio usually varies depending on what I currently want to do. If I gave you a list of my favorite artists, you’d probably be surprised how little my own art has in common with theirs.Subject matter? WELLLLLL my original stuff comes from what I told you above, additionally, I studied medieval literature for a reason, and I loved mythological tales from my teenage years onwards. I’m much less enthusiastic about them now, but it used to influence my original art for quite a few years.…Also, I obviously like to do fanart. Like, a lot.

Also spoilers: I obviously love Zesty a tiny bit too much, because for no other fandom the streak of fanart has ever been holding up for two years and still counting without an end in sight, and I’ve never come up with any AUs, either. Usually my ideas went straight into original material, and this original material usually got top priority, but here it’s different, and I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, haha. So basically don’t wait for my original stories* until I’m either a) done with the Zesty fandom or they’ve united and kicked me out or b) I’ve actually drawn at least four more full scale elaborate illustrations, have created the four or five AUs that I keep doodling for and ranting about, and I have finally run out of steam. Bets are up what happens first.

If you want specifics, it’s always easier to determine inspiration for a particular piece than in general. It can be so many different things.

* Although I still very, very much like some of my ideas and would actually love to do them. I just love to do low-effort Zesty fanart more XD. Shocking! But honestly, I am as surprised as anyone else that my muses shifted as much as they have, and mid-twenties me would never have guessed she’d fall into this rabbit hole in no time…

“And what keeps you motivated?”

I never… really needed to push myself to be motivated. It’s always been intrinsic. I had pictures in my head, I wanted them out. So I had to learn how, and do it. I have ideas in my head. I want to share them. I very much like this thing others have made. I want to tell the entire world how much I love it, so I do by drawing fanart. Simple as that.Positive responses (and asks like this!!) are a great motivator to POST art, but not to DO the art. The latter is intrinsic.Actually, probably TOO intrinsic. Because I keep drawing the things I WANT to draw and not those which would teach me new skills and thus help with “make money with art” thing. So I guess it’s a bit of a mixed bag, haha.I started drawing daily instead of just regularly at some point during my master’s studies, so roughly 8-5 years ago? Whenever I’m on the road or beaten by illness or bad feelings, I sometimes only manage very simple, super bad sketches, but it’s better than nothing. Luckily, it’s not like that every day (still more often that I’d like to, though).

If you’re wondering:Yes, I’ve had artblocks. Usually not in the sense of “I don’t have ideas”, but VERY MUCH in the sense of “I don’t feel like any of the ideas I have right now” and also “nothing I touch turns out the way I want it to turn out”. To all artists out there: it goes away. Believe me. Your stupid period will be over next week (to the guys out there: that’s not a joke. It DOES affect my general condition). It will be better the moment YOU feel better from whatever you’re currently suffering from.Yes, I’ve also scrapped ideas not because I didn’t like them after all, but because I tried and just failed repeatedly at executing them. Yes, I’ve had such bad times in life that I didn’t want to do ANYTHING. That included art. I just. didn’t. want. to. do. anything. Sometimes I still have these phases, but at least it no longer lasts for months straight without break.

“And this next one might be a bit personal, but do you have moments of self doubt?”

Pfft. Of course. Show me an artist who hasn’t. I’ve learned by now that you can acquire every skill you want. The question is whether you have the time and the will for it. If I had started drawing daily much earlier in life, and if I’d practiced more of the things I’m not good at instead of doodle shitposting, I’d be at an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT level than I am now. Even if I had STILL studied what I studied as I did (as I said, medieval literature, nothing art related). I’ve been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil and my parents have always been supportive, so that wasn’t a problem, I just wasn’t aware all these years that it could be something future me might want. Past me couldn’t have KNOWN. It’s okay, in a way. I can do the things I WANT to do by now. Not always as majestically as the ideas deserve, but it does the job. I don’t need to be able to do hyper realistic portraits, or hyper detailed interiors of space ships, for example. (it would be cool to be able to draw musical instruments tho. I’d love to learn 2D animation, too, but WHEN??) In short, am I aware that I’m not god and that my skills are limited in comparison to many other artists? Yes. Is that a problem? No.Do I doubt whether I can do my job, though? Very much yes. Because successful freelance artists don’t only need skill, they need to sell themselves, and I suck at that most epically. Do I miss the times when I didn’t even think about becoming better but simply drew for fun? Pretty much, yeah. Do I miss the times when I still had the ability to concentrate on elaborate, large paintings? Yes, I do. But I can’t turn my brain back to 10 year old. So I’ll have to deal with what I have now.

If you’re wondering whether I had moments of self doubt about my ideas, then, yes, very super much yes. I am convinced that the things you produce should be what YOU want to see. I want to draw what I want and tell the stories I WANT TO SEE AND READ. As I said, I’m doing it because I want these things to exist. Does it still hurt if nobody else likes these ideas? Yes, yes it does very much. It’s not even that I start thinking my ideas were bad, but that I start thinking “Nobody understands me and nobody will ever be able to like me because they don’t like my ideas, and my ideas are part of me”. Which is true, but it is ALSO true that you do not have to like every single idea some other person has to like them or be friends with them, I am aware of that, but if I may be honest here, it’s still a thought that I can’t quite get rid of, and still gets me angsty whenever I share some of my story ideas with anyone.

“How do you deal with it?”

I don’t. Ahem. Truth be told, I never really developed a proper coping mechanism for failures, and I don’t exactly like that about myself, but I still haven’t found a proper solution. As much as I stress that I do the things I do because I actually want to, I also told you that it scares me to see people disagreeing. It’s not only art related, whenever I feel I messed something up (school ie. marks, socialisation, whatever), it eats at me for days or even weeks until something positive happens (like, better marks, a compliment, anything). I don’t really like it, mostly because it starts a vicious cycle, but that’s how it is. I had surprisingly little problems with that during my university years because I had good marks, but I still mess up at least 50% of all the social interaction I do. It’s not always that easy with art, either.Story time.I remember one conversation with an artist who’s teaching art classes at my (ex) university, like, portrait drawings and flower paintings. So at some point when I started trying to live on art, I asked her whether she’d be interested in offering classes for other art styles as well, like comic drawing classes. She said she’d be interested, so I wanted to talk to her in person, but she never replied to that email reply. I decided to be bold for once, grabbed my portfolio, and went to her after one of her classes to show her what I’m doing. Put on the spot, she admitted that she didn’t reply any further because she didn’t like what I was doing. It was good from a technical aspect, but it seemed dull and uninspired to her, like something she had seen too many times already.I was devastated.I’ve always had to deal with underwhelming responses from peers and friends, too, but I also got some really sweet reactions and genuine support, so it was kind of a mixed bag, overall. I wasn’t used to that kind of harsh rejection of who I am.

Am I also very, VERY petty and jealous? Hell, yes. I get VERY jealous whenever I see people whose art is on my level or below but they still manage to make money with it, and have 10-100 times the amount of followers I have and/or get more enthusiastic responses online. It just makes me angry. The only way of coping I’ve ever found is stay the fuck away. I KNOW that it’s not these people’s fault if I’m jealous, and goddamn, freelance artist life is hard enough as it is. We don’t need to tear other apart. Surely they worked their asses off to be where they are. Heck, I’m friends with some. I keep away from those people so I can calm down and stop being angry, before I start lashing out at artists just because they get the attention they need and deserve. It’s not THEIR fault that I need money and also reassurance.

The only thing that ever worked for me to overcome any of these issues is just continue nevertheless. Keep doing what you’re doing. Remember what you love and why and JUST KEEP DOING IT. Even if you don’t see the point right now. Chances are you will see that point again. Maybe you never will. But IF you ever do, you want to make damn sure that you didn’t drop the ball in the meantime. There’s that saying that you can lose if you fight, but you can’t win if you never fight. It’s true. Be stubborn and show the world your middle finger.Spoilers: I’m teaching comic style drawing classes for the “rivaling” institute now. Always only in super small groups and it’s badly paid, so I don’t know for how long I’ll be able to keep it up, but it’s a start, right?

I hope that answered your questions!

Last remark: always remember, kids: you HAVE to produce the content you want to see yourself. Nobody is gonna do it for you unless you pay them. So. I’m doing it. Against better judgment, lol.…and watch The Secret of Kells.

[sebeth]

Babs-a-thon, part 1

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

I started reading comic books in the early 1980s.  My two series from 1980 – 1985 were the Legion of Super-Heroes and the New Teen Titans. I read the occasional issue of other DC series – Justice League, Batman, reprint digests that feature issues of various comics.  My next comics were the Crisis on Infinite Earths and Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe.  The titles introduced me to tons of wonderful characters.

The first time I encountered Batgirl was watching re-runs of the Batman ’66 show. Batgirl was also one of three women that would be commonly featured on super-hero merchandise in the ‘80’s – Wonder Woman and Supergirl were the other two.  Catwoman, Hawkgirl, and Cheetah were used less frequently.

I thought I would review the first appearances I read of Barbara – the ones that formed my impression of her character.

Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths:

I’ll start with Batgirl’s entry in Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #2.

Known Relatives: James (father), Thelma (mother, deceased), Anthony (brother, deceased)

Occupation: Former librarian, Former Congresswoman, now Associate Director of Humanities Research and Development

History: “A Pd.D graduate of Gotham State University, Barbara Gordon began her career as a quiet librarian, which left her time to pursue her interest in the martial arts.”

“One evening, on her way to the Policeman’s Masquerade, wearing a brand-new Batgirl costume of her own design, she witnessed Killer Moth ambushing Bruce Wayne as part of a massive extortion plot.  Impulsively rushing to Wayne’s rescue, Barbara discovered she enjoyed the excitement and danger, and decided to dedicate her life to the fight against crime.”

“Her interest in protecting society led to her serving one term in Washington, D.C. … Barbara now continues her efforts on behalf of the people as Associate Director of Humanities Research and Development.”

“Though she has at times teamed with Batman and/or Robin, Barbara is currently in semiretirement as Batgirl…”

Powers & Weapons: “Batgirl is a skilled hand-to-hand combatant, possessing a first kyu brown belt in judo and karate…she is and Olympic-level athlete…she also rides a custom-built batcycle.”

Barbara is clearly an adult woman.  She’s earned a Ph.D., worked as a librarian, served as a Congresswoman for two years, and is now the Associate Director of Humanities Research and Development.  I would put her at 30 years old at a minimum.

Barbara’s skills and intelligence are noted in the entry: Ph.D., above-average hand to hand combatant, skilled athlete, seamstress, and mechanic.  I assume Barbara is the one who designed the “custom-built batcycle”.

I had the impression of an intelligent, skilled woman who entered the vigilante life-style to help people and to add some adventure into her life.

Perhaps Barbara semi-retired because the lifestyle wasn’t as thrilling – perhaps her body was feeling all the aches or she found a new passion in her research in humanities.

Was it ever explained how Thelma and Anthony died?  

The other Pre-Crisis appearances of Barbara I’d read were Crisis of Infinite Earths #4 and #7.

Crisis #4 opens with Batgirl meeting up with Supergirl.  Batgirl and Supergirl were one of the great pre-Crisis female friendships.

“July 1985: The red skies are hardly noticed now.  Instead, attention is paid to the snows and winds, to the electrical mayhem over every part of our fragile earth.  The stars, too, seem affected by whatever is out there…constellations are no longer aligned as usual…sunspot activity has increased a thousand-fold…weather has gone insane, and even those with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men find their every waking day filled with nightmares come true.”

In other words, the world has gone insane and the multiverse is dying.

Supergirl lands in Gotham: “I haven’t heard from Barbara in months.  She sounded so frightened…not that I blame her.”

Batgirl: “The city…it’s so empty.  Mostly everyone is staying inside with their loved ones, awaiting the end.  I – I think this time it’s really coming.”

Supergirl: “I know the feeling.  And you’re right – hardly anyone’s outside.  Not even the criminals.  But there must be a way to stop whatever’s out there.  I’m not ready to give in so easily.”

Batgirl: “Supergirl…Linda…I’ve faced death so often because I never truly believed I would die, but now…now I feel so useless, so worthless, and so very, very scared.”

Supergirl: “Everyone is, Barbara.  I’ve spoken to Superman and the Titans – they say Flash may have died.  And other heroes…some villains, too, have disappeared. I’m scared, too, but I can’t let that stop me from doing what I have to.”

Batgirl: “Easy for you to say.  Look at your powers.  I – I’m nothing.  I – I don’t think I was ever cut out for playing hero.”

Supergirl: “Barbara, there are thousands of people out there – without powers like mine…they’re all ordinary people trying their best to keep this world from falling apart before its time.”

Supergirl spots a plane in distress and flies off to save it.

Batgirl: “She doesn’t give a moment’s thought to herself of her safety yet I know she cares if she lives or dies.  She’s a hero through and through while all I can think about is what will happen to me. My god, what have I become?”

Crisis #4 isn’t Barbara’s most heroic moment but I found it very realistic and made her more human to me.

Remember, this is pre-crisis Babs: intelligent, agile, throws a mean Batarang.  She doesn’t even know the secret identities of Batman and Robin! Hyper-competent and super-connected Babs didn’t happen until the mid-1990’s.

Barbara’s only other notable appearance during the Crisis was in the seventh issue.  Batgirl delivers Supergirl’s eulogy: “Kara is a hero without equal.  She was often my confidante and always my friend.  Kara was a hero, who, yes, cared about herself, but always seemed to care more for others.  It is easy to dismiss the something special that made her a hero because she had powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men but a hero is not measured by what her power may be but by the courage she shows in living, and the warmth she holds in her heart.  Let her courage give us courage.  Let her love give us love, and let her hope give us hope.  Kara is a hero, she will not be forgotten.”

A touching eulogy and a nice callback to Barbara’s earlier conversation with Kara.

Part 2 of the Babs-a-thon will feature Barbara’s early appearances in the post-Crisis DC Universe.

[xellandria]

Chainmail Memes

@hellokibby tagged me and I’m in the mood so LESGO

Directions: Answer 11 questions, tag 11 people, and then come up with 11 questions for your people to answer. 

1. What is your ultimate pizza, you know topping, crust, sauce, and anything else that describes it. I grew up on Long Island and while I suspect the 22 years (jesus) since I moved to the west coast has both changed my tastes somewhat and also added some rose-flavoured glasses to my recollection, meatball pizza (with red/tomato sauce and the typical NY crust) was suuuuuper good.  There’s a place here in Bend that’s pretty good too, with a white/alfredo sauce, chicken, and pineapple and it makes me very happy every time I taste it, so I’m not sure at this point which I’d prefer.  Combination of both, probably—not a huge fan of tomato sauce these days, but meatball and white seems as awkward to me as pineapple and red, so idk.  Then again, 10 Barrel’s white with chicken, pineapple, and ground beef was pretty good and the only reason I don’t do that combo with Raganelli’s is bc they don’t have the ground beef (iirc), so SHRUG

2. What if your favorite board game, and why? I... am not entirely sure I have one?  Monopoly is the board game I’ve played most, but I don’t often have opportunities for board games, especially less “classic” ones, haha.

3. Is there any fictional character you particularly related to growing up? Um.  After moving to California but just before my weeb stage, I was really into Sailor Moon.  Like, really into it.  Sailor Jupiter in particular was like, my thing—she was taller than everyone else and that was occasionally a problem for her, and she had to switch schools and she was dealing with people being not-nice to her and she had brown hair like I did, and so on.  There was a couple years there where I convinced myself (and to some extent, everybody else) that “Lita” was one of my middle names; looking back I’m pretty sure I bought into that more than anybody else did, but that lasted a long-ass time so y’know :x

4. What is your first Halloween costume that you can remember wearing? What is your most recent and most importantly what is your favorite? Remember wearing?  Tails from the Sonic franchise, age 6-7ish.  First one I know I wore was Elmo, but I was like three at the time so I don’t personally remember it, but I definitely remember my mother “helping” me make a Tails costume a few years before we moved; it was made out of that kind of generic plain linen/cotton cloth that’s a little bit itchy until you run it through like twelve gallons of fabric softener, and the tails were very heavy and bogged the whole thing down.  My most recent is harder, because I think the most recent was seventh or eighth grade (which would have been like, 98-99) when I went to school dressed up as Vegeta from DBZ.  I got a lot of shit from my classmates for that one, but whatever I got a lot of shit from them constantly so fuck ‘em in retrospect.

Somewhere between Tails and Vegeta was a Sailor Jupiter costume, which I also got a lot of crap about (large fat girl in a short skirt walkin’ around your neighborhood, ooooh lock the doors she’ll jiggle you to death >:\) but at the time I’m pretty sure that one was my favourite; I remember wearing the skirt itself around the house afterwards and enjoying the way the pleats moved.  It wasn’t very comfortable (Halloween was cold out that year, and also it was made of that same type of fabric as Tails) but y’know.

5. If you could live in any film genre which one would you choose? What would be your role in this reality? Romanticized/utopian high fantasy, definitely.  Gotta be the romanticized kind tho, cos “realistic/gritty” high fantasy is like, woo I’m in exactly the same boat as now but without toilets and even less access to healthcare.  Granted, I’m super unimaginative so I suspect that would be my role regardless of genre, background serf doing exactly what I do now but with a wardrobe change.  Fantasy’s got the best wardrobes though so that’s fine.

6. Do you collect anything? if so what is your favorite thing in that collection? I don’t collect much IRL anymore except art and craft supplies, which get hoarded forever and rarely used.  It’s not a case of “they’re too expensive to use” or anything either, it’s just I never really see a good opportunity to whip out, for example, the giant matte acetate sheets I inherited from my mother when she stopped doing old school freelance graphic design stuff or the remnant of neon animal-print quilting cotton that would make a fantastic T-shirt if it was of an appropriate stretchiness and not, you know, quilting cotton.

In World of Warcraft I collect all the things you can collect in the collections nowadays—pets, mounts, toys, transmog appearances.  Even prior to any of the collections though, I collected shirts, and I own every shirt and shirt appearance available to players in the game (there’s one that Wowhead lists as having been in the game that I don’t own, but I’m reasonably certain that was a TBC beta-only shirt that never made it to live servers and have never seen any evidence to the contrary—it certainly wasn’t equipped on freshly-created blood elves who were supposed to have it, anyway).  My favourite shirt that I never get to use in transmog is the Trapper’s Shirt, previously called the Thug Shirt, which was the shirt that troll rogues were created wearing prior to... I think it was Cataclysm that all those shirts turned into chest pieces instead.  It’s not the most useful of the shirts available atm (that would probably be the Floot-Tooter’s Tunic, which is as close as we can currently get to a black turtleneck), but it’s aesthetically pleasing and I like it a lot.

7. What is your DnD alignment? Do you have any evidence to support this claim? Oof I’m bad at alignments.  I’d say probably Neutral Good-ish, leaning towards Lawful?  Breaking the rules mostly makes me anxious as hell, unless I’m really angry or the particular rule in question is exceptionally stupid.

8. When you were 10 what career did you think you would pursue? I dunno about when I was ten (I was still recovering from moving cross-country and losing all my friends and not having made any new ones yet), but I really only remember ever wanting to be an animator and artist.  Got on the path to do that at some point too, though it ended up not working out for a variety of reasons. Ten may have been the year I wanted to go into theater instead, but I have this very vivid memory of my mother watching a movie about auditions (I’m hesitant to say it was A Chorus Line but it may have been) and the lady I was rooting for got like, completely fucked over in some way that I can’t recall.  Whatever it was, it scared me away from anything bigger than community, lol :x

9. Do you have any fictional ship you really wish would happen even if it doesn’t make sense in canon? What is it, I wanna know. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm see one of my things about ships is that they have to make sense, unless we’re talking total crackships like Loken/Mal’Ganis.  I had an elaborate theory for how Chin Isou and Dokugakuji (from Gensomaden Saiyuki) could know each other and I sort-of shipped it, but I don’t remember exactly what all my reasoning was, and I’m no longer in a place in my life where I feel like I have to ship things.

10. Which Ninja Turtle or Power Ranger were you? Unless you were a person on a different team, then what team? Donatello was my turtle, and the Yellow Ranger was my jam (until she was replaced, then I think my affections went more pinkish).

11. If you could pick any Muppet to be roommates with who would you choose? Bonus points again why? Rowlf, probably.  I dunno, Kermit seems like the logical roommate but I think he and I would drive each other crazy (we both make that scrunched-up hand-face all the time, y’know? :P).  Rowlf just seems like he’d get along without fuss, and also he’s a chill talking piano-playing dog-thing so?

Optional tagging for @damantru​, @dundee998​, @angryfuturerobot​, @baronberserker​, @unlimitedgoats​, @amongthegentlymad​, @delphina2k​, @astrakiseki​, @bellamop​, @celestialmayhem​, and @grimmhooke​—I know y’all’ve got more important and/or interesting things you could be doing with your time so let’s try and give you more procrastination tools eh? :P  good plan xella A+ can’t go wrong

Anyway feel free to answer or not at your own discretion and/or whim!

1. Do you speak more than one language semi-fluently?  Are you interested in (or working on) learning more languages than you currently know?

2. When you’re having a down/blah day, what’s something that’s likely to make you feel slightly less shitty?

3. Are you an egg drop, hot & sour, or won ton soup kinda person?

4. If you wanted to order mixed vegetables, some sort of optional meat, and soft noodles at a chinese restaurant, what would that be called in your region? (this:)

5. What are your top five most-used spices/condiments?

6. If you’re cooking just for yourself, are you more likely to eat something quick or prepare a “full” meal?

7. What did “Exit Only” mean when seen on a road sign in the area you grew up?  Is it different where you live now?

8. Is there a word that, no matter how many times you try, you can never spell correctly on the first attempt?

9. How would you characterize your online “voice”?  Do you have different ways of typing for different situations, or do you “talk” the same way on Tumblr that you do on Twitter or Skype/Discord?

10. What was your least favourite fashion trend of the last few* years?  What do you want to come back in style? (*few = probably from like 2000 to now bc I have no sense of time lol)

11. If you had to choose only one, who would be your favourite character of yours (original or fan, idc)?  What are they like?  Describe them, I want them, give them to me!

[myrosesunflower]

In the following Blog, on Art Design, and My Art Creations Too… I start questioning what is Art Design and then follow naturally into  Researching this topic, and I am lead into Colour Design and Art, Learning and Brainstorming, into Illustration and What is, and the importance of Illustration. I think in Breaking out of a Rut, is very important to Art Design, because it gives the ideas, we need to navigate our way through our Art Professions. I have included articles, videos related to this blog, for your Personal Art Education. I have, created My Illustration Collage Paintings, that show my Art style and Unique Art technique.

In the Drawing Foundation: Fundamentals:–In the pencil drawing techniques:– 7 tips to improve your skills–says that, the First skill that helped you learn to draw was, the how to Master Pencil drawing, using a Pencil? The article continues to say, that if you have the Basic Drawing Fundamentals, you have the potential to become an excellent Artist. So Pencil drawing, is the fundamental requirement, for making Art.

The seven Tips to Improve Your Drawing Skills

Master pencil grip–how to hold a pencil correctly.

Mix up shading techniques–the first is to shade all lines that go in the same direction which makes the shading look cohesive The second is–to work in patches, which defines, the shape.

Control line weight–is a great way to separate objects, from one another and it helps to emphasise the shadows.

Build up your sketch-plan — explore, using loose lines, avoid committing to early with dark, lines. As you progress, and change lines, rechecking your work is vital as your work progresses.

Check and recheck– check your drawing, and then check as you progress. Avoid guessing the details, make sure it looks symmetrical, before adding stronger, harder lines. Lastly, ask yourself, does this look and feel right?

Prevent pencil smudges–always put a piece of paper under your hand, to prevent smudging the drawing.

Know when to finish–remember a drawing can be overdone. The more you look at a drawing, the more you should make a conscious decision to stop, and to start a New Painting.

https://www.creativebloq.com/art/drawing-techniques-7-fundamentals

What is the Definition of Colour in Art?–( in the- About.com )–colour is the element of art that is produced when light, striking an object, is reflected back to the eye. There are three properties to colour. The First–is hue, which means, the colour given to (red, yellow, blue, etc). The Second property–is the intensity, which is the strength, and brightness of the colour. The Third is property--is the colours value, meaning its lightness or darkness. The terms used are shade and tint which are the actual value change in the colours.

Examples: “Artists can colour the sky red, because they know it is Blue. Those who are not Artists, should colour objects the way they are realistically, or people might say and think we are stupid”.?...( Jules Feiffer).

https://www.art/factory.com/colourtheory/colourtheory.html

https://www.canva.com/learn/colour-theory

https://www.colourmatters.com/colour-and-design

https://www.lynda.com/illustrator-tutorials/colour-Designers

Learning, and Brainstorming–make your creative brainstorming sessions more effective and productive with these tips, from:  Then Creativity Coach, Stefan Mumaw.  Brainstorming, was invented in 1948, it is the dominant technique in the  Idea Generation. It combines Creativity, Problem solving, and Group discussion. Alex Osborn says, most brainstorming fails, because the organiser does not have a Clear picture of the Purpose, the Process, or the Intended Outcome.

The Brainstorming Techniques

The Three Factors of Idea Generation

It requires time to Develop

The Goal is to offer Possibilities, not Solutions

Group Dynamics,  play a Big role in the Effectiveness of the Session

Actions, and Group Dynamics of Brainstorming

Basic–First Point of View

Change Perspective — which opens a World of Possibilities

Learn a New Habit

Problem solving — in the Areas of,  Relevance, Novelty and Obstacles

Illustration and Art Design–An illustration is a decoration, interpretation or visual explanation of a Text, Concept or Process, designed for Integration in published media,–posters, flyers, magazines, books, teaching materials, animations, and videos.

Another explanation about, what is Illustration Design?–Illustration Designers are expected to Create, lively, character — driven, illustrations with, Personality and often with a Measure of humor.

https://www.learn.org.articles/what-is-Illustration-Design.html

The Job Outlook for Illustrators– ( 2004 — 2024 ) 2% growth ( for All Artists ).  Median Pay ( 2014 ),  $43,890 ( for all Fine Artists ).

Illustration-Inspiration Grid/Design Inspiration, is a daily updated blog celebrating creative talent in the world. Get your daily fix of design, art, illustration, photography, and fashion, with a lot more…

https://www.theinspirationgrid.com/category/illustration

https://www.etsy.com/…/art-and-collectibles/drawing-and-illustratio

In the below steps for the Art Creation–Illustration part of this BLOG, I prepared A3 Acid Free, Watercolour papers by Creatives. For the Collages, I have cut out Heart shapes and Hat shapes from A4 Acid Free, Creatives Coloured Card Stock, in preparation for the next few steps, in the Art Creations part…

In this next step, I have used the Mont Marte– Acrylic paints in Light green and Titanium white–Semi matte, mixed with water, and painted lightly over the prepared collage papers, in continuation from the above, step. Note– the Hat collage paper is painted, slightly Darker green…

In this stage below, in the collages, I have drawn the pictures, in a Dark B2 Pencil.

The following  Paintings are the Illustration– Completed Version, of the above steps from beginning to the end, from the initial collages. The paints I have used are in a similar, combination of the Mont Marte–Acrylic Paints,  Scarlet, Rose madder, Cadmium yellow, Phthalo blue and Titanium white, in the Semi–Matte colours. I have named the paintings, individually…

The Queen of Hearts.   Mixed Media Collage.   By Marie. Crimi.  2019. 

All Hats Next Summer.   Mixed Media Collage.  By Marie. Crimi.   2019.

Queen of Hearts

Next Summer

Breaking out of  A Rut–lately you have felt utterly uninspired. Lately your days have been blunt, dull, boring. It is as though you are, a Robot stuck in the same setting and program?… ( in the pschcentral.com )

Six small steps to breakout of a Big Rut–( in the-reliableplant.com ), says to jumpstart your life out of a Rut right Now.

Think Big–and Small– you need Motivation to change. Think of new circumstances you want in your life. Make a plan, create action steps, that will lead to your goal…

Be 100% Responsible–for your actions, you are the only person who has the power to change your situation. Your constant negativity, will not change your situation.

Express, Don’t Repress–your emotions, experience them fully and then Move On.

Take Inventory–schedule time each day, to review your past successes. From this you start building your confidence and inner strength. So you can make yourself successful again, if you work towards your goal.

Expand your Focus–its easy to want, you need to shift your thinking from wanting to having. Your subconscious will work immediately, to get the item in a number of ways or circumstances.

Do Something–do not reply, I will try–This statement contains the seeds of defeat. In doing something consistently, you will revitalise your life, making you attuned to new opportunities and circumstances. Step out of the place you no longer want to be in, this is the only way you will progress and increase your self-confidence.   So Do Be Responsible for your Life.

Videos and Information-on how to move out of a RUT…

5 Powerful Strategies to Get you Out of A Rut/Psychology.   https://www.psychologytoday.com

9 Tips for Breaking Out of A Rut–psychcentral.com.    https://www.psychcentral.com

Short Videos and Informative Articles, on Drawing Foundations, Colour for Design and Art, Learning and Brainstorming, Illustration and Breaking out of A Rut…

A short Lesson on colour theory. By: Dom Carter. December 18, 2018.

5 Mindfulness apps to save you from Creative Burnout. By: Jessica Cook. October 10, 2018.

18 Phenomenally realistic pencil drawings. By: Creative Bloq Staff. October 05, 2018.

Funny comic reveals the dilemma of a freelance life. By: Dom Carter. October 05, 2018.

5 Timeless illustration styles ( and what to use them for ). By: Nick Carson, September 05, 2018.

5 Easy ways to uncover your creative Genius. By: Dom Carter. August 10, 2018.

A Must See…   Creative Inspirations.   Marian Bantjes.  Graphic Artist. By: Marian Bantjes. 2019…

In concluding the above Art Design Blog, it is true to say, what has been included in this blog starts, out basically as information, as to what is Art Design. Then exploring further, through researching has led deep, into all the important aspects of How to be and Navigate our way through the Art Design, Illustration Fine Art Creation, Professions. Further on, we read on how to stay Sane, and Completely and Precisely– Focused on our vision and intentions in the Creating of Great Art Creations…

Thank you for visiting my BLOG, I hope it was informative and interesting. Please Follow and Like My–BLOGS. If you have any comments, or suggestions for Art Researching, or other topics you would like me to Research, please let me know.

I am,   creationsbymariec.art

  Art Design, and My Art Creations Too… In the following Blog, on Art Design, and My Art Creations Too... I start questioning what is Art Design and then follow naturally into  Researching this topic, and I am lead into Colour Design and Art, Learning and Brainstorming, into Illustration and What is, and the importance of Illustration.

[nicholasbickford]

Let's just ignore the fact more than six months have passed since I last published a post on this site. Let's also not talk about the numerous post ideas I have listed in my notebook that haven't seen the light of day. Let's instead focus on how we came up with the design for this extension of ours (which, despite six months later is still three roof sheets short of being watertight from above! It's been... well it was all good until last month when the rain didn't stop and we had no roof. But that is a story for another day... Not six months away though, promise!) 

So. When we were house hunting four years ago we had a few musts: it needed to be a fixer-upper because we wanted to make our own stamp on it. Location was important - we wanted to be close to the water. It had to have good light, good structural bones, a decent yard and the potential for us to add to it. We found the ugliest house in the best street with water views and snapped it up. The good thing about it being an ugly house was there was no history or architectural details which we had to work around which is often the case with old houses. This was fibro. It had plain walls, plain windows, plain cornices, plain everything. It was essentially a blank canvas (and I hate using that term, but it's true). Our last home had pretty cornices, timber windows and a real cottage-y feel to it we tried to keep while modernising it. Our first house was a historical semi we didn't dare touch aside from paint in tones true to its style. This house had nothing really. It gave us freedom to do what we wanted without feeling guilty about veering away from its "style" or stripping it of character. I believe in working with what you have and if it had any redeeming features, we'd definitely have worked with them in the design process. As it happened, we ended up creating the story of our house once work started - we recycled parts of the old roof into stair treads, changed the floor direction in the extension and kept a few original parts like the old knocker and house numbers. We have piles of hardwood from the roof that will become a bar top and library shelves. We reused the huge beams as heads above doorways and windows, moved some windows around and recycled doors. It's nice to have a kind-of-cool answer for the "why is that like that..." questions that might come.

But before we even got to creating a story, we had to create a plan. And while it's tempting to look at magazines and Pinterest and blogs and imagine yourself in that space, there are so many more factors to consider aside from loving something because it looks pretty. Captain Obvious, right? Well yes and no because despite all my constant writing about this stuff, it's easy to get swept away imagining something when the reality is likely to be very different. And know that it's not just a matter of things being different due to your tastes or location, but it's to the rules of YOUR property - and they might be different to your immediate neighbour's. It's the way you live your life. It's your actual home's ability to handle the changes you wish to make. It's your budget. And weather patterns. It's your personal needs and those of every person who lives there. The list of things that can affect your home's design is endless, so by all means look to others for inspiration, but be sure to design the best space for you and your family, taking into consideration all the musts/have-tos and can'ts along the way. After a few harsh realities from Steve (who rolled his eyes every time I showed him an all-white Swedish space and explained "something like this!"), I wondered how close to the mark we would get in terms of creating a home perfect for us. While we've not finished or been able to use our space completely, so far, I can't see much I'd change if I had free reign. Which makes me think the long, long design path was the right road to take. If you're looking at taking yourself on a similar renovation journey, here are a few things we learnt along the way.

Resist the urge to get renovating immediately 

Any magazine article on renovating will tell you to live in your space before you do anything major to it. There is a good reason for this - because it helps you make better decisions. If you can do a full year, do it - because honestly, your home is so different throughout the seasons and you want to ensure you know it back to front. The light falls differently in winter to summer - we discovered the afternoon sun bounces off the verandah of the house across the street from us and rebounds into our bedroom in summer and lights up the south side of the home in winter. We know the afternoon sun is unbearable in summer at the back of our house (which faces West) but that the sea breeze cools things down most days too. We know how the yard floods and where the shade falls for prime planting. We've worked out where we have mould problems, where we like to dump our wallets and keys, how we don't walk down the driveway but across the middle of the lawn to the front door, which way the weather usually comes from and where the rain affects us most. Putting up with all the annoyances that come with an unrenovated house is worthwhile because you work out what annoys you, what you like, how you live, what you need to make living better - knowing all these things is essential for good design. 

Create a wishlist

For us, we needed more space - we had a tiny three-bedroom, one-bathroom home. It had a living room, kitchen/dining and that was it. All up, it was 80sqm. We weren't after a huge house, but with four kids, we definitely needed more space! We renovated the bathroom and kitchen spaces with an extension in mind - we decided we could just extend from the back out so worked out a way to do just that so whenever the time came, the existing house shouldn't require much work. And then we planned and planned. We worked out what we wanted exactly: some kind of loft space, raked ceilings, two living spaces and a fireplace. We wanted at least four bedrooms, but five would be better so everyone could have their own room if they wished (I am now DYING for them to all be in their own rooms because I'm over the bed-swapping, whinging, kicking and meltdowns over who gets to stay up later and who doesn't...). I wanted lots of storage because the house had none. So we incorporated a dedicated storeroom into the plans. It turned out that Steve changed careers while waiting for council approval and so the storeroom has been renamed his workshop for all his tools. It will be the world's tiniest workshop but still! Luckily I still had large storage areas planned for the roof - having a high-pitched roof means the unusable areas can be walled off and used to store alllll sorts of things!

Get drawing

I've been a lover of floorpans forever! I'd draw my dream homes all the time complete with indoor pools, ballrooms, sweeping staircases and libraries. Being able to draw up a more realistic one for my family that we would actually build was so exciting! Several variations were drawn up - the first was turning one of the bedrooms into a staircase and adding a whole second storey to take advantage of the water views. Then I thought maybe not the whole hog and just a really high-pitched roof so we can have an attic bedroom. Another version had a master bedroom at the back next to second living space. Another kept our master where it was but stole the bedroom next to it for an ensuite and wardrobe and added two smaller rooms to the back. Yet another plan extended to the side of the house over the driveway. But I kept coming back to the attic idea - why couldn't we just make one big room out the back with a staircase up to a loft bedroom in a new roof? Sounded pretty easy to me, so I called in the draftsman...

Call in the experts

The thing with major renovations is this: there are SO MANY DIFFERENT ANNOYING RULES AND ASPECTS TO THE PROCESS. And you don't really know about any of them until you're at that stage. First up for us was the biggest bummer of all: we had to do a full development application for council. Many renovations and extensions won't require this - you can go through a private certifier and they can have your plans approved within a few weeks. But if you live in a flood or bushfire zone, you most likely won't be that lucky. We live in a flood zone and so straight up we had bonus conditions - the biggest being we had to raise the floor height by 60cm. This meant the nice walk-straight-out-of-your-living-room-onto-your-deck-onto-the-grass moments and easy view of the kids playing in the yard from anywhere in one side of your home wasn't going to happen. It would be about a metre or so off the actual ground. Having to step up the extension means a split level to the ground floor, which means extra materials in height (more bricks for footings/longer pieces of wood) extra precautions in stabilising the building and a more difficult build as it's higher off the ground (we had to lay a subfloor so the builders didn't just rely on standing on bearers and joists - this was an extra couple of thousand dollars immediately). The huge pitched ceiling I wanted with a bedroom in it? Couldn't quite do as I wanted - did you know habitable rooms (living/bedroom) require your ceiling height to be at a certain height (for memory it is 1.8m but I could be wrong there) for 2/3 of the volume of the room? We wanted the angled ceiling to just hit the floor, so in the end, knee walls had to be built to decrease the size of the room so our master bedroom won't quite be as we imagined it at first, but the library can be. There are also height restrictions (we just snuck in for how high our house can be), light-to-dark ratios through use of windows and doors, shading requirements (we need little awnings on our east-facing bedroom to shade them) and so. many. other. annoying. things. The draftsman/architect/builder who designs knows these tricky little things and will outline your options. In the end, our draftsman discovered if we submitted the second story as an "attic bedroom" rather than a second storey, we had a little more freedom with our plans. One thing I suggest is to give your draftsman/builder/architect a ball park figure of what you want to spend - underestimate it, though. Because if you give them no budget to work to, they will design just design to all your whims and you might end up with a house you actually can't afford to build! And never feel you have to do EVERYTHING all at once. It is a good idea to design your home and submit everything in one application with a view to doing it in stages as budget/time/circumstances allow. We never planned to complete our extension in one hit. We wanted to do it in two to three stages with our master bedroom and ensuite being the last thing. If you have plans to put in a pool or garage or separate studio down the track, consider doing it all as one DA and get the approval now. It will save you in extra drafting and application fees later on.

Draftsman vs architect vs builder vs carpenter Depending on the scale of your works you might not need a draftsman or architect. Many builders are able to draw up and submit plans on your behalf and if it's less complicated works to a place that doesn't change the footprint of your home, a carpenter might be all you need. We knew we needed plans drawn up but as we had a good idea of what we wanted, we knew a draftsman was all we needed. If you're stuck for ideas about what you want, I'd still start with a builder who can at least point you in the right direction of an architect if they believe one is required. 

Make all your changes at this stage

Every time I got a draft plan from the draftsman I printed it out and got out my trusty red pen for changes - because there were always changes. I lived and breathed these plans - even dreamt about them sometimes! But that is the good thing about drafting plans - they are drafts and can be changed. And you should change them at the planning stage because it will cost you a lot more time, effort, money, patience and possibly relationships if you change them once the build begins! For me, I'd use the printouts to just see what it might look like if I moved the wall a little more this way. Or if I moved the door layout or added an extra room. Always sit on the current draft for a while and get a feel for what it might be like. Measure things out - I would use string and mark up the walls/doors/windows on the grass so I could physically see the floorplan in the right scale. Get a feel for the space in terms of size and look for things like views from windows and doors, door swings and potential furniture placement. There is often a little wiggle room for small changes once construction begins such as window size and placement, but nothing too drastic, so get it right now. We took our time with our plans - probably waaaay too long but there were a fair few delays on both sides of the process and in the end, we're glad there was a wait because we love our plans. We were also lucky in that our draftsman had a fixed price so it didn't matter how many changes we made, our $3000-odd fee for the measuring/drafting/submitting didn't budge. Spoiler alert: the engineering fees were a surprise $5000 we weren't expecting! 

Turn negatives into positives

There are going to be restrictions but it's what you do with them... We had to raise our floor level which brought a few headaches for the builders and extra costs for us, but we started to see the advantages of having this split level. For one, it broke up the extra-long space and created two distinct living areas. It allows us to see the water views from the back room and has created a large under-house space where we will able to store our water tanks, excess building materials, kids bikes and surfboards etc. The fact we have to apply builder's bracing (which is essentially thin plywood sheets made from hardwood at $35 a sheet) to all of our existing interior walls killed me (and here I was thinking we wouldn't have to touch the existing house too much!) but it meant we were able to insulate them as well, meaning the bedrooms on either side of the bathroom are now a little more soundproof. It also got rid of the wallpaper that had been painted over and often bubbled up during wet periods and means our Gyprock walls will be nice and straight and new. The engineer's obsession with bracing, particularly expensive materials and extra strengthening requirements means our house is the strongest, well-built thing in town. It's not going anywhere! 

Be realistic with your choices

Sometimes I would look at our plans and wish for larger expanses of glass by way of bifold doors from the family room onto the back deck. And then I remembered the heat in the middle of summer. And the bugs. And the sand and crap that would fall in the rails of the bifolds. And that I love French doors more... We went against the norm because it doesn't work for us. Realistically we knew we needed a decent size door opening but also windows on either side of them that could be open all night long if we wanted for safe, mozzie-free breezes and airflow. We knew as much as a big deck sounds great in theory, it would encroach too much into the backyard, which was more important. And we're not big entertainers anyway. We know pretty pendant lights are going to have to take a backseat to ceiling fans. And timber windows or louvres everywhere were just going to eat too much into the budget. Getting the right mix of practicality and aesthetics is hard and if you really want to live in a place, aesthetics will most of the time lose out to practicalities in a battle of the wits. Like my whitewashed floors. I love them to bits but we're going with a mid-range natural colour for floorboards because we're a rough and tumble family and that's the best colour to mask wear and tear and the inevitable dirt that comes with living with children. (Though Steve is still A-OK with my painting our eventual master bedroom floor pure white. It will have to be a no-shoe zone!) Think honestly about how you live, what your budget is and what is important to you and plan your home around them. 

Expect delays and to pay a lot upfront 

Dear God did we have delays... The whole process has had delays! And they will happen at one stage or another. For us it was just getting the plans right, then not pushing the draftsman to get them back to us as quickly as we should have. Then it was council approving our plans (after a couple of months) but not noticing we had asked for a one-metre extension to the existing house (four square metres in total) at the existing floor height to give the dining room a little more space before the floor level rose. So it was back to council for another six or so weeks as they had to start all over again. Then it was a matter of organising a certifier who couldn't give you a construction certificate to start works until you had waded through their list of things: engineer's report, home builder's course etc. In the end we forked out close to around the $15,000 mark before we even bought any materials or began labour. Here are some approximate figures for you because I honestly can't recall exact amounts and I am too lazy to sift through my disorganised paperwork to find them (sorry!)

Draftsman: $3300

Engineer: $5000

Council fees: $2000

Certifier: $3000

Surveyor: $200

Home owner/builder course and white card: $250

Long-service builder's levy: $500

In short, an architect told me when I wrote the Real Living Renovations magazine to never sign up and start building if all you have is the dollars the builder quoted you. Because it will ALWAYS cost you more, somewhere along the line. And it's usually before the builder even begins! 

I hope this was somewhat helpful. Because frankly I haven't typed this much in a while and my fingers hurt (Kidding. I still write a fair bit; just not here!). If you're about to renovate, you can track down a copy of the reno magazine here or at your newsagent if they still have them in stock. Otherwise I did find a lot of what I wrote has been uploaded to the Homes to Love website. It's not everything, but it's a fair bit. I've linked to a few of the sections below.

Guide to hiring an expert

Choosing the right team

Researching and shopping

Surviving the construction stage

8 steps to a well-designed home 

Kitchen design

Bathroom renovation

The owner/builder: what you need to know

The power of paint

Spotting the warning signs

Where your money goes

Renovating sourcebook

And for more of my Reno Files posts...

{The reno files} A real-life renovation guide: introduction

Our house plans: spending big to live small(ish)

A very exciting renovation update

A real, hopefully helpful and honest guide to renovating your bathroom