I….I finally did it after a along ass time scrapping scenes
The lyric comic is based on a comment in the music video which was this: “This version sounds like she’s mourning the potential.”
The idea began from that, where a different color on your skin represents the love and affection you have for the person. If you don’t see your color on them, then your love is unrequited.
There is some elements of my GTA 5 AU in this comic hence the guns and stuff. Also fun fact: Wildcat’s convo with Vanoss hints to my Minicat comic that I made before. Wildcat knows what Vanoss is going through and he didn’t want his friend to suffer the same heartbreak like he did.
A commission for the lovely @fatalfascination of Priest Hux, who approached me earlier for this drawing. I kept apologizing to Domhnall Gleeson’s cinnamon roll face while drawing that sneer, even if I did take liberties, haha.
Adam wakes to the sound of someone panicking right behind him. His head thobs with pain as he slowly blinks open his eyes, only slightly surprised to see that he’s tied to a chair. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t exactly rare either.
“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck-” The person behind him repeats. They have a familiar voice and Adam cranes his neck to try to see who it is, but he can’t and his head and neck shoots up with pain at the movement.
“Hey, hey, calm down, deep breaths.” Adam says as he tests his restraints. They don’t budge. Great.
“Kovic?” The person asks, and Adam realizes it’s Jeremy from Fake AH. Adam and Jeremy weren’t together before they were kidnapped, which left many questions as to the captor’s motives.
“Yeah, it’s me, I’m here.” Adam says, trying to help Jeremy calm down. “Just take deep breaths, there’s no reason to panic.”
“There is absolutely a reason to panic.” Jeremy snaps. “There’s fucking sharks below us.”
Adam’s blood runs cold as he takes in their surroundings for the first time. Jeremy and Adam are back to back in chairs, tied together with thick rope. They were sat on a metal platform at the end of the catwalk possibly functioning as an elevator. They sat over a large tank of water, and sure enough, sharks swam in the water below.
“Adam Kovic and Jeremy Dooley.” Someone calls, catching the two’s attention. It was a smug looking guy in an old sweatshirt and worn jeans, standing on a concrete walkway that separated the tank they were over and another. “Welcome to the Los Santos aquarium maintenance area.”
“Why are we here?” Adam asked, trying to distract himself from what laid below.
“Excellent question.” The man said. “When I found out that you both shared a fear of sharks, I thought why not kill two birds with one stone?” He smiles, and it almost looks sincere. “It’s quite funny, you two both share eerily similar features, you’re both afraid of shark, you both work for a formidable crew in Los Santos, I could go on.”
“Fuck you.” Jeremy spats.
The man frowns. “Now that’s rude. I would be more polite if I were you, unless you want to be up close and personal with the sharks beneath you.” Jeremy doesn’t respond, and the man takes that as a cue to continue. “Now, how about we get started?”
Because today is the day the lovely @fevers-and-flus graced the world with her presence, and it’s gotta be celebrated, obviously 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
Keith woke up with a headache. It wasn’t surprising, he was at a summer camp as a counselor, and it had been miserably hot this week.
Except, the headache seemed to kick off a series of symptoms, one right after the other in what felt like ten minute intervals.
The sore throat came on first - each time he swallowed, he had to fight back a grimace, because it felt as if he had swallowed glass.
Then, the congestion set in. He was suddenly so stuffy that he could no longer breathe through his nose. He could feel it behind his eyes, there was a great pressure that he could still feel building. Along with the congestion came the frequent, scattered sneezes.
A cough bubbled in his throat next, and he found himself muffling an absurd amount of fits into the sleeves of his red hoodie.
The worst symptom seemed to be saved for last. He started shivering, and suddenly felt very achey and miserable, and Keith found himself wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to get warm.
In forty minutes, he went from having a mild headache, to feeling as if he had been hit by a truck.
“Shiro, I think something is wrong with Keith.” Lance said, sitting across from the head of the summer camp. Shiro frowned, and looked over to where Lance was looking.
Keith was slumped over at the table, his arm propping up his head as his eyes drooped shut.
Shiro stood up and made his way over to his camp counselor.
“Hey, man.” He said, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You alright?”
Keith shook his head, coughing lightly against his fist.
“I’m not feeling so hot.” He rasped, his voice nearly gone.
Shiro frowned, eyes searching Keith’s face. He was pale, and his eyes had bags underneath them, but he didn’t look too bad, so Shiro wasn’t overly concerned. “What’s bothering you? Headache?”
“Among other things.” Keith muttered.
“Have you been drinking water?”
“Keith.” Shiro said, shooting him a flat look. “It’s ninety degrees and humid. You need water. No wonder you don’t feel well.”
“I’m not dehydrated.” Keith groaned, burying his face in the crook of his elbow before letting out a string of sneezes.
Shiro pressed his hand to Keith’s cheek. “You need to go lie down.”
“But…the kids.” He mumbled.
“Lance can handle the kids. I can help him, too, but you shouldn’t be up and about if you’re sick. Go.”
Keith nodded, and made his way to his cabin.
Unfortunately for him, the cabin had no air conditioning, and although he was exhausted and his body was screaming for him to sleep, he couldn’t.
Shiro sent Lance to check on him after an hour.
“Hey, buddy, how’re you feeling? Shiro sent me.” Lance announced, walking into the cabin.
Keith mumbled something unintelligible, his bangs plastered to his forehead. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes completely out of focus as he struggled against the heat to fall asleep.
“Ah, shit.” Lance hissed, putting a hand on Keith’s cheek
And then he was sprinting out of the cabin yelling Shiro’s name.
When Keith came to, he was in the room designated for the camp counselors. It was the only room that was air conditioned.
He was lying on the couch with a wet cloth on his forehead.
He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. His head was throbbing so badly that he was convinced he was getting a migraine. His body was aching, too, and his throat felt as if he had swallowed glass.
“What?” He mumbled tiredly, dazed confusion clear in his voice.
“Your fever spiked.” Shiro said, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “How are you feeling?”
Keith just shrugged tiredly. He felt out of it, his brain too fuzzy to formulate coherent thoughts.
A cough bubbled out of his throat, and Shiro grimaced at how harsh and grating it was.
“Here.” Shiro said, handing him a water bottle. “You’re going to stay up here until you’re feeling better. The heat isn’t good for your fever.”
Keith simply nodded, his eyelids dropping. “Thanks.”
“Get some sleep.”