old daft punk

a speed paint I started this mornin then refined a little into a mock poster type thing, I loved their white suits and helmets at the grammys so I wanted to paint ugu 

I swear Thomas’ bald spot is from that dumb helmet DAD PUNK ALERT

EDIT: just wanted to say yeah it’s a lot like my first pic I did of them but I wanted to redo that with like, a better atmosphere (and make a better drawing overall so ye

Flash fic - Prompt #56

It’s a cough, just loud enough to be heard over the racket, that causes Guy-Man to look up from his phone. A tall man wearing a bashful expression points at the empty chair by Guy-Man’s table.

“Excuse me, but may I sit here? It’s full everywhere else.”

Glancing around the café, Guy-Man confirms the statement - it’s more or less full, with only a few other chairs unoccupied. He nods at the man, motioning for him to sit. The man’s face lights up, and Guy-Man instantly regrets not turning him down. He was moderately attractive before, but after flashing a smile like that he becomes nothing short of gorgeous. How the hell is Guy-Man supposed to concentrate on his food with someone like that in front of him?

The answer: he isn’t.

As much as he tries to keep his eyes solely on either his plate or phone, it’s impossible for him not to sporadically peek up at his tablemate. He’s reading today’s paper, a relaxed expression on his face. There’s a… beguiling softness to him. Even when inattentive to his surroundings, he has a sunny but composed disposition, the kind that makes you feel safe and at ease. Guy-Man wonders if he should say something. Probably not. Just because the guy chose to sit here doesn’t mean he’s looking for conversation. Besides, he’s most likely straight. The hot ones are always straight.

The man’s gaze flit up from his paper, briefly locking with Guy-Man’s, who looks away as quickly as he can whilst silently cursing. Great, because things weren’t bad enough before. How goddamn difficult is it not to let anyone catch you staring at them?! How is it-

“My name’s Thomas, by the way.”

Guy-Man almost jumps in surprise. The ma- Thomas’ eyes are shining with expectation as he waits for Guy-Man to introduce himself.

“Uh, I’m Guy-Manuel.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Grinning, Thomas leans forward, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. “Soo… Do you come here often, Guy-Manuel?”

Guy-Man bites down on his tongue to hold back a snort. It’s been a long time since he was last assaulted by such a corny line. Though, he must admit, Thomas kind of makes it work.

“Fairly often.”

“I see. I moved here not long ago, so I don’t know which hangouts are good and which aren’t. This place seems nice, though.”

“It is. They have different ‘lunch offers’ every weekday between ten and two. It’s pretty good”

“That does sound good. Do you have any other tips?” Thomas asks, then, when Guy-Man is unable to hold in another snicker, knits his brow in an unreasonably adorable way. “What?”

Guy-Man shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just… Are you flirting with me?”

Thomas hums, contemplatively peering up at the ceiling.

“Well… It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you are free tomorrow evening…”

——————————

Requested by anonymous. Prompt is from this list.  I’ll be trying to get through all of them, but if there’s a certain one you want me to prioritize, let me know :)

Suffice to say that the stakes of Homework are important. Not important enough, however, to curb the appetite of Guy-Manuel, who, in this morning’s interview in a cellar vaguely decorated to look like a seventies lounge, wolfs down two chocolate croissants and carefully drinks his Cacolac. Fortunately, Thomas, the tall brunette with curly hair, has already eaten his breakfast and is a little more loquacious.
—  From an interview with Max Magazine, March 1997. Note for Americans: Cacolac is like a French version of Yoohoo.