levi is the only one i can draw semi-consistent, so i figured… why not draw a bunch of different levis so i can confuse myself?
i haven’t read @valisi-clark‘s fic smack[x] yet, so i’ve spent the past couple of days reading through this novel-length monster. i’m one chapter away from being caught up. it’s quite a fucking ride, i gotta say. very, very good. i’ve been tickled that our interpretations of levi have been so close when i haven’t read this fic before–so i wanted to sketch my final tour[x]!levi along with canon!levi to see how different each levi can be. i’m not really happy with smack!levi yet, but there will definitely be more fanart to come, so i’ll figure it out.
don’t worry guys. i start some figure drawing courses tomorrow, so hopefully i’ll Git Gud at this soon.
Summary: *REQUESTED* You don’t want to go to the company holiday party but you decide to go after alittle convincing from Jaehyun.
Jaehyun was the guy that everyone in the office wanted. Your coworkers would gush every single time he walked into the room. And he’d smile and wink. There was only one other man in your department. The only difference was that Matthew was already dating someone and he didn’t pay any of the single women in the room any mind.
But you weren’t interested in Jaehyun. Sure, he was attractive as hell, but you didn’t want someone that everyone else was all over. It was a turn off and you didn’t want anything to do with it.
After lunch, your friend Val said, “Are you coming to the company holiday party tonight?”
I just read the EW article on the RuPaul’s Drag Race Reunion…
How are you not “savvy with social media”? You are a 25-year-old, living in Los Angeles. It ain’t like you are some 85-year-old who still uses a 1950 type-writer.
Shea said that you kept checking your social media accounts.
You KNEW what your ugly ass fans were saying. And instead of doing what was right, you just sat there like a little spoiled princess, letting your gross keyboard warriors body-shame, be racist, and transphobic. You pretty much let them do all the work for you.
You LIED, too. You said that you would’ve protected Nina, but to this VERY fucking day, Nina is STILL getting hit with anti-black insults, coming straight from your evil fucking stans.
And no words from you.
Alexis Michelle got so much hate, it was unreal. And for what? Being talkative and opinionated? Meanwhile, you lied and betrayed your Season 9 sisters, cutting their throats.
Until you address your gross stans, it is safe for me to assume that you are on their side. And that makes you less attractive as a person.
P.S. I do not care what you ugly Val stans say. You guys are rude and disrespectful and I will not stand for it.
(If you are a fan of Val and you are not rude/racist/transphobic, this address isn’t directed towards you. I am not mad at you. <3)
I got first prize in a big comic contest!! aaaaAHHH!
the prize is about $1415 which is just CRAZY!
the motivation (somewhat) translated: This comic is skillfully told, fun and smart. With amusing and captivating characters, expressive style and a dramatic twist that hits home with both younger and older readers.
I’M SO HAPPY AND I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS JUST HAPPENED I’m STILL SHAKING AAAAAH
Misery Business: A Skool Love Affair: Lesson Seven
Misery Business: A Skool Love Affair
Lesson Seven: How to Stand Up for Yourself
“So, are you coming to the costume party at Sasha’s?” Val asked, examining her turquoise nail polish closely. “It’s on Halloween,” she added, an afterthought on those bright pink lips.
Wrestling with the large tome of my advanced calculus book, I panted and finally zipped the gargantuan book into my bag. “Uhmmm,” biting my lip, I shifted the straps of my backpack on my shoulders. “I wasn’t really invited. Sasha and I don’t even tal—.”
“That’s what I’m doing right now. Duh.” Valerie’s brow furrowed as she examined my outfit, those bright eyes scanning every part of me unhappily. Apparently I lacked fashion sense now, too. And she wanted me to know it. “I hate that sweater. You should burn it—anyway, what are you going to wear to the costume party?”
Stiffening, I winced. We were still edging over thin ice, shuffling along to avoid falling through its frozen depths. At least, in my head we were, maybe to Val everything was exactly as it always had been. But something inside me had ripped open, a rift that gaped and swallowed up some part of me.
The part that unconditionally loved Valerie. The part that had been her sidekick—no, her doormat for so long. The part that was sweet and gentle and kind. The mask.
Now, all that was really left was the real Sage. A girl who had opinions, feelings, and loves of her own. Dancer. Daughter. Friend. Not a doormat. Not push over. Just Sage.
My hands balled into tight fists over the canary yellow straps of my bag as my eyes narrowed at the auburn beauty lounging against her locker. “I never said I was going.”
This response, cold and flat, surprised Valerie. Her eyes widened, pale blue expanding, blotting out more white as she took this stranger in. That pink mouth pressed into a thin line before pursing, and she drawled, “Oh, stop being dramatic, Sage. That’s my job.” An uneasy laugh. I was stone silent, somehow towering in this tiny body. An uncomfortable, space-filling gulp, then, “Of course you’re going. Who’s going to hold my hair when I throw up? I need you, Sa—.”
“Maybe you should ask Jimin or Sasha to do that for you.” I strode past her, my chin inching up for the first time in a long time. How different it was to look at the space of the bustling halls, to actually look at anything but my feet or Valerie’s perfection. I added, a bit harsher than I intended. “And I like my sweater.”
Valerie gaped. I didn’t hear her reply as I wove through the maze of students, the labyrinth of halls, and finally to my advanced calculus class. That worn, tired mask falling away piece by piece.
The cafeteria was a zoo. Teeming with intense body odor, gossip, and barely edible food. Tables packed in with their cliques, shouldering into a chain-link fence to keep out any trespassers, or maybe it was to keep those already there trapped, buried in their cults. What happens when one of those links breaks away to build her own fence?
Alienation. Total, complete estrangement.
Valerie hadn’t spoken to me since our little tiff in the hallway two days ago, but I wasn’t as lost or as empty as I had been in the past. No, I was paddling against the current just fine. I didn’t need this one-sided friendship anymore.
Did I? That mask was cracking, sure, but it was still there, parts clinging to the emerging butterfly. I felt my eyes linger over the round table full of secret smiles and girlish laughs. Valerie. Was I anything without her?
I had hidden myself from the world. Perfected the wallflower existence until there was nothing but dull petals and dead leaves left behind. The shell of a girl who used to be so alive. A girl who used to have her own friends that didn’t live in books. A girl who used to breathe fire and life in large, unflinching breaths—unyielding in her pursuit of the world.
“Hey, Sage.” That voice. I turned, my tray wobbling in my startled grasp, sending the red, bruised apple over the small section of carrots.
“Jimin,” I breathed. We hadn’t spoken outside of practice since—since homecoming. Since that quick, breathless moment. The memory of his lips was making my mouth tingle deliciously, I swallowed the urge to reach out for him, to drop the tray. To devour him. “Hey—erm—what’s up?”
Awkward, quirky, socially inept Sage surfaced in fragments, stuffing down the sensual and curious girl that simmered below. He grinned, a flicker of perfection—a slash of teeth and lips and beauty.
“Just saying hello,” he said, his playful, flirtatious nature bubbling over. The side that was reserved for her. His girlfriend. “You know, people do that from time to time. Or, am I only allowed the privilege to speak to you during rehearsals now, Sage? ”
I felt heat erupt over my cheeks. The way that my name rolled over his tongue was so…so…
Kisses from rehearsal between our characters, kisses I was not supposed to enjoy flitted through my veins, pushing my blood faster and faster to my head, to my ears until I was staggering, near-faint with some nameless feeling.
A breathy little laugh escaped my mouth, and I stumbled toward a nearly empty table in the back corner of the cafeteria. The one where other rejects, losers, and loners sat picking at their lunches quietly.
“You can talk to me whenever you want, Jimin,” I said, a crooked smile etching over my face, “but, she won’t like it. Not anymore.”
His dark eyes flickered toward Valerie, who peered at us with calculating, cold eyes. He sighed through his nose. “She misses you, Sage. She really does.”
“I don’t care anymore.” It was reflexive. Brutally honest. Cruel and cold. I don’t know if I like this new Sage….
Jimin flinched, his grip tightening on his tray. “You don’t mean that, Sage. You can’t mean it…”
But I did. A biting wind raged over the jagged, twisted, ugly scars Val had flecked and marred my heart with. It churned up forgotten, stuffed-down feelings—feelings that sent my pulse thundering in rage and fury for having been so blind, so soft.
“What if I do mean them, Jimin? What if I finally am tired of her treating me worse than the dirt she stands on?” My voice was quiet, fear gripping me as I began losing control of that blinding, vicious anger. As I lost the gentle, loving Sage.
Jimin gave me a long, wounded look, his lips turned down in each corner. An expression that had me nearly falling at the knee and begging for forgiveness. “Well, then you wouldn’t be the girl that I love—,” our eyes mirrored the same horrified shock at his words—the truth that had always been hanging over us. Over me. And Jimin? He felt that bond…with me?
He amended himself sheepishly. “That Valerie loves.”
“Right.” I murmured. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to find her together won’t we?”
Valerie’s sky-blue stare was enveloping us, watching as our bodies drew closer and closer. My volatile waves coming to rest on Jimin’s peaceful shore. Her teeth bared, snapping as she barked at Jimin to come sit with her. Right. Now.
He hesitated, his ebony gaze still settled over mine, golden skin tinged the lightest of pink. His chest was rising and falling rapidly beneath his gray sweatshirt, out of breath from—from the mutual agreement we’d just come to. We would find the real me—together.
He loves me. I love him.
Images of a girl swinging on the playground admiring the beautiful black haired boy on the field with his kickball flashed behind my eyes. Followed closely by that same shy girl looking on as he spun and swirled over a blank stage, moving like water as he danced at his eighth-grade recital. Then a broken picture of auburn beauty embracing that lovely, dancing boy—betraying the gentle, kind friend with every kiss, every touch.
Reality slammed into me stealing all the air from my lungs. My knees buckled as I watched him tread toward those snaking arms. Toward those stunningly bright eyes. But his body avoided her, sidestepping the slithering touch, and he sat, his dark eyes flicking toward my watchful pair.
Aching with the same sort of unspoken desire, his eyes pleaded, “Later?”
I nodded, understanding his telepathy. A small, secretive smile splayed over my mouth.
“So, Valerie wanted me to tell you she’s sorry,” Sasha’s dark lips hissed, her ebony fingers pressed to my shoulder as she leaned forward in her desk, disrupting my focus in Literature of the Twentieth Century.
I angled my head to look at her rich chocolate complexion. A smooth, striking mask of perfectly proportionate features that made my stomach clench in a jealous knot. Her almond eyes studied me carefully—considering my threat to her as competition. As if I even were one. Such a petty feminine habit. A habit that I had not dodged in our competitive society.
“Why can’t she apologize to me herself?”
She started, shocked by my terse question. A poisonously sweet smile stretched those full lips and she whispered, “Well, whattya know, the doormat does have some backbone after all.” I leveled my eyes at her sneering face. She continued with a roll of her pretty brown eyes, “She was scared to approach you after Monday’s little…incident.”
I winced at the remembrance of the cold hallway encounter. As much as Valerie deserved every ounce of my harsh bitterness, it didn’t make it right—didn’t make it acceptable to release in venomous little bites and glares and pointed words. I wasn’t sure if I could be friends with her, not the way we once were, but I could reign that ugly cruelty in and apologize.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I finished typing the very last line of my history paper. Valerie or Jimin? My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, so loud in my ears that I marveled at how neither of my parents had been alerted.
Valerie’s name glared up at me and I schooled my raging heartbeat back into a state of normalcy. “Hello?”
“Hey.” She sounded so—sad?
“Hey,” I said again, unable to think of anything else to utter. I had nothing to comfort her with anymore. Sympathy refused to come. I had to stop feeding into her game, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still be civil, couldn’t still be the tender Sage I’d always been.
“So,” she sighed, “I’m sorry or whatever.”
I fought a growl, and settled for a quiet, “Me too.”
“Can we be friends again?”
“Not like we used to be, no,” I finally said, staring at the picture of two smiling girls on my desk. One in a frilly pink tutu, the other a glittering tiara.
“Oh—Ok, well…I guess, I’ll see you around then, huh?”
The frame was splintering right down to the glass, and then it shattered completely, shards flying in every direction. Cutting me. Slicing us both with their jagged edges.
“Yeah,” I breathed, voice shaking with the weight of a thousand never-spoken words.
She hung up with a sniffling goodbye and I sank into my chair.
The night of Sasha’s costume party had the entire school buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Each lucky guest flaunting their invitation at those unfortunate souls left out of the frivolity. Anxious murmurs about alcohol and costumes and couples surrounding the halls. Teachers pretended to lack any sort of interest, but even they titled their ears toward the constant rush of rumors.
“You going?” A neon orange invitation with slanted cursive covered the surface of my calculus notes as I situated myself for the start of my first period.
Looking up, I quirked one brow at the white hair of Namjoon. “Wasn’t planning on it. Are you?”
His dark eyes glittered dangerously—mischievously. “Perhaps.”
“Well,” I smiled uncomfortably, fidgeting with my pencil, “That’s awfully cryptic for seven-thirty a.m.”
“I’m gonna crash it,” he whispered conspiratorially, sitting in the desk adjacent to mine. He grinned fiendishly as if this were the greatest, brightest—cleverest plan ever.
I snorted. “Oh? And how do you intend to do that?”
He wiggled his brows and shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to come to find out.”
Rolling my eyes, I laughed and turned to a clean sheet of paper. “We’ll see,” I said, lowering my voice as Mr. Green sauntered toward the smart board. “So, who else is crashing with you?”
A sly grin. “You.”
“What?” I nearly fell out of my chair. “Me? I said I wasn’t goi—.”
“So, it’s a date then?” He smiled cheekily, all too pleased with himself.
“What is wrong with you?” Incredulous, I gaped at the maniacally grinning genius. My rival wanted me to crash Sasha’s party. With him. Sasha was Val’s new bestie. Jimin would be there.
I bit my lip and weighed the pros and cons, but they all fell away at the image of ebony eyes and gold skin. Dark hair falling delicately over his brow.
A chance to see him had me closing my eyes and nodding slowly, saying, “Ok, it’s a date.”
Namjoon gave me a lethal smile. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
I began to protest. I was not about to actually go on a date with this kid. My voice was rising in my throat, and I clutched the blush pink skirt of my dress. “Wha—wait, I don’t—this isn’t,” I sputtered, wheeling with the thought of going on a date with anyone but him.
He held his hands up, placating. “Whoa, don’t worry there, girl. I don’t want to date you anymore than you do me. But, we have things to buy and schemes to plot.” He finished with a concise nod as Mr. Green gave us a warning glare. “We go on at eleven.”
I sank in my chair. What the heck did I just get myself into?