Posts tagged spontaneous collab
Posts tagged spontaneous collab
drawing is going terrible lately terrible
so i thought if i try to draw digitally it will work….it’s a failure but at least it’s something
Some days Clyde felt like he could save the world.
Okay, maybe not the world—but part of it. The part with Bebe and Kevin and Kenny and Craig and Tweek. Even if Tweek was already a zombie.
Yeah, on the good days Clyde felt like they could hold onto everything they still had, each other and everything that mattered, and it was all going to come out okay in the end.
Well, other days Clyde did not feel like that so much.
Comic collab! drawings by me and words by Miaou ♥
So a couple of weeks ago, kels asked if I’d be interested in coming up with a script for a little Haru+Makoto comic. Of course I said yes!
There’s so much I love about how this came out. The panel I want to mention in particular is Haru imagining the ocean’s fist reaching for the sun. I knew it was weird when I wrote it but I guess I was thinking of the way Haru reaches for the water’s hand in the pool, and so this seemed like something he might think of?
Anyhow, I love the way it looks here; even better than how I had imagined it myself. kels did an amazing job with it and even gave Haru a smile as he looks on the ocean there, which is just too perfect. ♥
Sorry for the ramble, and please enjoy!
[Thanks for inviting me to work on this with you, kels! :D]
Well, I can pretty much guarantee this is not what the artist had in mind, but let me tell you what I think is happening here.
See, Clyde has been feeling kind of down because his best friend and his girlfriend don’t get along. He doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want it to be like that; he wants them to all be friends, or at least be able to hang out together. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, though.
Not until they coax it out of him. That’s the weird part, the thing Clyde didn’t see coming at all: they confronted him together. Said they knew something was wrong and they were worried because he wasn’t saying anything, so it must be something so bad he didn’t think he could tell them. And they want him to be able to tell them anything and everything.
Clyde kind of can’t stop smiling when he tells them. He knows how dumb that must look to them, his dumb smile when he’s telling them about his fears, but the thing is that they came to him about this together—they actually hooked up to care about him. “Sorry,” he says, still smiling. “I know I’m being dumb.” Because he does know it now.
"I guess I don’t have to tell you how dumb you are, then," Craig says, at the same time that Bebe says, "You’re not dumb."
Clyde just really kind of loves them both so much he doesn’t have words. So he doesn’t try to use any and neither do they. They go out, just to walk around, and when Craig winds up giving Bebe a piggyback ride, the smiles on their faces tell Clyde everything he needs to know, and he hopes his smile tells them the same.
my ultimate goal in life is to make everyone feel uncomfortably attracted to Clyde
Welp. Arvy deleted the original post so I don’t know if I should be reblogging this, but I did happen to have it (along with half a dozen others) in my drafts, awaiting the day I would ficbit it…
And this is that day.
ETA: the original post has not been deleted! Somehow the URL got jacked up in my saved draft. Anyhow, this is still that day. ;p
The Moment Just Before Everything & Other Stories:
Waking Up (Feel It In My Bones)
Craig/Clyde, mild sexual content
It’s the first day of school and Clyde shows up like this, showing off the growth spurt he got over the summer (which he’d spent out of town with his sister and her family, so no one’s seen him until now, not even his best friend) and the new confidence that came with it. “How d’ya like me now?”
He doesn’t actually say that, of course. He just stands there like this and Craig hears the words in his head. Craig doesn’t answer aloud and he makes himself look away before Clyde can see his response, because he has this weird yet unshakable feeling that Clyde can see right through him now. So it’s only in his head that Craig says, “I like you, Clyde. I like you a lot.”
When he casts a sidelong glance in Clyde’s direction, it turns out not to be as furtive as Craig had hoped, and the hot jolt that shoots through him when their gazes connect make Craig absolutely certain that, despite all precautions, Clyde knows…
i don’t know what im doing anymore
I can’t help thinking these pictures are connected to the one Arvy posted yesterday, where Clyde is all riled up at Craig.
Here, in the panel on the left, Tweek sees Clyde on a date with a certain unbelievable someone and, all excited, rushes off to tell Craig about it.
But Craig doesn’t have anything like the reaction Tweek is expecting. He starts questioning Craig about his mild non-response and, when Craig cracks a smug little grin, Tweek realizes he knew about it already (that stolen knowledge is the reason Clyde is so furious with Craig in yesterday’s picture)—which gets Tweek even more fired up: “How could you keep this a secret? Why didn’t you tell me, man?" Because they are boyfriends now and Tweek thought Craig wouldn’t have Clyde-secrets any more.
But Craig gives him a cuddle [not pictured] and tells Tweek it should actually make him happy, because it means Craig will keep Tweek-secrets from Clyde—it means Craig is trustworthy.
This is pleasing to Tweek, and he and Craig go on a date of their own [also not pictured]. And some time later, they go on a double date with Clyde and his special someone [also not pictured, part II]. And Tweek doesn’t mind the secret smiles Craig has with Clyde, because Tweek has his own with Craig—and now with Clyde, and with Clyde’s special someone, too.
Thank you and good night.
a picture i drew for Miaou <3
Clyde doesn’t say anything when he gets home, and the glimpse Craig gets of his face before Clyde turns to lean on the wall one-handed as he toes off his shoes prevents Craig from saying anything, either. They didn’t make eye contact and Craig is pretty sure Clyde hasn’t seen him yet. He has a feeling Clyde isn’t in a mood to see anyone just yet. The only way out of this room, though, is through the hallway Clyde is standing in—ah, but there’s the window. Craig glances at it, debating whether it will open without a sound, whether he can be quick and quiet enough.
more sick people. im not really sure about this one i think maybe ive reached the crazy limit.
clyde you idiot you look bloody ridiculous like some sort of tortoise hunchback disney witch
[Welp. When I tried to post this ficbit, I got a “post doesn’t exist” message from tumblr. Then I discovered a couple of people I follow had managed to reblog it before deletion, so I asked Arvy just how much she really hates the picture:
Arvy: “its okay i don’t hate it you can reblog it *falls over*”
So here you go.]
"You look like…" Kevin trailed off. It was hard to say exactly what Clyde looked like, but the look definitely demanded commentary, even if it took Kevin’s last, dying breath. He inhaled shallowly, hoping not to trigger his cough with anything so aggressive and offensive to it as air.
"You look," he tried again, but where the cough had let him get away with breathing, it wasn’t so forgiving of words this time. He fell back on his bed as the hacking racked his body.
When he looked up, he saw Clyde leaning down a little, his head cocked in what Kevin thought might be anticipation. Still lying down, Kevin looked up into his face. “You look like some sort of tortoise hunchback Disney witch.” As Clyde considered this without comment, Kevin couldn’t help asking, “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”
"They’re my sick people glasses, Kevin," Clyde said in all seriousness.
They looked at each other awhile.
And a little while more.
"I like them," Kevin finally said.
Clyde smiled, like, I know you do. “You can wear them when you get better,” he said.
"Something to shoot for," Clyde said. "I know you like to dream big."
"Yeah," Kevin agreed, lifting his hand vaguely in the direction of Clyde’s face without actually reaching for the sunglasses, without actually touching anything, just letting his fingertips dream.
i don’t feel well……;w;
(Arvy, I’m doing this in advance of the art this time! Hope that’s okay!)
"I don’t feel well," Stan said.
Kyle pulled back his phone and looked at it for a second before putting it to his ear again. He listened to Stan breathing. “Well, hello to you, too,” he said.
"I’m not kidding, dude," Stan said, flat-voiced. "I really don’t feel well." Then he sneezed.
Kyle jerked his head away from the phone before he could process rationally that the germs wouldn’t be blasted into ear because they couldn’t cross the same waves as Stan’s voice.
"Dude, get into bed and shove some tissues up your nose."
Some rustling came down the line, and Stan’s voice was muted and muffled in addition to being flat when he said, “Okay, done.”
Stan. Oh Stan, kid. Kyle’s fingers caressed the back of his phone, even though he knew Stan couldn’t feel it or see it or even know it was happening. “Want me to come over?” he asked tentatively. He wasn’t sure whether Stan’s opening line, which he now thought might be an understatement, was a warning or a request.
A gust of breath came down the line, swelled to a cough, trailed off again. “Yeah. If you re—” Stan broke off to cough again. “I mean, yeah, dude. Please.”
Kyle smiled. “I’ll be right there.”
Stan’s breath rose and fell on the other end of the line and somehow Kyle knew Stan had felt his smile, because he could feel Stan’s, too.
~ For some reason this feels like an AU to me (maybe because I’m starting to associate AUs with Arvy, ha ha). There’s no evidence for this whatsoever but I’m picturing a lawless, post-apocalyptic world, where the predominant attitude is “every man for himself”—but if you try to go it alone you’re pretty much doomed, because there’s always someone stronger or luckier than you.
Tweek’s been getting by on luck, mostly. Lucky enough to find shadows to stay in, lucky enough that there have been distractions to turn heads the other way so he can dart into the light and get what he needs.
But sooner or later luck always runs out, and Tweek isn’t too surprised when it happens to him. He’s more surprised it didn’t run out sooner. When luck leaves him so does hope. He’s empty now, and calm in the emptiness: it’s a certainty that the man with the knife is going to kill him. That’s as far as Tweek can get in his thinking about it; he doesn’t get anywhere with feeling about it, which is fine with him.
The man with the knife disappears—no, Tweek realizes, looking down: he hasn’t disappeared, he’s only fallen, the back if his skull caved in. Tweek looks up again. Oh, he sees: he’s going to be killed by a boy with a bat instead of a man with a knife. That’s fine, then.
"…said, Are you all right? Hey?"
Tweek looks at the boy’s moving mouth and, connecting it with the sound of words, finally filters their meaning.
"Yes," he says, the calmness inside him swelling to an overwhelming darkness as he feels himself pitch forward, his last thought a mild surprise at how soft the ground is as it wraps around him.
couple of really really sleepy mosquito and toolshed doodles!!!
Mosquito is grumpy because his vuvuzela proboscis has been broken.
Fortunately Toolshed is there! “Don’t worry,” he assures Mosquito. “I’ll fix it!” And off he dashes to get what he needs.
This is good news for Mosquito. Toolshed can fix anything—it’s his special power, after all.
Unfortunately, Toolshed has been drinking and has forgotten what he is supposed to be fixing. So he just grabs everything he can carry and jogs back with alcohol-fueled optimism…
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE THING WOOOH
i didn’t wanna draw stan sitting on something like normal life because it had taken me ages to figure out how to draw kyles foot -.- damn real life positions messing up my thought out…..i don’t know where im going with this
It didn’t happen fast.
It didn’t exactly happen slow, either. Like there wasn’t time to stop it or even to figure out why it was happening—but there was time to figure out what was happening and to get away, if you wanted to. A lot of them just didn’t really want to.
Tweek had been the first to go. He’d seemed calm about it, and calm after the fact. So calm that they hadn’t killed him. He stays with Craig now, which Kenny thinks is what Tweek has kind of always wanted. He thinks Craig knows it, too, even if he didn’t before. Craig, wandering around with Tweek on a chain, is still the spaceman, although Kenny is the one wearing the helmet now.
They hadn’t been able to tell at first that Stan had gone: he’d been incommunicative and hollow eyed for weeks. Kenny knows he hadn’t been a zombie the whole time, but he’s ashamed to say he doesn’t know exactly when the transition occurred. He knows roughly when it happened to Kyle: he stood there and watched Kyle trying to get Stan to bite him. Kenny left while Kyle was whispering, “Come on, Stan, you can do it—I know you can.” Kenny could have dragged Kyle away with him, but he didn’t: he just didn’t want to mess with the kind of faith Kyle had in Stan. When he went back later, Kyle’s belief in Stan had been proven justified. Kenny doesn’t like the idea of keeping them on a chain and he doesn’t think they’d like it either—Kyle wouldn’t, at least—so he hid them away and left them to each other.
Not all the zombies are gentle, though. And not everyone has given up and given in: Bebe knows fucking kung fu, and she’s fearless with it. She tells Kenny she’s not fearless at all; she just doesn’t have time to be afraid when she’s out there looking for other survivors with Kevin and Clyde.
So there are the dead, and the undead, and those who patrol, and those who wander.
And there are those yet unaccounted for, too…
Butters tightens his hands, already in the shape of fists, even more. He thinks of them like that—the shape of fists, not fists themselves—because he sure as heck isn’t aiming to hit anyone, or punch the air or anything.
"I guess it didn’t work, huh?"
Clyde’s words make Butters jump a little inside. Not because he’s startled—how could he forget Clyde is there, when he can feel Clyde’s breath on his skin? It’s more like the jumping he felt when Clyde pressed his lips to Butters’ eyelid just now.
Butters rubs his fist-shaped hands against each other. “Maybe it did work,” he says. “What was it supposed to do?”
Their faces are close, closer than normal—but even so, in the corner of his vision, Butters sees Clyde smile. Clyde has a real nice smile and Butters kind of wants to look at Clyde’s mouth, but that might be not be too polite. So he keeps himself looking into Clyde’s eyes, and realizes he can see the smile there, too.
"It was supposed to make it all better, of course." Clyde shifts on the ledge he’s sitting on as he stretches his legs, one of them brushing against Butters. Clyde doesn’t seem to notice or else he doesn’t think it’s a big enough deal to say anything about; it kind of feels like a big deal to Butters, but he doesn’t want Clyde to apologize for it and he doesn’t know what else he would say, so he pushes the thought away.
"Well, thanks," Butters says, wanting to say something, at least, to Clyde and his smile, which are still pretty close despite the shifting. "It was real nice of you to try."
Clyde’s smile fades as he lifts his hand and Butters can’t help sucking in his breath, but he doesn’t flinch otherwise; flinching sometimes makes it worse, so he tries not to do it at, if he can help it.
But Clyde’s touch is soft when it lands near Butters’ eye. Just his fingertips, not even fist-shaped. His fingertips aren’t quite as soft as his lips, but Butters gets a little jumpy inside anyhow.
There’s something else mixed in, a little worry that Clyde is going to ask him about it again. Butters hates lying to his friends. But Clyde only says, “Can I try again?”
Butters nods. He closes his eyes without Clyde asking this time, waits to feel Clyde’s lips—
And he does feel them, but not on his eyelid. Clyde’s lips touch Butters’ lips and when Butters sucks in his breath in surprise, he winds up with a mouthful of kiss.
When he’s breathing air again instead of Clyde, Butters feels the curve of his mouth tug upwards. “I think it might’ve worked that time,” he says.
"I don’t know," Clyde says, but something in his eyes says he does, and it makes Butters hippity-hop all over inside. “Maybe I should try one more time?”
Butters doesn’t close his eyes this time until right before his mouth gets to Clyde’s.
road trip? 2
campfires of almost but oblivious realisation are awkward
(yes they are meant to be sitting around a campfire…but you can’t tell….because i did not draw…the campfire AHAAAA)
They’ve been on (and off, and right back on) the road for days now, days and days and hundreds more miles than days. They’ve been going and going, and Kyle has stopped asking where they’re going because Stan and Kenny just smile and tell him it’s not important to know where they’re going; they haven’t said so, but Kyle suspects they think it’s more important not to know.
They’ve been on the road for a while now and this isn’t their first roadside campfire. There’s nothing special about it, really…except that somehow it’s making Kyle want to ask if this is it: if this is where they’ve been heading all along.
He turns to ask Stan but when their eyes meet, Kyle forgets the question.
Their knees bump against each other, come to rest, touching. Something tingles along Kyle’s nape, just under his skin; whatever it is never makes it to his brain and he can’t help thinking his knee remembers the forgotten question and has asked Stan’s knee; he suspects their knees now know something they don’t.
"You guys," Kenny says from his sprawl on the ground. When they look at him, he exhales slow and sweet. "God, you guys," he says, smiling up at the stars.
Kyle glances up at the stars, too. He doesn’t see whatever is making Kenny smile and figures it must be the grass.
Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t; when Kyle looks down from the stars, Stan—who hasn’t been smoking tonight—is also smiling.
Kyle smiles, too, even if he doesn’t know why, and leaves his knee where it is, hoping Stan’s knee will share more secrets.
It had been past midnight when he got the text from Stan, and Kyle was out on the street by the time they got there. Okay, not on the street, technically—just shy of it, his toes hovering above the asphalt as he balanced himself, rocking, on the curb. “What’s going on?” he asked when they pulled up and Stan rolled down his window.
"Us," Kenny said from the back seat. "We’re going on."
"We’re going, anyhow," Stan said.
Where?, Kyle meant to ask, but somehow it came out, “Right now?”
"Right now," Stan confirmed.
They looked at each other through the open car window. Are you high?, Kyle wanted to ask, but he already knew they were, and he also knew that wasn’t why they were going. They were going because, sooner or later, they were going to go…and sooner had finally become now.
Okay, Kyle meant to say, but he didn’t say anything at all as he walked around and got in the front passenger seat.
It’s hours later now. Hours and miles and miles. He’s glad he didn’t say “okay” last night because he’s not sure it’s going to be; but he’s not sorry he got in and came with them, wherever they’ve come.
"Where the fuck are we?" Kenny says, looking around as they get out to stretch their legs.
Kyle looks at Stan’s grin and is afraid that something ridiculous is going to come out of it, something like, We’re there, or, We’re going, or We’re on. Stan and his grin don’t say anything, though.
"Ridiculous," Kyle says.
But he’s not sorry he’s going with them.
When Butters asked if he could kiss Kenny, Kenny said, “Okay,” thinking Butters just wanted to learn. He knew Butters had been kissed before, but Kenny thought Butters might have come to not really count a $5 kiss behind the school he paid for just to stop the bullying. He figured Butters was asking him because he thought Kenny knew a lot about kissing (his exact words last week at Bebe’s party had been, if Kenny recalls correctly, “Boy, you sure do know a lot about kissin’!”) and because he thought Kenny was less likely than anyone else to laugh at Butters or punch him (which was good because it meant Butters believed Kenny when he told Butters last year that he could always come to Kenny, for anything, no matter what it was).
So when Butters said, “Hey, Ken—would it be all right if I kissed you?”, Kenny said, “Okay,” thinking all that.
Before he could think anything else, Butters leaned in right then and there, and Kenny still had his eyes open when their mouths touched. When their mouths touched and in the first moments of touching, Kenny realized Butters didn’t need anyone to teach him about kissing.
He thought he’d have to wait for the kiss to end before telling Butters that, though.
As the kiss went on and on, Kenny stopped thinking at all, and just kissed back.