Good luck on your writing endeavors! New year, new content! Here's an idea I'll offer: Ken and Daisuke are voice actors for a cheesy kids anime. Bonus points if Daisuke loves the script and Ken is just desperate for money.
This is the kind of prompt I really love. Snowglobe AUs are my absolute favorite. Thank you so much for submitting! I hope you like it!
The Taller Chronicles racked up three full volumes before it got green-lit for eight episodes by one of the smaller production companies – streaming only. Children’s anime wasn’t what it used to be, according to the director. All gimmick and no quality. But they got a contract with one of the better animation studios, hired a good art director, and left enough aside to pay their actors more than a pittance, which was a nice step up from the usual.
Daisuke auditioned for the role of the hero: Ueda, the plucky and determined eleven-year-old who makes friends every adventure and, at the end of the run, manages to save the day.
Daisuke got the role of the villain: Kuroyashi, the loudmouth who loses his temper every time Ueda foils his plans.
In the lead up to recording, Daisuke read all the manga, talked at some length with the producer and director, and even managed a meeting with the series author, who wasn’t as insightful as Daisuke had hoped. The enthusiasm was appreciated, all the same. By the time the show actually airs, Daisuke’s committed to the character one hundred percent.
(It goes like this: Daisuke is on the phone while in line at the grocery store. It’s a faux pas but Daisuke’s never been all that good with being polite, and it’s his mother, who will blow him up if he doesn’t answer, so whatever. There is a young-ish couple ahead of him in line, a kid of about six attached with determination to his mother’s hand, but craning around to stare at Daisuke in what can only be suspicion. Daisuke can’t hear the kid, but he clearly sees him mouth Ueda’s catch phrase while giving him the stink eye – “tsuite masu” – and that’s it. Daisuke is so proud to be Kuroyashi he might actually be glowing.)
It still stung a little that he didn’t land the Ueda role. For one, the merch is better on the hero side. But what really irritates him is how good Ueda’s actor is. If it had been bad casting, that would be one thing. Daisuke could at least be smug about it. But no. Ichijouji is great. He’s got this soft, almost sweet voice that you don’t hear the steel in until the stakes are high and some other character is in trouble, and then Ueda might as well be a mountain. It’s the sort of depth he guesses the casting director didn’t hear in him.
Worse than that, though, is that Ichijouji seems to be a genuinely nice person. In print interviews, the author is always delighted to point out how good humored Ichijouji is, how polite, how effacing and well spoken. And in digital format, podcast or video, Ichijouji does actually appear to be all of those things, so he probably isn’t just bribing anyone to give him good face.
Daisuke couldn’t say for certain what kind of person Ichijouji is. They’ve only met a few times. The studio they record in is big but they only get one booth at a time, which means that Ichijouji is usually done by the time they bring Daisuke in. They’ve overlapped once or twice, passing each other in the hall and exchanging polite but impartial greetings. Hardly the sort of thing that you can hinge an opinion on. But now that they’re nearing the end of the first season run, it’s time to campaign for a second one, and that means press. Which means, in turn, plenty of opportunity for the two of them to get to know each other better.
Their first interview together is via conference call, because Ichijouji is already working on another project and is booked solid for another four days. They squeeze the call in after he finishes up for the day, sounding a little rough through Daisuke’s less than studio quality headphones, but just as polite and eloquent as promised.
Ichijouji praises the hard work that everyone has put in on the show. Ichijouji praises the series creator, who continues to produce wonderful stories for them. Ichijouji talks about what a pleasure it is to work on a show that has such an enthusiastic audience. Ichijouji shares an anecdote about the children in his building finding out who he is. Ichijouji has perfect hanging all over him, and if Daisuke has to listen to the interviewer giggle flirtatiously one more time, he’s going to interrupt, he really is.
“Were you a fan of the manga before you auditioned? What made you want to be Ueda?” the man asks, and for the first time since this thing started, Ichijouji surprises Daisuke.
“Oh,” he says, smile still audible in his voice but sheer wattage lowered. “When my agent told me about the series, I did buy the first volume. I liked it a great deal. But, actually, I really wanted to play Kuroyashi.”
Daisuke and the interviewer lap over each other in disbelief: “What?”
“I think Kuroyashi is really wonderful. He’s very passionate about everything he does, and I admire that a great deal, even though he doesn’t necessarily want the right things. I was upset when I didn’t get the part, actually, but Motomiya does such an amazing job with him. I couldn’t do what he does.”
Daisuke sits forward in his chair so fast he actually manages to bump into his mic. He bumbles an apology over whatever inane question was going to follow that, and then just keeps going.
“I didn’t know that! I read for Ueda,” he says, too late to attempt cool detachment but realizing it too late. “I’ve always played the hero before, you know? When they told me they wanted me to be the villain, I was pretty mad. I thought, no one wants to be the bad guy.”
Ichijouji’s laugh is quiet and sweet, just like his character’s, and Daisuke has to bite down on his tongue, hard, to keep in the sudden desire to swear.
A week later, Ichijouji is free and so they meet for another interview in person. The cafe is European style, not quite busy in the late morning, so it’s easy to spot Ichijouji sitting at a table by himself, cup of coffee already in hand. Daisuke ignores him for the moment in lieu of caffeine. His definition of “morning” tends to start a lot later than most people’s.
Ichijouji waves at him, smiling soft and friendly. “How are you today, Motomiya?”
Daisuke could handle some rivalry before coffee kicks in, but this open pleasantness drags at him. He collapses into the chair next to Ichijouji, letting himself slump miserably for a few long seconds before rousing, and only that when Ichijouji gives that soft laugh of his again.
“This is my first interview with Animage,” Ichijouji says, confessing or just trying to make Daisuke feel better.
He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with that information, but staring uselessly probably isn’t it, so he clears his throat and opens his mouth, trusting it to do the work for him. It usually does.
“I did one a few years ago, for this fighting thing I worked on. They did a spread on all the actors for the hero group, you know? Just little snippets, really. It was all done over email. It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, it wasn’t like this.”
Ichijouji wraps his hands around his mug and nods. “Hino,” he says, and Daisuke is so distracted thinking long, pale, slender that the word bounces around between his ears for a bit before his brain actually catches it.
“You, uh.” He makes startled eye contact and then looks away in a hurry, failing hard at being casual. He forces a laugh. “You watched that?”
It wasn’t very good, is the thing. Pretty rote, as far as fighting stories goes. It got twelve episodes and then no renewal, due to disinterest by all parties, mostly notably the publisher, who had forced a sudden finale out of the mangaka and moved on to another mediocre title. The fanbase that was still around had left in bitterness and that was it for Hino and the other heroes.
Daisuke dares another look at Ichijouji, watches him go a little tense, a little pink. The earth shifts.
“I’ve seen all your work,” Ichijouji says, definitely a confession this time.
Daisuke pictures his CV, all typed out in acting credits. It’s not that deep, mostly side characters, a few episodes here and there on various longer series, just two leads, and now a single villain role. It would take some serious trawling to find all of it. Even Daisuke hasn’t seen all of it.
Daisuke pictures Ken’s filmography: leads in smaller projects, independent studios and short films, two RPGs, a visual novel, and even a couple live action items, from back when he was a teenager. He actually had to email the distributor of the NVL, to get ahold of a copy.
“Yeah,” Daisuke finally says. He doesn’t realize he’s still staring until Ichijouji looks up, until he feels the spark of eye contact again. He smiles. “Yeah, I’ve. Yours too. I mean, to be honest, I had the RPGs before I knew you were in them.”
He has a figure of Ichijouji’s character, too, but he’ll go to his grave with the secret.
Ichijouji goes pinker but holds his gaze, and Daisuke can’t help but lean toward him.
“In the new chapter,” Daisuke says, “when Ueda and Kuroyashi find each other in the haunted house, they can feel their hearts beating together.”
Ichijouji presses his fingertips against the front of his sweater, so gently the fabric barely shifts under the touch, and Daisuke swears he can feel it under his ribs.
A lot of the art tip posts I’ve been seeing insist...
In my years studying art (and art education), the thing that matters the most about lineart is intention. thats a big reason why scratchy looking lines by an experienced artist looks much better than scratchy lineart done by a newer artist. ive learned that thin vs thick lineart doesnt matter much if the artist doesnt have that confidence and intention down. blind contouring is a GREAT exercise in that regard (if that makes any sense at all lolol)
I suspect that most of art tips like don’t shade with black, and use thin lines originates from this truism, kinda mingling with the fact that lineart (at all), and shading with black are common early moves by starting artists, who often don’t have that strong grasp of when and how to apply either -- which is fine, because inexperience becomes experience. But then, of course, the rub comes that the technique itself wasn’t the problem, but how, and how well it was used at the time.
Sort of like artists who blame anime/manga for stunting their early work, thereby missing the breadth of both skill and style in both.
People are pretty harsh on their inexperienced selves, granted self-critique and awareness is a big part of building experience, but, it’s still harsh, and sometimes even mean...
My project from the last month! (that def took longer than is should have orz)
Back in May i was able to get my hands on the Baby Yoda plush from Build-a-Bear! I am veryy impressed with the plush itself! The smock he came with... not so much. So of course I had to make him a new one lmao.
This project was a great exercise in relearning/practicing my handsewing (this was all handstitched - no machine!) and the do's and dont's of copying a pattern from a pre-existing garment. The photos make the smock look much better than it actually is - the hemming is a mess and the buttons/buttonholes are a mess. Also awful crease on the front that I was too lazy to iron out oof.
But you know what? I like this smock so much better than the original. (: Bonus comparison between the new smock vs the original (original one the plush came with is on the right):
