If you haven’t read mungoe's new fic, you're missing out. This would make more sense after you do since these are scenes that happen during the first chapter. The designs of Gajeel and Levy are by approvesport and blackracoon25 though I tweaked them a tiny bit ^^;
Casually posts this at 3 am when no one is going to see it.
but FOLDS hoyl shit folds folds are so awesome man you literally have no idea I like drawing folds som uch I’ll put them in places where they don’t even belong sometimes. Honestly this is far from definitive and is just my understanding of how folds works gleamed from hours upon hours staring at strangers pants on mass transit, so don’t take my word for it, do your own study! Look at your own jeans in the mirror! look at other peoples jeans! google jeans on the internets! Each different fit is going to come with it’s own folds, depending on factors like the cut of the leg and how much fabric there is and how heavy it is and man there are just so many variables and things to think about it’s awesome
I’m currently working on a drawing where I’ve already drawn the jeans so haha I could have used this. Reblogging for future reference though.
This is Chester. When I was in Afghanistan I got a care package from one of those “Adopt a Soldier” programs that lets families send care packages to service men and women who are deployed overseas. Anyway, I got this care package, and it came with the usual stuff: Baby wipes, crackers, peanut butter, the Dad threw in a pack of cigarettes, and there was some jerky. But there was also a little beanie baby gold fish and a hand written note from a 7 year old girl that said “Dear Soldier, (I wasn’t even mad) I hope you are doing well. I’m sorry you have to miss thanksgiving with your family. This is my friend Chester. He keeps me safe from monsters, but I think you need him more than I do. I hope he keeps you safe from the monsters you’re fighting. Take good care of him for me”.
You bet your ass that little fish was in my pocket every time I went on patrol.
Maka looked up at her partner, one eyebrow raised in exasperation. She gave a pointed glance towards the two numbers scribbled in the corner of the large whiteboard behind him—a crisp 24 next to a chicken-scratch 21. “I’m winning right now, you asshole.”
Her partner, Soul, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, by like, two.”