u/Eatsug

“Better believe Jesus has your back once I get a clear shot to your front. ” — Kate 5:37

“Chloe! What the hell is that? And where's your helmet?”

“Helmets are hella lame. I like to ride, feeling the chill breeze brushing me hair.” 

Chloe declares with a poetic tone, exhaling a stream of smoke. 

“Plus, see my beanie? It’s made of heavy-duty cotton.” 

No prize trivia: Yeah I mean how did Chloe source a bike with her economic condition?

So I drew Shion a while ago and received many praises from redditers, so I wanted to draw every heroes to see if i Improve a bit. I watched a 20 minute portrait drawing course and started drawing in queue.

Looking back, I wonder “did i just simply put in more time and effort into the later drawings and that’s why they look different”? And it’s actually the opposite. The earlier drawings took way much effort and willpower to draw than my later ones, because nothing looked pretty and I had no idea it was so tiring. Only till like hero 30 did I like it a bit more.

In the end, I’m pretty sure you can at least tell who the person I drew is supposed to be! I’m now drawing all heroes’ 2d portrait and see if I can finally stop being bad.

You are "Maxine", bathroom stoner, fashion icon, new student at Blackwell, and already best buds with Nathan and Vic, two stylish and rich friends who are super talented at photography, really likes you, and hooks you up with the best parties and supplies. One of them even own a state of the art private photography studio under a barn, and let you use it all the time.

You really feel like you've found your place in the sun, studying under the famous Mark Jefferson alongside cool friends who share your passion. You three could talk about photography for hours.

This afternoon, you were chilling on the school lawn with your awesome friends. You were suddenly Thanos snapped by a nerd version of yourself, who took over your body.

When you slowly drifts back into consciousness, you were sitting in a strange room full of medical equipment.

Your childhood friend Chloe, who you haven't thought about in years, is laid in front of you on a hospital bed, not moving nor breathing.

Unbeknownst to you, the IV drip next to her had your fingerprints all over. But you won't know that until much later in the police interrogation room.

A cheerful man's voice rings behind you: "Max! hydrate or diedrate! Tea or juice?"

You sigh, and looks into your bag for a joint to light. There wasn't one.

At this moment, you secretly wish that you could somehow rewind time. But that's absurd.