I Blame the Schools.

I helped Simon pick out a sofa today.

Chapter 56 of Any way the wind blows by rainbow rowell

"Now I've shot so many Nazis, Daddy will have to buy me a sable coat." (From his Wikipedia article).

Neil Munro "Bunny" Roger

June 9, 1911-April 27, 1997.

Bunny Roger killed a bunch of Nazis and then invented Capri pants.

He was expelled from Oxford for his indiscrete gayness (discrete gayness being perfectly fine at Oxford and part of the curriculum until...today probably, at least like 1992?). Then, having been sent down to London, he started his own fashion business, and his first client was Vivien Leigh.

Bunny served in WWII, killing fascists in North Africa and Italy, and often wearing a mauve scarf in the field. Roger claimed that he had gone into a battle brandishing a rolled-up copy of VOGUE and commanding: "When in doubt, powder heavily!"

Roger was known in high society for his themed soirées; Diamond, Amethyst, and Flame Balls were held to celebrate his 60th, 70th, and 80th birthdays. He wore a curious plum colored catsuit with a feathered headdress at his 70th birthday ball in 1981. At his 80th, he made his entrance in a catsuit of scarlet sequins with a cape of orange organza, greeting his guests from behind a wall of fire. His parties were covered by the newspapers, including a New Year's Eve Fetish Ball where the proper upper class mixed with young guests in rubber S/M gear.

From an obituary: "Beneath his mauve mannerisms, Bunny was stalwart, frank, dependable and undeceived; to onlookers a passing peacock, to intimates, a life enhancer and exemplary friend."

From another obituary:

And this in-memoriam piece.

Yeah you're cute when you sleep but you didn't let me sleep either so I'm going to annoy you now because I'm bored. Hahah get poked, sleepy idiot.

How do you not comprehend this when I am literally staring at you. Like I understand that your brain can't understand things this nuanced but come on, how do you not get this.

I don't know if you know that what I am currently doing is an expression of affection, but that won't stop me. Knowing that I showed you that I love you is enough.

I heard a crinkly material and the sound of you chewing so I have to know what's in your mouth RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

I can't communicate with you and you can't communicate with me, so I'm just copying the tone of the sound you're making in hopes that you understand that I try.

You are doing activities beyond my comprehension, and I find this fascinating. I will never understand what the fuck you are trying to achieve here, but I am intrigued nonetheless.

“Ghosts aren’t real” it’s very fair and rational that you believe that

“Ghosts aren’t real anymore” I’m about to hear a poem or very sad story

Squeezing one more pic into the Halloween series! We’ve done one vampire, one ghost, and now, one magical transformation. :)

I think about getting away, about getting to Penny, I think about my magic filling me up and shooting out my shoulders. And then, I feel them tearing through Baz’s pyjamas. 

Wide, bony wings.

Sorry this is so enormous and likely clogging up your feed this morning. Before I forget, ”No one’s seducing a vampire” is still in production. It’s definitely a difficult adaptation (hello 12 panels of victorian bedroom), so it’ll be a while yet before I’m finished with that one. But anyhoo…

About the art: Chapter 62 was the second most requested portion of Carry On for adaptation into a graphic novel format. However, rather than pull swaths of text from the chapter, I decided to zero in on one little snippet:

(His cross is on the other side of the room now.; Snow took care of it himself this time.) 

- Baz, Chapter 62, Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Given how Simon had used the cross earlier in the novel to drive separation between him and Baz, I like to think that taking it off himself was, in part, a romantic gesture - a symbolic dismantling of that last wall between them. 

That said, artistically, I tried to evoke the sensation of falling in love. For this reason, I largely left words out of it and tried to render the format in a way that makes it feel like you’re… descending. The colors deepen. The panels get smaller. And the last page shows Simon and Baz falling into each other’s arms out of frame, with flames dominating the end shot. (*wink* See what I did there?)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I loved drawing it. <3

@carryon-countdown 2024 | Day 2 | Chosen

A Thanksgiving gift from me to you. Of the many things I’m thankful for, I’m so grateful to have discovered @rainbowrowell’s Carry On and this amazing community. I hope you enjoy this series. It feels a bit personal for me, as there’s a bit of me in every expression on the page. So consider yourself seduced. ;)

Title: “Cross Every Line”

Description: The final scene of Chapter 64 from Carry On, in which Baz resists Simon - to no avail.

About the Art: I tried to use the sentence “I’d cross every line for him” as inspiration for this series. Throughout the comic, you’ll notice Baz’s inner monologue slicing through the panels as a means to demonstrate the power of Baz’s feelings for Simon against Baz’s facade. Hence, his thoughts cross lines all over the place. The panels themselves eventually succumb to this motif, with his memories of the night before cutting in so dramatically, they take up the bulk of the spread. The final spread pushes this theme to a resolution as Simon and Baz’s embrace is splayed across two panels, ending with both of them sharing the final panel together - and unlike all the other monologue boxes, which cut into the panels, Baz’s declaration of love is smack in the panel beside them.

I made sure to chronicle this process, so I hope to have that to share with you guys next week. Also, I know there are asks waiting in my inbox - I promise to get to them soon. :)

This is the fixed version. (Simon’s collar was slightly “under-done” in the 4th spread and missing the green stripe. But not anymore!)

People think Baz is all sharp lines and cold logic.

And maybe he is—in a lecture hall, with his sleeves rolled and a room full of stubborn students. He is brilliant. And brutal, sometimes. Intimidating in the perfect, untouchable way he carries himself.

I used to believe that version of him, too. Used to think that was all there was.

Until he let me meet this Baz.

The one in heart-print boxers and a messy bun, knocked out on our pink couch with his head in my lap. His shirt’s half-unbuttoned and wrinkled from the day, and his breathing is soft and steady. This is the Baz who lets me run my fingers through his hair until he melts under my touch.

Who only ever really sleeps like this, like he’s safe, when I’m the one holding him.

And I think, I get to see him like this.

Not the world’s idea of him.

Him.