kaff !

The sun dwindles down, plunged in the afternoon overcast, until its outline is barely a suggestion. Without a phone between them, the sky's their only clock, and the dying yellows are enough of a sign that the meeting, however derailed, is drawing to a natural close. There's no more preparation to be had now; whatever happens happens. Someone finally gets up first. It's Nami, with Vivi on her arm, saying they've got to get home to 'prep bail' in case tomorrow goes sideways. It's probably only half the truth, but it's better the unspoken part stays that way. They all wave goodbye. It's Chopper next, trying (and failing) not to yawn through his apology for retiring early. Franky and Robin offer to drop him off at his dorm. Someone else leaves not too long after, then another, then another. Shoes shuffle down the hillside, until all that's left is the quiet whistle of offshore wind. Then, there were two. Sanji, staring off past the hill, down at the beach where a cocktail vendor starts to gather up his tables and close up shop. Zoro, laid on his back, his chapped lips still wet from his last mouthful of cheap beer as he swallows back a new one. There's nothing more to do. One of them should say they should probably go. One should push up off the grass, brush off the dirt, and say their goodbyes like all the others, while the other figures there's no point killing time on a hill if they're going to do it alone. Yet, neither make the move. Maybe they're staking it out. Maybe there's a silent game of chicken. It wouldn't be odd for them. Sanji's arms cross over his knees. His gaze falls to somewhere between the skyline and the tremble in his hands. It's just another protest. So why does he feel like this? "Pass the bottle," he says. He's not looking at Zoro, but he knows damn well that man's got his hard eyes puzzling over him. "What happened to having taste?" "Changed my mind," Sanji insists, hand outstretched. Zoro stares at the open palm. It takes him a second to pass it. "Don't finish it," he says. It's easier than telling him to go easy.

wips ^

listened to [no more birthdays (by sophie may)], [slipping through my fingers (mamma mia)] and [too much to get over (tadc finale)] nonstop while i made this. made myself miserable. but the colours are nice ✌️

i was practicing dynamic posing, ended up liking these 3 as sketches:

and then smashed them together. gave me an excuse to practice some typography too!

different versions: