MORE

I will be adding more soon, I've been doing a lot of drawings and writing lately, which all can then be added onto this blog.

Rosuto Wan No Goukoku

So this is the drawing that I made for the video that I posted. It's Oliver and YOHIOloid since they are both in the song. 

EDIT

The video can no longer be viewed, as I have taken it down

Vocaloid voice banks and Alana.

So, I have got the YOHIOloid, Aoki Lapis and Oliver voice bank for Vocaloid. I am so excited and hoping that some of my translated lyrics and parodies and original songs can be now made into a song!!!! I did think about making my own voice bank for my own Vocaloid who I recently made, but my voice is shit and the character is a girl and I don't know anyone else who would help me made a voice bank for her. This here is my new OC Vocaloid. Her name is Alana and she was basically inspired by playing Party Junkie on repeat and finding year old glowsticks that still work! Well, they did work, until I snapped them last night...

Exam

As I put my pen to paper, he stared at me, looking at me with an unpleasant feeling. 

I didn't know this man, this man didn't know me, yet I felt his glare gazing upon me as I put my pen to paper. 

Never a keen writer was I, especially after a football collided with my hand just weeks before. 

The adrenaline and panic from then mimicked my feeling now. 

Fifty-eight minutes and thirty-four seconds spoke the clock and I looked back to the paper which had only the printed writing. 

Tick tock went the clock and the man was still staring at me. 

I studied the printed writing and questioned how I was to answer. 

I read over the same question, over and over again, hoping for a miracle to remember what I was taught back in the first weeks of the academic year. 

My mind flicked a switch, turning on the light-bulb which was ever going out. 

I grinned to myself and the man was still staring at me as I put my pen to paper and let the ink spread across my page writing the answer which I hoped was correct. 

Fifty-six minutes and thirteen seconds and the man finally looked away from me, letting me continue, alone. 

_________

Again this was classwork, we had to write a poem about a single moment in our life. This was work from yesterday, that I forgot to upload.

A Wonderful Life

18, Final year of college, I can’t help but worry about the future.
17, Father is married once again, much like Ross from Friends, he can’t stay with the same woman for too long.
16, Mother is in trouble, I failed my first year of college, forced to move out from the flat I spent my childhood in.
15, Goodbye father, hello mother.
14, there she goes again, my ex-girlfriend, lying about serious things, implanting horrifying memories I had once forgotten
13, terrible floods caused too many trips to the hospital
13, Sunny Devon as my father once said, happy new home.
13, Goodbye Miss Alison Robinson, hello father
13, The zip wire broke, I forgot the people I knew aside mother and father
13, Goodbye father, hello Miss Alison Robinson
12, I am finally away from my father’s second wife, finally away from her two sons
11, I changed because of them
10, Goodbye mother, hello father
9
8
7, I don’t like France. I wasn’t able to go on any of the rides at Disney land.
6
5
4, my first school, I must have been really excited about it
3
2
1, mama, dada
0, A mother sat in her hospital, a small child wrapped in her arms, she cried with glee, unlike how she cried three years prior when she had her son, Aaron.
____________

Today in lesson, our teacher showed us a well written poem, going backwards in his life talking about his dad. I was inspired and wanted to try something similar to what he did. 

Simple Evenin'

I finally got home from a long day of college. I walked up to my bedroom, opened my door, lunged myself for my bed and kicked my shoes off. I snatched the TV remote from my wooden Vanguard match table and shelf and began to boot up my Xbox. My tablet was playing Rorrin Garu by Mikuo, just like it had been for the past hour while I walked the two and a half mile hike with my friend and my boyfriend. My Xbox had finally booted up, and I started my lazy night speed-running Portal for the fifty-thousandth time.

TTM #8

What if you enjoyed an embarrassing moment?

TTM #7

I hate my friends and family's birthdays. Not because I have to spend money on something. Not because it's a social gatherin. Because I hate cake. Especially with family, I'm 9 times out of ten, given the biggest slice.

Francis Port: The Bunny Girl

So, my friend was wondering how tk dress their OCs for halloween. At first I waslike "VAMPIRES"  because anyone who is anyone and knows me, knows my obsession with vampires. Then I said about dressing one character as a bunny girl, because anyone who is anyone and knows me, knows my obsession with traps. So guess what I did. I DREW THE CHARACTER IN A BUNNY GIRL OUTFIT!!!!! So here is the princess of her time, dressed as a bunny girl. Please excuse the very bad hands. [Also yes, it's labled under "Request" even though this was not a request.]

Kagome Kagome Episode Two

“Hurry up, you vial demonic child!” She spoke while, pulling me by the right arm, digging her black claws into the burns that patterned my right arm. Dark clouds filled my view, raining washing me out like a tidal wave; wet locks of my cyan hair folding over my two-toned blue eyes. It was all right for her, she had an umbrella. My legs were aching with an unbearable pain, but I continued to be dragged by my social worker through the gloomy rain. Destination reached. “This is your last chance, if you blow this up and this family don’t want you, you are not returning. You’ll be left on the streets for dead.” She spat, then flung me in front of her, causing me to fall onto the wet floor, the beautiful pure liquid soaking into my dull grey dirty dress pants. The hole in the left leg of my dirty dull grey dress pants ripped bigger, concrete and gravel scraping into my skin, tearing at the flesh. The cold, beautiful, pure rain water cooled down the wound. She then pulled me up by my right arm, lifting me barely off the floor. “You are a worthless child. You are useless child.” She fired her disgusting insults at me as if I didn’t know. Every time I came to a new house, she told me, reminded me. “Ahh!” I cried out when she squeezed my wrist tightly. “Brat! Are you listening? What are you?!” She yelled at me. “A useless child, Cho-san” I replied, my shaky scared voice filled with pain, earning a smirk from her. She threw me to the floor again, and looked down at me, she towered me and her umbrella didn’t help with the intimidation: it circled her like a bad aura. “Good bye, brat.” She marked her last words and walked off, leaving me on the cold wet floor, with nothing but my cross of Christ and daddy’s match box. The rain was getting considerably worse.

I walked through the metal gates to a large mansion. It looked like a million people could live there. Either side of me were bushes where beautiful roses grew, each one unique to its sister. The rainwater silently dripped off the petals, dropping with a plop into the delicate clear puddles. I tapped the rusted copper knocker on the door, and the door instantly opened, though no one was stood by the large heavy wooden gate. I walked through into a large dark hall, feeling a cold chilling breeze whip past me. “Hello?” I called out, then felt a pair of freezing hands clamber over my damp shoulders. Turning around and stepping back in one swift movement, I saw a boy standing before me. He was four inches taller than my small five foot two slender figure. His bright lavender hair penetrated my eyes and his rosé pink irises hypnotised me. Dark bags fell just underneath his dead-looking eyes, his smooth porcelain white skin giving him the look of doll-like corpse. He wore a sinister smile which made me feel uneasy and sick. “I want this one.” He spoke in a dull monotone voice. I shivered as goosebumps catered my skin. I was already regretting coming here. “Koizumi. Koizumi, Akio” I introduced myself to the boy. He replied, throwing me his name as if it meant nothing, continuing using the monotone voice. “Kanato.” He looked at me in disgust, most likely at the clothing I had sticking to my skin. He shook his head then took my hand, beginning to me to his courters. I yelped in pain as he tightened his grip over the fresh cuts left from my social worker’s nails. The boy named Kanato released me as he heard my cry of pain. He took a moment to assess the scattered scared blisters across my face and arm, questioning “What happened?” “My house caught ablaze.” I explained, then went into details about how I only wanted to make a small fire with daddy’s matches, and make mummy happy by getting rid of a letter that angered her. I saw a horrible smile gleam on Kanato’s face when I told him that mummy, daddy and my baby brother had died in the fire. The deadness within Kanato’s eyes rattled a bit of sorrow and he pulled me into a hug just as a tear shook from my eyes. For once since being sent to the care home, I felt safe. I felt safe within the monotone boy’s arms. This was a feeling I had never experienced within the care of my many previous foster homes. Everything seemed brighter, despite the purple walls within this mansion being filled with darkness. Oh father from the heavens was giving me a light through Kanato.

Kanato let go of me then took my hand gently, pulling me the rest of the way to his courters. His bedroom was like a child’s and it brought my warmth to my heart. Toys filled the floor; teddies, dolls, cars, everything a child could desire and despite my mid-teen age, I loved it. I ran to porcelain doll which had long golden locks, sweet red lips, indigo eyes, a large red bonnet, and a black and red silky dress. Cracks lined the doll’s face like falling tears over her rosy cheeks, but it didn’t stop her from being the most beautiful out of all of Kanato’s dolls. Kanato came over to me, holding an English Victorian nightgown. “You can have Anabelle. I do not like her” Kanato said, passing me the nightgown. “Get changed. I will lend you clothes until we buy you some”. Kanato left the room, leaving me to myself to get changed. I pulled my wet clothes off, putting them on the ottoman that stood south of the king sized bed. I slid on the nightgown, the cloth felt kind to skin, it made me excited about going to sleep in this new house, with this new family. I picked up Anabelle and knocked on the door, indicating to Kanato that I was changed.

Kanato walked in, and hugged me again. It was weird, but I smiled. Feeling warmth against his cold, pulseless-hearted skin. Something wasn’t right. “I am thirsty” He spoke, the monotone voice sounding duller than before. An extremely painful prick sunk into neck. What was this boy? He couldn’t have been human. I felt a trickle of liquid drip down my neck and onto my chest, red straining the white nightgown. Everything began going fuzzy and I dropped Anabelle, hearing hear china face crack even more. I was wrong. This family won’t bring me to safety. I could be trapped here for my eternity. Maybe I will see mommy, daddy and my baby brother again, soon. I fell into Kanato’s arms, my vision going blank, ready to be awakened the next morning.

_________________

Author's notes: This is a piece of work I had to do for my Creative Writing, in which I had to write a short story in under 1,500 words. This follows on from my book "Kagome Kagome" which tells about Akio's experiences in his previous foster homes. Originally, Akio doesn't live long enough to go to this last family, in fact, he is meant to die from starvation. But because of roleplays, Akio is taken here to the Sakamaki Mansion [for those who don't know what Diabolik Lovers is, Sakamaki is Kanato's surname] which he goes through torture [because I am evil] and ends up either dying in the fate of Kanato or becomes a vampire, I've yet to decide. Probably the death one.

This is Koizumi Akio in his original attire, inspired by a mixture of Hatsune Mikuo and Kagamine Len from Vocaloid.

This is Sakamaki Kanato and his beloved Teddy, screencapped right out the anime, Diabolik Lovers. Worth a watch. Though don't watch Season 2 Episode 10. THAT EPISODE HAS BROUGHT MANY TEARS TO MY EYES!!!!

TTM #6

I have three sugars to balence out my bitter personality.

Kagerou Daze

August 14, I had woken from my comfy bed, and looked to my clock. I was late! I quickly got out and rushed my clothes on, bed hair still springing up from my scalp. It was twelve thirty noon when I left. I ran to the park where she was sat. Her short black hair complimented her hazel eyes, she sat so bored on the park swing, the one next to her empty. “Hey Hiyori” I called, running towards my best friend. I sat on the empty swing next to her and watched as she petted a cat that looked ever so slightly like her own cat, white and small with a puffy tail. I apologised for my tardiness and then we got into conversation. “I don’t really like the summer” She told me, though I already knew, she was always a winter person; I liked fall myself. The cat that had been sitting on Hiyori’s lap the entire time, jumped off and began to run for the street. Hiyori got up to chase the cat, though she wasn’t paying attention as she ran into the road as the traffic light turned red. A truck span into her. Her retching screams came too late and Hiyori fell to the floor, her body unrecognisable. Blood splatted the front of the truck, the road and her mangled figure. I wondered if this was a lie. Was the heat mocking me? Across the road, like a mirror, was a figure who looked identical to myself. He whispered in the wind.

“What you see is exactly what you’re gonna get!”

After that, I saw the blue sky and heard the crickets sing, then everything went black.

I sat in my bed, panting and sweating. On the wall, the ticking clock, the shock will mock my ever-ringing head. I looked to my phone, a blur in my eye. August fourteen, twelve-something noon. I was late! I quickly got out and rushed my clothes on, bed hair still springing up from my scalp. Slightly in the distance the cry of crickets singing sounded in my head, I looked out of my window to see the sun, shining brightly down. I ran to the park where she was sat. She sat so bored on the park swing, the one next to her empty. “Hey Hiyori” I called, running towards my best friend. I sat on the empty swing next to her and watched as she petted a cat that looked ever so slightly like her own cat, white and small with a puffy tail. I apologised for my tardiness and then we got into conversation. I told her about my dream, then asked if we could leave. She agreed, seeing how shook up I was. We walked up to the road, about to step off the path to cross. I saw pedestrians around looking up, gaping, pointing, trying to keep a runaway scream. I looked up and saw the beam. It plummeted down, crushing through her heart, splitting her into two. As more beams fell, they sounded like old wind chimes until they hit the park trees. I wondered if this was a lie. Was the heat mocking me? Across the road, like a mirror, was a figure who looked identical to myself. He smiled.

“Bet you wish you were asleep, but it’s not a dream!”

Everything went black.

I began to realise what was going on through that heated haze. Always August 14, twelve-something noon. The mirrored figure was laughing at me the whole time I was trying to save Hiyori from the horrible fate that she landed in, each repetition of the day. Each death, far more different and much worse than the last. This has been going for the past ten years. Each day I remember so well. We’re trapped in cycles of the same hours, the end is never clear. But a story is a story all the same. And today, like any, has an ending so to say. I will reach beyond that scorching summer day.

I woke up, I got dressed, and I ran as fast as I could to the park. A grabbed her hand and pulled up, the cat upon her lap jumping off. I pulled her to road, about to cross. She stepped out, but I pushed her aside, only to see her dodge a truck. I pain was unbearable. I felt my insides being crushed, everything was slowing down. I watched as you screamed, my blood painting you red. I saw in your eyes, questioning if this was a lie. I saw my reflection, though he didn’t smile, he didn’t whisper.

“What you see is exactly what you’re gonna get!”

Maybe this endless summer day was over. But I don’t know, my part ends here.

August 14, alone cradling a small white cat with a puffy tail, girl. She had just woken up, though already her face was tear stained. She muttered to her cat. “I failed again”.

_____________________

Notes:

This piece is inspired by the song Kagerou Days, which in quick summery is about a boy and girl repeating the same day over and over. I used guidance of the English translated lyrics provided by JubyPhonic. I hope in the future to write more short pieces of writing inspired by Vocaloid songs as I feel they provide more of a story than other songs.

Edit- I orginally didn't know the name of the girl, but while watching the nico video, I saw a comment stating a name, then thought about looking it up. So I've changed Zara's name to Hiyori.

Len Goldstein

So the post below this one is a drawing of my character Suzumi, whom I stated will be playing as for the zombie DND roleplay next month. This character, Len belongs to my friend Ben who will also be joining our roleplay. With the basic instructions of "draw me as a biker" I searched through google for biker bases because I can't draw bikes and then this beauty was developed after I found a drawing of a girl with a bike.

Credit to the original artist who drew the original girl on the bike, thank you.

TTM #5

I don't know if I just upgraded or downgraded my drink. Either way, I've just moved on from tea to Budweiser.

Megori Suzumi - Zombie AU

This is my character, Suzumi. Origianlly featured in my book "Boy Behind the Scenes" which is a fanfiction of Ouran High School Host Club, introducing my own character to be the hidden eigth host. I fell in love with this character after basing him after myself, though I gave him a few traits which is certainly not like myself, example he is filthy rich, and I'm dirty poor. Also the character is sexist, which is something I certainly am not, I love my friends at college, and there is a equal amont of females and males in my friendship group. So after I began creating this character, I wanted to see how he'd react in a zombie world, and created the book "Snooty in the Apocolyse" which is now the backstory of a zombie DND roleplay my friends and I will be starting hopefully next month.

He's Not There

Night was drawing upon and the lights in the sky shone dimly. I walked up to the front door, looking down at the piece of paper I held dearly in my hand. This was definitely the house, 6 Omen Street. I looked around thinking to myself ‘how could someone live like this’ there was trash stock piled mixed in the dead weeds, it looked like a garbage site. I knocked on the door, finding that the door opened as I did. I stepped inside and stepped on a load of newspapers and letters, addressing the boy I was meant to pick up.  All the lights were off. The furniture had disappeared from the spaces they had been placed for what looked like years. The door slammed shut behind me and the wind began to howl through the cracks. Everything seemed silent before, but now everything was roaring at me. I began to walk through the large empty hall, the rotten wooden floors squeaked beneath me like an off tune violin. I was sure that someone whispered in my ear, telling me to ‘leave’.  I looked for a light switch on the slimy painted walls, a click of the switch provided only but a flicker of light that gleamed off a crimson wall. The metallic scent violated my nose, my heart felt pulverised.

TTM #4

“You love it really” - LeviJFox  ©2014

TTM #3

Sometimes a back stabber only creates a minor wound. Other times, a back stabber will take a chunk of are back out and destroy your life.

A photo can tell a number of stories.

TTM #2

To me, a pencil is a piece of art itself.

TTM #1

People say art is being expressive, so why do they get all offended and discouraging when you draw nudes - or even sexual drawings?

It's still art isn't it?

Children's Art

Warning - This contains dark themes. Read at your own discretion


-----------

“Two more children have gone missing from the Yuki San Hospital in Lowton” read the newspaper.

“Abigail and Felix Johnson go missing from the Lowton hospital, Yuki San.” Told Low News at 7.

I placed the paper in the cat little bin and turned the TV off and then I went off to work. I knew the kids that when missing. Each one. All twenty six. I made paintings for the Yuki San. The connection I made with the children made me so happy, they loved my art work and I loved them. Sometimes I wish I could see the missing children again, but they’re gone. The bodies were never seen again.

I got into my red Porsche and drove to the hospital. The drive seemed longer than usual. All I heard on the radio was about the children. Abigail, Felix, Phoebe, Brighton, Lesley, Brian, George, Henry, Opel, Liam, Hope, Destiny, Judith, Myles, Keith, Kerry, Madison, Faith, John, Samuel, Zoey, Quentin, Nathan, Pablo, Victor and Wes. Such poor, poor children. I like to think they have gone to a better place. It’s such a shame because these children were the ones who made me who I am, they made me a success. The staff at the hospital tell me how I’m helping the children, though, I believe that they help me.

When I got into the hospital, the nurses welcomed me and I smiled and waved at them. I walked to the children’s ward and greeted the children, they all ran to hug to me which would make me smile every time. “Mr Yama? What have you painted today?” One of the children said. I looked down to see little 6 year old May tugging on my shirt. She was the younger version of Rapunzel with her extremely long blonde hair. I lifted the drape from the painting to reveal a detailed cat on a crimson background. I heard wows and positive comments about the cat, the children preferred my paintings of animals more than anything else. I don’t blame them. So do I.

I started painting when my wife – when my ex-wife had our son. He was an ugly little blighter, like all new born babies. Well, that’s just my opinion. Didn’t mean I didn’t love him. Unfortunately my son was terminally ill. It broke my heart when I saw him draped in red, being taken away from us. My wife then divorced me and then started getting into trouble with the police. She kept running away from them, changed her name once or twice. Then came back to me, demanding money off me so she could get out of the country. The police soon caught up to her and she’s now in prison, leaving me again on my own. I went to Yuki San Hospital because they had tried all they could to make my little boy better, in thanking, I painted a picture of the sun set sky, the same one I saw when my baby was taken away. They payed me a generous amount and hung the painting in the children’s ward. I’m the famous painter from Lowton who paints for the sick children. The children loved me, and I loved them, like they were my own children.

Once all the children had seen my piece of art work, they all settled down and I read a story to them. They had thousands of books, so always made sure it was a book I hadn’t already read to them. “Good day, Mr Moon” I read out the title, the children looking at me with smiling faces. Most of the children sat all together, but I noticed in the corner of my eye that little May with her long Rapunzel-like blonde hair was sat on a chair, on her own, cuddling her favourite teddy that her mother had got her on the day she came to the hospital. I had already been told that she didn’t have long left in this world. Her condition was getting worse and worse by the day.

My wonderfully pleasant day was over and it was time to say good bye to the children. Lastly, I went over to little May and took her to her room so she could lay down in her bed. I asked her if she wanted to go to Disney land with me, having a spare ticket but no one to go with. Little May eagerly nodded her head and I smiled, telling her I would pick her up later that evening. But she had to keep it a secret, so she could tell everyone about it once she got back. She promised me she would and I gave her a kiss on the forehead and exited the room, telling her that I would return later that day.

Soon the time came and I got in my car, once again driving to Yuki San Hospital. It was fairly dark and not many people were around. Out of my glovebox, I pulled out two tickets to Disney Land and I made my way to the back of the hospital. Visiting hours were over, but I still liked surprising the children, they never told a soul that I would come back to read them a bed time story -  though this time, I didn’t have time to read a bed time story, there was a plane that awaited us. Hastily and quietly, I walked to the Children’s ward and to little May’s room, having not gotten caught. I knew the hospital layout very well, having gone there regularly to both be with my baby and to be with the children. Little May was sleeping in her bed so I gently shook her awake. She yawned at me and then smiled. We packed a little bag for her filled with clothes and teddies, soon exiting the child’s room and making our way down back to the parking lot. We got into the car and drove off to the airport.

We arrived at the airport and got ourselves ready to catch the plane. Luggage had been handed in, my handy work paid off since the fake ID I had created for May worked a treat and we were soon on bored and flying. A few hours had passed and we had reached our destination. My plan had worked out. May and I got a taxi a few miles away from the airport and we arrived at a residence. I paid the driver, sending him off with a thank you and then May spoke up. “Why are we here, Mr Yama?” The blonde little girl asked, looking at the moulded, rotten wooden cabin. I didn’t reply, why I was laughing too much inside. I pulled the girl inside and locked the door behind us. I grabbed a metal pole from the side of the door and whacked it across the helpless girl’s head. She fell over on the ground, writhing in pain. One more blow with the metal pole and the girl’s fragile skulled was smash to pieces, scattered all over the floor. From her body, I collected her blood, storing it in paint buckets.

Maybe I might paint a red sky, like I did with the blood of my baby boy.

The boy I see everyday

His bitterness, and wickedness, meanness, and cleanness. It all makes up for the fact that he is short. He is the shortest out of every one of his friends, though always acts like the alpha male. He reminds me of a lot of other people, Rin and Len, a pair of stubborn and smart twins from Vocaloid. Mr. sexy Ackerman, a short badass from Shingeki No Kyojin. He is a character who can be quite distant, but when around his friends, he can be the most fun guy to be around. One of the things of the things he hates most is telling other people how he's feeling, it can be obvious that he's down, by the way he look down having his auburn hair swooping over his left eye, hiding the brown coloured iris just beneath. He also doubts himself a lot, when he shouldn’t. Anyone in the world could tell him he’s good at something, he wouldn’t believe them. But it’s his way of tolerance over pass and failure.

Most of the time, he is wearing a shirt and shorts, and always has his glasses on, otherwise he can't see a damn thing. His white and black headphones are usually adjusted either on his head or around his neck, hooked into his phone, playing some various song - even if he's not listening. His voice is a lot different from other boys, it's more feminine, and he hates it, a lot. Much like his body. He loves the paleness, of his ghostly white skin, but hates the shape of his body, treating it like an undead enemy. If you look carefully down his left arm, you can see marks, scars, cuts that are no more. He’s not ashamed, nor is he proud of each marking, but to him, it represents his inner strength to fight the demons that surround him. There are words that you may think him as; a freak, ugly, childish, abnormal, strange, stupid, idiot, nerd. He just thinks himself as himself. He is very unique, in his own way, sometimes those can be good ways, sometimes not so much. He knows this, but chooses not to change himself since he did try to change himself that once and it almost broke him. Lots of people don’t understand him, not even I understand him as well as I could. I see him every day of my life and I do not know him as well as what people think I should. I watch over him and he watches over me, mostly when I’m combing my hair, I see him looking back at me in the mirror.

The Fire

Love

Hate 

Desire

Save

Yourself

From 

The

Unwanted

Fire

Art Dump