Anon: YOU DIDN’T DRAW HER ANIME ENOUGH!
Let’s just begin by saying that, once upon a time (well, the seventh grade) I was a little bit weebish. Nothing to extreme, just a lot of anime and comics. Nowadays, I’ve realized anime is not Jesus, and now actually dislike most of it. However, one particular person has not yet learned this lesson.
Alrighty, time for a setting. Beginning of freshman year of highschool, homeroom. I’m chillin’ at my desk, when a boy I recognized from middle school sits down next to me. Now, looking at this guy, you would never be able to tell he was a freshman. He is huge. Not huge fat, but huge as in super tall. My estimate would be just over six feet. I am 5’4”. I’m feeling a little shrimpy at this point.
I was mildly acquainted with this guy, who we’ll call S. We had American History together, and may have seen each other at lunch, but that was about it. But, somehow, S knew that I was an artist, probably because I used to doodle in my notebooks during lectures. At any rate, I must have impressed him enough to make him want to introduce himself. Apperantly, he found the most efficient way to go about this was to blurt out suddenly “Do you like Bleach?”
I nearly jumped out of my chair. The way he said it was so loud and sudden, and I hadn’t even been looking at him. I quickly shrugged it off and replied that, no, it had never really captured my attention. He proceeds to chastise me for not enjoying the “art form” that was Bleach and urging me to start reading it. I just sat there quietly, looking unimpressed and hoping he would take the hint. Surprise, surprise… he didn’t.
Moving on. Fast forward about a month and a half, all of which was full of me having to ignore him trying to convince me to read Bleach and Naruto and various other mangas that I found boring and very much overrated. Finally I just got so sick of it that I agreed to read a little bit of Bleach, thinking it would get him off my back. My mistake.
He lent me a very badly worn and grossly stained copy of the first book of Bleach. I put it in my backpack very quickly, not wanting to touch it any longer than I had to. After school, I went home and breezed through the book in about twenty minutes. I… was not impressed. It struck me as a rather mediocre storyline, not bad, just not very remarkable. I returned the book to him at school the next day, and when asked how I liked it I just replied “Not the best I’ve ever read, but it was okay.”
This apparently wasn’t the answer he was expecting, as he was already in the middle of digging out the next three copies. He looked at me with the funniest expression of disbelief and confusion I’ve ever seen, and said “You didn’t love it?” I repeated “It was okay.” and gave him my honest opinion about the series. He stopped trying to get me to read Bleach after that, but my confrontations with him had far from reached their climax.
One week later, in homeroom, I sat down at my usual desk and decided on a whim to pull out my sketchbook and draw (yes, I carry my sketchbook in my backpack. Force of habit from art camp). I open it up, when two giant hands slap down on either side of me. I jumped hard, and jerked my head up to see him leaning over the seat of the desk in front of me and staring down and my sketchbook. Now, I’ve seen that look enough times to know what it means, so I quickly closed my sketchbook and pulled it down under the desk into my lap. He looked a little dissapointed, but perked back up quickly and asked if I would draw him a picture. I do enjoy drawing things for people (maybe I get off on the feeling of being appreciated, I don’t know) but at any rate, I agreed. I asked him what he wanted, and his reply, I swear to god, was this: “I want you to draw me cutting out Rukias insides and feeding them to a hellhound.”
Wait. What. The only thoughts running through my head. This had just sort of come out of the blue, and I had no idea that he thought about things like that. I snapped out of it pretty fast, though, and quickly refused to draw anything of the sort. I love a good macabre peice as much as the next person, but there is no ambiance in just gore that blatant.
His dissapointed look returned, and said “Oh, then can you just draw me Rukia?” I was kinda relieved that he just wanted me to do somthing normal, and agreed. It was kind of a hasty sketch, but I liked it, and the proportions were pretty good, so I handed it to him, assuming he would just thank me and put it in his backpack. Wrong again. He took one look at it and said “It’s not anime enough, see? Her boobs are too small.”
Now, if the anime is anything to go by, Rukia does not have very large breasts. She’s pretty small, and so her chest should be able to be supported by her waist. So I told him that they were big enough, and that I wasn’t going to mess around with it anymore than I had. Kind of snappish of me, but I was tired of humoring this guy.
Coming back to school the next day, I was horrified when he showed me how he had “fixed” my drawing. The eyes he had redrawn so big that they were overlapping the sides of the face in some places, and the two wobbley circles that were sitting on Rukias chest I could only assume were meant to be her breasts, but so so huge that they looked like she was about to break in half. I just gave himmy most expresionless face, sat down, and never drew a damn thing for him again.
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