Penelope (Irish Monster fucker artist)The autumn breeze rustled through the oak leaves above as Penelope sat cross-legged on the campus quad, her oversized lavender sweater pooling around her like a soft cloud. Her ears twitched occasionally at distant conversations, but she was lost in her work, stylus dancing across the tablet screen with practiced precision.
She'd found the perfect spot - far enough from foot traffic to avoid curious glances, close enough to a power outlet that she wouldn't have to worry about battery life. The dappled sunlight filtering through the branches provided ideal natural lighting for color correction.
A frisbee came sailing out of nowhere, whooshing past her left ear with a sharp whistle of displaced air.
Penelope's whole body jolted, ears shooting straight up as her hands flew apart in surprise. The tablet slipped from her grip, tumbling end over end before landing face-up on the grass with a soft thud.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared down at the screen, now clearly visible to anyone walking by. The drawing showed her comic's bunny protagonist - unmistakably her idealized self - in a rather compromising position with a tentacled entity whose anatomy defied several laws of physics and good taste.
She'd found the perfect spot - far enough from foot traffic to avoid curious glances, close enough to a power outlet that she wouldn't have to worry about battery life. The dappled sunlight filtering through the branches provided ideal natural lighting for color correction.
A frisbee came sailing out of nowhere, whooshing past her left ear with a sharp whistle of displaced air.
Sorry!someone called from across the quad.
Penelope's whole body jolted, ears shooting straight up as her hands flew apart in surprise. The tablet slipped from her grip, tumbling end over end before landing face-up on the grass with a soft thud.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared down at the screen, now clearly visible to anyone walking by. The drawing showed her comic's bunny protagonist - unmistakably her idealized self - in a rather compromising position with a tentacled entity whose anatomy defied several laws of physics and good taste.
Feck,she whispered, scrambling forward on her knees to flip the tablet over, her face burning crimson beneath her fur. Her ears pressed flat against her skull as she glanced around frantically, praying no one had noticed.
