Chapter 4
A few hours after discovering my new muse and a very long train ride home, it was Hurricane Alyssa in my room and I was in full force, a Category Five hand-drawing the final concept sketches of the next few pages of my comic on a fold out card table. Post-It notes and scraps of paper containing rough ink sketches and illegible chicken-scratch laid haphazardly scattered across on the surface, containing secrets only decipherable to me. I was correct in my assumptions that I would need reference shots, as no images under "green bunny superhero" came up in the Google search engine, even without the safe search on- which was both a good thing and a bad thing: bad that I couldn't find my muse for more reference shots, but good that I didn't have to fight anyone for copyright laws or intellectual properties -but I quickly found that it didn't matter. I had already hashed out a name, backstory, and full-concept art for my new male protagonist, Warren White, that left me incredibly satisfied. I did end up deciding that he would be a love interest of Arisa's, liking the reverse predator-prey angle too much as well as the tension to deny the organic chemistry of it, but it was going to be an incredibly slow burn. Since I didn't have a ton of experience in the romantic relationship department, most of my scenarios came from romance novels, shojo anime, and my little sister's adventurous dating life, so hopefully by the time they got together, I would have an actual relationship to base their dynamic on. How sad was that for a twenty six year old woman to say?
"Hey Alyssa, can you come downstairs and hangout with us humans?" Jo-Elle called out from the bottom of the stairs. Speak of the devil.
"In a minute. I need to finish this last page," I shouted back over my Brookstone speakers while they blasted the soundtrack from RWBY, a personal preference of mine when I was drawing fight scenes. With "From Shadows" being on its ninth play, I had absolutely no desire to turn away from my work but I knew full-well from the tone and choice wording from my sister that I was on borrowed time. As an introverted shut-in, I often dove headlong into the abyss of my comfortable pastimes and obsessions for weeks, sometimes months on end, but at some point I needed to come up for air and socialize with actual people to function, forcibly or not. It was hard not to get absorbed into my work, since drowning myself into my hobbies was my major malfunction.
The dialogue was coming along nicely for Friday's update. It was almost scary how organic it was, like neatly fitting two puzzle pieces together you'd thought you had lost awhile back. I couldn't say how much time had passed as I did the final touches, but by the time I had to sharpen my Faber pencil, I had lost all of my natural light and had flip on the floor lamp for better lighting.
"Wow, don't let Mom see your room like this." I glanced up briefly at my sister standing in the doorway and scoffed, eying the smudges of red glaze splattered over her auburn leggings and crop top Rock-Lee t-shirt. Her wild curly highlights were bound into a messy ballerina bun, revealing even more splatters of glaze on her cheeks and neck that added more artificial freckles to her face.
"You're one to talk. Don't worry. I'll put everything away before I go to bed," I waved to the air, not taking my eyes away from the mindful strokes of my pencil, careful to add the notes of where to add what dialogue when I added the comic sans text and the speech bubbles later in post without smudging the graphite with the back of my hand.
"Okay, I understand that you've had a long day at work and a crappy commute home..." The pitch in her voice lowered in volume, the tone and the expression on her face turning serious and pragmatic as she forced her hazel stare onto mine. They were a mismatched blue-green today, giving her a more heterochromatic appearance. "...but you have to realize that Mom hasn't seen you all day and she has done nothing but worry about you since she heard about the villain attack on the subway station, so I think you should come downstairs and hang out with her."
I let out a breath from my nose as the guilt forced me to put down my pencil and sit back in my chair. Damn. I hated it when she was right. "Fine."
Remembering to grab my phone, I trudged downstairs and took my usual seat next to Mom on the couch while she watched late night American game-shows via satellite. Changing location didn't really keep me from my work, it just limited what I could do. After copying and pasting the same set of carefully picked tags and hashtags I had devised by the end of Wheel of Fortune, I posted the next page buffer to my various artist social media accounts and the snapshots of my newest concept pages of Warren White, and began scrolling over the comment notifications from my previous pages in my inbox. Most of the swell in comments came from the page I had just posted to the public on my Deviantart account- a 'cool' here, a 'can't wait for a next update' there. A few of them were for the new pages I had yet to color or fill in the dialogue for on Patre0n, but few people were high enough to see those, and they sometimes dropped down a tier when they couldn't afford to pay the extra $15 a month for that privilege.
One of my oldest readers, a user by the name of SmallMight39, lit up most of my notifications and shout-outs on my Community page. I always loved their feedback. They were always so chipper and positive, going into paragraphs and intimate detail about what they liked about my work and gave me constructive criticism on what I need to work on that both helped my motivation and my own writing process. Their reviews like so many others gave me life and a reason to keep making more comics. They even joined my Patre0n at the highest tier when I first began working there as a Creator, so thanks to them and my other patrons, I had a small stash of disposable income for if I wanted to go out and impulsively buy another anime POP figurine or needed to order something off of Amazon for a cosplay; I'd had my eye on a $175 Kylo Ren Nenderoid figure for almost a solid year now that I could finally afford. I was mostly frugal and didn't shop a ton for myself, buying cheap snacks or instant ramen packets for myself when grocery shopping, but when I did want something, whether it be from desire or impulse, it cost me an arm and a leg. My hobbies were expensive.
SmallMight39 didn't have a profile set up or a creator account, so they clearly just existed on here to follow and support fellow artists like myself. Because they were a part of the highest tier, VIP Muse Fan, they had early access to all of my pages I uploaded, including concept sketches and rough drafts. They weren't the only one, but their feedback always stood out at the top of the pile. I even did a few commissions for them of heroes they thought looked cool in my art-style, though never for themselves which was odd. Most people loved seeing me draw them or their OC with the character of their choice, but SmallMight39 always requested pro-hero fan art or more detailed drawings of my original characters- unsurprisingly, most of their requests had been of All Might at various points in his career, even in his true form. Maybe they had a crush on him or something?
Right near the top of the most highlighted and liked comments in my Patre0n account was SmallMight39's review, just like clockwork.
SmallMight39: Oh my gosh, I LOVED the new update, Muse-chan! I especially like the new hero, Hareraiser. We don't see a lot of male rabbit characters, so I can't wait to see what you'll do with him. He looks so cool with his lapin gauntlets! I like that he's a good melee fighter to compliment Arisa's long range telekinesis and sword-fighting, a pair of fists for Arisa's sword. Does he get enhanced punches with them or are they more like armor? Please let me know if you can.
My heart swelled at their comment that I found myself rereading it, over and over, reveling in the good vibes and immense satisfaction it gave me. I was eager to see how they felt about the new character and was incredibly pleased by our shared mindset.
Muse-Musume: Thank you so much, Smol! I had the exact same thought when designing him. To answer your question, it's a little of both. It's something that I'm still developing, but I can see a few upgrades to his punches being a very possible outcome in future updates. Thanks again for the comment! It warms my heart to see your continued support. I love that I get to geek-out to someone while I wait for the rest of my lower-tier followers to catch up.
"What are you smiling at?" I looked up to see my mother giving me a coy look, resembling a cat who had caught a mouse by the tail. The tension lessened in my chest somewhat at her teasing smile. Maybe today was going to be a good day.
"Oh, just some of the comments on my latest update to my comic. I'm getting a lot of good feedback for one of my new characters."
"I'm glad that your comic is doing so well, though I wish you would market yourself more to broader audiences. You and your sister would make so much more money if you would just do normal things for people and remain consistent with your content, rather than draw all those weird anime characters. I know some of my friends would love to see you two do artwork of farm animals or flowers." I pressed my lips together in an effort to not say anything that would rehash older discussions. My mother had a talent of making her compliments and advice sound like insults. "You're being careful about not putting any information out on the internet, right? I don't like that you talk to strangers online. Remember what happened last time?"
"Mom, I was thirteen, lonely, and friendless. Clearly, I've learned since then in the thirteen years that came after to not wander onto random chat-rooms and reveal my personal information to strangers. Nothing happened anyways..."
It was true. Ever since I discovered the internet and got busted talking openly about living in Mooresville, Indiana to a stranger online and received a massive ear-full from both of my parents, I kept my 'secret identity' a secret. I never violated my rules for revealing personal information, and if I came close, it was vague enough that no one could pinpoint my location or exact name- mostly. However, talks with SmallMight39 made me reconsider my policy many times. Our relationship over the years had gotten to the point where I even consulted them on occasion for where to go with the story or if I had gotten stuck. They had been incredibly supportive during the transition to Japan, and it had even been suggested more than once, by both parties, that we should meet up IRL since we now lived in the same country. Obviously meeting someone on a dating app was more dangerous than a person on an artist website that had known me for years back when I first started out drawing pictures of pro-heroes as pokemon, and my own sister used the former frequently (though mostly behind our mother's back). It would certainly be nice to have a friend that I didn't have to interact with via text message, Facebook, or Skype.
"I don't know why I shouldn't just have all your passwords," my mother frowned as her dark eyes focused back on the TV, the air around us suspiciously free of all dust, "Mrs. Meares has all of her daughters' passwords and even the Today Show says that parents should know all their kids' passwords."
Because I'm a grown ass adult and I don't think giving you power over my social media accounts would help anybody, especially when my livelihood is on one of them and you might just up and change the password on me to punish me for something rude I said last week? I think Jo-Elle could sense the change in atmosphere because she immediately jumped in to play peacekeeper.
"The point is that she's more careful now and that something like that won't ever happen again. Now let's watch some Jeopardy!" Equally desperate to change the subject, I went along with my sister's diversion and paid partial attention to the first round of Jeopardy. Within the first few minutes, I fell into the natural rhythm of our weekday night rituals on the couch and began shouting out half-hearted guesses at the TV to answers that were about forty five percent right.
"Scratch my head," my mother commanded more than asked right when things began to wind down during a GEICO commercial. "You used to scratch my head all the time."
Well, that was when I could do it because I wanted you to feel good. Now I'm just expected to do it at the drop of the hat every night. Reluctantly, I locked my phone and lifted my right arm to gingerly rub my nails gently over the side of her scalp.
"Ten minutes," was all I said in response. Emotional exhaustion translated into physical exhaustion for me, while my mother was the exact opposite, and I was low on both after today. I was careful in navigating the deep crevice of her three inch scar on the upper left side of her head, working on massaging the follicles of her thinning patches of hair, patches that would never truly grow back. Originally, it was something I had done to help desensitize myself to the scar while also giving her a sense of calm and accept a new normalcy. Now it was just a home remedy massage technique that I had accidentally invented that helped lessen her anxiety and stress.
They were going for a commercial break for Double Jeopardy when I noticed the grandfather clock was ringing at a quarter til nine and dropped my arm, feeling blood rush back into my fingertips. My mother frowned. "That was not ten minutes."
"Yes it was. I counted, plus my arm's tired."
"Okay, well now you can do my back." I looked heavenward as I lifted up the back of her shirt and dug my nails in various circles. Why did I always have to do something when I was around her? Why couldn't she just want to cuddle and be in the moment rather than feel anxious about sitting down doing 'nothing?' That would have the opposite effect of what we were trying to go for, and she was still using her Quirk. Suddenly, the siren call of my bedroom beckoned, my desire to return there about as subtle as a foghorn. Just last until the end of Jeopardy, Blake. Everyone knows you don't want to be down here. Just humor them for a few more minutes. People will think you hate your mother if you constantly avoid her. The start of Grey's Anatomy couldn't come soon enough, signifying the end of Jeopardy and my fifteen minute back-scratch.
"You're going upstairs already?" Mom inquired as I got up from the couch.
"I'm exhausted, Mom. I ran around trying to get people for three events today, had to call Bingo twice, and I had the worst commute home in the history of commutes. Plus, I still have a few more pages to work on my comic before I go to bed."
"Well make sure you clean everything up before you go to bed. Tired or not, I don't want to see a ton of boxes and junk just lying around on the floor. You worked so hard to keep your room clean. You know what Marie Kondo says: Always keep things that speak to the heart and get rid of the things that don't spark joy."
"I know, Mom," I sighed in exasperation, already feeling my patience hanging by a spider's thread. Of all the things my mother could have acclimated to from moving to Japan, why did it have to be the organizing consultant whose teachings regularly left our house in a cluttered, disorganized mess? Coils of anxiety began leeching out and wrapping themselves around my chest at the thought of more weekends and evenings occupied with cleaning and organizing things into piles. Suddenly, all my energy was drained to the point that even finishing my comic, something that was a labor of love, seemed like too much of a monumental task to tackle.
After saying my 'good-nights' and 'I love yous,' crawling into my box-spring bed- one of the few things I agreed with my mother on that we needed to take with us for the move -and buried myself under my weighted quilt made up of old designer coats, I noticed a PM in my inbox from SmallMight39. It read: I almost forgot to ask, how are you doing lately? How is your family? Have they finally gotten used to living in Japan? If you need any tips for navigating Tokyo, I can give you some advice to make the most of your stay here.
I smiled wanly at the private message and then began typing with hint of bitterness, "exhausted beyond belief. I feel anxious, tired and miserable anytime I'm around my mother because I don't know if either of us will set the other off, and I feel guilty for not spending time with my own family because of my own strange comfort issues and anxiety" but then thought better of it and quickly held down the backspace button instead, not having enough energy to fully go into the complexity of my family dynamic and mental disorders. Instead, I texted back something more vague and streamlined that wouldn't result in them asking a ton of questions I had no time nor the energy to answer.
Muse-Musume: Tired, but I'll live. The transition over the past year has been interesting with the two jobs and various adjustments, but I think we're finally getting some normalcy in our lives. We're going to go see the specialist on Wednesday after my mom's MRI on Monday. Thanks for all the suggestions for restaurants from earlier, BTW. My sister is excited to know that Mexican food does exist in Japan. I'll be sure to try the pork bowls at the ramen shops you recommended if I ever have time during the week to stop by. Thanks again for your support. Your comments really make my day.
Not a minute later, their response came (it was so nice to finally be able to talk to someone who was in your same timezone).
SmallMight39: Aww I'm sorry you're not feeling too well. Don't push yourself too hard and be sure to take breaks for yourself. We'll all still be here to support you and waiting for you if you need to take a break.
I just simply PM'd them back a happy cry GIF of Meowth before texting my best friend Gabby a screenshot of the messages from SmallMight39, knowing it was well past nine am where she lived and that she wouldn't see it for another few hours until noon when she took her lunch break. I turned on my PS4 and logged onto Netflix to binge-watch Walt Disney's Fantasia before passing out with my phone on my chest, not even making it to the end of "Toccata & Fugue in D Minor." The card table was still standing in the center of my room with all of my art supplies scattered across it.
Author's Note: For some reason, Fanfiction really hates the word 'Patre-on' so bare with me for the wonky spelling of Patre0n from here on out. In other news, I got the idea for the username from Izuku's list of superhero names, an internet nickname, and that one of the characters in his name means "three" and "nine."
Hero/Villain Profiles
Jo-Elle Blake
Quirk: Clay
She can produce a clay-like substance from her body that she mold into anything of her choosing. Unfortunately, the substance causes her skin to dry out and requires her to drink a lot of water and apply moisturizers.
Pam 'Pamara' Blake
Quirk: Dust
She can manipulate particles in the air, either to cause irritation or move them into large dust clouds; effective for cleaning around the house, though she still makes her kids do chores.
