Whoever thought of making art lab classes thee hours long should be shot with that one gun from Painkiller that shoots shurikens and lightning. Seriously. I thought of this prompt in my figure drawing class, where our model is a middle-aged woman with a weird-looking butt (but that makes me look like a judgmental tard, so I am lampshading that fact in hopes that I will seem like less of a tard). Also, sleep-deprivation may have something to do with it. And video game addiction.

And maybe the fact that I realized I am one year younger than Phoenix, and I am an art major. I could easily have stuck myself in this fic, but I didn't because I don't like writing about me. Phoenix is much cooler.

Enjoy? 8I


The late-night lab classes were the bane of his existence. Who the hell thought of making art classes three hours long? Who the hell thought of making ANY class three hours long? They should be shot. With fire. And needles. And possibly small rocks and pebbles, just to twist the knife a little.

Phoenix trudged to the art department, not particularly enthusiastic about the time. It was 5:53 in the afternoon. Class would begin in seven minutes. He knew it would be hard to last the whole three hours—he'd had a rough time the last semester with his Foundation Drawing class that was at the same time. The one thing he took comfort in was the fact that he would be drawing people this semester, as opposed to objects.

It was the second class meeting of the semester, and he was weighed down by a huge drawing tablet he'd gone out and bought for the class. Apparently, professors liked their students to draw very large for some reason. Phoenix didn't have any particular problem with this, since he couldn't draw any better on a small tablet anyway. He did however have a problem with the cost for the course materials. It was insane, and his financial aid was running out. He was starting to regret choosing this major, never mind the fact that he had no interest in any of the other ones. Except maybe Law. But that was really difficult, and he was just experimenting right now. Yeah. Experimenting on the many ways to spend all of his financial aid as soon as possible, and not actually get anything out of it.

He sighed, and stopped at one of the buildings. He checked the plate on the door to make sure he was at the correct classroom, and then went inside. It was a large room with a concrete floor, like the one he used last semester for his Foundation class. Easels hung on the wall to the right, and the boards sat in a cart behind a large partition that hid the professors' offices from view. The drawing horses were in a room at the back, though his former professor had prohibited their use in his class, insisting that they made for bad habits and horrible-quality drawings. Phoenix was elated when his new professor allowed their use, simply because he would get to sit the entire time.

There were a few students setting up their work areas, and he chose a space in the middle of the hemisphere that they seemed to be making. He wanted a good view of the model, and the middle of the room seemed to be the best place for such a thing. He was a little nervous about the whole nude-model thing. It had been briefly mentioned in the discussion on the first meeting day, and he had been caught off guard. Wasn't the course named "Drawing the Human Figure From Memory?" Though it made perfect sense to work from live models first, considering his drawing talent was relatively nonexistent. So he sucked it up, took a deep breath, and accepted that he would have to examine naked bodies for a semester. No biggie. What if it was a hot girl? He wouldn't mind that. Or maybe a hot guy? He smirked. He wouldn't mind that either.

Eventually, the rest of the students filed in and set up. They seemed used to this kind of thing, so Phoenix relaxed. It was perfectly normal. There was nothing to feel uncomfortable about. This is what art students lived for—live demonstrations and representations. It would be perfectly fine. As he mused, he vaguely registered his professor's voice as the man announced that their model, Wendy, would be arriving shortly, and that they should all be prepared to start at a moment's notice.

He waited patiently until their model arrived, his thoughts wandering, and slowly pulled himself back to reality as his eyes registered movement in front of him. The model was here, and was throwing off a bathrobe to reveal the body she would be modeling for the students.

It was not a hot girl. It was not a hot guy, either. Phoenix whimpered as he got a profile view of the pose, every time. It was then he decided that a degree in law would suit him much better.


And then he meets her later, and horrible flashbacks ensue! I am horribly sorry for this. It had to be done. My brain would not sleep until it was done. And now it is done. Please review/flame :D