Work Text:
Her name is Kimama Watanabe. And she is a commissioner.
A 'commissioner' in the sense that she spent the majority of her time paying artists to draw what she liked. She was a commission-warrior, a commission god, you could say. She lived alone in a cheap apartment, the kind where the walls were thin.She didn't have her own hobbies outside of dreaming to one day be a famous author, with her own stories and worlds that people could enjoy.
She enjoyed roleplay, and things like DnD, and loved character creation most of all. Making a guy from nothing, deciding their appearance, their backstory, that was the fun part for her. But she wasn't any good at making her own art. Not even a little.
So through the connection of a friend, she was introduced to the concept of… simply supporting an artist by commissioning them. Hand them money, describe your little character, and a few days later they exists, drawn by someone who actually knows what they're doing.
The first time was exhilarating enough to keep her hooked, like a drug, you could say. She couldn't stop doing it after that, and continued to accumulate art from all sorts of artists, from all sorts of platforms and locations. Skeb, Twitter, DeviantArt, Pixiv, Discord, Vgen.
All of these were her sources, or rather, targets of her inherent greed. Her greed and desire to throw money at artists, that is.
She's become a bit of a commissioner-warrior, you see. She has an alt account she uses to comment on posts and inquire about commissions without clogging up her main. She stalks artists' profiles daily to see when their comms open, so she can snipe a slot the literal second they do. She sniffs out the cheapest comms like a bloodhound. And sometimes, she worms her way into forming friendships with artists just so she can pull off the most evil move of all: the secret friendship commission slot. One that she could have available anytime with no queue or waiting period.
She felt no shame about it. Okay, maybe a little shame. Not enough to stop, though.
Along the way, she'd genuinely become friends with many of these artists, which wasn't the plan, but it happened. She usually preferred comming cheaper artists, dirt-cheap artists who really should be charging more considering how insane their stuff actually looked, because she enjoyed finding those diamonds in the rough. Besides, it's not like she was unwilling to tip, or to comm bigger artists from time to time when she had the proper funds.
That was the problem, actually. She used almost every bit of her paychecks to comm artists, to a degree where she really shouldn't be, or really couldn't afford to be, purchasing from said artists. But how could she not? What if she had a really good idea that day? What if she wanted to see her original character with a fat ass in a bikini, or give one of her OCs comically giant tits?
Or what if she was just feeling the hype that day, and wanted to comm something really cool and heroic, a scene she'd been turning around in her head for a week straight? These ideas required immediate execution.
Maybe she was a loser. But she was happy to be this sort of loser. She was happy to support real media made by real artists.
But not all stories stay happy, forever…
“…And there, there goes my daily bumping.”
She muttered to herself, scrolling through her discord DMs in the dark of her apartment, the screen the only light in the room. It was late, way too late. Before she goes to bed, she usually bumped or checked in on the progress of her comms around. She had so many happening at once, some of varying durations and time lengths, that she occasionally had to bump a few of them just to inquire about where her art was at. Some artists took a day, some took a month, and one or two took so long she'd nearly forgotten what she'd even ordered.
This commission, in particular, was a lewd one.
The specifics don't really matter. You don't want to know what's in the depravities of her own mind. A girl has to keep her secrets, you know…
She adjusted her glasses as one of her DMs got an immediate update. She was about to go to bed. Work had been stressing her out lately, and she needed more rest. But this made the nerdy girl lock back in immediately, eyes snapping wide open behind her lenses as she checked the DM.
Utsuro_ink: Hello! Your commission is almost done, actually! I think I may be able to complete it by tomorrow! If you wouldn't mind, would you be able to send me the remaining half so I can forward your comm?
Oh! That's great news!
For context, she usually did pricier comms in 'halves', splitting the payments down the middle. Half up front, half on delivery. Or whenever she could, really, unless she already trusted that artist to not run off with her money. But usually, she used this technique when she needed to stall on a comm she didn't have the full amount for yet, to buy herself more time to collect the funds. A risky gamble, surely. A house of cards, but that house was made out of glass and dreams. But it had never once collapsed on her before.
She nods to herself, huffing like a pervert as she types out a quick response.
Yes! Of course! I'll get that to you right away! One moment!
She immediately went to her bank app, scrolling straight to her commission funds. Aka, the amount of money she allowed herself to use on commissions, money she'd set off to the 'side' specifically for this purpose. Her sacred commission savings. The fund that existed so that moments like this would never, ever be a problem.
She looked at it.
There was no money here.
Huh?
Where's my money at? Where'd it go? Surely I didn't…I mean, did I get hacked? No, no, nobody hacks an account with this little in it…
Then it hit her. Kimama thinks back to a few days ago, when she found a new artist only selling comms for 1000 yen or so, at a quality that should have cost five times that. Fullbody, gorgeous coloring, the whole deal. And she'd carelessly thought at the time, 'I'd be an idiot to NOT comm them now! Let's strike while the iron is hot!'
So she struck. She struck three times, actually.
Fuuuuck….
She rubbed her hands down her face. This hadn't happened to her before. Ever. Not being able to pay for a comm, her perfect, unblemished track record of being the ethical commissioner, gone, just like that. This was a blow to her pride. A critical hit, even. She'd built her whole reputation on never leaving an artist hanging, never stalling past a deadline she promised, never being the client that artists complained about in private servers.
And now, she had an artist waiting on her half, a comm almost done, and an empty account.
How could she be…so careless?
She stared at the screen, at her own cheerful message still sitting there in the DM. 'I'll get that to you right away! One moment!'
One moment was quickly becoming one problem.
Okay. Let’s….
So. Um. I did say that, actually. But I think I might need a little longer until I can pay the remaining. I won’t leave you hanging, something came up. You can hold onto it until I’m ready to give it to you….! I’m so sorry!
Her name is Yumeko Kageyama. She's an artist.
She went to an art school, and she had a part-time job that hardly paid anything. Class, shift, class, shift, that was the loop. She at least had an apartment of her own, which was something, even if 'something' was generous for a place with one window. However, she didn't want all her money funneled into her own apartment forever. She wanted to have more fun with her life. She wanted to be, well, grander. Bigger.
Money was needed to be grand. That was the simple truth of it.
So, she'd draw fanart on twitter of her favorite series, throwing herself out there, and somehow she accumulated herself a decent following. She was a woman who valued money, but also a woman who valued fame and popularity, wanting to one day be popular enough to where she could abuse that very fame to pull strings. She was honest with herself about that part. Most people dreamed of being beloved. Yumeko dreamed of being beloved and untouchable.
To be a big artist was the dream, something like that.
Her art was decently 'good', or at least twitter and all her followers thought so, and that was what counted. She was the type of artist who drew whatever she liked and took commissions on the side to keep the lights on. To ensure her comms were popular and well-received, she kept her prices low and affordable, and she also put a 'no limits' policy on her art, which meant she'd basically draw anything, as long as she was getting paid for it.
And she meant anything. She's drawn some pretty weird things. But the people into weirder things tended to pay handsomely, and handsomely-paying weirdos argued with you a lot less than broke normies did, so she never really complained about it.
Either way. A while ago, she came across a unique account called @GlassGiri.
The funny thing about her is that she was the first DM Yumeko got the second she opened her commissions up. Not a lurker or a bot, not a 'what are your prices' drive-by. An instant sniper. They chatted, and they ended up discussing a few comms, actually. Several, over time. And in that stretch while she drew art for this girl, Yumeko learned more about her, mainly through stalking her socials, as one does.
She was a nerdy-looking girl with black hair and glasses. Kind of frail-looking. Total dork. But the most interesting thing Yumeko noticed about her was that she lived in Japan. She noticed it in certain pictures she uploaded, or rather, the pictures already sitting on her account, since she hardly ever posted. Backgrounds of convenience stores, shrines, a riverbank at sunset. Locations Yumeko had seen, places Yumeko had physically been to.
Which meant, interestingly, that they had to live in the same area. Or at least very close. Close enough that visiting in person would be entirely possible.
She never brought it up, though. That information just sat in her back pocket.
Which led into now.
She's staring at her screen, not really upset, just staring. The comm was nearly done. The remaining half was sitting there, unclaimed, and by all logic she should have just sent the polite little payment reminder and moved on with her night. That was the normal route. The sane solution..
She wasn't sure why now of all times she thought of something like this…
…Should she really gamble on something this risky?
Well.
That won't be necessary.
GlassGiri: Excuse me?
You live in Japan, don't you? I've seen it from your images.
GlassGiri: Well…yes, but…what does that have to do with anything?
I believe we live in the same area. I'm close to you. I've visited those same places in your photos.
GlassGiri: Um…yes?
Well. I have a proposal for you. In fact, I'll give you your comm, free of charge. You don't have to pay anything. But in exchange, you have to come over to my apartment, and wash my dishes. In a maid outfit lol.
Send.
The message went through with a soft little ping.
Yumeko sat there in the glow of her monitor, chin resting on her hand, watching the DM sit in the chat. Read. Not yet answered. She wasn't even sure where the idea had come from, honestly. She wasn't the type to say things like that out loud. Or type them. To anyone. Ever.
Was that too direct…?
…
WHAT THE HELL IS SHE TALKING ABOUT!?
Sorry.
WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?
That was a more appropriate reaction. Kimama was sitting up in bed now, staring at her phone with a flustered, bewildered look on her face, glasses slightly crooked, face warming up by the second.
She isn't sure what to make of this. Like, at all. Free art is free art, but in exchange for what, exactly? Showing up at a stranger's apartment? In a maid outfit? What if she's not even a girl? What if she's like…not even a girl, and it's just some creep on the other side of that screen? Actually, that seems likely. That seems like the most likely outcome, statistically.
But her art is sooooooooooooo good….
That was the problem. Kimama scrolled back up through Utsuro_ink's gallery, thumb moving on autopilot, and every swipe just made it worse.
Would you really risk your life meeting a stranger just so you could get some free art, Kimama?
…
Do I have to buy the maid outfit myself…?
Utsuro_ink: No.
Oh, so she already owns one. Great. That answers some questions and raises several more.
…Well. I'll wash your dishes, then.
Her thumb hit send before her brain could file an objection. She watched the message deliver. Delivered. Read.
Holy shit, this is insane.
Utsuro_ink: Oh. Uh. I see.
…
Utsuro_ink: Can you come tomorrow? Are you free?
Well, she doesn't have to work tomorrow. She's actually off. A full free day, sitting there empty, and there was a version of her that planned to spend it sleeping in like a normal person.
There was also, apparently, this version of her.
…
I am. I'll…come, tomorrow. Just, let's meet up in a public spot first, so I can meet you.
She wasn't completely stupid. If she was going to walk into some mystery artist's apartment, she was at least going to look the alleged girl in the face first.
Utsuro_ink: Fine.
That was blunt.
Kimama plugged her phone in, flopped back onto her pillow, and stared at her ceiling.
This is stupid.
This is really insane.
But think of the ass cheeks….
The comm was practically done, existing, somewhere, on that girl's computer, one half-payment away from being hers. And now it was going to cost her exactly zero yen and one shift of dishwashing. Honestly, by her usual rates, this might have been the best deal she'd ever scored.
Kimama went to bed that night dreaming of washing dishes for free art.