#excuse me just using the picture from the show i wasn’t about to redraw all that for one small section of a drawing

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 265 “Keyhole”

So Golden Kamuy is back with a chapter that really make me...

...okay, I’m curious, very much so, really, I just can’t resist. I feel so called out watching Tsukishima and Koito trying to overhear what Tsurumi is going to say to Sofia and Asirpa...

Anyway, let’s start.

The covers shows us an image framed by a keyhole, a reference to the chapter’s title and to how some characters will spy from a keyhole and learn of Tsurumi’s past, because that’s what the image depicts, Tsurumi holding his baby while his wife hugs him from behind.

Tsurumi is basically wrapped in love, it’s clear is wife loves him and the way the baby rests against him, while perfectly normal for a baby, seems almost to suggest the baby too is hugging him.

It kind of reminds me a painting from Gustav Klimt, of which is often shown only a part of it, a woman hugging a child, as if it was meant to represent motherly love . The full painting is actually called ‘The three ages of a woman’ and features three women in varying stages of age, symbolizing the cycle of life.

This scene seems to leave out the old woman and paint Tsurumi in between the woman in the spring of her life, Fina, and at the beginning of it, Fina... but in a way symbolically Tsurumi can be ‘the old woman, which in the painting is in an aura by herself and with a desperate expression, who now gets finally included between the other two.

Tsurumi is the only one of the three who got to grow old and he’s clearly desperate for his loss. Sure, in the image he looks like his younger self, but the image is basically symbolizing how, through a keyhole, we’re looking at him talking about his past. The real Tsurumi that we would see if we were to look through the keyhole is older, alone and desperate... and in a way the younger Tsurumi shows a bit of this.

We can see the left corner of his mouth is up, but the same can’t be said for the right one. Even his eyebrows are slightly raised, in a bittersweet expression. This is not Hasegawa, this is Tsurumi remembering his beloved ones, this is Tsurumi remembering what being Hasegawa felt like, the joy of being with his family and the pain of having lost it.

But okay, enough with my speculations on the cover, let’s start with the story.

Kikuta, Tsukishima and Koito, who were sent out by Tsurumi with the excuse to check for the others discover that the soldiers who were on foot had reached the planned meeting spot but the same can’t be said for the three men on horseback (who were tailed by Hijikata).

Kikuta suggests to split and look for them, and Tsukishima tells Koito to stay there just in case the three of them will show up... which they won’t do as, below Tsukishima’s balloon we can see on image of the three of them lying on the ground, efficiently disposed off by Hijikata...

...who, however, is starting to show signs of his age as he’s panting and has some blood on his face, a sign it wasn’t an easy battle. Hijikata, joined by Ariko and Kantarou, plans to search for the 7th in order to get Asirpa back.

Meanwhile Sofia’s men plan to search for her.

Now... let’s go back a moment.

Remember how Kikuta told Koito and Tsukishima they should split and search for the men and Tsukishima told Koito to remain behind?

Well, this caused the three of them to go for separate ways, unsupervised by each other.

Koito, who has noticed how Tsurumi has reacted seeing the photo Sofia had, feels curiosity bubbling inside him and decides to go back into the church from a side entrance so as to spy on Tsurumi’s conversation only to discover Tsukishima had anticipated him and is now trying to peep from the keyhole.

Basically that was why Tsukishima told Koito he should stay back, so that Koito wouldn’t go with him and Tsukishima could freely spy Tsurumi.

Honestly I wonder if Kikuta too is taking care of a personal business, maybe not spying Tsurumi as he might already know of Tsurumi’s family, but it would explain why he told the others to split and wanted to go search for the riders when it was safer to assume they were killed and just give up on them. Or maybe Kikuta is the only one who’s doing actual work.

We’ll see.

Anyway Koito and Tsukishima show their maturity by arguing, each saying the other is there to spy Tsurumi because they don’t believe in him.

Koito though, tries to deny it, but Tsukishima, with a vein bulging as if he were quite angry, points out how Koito was now able to talk to Tsurumi normally...

and how this might be a sign that a distance grew between them in his heart. So okay, pot, I present you a kettle in denial. You do your best trying not to be a pot in denial as well.

Anyway Koito has no words to counter but, in that moment, they hear Tsurumi telling Nikaidou to go stand outside and keep everyone else away from the church then, as soon as Koito is out, Tsurumi checks the church AGAIN for intruders, forcing Tsukishima and Koito to comically hide under the desk, making really clear he doesn’t want anyone to hear the discussion he’ll have with Sofia.

I should probably mention Tsurumi’s face is always kept heavily shadowed... but if this is to keep his expression in the dark or Noda actually plans to redraw it for the volume version... well, this is up to speculation.

We’ve a flashback then, showing how Sofia, before exiting from Hasegawa’s house, spotted the photo of herself, Kiro and Wilk about to be burned and retrieved it. That’s why she still had it.

As the flashback ends Sofia wakes up to see Tsurumi seated on what seems to look like a clergy throne. She realizes her hands are tied (and she seems to hold something in her hand but maybe it’s just me)...

...and then notices Asirpa gagged next to her.

Tsurumi stands and removes Asirpa’s gag, warning her though to keep silent as he would prefer not to treat her roughly if he can help it.

We can see the gag, which was nothing else but her matanpushi, had left marks on Asirpa’s face as Tsurumi, who had placed it back around Asirpa’s forehead says it suits the brave and beloved child of the Ainu.

Overall Tsurumi seems gentle with Asirpa... if this is because she’s a child and it reminds him of his daughter (it’s an effect she had on Nihei as well) or he’s just pretending to win her favour... well, this is something we’ll discover in the future.

Tsurumi then comments he’s glad they could meet it again and the visual in this is very interesting as we basically see only his eyes since the lower part of his face is completely blackened and what little we can see of the upper part is covered in swirling lines that seems to hint to an emotional storm.

Giving his back to Sofia he also says he’s glad he could met her again which causes Sofia to ask him who’s him.

Tsurumi comments it’s no surprise she couldn’t recognize him as they had both changed and their previous meeting took place 18 years ago.

I’m a bit confused by this.

The official timeline says they met in 1891. 1891+18=1909

However the story started, always according to the official timeline, in 1907 and, supposedly, only one year went by, placing us in 1908. Have we... lost a year somehow?

Whatever, Tsurumi calls Sofia ‘Zoya’, showing her the photo but it still doesn’t ring any bell in Sofia. However, when he asks her if she has forgotten about his family too, commenting all their photo were burned that day and all that remains to prove they were alive are their finger bones. As he says so he shows two bones, one clearly belonging to Fina and the other so small it should have belonged to Olga.

As he mentions their names the visual shows how Tsukishima, who’s eavesdropping outside, connects them with the finger bones he saw in Tsurumi’s possession.

Those names ring a strong bell in Sofia as, with a shocked expression and panting (we can see the small clouds her breathing made around her, signifying she’s panting) she recognized him for Hasegawa-san.

It’s worth to remember Sofia always felt an intense guilt for Fina and Olga’s death, so her reaction is completely understandable. Those deaths in a way changed her life.

Tsurumi’s brain leaks as he thanks her for remembering them.

‘Oboete ite kurete arigatō’

憶えていてくれてありがとう

“Thank you for remembering”

Asirpa knows Hasegawa’s story as she was told about it by Kiro. Her interest though is for the people in the story as she asks Sofia if that picture portrays her father and Kiroranke and if it was taken in Russia.

Sofia seems still shocked and doesn’t reply.

Koito, hearing this, is surprised Tsurumi had a wife and a daughter. Tsukishima’s veins are popping out as if angry as he makes a sound of disbelief (はあ ‘haa?’) in a strained font.

He doesn’t seem positively impressed Tsurumi too had a past life and people he cared who might have influenced his choices. He possibly might have wanted Tsurumi to be solely attached and devoted to his men.

Tsurumi goes on, claiming after Kiro died they found some letters in his belonging, letters that he received from Sofia when they were writing each other while Sofia was in Akou prison.

Tsurumi suggests he and Sofia should join their knowledge together and tell Asirpa everything about who killed the Ainu and why Wilk had to die so as to taka away Asirpa’s ‘itami’ [傷み “Pain, grief, distress, damage”]. ‘Itami’ is actually in between brackets.

As he says so we see an image of Asirpa with a serious expression and an adult look.

It’s not the first time that, when the situation is serious, Noda depicts Asirpa as if she were older, her eyes slightly squeezed so as to take away the roundness that makes them look like the eyes of a child and her lips shadowed as if she were to wear lipstick.

And it’s such a sharp contrast with his words because the child he’s talking about doesn’t look like a child anymore because she’s forced in a situation that’s not fitting of a child and she will likely required to show a maturity a child normally doesn’t possess.

On a sidenote, as said before, Tsurumi has acted polite and ‘kind’ with Asirpa so far, but there’s to keep in mind in the volume version of chap 211 there was the implication Tsurumi came to believe it was Wilk who shot his wife and daughter.

Does he wants revenge on Wilk through Asirpa?

It doesn’t mean he necessarily have to want to kill Asirpa, he might want to ‘destroy’ Wilk as a father figure in her eyes and then take her as a replacement daughter. Wilk took his own child away so Tsurumi might take Asirpa in exchange.

And this might gain him Asirpa’s cooperation. Though, considering he planned to jail her in such a terrible place always in the volume version of chap 211, I really fear he doesn’t have nice intentions toward her.

I really, really hope things will go well for Asirpa, I don’t want her to be hurt... but I’ve to admit I’m also really, really, REALLY curious to hear what happened... hoping it’ll be the truth and not the result of Tsurumi manipulating information.

We’ll see.

It’s interesting Tsurumi said he and Sofia has to piece together what they know... as if he doesn’t have all the answers... which might mean he’s either lying or he wasn’t there when the Ainu were murdered.

I’ve always wondered, honestly. Murdering everyone wouldn’t get him any close to the gold, so it seemed weird he could have ordered to kill those Ainu. At the same time, unless Wilk chopped everyone down to disguise himself among the corpses, the damage done to them seemed the one that would be caused by an explosion.

We know Wilk didn’t do it and I honestly can’t think of Kiro doing it considering how reluctant he is at killing Ainu.

Did Tsurumi men attempted on doing something without him being present and things went wrong and everyone died but this caused Tsurumi not to know what happened?

I’ve always wondered if Ogata knew more than he let out... but he could have discovered things from either Kiro or Tsurumi so this isn’t telling us much.

Can it be that something happened that wasn’t caused by either Tsurumi or Wilk or Kiro, like other Ainu getting involved, fearing Wilk and the others would cause a war?

I’ve always liked to suspect Asirpa’s uncle but, of course, who knows?

Really, I can’t wait to know the truth!

...on a sidenote I wouldn't be surprised if Noda were to decide to keep us on hold a little longer and show us, in the next chapter, what's doing Sugimoto, or Ogata, or Hijikata. We'll see.

On another sidenote... even though I fear Tsurumi might hurt Asirpa... I feel really bad for him in this chapter. The pain for losing Fina and Olga should have been terrible, him being the only one to remember about their existence. In a way it should feel like a relief to get to meet Sofia, someone else who knew them and cared enough to keep on remembering them. ;_;

#Golden Kamuy #Kikuta Mokutarou #Asirpa #Koito Otonoshin #Tsukishima Hajime #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Nikaidou Kouhei #Sofia #Hijikata Toshizou #Ariko Rikimatsu #Okuyama Kantarou #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories

[emcon-imagines]

tell us of the night

for @locke-writes​​ writing challenge

characters: Finn x reader  prompts: “You could have just told me” & “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” words: 1310 summary: neither you or Finn can sleep, both of you haunted by your pasts. you both finally open up in a late-night conversation, and realize how much you have in common. aka me still being salty that Finn did not get the LOVE HE DESERVES in the movies (or in fandom, really, but that’s another story) and my attempt to fill the void in my heart

---------------------------------------

The sounds of footsteps in the hallway of the Falcon made you jump from your seat in the lounge, turning to see who was up so late. You got up and made your way to the cockpit, seeing that Finn had taken a seat in one of the pilot’s seats and was doing another check of the navigation systems, as well as the radar.

“You all right?” you asked, standing in the doorway, crossing your arms as you looked down at your feet.

“Yeah, of course,” Finn said, turning in the chair when he heard you enter. “I was just... I don’t know... checking things.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not at all.”

“Come on,” you said nodding back towards the lounge. “I was just heating up some water if you want tea.” The cockpit chair creaked as he got up, and Finn followed you. “Tarine tea okay?” you asked as you rifled through the small tin of teas you found shoved in the back of a cabinet in the galley.

“What else is there?” Finn asked, sitting down by the Dejarik table, leaning his head on the back of the seat.

“Here’s a packet of Deychin tea,” you said, holding it up to show him. “That all right?”

“Better than Tarine,” Finn said with a tired smiled.

“Not a fan?”

“It was all they had in the First Order.”

Right. You nodded, quiet for a moment as you poured the hot water into two chipped mugs and dropped the tea bags in. Tarine tea had been such a commodity on your planet as a teen, and you realized it was right around the time the First Order arrived that it had become so popular. Of course. Who else would have been importing the tea? None of the locals drank it.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” you asked softly, setting the steaming mug down on the table. “Sorry. I mean, I just hear you up a lot.”

“What about you?” Finn asked. “You’re up, too.”

“Someone has to keep watch,” you said, taking a quick sip from your tea, realizing it was still too hot and placing it back down. “Burnt my tongue,” you explained, and Finn chuckled.

“Ah-ha, see, impatient. Rey was right.”

“If this is about Corellia...”

“This is about Corellia.”

“There were too many people,” you said, repeating the excuse from earlier that week. “I hate crowds.”

“You just didn’t like having to move cargo by hand.”

“Not true.”

“I was there!”

You shook your head, taking another quick sip of the tea, this time careful not to burn your tongue. “Are you going to try and get some sleep before we get back? We still have a few hours.”

“I don’t know,” Finn said, and the smile disappeared from his face as he stared into his mug. “Probably not.” He took a long, slow drink of his tea and looked around the small lounge, holding the mug between both his hands.

“Do you still have...”

“Some weeks are better than others, you know?” Finn said. “I’ll be fine for a while and then... they’ll just be a week of them. Every night.”

“Is this a bad week?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m always up,” you offered. “If you ever just want company, or someone to just share late night dinner with, anything, I’m here.” You paused, nearly swallowing back the confession in the back of your throat. “I know what it’s like.”

“I’ve been watching a lot of Kade Genti. When I can’t sleep, I mean,” Finn said. “Catching up on all the episodes I missed as a kid.”

“No way!” you exclaimed. “Kade Genti, Master of Section Nine?! I used to watch that all the time and no one seems to remember it!”

“My friend used to sneak us the comics,” Finn remembered. “Not regulation, but they were great. I memorized all the comics since I couldn’t keep them for long and I wanted to remember the stories.” He mimicked reading a book. “I used to stare at the pictures to try and save them, remember them. Bet I could still redraw some of those from memory.” He said with pride, like a secret he had been dying to tell, some accomplishment that had gone unnoticed.

“I’m holding you to that,” you said. “Next time we stop, let’s see.”

“Oh, I’ll show you.” He took another long, slow sip of his tea. “So, why are you always up? And don’t say to keep watch, because any of us could do that but you always volunteer.”

You shrugged. “I just like being up late,” you lied. “It’s quiet.” Finn raised his eyebrows, obviously not believing you, but not saying anything at first. “I don’t like being asleep,” you confessed, not waiting for him to call you out, knowing it was coming. “Okay? With everything that happened... I’m always afraid I’m gonna shut my eyes and--” You threw your hands up in an attempt to explain. “--not be here, anymore. That they will have found me while I was sleeping, or something would have happened while I was out.”

“You have us, you know,” Finn said. “We wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He thought for a moment. “You saw someone on Corellia, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted to leave so quickly. You kept looking behind us while we walked, I thought you were being paranoid, but...”

The both of you were far too perceptive for your own good, some invisible connection stringing your thoughts together into one. You shook your head, wishing you could deny his theory, but knowing he was right. “She’s back,” you said, quietly. “The bounty hunter. I saw her.”

“Are you sure it was her?” Finn asked, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes widening. “Is that why you’ve been off all week? You could have just told us. Y/n, we could have--”

“I didn’t want you guys to worry,” you interrupted. “With everything going on...”

“If she’s back, then that means...”

“They know I’m alive,” you said. “I know what it means.” You lowered your voice, also leaning in across the table. “Look, I don’t want to freak the others out. So, please don’t tell them. Let’s just finish the mission and get back to base.”

Finn stared at you for a long time, and with a drawn-out exhale, leaned back in the seat again. “I know what you mean about being afraid you’ll wake up back there. Except I’m afraid I’ll wake up here, but with the programming they put into my head. I know it’s still there. I still make my bunk in the mornings the way they had us, if I’m not thinking. And if that’s there, then what else is?”

“The kid who read smuggled copies of Kade Genti?” you offered. “The one who defected on his first mission? They failed, Finn. You’re resistance scum, now, just like the rest of us.”

He nodded to himself, sitting back up to finish his tea, even if he wasn’t quite convinced yet, even if the words had yet to sink in. “You can sleep, if you want. I’ll take watch.”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Sleep in the cockpit then. I’ll be in there. That way, you’re not alone and I can wake you if anything happens.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You would drag your blankets and pillows into the cockpit minutes later, while Finn kept his promise and kept watch over the ship, checking the scanners and waiting up for messages from the Resistance. The next night, you would do the same for him, tea still included, and episodes of Kade Genti optional until one of you fell asleep. For how long after the war would you keep it up, you didn’t know. Maybe for years. But you didn’t mind. It was comfortable. Someone was always on watch.

#star wars #sw #one shot #star wars one shot #fav #sw one shot #finn #finn x reader #finn one shot #imagines #finn imagine

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Ik this maybe sounds kinda random but I have a feeling you're latinoamerican Idk why.

Also what are your thoughts on the anime? I really liked the CGI I think it looked very cool and clean!! A-1 pictures did a good job 👏👏 I know it just started but I really hope its successful in japan, so maybe one day we could see Osaka and Nagoya animated :')

That’s probably because I am and am fairly vocal about it.

I live in the US and am racially pretty damn white, but my mother’s family is from Mexico. (Sorta. They’ve been in the US for a while now, and we’re not exactly sure who came across the border when because most old Mexican men can give Gentarou a run for his money when it comes to telling mentiras.) I was raised speaking both English and baby Spanish, but I lost the opportunity to practice it all that often when I was pretty little and as such forgot almost all of it, hahaha. Still, I can understand most written Spanish and a fair bit of common spoken Spanish, and I speak Spanglish with my mom. Growing up mostly white is pretty weird, since I don’t feel Latino enough to fit in with my own family (but they ARE my family) but also not white enough to fit in completely with my white peers. They don’t get how enchiladas are comfort food or how the words “mijo” and “mija” are love incarnate. They don’t get it why my parents have three bags of tortillas in their fridge at all times (it’s because I keep stealing them whenever I run out at my house) or the importance of owning a big-ass olla. It’s like... I don’t want to intrude in spaces where I don’t necessarily feel I have the right to belong, but I also want to acknowledge the struggle of my grandparents who worked as migrant farmers instead of going to school and gave up everything they had to give their kids a better life. I wonder how well I can do that, having forgotten their language and living as so much as a product of “American melting pot” culture. It’s... tricky. Identity is tricky.

Point is, I want to see Dice casually calling Otome “vieja”.

ANYWAY. Anime thoughts. I’ll put them under a cut for anyone concerned about spoilers.

The little kick the Buster Bros did in the opening on “buttobasu” (send ‘em flying) made me involuntarily laugh out loud. So dorky. Love them for that.

I was not sold on the opening back when I saw it in the previews, but I actually liked the full version quite a lot. The rap bits are a lot more impressive than the sort of generic chorus.

Love how it opened on TDD. I hope other episodes will follow suit and give more TDD backstory, because I think it delivers the best emotional impact when you know the reasons the anime boys are duking it out with one another.

TDD Samatoki has giant eyelashes even in the anime. Jesus christ.

TDD Ramuda appeared for about three seconds, and I was appeased.

The Buster Bros bit didn’t interest me too much, personally, but I thought it set the tone for the series really nicely. I also thought that a bunch of random dudes ganging up on these children and being like, “Heh heh, bitch, whatcha gonna do? We have microphones!” is hilarious.

BB rap was fantastic. I appreciated how much of a mix this was between the ARB and manga styles in terms of the way the raps appeared. Having the lyrics on screen was a GREAT thing for me as well. I also really enjoyed the moment where Saburou pushed Jirou out of the way and Ichirou stopped Jirou before he could retaliate. It wasn’t a distraction from the song at all but also characterized the familial interactions so clearly in just a few seconds. Kudos.

My VPN connection died during Ichijiku’s first talk with Otome, so idk what went on there.

I know Samatoki is supposed to be taken seriously, but for the life of me, I really can’t. I kept on snickering the whole time he was talking to the yakuza NPCs and acting tough. All his posturing is ridiculous to me.

Loved that MTC rap, although I kept laughing at that too. MTC is overkill.

I have a love/hate relationship with Samatoki’s speaker ever since I had to redraw part of that motherfucker sometime last year, but it is really damn cool looking. The animation for it blew me away. LOVED THAT.

Riou was there :)

I finally understood the significance of the cigarette kiss between Samatoki and Juuto. It’s to symbolize the whole “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” professional relationship they have, but I did think Juuto was leaning in for a kiss for a really bizarre moment.

Riou showing up to offer food :)

Eat Riou’s fucking food, Samatoki :)

I think Ramuda is a bit smaller than he should be as compared to the other cast members, but I will let it slide

Ramuda’s office is absolutely awful in color, but I will also let that slide

The Fling Posse interactions were a huge hit with me. I love seeing them hang out with one another and horse around the way that they do. Like the BBs’ scene, this was a great establishing shot for them.

I love how Dice rolls with Ramuda’s gratuitous English without missing a beat.

FP song wasn’t as hardcore as some of the other ones, but it was executed very well. Love the wordplay with the end of Ramuda’s and the beginning of Gentarou’s verse.

THE HIGH FIVE AT THE END OF THE SONG... HOO HOO!! NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, BABY! NOW THAT’S FRIENDSHIP RIGHT THERE!

Hypmic NPCs lowkey piss me off, especially all the “Kyaaa~!!!!” female NPC types. I get that they’re not supposed to be thought about all that much, but seriously...? Why is running from fangirls a plot point that keeps on being revisited?

They left Dice’s money behind... Bruh.......

Love how Doppo and Hifumi barge into Jakurai’s office nonchalantly.

The bit with the nurse establishes Hifumi’s character very well, although I still think Doppo’s being kind of an ass when he pulls Hifumi’s jacket off.

The whole fucking “terrorists on the roof” bit made me laugh again. Some of the Hypmic plot points are so contrived that I find them funny. It’s all silly good fun.

Love that rappers show up to push past the bumbling security guards/police. Excuse me, please, let me through... I’m a rapper.

Jakurai’s speaker was very well animated, but the way it appeared made me think of the Lionsgate logo. The mic animation was pretty cool too.

JAKURAI’S RAP ACTUALLY BLEW ME AWAY. I’m normally not a fan of Jakurai raps, but god DAMN was that cool.

Hifumi and Doppo didn’t drop the ball either. Fuck it UP, Matenrou.

I can’t believe they dropped lightning bolts on two people... especially when one was holding someone else hostage. Is that woman okay? Did she get fucking vaporized? I’ll never know.

Otome’s character model moves pretty stiffly, which I think actually helps her character because of how stoic she tries to act overall.

Ending song was dope. I wonder if they’ll feature other divisions in the endings of other episodes.

Ramuda leaping a good 3 meters in the air in the final shot is funny as fuck.

#not a translation #asks

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

If it bites, curses, claws, and hisses, It’s very unwise to ask it for wishes.

Hey @r-rowancore remember that uwu fic I threw out but said I would rewrite? It may be a lot different than how I originally had it, but here it is:

There was only so much that Inkwell could do to help. Likewise, there was only so much that he wanted to do to help.

When Thomas went to him asking for his humanity back, the demon declined, stating that it was impossible for him to turn a being of ink into a being of flesh again. When he went to him asking if he could look human again, the demon again declined, stating that he didn’t have access to any pictures of how the mechanic had looked before his death, nor could he find his body, thus, he had no proper reference and could end up making him something that he was not.

And he gave a similar excuse when Tom asked for his voice back.

It smelled of bullshit if you asked him, with the demon’s exaggerated body language, annoying amount buffer words, refusal to look the wolf man in the eye while he spoke, he knew that he was lying through those daggers that he called his teeth.

He could make them human again, or at least make them look human enough again, Henry Stein was living proof of that. The Ink Demon just insisted on redrawing them as cartoons because misery loves company.

Instead of doing something like making him feel comfortable in his ink skin, the demon simply ‘updated’ his character sheet. He looked more like a wolf than a dog now, he was bigger in both size and stature, and his fur was starting to gray, especially around the muzzle.

Don’t get him wrong, he liked not having to look at Boris every time he looked in a mirror, but he hated everything about this and honestly, it was only a matter of time before he’d grow desperate enough to try to do something that even he thought was completely stupid:

Summoning a demon, a different demon from the ones he knew, one who would hopefully, help him out.

Thomas gathered the correct items for the ritual; four candles, one mask, some thick ink, and a place to call ...it. He didn’t know what would come from out of this, but if Buddy and Boris of all people could summon this thing enough times to dedicate a bathroom to doing it, then whoever or whatever he was going to call must’ve been safe enough for him to summon.

He had everything set up just the way he saw the alter in Buddy’s safe house bathroom; lit the candles, placed down the mask, and waited.

...

...This couldn’t be it, could it?

It couldn’t just be some weird decoration in a closed-off bathroom, like it or not, magic was real and so were demons! Something was supposed to happen! Did he screw it up? Lit the candles in the wrong order? Did he not do it at the right time? What was it?!

Oh right, he wasn’t in the studio anymore.

He wasn’t in a “whimsical” cartoon world made entirely by the machine and its ink, the ritual dedicated to whatever Buddy summoned might’ve worked back in the studio, but just like how a normal human being couldn’t take down a living park ride with soup cans, the alter where it was had been just as effective as spraying silly string in the shape of a star on the ground.

The cursed wolf let out an annoyed huff and started to slunk out of the basement, he would be cussing up a storm if he could, but he didn’t have a voice.

CRASH!

As he was halfway up the stairs, he heard a loud noise coming from the failed ritual. He turned around and saw something large flailing on the floor.

He cautiously descended back down and realized that he had indeed fucked up; the entity he had summoned had a humanoid upper half, the lower half of a fish, and more importantly was struggling to breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

The cursed mechanic tried to carry the deep sea demon bridal style as the slippery creature flailed harder and started to claw at him and bite him. No wonder the alter was set up in the bathroom, this thing needed water!

“Gad fi fynd!” Between futile gasps for breath, the creature shouted at him in a voice that he could swear was like someone taking a bunch of instruments and trying to use them to mimic human speech. “Dydw i ddim yn mynd i fod yn rhan o'ch cynlluniau, llaw dde Joey Drew!”

Tom didn’t understand a word out of the creature’s mouth aside from the name he said, nor did he think of that at this time. Desperate to keep the angry sea demon alive, when it has struggled free from his grasp, Tom seized the being by his tail and started dragging him up the stairs that way. He considered pulling him up by the hair at first but that only made his mouth closer to his hands.

The merman continued to thrash against his captor, now hissing at him like a snake and barring a mouth full of long, sharp teeth that the creature had too many of for comfort, especially now that they were stained with Tom’s ink.

But the wolf wasn’t impressed by the demon’s attempt at intimidation, he could hiss and claw all he wanted but he was not dealing with Inkwell’s refusal to help him, or having to explain to Henry why there was a dead demonic fish on the floor!

After the longest one and a half minutes of both of their lives, the fish demon was unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub, and the water was turned on. In spite of the awkward positioning, the demon squeezed himself into the end of the tub with the facet, it was an uncomfortable position, but the running water over his gills relaxed him a bit.

Both parties let out a sigh of relief as the demon waited for the tub to fill up and Tom went back into the basement to fetch a notepad, a pencil, and an english-to-welsh dictionary.

---

The latter of the three items became the hardest one to find, and by the time he did and got back to his ‘guest’ the sea demon looked like he was both anxious and bored out of his mind, his long hair pooling in the tub like a cloud and his claws still tapping away on the side of the bathtub. He was not happy to see him again per se, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to bite him again.

Helo. Tom flipped through the dictionary, found the words he was looking for, wrote them down and showed the creature. Allwch chi ddeall hyn?

The demon rolled his eyes and spoke in that voice made of instruments again, not sounding like a human being in the slightest, but it was easy for him to make out the creature’s words, almost like he listening to a song with the lyrics replaced by another instrument. Tom could already see Wally making a joke about ‘how he heard of people with musical accents before, but this one takes the cake!’.

“I can understand and speak English fluently, Thomas Conner.” He stated coldly. “There’s no need to patronize me or waste both of our time with that book.”

How do you know my name? He wrote down, And how did you know Joey?

The sea demon paused for a bit, seeming as if he was trying to predict the wolf’s reaction to his answer before saying it out loud.

“The two of you are very... infamous down there...” He folded his arms behind his back and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “For more reasons than you think.”

Why did Buddy summon you?

The demon frowned at the question. “Who’s ‘Buddy’?” He then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, the reasons why my former summoners have called me are not to be freely discussed with other people. And before you ask how he knew to summon me, he learned from his own story.”

Tom tore out the question he had and wrote a new one:

What is your name?

“Forgive me, but I am not interested in any more small talk, and I doubt you summoned me just for the sake of friendly conversation. You called me here to help you with something, haven’t you?”

Tom huffed and reluctantly nodded. Yes; Can you make me human again?

“Can I remake you from ink and magic into a being of flesh and bone?” He tapped on his fangs and smiled in a way that made the mechanic wolf’s hackles rise. “Eventually, but yes.”

His ears perked up instantly, hastily, he started scribbling down his (hopefully) final question.

Well, what are you waiting for?!

“Materials, tools, and payment.” The demon shifted in the tub to make himself more comfortable, folding his arms behind his head as if he was reclining in a hammock, his hair fanning out behind him. “As you can see, I’m not exactly in the position to fetch the former two, and you should know that nothing comes without the latter.”

What do you need?

“Just your standard sculpting tools, some time to work on the thing, your cooperation as working with living canvases other than myself can be difficult, and...” The sea demon’s chilling toothy smile resurfaced. “...Meat.”

Tom hesitated, it took him a while to get the single word onto paper.

Meat?

“Not just any meat. Raw meat, meat that’s so freshly killed that the blood’s still warm. The amount can be debated if you were unsatisfied with your human body’s height and or its weight.” He waved off before smiling again. “And unless you want to become a sentient beast, it had better be human meat. You know the old saying, right? ‘You are what you eat’? Well, it can be rather literal.”

He looked like he was biting back laughter at Tom’s horrified expression.

“Don’t give me that look, fy pup blaidd, your hands are already stained with the blood of others, it makes no difference to the eyes of heaven and hell if you start staining your teeth as well.”

NO!

“No?” The mechanic was almost infuriated by how genuinely confused the demon sounded, as if he was surprised that he’d be disgusted by suggesting cannibalism, but luckily for him, he merely shrugged off Tom’s refusal. “Suit yourself then.”

He was just about to leave the bathroom before the siren spoke again.

“But it would be such a shame if there wasn’t anything at all I could help you out with, I hate it when my time is wasted. Tell me, would you like to speak again?”

He froze there, and looked back with an eyebrow raised.

“I see that got your attention.” The merman smugly remarked. “And as it’s a much smaller job than say, completely rebuilding you as a different being altogether, it will not only be a faster job but also cost you a lot less. Why, I won’t even need any materials or tools other than your cooperation!”

I’m interested...

“Good! Now, all you need to do is come closer.”

He approached the bathtub.

“Closer... Yes, just kneel down so we’re directly face to face...” The siren crooned while looking as welcoming as an empty grave. “...This will only hurt like Hell for a little bit.”

Tom instantly regretted his action, the siren lunged at him, his arms wrapping around him and holding his own down. With his teeth and tongue, the sea demon pried the wolf’s mouth open and purged a fluid that felt like boiling oil down his throat.

With newfound vigor forged from the sheer disgust of the situation, he pried the creature off of him and flung him at the bathroom wall, coughing and sputtering out the vile fluid before confronting the sea beast who crawled back into the bathtub.

“WHAWT THE FUCK IWS YOUW PWOBWEM?”

He slapped his hands over his snout in sheer shock and embarrassment.

“...Pardon?” The sea monster was very obviously trying very hard not to laugh, and failing. “I didn’t quite get that, Tommy~.”

Tom’s cheeks were flushed gray, his fists were clenched and steam was coming out of his ears, he didn’t want to speak ever again! His new voice sounded nothing like his old one! It sounded more like a kid’s voice if the kid inhaled helium! And don’t get him started on the new speech pattern he was cursed with. He’d use the notebook, but sadly, it looked like it was destroyed by water in the struggle.

“Why did uwu duwu thiws tuwu me uwu bastawd?”

“This was unintentional, truly. But this is so much better than what I had planned!” The demon ignored the wolf’s growling as he pinched his cheek. “Awen't uwu juwst the cutest wittwe whewp!”

“Knock iwt off, uwu sea whowe!” He swatted the hand off of his face. “I wawnt my voice tuwu be nowmaw!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want now, do we?”

“But, but uwu pwomised uwu'd get me my voice bawck!”

“Now that’s just a bold-faced lie. I said I’d help you speak again, I never once said that I’d give you your old voice.”

“Okay, wisten hewe.” He reached into the bathtub and grabbed a hold of the tub stopper. “If uwu change my voice bawck, i... I'ww give uwu whatevew uwu wawnt. But if uwu down't, i'ww puww the pwug wight hewe awnd now!”

“Do it, coward.” The demon looked the wolf dead in the eyes. “I dare you.”

He didn’t even react when Tom yanked the stopper out and put it in the sink, well out of the siren’s reach.

“At least now you’re a man of your word.” The merman sighed as the water slowly drained from the tub. “Better late than never I suppose.”

He laid down in the still draining tub. At first, Tom thought this was an attempt to keep his gills wet for just a little bit longer, but then he saw the water turn black as it went down the drain and the musician said his last words to the wolf, not in a voice made out of instruments, but his own, human voice.

“See you again soon, Conner.”

“SAMMY WAWWENCE?!”

He called out in shock as he frantically reached into the now quickly draining tub. But no matter how desperately he dug his claws in there, he found nothing but water.

The remaining liquid went down the drain, leaving nothing but a few clear puddles on the tub’s floor and the now-verbal wolf alone with his thoughts.

“Oh my fucking god... Whawt am i going tuwu teww Awwison awnd Henwy?!”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #batim fife au #Thomas Conner #sammy lawrence #happy mermay #here have an angry fish demon #fanfic #mermay #uwu

[mistressofuniverses]

‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’     Process Breakdown - Part 2/2

...

It’s been a while.

It’s literally been like the better part ot a month.

I have no excuses.

(also, thanks Kristen for liking the other part which then reminded me that I hadn’t done this one.)

Anyways. This portion should be fairly straightforward.

I took a picture of the sketch under clean light, managing to avoid any shadows because it was like 6 in the morning and I didn’t want to turn on the scanner which is about 700% louder than a scanner has any right to be. A little bit of color grading and some cropping later and what I ended up with was this:

Now, I don’t know about you, but I absolutely loathe trying to do line art digitally. I hate outlining things and as an artist who’s medium is predominantly HB#2 pencil because I don’t have money (and am also not a big fan of pens, but that’s a conversation for another time), my drawings tend to be finished once I put down my pencil. I have officially scanned one drawing that was still mostly just a sketch into Sketchbook which forced me to outline things.

Since I loath outlining things and the original drawing had pretty clean lines, I decided to just run with it as my line art.

Luckily for me, Sketchbook allowed me to just multiply the layer which kept the line art and simultaneously darkened it for me.

Step 1: line art. Done.

(Except for the eyes. The eyes needed help. I had to redraw one of them entirely from scratch)

Next up, laying down flats. And thank you to all of the various speed paints that I watched on YouTube that showed me the easiest way to lay down flats.

“Obviously not the end result but I was messing around with the background colors and thought this looked cool”

[This was also the point in time when I realized that I had to color in the sleeves.]

[Reason one why you keep at least one artist friend on hand when you are working on a project]

I have somehow almost perfected shading spheres to look 3D and have a slight glow which really characterizes the crystalline or gem-like quality of them while working on various drawings that will likely never see the light of day. I do not understand any of my skills but I���ll take what I get.

Shading was a bit of a monster as it always seems to be.

Quick note: I was actively trying to shade with skin tones. After having worked on this piece for several consecutive hours. I was literally starting to lose all ability to differentiate between similar colors.

[Reason two why you keep an artist friend on hand when you are working on a project.]

[I would like to just apologize here for the bright fuchsia background. I needed a very high contrast to actually see the shading of light grey on even lighter grey.]

I was pretty busy just shading from this point forwards. Nothing too special, just lots of work.

In the end, there is never any escape from line art. Outlining must be done despite all protests to the contrary.

Here’s a fun game for all of you digital artists out there. If you want to make your life really really challenging, try working with a weirdly small number of layers. 12 is pretty difficult but you really don’t know true challenge until you’re doing the 3-layer challenge.

And by 3-layer challenge I mean that since 2014 through till about a year ago, if I wanted to do digital art on my iPad, I literally had only 3 layers I could work within.

But feel free to try limiting yourself in that way for fun if you want.

[Glowy isn’t an actual word accepted by dictionaries but that does not stop the fact that Autocorrect is obviously a Black Star]

And it is here that we reach the point that you all started with once again. The final product.

Thank you for sticking this out. In fact, because you managed to make it through this, I’m giving you a little extra.

Back when I was starting to shade, I wasn’t certain whether I should use a black or white background for The Void. I decided to submit the version that had the black menacing void as I felt if worked best. However, in making these progress pieces, I messed around with the background and created a White Void, as traditionally seen back in Season 1 a lot.

I hope you enjoy.

#process post: #It's fine. Don't worry about it. #long post #once again mostly pictures #discord murder party #DMP #murder god #fanart

[thesoundofnat]

Stained Fingertips

Tony/Steve

Summary: Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 3 058

Steve had been so focused on getting the shading just right that he didn’t even notice that he was drawing a blush onto the subject’s face until his pen stilled and he glanced up to get a proper look at Tony.

He was sitting across from him on the bed, pretending to be reading an old book they had lying around just to have something to do while Steve sketched him. The light from outside was illuminating him just right so that Steve could practically see every twitch of his mouth.

He put his notebook down. “Why are you blushing?” He’d tried to merely sound curious, but Tony’s flush deepened anyway, which was interesting.

“I’m blushing?” A brief moment of eye contact before he looked down again. “I didn’t realize.”

“Well, I know it’s not because it’s warm in here. What’s up?”

Tony exhaled loudly and put the book away. “I just started overthinking.”

“Overthinking what?”

“The whole sketching thing. You’re basically examining every inch of me and it made me flustered.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Hey.”

“Come here.” Tony did, scooting closer and letting Steve capture his lips in a kiss. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Why must you insult me today?”

“You started feeling self conscious as if there’s anything about you I don’t love.”

“It’s not that,” Tony insisted. “I just- you’re watching me so casually, entirely unaware of what your gaze does to me.”

Steve’s lips quirked. “As if drawing you isn’t a pleasure.”

Tony pointed at him. “See? A guy can’t just sit there unaffected.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Oh, so now I’m sweet? I thought I was an idiot and ridiculous.”

“You can be all three simultaneously. You usually are,” he added, laughing when Tony gaped at him.

“Excuse you,” he said, fingers finding Steve’s ribs, making him laugh for different reasons. “Rude. Disrespectful. So many more words.”

“Stop it and let me finish drawing you,” Steve said, grabbing onto Tony’s wrists. “Unless you can’t handle my gaze on you.”

“Wow. I’m never telling you anything again.”

Steve grinned. “I’m not letting go until you kiss me.”

“That’s a threat.”

“As if you don’t like it.”

Tony gave his lips a peck, which turned into a longer kiss that Steve was very smug about when they pulled away. Tony just rolled his eyes and sat back down on the other side of the bed. “Paint me like one of your french girls.”

“I’m gonna pretend as if I understood that reference.”

“You- no, you know what? We’re watching Titanic the moment you finish sketching my perfect body, and that’s a promise.”

*

Steve started drawing Tony more often after that, if only because he now knew Tony had more feelings toward the whole process than annoyance. In fact, he didn’t seem to be finding it annoying at all, despite acting like it.

“You like that I like drawing you,” Steve said one evening, in the middle of shading Tony’s lips, so perfectly curved as Tony started grinning.

“Maybe,” he said, barely moving. “It’s kind of flattering.”

Steve added the mischievous glint to sketch-Tony’s eyes, redrawing an eyebrow so that it was slightly raised. The picture of smugness, very different from Tony’s blush a few days prior.

“I know you don’t draw just anyone,” he continued, and Steve felt his own cheeks heat up. A ghost of embarrassment, even though he had no reason to be embarrassed. Tony was well aware of his feelings toward him.

“That’s true,” he said, putting the pen down momentarily to rest his hand. “But then again, lots of artists draw anything they see.”

“So?”

“So I don’t want you to believe it always means something, even though it of course means something in this case.”

“Drawing people is different though, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“What’s it for you?”

“Drawing?”

“People.”

“I- well, I don’t always ask permission, but I never draw strangers.”

“Have you drawn me without asking?”

Steve hesitated. “I have.”

“When?”

“Before, well, everything. And after.”

“Can I see?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on.”

Steve grabbed the pen again. “I barely let you see the ones I have you pose for. You think I’m gonna show you the ones I never intended for anyone to see?”

“Well, now I’m curious.”

“Curiosity kills.”

“Fair enough.”

Steve was glad he’d captured Tony’s previous expression, because now he just looked skeptical. Lips slightly pursed, the hint of a crease between his eyebrows. Eyes on the wall next to Steve.

Steve ran the tip of his pen down the chin, giving Tony a neck, shoulders, arms, stopping only when it was time to sketch his bare upper body. Tony met his gaze now, sensing Steve had something to say.

“For what it’s worth,” he started, licking his lips. “I’ve only ever drawn you without asking.”

Tony’s expression changed again, and Steve scrambled to turn the page to capture the utter joy before it was gone.

*

“Are you building a shrine?”

Steve rolled his eyes, letting them fall on Sam who was trying to peer down at his notebook. Steve barely had time to close it, but the damage had been done.

“I was just touching up a couple of drawings,” he said.

“All of Tony?”

“Well-”

“Obsessed, is what you are.”

“Or a man in love,” Nat said, suddenly in the room as well. Maybe she’d been there the entire time and Steve had gotten so used to only seeing things directly in front of him that he hadn’t noticed.

He rubbed at his neck. “Is it a crime to admire one’s partner?”

“Nah, we’re messing with you.” Sam sat down beside him, chair scraping against the kitchen floor. “But I miss the days where you drew me.”

Steve snorted. “I can still draw you.”

“But you never ask to. It’s not like I can just walk up to you and demand it, as much as those internet trolls seem to think it’s okay.”

Nat started rummaging around the fridge, and Steve wondered why he’d thought the kitchen table would be a good place to do work at.

He leaned back, pen still in one hand and his notebook under the fingertips of the other, just in case someone would get the idiotic idea of grabbing for it. He wasn’t even sure why he felt so protective of it, even when it came to Tony. Everyone knew what they would find in it. Nothing was obscene or twisted. It was just sketches, mostly of Tony, some even unfinished, but it felt so personal anyway.

Steve started tapping his fingers against the book as Nat sat down across from him with a bowl of blueberries. The afternoon light was hitting her just right, and Steve suddenly wished Tony was sitting in her seat instead. The room empty apart from them. Notebook open and pen hurrying to capture the moment.

Tony had once said that it’d be quicker to just snap a picture, but it would feel less authentic. Yes, he was a pretentious art student at heart, just like Sam had once claimed.

Steve reached out and stole a berry, popping it into his mouth before Nat could protest - not that she would.

“Careful with the juice,” was all she said. “It stains.”

“Hey, you think you could paint with the juice?” Sam asked, eyeing the bowl but not grabbing for it himself.

Steve hummed. “Maybe? It’d be harder than paint.”

“Have you experimented much with different painting methods or do you stick to pencil?”

“I’ve always stuck to pencil,” Steve said. “Didn’t really have access to anything else back in the days.”

“I’m sure Tony could order in a bunch of stuff if you wanted to try.”

“What if I’m not good at it, though? I reckon it’s different.”

“Won’t hurt to try.”

So that was how Steve ended up getting his own art studio in the Tower, located on the same floor as his and Tony’s shared room, big and bright and filled with anything you’d need if you called yourself an artist. Seriously, Steve almost felt overwhelmed just looking at it.

“You didn’t have to get me all of this,” he said, breath not entirely caught yet. “I would be fine with a tube of paint.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “As if I’ve ever done anything halfheartedly. You deserve to practice and try things out.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Also sweet and an idiot.”

“Exactly.”

But Steve kissed him with so much passion they almost undressed then and there, restraining themselves just in time.

“Don’t feel bad if you don’t end up using something,” Tony said as he walked toward the exit. “Try things out, but don’t force yourself to use something you don’t agree with.”

Steve mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

“Ha ha. Now go draw a mosaic of me, won’t you?”

Steve didn’t know where to start, or how, so he decided to grab the first thing he saw and recreate his oldest piece of Tony merely to relive his own obliviousness from back then, but he stopped himself just as he tipped a brush into watercolor. He’d ruin Tony if he did this. Better save all his Tonies to when he’d mastered the art more properly.

*

So he painted the buildings outside and the equipment inside and even brought in a bowl of fruit with an apple on top just to be a cliché. Before he knew it he’d been painting in his studio for weeks, taking breaks to go outside and socialize with coal and oil and paint coating his fingertips. Suddenly he understood why Tony would shut himself in his workshop for days. It was enthralling to have so many things to do with your hands.

When he finally asked Tony to model for him again, he decided to paint him with acrylic paint.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he said when Tony questioned him about it. “I thought it only right to use it for my grand premiere.”

“Why’s it one of your favorites?” Tony asked, sitting down on the armchair Steve had brought in for this exact reason.

“You can use it without water. The lines will look uneven, but I like the effect that creates. It almost looks like the subject is moving.”

Tony hummed. “Interesting. Do you want me in a more mobile pose?”

“Let’s just start with a normal pose and we can move to more complicated things later.”

“I have a feeling I’ll spend much time in this chair.”

Steve grabbed a smaller brush and got to work, watching Tony relax into the chair, phone in hand, thumbs constantly moving over the screen. Steve decided to exaggerate their movements once he got to Tony’s hands.

*

“That took forever,” Tony complained a couple of hours later, stretching his arms above his head. “Do I at least look good?”

Steve hadn’t included as many details as he might’ve had this been a finished pencil sketch, but he liked the simplicity of it, especially since he knew it had taken long. It was simple but not effortless.

“You always look good,” Steve replied. “Though I must say my drawings can never fully capture it.”

“Oh hush, you’re gonna make me blush. And kick your ass for being self deprecating.”

Steve showed Tony the painting, having gotten better at sharing the finished results with him. It was always fun watching him examine it, after he got over his own mental panic. Tony looked so flattered and pleased and overwhelmed all at once. He’d once confessed that he didn’t understand why Steve insisted on drawing him of all people, and Steve had to spend half a night convincing him he was lovable.

Now he watched the man he’d come to know and love so deeply watch the canvas, expression unreadable. It should’ve been worrying had Steve not seen him clutch the hem of his shirt. That was code for so-overwhelmed-he-didn’t-know-what-to-do.

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

*

They didn’t spend all their time in the art studio. As much as Steve appreciated it, it was harder to bring those things with him, so he still carried his notebook everywhere he went. You know, just in case.

That afternoon they were in Tony’s workshop, Tony elbow-deep in one of his suits. A thin stripe of oil on his cheek that Steve was currently sketching out in his notebook. He might’ve brought an armchair into his workspace purely for Tony, but Tony had always had a couch in his. He refused to tell him why when Steve asked, but Steve suspected it was to nap if he needed it.

The music in the room was low, probably mostly for Steve’s sake than Tony’s. Steve liked that Tony cared enough to build an atmosphere that Steve enjoyed. He knew Tony prefered to blast the music until his was almost deaf.

“Wait, be still for a second.”

Tony froze, wrench in hand and head craned slightly unnaturally in order to get a better look at his work. “Hurry please.”

“Sorry, I’ll be done in a moment.”

He sketched down a messy version of Tony’s hair falling in his face, having broken free of the wax he used. Beautiful, Steve thought.

“Sorry?”

And apparently said aloud too.

He cleared his throat. “You’re beautiful. You can move now.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Tony straightened, head tilted as he kept looking at Steve. “You don’t look too bad yourself, you know. If I could draw you’d be my life long subject as well.”

That was practically a proposal. Steve’s heart was suddenly much less calm.

He put the notebook and pen aside. “Come here.”

Tony looked at the suit. “Uh, kinda busy here.”

“Then I’ll come to you.”

“Steve, I-”

Steve didn’t listen. Only crossed the room and locked his lips to Tony’s.

Tony let out a surprised yelp, but used his free - and clean - hand to cradle his neck, leaning into the kiss so immediately it was probably a reflex, but the fact that he didn’t pull away was what told Steve this was real. Even though they’d been going out for a few months already, he still sometimes couldn’t believe this was his.

Maybe that was why he kept drawing him. If all this would get ripped out of his hands, at least he’d have proof it wasn’t a dream.

*

Steve found himself drawing Tony in dreams sometimes. Creating images with colors that wouldn’t go anywhere near a drawing of Tony and somehow still making them look good. He always woke to a slight disappointment it hadn’t been real, and if he ever remembered them for long enough to get to his studio he would try to recreate them. Maybe he had a problem. An obsession, as Sam had called it, but he didn’t know how to stop.

He drew other things more often now, because he was scared he’d forget how to if he didn’t. Tony was a good subject and all, but a line existed so that it wouldn’t be crossed. Steve wasn’t about to cross this line.

He was in the middle of sketching one of Tony’s abandoned projects that had somehow ended up on their bedroom floor when Tony entered, walking quickly toward him without stopping. Steve barely had time to save the notebook before Tony had pushed him down the bed, hovering above him with such hunger in his eyes that Steve forgot all about art.

“I can’t draw,” Tony said, breath hitting Steve’s face. “But I want to describe just what a piece of art you are, if you’d let me.”

Steve nodded wordlessly, his pulse quickening.

Tony drew Steve that night, using his hands and lips and words. Steve was an artist, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to return this, though try he would.

In the dark, stars twinkling outside, Tony ran his lips over Steve’s skin, describing the texture, the color, the sensation. Making Steve laugh when he called colors their “fancy names”, such as turquoise, mauve and crimson. Fingertips ghosting over his hips, arms, neck, describing curves and sweet spots and removing articles of clothing at the same time.

“I’m gonna make you see every color on the spectrum,” Tony told him, and Steve wondered how he’d ever lived without that man.

*

Tony was in the room with him when Steve finally painted another person again, sneaking glances at the canvas while Nat sat patiently in the armchair, book in lap and eyes actually taking in every word. Steve didn’t reprimand her for moving whenever she turned the page, but he did tell Tony off for crowding him occasionally.

“I just like seeing your process from the other side of the room,” he said. “It’s interesting.”

“It’s easier,” Steve replied. “Nat doesn’t complain as much.”

“Hey.”

“And I haven’t drawn her in months, so it doesn’t come as naturally. It’s good practice.”

“Ah, so taking a break from me is good for your artistic skills.”

“It’ll be good to draw you again with a fresher mind.”

“If I knew this would get me first row to your private conversations I would’ve volunteered to do this ages ago.”

Tony snorted. “He wouldn’t have let you.”

“Whatever you say, Stark.”

Tony tried to mock draw him one day, grabbing a blunt pencil and a torn out page from Steve’s notebook and pretending to be thinking hard, frowning exaggeratedly when Steve couldn’t stop laughing at the mess of a drawing he showed him.

“Excuse you, I tried my hardest.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Wow, you’re rude. Let’s see you build a robot then.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You know what, I will not stand for being insulted.”

“So sit down- hey!”

Tony tackled him onto the couch, both laughing when Tony made a poor attempt at pinning him. Steve stopped Tony’s fingers from doing more than graze against his ticklish spots, and soon they were kissing, because maybe Clint hadn’t been too off when he’d told them they were like teenagers.

“So I’m not an artist,” Tony said when they pulled apart. “But I love doing art.”

“What-”

“You’re art.”

“Oh my god, Tony.”

He was still sweet, ridiculous and an idiot, but Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony #stony fic #superhusbands fic #stony fluff #artist!steve #avengers fic #fluff #mine #nat writes #stained fingertips

[cosmosogler]

oh my god, yesterday was the wooooorst.

i left for the airport on time. the bus app said that the bus would arrive at the stop in 10 minutes (and it was a 2 minute walk away). so i had 2 hours to make a ~30 minute ride.

i missed the bus by so much that i didn’t even see it drive away from the stop before i arrived. the app had just, completely lied i guess? the rest of the day was also like that.

so i walked to the downtown station to try to catch the other bus. i also just missed that one according to the lady at the counter. she said the next downtown bus was coming in 40 minutes. so i called a taxi after fretting about it for a few minutes. the taxi driver said they’d be there in 15-20 minutes so i was like “ok.” the other route would go by in a half hour so a taxi would be faster.

the taxi took over 40 minutes to arrive. i told them never mind and got on the second bus. they said they had just pulled into the station and seemed pretty salty about it. but like... that was more than twice as long as they said they’d take.

the bus didn’t leave the station for another ten minutes. i made the wroooong choice. the bus also stopped at every single stop along the route and got stuck at some long red lights. i called my mother. i complained about it to harrison. but nothin was gonna make that bus go faster.

i missed my flight by 10 minutes.

i got put on the next flight... which was in six hours. instead of 9 or 10 pm, i’d be getting home at 3 am (my time). so i spent 6 hours bumming around the airport. i couldn’t get food when i was hungry because the person behind the counter at the snack bar didn’t show up for a very long time. i started drawing a picture on my ipad that i’d planned on working on during the flight.

the flight took off late. i had had a 20 minute layover in charlotte, so every single minute was making me more and more antsy. then when we arrived in charlotte we got put at the wrong gate so the plane sat there for more than 5 minutes before trundling away to the new gate.

the gate was at the end of one terminal. the plane i had to catch was on the other end of the airport at the end of another terminal. i sprinted!!! i had ten minutes to get there!!!

i was really bummed because you’d think since i can bike 12 miles that i could run for more than one minute before completely losing my breath and stamina. though to be fair i had not eaten and was wearing a heavy backpack and a bra that’s a little too tight. i was wheezing after a few seconds.

i actually made it? and i got my boarding pass printed at the counter with 4 minutes to spare before boarding started. i ran back to the bathroom but the line was so long i’d never make it back to the gate (the area was under construction and the nearest bathroom was more than 2 minutes away from the gate). 

it had been a few hours since i’d gotten to use the restroom, and with my gallbladder out i’ve had less... like, tolerance for waiting. that might be a “stress has destroyed my body” thing more than a gallbladder thing though.

anyway i had to fidget in my plane seat for 45 minutes while waiting for boarding to end and the takeoff and then we had to reach cruising altitude.

on the flight my ipad pencil wouldn’t connect to the ipad (airplane mode i guess?) so i couldn’t draw for the 5 hours i was sitting there. i got out smash instead since i got my 3ds fixed the other day... i got really REALLY good at hitting rest on a moving target as jigglypuff. i spent like 40 minutes doing nothing but that. the other hour was just working on general combos and taking on the computer as dedede. because i had nothing else to do and wanted to get good at it again. i made a gunner mii based off blue but the mii characters don’t really seem to have any natural combos? it’s just really hard to rack up damage with them. jumbi’s way easier to play as, at least. she’s got a sword.

my thumb started hurting from the new thumb stick (it wasn’t broken in yet i guess) so i put the game away and dozed for the rest of the flight. i made some notes for the story... just thinkin about how i wanted to work out some conversations. i mostly wanted to rest because i’d be getting home at 4 am in the morning my time, the airport is an hour away from my parents’ house. i didn’t get any sleep at all.

when i got to the airport my mom and dad were actually there? i thought they’d be picking me up at the curb. but they snuck up behind me while i was trying to get to baggage claim and mom almost pushed me down the escalator.

dad acted like everything’s normal. and i guess things are “normal” now. as in, this is the new normal, because dad has either completely ignored what he did or forgotten about it. 

he probably forgot about it. grabbing and threatening me and using real personal insults wasn’t a big deal ~to him~. grabbing me while i was laying in bed trying to sleep wasn’t a big deal ~to him~.

i pretended to sleep on the car ride home but again couldn’t manage to doze off. i wrote a few more story notes in my memo after a while because i gave up.

when i got home i went basically right to bed without even putting on pajamas and then i couldn’t sleep. wiley came to cuddle with me for a little bit. once he was satisfied that he had stepped on me enough times he left. i still couldn’t sleep.

when i finally did doze off, i woke up like two hours before my alarm was set to go off. so i guess i got like five hours of sleep maybe?

today was a blur. i spent a large fraction of it scanning in my old comic pages. i couldn’t get my sketchbook to fit in the scanner though no matter what i tried (i tried a lot of arrangements). so i’ll either figure that out later or not bother. there was a big dark line down the left side of the images. i was also a little upset that my loose pages didn’t fit in the scanner, so there’s a bit of the side clipped off every page image now. i was so broken up about how much i was losing that i didn’t even change the deviantart images. i know i shouldn’t put stuff on the edges of the page, but i didn’t really register it when i started the comic. i had started to use the whole page, and i put dialogue at the top and off to the sides to give myself more room to draw. i had to erase and redraw a lot of speech bubbles.

then i think i dicked around online for a while, uploading the images and stuff, and then i went downstairs to try to draw on the ipad and maybe finish that picture i’d started. i don’t think it’s going to be a fast picture... i don’t have the energy for shading though.

my brother came home so i said “hi” and “nice anime hair.” his hair is more than twice as long as mine, at least in the front. in the back it’s not quite that much longer. we drove out to freddy’s for dinner and both got real sick from the greasy burgers. he got it worse though because i had a veggie burger. then we got ice cream because we’re geniuses.

then we got groceries but i couldn’t find any tempeh. so tacos are gonna have to wait.

mom came home at 8 pm. she’d been out of the house working or driving to/from work for 13 hours today. she’s going to work for 6 hours tomorrow too. she told me about our my financial situation. but then she gave me a bunch of excuses to not teach me how to do taxes yet again this year.

i gotta start paying off my student loans though. can’t let that interest build up.

villanova apparently blew all my parents’ retirement funds. i didn’t realize they didn’t actually provide us with any financial aid. we couldn’t get loans because of the retirement money... all i managed to do at villanova was almost die!

while i was hanging out with my brother he made a few “jew” jokes. i pretended to be extremely confused. he asked if i’d never heard of jew jokes before and i shrugged and said not really. at least it got him off track. he didn’t tell any more.

i need to read up on how to deal with family members who get... weird about race. my brother’s already made holocaust jokes though. he’s been doing that. i get the feeling he fell in with the wrong crowd. i don’t remember what to do about it.

genevieve seems bored to tears. from the way my family describes her behavior she seems... depressed. she won’t go for walks. she doesn’t leave her bed and doesn’t come when called. she still won’t touch the stairs and she doesn’t spend much time in the backyard. 

i got her to come twice when i called today at least. i had to be really insistent and annoying but she did come over eventually and i highly praised her generosity. that seemed to cheer her up. she wagged her tail and everything. it’s so hot out... maybe tomorrow i can get her to go to the park for a few minutes. we’ll see. 

whenever i try to interact with eve my family, like, tells me how it is with her. like she’s just Like That now and there’s nothing they can do about it. “she won’t go up the stairs. she just won’t.” “she won’t come when we call her. she just looks at us. that’s all she does.” when i called eve my brother actually interrupted me to tell me yet again that she doesn’t come when called.

i got her to come.

when i try to encourage eve to check out the stairs my mother has interrupted me three times to tell me eve won’t go up the stairs. like she doesn’t want me to even try. eve is so lonely. i can tell. she’s bored and lonely. that’s why she’s started chewing up cardboard and stuff left on the floor.

i’m gonna take my work downstairs tomorrow and work in the kitchen i think. 

this evening i tried to start drawing for the comic again. i got one panel done, but IT’S SO HOT HERE. MY HANDS WERE SWEATING BEFORE I COULD EVEN PICK UP THE PENCIL. EVERYTHING GOT SO SMUDGED!!! it’s going to be a real struggle to finish two scenes this week. ten pages... i’ve got three finished already and in my drafts on the comic. so, i need to draw seven pages. i’ll work on it tomorrow if i can. these pages might suffer because of the heat though. i smudged one of the older pages before i could even get it in the scanner. i somehow got graphite on my LEFT hand, which never gets smudgy when i work... it’s always the side of my right hand since i rest it on the paper so it doesn’t shake.

my back really, really hurts. my shoulders and neck also really hurt. i tried stretching, but i didn’t really put a lot of effort into it... i always feel so, like, unable to do things here. unwilling to do things, maybe. lethargic. i didn’t get to meditate yesterday and i’m skipping it tonight because i don’t want to make noise with the guided thing. i’ve been lax about it anyway. i feel so on edge.

when i tried to have lunch at like 10:30 (? i lost track of time) this morning i was immediately very ill. so i ended up not having any food for about 27 hours, if we decide to cut out the leftovers adventure there. i didn’t try to eat again until i went out with my brother. to fast food... only good decisions, folks!!

still feeling super lethargic even though i finished a panel. i’ve got a lot of drawing to do. i hope tomorrow i feel better. on sunday i’m going to the movies with asher, i think. 

you know what i’m probably feeling so low energy because i didn’t eat for so long and also i haven’t slept well in two days. or, really, in a very long time, but especially the last two nights. i still need to talk to mom about finances for, like, hiring a study specialist... i don’t think we’re going to have the money to afford the psychiatrist my therapist recommended. she REALLY wants me to get a second opinion on my meds but i just don’t think it’s a big enough deal to warrant shelling out for full price psychiatrist appointments. that doctor doesn’t take insurance and it’s just... i know how expensive this gets. it’s already expensive enough getting even regular check ups for snoopy.

i hate living here... it’s so dirty and dusty and dilapidated. in my apartment i keep everything pretty orderly and don’t hold on to things i’m not using. or at least, i try not to. i don’t have enough space to hoard random stuff and i don’t get that attached to those things anyway. my mom won’t even throw out old food that nobody ate for the 3 years before it went bad (2 years ago). they’ve been using my room as a storage space while they paint the game room, but that project’s going super slow because they’ve been at it for months now. so now there’s just tons of crap stacked in front of my dresser (so i can’t actually get to the clothes i left here) and you can’t even get to my sister’s door. she’s in korea anyway i guess so that doesn’t matter as much.

ok anyway i’ve been writing for a while now. thanks for listening. i’ve got a lot more sore muscles than just my back and neck and shoulders. maybe i pulled something while sprinting around the airport yesterday, because breathing is a chore and my legs are just... not feelin it. i’m just trying really hard not to get sick. my mom came in my room and coughed all over me without even covering her mouth so it’s like, well, guess i don’t have any control over that either! 

high stakes, no control!!!!!!!!! just how i’m used to it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it’s 11:40 arizona time but i know my body thinks it’s way later. i’m so tired. i don’t think i’ll be able to sleep though. guess i should try anyway.

[bananashemmo]

Black Butterflies

Pairing: Y/N/Tattoo-Artist!Calum

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 1.700+

Summary: Trying to entertain a four year old can be hard at times when nothing seems to be right. But when Calum comes home and saves the day by drawing butterflies on his daughter just like real tattoos it seems to save the whole day

“No, mom you’re doing it wrong!” 

Your eyes widened in surprise when the red crayon was ripped away from your hands. Stubbornness was close to a middle name when it came to your little four year old. 

“You’re supposed to make circles, not squares!” For her age, she did in fact have strong opinions already, something you assumed she had gotten from her father. 

“But I’m trying my best. It’s just hard to satisfy your wishes, sweety.” You tried to reason with her but it was no excuse. When she was in this mood it was hard to step through. 

The living room was crowded in different kinds of paintings and drawings. There were various kinds of crayons, paint pencils and also erasers. You were having a nice day as the weather outside was nice but still too cold to experience.

The doors to the terrace were open letting in the fresh air and you were enjoying that small bit of sunlight that was spreading out from the white clouds. 

“I want it to be big! Like the ones flying outside of the garden right now!” She expressed excitedly but still with a bit of frustration in her tone.

She hated when you didn’t understand what she was trying to explain. It came with the new vocabulary she was learning every single day. You had good days and sometimes you had bad days. 

“But I think it looks exactly alike.” You explained and looked down at the paper in front of you. 

The drawing was nice according to you. Trying to draw butterflies was something you had done since you were little but they were never really that artsy. You drew the typical ones that everyone seemed to have ease with drawing. 

“No mom yours looks like a poop!” She disagreed and ran towards the terrace door.

“Look,” She exclaimed and pointed outside, “Just like the ones down by the bushes. I want them to look just exactly like those!”

You sighed softly and looked down at the paper. The effort wasn’t enough and you had barely gotten the chance to finish the butterfly before she had grabbed the pen out of your hand and ruined it completely with weird doodles. 

She was running around and making flying motions with her arms. Butterflies were one of her favorite animals so she couldn’t avoid the frustration when you weren’t doing it right.

“Here, let me try again.” You suggested and leaned over to take a piece of paper.

You knew she was moody today it wasn’t a surprise. She hadn’t been sleeping well because of the sudden change of heat. It was messing with her sleeping schedule that’s for sure.

“And I promise it will look better than the last one.” You added and unlocked your phone.

It if looked that horrible you would just try out and find a picture. It could be easier to sketch out something but she clearly didn’t understand that you weren’t much of an artist. 

“Okay.” She replied and seemed to calm down. She took a seat next to you on the carpet and carefully watched you grab a lilac color, wanting to do something simple.

It was with a shaky hand you tried your best to draw one. You knew that it wouldn’t take much to get her frustrated again and you didn’t want to deal with that right now. 

“No mom you’re doing it wrong again! I don’t like that.” 

You had barely gotten the chance to finish the drawing before the paper was ripped out of your hands. She was just as frustrated as before and teared the drawing apart.

“Honey what is making you upset it’s just a drawing?” You sighed and tried to reason with her but it was no use. 

She was stamping her foot and ran around the living room again frustrated. You normally knew how to handle this well but since you also had lack of sleep your temper was starting to boil as well.

You leaned your back against the couch and closed your eyes just for a second. It was hard coming up with activities when she was being like this, maybe she just needed a nap. 

“Hey honey.” 

It was a huge sigh of relief that came from your mouth once the front door opened. The sound of Calum’s voice was sweet music to your eyes and one ticket out of this stubborn situation. 

“Hey you...” You mumbled and leaned your chin on top of the cushion.

The faint sound of keys landing on the top of the counter was one of your favorite things ever. It meant that no matter how horrible the day had been it could only get better from now. 

You looked over your shoulder to see your daughter race right through the living room, her feet padding against the beige carpet. 

A faint hello came from the kitchen, you assumed they had collided. She had this thing where she would be running almost at the speed of light and right into Calum’s knees.

You sat and considered whether to clean this or not. Just being Calum himself seemed to distract her enough to push away everything else and it did in fact look like a big mess in the living room.

Leaning over to grab the pencils and crayons wanting to collect them into a pile Calum stepped inside with her in his arms. 

“Do we have a drawing factory going on?” He asked with wide eyes, seeing how his living room had turned into something from a camp movie. 

Leaning down to place her down to the floor you watched her run around the couch to get to you and fell down onto her bum.

“We tried out a few drawings. Doesn’t seem to be enough activity for her.” You mumbled and caressed some hair from her face that had fallen out from her ponytails. 

“What did you draw?” Calum asked interested and shrugged off his sweatshirt. 

You looked up when he was hovering right above you on the couch, a quick kiss being placed on your lips as a little hello. 

“Nothing good.” She sighed and looked down at the scattered papers. She didn’t have anything good she thought she could show to him and a frown came to his face.

“What about this one?” Calum glanced down at the paper that had been torn in half and grabbed it from the floor.

“Not acceptable.” You shrugged your shoulder and looked up at him. He could tell by your face expression that it had been a rough day and no matter what you did everything seemed to be wrong.

“Honey, what’s wrong with this? Mommy made it beautiful?” He asked but earned just you had gotten, a small groan followed by a groan.

“I don’t like it.” She shook her head, the ponytails wiggling with her. 

You fell back to the couch again with a defeated face but here again Calum seemed to save the day. At first he was trying to understand what was going on and he was being optimistic.

“You want it to be like this one?” He asked and pointed down at his sleeve. It was hard to see because of the many other tattoos surrounding the small thing but if you looked closely the butterfly was there. 

She didn’t say anything but you could tell that was she was thinking. She wanted it to be just exactly like Calum’s if not even better and that was hard to satisfy on paper.

“Come here.” He encouraged softly and she hurried to stand in front of him on the couch. 

She was having a both curious but unconvinced look on her face. You could tell that she was interested, everything Calum did seemed to inspire her. Hell, they even looked more like each other than you did. 

“Sometimes drawings have to be done differently. Sometimes papers aren’t just good enough and you gotta take it to the next level.”

She took a seat next to him on the couch and watched him slowly. He took a pen out from his pants pocket and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. 

“Calum I don’t think-,”

“Don’t worry.” He gently responded and smiled, “It’s the one I use at the shop, it’s not sensitive to the skin.”

You fell back to the couch again with a small smile. You just had to make sure it wouldn’t be something that would make her skin itchy but so far she seemed to interested she wouldn’t mind.

She watched Calum slowly use his pen on her skin. Sketching out not just one but three different kinds of butterflies. They were also mixed into a few flowers and leaves just to make it look more artistic. 

She had never been this quiet before for such a long time but she was afraid that she would ruin his art work.

It was something you could tell they were both enjoying. Calum did this for living, he loved using his talents on someone’s skin and normally it would be something to have for the rest of their lives. 

You could just imagine already how she most probably didn’t want to go to the showers because she would be afraid that it would wash away.

But that was the good thing. Calum could always redraw it. He could always do something new on her and something different every single day because his talent was endless and never seemed to stop.

He was inspired every single day and especially with the two most amazing girls in his life. 

“Is this somehow satisfying for the princess?” He asked when he was done, watching her brown eyes go wide when she saw the result.

She was completely speechless and it was worth everything. Her face showed all the emotions at once and you folded your hands together happily by the sight of her. 

“Mommy, look! Look!” She excitedly jumped down from the couch and basically attacked you to the floor.

“I’ve got tattoos like daddy!” 

You giggled softly by her reaction and took a look as she requested. She almost knocked her arm into your face but it was alright because the happy smile on her face was worth everything. 

“You sure do. Maybe someday they can turn into something real.” You explained and she looked over at Calum.

“Only if daddy will do it!” She exclaimed and pointed at him with wide eyes.

“I wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.” Calum winked and leaned back in the couch.

This was his favorite sight coming home to every single day after a long shift at the tattoo salon. 

#this is really random #so is the gif #and reaaally old #haha #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos preference #5sos preferences #5sos au #5sos aus #5sos writing #5sos writings #5sos smut #5sos smuts #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfictions #tattooartist!calum #tattooartist!5sos #father!5sos #father!calum #daddy!5sos #daddy!calum #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer preference #5 seconds of summer preferences #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines