tai-inks

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What pleases u in bed?

sleep

#{ skin deep (muse) }

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My favorite thing that’s ever happened in an art class is that this weird pen artist (who was notorious for a) drawing body horror and b) bringing bananas to class in the front pocket of his shirt) was once like “wait let me draw you” and proceeded to sketch the most fucked up charicature you’ve ever seen. He told me I had serial killer eyes and a nose that “looked too much like a nose”

#{skin deep (muse) }

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#{ skin deep (muse) }

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Me: “astrology is so dumb” Me: *reads horoscope* Me: “me as hell though”

#{ skin deep (muse) }

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#{ white noise (music) } #{ skin deep (muse) }

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#{ skin deep (muse) }

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mousey-writer‌:

Well now, there’s a scoop Ilse hadn’t heard. Though it was rather a negative take, Ilse jotted the man’s response down in her notebook. Or at least, she tried. Hopefully her handwriting would make sense once the lights came back on. If they came back on. If anything though, Ilse was much more used to writing by candlelight than anything else.

“I’m the reporter, sir, I should be asking you that. Are you saying you suspect foul play through the town? Purposeful wrong?” Ilse figured investigating further would be useful, “What sort of mood are they setting?”

“Hey, you say foul play, I say annoying prank. Halloween’s supposed to be a scary holiday, right? People tend to be afraid of darkness. That, and our government is being run by a bunch of overgrown children, so I wouldn’t be so surprised.” Tai blows away some of the graphite dust that had collected on his sheet, then turns to fully face this reporter that insisted on bothering him.

Perhaps it’s the candlelight messing with his head, but she looked rather radiant.

He turns to a fresh page in his sketchbook, facing towards her⁠—pencil in hand. “How about this: I answer your questions, you sit still for me. I haven’t done a portrait in a while.”

#{ toonsville event } #{ gumptious gumshoe (ilse dawson) } #{ show don't tell (chats) }

[tai-inks]

the-radical-hamato‌:

“Dude, I’m not panicking, and I know that, I just don’t happen to carry around candles, ” Artimesia dug her t-phone out of her bag and turned it’s flashlight on just to prove she had light, “I’m just saying that for once I’d like this city council to have a little competence. I’m ticked because there’s nothing right about any of this. I’m ticked off because no one knows what’s going on but no one is trying to get answers out of the so-called government!”

Her New Yorker accent thickened as she rambled on, she huffed and shoved the phone back in her bag. She didn’t need it at all, her eyesight had improved tremendously when she’d mutated. The problem for Artimesia wasn’t the lack of light, but the lack of answers.

“I mean, really, no one knows a thing up there! Like I said, a buncha bozos. Actuando como un montón de burro,” She muttered the last part towards the building then turned back to the guy in front of her, shaking her head softly, “They’re idiots up there. And I’m Artemisia by the way. Resident angry bird-girl.”

“You’re not wrong.” Tai can’t argue. The grumpy old man in him (despite his being only thirty-six years of age), always leans toward assuming the worst out of youngsters around him—that they’re blissfully unaware, too trusting, and incredibly naive. Perhaps he’s just projecting—he wasn’t the cleverest in his youth, though he’d hate to admit that.

“Their competence should’ve been put into question from day one," he continues. “But, to be fair, this did just happen. A failure of the electrical grid is one thing, but I feel like it might take longer to figure out why the sun’s not coming up.” Her muttering in a different tongue piques his interest. It reminds him of the Latin language, something he’s heard in his travels.

“I go by Tai. Now, when you say angry bird...you realize that the first thing that comes to my mind is the phone game, right?” He gets along fine without technology, sure. But that doesn’t mean he never indulged in it. If he were honest, he’d admit that he’s pretty ticked off about not being able to catch up on his favorite shows, or enjoy the latest update on a puzzle game he’d been hooked on. But he has a reputation to uphold, right?

#{ sleeping city } #{ avian avenger (artemisia hamato) } #{ toonsville event } #{ show don't tell (chats) }

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mousey-writer‌:

open starter

Ilse had been told that people would respect a woman working a full time job more in this era. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe this, but it had yet to be seen or proven to her eyes. She’d have to get the feel for this city before proclaiming all sexism attatched to get career choices would be washed away, but luckily it seemed the town always had something fun going on for her to ask the people about.

“Ilse Dawson,” She softly but quickly introduced herself, “May I ask you a couple questions for the newspaper?” Without waiting for a confirmation, Ilse continued, “What do you think of the Halloween celebration?”

“They’re probably going to cancel it,” Tai answers, not bothering to look up from his drawing. “Unless they’re somehow competent enough to throw a decent party without any electricity or daylight.” The lantern that sits beside his arm dims before going out completely. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of matches to relight it. He glances at the stranger before returning to his sketch. “You think they set this whole outage thing up on purpose? To set the mood for the occasion?”

#{ pending character tag } #{ toonsville event } #{ show don't tell (chats) }

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the-radical-hamato‌:

Open Starter: Sleeping City

"'Go trick or treating', they said, 'It'll be fun!' they said. Yeah, well, what fun is this?" Artimesia stood outside the dark City Hall in her full costume. Which was, upon closer inspection, just her. Her family rarely did actual costumes as Halloween seemed to be when New Yorkers bothered them even less. Although there was that one year Uncle Mikey went as a pizza slice. But that's a different story.

She'd wanted to just go and have fun tonight, maybe go on a hayride maybe get some candy and go watch a scary movie. But no. The lights had to ho out. Artimesia's first thought had been panic, the last time she'd seen something like this the Kraang had invaded again. The adventure after had left a resonating fear in her mind that she just couldnt shake.

Artimesua huffed and crossed her arms around her, she'd forgotten to bring a jacket and the sunless sky was a bitter reminder. She switched her thoughts back to the reason she was even outside. She turned to someone next to her and gestured at the building, "Any thoughts on this? Personally I'm pretty ticked. It's like a buncha clowns are working up there."

It was as if Tai had the upper hand for once. The city had plunged into darkness, but he’d never felt so light. This was his terf. A world without electricity, devoid of any sort of electric-based technology. The incessant buzzing had ceased, and he never thought he’d ever hear true silence like this again. It felt like home.

So, of course, his initial response to the stranger’s question had to be laughter.

“Candles exist, y’know,” he points out, gesturing to the lantern he’d been carrying around with him since the lights went out. “Electrical power has only been used in this world for what? A mere hundred years or so? And yet human civilization has existed for thousands, if not more. I’m sure we’ll live.”

#{ sleeping city } #{ pending character tag } #{ toonsville event } #{ show don't tell (chats) }

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#{ reflection }

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Tatuaje de una espiral dorada que incluye un nautilo, de estilo sketch y situado en el interior del antebrazo. Tattoo artist: Fabio Mauro

#{ skin deep (muse) } #{ living canvas (tattooistry) }

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Here is my 2D animation of a basic walk cycle of Shan Yu. It’s blinking, I’ll do better next time.

#{ nongenetic predisposition (shan yu) }

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Aesthetic demiro and demiace flags! Keep it up, demis! Ya’ll are great.

Sources: Fog–Puget Sound Energy, Vines–Broken-Glass-Wish on DeviantArt, White flower–Artecco

#{ skin deep (muse) }

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#{ white noise (music) }

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numbuh340‌:

Open Starter:

Operation: H.O.M.E.W.O.R.K.

Ryouichi Jun Sanban-Beatle was not a quitter. Not even in the most tough life-threatening situations he'd ever faced. Ry had seen the many evils of his world, dentists, teachers, Father, and the worst of all of them...homework.

Of course homework was just a sub-category off teachers, but that was a technicality.

Ryouichi was sitting on a picnic bench in some park away from the person he'd been put to live with. Some adult who just thought they knew what was best for him when they clearly did not. Only six people knew that, and that was classified information!

Ry huffed, thinking over how his life had got flipped and turned upside down so quickly to the point where he was actually sitting there doing a history report. For an actual class. He knew he couldn't actually write about what really happened during the American revolution, they had all been brainwashed to forget about the valuable help the KND had offered to the war! So instead he sat there stewing in his thoughts with his papers and books spread all over the table.

He was even about to begin writing when some else sat down at the same bench. Ry would have ignored them but talking (even if he really didn't want to) was better than this, "Uh...yo. I'm kinda working here. Can I help ya?"

He hadn’t noticed the kid next to him until he started to speak. Truthfully, he only sat down on this particular bench because it was the ideal spot for gesture drawing. This area seemed to have the highest amount of foot-traffic and it would be excellent speed-drawing practice for him. He’d seen some street artists work at incredible speeds, and he knew he’d need much more practice with such techniques if he wishes to compete.

Tai would’ve stated as such, but the kid’s tone is rude and he’s not in the mood for it. So, instead, “What, you own this bench, kid? You carve your name on it? Last I checked, everything in this park is public property, ‘yo’.”

#{ operation: h.o.m.e.w.o.r.k. } #{ pending character tag } #{ show don't tell (chats) }

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althea-logan‌:

OPEN //

Althea was leaving her apartment building when she tripped over her own feet.

“Oh, jeez,” she muttered to herself as her portable coffee cup fell from her hand, spilling her iced latte all over the asphalt. Her bag had kept her laptop and book safe, but her pens and pencils, her snacks and calculator and planner, everything had fallen out onto the ground. If Ali had been back home, she would have simply utilized some of that dark energy from her mom to put it all back in the bag gracefully. But she wasn’t going to use her powers here. Not in the open, and not while she didn’t know what she was doing here.

Ali didn’t realize someone was right there the entire time until she looked up and noticed them. “Oh… oh jeez, I’m sorry. Clutzy.”

She took a deep breath and looked around, trying to locate the last thing she’d dropped when she’d tripped on her way out. “I’m sorry, have you seen my keys? I was just going to the coffee shop…”

Some of the iced coffee splatter had bounced off of the asphalt and had managed to land on Tai’s open sketch book—on his current piece. It wasn’t a huge splash, just a few drops, but it was enough to anger the artist.

“You better be sorry!” he rebukes her, setting the sketchbook down beside him and standing himself up to properly confront her. “I’ve been working on that piece for hours, and no—I don’t know where your stupid keys are, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” Many may consider his behavior petty, perhaps even childish—after all, the two drops hadn’t fallen onto any part of the drawing that couldn’t be worked around—but he’s assured himself that he’s justified in his rage.

#{ pending character tag } #{ show don't tell (chats) } #//I apologize on Tai's behalf ^^;