#futuresoon draws art

[futuresoon]

soulglad song to bitter step

i am not an animator but i thought it would be fun to draw this and it was so maybe i will draw more

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

God of Cowboys and Fools - Chapter Three

“If not for me, they’d have found you,” I say, “and you’d have had no fucking warning. You owe me, Arthur Lester.”

It hit home. Look at that. “I…” he says, pale, swaying just a little on his feet. “Fuck,” he adds. “What do you want in return?”

I’ve got him. He knows it. I know it. It’s in his face, in the way his hands clench at his sides.

Well done, oh King, says the voice, sounding pleased for the first time in fucking ages. What you’ve done here is trigger a life-debt. Those who search for this man would kill him; your forewarning saved his life, and therefore, he owes you his.

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup event! Art by @futuresoon.

>>> READ ON AO3 OR BELOW <<<

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Chapter Three

He does that for a while. Drinks, coughs, breathes like a bellows, stares at absolutely nothing. Then he does it again.

I think he’s bespelled that flask. It should’ve been long empty by now. “Fuck me,” he says, and his crisp accent has slurred just a little.

I know that wasn’t literal. I do know that. I can’t seem to help myself. “Untie me and I’ll be happy to try.”

He turns as if he’s forgotten I’m here. “You could sense me,” he says. “That means the others will, too. Fuck. Fuck. How in fuck did you know where I am?”

“I told you. I don’t know.”

He sighs. “I don’t know if I can help you. I need to go. If you can find me, others can. I need to go.”

And I suddenly understand he’s handed me a weapon.

It’s something instinctive to me. He doesn’t know he did it. I don’t even know how I know he did, but I do know what he just told me revealed a vulnerability… so I go for it. “You owe me.”

“What?” he says, startling.

“If not for me, they’d have found you,” I say, “and you’d have had no fucking warning. You owe me, Arthur Lester.”

It hit home. Look at that. “I…” he says, pale, swaying just a little on his feet. “Fuck,” he adds. “What do you want in return?”

I’ve got him. He knows it. I know it. It’s in his face, in the way his hands clench at his sides.

Well done, oh King, says the voice, sounding pleased for the first time in fucking ages. What you’ve done here is trigger a life-debt. Those who search for this man would kill him; your forewarning saved his life, and therefore, he owes you his.

Oh, I like this. I like this owing.

Only when you’re the one owed, I assure you, says the voice.

Yeah. Probably.

I strain again. “Untie me and take me with you. I won’t hurt you. I have no desire to harm you—your survival is my survival, so I will fight for you and with you. I can even draw off enemy fire. Untie me, and take me with you.”

“Fine,” says Arthur. “So it is done, and my debt repaid.” He waves his hand, and the knots undo themselves.

I groan as I sit up. Bodies are so stupid; who thought it was a good idea to make them ache when circulation gets cut off?

Arthur Lester backs away from me, frowning as he looks me up and down.

“I won’t betray you,” I say.

“I forgot how big you are,” he says.

I look down at myself. Am I strange to look at? Too big? “I put it together as well as I could,” I say, because it’s important to me he understands. “It wasn’t enough to just be alive. I needed to be strong.”

Something in his face is so damn sad. “So do we all, god-piece.”

“Don’t call me god-piece.” His face makes my heart feel ways again. “I… you should call me…”

A little humor puts sparkle back in his eyes, and one side of his mouth quirks. “Yes?”

I look around the room.

Crates. Jars in crates, packed with straw. Weird things—specially polished sticks, long and short, clearly for something though I can’t quite figure what. A lot of books I can’t quite make out, but there is one directly under a torch that I can see:

DESCRIPTION AND USE OF A THERMOMETER FOR MEASURING THE HIGHER DEGREES OF HEAT FROM A RED HEAT UP TO THE STRONGEST THAT VESSELS MADE OF CLAY CAN SUPPORT. BY JOSIAH WEDGWOOD, F. R. S. AND POTTER TO HER MAJESTY.

That sounds pretty neat. “Josiah Wedgwood,” I say.

Arthur Lester busts out laughing.

“What?” I demand, feeling weird, feeling pinchy.

“No,” he says. “Just no. I knew him, and he was an ass. Here.” He reaches behind him, picks up a raggedy piece of paper, and hands it to me. “Pick one.”

Pick one?

THIRD NIGHT AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN, it says. This prefent TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 1784, Will be performed a NEW COMIC OPERA, called ROBIN HOOD; Or SHERWOOD FOREST. With NEW MUSIC, SCENES, and DRESSES.

Well, that sounds really fun. “What is this?”

“Playbill,” says Arthur Lester. “It was a lovely performance. Old English folktales of the heroic outlaw Robin Hood and his Merry Men, Friar Tuck, Alan-a-Dale, Little John—”

“Little John,” I say at once. “Because I’m not little.” And my face feels weirdly hot, though I know it’s a good idea, because saying it is silly.

Arthur Lester looks amazed. “That’s why they called him Little. He was huge. Was that on purpose?”

“Oh.” Well, good for me! “No. It just felt like the right idea.” I beam at him, stupid human face stretching. “I did well, didn’t I?”

He stares at me.

“What?”

“Yes,” he finally says, and his tone has changed. He’s still slurring a bit, but he’s gentle now. “You did well. Come on, then, Little John. Let’s get out of here.”

[chapter four] [masterpost]

[futuresoon]

i watched a really good animatic of the beetlejuice musical and lost control of my life

[futuresoon]

how bout that prosthetic legs theory

[futuresoon]

gonna ignore how the hand is not coming out well and instead choose to focus on feeling proud that for like the first time ever i've managed to draw a face that looks believably over 35

[futuresoon]

this face and hair took me a fucking hour so everyone has to look at it

[futuresoon]

between other fanart and the animatic i have drawn arthur a Normal Amount Of Times and yet. and yet. every time. i get almost done, sometimes to the point of coloring, sometimes after i've goddamn posted it, before going WAIT, EAR or FINGER!!! FINGER AGAIN!!!

[futuresoon]

partners

[futuresoon]

we make amends

[futuresoon]

finally i have reached the stage where i make my own food

based on this image which has anatomy that is very normal and easy to trace when the lefthand character is wearing pants