#some sketchin before bed~

[holyantenna]

[lyriumsings]

ipad didn’t charge while i was cooking after i already did my warm up so i’m annoyed but also my warm up still looks cute

[reedraws]

just some sketchin’ before bed

❃❀✿ Commissions / Ko-Fi / Instagram ✿❀❃

[yeenybeanies]

A Little Tipsy

i was semi-productive, so i’m rewarding myself with self-indulgent nonsense. shoutout to the anons that suggested drunk!devin. not a whole lot of shenanigans, but it's still nice :>

arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc )

1436 words

language & alcohol warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! 

Borrowing is tough. Being a borrower and having to borrow is tough. Borrowers, of course, know this, and anyone lucky enough to know a borrower knows this. Being only a few inches tall comes with a countless many risks. Danger is everywhere; nearly everything is a threat.

Naturally, bearing all of that in mind, it would be completely asinine for a borrower to partake in certain human pleasures, such as gin or whiskey or ( the debatable pleasure ) moonshine. With intoxication comes lowered alertness and reaction time and coordination––all of which can be fatal to a wandering borrower. While it’s not typically a spoken rule that borrowers shouldn’t get drunk, that they should avoid the liquors and beers and wines humans so enjoy, it’s common sense.

And it is common sense. Devin has that common sense. They understand the logic. They really do.

But goddamn, everyone has moments of weakness. Even the most sensible of borrowers break sometimes. Well––Devin wouldn’t say they’ve broken; they’d say they’ve just . . . cracked a little. Temporarily. They’d say they deserve this little pleasure, even if it tastes awful. What’s a couple of drops from a toppled bottle of moonshine going to do? Who’s going to miss it?

Hindsight is sure to have a few words with Devin later, but, right now, they can’t stop giggling. It’s loud, too––loud enough for Arthur to hear them from under the wagon next to his bed. The gunslinger sits up, brows furrowed, and peeks through the wheel spokes. He knows the voice, of course, but he’s never heard them so . . . bubbly.

“ Devin . . .? ”  Worry pricks his mind as he scans for the borrower. This is highly unusual behavior; Devin is not the kind to be noisy––especially not in the camp!  “ Devin, what’re you doin’? Where’re you at? ” 

“ ‘m over here, ”  comes the tiny voice. Devin steps out from behind a crate, wobbly, still giggling. They grin up at him, and Arthur’s finds himself a little taken aback. He’s seen this plenty of times before in many a man and woman, in himself, but never in Devin.

The borrower’s drunk. They’re either drunk, or under some other form of intoxication. Arthur closes his journal with his pencil holding place for the drawing he’d been working on, and leans over, arm and hand through the spokes toward his friend. They lift one tiny boot, looking almost like they intend to step towards him, but their balance isn’t what it normally is, and they fall backwards, just out of Arthur’s reach. He curses a little under his breath and tries to push his shoulder more through the gap.

“ C’mon now, Devin. Work with me here. ”  He tightens his jaw, face pressed against the wheel, but he can only manage to graze one of Devin’s boots with his middle finger. A few seconds more of scrabbling, and Arthur’s ready to try this from a different angle when he feels a pair of tiny hands hook onto the tip of his finger. That finger quickly flexes, pulling Devin up and close enough for his hand to gently wrap around them. Ever careful, Arthur lifts them from the ground and brings them to eye level. They’re still giggling. His heart aches with how sweet a sound it is.

“ Now just what did you get into? ”  Fingers loosen a little with the borrower’s squirming, just enough for them to get their arms free, but not enough for them to wriggle out of his hold.

“ Arthur! ”  They yell, and Arthur flinches, eyes wide. Devin stretches their arms out towards his face, their hands beckoning him.  “ Come here. ”

“ I’m right here, Miss Dev––– ”

“ Closer, damn you! ”  They beckon again, and Arthur is at a loss. He hesitates for a moment, then slowly brings the little being nearer to his face––close enough for him to catch a whiff of the alcohol on them.

“ Christ, Miss Devin, what’d you get into? Is that whiskey? ”  Nose tipped up just a little, Arthur gives the borrower a sniff. They take an opportunity in the same moment, though, to freeze him right in his tracks. First they rest a hand on his lower lip, feeling across the ridged, sensitive skin; then they press their own lips to his upper lip. Arthur’s breath catches. He dares not move.

It’s got to be moonshine.

“ Mkay. ”  They pat his chin after a few seconds, and he pulls them away from his face, looking more surprised and bewildered than ever. Oh, and he’s blushing. Of course, Devin is a little flushed in the face themself. They can’t suppress their giggles.  “ Sorry, I––I dunno. First time I’ve, um, done anything like that. First time I’ve had moonshine too. ”

There it is. Moonshine.

Arthur’s fingers uncurl, and he brings his other hand up to cup securely under Devin. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, despite his lingering fluster. He can’t smile, though! It quickly comes back to him that Devin is drunk.  “ Miss Devin, I seem to recall you explicitly sayin’ that it’d be detrimental to your well-bein’ if you were to lose yourself like this. ”  It’s not as harsh a scolding as perhaps he ought to give; it’s awfully hard to reprimand them when they’re so damn . . . cute. ( And they’re always cute, damn them. )

“ Don’t be mean to me, Arthur! ”  God! Bless their heart. Arthur tightens his lips and sighs through his nose.  “ I’ve . . . had a rough week. And I didn’t know it’d hit so fast. ”  The giggles die down with Devin looking away, now quite somber in expression. So quick is the change that it almost gives Arthur whiplash.

“ Hey now . . .. Stuff’s bound to hit fast when ya weigh about as much as a ball a’ cotton. ”  The gunslinger shifts his position, back now leaning against the wagon while he rests his hands on his stomach.  “ Wanna tell me what’s got you so worked up to drinkin’? ” 

“ Not really. I’m just . . .. ”  They trail off and wipe their eyes. For a moment, Arthur thinks he can see a minuscule tear being brushed away, but he can’t be sure. There’s nothing of the sort when Devin looks back up at him, giving him a reassuring smile.  “ I’ll be okay. Always am. Just had to . . . loosen up a bit. ” 

Mission accomplished.

A thumb lightly brushes the borrower’s shoulder. They respond in kind with their hand to the pad, fingers rubbing over the rough whorls. Arthur doesn’t care much for the answer he got, but he isn’t going to push. If Devin wants to tell him, they will when they’re ready. In the meantime, since they’re with him now, they can safely enjoy their buzz.

“ Were you drawing? ”

“ Hm? ”  Arthur glances down at the set-aside journal, page still kept with his pencil.  “ Yeah. Writin’ down some thoughts, sketchin’ some things . . .. ”  And again his cheeks warm.

“ Can I see? ” 

Warmer still. Arthur clears his throat. With the hand not supporting Devin, he takes the journal and flips it open to the saved page, holding it to where they can see. It’s a little embarrassing to him. Their silence isn’t helping much either. There are a few scribbles across the span, among them a detailed sketch of Devin themself. Arthur’s drawn them smiling, relaxed and sitting on the edge of something with one leg hanging down. It’s really a nice drawing.

“ That’s . . . me? ”  They blink, turning back around to look up at Arthur.

“ Yep . . . yeah. ”  He can’t bring himself to meet their eyes. It’s not uncommon for Arthur to draw people in camp, or people he meets, but Devin isn’t some normal person. The time they spend together feels special, intimate. Arthur hadn’t ever asked if it would be okay for him to draw them. Someone else might see his journal and see those drawings ( not that he couldn’t just say he had a bit of imaginative inspiration ). He’s about to backpedal, maybe offer to tear out any drawings of them, but they interrupt him before he can speak again.

“ Do you have any more? ”  Ah, they’re . . . blushing again. It seems they both have an uncanny ability to make each other red in the face. Arthur can’t help but smile as his fingers curl around them just a little bit more. They might be drunk, and that might be unwise, unsafe; it might warrant a scolding later on, once they’ve sobered up ( if the subsequent hangover isn’t going to be punishment enough ), but at least they’re here with him, where he can protect and watch over them. Damn. They sure wormed their way right into Arthur’s heart, softening the stone-cold gunslinger right up.

“ Sure I do. Here, I’ll let’cha see. ”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

writing about arthur as a father?

I’ve written about Arthur finding out you’re pregnant so this is kind of like the second part but it can stand alone as well. Also, we’re gonna pretend the end of the game never happened and you and Arthur are living out on a ranch together

You woke to the birds chirping and the sun shining through the window. You hadn’t been able to sleep through the night this way since the baby had been born…

The baby!

You sat up quickly and realized Arthur wasn’t in bed with you. The hand built crib was empty as well and you automatically began to panic. Arthur probably had the baby, but you couldn’t help but feel the way you did.

After looking throughout the house to no avail, you headed outside. They were out front so you walked around to the back of the house to find just who you were looking for. You smiled and were about to call out when you heard Arthur talking quietly to the little bundle in his large arms.

You moved closer quietly and listened to what he was telling the baby.

“…up before the sun like me.” The baby cooed at him and he beamed as the sun shined on his face. “We can watch all the sun rises you want. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

As you moved closer, you realized his journal was open on his lap. He had been drawing or writing and holding the baby at the same time.

“I’m gonna write every moment with you right in here. I ain’t gonna miss a thing. I did the same thing with your mama…still do. I even got her sleepin’ but don’t tell her that,” he whispered.

Your eyes filled with happy tears and you covered your mouth to stifle a giggle. The baby babbled some more and Arthur talked to him as if he was telling him something.

“What’s that? You see somethin’?” The baby’s little hand appeared to gesture towards something and Arthur followed with his eyes. “Would you look at that!” he exclaimed quietly. “Now, that there’s a buck.”

What were the chances of that? Now that there were ranches being built here and there, most deer tended to stay in the forest, but here one was. They had always seemed to be drawn to Arthur for some reason.

Arthur watched silently for a moment and the baby somehow stayed quiet as if he knew he had to be. “One of my favorite animals,” Arthur murmured. “They’re majestic but real timid. Like to keep to themselves.” You wouldn’t exactly describe them as timid but he had his own way of explaining things. He sketched for a moment, singing and humming quietly, as the baby stayed completely quietly.

“There we go.” He closed the journal and sat back in the chair sighing contentedly while looking down at his baby boy. He began to fuss a bit and Arthur knew what that meant. “You hungry, huh? Let’s get back to your mama before she starts worryin’ about the both of us.” He stood slowly and turned only to find you standing there.

“Mornin’ boys,” you said quietly.

“How long you been there?” Arthur asked, rocking the baby gently.

“Long enough to know that you been sketchin’ me while I been sleepin’.” You smiled and he smiled back then looked down.

“It appears your mother has been eavesdroppin’.” You walked over and looked at your little bundle of joy. When you reached out to take him, Arthur pulled away slightly. “I got him.”

“Uh oh…lil Arthur has you wrapped around his teeny tiny finger already.”

“’Course he does. Stole my heart just like you. I don’t understand why we had to name him Arthur too. He deserves a better name.” He walked beside you and into the house he had built himself.

“Arthur is the best name,” you said.

“Maybe I’ll start callin’ him somethin’ else. You know how I call you ‘sugar’ and ‘sweetheart’…maybe I’ll call him Buck.” At that, the baby cooed happily even as you took him from his daddy’s arms to feed him. “See? He likes it.”

“You’re gonna call our son Buck? Like the animal?” You sat down in your chair and unbuttoned your dress.

“Ain’t like I’m calling him ‘horse’ or somethin’,” he defended.

“Fine. I guess Buck is kinda cute.”

Arthur watched you two in awe for a moment, listening to you hum. He walked over to the table and sat down, opening his journal. He wrote about how much he loved the both of you, how you both changed his life for the better. He was sure he’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.

“What’re you doin’ over there?” you asked.

“Writin'…” He would add a sketch later. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the way the sun made you glow.

“This is one hungry boy. Just like his daddy.” You took the baby from your breast and Arthur took him from you so you could button your dress. “Speakin’ of hungry, I should make us somethin’ to eat.”

“I’lI do that,” Arthur said giving little Arthur back to you. “I’lI do anything for you…the both of you.”

“You hear that, Buck? Ain’t your daddy one of the best men there is? You’re a lucky lil fella.” You kissed his tiny little face then watched as Arthur walked to the kitchen. “And I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

[venice-bitch-xo]

Thanks for tagging me @rammknot 🖤

(I‘m trying to catch up with everything I‘ve been tagged in btw, but I‘m very busy rn, sry guys 🙏🏻)

Rules: Write the first 10 songs that come up on shuffle (no skipping) and quote your favorite lyrics from each song, then tag 10 people.

1.The Rolling Stones - Jumping Jack Flash

I was drowned, I was washed up and left for dead

I fell down to my feet and I saw they bled

I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread

I was crowned with a spike right through my head

2.Van Halen - Ain’t Talkin‘ Bout Love

Ain't talkin' 'bout love

My love is rotten to the core

Ain't gonna talk about love

Just like I told you before!

3.Hole - Doll Parts

I want to be the girl with the most cake

I love him so much it just turns to hate

I fake it so real, I am beyond fake

And someday, you will ache like I ache

4.The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up

You make a grown man cry

Ride like the wind, at double speed

I'll take you places that you've never, never seen

5.Guns N‘ Roses - You Could Be Mine

You've gone sketchin' too many times

Why don't ya give it a rest

Must you find

Another reason to cry

6.John Lennon - Imagine (the whole song has great lyrics tho)

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

7.Mötley Crüe - Ten Seconds To Love

You feel so good

Do you want some more

I got one more shot

Before I'm in the door

Ten seconds to love

Pull my trigger

My guns loaded with your love

8.Billy Idol - White Wedding

There is nothin' fair in this world

There is nothin' safe in this world

And there's nothin' sure in this world

And there's nothin' pure in this world

Look for something left in this world

9.Lord Huron - The Night We Met

Take me back to the night we met

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

10.Sneaker Pimps - Half Life

Half light breaks with nothing wrong

Just a corner of my bed where you don't belong

It's kind of you to notice no one's dying

You had your last laugh almost crying

So I‘ll tag @gottlostill @the-astonishing @tills-doughnut @sturmxundxdrang @deine-neue-welt @daveslutstaine @sheonlycaresaboutbands @asylumsammet if they wanna do this 🖤

[shipburner]

For the past week (or perceived week, she had only her watch to go by), Iris Henson had been using the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ as a base of operations. The room was easily refindable, the food was edible, the beds were safe, and the staff wasn't inimical to human life.

Iris just wished that it wasn't so aggressively Texan.

Her partner, Stheno, lacked the cultural context, and treated it as just another one of the Memory Palace's cavalcade of oddities. And to be fair, it was plenty odd, since none of the animal or plant life implied by the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ was native to Texas, or, in most cases, Earth. But the name – the intent of the food – the overall aesthetics – made Iris cringe harder than anything she'd seen yet.

To be fair, it wasn't all bad – the most requested jukebox tune was a passionate ballad of a truck's love for his man by a singer with a voice like a glass guitar, followed by a lot of mooing that allegedly translated to a song about rustlers having stolen all the singer's trucks. The staff appeared to understand human gender better than most humans did, and the Daisy-Dukes-and-close-tied-flannel uniform showed off a full spectrum of cheesecake, beefcake, cheeseburger, yeast block, singing mouth, and chassis. In fact, Iris couldn't remember ever having heard a mean word said in the place.

The biggest problem, flagrant Texaninity aside, was the floor show.

Stheno held a clear plastic umbrella in two arms, sporadically wiped it clean in a third, and held Iris' chocolate mousse behind them in a fourth, shielding Iris and her sketchpad from the spurts of blood and gore as the showpeople tore each other to bits. Iris was busy recording the anatomy of the most human-approximant staff members – glass skeletons intricately whorled to support their hydraulic muscles, nine cervical vertebrate clearly revealed whenever one got their skull pulled out, four stomachs in a familiarly ruminant arrangement … "Ooh!" remarked Stheno as something bounced off the umbrella; Iris shot out another arm and grabbed it before it fell to the sawdust floor. She turned it around and examined it. "Their hearts are wasps' nests? Huh. Not what I was expecting." "Just wood pulp," Stheno corrected, pulling it down to Iris' chest so she could see. "I'll be damned if wasps were involved in this." "Hm. Ooh, Nutella!" A hazelnut eye had ricocheted off a neighboring table and landed in the glass, shattering into fragments as it hit the adamantine pole of the tiny fancy umbrella. Iris handed her sketchpad to Stheno and stirred the fragments into her dessert, spooning it into her mouth. "I don't know how you have the stomach to eat this." "Like you know what it's like to have a stomach, Stheno." "Get fucked."

"YEEEEEEEE-ALLLLLLLL-RIIIIIIIIGHT, PARDNERS!" blared the sound system. "THAT'S A DE-CI-SIVE – AN' IN-CI-SIVE – WIN FOR MX. OPHELTEK! LET'S GIVE EM ALL A BIIIIIIIIG HAND! OOPS, LOOKS LIKE E'S ALREADY GOT ONE, AHAHAHAHA!" Mx. Opheltek held up the severed hoof-hand of eir last opponent over eir head. "WE'LL BE BACK AFTER THE BREAK! GET UP, GET ANOTHER DRINK, GO POWDER YOUR –" the last word sounded like "NOSE!", "MUZZLE!", and "GRILLE!" layered on top of each other. Stheno folded the umbrella gingerly as Iris got up to head over to the bar. "Jes' water fer the li'l misses, 'sright?" squawked the bartender. They were perhaps the least aesthetically consistent person in the place, being a swarm of parakeets inhabiting an articulated wire cage that Iris thought looked a little like Jimmy Buffett. "Mhm." Iris nodded, rubbing under her glasses. It had been a long day, especially when they'd had to brachiate through the ribcage of a Spearmint Hound carrying an unconscious lumberjack. Stheno squeezed her hand supportively and accepted the drink. "Heeeeeeeey y'all!" There was a heavy thump as someone slid onto the bar next to Iris, along with the squishy sound of body parts pushing themselves back together. "Whoof, I got splattered out there! Top me up, thank y'kindly …" A quiet snick noise accompanied the retraction of six glass claws as their owner held out a glass skull to be topped up with bloodwine. Iris turned to see a showgirl sitting on the bar, tall, tan, young, handsome -- Iris quelled the rising strains of "Girl from Ipanema" along with some unhelpful gay thoughts. The woman's hazelnut eyes took in the mutualistic partnership, flicking between meeting Iris' gaze and Stheno's. "Hey, how y'all doin'?" she said. "Saw the host here doin' some sketchin'; we puttin' on a good enough show y'wanna capture it?" She downed the bloodwine and wiped her lips, which Iris could now see were just lipstick painted around her mouth. Iris swallowed, voice suddenly ragged. "More … scientific interest. We're not … not from around here." "Ooh, you a bio nerd? I'm psych, myself. Workin' this job t' put myself through college." She took another long gulp and held out her hand. Iris shook it cautiously; Stheno circled a arm around them. "Annie-Mae, pardner; what're y'all's monikers?" Annie-Mae probably didn't notice the bit of Iris that died inside when Iris put together what her name sounded like. "Iris Henson." "Stheno." Iris reflected belatedly on the lack of differentiation between their voices -- clear enough to her and Stheno, but since they both had to use Iris' vocal chords, she wondered if Annie-Mae could tell who was which. "Nice t'meetcha! Am I gettin' y'all's grammar right?" Iris looked down at Stheno, who shrugged a pair of arms; Iris said, "… No, we think you've gotten the right take on our partnership." "Sweet! So what brings y'all around here?" "Stumbled through the wrong hole in space, both of us," said Stheno. "Now we're both stuck on this crazy-train of a castle." "Whoof! Sorry t' hear that, but y'seem like y'all're enjoyin' the show here." "I am," said Iris. "More … energetic than I'm used to, but I am interested." "Personally, I'm disgusted," said Stheno. "Well, ne gustibus te disputandum'n'all that!" Annie-Mae kicked a leg high in the air, which probably meant something like nonchalance in whatever body language her species had, but which caused Iris to suddenly become very interested in her water. "Y'all hangin' around here for the night?" "Think so, why?" said Iris. "Wonderin' if we can continue this conversation or if I'm keepin' y'all! Y'all're becomin' a regular; figure it's worth meetin' y'all, proper-like." She slithered down off the bar onto a stool besides Iris, resting her angular chin in her broad hands. "You two an item?" she asked, suddenly, voice sugary. Stheno's arms coiled, half under her own power and half under Iris', who stammered, "We're … uh …" "As romantically entangled as two people this physically entangled have to be, I guess," filled in Stheno. "We're a … package deal, at any rate." "Is this a deal y'all're offering?" Annie-Mae licked one of her eyes, grin glassy. Iris' throat stalled for several seconds.

Annie-Mae recoiled quickly, face falling. "Sorry, I can never judge how fast is too fast with visitants. I made y'all uncomfortable an' that ain't the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ way." Iris shrugged. "I think we're both filing it under cultural relativity, and I gotta say -- the 'Lone Star way' where I come from is a lot less courteous than it is here." "I ain't rightly sure if I should feel good about that." Stheno rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you'll need a lot more of that bloodwine if we're discussing Iris' homeworld. Or mine, really, but we already went through the section of the castle that's got my cultural baggage attached. All the evil in this place is dramatic. Overt." Annie-Mae hung her head. "I ain't no damn good with y'all plausibly evolved folks." Iris patted her shoulder. "Better than we are, ma'am." Annie-Mae laughed. Well, let loose a horrifying screech, but Iris had heard enough of her species laugh before. She took another swig of her bloodwine. "So! How's bio life?" "Art life, actually," said Iris. "Anatomy studies, y'know? I mean. I hope it's art life. I don't know how 'getting sucked into a memed-up Borges novel gone metastatic' is gonna affect my major." "I'm just a tech," said Stheno. "Biological, but I went into trade." "Oh, ain't that jus' a zmood. Time's a fluid; y' should get back fine, if I remember anythin' from physics when I was a scrap." "Thanks, that's … comforting." "May I offer a restrained yet supportive 'yeehaw'?" "You may not," said Stheno, the joke clear enough in her tone, and bumped Annie-Mae's proferred fist. "Yee haw!" Annie-Mae said, the bisection of the word groaningly obvious to Iris' ears. "Thanks," said Iris, "I hate it." Annie-Mae sprayed bloodwine out of her mouth, Stheno opening the umbrella just in time to deflect it humorously. Iris couldn't help laughing too as Annie-Mae contorted, dislocating several joints with the force of her screeches. "Your – your deliv'ry – ho-leee fuck, Iris – hoooooooo dawg-geez, I needed that." Two minds trying to speak in unison through one set of vocal chords tended to produce a fairly good Voice of the Legion. "What can we say, except, you're welcome …" The reference didn't appear to land with Annie-Mae, but that was par for the course; frankly, Iris (and Stheno, in the case of her references) was more surprised when one did. Annie-Mae wiped her face and leaned back. "So, how's the art and/or trade life, funnybones?"

They ended up chatting far longer than any of them had in truth expected. Iris and Stheno described their own consistently-weird homeworlds and attempts to break into the art world/museum scene, respectively, and as the subjective night wore on, pipe dreams, like unseating Mike Mearls and claiming his skull-throne, or winning the Abomination Foundry Ceremonial Brisket for excellence in species design. Annie-Mae described her inconsistently-weird homeworld – the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ and related rooms, and her efforts slowly working towards a psychology degree, and, later, her own pipe-dreams, about wandering through the mind of a long-dead god she'd found a few floors greenward and healing its hurts, or maybe just getting to rip her back off on Hellevision. The parakeethead behind the bar eventually had to shoo them upstairs, citing concerns about them turning the mops all "Sorcerer's Apprentice snuff film".

They told more stories, upstairs, of the time Iris and Stheno had faced the Xenomorph version of Billy Bob Brockali in rock-combat, of the time Annie-Mae had gotten a glimpse into what turned out to be an erotic baking show from Stheno's homeworld, and of loves lost and dreams deferred and huge old things seen when the viewers should have been asleep.

It would be nice to draw a curtain over the room, and praise darkness and creation unfinished. For indeed, Iris and Stheno had foes to face, friends to find, and, eventually, a way home, although for now we should perhaps send our well-wishes to Iris and Stheno not for homefinding but for overcoming the dour tentpole ghouls of Barthes' Necropolis, and for the assistance of the Warden Sueish, the only author who enacted his own narrative death. But before we send Iris and Stheno to go out deconstructing and to deconstruct, well-fed, well-rested, well-comforted, we have one stumbling block to place in their way.

Annie-Mae's hat hung on the bedpost atop Iris' pea coat; cowboy boots and sneakers lay jumbled together on the rug that might be called cowhide by someone who had never actually seen a cow. The room was dark, the air warm with breath and things that worked like breath. Stheno began to speak –

A squat, humanoid skeleton-creature poked eir cumberously-hatted head out of some fourth-dimensional space, hissing, "Niiiiiiiice…….." The words "CORPSE-GRADE QUICKLIME" flashed into Iris' eyes from eir shirt. Stheno lifted her bodily off the bed with all ten arms and sent Iris' feet plowing right into eir face. E made a noise like an EDM opossum and vanished with a puff of sand. "What'n tarnation was that?" Annie-Mae said, dazedly. Iris groaned. "That's … not far off. Eir name's Darnation, with a D. E's a skook. Skooks are the … Dante's Vergils of the Palace ecosystem, at least in our experience. E is a horrible little neman and we're probably being taught a really heavy-handed lesson by eir presence." "Yeesh. I can recommend a de-curser, if y'all think that'd help." Iris and Stheno turned all four eyes to her. "We don't." "Well, I can help y'all forget em." "We'd like that."

[This is my overwrought birthday present for @titleknown, inspired by the anon message posted above. What character, after all, is more a character than the fantastical Memory Palace?]

[Also, in the spirit of the thing, Annie-Mae, Iris Henson, Stheno, and Darnation are all free to use under a CC-BY 4.0 Vanilla License as you see fit as long as I, Nausicaä Harris, am credited as their creators when you do so. The Memory Palace, and the species I call skooks, are under the same license, as long as Thomas F. Johnson is credited as their creator. ETA: The anon on whose ask I built her character graciously gifted me with credit, and open-sourceness, for Annie-Mae.]

[And, while I don’t have designs for Iris or Stheno worked out yet, I do have a design for Darnation. Eir cheap trick is pocket sand; eir hat is meant to represent that e was born on a mountain, raised in a cave, and craves nothing but truckin’ and fuckin’.]

[loveinkfanfics]

Prison Nerds

So this little drabble came from an awesome convo I had with @juiceortiz about the “appisode” scene “Mexican Prison” and how it should’ve been longer and in an actual episode...also about how we were ROBBED of seeing more of a Juice and Happy friendship (since she posted an AMAZING gifset of the two of them being pals). So big thanks to Kerin!! <3 If you don’t follow her, you SHOULD because she’s pretty damn awesome! 

It takes place during the S3-S4 break when the SOA boys were locked up. It mentions my OC, Angela. If you’re not familiar with her, check out my fanfic, Hands All Over (x). Its sort of short now, but I might make it longer and post it on my side fic on fanfic.net later. ;) 

Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Prison Nerds

Juice was bored out of his mind stuck in his small prison cell with Happy. He'd finished his book, re-read all of Angela's letters, and was staring at a blank sheet of paper contemplating whether to write to her or draw something. Below him, Hap was fashioning a shiv out of a toothbrush.

"You know what be an awesome weapon? A lightsaber," Juice said excitedly as he watched Happy work. "It'd be kick ass. Cut right through fuckin' everything."

Happy smirked and shook his head. "You’d cut right through yourself."

 "Nah. I'd have all the Jedi moves like Luke Skywalker. Blue lightsaber and all," he said, making lightsaber noises as he waved his pen in the air like a lightsaber.

 "Green," Happy corrected, still focused on his own weapon.

 Juice's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

 "Lightsaber was green."

 "No, it was definitely blue in the first two movies," he said on a scowl.

 Happy scoffed, testing the point of the shiv on his finger gently. "Nah. That's his Dad's lightsaber. He loses it during that fight with Vader. Comes back and its green."

 Juice's jaw dropped; he was right. Apparently Happy Lowman, the Tacoma Killer, knew his shit about Star Wars. "How the hell do you know that?" he asked in disbelief.

He stood up, tucking the shiv under his mattress quickly. "They're the kid's favorite movies. Seen 'em all dozens of times with her."

He grinned in response; Angela's go to comfort movie was Empire Strikes Back. He'd found her watching it a handful of times when she'd had a bad day. Her hidden geek streak was one of the things he loved most about her. She'd pull Star Wars references out of nowhere and insert them into their conversations with ease. "She's such a nerd," he said on a soft sigh. He rubbed a hand over his chest where his new tattoo was, something he found himself doing often when he thought of her. It was like his heart ached at the mention of her name. It killed him not to be able to see her every day. He missed her like crazy.

Happy nodded slowly. " Got it from her Dad. He was into all the shit."

Juice raised an eyebrow, intrigued; Angela never talked about her Dad. He'd seen one picture of him one time while helping her unpack her stuff when she moved in with him, but she'd just told him who the man in the picture was and that was all. "She doesn't talk about him much."

 "She didn't know him much, but he loved those movies. Think that's why she loves 'em so much. Makes her feel closer to 'im."

 Again, Hap surprised Juice. He wasn't used to Hap offering information about his past or saying much more than a sentence or two. Since they'd been inside, though, Hap had opened up a little more giving Juice an insight into Angela and Hap's family he never would've had otherwise. "Interesting," he murmured, starting a sketch on his little notepad. "Let me guess, your favorite character is Boba Fett? 'cause he's a bounty hunter and shit."

 Happy smirked and nodded slowly. "He's badass."

 "I always liked Han the best. Luke was cool with the lightsaber and the Jedi stuff, but Han had swag…and he got the girl in the end," he pointed out with a smirk.

 "Not much competition. The other dude was her brother."

 "That's true. She didn't have to pick any of 'em though, 'n' she picked Han. She was hot too with that slave outfit," he mused, his mind going back to when Angela wore the same outfit one Halloween. He quickly thought of something else, picturing Angela in that outfit while stuck in a tiny cell with her cousin was not a good idea. "Ang is a lot like her. Strong, smart, badass, beautiful."

 "Total pain in the ass too," he muttered, washing his hands in their little sink.

 "Nah," Juice replied shaking his head. "She's perfect. Dunno why she likes me."

 "Me neither," he shot back, though the smirk on his face revealed he wasn't one hundred percent serious. "She does though. A lot."

 His smiled widened at that; he didn't know why it pleased him so much to hear Happy reaffirm how much Angela cared about him. "Yeah. Like her a lot too."

 "Good. You hurt her and you die. Darth Maul style. Slice you in fuckin' half," he threatened, drying his hands off with his towel.

 Juice couldn't help but laugh. "Holy shit, throwin' some prequel knowledge in there! You really are a Star Wars nerd!"

 "That don't leave this cell," he said, giving him a glare before nodding to the paper in his hand. "You sketchin'?"

 He shook his head, showing him the paper. Only the first line was written: 'To my Angel'. "Nah. Writing your cousin. Gonna tell her what a nerd you are."

 Happy threw the towel at him, though the smallest hint of a smile was playing on his lips. "Idiot," he muttered, shaking his head before ducking into the bunk below him. "Best not be writin' dirty shit to my cousin."

 "Not any dirtier than she writes me," he shot back.

 His bed shook as Happy landed a strong kick to the center of his bed. "Shut up." 

 Disclaimer (just in case): I don’t own Star Wars or any part of Sons.

[delibunni]

Sketchin some hands before bed~ Actually some OCs of mine, guess who lol

[thedemonconstantine]

adventurepunks​:

“WOAAAH yous seen a dragon? Why did yeh fight it? Theys just big lizzies!!!” Alexis’ mouth went wife as it could and eyes looked ever so impressed that he’d seen a dragon. “’ow big was ‘e? Bigger than a car? Bigger than a bungalow? Wus ‘e bigger than our Tescos?” she asked sounding ever so thrilled.

“Woh color wus ‘e? Did ‘e breave fire or ice? Woh color eyes? Wus ‘e a dragon or a wyvern? Did ‘e have shiney scales or really rouff ones?” she was almost bouncing on her feet vibrating with excitement.

“That’s cool. I likes duckies, me da sais I is a duckie cus I follows him around…an’ ‘ave yellow ‘air probly!” she didn’t dare touch the paper lest she ruins the art of it.

“I is gun ‘ang it by me bed. I likes duckies cus they’s can fly, swim an’ walk. Woh animal would yeh be if yous were a animal? I reckon yous be an owl, cus yous nocturnal an’ wise an’ very pretty an’ ‘ave big ish eyes an’ owls are pretty. Me ma does…woh yeh calls it. She ‘as birds of prey she trains…there’s a name fer it buh I fergots it.”

“So yeh got yeh job cause yous were artistic! I see, I see. Does yeh draw? I likes sketchin’ me, I is gettin’ better at it. One day I will show yeh maybe buh I is ta shy right now.”

“I is gun name the duckie Darcy. Darcy the duckie waddling on a stream, cus me Jason is supreme.” she loved it, she really loved it.

She looked to the window again and no John so she sighed but tried not to show her upset.

“I ‘as an awful ‘andwrittin’ as yeh know, I fink illumination is a bit ‘bove me station me knight” she looked at her wrist watch.

“Can we watch telly? Missy Magik is on in 20 minutes an’ I likes watchin’ it. Buh is okies if nah, we records it on our box. We kin watch somethin’ yeh likes”

“Does yeh watch telly? Yous ‘ave one so must be right?Or is it just the news an’ weava?” Old people loved the weather didn’t they.

“Because it was big and angry and red,” Jason repeated with a smile, amused because Alexis was so excited that she didn’t realise he already told her exactly why and what colour it was at the very beginning.

“It had yellow eyes and large nostrils, and a hooked mouth that looked like a beak. It spoke draconian and had an aura of fear that sent half the men we brought into a scattering mess. They broke formation and because of that, a lot of people died that day,” The old knight added with some weight to his shoulders.

“It breathed fire and it was as big as thirty elephants, a great wyrm, with a barbed tail and sharp talons and strong resistances such that only heavily enchanted weapons could harm it.

We had to deal with it as it wanted virgin women for lunch, one a day for as long as it decided to nest in the caves near the town.

We tried to reason with it. No cattle would satisfy it, nor horse or fish or sunsweet fruit. Only young virgin women.

We couldn’t ask the townsfolk to pay such a heinous price and have men send their young daughters to a fate like this, and so when negotiations came to a stalemate, we had no other choice but to try and kill it or drive it away.”

Jason sighed at the memory and shook his head.

“It was an absolute mess. We were ill-prepared even though we tried our best. The foul creature died by Lancelot’s sword and we cut open its belly to find the remains of the young maidens that it already ate.

Your mother raises falcons, my lady, they are very popular amongst the nobility of old. A kestrel or a peregrine, if I’m not wrong. Very lovely birds, very sharp and well-mannered.”

He put the cups and dishes together and brought them to the sink to wash.

“Of course you may watch the television, my lady. Yes I do so love the weather reports, how did you know?”

John wasn’t back yet, but Jason was far from worried. He knew his mate would make quick work of things and return in one piece.

“Come sit with me then and we can have a look at what’s next on the box, before Miss Zatanna comes on.”

Jason channel surfed for a bit before returning to the main channel where commercials for Veidt Jack toys were playing just before Missy Magic.

“I’d like to be a beetle perhaps. A shiny black rhinoceros beetle. So sturdy and grand!”

[solidempty]

Sketchin some horrors before bed . . . #horror #sketch #horrorsketch #horrorart #art #comic #comicart #horrorcomic #twoface #12face #twofacedpeople #skeleton #death #spookems #spoopy #creep #creepy #creepyart #creepyartist (at Crabtree's Blueberries) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2p67ERD3aP/?igshid=15iaxkuhi6urb

[beastyhound]

"What are ye sketchin'...?" she asked as she leaned forward with an interested expression while her long fingers wrapped around a bar of her cage, rather chipper for someone in her predicament. ^v^

@tenaxmiles

With dark eyes shifting away from his sketchbook, the Hound stared towards the caged blond for awhile before his eyes moved back to the paper. His pencil tapped against the paper a few times. “Your sister ripped into millions of little pieces while you cry at the background.” He lied as his back leaned against the headboard of the bed. Honestly, he could draw that too, but why should he waste his time drawing them? One part he didn’t lie, kind of didn’t lie, was the fact he did actually draw gore most of the time and some other grotesque stuff.

Today he just hadn’t gotten very far and his paper was a mess that didn’t look like anything specific. “I feel like you’re really trying to get me to move there by not shutting your mouth… Or do you want to die that badly?” He chuckled a little as a flash of red went over his eyes when his eyes shifted back towards the blond. Such a noisy little bird, but weren’t birds always a little noisy with their chirping? 

[dariatkaa]

Sketchin' some digital demon girl before bed. It's 0:12 here - I need to do something about my day schedule 🤔 • I used good ol' Photoshop for the sketch and some personal custom brushes. • • • • • #dariatkachoff #art #artistblog #artblogger #artist_4_shoutout #artwork🎨 #digitalart #drawing #makeup #sketchbook #art #paint #sketch #procreate #eyes #illustration #tutorial #aesthetic #popsurrealism #beautifulbizarre #demon #devilgirl #emo #crying https://www.instagram.com/p/BriyLAeFN49/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1iud9mezk57e6