#they're still finding feathers for months afterwards

[unlawfulchaos]

Mav: So, hypothetically-

Slider: What did you do this time, shortstack?

Mav: I accidentally ate Ice's leftover pierogi. How long do you think I have left to live?

Slider, seeing Ice slowly rising up behind Mav: Five.

Mav: Five what?!

Slider: Four.

[niobiumao3]

Okay so, I wrote the second thing from this post.

Also available in AO3 format.

~*~

It's not that Tech doesn't want to interact with anyone, it's that he's exhausted.

Being reunited with his siblings and finding all of them more or less in one piece (physically if not emotionally) is the only thing he's needed for some time. Now in possession of that, he's ready to sleep for at least ten rotations. Possibly longer. The quality of the surface is negotiable, so long as it's stable. He should eat, though, having not been able to very often since falling from the rail car. Or, so they all convince him. Afterwards he can sleep to his heart's content (and plans to).

Throughout dinner he's quiet, keeps himself present enough to respond if he hears his name or senses the conversation has paused in expectation of a comment. This alone is a struggle, uses up the last of his reserves. Once everyone is clearing off the table and leaving to sleep or otherwise he's ready to crawl into a cramped, uncomfortable rack on the Marauder and pass out.

He does help with cleanup, though, bringing in trays, putting away food. At some point a cup of water appears next to him and he drinks it, continues the chores on a sort of autopilot until Phee settles her hip on the counter and folds her arms.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Maybe, a month or so."

"That will be the minimum I expect," Tech admits. He finishes the water, sets the cup into the sink. A second later he realizes she must have been the one to put it next to him. "Thank you. For the water."

"You're welcome," she says, smiling, warm and tired. There's a strain in her expression he doesn't remember seeing before, isn't sure how to ask about. So he turns to survey the kitchen--hers, sparse and simple since she's on the island so infrequently. There's a bowl of items on the table: a large shell, a feather, a colorful rock, a piece of...

... damaged, tinted transparisteel in a scratched, circular frame...

Tech drifts towards the table, vaguely aware Phee is watching him. She must see what he's noticed, because she says, "Yeah. I...didn't want to get rid of them."

He reaches for the goggles with caution, like they might bite. Here they are, destroyed as he'd expected them to be, left lens smashed, right lens cracked. Dust from the mountainside still coats the band. It's impossible for her to have these. Unless she'd done the unthinkable and gone to Eriadu to look for him?

"Where did you find them," he asks, turning them over in his hands. Somehow the camera housing is still intact. Had they checked it for footage?

"I didn't," she admits, then sighs. "Believe me, I wanted to go to Eriadu, but Shep and Hunter wouldn't let me. Wrecker had them."

Rightfully so, he thinks but doesn't say, because Phee not endangering herself on his behalf is slightly less important than the source of the ugly new dread coalescing in his mind. "Wrecker had these."

"Yeah. They came back with them and--"

Something in her voice has changed. Something he should address. Except there's no time, so he interrupts her. "And where did they get them?"

She blinks, taken aback. "I'm...not sure. They didn't say."

Tech grips them tightly, makes for the door. "We need to talk to them, right now. And Shep."

She follows close on his heels. "Right now?"

"Yes. Immediately."

Her demeanor shifts from uncertain worry to simple determination. "I'll go get Shep."

He registers this vaguely, mind working at a furious pace. Had they really gone back for him? They hadn't said so. But then how had they found the goggles? Chanced across them in a wrecking yard? That seemed unlikely. Bought them off a scavenger?

The Marauder's ramp is still down, the lights on. Omega sits in the entrance, toying with a tablet while their brothers mill around the external storage compartment. This suggests they're trying to sort out sleeping arrangements by putting whatever they can into the compartments. Shep had offered one of the little houses now that lower Pabu was repaired, but Hunter had demured. It's just as well; Tech suspects Crosshair and Omega won't be able to sleep anywhere but on the ship for some time, can't blame them either. It's fortunate either way, as it means they're all still awake.

Omega sees Tech on first, greets him with a tired smile and a wave. Noticing her movement, Wrecker turns, guffaws at Tech. "What, not gonna stay with Phee?"

Tech stops in front of them. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask, "Why would I do that?" but he doesn't have time. None of them do. Just like like when he was dangling from the rail car.

He holds up his broken goggles, which saps the general mood of relaxation from all of them in a moment: Crosshair stares, expression souring; Omega swallows, looks away; Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker all become somber. He'd be sorry if the circumstances were anything but what they are.

"How did you get these?" he asks, searching their faces.

Wrecker grimaces. "Hemlock. He was trying to use them to mess with us." He rubs the back of his neck, murmurs, "Worked pretty well."

The dread hovering in Tech's crystallizes, takes shape. He starts tearing apart the recording device.

Omega slowly stands, walks down the ramp. Hunter watches Tech yank off piece after piece of the device with growing concern. "Tech, what are you--"

"Hemlock," Tech says, interrupting him. He glances up, looks from Wrecker to Hunter for confirmation. "He gave you these."

Echo says, "Yeah." A second later he closes his eyes. "...shit."

"What," Crosshair says, voice gone hard. Omega moves to him, takes one of his hands. Tech hears people approaching; Phee and Shep, he suspects.

He finds it a second later, precisely where he'd expected it to be. It's smaller than the older models he's familiar with, though that's hardly a surprise. Hemlock would have access to the latest equipment.

Tech yanks out the tracking chip, holds it up, throws it to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot.

"Fuck," Crosshair says on a sigh.

Phee comes to stand next to Tech, eyes on the fragmented remains. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

He wishes he could. "It is."

Hesitantly, Shep asks, "What is it?"

"A tracking device," Hunter says. Resignation and defeat darken his features, reminding Tech of leaving Kamino without Crosshair. (That's not happening. Not this time. Not ever again.)

No reactions from the rest of them, not even Shep, just stunned silence. Tech can't stand how no one is moving or speaking, so starts to. "We must evacuate everyone. Immediately."

Phee runs a hand over her face. "Brown Eyes how are we evacuating several hundred people on a moment's notice?" There's a note in her voice he's not heard before: fear, brittle and sharp. It makes him want to...

He's not sure. Do something to fix it, at a minimum. "We'll find a way. We always do."

Echo heads for the ramp. "Well for starters I'll contact Rex. He'll at least have a couple of ships we can load people onto."

"You're sure," Shep says. Tech turns: the despondency in Shep's features is painful to see.

"Yes. That was a low power tracker, but the chances they've not picked up the signal by now are minimal. We must assume they're on their way."

Phee exhales sharply. Just like that, her fear becomes resolve. "Alright. Let's get everyone ready to go. No packing, we just leave." She turns to Shep. "If it doesn't fit in their pockets it has to stay."

Shep sighs, nods. He and Phee take separate exits from the courtyard to round up the various leaders of the refugees for help in spreading the word.

Hunter stares down at the remains of the chip, unmoving. The others watch him with growing worry.

Omega's voice is quiet in the darkening courtyard. "Hunter?"

"What have we done," is all he says.

A sound from within the Marauder catches Tech's attention. One he'd know asleep or half dead, drilled into him via hours of simulator time and countless battles: enemy ships on approach.

Echo leans out of the ship. "They're here."

[c-vomitoria]

tribute to the pigeon squad

gonna start using this blog to post various (mis)adventures i go on and what better way to start than with my best friends in all the world

besties <333

ive been around this flock for about 1 and a half years and ive gotten to know a few stand-out individuals so heres the ones ive named over that time !!! most of them are gone, either migrated away or dead i'm not sure, if they're still around i'll mention it specifically

this little guy's the first pigeon i ever thought to ascribe a name to after i saw them a few separate times at the subway station before work, their name is big boss

they were missing an eye and always hung around the back of the group not really stepping in with the others, i always tossed them some extra scraps of my breakfast away from the main group bc otherwise they'd never get their share. kept seeing them around for about 2 weeks or so at the station before they stopped showing up, i didn't name any others until i started going to the "main" feeding spot for the local flock a few months later.

this right here is acci! short for accipiter bc theyre a vicious beast, very much unlike big boss they never hesitated to jump into the crowd and slap other pigeons around with their wings for the best feeding spots or just for the hell of it. shown here consuming the flesh of a distant cousin (they *really* liked chicken whenever i brought any)

as much of a menace as acci was to the rest of the flock they were also the first one to get all attached to me and always sat on my arm whenever i came over with snacks, it was like their special perch and they always wanted to be hand fed

laelaps here didnt come around very often but always had a commanding presence, they usually hung back and just watched but never got bullied by anyone and would throw their weight around without much opposition if they did decide to step in. never got close to me but never gave the impression of being scared either, very respectable birb.

cheetodust (on the right) or just cheeto for short! every bit as scrunkly and scraggly in behaviour as they look. i'm not sure what was up with their cere for it to get all orange and crusty but the last couple times i saw them it seemed to be shedding with a more normal whitish cere underneath. this guy shat on my hands more than anyone else. no fear, no fucks given. not particularly aggressive or respected but very good at opportunistically darting around.

prima, queen of vermin. one my absolute favourites and one of the prettiest birds to ever live i will die on this hill no purebred show pigeon could EVER compete with this most regal of street urchins. i saw them around for a good while and they've always been pretty aloof, eventually they saw fit to sit on my shoes but for the most part they hung around in the back of the flock watching everything play out.

i was heartbroken when i'd counted a full month without seeing them but the other day i saw a pigeon with almost the same exact feather patterns on the head & upper torso mixed in with a standard wild morph on the rest of the body and i like to believe it's one of prima's offspring after they flew off somewhere else to find a mate. this bird is divinely protected and no harm can be allowed to reach them

if anyone can genuinely be called the big boss of the flock it's probably stalin here. theyve been around longer than almost anyone else, theyre still here, always patrolling up and down the street looking for the best bits of scraps and more pigeons to push around. if they want something they fight for it *hard*, and while other pigeons usually stop at hisses or wing slaps i've seen this particular old theropod bite their flock-mates on the neck over some grain. it never takes long for other pigeons to back down but they keep pressing afterwards just to drive it in.

just like with acci they also like to hang around me a lot, i guess it makes sense the tough brawler types aren't so scared of humans. they never really did it to get special food access though, they'd just sit there and preen or look around.

haku mainly stands out for being a real looker, with those big flashes of iridescence bordering their white chest. they're fairly run-of-the-mill socially, maybe even unusually so somehow. never causing any trouble or running into anyone, never getting into fights, never being pushed around either. just foraging where there's plenty of grain on the ground, staying out of people's way, resting in between snacks. a decent life all in all, and they seem happy about it.

i gave kohaku their name around the same time as haku bc there's some similarities in their appearance, the smaller white patches under the throat + some iridescent bits that don't really show up in this picture. turns out they'd been around for a hell of a lot longer than i thought - this particular picture was taken even before the big boss one, and there'd been several months between my last sighting of big boss and my first sighting of haku. that would make kohaku one of the very first of my named pigeons that i'd ever encountered, and i just didn't realise this picture *was* kohaku until very recently. and they're still around! i love them so much.

kohaku's always been one to approach me head-on and want to be hand-fed, and they do have a bit of the attitude that tends to go with that but not as much as the others. a little bit pushy maybe, but not as dirty and scrappy as cheeto or just plain brutish as acci or stalin. they don't fight very much they just take up space and don't budge. but they're almost always the first to get there.

next we have the uruk-hai trio:

ugluk,

mauhur,

and lugdush. the latter's the only one of these i still see nowadays, and theyre living a pretty comfortable existence with the present cast at the flocking spots. getting well-fed, staying healthy, not really stepping on any toes - which is more or less how i remember ugluk and mauhur too. bit of a far cry from their namesakes, but it is what it is

and here's kuru (in the foreground)! they're a bit of a feisty one, in the first few weeks i'd known them they kinda blended in with haku & the uruks as just a mellow, well-behaved little pigeon but when i see them now they'll sometimes just stand up, puff out their chest, and chase some poor other pigeon around while hissing loudly for no apparent reason. they'll drag it out pretty long too. it's funny bc i don't actually see them fighting over food much, they usually do this well after the food's run out and everyone's just kinda strutting about in the open. i guess that pecking order isn't going to establish itself.

and now we have the newest set - these are all ones i first met after a fairly long hiatus from pigeon-watching. i haven't known them very long yet, but theyre starting to warm up to me and im hoping i can get to know them better soon :}

they are:

halszka,

shri (centred, brown plumage)

oksoko,

shuvuuia (foreground), & barsbold (middle)

something i find really special about these ones is how their feather patterns & colours have this sort of "wild" naturalistic look to them, like what you'd expect to see living in the forests or on the plains. not quite as striking as prima, ugluk, or haku but very nice to look at nonetheless.

anyway! i may post more about these pigeons in the future and maybe more if i decided i can recognise any others! this can be just a neat introduction to all the lil dinosaur friends ive known in the time ive been around here i like them all very much and i hope anyone reading this will like them too

[toga-time]

Comrades (What we do)

by @toga-time

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia / My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: ANGSTY. Mention of injury. Mention of (past) abuse. Some HPSC bashing. Self-worth issues. Hawks is sad.

Characters: Hawks (keigo Takami), Shigaraki Tomura (Shimura Tenko), Dabi (Touya Todoroki), Toga Himiko, Kurogiri, Twice (Jin Bubaigawara), Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi), The LoV.

Additional Tags: Found family. Hawks being part of the LoV. Hawks getting hurt. Hawks is sad. Shigaraki is mad. The LoV is concerned. Hurt/Comfort. I’m not too sure how to tag this tbh.

Thank you @skeletonwithakeyboard and @dreamingspark​ for beta-reading (as well as coming up with a title) <3

Now, on to the story!

---

Hawks’ wings are small.

They’re small, fluffed up and a bit sensitive to touch. The usual whenever they’ve been roughed up and he’s lost a slightly larger amount of feathers. However, unlike all the other times they have now stayed this way for over 3 weeks. Getting injured in fights is something he’s been used to for a long time and his wings has taken heavy damage before, sure, but this time it was worse. The guy was clearly focusing all his attention on Hawks’s back when attacking, intent on hurting him a great deal - probably wanting to destroy the very part of him that made him into Hawks.

He is familiar with these kinds of goals from the enemy and has learnt to counter several attempts at taking him down and yet, one single slip-up had him sprawled on the ground in agony; his back burning in pain and his muscles twitching, wings flapping desperately as though trying to get away, to move him to safety.

‘Pathetic.’

He could hear the word so clearly in his head back then. It was almost like his handlers were there in the room with him, as though this was just another test to see what kind of strength he held. Clearly, he had failed them. Had made them feel disappointed in him.

It had taken him minutes to get out of his own head - precious time wasted, which could have ended up with him being killed if not for his comrades taking notice of his immobile state and covered for him. When Hawks had finally gotten a hold of himself, he was met with the sight of Toga standing guard a few feet away, knives clasped tightly in both of her hands, eyes watching intently as the guys kept the threat occupied.  Twice sat crouched down beside him, holding onto his arms and carefully ruffling his hair, trying to calm his eratic breathing.

Somehow, their opponent got away.

It was a frustrating fact, having all of them on edge afterward. It didn’t help that Hawks was unable to move without feeling like the skin on his back would split open, worrying the others and having them check up on him every hour of the day until the burning sensation was gone. Until he seemed fine again. The problem is, he isn’t fine. It’s been so long and his wings are not recovering. It’s been over 3 weeks, yet they are still so fricking small. And the base of them ache something terrible even if the rest of his body feels normal.

After a whole month has passed the thought occurs to him that they might not heal properly this time at all and it scares him. It scares him to no end. The others notice his distress, he knows, but Hawks tries anyways to hide it behind a smile and his usual jokes.

It will be okay, he tells himself. He is going to be okay.

He has to.

_

Two months has almost passed and Hawks’s wings are now covering at least parts of his back. They have a lot of growth to do still, but they’re catching up, albeit slowly. It’s okay, He can be patient. In another month or so they’ll be back to normal for sure. He has no doubt. No doubt. He’ll be okay. Just keep on repeating it.  Just keep smiling.

It's when they're moving the furniture into their new base that it happens. Spinner is balancing four boxes in his arms and Hawks, out of reflex, tries to send out his feathers to help, but..., nothing. He tries again. Then again. A third time, stretching his wings out a bit to push the feathers into action, stress and fear rising from inside of him with each failed attempt. It’s not working. For a moment his mind goes blank before being filled by a panic so intense it makes him want to scream. He can feel them inside of his head still, even if just barely, but he can't conect to them the same way he did before. They won't respond to him, his wings are simply twitching on his back with the feathers stuck tightly to them. When nothing but a dull vibration goes up his spine, Hawks finally breaks down.

His wings..- His powers, they are gone.

The others are there in an instant, howering near him, reaching out to hold him as he cries and Hawks lets himself stumble forward into Dabi’s arms, pressing his face into the fire wielder’s shoulder when he reaches him. It's pure agony. His body is damaged- the wings that's been with him since he was a child- a baby.. They're damaged. He can't use them. They’re not responding to him anymore. Everything that has made him himself, everything he is, it’s..- lost. He’s lost. He has no idea what to do. So he cries, in the middle of the tight circle his friends have made around him, leaning his body's weight against Dabi and wails into the fabric of his coat while the dark haired man simply holds him close, rubbing carefully at the lower part of Hawks’ back.

‘Pathetic.’

The word is so loud it’s practically muting all other sounds surrounding him.

‘Useless.’

The voice is so cold, making him choke on the sobs  escaping his lips.

He really is a failure. Clutching the slim, yet strong shoulders, Hawks drags Dabi down with him as his legs gives out. His throat is sore and his eyes sting, the tears refusing to cease their falling. He feels so weak, curled up like this in the others’ lap, but he also wants nothing more than to stay this way.

Just let him stay.

Please.

_

Off to the side, Shigaraki watches the bird in silence with an unreadable look on his face, nails scratching at his neck. Each broken sob and sniff makes him dig into the skin a little deeper. When the crying turns into soft coughing and gasps for air, the young leader swiftly turns and heads for the door, not saying a single word to any of them. Toga looks at his retreating back in worry, chewing on her bottom lip and only letting go when Kurogiri gives her a small pat on her head. He holds her gaze for a few seconds, enough for her to give him a small grin, before following their boss into the hallway of the building.

Shigaraki is seething. It’s visible in the way his fingers tenses and he’s striding forward with strong steps, feet hitting the ground hard as he walks. The sound is echoeing off of the walls, mixing in with his puffs of breath, mouth forcing air past his lips and into his lungs. Kurogiri knows all the signs. Has learnt through the years of serving him.  Right now, Shigaraki is in a dangerous mood. 

"Find their location,” Shigaraki hisses, his words biting and venomous. “And gather the others once Hawks has calmed down. Have someone stay with him. We have things to do." "Tomura-"

The young man stops abruptly and glares at Kurogiri over his shoulder, cutting him off. His eyes are glowing a scorching red and his hands tremble at his sides as though he can barely contain himself from turning something into dust in his palms. It renders the bartender completely speechless. "We will make them suffer, Kurogiri,” Shigaraki continues and there’s a finality to his voice. The order clear as day. He resumes his strides, voice growing distant as he walks. “It's what we do for the sake of our comrades."

[commanderserwin]

Hi, I absolutely love your work, I've binged your masterlist over the last few days and they're fab!

I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a tattoo artist and Erwin or Levi (or both) come in to get a tattoo and during the session they talk forever and bond loads. And then afterwards they come in more often to ask about tattoo aftercare or to book another appointment. Whether they end up platonic or romantic is up to you. Thank you so much ❤❤

✧ notes. hello there !! u love my works ??? i will now cry forever and a half as my thanks— but really thank u!! it means a lot ily already !!! but hello,,, here we go with this au!! i changed it a lil so i hope that’s still okay!! hope u like this one !! enjoy ♡

✧ more. italicized paragraphs = flashbacks (when erwin was getting his tat done!)

— with your name on it? with erwin smith.

“don’t you have someplace else to go?” you asked, pushing yourself on the swivel stool as it squeaked, “work to do— or something else?”

erwin looked up from his phone, coffee on his other hand as he smiled, “i do, actually.”

“then, why are you here?”

well, what was he supposed to say, he thought. would it be better for him to say it outright that perhaps the reason why he has been in your shop ever since he got his tattoo done months ago is simply because he likes your company?

that because he spent eight hours with you, all alone in a room with nothing but soft music and the mechanical hum of the tattoo machine as well as the needles and something called attraction gave him enough confidence and courage to visit you always?

that because those eight hours were filled with his incessant questions of aftercare that he has probably already memorized from numerous online articles mingled with your gentle voice as you explained it behind the mask and the light hands that literally painted his skin?

that even despite those questions, conversation flowed smoothly like the rivers, each question topping each other, as it builds up to a continuous childhood stories up to university ones and the now?

intimate and not— stories shared confidently and comfortably between strangers that he found himself wanting to build a relationship that goes beyond being a customer and employee?

you?

erwin smiled, placing his phone down as he handed his cup of coffee to you— bottling it all up.

with a shrug, you accepted it, moving back to your front desk as you waited for you appointments to come. you tried to avoid his stares whenever he would stay, but it has become his habit that it was a little troubling at first since panic clouded your minds that perhaps the reason why he is here is because you messed up his tattoo?

the big tattoo that you have worked on for two days— the one that covered his left shoulder and back, down to his triceps and biceps as it finishes off just below his elbow. from the corner of your eyes, you suspected nothing and something at the same time as the dark ink became a contrast to his white button down, and it didn’t help that whenever he would even turn a little, the hint of the feathered wing would greet you.

“hello, what can i do for you?”

a second ago he leaned on the desk with confidence seeping at his clean suit as his eyes twinkled with courage as his smile never wavered.

then a second after, he opened his mouth, shaking his head as he pointed back to the door— backing away from you until he got a hold of the knob, hesitation plastered on his face.

“you can come back if you’re ready,” you smiled, watching the tall man exit quickly, his bag hitting the door twice as he darted to the night with nothing but scared look on his face.

then a minute after— the bell chimed again.

this time, he stood before the desk with his clasped hands on it, clearing his throat as he looked around the small tattoo shop. it was decent, neon lights just around to make it pop, minimalistic in a way, as necessary instruments were kept in sterilized storages.

“you’re back,” you commented, standing up to meet his eyes, “what can i do for you?”

“i’m planning to get a tattoo.” he announced more to himself as he unfolded the paper from his pocket. he straightened it out on the surface, as you inspected it. “will this be okay?”

the art was beautiful. a dark feathered wing, all darkly shaded that would immediately be a huge contrast to his pale skin and light eyes. you looked back at him— your mind already working as to where he would probably want this, and with a big tattoo like this, it would simply and most likely cover his whole back or shoulder.

that scared erwin smith who once came in to get his first tattoo, his voiced laced with hesitation and nervousness— now sits smug and comfortably in the place where he showed deep reluctance in getting his body art.

“stop daydreaming, your customers might come,” erwin commented, his eyes busy on his phone as a teasing smile graces on his face.

“i wasn’t,” you muttered, flipping through the stencils as you sighed— snapping yourself out, or him out of your thoughts.

but he stayed, very much there, firmly planted and deep into your mind.

“will this be your first tattoo?”

when he stayed silent for a few seconds, you took notice how his chest rise up and down quicker than expected and it was all the answer you needed.

“with a tattoo this big— i have no problems of doing this,” you explained, pushing the paper to him as he folded it once more, still leaving it on the surface, “but you have to be sure, because once we start on it, there is n—.”

“no going back,” he completed, absentmindedly touching his shoulder blades.

he thought about this a million times always never having the time to do it or truthfully having enough courage— but as times he has walked by your small shop increased, it inticed him that probably it was time. so, he took a few days off of his work— making sure that he won’t back down.

erwin stayed there for a couple of minutes, sometimes coming over to your spot as he showed you random pictures of the most random things.

and he’s been doing it for the past months.

at the beginning it was him coming over and unbuttoning his work shirt for you to check up on his wing tattoo— always, always, even with every check there has been no problem.

at the middle, he suddenly went by to your shop numerous times while you cleaned each area, with a coffee cup as a ‘thank you.’

and now, it was just erwin and his company— him staying even for a few minutes or hours as he talked to you, asked about your day— mixing tattoo aftercare questions, possibly to give him and you enough reason and answer for his frequent visits.

but eventually all good things come to an end.

“i have to go,” erwin brushed his trousers, rolling the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, making you look up with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

“already?” you caught yourself saying, standing up as you followed himself towards the door.

“weren’t you just making me leave a couple of minutes ago?” he smiled, stopping by the door as he blocked it.

something inside you thumped— heat rushing into your skin as you shifted your weight on your other foot, placing a hand on your hip as you tilted your chin towards his tall stature.

it took approximately eight hours to do erwin’s tattoo, and now his left upper back adorned a dark feathered wing that expands down to his arm. it took him a few minutes to process that it was finished, that now he has finally gotten his first tattoo, and that it hurt so much which means that it was indeed— real.

“what do you think?” you sighed, placing the tattoo machine back on the metal table, slouching on the stool as erwin glanced up and down his back with the mirror, the blank ink and the redness fighting.

“holy hell.”

erwin sat back on the stool, it hurt to use his shoulder but it was well worth it— the feathered wing was so intricate and delicately inked down, even seeing the smallest detail that made it everything he really wanted.

“right!” you breathed, taking your gloves off as you pushed your stool towards him, plastic wrapping his shoulder as you sternly looked at him, “keep this wrap on for a few hours, wash your hands before touching your tattoo—please. and remember to only wash this with unscented soap, and apply petroleum ointment on it after. understood?”

“understood,” erwin answered, wincing slightly as you wrapped his shoulder— and once you were done, he was back with admiring it more as you cleaned the area.

“and you come back if you have any questions, all right?”

“of course,” erwin breathed, finding his shirt as he unfolded it from the table.

“here, let me,” you stood before him, hands ready to stretch out his shirt as he bent his neck down.

maybe it was the universe that stopped as your eyes met with his blue ones, maybe it was the hitched breaths from the close proximity— or maybe it was just the lighting that showed apparent pinking of cheeks, the blush coming up from his neck.

maybe time really did slow down when the cliched sparks would happen.

erwin looked back, a questioning look on his face as he matched the scowl that slightly formed on your face— before gently flicking your forehead which only made you fight down a smile that was trying to escape.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as your mind ran for something, anything, to keep him here— or not, as it left you a bit conflicted on what you possibly want.

an idea is what you needed, a reason is what you needed, and when you merged those two together— you looked up with a single tap on his shoulder, “don’t you need to get that cleaned or... checked on? how long has it been?”

“five months,” erwin answered, leaning his back on the door— closing everybody off who would even try to intervene. “i do think it’s healed already.”

“...right,” you breathed, pulling away a step further with a tight-lipped smile on your face as your glorious idea and reason gloriously failed. come back again— tonight or tomorrow, you thought. “then, bye.”

erwin watched you walk away from him, slouched shoulders and all as you flopped down on your favorite swivel chair, a pencil already in hand as your busy scribbles echoed together with the beat of his heart and the perfectly fitted romantic song that played.

it took him a minute.

then a minute after, erwin called your name, making you rest your chin on your balled fist as you waited for his words.

“say,” he began, his palm covering his heart— either him feeling it rush or just because this is where he’s gathering his courage from, “i’m planning to get another tattoo.”

“oh?”

“above my heart?” erwin announced, smiled— watching you nod seriously as you took on his another project, “and i want a heart on top of it.”

“i guess we could do that,” you absentmindedly said, striding towards him as you tapped his heart with the end of your pencil. “just a heart?”

time stopped again as erwin watched your eyes twinkle against the light. the edges of your lips turned into a small smile, and erwin thought that he could burst right there and then.

“with your name on it?”

[ukcps]

Congratulations to Monique Castellani-Kraan for winning Best in Show at the UKCPS Keswick Exhibition 2021.

Monique has kindly share some background information on her wonderful piece Kisses in Blue.

I drew my first hyacinth macaw back in 2015, and it was wonderful being able to revisit the same subject again with “Kisses in Blue”. Parrots are honestly such a delight to draw. Their colours are bright and happy, and they have so much character. I will also always jump at the chance to get out my blue coloured pencils!

I started work on this piece back in January. After a long spate of only making miniature pet commissions over the Christmas period, which was slowly sending me into a spiral of madness, I decided to overcompensate by starting my largest drawing to date, at 40 x 50cm (16 x 20 inches approx).

As someone with a background in digital painting, I like to do all of my sketches and compositions digitally nowadays to transfer to paper. That way my expensive watercolour paper stays free of eraser marks and errant sketch lines. It saves a lot of time in the long run, and if I mess up I can very easily just print out the sketch again to start over. I don't know what I'd do without my iPad!

This drawing proved to be a little intimidating because of the size I was working at. I ended up setting it aside for a few months. You know that famous "fear of the blank canvas" we've all experienced? This one hit me hard. I got a tiny section of the eye and surrounding feathers done and then proceeded to swiftly run away, back to the safety of drawing miniatures! A few months later, I finally decided to stop hiding and to give this piece a proper go. As I got into the rhythm of it I quickly felt myself being sucked into that "zone" of intense focus - where time just slips away until it's suddenly dark outside and you've skipped a meal!

Now that I had finally got my toes wet, I was gaining confidence. Art is a bit like exercise - it takes effort and routine to get into the swing of it - but once I do, I feel like I'm flying! With every new drawing I'm reminded of just how much I adore coloured pencils and how fun the process is.

Translating the reference photo’s feathers on the left macaw’s cheek was proving to be a bit of a challenge. I could only stare for so long at the complicated mess of shadows without going cross-eyed - so I decided to treat myself to tackling the beak first instead. If ever you find yourself in a rut with a painting, look for the deepest, darkest shadows in your reference, and block those in first. You will have a much easier time once they're there. Here, the darkest shadows were the inside of the macaws' mouths, so I put my much-loved Polychromos black to work, blending with paint thinner in between each layer and tinting it with Luminance Dark Indigo to get it nice and deep. Now that the darkest shadows were blocked in, I would have a much easier time in the areas surrounding it. That shadow became my reference point for judging the values for the beak, skin and feathers nearby.

I used Daler Rowney Low Odour Thinner to blend my pencils in between layers, with a flat taklon brush. I primarily used it in the first few layers of the underpainting. The yellow skin on the beak was a tricky customer with this - my blending brushes had to be impeccably clean, or else I would end up turning it green with the blues being so close by. In addition, I didn't want the very pale yellows getting contaminated by the oranges that are in the shadows. I made sure to carefully wipe my brush off thoroughly on some paper towel before blending in small areas at a time.

Beaks are so much fun to draw! They have a lot going on, from subtle colour shifts, to chips and cracks and ridges. The texture is a treat for the eyes! Here, I started by creating a gradient of soft earthy purples, greys and creams in the underpainting. At this stage I used mostly a mix of Luminance and Polychromos pencils. For underpaintings, I like to go darker than what the final result will be - though some would say I go a little TOO dark (coloured pencil is technically a light to dark workflow because they are mostly transparent).

After blending it with OMS, and making sure it's still a little damp, I go in with my pale tones from the Derwent Lightfast, Caran d'Ache Luminance and Holbein lines. These brands are soft and have more wax than oil in them, making them very creamy and more opaque than brands like Polychromos. Because the paper is still saturated with paint thinner, the pencil melts as it makes contact with the paper, making it go on super thick, even though I'm only pressing gently. This is my dirty little secret for how I work from dark to light in all of my coloured pencil pieces. The paper you're using, of course, is paramount for this technique too. If you're not using a good paper, you're going to run out of tooth extremely quickly using this technique. This piece was drawn on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed 300gsm- and I wholeheartedly recommend it!

However, I just want to add that if you have an area or texture you want to keep REALLY light, for example a large white crack in the beak, you should draw that in first before doing anything else. That way, when you put your underpainting over it and blend with paint thinner, the white detail you added first will show through, clear as day! (This is great for whiskers on cats and dogs for example) You can also use a ceramic cutter to do this afterwards instead, though personally I have yet to use one myself.

After finishing the beaks, it was time to face the feathers on the birds’ bodies head-on. As always, I block in my darkest shadows first and then my underpainting, giving it a good blend out with plenty of OMS. This is so that I don't get lost in a sea of repeating shapes. Without doing this, I find it's very easy for your artwork to end up all the same value with not enough contrast between the highlights and shadows. I also rough in where I want each contour feather to be on the bird’s chest with a dark blue, though I only very gently line them in with my pencil so I can still move things around if needed while I build on the textures and detail.

Once the underpainting is done I am free to start pulling out those details. I went feather-by-feather, preferring to go in with my lighter coloured pencils first, gently pulling out each feather’s barbs. After that, staying mindful of how the lighting is hitting each feather, I used my mid tone and darker pencils to work in between each barb, gradually building up shadows. I also glazed in shadows over this with a very gentle hand to give the overall shape of the feather form and depth.

It can be tempting to rush through areas like this where there is lots of uniform texture, but it’s important to stay patient and take your time. Body feathers especially can become indecipherable after a certain point, because they all overlap and merge into each other. Sometimes even though the reference photo is sharp as a tack and super clear, there is just so much going on that it wouldn't 'read' well as an artwork. So I used my reference to help me with the general structure and composition, and to inform me on how the shapes and textures should look. But I didn’t stress about getting it exact.

Once you have good knowledge of a subject, after doing study sketches and looking at lots of different references, you can be a lot freer with how you approach your final artwork. A lot of the colours, textures and feather placement in ‘Kisses in Blue’ were not there in the reference. I opted to go for a much warmer, cheerful blue. The reference I was using was also fairly flat as it was taken on an overcast day, meaning the lighting was quite diffused. I made my artwork brighter than my reference material, pushing the overall contrast between the midtones and the deepest shadows. I also found myself intermingling soft lilac hues and subtle teal with my Polychromos and Luminance pencils, almost over-exaggerating the birds’ vibrancy. I tried not to stress too much about feathers either - while getting the shape and placement of feathers right on wings can be paramount to a realistic piece, the same does not apply for contour feathers and down feathers. As long as you stick to the right shapes and sizes, paying attention to the bird’s form, you don’t need to get it looking exactly like your reference.

I try my best to bring myself out of my comfort zone with each new drawing. This piece was my biggest challenge yet – quite literally. I’m glad I pushed myself to draw larger than I am used to and I can see why a lot of coloured pencil artists like working at this size – while it is more time-consuming, you have much more room to breathe and fit details in, that would normally get lost in a smaller piece. With my choice of composition and lighting, I wanted to convey a feeling of intimacy and closeness with the birds that I don’t think I would have been able to achieve were this drawing smaller.

[sad-stucky-shipper-107]

#it turned into the pillow fight to end all pillow fights#maximum attack#maximum destruction#they're still finding feathers for months afterwards#mav tried to defend himself that Ice's cooking is just too good to resist#everyone knows that you never take iceman's food

Mav: So, hypothetically-

Slider: What did you do this time, shortstack?

Mav: I accidentally ate Ice's leftover pierogi. How long do you think I have left to live?

Slider, seeing Ice slowly rising up behind Mav: Five.

Mav: Five what?!

Slider: Four.