kissoflightning

[kissoflightning]

skritchy scratch line make the pain go away

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Nooooooo Perkins!!!!!

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hehe :)

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let's scream with mama

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Yes there's a typo in the first option but I am not redoing the whole thing

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PLEASE SOMEONE DRAW CHLOE IN THIS

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ill have you know my serious

ID: Orange and white tabby laying on the back of a couch, he has his arms folded and a serious look on his face

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Commission.

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Hank: Markus sure seems like a stand-up guy!

Connor: Well I've never seen him sitting down.

Hank: *Exhasperated sigh*

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Markus, Kara and Connor - drawings from the sketchbook.

Find stickers and prints of my Detroit: Become Human art in my Etsy shop.

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Cat is stairs

(via)

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Heyo, I don't know if this is where we send the requests, but I think it is. 😅

RK900 as a personal bodyguard

As in, I imagine the government makes bodyguard variants who they use to keep high ranking officials safe. Yet I cam also see the government "loaning" some of these variants out to high paying celebrities/corporations.

« No Paparazzi! » Haha, sorry it took so long Anon. I know you were hoping for a poster, perhaps I will touch this piece again! I am speed doodling most requests, because I have a ton and im accepting new requests too again. I might render this when im free or heavily fixated. Because I really love this one, I *somewhat* ship ConChlo, but not too heavily. But I find the concept cute and the idea of the most outdated Android with the most advanced android adorable, but take this piece as whatever fits your tea.

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(click for better quality)

³ᵈ ᵐᵒᵈᵉˡ ᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᶻᵉᵖᵖᵉʳˢᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᶦᵗᵗᵉʳ

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Dark room. Heavy air. Smells like dust and smoke.

He dropped down beside him — fast, loud, with that familiar "shit" hissed through his teeth when there were no words left.

— Are you out of your damn mind?

No answer. Just a slow tilt of the head back against the wall. Fingers stained blue. Shirt clinging to his stomach.

— Hey… hey, don’t sit like that. — He grabs his face, turns it toward him. — Look at me. Come on, look.

A blink. Slow, like underwater. But he's looking.

— It’s… not critical. — The voice is quiet, almost lifeless, but still has that calm, too-calm tone.

— Not critical? — He lets out a bitter laugh. — You’re leaking all over yourself. Why the hell did you even jump in?

No real reply. Just a twitch of the mouth, like he *wants* to say something. Instead — a cough. Light, not deep, but it makes him lean sideways again. He catches him right away. Pulls him in. One hand cradling the back of his head, stroking his hair like that might keep the circuits from slipping.

— Easy… easy, you… — He says it almost gently, but the panic’s there, shaking the edges of his voice.

He feels how cold the skin is under his fingers. Too cold. And how his shoulder tenses — like he’s still trying not to show how bad it is.

— Just tell me. Why?

There’s a pause. Then, just a small squeeze on his elbow. Not much. But enough.

— Because you... were worth it.

He freezes. Then slowly rests their foreheads together.

— Don’t do that again. You hear me?

— Got it, — a breath. — If I make it.

And suddenly — the faintest laugh.

— Did you just… make a joke?

— Probably.

He wipes under his eye, though there's nothing there.

— Idiot.

— Mhm.

Silence. Long. Just breath, and the sound of a heartbeat that isn’t his. And some kind of light, flickering outside the shattered window.

Special thanks for reblogging my previous work: @nadeshikoshirogi @kissoflightning @heiko-goes-detroit @incomprehensible-phasmid @samishin @ladydrace @anonymousedward

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Little boys. 💕 Postcard from my collection, unsent, 1902.