#at the end anyway

[kedreeva]

Giving each other piercings or stick and pokes/queer bonding eddie & robin

(my inbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous prompts)

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"You gotta stop squirming," Eddie says for the umpteenth time, pausing with his hand hovering. "Make all the noise you want, but you gotta hold still."

Robin settles with a small whine, but she doesn't move when Eddie takes the needle back to her skin. She takes his offer, making a small noise every time he pokes, and he smiles as he tries not to laugh, which would be just as upsetting to his job as her squirming.

"I thought it would be a lot quicker than this," Robin tells him after another minute, voice strained.

"Faster isn't always better," says Eddie, glancing up long enough to give her a little wink.

"Ew," she says, with too much amusement to be serious. "I don't need to hear about that from you any more than Steve."

Eddie snorts and unconsciously sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth while he works, poking and dipping wiping at the underside of her wrist intermittently. He's nearly done, and actually- "You're doing really well. Steve was much worse about it."

"Ha! I knew it!" she crows, and Eddie has to stop as her arm jerks like she's going to fist pump. He gives her a withering look and she deflates. "Oh, shit, sorry."

"It's not my skin," Eddie says as he takes her wrist back. "But I am almost, almost done. Try counting to 100 and I should be finished."

She sit through the rest of it admirably, stock still, staring straight ahead. He can practically hear her counting. He works to fill the last of the lines as quick as he can without rushing, now that he has a still canvas, and when she finally slouches a little, he pulls away triumphantly. He releases her wrist for her to inspect it, and grabs her other hand before she can touch it.

"NO touching," he says, strictly, and her spine bolts straight at the order. He grabs the stuff to clean it one last time. "You wash your hands before you touch it, and you only touch it to clean it when you replace the bandage, at least for a bit. It'll be art later- for now, treat it like it's an open wound."

"Right," she tells him, and he's glad he wrote down the instruction because he's pretty sure she wasn't listening.

Eddie cleans up the area and then tells her to wait a minute as he pulls off his gloves and reaches for the Polaroid camera Steve had gotten him. He'd thought it was a weird gift, all things considered, but the dozens of photos of Eddie and his friends plastered all over his walls has taught him differently. Similar ones, he knows, adorn Steve's room, now, sitting in between all the weird plaid lines.

"Hold it up, still don't touch," he says, leaning in toward her with the camera facing them. She grins big and flashes a peace sign with her newly-tattooed wrist facing out, and they both make faces as he snaps the shot. He passes it to her free hand while he bandages her wrist for her.

"Thanks," Robin says quietly, when he's finished. She glances up, hand over the bandage, and Eddie thinks yeah, she's not gonna leave that alone. "It looked nice, I think. I mean, it will once it heals."

Eddie nods, and they sit together as the photo develops. She passes it over when the contents are visible, and he inspects the little anchor on her wrist. He'd done one for Steve not long ago, on his other wrist, so that they could put the matching tattoos together while side by side.

"You should get one, too," Robin suggests.

He passes the photo back to her, so she can have one of those to match Steve's, too. "I never worked at Scoops."

"Yeah, but... you're his anchor, too, y'know?" she says. Then she shrugs, and clambers to her feet. "Or get something else, I dunno. You two should have a matching one, too. Bats!"

Eddie laughs, and gestures to his belly, to where he already bears scars that match Steve's. "The bats already took care of giving us matching marks."

Robin gives him a once over so full of something Eddie can't take that he turns to start collecting his gear up just to escape it. Doesn't help. He can still feel her watching him when she speaks.

"You didn't choose those," she says quietly. "Steve and I have... we have matching scars, too. Not on our skin, but we have them. We went through something awful together. So did you. And after it was over, you got to make the same choice we did, and you chose each other. You can choose a different mark to remember that by."

"Geeze, Buckley," he says, chest tight. "Going for the throat, huh?"

"It's what friends are for!" she says brightly. "C'mon! We're gonna be late for dinner. You already took forever!"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Oh! And whose fault is that?" he says, but he finishes cleaning up and washing his hands as quick as possible, eager to get to dinner and see Steve again... and maybe a little to ask him about Robin's idea now, too.

(and if Steve immediately suggests a flashlight when Eddie tells him, if Steve blushes over admitting he's already thought about it, if Steve tells him I'd have my anchor on one hand and my guiding light on the other, well, that's a story for another time)

[agonyaster]

Life Cycle of a Star

Klavier’s never really known what it means to be a Gavin.

little german boy causes trouble. what is new.

prefer ao3? read here!

…

Klavier got lost in the supermarket when he was four years old. He doesn’t even really remember how, just knows that one moment he was trailing after his mother and their shopping cart with the wonky wheel and the next he was all alone. 

He didn’t cry. Didn’t run to either end of the aisle in a panic or cry out for his mother or Kristoph; just stood there, staring at all the different kinds of laundry detergent, a little dazed at most.

The next person who came down the aisle was a woman. Klavier doesn’t remember her face, but he remembers how she slid a package of dryer sheets into her basket before noticing him. She crouched down low and spoke softly, asking where his parents were and complimenting his shirt. There was a freckle in the center of her palm, one he saw when she grabbed his hand and started to lead him through the store.

He remembers how she nodded along as he told her about Kristoph and counted as high as he could. She had a cat and was a film student at a university nearby. Her laugh was bright when Klavier’s clumsy tongue couldn’t figure out how to say university. 

They got to the front of the store and she picked him up, balancing him on the back of a chair as she talked to a man behind the counter. He remembers the man's voice booming across the whole store, his mother’s relieved face as she rushes forward and scoops Klavier up into her arms.

But most of all, he remembers how the nice lady smiled and told him he had a nice name. “Klavier Gavin? What a good name. A strong name. You’ll be a star one day, I just know it.”

Sometimes, he wonders if she remembers him. He did become a star, to some circles. Well, a lot of circles. It’s a very big circle. 

Childishly, he wonders if he cast a spell on him that day, destining him for greatness. More realistically, he realizes she was just one of the first of many to see that his name had star potential.

It rolls off the tongue nice and easy. Uncommon enough to be exciting, but not too hard to pronounce. It’s easy enough to chant, if you split up the syllables. It’s a part of him in ways last names aren’t to most people. Prosecutor Gavin, rock star, lead vocalist and guitarist Klavier Gavin of the Gavineers. 

He’s had stadiums of people screaming his name, but that’s never what comes to mind when he thinks about his name. He thinks of the woman in the supermarket, and he thinks of his great-aunt. She lived out in the countryside, so visits were rare.

“You should be proud to be a Gavin,” she’d murmur into his ear when he crawled up into her lap after dinner. But she never said it like his parents or Kristoph or his teachers did, she drew out the syllables, savoring every sound. Ga-veen,she’d say, rocking him back and forth.

It was a little strange, how he missed the way she said his name more than he missed her.

At the time, Klavier didn’t really know why he should be proud to be a Gavin. Instead of asking, he chose it for himself. No one in the band really cared that it was named after him, but that was probably just because none of them really knew how big it was going to get. They were just stupid kids who liked sitting in Klavier’s basement, writing stupid songs instead of doing their homework. 

It was enough for them to have all the girls swooning, but they didn’t protest when things got bigger. 

And then the trial against Herr Wright happened. Exposing the Turnabout Terror as a fraud in his first ever trial? Really, there was no better time to be Klavier Gavin. 

Mother and Father weren’t very happy about the country hopping right out of high school, but he couldn’t give less of a damn. Concerts one day and trials the next wasn’t a very sustainable lifestyle, but god was it fun. Defense attorneys around the world had grown to fear his name, dreaded the thought of losing against some kid who was fresh out of law school and slept on a tour bus.

Klavier made the name Gavin a worldwide sensation. It wasn’t until he came back home that he learned how Kristoph made it synonymous with “the best defense in the west.”

It was kind of annoying, how all the prosecutors and detectives gave him a strange look when he introduced himself. When he complained to Kris about it, he just rolled his eyes and snipped about how maybe if he prosecuted a few more cases in LA before he left, that wouldn’t be happening. He was right of course, Kristoph was always right, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying as all hell.

The thought makes Klavier sick to his stomach now. It’s no wonder Kristoph got away with his lies for seven years, he was used to getting what he wanted— no matter the cost. Ruining a life or two, even killing a man was child's play to Kristoph. There wasn’t a worse time to be Klavier Gavin.

There were detectives in and out of his office multiple times a day, searching for any sign of foul play; he wasn’t getting cases anymore, the chief prosecutor too busy breathing down the back of his neck to assign any. Cleaning out Kristoph’s apartment was the worst part, though. His parents were there too, but they didn’t say much. Klavier caught his mother crying in the bathroom, clutching a picture frame to her chest. He let her be.

Even when he was in jail, Kristoph always seemed to have the last laugh. That much was obvious when Klavier ended up taking Vongole home with him, his parents refusing to take her when they learned it was what Kristoph wanted. Klavier wants to bitch about how what Kris wants doesn’t matter anymore, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

She’s not a bad dog, but she doesn't like him much. They’re more like roommates than anything else. It’s a little sad his closest friend is a dog that doesn’t even like him, but what else can he do? He hasn’t talked to the band since Daryan’s arrest and he doubts any of them would want to see his face right now. 

Klavier wonders if his ancestors would be proud of him. He remembers doing a project back in grade school about great-something grandparents of his, an astronomer and a psychologist. They did great things in a world that was so much harder to live in than his own and here he was, moping over not having any friends.

He also wonders what the world would be like if he didn’t listen to Kristoph all those years ago. Herr Wright would still be a defense attorney, though one without a daughter. Trucy would probably know nothing of the legal world, raised by a shifty uncle and an even shiftier father if he was even around. Vongole wouldn’t be sleeping on his bed downstairs, and definitely wouldn’t be named Vongole of all things.

Klavier doesn’t want to think about what he’d be like, but he does anyway. A lot happier is his best guess.

[bluuscreen]

why do i keep seeing whole videos on advice for artfight from “veterans” or whatever. here’s all the advice you need:

you don’t need to draw every day

you don’t need to fully render every drawing, sketches still count and the person receiving it will still love it

you don’t need a fully polished ref sheet for every single character, having a basic one or even just a colour palette along with whatever other art you’ve done works fine in most cases

you don’t need to draw a fully rendered piece every single day do not burn yourself out or injure yourself for funny little internet points good lord

boom done there’s your 15 minute video

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[mag200]

one thing about orpheus and eurydice is you guys are all like “i’m different i wouldnt turn to look at her” because you are all familiar with the story of orpheus and eurydice. but orpheus wasnt familiar with the story because he was in it lol.

[ciderjacks]

contracts written in blood

+

[blackkatdraws2]

[⚠️The Amazing Digital Circus SPOILERS] This episode was interesting!

[pinkravat-art]

"breakfast" a tma s5 animation thing

audio on:333

dawg can't even fry me an egg in this eyeconomy

[VD: A Magnus Archives animation done in orange and teal titled "Pusryčiai" (meaning: "breakfast"). Mellow music plays as Martin cracks two eggs into a frying pan. He turns away to throw the shells while the pan sizzles, and when he returns with a spatula, a "boom" sound effect plays as Martin recoils with comic disgust.

The egg yolks have been replaced by human eyeballs. Martin stares at them for a moment. He then pokes at the egg with the spatula, producing a squelching sound, and one of the eyes blinks with another gross wet sound. Martin goes from disgusted to comically sad and disappointed, and he fades away before the setting does. The video ends on the words "darė Skaistė" (meaning: made by Skaistė) and a quick shot of an eyeball. End VD]

ty @princess-of-purple-prose for the description, i edited it a bit too.

[buggachat]

Part 183 of my bakery “enemies” au!

I'M BACK AND READY FOR DAILY UPLOADS!!!

First / Prev / Next / All

Kofi

[utilitycaster]

"why should I get invested in shows if they'll just get canceled" I was deeply invested in Heroes (2006) and it was not canceled, it just got really terrible. I also got really invested in the sandwich I had a few weeks ago despite it only lasting like 15 minutes. You must embrace the ephemeral. You must be willing to love things that may not love you back, that might betray you, or that may die an untimely death. As the great philosopher Mr. Mitchell Lee Hedberg said "I'm not gonna stop doing something because of what happens at the end."

[mumblesplash]

i say if you’re gonna have the mysterious entities speak in rhyme you might as well commit (EDIT: part 2!)

(posting an unprecedented Part 1 of At Least 3 bc i actually have the entire script and most of the storyboarding for this done already)

[chikinan]

I'm sentimental about them. & about camcorders. [twt + insta + ptrn on bio]

[hrokkall]

"Sad Cat Poem" by Spencer Madsen

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[dragondawdles]

peace and love on planet earth

[taonpest]

Sometimes being an artist is feeling like a baker seeing a chemist making the deadliest liquid in the world and wishing you could make the deadliest liquid as well but you're a baker, not a chemist, and then you feel like your bread is worthless