tomabalanart

[tomabalanart]

Old style photos

[tomabalanart]

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

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“Let me stay tonight,” he whispers.

“You always stay.”

[tomabalanart]

Special thanks for reblogging my previous work

@nadeshikoshirogi @heiko-goes-detroit @incomprehensible-phasmid @kissoflightning @lostbythewayside @ladydrace @anonymousedward @milesaerach

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They took a vacation like it was an escape.

No plans. No return.

A bear growls. The RV sputters. Grass up to their waists.

He holds his shoulder.

And goddamn — it’s enough.

Special thanks for reblogging my previous work @heiko-goes-detroit @nadeshikoshirogi @incomprehensible-phasmid @kissoflightning @ladydrace @sevdrag @pleaseraisemefromperdition @daemonsdemons @sunchay @@glass-noodle @reedeemable @theeveningwind @milesaerach @never-and-ever @hankcon-bingo @tentoriumcerebelli @gaiussaidno @miscellaneouscerealbrand @marcusrobertobaq @samishin

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A warm breeze tugged at Hank’s hair, carrying with it a rare sense of peace. He leaned slightly to the side, bracing his elbow on the chair’s backrest, and gave Connor a half-smile.

“You know, you look indecently good when you’re relaxed.”

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Hank stands by the mirror, running damp fingers through his hair. The steam in the bathroom hasn’t cleared yet, fogging up the glass and blurring his reflection. Behind him—Connor, his hair also wet, a towel casually draped over his shoulder.

"You have something here..." Connor reaches out, brushing a drop of water from Hank’s cheek, but doesn’t pull his hand away.

Hank turns to face him, looking directly into his eyes. Connor’s gaze is soft, almost transparent, filled with something they’ve both been silent about for too long.

"Connor..."

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"You watching the movie at all, or are you just gonna lie on me like a cat?" Hank shot a glance at Connor, who seemed to have completely settled against his shoulder.

"I'm analyzing the plot," Connor mumbled, not moving.

"Yeah, well, analyze less, or you'll miss the explosion scene," Hank smirked, reaching into the popcorn bucket.

Connor pressed a little closer, his voice quieter:

"This is more comfortable…"

Hank rolled his eyes but smiled, grabbing another handful of popcorn.

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Yet when a mission calls — Connor becomes something else. The softness leaves his face, his movements sharpen, precise. A predator built for pursuit.

— You'd be one hell of a monster... if you weren't such a damn good man, — Hank mutters into the hush of rain, not sure if the words are meant for Connor or himself.

Connor's fingers twitch. He glances at the bracelet — at Hank's wrist, not his own.

— Maybe I am a monster, — he says, voice barely above the rain. — But monsters need a reason to stay...

His gaze flickers back to Hank, uncertain, fragile.

— I have mine.

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(Hank is sitting next to Connor, holding him in an embrace. His hand rests on the android’s chest, and a bracelet with the letters "CONNOR" is visible on his wrist. Connor looks at him, clearly intrigued.)

Connor, touching the bracelet with his fingers: Lieutenant, did you make this yourself?

Hank, grumbling: Yeah, so what? Just plastic letters, nothing fancy.

Connor, with slight surprise: It’s an unexpected gesture. You’re wearing my name.

Full version

[tomabalanart]

I hope you have nothing against Trans people because my friend who is Trans showed me your account and I absolutely love it!!!

Qeer people are welcome :)

[tomabalanart]

Hello, Hankcon fandom!

I'm new on Tumblr and I want to share my art and short stories with you. If you're interested—subscribe and drop by often!

[tomabalanart]

Hank (with a bit of irony):

— Maybe one day you'll learn to feel like people do... or at least warm my cold nights with your numbers.

[tomabalanart]

Hello, Hankcon fandom!

I'm new on Tumblr and I want to share my art and short stories with you. If you're interested—subscribe and drop by often!

I promise to delight you with new content.

My previous artworks

[tomabalanart]

Under the darkness of nighttime Detroit, where neon lights only deepen the cold of the empty streets.

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"Damn…" he mutters under his breath, frowning. "Why did you do that?"

Connor remains silent for a second, as if assessing his own action.

"I wanted you to feel me. The real me.

"You know, sometimes you scare me, Connor."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Connor asks quietly.

Hank snorts and shakes his head.

"No. It’s just… I’m used to you wearing a mask."

Connor lowers his head slightly, as if weighing his words.

"People wear masks too."

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My previous art works