how original blue

what was this even supposed to be

Sleep All Summer | Crooked Fingers

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My pencil bag and bullet journal are always with me, so I thought it’d be fun to share what I carry around. Do I need all of this stuff all of the time? No, but I don’t know where else to put them so as to not lose them, especially the smaller things, so they just go in my pencil bag.

A quick-ish redraw from an old washlina piece I did, which will be 3 years old in a month and a half. One thing sure hasn’t changed, I still don’t have the patience for good lineart. Maybe even less patience now.

Bonus, the original:

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OLDCODEX’s “Fixed Engine” Song List

Totally inspirated (copiated) by this: http://leacopene.tumblr.com/post/133699977960/wickedly-gay
By @leacopene
Also, right now i’m should fire someone but i’m too anxious about it, so i decided to draw instead of work. Please, be nice with me.

Agent Washington x Reader

Hey look, two fics in one night. I have like three different requests for Wash so expect more. This particular one takes place on Chorus pre-rescue mission while Wash and the others are with the Feds. Never fear, the much requested Wash x freelancer!reader is to come. Probably.

There were a lot of rules in the Federation Army. Not really surprising given the bureaucratic system that lead it but it’s still very important. It’s also important to note that one of the rules is that pets are by no means allowed to be kept in the barracks under any circumstances. Generally this was a pretty easy rule to follow; it was a civil war after all. Keeping another creature alive and well is a bit difficult when you’re fighting for your own life on a day to day basis. Unfortunately for you, you have quite the soft spot for the small and the fluffy. So when you were stationed in Armonia for a brief period and came across a stray cat you just couldn’t help yourself. The poor thing was starving. Like most of the cats in Chorus’ capitol it was most likely brought there to keep the rodent population down but now that the city was practically a ghost town there was no one left to look after it. Until now.

Turns out hiding a cat in the barracks wasn’t so hard, especially when most of your bunkmates were stressed out soldiers who gladly welcomed the cheering presence of the kitten. In fact, on a regular basis you found yourself having to having to track down soldiers who stole your little bundle of fluff for their own nefarious purposes, most of which involved cuddling. It wasn’t until you were transferred pack to the snowy military base that you faced any real problems. The little orange tabby, affectionately named Cat, had been easy enough to smuggle to  the base thanks to his excellent training but after that it wasn’t exactly what you would call smooth sailing. Things were much stricter there, mostly because of Locus’ presence. Rations were tighter, and sneaking food from the mess hall was significantly more challenging. Still, as a fully trained Federation soldier you were more than prepared for this daring mission.

The biggest problem actually came in the form of one man. One very important man who technically wasn’t your superior officer anyways and really didn’t need to nag you about eating properly and paying attention during training because he really wasn’t supposed to be on this planet to begin with. This man was, of course, Agent Washington. Though not technically a Fed Agent Washington, or “Wash” as he was called by the interesting group of soldiers that accompanied him, was skilled in combat. So much so that General Doyle, in his infinite wisdom, put him in charge of training. Oh how you hated it. On the other hand, you got a pretty good view on those days that high-strung blond allowed you to practice without armor. A pretty good view indeed.

Still, that did not make up for the constant lectures. Sure he actually did seem to be concerned for your general well-being but you had taken perfectly good care of yourself before he crash landed here and you could continue doing pretty damn well without him. You even went so far as to tell him so after one particularly tedious lecture on health and wellness. He did not appreciate that. It took weeks for the soreness to leave your legs after all the laps he made you run. So much for concern over your well-being. After that you kept your complaints between you and Cat who would listen patiently as you lectured him on how much trouble he caused you.

You had just gotten back from one very, very exhausting training session -which fortunately ended in you effectively evading the gray and yellow menace- and were in the middle of ranting to an admittedly disinterested Cat when there came a knock at your door. Sighing, you walked over and opened it, assuming that it was one of the other members of your squad looking to squeeze in some one-on-one cat time. Instead, you found a very concerned Wash outside your door.

“Private, I’m sorry to bother you but this is the third training session in a row where you failed to-” the blond paused, catching site of something over your shoulder. “Private, is that a cat?”

Mentally you steeled yourself for the inevitably rise octave and the shrill lecture to follow about the absurdity of keeping a pet in the middle of a bloody war and following protocol.

“Sir, I can explain-”, before you could even finish your sentence you were pushed to the side. In shock, you watched as the freelancer who had spent the last few weeks lecturing you and making your life a living hell proceeded to get down on his knees and start playing with Cat. He was practically cooing for Christ’s sake! For several minutes you just stood there dumbly, watching this bizarre scene unfold. Who would have guessed that Wash was such a cat person? After a while a thought crossed your mind.

“Sooo, what are the chances of me getting out of training in exchange for letting you play with my cat?” Wash turned, pausing momentarily in his attentions towards your feline friend, and raised a brow. For a while he just stared at you. (somewhere far away a cyan soldier felt a strange urge to shout out his signature catchphrase)

“Private, we are in the middle of a war and your training is crucial in ensuring that you live to see the end of it.” Frowning, you let out a sign of resignation.

“Understood.”

“How about we grab dinner instead?” For the second time this evening you were left dumbstruck by this man. Fortunately he wasn’t too perturbed by your silence, or by the fact that you seemingly had lost control of your jaw. Still, you were almost certain that his ears were several shades redder than usual despite the calm smile on his face.

“Sure, why not.”