In the lifetime of every character, who is dear to my heart, there is a moment when I draw him\her dead beaten or\and in a shirt with buttons™ that moment is now for detective Reed survive this love, Gavin!
brain 19:00: ok, it’s been a hard day - let’s get some rest, no drawing today. brain 23:00: psst, Connor smiles to Reed, how ‘bout that? brain 30mins later: and by “smile” I mean “we both know who’s gonna get fucked tonight”- kinda smile
Here is “A Year in the Life of Two Dirtbags (and Their Reluctant Chaperones)”, my page of comics for the @coffee-and-connections-zine! Incredible experience, 100/10 stars, would do a thousand more times ✨
I know I’ve been INCREDIBLY ABSENT around these parts (and around every part, really), I’m sorry! Wage labor continues to ruin all of our lives. But unless my job liteRALLY KILLS ME FIRST, I will be back with new stuff and an enduring love for these idiot assholes!!! I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!
Date night at Les Mignardises consists of Nines insisting that TRAINING MONTAGES are a romantic activity
RK900, absolutely considering the fractal mysteries of romanesco broccoli and ONLY CONSIDERING THE FRACTAL MYSTERIES OF ROMANESCO BROCCOLI, just that, exclusively, THANK YOU
While the restaurant takes a renovation hiatus to get a bar put in, Gavin and Nines go on the road with Little Ovens, the spinoff food truck that drives around the city blasting yacht rock and specifically parking in front of wherever Hank and Connor are at that very moment
This concludes the sketch haul for the time being, hope to pop back in soon with more comics in the near future!
When Nines pulls away, he lingers a moment in the space between them, searching Gavin’s face like hunting for marks he’s left. The imprint of the seal in wax. I wish I knew what you wanted me to hear. Gavin holds himself still, doesn’t chase after Nines’s mouth.
Nines’s internal monologue at this moment probably just consists of a single long wordless scream, but if you were to put words to it, OH SHIT WELL I’VE DONE IT NOW, FUCK would be more or less where you would land. ~*~Local dog dads in the infancy of their courtship, trying to figure out if physical contact can metaphorically function as a substitute for actual communication~*~
