#flameson hammersmith

[pom-friend]

I was talking with @flamesonhammersmith about pngtubing and I made an off the cuff suggestion about getting Ham's face in the MGS codec style just for a basic 'mouth flap' setup and he threw money at me and here we are.

Bonus unedited artwork underneath.

If you are interested in a commission, please check the pinned post on this blog!

[lordittetsu]

Here you go! A second treat for the day! Yosei vs Hammersmith at Mujihigi, this was one of my favorite fights to date. Thank you to @flamesonhammersmith

Echoing Thunder: "With the field bloodied by our combatants, are you not entertained? Are your spirits not enlightened?! MORE IS TO COME! For next to enter the ring is a man who has much to prove. A man who must prove that his heart is not as gold as his scale... but as solid as steel."

Echoing Thunder: "YOSEI! Step into the ring!" Echoing Thunder: "... He makes good ramen, as well. But his foe is one who does not shape noodles, but steel. One who bends bones as if they were tin. Who crushes skulls, as if they were rough-shod ore. We welcome a newcomer to the ring: The ijin, FLAMESON HAMMERSMITH! STEP FORWARD!" Echoing Thunder: "Combatants. Respect your foe - and your observers. Speak your peace... and prepare to bloody each other." Flameson Hammersmith: "FUCK ALL YEZ JUSS HERE FIGHT." Flameson Hammersmith: went in shoulder low, sand kicking up behind the enormous bulldozer of a roe as the mountain of meat made to trample the golden skink under his feet.

Yosei Ittetsu: ||  Yosei didn't quite seem to have shaken the sleep off, not yet at least. His reflexes taking a small hit at least, enough to shake him awake. As the giant of a man rushed in, the raen pulled those brand new, ornate daggers he got, fresh off the anvil today. With a graceful spin to the left out of the man's path, the blade's silver edge was brought across the Roegadyn's right side of his face. He came out of the evade behind Hammersmith, both blades drawn as his eyes were locked on the man as he kept himself low.

Youjo Enjou: "Fight. Scratch. Bite, Yosei." The Dragoness' voice breathes out; "...Show him." Echoing Thunder: "For if you do not, -he- will." Tyalo Moro: [Hammersmith strikes back! 1-1 TIE] Flameson Hammersmith: Hammer's cheek split open, a wide, ugly gash revealing roes of filed sharp teeth inside the roe's mouth, and the foul liquid inside.  Yosei passed to the right and Hammer planted his feet into the sand deep and hard, pivoting in a surge of earth as the gasoline quality moonshine he'd mouthed spewed out over his light cigar in a flesh searing plume of fire over the Golden Au Ra. Tyalo Moro: [Yosei hits! 2-1 Yosei!]

Echoing Thunder: "A spectacular showing from the ijin! Spitting fire like some Yanxian drunken master. Yet can Yosei - the man who invented the Meteor Challenge - endure such a flame?"

Youjo Enjou: "I would expect him to endure flame." Enjou stays matter-of-factly, chin held high. Yosei Ittetsu: || He wasn't expecting the tactic used, he only had heard rumors of the Roe's preliminary fight. The liquid splashed across his right shoulder. The pain was only felt for a moment, but thanks to his prep, or a curse, the pain that would have been felt wasn't there. He looked down at the location it hit, the leather of his armor had taken noteable damage. That hateful glare turning back to the Roeagdyn, but there was a moment of hesitation. Was that fear in the Raen's eyes. It was only a moment, the hatred coming back in an instant. He rushed into the man with his blades ready to go for the side, finding a nice gap in the armor to wedge one of those ornate blades into the armor.

Tyalo Moro: [Hammersmith hits! 2-2 TIE!] Flameson Hammersmith: Hammer stepped IN, into the daggers.  Into the rush.  There was a clanking crash of metal hitting leather and hidden plates in the roe's armor as the Fuck Mountain rolled a hand behind the now All Too Close Au-Ra, clamped a hand into his hair, and rolled back into a meteoric right strait into Yosei's mask to try and feed him the mask over his face. Tyalo Moro: [Bracket defense! COUNTERSTRIKE! 3-2 Hammersmith!] Yosei Ittetsu: || That strike to his mask caused to make the au'ra cough. He took an extra big breath in order to try to compose himself. He was held fast, the best way to go! He placed his closed fists on Hammersmith's shoulders as his foot was placed between the large man's legs. He knew he was in the danger zone, he had to make space /somehow/. He swept his foot to the right, attempting to use the man's weight against him. Flameson Hammersmith: Hammer had planted his legs in a wide, even stance.  There was another hard, flat sound of flesh smashing against metal as the kick landed and....completely failed to move Hammer's leg out of where the tree trunk limb had planted itself.  The hand in Yosei's hair didn't release.  Held Yosei Close.  The next hit was punching -through- the mask and made the air shudder.

Tyalo Moro: [Yosei misses! 3-2 Hammersmith!]

Yosei Ittetsu: || That punch shattered the mask, and the au'ra's nose with it. The device he used to hide his pain fell by the wayside. His heart now pounding, his eyes shifting to that of almost a feral animal. Even blood pouring from his face didn't seem to stop him at this moment. With a surge of rage he brought his head back in attempts to slam it forward into that monster he fought.

Tyalo Moro: [Bracket defense!! COUNTER! 3-3 TIE! NEXT POINT TAKES IT!]

Youjo Enjou: "Anger, Yosei. Show him your anger."

Evening Fist: "Maintain that discipline, damn it!" Kayis Asader: "Finish this Yosei! I want to see you across from me in this ring!"

Flameson Hammersmith: Rolled his head back and met the headbutt blow for blow with a sharp crack similar to someone smacking stones together.   Then the roe THREW Yosei.  Off.  Away, As the roe took a moment to poke a tongue through his ripped cheek.

Echoing Thunder: "Let your spirit be laid bare. Let your hearts SING in the chaos!" Gan Haragin: "YOSEI! Win this! Show the crowd what you've been working for!"

Evening Fist: "Keep control! Anger means NOTHING without CONTROL!"

Professor Ozerov: "HAMMER! KICK HIM IN THE BALLS!"

Teodore Ronson: "YOU CAN DO THIS, MISTER YOSEI!"

Yosei Ittetsu: || The Roegadyn tossed him back, but it was the detriment of the opponent. Giving the man the distance was usually a bad idea. As the adrenaline rose he didn't hear anything around him, he didn't see anyone. Just him and the man that stood before him. "You never fucking learn!" He rushed down again, this time he used the speed he could gather to sweep low on the mountain, this time not to actually injure him, but to flip him off his feet, face first in the sand. He at least learned his lesson from last time, turning to face the man as he maintained that readied position. Tyalo Moro: [Hammersmith misses! 3-3 TIE!] Flameson Hammersmith: Hammer hit the sand and ROLLED as Yosei came in and swept.  There was the briefest of pauses as the Roe was buried in sand....then a leg rocketed out of the sand towards Yosei's Sternum with the same force of a hidden rocket silo.

Tyalo Moro: [Yosei misses! 3-3!!]

Echoing Thunder: "Are you all not entertained? Witnessing these two giants of the ring fighting for YOU! For your enjoyment - for your honour!"

Yosei Ittetsu: || The pounding of his heart started to drown out even his own thoughts. He was able to jump back to miss the rocket of a leg coming at him. He threw down his blades, reaching into the back of his coat to launch a variety of kunai at the Roegadyn attempting to use the motion to put more space between the two of them.

Kayis Asader: "Fucking kill him Yosei!" Kayis roared in dual tone.

Tyalo Moro: [FLAMESON HITS!!! 4-3 HAMMER!]

Tyalo Moro: [Flameson Hammersmith is the victor!]

Tyalo Moro: [Flameson Hammersmith is the victor!]

Flameson Hammersmith: Several daggers sprouted out of the giant roe's armor, some of the joints, blood dripping down over his back.  There was a ripping sound as the roe moved, a clanking of chain and metal.  A crunching echo of flesh and bone, and then there was a CRACK as a goat-headed weight buried itself into the wall beyond Yosei.  Yosei had been in the path of the goat.  Hammer sat in the sand, pulling knives out of his flesh.

Echoing Thunder: "Ladies and gentlemen... THE GOAT!"

Tyalo Moro: "Mmm. The sands favor this sacrifice.

Yosei Ittetsu:  || By this point the au'ra had been consumed by whatever was coursing through him. That rage was all he could see, the hatred for the opponent that he saw. He was ready to spring for the next action, only to be caught by the goat. He slammed into the cliff wall, coughing up a decent amount of blood. By this point, it was hard to tell if it was blood from his mouth or his nose. He shoved the mace off of him. Battered, Bloody, and Beaten, he rest his hand on the sands to rise to his feet. He took a moment to gather his breath, hand to his chest. He glanced toward Hammersmith, "About time." He drew in another deep breath with a wince before walking off of the sands without another word to anyone.

Tyalo Moro: "Mmm. The sands favor this sacrifice.." There was a hesitation within that statement. "Congratulations to the victor, may that favor follow you this night."

Echoing Thunder: "Yosei. ... Your mother wishes to speak with you."

Evening Fist: "Don't just WALK OFF!"

Echoing Thunder: "Honour to you both. Hammersmith, you may return to the cave - congratulations upon your victory."

Echoing Thunder: "... and get yourself mended."

Tyalo Moro: "Mm. We might as well move on, Aye, Zenjiro?"

Echoing Thunder: "Ahem-... Yes. YES! We must continue!"

[glowinggunmetal]

[Faceless - Burials and Endgames]

Mentions events of @the-faceless-ffxiv, @neheon-kha, @shizu-moshroca, @flamesonhammersmith, @laznenharuya, @ramensaucerp, @delicate-and-deadly

Luke felt ragged as he tried to blink a few times, pearl dropped and eventually having a hard time recalling why he’d picked it up.  Eventually he remembered, staring at the room and burying his face in his hands, breathing shallow breaths in and out.

Neheon was dead.  

The Xaela had been a smoking competent shite when he first met her, and willing to buck off an ask him why he gave two shits about people if he hadn’t heard the whispers himself.  So he’d lied, of course he’d lied, and she’d... accepted it.

When the Seer had been taken from the grounds of the Clinic because they’d trusted aether alone instead of common sense, something had... snapped.  Neheon had been working her tail off, trying, and - even he could see that.  He’d thrown plans together, posted them to her, and then she’d approved them.  All of it, every part of the system even the... extra things he’d almost half-expected her to question.  But the Xaela hadn’t, though she’d given him more than one look over the way the magitek had worked and complimented the aether wards, and she’d let him install it.

Luke had regrets, sometimes distant like there was a cloud between him and the feelings growing darker and more... removed, but Neheon was one that cut through that.  

After the masquerade he’d forced himself to watch as they’d staggered out, because accountability was important.  You could lie to everyone else but you couldn’t lie to yourself.  And Neheon had followed him out, arrow aimed at his neck.  And he’d sat, waiting for her to shoot.  It’d have saved them all trouble if someone had done it before - he might’ve even said that, he could barely recall.  She’d punched him, stormed off.  Something about saving everyone.  

She’d left herself off the list.

He might not have even found out that she’d died if it hadn’t been for Shizu, who’d told him.  Who’d grabbed an airship (through a connection he really didn’t want to think about because that was work, wasn’t it...?) and come over and sat, drinking with him.  

He’d slipped her a pearl when they’d sat down at the Canopy, and she’d called him on it to tell him Neheon was dead.  And the obvious question - who did it was asked, expecting maybe... Fetch?  Him?  Togy?  But it’d been none of them, and then she’d told him about the Clinic’s wards.  And they’d hatched a plan then, a half-insane shite idea that required the stars to align in a cosmic moment of grace.

The Clinic’s wards were nearly destroyed.  Luke could guess why once he’d seen them, and what was there on the outside... barely was doing anything.  Fetch could’ve waltzed by and probably sundered them.  And as soon as he’d learned that he remembered how They crept in, aware of everything their Marked said and did.  Which meant it was time before They might’ve decided to act.  So Shizu and Lazne hatched a way instead, and they tried.

Shizu calling for Hammersmith was not part of the idea, but every plan failed in the first five ticks, so that was... fine.  Ozerov arriving?  Further away from the plan, Hammersmith’s knife shifting like a dancing cobra he could almost see at his back, but something to just accept.  He didn’t know what had happened to Shizu, didn’t want to guess why the caster had broken screaming and almost collapsing, slammed with pain that was not just wards.  

It’d hurt, what he’d tried.  For less disobedience, They had silenced two other Marked until their revival had been paid for.  But when he’d gone down it’d been because Shizu had kept her word and hit him with.. something.  

The sliver of black stone had a presence and weight to it, Luke folding his arms and staring at it, hands tucked into arm pits.  

 He’d never get to say he was sorry to Neheon, or try to explain.  You couldn’t ever apologize to the dead, you just could try and scream at their absence.  

Or you could make one last-ditch effort to make something right out of everything you’d destroyed and risked.

Pulling the slim lenses off his face Luke turned away from the stone, feeling the ache of pain and the weaving ... yearning?  

It’d failed.  But... Ozerov and Hammersmith had seen that he’d been on grounds that should have been safe.  They knew.  It’d get fixed, maybe, maybe.  

Luke closed his eyes, hunched slightly and exerting a near-rigid control to keep his hands from moving where he was holding them.  I’m sorry.  I hope it’s in time.

And then he needed to apologize to her, too.  

[literal-ghost]

A thank you sketch for @nietzschean-smile / @flamesonhammersmith for the Ko-Fi. Buy me a Ko-Fi and request a sketch at http://ko-fi.com/literalghost

[shizu-moshroca]

Shuck the Fire.

There was quite a spread laying across the rumpled futon mat and it's heavy blanket. Bottles of oils, bags of scented salts, jars of milk bath, some manner of fizzy things a woman put in some water, an assortment of bar soaps, and several containers of some wet oil soaps. All of the rolanberry scented items had been set aside in their own neat little pile, including a very pretty, summery pink lip balm. The rest sat in a clutter at the other end of the mat. Pale eyes settled on them beneath long lashes, like stars peeking through the trees in the shroud.

A shop opened, and right near the house. Lucky, right?

Those eyes leveled on three small vials of lip stain with a look of contempt. Clear, a pale pink, and a deep red that looked like someone had spilled their life blood within it. The sweet scent of that shop clung terribly upon the white sweater, which was quickly removed and neatly folded to be placed on the soft mat with the scarf and it's clasp.

"...You smell nice, by the way. You didn't have to gussy up for lil' old me."

A pale nose wrinkled with a look of venom and disgust at the memory of the voice and words.

What woman wouldn't want a beauty shop so close. It's not even five minutes away. Right around the corner.

A glass of whisky was tossed back, and the following breath held, savoring the burn with closed eyes, and head tilted back against the stone wall behind, and memories played through her mind. This time the bottle came, another gulp, then a second, before the vapor was sighed away with the lingering afterthoughts.

The small bag on it's braided chain was pulled from the inside of the thin undershirt, and opened into a small, pale palm. Four solid objects rattled out, and the sensation of long nails biting skin followed as the hand clutched tight around them. Soon then tension eased, and the fingers creaked open to reveal that shattered half of white stone, two heart shaped earrings of blackened metal and soft red gems, and a ring. The ring was kept, as the rest of the items were reverently placed back inside.

"It was made by Tzenef...that's why."

The words rang through the mind, justifying it's place within the bag, as those eyes once more leveled on it. Blackened silver with beautiful black and white stones with their symbolic entwining.

"As darkness meeting light!"

A different voice rang out from the same distant place - older, and far more cheerful. The ring was replaced in the bag with a dismissive grunt. The locks were checked, and the necklace too found itself discarded into the pile of products. The irony of it falling onto the lip stain did not go amiss, and there was a lingering stare that held no small amount of bile.

The rest of the clothing was quickly discarded as the Miqo'te walked the length of the room, across the grass floor, past the stone walls under the ivy, and into the room with the bath. The pale light of the moon lit along the pale surface that was more scars than skin. The entirety of the living quarters was alive. Ivy, grass, small trees, flowers, stone, even the bath itself was stone and rock built like a small stream and waterfall. The comforts of home. The only difference being the water that the aching body sank into was as warm as a spring.

The long pipe that had been fit with Sylphic oils was plucked and lit, pale blue smoke drug inwards in a slow, deep breath, which was eventually sighed out. Slowly the Miqo'te sank lower, until only the hand holding it, and a nose was out of the water - it was still wrinkled bitterly, crinkling a spattering of white freckles. The built waterfall rushed warm water along the back of a mane of white, and the mind was left to wander.

Singing Stream. She said she would help. She seemed to love the idea of peace, and she had always seemed well-meaning. Perhaps there were dark secrets in the elder's past, but the past was exactly that. She had only now met the woman, and that is who she would remain until proven otherwise. She would form her own opinion yet...and there was something about the woman that lingered. She was so like Tzenef.

Berrod was another to think on. He spoke of agreeing to want peace, but refused to make it. He trusted no elder but the one he called his master. A complicated thing to speak of want, but refusing to act, all for mistrust. Surely that wouldn't make this path impossible, but it certainly made it far more difficult.

How many were like him?

The mind wandered further, to a fire that burned, and always consumed in the stifling clutches of night. Out of longing to quench the flames, the pipe was placed down the rest of the Miqo'te sank deep beneath the water to be consumed in it's silence, and the dull roar of flowing water.

The mind traveled deeper.

Down into the silence. Into peace and that vast, empty canyon that seemed so opposite to the equally full well of what was yet unknown. Something in that emptiness clung, like eyes you couldn't escape. Like being stalked through thick, choking forest by some slinking predator. Hunted. Like a coeurl that followed, waiting for it's prey's fleeing to bring exhaustion and an easy kill.

"When the moon is full...and I've pried..."

In the other direction was that well. That unknown. It beckoned like a lover. It held so many wonderful sensations that brought such an aching itch. Straying too close seemed to bring the greater threat. One of being consumed and burned alive from within by that bright whiteness.

It felt so pure...So warm...

"I'll shuck all the light from my skin and I'll light it in you."

There was a burning deep within the lungs as Shizu shot up from the water with a gasp, upsetting much of it upon the floor and walls a clumsy sprawling of arms and hands clung to a larger stone facing the tank of fish that seemed quite startled by the sudden outburst. There was a wheezing, startled panting for air, the only sound in the room. Too long thinking, and with the concussion barring sleep for those few days--

There was more sloshing as wet feet landed on damp grass after stepping  unceremoniously from the water, and a towel was wrapped tight to dry the scarred expanse of pale skin. The Miqo'te plopped defeated back down next to the pile of clothing, and again the pale eyes lingered on that small bag on the vials. Eventually it was snatched up and placed back on.

The towel was moved to the long wet hair, re-wrapped, there was a dull thud of body meeting cloth as Shizu gave in and fell onto the empty side of the futon mat, rolling to one side, back turned to the products on the blanket. Those eyes stared emptily across the room to longer on some of the pale night flowers that were still mostly open and draped along with the rest of the vines. Eventually the covers were thrown up to cover the cat completely. A hand slunk out to pull the half empty bottle beneath, and then again to snatch the second pillow.

That dull burning never did fade. Hammersmith was right...

"It's like your head is crumbled and hiding in you..."

[pom-friend]

A big thank you art for @tiroro-roro , featuring her and @flamesonhammersmith, @shizu-moshroca, and Ominous Horizon (who I don’t think is on Tumblr?) at their regular table at @stellazzio-pizzeria (being waited on by my own Gorbeljin),

THANK YOU for all the Ko-Fi!

Check out my commission information here or buy me a Ko-Fi here!

[pom-friend]

A woodcut style commission for @flamesonhammersmith of the Geezer himself.

I’ve drawn Ham before because we’ve been buds for years, but I feel most proud of how this one came out.

[jancisstuff]

Looking Back - Grindstone

April 2016