rev-wrath

[rev-wrath]

Tim couldn't make it he was in Paris also not in the group chat

[rev-wrath]

i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

[rev-wrath]

I remembered I had things I wanted to do before break ended, but only halfway through break so, been doing that. Plus my little scrapbook. Not sure how Tommy ended where he is with me. Maybe I’ll look later. Maybe. I know once you did ask me for a few specific things and talked to me about it.

Sad that Bello-Ezio arguments never made it to the fic. That would have been fun. Bello’s doing that little bird step and wing adjustment. It’s been a long time for Bello since he saw R. He’s very happy when their memories get restored too.

A thing for you to play with when you feel like it.

You have given me the permission, beloved. So here's the alternative ending for that main Ezio fic part where it's Ezio who remembers rather than R. I scrapped this one mainly bc I felt bad for Ezio having all that knowledge for the rest of his first/original life and his second one. And considering the Endless, it made more sense for R to remember. But the idea of R and Ezio never having said that they loved each other in their original life fed into the final fic.

You didn’t know what made you visit Florence. Maybe it was the very insistent way Bello- your older guide- but here you were, absentmindedly walking around the Uffizi gallery, admiring paintings that you had only seen on screens or in books. 

You squinted at the ‘Adoration of the Magi’. Something itched at the back of your brain. A sense of déjà vu hit you. As if you knew how it was painted. As though you had seen Leonardo da Vinci actually paint it in front of your eyes. 

Bello was uncharacteristically quiet as he peered at the painting with you. 

Unlike the majority of your peers, you were not born with a baby guide, much to your parents’ alarm. No. You were born without a guide, but a massive, fully grown eagle had crashed into the hospital room you were born in. 

You were, as many researchers said, a curiosity in the field of animatology. The more spiritual people your parents had taken you to had murmured something about how your soul was old, and how you had not entered the wheel of reincarnation correctly. But you largely ignored those people. 

Because it didn’t make sense. 

You shook your head and walked along, your bird cradled in your arms. 

Despite being much more mature than you were, Bello liked being in your embrace. Even when you were a kid. He had always squawked so loudly when your parents tried to take him off of your weak, child arms. 

You were getting tired of this section of the gallery. You should move onto the next one, but- 

Your feet came to a stop in front of a single particular painting. It was… It was beautiful, and it made your heart ache, for some reason. 

It was a painting of the night sky. Swirling with whites of the stars and dark blues of the sky itself. And in the centre of the painting was a person. 

You couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows when you realised that the face that was painted onto this Renaissance era piece of art looked eerily similar to yours- 

A hand grasped around your wrist, making you stiffen. In any other situation, you would have shouted. You would have run, but there was something scratching at your memories. Trying to claw into the forefront of your consciousness. 

You let this person turn you around. 

Brown eyes- ones that flickered golden for a brief second- bore into you. The man’s scarred lips tilted upwards in a bright smile, and the way his hair was tied up in a messy, low ponytail made your heart skip a beat. 

Gods, he was hot. 

“Il zeffiro.”

The thing clawing at the forefront of your consciousness broke through, and you… You could- 

“L’assassino.” You greeted, mirroring that fateful Carnivale night, all those centuries ago. “Ezio.” 

Tesoro made a soft cooing sound as they fluttered over to you. Or Bello, to be more exact. You let your bird out of your arms to greet his fellow guide and instead tentatively reached for your soulmate. 

“Si, anima gemella.” He grabbed you and squeezed you tightly. “I have missed you. Greatly.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him to you, remembering far too well what his last memory of you was. 

“I know. And I’m so sorry.” You clutched onto him harder when you felt the very minute trembling of his shoulders. “It wasn’t right for me to give you my desire and my despair. It was selfish of me-”

“Shush, amore mio.” Ezio pulled back to cup your chin. His hands were callused, but not as much as before. He leaned to press soft, gentle kisses onto your cheeks. “I told you it was alright to be selfish. And your burden was something I very happily carried.” 

“But-”

“Later.” He said, eyes flicking with a pain you didn’t fully understand. Your memories stopped at the Vatican, after all. “Let me just hold you for now. Per favore?”

What else could you do but nod and melt into his warm embrace? 

“I love you, Ezio.” You mumbled, and you felt him stiffen slightly before relaxing. “I don’t think I’ve said it before.” 

“Anch'io ti voglio bene-” Ezio said your name- “I haven’t said it before either. But we will have more opportunities to say it now.”

Beloved! You don't ever really need permission. Fair warning though, I still have not finished the fic. At all. Been a bit pre-occupied with some things.

I love Bello, as always. Him, crashing into the hospital room sounds so funny. He is also simply just a baby, despite the fact that he is a grown bird.

Honestly, me not knowing adds a little to this because R also doesn't know. They figure it out, but I have not.

That being said R gave Ezio what? (We'll come back to this when I finish the fic) But anyways, they're cute.

[rev-wrath]

Checking a few things off my list before break and working. Ezio, is but so was Tommy. I wouldn’t say I’m fond of Tommy. But I do like poking him.

Bello is baby, and he needs attention and cuddles I feel ya, buddy. He probably also misses R so much even if he has been hibernating for however long he was hibernating for.

Spoilers indeed. I asked if there were multiple aids and you said no, but maybe secretly yes. I’ll find out eventually. Noting Ezio and da Vinci as something I will potentially get some sort of message on.

You have given me the permission, beloved. So here's the alternative ending for that main Ezio fic part where it's Ezio who remembers rather than R. I scrapped this one mainly bc I felt bad for Ezio having all that knowledge for the rest of his first/original life and his second one. And considering the Endless, it made more sense for R to remember. But the idea of R and Ezio never having said that they loved each other in their original life fed into the final fic.

You didn’t know what made you visit Florence. Maybe it was the very insistent way Bello- your older guide- but here you were, absentmindedly walking around the Uffizi gallery, admiring paintings that you had only seen on screens or in books. 

You squinted at the ‘Adoration of the Magi’. Something itched at the back of your brain. A sense of déjà vu hit you. As if you knew how it was painted. As though you had seen Leonardo da Vinci actually paint it in front of your eyes. 

Bello was uncharacteristically quiet as he peered at the painting with you. 

Unlike the majority of your peers, you were not born with a baby guide, much to your parents’ alarm. No. You were born without a guide, but a massive, fully grown eagle had crashed into the hospital room you were born in. 

You were, as many researchers said, a curiosity in the field of animatology. The more spiritual people your parents had taken you to had murmured something about how your soul was old, and how you had not entered the wheel of reincarnation correctly. But you largely ignored those people. 

Because it didn’t make sense. 

You shook your head and walked along, your bird cradled in your arms. 

Despite being much more mature than you were, Bello liked being in your embrace. Even when you were a kid. He had always squawked so loudly when your parents tried to take him off of your weak, child arms. 

You were getting tired of this section of the gallery. You should move onto the next one, but- 

Your feet came to a stop in front of a single particular painting. It was… It was beautiful, and it made your heart ache, for some reason. 

It was a painting of the night sky. Swirling with whites of the stars and dark blues of the sky itself. And in the centre of the painting was a person. 

You couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows when you realised that the face that was painted onto this Renaissance era piece of art looked eerily similar to yours- 

A hand grasped around your wrist, making you stiffen. In any other situation, you would have shouted. You would have run, but there was something scratching at your memories. Trying to claw into the forefront of your consciousness. 

You let this person turn you around. 

Brown eyes- ones that flickered golden for a brief second- bore into you. The man’s scarred lips tilted upwards in a bright smile, and the way his hair was tied up in a messy, low ponytail made your heart skip a beat. 

Gods, he was hot. 

“Il zeffiro.”

The thing clawing at the forefront of your consciousness broke through, and you… You could- 

“L’assassino.” You greeted, mirroring that fateful Carnivale night, all those centuries ago. “Ezio.” 

Tesoro made a soft cooing sound as they fluttered over to you. Or Bello, to be more exact. You let your bird out of your arms to greet his fellow guide and instead tentatively reached for your soulmate. 

“Si, anima gemella.” He grabbed you and squeezed you tightly. “I have missed you. Greatly.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him to you, remembering far too well what his last memory of you was. 

“I know. And I’m so sorry.” You clutched onto him harder when you felt the very minute trembling of his shoulders. “It wasn’t right for me to give you my desire and my despair. It was selfish of me-”

“Shush, amore mio.” Ezio pulled back to cup your chin. His hands were callused, but not as much as before. He leaned to press soft, gentle kisses onto your cheeks. “I told you it was alright to be selfish. And your burden was something I very happily carried.” 

“But-”

“Later.” He said, eyes flicking with a pain you didn’t fully understand. Your memories stopped at the Vatican, after all. “Let me just hold you for now. Per favore?”

What else could you do but nod and melt into his warm embrace? 

“I love you, Ezio.” You mumbled, and you felt him stiffen slightly before relaxing. “I don’t think I’ve said it before.” 

“Anch'io ti voglio bene-” Ezio said your name- “I haven’t said it before either. But we will have more opportunities to say it now.”

Beloved! You don't ever really need permission. Fair warning though, I still have not finished the fic. At all. Been a bit pre-occupied with some things.

I love Bello, as always. Him, crashing into the hospital room sounds so funny. He is also simply just a baby, despite the fact that he is a grown bird.

Honestly, me not knowing adds a little to this because R also doesn't know. They figure it out, but I have not.

That being said R gave Ezio what? (We'll come back to this when I finish the fic) But anyways, they're cute.

[rev-wrath]

You have given me the permission, beloved. So here's the alternative ending for that main Ezio fic part where it's Ezio who remembers rather than R. I scrapped this one mainly bc I felt bad for Ezio having all that knowledge for the rest of his first/original life and his second one. And considering the Endless, it made more sense for R to remember. But the idea of R and Ezio never having said that they loved each other in their original life fed into the final fic.

You didn’t know what made you visit Florence. Maybe it was the very insistent way Bello- your older guide- but here you were, absentmindedly walking around the Uffizi gallery, admiring paintings that you had only seen on screens or in books. 

You squinted at the ‘Adoration of the Magi’. Something itched at the back of your brain. A sense of déjà vu hit you. As if you knew how it was painted. As though you had seen Leonardo da Vinci actually paint it in front of your eyes. 

Bello was uncharacteristically quiet as he peered at the painting with you. 

Unlike the majority of your peers, you were not born with a baby guide, much to your parents’ alarm. No. You were born without a guide, but a massive, fully grown eagle had crashed into the hospital room you were born in. 

You were, as many researchers said, a curiosity in the field of animatology. The more spiritual people your parents had taken you to had murmured something about how your soul was old, and how you had not entered the wheel of reincarnation correctly. But you largely ignored those people. 

Because it didn’t make sense. 

You shook your head and walked along, your bird cradled in your arms. 

Despite being much more mature than you were, Bello liked being in your embrace. Even when you were a kid. He had always squawked so loudly when your parents tried to take him off of your weak, child arms. 

You were getting tired of this section of the gallery. You should move onto the next one, but- 

Your feet came to a stop in front of a single particular painting. It was… It was beautiful, and it made your heart ache, for some reason. 

It was a painting of the night sky. Swirling with whites of the stars and dark blues of the sky itself. And in the centre of the painting was a person. 

You couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows when you realised that the face that was painted onto this Renaissance era piece of art looked eerily similar to yours- 

A hand grasped around your wrist, making you stiffen. In any other situation, you would have shouted. You would have run, but there was something scratching at your memories. Trying to claw into the forefront of your consciousness. 

You let this person turn you around. 

Brown eyes- ones that flickered golden for a brief second- bore into you. The man’s scarred lips tilted upwards in a bright smile, and the way his hair was tied up in a messy, low ponytail made your heart skip a beat. 

Gods, he was hot. 

“Il zeffiro.”

The thing clawing at the forefront of your consciousness broke through, and you… You could- 

“L’assassino.” You greeted, mirroring that fateful Carnivale night, all those centuries ago. “Ezio.” 

Tesoro made a soft cooing sound as they fluttered over to you. Or Bello, to be more exact. You let your bird out of your arms to greet his fellow guide and instead tentatively reached for your soulmate. 

“Si, anima gemella.” He grabbed you and squeezed you tightly. “I have missed you. Greatly.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him to you, remembering far too well what his last memory of you was. 

“I know. And I’m so sorry.” You clutched onto him harder when you felt the very minute trembling of his shoulders. “It wasn’t right for me to give you my desire and my despair. It was selfish of me-”

“Shush, amore mio.” Ezio pulled back to cup your chin. His hands were callused, but not as much as before. He leaned to press soft, gentle kisses onto your cheeks. “I told you it was alright to be selfish. And your burden was something I very happily carried.” 

“But-”

“Later.” He said, eyes flicking with a pain you didn’t fully understand. Your memories stopped at the Vatican, after all. “Let me just hold you for now. Per favore?”

What else could you do but nod and melt into his warm embrace? 

“I love you, Ezio.” You mumbled, and you felt him stiffen slightly before relaxing. “I don’t think I’ve said it before.” 

“Anch'io ti voglio bene-” Ezio said your name- “I haven’t said it before either. But we will have more opportunities to say it now.”

Beloved! You don't ever really need permission. Fair warning though, I still have not finished the fic. At all. Been a bit pre-occupied with some things.

I love Bello, as always. Him, crashing into the hospital room sounds so funny. He is also simply just a baby, despite the fact that he is a grown bird.

Honestly, me not knowing adds a little to this because R also doesn't know. They figure it out, but I have not.

That being said R gave Ezio what? (We'll come back to this when I finish the fic) But anyways, they're cute.

[rev-wrath]

[rev-wrath]

we need more skateboarder timmy actually

[rev-wrath]

Colin Farrell for The Penguin 82nd Golden Globes, Best Actor in a Series, Limited Series, Anthology Series, or Motion Picture Made for Television

[rev-wrath]

I hope all of my friends and followers up in LA are safe. This fire is so devastating

[rev-wrath]

A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad

[rev-wrath]

Love seeing little pawprints. So fucking magical. There was a little guy here.

[rev-wrath]

photo credit: Jess Manning

[rev-wrath]

He likes ‘em strong ☄️

I said I’ll draw them and I did😌

The intention here was making it look like a variant cover, I recently discovered my love for this field so I wanted to try something for fun sjksk

Hope you like it!

[rev-wrath]

doodled something real quick for the first day of @jasontoddweek2025! the theme picked was “the batmobile tires”

[rev-wrath]

some roy and lian i did for my friend^_^

[rev-wrath]

trying to get used to drawing this goober again