#i wish i could draw also i’m so sad that i can’t

[mediumgayitalian]

I LITERALLY SQUEAL WITH JOY WHEN I SEE THAT YOUVE UPDATED UR AWESOMELY TALTNED I LOVE U SO MUCH AGHHH

THANK YOU SO MUCH IM GLAD I HAVE SO MUCH FUN

[hobbithoes]

[saintobio]

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party. 

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent. 

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.” 

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.” 

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.” 

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!” 

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked. 

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform. 

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!” 

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?” 

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears. 

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you. 

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories. 

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes. 

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone. 

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too. 

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?” 

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.” 

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past. 

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.” 

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.” 

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.” 

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course. 

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late. 

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes. 

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be. 

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter four: you said no attachment

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - talking things out seems impossible, so you give up and do exactly what you shouldn't. you, azriel, and eris seem to never be able to find a way to communicate or to tell each other how you feel.

word count - 3.2k

a/n - man. i'm sorry. i love making things go horribly wrong. i swear things will work out at some point, but right now everybody has to be sad and afraid otherwise it's too easy. ALSO thank you to everyone who is showing so much support for this series. like i wish i could buy you all cookies or something.

read the rest of the series here!

You push your way into the locker room slowly. It’s filled with steam, curling its way from the showers, around the lockets, pooling at your feet. Almost like it was reaching you, pulling you towards him. You hear the steady stream of water against tile, broken only by the body under it. He wasn’t facing you. His back taught and head down, letting the scolding water stain his hair darker. 

“Eris?” 

Your voice was wavering and unsure. Your feet moving from side to side, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. He straightened, his head raising, his entire body stiffening. Hackles up. The water turned off. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall next to him and wrapped it around his waist before turning around, towards you, but not looking at you. He traipsed across the room to his bag and started rifling through it for his clothes. His only acknowledgement of you, a small sniff as you sighed. 

“Please talk to me” 

It was the closest thing to begging he’d ever heard from you. Those four words drenched in desperation that was so out of character that his eyes snapped to yours. He shook his head, 

“I don’t have anything to say.” 

You take a deep shuddering breath. Trying to think what he wants from you. Scraping every corner of your mind for the right thing to say. You come up empty. You study his face, the cut on his lip, his forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a garish bruise was starting to form on his cheekbone. You take a tentative step towards him. He doesn’t move an inch, almost as if he’s frozen. A deer in headlights. His eyes don’t leave yours as you draw closer and raise a hand to brush your fingers over the welt now blossoming under his skin. His eyes flutter closed and it takes all of his effort to lean away from your touch instead of into it. 

“Don’t” A small warning. Enough to force you a couple steps back. “I don't think I can do this. I meant it.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Please don’t say that. Please. You want to talk? Let’s talk. You can’t just decide you’re done. There’s two of us in this Eris.” 

“You want to talk? Talk then.” 

He stares at you. His face completely unreadable. Cold in a way that it never had been before. His eyes always sold him away, always carried all of his feelings, like a window straight to his heart. But now, looking at them, you couldn’t see a thing. The only other person who ever managed that kind of mask….was Azriel. 

“I didn’t mean to blame you.” It was a lame response. You knew that. But you continued anyway. “You were hurt, and you'd gotten into a fight with Az, and I was worried, and lashed out.” 

He didn’t say anything. Small droplets of water rolled down his chest. His hair was tousled and damp. The heat of his body contrasting so harshly with the cool air, that small wisps of steam curled from him. It would have been a beautiful sight, if the look on his face didn’t scare you quite as much as it did. 

“Who were you really worried about?” His voice was low and calm. Horrifyingly calm. 

“Both of you.” 

It was an honest answer. Just not the one he wanted to hear. 

“I’m tired. I’m tired of being a second choice. I’m not something you can keep in your backpocket. I l-” 

He shook his head. As if the last couple words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not when he was looking at you, draped in a jersey that wasn’t his, your eyes so desperate and pleading. I love you too much. That’s what he wanted to say. What he couldn’t say. Not when all he could think about was Azriel, and all those unspoken feelings. 

“You’re not.” 

That’s all you could say. Choking down the tears that you wanted to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not like this. You wouldn’t let him see that. It was too pathetic. Too desperate. 

He stared at you. Blankly. Mind reeling. You were on the brink of tears. He could see it plain as day. Just cry. Show some emotion. Any emotion. He wanted to yell it at you. Beg you. At least the tears would prove that this was more than nothing. But you didn’t. You just stood. Like looking at him was the most painful thing you could possibly be doing. 

He thought of Azriel. He had heard the two of you yelling before he had retreated to the showers, hoping that the water would drown out the sound of it. He didn’t want to hear what was being said. Didn’t need to hear more of Azriel’s opinions on him. 

He thought of the way that Azriel had years of history with you. The way he’d seen you cry, something you’d refuse to do in front of him. The way Eris had watched your eyes drift off into some far away thought and had your eyes snap back into focus, on him. Azriel had your embrace in moments of panic, a comfort and a quiet that you floated towards. A solace and hiding place you looked for. You never seemed to grow tired of him the way you grew tired of others. Azriel would have you for lifetimes and Eris didn’t want to be a footnote in that story.

“I just need time to think.” That was all he could think to say before finally pulling a shirt over his head. And turning away from you. 

“I’m scared of what that means.” 

He shook his head. He couldn’t look back at you. One right word from you and he’d cave. He’d give you anything you wanted no matter what it did to him. Your voice hit him again, like a bullet, 

“I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.” 

He pulled his pants on and sat down to lace his shoes. Still refusing to look at you as he said the first thing that came to mind, 

“Well you always have Az to wash away whatever guilt you're feeling. I said it before. I’m done, so why don’t you go cry to him?” 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw your jaw set. The small nod of your head. It was the wrong thing to say. But he was begging you to prove him right. Begging you to do something to prove to him that he wasn’t what you wanted. 

You felt weak. Like your knees were about to buckle. Like every horrible thing you ever thought about yourself was right. It didn’t matter how much you cared about him, you never were able to find a way to make that clear. Could never just say it. Could never really figure it out. But he was right and that was the worst part. You fled from the locker room as quickly as you could while still holding onto a shred of dignity. The tears you had choked down rising like a violent tide. Tearing through your every nerve. Your whole body felt like it was burning, like the loss of him might actually consume you. Alone again. You couldn’t stand it. 

★ ★ ★ 

You shouldn’t have done it. But you weren’t thinking, completely on autopilot as you drove, as you walked up the steps, as your arm raised and knocked on the door. Your eyes still glistening, your cheeks red, and your body shaking lightly as the door opened slowly. 

Azriel. 

His eyes flashed with confusion, his hand going to run through his hair before leaning against the door frame as he took you in. Your jacket is gone. His jersey hanging off you. You looked wrecked. Terrified. So clearly the conversation with Eris didn’t work out and here you were. Like you always were when you lost something. 

“Is Cass home?” 

Your voice was shredded. Hoarse and devastated. The mask of cool collection you usually aimed for completely lost now. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the door slightly more ajar. 

“You want to talk?” 

You sniffled and curled your arms around yourself, “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.” 

“So…What do you want?” 

He knew exactly what you wanted. He just needed to hear it straight from your bitten red and raw lips. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

A whisper. A small admission. Almost a question. 

He held out an arm and you pulled yourself into his embrace too easily. Your arms immediately circling around his neck. He leaned down to pull your legs around his waist and carried you across the threshold. Closing the door behind him. His fingers bruising against your thighs. Like he wanted his fingerprints embedded in your skin forever. His lips never leaving yours as he walked towards his room. As he lowered you to his bed. Only pulling away to peel your clothes off slowly. To press open mouthed kisses against your neck as he let his hands roam. His pace slow and deliberate, as if every small claim of his lips was a victory. 

It was. A small victory. He’d have you for lifetimes, maybe only like this, when he was needed to fill some emptiness inside you. But still. Others would have you for minutes at a time that in their lifespan would boil down to nothing. But he’d have you forever. A small form of revenge. 

He traced every path he thought Eris might have once marked as his own. Neither of you saying a word. Both of you ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Azriel only pausing once to wipe them away with a brief brush of his thumbs and soft shushing from his lips, before he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. The force behind it bruising and almost angry. Like he wanted it to hurt. Like he wanted you to remember that feeling in the morning. Like he wanted you to remember that other men would have your adhd driven drifts of attention, your accolades and commendation. Your fantasies and broken form of love tainted remedies to draw out seconds on a timesheet. Your short term hyperfocus. Your false forms of naive intimacies. Your fleeting fingers through their hair when they bend their heads to you. Your anger when they don’t live up to the image you’ve built in your head. 

You closed your eyes. Letting him take the lead. You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything, but feel him. Because that was the easiest thing you could possibly do. The easiest way to not be alone. 

Azriel reveled in it. Your attention when convenient. Your gaze when you thought he was too lost in his movements against you. The way he could still feel your anger from earlier bubbling under the surface, and the way that it didn’t matter now. The way that you had still come to him. The way that he was always right. The way that the little jersey stunt had worked exactly in his favor. The way he always managed to do exactly what you wanted. The way your nails raked across his shoulder blades and you let out a choked sob. 

He’d let you right to it. Something to be angry about again. The one thing you wanted. The one thing you never wanted Eris to see. The one real thing you were. Angry and afraid. Afraid of everything you had ever felt. 

A small form of revenge. 

He held you close to his chest after. He knew you’d leave. Just like you had done before. Just like you did every time something too intimate, no matter what the scale, happened between the two of you. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You’d stopped crying, but by the way you were breathing he knew you still wanted to. So he held you tighter. 

★ ★ ★

You left while he was still asleep. Seven in the morning. Guilt rippling through your entire body. Eris expected the worst from you, so you did the worst thing you could think of, and it felt good. That was the worst part. You closed Azriel’s door as quietly as you could and turned around, immediately met with Cassian’s hulking form leaning against the wall of the hallways. His arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. Your eyes widened. Since when has he ever woken up this early? 

“Again?” 

You didn’t respond. Heading for the door shaking your head. He stepped in front of you, blocking your exit. 

“Why?” 

His voice was a whisper, but the question hit like he was shouting. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said it. 

“You look like you just had a death in the family or something. That’s not how you should look after hooking up with someone. This is…this fucking sadness that you get from Eris….Even Az can’t fix that.” 

You look at him now. He was wrong. Of course he wanted to blame Eris. Why wouldn’t he? 

“It’s not Eris that made me….” 

You trailed off and Cassian inhaled deeply. Finally getting it. Whatever you and Azriel had going on…hurt you just as much as it hurt him. A mutual form of self destruction. 

“So why did you do it?” 

Azriel’s door opened now. You didn’t hear it. Didn’t notice that Azriel had finally woken up and was watching intently as you responded, 

“Because Azriel….” You push Cassian out of the way and reach for the door, “Eris makes me weak.” 

You close the door behind you and Cassian flinches at the sound of it clicking shut. His eyes looking towards his friend now. Azriel looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eris makes me weak. The only way you could think to say that you were in love with him. The only way you could find to express that the feeling scared you so deeply that you went back to something you, and everyone else, had so adamantly ignored for years. It was almost like falling in love with Azriel and wasting it had turned you into something cold. Something accidentally cruel. 

Cassian sighed and shook his head. The disappointment coming off him in waves. Azriel unsure which one of them that disappointment was really directed at. Cassian watched him, he looked small, and unlike himself. He thought of the years Az had spent chasing whatever had happened between the two of you that one night. Like he was so desperate to prove that he was capable of love. Like having you in any small form would make him better at it, like doing whatever he could to keep you away from other people, and bring you back to him. Would prove that he could love someone. Like letting you in last night and fucking you while you cried was a testament to how much he was willing to ignore. Maybe that was what he thought love was. Ignoring all the bad and taking you anyways, under any condition, nevermind who your heart really called for. 

“You’re just a glutton for punishment aren’t you Az?” 

That was all Cassian said as he turned back to his room and shut the door sharply behind him. Leaving Azriel to stand alone in the morning shadow soaked hall. 

★ ★ ★

Eris’ apartment felt empty. Without your laughter. Without you sitting at his kitchen counter biting your nails and complaining about whatever class was pissing you off at the moment. 

He sat alone in his living room. Your sweater still draped over the back of the chair he crashed into. His eyes falling on the plants you had lined up against his windowsill while muttering something about lifeless male living spaces. The notes you had written him stuck to his fridge. The books you had left scattered across his coffee table. The pair of shoes you placed next to his by the door, shrugging, and saying it’s good to have a spare. Almost every inch of his apartment screamed your name, and begged for your return. 

He remembered the ice in your stare as he told you to run back to Azriel. The kind of cold he could never warm. The set determination of your walk as you strode away from him. He knew exactly where you were right now. He knew that you had done exactly what you told him to, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame you. He should have just talked to you. Should have made it clear to you that he wanted everything. That he was all in. That he didn’t care about the fact that you were scared, he could see it clear as day. He’d seen it since you started seeing each other. The way that you were so terrified that the second you admitted how much he meant to you, he’d leave. 

It wasn’t like you made your affections a secret. You had decorated his apartment. You had spent all of your free time with him. You had held him so tight at night that sometimes he wondered if you thought that if you let go he’d slip away, or fade away. You had given him annotated book’s, highlighting lines you thought he might like. Had sent him playlists and pictures of things throughout the day that reminded you of him. Had wrapped your arms around him lazily and pulled him away from his computer whispering you have to stop being such a workaholic. The closest you let yourself get to exhibiting how much you worried about him. You had made it as clear as you could. 

But he could’t wipe the image of Azriel’s smirk as you had yelled at him what the fuck is wrong with you? Like your outburst was some sort of victory. Like shadowsinger had won. Like getting Eris to fight him was exactly what he had hoped for.

He remembered the way that Azriel went slack under him as they fought, the way he had let Eris throw punch after punch and seemed almost elated as blood spilled from his mouth. Like the blood would stain your hands and force you into remembering what and who really mattered. And maybe it had. 

Eris sighed and stood from his chair. Sleep. He needed sleep. But when he laid eyes on his bed, the sheets rumpled and blankets a mess. He thought of you that morning. Refusing to wake up, quietly calling for him to come back to bed, telling him to stop answering emails and come kiss you awake. The way he’d obliged and reveled in your warmth, and your smell, and the soft graze your fingers across his skin. He should have stopped you from leaving. 

I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.

He should have told you. I love you too much. But he didn’t and now he’d have to suffer the consequences. Maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he thought, this is what happens when he let himself fall in love with someone. When he let his walls down. When he let someone into his space. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@redr0sewrites

[awyeahitssam]

Harry giggles. His limbs feel lighter than usual, almost as if bubbles are making them float a bit. He can still control them, but it's a vague, interesting sort of control. Fun.

Harry lets sleep take him. The world whirls around him in sparks of disorienting colours, and Harry watches with a broad smile. It should make him dizzy, but he feels in the middle of something fantastic—a watercolour painting come to life. It's brilliant. Elating.

It stops as suddenly as it starts. Voldemort stares at him from across a desk. "Harry Potter," he sounds almost surprised.

Harry blinks at him. He still feels light, like he is floating, but also distantly sad. "Are you okay?" he asks thoughtlessly.

Confusion masks itself behind anger. Voldemort masks everything behind anger. "Pardon?"

"I’d never felt as good as I did a moment ago," Harry confesses, drawing closer to the Dark Lord. Red eyes track him suspiciously. Harry's chest aches. "But now, looking at you… it makes me so sad."

Thoughtlessly, Harry reaches out, and Voldemort lets him. It’s how Harry knows this can’t be real. That it’s just a silly, drunken dream. Their fingers intertwine, though Voldemort’s hand remains stiff and cold in his gentle grip.

"Aren’t you lonely?" Harry wonders. "Is that yours I feel pressing in, or my own? Even without you," Harry smiles, crooked and small, brushing an irreverent thumb over his scar, "I’m sure it’d be there. People always isolate the freak."

Voldemort’s hand twitches in Harry’s, and he hums, focus dropping from red eyes to trace the long fingers with his own.

"Everybody’s frightened of you. You isolate yourself from friendship, from love, from time itself... don’t you want, Voldemort? I can feel that you do—you’re never satisfied, are you? Will it ever be enough? The world at your feet, no attachments, nobody to challenge you—is that your dream, or your nightmare?"

"You’re speaking nonsense, boy," Voldemort says, but it comes out odd. Stilted. "You presume much."

"Is it presumption when I feel you?" Harry asks genuinely, brows drawing together, hand lifting to press over his heart. Voldemort is dragged with him, pulled a bit over the desk, and Harry blinks in surprise before realizing he still has a grip on the other’s hand. He lets go slowly, and Voldemort pulls back with a scowl.

"You are drunk," the wizard snaps with disgust. "You know nothing of what Lord Voldemort feels."

Harry finds the words… annoying.

"You feel so loudly, though," he returns sharply, moving forward, sliding onto Voldemort’s desk. Ink spills over—Voldemort hisses in annoyance and the stain is gone with a thought—dreams are a magic of their own—Voldemort’s forehead is cold and smooth. Harry bears the man's mark. He presses his scarred head to the smooth. Long, clawed fingers are wrapped around his wrist. His throat.

"Right here, always pressing in," Harry continues, heedless of his position, precarious as it is. "You feel so much it hurts, Voldemort. You hate so much. You’re never just happy. And I was, am, could be. So just take some, won’t you?"

Red eyes are narrow, intent, fascinated as they dart over Harry’s face, trying to gather his meaning. "How do you propose I do that?"

"How does one normally take pleasure?" Harry wonders. Voldemort grimaces, pulling away quickly, and it takes Harry’s bubbling mind a moment to put what he said to context.

"No," he chokes on a laugh, "I’m not asking you to—to snog. To fuck. Just open yourself up. You’re so good at taking, usually, but all you’re doing is giving. Don’t you want to feel like this? Light? Thrilled?"

"You don’t even know what you sound like, do you?" The question is rhetorical. Voldemort’s hand tightens over his throat, until Harry’s breathing grows thinner. "You wish for me to let your happiness pass my Occlumency, as though you have not just slipped through yourself. As if you have no method to make Lord Voldemort feel your pleasure; as if you want to give Lord Voldemort pleasure at all."

Harry touches the hand on his neck, slowly tightening with Voldemort’s rant, and a spark lights his fingers. Voldemort’s hand spasms before it drops. Harry takes a deep breath, glaring balefully. His light-hearted air has faded.

"Perhaps I would give you pleasure so your misery would be all the worse for it," he bites out. The world is fuzzy, but no longer from alcohol. From being choked. Even in his dreams, his life is threatened by this man.

"A pretty plot," says Voldemort. There is something very condescending in his voice; he is clearly looking down on Harry. Doubting him. It’s nothing new, but it makes the sting of anger grow in him. "Very well. If you can conjure happiness as you peer into the face of your death, Harry Potter, then do. Make me feel it, if you can."

Harry’s nails bite into his palm and release. He takes a breath and lets his eyes flutter closed. He focuses.

Happiness. What does it feel like? Like floating, as he was moments ago, or like getting an anticipated hug—not his first, not all the ones he flinched away from, but a hug from Hermione when they’ve almost just died. An arm around Ron’s waist as the boy drapes one around his shoulder. Laughing, hysterical and joyous, by the fireplace. Finding his wand. Finding out he was escaping the Dursleys. Happiness is a brief thing, drenched in the shadows of his life. Happiness is contentment, even if it is a momentary thing. It is the pleasure of a perfectly prepared cuppa; from—nonono, not going there.

Harry wraps the sensations up, one by one, like he’s re-wrapping hard candy, and throws them at Voldemort. Into Voldemort. All but one—his favourite one, his happiest one. That, he grasps, and it’s actual candy in his hand, a sweet that he looks down to, and then unwraps, and he’s moving forward, intent eyes raising, and Voldemort is already gasping, a bit, at the suddenness of it all—of pleasure.

Harry’s lips curl and he pushes the candy into the slightly agape mouth of the Dark Lord a bit cruelly, shoving it deep. He pulls back quickly, before sharp teeth can gnash on his fingers, and watches on as Voldemort experiences pleasure. As Voldemort softens, and sighs, relaxation in every hard line of him, mouth sucking almost greedily around the treasure that Harry has placed within it. Now he’s drunk on it, Harry thinks, horribly pleased to see Voldemort this way.

It’s not real, but still, he hovers on Voldemort’s desk and observes the pink brushing his cheekbones with fascination. He observes the way red eyes roll back a bit, and the way a long, pale throat swallows convulsively down on a slowly dissolving candy until there is nothing left.

Lashless eyes open, dark and suddenly staring. Red barely peeks out from behind the dilation of his pupil, and Harry’s smile is a smug thing.

“There’s your pleasure,” Harry whispers to him, like a secret. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. It can only get worse from here.”

“Worse?” murmurs Voldemort, staring at Harry intently. “You think there is worse you can do, Harry, then give me that and take it back?”

Belonging, thinks Harry, quite suddenly. He’d given Voldemort his favourite thing, the thing that he had been looking for, for a very long time. Longing, and peace, and laughter, and a burgeoning happiness that had very rarely managed to emanate past its conception. He had given Voldemort, too, his desperate hope for things to get better—and then he’d made them get better—and now Voldemort had lost it all.

Suddenly, impossibly, Harry’s eyes are liquid. I’m cruel, thinks Harry, gaze falling from red. There is nothing so cruel as what he has done, and he had done it so carelessly, so happily, so smugly, because he had felt slighted. Had felt wronged by this man who had ceaselessly wronged him.

Slowly, Harry looks back up at Voldemort, who is watching his tears with an expression of keen interest. 

“Has it made you sad to give your enemy your pleasure, Harry Potter?” Voldemort asks, gripping his wrist and drawing him near enough that Harry barely keeps his bottom on the desk rather than Voldemort’s lap.

“It makes me sad to treat you with such cruelty,” Harry corrects, “when I know you will never allow yourself to experience such pleasure again.”

“Would I not?” breathes Voldemort, eyes still dark instead of bright.

“You won’t,” whispers Harry. “It'd require you to trust someone. To have faith in them. And that, I know you’re incapable of, because you are a man but don’t see yourself as one, and gods do not have friends, nor equals.”

“Equals?” Voldemort’s breath brushes Harry’s brow, his stinging scar. “But what if Lord Voldemort were to draw you from the depths, Harry? Raise you from the pale mortality until you, too, are exalted? Then you may give Lord Voldemort what he so deserves; give me pleasure, Harry Potter,” Voldemort enunciates awfully. “Give me it all.”

I wrote this one of the first times I ever drank, and just expanded upon it a bit. I'm honestly really fond of finding these little things I've forgotten.

[glossykissies]

Butcher's hatred for vought only worsening after meeting hybrid!puppy reader bc of what they did to her makes me so sad :( he's just an old angry man who gives off ultimate protective daddy vibes

ok trigger warning for this arc bc it goes into her abuse but

yes bc i feel like it takes a while for her to understand that the abuse she faced wasn’t okay / normal and it’s not just butcher that feels that way it’s everyone. like whenever she messes up infront of the boys she just puts her head down and braces, and when hughies like “wait, what are you doing?” pup is all

��oh, well, back at the lab if i messed up they’d punch me in the stomach real hard so i don’t do it again?” :(((((

and m.m has to take her aside and explain that she’s not gonna be physically assaulted for messing up, especially not over something so tiny? “no one is laying a hand on you in here, you hear me? if they do? they’ll have to answer to me.” he adds the last part with a playful smile, trying to keep the tone light — but upon turning to you, his face falls, seeing the tears on your cheeks.

“really?”

“what— yeah. we may be a bunch of ruthless motherfuckers but beating on someone as defenceless as you — no offence, well that’s where i draw the line. look, you’re safe here kid.” he turns his full body to you, large frame crouched a little subconsciously to seem less intimidating. “don’t mean you won’t get yelled at by butcher from time to time, but i’m tryna get a handle on that.” he pats your back with a smile, shuffling to get up but you throw your arms around him.

“thank you, m.m.”

his brow creases, knowing that sort of thing shouldn’t warrant a thank you.

“we’re takin’ this one step at a time.” he hums.

kimiko also serves as great comfort, knowing what it’s like to face abuse and be confused when faced with kindness. sometimes she finds you sitting alone, not your usual energetic self and she comes and sits with you — typing things out on her phone to communicate with you.

are you having a bad day?

“yeah. i don’t miss the lab, but sometimes i wish i didn’t have the responsibility of being a full… person. at least when people treated me like a dog i didn’t have to think too hard.” you sigh and she nods, taking a moment to type.

i understand. i don’t miss my past, but some days i kind of wish i could go back just so i could hang out with my brother one more time.

“yeah. i get that.”

after a pause, she types some more.

did you have any brothers or sisters?

“no. it was just me. i always wished i had a sister to play with though.”

kimiko smiles, happily typing something into her phone before proudly turning it around.

well guess what? we’re sisters now. you can be my little sister. i always wanted one of those.

you beam, tail thudding the side of the chair you’re curled on as it starts to wag and your mood is infectious, the girl throwing her arm around you into a side hug.

butchers hate does infact worsen and it causes him to act up, get more violent than before — violently destroying anyone with a finger dipped into the vought pie. you always assumed it was because of his own past, but one day you witnessed him beating on someone who had something to do with the hybrid operation. cowering in the doorway, you try to keep your frightened whimpers at bay at hear him berating the bloody man through grit teeth.

“what you did to ‘er? what your fuckin’ people did to that girl? she’ll never be the bloody same and that’s all because of you. you’re gonna rot in hell, cunt.” before delivering the final blow to his skull.

you’re shaking, and only when he’s pulled himself off the corpse he sees you— having watched the entire thing. he softens slightly, eyes flickering with shame as he presses his lips together but you slowly approach, wide eyed.

“dont be scared pup, i ain’t… i just couldn’t let ‘im get away with it. can’t let scum like that keep walkin’ this earth.” he thinks you might bolt, like he’s seen you do on other occasions— but this time you approach, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling into him, ears twitching, tail wrapping around his thigh.

[kodamaghost00]

Can you do 30 headcanons for Sundrop?

30 Sun/Sundrop Headcanons

———————————————————[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys! You are a Technician in these scenarios!

———————————————————

Let’s begin!

His favorite nickname for you is “Sunshine!” but he calls you every nickname that he can find.

He always talks super eccentric wich leads you to misunderstanding him often.

In the after hours of the Pizzaplex he pins all the drawings that kids made for him on the walls in his room.

He’ll randomly pick you up and treat you like a toddler, just to mess with you.

He’s usually not roaming free in the Pizzaplex but when he’s concerned about you he’ll storm out within minutes.

He’s a desperate dude. He would beg just to let him fuck you. Just drooling over you and your perfect figure praising you every minute.

He can handle various types of kids who are different than others. He knows ASL and has bells around his wrist so the blind kids hear him.

He learns the names and interests from kids who are regularly with him.

He has a lot of stamina. Like. A LOT. So he can go on for hours and hours.

His head spikes spin when he cums, but he always puts his head behind though, so he won’t hurt you accidentally. “F-Fuck sunshine~ This is amazing!”

He loves making puppet shows for the little ones! And sometimes he’ll ask you to join him to make them more human and interesting to look at.

When the kids leave he’s usually very alone. Cleaning the daycare or searching for you to accompany him.

He’s a fan of Karaoke but he doesn’t want people to hear his voice.

One time you came into the daycare in the after hours to search for sun. His monthly maintenance was due but he was nowhere to be found.

It’s weird since he’s always on time. You look through the whole daycare but he wasn’t there. So you go to his room and look over it. And there he is bawled up in the corner.

“Sun? What’s up dear?” you asked gently knowing that he needs you right now. “Sunshine?! Oh… I’m so so sorry that you have to see me this way again.” He said in a super sad tone while looking on the ground. “Don’t worry Sunny. You know you can tell me everything…” He looks up at you with hope.

“Oh… I… uhm… the parents were talking about me again.” He continued to tell you how the parents were talking bad about him. It broke your heart. You sat down beside him and hug his slim build. “You’re the best Sun. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” You give him a reassuring smile and you guys hug for a long time.

His love language is Acts of Service. He appreciates everything you do for him, even if it’s something small like leaving a sticky note for him.

He apologizes a lot too. Even for stuff that isn’t in his power.

He likes dancing with you. No matter if it’s more partying or if it’s more of a slow dance. “Come here sunshine. Let’s enjoy this moment…”

He’s not only programmed to entertain children but also to educate them. He has a wide range of languages and can count up to 100.

His dick is basically a tentacle. It’s twisted with moons part wich makes it even better to play with.

He has ADHD and uses stimming toys to calm himself. His favorite are the fidget cubes. He also got really sad that fidget spinners didn’t trend anymore.

Sometimes he wishes to be only one animatronic instead of two. After all Moon gets to spend all night with you and he doesn’t.

Every time the younger kids are explaining new memes to him he doesn’t understand. “Oh! What you drawing there small one?? What’s that? A skibidi Toilette…? That sounds disturbing…” You pat him on the shoulder. “Yeah no one gets what they like about…. That.” You say with a slight disgust on your face.

He also wished he could be more comfortable. His metal build isn’t really good for comforting the kiddos. He asked you a bunch of times if you can change something against that but you can’t due to the strict guidelines for him.

He tries to get into your special interests. Asking a bunch of questions so you know he’s interested in your life.

He’d be a switch with a bottom preference. He loves getting touched by you. But he also loves seeing you desperate.

One time you asked him if he still loved you. That man looked at you with the most shocked expression ever and just hugged you.

He hugged you and said “Oh Y/N… my sunshine… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me! I love you with all my body, heart and soul!” You guys just stand there holding each other for a very long time

———————————————————

That’s also finished! I wanna send a huge shoutout and thanks to @millenniumproductions !! I’ll make sure to fulfill all your requests sooner or later! If you’re new here you can also leave a Follow and request! And once again thank you for reading!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[soupdreamer]

i need to lie down

so excited for nimona!!

[meanbossart]

Hello and I hope you’re well!

I’ve been meaning to ask about ANE for a while now. I’m mostly curious if you’ll be depicting more scenes from the story? I ask because the comic you made about the Drow and Astarion at the bar role playing made me sad kinda, like before Drow cheered him up Astarion was contemplating his vampirism/just left the drider confrontation. I know that’s not the order of events but Astarion looked so sullen I can’t help but connect it to ANE.

I’m also curious when we’ll see another chapter come through, no pressure of course!

Hello, thank you for the well-wishes! Hope you've had a fine monday yourself.

I mean, that could very well be the order of events. That comic is meant to take place after the game after all, and I didn't imply a precise timeline. My specific intentions WRT what Astarion is bummed about are a little different, but I always want to encourage people to draw their own conclusions ;)

As to your question, yes! There is even one poor ask in my inbox that's been sitting there for ages that references one scene that I want to draw, lol. Alas, I only have so many hands and so much time, so I can't make any promises as to when depictions from the fic will come - but I do have plans for it.

[captain-mj]

Vampire Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Content Warning: Implied delusions?? It used to be true but not anymore and that upset Ghost

Soap got to work immediately on Ghost’s new mask. He needed something that would cover the majority of his face while also not bothering his new ears. 

Ghost was lounging on the couch, giant body on display. 

Soap had to bite his lip and look back at the mask that he was working on. Images of those teeth and that mouth around his… 

Anyway. 

His throat hadn’t quite healed. The bruising had faded but there were two holes in his neck that looked like they might scar despite how gentle Ghost had been. His hips had also not healed. They still ached from how hard Ghost had gripped him when he messed up and said the lord’s name. The way Ghost’s nails had sank into him so deep. It had definitely awoken things in him. Now all he could think about was how nice it would be to have those nails holding him down. Sinking into his flesh again. Ghost’s mouth had been cold. Incredibly soft and cold. 

Ghost hummed. “Johnny. How is my mask coming along? I am tired of this.” 

Soap hated this. He didn’t want Ghost to cover his face again. If he could, he’d draw him right now. Take his immense beauty and get it on paper. He wished he could take photos but he knew Ghost, or… Simon… It was such a trip knowing that name, but he would just disappear. Like mirrors, they couldn’t appear in photos. Which was devastating. He wanted so many pictures of them. But he supposed unlike humans, Ghost would never change. He’d always remain the same. No need for something as silly and sentimental as photos. 

“Soap.” Ghost snapped at him. 

“Oh! Sorry, sir. Yeah, it’s coming along.” He held up the mask for him to look at. Like his old one, it had a skull design on it. It would fit more like a medical mask rather than a balaclava but it was the only design Soap could think of that would work. 

Ghost nodded. “I’ll need you to get more bleach. I want to keep my hair blond.”

Soap paused. “I’m sorry. You get your ears. Rip your mask. Get so distraught you don’t eat. But you had time to bleach your hair?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Ghost nodded like that was okay. 

Soap just shook his head, unbelievable. 

“Johnny, I’d like to talk about yesterday.”

“Yes! I’d also like to talk about yesterday.” Johnny turned around to face him. “I have so many questions. Was my blood really that good?” 

Ghost frowned. “I meant you killing someone.” 

Soap got a bit pale. “Thought we were just going to not talk about it.” 

“Who were they?”

“Don’t know. It was on accident. I thought they’d stop at the sunlight not… Not…” 

Ghost nodded. “Good. Senile. If you’re being forced to tell the truth, you can say they ran out into the sun. If there’s any more details, don’t say them. And don’t tell me.” 

Soap nodded. “Understood, sir. Thank you…” 

“Yeah. It’s alright.” He reached over and grabbed his hair, pulling him over. His hand was so big. It made Soap feel very, very small. “And yes. You did taste good.” 

Those intense, dark eyes stared right through him like he was made of glass. Soap should’ve kept his mouth shut. Should’ve just kept it moving. Let the blissful thing that was Ghost’s attention wash over him. 

He did no such thing. Instead, stupidly, he asked a question. 

“What are you going to do about Price?”

Ghost could hardly be described as a fragile person, but Soap watched something snap. His mouth twisted up into a snarl and he tried so hard to seem angry. 

He didn’t though. 

No, Simon just looked heartbreakingly sad. 

“The only reason I don’t tear him limb from limb is because I can’t.”

Soap swallowed. “Is he why you haven’t turned me yet?”

“I just… want to make sure this is something you really, really want. I want it to be special. For you to have a choice.”

Soap nodded and they kept eye contact. It made Ghost speak again. 

“Price was my commander. He talked to me like I was an equal. Discussed plans with me.” 

Soap squeezed his wrist and he felt him tighten the grip in his hair. It started to hurt but he didn’t want to interrupt. 

“I thought he was attractive. The fangs. The way his eyes glowed. I was swayed. An idiot. A stupid fucking human. Walking into the jaws of something I couldn’t understand. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. That when I sink my teeth right here.” He tapped his gloved fingers onto his jugular. “And claim you as mine for eternity. Make myself your sire. That it’s something you’ll never regret.”

Soap wanted him to continue. To keeping talking in that accent that was both ancient and so modern. 

When it was clear that Ghost would not continue, Soap spoke up. “I do. I want this. Want… Want…” You. Want you. He could say it. Nice and easy.

Rodolfo burst through the doors. Ghost released him and he fell. “Rudy. Something wrong.”

“None at all. Just wanted to check on you. Rough few days.” He reached over and ruffled Ghost’s hair. Soap felt green with envy. The way they interacted so easily. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair. Kiss his temples. Feel his cold mouth on his body again. 

Soap looked away. He reached up and grabbed his necklace, toying with it. His old one had been snapped and unusable, so he got a new one. Protection. 

Sometimes, he didn’t want to be protected. But the little cross stayed around his throat all the same. 

Ghost stood up. “I am going outside to the backyard. Tell me if you finish the mask.” He disappeared in a wave of smoke. 

Rudy looked down at Soap, still on the floor and hummed. “Feel better now that you’ve finally been bit?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah, a little.”

“Good. Happy familiar, happy home.” Rudy seemed to have something they wanted to say. His nails, not quite as sharp as Price and Ghost’s but that was due to age and age alone, picked at his pants. He turned abruptly to leave before swiveling back around. 

Soap waited. It worked with Ghost, so why not.

Rudy took a deep breath. “I think you’re… a good… person.”

Soap almost choked. Was this a compliment? Was he being complimented right now?

“You’re nice. Good.” Rodolfo patted him on the head. “What you did, even if it was stupid, was the right thing to do.”

Soap nodded blankly. They were being nice. 

Too nice. 

“Are you guys going to kill me?”

Rodolfo laughed. “No. We’re not going to kill you. Just relax.” He smiled at him. 

Soap’s heart didn’t slow down.

Ghost came back in eventually. “Price managed to seduce our neighbor and I swear if he eats that guy.” He shoved everything off Soap’s bed to sit on it. 

Soap should’ve reprimanded him, Ghost would probably listen, but he found it endearing. He was sketching. Luckily not Ghost. Just some random portraits. But this did give him a perfect opportunity.

“Ghost, sir.”

“Yes?”

“Can I draw you?” 

Ghost paused at that and looked at him. He weighed his options. “I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve seen what I look like…”

“Exactly. May be good to remember, yeah?”

Ghost tapped his fingers against the wood. “I think my last portraits were made at my wedding.” 

Soap had long since learned that Ghost had married a few times over the years, most of his spouses nothing more than political alliances or were ways to cover up what he was. Both admissions were said with so much guilt when Ghost had drank too much drugged blood that Soap felt inclined to believe him. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Price had an artist paint us consummating in a graveyard.”

“Did you… actually consummate… in a graveyard?”

“Yes. I wore the mask though.” 

Soap laughed a little. “Really? Mask on, fucking in a graveyard?”

“Yes. It was fun. I think that was the last time I get married actually. Didn’t mean much, just a little bit of fun.” He tilted his head back, exposing more of his jaw and throat. It made Soap feel funny things in the pit of his stomach. 

Soap focused on getting him on paper. He had the excuse and the permission to stare at him until he gets his fill. He wants to gulp Ghost down until he can only taste him in his mouth. A bitter aftertaste coffee couldn’t mask. 

Instead, he draws him. He makes two portraits. One he can keep, one for Ghost. He’ll pretend the first one had something wrong with it if Ghost sees it. That way he can have it. He could color it later. Make it as close to real life as possible. 

Maybe it was a tad obsessive, but Soap had always liked his things to be his and his only. Ghost couldn’t be one of his things but the portrait could be. All his. 

He spent the rest of the night and a good bit of the morning like this. Ghost taking up his bed, perfectly still. At one point, Soap was pretty sure he had dozed off, eyes closed and no sign of life in him. 

Soap finished the portrait and as soon as his pencil stopped scratching the page, Ghost opened his eyes and held out his hand. He painstakingly ripped out the page for him and handed it to him. 

“You left out my scarring.”

Soap tilted his head. “What?”

“My scars. The…” Ghost made a motion around his mouth to mimic a blade cutting his mouth. It made him think of the Joker weirdly enough. 

“What scars?”

Ghost looked hurt. “That’s not very funny, Soap.”

Soap didn’t understand, but Ghost seemed so upset it made him want to fix it. “I drew you exactly as you are. I didn’t change any details.”

“Yes, you did. You got rid of my scars. I understand if you don’t like them, but you could just admit it.” Ghost hissed at him. Clearly this was hitting some nerve that Soap couldn’t begin to understand. 

“Ghost. You don’t have any scars.” 

Simon swallowed so hard it made an audible click in his throat. “It’s the whole reason I cover up.”

Soap wasn’t sure if vampirism cured scars, but despite their lifestyles, none of the vampires had any, so it made sense. Maybe they just didn’t notice?

Ghost got up and went looking for Alejandro, Soap trailing behind him. He held the portrait up to Alejandro.

“I look like this?”

“Your hair is a little fluffier, but yeah. That’s how you look.” 

Soap thought Ghost was going to have a meltdown. 

“I look like this? Exactly like this? I have no scars?”

“No? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been scarred up.” Alejandro looked confused. 

Simon started to scratch at his arm, clearly going through a lot right now. 

Soap made a decision right then and there. He was going to keep Ghost from having to deal with anything else for a bit. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to just relax at home for a little while. Just as long as no one brought any more news. 

Price burst into the room. 

“Guys. I’m getting married!!”

[laughterbynight]

Possibly unpopular opinions incoming which means post it before bed, natch.

I actually think Tim in a trio would be cute. I don’t trust DC not to make it weird of course but as far as headcanons go I could see him trying that out for a bit. One partner is of course Kon. DC can fight it all they want but I do think someday (maybe when I’m 70) Tim and Kon will end up canon.

Anyway, temporary trio wise I think Tim, Kon, and maybe a new character. I have no issue with Bernard but I always feel like DC shoved him in there to cut off timkon talk so I have a hard time seeing him as anything permanent y’know? But then again that would work as a transition into timkon when the trio ends. Amicably!! I’m so not here for drama.

I’d like to see a woman in there maybe, for some balance. No not Steph. I know some fans are still really married to the idea of them but the whole manic pixie dreamgirl thing has never been my jam personally. That’s why I’m generally attracted to the batfam. I like stoics. Yes, Dick isn’t my fave either (drawing all kinds of targets on myself tonight).

I feel like figuring out sexuality is so…basic and static in comics. Like yeah they talk about it being a journey of discovery but we don’t really *see* that, they just say it.

I think I’ve seen Bart as a popular third. Idk if that’s in line with him as a character at all since I’m less familiar with him but I’m open to it. I do kinda like the idea of an Amazon about their age. I know the supe/bat/amazon thing is common ground but hey it works really good. I can’t argue with it. I like reading superwonderbat too. Sue me.

If we wanna shake things up it would be interesting if it was a male Amazon. I mean we know men aren’t allowed to stay there so they must go somewhere. I think it would be interesting to see a male character from a culture where women are in control and that’s considered normal. No hate about it just, yeah that’s how it is here. I get bored of the sausage club that is the batfamily but I’ll take it if that means an interesting third.

sidebar: I really wish Cass was in more stories and we could have more girldad Bruce moments. I feel like DC tries to do the “girlpower” thing by putting all the girls on teams together and honest to god I do not care. I wanna see Batman and his kick ass daughter and her brothers, together.

It’s almost a shame Cass was adopted bc she would fit as a good third but of course we can’t do that for obvious reasons. Maybe in an AU, but I’d be more sad if she didn’t have batdad instead.

Anyone have any ideas about a third? I’m curious. Keeping in mind they'd need to get along with Tim and Kon on some level obvs or why would any of them bother.

Edit: How do we feel about Connor? I realized the rep for Ace characters is abysmal and I think Tim and Kon would be really sweet and understanding compared to like, idk a lot of other characters in general. Tbh I think of Tim as demi but idk if DC can handle that Bi was hard enough for them. But then I think I’d want them to stay a trio too. Idk y’all is Connor around their ages I seriously can’t keep up with how DC rearranges timelines. I DO know it would probably cause Bruce and Ollie to get catty with each other around the holidays and that’s always a bonus in my book.

So many ideassssss

edit edit: wait that’s two Connors. I shouldn’t do this at 1am. That would also be funny tho.

[squipedmew]

well, since the Dream SMP has officially come to a close, I thought I’d share what I’ve been up to for the past 2 years - making character designs for every single one of the characters!

 I really wanted every character to look distinct, with really distinct color pallets, unique weapons for each and every character - basically like each one of them could be the protagonist of a wildly different story from one another. Feel free to steal them (with credit) if you want!

I kinda dropped off working on it in late 2022, so I think I missed a few characters, as well as going back and re-doing some of the oldest ones (that’s why some of them are more detailed - those are the 2023 versions)

As strange as it is for me to say this, DSMP had such a big impact on me, especially over COVID. I haven’t had a piece of media fill me with such a passion to create art and improve probably since Undertale all the way back in 2015, if you can believe it. I owe a lot of my art improvement to this silly little Minecraft series, and though I may have lost touch with it near the end, it will always hold a special place in my heart. 

o7 you crazy, wacky, depressing, stupid, unsatisfying, joyful, hilarious, and amazing series. I wish everyone involved in it the best!

(A few extra designs under the cut!)

This is a 2020 Pogtopia Wilbur I made, and if I were to draw it now, I probably wouldn’t change a thing. This design fucking slaps imo, I’m still super proud of it. 

Exile Era Tommy. Wilbur’s old Pogtopia coat has been passed around so many times between so many different interpretations of characters, so I thought it made more sense for Tommy to take the L’Manberg era coat from Wilbur, since that was the version of him he idolized (This is an old version of Wilbur’s coat btw)

Post Dream-Getting-Sent-To-Prison Tommy! I wanted to emphasize how Tommy was trying to move past his trauma, so he shaved off the grey streak he got from the Withers in the L’Manberg explosions (I gave him the grey streaks before Revival canonized it - don’t ask me why)

Las Nevadas Quackity. It’s basically a 1 to 1 for his skin, save for the really ugly blue patches and hoodie I gave him. If I were to do it again, I would def change that. 

Snowchester Tubbo. Also still holds up, though I’m not 100% on the pants. This was kinda before goat Tubbo got super canonized, so I just decided to have the eyes. The scars are from the execution. 

Revivbur. He looks pretty good for a dead bitch - though I messed up the L’Manberg flag colors on the bandanna on his ankle. Guess he’s french now. 

Team Rocket era Niki! She took custody of Wilbur’s Pogtopia coat, albiet cutting off the parts that were covered in blood and soot (which was most of it) I also made her a fire-born like Sapnap, though you can’t see from his design - her hair is on fire when she feels strong emotions, and she’s basically going through it 24/7 during this part. 

Syndicate Niki! She’s calmed down and is no longer on fire, but her hair is still pink from all those weeks of constant rage and sadness. Also dressed more appropriately for the snow. 

Dream Post Prison. Mask no longer has invisibility enchantments, so he doesn’t bother hiding his face. Gotta wonder how it’s staying on though. Get this man some moisturizer. 

[barrenclan]

RAAINHAAZEE ISSSUEEE

the issue starting with deepdark just going to his murderous colleagues and saying “wanna act with me”… deepdark theater kid is not something i expected for patfw but makes sense.

CUPID RETURN!!! rainhaze and him having a little fun banter… aaaa. i don’t wanna get attached to cupid because what if cupid is also using him but-… silly raccoon guy. the fox also once being one of rainhaze sit buddies hurts :(((

HERE IS THE PAGE!!!! THE BEAST!!! its so fun how many defiancesonas/ocs u fit in here, it’s such a treat to be on patfwcord!!!

DEEPLINGS REAL!!! hyssop looks like such a little shit i love him.. AND DEEPDARK!!!!!!!! him calling them his friends and wishing him warm welcomes.. i’m sure i’m not the only one who didn’t expect him to present himself so.. friendly? but he’s a theater kid so it makes sense, yeah. it being referred to as a family tho… cult red flag?

THEY DISRESPECT FANG?? IN FRONT OF ME?? MY FAMILY??? SHAME!!! JAIL FOR A HUNDRED YEARS!!

BEAR WAS LONGEST CLAWS!!!! thank u patfw discord my ass could have never theorized that hard. i can’t really tell if deepdark just wanted to be dramatic and cool or if he just wanted to spar with his buddies and trashtalk longest claws.. perhaps both..

and especially with the story changing ever so slightly, at first deepdark calling himself his current name and then prowl acting proud of deepdark when in reality he wanted vengeance… history is really what the victor makes of it, isn’t it? and prowl and spike so easily going along.. deepdark really changed them too.

THE QUOTE!! ATE OF HIS FLESH!! DRANK OF HIS BLOOD!!!! HE EATA THE HEARTA!!!! IM SOOOOO EXCITED THIS IS THE TIME THIS IS THE MOMENT AAAAAAAA

yes the rainhaze trauma- love the connections between deepdark’s story and the truth and what rainhaze’s imaginations are and the truth, him imagining dustfeather happily taking a nap instead of bleeding out and him being happy instead of terrified of himself.. and i know it’s meant to be sad for him but honestly.. get her ass rainhaze

i love this page and much like deepdark eats the flesh i shall eat this art and it tastes good. keep up the great work o777

Deepdark is a dramatic king through and through.

God, man, the big cameo panel on page 2 took me so long to finish. But I liked getting to draw all the animal species.

Deepdark is very performative, and with such a violent group, he has to make sure they all feel welcome, and more importantly loyal to him. His lieutenants help enforce that.

All the theorizing about Longest-Claws was so so fun for me. And they caught on so fast! Very nice. Actually, we will in fact learn why Deepdark chose to talk about Longest-Claws and the origins of Defiance in an upcoming issue!

Getting to that quote I thought up all those months ago was a real treat. Here's the original art that accompanied it, for anyone who didn't see it:

[beemochi-art]

how did the bots who knew optimus before react to his new status as a prime and leader of the autobots? what was their feelings to that sudden change

I started drawing Orion because of this ask and it made me sad.

Now, when I said he ghosted everyone he knew when he became a prime it doesn’t do him justice. It was more like he died or was kidnapped. One day he was there the next he was not.

It’s hard to feel happy and congratulate when the only question you want to ask is, what happened?

The three that knew him as Orion pax was Ironhide, Elita and Ratchet. Elita being the one that was closest to him. Elita didn’t get the chance to meet ironhide and Ratchet, so she was out of the loop.

When Ironhide and Ratchet saw him again they were introduced to him as the new prime. Not really knowing it was Orion, when Optimus told them (separately) that it was him. All they could be was shocked. It’s was such a drastic of a change and it happened so fast too. It was difficult to view him as the same person, to view him as their close friend.

Ironhide for a while didn’t look him in the eyes for a while. That changed with Chromia treating Op as more of an equal (she treats everyone like their in her way.) it didn’t take long for ironhide to start viewing him as his friend again, looking past all the modifications he can only see an older Orion now. But still there is a sliver of uncertainty about Optimus, like there’s is something he needs to say to him but he can’t figure out what. I’m sorry? It’ll be ok? Are you ok?? Who knows, but Ironhide wishes he knew how to say these things or even what to say.

Something bad happened and something has changed with Optimus. He doesn’t know if he can ever look at him the same.

Ratchet look shocked, sputtering but ultimately he was able to regain his wits and actually congratulate him. But Ratchet has never treated Optimus the same. Ratchet will make sure Optimus is taken care of, always reminding Optimus of the rules and adequate of being a prime. He also tries to remind (yell) at the rest of the team that Optimus needs to be treated with respect.

Ratchet is the only one Optimus feels comfortable being some what venerable around, but not completely. Optimus wants nothing more than to talk to him but Ratchet will run from these conversations, not wanting to face the reality, fearing if he faces it everything he was ever believed will crumble before him. Optimus needs Ratchet as his friend more than ever now.

The most reassurance Ratchet has told Optimus was. “No matter what happens I will always be here for you.”

Corruption. That is all Elita saw. She said the quiet part out loud, what the hell happened?! She was angry with him but ultimately more worried and tried to comfort him even tho it happened a long time ago. He insists he’s fine but she knows better. They had stripped everything that made Orion. Trying hammer out what they saw as weaknesses or impurities then presenting the drastic changes as gifts.

She was upset that he left her without a word but I think she understood that he didn’t leave, he was taken. Orion was taken from her, from everyone. That’s mostly why she is giving their relationship a second chance. Cause despite everything so far she can still recognize it’s him.

She plans to support him the best she can but ultimately it’s hard to trust Optimus fulling again.

[ivanttakethis]

okay so hello first of all. second of all, thank you for all the color theory posts they are a good time. third: why do you like Ivan so much? I am an Ivan lover myself. He is my freak, my silly little guy, he spawns many of my late night ponderings but I will admit I am curious as to why you like him? Especially curious about what you consider Ivan "mischaracterization" because you are so opposed to it (I am as well though so like. i relate) anyways hope you are doing well!!

Hello fellow Ivan enjoyer! I’m glad you like my color theory ramblings 🫡

My answer got kinda long, so I’ll put it under the cut...

Part of the reason I like Ivan so much as a character is because I relate to him in a lot of ways.

Like, when he was younger, Ivan was quiet and not very good at expressing his emotions. So he had to fake/force them to fit in with the other kids.

I’ve talked about this art before, but the first time I saw it, I literally went:

“Oh. It me.” 🥹

I wasn’t as young as Ivan when I realized I didn’t quite express things as much as my peers did, but I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to have to perform to avoid being seen as weird.

My resting face is very neutral, which can look blank or emotionless to others, so when I’m around people who don’t know me well I have to put in effort to smile to avoid making them uncomfortable.

I kept seeing Ivan being mischaracterized as “emotionless” and that really rubbed me the wrong way. So that’s where my “#1 Ivan Mischaracterization Defender” title came from.

I talked more about my opinions on Ivan mischaracterizations in my Top 5 Worst Ivan Mischaracterizations post, if you’re interested in that.

Though for the most part, my title is just me being in a silly goofy mood lol.

Ivan is also just a super tragic character from pretty much start to finish.

The meteor scene. The unrequited love. Always chasing, never chased or acknowledged. Endless yearning. Black Sorrow. All of his self-deprecation. Thank you for being a victim of my shallow emotions.

His story really tugs at my heartstrings and I can’t help but root for him.

Not even to get with Till, necessarily. I just wish he could’ve found some happiness and reciprocity in his life, so he wouldn’t have thought he was so expendable. (Damn that’s really sad, anyways 😬)

I also like him because he’s a weird, silly little guy that I don’t fully understand.

Some of his motivations for the weird shit that he’s done are completely incomprehensible to me.

Why did he orchestrate that confrontation between Till and Mizi and his little wagyein buddy?

Why did he make a list of Till’s birthday presents every year just so he could (presumably) take them all??

Why did he lick Till’s blood off his fingers while making direct eye contact with him???

I don’t know. But I think that’s part of the draw. Ivan is like a puzzle.

I want to study him. I want to figure him out. I want to put him in a blender. You know?

He has bewitched me with his strange and somewhat unsettling behavior.

Thanks for the ask! I’m interested to know what you think of Ivan as well 👀