#love the different textures and line work in these!

[ottpopfic]

“Hey hey” Leo interrupts, Jason realizes that he was getting himself worked up again “I'm here now right, right here. Feel me, I'm here”

He puts his head down and just, smells him. Leo squeezes him close putting his own face in Jason’s hair

And he is here. Jason takes his hands and traces it up and down Leo’s side. He can feel the patterns of his lightning scar, the rougher texture of the Lichtenberg figures forking at the ribcage. The pock mark contractor scars that scatter over his legs and back left over from Leo’s first death, just more proof that he survived that they are both here.

Jason has scars too, he did get stabbed a bunch in the back and sliced in half, but not like Leo. Leo got exploded on two separate occasions, which leaves its mark no matter the magical rejuvenation. Add falling off Festus and getting crushed to death and his Leo is a constellation of scar tissue.

The lightning scar is different though, it's always been different. It was only his third death, but it was Jupiter that killed him. The Lichtenberg figures show just how he was blown to pieces; the entry point in the left shoulder, the smaller branches down his arm and back, the huge line down his front that splits at his ribcage to go either side of his navel, the exit points at his thigh and pelvis and spine. It's his largest scar, gained from cursing out the king of the heavens to his face. For Jason

But its probably has something to do with the lightning that has Jason obsessed over it. Here is Leo, ever so afraid of his gift hurting the people he loves, sporting a permanent reminder of Jason’s power. It feels both like a failure and a claim, that Leo died from his domain but also survived. That he is marked by the sky, both lost and won, all for Jason

Also it leads a very enticing trail to mouth down to more creative places but that is beside the point

Either way Jason presses a few kisses into the entry point of the strike and then rests his cheek there so he can gaze up at Leo’s face. Leo just turns his head so he can press his lips into Jason’s forehead

“I love you” Leo tells him, in the way he does just because he can

“I love you too” Jason sighs back, he really truly does

[piplupod]

crawling back to ink as a medium, my beloved ink, and woagh it is fun and effective when u actually go learn the proper techniques

[eilidh-eternal]

You don't like silence

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | Johnny’s accent is thicker when he’s tired/talks to his family | CW grief, depression spiral, feelings of inadequacy, loss of appetite | Everyone has big feelings |

The house is silent, but inside your head a brumous storm swirls, wispy tendrils of fog curling around delicate gray matter.

Your routine—watching Johnny walk Isobel to school, going to work and coming home, just in time to glimpse Johnny leaving to retrieve her—has changed.

You still watch from the window, mug bleeding warmth into cold, stiff joints from between your palms. Peer around the curtains every morning as the pair amble down the pavement together. 

A new month brings a steady influx of meetings and end of quarter reporting, projected sales and last minute production tweaks, but your days are no busier than normal. Rarely miss a lunch break. Leave no later than three each afternoon. 

Dinner, if you have any, is ready by five.

Even so, restlessness lingers in the midnight moons hanging beneath your eyes, darkens the air around you with somnolent clouds, and you list in the torpid deluge that rains down. 

Sleep evades you altogether most nights, and you’ve made a game of picking out patterns in the knockdown. Faces, animals; nebulous, nameless things. 

Some nights, when the faces of strangers, burned into your retinas, find their way into the patterns of textured drywall, you listen.

Isobels room must be on the other side of yours, beds sharing a wall. On the nights you manage to make it upstairs, you can hear them both. Isobel’s slow and measured pronunciations. The lilt of Johnny’s voice, filling in the blanks where she pauses on a word she doesn’t yet know. 

They’ve finished all of her animal books, which means the imitated roars of big cats and bleats of farmyard animals have morphed into exaggerated accents. Sing-song rhymes about the importance of kindness, accepting differences, and other life lessons told through colorful illustrations and whimsical narratives.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, she falls asleep within a few pages, and you can pretend that the low, pillowy rumble of Johnny reading is just for you. A gentle coaxing made of velvety words, swaddling your mind, heavy with exhaustion, and cradling it to his chest against the maelstrom you’re spiraling in.

Sometimes she stirs, woken hours later in the placid, milky hours before dawn, just as your eyes begin to droop. Tiny feet patter across the hardwood like rain, muffled in uneven intervals by what must be a rug or runner in the hall, on her way to Johnny’s room or the washroom maybe.

You wonder if it’s full of frilly, feminine things, her room. Pinks and purples, dolls and plushies. Does she have princesses or ballerinas on her bedding? Do posters and drawings line her walls or does floral, pasted wallpaper? 

She likes Mulan, you remember. A warrior. Fighter. Soldier. Like Johnny. 

Probably not so frilly, then.

Perhaps they could make a fighter out of you. Press you into the mold of their little family–strengthened by loss and galvanized with love–and breathe life into clay limbs. Carve a soldier from the malleable earth. Shape you into something useful.

Now, most of your nights are spent huddled in the living room, listening to the droning of the television. Throw blankets suck you down into the sofa like quicksand and each breath draws them tighter and tighter around you, filling pockets of air with crushed velvet and fleece. Tonight, you let them swallow you whole. Sink willingly into a latibule of plaid and warm cashmere.

The cold and quiet of your empty home isn’t so bad when you can hear Johnny moving about on the other side of the wall. Isn’t so unbearable when the warm timbre of his voice chases away the numbing fog that muddles your head.

There are nights that he calls you, like he knows. Knows that you're drowning in the silence.

He does that now, after he puts Isobel to bed for the night. Calls to ask about your week. Casts a lifeline into the churning ocean between you, procellous waves lofting you on spuming peaks, and calls your name from the battered, broken shore.

A lighthouse calling to a ship, lost in the mist on a perilous sea.

Last Thursday he asked about the cookies you made with Isobel. Asked if you would be willing to share the recipe with him–teach him–so that he could make them with her for a school event coming up in the spring. 

The tenderness with which he speaks of her is a balmy breeze for your gelid heart. Soothes the burn of ice floes in your veins. Melts weeks of tension from aching muscles.

Now, his voice is somber, pensive, as it filters through the lack of insulation between you. “Friday. No, ah havnae told ‘er yet. Jus’ got the call.” He pauses, and you think you hear a muffled sigh. He sounds tired, too, accent thicker than honeyed whiskey rolling off his tongue, dropping consonants in favor of deep, throaty vowels. “Aye, ah ken. She’ll be happy tae see ye though.”

He’s on the phone, talking about Isobel. They must have family visiting soon, or a family friend if Isobel knows them well enough to be excited.

You wonder what the MacTavish family is like, if they’re a rowdy bunch. If they’re a large, extended family. Johnny seems like the kind of man who comes from a close knit community, one where you grow up down the street from your cousins and spend summers terrorizing small towns together.

“I’ll talk tae ‘er in the mornin’. Ah- No.” There’s a pause again, and even with layers of sheetrock separating you, you can feel the weight of his silence. “No, Mam. She’s… ah worry. Leavin’ ‘er like this. Piss poor timin’.” 

He’s leaving? Without Isobel?

It’s muffled through the wall, and you feel like you can’t have heard that correctly. He mentioned the army, but you had thought, with a child at home, that his work wouldn't be the sort that requires travel. 

Ice floes turn to glaciers in your chest, frozen spikes threatening to pierce brittle, fragile muscle, and the clouds swirling overhead descend upon you.

Lost in the mist, and he’s leaving. 

He’s leaving, and he’s taking the sun with him. 

“Ye cannae keep it from the lassie forever, John. Ye havnae even told 'er what ye do?” 

Christ, this woman…

“She knows ‘bout the army,” he defends. “Cannae say much more.”

Fenella MacTavish clucks her disapproval. “Ye’re heids full of mince.” Dishes clatter and a cupboard closes a bit too forcefully on the other end of the line. 

Johnny runs a hand through the disheveled strands of his hair, overdue for a trim, well outside of regulation length. “Mam—”

“Dinnae ‘Mam’ me,” she cuts in. “John Alexander MacTavish, ye tell that lass what she’s gettin’ herself intae—or I will.”

“Mam,” he tries again, voice pitched low, “Not yet. Cannae send ‘er off, naw like I do wi’ Bell. It’s safe enough here.” You’re safe with him here. “Dinnae like knowin’ she’s alone—Christ, I can hardly stand tae have the wall between us when I ken she’s hurtin’—but there isnae anythin’ I can do that’s naw already been done. Kate’s made sure of that.”

Fenella huffs and he can’t quite make out the garbled muttering on his end, but he has a fair idea of what his mother is blathering about beneath her breath. “Kirsten—have ye gone tae see 'er?” she finally asks, mercifully shifting the conversation out of your direction. “Has Isobel?”

“No,” he admits, and guilt twists in barbed coils through his chest.

He’s been meaning to, to drive up for the weekend and take her to visit her mothers grave, now that she’s older. Stay with her gran and look through the old albums. She's only ever seen the few photos they have at home, hanging in the hall near the kitchen.

Sometimes she asks about her. If she liked the things she likes. The way rain freezes on the tall grasses and tree branches in the winter, making glass gardens of trellises and window boxes. Extra whipped cream and blueberries for her pancakes. 

If she would have walked with them to school in the mornings. Take her to the park down the block in the summer. Hiking in the fall, looking for wisps darting about beneath the fallen abscission.

Isobel is so much like her mother there are days Johnny swears it’s her refusing to eat the dinner he’s made. That it’s her complaining about cold weather and overcast skies in the heart of winter, bemoaning how long they have until spring revives the land. Swears it’s her voice that wakes him in the middle of the night. Her ghost, standing in the dimly lit doorway of his bedroom, a blanket pulled ‘round her shoulders and a teddy dangling from her hand.

“I’ll take ‘er, then.” Johnny can hear the grief that tempers his mothers voice, turning anguish to steely resolve. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening, let ‘er have a few hours with ye at home before ye say yer goodbyes.”

“Thank ye, Mam,” he says on a strained exhale, lungs rattling with fragments of his own grief. It slices into old wounds until pockets of air become sanguineous aquifers, bubbling up in his throat and leaving a sour, metallic taste on his tongue.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she reminds him. “Ye tell yer lass. Dinnae leave ‘er in the dark like ye did Kirsten.”

The line goes silent and Johnny sinks back into the old corduroy sofa, pushed up against the wall beside a shelf overflowing with picture books in the living room, and a ragged sigh unfurls from his chest. 

The television across from him is dark, turned off when he took Isobel upstairs for bed, but he can hear an old rerun of Taskmaster playing softly behind him.

He listens, every night, for you. For the sound of your fridge, opening and closing. The soft ‘clink’ of porcelain against granite. The oven timer or the microwave. 

He prefers the former. Knows, after these last few weeks, that you cook when you’re in a good mood. Usually go to bed soon after. The sound of the microwave precedes long, muted evenings and little sound from your side of the wall. He won’t hear the stairs creak beneath your sluggish feet until the wee hours of the morning. If at all.

He listens in the mornings, too, while he makes Isobel’s breakfast. Makes sure he can hear you doing the same. Smiles to himself when he glimpses movement in the window beside your door, a miniscule swaying of the curtain, and he holds Isobel’s hand a little tighter as they navigate lingering ice patches on the pavement. 

The phone call with his mother, making arrangements for Isobel, masked the sound of your movements earlier, and his fingers twitch against his leather phone case.

When your side of the wall is quiet, he knows a storm is brewing; that you’re sitting in the eye of it, waiting for the walls to close in around you.

He doesn’t know if you’ve eaten tonight. Can’t hear anything beyond the muffled television and occasional creak of the sofa beneath your shifting weight. 

So he calls.

One… two… three… four… “Hi, Johnny.” Soft and breathy. Like the air the words are spoken on has borrowed from the softness of your lips as it spills into the receiver.

This is the way you sound when you’re tired, he’s learned, all soft and rounded syllables. Too exhausted, even for your own nervous habits. You don’t have the bandwidth to explain every little thing like you normally would; don’t bother with rationalizing your actions aloud.

“Hi, bonnie. What’s cookin’?” It’s cheesy as hell, but it earns a huff of a laugh from you and it tempers the jagged edge of his worry—a knife, lodged between his ribs.

“I, uh… I had leftovers. Takeaway, from a work thing.” He’s never seen you with takeaway. Always canvas bags full of groceries and the occasional frozen box dinner. 

How empty is your fridge? When was the last time you went to the grocer?

“Didnae take ye for the ‘easy’ type. Ye always make me work for it.”

“Work for it?” He can picture the pinch of your brows. The way your lips quirk to the side when you’re confused.

“Aye, got me makin’ puppy eyes an’ beggin’ for yer scraps.” You laugh again, more of a scoff, but it eases some of his worry all the same.

“When have I ever made you beg, Johnny?” He’s been begging any higher power that will listen to see you smile again, and he’d give anything to see the smirk he knows is dancing at the corner of your mouth right now.

“Could do it tomorrow,” he blurts before he can think better of it. “Come over. Show me that recipe again.” 

Don’t make him tell you he’s leaving over the phone. 

“I thought… you said the charity event is at the end of March, right?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll need a few lessons ‘fore my bakin’s fit for auction.” 

He needs to know—needs to see—that you’re well before he goes.

“And you want to start tomorrow?” 

“Why not?” He’d have you baking in his kitchen now if it weren’t for the late hour.

There’s a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the faint crackling of static and the sound of your breathing. “Do you have flour? Sugar? Anything to bake with?” you ask, and he answers with a proud ‘yes’. “Okay… okay. I can come over after work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ‘ave Bell home early then. She’ll want tae help.” Your amused sigh echoes across the line, followed by the faint rustling of fabric and then the soft pattering of stocking-clad feet over hardwood, fourth and fifth step creaking softly as you climb the stairs. “Off tae bed?”

Another sigh–on the tail-end of a yawn, he realizes. “Yeah. Well, trying. Don’t get a lot of sleep these days,” you admit, and though he’s successfully abated the storm of your thoughts, he wishes he could disperse it entirely. 

Be the shelter you seek, at the very least.

He’d nestle you in the warmth of his bed, tucked close and sleeping soundly in the cage of his arms. Anchor you to him with a leg hooked between yours, whispering adulation against the howling, taunting winds. 

He would make himself a rock to let your tempestuous thoughts batter and besiege. Weathered and whittled down to pebbles on a beach, he’d roll in the undertow alongside you. And when he is but sand on the ocean floor, still, he would drift and settle wherever the storm of you takes him.

“I used tae read for my sister when we were weans. She’d wake, spooked from a dream, and come tae my room in the middle of the night.”

“You have a sister?” A door clicks closed and blankets whisper over sheets as you settle in for the night. “What’s she like?”

“A lot like our Mam. Headstrong. Stubborn.”

“Are you the oldest?” You sound further away. Muffled. Like you’ve got the blankets pulled up to your nose and the phone beside you on the pillow.

“I am,” he lilts.

“She gets it from you, then,” you murmur, and his chest tightens.

“She got a fair number of things from me, I’d wager.”

He continues on, speaking just above a low, gravelly whisper. Reminiscing his early years and the trouble the two of them got up to. Thick as thieves and wild as the kellas cats roaming the highlands.

Your interjections dwindle, turn to soft hums and slow, even breaths. Sleeping.

He listens for a few more minutes to the soft, sweet sounds you make, little chuffs and sleepy hums, the susurrations of shifting sheets and nightclothes, and he whispers into the darkness, “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

Work passes you by in a blur, meeting after meeting chipping away at the hours and minutes ticking by on the analog clock perched on your desk. 

The drive home is uneventful and it feels as though you’ve passed through a wormhole somewhere along the way. Can’t quite remember making the turn into your neighborhood from the main road.

Normally, Johnny would be leaving to retrieve Isobel from school right now, but as you gather your things and step out of the car you hear your name being called from several houses down. 

Braids bounce and red wellies squeak as Isobel darts ahead of Johnny, weaving around patches of ice to get to you, and you step up onto the pavement just in time to keep her from running into the road. 

She barrels into you, wrapping her arms around your leg and smooshing her face against your slacks. “Ye’re back!” she squeals, fingers curling into the fabric. 

She’s leaving.

Your hand settles atop her head, soft wisps of curls tickling the pads of your fingers where they’ve escaped their plaits. “Where did I go?” you ask, and she tips her head back to look up at you.

“Bubby said ye were busy with work. Sometimes he gets busy too, and I have to stay with my gran.”

They’re both leaving.

Johnny’s caught up with her, lingering a few steps away near the walkway leading to your door. When you look to where he stands, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, windbreaker bunched up around his forearms where a tattoo peeks out, the corners of his eyes glimmer.

A smile curves the corners of his mouth, and it’s an odd mixture of grief and happiness that flickers there in the crook of his lips and set of his brow, sloped upwards and creased in the middle. His hair is longer than you remember, scruffy sides and tufts of mohawk curling at the ends, loose strands tousled around his face.

Wind blows at your back and a single tear tracks down the sharp plane of his cheek, disappearing in the dark shadow of stubble that lines his jaw.

“I have been busy with work,” you confirm, peering down at Isobel once more. “But I didn’t leave.” 

You’re staying, and they’re leaving.

The wind picks up and she presses closer, shielding herself from the cold behind your frame. “Let’s get ye inside and put yer book bag away. Then we can catch up over cookies an’ milk,” Johnny says as he closes the distance between you.

“Cookies?!” Her excitement carries on the wind, and his smile sharpens, bright and hopeful, but the whetted edge of sorrow undercuts the warmth.

“Aye, but we’ll have to make ‘em ourselves.” He brushes a stray lock from her eyes, fingers brushing against yours where his hand settles beside it on her crown, and dread blooms low in your stomach where warmth should.

She ducks away from you both, bolting towards their front stoop, and you’re left with both of your hands hovering in the air, his half curled over yours, staring after her.

You pull away first, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I just need to sort this–” You gesture to the tote full of binders and your laptop. “–and I'll be right over.” 

He fishes his keys from his pocket and takes a step back, towards Isobel. “We’ll be waitin’,” he says with a wink, and turns to take her inside.

There's flour in your hair and matching handprints on your slacks, and neither Johnny nor Isobel have fared much better. You’re all a mess, and the cookies you’ve made are tantamount to your disheveled state–lumpy, dry masses of something more closely resembling a biscuit.

“Dunno what ah did wrong,” Johnny muses, breaking one in half and inspecting the crumbly texture.

You sit beside him at the kitchen table, watching Isobel dunk half a cookie into a glass of milk. “It’s the butter and flour. The ratio is imbalanced–not enough fat.” She doesn’t seem to mind, stuffing the entire piece in her mouth and readying the next, fingers covered in crumbs that fall in her milk.

Johnny shifts beside you, sliding out of his chair and taking a bite out of his cookie as he moves towards the fridge. “Still tastes good,” he says around a mouthful and pours two more glasses, placing one down in front of you when he returns. “But I’ll need another demonstration when I’m back, I think.”

You take a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table, breaking off a chunk to dunk in your milk, and ignore the mirrored sensation in your chest. You knew this was coming. You know he’s leaving.

“When you’re back? From where?” you probe. No need to dance around the subject.

He shifts again, uncharacteristically nervous, and speaks softly. “Have to leave for a little while, for work,” he explains. Your cookie turns pliant between your fingers and you bite off the softened corner, chewing slowly while you listen. “Willnae know where they’re sendin’ me to until the briefin’.”

“When are you leaving?” You stare down at the crumbs swirling in your glass.

“Tomorrow morning.” 

The foreknowledge of his impending departure doesn’t make the break any cleaner. The fracturing feeling in your chest widens into fissures and chasms, jagged edges crumbling, tumbling down into the festering darkness.

When you lift your gaze you find that he’s been watching you–studying you–and his hand has crept across the table, close enough you can feel the warmth of him. “How long?” It comes out wobbly. Unsteady. 

You’re drifting out to sea again.

“Few weeks. Maybe a month.” Your chest feels like it’s caving in.

There’s a knock at the door. A canary in a coal mine, warning come too late.

“Gran!” Isobel’s chair nearly topples as she pushes back from the table, racing from the kitchen to the front door.

Johnny’s hand covers yours, long, callused fingers curling around your clenched fist and squeezing. “I’ll be back before ye know it,” he murmurs, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face and tracing the curve of your jaw as he stands.

He only goes as far as the kitchen doorway. Your heart’s already somewhere in the North Sea. 

“Hi, Mam.” He’s greeted by an older female voice and pulled into a hug by a woman a whole head shorter than him. Isobel hovers nearby, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and tugs at the older woman’s��her grandmother’s–cable knit sweater.

“Gran, come meet our friend!” she says, and tugs again until she lets go of Johnny.

You stand from the table on wobbly legs, fighting to balance your listing emotions and put on a warm smile as Johnny’s mother slides past him into the kitchen.

The resemblance between the three of them is uncanny. Johnny shares his mothers dark coloring, rich hair and warm skinned, and they all have the same eyes–steely hues of grey-blue, spiraling outwards from inky pupils like storm cells.

“So, this is the lassie next door ye willnae stop glaverin’ on about?” she asks no one in particular as she openly appraises you.

“Mam–” Johnny begins, a simmering warning, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

They carry themselves in a similar manner, in the set of their shoulders and broad stance. She may not stand as tall as he does but she’s no less imposing, and it’s an effort not to squirm under her scrutiny.

Seconds feel like hours as she looks you up and down, cataloging the flour on your pants and in your hair, glancing to her left where Johnny stands in a state of equal disarray, and a knowing look flickers like lightning in her storm cloud eyes. 

“It’s good tae finally put a face wi’ a name,” she says, smiling, and pulls you into a hug, too. “Call me Fenella, or Fen, whichever ye like.”

You return the gesture hesitantly, looking over her shoulder to Johnny for guidance and finding none. He simply smiles back at you from where he leans against the doorway, something unreadable in his expression lingering beneath it.

“It’s nice to meet you too… I- I’d love to stay, but should probably be heading home. I have an early morning and wouldn’t want to intrude on your visit,” you say by way of excuse.

“Ah’m naw stayin’ long, dear,” she explains, finally pulling away. Isobel returns to her side, pressing her shoulder to her thigh, and Fenella’s hand settles on the crown of her head. “Here tae take the wean for a stay wi’ her gran.”

“Is yer bag ready, leannan? D’ya have all yer books for school?” Johnny asks from where he stands, hands having found their way into his pockets again. His shoulders droop, broad frame deflating before your eyes. Leaving her behind, even with his mother, takes a toll on him.

Isobel leans around her gran to say, “I’ave all my books. And Mr. Ghost.”

“Goan an’ get yer things then, Bell,” Fenella ushers her out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs behind her to her room.

You watch until they disappear above the half open staircase, but Johnny has been watching you. Watching you navigate the shoal of your emotions, razor sharp rock scraping against a flimsy hull.

“C’mere, lass,” he entreats, one arm outstretched towards you, and your feet move of their own accord, carrying you forward until his hand settles on your shoulder, momentarily moored in the eddy of a tide pool. “Didnae mean to tell ye in the middle of… this.” He gestures above him to the sound of footsteps overhead. “Only got the call yesterday.”

With your hands folded at your front, you stare down at them, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s okay. I understand—”

“No, lass, it isnae okay,” he interrupts, hand gliding up your shoulder, your neck, and coming to rest on your cheek. He lifts your gaze back up to his and he’s wearing that nameless emotion, staring down at you with a pained expression. 

This hurts him as much as it hurts you.

“The job I do, it isnae always… predictable. Dinnae get much warning when I’m called in for assignments. I should have warned ye…” his thumb traces soothing arcs over your cheek, but it does nothing for the gaping hole in your chest. “I’m sorry… I should have—”

“It’s okay, Johnny. Really.” The lie feels like rubbing salt into a wound, burns the back of your throat like you’re speaking around a lump made of sandpaper, and your voice comes out scratchy and raw.

His hand lingers on your cheek, eyes darting from yours to your nose, lips, cheeks, brow. Memorizing.

“Let me walk ye home?” You nod, unsure if you can speak around the cordolium lodged in your throat, and his hand moves from your cheek to your waist, guiding you through the razor rock and churning tide to the front door.

His arm remains firmly around you, fingers digging into your softness as he escorts you across the meager expanse of your lawn. 

There’s an SUV, still running, parked in front of both houses and left to keep warm while Isobel gathers her things. She and Fenella step out into the brisk evening air just as you and Johnny reach the top of your stairs, and Isobel waves to you as they descend. Your arm feels leaden as you lift your hand into the air, waving back to her.

“She‘ll miss ye. Talks about ye all the time,” Johnny says beside you, unwilling to let you go just yet. “I’ll be missin’ ye too,” he admits, and you thought you’d found the bottom of the pit in your stomach. Thought you were already lying at the bottom of it.

You were wrong.

The well of your affection for them feels bottomless. The floor crumbles, residual tremors of the quaking in your chest, and you’re falling, falling, falling…Even with his arm around your waist.

You fell in love with the man in front of you. Fell in love with the darling little girl climbing into her grandmother's car. You’re already in love with Fenella and her dedication to her family.

You’ve been falling this whole time, no safety net in sight.

“I- …” Your voice cracks, and you try again. “I’ll miss you, too. Both of you.”

You’re falling, and they’re leaving.

There’s little warning, just a tug of your blouse, before you’re being folded into his arms. A wide palm cradles your head to his chest, fingers threading through your hair, and he presses his cheek to your crown. 

“Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.” He murmurs his promise into your hair. “If… if I’m not here an’ somethin’ happens… I gave my Mum yer number. Saved hers in yer phone when I gave ye mine.” He pauses. Sucks in a shuddering breath before he continues. “Whatever it is, she’ll help.” 

You nod your understanding and he pulls back just enough to see your face, guides your head to look up at him and says, “Promise me. Promise that ye’ll go to her if ye need anythin’,” with a desperation you’ve never heard from him.

So you make another promise. Let your eyes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours and ghosts his lips across the chilled skin of your brow.

And then he leaves.

Isobel is sorted, buckled into her car seat and saying her goodbye’s to Johnny, and Fenella MacTavish stands beside the driver’s side door, watching.

She’s said this goodbye a hundred times. Sent him off to god knows where to fight a war she’s never heard of. It never gets easier.

Isobel’s door closes, and her son turns to her with pain in his eyes. “I hate leaving ‘er.”

“Which one?” she intones, and Johnny leans his hip against the B pillar.

“Both of them. The three of ye.”

“Then make sure ye come back tae ‘er–tae all of us,” she advises, and pulls him into one last hug. “I cannae bury another child.”

Next>>>

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[fanaticsnail]

Saw a post about how penguins "propose" with rocks. Meaning if you were dating penguin:

He would gift you cool rocks all through your relationship but especially when he's going to propose

OR

2. That engagement ring is about to be MASSIVE

-♡♡

I loved this concept. It needed to be in a fic, ♡♡ Anon. As soon as I saw my asks starting to work again, I began this little penguin fic for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Penguin's Rock Collection

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,450+

Synopsis: Penguin finally tells you about each piece in his extensive rock collection, and you are left in awe when he shows you his crowning piece.

Themes: Penguin x gn!reader, fluff, proposals, Penguin is a thief, he is a kleptomaniac, kisses, proposal, cute things, just let him talk about his rocks.

Mini Part 2, Mini Part 3

When you first began dating Penguin, you were in awe with the small cluster of miscellaneous rocks he kept in his private quarters. There were only three or four lining his bed frame, littering the surface and adding an element to his side of the room that was something distinctly his. While Shachi kept tri-fold posters of various wanted bounties of his friends throughout the Blues, Penguin had a few small rocks. 

Each time you visited him in his quarters as opposed to yours, you witnessed the collection grow in vast number and size. Not before long, the shelves and cabinets in his shared room with Shachi was overwhelmed with rocks of differing textures and sizes: all labeled and tagged with the appropriate title, size, weight, and color. You laughed at the disdain Shachi would pull over his face, the scowl permanently plastered on his mouth as he flicked the overlaying cabinet with his toes and pushed it further onto Penguin’s side of the room from his recline against his bed.

As you show interest in his hobby, asking before touching any that seemed to catch your interest, and he would tell you the story behind it. Reclining back on his bed and propped onto his elbows, he would watch you with a soft smile drawn up on his lips.

“That one was from Swallow Island, just outside Wolf’s house,” he gestured to the pebble in your hands, “Nicked it from his front garden. Wanted something to remember him by.” You offered him a soft smile before placing the rock back onto the side, just above its correlating slip of paper. 

“And this one?” you ask, cocking your head to the side and gently tracing the contours of the soft shell-like stone. 

“That one was from the first time I met you,” he uttered quietly to himself, slowly stepping over his blankets to draw himself at your side, “You were wearing that green shirt. Took that piece of jade from the wall near the beach.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, sneaking a look at Shachi as he attempted to remain nonchalant while reading a comic in the corner of the room. 

“You remember my shirt?” you asked Penguin, puzzled at the attentiveness he took at the encounter. He slowly stepped over to the collection, gently brushing his hands over them before turning back to you. 

“I remember a lot of things. The rocks-... they-...” he sucked his lips into his mouth, stifling what he wanted to truly say. Shaking his head, he returned his hat-shrouded eyes to you and offered you a smile, “...They tell stories. They help me remember. Wolf, Law, even this stupid asshole.” His thumb gestured to Shachi with his thumb, who crudely elevated his middle finger in return without removing his eyes from the pages. 

“Oh?” you ask in response, smiling and raising your hand up to the cabinet, placing your weight coyly on your forearm. Further puzzlement overtook you as you peered at the expanded array of rocks, gems, golds and pebbles. “Pen, there’s quite a few here, honey. Surely you don’t have a story behind each rock you’ve stolen, you kleptomaniac.” 

He chuckled at your accusation, turning away from the shelf and rummaging around in his draws. The soft rustle had you confused, attempting to peer over his shoulder while he blocked your sight with the curve of his ass and broad shoulders. 

“Our first date, the time we spent in Sabaody Archipelago together, the beach incident where you pushed me into the water-,” he listed off, prompting you to interject with your rebuttal. 

“-I did no such thing! You fell, I laughed, and you pulled me in!” you defended yourself, moving away from the cabinet and approaching him just as he stood, “You tried to drown me.” 

“I did not,” he gasped, feigning shock and clutching both hands to his heart, “You were flailing about and I was trying to hold you still.” He chuckled at you, watching as your lips fell into a cute pout. 

“You ruined my pants by drenching them in salt water-,” you spoke, falling short when he leaned down and pressed his nose against yours. Gently rubbing the pointed tip of his nose against yours, he cooed down in response.

“-Your blue pants,” he whispered, removing his nose from dancing with yours and nodding his head back towards the cabinet, “Aquamarine from the bottom of the sea where we were swimming. Had to go back later and dive for it, I’d hope you know. Hard to do that in the dark.” 

He removed himself from your embrace and cradled something small against his chest. 

“And what have you got there, Pen? Quartz from the first time we put on our Heart Pirate uniforms together?” you teased him, scrunching your nose and softly cradling his cheeks in both of your palms. He chuckled at you, reaching up to remove his hat and place it on your own head while cradling the object against his chest with his other hand. 

“Pirate uniforms, no. Heart, yes,” he whispered intimately, withdrawing his head from yours and gazing his crystalline blue eyes deeply into your own orbs. Withdrawing his hand from his chest, he presented you with a small rectangular box lined in painted gold. Atop a small cushion lying in the center, a band of woven gold with a small, unpolished stone lying on the top. 

“This was from the moment I knew my heart belonged to you,” the softness from his confession was depicted in the deep baritone, his stature slowly sinking onto his knees, “I collected all of these rocks in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to give you this one. It’s-.”

“-Is this amethyst, Pen?” you fawned over the rock, studying its shape with your lips parted and brows triangulating up to the center of your forehead. Tears swelled in your eyes as you watched his own glaze over with a soft mist of joy. 

“From when we got separated from the crew, you sprained your ankle, and then argued with me when I tried to look after you,” he nodded in confirmation, his smile drawing up his face the longer he reminded you, “We slept in the cave, the whole thing covered in amethyst stalactites, and you let me hold you against me.” 

“But Pen...” you bit back a sob, gently reaching down and cupping his cheek in your palm, “We weren’t even together at that point-.”

“-But that’s the moment I knew my heart would always belong to you,” he darted his eyes between yours while softly nuzzling against your palm, “What would you say? If I were to give this to you as an extension of myself? To promise to love and care for you always, to be by your side as your husband? Would you-...? Will you-...?” He choked on his words, attempting to gage your reaction by holding his eyes to your own. 

You nod your head at first slowly, before your enthusiasm took over. Bobbing your head, you slink to your knees in front of him and throw yourself into his arms. Lips colliding in a messy clatter of teeth and tongues, you whimper against him as tears begin to roll down your cheeks in heavy waves. 

“So, I take that’s a yes, then?” A lazy voice called from the other side of the room, prompting you and Penguin to laugh into the kiss before breaking away from it. You called over to Shachi, without tearing your eyes away from Penguin’s.

“It’s definitely a yes,” you nod. He hastily grabs for your left hand, removing the ring from the pillow and nodding at you to gain consent before dragging it over your unity finger to the knuckle. 

Several bangs drew you away from this moment of solitude, Shachi’s balled fist colliding against the metal wall of the submarine while shouting: “It’s a yes-!” at the top of his lungs. 

Cheers reverberated in the hallway, prompting you to shake your head at the reaction from the entirety of the members aboard the Polar Tang. You gaze down at your hand, admiring the way the metal shone over your skin and danced the lights from the crystal throughout the room. Penguin couldn’t take his eyes off you: noticing the way you beamed down at his ring and wore his most prized rock with pride. 

He’ll work up the courage to tell you how much trouble it was to learn how to cast gold, welt the settings, and how he had to humble himself in front of Eustass Kid and Massacre Soldier Killer to learn how to do it properly. But that story, and its correlating, stolen, bismuth paper weight, would be for another time. For now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up, hold you close, and gush to everyone he knew how much he was in love with his beautiful fiance. 

And you would do the same.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[spitdrunken]

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

[youronlydarlin]

warning: ouch my feelings, kinda sappy, kinda sad, you give Simon purpose and he vow's to love you forever or sum

Gimme a soft Simon. A domestic Simon.

Simon who starts the day by kissing the sleep away from your eyes. Gruff voice, lightly chuckling at the groan he gets from you. Never were the type to appreciate your sleep being interrupted. It's a competition to see who succumbs to 'who first. Will you fall for his strategy to lure you out of bed, or will he crumble at your sleepy state and let you sleep in five minutes more?

Simon who kisses the pads of your fingers at random. You'd rest your palm atop of his, not minding the difference in size. Or how rough, and calloused the texture is to your skin. He holds it so gently, and slowly brings it up to his lips. Kissing each finger, praising them for how hard they work everyday. Saying that his own hands will always be there for yours.

Simon who peel's your oranges for you. His hands were never ment to be gentle. Used to the violence that came with war, fist's that were used to pull triggers and crush skulls, slowly getting used to kneading dough, or folding your laundries.

Simon who gets better and better at living normally again. He's never even knew a life like this was possible when all he's ever seen was the ugly side of the world. Then there was you. Sometimes he lays awake on the bed, seeing you sleep so comfortably next to him. You know of his line of work, and his bloody history, but never once did it turn you away from him. And he's sure that if he had you back then, and someone asks him what he does everything for. He'd confidently say 'you.

Simon who loves it when you notice his improvements, and praise him for it. He keeps your words close to his heart, like a badge of honor. All the other military achievements, and titles he's earned could never even add up to the way you say 'l love you. Leaving him breathless each time.

Simon who's glad he always comes home in one piece. Rather than dying, it's the thought of leaving you alone that breaks his heart. Imagining you in his funeral, breaking down, and begging for him to come back is what keeps him on his toes during missions. Reminds him that there's someone at home that's waiting for his return. That there's a home to return to. But till then he'll treasure every day, and keep dreaming of tomorrow.

a/n: umm, this was kinda bad sorry. Still tryna work my way around grammar, but I hope you enjoy! Take care of yourself always, sweets!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[chiiroptereh]

[Please zoom in, there's a lot of detail! And a massive file size...ouch]

Hi guys, long time no post! Been working on Art Fight and life stuff, but I've got something kinda fun for you.

This is a compilation exploring how a mortal Bill may interact with our world if there were still some kinda Euclidean instincts buried in there. Y'know, before the Book of Bill ruins all my headcanons >:P (EDIT: IT HAS BEEN READ. YAHOOOOOO)

Also quite an experimental piece as you can probably tell. Lots of details on both said headcanons and the art stuff under the cut, but I invite you to study the colorful texture yourself beforehand and think about what it might be representative of, just for fun because I got some really cool answers from my friends when asked :]c

TL;DR: the headcanon is that Euclideans have exceptional eyes for geometry. They find things like symmetry, tessellating patterns, graphs and fractals very aesthetically pleasing. If pushed into our 3D world, they feel comforted by the familiarity flat objects/spaces bring, as well as high-contrast patterns. Shadows especially are a familiar dimensional reduction that may bring them much comfort.

Bill would surely not be happy about these inclinations, constant reminders of a past long gone, but I'm not sure he's even aware of them here :P I think his ego gets in the way to the point where he just views these interests as common sense, which, of course, us lame humans just don't understand because we aren't nearly as cool as him. Of course he likes perfectly symmetrical leaves and staring at the kitchen floor, it's called taste, look it up!

And yet, he can't seem to shake the strange sense of melancholy he gets from viewing his own shadow.

~ End of TL;DR, long version below! ~

🔺 Headcanon Development

So, the catalyst of this idea was in relation to my friend and I's AU ( @love-triangles-au ). TL;DR, Bill's brought back mortal, meets another triangle named Y.V. (it's his hand holding the paper in the piece, actually), at some point they fall in yaois together, you know how it is. And, in writing a pair of triangles (or, more broadly, writing from the perspective of a different species), something I've had to consider was that you really can't get much further removed from a human being than sentient geometry.

The anatomical aspect was mostly figured out (see my piece on Bill's eye-mouth), but I wanted to consider what psychological differences might be at play. I wanted them to be weirder, more alien, double-so for Bill. At first I explored these possibilities through the lens of Bill and Y.V.'s relationship, specifically the question "what might a triangle find appealing about another triangle?"

Well, really the only things that came to mind were straight lines and symmetry, anything related to the geometric form of such a creature. That's more-or-less where that ended until the thought struck me that there's no reason this aesthetic appreciation couldn't extend to the rest of the environment, and then further when I realized, "wait, this is a species that is designed to live in a 2D environment. Like, they should seriously be really weird. I need to push this like 200% more."

So...yeah! I did some thinking and brainstorming with others and came up with a pretty long list of things a Euclidean in our world may be inclined to enjoy or find some level of comfort in. It's worth noting again that in this piece specifically this is a mortal/powerless Bill, so he can't really escape this Earthly environment. IF he's aware of these instincts at all (and that's a big "if"; when have you last been cognizant of your own instincts let alone known where they were stemming from?) I think he'd have snuffed them out in immortality and/or purposefully gone against them; he doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.

In order from left-to-right, top-to-bottom, here's an explanation for each!:

Flat objects such as paper are something he may find particularly engaging. It's basically 2D!

Tessellations are especially fascinating, and our world has them everywhere in the form of tile floors. Symmetry and such a predictable pattern...as the infinity of the starry sky might for us, the infinite potential of tessellations might invoke a similar sense of awe in him. Add on the maximum contrast of black on white kitchen tiles and the forms are only even better defined! A sensitivity to contrast would be very helpful for a 2D being navigating their environment.

Fields are flat and open, much like Euclydia itself. Laying flat may make him feel a little more at home.

More tessellation in the honeycomb of hymenopterans (bees, wasps and friends)! It helps that pain is hilarious.

The city is an absolute treasure trove. Rectangular buildings, precise architecture, square sidewalks and straight lines abound...he may as well be looking at a rainbow or an art gallery! I think a Euclidean's brain is very fine-tuned to mathematics, especially in regards to trigonometry. What may appear to be a straight painting might appear obnoxiously crooked to him.

Zebras are high-contrast :]

Another flat surface, another relaxing space <3

I think graphs are about as high as high art gets to most Euclideans.

I've touched on shadows before, and for good reason; truly they must be something borderline magical to the Euclidean and perhaps bitterly nostalgic.

This one kinda speaks for itself. Dweeb.

🎨 The Artsy Stuff

Lately I've been trying to find ways to fit more color into my work, as color is perhaps one of my favorite things in the world. My wardrobe is rather garish; my dad jokes that you could see me from space. My fursona is obnoxiously bright for a reason -- I feel my soul is a very colorful one!

I also realized recently that I don't actually know the exact style that speaks to me. I could talk about the phenomenon of the "style crisis" that many artists have all day, but in my mind the best cure for this feeling is to go against it entirely and begin stealing as much as possible.

So, I've tried to keep an eye out for more sources of inspiration everywhere I go, physical and digital. I've tried to train my mind into making a habit of considering, "can I do anything with this?" everywhere I go, and it recently paid off!

The glittery rainbowy texture you see plastered all over Billiam is this one, a photo-manipulated set of fruit stickers. I must confess I've been obsessed with this image for the past 72 hours, and this seemed like a good excuse to try it out!

I worried throughout the process if it might be so abstract that it loops back around to being horribly deliberate, if that makes sense -- like each sparkle was not a piece of a whole but rather an object in itself -- but it seems like that hasn't been a problem, so I'm grateful for that :Dc

I hope it can dazzle and delight you as it does me, but as long as you find it fascinating at the very least then I consider it a success! I really enjoyed hearing my friends' interpretations while workshopping it, and got tons of amazing answers from opal to kaleidoscope to fossilized bone marrow! I truly believe that the best art has some room for interpretation and it really excites me to be surrounded by that kind of creative energy that follows said pieces. That definitely adds to my pride in this work. It's weird, it's colorful, it's detailed and yet ambiguous. I'm feeling pretty autistic about it

Alright, I think that's about it. Thanks for listening!

[getodrools]

𐙚 COMPARABLE FANTASIES: TOJI FUSHIGURO!

IN WHICH, toji proves even with new, cold attachments, he could still make you feel good regardless...

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. slight jjk spoilers. lazy dovey morning turned messy feral muah mess. fingering. breeding. cock warming. squirting. creampies. | WC –> 0.8k+ est ! !

TOJI'S TONGUE PLAYS AT the shell of your ear, slipping in to whisper, "you feel… full." nuzzling down, you ache into his touch.

feening at cold metal dipping between bodies, toji trails along your tummy to mush at the small bump of devotion pooled stickily in your womb. his scar curls with his lips – smirking at the ghastly amount as he keeps his softening cock deeply buried in your walls.

groaning and twisting at the warm fill and shivering and cooing at the foreign object drifting at your skin. it was crushing to see the man you love once kiss death and now filled in with a new century of technology...

though, how he handled it. it was, manly... tantalizingly fun too.

filthy.

cold — freezing more of... the sudden touch of his new arm snipped at bare skin, feeling him slip between shaken legs was like glaciers moving through water… soon, catching at the puckered hood of your clit, he winds steady circles.

“cold? heh...” his words trail off into a husky groan, almost mocking at your worn shivers.

spent and warmly settled to spooning, his cock rests a slow rhythm before popping out. unplugged… a warm, white mess follows, dripping a soiled puddle into silk sheets.

toji knew it made you squirm — knowing the truth. it was new and something to get used to.

no different, he spreads slippery folds wide, forcing them to hug, now, two silvery fingers and cling tight as he pummeled cum back where he deems belongs. toji was quick and busy at stuffing spongy walls to the hilt, all while you were marveling in the taunt texture the entire way through, feeling scraps digging at you with fierce intent.

eyes fluttering back, toji pecks along your jaw,

"see, 's still makes you feel good.." lewdly locking lips, you squeeze at his forearm; the mass once strong muscle, scarred and expanse, now smooth, dull - and uncanny... but the sensible warmness growing to your tone left an ache.

incredulously prodding away, he digs eager fingers into your cum-swollen cunt – and one moment they weren't, the next, they were pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, running circles. your thoughts too, running mindlessly, hearing the squelching batter of juices and tainted shame.

"you're making me hard again, baby... maken' those pretty moans in my ear." you curl into his chest, sobbing out moans as his fingers pressed down and worked into your slit. hard and smooth, he dug them into the pliant, slick heat of your pussy, squishing at walls and kneading them around working digits.

you mewl, "oh!–" crudely before whimpering into submission. toji pops the metal tools out, yet kept a steady rhythm at your puffy hood, and probed his bulbous cockhead – hitting into you in no time at all. full chastity, his cock swole and throbbing again. toji sets a rhythm. strong and paced, and keeping firm at your clit; rolling and pinching when warm walls squeeze at his base.

toji holds you close as you sink into fervent putty; his arms so strong, one just as the other, keeping you warm and close... your stomach is coiling and your jaw hangs, "my pretty girl likes being stuffed? you enjoy looking like a mess? huh?" his free hand tucks under your neck, bullying eye contact from you.

you shakily nod.

"nothing can stop me from making you feel good baby?" he would be foaming at the mouth if possible; gasping at the deep-set of jungle eyes hooded, almost hunting for you through lids,

"don't ever doubt me, sweetheart..." panting with pearls of sweat mixing in, as both of you in sync like beasts – tongues even lapping sloppily at each other.

his life seemed to hold that fine line. It terrified you, every day because it could be any day... only the potency of resilience proved odds... and oddly, it was attractive how much he held that.

he fucked you good and well, always horny and hungry. never knowing if it could be the last to make you scream over his name ‘til you couldn't… the day he faced eternal gloaming and luckily found an escape through it, he stuffed you long and hard – ‘til you were packed like a snow cone...

toji buried himself deep while his swollen crown pushed hard against the breaking walls you lose control of – shivering in a pulsing high. licking up your throat, a wet and sloppy tongue cursing,

"can you even handle another?" he was mocking you and at your weakness, watching through droopy eyes how you shook into a mess at such little, yet so much...

watching how he fucks you into a mess and keeping metallic fingers pinched at your clit, you arched a perfect bow into the sheets; cumming a fountain and creaming a translucent ring at his base, his balls rise in a manner you adored in response. In a battering of his hips, solid nth-inch cock meat swelled with oozing cum. heavy holders, no less than before, and just as messy, empties every last drop into you.

…

barely room, ropes of hot seed decorate the soft mounds of your ass. almost bursting; his cock pops out still jutting in cloud nine as your womb was drowning in delight and with cum still struggling to find space... your chest heaves and his follows.

"ah-... y/n..." catching a rare breath, the same raunchy arm puckers up to your face and drags your chin back to his. showing no difference – just clanking bits and cold metal, he pulls and breathes at your bottom, quivering lip,

"i'll always, take care of you."

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Guess what time it is…….

CENTIPEDE TIME !!! she’s finally real,,,,,,,, based off Scolopendra hardwickei or the Indian tiger centipede

Before I go about the process I just want to say you guys have been soooo incredible and I love reading your reblogs and I love the idea knowing I’ve inspired a lot of people,,, the project, although it was a lot of work and I’m feeling not so great as of posting this, still motivates me to want to make another.

(Art process below)

This was entirely freehanded! I have a lot of experience working in 3D art settings that this part came easy to me but I started with a flat base shaped in the pose I’d like the creature in. I used one whole piece cut from a shipping box and filled in the gaps with tape; you don’t need a single piece for the base but for structural integrity it helps a lot. As you can see here I also cut the legs separate and glued them on using hot glue. The vertical cross sections are to give an early support for the structure of the creature, think about the frames of aircraft or boats. During this part I used a pen to mark the width and height of the previous section to get a gradual flow of shapes.

This next part I wish I got more documentation on but after the vertical cross sections I used soda boxes for the thinner and flexible cardboard to add contour lines along the length of the creature, gluing them on the cross sections. I did about 2 strips of this on either side to fill in the space and then I continued to use soda boxes to fold and shape the top of the creature, gluing onto the strips rather than the cross sections (this part was a mistake but I quickly adapted, no issues happened but it did make it slightly less secure). I also gave the legs vertical cross sections as well to shape them for the masking tape.

The worst part, taping everything. I used tape to further shape it how I wanted but that meant going over parts several times. I used 2 different widths of tape for this for efficiency but it doesn’t matter. The legs were very loosely taped and if squeezed then they’d lose their shape; I didn’t bother filling them in because I don’t have materials for that and I let the paper mache help support them instead. Tape was also used to fill any holes and gaps left by the cardboard skeleton.

The next phase is paper mache of which I haven’t done since 5th grade… I was not confident in this step. I used mod podge and a brush to smooth down the paper. Because I lacked materials I used fast food napkins instead of newspaper which worked totally fine, it just tended to tear a bit easier. Some areas required me to get hands on and I don’t really like the texture during this stage so that was fun (lie). I didn’t do too many layers, one for the body and 3 for the back and legs but some projects might demand more. I used half of a 16oz bottle of mod podge btw so please get more than you think you need.

Finally, texture hell!!! I did a base coat of white spray paint and painted everything else with acrylic. Start with your lighter colors first before doing darker ones! I originally mixed some yellow and orange for the body and realized it was too bright and so covered it with orange instead. It also wasn’t until later I realized I could’ve been smarter with my paint so I skipped over the segments that were going to be fully black, saving the orange for the rest of the body. I wanted my centipede to stand out and not look 2D color-wise so I also used the red for the head and tail to give gradients and edges to the orange segments and legs, later going back with burgundy to further darken them but not too much. For the black segments I also used a very watered down layer of sky blue to give a fake shine and show the intended structure of the segments. Do not be afraid to use your hands! I used mine to smudge my detail paints like the black fade on the legs and the back shading. To top it all off I sprayed a clear coat and punched two holes in the underside to hang it up, using thumbtacks angled upwards.

[haxkattpress]

The Bolthole by aideomai, Tepre, and GallaPlacidia

I'm absolutely thrilled to finally share my first fic bind here on Tumblr! I completed this bind back in November, and it introduced me to so many wonderful people.

You can find pictures and detailed explanations of my process under the cut.

This is "The Bolthole" by Aideomai, Tepre, and (formerly) GallaPlacidia on Ao3. The cover design is adapted from "The Little Brother" (1902) by Josiah Flynt. The typeset is my own.

I fell in love with this cover the moment I saw it, and wanted to try to recreate it with book cloth. As a hobbyist book binder, I like to try to revitalize older designs from the public domain. There are so few copies of this book left in the world, so I thought it would be fun to give it new life as the cover of a contemporary story.

The cover is made out of three different colors of book cloth from the Allure and Verona lines. The book cloth and endpapers were bought from Hollander's.

I used my Cameo 4 and a strong tack mat to cut the design out of each color of book cloth. I then assembled the pattern like a puzzle. It was MUCH harder than it sounds! Some of the pieces were incredibly thin and fragile, and they were difficult to keep track of.

For the foiling, I used my Cameo 4 and the We R Memory Keepers fine tip foil quill for everything but the spine, which I did by hand. I foiled immediately after I cut, without removing my mat from the machine. This helped me line everything up. It did not, however, prevent me from sweating bullets as my machine worked.

This method was, frankly, torture, but I'm really glad that I tried it. Now that I've had a nice long break, I'd like to try it again soon. I love running my hands over this book, and the texture of the book cloth feels wonderful under my fingertips. I do, however, have a few words of caution. Do not try this out unless you have book cloth to burn! Here are some pictures of just a few of my failures.

The Cameo 4 is not your friend. Your cut-outs can and will get fucked up for no reason. If the mat isn't sticky enough, or the blade isn't sharp enough, or the fabric doesn't adhere properly, your design could get completely shredded. I strongly recommend that you avoid Verona book cloth, or anything with a paper backing and loose fibers. It was absolute hell to work with. When it wasn't shredded by the machine, it was fraying like crazy. Acrylic coated cloth is the way to go if you want clean lines. And, you know, your sanity intact.

This was my most challenging bind to date, but I learned a lot! Aside from experimenting with book cloth, automated foiling, and my Cameo 4, it was also my first time formatting, printing, and sewing a text block. I'm incredibly grateful for all of the online tutorials and wonderful people who helped me make this bind a reality!

[syluscore]

Every Version of You

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

An average day, nothing noteworthy. Until someone intercepts you and your partner a week before you’re gearing up to head out for an assignment. Now there’s nothing average about today, nothing is normal anymore. You’ll never understand. Is it time travel? Is his soul broken apart and now manifesting different versions of himself? All you know is that an older version of Leon is here, insisting he had to come back to save your life with the help of a trusted few. And for some reason his younger self from when you two first met and survived Racoon City together is also here. When your Leon is swept away on a mission to rescue the president’s daughter from a cult in Spain, you’re left to try and prevent your coming death with his past and future self. When he returns, how do you confront everything that has come to the surface with the other two? Will you be able to prevent your ultimate demise? It’s going to take every version of him in order to save yourself.

~ Masterlist ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SONGS: Always - Bon Jovi and Work Song - Hozier

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART ONE: drunkenness, pining, repressed romantic feelings, death, depression, anxiety, tension, kidnapping, violence, drugging, water submersion, self-depreciation, thoughts of dying, desire to die, heartache, angst, hurt with no comfort

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" ONE:

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You belt out the lyrics to the last song you remember playing in the bar before the alcohol completely took over. Despite your words slurring, you did your best to mimic the sultry rock tone of Bon Jovi.

“God, you’re so drunk,” Leon laughs as he tries to keep you up right as you make your way down the dark, city streets. 

The only other patrons on this road are other drunks. All of the businesses beyond the bar are closed up and dark. You can still hear the music from the bar thumping in the distance.The late night air is chilly, but you’re too obliterated to take much notice of the goosebumps littering your exposed skin.

“Nooooooo,” you whine at Leon. “You’re supposed to sing the next part. This is a duet, Leon, come on!”

He stares down at you with an amused look on his face. “I’m not doing a Bon Jovi duet with you at 3 am in the middle of the street.”

You pout at him, stopping in your tracks in defiance. He tries to continue pulling you along, but you hold the heels of your feet firmly in place on the cobblestone. The rough texture of the restored downtown district usually pissed you off. You were always tripping over yourself on the uneven terrain, but tonight it’s helping ground you in place. You subconsciously apologize to the ground for all the times you’ve cursed it.

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You sing the same lyric as earlier loudly, your tone absolutely atrocious. 

Leon sighs before finally giving in, replying with the next line. “Well, I guess I’m not good anymore, but baby, that’s just me.”

You squeal joyfully at his rock ballad impression before clinging to his arm again, allowing him to continue guiding you down the road.

You’re practically screaming at this point, “And I will love you, baby, always. And I’ll be there forever and a day, always.” 

Leon knows he’s lost the battle. Your drunken mind knows no ration, so he sings along with you quietly. He fights the smile threatening to overtake his face, not wanting to encourage you further.

But it’s too late. When he gave in during your small fit, that was all the motivation you needed to give the city street the performance of your life. 

As you continued singing, your hazy mind couldn’t keep track of the lyrics. Leon just shakes his head as you get the words completely wrong. 

He stuffs the warm feeling in his chest down, locking it away as he always does. He doesn’t like how endearing he finds you. The way you carry yourself so carefreely. You’re boldly and unapologetically yourself. It’s everything Leon wishes he could be. He never allows himself to think any deeper on the feelings inside of him. Nothing good ever comes from him expressing the intricacies of the branches growing and entwining deeply in his chest. 

You’ve got your claws deeply embedded into his person. He has killed for you before, many times, and he will do it again without a second thought. You’re his best friend, his partner, his twin flame, but he refuses to vocalize what you mean to him. 

The world is a shitshow filled with unspeakable horrors and ill intent. Boldly caring for anything makes you vulnerable. If you have nothing, then there isn’t anything for the world to steal from you. His life is already overly complicated. He’s merely a prop for the US government. Nothing but a tool, or more accurately a weapon. He’s the weapon they use against bioweapons. A machine that serves its intended purpose and is expected to maintain itself as it sits idly by before it’s needed again.

He finds comfort in this fact somehow. An object doesn’t need to feel or process emotions. It enables him to push down his trauma and function day to day without breaking apart at the seams. If he detaches himself from the physical world enough, going through the motions is a piece of cake. Maybe he’s not living, maybe he’s merely existing, but when he’s with you… he feels everything. He wants to stay in the secureness of being numb, safe and sound within his own walls.

He shouldn’t have agreed to hit up the bar with you tonight. But after being briefed on your next assignment, you needed to be plastered to cope with the new horrors you’d be dealing with. And the truth was Leon cared about you extensively, so he could get through tonight. He’ll drop your drunk ass off at home and then seclude himself from you until it’s time to go on your assignment together. 

“Oh fuck,” you holler as you trip over your own feet, exposed knees crashing into the ground beneath you. You hiss at the stinging of new scrapes on your skin. 

Leon crouches down and attempts to help you up, but you’re super unsteady as your legs shake underneath you. 

“We need to get your drunk ass home before you completely self-destruct.”

You giggle up at him before your eyes connect with his. Your mind goes completely blank as you soften beneath his gaze. This is what it means to get lost in someone’s eyes, it must be. The alcohol running through your system is making it hard to ignore all the pesky feelings you’re able to brush off–to stuff deep down when you’re sober.

What if he leaned down and kissed you right now? What if he finally closed the gap between the two of you? What if he completed those broken pieces of yourself and made you whole again? Finally giving into six long years worth of tension? Your eyes fall down to his plump, wet lips before rising back up to meet his stare. You subconsciously lick your lips in anticipation. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as the pace of your breathing picks up. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you want nothing more than to extinguish the flames, but in the back of your mind you know you want to ignite them further.

Neither one of you break the stare down raging between you two somewhere in the middle of this forgotten street. You could be literally anywhere and it wouldn’t make a goddamn difference. Wouldn’t change a fucking thing. But you know that’s just the loneliness and liquor talking. He’s your Leon, it’s not like that. He’s not like that. You’re not like that. Right?

You’re so lost in one another that you don’t notice the sounds and shifting air around you until it’s too late. While you were lost in your own bubble, you left yourself vulnerable and exposed to the world around you. And it seems the world took advantage of that fact.

Suddenly arms are wrapped around your cowering frame. A hand comes up and covers your mouth, muffling the startled scream tumbling from your throat.

Leon darts forward to pull the person off of you when two men you don’t recognize grab either of his arms and pull him back away from you. His elbows are flying into their sides, his nails digging into their skin. His knees and legs kicking out as he fights to break from their holds on him.

“Don’t make me do this, Leon,” a deep voice speaks to him, but it doesn’t change anything. Leon keeps fighting against them. The man lets out a heavy sigh before swinging his free arm and punching Leon hard in the face, his body instantly going limp at the impact.

You realize you’re crying and whimpering as you shake in the man’s arms. His tight grip on you hasn’t faltered for even a second. You’re powerless, a helpless feeling taking over your entire being. You have no fight in you tonight. You’re too drunk and you immediately regret allowing yourself to be in such a state.

“I’m so sorry.” The man holding you removes his hand from your mouth, but before you can say anything, there’s a stabbing pain in the side of your throat. Your eyes shoot in the direction of his arm, seeing him pulling a now empty syringe away from you. You’ve been drugged. You want to panic, but a fuzzy feeling seeps its way into your muscles and bones. Before you’ve even processed the sudden turn of events, darkness wraps around you like a blanket.

You have no choice but to allow yourself to fall into it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Waking up feels like you’re trapped underwater. The world is so far away, the only sound surrounding you being your own heart beat thrumming in your ears and the movement of the water flowing around you. Your limbs feel limp, your body weightless. The only thing you can do is allow yourself to sink into it, to embrace the sensations.

But then you begin to open your eyes.

Everything is out of focus, distorted as if looking through someone else’s glasses. You have to force yourself to blink, taking all of your energy to lift your heavy eyelids. 

You can’t help it. You let them fall shut again. Even with your eyes closed, it feels like the world is spinning around you, but at least the ache behind your eyelids stops.

You almost give yourself back over to sleep. Almost. 

You feel hands gripping your arms, shaking you. You assume the person is trying to wake you up and you try to force yourself up, but your blood feels thick in your veins. That under water feeling growing inside your body as well. The feeling is almost peaceful so you cling to it.

The memories start to trickle into your brain that feels like it’s vibrating inside of your skull.

You shoot your eyes open and look down, attempting to focus your eyes as you force yourself to blink rapidly. You feel so fucking high and there’s nothing you can do other then beg yourself to please come down. Even as your eyes start to focus, your brain feels trapped behind a barrier and you still can’t get any appendage attached to this useless body to just move.

This isn’t working. You close your eyes again, instead focusing on your breathing. In, hold, then out. In, hold, then out. Rinse, lather, repeat. You can feel your lungs expanding and retracting over and over in your chest; the feeling has your anxiety rising.

But it’s finally working. Somehow, some way, the anxiety is awakening your nerves and pushing the drugged out feeling away. 

It probably takes twenty or thirty minutes to come back to yourself enough to comprehend what’s happening around you, but it finally does. And what you see has you feeling even more high.

You’re laying on some dingy, old couch. The room around you is dark and dank. It’s somewhere between a basement and a dungeon. The more you look around, the more you think it’s more dungeon leaning. 

You slowly manage to sit yourself up, using every ounce of strength you have to achieve it. You take more deep breaths before pushing yourself up, barely managing to steady yourself as you stand and your knees threaten to give out beneath you. More deep breaths and your head stops spinning, allowing you to open your eyes again. 

The room is small;  just the couch, a lamp, and a door. 

A few shaky paces forward and you’re at the door. Up close, you can see that the old door isn’t closed all the way. Placing one hand on the door frame for balance, you reach forward with the other slowly pushing the door open. And what you see has your head reeling more than the drugs.

This room is much larger than the previous one, the high ceilings nearly three times higher than the previous. Two men stand at a control panel surrounding a large tank of… water? It looks like bubbly, murky, thickened water. Another man stands away from the others, looking lost and out of place in a shadowy corner of the room.

But those are the least concerning elements. What has you screaming out in shock is the man up on the metal platform above the tank holding an unconscious Leon in his arms. It looks like he’s moments from dropping Leon into the mysterious vat of liquid and it has panic overtaking your system.

Every man in the room's attention darts to you at your sudden outburst.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a man with a thick accent speaks from the control panel.

“What are you doing to him? What the fuck is going on?” You wheeze out. The room grows silent except for your heavy breathing and the weird humming noises coming from inside the tank.

Adrenaline takes over, your survival instincts kicking in as you rush towards the tank, ready to do anything to get Leon away from this death trap.

You throw yourself at the ladder attached to the platform above the tank, ready to do whatever it takes to save him. But large muscular arms wrap around you, trapping your arms at your side.

You kick and scream, anything to break free of his grasp, but to no avail. He’s so much larger than you. Even without the drugs lingering in your system, you’re still not sure you’d stand a chance against him. You’re the damsel in distress, nothing but a sitting duck waiting for your hero to come rescue you.

But the ever dependable hero is in immediate danger, mere feet above his ultimate demise. 

“You ready?” The accented man speaks to the man above the tank.

“Whenever you are.” A gruff voice responds from above. 

The accented man starts counting backwards from ten as the other man starts to move Leon towards the edge, ready to toss him in like nothing but a rag doll.

You’re screaming, pleading, begging them to stop. You’re in hysterics and all of the men ignore you. No one even bothers to spare you a second glance.

You’re completely helpless. You can’t save him. You’ve failed him as you always do. You know if it was you in his position, he’d have saved you effortlessly. He’d never allow you to die like this. He’d never allow you to die at all, but you can’t return that simple fucking favor. 

Please let me be next. Throw me in after him. I could never live knowing I allowed him to die as if he was nothing. He’s everything. If I can’t save him, take me with him. I’ll follow him even in death. What’s a world without Leon Kennedy? I don’t want to know, please don’t make me know.

Your heart shatters as you watch Leon’s limp body fall into the vat of liquid. The man at the control panel flips a giant lever and the liquid glows. The light from the tank is blinding as the man holding you releases you to cover his own eyes. 

You’ve always been a coward and you refuse to be as your best friend dies in front of you. You force your eyes to stay open through the excruciating pain burning in them. 

But then as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears. The man on the platform has collapsed, unconscious above the tank. And weirdly enough, the man lingering in the shadows has collapsed as well. 

You can’t stop the tears as they fall down your face, a sob breaking through your lips as the realization sets in. The tank is empty. Leon is no longer inside.

Did they fucking incinerate him?

You fall to your knees as you shake, your entire body crumbling as the situation truly sets in.

I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m sorry for being such a useless piece of fucking shit. Wherever you are, reach through to me and smite me dead with you. Drag me to the other side with you. Don’t make me stay in a world where you don’t exist. 

I’ll never let you down again. I’ll remind you every day how much you fucking mean to me. You can’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. There’s no me without you. 

You’ve always been larger than this world, Leon, but it’s nothing without you. The world was never worthy of you, and neither was I. But don’t fucking leave me. There’s so many things I haven’t said, too many things I haven’t said. And I’ll forever hate myself for it. 

If your heart isn’t beating, then mine doesn’t deserve to beat either. I’ll rip the fucking thing from my chest to follow you wherever you are now. It beats for you and I think it always has, since the day I fucking met you. 

If not this life then I’ll be yours in the next. I won’t be stupid anymore, I fucking swear it Leon.

I love you Leon Scott Kennedy. I fucking love you. 

And the afterlife can’t fucking have you. I know you and I know that you can look God in the face and fight, kicking and screaming, your way back to me. It’s not your time. All the time in the world would never be enough time to spend with you.

So you bring your ass straight back here and I’ll fall to my knees, devote my life to you. I’ll pray to you if it’s what you ask of me. You are my purpose and there is no meaning to this bullshit life without you in it.

I never got the chance to properly and loudly love you. Never got the chance to show you I love you. You left this world not knowing how much you were loved. And none of it is right. I’ll burn this world down for you, Leon. I don’t care if you want me to or not. This place will not go on without you. I promise, my love. 

If you don’t come back to this world, there will be no world for any mother fucker to ever come back to. No one is more worthy than you and I’ll never allow them to feel as if they are. As if any mortal soul could ever begin to compare.

You’re supposed to stay with me to the end. This can’t be the end. Is this the end? I refuse to accept this ending. I’ll rewrite the whole fucking book until it’s structured around nothing but your happy ending, Leon.

Leon. Not my Leon. I’ve lost you before you were even mine to lose. You left without knowing I’m yours.

[c-rowlesdraws]

a recent commission featuring subject matter I already clearly love: a gnoll and goblin (the commissioner's own characters) sharing a comforting snuggle.

working on this lineart-only picture reminded me how much I like doing line drawings, and was good practice for communicating different volumes and surface textures without using any shading or colors.

[comicaurora]

Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

[justwritedreams]

Let me in | Wooyoung

Photographer!Wooyoung x reader

Genre: angst, fluff Word count: 8394 Warnings: blackmail, toxic relationship, graphic violence, mention of a car accident, an annoying fake fiancé he's really an asshole he kisses the reader without consent twice, jealous and red haired Wooyoung because that's a warning. If you don't feel comfortable please don't read! Author: Maari Note: You have no idea how much I love Wooyoung in the halazia era. I'm watching a lot of forbidden love stuff, this obsession will pass Summary: You were ready to confess your love to Wooyoung, but a complicated and dead-end situation changed your plans. Now you don't know whether to let him in or push him away.

Taglist: @foxinnie8

⪢ Ateez Masterlist

“Woo, I already said I’ll arrive tomorrow morning.”

“But I miss you.”

Y/N even tried to contain her shy smile but it was in vain, hearing even on the other side of the phone Wooyoung's voice admitting so clearly what she also felt made her feel like she was a teenager.

“You talk as if I’ve been away for a year.”

“That’s what it seemed like to me.” she could clearly see the scene of him pouting. “No one complains about my socks lying around my room or the mess on my desk because of work.”

She took her hotel room card from her pocket as she walked down the hallway.

“I already told you that I don’t know how your mother manages to have you and your mess in her house.”

“Is this an invitation for me to move into your house?”

Maybe it was that whole month away from each other, but he seemed much more seductive over the phone, even with the usual jokes, it seemed like he wanted to find a way to flirt with her.

And well, she wouldn't complain.

She and Wooyoung had gone on a date a while ago, when the poor man was available from his work as a photographer, even though they had known each other for a little over two years it seemed like that day had been different.

And it was, because their first kiss happened in such a special way that Y/N could still feel the texture of his lips tattooed on her own. Soon after, it was her turn to travel for work and since then they haven't had time to talk about their situation. What kind of relationship did they have, even though it was clear that they both liked each other in a way that went beyond friendship.

“Do you think it’s that easy to live with me?” she replied and heard his laugh echo through the line. She was missing him so much. “I’ll want something in return.”

“Um, I know what to give you.” His voice was full of malice and she laughed, embarrassed, feeling her cheeks burn.

"You're impossible!" she said, reaching the bedroom door.

“And you like it anyway.”

She didn't even bother to deny it because it would be a lie, she just didn't want to confess over the phone. She needed to say it looking into his eyes.

“I have to go, I need to pack my bag.” She said and unlocked the door.

“Okay, come back soon. Seriously." he practically begged and she smirked.

"I promise."

The call was disconnected and she entered the room with a silly smile on her face, her stomach churning with anxiety every time she thought or spoke to Wooyoung.

It had been routine for the last month, to compensate for the distance they spoke every day.

Y/N turned on the light in the room and her smile fell when she saw that someone was sitting in the armchair next to the bed, her blood ran cold and she took a step back to leave.

Until she heard the familiar voice.

“Hello, Y/N. Did you miss me, love?”

She strained her eyes and recognized the face that held a pretentious smile.

“Chase.” her voice was barely a whisper.

He smiled widely and she knew it was because she had shown weakness in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked more firmly. “How did you know I was here?”

"What do you think?" His false naivety was starting to irritate her and that answer wasn't what she wanted. “You should start choosing your friends better.”

Y/N felt her jaw drop as her heart ached from the betrayal, it wasn't like she didn't expect it but the disappointment couldn't be contained.

She and Chase went out twice a while ago, he was friends with her best friend and that's how they met. But Y/N didn't feel anything special about the boy, he was handsome, tall, rich and successful, but none of that seemed to matter to Y/N who could only see arrogance in him.

In fact, the only person that haunted her mind during the time she spent with him was Wooyoung. Nobody seemed to be better than him.

After the dates, he seemed more and more interested in her, he sent gifts, flowers, called every day and Y/N found any excuse or pretext to get away, she didn't want to go out with him again, she didn't even want to have a conversation with him because the matters seemed so superficial.

And when she kissed Wooyoung, it was like the entire experience with Chase had been erased.

He became a completely forgettable person.

Of course she politely dumped him and then blocked his number.

But the man, unlike what he had said via message, didn't seem to have given up.

Since he had gone there to the hotel where she was.

She swallowed the urge to cry and went to the door, opening it.

"Get out of my room."

Chase didn't move, he crossed his legs and put his hands together and brought them up to his mouth, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“How is your brother?”

Y/N felt her neck crack so fast she turned to face him. Now instead of feeling her blood run cold, was bubbling with anger.

She knew Chase well enough to understand what he meant.

Y/N's brother was being accused of murder after a car accident, she knew he was innocent but there was no proof of that, not even witnesses. It was just his word about how the alleged victim's car had run a red light, lost control and crashed into him that was in the right of way for the green light. The victim died at the scene and Y/N's brother had been seriously injured, he was still in custody at the hospital as he was recovering but the victim's family sued Y/N's brother the next day.

Y/N's family's life had been turned upside down and that was why she was committed to working overtime, so she could pay the best-known criminal lawyer in the country.

She needed to help her brother.

She didn't respond to Chase, just took a deep breath and stared at the floor, squeezing the door handle tightly.

“I can help, you know.” he started talking. “I can get your brother and his record cleared again.”

She laughed, ironically.

“And what do you want in return?”

She knew he wasn't saying that because he was a good guy. Wooyoung would give her the world without expecting anything in return, but Chase wasn't Wooyoung.

"You."

He got up from the chair and Y/N looked at him offended.

“You marry me and in return your brother will be absolved.” he proposed and started walking towards her who didn't say anything. “You know my dad is a federal judge, he can help.”

Anger was written all over Y/N's face, she was breathing heavily now.

“That’s not helping, that’s blackmail.” she spat out the words and he raised his hand to caress her face, she moved away as far as she could.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re mad.”

She rolled her eyes.

“What if I say no?” she lifted her chin, trying to keep herself strong.

He smiled sideways and brought his face closer to hers, she just narrowed her eyes, feeling her nose itch as she breathed in his perfume.

“Then he will be judged guilty even though he did nothing.”

She laughed in disbelief and tried to find some trace of something that could indicate that he wasn't serious but she couldn't find it.

And it was like her mind snapped.

“You know he’s innocent.” It wasn't a question and he didn't even seem surprised by the statement.

“Where do you think the highway footage is?”

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, it was as if the entire weight of the world had rested on her shoulders.

So her brother could be happy and free but she would become unhappy and trapped?

She was about to be the happiest woman in the world because she would be next to the man she loved.

She had nothing to think about, she wouldn't be the reason for an injustice happening to her own family.

“If I accept, will you hand over the footage to the police?” she asked, feeling her throat close up.

Chase nodded, his eyes were shining victoriously and she hated it.

But if it was the only way to save her brother, she would do it. She didn't wanted the process to drag on any longer than it already was.

Y/N let out an ok so low, showing how much she didn't want to accept that offer.

“Pack your bags, my love. You come back with me today.”

“My ticket is already paid, I’m going tomorrow.” was all she managed to say.

“Fair enough, we’ll have our whole lives to be together.”

Chase brought both hands to Y/N's face and pulled her against her will to leave a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.

The tears that had previously stopped in her eyes ran down her face as she wiped her forehead to remove any trace of Chase's lips on her skin.

Y/N closed the door with a thud and her body gave way, she sat on the floor while crying compulsively feeling as if strong chains were tied around her wrists.

[...]

“Y/N, this is the fourth time Wooyoung is calling, you need to answer.”

Y/N's mother spoke as she entered her room, making her sigh.

She had been managing to avoid Wooyoung for two weeks, telling him that she would have to postpone her return from the trip because she still had a lot of work to do, it was a lie of course but he didn't need to know.

She knew he was suspicious, he hadn't really believed it when she texted him the next day saying she wouldn't be back. She had done this because she didn't know what to say to him when she met him.

How would she explain that she was going to marry a guy she didn't even like, after everything they happened between them so far?

Could it seem like she was a coward? Yes and she felt that way, but avoiding Wooyoung even though her heart called for him was the only way out she found.

“I’m gonna call him later, mom.” she replied, not looking into her mother's eyes, distracting herself by putting the watch on her wrist.

“You’ve been avoiding him since you came back.” her mother noted. “That's because of Chase, isn’t it?”

Y/N faltered and almost told her mother everything that was happening if she didn't know her mother would make her act with reason. In other words, would make her give up from that insanity.

“I don’t know how he will react about the wedding.” She shrugged and busy herself with putting her things in her bag.

Probably would react the same way her family did, in shock and confusion. One day she had gone to work and the next she was coming back engaged to a guy they didn't even know?

Everyone knew that Wooyoung was in love with Y/N even before they both knew, and that she reciprocated, so the fact that the groom wasn't Wooyoung was quite confusing.

And the look on Y/N's mother's face said exactly that, even though she hadn't elaborated on the subject any further.

“Don’t hurt him.” her mother asked and her shoulders slumped.

She went to her mother and kissed her cheek, trying to smile slightly.

“I would never do that intentionally.” The mother agreed, she knew her daughter's intention but didn't know the reasons that were making her make that decision. “I have a meeting with the wedding photographer, I think I won’t be back for a while.” She explained.

“Is Chase coming to get you?”

Y/N tried hard not to grimace when she remembered that detail.

“He’s already waiting for me.”

The mother crossed her arms and before turned into an interrogation, Y/N decided to leave the house and came face to face with Chase outside the car.

She twisted her mouth and went straight to the passenger side, he hurried to open the door.

“I thought I was going in.”

Y/N frowned and sat down on the car seat.

"Why?"

He closed the door and went to the driver's side.

“Isn’t it time to meet your parents?”

She huffed and buckled the seatbelt as he started the car.

“Do this on your wedding day.” she replied impatiently, turning her face to look at the window and not him.

The last thing she wanted was to hear his voice the whole way. Every day that passed, every second that she was in his company only made her anger grow.

The only thing she felt for him was contempt.

She didn't know why he was so insistent that she accompany him to the meeting with the photographer, since most things about the wedding were his decisions, but she needed to or else her parents would be even more suspicious since the wedding was in a month.

They arrived at a coffee shop she didn't know, Chase tried to place his palm on her back but Y/N moved away, showing that she didn't wanted any physical contact.

He didn't complain out loud but it was clear that it had bothered him. He led her to a table and she saw a young man sitting with his back with newly dyed red hair. She had the impression that she knew those broad shoulders but blinked a few times trying to get that thought out of her head

She constantly saw him everywhere in the last few days, it was just a projection of her own desires.

“Jung?” Chase caught the boy's attention and he turned to face the couple with a wide smile on his face.

But the same smile on Y/N's face fell away the moment she recognized him.

Wooyoung stood up from the chair with his eyes fixed on Y/N, visibly shocked to see her there, he looked at Chase who extended his hand.

“Chase, right?” he asked still stunned, shaking his hand.

"That's right." she heard amusement in Chase's voice. “This is my fiancée, Y/N.”

The exchange of glances between the two although it took only a few seconds, seemed to last an eternity, he was speechless and she wanted to explain herself but this was neither the place nor the time.

"Nice to meet you." she spoke quickly, extending her hand to him who held it without understanding why she was pretending she didn't know him.

Wooyoung just nodded with a restrained smile.

As soon as they sat down, Y/N right in front of Wooyoung, he tried to maintain the professional pose and completely ignored his heart.

While looking and talking to Chase he even managed to act professionally so he started not looking towards Y/N, since she herself hadn't opened her mouth to say a single word but it was obvious that the weight of her gaze was making Wooyoung's task of ignoring her even more difficult.

He wanted to confront her, hearing the love plans coming from Chase's mouth filled with a boastful tone was irritating him deeply and the fact that she was standing there quiet made it even worse.

But he realized that something wasn't right when Chase announced that the pre-wedding photos, which would take place over the weekend, would be taken in a city park as he pointed out that the fountain there would be a great setting.

Y/N hated public places and the sun. That specific weekend would be one of the hottest of the year and he knew the park, the fountain attracted families who took their children to play with the waterfalls.

It was a great photo spot, that was true, but not for Y/N.

Wooyoung had his left eyebrow raised and his locked teeth highlighted the perfect shape of his jaw even more, Y/N looked at him with shame and deep sadness, at no point did he direct his attention to her even for a second. Of course she understood the reason but that didn't stop the wound in her heart from opening even wider.

It was enough for both of them when, after planning everything for the weekend, Chase got up and pulled Y/N by her hand not so gently, holding both sides of her face preventing her from moving away he placed his lips on hers. Wooyoung clenched his fists, breathing heavily when he saw that Y/N in addition to not reciprocating also tried to move away, her lips in a thin line while her arms stayed at her sides.

Although he was extremely angry about the situation, he wanted to laugh at the man's desperation in trying to mark his territory as if he were a dog, all that was left was to lift his paw and piss on her.

Chase walked away with a wide smile on his face and said goodbye to Wooyoung who returned an ironic smile and for the first time his eyes met Y/N's. Even though he needed an explanation from her, when he noticed that she had a disgusted expression and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, it was enough for him to draw his own conclusions.

Something was very wrong and he was going to find out what it was.

[...]

Y/N wanted that day to end as quickly as possible.

She hadn't even started the photo shoot and was already hating every minute of it. First, it was a hot and muggy day, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky and she was already sweating because of it. Secondly she was hating the dress she was wearing, a pre-wedding gift from Chase, the dress was tight in the wrong places and more see-through than she would have liked, she was feeling completely uncomfortable.

Thirdly, because pretending for who knows how many hours that she was terribly in love with her fiance was tiring just imagining it.

But she followed the plan, went to the park feeling her hands cold and her heart beating fast thinking about Wooyoung. She hoped the whole way that he had assigned someone from his team to take the photos, so she could sigh in the corners without anyone knowing that he was the reason.

The last person she imagined meeting in that coffee shop was him, with so many photographers around town how could she have predicted that he would be the one hired. Also she would never imagine him with red hair like that and how handsome he would look. She shouldn't have found his serious expression so attractive but it would be a lie if she said that his new look hadn't messed with her.

Just seeing the red hair from miles away made her legs tremble and it became even more difficult to control her breathing when his eyes met hers. She could see the hurt he felt and it made her shoulders sag.

"Hey." she greeted him shyly.

The tension was so clear that anyone passing by would be able to tell.

"Hey." he replied quietly, looking to the sides. “Your fiancé is not coming?” His voice carried sarcasm and she took a deep breath. 

Yeah, maybe she deserved that.

“He was supposed to be here.” she muttered and diverted her attention to take her phone out of her bag. At the same time as she unlocked the screen the phone rang, a call from Chase. "Where are you?" she answered.

She heard a heavy cough on the other side and frowned.

"At home." his voice didn't sound good at all, not that she really cared.

"You won't come?" she asked in disbelief and that caught Wooyoung's attention.

“I'm sick, my love, I only managed to get out of bed to vomit.”

She shouldn't have but a slight smile appeared on her face. So does that mean she would be free from him all day? Finally her wishes were being granted.

“Then we better reschedule.”

“Do whatever you want, Y/N, my head is exploding.”

Chase hung up the call and she looked at her phone in surprise for a few seconds while her heart jumped with joy, turning to face Wooyoung she saw him with his eyebrow raised and it was very difficult not to sigh.

Even though he was wearing simple black clothes, he could take her breath away like no other could.

“He’s not coming.” she shrugged, sounding much more excited than she should have been.

“He should at least let us know in advance.” he replied, adjusting the strap of his camera bag over his shoulder. “I’m not his employee.” he continued, irritated.

“I know, sorry about that, Woo.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for his actions, it doesn’t suit you.”

They exchanged a long look, perhaps the longest since the meeting in the cafeteria, trying to look for answers to questions they hadn't yet asked and perhaps already found.

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned, making her swallow hard.

“Photos are a…”

He laughed, humorlessly.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” he interrupted her and Y/N was silent.

She knew exactly what he was referring to and the only thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth.

“Let’s not talk about it, please.” she begged or else would actually tell him why.

Y/N made to move away but Wooyoung gently grabbed her wrist, not only making her stop in place but also causing a shiver to run through her body.

She looked down at his hand, feeling all the heat from his palm and went up until she met his eyes. Her legs gave way, of course, her heart was racing so fast that even though they were in a public place he could easily hear it.

“You owe me an explanation.” Y/N looked away. He was right, she did but couldn't. “Out of nowhere you have a fiancé?”

“That’s not how it happened.” she said without looking him in the eye.

“Is that why you won’t look me in the eye?” he questioned, she felt his eyes on her and yet she didn't return them, just looked around afraid that someone would see them there.

Realizing what Y/N was doing, he pulled her without hurting to a more distant area, covered by trees and literally empty, he released his grip but stayed close to her staring at her in the same way, deeply as if he could see the answer she was giving in her expressions.

“Woo, please don’t do that.” she begged closing her eyes, she didn't have the strength to keep lying to him.

“Give me one good reason to believe in this engagement.” She opened her eyes and looked at him without the courage to admit it. “You don’t like when he touches you, I saw the disgusted face you made when he kissed you.” her jaw dropped. “And you were happy he wasn't coming, so unless your love language is not showing any affection, which I know isn't true, explain to me why you're going to marry him in a month. ”

Y/N started to sweat even more and reached for the straps of her dress, as if that would somehow alleviate her nervousness and consequently the heat. But she knew it wouldn't until saying what was stuck in her throat.

“Everything we experienced couldn’t have been a lie.” the sad and giving up tone of Wooyoung's voice made Y/N's heartbreak even more.

That's why she approached him, bringing both hands to the sides of his face making him look into her eyes.

"It wasn’t." she replied with conviction. “Believe me, I have never been happier than when I was with you.”

"So, what is happening? Tell me, please." he pleaded.

“He’s blackmailing me.” she spoke at once without breathing or blinking, and it was as if half a ton had been lifted off her shoulders.

She could only feel confidence through his eyes, she wouldn't be able to continue carrying this burden alone.

"What?"

Y/N sighed before continuing, her eyes filling with tears.

“He has the footage that proves my brother is innocent but he will only hand it over after the wedding.” her voice wavered at the end and Wooyoung looked at her in terror, not believing that someone could do that. “If I didn’t accept it, my brother would be unjustly arrested!”

Unable to say anything, he pulled her into a tight protective hug, Y/N buried her face in his neck and cried as he stroked her back. All the anger he had felt in that coffee shop seemed so small to what Y/N was going through alone, because he knew her so well that he was sure she hadn't told anyone that in order to protect her family. It was too heavy a guilt for her to bear alone.

And he would help her, one way or another.

[...]

Y/N rolled her eyes when she saw Chase standing at the door of her house with a cheeky smile on his face, she snorted when he walked in uninvited.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, still holding the door open and saw him sit on the couch as if he were in his own home.

“I came to meet your parents, are they there?” He looked around and she had to take a deep breath to keep from screaming at him.

“They are in the hospital.” she replied with a boring tone.

“Great, you can stay at the door because the photographer is coming here.” he advised, catching her attention as she narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" she questioned, not understanding.

“We have some unfinished business to resolve with him since the pre-wedding has been postponed.” he said in a tone of obviousness and Y/N closed the door slowly, taking a deep breath.

“And why did you call him here?”

She saw the same amused smile on Chase's face that irritated her, he didn't respond immediately, just analyzed her noticing the fear in her eyes.

“Did you want me to take some mr. nobody to our apartment?’

Y/N locked her jaw both in anger and to prevent her from defending Wooyoung right away, it would be obvious to Chase what she felt for Wooyoung and she didn't need any more threats but she also felt there was something beyond that unexpected visit.

And to think that she had spent 3 days away from him and any interaction, she would give anything to have that peace again while he was sick.

Before she could think of how to respond, the doorbell rang and that was the moment her heart skipped a beat. It was the most painful dilemma she could be living in, she wanted so much to see Wooyoung again since after she had confessed what had happened they were keeping daily calls and he was being so understanding with her - it only made her fall in love with him even more - , but she didn't want Chase to use Wooyoung.

Because she knew he was up to something and she didn't know how much she could hide from him.

She answered the door with cold hands and gave Wooyoung a nervous smile, both didn't needed to say anything for him to notice the tension, his eyes swept the house and found Chase sitting as if he were a king. His serious expression mixed with anger appeared and he even tried to give Y/N a polite smile but they couldn't even call it a smile.

She directed Wooyoung to sit in the armchair while she stood, but Chase had other plans.

“I’m sorry about what happened over the weekend, I wasn’t feeling very well.” he took the opportunity to pull Y/N by the hand and make her sit on the couch beside him. He also put his hand on her knee, Wooyoung just watched him in silence, trying not to show how much that attitude was irritating him.

“Don’t worry, it happens more than you think.” he faked a smile. “It must be the wedding anxiety.”

Y/N looked at Wooyoung carefully, he seemed determined not to fall for Chase's trick who, not satisfied, began to squeeze her knee with unnecessary force.

“Maybe that’s what it should be, it’s not every day that we get to marry the woman of our life.” Y/N tried to break Chase's grip by holding onto his fist but it was impossible considering he was much stronger than her.

“Few are lucky enough to have reciprocal love.”

Y/N would have laughed at the exchange of barbs between the two - Wooyoung's hint was explicit - if Chase's fingers weren't hurting her knee, her face contorted into a grimace of pain that was seen by Wooyoung.

He clenched his fists and almost managed to get up and pull Chase away from Y/N.

“Can you give me some water, please?” he asked, trying to get her to move away from him somehow.

"Sure!" her voice came out thinner than usual, Chase released his hand from her knee as soon as she got up from the couch.

At the same moment his phone rang, apologizing he went to another room to answer it while Y/N looked at Wooyoung to follow her to the kitchen, he did so and as soon as they arrived, they were both able to release the breath they had been holding.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly and she went to the fridge to get a bottle, nodding. “You won't marry that animal.”

She turned to hold out the water bottle and crossed her arms when he took it.

"I don't have a choice." she whispered.

“I’m not going to let you live with that asshole.” he snapped, angrily spitting out the words. “He hurt you.” he pointed to her leg, Y/N was wearing shorts so the place where Chase had squeezed was visible, it was red, she even tried to cover it with her hands by lowering her head but it was no use. “Not just physically.”

Y/N stood up to look at him, he was so serious that the vein in his neck stood out, rarely had she seen him like that, his red hair matched the fire of hatred he felt.

She couldn't deny it, not when he was right. The pain in her body was very small compared to the pain in her heart and she didn't know what to do, although she agreed with Wooyoung that she shouldn't marry Chase, she didn't see any other way to help her brother.

So she just stood there, silently staring at him. He took advantage and approached her slowly, placing his hands on her shoulders so he could comfort her and also give her strength.

“Don’t push me away.” he begged, making her sigh. “I’ll find a way to help you out of this, but you need to let me in.” she looked away, afraid of the answer she wanted to give. It wouldn't be fair to involve him in that mess. But he didn't give up, he raised his hands to both sides of her face and slowly lifted her, looking deep into her eyes and just whispered. "Please."

How could she deny anything in those eyes?

"Alright." she agreed quietly and he smiled lightly.

That was enough for now.

He started to hug her, he wanted to be able to wrap himself around her to the point of protecting her from anything, but Y/N heard footsteps coming from the room and quickly moved away from Wooyoung, keeping a safe distance so that Chase wouldn't notice what was happening there.

He arrived at the door and Wooyoung pretended to act like he was a stranger.

"Thank you so much." he handed the bottle back to Y/N as if he had actually drunk it and she just nodded. “Well, I'm leaving now. I have other clients to talk to.”

He glanced at Y/N and started walking to leave the kitchen.

“So see you this weekend.” Chase spoke as soon as Wooyoung passed him, making him raise his eyebrow.

He turned to face Chase and it took a lot of strength not to wipe the victorious smile off his face with his own hands, but he just smiled back.

He didn't even know what was coming.

“If you don’t have any other unforeseen circumstances.”

Y/N tried to contain her laughter in vain, receiving Chase's furious look and Wooyoung's complicit look, he left rolling his eyes at Y/N's fiancé leaving the two alone with his heart in his hands.

He couldn't bear to imagine her alone with that idiot but for now it had to be like that, until he found a way to help her.

“Was that funny to you?” Chase asked as soon as he heard the living room door close.

She huffed, leaving the bottle on the sink.

“I have no time for your dramas.” she retorted and followed the same way as Wooyoung.

However, she barely reached the room, as Chase grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the exchange of looks between you.” he spoke threateningly and she tried not to show how much it affected her.

That's why she decided to pretend she didn't understand.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried to pull her arm away but he tightened his grip. “Can you let me go?” she asked, a little more firmly.

“Don’t even try to have your bachelorette party with the photographer. It won’t be worth it anyway.”

Y/N felt her palm itch to slap him but realized she didn't need to, the fact that Chase's ego was hurt because of Wooyoung was enough for her at that moment.

“Said the man who is using blackmail to have a woman who doesn’t love him.” she replied in a sarcastic tone and he forcefully brought her closer. "What are you gonna do?" she smiled wryly. "Hit me?"

She couldn't reveal what she really felt for Wooyoung but she had enough strength to defy him, knowing that she could count on Wooyoung had given her the courage she needed in that situation and for the first time she left him without an answer.

Now more than ever she was committed to finding a way not to get married.

[...]

Y/N was already lying in bed, looking at the ceiling reflecting on everything and nothing at the same time, her parents were already sleeping in the other room and the house was completely pitch black, indicating that it was already late at night. } She couldn't sleep, no matter how much she turned in bed, she didn't even need to look at the clock on her phone to know that it was already dawn and she had wasted a lot of time lying there.

The device vibrated next to the bed and she jumped in fright, she almost didn't look at her phone because she wasn't in the mood but her curiosity was greater.

When she unlocked the screen she saw a message from Wooyoung.

'Open the door'

She sat on the bed as soon as she read the message with a frown, replied asking which door and received the answer quickly.

‘From the entrance, I’m here.’

Y/N's jaw dropped and she got out of bed hurriedly, without remembering the thin fabric pajamas she was wearing she left the room trying to be silent, leaving her phone in the room. She went to the living room without turning on the lights and opened the door slowly so as not to make any noise, he was standing there in front of her with a worried expression.

Before she could question why he was there, Wooyoung took a long step and pulled her into an almost desperate hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck.

Y/N just reciprocated, confused but happy to be able to breathe deeply against the heat of his body, she didn't count how long they stayed there but neither of them separated anytime soon.

"Are you well?" he whispered and his breath against her skin made her shiver.

"Yes, I am."

Now she was much better with him there.

He pulled away and his eyes darted to Y/N's outfit.

“Nice outfit.” he jerked his head towards her pajamas, making her blush.

"Silly." she pushed him lightly and he laughed softly, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here at this time?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about what that monster was going to do to you.” he admitted and she smirked.

“Modesty aside, I defended myself very well.” she said, proudly and he narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah?" he crossed his arms. "What did you say?"

She shrugged.

"The truth. That he is blackmailing a woman who doesn't even love him, it's the only way he can be with me.”

He smiled proudly and admiringly, barely able to stop his hand from going to the back of her head. Y/N did nothing but look him in the eyes and sigh.

"The only way?"

Her cheeks burned violently at Wooyoung's low and seductive tone, but she liked that feeling, it was reminiscent of their first kiss.

“He’s gonna live with the fact that my heart will never be his.” she was sincere, making him bring their bodies closer together again.

“You say as if your heart already has an owner.” he tried to contain a smile but Y/N saw it too well, moving her hand from his arm to his shoulder making him shiver.

"And has." she replied with conviction, making him raise an eyebrow. "You."

His smile grew at the same time that a sparkle appeared in his eyes, she just returned the smile. Wooyoung then took his other hand to her waist, wrapping his arm around her and took a few steps forward, automatically she walked backwards until she felt the hard surface of the wall and of course her legs faltered.

“We are so corny.” he whispered and she laughed. “We look like two teenagers in love.”

“And aren’t we?”

He laughed softly and in response brought his face closer to Y/N's, stroking her nose with his own, she just closed her eyes while her heart accelerated considerably.

He didn't rush anything even though their already heavy breaths hit each other, they both just needed that stolen moment in hope that it would last forever.

It was Wooyoung who ended the little distance that remained, hot and eager lips met in an intense and quick kiss, their bodies missed the textures of each other's lips. It was as if they had been away from each other's arms for years.

They didn't wanted to wait to lose themselves in that feeling of wet lips molding perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

When the tongues took over the action, Wooyoung's hand went to the back of Y/N's head and increased the speed of the kiss, making her hug him by the shoulders with both arms to be firm or else she would fall.

Air at that moment seemed like such a small detail, they wanted to get lost in that kiss, in each other's tastes.

And that's exactly what they did, until their lungs hurt.

It was Y/N who broke the kiss, not because she really wanted to but because she needed to, she just didn't count that Wooyoung would distribute kisses all over her face and down to her jaw followed by her neck, there would be no way her legs would stay steady anyway.

"What are we doing?" she asked with a wide smile on her face and still with her eyes closed.

“We are loving each other.” he responded against her skin, making goosebumps emerge as he began to give light bites. "So much."

Y/N brought her hands to the back of his neck, caressing while he didn't seem to be satisfied with the wet kisses he was giving on her skin.

“Woo.” she called him and in response he gave a light bite right below her ear, she had to bite her own lower lip to keep from letting out a moan.

That's why she took a hand to his hair and pulled without much force, to make him look at her.

"Don't do that." he said biting his lower lip as well and she got lost in the intense glow of passion in his eyes.

“You know how much I wanted to ask you to stay.” Suddenly her mouth went dry just with his eyes looking at her so closely and she had to wet her lips with her own tongue.

"I know." he smiled lightly and his hand went to her cheek where he caressed it slowly, making her close her eyes momentarily. "I'm leaving."

Although she nodded, the last thing she wanted was for him to leave.

“One more kiss and I’ll be gone.” he asked and she smiled sideways.

He approached for a new kiss, this time with the taste of a painful goodbye but also with the certainty that it wouldn't be the last between them.

Y/N was sure once again that she could spend the whole night in his arms.

[...]

“Your father just called.” Y/N's mother stopped at the kitchen door. “It seems that a witness has emerged in your brother’s favor.”

Y/N opened her eyes wide and went to her mother.

"Like how? When?"

“Apparently there was a witness with the guy in the other car, they were in a bar or something, he saw the guy leave the place completely drunk and speeding more than he should have.”

Y/N felt a wave of relief course through her body.

“But why did he only appear now?” she questioned, still a little lost.

“The lawyer said he didn’t know what had happened before, when he found out about the case he went to the police to tell them what he saw that day.”

Y/N's jaw dropped and she blinked several times.

"And now?"

“I’m going to the hospital to tell your brother.” said and she nodded. “Your father will meet me there.”

"Alright, mom. As soon as I get off work, I’ll stop by the hospital.”

The two said goodbye and Y/N went to brush her teeth as soon as her mother left the house, after finishing she picked up her bag on the sofa and went to the door, looking for the key that seemed to be hidden in the middle of her things in the bag.

She was too busy to notice that Chase was at the door just waiting for her to open and when she did, he took her bag and threw it far into the house, making her startle and lift her head to look at him.

Chase entered the house and grabbed her arms, shaking her.

“Do you think you can do this to me?” He asked, completely irritated and she looked at him scared.

"Are you crazy?" she spoke louder, trying to get away from his hands in vain.

“You really are a slut, all I had to do was turn my back and you stabbed me.”

"What are you talking about?"

Chase laughed in disbelief.

“From your little show last night.” she frowned. “Of course you would rub yourself against the photographer at the first opportunity like a slut.”

Y/N was unresponsive for a moment and her silence made Chase shake her harder, angrily.

"Answer me!"

“How did you-” she barely finished the sentence because he interrupted her.

"What do you think? I put a camera in this room.” Y/N looked at him completely offended. “I wanted to make sure your affair with him wasn’t just an illusion in my head.”

She shook her head, unable to believe that this was happening because she knew that he was fully capable of doing something absurd like that.

All the frustrations, fears, insecurities and doubts since Chase had blackmailed her had taken over her but now she had more than hope, she was sure that she would no longer have the weight of her wrongfully convicted brother on her shoulders.

Relief came and with it her voice became firmer and even louder.

"You really wanna know? Yes, I kissed him.” she admitted and with all the strength she had, she freed herself from his grip. “And I plan on kissing Wooyoung for the rest of my life!” he glared at her as she took steps back. “I love him and your blackmail is no longer strong because my brother will be free with or without the footage.” she smiled widely and saw him falter for a few seconds. “I'm not marrying you, Chase, ever. Not even if humanity depends on it. Now get out of my house!”

Her breathing became labored, the screams she gave were of freedom and she felt light. However, Chase didn't look happy at all.

He blinked a few times and then advanced on her, holding her jaw with one hand while with the other he grabbed her waist and made her lean against the wall.

Y/N started to struggle, trying to push him away.

"I will not give up on you." he warned. “I’m gonna have you back.”

“You can't get it back what was never yours.” she replied between her teeth, she was feeling suffocated by his presence and his hand on her face.

“We’ll see.”

He lifted Y/N's face and decided to attack her neck with kisses that made Y/N start punching his chest to make him move away.

"Let me go!" she screamed, feeling disgusted every time his mouth touched her skin and tears began to form. "Stop it.”

“If you’re not going to be mine, you’re not going to be anyone else’s.” he spoke angrily and began to hug her around the waist to stop her from continuing to fight.

"Help! Somebody help."

That was Y/N's last scream before Chase was pushed away from her, he staggered back in confusion while Y/N cried against the wall.

“Get your filthy paws off her.” Wooyoung's voice echoed through the room, the harsh tone betraying how angry he was.

Seeing Y/N being grabbed against her will by that idiot had made him see red the moment he reached his feet at the entrance of the house, he didn't see anything else, he just walked up to the two and threw Chase away.

“Woo.” Her shaky voice made him step in front of her protectively, she grabbed the dark denim vest he was wearing.

“If you touch her one more time, I’ll break your arm.” he warned and Chase laughed wryly.

“I’m not scared of a loser like you.”

“Try it if you’re a man.”

Chase felt provoked and then advanced on Wooyoung who did the same before he could get close to Y/N, she even tried to stop him while still holding his clothes but she couldn't, Wooyoung applied the first blow. A hard punch to Chase's face, enough to make a loud noise and the man staggered to the side as Wooyoung threw another punch at him.

Chase held him by the waist and pushed him against the wall, Wooyoung hit his back but managed to retaliate by kneeing him in the stomach.

“Stop!” Y/N screamed desperately when she saw that neither of them were going to stop. "Stop it!"

When Wooyoung was punched in the face, she ran to the bag thrown on the floor and grabbed her phone in desperation, dialing the emergency number.

It was time for Wooyoung to strike one more time and immobilize him by the neck she had already called the police.

“I should break your neck for daring to blackmail and touch my girl.” he spoke quietly to Chase who was trying to free himself. “But you’re not worth it.”

He released him, kicking him in the back as he sucked in the air he'd lost lying on the floor.

Wooyoung stood up and looked at him with disgust, Y/N ran to him worried.

"Are you ok?" she asked while analyzing his face, he had blood in the corner of his mouth and his hands were red from the punches he had given and even though he was breathing heavily, he was standing as if nothing had happened.

"I am fine." he replied, looking at her with a bit of guilt.

Her neck was red and just from those marks he wanted to keep punching Chase.

"Come here." He pulled her into a hug, without taking his eyes off Chase, he looked really hurt.

And even though he shouldn't have felt this way Wooyoung was proud of himself for leaving him where he belonged.

The floor.

Y/N buried her face in Wooyoung's neck and tried to reduce the adrenaline in her blood by taking deep breaths of his scent to calm down.

In the background, sirens could be heard indicating they were arriving.

That was why Wooyoung pulled Y/N further away from Chase, so they could have a little more privacy while the police arrived.

"Are you ok?" he asked quietly and the answer he got was Y/N nodding.

“I’m glad you didn’t break anything, or else my mom would be mad.” she spoke against his skin and he laughed, at the sensation and her concern at that moment.

“Mad at her son-in-law for defending her daughter?” he asked in a slightly calmer tone.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” she asked and pulled away enough to look at him.

He took a deep breath and nodded, in a serious tone he asked “Was it sexy at least?”

[buckysgrace]

Billy Hargrove Headcanons <3

Requested <3 I hope you enjoy my ramblings!!

Was such a cute baby with lil blonde curls, rosy cheeks and a soft nose that strangers always thought he was a little girl lol

Used to love when his mama would play with his hair. He hated naps as a child, but always passed out once she'd trace her fingertips across his soft cheeks and squishy nose

His mom loved holidays. Especially Halloween and Christmas. He spent many Halloweens dressed as a lion lol

She also took him to get ice cream on his birthdays <3 His favorite was chocolate.

Was really close to his grandma up until she passed away. Used to spend long afternoons and even stay for weekends when he was little, and Neil was working.

Loooooves sports. Has played a vast majority of them (baseball is his favorite). He played a different one each season while in school to get him away from the house

Worked all throughout high school. Had a ton of odd jobs

Also loved summer camp.

Enjoys deep sea fishing. Neil did a lot of trips with him as a sort of “apology” (he caught a bluefin tuna when he was 13 hehe)

He’s very very dry, has a sarcastic sense of humor <3

When he’s high he gets very relaxed and chill, very laid back. Will occasionally get giggly

Very good with his hands. He likes to tinker with things. Worked on his car a lot, likes to build things too (had a very impressive bird house that he built in woodshop)

He loves vegetables. Specifically tomatoes and bell peppers. Bites right into them, a nice lil snack

He's up at 3 in the morning?? He is devouring a jar of pepperoncini. maybe some shredded cheese

Not crazy about sweets, but if he has to pick something it would be some sort of fruit pie?? will also pound away at a pineapple upside down cake

makes a meaaaaan spicy Italian sandwich

Also crazy about protein. He's gotta bulk up ya know. Hates eggs though. They smell terrible and the texture is awful

Really good at math, loves working with numbers. He will chew on his pencil/pen while he's working out a problem (and if he accidentally eats the eraser?? that's his own business smh)

Got a lot of college offers because of his grades and talents in sports but didn't take any of them up. College just never seemed like his thing

Will hike his swimming trunks up to get a nice even tan on his upper thighs. The cutest little tan lines imaginable.

Reads while he sits on the toilet. Also smokes (and will purposely linger in the bathroom if Max knocks on the door smh)

Horror and mystery are his favorite genres. His all time favorite book is The Haunted Dancers.

Surprisingly good with kids. They just love him, sweet Mr. Billy hehe. Babies love at him. They will stare at him and enjoy snuggling into his arms :) And chewing on his arms lmao (or tugging on his hair smh)

Haaates the winter months. He does not like the cold at all and hates bundling up in thick layers even more (he's a man damn it he doesn't need any gloves smh)

Icy roads absolutely terrified him in Hawkins. He was not used to driving on them at all. An incredible snow ball former tho (he will hit you in the face with them rip)

The first time he heard the tornado siren go off he was alone with Max and had no idea what to do (she was outside trying to see it smh)

A little rain is okay but he prefers the sunny sunshine and heat to anything else <3