#that hasn't anything to do with the drawing

[utilitycaster]

One of your recent posts talked about the way BH have essentially "run out of plot" in following the Red Moon/Predathos plot and the way that the PCS are being played.

I was also curious about your thought on the interparty dynamics in the end game, particularly with recent developments. One of the issues I've had with Bell's Hells for a while now is the way they don't challenge each other (or at least not in the way previous parties have)

Yeah; they don't. And honestly I think this is a combination of just...luck of the draw of the characters they created combined with that lack of room for those characters to develop because they've been in an environment that hasn't allowed much time and space for anything but rushing to the next task. Like, as mentioned, a lot of characters are kind of here to hang out or have goals that aren't specifically tied to personal change, if they have specific goals at all. That's not a bad thing! Grog, Jester, and Fearne all share that quality and are all fantastic executions of it - and Grog and Jester do change quite a bit despite that because the story gives them many opportunities to do so, and yes, because their fellow party members challenge them. But it feels like the bulk of Bells Hells if not all of it is kind of in that boat.

I remember an early panel in which Marisha said "I don't want to think anymore" and I know Travis has mentioned something similar for Chetney, of wanting to play someone much more chaotic after playing someone so highly controlled as Fjord. Liam also talked about stepping back from being a major decision maker at some point, and built Orym to be someone who had a viewpoint but didn't specifically assert it (as we've just seen). Like, I think most resentment C3 fans have towards C2 is just jealousy and bitterness but perhaps a fairer grievance is that the cast really brought their A-Game to the Mighty Nein with a lot of incredibly complicated, driven, messy characters and due to the smaller nature of the company then combined with the scaled back production of the pandemic focused intently on them; and then nearly all of them made a bunch of fairly go-with-the-flow or chaotic characters as a breather and (not unfairly or unreasonably!) thought they'd be in a story that would give them space to become something else or that would suit them, and it didn't. As someone who likes actual play I think if nothing else this serves as a look into how fantastic overall cast chemistry doesn't translate into compelling party dynamics.

To be clear, I think Bells Hells like and care about each other, but none are really the type to both strive to be better and challenge those around them to be as well. Even their defenders in the fandom are kind of leaning on the party of NPCs line from very early on [which is funny because a lot of people HATED that line at the time; I got hate over thinking it was apt] but the thing is yeah at this point in the campaign, they shouldn't still feel like a party of NPCs. Perhaps this is a personal preference, which, to be clear, does not in any way invalidate it as criticism, but as someone with a bit of a comics background, I've never been terribly into "Suicide Squad"-esque stories but I am into stories of Person Who Has An Opportunity And Rises To The Occasion Despite Not Being The Best Choice On Paper. Ultimately, my issue isn't that Bells Hells come from humble backgrounds and tragedy (this is also...not untrue for the Mighty Nein, incidentally; in fact they had even less endorsement from powerful groups. Molly died 26 episodes in and he just stayed fucking dead because no one had Keyleth's phone number so this is another case of "your defense just makes me think the Mighty Nein achieve this in a far superior manner"); my issue is that, as Laudna put it, they kind of just walk through doors because they're in front of them. I don't need them to become classically heroic; but I do need them to have some sort of intention. And they don't. Why are you walking through doors? "Because they're there" doesn't cut it. You're here because the Exandrian Accord gave you a whole bunch of support so don't play that "i'm just a nobody with nothing" shit anymore, it's demonstrably untrue.

I had this in the tags originally and I decided, perhaps unwisely, to move it into this post because I think it's relevant, but: in case it's not apparent, I think "You! Are! Valid!" culture is fucking awful; this is what that weirdo who thinks I'm from Reddit is mad at, I think (honestly I'm not sure if they're angry, they might just be very unwell). Like, it has roots in something true and helpful; you are valid for things like your race, gender, sexuality, ability/disability, and things that have happened to you in the past. But actually no one is automatically valid for their actions. Being incurious or inconsiderate or incapable of taking constructive criticism, even if this is tied to your past? not valid. Your trauma and pain is valid; what you do in their name very much might not be. And I think a lot of people who love Bells Hells do not like this message (which, Bells Hells don't like this message, hence the repeated "whatever you do is fine" conversations) and kind of romanticize a "NO ONE IS ON OUR SIDE WE MUST DO WHAT IS RIGHT FOR US THERE'S NO GOOD ANSWERS" state in which one cannot be held responsible for action nor inaction and that's a lot of why they respond so dramatically to the increasing sense within the fandom that this party lacks the juice and does judge them for inaction. Like, I've been talking about character agency and how a lot of people's enjoyment of Bells Hells hinges on how they HAD NO CHOICES and I think we're seeing the fallout, which is that a TTRPG story (ie, a medium defined more so than anything else about player choices) about characters who were stripped of choice kinda sucks ass, and anyone who doesn't look to actual play D&D to valid their personal morality (which, in this case, usually is "the world is unfair so I can do whatever I want" anyway) would rather see a story about a character who fucking had a viewpoint and did things with it, even if it were a "bad" viewpoint. I know I'm hard on villain stans because a lot of them are actually people who are like "what if the VILLAIN were the HERO...I am very intelligent," but actually, this is the crux of why Darth Vader was very popular. It's not because people thought he was a good person; it's because he drove the story more so than the heroes much of the time, and people responded to that. Purely reactive characters are boring and to get back to your original point do not challenge each other unless someone else starts the reaction chain, and there just haven't been too many opportunities of the external nor internal variety to do it. It's mostly bad luck and again, a session zero could have fixed this, but it is what it is.

[beef-brisket]

Lilith smirked: I see. You must be mourning the fool! Oh yes, I heard about his death. It sounds fitting, doesn't it. He always was a coward-.

Lucifer: Shut. Up. You don't get to speak of him.

Lilith: Let me guess. You didn't want him to die~. You're as much of a fool as him! It was only a few hundred years ago that you wanted to end him yourself!

Lucifer: I never meant it-!

Lilith: Sure you didn't, love~. Everything I did to that bastard was for you. For us! Why do you care if he got hurt? You're the one who always said he deserved it!

Lucifer: ENOUGH!

Lilith jumped back. She's never heard Lucifer yell before, especially to her.

Lilith: I-I don't understand! You hated him! He attacked Charlie! Killed our people! Why now are you defending a dead man?!

Lucifer: Because he's not dead! And he means something to me!

Lilith: He's... what? Adam's alive...? Oh, my god- and you're having a relationship with an ANGEL of all things?! Ha! Well, you're welcome to my beach home~. Oh wait, you're banished from Heaven, aren't you darling?

Lucifer smiled: He's not in Heaven. In fact, I believe he's upstairs right now. Looking at paint swatches. I've given him your end of the house to do what he pleases with~.

Lilith: You... he's... how DARE you! I am Hells queen! You dare move that PIG into my house?!

Lucifer: This hasn't been your house in seven years- you have no claim to it! And your title is officially forfeit! Hell only has its king. Its old queen was off playing house in Heaven of all places.

Lilith: You won't get away with this Lucifer. You're too weak, you're heart always gets in the way-! You can punish me all you want- but you'll come crawling back! My daughter will find out- and you'll be begging ME for mercy!

Lucifer glares: Not this time.

-

Adam has no idea how long he's been wondering the green house. Everywhere he looked, there was another pathway.

He was sketching some plants into a little notebook he found lying around. It's been a long time since he felt safe somewhere. He wasn't worried about an angel cornering him or someone demanding his presence.

Adam followed a path that was completely shaded by large trees and thick flower bushed. The silence was getting to him, his mind playing tricks of hearing the flapping of angelic wings. But he focused on his drawing, which calmed him quickly enough.

Lucifer pushed open the doors to the greenhouse. He was feeling emotionally exhausted from dealing with Lilith that he craved Adam. Which is something he never thought would happen.

Lucifer: Addie?

He couldn't see Adam anywhere, but he could sense him.

Lucifer walked off through the winding pathways. He doesn't know why he made the layout so confusing, maybe he wanted to get lost?

He was near the tulips and lily's when he heard the softest singing.

Lucifer smiled, knowing who it was.

Rounding a corner, Lucifer spotted Adam sitting on the outside of one of the small ponds Lucifer had made.

Lucifer: ...Adam...~.

Adam jumped and looked over to Lucifer, a wide smile on his face when he saw it was actually him, and not his mind playing tricks.

Adam: Hey! All finished with your work?

Lucifer shrugged before walking over and sitting next to him.

Lucifer: For today, I am. Wow, did you draw that?

Lucifer leaned over and smiled at Adam's notebook.

Adam: Fuck- yeah... their lame- it's been a while.

Lucifer: It's not lame. I think it's beautiful.

Adam blushed: Yeah? Well... thanks.

Lucifer: Anytime~.

Adam: This place is amazing. It's like an escape, I actually forgot... I was in Hell... for a second anyway.

Lucifer: That's why I made it. An escape. And a reminder.

Adam nodded: I had a garden too. It wasn't anything like this, but it was mine. I uh... stopped going to it.

Lucifer looked up at him: Why?

Adam: ...A few angels came to see me, and when I didn't answer the door, they came in. Saw it through the kitchen window, and went to look for me... they tainted the only place I had left. It sucked too much to go back there, so I just put some curtains up and locked the door outside... fuck, that sounds depressing. Just uh... a bird shat on me while I was out there, too.

Lucifer gave Adam a soft smile and rubbed his leg, doing his best to be comforting.

Lucifer: I'm sorry both of those things happened, Adam. If you'd like, we could put in your own greenhouse.

Adam perked up: Really?! Fuck yeah!

The Sin of Adam!au.

One more quick au before I fall asleep.

Adam falls to Hell after his death. But he doesn't wake up in Pride. He wakes up in Wrath. Adam is completely pissed off and just itching for revenge.

In this, Adam conquers each ring of Hell, growling stronger until he's on the same wavelength as Lucifer, power wise.

Lucifer has no idea what's going on. He's slowly losing contact with the Sins, and everyone is in a state of panic. That's until he returns home from a few days away, trying to find the Sins, that he sees his daughters hotel, and Pentagram city destroyed.

Thankfully, Charlie and her friends are fine. But what she explains is unbelievable.

Charlie: It was Adam, dad!

Lucifer: Adam? He's dead Charlie- I buried him myself.

Charlie: I thought so, too! He was looking for you! He's alive!

Lucifer gets his daughter to hide. Everything is in a state of chaos. He can't find Adam anywhere.

Until he returns home and sees someone sitting on his throne.

After a long, destructive fight, Lucifer realizes that Adam only absorbed the Sins. Their not dead

Adam has literally been taken over by the powers of Hell.

Can Lucifer contain and find a way to get Adam and the Sins back before he destroys Hell and everything undead thing in it??

How will Lucifer get Adam back??

Who knows 🤷

Adam: You can't defeat me now Lucifer!

Lucifer: Oh yes I can! I'm going to fuck the sins out of you!!

Adam: Wait what?

Ozzie inside: YEAH BABY!!

Sorry I'm feeling a little silly lmao 😂

[jentry-chau-stan]

Yandere Kit

Kit originally befriends you because of your unusual high Qi. At first he wants to drain you dry so he can spend more time with Jentry without her starting to see through his demon guise. But as time goes on Kit gains an attachment to you and finds he doesn't want to drain your Qi but instead wants to be your Friend. You make him feel less like a monster and more like himself? He honestly isn't sure how to explain it but he feels comfortable around you, like he doesn't need to hide. Of course it's early in the friendship so he hasn't told you yet but he intends too.

In the past Kits personality was based on his victims. With Jentry he's learned everything about Kpop, Seoul, and Korean snacks to make him like her. His pattern has always been to copy his victims, get them to like him by spying on them, take their personalities and merge them with his own, lower their guard, and then steal their Qi when he's inevitably rejected. Kit is now exploring his own interests and hobbies outside of what potential victims like. He loves the things you love because you love them but he also recognizes if he isn't his own person you'll never really know him and... he wants you to know him. He wants you to like him for who he is, not the skin he's wearing.

Outside of copying his Victims' passions Kit has always been a very talented artist. He is very much an Art Nerd. Being a Painted Skin has given him centuries to hone his craft and an innate talent for art. He loves to paint, draw, and sculpt in his free time. It's a part of him. While skin is his go to medium he also practices on Canvas and uses other more human Materials and Mediums. Kits done research on Famous Artists and was even alive during some of their times. He enjoys talking about Art and loves to hear your thoughts on the subject, always wanting to hear you talk or watch your face as you listen to him.

Kit has a bad habit of Drawing, Painting, and Sketching you. At the beginning of his obsession he finds himself thinking about you more and more. Doodling you in his notes, sketching you in art, painting you in his free time. He thinks you're perfect and that you could never do wrong. He enjoys your presence and wishes you could always be around each other. The more pieces he makes about you the weirder he realizes that is. He keeps his art projects a secret out of embarrassment

(But if Kit ever kidnapped you "For Saftey" he'd be more than happy to show you his Collection/ Growing Shrine)

The attic is always locked and his parents are always busy when you visit. Kits room that's dedicated to his Skin Craft is up there and his parents are a bit uncanny, he doesn't want you to think he's not normal so he hides everything related to his demon side.

In his Skin Room Bolts of different colored skin are organized on shelves, while white painted symbols on the wall show a human outline where he cuts and shapes the skin. He also has a box with tongues, teeth, eyes, and other body parts from people he's murdered all preserved with magic for later use. Jars of body fluids as well as magic paint for the skin lay on the ground near where he paints his skin. Wigs and hair line another wall allowing him to make different skins and shape their features and hair how he wants with his artistic talents. Someday he wants to share this space with you. Show you who he really is and what he does with his Qi magic but until then this is where he keeps his secret Art Projects of you so when you come over you don't see anything you're not supposed to.

Kit sometimes forgets how strong he is as he is easily able to break human skin and bones. He can punch and dent metal without feeling pain and has to be reminded of his strength so he doesn't hurt others. He also has to remember humans don't have super senses. He is highly sensitive to things a human would never notice. His sense of smell, sight, and sound is much better than other humans. He can see your Qi with his special eyes but he can also hear your heartbeat or whispering from across the room.

When Kit starts realizing he likes you as more than a friend and he has more romantic feelings in mind for you, he falls into old habits and starts to stalk you around the school. With his super senses he can listen in to what you are saying and is able to find out everything about you. He already knew a lot but now he knows more. Your privacy is practically non-existent as he wants to know everything about you. Including your thoughts and feelings about him. And if he feels your lying Kit will pressure you until you tell him the truth or he's convinced of whatever truth he's come up with.

Despite Kit's best attempts to keep the truth from you until he was ready to confess you find out before than. When a Gui attacks Jentry at school the blonde is able to dodge but you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking for Kit the Gui unable to get Jentry suddenly charges at you.

Humans when in Danger or near Death are able to see the Spiritual World if only for a moment because of the possibility they may be joining it soon. As Kit jumps in to defend you, your increased Qi allows you to see the Gui. Your Qi unlocks because of the danger and you see into the Spiritual World in a way you've never been able to before. As you watch Kit and the Gui fight unsure of what to do, Kits skin is ripped and you see his true self. The thing he's been holding off on showing you because he was so afraid of losing you. You end up running but not from Kit, the entire situation leaves you head spinning and you just needed to get away.

Kit is quick to think, his Looks or Demon Nature are the problem instead of his Actions or Behavior. While his true face was a bit surprising it's not his Skin Painter form that bothered you but rather how he lied to you. He tries to overcompensate for this with friendly gestures but he gets confused when he's rejected or gets asked for space. You're not exactly mad at him but there's a lot of conflicting emotions you're struggling to come to terms with that need their own space.

Despite you requesting Space, Kit gets very clingy after the Incident. He struggles to understand the idea of allowing space because he thinks space means ending the friendship or relationship. Wherever this has happened in the past he's had to take the person's Qi for his own personal safety but he would never dream of doing that with you. Kit has gotten so used to your presence he's dependent on it, unsure of how to go about his day without you by his side.

He shows you the Demon Guide as a way to give you more information and be completely honest with you. While you're hesitant the Guide actually does give you a lot of information. It reveals that Painted Skins are said to not have emotions, but Kit promises he's different. He lists off examples where you have hung out and explains that he is clearly trying to learn and understand how to be human despite some small set backs. He doesn't enjoy draining Qi and only does it as a means to survive as it's what he is. He compares not taking Qi to you not Eating or Drinking.

He admits to you how scared he was of showing his true self because he's been rejected for being a monster before. He knows he is a Demon and doesn't deserve you. He laments about how he hates himself for his nature and how his greatest wish is to someday be a human with a real soul. It's not necessarily on purpose but Kit heavily pressures you to forgive him. Through the constant gifts, using your shared interests, reminding you of old times, and sharing more of his sad past it's only a matter of time before you crack and give in befriending him again.

When you forgive him Kit becomes much clingier. He craved physical affection before but now that you know what he is and you've accepted him he is always touching you in some way. Your arm, your hand, leaning on you, tucking you under his chin, wrapping his arm around your waist. If you are not a touch orientated person he tries to understand that but he genuinely can't comprehend it. He uses his demon heritage as an excuse and says it's rude not to cuddle/ touch the people you care about in demon culture.

He loves pressing himself against you and stealing your body heat as he has a hard time producing his own. He's not necessarily cold blooded but he isn't human either so his body temperature is a bit strange. With his painted skin suit on he feels more human, warm. But when it's off he is colder. In either form he'll wrap himself around you for cuddles though, he's absolutely shameless about it.

Despite all his good traits, being friends with a demon comes with some down sides. Kit has some unresolved anger issues that come out when he gets confused about being human or the boundaries that come with being a friend. He doesn't understand how to be human and therefore struggles to contain himself and his emotions. He often needs guidance or for things to be explained to him in a very direct but still gentle way. Almost like a child despite his old age.

Kit can also be very impatient at times and struggles with change or learning new human things if they throw off your perceived norm. He often struggles with misconceptions during conversation which can lead to confusion which then leads to arguments or mounting resentment. He will snap if he feels the relationship is being threatened and has chased off some of your other friends.

All in all Kit isn't the worst Yandere but he is still a Demon and therefore DANGEROUS. He would never intentionally hurt you but his Qi Draining powers combined with his unstable Temperaments can lead to scary situations which are difficult to deescalate.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fic. (Part One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes, so not really designed for under 18s but not overly graphic.

We Got Issues

PART ONE: Y/N was the other woman at one point, but life had been sailing along well since Cillian's divorce. Y/N had reached a point where she knew where she wanted their life together to go, only to find a spanner in the works when Cillian admits his mind has changed...

-------------

You wake up and instantly realise how cold it is. 

The bed is empty and the sheets are thrown back. You reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time - 2.40am. You clear your throat and glance to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, strewn with discarded clothes, just in case he's sitting there. But he isn't. The room feels empty and you suddenly feel that same emptiness dump heavily in your stomach. You sit up and throw your legs over the side of the bed. As you stand, you reach to the floor for your discarded knickers and vest top, pulling them on as you walk around the bed. “Cillian?” You call into the darkness, wondering if he's in the bathroom. “Cillian?” You reach for the slightly ajar door and pull it open. The landing is dark, but at the bottom of the stairs there's a shred of light coming from the open plan kitchen below and you know it's been one of those nights for him once the sex was over and sleep had claimed you. You walk barefooted down the carpeted stairs, your hands on the wall for stability, and step onto the cool laminate of the floor below. You stand a moment, taking in the large room around you with a small, if a little tired, smile. You still feel a mix of emotions in your gut, but the love is stronger.

The kitchen island is illuminated by the artsy hanging lights above and there's a faint smell of coffee in the air. It's chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself as you begin to walk towards the island. He's sitting on the middle stool, his back arched as he leans forwards with his elbows resting on the counter top, and there's a steaming cup of coffee to his right whilst both of his hands are wrapped around an open book. His grown out fringe is down over his face, which has to be annoying, but he doesn't move it. His checked pyjama bottoms are loose around his legs and they swing a little as he bounces his right leg up and down, foot resting on the bar of the stool. This movement is both absent minded and a sign of him feeling uneasy - you don't know which it is, but you assume it's the latter. His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose and still he hasn't looked up. Then you notice his phone, laid on the counter, with the long, white wire of his earphones connected and trailing up beside his arm. He'll be playing that album again, you're certain, and his mind will be a mixture of John Lennon and whichever of the six books he's chosen this time. 

You don't want to startle him - hell, you hardly want to bother him at all, he looks so absorbed and ridiculously adorable and you still can't make up your mind if you're mad or you want him - but it's that adorable absorption that makes you want to disturb him, too. You walk closer, your feet silent on the floor, and you unlace your arms as you reach the island. You place your hands onto the marble top and wait a moment, just in case he sees you out of the corner of his eye. But he doesn't budge, and you smirk to yourself at the studious look on his face. God, it's only been a couple of hours but you'd have him again if he offered it. You slowly push your left hand across the counter and wiggle your fingers, hoping the movement will draw his attention so you don't have to make him jump. It works - sort of. He startles slightly, looking to his right as your fingers do indeed catch his attention, and he drags his earphones out with a catch in his breath. 

“Fuck!” He shakes his head, placing down the book. He reaches his hand out and taps pause on his music. He sets the earphones down in a messy pile beside the phone. 

“Sorry,” you smile a little as you draw back your hand. 

Removing his glasses, he shakes his head. “No, you're alright.” He whisperers but neither of you know why. Nobody else is here. He sets the glasses down beside his coffee, the arms of them still stretched out, and turns on the stool to face you properly. 

“Couldn't sleep?” You ask him as you reach out for his coffee to take for yourself. He doesn't protest, but smiles as he rolls his eyes. He should have known you would do it - you always did. He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly again as he shakes his head. He reaches up with his right hand and pushes his hair from his eyebrow. He looks tired, and as you sip his coffee you want to ask what's on his mind. “Are you alright?” You settle on. Not sure you are fully ready for a lovey-dovey conversation but not at all wishing him unrest. It's been an argument, that's all.

“Grand,” he flattens his mouth into a thin line and raises his eyebrows. A lie, and an obvious one. He knows he isn't fooling you, and he knows you'll press him for answers, but this is the dance he does. Every time. 

“Cillian.” You raise your eyebrows as you place the mug onto the counter. You lean forwards, resting your forearms onto the cold marble, and fix him with the eyes you know break him eventually. “C’mon.” 

“Just couldn't sleep,” he says. He puts his left elbow on the counter and rests his head in his left palm. “Didn't want to lay up there and disturb you.” 

“You feel bad now, for tonight and Friday?” You ask him. You can't quite believe yourself for speaking up, for chancing another argument, but you need to get it out. 

Friday had been horrendous. You'd argued in the restaurant, he'd hated the attention it drew when the attention was already there. He'd begged you to lower your voice, but that had only made you angrier. He'd been in touch with his ex-wife that day - that itself was not unusual, they have children - but when he'd brought it up that he'd spoken with her, it had been half way through you slowly opening up about your readiness, now, to be more committed, to start the family you'd been nervous about starting. He shut it down, the whole line of conversation but what hurt the most was he'd shut it down by talking about her. The row had continued in the taxi home, and at the front door, and even louder once the door was shut. There'd been insults and old hurts thrown in one another's faces, and you'd reminded him that you'd been the other woman at one point, so how could you trust him? You'd hated yourself for it, but it had flown from your mouth in total anger and once it was out there, you'd not been able to take it back. 

Now it was the early hours of Sunday morning and Saturday had been about ignoring one another, before finally he'd broken and forced you both to sit at this very island and talk. You'd apologised for what you said, for your loudness in the restaurant and he'd apologised for his timing and shutting you down. You'd cuddled on the sofa for an hour, paying little attention to the film he'd selected, and had continued to try to make one another feel loved again. But he still hadn't welcomed the conversation about children, and you'd let it go. By eleven pm he'd taken you by the hand and, with a half-lidded look and a soft smile had guided you up the stairs. The sex had been slow and sensual - all hands over the body and languid kisses; as vanilla as it got but it was so soft and loving that zero complaints had arisen. That was until he'd reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom and you felt your heart flutter angrily. But you'd said nothing, and you'd wrapped your arms around his back as he fucked slowly into you with his face close to your ear and his soft, gentle huffs of breath against your cheek. He'd cum - you hadn't. You weren't angry anymore, but you felt unheard. He'd laid beside you, his hand on your hip as you turned your back to him and curled into the sheets. You'd wanted to cry, such a mix of intense love and horrible rejection, and you'd kept your face away from his as you'd fallen asleep. 

You keep your eyes on him and realise you're probably a little stern faced, but you can't shift it entirely. He nods his head against his hand. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, “I know we'd talked about things before, but I can't…start again like that.” The Ts at the end of his words are smudgy and soft - his accent was always thicker when he whispered - and it gives you the same tingles it always has. 

“So why ever tell me you would?” You ask. He'd talked you round, persuaded you that a family would be a good idea. And then he shuts the talk down when you raise it, and grabs a fucking condom?! “You wanted a baby six months ago.” You point out, “But she calls and all of a sudden it's changed?” 

“I've two grown kids, Y/N, it just feels like it wouldn't be fair on them.” He sniffs, and you absorb the words. The excuse. “I know they're not babies, but Y/N, I'm still their Dad.” 

“Oh so it's about the boys? It's not because you've changed your mind about me?” You ask, almost nervous. There's contempt in your tone and his eyes flash at the sound of it. 

“Ah, stop it.” He becomes more animated. “No. I have not.” He insists. “Y/N, would you drop the face? It's been three years, for fuck sake!” He raises his head from his hand and those crinkles around his eyes deepen and he frowns and squints. “I'm sorry I mentioned her and the kids when you were talking. I wasn't trying to end the conversation, I swear. Sure, it just came into me head. I dunno. And I'm sorry about the fucking condom, alright?” 

“It's just a bit fucking funny, isn't it? You're apologising for going back on things you said, and you do so by going back even fucking further.” You throw your arms out to the sides. “Don't fucking roll your eyes at me, Cillian.” You warn as his blue eyes settle back and he quirks up his left eyebrow. The attitude is back in him now, the temper people rarely see. So calm, so well mannered - that's the Cillian he presents. But you've been party to the fierce rows and heard the drunken anger, and you know it intimately. 

You watch him shifting, and he drops his feet to the floor and stands up off the stool. The large pyjama t-shirt is miles too big for him and too short at the same time, but in it and his bottoms he looks comfortable and pleasingly domestic. The life you wanted was just this - comfort, familiar, familial. He scrubs his hands over his face and forces his hair back. He holds his hands on his head for a moment then drops his arms, and his hair slowly flops back down onto his forehead again. “What do you want me to fucking say, Y/N?” He asked, spreading his arms wide beside him. “I can't go back and change things.” 

“No, you can't.” You say, shaking your head, “But you use a condom for the first time in weeks right after I tell you I'm finally in the place you wanted me to be? And now you're looking at me like I'm holding you accountable for something you don't deserve.” Your anger is back, but the look on his face is stirring your stomach. You hate yourself for knowing you'd let him take what he wanted if he turned this into something sexual. You want him to know he's hurt you, with his fucking flip-flopping, but you love the love so much you'd let it go if he begged the right way. “You couldn't have found time at all in the last little while to tell me you'd changed your mind?” 

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms and it pulls them tightly around his crotch. He shrugs his shoulders and he doesn't look forty-eight at all. “I didn't want to hurt ye,” his accent is thicker still and you can tell he is going over many emotions in his mind. “I know I pushed ye, I know I brought it up, but this last few weeks, I dunno, I think I've just changed what I want with us.” 

“You talked with her about it?” You ask him, your fears coming out of your mouth before you even knew you'd thought them. They had history, he and his ex-wife, of course they did - the years they'd been married, their children, their experiences, how could they not still have ties and links that you'd never understand? But you weren't the other woman anymore, and he'd persued you… 

He shakes his head, “No I fucking didn't.” He insists and you believe him - immediately. 

“So what do you want with us?” you ask and you're almost scared to hear the answer. 

“Us.” He says quietly. “Jesus, Y/N. I want us. I want the fucking softness and-and the love. You and me, for fuck sake.” He draws his hands from his pockets and walks towards you. “Y/N, I don't have regrets, I don't, and I need you to believe that. But I can't start all over again with the babies, and-and the fucking…” he trails off and he reaches his hands up, cupping them around your biceps. 

Your skin puckers in goosebumps at his touch - it always does - and those fucking eyes stare into yours as you study his face. Every line, every freckle, every speck of stubble - you've stared at this face for so long now, making every conceivable expression, that you know it more than he does. He's sorry, you know, and he's ashamed of his actions but you can see he means what he's saying too. He has changed his mind, and it hurts you that he couldn't have just said as much. “You asked me to let you know when I knew what I wanted.” You whisper, eyes flicking side to side as you struggle which eye to settle on. “And when I do, you're not there.” 

“You took too long.” He says and you can see he regrets the words as soon as his full lips have allowed them to escape. 

You shrug off his hands and step back, shaking your head. “You prick.” 

“Y/N that's not what I meant.” He insists. 

“Of course it is! I took too long to be ready to have a baby, and now the novelty has worn off and you've changed your fucking mind.” you growl at him - anger is winning again. 

“Novelty…” he mutters and shakes his head. “You want a fucking baby, we'll have a fucking baby.” He's angry now and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You know he doesn't mean it, but it makes you feel validated for a mere second. “You want me to fucking cum into you, I'll fucking cum into you. Fuck sake, Y/N. This isn't about you being ready, or me changing my mind - this is about you constantly battling with a woman I haven't been married to for three fucking years.” He rages, and the Cork accent is so thick he's clipping words and deepening his voice left and right, and if you weren't so fucking angry you'd take off your knickers and hold him to his promise. He's pacing and you watch him hungrily. “You've no idea what you want, girl, and I've no fucking clue how to keep up with ye. You don't want a fucking baby, and now I've got used to that fact and rearranged my view on our fucking future, you've done a fucking u-turn and now you fucking want a baby? I don't fucking know what you fucking want, but I'll tell you what I don't want, and that's the constant fucking feeling of you waiting on me going back to her.” he jabs out his left hand. “I've two sons, Y/N!” He yells, “And I've to show them that you can leave a relationship if it's not working, but by fucking Christ, boy, you don't leave your kids and I've realised while you were making up your mind that if we have a baby, then what does that tell the boys? Eh? It tells them I've moved fucking on and replaced them. Doesn't it?!” 

“No!” You shout. “They love you, they know we're happy, and they'd be happy for you if we had a child. And I don't think you'll go back to her - I don't.” You insist. But you did, at least at the start of all this. You'd been fearful he'd change his mind about the woman who'd been his bit on the side and realise he'd made a mistake. He hadn't, and you'd gotten over it, but he clearly still saw something in you that made him think those thoughts hadn't left you. 

“So why's it so much of a fucking problem that I changed my fucking mind?” He asks, and slowly the anger is reducing and his accent is still thicker but the volume is lower. 

“Because you didn't tell me.” You say. “You waited for me, and you didn't tell me that you didn't want that anymore.” You feel hot and frustrated, and you're fighting with the want to drag him to the L-shaped sofa and to slap him around his sharp cheek. “You're warm and sweet, you're attentive and fucking loving, but you don't let me in your fucking head half the time, Cillian. I can't read your bloody mind! And it's not that you changed your mind - I can take that, I swear, a baby isn't fucking everything. But you cut our conversation and your apology fuck included a fucking condom.” 

He drops back his head, staring up at the ceiling, and his hands are on his hips. When he straightens up again, his eyes are closed and you just want to see them to know what he's feeling. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are wide. “I'm sorry,” he offers again and he flicks his head slightly to move his fringe from his eyes. “I know, okay?” he sighs. “I'm sorry.” 

“I know,” you say quietly. This argument is stupid, and you know it, but you feel hurt that he didn't just speak up sooner. You told your arms under your bust and sigh. He crosses the small distance between you again and he wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in against his frame. You unlace your arms from between you and wrap them around his shoulders and back, inhaling the smell of his skin from the crook of his neck. He's still whispering his sorries as he holds you tightly and you close your eyes as he sways your body slightly. You reach up your right hand and cup the back of his head - his hair is soft and growing out nicely. At the softness of your affection, he squeezes you tighter and you sigh against his skin and softly press your lips to the curve of his neck and shoulder. 

“Still mad?” He asks softly into your ear, his arms not loosening at all. 

It takes you a moment to consider your emotional stance. “No.” You whisper against his skin, and you smile a little as he holds you impossibly tighter. Slight though his physique is, his arms possess a warming strength. And then he slowly loosens his hold, prompting you to drop your arms, and you stand close and staring at one another. 

“I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before now.” He says with an intensity in his eyes that holds you captive. 

You nod slowly. “I know you are.” 

He raises his right eyebrow and you know that's the side he raises when he isn't in the brightest of moods. “You know I am?” He says, and quirks his head slightly. “Sure, it's not the response I was expecting.” 

“You want me to say it's okay? Or that it's all forgotten?” You shrug. “I can't. I know you're sorry, Cill, I know that. But it doesn't erase it.” 

He tenses his jaw and the action purses his full lips. “Right,” he raises both eyebrows and his attitude is clear - he's angry, and perhaps he too has that right, but you feel as though you're in the right this time around.

This is going to keep going in circles. 

You sigh deeply and instinctively fold your arms under your bust. Rolling your eyes, you turn towards the stairway. “I'm going back to bed.” 

“No,” he calls out, and you hear his feet pad against the hard floor beneath. “Y/N! Don't be ridiculous,” he says. For a moment you're held by how he says the word - ridi’clous, dropping the middle U. You stop, a single step away from reaching the bottom of the stairs, and as you turn back to him you drop your arms at your sides. He's flustered and disheveled as his hair falls back into his eyes, and you wonder for a moment if you've punished him enough. He holds both hands out before him, gesticulating wildly as he stammers over his words in that way of his - he has a point to make, and he's keen for it to be unable to be misconstrued. “I did talk to her.” He says, and you can see the pain on his face as he admits his actions - and his lie. “Yvonne, I talked to her - a-about changing my mind, about not-not knowing what I wanted anymore, and then when I did fucking know, I talked to her about that, too.” 

Your brows knit together at the bridge of your nose as you listen to every stumbled word and softened T, and you feel a gust of butterflies in your stomach. You swallow and it hurts your throat. “So,” you pause and wet your lips. “You talked to her about it, the woman you left three years ago, but you couldn't find five fucking minutes to tell me, the woman you've been fucking sleeping with, living with, all this time?” You shake your head and you're desperate not to cry. Your eyes sting and your throat constricts, and if you were the type of person to do so, you'd have slapped his face twice by this point. “You fucking…,” you laugh, shaking your head, absolutely certain that you look maniacal. You sniff as your resolve not to cry weakens as the tears pool hot in your eyes. “And here was me, wondering if I was being too techy.” You say, and you bit your bottom lip in anxiety. Releasing it, you shake your head again. “Why?” 

He's staring at you, eyes sad and serious, and the crystal blue is darkened somehow. His hands are back in his pockets and he shrugs his shoulders slowly. “I don't know. She was on the phone. We were talking about the kids, we were…just talking. And I just talked.” He sighs and it shudders in his chest. 

“So you have changed your mind about everything? About me?” You ask, nervous for the answer now that he seems able to be honest. 

“Ah, Y/N, no.” He insists earnestly. “God, no. No, I haven't. Jesus, I love you. You know this.” 

“But you couldn't tell me all of this, and instead went back to her.” You raise your voice, hand jutting out to the near distance to signify ‘the ex wife’. You couldn't even bring yourself to say her name. You look past him to the large clock on the wall above the cooker in the kitchen area behind him, watching three am tick in just at that moment. “I'm going back to bed.” You repeat your earlier sentiment and place your hand on the banister before looking him dead in the eyes. “Don't you fucking dare follow me.” 

[sunny-sourzii]

hii! I think it’s REALLLYYY cool how you’re like this good at art at just 15!! Like?? I love your art, I don’t use Tumblr much anymore but I found your page earlier and WOW?? Such scrumptious art you have there… but anyways, I was wondering if you had any tips on improving in art? I’ve really wanted to improve and get better, but I’m not sure how and I’m always demotivated. Is there somewhere I could start? If you have no idea how to answer or anything that’s totally fine, but I have no idea what I’m doing :c

p.s: I am going to eat your dandy’s world art

THANK YOUUUUUAHAHAEE

Ive been asked that many many times and I never know exactly how to respond because I have my own style so the only tutorials I would be able to make would be just how to draw in MY style

I think everyone has a different style or just hasn't found their own style yet so I don't really know how to help 😭😭

The only thing I know works for EVERYONE is practice practice practice practice!!!!!

If you have a passion for art and enjoy making it then practicing all the time and trying different things won't feel like work (because people tend to complain about that)

BUT obviously still give yourself breaks because even if you have a passion for it, you still need to give yourself breaks and not force yourself to draw constantly everyday, just draw when you want to ❗❗

[queeringthemapchetfield]

hello !! and welcome !! this blog is going to run an event hopefully around, if not in, june to celebrate all variety of queer headcanons! if theres enough interest, there may be a few smaller events throughout the year, but that's something to sort out at a later date -- i'm hoping for the event to be two weeks long with a week afterwards for any late posting, but again that depends on user interest. below the cut is a qna to hopefully keep confusion to a minimum, but the askbox is always open in case any clarification is needed!

Q: what is this event?

A: an event designed to highlight a large variety of queer headcanons. the prompts will include many identities and some experiences. none are set in stone yet, so feel free to submit some if you fill out the interest check form!

Q: is participating in the interest check required for participation in the event itself?

A: absolutely not! the interest check is just to get an idea of what i can expect to see during the event and when most people would like it to happen

Q: will there be formal sign-ups?

A: nope! this is purely for fun, anyone can participate regardless of when they see the event

Q: can i still post if i'm late?

A: yes ! i'll give a more specific range of when i'll stop accepting late submissions once dates have been finalized; they'll just be tagged '#honorable mentions'

Q: do i have to do all of the days?

A: not at all, this isn't an endurance challenge! do only one, do every other day, pick a few specific ones that speak to you, do the whole list AND the alternatives -- however you want to participate is perfectly fine !

Q: can i post an already existing piece/wip if it fits a prompt?

A: as long as it hasn't been posted anywhere before, go for it! the aim of this is to get some new content featuring different headcanons out there

Q: what can i make?

A: literally anything you can think of! draw, write, make a moodboard or a stimboard or an edit, make something physical, genuinely whatever speaks to you for any prompts is fine

Q: what about 18+ content?

A: that's totally fine too!! at least as long as you yourself are 18+ and tag everything correctly. anything nsfw will be tagged here as '#hatchetfield after dark'

[equill]

Reuniting with a distorted past.

Extra:(New personality tested gone wrong)

wanted to play with rin living in the aftermath aus aswell and had these drawings laying around to share so yay

Panel 1: Was buried alive.

Comic 1: Who are you supposed to be?

new friends

Comic 2: Misguided protection.

obito still sensing the warning signs of rin losing her temper. anyways they proceeded to be dragged into the ocean by rin like some sea monster

Comic 3: Finding out (Now what will you do?)

obito is harshly brought back from his delusions because now its not just kushina but rin too who he needs to ripped out the tail beast from

[illusorysinger]

reposting this from twitter since i never put it here apparently. i drew it for the initial bunny outfit events but there's yet another bunny cafe event so here it is again, with original caption:

"POV you heard the Lords of Hell were wearing bunny ears at the club, and find out that tryhard human exchange student in your class is there too

+bonus post-shift snapshot

(THEY/THEM)"

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[benevolenterrancy]

i read When The Angels Left The Old Country in three days and i'm already tempted to go reread it...

[princema-k]

me n @nikolutke talked abt a hunter and leon outfit swap at one point and, well,

[ectocreature]

this is gonna be the first time i maintag art in like a week but hiiii everybody how you doing. werewolf au art be upon ye

To explain what's going on here:

Sometime after the accident in college, Jack ends up using an artifact that his parents used to watch over to lock away his werewolf half and render himself (mostly) "human".

(This is, of course, not obtained without some difficulty. Especially since the artifacts his parents once watched were taken by various museums, none of which were exactly public about what was in their storage. He's got that scar for a reason)

Then, during Bitter Reunions, Vlad tries to make Jack transform, to reveal the "monster" he is.

The artifact, which Jack is still wearing, cracks just enough that it's been slowly, painfully letting Jack's werewolf nature leak through as it continues to break. Turns out, 14 years using an artifact meant to weaken a werewolf to a mostly human state has consequences.

[chiropteracupola]

steadfast sailor, paper captain...

[niuniente]

Me: oh no, my stomach has been acting up a lot for 2 weeks already, and I have a trip to England in a few days... Google: You can't use Imodium for more than 48h!!! Me: Ah, shit. A literal shit! Me: Doctor, please, is there any medication for IBS? Doctor: No, unfortunately. Imodium typically helps. Me: I've been using it and it does help. How long can I use it in one go? Doctor: Up to 3 weeks. Here's a prescription for you. Just take less when your symptoms start to subside. Me: Oh heaven's bless QuQ

[docnukes]

Just wanted to clarify Vlad isn't a dsaf oc anymore (hasn't been for a while) and just a general oc... I did kinda rip off fnaf/dsaf's design elements of drawing humans but that's because it's easier to draw that way. Hashtag awkward!!!

[zoopzopp]

Drawing game… ooooh

Tododeku?

i am so late to this but!! its them! the boys!