#help this was supposed to be. so short

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

DPxDC , Strange Allies

The JL(D) is up against an otherworldly and annoyingly powerful foe. Batman, Hal GL, Constantine, and Deadman (through a series of mishaps and miscommunications) have teamed up together for this one. They’re taking refuge in the House of Mystery, brainstorming how they’re going to take this enemy down after numerous failed attempts.

Out of nowhere, Deadman mentions that there might be someone who can help them. Constantine immediately rejects the idea.

Constantine: We are NOT calling him, Brand. End of discussion.

Deadman: Okay, I am not letting your weirdo debts get in the way of taking down a bad guy. Not again. I’m calling him.

Constantine: Then you can count me out of this shitty crusade!

meanwhile Batman and Hal…

Batman: Do you have any idea who they’re talking about?

GL: I gave up trying to figure out what their conversations are about a long time ago.

Deadman summons this new ally before Constantine even has the chance to leave the House.

A confused teenage boy in his pajamas with an empty glass in hand. He was just in the kitchen about to pour himself some water. This was decidedly NOT his kitchen. Danny takes in the scene, immediately noticing Batman (holy FUCK), some green guy, his cool af friend Boston Brand, and fucking Constantine.

Unexpectedly, Danny goes, “Whatever you need help with, count me out. I am NOT working with that asshole.”

[shummthechumm]

oooo u want a $25 headshot/icon commission from me so bad.......

i wasn't planning on taking more of these until my queue was like fully lined BUT this month has left me flat broke and i am jobless so support (esp for next month) is very much appreciated...

paypal, stripe, and cashapp are cool. any other payment we can discuss. DM/private message if you are interested

all info like tos and more examples are on da trello

[emry-stars-art]

You know when babies are so tired that they’re fussing too much to sleep until you put their head down on your shoulder or something and they pass out immediately

Baby shark has been swimming for a long time with no way to take a break. Hello Whalemack 🐋

(More on Whalemack here)

[neverpathia]

so, tumblr, here's a little cheated x thorn thing I wrote. (I say 'little' as if I didn't spend three whole days on it. It's pretty long. Take heed.)

i don't exactly know if it's one of my best works? and it feels a little like multiple ficlets condensed into one, but hey, productivity is productivity.

just know that cheated and thorn are wholesome, flawed, adorable, bumbling little guys, who hurt and yet heal.

“Must it be so fucking cold?” The Cheated jerked his hand aside sharply, flinging some snow off the back of his palm—and nearly tossing that hand away with it. He narrowly caught the appendage in mid-air, muttering curses as he haphazardly jammed it back onto the bloody stump. 

The Thorn chuckled, her scarred fingertips playing with a barren tree-branch. “There’s trees and grass around. I could weave a coat for you.”

His face flushed—no, he wasn’t flustered or anything, pah, must’ve been the damned weather—and he quickly turned away. “There’s no need. Really.”

She twirled around to face him, tangled hair drifting with the winter winds. “Come on, then. We’re almost there.”

They crossed a couple of meanders, punctuated by someone’s constant grumbling and the amusement of another. 

The Thorn got bored of the journey at some point, and before he knew it, Cheated’s complaints were cut short by a snowball smack in the face. His grimace turned to a grin as he pelted one back at her. She retaliated in turn. He tried to strike, but she ducked in time. She got him as he was packing snow into another ball. It went on like that. 

Her smile was playful, catlike. He’d stared at that smile for too long, and his heart raced, and something hitched in his throat—until a fresh hefty dose of snowball interrupted his simpering.

And they chased each other about the Endless Woods, until Cheated was breathless and his legs were both on the verge of falling apart again, red flesh sloshing against flesh. 

Thorn propped him against a rock, fixing his limbs back in place. “I’m sorry. That…wasn’t what I took you here to do.”

He leaned back, trying (and failing) to wink at her. “It’s all good. No worries, I swear.”

She giggled. “That wink was nasty. Did Opportunist teach you?”

“Should’ve known better than to trust that smarmy shit-load.” He shrugged—

—or tried to, but she held his arm in place. “Ah, no. Not yet.”

Cheated rolled his eyes. “How much longer?” 

“When you finally decide to stop complaining and let yourself rest.”

He cracked a smile. “Bloody hell, we’ll be at this rock for ages.”

She laughed. “Hey, at least you won’t have to see that ‘smarmy shit-load’. Trust me on this one.”

But it took a little less time than ‘ages’ before the Thorn took his hand in hers, scratches and scabs brushing past each other, and led him across the snow again. His strides were brash and wide; her silent footfalls never strayed far. 

Eventually, the snow gave way to grass. He toed a close-set cluster of grass-blades, a dent left in the clumps of snow that flanked it. “Huh. What’s this doing here? Are the woods changing again or something?”

“There.” She pointed. 

He squinted into the distance, before he fully registered the sight and gaped in dismay. “No fucking way. A path in the woods.”

Her smile was subtle, but sneaky all the same. “Where it ended, no…where we began, again.”

His gaze followed the path. It snaked uphill, and he could barely make out scattered red blossoms, further at the end…

He nearly choked. “This one? The exact same place?”

She sidled closer to him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I told you, I did have something to show you.”

The Thorn had to yank him back pretty hard before he could recklessly scramble up the hill. 

“No-no-no-no-no—” He nearly fell flat on his face, but Thorn’s grip on him never faltered— “how? This isn’t—the woods are endless, endless, there’s a crap ton of cabins just lying around—how did you find this one?” 

She ascended the path, at times in unsteady stumbles, at times with easy grace. “I’ve been wandering for a while.”

She tripped, but Cheated held her steady—except he teetered and went off-balance himself, and the two of them soon went careening into the dirt. Lesson learned: floundering around does not prevent you or your companion from getting a mouth full of hill. 

She leant over him, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Peeling his face from off the floor, he spat out a glob of something unidentifiable. “Are you okay?”

She shook some mud off her face, off faded burns and pink-white wounds. “I didn’t expect the climb to be this...tough.”

“Nor did I,” he admitted. “Hell, I didn’t pay much mind to the climb myself the first time.” 

As she got up, her smile was wan. “You weren’t this cut-up the first time, were you?”

“Damn getting cut-up. I survived it better.”

Her tail gave a little flick, curious. “What do you mean?”

“This one was way worse. I was a lot more worried about, I don’t know, the fact that I’d just gotten stabbed—”

As soon as the words left his mouth he knew, he knew that he’d fucked up. 

Of course. 

Of course she’d know that he got stabbed, she’d been the one who stabbed him, they’d built that trust here so precariously, so in spite of all that had happened between them…and he’d remind her of that, here, now?

But Thorn only gave a tinkling little laugh. “Well, I do know, and I can’t blame you. I was a little preoccupied with getting stabbed myself.”

Oh. Well, he did stab her too, sort of…but she didn’t seem too mad about it. Cheated felt himself exhale. “That wasn’t my fault, by the way.”

She shrank back and covered her mouth in mock-surprise. “Oh, I definitely never knew that. It’s totally not like you’ve said that before, perhaps just once—”

He groaned. “Hey, now...” 

“—oh, maybe you said it twice, no, a thousand times already—”

“Come on, it can’t have been—”

She leant forward and placed a single, dainty finger on his lips. “You grouchy little thing. Of course I know. But we’re over that, aren’t we?”

He had forgotten how to breathe. Or move, or speak. Or keep the blood from rushing to his cheeks again, too warm, too fast; or to keep his face from betraying just how much he felt, and could never help but feel—

The Thorn skittered ahead. “Follow me. You do want to see this, don’t you?”

“H— Now, how dare—” He finally remembered words again. “How-dare-you-do-something-like-that-not-fair-what-the-hell-you-little-not-fair—”

She winked at him. 

And he had to admit that it was a lot better than his shoddy attempt from earlier.

They trudged on. 

They fell against the soil and stones, again, again. She got up. He flailed about. She picked him up by the back of his collar and nearly considered carrying him the entire way uphill, but he protested so hard that she mentioned something about tossing him back down instead. Oh, she couldn’t have meant it (surely?), but it shut him up nonetheless.

They reached the top together. Red poppies in full bloom lined the path, in rich clumps and heavy clusters. Thorn bent down, pawing at the flowers. 

“Huh. I knew there were poppies.” Cheated paused. “But I never really asked why.”

She gingerly reached for a single blossom, handling it by the stem. “I don’t know either.”

“No?” He lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged beside her. “I guess I always thought you were behind them somehow.”

“Maybe I was.” She gently tilted the poppy, angling it, red petals tinting light in the diffusing dusk. “Subconsciously, perhaps. I never actually saw them, not until I…until we left.”

The Cheated shifted in his seat, closer to her. “I saw them when I came, I think.”

He paused.

“I just didn’t know what they meant.” Cheated gazed at the flower she was handling. The petals were the same colour as her wounds, and his own. “If they really did mean jack-shit.”

Wordlessly, Thorn snapped the poppy from its stem. “Maybe they didn’t.”

“Ah.” He had no idea how to respond. “Well, fuck that then—”

“Shh.” She lifted the flower between her thumb and forefinger, tender as a lover’s embrace. With her other hand, she probed the side of his head; his choppy matted locks, the slashed wings he had in place of ears. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, but he never drew away.

She raised the poppy-flower to his temples. “I trust you now,” she said simply.

 The Thorn slipped it into the Cheated’s hair, placed it snug above a wing, and fixed it with a few deft motions; an eternity softer than the hues of sunset before them…before, at long last, she pulled away. 

“Maybe the flowers don’t mean anything.” Their eyes met, her green against his gold. “Not by themselves. But they can be so much more, to us.”

“What…” He felt the side of his forehead, where the flower was. The petals were soft beneath his coarse, calloused fingers. “You…You—That was…”

He let it linger for a few beats. 

She retreated a few steps, eyeing him. “It does suit you.”

“I—” He shot to his feet. Air hitched in his throat, and if he hadn’t blushed enough earlier, he certainly did now. A lot. “That was—you devious little—! That—the flower—you—it…”

“That flower.” Thorn rose with both hands clasped behind her back, smirking just subtly. “Me.”

“Bah.” He let his hand fall from the flower. “You know, Thorn?”

“What is it?” Her scars, her burns, those delicate features, those eyes crafty and cautious; they caught the fading sunlight and played with it, danced with it and bathed in it. Just like the flower she had picked, soothing soft, better somehow.

His eyes fell away from hers. “I don’t know why I find you so damn pretty. But I do. And you are.”

She stepped closer to him, came before him, next to him. “It’s a little hard.” Her hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining. 

“What is?”

She turned, and her stare fixed steely. “To say ‘I love you.’”

The ruins were still there. 

“Um…” Cheated followed her gaze. He shot her a quick glance before looking back, hesitant. “Fuck, I don’t know if it feels right here. Should we enter?”

The wood was just as charred and broken as he remembered, the brambles and thistles that overran it just as wild. But it never deteriorated: there were no new splinters, no unfamiliar growths. Only the same encroaching vines, creeping in place, ever-threatening to devour something that once was whole. Something that had given up. Something surrendered to nature.

And yet it remained frozen in this little enclosure of flowers and grass.

She reached out, eyes closed. She took a deep breath, and another, until her arm flinched back and uncertainty flickered over her face. 

His grip on her hand tightened. “Something’s wrong, right?”

“Not really…” She took a wary step forward. “No, we should go.”

Cheated raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but all the signals I’m getting right now are telling me that we should, in fact, not go. Look, I know a good wager when I see it—”

“Do you?” Thorn was already walking, leading him along. 

He scowled. “Maybe not, but this is…Thorn, this is where you were bound. I remember it, and I remember it well, but just now—I’m sorry. This isn’t just where we met again for the last time. This is…this is a fucking place of pain.”

Her face fell. “I know.”

“Then we don’t have to go.” Gently, he tugged her hand back.

She shook her head. “The wilds speak to me. They were more welcoming last time—they bent to my will.”

“And now they don’t?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. Fuck. 

“Thorn.” He swivelled around to face her and gripped her shoulders. “I know you probably brought me here to show me this place, but I’m not trusting this place, you know how it tried to hurt us—”

“We go.” A resolute growl lay beneath her tone. 

“You can’t be serious.”

She was silent for a long while, and then she sighed. “I really am sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But maybe it’s wrong because it’s supposed to be. Maybe we need it, the closure it brings us, whatever it is.”

Cheated winced. “Well, I sure as heck don’t like the feel of this place. But, alright, if you insist.”

Thorn didn’t smile.

They slipped past the empty door-frame and descended in near-silence. The only sounds Cheated could hear were their breathing—hers slow and measured, his erratic as ever—their footsteps, and the faint rustling of the prickly roots that now writhed and shifted. 

“Is this your doing?” he asked about the wilds’ movements, after nearly tripping over an unwelcome bramble. 

She never looked up. “I can’t tell anymore.”

One step. Another step. Hand in hand. Wordless. Another step, another step. Cheated really didn’t like how grim it all felt, how dreadful. Like a bad hand played before you send your deck to shit.

They reached a narrow clearing. Flanked by vines, tangled and knotted into shape, leaving behind some hollow mimicry of a basement. More thorns crept over the ground, blanketed it fully. A few lay limp and lifeless, some thick and some thinner, all severed and scabbed over where the Cheated had cut through and set the Thorn free.

Thorn knelt and pressed both palms over her former prison. She shut her eyes.

“Careful,” warned Cheated. “The thorns are, well, thorny.”

Despite everything, she gave him the slightest smile. “Of course I’d know.”

He wanted to kick himself. Of course she would, these very thorns bled her. 

She frowned, opening her eyes, and jerked a hand back as if it had been stung.

“Woah, hey.” He leant down, though he wasn’t sure how he could help at all. “Are you sure you’re okay? Really—”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Wait, no. No. Something’s wrong.”

“Tell me,” he urged. “We can leave, we can always leave, you don’t have to deal with this, not now and not ever—”

“This is where you cut me free.” She stood. “This is where we embraced. You released me. We healed.”

“And it’s also where you were hurt!” Cheated couldn’t understand. What was this? What was going on at all, what was he supposed to do, what the fuck would the right move be in this situation? “It’s also where…I hurt you. You hurt me. Let’s just get all of this over with.”

“I hurt you,” she echoed. “The roots are lonely, yearning. They retain where we forget. I read them, and they show me pain…” 

She sighed.

“But you trust me. You do trust me.”

“Yes!” Could anything be truer? “No shit, now, if you told me to jump off a cliff, you bet your life I’d jump off that fucking cliff—”

“Would you?” Her tone was wary. “Is it still the same?”

He didn’t know. What could she mean? “I don’t know, nothing’s changed, I just—it’s gotta be the same, dammit, what else—” It couldn’t be like this, everything they built couldn’t be this fragile, it couldn’t be like this, so sudden…He slumped. “Do you trust me? Have you ever?”

She didn’t speak. 

He didn't know how to read that expression, and it—it troubled him. 

And why did he fucking ask that? Why, just why? Why didn't he just let it slide, why didn’t he just grumble a little and move on, why didn’t he ever think before he fucking spoke, god-damned loser, why…

The Thorn's voice came out in a single whispered breath. “I want to.”

Why was it like every sentence he spoke was the wrong choice? “Good. Now let’s just—”

Cheated was abruptly cut off when something knocked him back into the ground, his mangled body tumbling down, hands closing around his throat, claws digging into rough skin, of scars closed and re-bled. Her eyes were wide, suspicious, faltering, keen—

“You trust me!” She yelled, straddling him, her maimed chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. “Don’t you—you don’t and you never have, but you do, you do—”

“I—” he gasped, even as he could feel every rough scar on her hands digging deeper into the skin of his neck. “—what are you—Thorn, it’s me—don’t…”

“And how long will it take before I return to my nature?” Her voice trembled even in...no, this wasn’t anger, this couldn’t be anger, it couldn’t. “How long before I need to save you from myself?”

He couldn’t speak. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t…no…not again, they couldn’t return to the hurt, the lying and hatred and schemes…

“I’ll make you trust me for as long as you live.” She whispered, leaning down, her lips almost brushing his. “I’ll make sure you never think about betraying me ever, ever, ever again, never in your life. And…and I won’t do it again. I can’t hurt you, not if I never get the chance. This is kind.” 

She strangled him, harder, tighter. 

“I’m being kind. I have to be.”

Gold eyes searching, pleading, beseeching into green. 

“I can’t…hurt you again. Don’t struggle…don’t hurt—”

And suddenly, everything let go all at once. He gasped, he could gasp. Something horrible, weighted, heavy had cleared away. Her hands fell back. The claws retracted with a soft click. She stood and knelt again, bending listless over him, like a poppy-flower close to withering away. 

He rolled over and retched and coughed, chest roiling and heaving as the air rushed in, deep and all too welcome. 

Only tension remained. A breath. Then the Thorn shifted, veering aside, wrapping her tail around herself. 

“I can’t be sorry enough,” she said. She gazed at him, something between loving and remorseful, so remorseful. “Cheated…”

It trailed off into the quiet. 

He sighed and pulled himself up. He dusted himself off. Sure, his limbs were still falling off every which way, but at least he didn’t get decapitated. But everything felt loose, about to rip apart. 

That wasn’t the point. 

He walked over to the Thorn and offered her a hand. “You coming?”

She only looked up at him with those mournful, cautious eyes. “You don’t understand. I—”

“Oh, I do know that getting strangled fucking sucks!” He snapped. “I hated it, what the fuck? I’m done with this damn load of bullshit, I’m fucking done, who the hell—Fuck this, fuck all, and fuck you, and why would you even think of going here, and what the fuck told you that strangling someone was a fucking good idea, and—and…”

She only looked down at her hands, still as stone. 

He cursed himself. Whatever the right move was, this certainly wasn’t it.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I guess—you didn’t mean to do that. I…yeah, I think I understand. I didn’t mean to lose my shit with you either. Really. I didn’t mean that.”

There was no response. 

“Sorry,” he tried again—

“No,” said Thorn. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

This wasn’t going anywhere.

“How long will it take before I return to my nature?” Cheated slid onto the unfurling vines, coming to a seat beside Thorn. “It’s not like I’m all sunshine and rainbows myself, you know.”

She buried her face inside her palms, littered with pink scratches. “It’s…you’re different.”

“How? It’s just as you said. You hurt me, I hurt you.”

“Yes.” She brought her knees close to her chest, huddling into herself. “But you stopped it. You gave me a chance.”

He scoffed. “We started it, and you were only protecting yourself. It wasn’t fair, not for you.”

“Such a righteous heart.” Her smile was wry, but it flickered false. “I guess we really are the same.”

There was another quiet moment, one of careful hesitation; a tentative dance over a bed of thorns.

“Do you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” Cheated finally said.

Thorn looked away. 

“Okay. I forgive you.” Blunt, stupid, but there. It was out. “Not that it felt very nice, but I—you said it yourself, you were trying to save me in some twisted way. I’ve got to respect that.”

“But you were hurt—”

“So? We all play a bad hand from time to time. Does that mean you straight-up lose the whole game?”

She pursed her cracked lips. “I might. And when I lose…what I stand to lose now, it terrifies me.”

“Alright.” He drew himself closer. “Look at me, Thorn.”

She didn’t budge, not at first. 

“Look. At. Me. You have eyes.” 

It was slow, but at last she turned. Shameful, tense, wavering in her uncertainty. 

She saw him, drank in the sight of him: all sliced-up flesh, grisly scars, a tattered suit smeared with grime. He wasn’t a pretty thing.

And still the poppy bloomed snug in his hair. Red as roses, red as blood, red as a love borne and bathed in pain.

“Damn you,” he spat, “if you think I need saving from you. I know bloody well what it means to trust and lose, thank you very much. And damn you if you think I’d stop caring about you, damn you if I’m not sitting through it and waiting, waiting, even if you cut me and bled me and slashed me up and skewered me a billion times—well, damn the pain, I’ll still be here…but you never would. ‘Cause you’re too good for that.”

She fidgeted with a single tendril from her hair. “I wouldn’t be so confident about that. Especially not…”

She paused. 

“I don’t ever want to go back,” said the Thorn. “Not to the lying and the hatred and the schemes.”

“You’ve changed.” His gaze hardened. “The old you would never take anyone out because she was scared of what she’d do to him. She’d lure him off and leave him to rot.”

“Mm.” A genuine smile, finally, played across her gaunt face. “I would. But dead is dead.”

“And gone is gone. Like the Witch, who’s now the Thorn, and if she’s the same little monster, I’m wrapping myself up and heading straight to Razor’s door.”

That made her chuckle. “So you really think I’ve changed.”

“No shit. I…” And there, there were the words that were never easy for him to say. “I love that. And I love you.”

“Oh?” It was gradual, almost imperceptible, but something lightened within her poise. “Then I must say…I do. Love you too, I mean.”

“Let’s go.” Cheated couldn’t help himself from grinning like a total idiot as he stood. Thorn laughed, and he swatted at her in jest. What ensued was a disgruntled Cheated and a smirking Thorn both scrambling to reattach his elbow.   

Hands clasped, the two of them left the thorns behind and stepped out into the ebbing day.

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

[whoyacallinyellow]

Charles Smith x F! reader

Spoilers: none Content: 18+ mdni, fluff, touch starved?, suggestive themes Type: second pov (wc - 895) / pc: me

Prompt: “you steal a piece of his clothing.”

Soft beams of light brought Clemons Point to life, coffee was poured with small banter shared. The rhythmic sound of the water kissing the shore would enrich these rare moments of peace, putting the most troubled minds at ease. Charles would consider it a perfect morning— well, nearly perfect that is. 

By now, he would usually be appreciating the silence before a day of work, but he couldn’t seem to find his damn gun belt. Being a rather disciplined man, the belt was an extension of himself, only taken off at night but strictly kept within arms reach. How could he be so reckless? He swore it was right there! 

As Charles paced around camp, bitter good mornings were exchanged with other early birds, his voice growing more agitated with each pass. 

It should have dawned upon the outlaw that coincidently you were nowhere to be found, along with his cherished belt. But then again, Charles had no reason to suspect you. It wasn’t like you to wander off. Had something bad happened? 

The thoughts raced as he spilt his now cold coffee at his feet, mumbling in frustration as stray droplets splashed on his recently shined booted. 

Upon accepting his defeat, Charles grabbed a spare repeater and prepped Taima to hopefully track his guns, and more importantly, you. 

His journey was short lived as he caught a glimpse of what resembled you on the outskirts of camp, staring off into the glass-like water. Directing Taima through the foliage was more than enough to make his presence known. Yet your attention remained on your reflection— you knew he’d eventually find you. You figured taking what the man needed most would get his attention, but maybe it wasn’t one of your best ideas. 

Charles dismounted with a jarring crunch onto the mulch below, the heated waves of anger and urge to scold you dissipated as his eyes found the missing leather. 

“Didn’t take you as the bounty hunter type,” Charles chuckled bitterly, though he found no humour in the words. 

“They wouldn’t know what hit ‘em,” you played along, your fingers tracing the worn pine handle of his side arm. 

Charles’ frenzied morning didn’t matter now, the sight of you awoke something deep in the man. The rusty cobweb gears within him began to turn as his gaze remained upon you. Your delicate frame wrapped up in his leather holster, evidently on one of the tighter notches as it sagged down your hips. It didn’t take long for his rude eyes to hit the hem of your shirt, that had been bunched up and exposing some skin.  

Charles almost felt wrong to see you this innocently, but you wore the wrath of his sins so sweetly. How could he not stare? The inner conflicts of desire and morality settled to his core by the time he reached your side. 

A moment of silence was shared as his consuming thoughts prevented any words from forming. Charles never did fully accept how sweet on you he was, according to Arthur anyways. 

But the look of his burly figure that towered over your reflection kept his feelings at bay and his doubts high. Despite running with Dutch’s band of pilgrims, you had no business being that way with a man like himself. 

“Think I’d make a good outlaw?” You wondered, a longing sorrow lingered in your words, something Charles would have assumed was a joke if not for the skeptical look written on your face. 

With little thought, a huff vibrated through his chest as he dug the tip of his boot into the soft ground. 

“No,”

He answered bluntly, not for the lack of skill, not for being weak or unworthy— but for your purity and his newfound feelings. 

You understood his genuinity with a silent nod, the simplicity aiding your dilemma but not your dejection. 

Breaking away from your trance, you turned to the man with a hint of embarrassment, yet you seemed to share the same vulnerability. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as your gaze dropped to the worn leather on your hips, now sagging past your thigh. 

Dismissing your guilt, another small noise of acknowledgment emerged from the man’s chest. His authoritative stance softened as he shifted closer to you. 

“s’alright,”

The man gruffly murmured, a short lived annoyance returned from the scare you gave him. His hands boldly reached for the buckle, and fumbled to unlatch the leather. How the heat radiated off your waist and onto his calloused fingertips, it was too close, he paused. How could he find such intimacy in a simple exchange? 

The feeling had to be mutual, is this why you brought him out here?

You hoisted yourself onto your tiptoes, the palms of your hands ghosted over Charles’ for support before planting a small kiss on his jaw, which he leaned into. 

The phantom of your warm touch lingered as you departed, your footsteps disappearing off back to camp.  The scar on his jaw felt cooler than usual as a breeze ran past him. All the pent up stress melted from his shoulders, and seeped down to his waist, the man sighed. 

In his state of perplexity, Charles gathered the belt that was left in the dirt at his feet. And for the first time, his feelings overlapped with his discipline. 

Maybe Arthur was right. 

[arachniee]

Imagine an AU where reader fell from heaven from the sheer grief of losing Lucifer and had been living amongst the sinners for eons without him so much as knowing. And then he asks Charlie to ask about them when she goes to visit heaven and she drops that information on him. What would go through his mind?

now this was sent when i wasnt accepting requests anymore so even tho i wanted to write a fic, i'll just summarize my thoughts

i would imagine the reason that reader fell after lucifer was the fact that she may have rebelled against heaven because of his downfall. maybe she had started neglecting her duties, or worse, literally did not want to do them until they bring lucifer back to her.

of course, heaven cannot fulfill her wish so they ended up giving her a choice to join him and become a fallen angel. she didnt know what to do, she knew that lucifer was already happy with lilith, but she physically cannot be that far away from him, it hurts too much to ignore. so in the end, she chose to fall from grace just to possibly, even just a little bit, get closer to where he was.

she'd admit, the first few years of her life in this new environment was, well, hellish. But the fact that she knew lucifer was here, no matter how far, it made her feel a tad bit calmer. when charlie finally reaches heaven, asking the angels about a particular one that her father knew. and when they break the news to her, she'd be quite confused. but she'll relay the message to her father anyway, who was (clearly) excited about it.

the moment charlie spoke, the pit in his stomach grew deeper and deeper til confliction filled his every being. she was here? all along?

lucifer would be mad, not at her, but at heaven. and himself. he would blame himself for everything that she went through, before and after her fall. guilt would be creeping up quickly, tears fallings as his mind ran miles. did he hurt her that much, for her to choose to give herself up from what people referred to as paradise? he couldnt imagine the things that may have happened to her here, in hell. the kingdom which he ruled upon. him.

maybe he wouldn't tell anyone at first, but he'll look for her. it would even make his daughter worry, noticing the black, dark circles under his eyes. he hadn't been sleeping properly at all, how could he? she was all he could think about. she consumed him. consumed him in his awake, even in his dreams. she was everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. she was so close, yet so far.

he knew he'd find her, one way or another, sooner or later. and with charlie's (and the hotel's) help, he knew that he was going to see you again. but in the mean time, while he is "resting" (more like thinking about her) as per his daughter's request, he'd probably make multiple rubber ducks that he think you would like. maybe, you weren't mad at him. maybe, you'd accept him again. maybe, you could learn to love him again.

but for now, he'd be flipping hell upside down just to find you, and he's not stopping until he finds you. or maybe, until you finally decide to show yourself to him.

[draculapizza]

I know, know I get the idea behind his post TS outfit but I need Buggy to lock in a serve

(I was thinking about how similar Buggy’s first outfit was to Rodger’s and if his post TS outfit had continued to follow that/by extension kind of gone ring master adjacent)

[seaofreverie]

So I just had the best!!! time!!!!! EVER!!!!!!!!!!! (Sparks London Night 1 report)

Miraculously got that second row spot and oh my god was this ethereal. I was dying so hard (positively) when I got there but then I also died a bit in the other sense from just having to stand there for an hour and a half straight but ofc it was so worth it to wait around both before the show and when we finally got inside. Also when we were nearing that hour and a half I figured this must mean no opener and yeah there was indeed no opener but I'm not sad about that, I don't know how much more standing around and waiting I would have been able to take (standing around during the actual show doesn't count ofc, I could be doing THAT for even 5 hours with no problem).

They really fogged up that stage before the show, so with all the lights on it looked so awesome, the whole sight of the venue behind us and all the fancy decorations.... it was truly beautiful. And then the boys walked on and oh my gosh Russell's flowery suit.... The best thing I've ever seen I was so overjoyed to see that. It was all so unreal, I of course rushed to the left side of the stage hoping for the most optimal Russell viewing from there and yeah, that was definitely some optimal Russell viewing.... Gosh......

Didn't think they'd still stick to So May We Start as an opener but they did and I'm so glad. And then Do Things My Own Way right after, so perfect. Russell's jumps and dances and everything right in front of me were the best thing ever and the way I was seeing it all in real life right in front of me after having seen so many minutes of recordings of that in the past couple of months.... Absolutely completely unreal.

SO MANY surprises on the setlist and most of my predictions were totally wrong, yet still... at least some of them I sort of pedicted. Goofing Off was definitely the biggest one in the sense of, had it written down on my list of biggest setlists bets / this HAS got to come back finally type of picks before I stopped adding to that list because it would have been like 100 songs long if I kept going. So when the strings intro of that song started I'm pretty sure I said something like "this is incredible" out loud lol. I was so amazed to hear it goddddd.

Other biggest NO WAY moments included Reinforcements (!!!!) and All You Ever Think About Is Sex (!!!!!) Whippings And Appologies (!!!!!!!!!) And oh my god, Please Don't Fuck Up My World. I was really hoping for a certain other ASDDD song (you can probably guess which one) and this was totally amazing (I actually had a bit of a prediction of them pulling out one of the more political songs on this tour and in my 00s obsessed spirit I hoped for Baby Baby Can I Invade Your Country a little bit... But I didn't see this one coming at all. It was an amazing song live, and I feel like it sort of fades into the background most of the time compared to many other 21st century songs, it's a bit more like an epilogue to ASDDD than a full fledged song to me but this, yeah.... It was the most wonderful thing I heart you Sparks!!!!!!)

Also had a feeling that they'd keep TGICIHL and that was AWESOME. First encore song and one of my fav momemts of the show for sure (altough it was truly just one an hour and a half long big neverending fav moment in all honesty). However I did not have a feeling that MTYCDT would still be there either but it was sooooo great. So so fun so amazing to bop along too (well, all of the songs were... as always. I clapped and bounced around so much today). And maybe I helped bring Beat The Clock back with my Born To Beat The Clock shirt today. Overall, 3 N1IH songs??? Academy Award Performance??????? Freaking amazing and totally unexpected once again. And Ron version of Suburban Homeboy oh my god that was the best.

Actually surprised by how little they focused on MAD! songs but I really can't be complaining about anything regarding this show. Running Up A Tab was as awesome as expected and JanSport gets even greater live too, I loved this version so much it just adds so much life to the song. Still kind of wishing Hit Me Baby or I-405 were on there too but we got so many unexpected deep cuts instead... it was truly the best.

My Way -> Number 1 In Heaven (RON SHUFFLE!!!!!) -> This Town, the awaited run of evergreen songs and it was ethereal amazing beautiful etc. Also THE LIGHTS were so great on this show, watching it all from up close helped me appreciate it even more I think... I actually thought those square light sort of boxes had something in the middle that looked just the tiniest bit like the MAD! frowns and I got so excited about the image of all these little frowns lightning up the stage. That didn't happen but what we actually got was in no way inferior to this idea.

Ok maybe the only thing I'm in any way sad about is the lack of My Baby's Taking Me Home, kind of funny to be feeling a little bit like dangggg when they started playing All That because, well, it's ALL THAT, but it meant no MBTMH after all, this being the second encore song... Again, surprised that they played both Lord Have Mercy and this but I was also so sad before about the idea of All That falling off the setlist possibly... So this was stunningly beautiful and there were some phone torches alight in the balconies, it looked truly so beautiful.

And of course last but not least Russell and Ron were so funny and awesome and there were so many little moments I loved and I'm going to be reminded of them all and relive them all through the one billion videos I took with my brother's phone and I'm so excited to look through them all as soon as possible because I think they're going to be really good ouuugghhhh. It helps that I have finally remembered that I can sometimes zoom in while recording for a better video... Truly could keep listing off moment after moment but the thing is I can't remember most of them off the top of my head so I'll just get round to those sometime later maybe.

This was the greatest thing in every way imaginable!! And now that I have a lot of pics and vids I think I'm just going to totally chill tomorrow and reexperience it all again while focusing on it all happening even more. I'm so glad there's still more to come you have no idea this was the best thing ever and I'm gonna do it all over again in just a couple of hours!!!!!! Lets all live forever guys sparks save the world and make everything worth it im SO happy.

[cartoonybus]

hhhhh i spent too long on this and im tired of looking at iiiittt ajsjak

[full version under the cut]

[bogkeep]

of course i can't sleep and have pronouns...

[rainintheevening]

Hungry to write, not knowing what project to pick and work on.

[lialovesstuff]

super random but Taiya and Chashiro looked like absolute babies at the very beginning of the series lol

[cienie-isengardu]

Tomas & Liu Kang

I’m trying to put things into right perspective about Smoke, Liu Kang’s approach to Tomas and how pushed into background he was during story mode so bear with me while I’m connecting dots.

Also, to be clear, I’m not here to morally judge the characters, just to talk about the dissonance between Smoke vs Liu Kang intro dialogues and the story mode.

For one, the pre-fight dialogues imply that Tomas lost his family due to Liu Kang (Keeper of Time)’s choice: 

Smoke: "Did you intend for me to be orphaned?" Liu Kang: "Some threads must be cut to weave time’s fabric." 

and

Smoke: "I'm not sure I can forgive you." Liu Kang: "Being Keeper of Time meant making many hard choices."

When Tomas was orphaned, Kuai Liang & Bi-Han’s father adopted him and made one of Lin Kuei. If the accusation is true, then we can assume Liu Kang wanted Tomas to join Lin Kuei, as he did in the past timeline(s). So, in theory, Smoke for whatever reason was important enough for the Keeper of Time to get involved and steer events to get the wanted result. 

Which raises a question, why did Liu Kang not bother to recruit Tomas into Lin Kuei the same way he recruited Kung Lao, Raiden, Johnny Cage or Kenshi, by like, actually talking to him and taking for training? Or even why not just ask the befriended Grandmaster to take the boy (and Tomas' family) under his wings, which I think the man would do without further question.

Instead, Smoke was orphaned, taken in by Lin Kuei, adopted as son of Grandmaster and trained in magic to equalize his chances in the fight (in contrast, Bi-Han’s ice powers seems to be a natural part of him, related to specific bloodline).

Now, if Tomas was so important, if not in the greater scheme of things, then just for Liu Kang (and Kuai Liang), isn’t it weird, he is so sidelined and omitted by Fire Lord in the story mode?

Again, not judging characters, solely pointing out this choice of storyline, as this is especially visible during collecting the champions for the tournament arc.

In Chapter One, when the test was over and Liu Kang came to Kung Lao and Raiden to explain things, he specifically called only Bi-Han (the current Grandmaster) and Kuai Liang (Bi-Han’s blood-brother)

while Tomas was totally omitted and stayed behind with the rest unnamed Lin Kuei warriors.

Which, visually speaking, is weird, as just before that scene we could see Smoke walking alongside his adoptive brothers (with Bi-Han leading the group, Tomas and Kuai Liang walking a bit behind their leader, but before the unnamed warriors);

In the next chapter, again, only Bi-Han and Kuai Liang assisted Fire Lord in his quest to recruit Johnny Cage and Kenshi. Again, both Lin Kuei were addressed by their birth names, instead of codenames

while there is no information why Tomas was left behind. He likely was entrusted with escorting Kung Lao and Raiden to Shaolin Monks, yet the lack of proper mention emphasizes the pushing into the background.

We didn't learn officially Smoke's status as adopted brother of Kuai Liang and Bi-Han until Sub-Zero's chapter (#8). Unless I miss something, the first person on screen to actually address Smoke by his birth name was surprisingly Bi-Han.

Which makes even weirder the lack of including of Tomas from Liu Kang, as the Fire Lord and Smoke stayed allies through the story mode and intro dialogues (with some resentment on Tomas' side for death of his family) while the relationship between Bi-Han and Tomas was much more complicated to begin with.

We could make an argument that Liu Kang didn't want to antagonize Bi-Han by including adopted Tomas too much, however:

A) Bi-Han has never denied Tomas right to consider himself one of Grandmaster's sons - seen especially in Sub-Zero's speech pattern, as Sub-Zero always says just "Father", the same as Tomas and Kuai Liang, never putting emphasis on "my" as a reminder Smoke is adopted. The real conflict is not about whether Tomas is his and Kuai Liang's brother or not, but about him being a true Lin Kuei. What is also worth to keep in mind, any tension between brothers happened only in privacy (here and during the mission), never around Liu Kang.

(A similar thing can be noticed in intro dialogues. In Smoke vs Sub-Zero, Bi-Han specifically says "Because your blood is not Lin Kuei" however in Liu Kang vs Sub-Zero, when Fire Lord claims brothers (plural version!) miss him, Bi-Han doesn't correct his opponent about Tomas not being one. He instead says "Then they shouldn't have disobeyed my commands.")

B) Liu Kang did not show Bi-Han any special respect, especially not the kind of respect and friendship offered to Sindel and her husband, Jerrod. And yes, Fire Lord mentioned Bi-Han before Kuai Liang, and addressed him during the meeting before the mission (while the Sub-Zero's younger brothers - subordinates - stood together in silence)

but that basically it? Bi-Han didn't seem to be favored in any special way, I don't think he even was addressed as Grandmaster by Fire Lord at any moment in story mode.

Which is why I personally don't see why Liu Kang would omit Tomas solely to not hurt Bi-Han's ego or to not antagonize the man further - especially since Bi-Han himself didn't push the matter in any specific - openly - way nor didn't deny Tomas the right to consider himself one of Grandmaster's sons in the first place.

Frankly, as we don't see how Lin Kuei were informed about the upcoming meeting, we should ask, did Liu Kang call Bi-Han and specifically Smoke and Scorpion for the mission, or was that choice made solely by Sub-Zero? Because Lin Kuei for sure must have much more experienced warriors that Tomas (and Kuai Liang for that matter) but also sending on dangerous mission the Grandmaster AND the second* in line of succession seems impractical from the perspective of clan' inner safety.

*second and third, if Tomas was allowed at all to be the heir. Considering how neither Smoke nor Scorpion even for a moment considered that option and how Sektor & Cyrax would choose Bi-Han's corruption of the clan before accepting Kuai Liang as a new leader, the inner clan politics may not be so simple.

During the Lin Kuei mission (Sub-Zero's Band of Brothers Chapter) and during Bi-Han's betrayal (Scorpion's Civil War Chapter), the three brothers didn't address each other by codenames and as much as the situation allowed, freely interacted with each other.

However once Bi-Han is removed from the story mode, Smoke is even more pushed into the background. When asked, he will answer and make some (one?) observation however he barely interacted with other characters, mainly sticking to his brother. The most important exception is the scene when the heroes were wondering what to do after the big revelation and Tomas on his own talked about Lin Kuei and Bi-Han.

The story mode at that time was focused on other characters (like Mileena & Shang Tsung) so understandably, Lin Kuei brothers were put aside however even then Scorpion played a vital part, as it was Kuai Liang making the plan of attack, when Liu Kang wasn't around, while Tomas for most part was just there.

Again, no moral judging of characters just a mere observation how Tomas interacted the most freely with his brothers while was omitted by Liu Kang - and like, never(?) addressed by him in story mode, either by name or codename, even if the intro dialogues strongly imply Liu Kang was the one pushing Tomas into Lin Kuei in the first place.

Which makes an interesting contrast to Bi-Han & Smoke’s relationship but also shows how without intro dialogues, the relationship between Tomas and Liu Kang seems… non existing? I mean, even at the end of story mode, Liu Kang mentions Bi-Han

and his brother Kuai Liang building a new clan,

yet there is literally no mention of Tomas and his participation in the creation of Shirai Ryu and training its members (something confirmed in Scorpion and Smoke's endings).

Which only add to the weird feeling of alienating Tomas in story mode, not by Bi-Han but Liu Kang of all possible people?

[paintersknife]

Hesitation

!!Reshape spoilers below!! They didnt write any combat in Reshape (or Remold for global) which was a huge shame, so I was going to but then it kinda got away from me a little........ :)

Empty white walls. A smooth featureless floor. The arena, like so many other places in the Empire, is cold. Clinical. Indifferent.

It makes Cael feel right at home. 

He has walked these halls countless times before, painted the pristine canvas of the arena walls with swathes of crimson, each victory an elegantly executed masterpiece. Unbidden, he recalls the mantra that his instructors had once drilled into him, that he had taught the girl in due time.

Do not hesitate.

Hesitation is death.

You will not be shown mercy. 

You will show none in return.

He cannot see them, but he can feel the eyes of countless spectators upon him. They study him from the upper floors or watching through broadcasts, colleagues and superiors, all thirsting for blood. Some are eager to see if he will finally fall from his lofty perch, while others are glad just to witness the end of the Empire’s most notorious pairing. It was a tale as old as the Empire itself. Colleague pitted against colleague, partner against partner. And as always, the message is clear: Know your place. Even the sharpest tools of the Empire are expendable.

The doors behind them hiss shut seamlessly, to be kept sealed until only one remains. From across the arena, their eyes meet, and to his surprise, she moves first.

Do not hesitate.

She closes the distance between them in a mere moment, striking out at him with her saber as soon as he comes within reach. He dodges it easily, stepping to the side and bringing his own sword down as her momentum brings her past him- a strike that she easily deflects. They both know these blows are merely a warning, a promise of violence to come.

Cael catches sight of her expression and something deep inside him writhes and thrashes behind his ribs. When the girl was younger, her face had displayed every one of her emotions, all of her grief over her mother’s passing, the fleeting moments of happiness where she could snatch them, even anger and despair at her situation, at the world. Now her face across from his is flat, cold and dispassionate as it mirrors the mask he always wears. He cannot bear to see it, but he forces his eyes to remain locked on hers. He must.

In the arena, the two avatars of Imperial excellence circle each other, each of them a blade molded for precision and efficiency, all sharp honed edges without a trace of softness to be found. Even so, those watching cannot deny the intimacy between them as they clash. Again and again they flit apart and come crashing together, sometimes with a great sound of clashing steel, and others with almost the gentlest of caresses.

There's a frigid beauty to it, in the way their faces press close together, their crossed swords the only barrier that separates their lips, a single breath shared in a moment that seems to last an eternity. Amongst all who bear witness, an unspoken thought arises, that in another different life, they could have been lovers.

The air around him shimmers as he calls crystalline blades into being. They float in the air around him until he sends them hurtling towards the girl, some of them smashing into countless glittering fragments that fall on her like snow as she evades them, others erased from existence with a wave of her hand, dissolved into nothingness by the void she manifests. Cael leaves her no time to breathe, the distance between them closed once more as he brings his sword down to draw a line of crimson along the length of her arm. 

Hesitation is death.

The sound of blood rushing in his ears pounds out a tempo to the elegant dance that they choreograph together. Cael feels the sting of the sweat that pricks the corners of his red stained eyes, tastes the familiar tang of copper in his throat as he swallows. In his hands rests the weight of the sword that he carries, comfortable and natural, a seamless extension of his body. 

The lungful of air he draws in reminds him of the crisp frostiness of Godheim, how together they had seen to the harvest in its entirety, her teething mission executed with flawless perfection.

She bites back the pain from the cut on her arm, taking advantage of his proximity to unleash a strike at him, and he cannot help but admire her perfect form. It is a far cry from the times he would instruct her, the two of them the only ones who dared to brace the bitter cold that the glacial butterflies left in their wake. He would drill her for hours, as harsh and unrelenting as the winter around them, imparting skills that would be the difference between life or death. 

The girl had taken each lesson without complaint even as her knuckles bruised and her skin chafed and cracked, just as he had a lifetime ago, when he had once been young. It was there that he had felt the first stirrings of pride, as an eagle might as it watches its fledgeling flutter into its first flight.

The Silver Knight and his Dark Lady. Always together. Always victorious.

Now just as he had taught her, she wields the power of the void expertly, the emptiness around her so complete that it seems to drain the very world of its colour. Boldly she presses forward, the sabre in her hand flashing in the space between them, dogged and determined like its master. Step by step she pushes him back, retaking the ground that she had ceded to him moments before, making up for the gap in their experience by sheer force of will and dauntlessness.

Hard pressed, he calls a blade into existence in his left hand, bringing it up as she commits to a strike in an attempt to catch her off guard. What the girl does is unexpected, her free hand coming up to close around the blade, the jagged edge biting deep into the meat of her palm. She could easily dissolve it into nothingness, but instead, in her grip, it shatters into pieces, the shimmering slivers tearing into them both.

Cael flinches. She doesn’t.

He can see the triumph in her eyes and he knows that she has him, the strike that she must have envisioned time and time again in her dreams finally ready and open for her to take. Instinct beckons him to close his eyes, to shy away from the blow he knows is coming, but Cael forces them to stay open, to have her face be the last thing he sees.

His gaze lingers on her lips that had long lost their mirth, on eyes that he had no longer been able to read. In that moment all seems to be laid bare to him, all of her anger, her resentment, her boiling hatred, and still something else, left alone and twisted in the dark of her soul.

Something inside of her seems to darken, her strike faltering just enough for him to duck under the blow, a few strands of silver fluttering to the ground behind him like discarded feathers. 

You will not be shown mercy. 

A moment's distraction is all it takes, her wide eyes lingering on his just a fraction of a second too long, her sword arm overextending as her body trails behind it.

It's over in less than a heartbeat, a flick of his wrist, an adjustment of the angle as he thrusts, his body moving before his mind has a chance to process the consequences. All he sees is the ocean of red that seems to spread from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You will show none in return.

It will be a long time until he understands the serenity on her face, how it seemed like she had opened her arms to welcome him as he slid his blade into her.

Still dazed, he reaches out to catch her a second too late, the soft thump as her body crumples to the floor deafening him. Before he can even form a conscious thought he is already on his knees, arms wrapped around her, grasping for answers that he might never find. 

“Don't forget me,” she breathes quietly, the last words she will ever utter so soft he can barely make them out. 

A last request to a trusted colleague. A dying wish for a person once held dear.

Or neither. Instead, it is a curse.

The Empire will take his memories, as it already has countless times, but this burden will always remain. Her traces are already engraved deep in his bones, her vestige etched into his very soul. 

His body will remember the feeling of his hands patting her small back as he mechanically tried to ease the grief of her mother's passing.

It will never forget how it felt to hold the picture she entrusted to him, how his gut twisted involuntarily as the girl he once knew was led away from him, never to return.

It will remember his pride as the Empire made her into something more, how solid and reassuring it was to have her presence at his side, how it felt to entrust his flank to her in combat and put his life into her hands. 

Even the inscrutable expression she wore when he had found her in the ruins of what had been her home has been seared into his memory, an afterimage to haunt his every waking moment.

A hundred- a thousand times, he will remember with vivid clarity how easily his blade pierced her flesh, just as easily as it had pierced all his foes before her. How the edge scraped against the bone of her ribs, the vibration travelling along the length of it to his hands, his arms, until he could feel the sickening feeling reverberate in the core of his being. How he watched red red red flowers blossom on his perfectly white uniform, how they had enveloped him in so much warmth that it chilled him. How she had sounded as she let out a quiet sigh, the only reaction she allowed herself.

Was that relief he heard on her lips as the breath he stole from them escaped? Or was it sadness and anger, or regret and happiness, or tortured peace?

All he knows is that the look on her face as she seemed to embrace the blow that felled her will torture him until his own dying breath. This he will remember, no matter how many times his mind is scoured clean.

The light in her eyes fades, and he finally understands what emptiness truly feels like.

[riiviir]

I needed to draw this man in honor of the horrible sunburn I got a couple weeks ago (and also because I love him and think he's silly)

(this character and the webtoon he's from belong to @wulvert btw)