trying on a metaphor
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
taylor price
noise dept.
oozey mess
if i look back, i am lost
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JBB: An Artblog!
Product Placement
ellievsbear
No title available
Peter Solarz
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
Love Begins
titsay
Origami Around
Xuebing Du
Cosimo Galluzzi
Kaledo Art
seen from South Korea
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
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seen from United States
@silentse
Hello ^_^
i’ve never really written and posted my work online before, but I am making an attempt..
mainly posting resident evil or silent hill, but that may change later on
thank you for reading and stopping by <3
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ౨ৎ˚
part 3 to my henry townshend fic (it’s a series now i guess :p)
finally freed from the shackles of university for the summer (though still got work..) will post much more now, many drafts are in the works :3
guys help i have like 4 fics in progress but can’t seem to finish any of em :’o
henry townshend x reader
a part 2 to my previous post
i’m finally free from the trenches of university for a week or so, and really wanted to get this out soon so here it is :> enjoy!
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“Such a pretty face.. Stay still, hm?”
A tear falls onto the cold barrel of Walter’s pistol, a part of you wishing it would’ve set it off. The frigid metal lifts off your cheek when your body stops squirming, accompanied by a pleased smile on his face.
Walter’s thumb brushes against your face to catch another stray tear, tasting the saltiness on his tongue. It was nothing but exquisite, he thinks- savoring it before leaning close and whispering.
“Are you afraid? You shouldn’t be, Paradise is imminent, dear. Do you wish to see the new world?”
You don’t respond, yet he treats your silence as eager agreement.
It was painful, the iron grip of his fingers around your wrist. You were sure the skin would be purple and marred after this, if you even survived that is. He hums, his free hand tracing his fingers along body, traveling up your arm.
“No time to waste, love. Mother is waiting as we speak.”
Sick. He was an entirely sick bastard, you thought. A sick, yet pitiful man.. His hand around your wrist loosens, only to grab your waist- flipping you over with a thud. Normally, he wouldn’t even bat an eye while completing a sacrament. You were special however.
Something about your sweet face and kind demeanor made him want to toy with you forever.
Sharp pain radiates through your face, his forceful shove causing you to land harshly on your cheek. Your arms attempt to push your figure back up, but his weight falls down on you once again. A pained yelp leaves your lips, and it makes him smile more than it should.
“Shhh… I haven’t even started yet. Be good and stay quiet, won’t you?”
Cold metal presses against your skin, yet this time, it was the sharp searing sensation of a blade. You felt the warm wetness of blood trickle down your back, immediately squirming and crying out.
“Hm. Perhaps I should have slit your throat first.”
He says it with a casualty that makes your blood run cold. Your figure stills at the remark, heart pounding with the purest silent terror you’ve never even felt was possible.
“There we go, so obedient when she tries..”
He practically purrs in satisfaction, watching more blood spill down your back as he continues carving your skin.
20/21
You’ve wondered what it felt like to be stabbed before, perhaps offhandedly during some monotonous lecture or lengthy drive.
It was like a papercut, splitting open your back under a scorching flame. Your knuckles are white, fists clenched against the floor to prevent yourself from squirming and exasperating his wrath.
Fuck, you were going to die like this. By some sick psycho, who was practically grinning the whole time doing it.
Your whole life flashes though your mind, reeling for any solution- to make it all stop
BANG
The door to room 303 opens with a slam. You can’t even see who it is with a face pressed to the ground.
“Hey..! You-“
It was a man, a vaguely familiar voice that was hard to recall in the current moment. You feel the weight rise off your back, looking back to see Walter lunging at the man.
They fall to the floor, flailing wildly and throwing fists. It was terrifyingly loud, half of the furniture in your home was crashed into and broken apart by the brawl. Walter kicks the man into your table as you painfully manage to sit up.
Henry is clutching the table, glancing at you before scrambling to the side to avoid a knife flying directly into his face.
Get up get up get up get up get up
You groan, forcing your aching muscles to lift off the ground.
Your neighbor.. Room 302.
There wasn’t a chance you’d let either of you die, not like this.
Walter has him on the ground again, squeezing his throat with his bare hands. With a few trembling steps you drag a stool over and swing it into the back of his skull.
The long haired man goes limp on top of Henry, your neighbor letting out a pained huff before pushing the large body off.
You offer a hand, he takes it.
There’s a long silence before either of you say anything, your gaze was fixated on the body before you- sprawled out on the cold floor.
Henry steps beside you, glancing at you and following your gaze.
“He’s not dead.” He mumbles.
“What?”
His words register slowly, the familiar soft voice hitting your ears. You suck in a breath, stepping back.
“Walter. He’s an.. Apparition of sorts. This won’t get rid of him, likely.” He adds apologetically.
Your mouth feels dry and you can’t seem to think anymore- or breathe. Slumping against the wall, your fingers grasp your hair- deflated with dread.
The pain seems to crash over you all at once again, every bruise and scar aching and burning. Your back felt like a fiery pit, the clothes you once wore were practically shredded, and your home was totaled.
“Hey.. Don’t cry..”
You blink, barely registering the tears falling down your face. He’s knelt in front of you, hesitantly running a thumb across your cheek to wipe the wetness away.
“I’ll figure out how to deal with him. But we should probably get out of here, yeah?”
His hand is warm, and it helps you think again for a moment.
You take in a shaky breath, nodding slowly.
“Y-Yes, yeah.. We should go..”
Henry helps you back up, careful not to brush against any open wounds. This all feels like some wild awful dream, the ones you get after taking too much cough syrup.
You stand and immediately slump into his figure- catching him by surprise with a small grunt. He stiffens awkwardly, but continues to hold you up nonetheless.
Your ankle got twisted in the chaos, you could see it swelling already. The rest of your body wasn’t in much better shape to move.
“Here, hold onto me.”
He lowers himself for a moment, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Somehow, he manages to lift you off the ground- your legs crossed over his waist.
Your neighbor was more hardy than he looked, but you were grateful for it.
Resting your chin on the crook of his neck, you close your eyes. Each rise and fall of his footsteps jostles you around, but soon enough it ceases- the feeling of a mattress beneath your aching body rousing you awake.
Henry sets you down as carefully as he could, but it was harder than he thought. He feels the bruises along his ribs, fleetingly wondering if one had fractured. It would have to wait for now.
The pressure against your back aggravates the pain again, despite the comfort of the mattress. You attempt to sit up, resting sideways against the headboard awkwardly to avoid anything touching your back.
“Are you okay? You’re hurt pretty badly.”
The gentle voice of your neighbor rings out, and you open your eyes to see Henry sitting on the edge of the bed- eyeing you with concern.
“I’m still alive. I think. Thanks for bringing us here.”
You mutter, still slumped against the headboard like it was a lifeline. You hear the mattress creaking, and notice Henry inspecting your back- wincing at the sight.
20/21
Though, the 2 in 20 looked more like a 3. Walter didn’t have the best craftsmanship. He decides not to say anything about it, saving the concern from you for later.
“You’re still bleeding.. Turn around for a second.”
You haphazardly obey, seeing him step off the bed and scrummage for some gauze in his jacket.
The sound of fabric unpeeling bounces around the cracked walls of the room, and then you feel him lift your arm slightly to begin bandaging.
“Sorry, this might hurt. I haven’t done this before.”
He mutters apologetically, gingerly wrapping the white cloth around your torso and shoulders. Seemingly, it was quite difficult to bandage one’s backside. The entire roll of the bandage would be used up after this.
It was a miracle that he even had it, scrounging through his supplies before heading to your room was a fortunate choice.
“It’s not too painful…Thank you again, Henry. You saved me. But it got you hurt...”
You don’t see it, but Henry shakes his head- brows furrowing in retort.
“I’d say it was the other way around, really. We can call it even for now, yeah?”
He huffs lightly, speaking softly in a way that makes you feel foolish for having such a worry..
Henry finishes bandaging your back, tying the end of the cloth tightly. He definitely took his time, though he wouldn’t ever admit that. His eyes rested on your shoulderblades, taking in the delicate sight. He was desperate to tell you so many things right now. But it wasn’t the time.
He sucks in a breath. He would hold his tongue for later.
“All done. You should rest now. I’ll make sure nothing comes into the room.”
Your hand reaches back to tenderly touch the bandages, taking in his work. Despite what he said of never doing it before, it was a decent job.
“Okay.. But wake me up if I sleep too long, alright?”
You hear him lightly chuckle at your words, turning back to see his eyes fixated on you.
“Got it.”
Need a part three to this idc 🙏
Wasn’t going to continue this one but how could I let my pookies down </3
Will draft up the next part asap!!! Wait for me pls hehe
went to akira yamaoka’s concert tonight and it was the best <3333
Obligatory leonposting for RE9 release tomorrow <3333333
Vendetta Leon.. Ugh, mwah
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“You need a haircut..”
Your laugh is light and sweet, fingers running through those long brown locks that overstayed their welcome. You didn’t really mean it, and Leon knew- burying his face in the crook of your neck in a way he knew was ticklish.
He just wanted to hear the sound of your voice. Couldn’t care less if you were teasing him or not.
“Oh, I think it suits me- no?”
Leon’s voice grumbles in your ear, playful despite the gravelly tone that always accompanies it during early mornings. His nose presses further against your neck, letting out a mock huff of offense.
“Any longer and you’ll look like some angsty teenager..”
You retort, ruffing his hair in defense. His hot breath tickled your skin, making it hard to really say anything back. Well, it was always hard to talk back to him. He had a way of soothing your frustrations quite quickly.
“So it makes me look young, hm? Thanks, darling..”
His weight presses against you in response, flopping down lazily while grabbing your waist. His fingers curl, kneading the soft flesh that he enjoyed so much.
It was getting hard to breathe, hooking a foot around his waist and smacking his back slightly. You huff in return, whining into his ear. He practically weighed a million pounds like this.
“Leonn.. You’re heavy…”
You can practically feel his stupid grin against your skin, his hands squeezing firmly and traveling up your ribs.
“Huh? What’d you say? I’m handsome?
“Leon..!”
He chuckles again, finally loosening up his grip only to squeeze you into his lap. His hands roam along your body like it was his last time touching you.
Leon’s fingers had calluses all over, an inevitable consequence of his intensive career and training. He never cared for them, finding it another reminder of his age and the career that wore him down. Though, it’s nice every so often when you give him hand cream and fuss over him whenever his fingers bled.
You liked to run your fingers over them, feeling the scratchiness of the rough skin. He liked it too, squeezing your hand to feel the soft skin press against his own.
“Are you happy now..?”
You grunt, resting your head on his shoulder. He smelled nice at least. The cologne you bought him (more for yourself than him really) was a good choice.
“Just a few more minutes. Be my hostage for a bit longer, hm?”
You huff again in feigned annoyance, as if you wouldn’t be content staying like this for eternity.
“Fine.. Just a few more minutes.”
henry townshend x reader
a part 2 to my previous post
i’m finally free from the trenches of university for a week or so, and really wanted to get this out soon so here it is :> enjoy!
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“Such a pretty face.. Stay still, hm?”
A tear falls onto the cold barrel of Walter’s pistol, a part of you wishing it would’ve set it off. The frigid metal lifts off your cheek when your body stops squirming, accompanied by a pleased smile on his face.
Walter’s thumb brushes against your face to catch another stray tear, tasting the saltiness on his tongue. It was nothing but exquisite, he thinks- savoring it before leaning close and whispering.
“Are you afraid? You shouldn’t be, Paradise is imminent, dear. Do you wish to see the new world?”
You don’t respond, yet he treats your silence as eager agreement.
will post the henry fic soon sometime next week!! been in the trenches with my biochemistry exam… i’ll let y’all know how it goes :’c
edit** it went ok!!!!!
i just rlly love them :c
henry is so soft spoken and mellow, it makes me wonder what goes on his head.. perhaps it’s just the lack of characterization, but i find his silence and subdued character charming
here’s something i wrote for him some time ago after finishing SH4, hope you enjoy ^-^
it’s my first time posting, so any comments and suggestions or ideas i would love to indulge <33
i attempted to stay accurate to the game, enjoy the references :p
content warnings:
mdni, sexual guilt, isolation (ofc), masturbation
This was completely wrong, and he knew it.
Henry never considered himself an immoral person, much less depraved. But this apartment, the sheer isolation he felt- trapped inside his increasingly dull home with little recourse to escape. It felt like some endless nightmare, and he had to cope somehow- right?
The first time he had done it, by accident of course- he couldn’t even bear to be in his own skin. The hole… The tiny hole in his wall that had appeared one day- surrounded by the carved up wall and a strange inscription from a man he had never known. A man named Joseph, apparently. He didn’t want to think about what happened to him.
His stomach turned whenever he read the scrawled carved writing, and a part of him was tempted to cover it with newspaper or some sort to keep it out of his mind.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around everything, utterly confused and more so terrified at all that was happening to him. The locks on the door, the broken TV, the strange notes…
But then he peeked through the wall, just to see you- casually lounging about without a single care.. His sweet neighbor, one of the few people he even saw around these days. There were never really many words exchanged between you two. Restricted to just awkward “Hello’s” or “Good morning’s” when either of you occasionally stumbled out to get the mail or throw out the trash.
He had tried not to give much thought towards you, keeping to himself and defeatedly assuming you as unavailable. But a strange feeling pooled in his gut when he first saw you through the tiny random hole.
Hesitance? For sure. He was raised well enough to know that peeking was a perverted and invasive thing to do…
Then, relief? He had also felt for some reason.. That finally, besides his windows and shitty radio- he had some close contact to the outside world. He was exhausted from staring outside his windows, just to see the same damn neighbor watching TV or the billboard for a bar he couldn’t even go to. Your sweet face offered a reprieve, a lifeline from his torment.
He could have stared through that wall for an eternity, he thinks.
After crawling inside that damned hole in the bathroom for the umpteenth time, it was painfully charming- seeing you so relaxed on your bed and mindlessly dangling your legs off the mattress.
He envied your casual peacefulness, only barely able to imagine how it felt to be normal again. His neighbor, a sweet looking soul was right beside his room- like some neglectful guardian angel he was grateful for nevertheless.
But he tore his eyes away, trudging back to his bed that didn’t even feel right anymore.
Any desire had to be quickly pushed away, forcing himself to deem it impossible and unhelpful in these circumstances..
He was always good at that, pushing things away- observing at a distance. He knew his place, that life was better when you captured it from afar. His photography was proof of that. It was never necessary to get close, nearly everything can be beautiful from afar.
He had tried his best really, to not give in and respect your privacy. Despite what was happening, it still just wasn’t right…
But then time passed.. Minutes, hours, days..
It had been what, a week? He couldn’t even tell anymore. Time seemed to have dissipated altogether in this space.
The world on the other side was his only hope of finding what was going on- answers he didn’t have. Maybe even a way to escape this damned haunted room.
He had been traveling in and out of that cramped, awful hole in the bathroom wall- exploring, battling, fighting for his life in one wretched dimension after another… The cursed hole had closed up, only for another one to pop up in his laundry room.
God, he was sick of holes.
Eventually, after one particularly bad trip- he started to waver. The ghosts were relentless enough, yet there was always more to test him.
Avoiding those disgusting leeches, writhing worms, and those freakish pale faced monstrosities that lurked in the prison.. He hated bugs. It was wearing him down, the most harrowed he had ever felt in his entire life.
But even then, it was only until he figured you could be in danger that he could bring himself to peek once in a while to check that you were safe. It was justified surely, just a quick glance every so often to ensure you were okay..
And it worked for the most part. Henry was a gentleman, and the circumstances were incredibly trying. The poor man was just trying to help, really..
But one day, pressing his face against the wall- his eyes met a flash of bare skin- delicate fingers unhooking lacy fabric from behind- tossing it aside with a small sigh that immediately made him shiver.
He looked down, gazing at the tent in his pants with utter shame. It was too long since he had gone outside, to the real world- not the twisted bloodied alternate dimension he was forced to explore. It was making him a degenerate, ruining his sanity and morals.. That was the only reason such a mundane view got to him so easily.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
Mustering up the will to tear his gaze away from the peek hole, he retreats to his bedroom with a pained groan- practically limping from the ache between his thighs.
He sinks into the bed, curled up- a lithe, desperate hand attempting to soothe the throbbing that pressed against his pants. He should have never peeked through that forsaken hole. The sight of your bare skin, the delicate lines of your figure- it affected him more than it should have.
Fuck, he couldn’t be this perverted..
He was just stressed, or so he told himself. From the gory nightmares and cursed mysteries of the other world behind the bathroom wall hole. His mind was just searching desperately for some recourse and relief from everything occuring..
The image of you nearly completely unclothed was seared into his mind, he couldn’t even erase the memory if he tried.
You.. Along with that creepy stuffed bunny he had grown to disdain.
It seemed to know, to stare into his soul when he had looked for too long or if you had disappeared off to who knows where- leaving him only to stare at that stupid stuffed animal.
He groans again, turning over on the mattress with torment. He was better than this, really..
But a hand still traveled down to his zipper, seeking relief from the cramped fabric. He just had to get it all out of his system. Maybe this was merely because he was pent up.. He hasn’t really had time to.. Relax.. Since everything started happening.
With a gentle tug, the cause of all his misery springs free from his briefs- flushed angrily and leaking relentlessly..
Henry hisses softly as he attempts to work out his little.. Well, large, problem- falling back as his trembling hand strokes up and down..
You could probably do this much better than he could. It would probably feel so much better too. Your hands, your mouth.. He cursed softly under his breath, jutting forward with a whine. How could he not imagine it?
You should be on his bed, underneath him- delicate fingers wrapped around his length and praising him for how good he had been.
He could envision it so clearly, like the image was burned into his retinas. It was to his own demise, it was nearly impossible to get all his blood to stop flowing to his dick. Curse his photographer mind…
The pleasure becomes too much, every muscle tensing in his body- his hands still stroking up and down with a frenzy. A choked gasp escapes his lips, whining so loudly the neighbors would have complained if not for the fact his room was in some other cursed dimension.
Henry finishes, hips stuttering and white hot liquid sticking to all over the bedsheets. Warm tears fall down his cheek, the pleasure washing over him as quickly as the tide. With a few more pumps from his shaky hands, his body collapses into the mattress..
It takes several minutes for the post clarity to even hit him, lying there panting- dazed completely.
All he could even do was emit an ashamed groan when the realization creeps in. This was a new low, even for him.
Has Henry done this before while thinking of you? Sure.. Maybe more times than he would ever admit. Was it ever to the point he was crying and whining while humping the bed like a feral dog? Absolutely not. Just only slightly…
But the sight of you undressing in this state tipped him over, unfurling some ugly, desperate part in him that he despised.
Now, all he was left with was ruined bedsheets and a furthered sense of loneliness he didn’t even know was possible.
Perhaps, he could get to you some day.
Properly this time. He would speak up, try not to revert to his meek and soft-spoken self and look you in the eye to make proper conversation. Maybe even ask you to come over for dinner sometime.
It was a distant dream for now. He would have to figure out how to escape this nightmare first, defeat the chains that blocked his door. Keep crawling in that awful hole in the bathroom that made his back ache every damn time.
One day, even if just in a dream- he was sure to meet you again. He had to.
And in the meantime, he would have to figure out how to clean his sheets without running water….
