I thought I'd seen an ask before about this sort of thing, but couldn't find it (scrolled through Archive to May, might have accidentally overlooked or just didn't go back enough). A friend of mine wants to make a side verse on their roleplay blog for a 2D Bendy, and was planning to use your art for icons. They will give credit, but I wanted to check and make sure it would be okay before it happened just in case you'd rather someone not use your art for icons?
As much as I appreciate you asking for permission, I have to refuse.
Also I would like to ask your friend to drop the idea of roleplaying my AU. I appreciate you guys liking it so much to the point of RPing with it, but I can’t really trust random people with it. Especially since the AU itself is still a huge WIP.
To remember one’s death was quite a horrible experience. The few that Butch had previously dealt with, they were on such a small scale. Especially compared to the dreadful pain that he could feel coursing through his veins now that the raven could fully grasp just what his final days were like before Solitude turned to fire, ash, and brimstone.
Days had melded together, some good, some bad. The bad ones sticking out more than those that gave him a sense of happiness. Even if he wanted to embrace those enjoyable memories that he shared with his brothers and with Blossom, Butch struggled to cope with only the rage, despair and uncontrollable pain that came with that final day before he perished.
Part of his body compelled him to act -- to make the ones who caused him such sorrow to pay their price. Yet, the lingering reminder that he was the source of the flame that recklessly destroyed Solitude kept him in place, frozen in a time-frame where he could only suffer more. Was this his punishment now? Hadn’t he been punished enough throughout the years? Wasn’t his birth punishment enough?
Rough-skinned digits gripped baggy fabric, the loose article of clothing raising from his knees. It was the worst kind of slide-show, where it never ceased to end and his eyes were forced to look at every scornful photograph. The fire that he had started, merely out of irritation over a girl that he had fallen in love with. How could he have been so vengeful? So hateful over what she had started to turn him into -- was he that afraid of accepting the signs of humanity that had spent years creeping up on him. Why was he so stupid, how could he have been so selfish...?
It hurt so much, the way he could so clearly see Blossom’s face -- her anguish and anger at his behavior. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than to bury her face to his chest and apologize to her ten thousand times. But, it wasn’t that simple -- what he did should not have been so easily forgivable by someone like her. That alone left him feeling hallow, that she was capable of giving him so many chances no matter how much he acted out and treated her so terribly. Butch didn’t deserve her nor was he worthy of her unconditional love.
How they had managed to end up from that horrific scenario and into one another’s arms, sprawled across her bed and forgetting their troubles shocked him. He hadn’t even asked for her forgiveness, hadn’t even earned it and yet Blossom took him to her home and cared for him. Like a snail, Butch was truly taking his time to crawl out of his shell, and Blossom was the one whom had begun to nurture his growth more so out of every person he had ever known.
It was all so happy and content, those few hours he had craved to be with her and solely her. It was no surprise that he had become so dependent on such a woman.. Yet that dependency would never be compared to that of what his ties to his brothers were. And oh how, did he know that dependency on them was the reason behind his scornful death. It wasn’t fair, that he had to not only had witnessed the death of Boomer first hand but now, he was forced to witness it all over again with photographic memories. The Goats were cruel, cruel beings.
Chemical X was splattered around the ground, a bloody mess of every creature around that was already dead not counting Boomer who was struggling on his last breath. It ached to the very core of his soul. His perfect, bubbly baby brother whom always shined the brightest. Butch should’ve died that day -- should have died first instead of forced to witness this unforgivable anguish.
With a raised hand, Butch felt a wet substance coat his cheeks. Just like then he was a sobbing mess over his beloved little brother here it happened again.
‘Ruffs don’t cry, Butch’
Those oh so gentle words were the last Boomer had stated to him just before his world went black. He felt it even now -- the shaking urgency of anger that ravaged his whole form. Of course the shattering pain of all these memories overwhelmed that unwarranted aggression like a rainstorm on a windshield.
At least now, now Butch knew he had Boomer beside him. He could keep Boomer safe this time, could protect Boomer and make sure no one ever harmed him again. The blond haired boy would never deserve pain, only happiness was befitting someone who brought such joy to Brick and Butch’s lives.
Brick though... Brick was as fickle as ever for Butch -- one minute he was safe, sane and living so pleasantly. The next they were fighting and bickering like dogs, neither of them capable of figuring out how to handle each other in this world where they could be whatever they wanted to be. The push and the pull of their personalities was a pain that he struggled to cope with since day one with his elder brother.
Yet, this struggle was never something that could stop Butch from loving Brick. No matter what he was a strong focal point for Butch, the person that he looked up to and aimed to please as without him he was nothing but a moron incapable of even speech. This need to please -- no, this ever realistic dependence on Brick to tell him what he needed to do, what he should do was what lead him to finding his elder brother that day. Boomer’s limp, cold shell of a body held in his arms as he searched and searched for Brick.
And when the memory of how he found the redhead did sink into his mind, Butch was screaming loudly in that 3rd floor apartment. Those above and below him could hear it -- could know that the crazy brothers who lived in between them were making a racket. This was no ordinary scream though -- Butch’s voice was full of horror and anguish. All there was in front of him was the decapitated head of Brick, sitting a top a surgical table with the rest of his body neatly chopped and dissected.
In that single, blood-curdling, heart-wrenching, stomach-churning moment, Butch felt one single urgent need in his life. The need to forget -- to never have these unwanted memories that were so full of pain. There was only one person he knew who could do that -- who could even offer him such a chance to live again, to breathe again. He wanted to go to this person -- to see HIM and beg on his knees to take away all of this heartache that he could not take. He would much rather go back to being a boy who listened to Satan’s requests than to have witnessed the ways of how his precious brothers had experienced death.
Ah, but those cursed goats were not done with their fun just yet. Butch was a toy, a play-thing who deserved this all after what he had done over the last few years. Yes, after being forced to re-play his whole life on Solitude from day one, he knew he was a bastard who didn’t deserve to be treated nicely -- didn’t deserve friends, or love, or even the brothers that he cared so deeply for. That must have been why they allowed the final snap in his sanity to come back to him just before his death.
So full of rage and anger, Butch had held one target in mind -- Corrin, the dragon that screamed and had torn the island in half. The dragon that crushed his baby brother with half of a mountain. Unfortunate timing for the woman he had loved to appear when he was in a state of black-out anger, saturated by nothing but his own need of bloodlust. Of course he would use her, he was not against using those to get his way. But, the way he did it was unforgivable to even himself. To steal as much power from her form to increase his own, only to snap her neck in half not a moment after. He didn’t even bother to place her somewhere... No, Butch had just dropped her body in that massive fissure and flew to the creature that inevitably defeated him.
Yes, those final few moments were so real... The happiness that devoured Butch as he could now be with his brothers -- could now be at peace despite the monster’s claws that dug in to his throat and choked him to death. Both by his own filled blood that gurgled in his esophagus and the pressure that Corrin pressed down, preventing any possible air flow to have occurred what so ever.
Yes, that was the death he -- a crazed maniacal bastard deserved. “If only that death had stayed permanent...” Words broke free from his jaw, his voice broken, weak and raspy. How words had even managed to escape him were unknown. What was known, was that Butch was flying out of his bedroom window and to the docks. The only destination he’d had in mind was to meet with HIM. He would willingly sell his soul to never experience this again -- to never have to think on it ever again.
( Word count: 625 words )
( you could tell this is not proofread, it might jump between ideas, and is kinda lazily written )
“There’s nothing more that I want.. than to make my Ma smile”
He could punch a wall continuously. That wall that would cry as it crumbles before it could ever have that knuckle bleed..
No, those fists have been blood-soaked for lagoons of time, so long that it couldn’t even been determined by a glance. No traces of visible scarlet, but to crimson orbs as his, it was deeper than the fabric colour, stronger than the emotion that was displayed within clenched teeth.
Would those pieces of white calcium grind and gnaw by the force implied on it? Even he wanted to know.
The small, hollow existence of his.. She was the one who made him so much more than he ever once was, and ever could’ve been. She who held him like a baby, cradling him with love that no other man or woman could ever love, in a world as frozen as the compassion of her hands that ceased him from shivering away, in a corner, alone and tear-staint.
This is not what he was trying to let happen. This was not right, not a bit.
The world who had cursed him and his brothers once before.. was it laughing at them? Gawking as her heart swayed to the rhythm of the man who stood on the same grounds as her, plastering a false innocence, shifting her attention towards.. definitely gloating.
Without her, he felt as though the wind can toss him into the guillotine’s blade, watching as the executor laughs, offering abusive remarks as he enthusiastically pulls the ropes. The way a slave would be neglected by a cruel master, the way a dog would be beaten by a butcher for stealing what they need, but does not belong to them..
He truly was nothing without her.
His brothers who stretched their hands to him.. no, they were the ones who he held simply because they were in the same suffering as he, hearing words from the fiery pillars of hell, receiving smirks and their hearts pulled out continuously, over and over again, showing them how fragile live truly was.
They were with him through the thick and thin. Weary, hurting, crying, and shaking. She held them one by one, taking them under her wings that were non-existent, yet the prettiest sight to the three. Her words were imbued with sentiment, truths beyond measure..
It didn’t matter how demonic, how venomous powers they had, no matter how dangerous they were, being able to pierce that beautiful woman with their hands, she accepted them without any hesitation, blessing them with love, with her arms never closing.
She was the light to the dark skies, the hope that he clung to, giving him strength to lead his brothers to a life that denied the words of His. She was the motivation, that resilience that allowed him to communicate with the world outside of them.
No one was going to take it away from him.
Not anyone. Not his father, not his brothers, no one.
Yet..
Yet.. what was this? How dare they try and take her away from him? Her beautiful soul that made him a better man that people can smile to.
No.. this was the fault of his own. It was his existence that brought harm to her.
He shook his head to the sides. No! This cannot be..
It couldn’t be.. But, they say that it’s always easy to deny facts, playing ignorant till the day the end comes. How long was he going to stay stupid and allow his mother, his solace, be harmed?
Worst of all.. what if he was being played by Him’s strings the day he was seen by the beautiful soul of his mother?
Elk looks up at the mistletoe, then to Auntie.
This is so uncomfortable, and he’s too horrible, and he shouldn’t have wandered this way, but the plant seemingly appeared of its own accord, and--
“I-I’m sorry! Wrong place at the wrong time...You don’t have to...”
Boomer seems to have gotten himself in quite the pickle! He remembers hanging up wreaths and garlands but not mistletoes in the fear of girl cooties. He looks up at the plant, right at his ma and back at the plant.
“Oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. We don’t have to kiss, right? That would be....incense right? ” At least he thinks that’s the word.
