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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

wait

(storm section inspired by @ambrosial-tea)

Prompts: Home and Memories

Word Count: 5,901 (hey i think i'm actually starting to get these back to a more reasonable number XD)

Characters: Lloyd and Garmadon

Timeline: Between episodes 13 (Day of the Great Devourer) and 18 (Child’s Play) with some flashback scenes

Trigger Warnings: Abandonment

Summary: Lloyd’s not so great at being patient. It’s not his fault though- maybe he would be better at it if waiting didn’t always end up being so disappointing- if people actually kept their promises. But this time’s going to be different, he knows it. His father will come back for him. And Lloyd’s going to wait.

As long as it takes.

Since I already got two bingos on the sparks board, I decided to switch it up and change to the warm board!

Read on FFN.net

Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

In the aftermath of the battle, Lloyd only had one thought on his mind.

Cheers and whoops from the citizens of Ninjago City- and the ninja themselves- rang through the air as the realization that the Great Devourer was dead hit them. Lloyd hardly noticed, though. Gripping the handrail at the edge of the building, he peered out over the city. He was around here somewhere. He had to be.

“We did it!” Kai cried, grabbing Lloyd’s hand and raising it high in the air. “We saved the city! The Great Devourer is dead!” We? Lloyd glared at him, although the fire ninja didn’t even seem to notice. My dad was the one who seemed to do all the saving.

“Ultra!” Cole cried as the dragon landed on the street near the foot of the building. Racing towards the fire escape, the ninja hurried down the stairs and over to the dragon. Cole threw his arms around Rocky’s snout, the others not far behind. “You’re safe, bud!”

As the ninja and Nya laughed and caressed the dragon, Lloyd hung back, feeling lost. This wasn’t right. They couldn’t go on celebrating when someone was still missing.

“Where’s my dad?” he burst out, his voice sounding a lot shakier than what he had hoped for. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

The others exchanged glances. Lloyd hated the way they looked at each other, trying to decide what to tell him, because he obviously wasn’t good enough to know what they were really thinking.

Nya walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and bending over slightly to put herself more at his level. Her eyes sparkled with regret. “Lloyd-”

“Sensei Wu?”

Jaws dropped at Cole’s exclamation, and they jerked their gazes towards where he was pointing. Sure enough, Uncle Wu was sitting in the middle of the street, in a pile of green Devourer goo, looking lost as he pushed himself to his feet. Lloyd closed his eyes, letting his breath out slowly. So at least one of his mistakes had been fixed.

“He’s alive?” Jay gaped. “He’s alive!”

Kai grabbed Lloyd by the wrist, half-dragging him over towards their sensei as the ninja tackled him into a hug. Lloyd reached out to put a hand on his uncle’s back, but paused. He had no place here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the ninja, but… I was never supposed to be part of this. I’m only here because my uncle is their sensei, because I’m their beloved green ninja.

Wu pulled back from his students, grinning- only for his smile to falter as his dark eyes met Lloyd’s red ones. He tilted his head in that odd, knowing way of his. Lloyd wanted to break the contact, but couldn’t.

“Your father is gone, isn’t he.” Not a question, but a statement.

Lloyd let his gaze drop to the ground, remaining silent. His uncle reached a hand out for his shoulder but stopped short when Lloyd flinched away.

“Yeah, and with him, our golden weapons,” Kai growled. Nya elbowed him, hard, and he yelped, rubbing his side and scowling at her.

“Weapons or not, we will see him again,” Wu told him, “of that I am certain.”

“Yeah, only because your dumb prophecy says so.”

Wu flinched. “Lloyd-”

“Do I really have to fight my father someday, Uncle Wu?”

He sighed. “One day, nephew, that time will come. But I can hope that it is not for many, many years to come, when you are much older and stronger and wiser. Until then, we must not linger on the future. You ninja have done well today. You should be proud of yourselves, celebrate your victory for a little while.”

“Don’t worry, bigshot.” Kai ruffled his hair. “You’re the chosen one. And we’re the best teachers there are! You’ll be more than ready by the time the final battle rolls around.”

Lloyd clenched his teeth. Why couldn’t any of them see? He didn’t want to fight his father. He couldn’t. His father had come back for him when the Serpentine had trapped him, even when everyone else had lost hope. His father had been the one to comfort him about their futures, the one to protect him, the one to fix his mistakes with the Serpentine. So what if he had taken the golden weapons? If it weren’t for him, they’d all be inside the stomach of a giant snake right now. Were the ninja really so quick to forget that?

They didn’t know him like Lloyd did. Even his uncle had never seen the side of him Lloyd had seen. His father was a good man who had made bad choices. Couldn’t the same be said for Lloyd? If he had changed, why couldn’t his father?

Don’t worry, dad, he vowed silently. I won’t fight you. I’ll find a way to fix this. To make this right.

You see if I don’t.

---

Lightning illuminated the small room, dazzling Garmadon’s tired face as he carried the blanket over to the couch. Sitting down, he gazed out the window, the pattering sound of rain against the glass both comforting and incredibly lonely at the same time.

He sighed, turning towards the hallway. “I know you’re there, Lloyd.”

A small boy slipped into view, a stuffed dragon hugged tightly against his chest and his wispy, whitish-blond hair a mess as he blinked shyly up at him. “I’m scared of the storm, Daddy.”

Garmadon shook his head, scooting over on the couch and patting the space beside him. Lloyd needed no further encouragement, running up to him and hauling himself up to sit beside him. Lloyd burrowed himself against Garmadon’s side, and he made sure to pull the edge of his blanket a little tighter around his son.

Thunder rumbled loudly, and Lloyd whimpered, gripping tighter onto Garmadon. He waited a moment for the boy to relax before speaking.

“So. Mind telling me what it is you find so scary about storms?” Lloyd fidgeted. “They’re so loud! And the lightning- I don’t want it to get me, Daddy.”

Garmadon chuckled. “So you’re scared of a little noise and lights, eh? Somehow, I didn’t quite expect that from you.”

Lloyd yelped as another rumble echoed through the air, this one seeming to shake the house with its ferocity. Lloyd’s dragon slipped out of his grip and he quickly snatched it back up.

“It’s just a process of nature, son. There’s no need to fear it. We are safe here.”

Lloyd glanced up at him with wide eyes, and Garmadon sighed.

“It’s like a dragon, Lloyd. The storm is a big, restless dragon who’s bored and wants to play. The thunder is his roar, and the lightning is his fire breath.”

Lloyd’s eyes glowed, and he shuffled anxiously against Garmadon’s side. “Well, maybe it’s not that scary anymore…”

Garmadon huffed a laugh. “Dragons. That’s all it ever takes with you, isn’t it?”

Lloyd murmured something inaudible, nestling his head in Garmadon’s lap. They sat there together in the silence of the room, and long after Garmadon had thought his son had fallen asleep, he suddenly spoke.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you and Mommy fight?”

Garmadon breathed out slowly. “Lloyd, you know it’s not nice to listen to people when they don’t know you’re there.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, son. There are some things in this world that are more complicated than you will ever know.” Seeing the confused look on the boy’s face, he elaborated. “Sometimes, people say things they don’t mean. Sometimes, mommies and daddies need to take a little break from each other.”

“Is that why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“I suppose so. But it’s only for one night, Lloyd. We’ll sort things out tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Garmadon gazed out the window again, running a hand through his thick hair. He tried not to think about the dark roots he had spotted there earlier, staining his deep chestnut hair the color of darkest night.

That was something no one needed to know about yet. The red eyes had already been hard enough on Misako, especially when their son had inherited them. He tried not to think about what that meant, either. The venom wasn��t hereditary, was it? Lloyd showed no signs of the snappishness he had felt as a youth. On the contrary, the child was pure of heart and bright of soul, one of the sweetest people he had ever met. Garmadon couldn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky.

“Did I do something to make you and Mommy fight?”

“What?” Garmadon started suddenly. “Heavens, child, no.” Taking Lloyd’s chin in his hand, he titled it towards him so that they were looking each other in the eye. “Honey, none of this is your fault. This is Daddy’s mistake, not yours. We both love you very much, you know that, right?”

Lloyd nodded, sniffling as he wrapped his arms tighter around him. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Garmadon rested a hand on his head. “Whatever you need, my son. I will always be here for you.”

---

“Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, what were you thinking?” Kai ripped the sword off of his back, sending it to the ground with a clatter. “We told you to stay on the bus, and what did you do? Go after a bunch of pirates?”

“Yeah, kid.” Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

Lloyd glared at them. “I was only trying to help! You never let me do anything!” “Because you’re not ready!” Kai put his hands in his hair, yanking on it in frustration. “Augh, can’t you see? We’re only trying to protect you! What good is all this training if you don’t even make it to the final battle?”

“Lloyd,” Zane said more gently. “You need to take things one step at a time. One day, you will be ready to fight beside us. One day, but not today.”

Lloyd looked away, pushing down the bubbling anger inside of him. This didn’t matter. None of this mattered. If the ninja wanted to treat him like a baby, fine. It didn’t matter what they thought.

All he cared about was his father. He needed to impress him. Make him proud.

“Lloyd? Do you understand?”

“Yes, Zane,” he muttered, avoiding the nindroid’s gaze and instead choosing to kick at a rock. The ninja exchanged hesitant glances, but they didn’t press him further.

Nya sighed. “It’s been a long day. What do you say we get back to the Bounty, and-”

“Sorry! You snooze, you lose!”

The group whipped around towards the Bounty, where the thrusters were powering up as several Serpentine peered at them over the guardrails- as well as a familiar dark figure.

“Dad,” Lloyd breathed, lunging forward- only to be stopped by Nya’s strong arms. He squirmed against her, but she wouldn’t relent.

“Lord Garmadon!” Kai cried. “He stole our ship! I can’t believe he stole our ship!”

“Come on,” Jay groaned. “We just got it back! Can’t it go five minutes without being taken?”

“The Bounty belongs to us,” Cole warned. “We fought for it, fair and square. Give it back, Garmadon.”

The Dark Lord gave a dry laugh. “Like I’d give anything to you.”

Lord Garmadon’s head turned- freezing as he made eye contact with Lloyd. The same eerie red of his own eyes reflected back at him. He longed to say something, anything- but his mouth was dry and words refused to come. He hoped his father could tell what he was thinking, anyway.

Please don’t leave. Stay here. We can work something out. We’ll fix everything between us.

Please don’t leave me again.

For a moment, something that looked like doubt flashed in his father’s eyes, and Lloyd felt hope soar in his chest. My dad might actually- he could-

“You’re getting stronger, son,” Garmadon said, “but never strong enough to defeat me. Give up and turn back now, before it is too late.”

No. Lloyd felt himself fumble as the Bounty rose into the air and flew away, taking his father further and further from him. No, he couldn’t be leaving him again, this had been his one chance to get his father back, to earn his love, but Lloyd had blown it.

I’m sorry, dad. I wasn’t good enough. I let you down.

It won’t happen again. Next time, I’ll try harder.

Next time, I’ll make you proud.

---

Their apartment was quiet that night. As Kai and Nya washed dishes in the kitchen- it was their night for clean-up duty- the others crowded around the TV in their tiny living room, playing video games with the volume low. Their usual yelling was diminished to nothing more than hushed whispers.

Behind them, Lloyd was curled up on the couch, already out like a light even though it was only seven pm. The boy was undoubtedly exhausted from the fight with the pirates earlier in the day, Kai thought crossly.

It took him a moment to realize Nya was staring at Lloyd, too. “Kai,” she asked slowly, working her jaw. “Is Lloyd okay?”

“Why,” he asked quickly. “Is he hurt? Did something happen? Man, I told him not to-”

“No. I mean… do you think he’s been acting a little… odd, lately?”

Kai frowned, turning to look at the boy. His brow furrowed as he slept, the corners of his mouth twitching downward slightly. “I guess. He’s probably just tired from all the training. We’ve been working him pretty hard, as of late.”

“Yeah,” Nya nodded, although she didn’t look like the answer truly satisfied her.

If Kai was being honest, it didn’t feel right to him, either.

---

Misako stormed into the room, dropping Lloyd into his lap with a huff. “That’s it, he’s your problem now.”

Garmadon looked up at her questioningly. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? He bit me again! So, get him to stop.”

“What makes you think I would be able to make him stop?”

“I don’t know, but the fangs come from your side of the family, so it’s your responsibility now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, you’re a smart man, you’ll figure it out! I’m going to go make some tea. Good luck.”

Garmadon stared after her but was pulled out of his thoughts as something sharp chomped down on his hand. He glanced down at Lloyd. “Oh, mister. What are we going to do with you?”

---

When Garmadon returned home the next day, there was a plump green dragon plush stuffed beneath his arm. He handed it to Lloyd, who was sitting on the floor, playing with his wooden blocks as he sucked on his pacifier. “Here. Next time you feel the impulse to bite someone, bite this instead.”

Lloyd eyed the plush with interest, reaching out for it with grabby hands and clutching it around its middle, pulling it close. Spitting out his pacifier, he began to babble to the dragon, blocks forgotten. Garmadon picked up the pacifier, eyeing it closely and sighing as he caught sight of the puncture holes.

When he glanced at Lloyd, the boy was chomping down on the wing of the dragon. Garmadon rolled his eyes, crouching down next to him. “Hey, what is it with you and biting things you like? C’mon, bud.” He gently pried the wing out of his mouth. “You’re going to hurt him- uh, it- hey, don’t you think your little dragon friend needs a name?”

Lloyd stared thoughtfully at the stuffed animal. “Buhbuh.”

“No, no, no, he needs a noble, dragon-ly name! Like Blaze, or Windracer, or-”

“Buhbuh,” Lloyd said firmly.

“..Buffy?”

“Buhbuh.”

Garmadon sighed. “The fierce and mighty Buhbuh? That’s what you want?”

Lloyd cheered, hugging the plush tight. “Buhbuh!”

The name wasn’t the only thing that stuck. Over the following weeks, Lloyd fell in love with that dragon. Everywhere the toddler went, Buhbuh wasn’t far behind. In his playroom, in the crib, in the car, at meals, even in the bathroom. Misako had spent twenty minutes one night trying to wrestle the toy away from him before he took his bath.

It had solved the biting issue, at least, although Misako often muttered that he had just traded one problem out for another. He dismissed her worries, telling her that Lloyd would grow out of his dragon phase eventually.

Although, that certainly wasn’t happening anytime soon. As Lloyd got older, he only got more and more intrigued by the creatures. Suddenly, everything had to have dragons- his pajamas, the shows on TV, his pull-ups, and his many, many toys. While his biting habits faded, as soon as he learned to walk, he was tottering around the house, roaring and flapping his arms like wings. Even as his collection of dragon toys and figurines grew, however, Buhbuh was always his favorite.

Garmadon should’ve known better than to think the carefree times would last forever, though. Ever since Lloyd had been born, he had been so much happier- and he was certain that the presence of his son was slowing the spread of the venom. But it wasn’t gone. It was a curse that the damned snake had forced him to bear forever.

He wanted to put it off as long as possible, though. He was happier here than he had ever been in his life, and he didn’t want to lose all this.

He knew if anyone could help him, it was his brother. Wu understood how much he loved his wife and child. He knew how badly he wanted this. He would do whatever he could to help. His teas and meditations had always been helpful in the past, and he hoped this time wouldn’t be any different.

“Do you have everything, dear?” Misako asked, helping him slip on his coat.

He lifted the duffel bag in his hand. “All in here. I’m ready.”

A sharp tug on his pant leg distracted him. He glanced down to see Lloyd, sniffing miserably. “Daddy, why do you have to go?”

Garmadon crouched down next to him. “It’s only for a few days, pumpkin. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Why?”

Garmadon sighed. “Daddy’s been feeling…” he glanced at Misako, at a loss, but she only shrugged. “… A bit under the weather lately. I’m going to pay a visit to your Uncle Wu so he can help me with my… impulse control.”

Lloyd blinked at him, and Garmadon smirked, realizing that every word he had just said had gone straight over his son’s head. He ruffled his hair, standing again. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll be fine. Your mother will take good care of you.”

As he turned towards the door, he stopped at the sound of sniffling. Turning back to Lloyd, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “Hey. It’ll be alright, okay? Daddy will be back soon. You can even call me tonight.” Glancing around, he spotted Buhbuh sitting on the end table and grabbed him, pressing him into Lloyd’s arms. “Buhbuh will take care of you when I’m gone, okay?”

Lloyd hugged Buhbuh tighter. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Lloyd. Buhbuh is the best protector there is. And remember, I’m the one who bought him for you. Whenever you see him, you’ll know that I’ll always come back.”

---

“Lloyd, steady!” Jay cried. “We’re wobbling too much!”

Kai yelped, gripping onto Cole’s leg, where he was struggling to balance on Zane’s shoulder. On the nindriod’s other side was Jay, and on top of Cole, Sensei Wu balanced, unfazed. Below them all, Lloyd stood, trembling under all their weight.

“Uh, guys, are you sure this is a good idea-”

“Ahhh! Watch out, we’re going to fall!”

The ninja screamed as they fell to the ground, landing in a tangled pile of limbs. Lloyd quickly wriggled his way out from underneath them, and the others extracted themselves more slowly, groaning.

“You gotta find your balance, Lloyd,” Cole said, rubbing his shoulder where Kai had landed on it. “You have the strength to lift us, but you’re not focusing enough.”

“Well, maybe I’m trying!” Lloyd snapped. “I don’t see you down here lifting all that weight!”

Kai frowned. “Lloyd, Cole is only trying to help.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need help. You’re putting too much pressure on me! I could do way better on my own!”

Sensei Wu put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time for a break. Let’s get you a drink of water and rest for a bit, then we can try again.”

Lloyd begrudgingly shuffled after his uncle, grumbling under his breath. Kai watched him go with a furrowed brow.

“What’s got the kid acting so irritable lately?”

Jay shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s starting to get on my nerves. It feels like he’s just being stubborn for the sake of it.”

Zane frowned. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe we are putting too much pressure on him. Supporting the weight of all of us is probably asking too much for a nine-year-old boy, green ninja or not.”

Cole shook his head. “This is the same kid who put a crack through Dareth’s floor. If he can do that, he can lift us. I know he can do it. But he just seems… distant.”

“We’ll keep an eye on it.” Kai waved his hand, turning back towards the training space. “But we don’t have time for his moodiness now. Lord Garmadon is out there somewhere, and he’s not going to wait around for us to sort out our issues.”

---

“Uh, come on boy, we gotta catch up with the ninja, I’m not gonna fall behind again- woah!”

Ultra let out a mighty roar, careening forward with a mighty flap of his wings and sending the reins shooting out of Lloyd’s hands. He only just managed to snag them before they hurtled over Ultra’s heads.

“Easy boy, easy! Look,” he sighed, letting a hand rest gently on the dragon’s off-white scales. “We’re never gonna win this race and save the dojo if you and me don’t learn to work together. Besides, I’m the green ninja. I’m meant to ride you, anyway. Imagine how impressed the others will be if we come back and I’m riding you like a pro! We can rub it in their faces what a natural I am with dragons, heh. What do you say?”

Flame’s head snorted, letting out a puff of smoke, which wasn’t the most reassuring answer.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Lloyd squinted, staring at the vehicles racing through the canyon below them. There was the familiar shape of the Ultra Sonic Raider, but above it-

The ship appeared to have undergone some design changes, but there was still no mistaking the vast, furling sails or the dragon figurehead. The Bounty was in the race.

His father was here.

Lloyd’s heart skipped a beat. His father was here- he could see the black figure now, helping some of the Serpentine to point a cannon at the Ultra Sonic Raider.

Ultra tensed beneath him, but Lloyd hesitated, holding the mighty dragon back.

His dad was trying to hurt his friends. Lloyd didn’t want to get in his father’s way, but…

He couldn’t let him do this.

Lloyd gritted his teeth, digging his hands into the reins. “Okay, Ultra. Let’s put a stop to this.”

Ultra roared, diving towards the Bounty so sharply that Lloyd had to grip onto the saddle for dear life to keep himself from flying off. “Get out of the way!” he yelled at his father. Garmadon lurched back from the cannon, eyes widening, but it was too late. Ultra was already slamming into the ship, sending both himself and the Bounty spiraling.

Snapping up the reins, Lloyd pulled back, steering Ultra up, narrowly avoiding crashing into the ground.

“Woooo! Nice going, Lloyd!”

Kai’s cry sent a flare of warmth through his chest, but it quickly dissipated as his gaze fell on his father, who was barking at the Serpentine as they hurried to get the ship going straight again. He had made the right choice- the only choice- but at his father’s expense.

A wave of panic suddenly hit him. He couldn’t mess this up. He had been given another chance to make his father proud of him, and he couldn’t let this one slip between his fingers.

“C’mon, Ultra, let’s show ‘em what we got!” With a jerk of the reins, the dragon was shooting through the air like a bullet. Lloyd steered him up, and Ultra did a graceful loop through the air, followed by a swift corkscrew.

Lloyd blinked, surprised at how easily his dragon was listening to him. Usually, Ultra was as stubborn as possible, but apparently he enjoyed putting on a show as much as Lloyd did.

“Quit fooling around, Lloyd!” Cole cried from the Raider. “We gotta win this race, and we need your help!”

Lloyd glanced back at the Bounty, but his father wasn’t even looking at him, just waving the Mega Weapon around as he yelled at the Serpentine. Lloyd sighed, guiding Ultra towards the guys. This obviously wasn’t working.

As the Raider sped over the rocky ground below them, it slowly shifted into a softer, lusher landscape- and then came the snow. Lloyd stuck his tongue out, letting a flake land on his tongue.

“Birchwood Forest!” Kai cried. “Oh, we’ll never get through all these trees to catch up!”

There was a roaring of an engine behind him, and Lloyd glanced back to see his father coming in the Bounty, not too far off. I still have a chance! I can still impress him!

“Let me find a shortcut,” he called to the ninja. “Ultra! Up, boy!”

Scanning the woods below, he quickly eyed out a path, then swooped down with Ultra, racing through the trees. “Follow me!”

The turns were sharp, and Lloyd barely avoided crashing into the trees on more than a couple of occasions. But he didn’t, Ultra’s movements swift and precise below him. Lloyd let out a whoop of exhilaration. He was finally getting the hang of this! Ultra was listening to him! Taming a dragon was no easy feat, his father would have to be proud of him now-

Suddenly, Ultra let out a pained cry, and before Lloyd could process anything, the dragon was being yanked backward and plummeting towards the ground. Lloyd screamed, clutching onto the saddle, and Ultra threw his wings around him, sheltering him as they hit the ground with an almighty crash.

---

Lloyd groaned, blinking stars from his eyes as something bumped against his cheek. When it finally came into focus, he saw Wisp’s head staring at him, grunting in concern.

“I- I’m fine, boy,” Lloyd huffed, grabbing at the dragon’s muzzle for support as he pushed himself to his feet. “What in Ninjago just happened? We were doing so well, now we’re going to lose the race!”

Ultra groaned, raising his left foot and shaking it, where chains clanked loudly.

“No, no, no-” Lloyd raced over, examining the cuff and finding long, curved bones secured tightly around Ultra’s ankle. “The Skulkin! They sabotaged us! Those scheming, no good boneheads!” Lloyd yanked desperately at the chains, trying to get them to budge. “Augh, now we’re never going to win the race, and my father will never-” Lloyd cried out as his hand scraped against the sharp edge of the bone. Immediately, Flame’s head was at his side, nosing him away from the cuff and whining softly as he gently licked Lloyd’s scratched hand.

“I… I just wanted to make him proud,” Lloyd sniffed, burying his face against Flame’s scales. The fire dragon felt comfortingly warm in the cold of the snowdrift.

Rocky’s head butted him softly, before carefully taking the edge of the cuff between his teeth and crunching down on it, shattering it into a dozen pieces. Lloyd sucked in his breath, giving Rocky’s muzzle a quick hug before clambering back onto Ultra’s back.

“If we hurry, we can still catch them now! C’mon, boy, we have a lot of ground to make up for!”

---

Lloyd didn’t win the race, but by the time the finish line came into view, he could see the ninja crowding around the golden winner’s cup, cheering. In front of them, Garmadon was yelling at the referee, insisting that he had won and that the ref had made a faulty call.

Lloyd’s breath caught in his throat. His father was right here. Closer than he had been since the defeat of the Great Devourer. Part of Lloyd wanted to run up and hug him, but he knew he couldn’t. That wouldn’t last. He needed something more permanent.

His eyes strayed to the Bounty, resting a little way behind the Dark Lord. With his father out yelling at the ninja and the race staff and all the Serpentine left behind in the Glacier Barrens, the ship was empty.

If Lloyd took it back- his father wouldn’t be able to fly away again. He’d have to stay. They could talk, work things out. As soon as he could get his father to stop running and just listen, he knew he could get through to him.

Lloyd eyed his father warily, but Garmadon was too distracted to notice the giant dragon behind him, as were the ninja. Quietly, Lloyd instructed Ultra forward, and the dragon padded across the ground, climbing up onto the deck of the Bounty.

“That’s not even street legal!” Garmadon was yelling. “My ship was clearly-”

“Your ship?”

His father whipped around, and Lloyd froze as they stared at each other for a long moment.

Please. Please, please, please. Lloyd reached a hand out. “Dad-”

Police sirens sounded behind them, and suddenly two officers hopped out of the car. “Alright, Garmadon, you’re coming with us.”

“Wait!” Lloyd cried, slipping off of Ultra and landing on the ground mere feet from his father. “Dad, it doesn’t have to be like this. You can-”

A screeching of tires, and suddenly Skales was pulling up in his bus. “Look who needs who now!”

Garmadon scowled, turning to go. Lloyd’s brain screamed at him. This was his one chance to stop him. If he did nothing, who knew how long it would be until he got to see him again?

Lloyd lunged forward, grabbing Garmadon’s wrist. The man looked back in surprise. “What are you-”

“Dad. Please. Don’t go.”

Garmadon fell silent, staring at him for a moment. Time seemed to stand still.

Then Garmadon was yanking away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, son. We both know I can’t do that.” In two steps, he was aboard the Serpentine bus and speeding away.

No. Lloyd felt tears well in his eyes. There were others here, and Lloyd hadn’t cried in front of anyone in a long time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His father had been right here. He had touched him.

“Way to go, bud!” Kai whooped, running over to him, the other ninja close behind. “You got the Bounty back- hey, woah, what’s wrong?”

Lloyd quickly tried to cover his eyes, but Kai was already crouched down next to him, pulling his arms away and gently wiping at his tears with the sleeve of his gi.

Jay put a hand on his back. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Lloyd shook his head, sniffling. “I just… I thought… my father, I thought he would… I thought if I could make him proud, he would stop leaving…” Lloyd choked on a sob, burying his face in Kai’s gi. “Why does he keep leaving? Why does everyone leave? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, bud,” Kai whispered, running hands through Lloyd’s hair gently. “This is what’s been upsetting you, hasn’t it?”

Lloyd whimpered miserably, and Kai hugged him tighter- his grip so firm, so protective, that it made Lloyd think maybe everything could be okay again, eventually.

“You look at me,” Kai demanded, tilting his chin up. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. All the people that left you were jerks who didn’t appreciate how amazing you were. They don’t deserve you. We don’t deserve you. But you’re our true family, Lloyd. We will never, ever do what they did.”

“You hear that?” Cole punched him lightly in the chest, his voice sounding suspiciously choked up. “You’re one of us, now, green bean. You can’t escape us, whether you like it or not.”

“Your father will never understand this, Lloyd.” Jay gestured at the group with his hands. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. You deserve a father who will be there for you, one whose love is not clouded by dreams of vengeance. But that’s how things are. So you’re stuck with us, instead.”

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here, Lloyd,” Zane murmured. “But we are. And we love you. So if there’s ever something bothering you, talk to us about it. We want to do everything we can to make you feel wanted.”

Nya crouched down next to Kai. “You and me against the world, bud. Remember that? We’re not giving up on you. Ever. So your father can stuff it-”

Zane elbowed her, and she grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Now’s not the best time for that. But you get my point. I’ll fight stupid destiny for you, Lloyd Garmadon. We all will.”

Lloyd’s eyes welled up again, but this time the tears were happy as he collapsed against them. Five pairs of arms hugged him back, warm and strong and safe.

His father had left again. But that wasn’t what was important right now. His true home was here, with the ninja.

And he had hope it always would be.

---

Garmadon gazed down at the bundle in his arms. His posture was stiff and unnatural, his rough hands as gentle as possible as they supported the weight.

This was easily the most precious thing he had ever carried.

Lloyd stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. Every curve and inch of him was perfect- and he was his. Garmadon could see himself in the curve of his son’s nose or the outline of his jaw, Misako in the shape of his eyes or the hue of his skin.

He still couldn’t believe it.

It had taken Misako hours to convince him he wasn’t going to hurt Lloyd, and now, here he was, carrying his son for the first time.

His son. He loved the way that sounded.

Garmadon shifted his grip slightly, and suddenly Lloyd began to fuss. Garmadon glanced to Misako for help, but she simply shook her head, smiling.

At a loss, Garmadon cradled Lloyd closer to his chest. “Shh, shh, Lloyd, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

Lloyd stopped almost immediately at the sound of his voice, cooing in wonder as he reached a chubby little hand out. Garmadon bowed his head, closing his eyes and letting Lloyd trace his fingers gently across his face.

Garmadon felt the tension ease from his shoulders. This was a person. A living, breathing being, and he and Misako had created him.

Nothing in the world could’ve ever prepared him for the wonderful gift of fatherhood. This was one thing in his life he vowed not to mess up.

“You’re safe, little one,” he murmured. “I will always be here for you.”

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago lloyd #ninjago garmadon #and... there goes my fluff streak #XD #im sorry for those of you who like garmadad because i keep running him into the ground don't i #i do like him i swear #it's just... the angst is too tempting #maybe i'll write something fluffy for him one day #i actually cried writing this one oops #thanks for reading!#reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

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qlala · 3 years

Note

Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s.

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event.

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets.

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd.

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth.

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day.

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat.

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk.

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin.

“Snart!”

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand.

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives.

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down.

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes. “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.”

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile. “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.”

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up.

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?”

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!”

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt.

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…”

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.”

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look.

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.”

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.”

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t.

“You had a point, Barry.”

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?”

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him.

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist.

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.”

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.”

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people”

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.”

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.”

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone.

“You can barely stand.”

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake.

“Barry—”

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop.

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer.

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again.

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.”

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard.

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions.

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address.

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion.

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement.

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.”

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen.

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch.

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again.

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.”

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick.

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass.

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again.

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.”

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him.

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile.

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.”

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them.

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment.

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway.

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #the flash #my fics #is 10 pm on a tuesday peak posting time? no! is it when i finished this? yes!#also this is blatantly nyc pride sorry #write what you know etc

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bifacialler · 4 years

Note

This is maybe weird question, but. I'm strugling with drawing faces. My problem is, that any method of admeasuring face can't help me .Is there anything you can recommend me to do it better?

…this is a first art ask I ever got, this is exciting! =))

You wanted an essay. Here is an essay.

Let me start with a preface:

Faces are complicated. They are formed not only by bone and muscle, aka the ANATOMICAL STRUCTURE, but the also exist as parts of HEADS, that are parts of BODIES, and out bodies are basically objects like any other that exist within the multi-dimentional space of perceived reality, aka SPACIAL POSITIONING.

Sounds terrifying, I know.

Good thing about it is - we all are unique, therefore all faces are unique! Before starting with anatomy and such, I think it is important to welcome this idea that this Uniqueness IS Beauty. Therefore every face, no matter the proportion, racial features, anything else, is BY DEFAULT beautiful.

Basically, when drawing a face, the artist’s job (especially if this artist is of academic school, or focused on realism) is to detach from personal perception of aesthetical, and focus on studying the beauty of nature’s design. There will be time for personal taste and creative decisions.

To break the rules you need to know what rules there are.

How to Draw a HEAD

(Mostly because you can draw a disambullated head with some of that shoulder action and get away with it. When you draw just a face - it’s… well it can serve a purpose, but there will be questions. It’s generally better to think of a face as part of a head, it makes life a lot easier.)

As it is customary, the process of drawing an object starts with understanding two basic concepts:

The base shape: if you simplify the object to it’s most basic 3-dimentional shape, what shape would it be (a box, and elongated box, a sphere, a pyramid and so on.) Out of which comes the next one-

Where that object exists in relation to you, aka the Artist, since you are the one who will be drawing it. You have the power. The Power of Perspective.

A head is an object like any other. And a head, as an object, is A BOX.

The basic proportions of the box - and I’m talking the commonly art teacher accepted medium - are:

4 units tall : 2 units wide : 3 units deep

What is a unit, you ask? Will come to that, when talking about points and proportions.

So we have a box, and it’s something like this.

(Picture belongs to Stan Prokopenko, who is a remarkable artist of anatomical drawing, and generally a professional art teacher. I suggest watch everything he ever made, he has ton of stuff on anatomy. http://www.stanprokopenko.com/)

The grey line in the middle signifies the line of symmetry of the face. It’s on the front plane of box, in the middle. The box is much easier understand that a head with a face.

What we do with the box? We rotate it in any possible we can come up with, while keeping in mind the proportions. It’s important to always keep those proportions in the back of your mind.

Why we do this? Because this box will tell us about about the lines of perspective that will interact with our portrait’s features. As you can see on Stan’s picture, the yellow lines indicate which way perspective goes.

(Perspective is a whole another topic altogether that would require a separate tl;dr post, so I’m going to step over it in this essay.)

I took the liberty to use one of your pictures to illustrate, especially since you asked for some feedback.

Overall this is a good drawing, but see how the orange lines start to stray away from the perspective the box exists in? By sticking to the directions the box helps us with, we can get rid of that feeling of something being crooked - becasue all the facial features will exist in the same architecture as the rest of the head.

Second reason why the box is our friend is becasue on the box we can clearly understand: okay, this side is facing the light, and this is the side is in the shadow. This is the break line between the planes of the object.

But Ler, you may say, the face is curvier than a box.

Yes, young padavan. Here is a trade secret: first we tackle the overall, and then we go into details. (then we come back to overall, then back to details, and so on, until you can’t find anything sticking out of the unity of the piece, and you can decide that your job here is done. [it is never done, but perfect is an enemy of good, and sometimes good is “good enough” and “as good as I can do at the moment which is still good”)

This may sound familiar, because it is - it’s a lot like the Loomis method, which is, in it’s essence, your good old illustrative version of academic portrait, but without the hassle of learning all skull bones and facial muscles and crying yourself to sleep.

See how he clearly identifies here the border between the frontal planes of the faces and the side ones? Look how is is not afraid of laying that tone on the sides? This is what I’m talking about. He got it from The Box.

(I would suggest reading Loomis’s books in general, and especially “Drawing the Head and Hands”, where the illustration above is from. His method of drawing heads is quite good, and he explains it in a very approachable way.)

Now that we sorta figured out the head in space, and the box the head truly is, lets figure out

Where Do We Put The FACIAL FEATURES

There are a few different school of thought on “where the features are” and “what are the proportions”, so I’m going to share with you how I work around them.

My personal approach is a mix of different methods, and years of life studies - as I explained in the beginning every face is unique and has different proportions, and the more “cartoony” and “caricaturistic” (is this a word?) the style is, the more those proportions are exaggerated.

My approach to placement of features goes like this [unless I got a life model before me, then I measure with my pencil, old school style.] It’s pretty math intense, so buckle up.

1) [Purple] Cranium is a SPHERE. The axis of the sphere is your friend. Cut it in 3 equal parts. Add one part down - hey presto, this is the height of your head. [Remember the thing about the proportions of the box? These are the units I was talking about. It’s all coming together now.]

2) [Purple] Eyes exist in the middle of the axis.

3) [Orange] The protrusion of the face is *design* and may vary. Rule of the thumb: make it an arc, similar to what I did. The lower jaw corner falls into the same cathegory, but I prefer it to be on the same level as the corners of the mouth.

4) [Magenta] Mark 1/7th of the height from the top - that’s your hairline.

5) [Red] After you mark the hairline, divide the remaining part of the height in 3 equal parts. Lower part is chin to root of the nose, the middle one is root of the nose to eyebrows (actually to the glabella, but let’s call it eyebrows), the upper - from eyebrow to hairline. this is the Rule of Thirds. In reality nothing is perfect.

6) [Yellow] This is the tricky part. This is where I personally mark the border between the frontal facial planes and the side ones. There is a general guideline on how it’s done, but it does require understanding the skull and the subplanes of the frontal plane of the face. In layman’s terms, go from the hills of the forehead down to the middle of the brow, around the eye socket, over the cheek bone, through the middle of the cheek (preferably on an arc) to the chin bone, not foregetting the chind also has upper plane and lower plain and yes, there is a break between them, rounded as it is.

7) [Dark green] Back to eyes. They are also spheres. In the drawing above I marked them as “width of 1 eye = 1/5th of the face’s width”. This is my design (and also the “fashion portrait design”, but don’t get me started) . What is not my design is that the distance between eyes is about the width of one eye, very convenient. The distance between the ear and the outer corner of the eye is 1 third of the rule of thirds. (see point 5) Don’t forget: eyelids cover the eyeball like peel covers the orange. It has thickness.

8) [bright blue] EAR! Love ears. Their traditional space is snuggly in the middle third. Also their angle usually follows the angle of the nose.

9) [light green] Nose and Mouth.

Nose.Take your middle third. Divide it by three (approximately). The top part is where the dip of the nose is. For reference is about the same level as the eyes, maybe a bit higher. The nose itself is a trapezoid. The general width of it - the space between the eyes. There is a shadow under it, in most cases. When drawing from reference, pay attention is the root of the nose goes lower than the edges of the nostrils. It’s important. That’s where character hides.

Mouth. Take your lower third. Divide it by two. That’s - no, it’s not the slit of the mouth. That’s the dip under the lower lip. Take the distance between the eyebrows and the eyes, measure it, and apply from the root of the nose down. That’s where the upper edge of the upper lip is. The width of the mouth is very different, but I prefer somewhere between the irises.

Oof, that’s about it.

If you are looking into indepth anatomy, I’m going to recommend the bible of all anatomy artists, Mr Gottfried Bammes, and “The Complete guide to human anatomy for artists and illustrators”. No better book was ever assembled. I wouldn’t suggest “reading” it, it’s dry as stale bread, but it has hundreds of illustrations that are pretty self-explanatory.

How to combine this whole knowledge together?

By drawing. Honestly, the rest comes with practice. Lots and lot’s of it.

I would personally suggest downloading a million photos of faces, plugging them into photoshop and studying then step by step as per process above.

Second, I would suggest making studies of separate parts of the face: mouth, ear, eye and nose. Break them down into basic shapes. Look at what covers what. There things do in, where they come out.

Third. After you do your studies on photos, draw the faces you studied. But don’t draw them to minute details. Be as constructive as possible. Basic shape - ok. Hairline - ok. Thirds in proper perspective! - ok. Border of light and dark sides - ok. And so on.

First hundred many look like crap. It’s okay. You are learning. Then things will get better. The more you draw - the better it goes. The more your drawing chakras open.

I hope this was helpful. Have fun. Do art. Post art.

#Ler loves asks #oh this is long #but honestly there are whole books on how to draws heads #and this is extremely fast way to explain basic principles #mirrinka

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thatsweetsexypsychotroyotto · 5 years

Text

I'm Not a Bad Person- Chapter 7

SUMMARY: Troy Otto does have feelings you know. Especially when it comes to his childhood friend, Jaymie. Whatever they are, they're rooted deep, and growing.

PAIRING: Troy Otto x OFC

TRIGGERS/ WARNINGS: Language and the typical FTWD stuff

WORD COUNT: Fuck if I know

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I took so long getting this chapter together. I changed my mind on how I wanted to present an upcoming thing. On to the usual note: my plan is to follow along with season 3, but with Jaymie involved. I'll veer off and switch shit up a lot. It'll be in different characters' perspectives throughout the series. I'm not great at writing but I try my best. Hope you like it enough. All characters except OFC don't belong to me.

*******

Chapter 7

(Alicia's POV)

A moment ago I was dreading the thought of attending Gretchen's Bible study. However, as a freshly packed bong is passed my way, I am pleasantly surprised to find that my expectations were shattered. I asked about Geoff, whom Gretchen had mentioned at lunch. She exchanged guarded looks with the two boys and Jaymie, then got up and headed towards a barrel, in which she pulled out a smaller sized cage. In it was a living, decapitated head. She placed it on the table in front of me. Seeing the biggest threat to the human race vulnerable and behind thin bars had me feeling sovereign. The THC shrouded my mind and I laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.

"Geoff wants to know what it's like out there," Gretchen states on behalf of the snarling head, referring to life outside of the ranch; where the dead have taken over.

"Chaos, ruin, and it changes you; not like Geoff- something worse... Can I ask Geoff something?" Gretchen nods. "Who are the Ottos?"

Gretchen and the boys tell me all about the founding family, which leads to a comment about Geoff being indifferent about Troy. "Troy took Geoff's body," Gretchen whispers loudly.

"Troy's done a lot worse than that." They really have no clue. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jaymie shifting uncomfortably on the other end of the couch.

"Troy and the militia do what we can't. They protect us." Gretchen defends him after giving Jaymie a sympathetic look.

Dare I say it? Yes. I dare. "If people here knew what he really did at the border, everyone would feel differently. You would feel differently."

"Alicia." I meet Jaymie's eyes to see a silent plea for me to stop.

I think of what he did to Luciana's people. I think of Travis being thrown in a pit to fight the dead on Troy's command. I think of what would have happened to Nick if- "No. I don't get it, Jaymie. I don't understand how you can defend him the way you do when you know what he's done."

The girl looked somewhere between heartbroken and pissed. "You have no idea what he's really like, Alicia. And you haven't got a clue as to what he's done for me." She seemed to stop herself too late from saying the second part; like she didn't mean to say it out loud.

Now I'm curious. "Well why don't you tell me what he's really like!" Angry sarcasm spews from my lips. "And what the hell has he done for you that nullifies the murdering of innocent people?!"

***

7 years ago

After yet another long night of hitting the bottle, a very inebriated Jackie stumbled down the hallway to her own bedroom, passing her daughter's on the way. She slurred boisterously, "Jaymie, I'm home! Love you, sweetie!" as she staggered by. Jaymie huffed a sigh of exasperation, but yelled an "I love you too, Mom," anyway.

About 5 or so minutes later, she heard her mother throwing up through the thin walls. Jaymie rolled her eyes in annoyance, put her earbuds in, and fell asleep to some music to drown out the nauseating sounds in the room next to hers.

When she awoke in the late morning, Jaymie made her way to the kitchen to fix her mother the usual mug of green tea, a slice of buttered wheat toast, and a bottle of water to help with the hangover she knew Jackie would have.

Jaymie kicked gently at her mom's bedroom door as to knock, since her hands were full, then skillfully raised her leg up and turned the knob with her foot and toes. "Wake up, Mom. It's almost noon." Jaymie sat the tea, toast, and water on Jackie's dresser and made her way to the windows to open the curtains and blinds. "I need a ride to the ranch. I told Troy I'd help him clean out the stables today." She turns away from the brightness, the sunlight bringing the room to life; everything except- "Mom?" Jaymie stands frozen, time itself stopping, as her gaze falls on her mother's pale, lifeless body; vomit dried to her face and sheets.

Jackie's eyes are open, but she can't see her daughter rushing to her side; can't feel her daughter's hands grab her arm to shake her, only to pull back in horror at both the rigermortis which had set in, and the feel of her cold skin; can't hear her daughter's heartwrenching screams and cries; can't recognize the pleads coming from her daughter's lips to come back, to not leave her, telling her she loves her, becoming that little girl again calling her 'Mommy,' instead of 'Mom.'

After a short while, Jaymie called the Otto residence. Jake had been the one to answer the phone. In between the sobs and panicked breathing, he pieced together what happened. After alerting Troy and their father, Jake stayed on the phone with Jaymie for a bit longer while the other two went to help her.

Troy rushed into Jaymie and Jackie's home and found his best friend back against the wall in her mother's room with her arms around her legs, pulling them to her chest. He was at her side in no time at all, and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, letting the rest of her tears soak into his flannel shirt. He wrapped her up in his firm embrace, keeping her body snug up against his own. That was the first time Troy held Jaymie in his arms.

Jeremiah had called 9-1-1 after taking a long, sad look at his friend that he and his late wife had spent many nights drinking and playing cards with.

Once the police, EMTs, and coroner had arrived and done their jobs, and Jackie was taken away in a body bag, Jeremiah and Troy took Jaymie back home to the ranch. The two teens rode in the back of the pickup, Troy once again holding his friend in the comfort of his arms. He didn't know how to empathize much, but he hated seeing Jaymie so heartbroken. He wished he could take that pain from her; though there was something about that moment that had him feeling warm and, happy? Then he realized: it was because he felt needed. He was needed.

The Ottos had intended for Jaymie to stay there with them, but several days after Jackie's funeral, a woman from social services showed up. Apparently Jaymie's father, John, requested custody of her. This was completely unexpected, as John had left his daughter and her mother 5 years prior, with no contact since. Jaymie was stressed out far worse than any 12 year old should be, but what made matters worse was that John lived 8 hours away from the ranch. Jaymie was devastated, and frightened. Troy was already coming apart at the seams at the mention of her having to leave; she was his anchor.

They both held it together well enough thanks to daily phone calls. Little by little though, Jaymie's spirits seemed to dampen, her voice became meeker, and in the middle of a sentence she would suddenly state that she had to go, and hung up. Troy knew something was wrong. He wanted to go to her, to check on her, to rescue her from whatever it was that had her on edge; but he didn't know her father's address.

Some time later, Troy received a letter with Jaymie's name above the return address. He opened it in a hurry. However, as he read her heartfelt words, his eyes began uncharacteristically flooding, his face heated up and turned an angry shade of red, and then everything in his mind went black.

*******

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