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42spideys · 2 years ago

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TEDDY BEAR — e-42!miles morales x m!reader

synopsis: some miles hc’s about him dating a cute chubby boy and how he is with him!

pairing: earth 42 miles morales x male reader, earth 42 miles morales x black male reader

tags: m.reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, possessive miles, really intense love from miles

notes: IM GOING THROUGH BRAINROT OUGHHHH I LOVE U MILES

when you and miles got together it was a shock to everyone, especially you. you weren’t the most talkative person, ridiculously shy, but he still found himself drawn to you.

you were the cute chubby boy that he sat next to, he liked to sneak glances at you. enjoying who your cheeks puffed out when you were confused on a question, his favorite is when you give his arm a small tap and try to ask for help. he always teases you when this happens, he can’t help himself, you’re just to cute :((

you pouted at the math equation in front of you, you tried 16 different ways to solve it until you finally gave up. you glanced over to your seat partner, miles, he always made your face heat up. you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hype yourself up to ask him for help in a way that was comfortable for you. you tapped his arm with a shaky hand, he tilted his head towards you with hooded eyes filled with boredom.

you almost forgot what you wanted to ask him, the way the sun bounced off his body, making him glow almost like an angel. everything about him was perfect to you, his eyes, his nose, his lips…you felt yourself get lost.

“focus, guapo, what did you tap me for,hm?” you felt your face burn in embarrassment, you slid the piece of paper towards miles with a pout, pointing at the question you were fighting for you life for.

cute. you were always really, really cute.

he follows you around the school, kinda like a bodyguard. you were happy to have him for company, he knew that you didn’t talk unless you either wanted to or had to, so when you guys were together he would do all the talking for you.

he is so protective over you even before you guys get together, glaring at people when they look at you funny, outright pulling you away from situations he finds weird.

and he’s so so jealous…

you could be in a one sided conversation with another student, giving small “mhms!” once and awhile, miles literally wrapped an arm around your shoulders and just walked away with you.

when you whine at him he’ll just give you a “she was talkin to you funny, don’t fall for that, rey.” you groaned a fake annoyance at him before giggling at his small pout.

and when you guys finally get together

he is going CRAZY

spoiling you with art of you, buying you your favorite snacks, little stuffed animals, cute collectibles, and so much more.

you’re his prince and he has to treat you like so! he won’t have it any other way >:(

“miles!? what the hell, you shouldn’t have gotten me this stuff! how much was-“ miles silenced you with a soft kiss to your lips, you whined at the contact. miles pulled away from your wet puffy lips with a smirk, “i’ll buy you whatever i want, you deserve it and so much more, so take it before i tackle yo ass.” you took the large bear and roses from miles arms, your face practically burning off.

miles was all giddy inside, he loved seeing you squirm and get flustered whenever he bought you practically anything. you weren’t used to getting gifts in the slightest, you barley got anything for your birthday and christmas, not that your parent didn’t care about you. money was just really really tight, miles knew that, that’s why he made it his mission to spoil you like you deserved to be spoiled!!

don’t let him catch you being insecure about yourself or saying anything mean about yourself, he will fr go off in disbelief

you’ll mutter something about, “i hate my tummy…i really gotta stop eating.” think miles wouldn’t hear that, but erm…

he absolutely did and damn near broke his neck trying to turn towards you, his face twisted in confusion

what do you mean by that?? who said you could say that about yourself??? do you want your ass beat or something?? (lovingly of course)

“the fuck did you just say?” miles glared at you, making you instantly shrink into yourself. you picked at your fingers, looking away from miles burning glare, “i said,” you heard him get up from his desk and walk over to you. he took your chubby face in his hand and made you look up at him, you instantly melted in his touch. “what did you say, hm? you talkin’ bad about my favorite boy?” “…i said i don’t like my tummy.” you mumbled, you heard miles give a laugh he only did when he was either about to fight or say something absolutely outrageous.

he sucked his teeth before pushing your back on the bed, he lifted your hoodie to expose your tummy, this made you shiver and pout at him. “miles! what are you-“

kiss.

huh?

kiss kiss kiss!

you start giggling as miles continues to kiss and bite your tummy, you tried to pull him away by his braids but he just bit you even harder leaving teeth marks. after he was done with his tummy attack he hovered above you, his gold chain you gifted him for his birthday dangling perfectly above you. “don’t let me catch you saying some dumb shit like that ever again, or i’ll find other ways to keep that pretty lil head of yours straight.” he cooed.

“miles, technically i cant do that because-“

“i will kick you out of my house.”

at first he really didn’t like physical affection, but after you guys made it official he would go crazy if he didn’t get to touch you at least 10 times a day

constantly having his hands or body on your or near you

coming behind you in the halls to wrap his arms around your midsection while getting his head in a nice and comfy position in the crook of your neck, holding your hands and locking pinkies with you, biting your cheeks when he got bored

always kneading your cute chubby tummy like a cat whenever he got the chance

he also loves your neck, like that’s top three on his list of favorite body parts on you. perfect place to leave hickeys and bites :3

“hold still, i’m not done.” miles has been sucking and biting your neck for what seems like hours, your neck was throbbing with pain, you still didn’t even know why he was so intense about giving you these marks. “miles, what the hell are you even doing?” you whimpered into miles ear, he grunted in accomplishment and had a huge smirk on his face. “give me my phone, let me show you my masterpiece.”

you handed him his phone in pure confusion, you rubbed at your sore neck with a pout. “jeez, my neck hurts.” miles chuckled at your complaining, “you could’ve told me to stop at any time, rey.” he unlocked his phone to go to his camera, he placed his hand under your jaw, lifting it upwards to the left. he made sure his hand was in the shot, the whole time he was taking pictures he had a smirk on his face.

“let me see what you’ve been torturing my neck for the past ten minutes for, please.” miles rolled over next to you and handed you his phone, “only because you asked so nicely.” as soon as you saw the pictures you thought you were gonna pass out, miles had somehow sucked his initials in your neck with a bite mark under it. you covered your face in embarrassment, quickly shoving your face in miles chest. “i cant stand you, how am i supposed to walk around with this?” you peaked up at miles who was still just smirking “that’s the point, i want everyone to know that you’re mine and mine alone.”

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x male reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x male reader #miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales fluff #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x male reader #atsv x reader #42spideys

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drowned-captain · 3 months ago

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The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 4

A/N: RAAH THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE LAST CHAPTER IT MEANS A LOT TO ME :)) I LITERALLY WENT TO BED SMILING BECAUSE OF Y'ALL AAAH Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA asdjkfadslfjnaei I also did a crap ton of research and watched a lot of videos on writing fight scenes, so I hope the next one is better! Also, I made this chapter a little longer because we are almost at half a dozen cupcakes in the tag list :) Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 6.3k

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Despite the wonderful time you had at the bar last night, you had a restless night. You swore that you wouldn’t think about your ex when you got home. You told yourself that you would just head straight to bed. You even walked through your apartment with your eyes closed! All you wanted to do was hold on to the glee of winning some cogs and the time you spent with Vi. All you wanted was to savor the sweet, savory bliss of forgetting everything wrong with your life.

But it all just slips through the cracks between your fingers like sand. You had a wonderful time, but no one to talk about it with. Your acquaintanceship with Vi ended up reminding you of your lack of companionship in general. When you were with them, their friends became your friends. Sure you never hung out with those people without your lover, but they were still your friends, right? But the minute you cut ties with that liar, it was radio silence from all of them. None of them even bothered to check up on you.

They all forgot you as fast as you shut the door on your relationship for the final time.

‘Geez, my so-called ‘friends’ broke up with me.’ you thought. It was hard to find friends in this city in general. You could always put that jinxer fit on and pretend to care about public figures like more than half of Zaun is. You could find some people to call friends through that. You could. The issue is pretending–you’re so damn tired of pretending. You almost can’t help it; three years of a horrible relationship made you an expert at the art of it, and it was getting so damn exhausting.

You remembered your conversation with Vi about cycles and loops and whatnot. So as much as you wanted to rot in bed until it was time to get ready to place another bet, you decided to get out of bed earlier. You probably got a total of four hours of on and off sleep, but whatever.

When you looked at your messy bed, you had forgotten that you were using some of your ex’s shirts as pillowcases. You strip one of the pillows of a shirt and hold it in your hands. Your thumbs brush its semi-worn out fabric, and you slowly bring it to your nose. Their scent still lingers on it. There were faint shimmer stains on it (their own line of shimmer stained clothes pretty badly). You walked up to your window, pushed the curtains aside, and opened the pane. You look down onto the street and watch the tops of people’s heads moving along below. You weren’t too high up– maybe about three stories. You hold your hand out the window, clenching the shirt. You slowly uncurl each finger until you let it go, and it floats down to the ground.

A couple of people were quick to notice it. One person grabs it only to be shoved by the other person. There is a yelling match of “I saw it first!” between them. You shut the window and let their yelling fade into the background. A part of you regretted tossing that shirt. You almost wanted to pounce on those people from your window and demand that they give it back. Instead, you fought your own tears as you went about a half-assed morning routine.

When preparing food from your half-stolen bag of semi stale fish meat, you instinctively made servings for two. Your eyes kept glancing at the extra serving on the stove as you slowly ate your (possibly radioactive) meal. At least you won’t have to cook later, right?

You get dressed into one of your favorite outfits. You might as well get some air this afternoon so you don’t have to run all the way to the arena like you did last night. You take half of your cogs with you and stuff them into a trusty bag before slinging it over your shoulder and taking off.

You walked along the bustling streets of Zaun and looked around for something to do. You stop along a bridge, walking up to the rickety railing and overlooking part of the city. It’s been a while since you were able to stop and appreciate the beauty of this place that only Zaunites like yourself can understand. Even though Piltover quite literally casts a big shadow over Zaun, it cannot snuff out the popping colors that glow even in daylight hours. You have never personally been to Piltover (not like you want to, especially because of the current political issues and all the rising problems with enforcers), but even in the distance it was very ‘sterile’ looking. In other words, not so fun.

You suddenly feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, clutching the strap of your bag as you bounce backwards, smacking the hand that touched you. Your face was twisted in aggression, glaring at whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” a bearded man spoke. Your face relaxed a bit, recognizing him as Vi’s handler. Still, you didn’t appreciate getting spooked. Plus, you don’t know anything about this guy other than he saved you from possibly needing a cast or three. But he could be dangerous! If only you could take someone as broad as he is down like Vi can with her opponents.

“The name’s Loris,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, “I think I saw you at that one bar a few days back. I’m one of Vi’s friends.”

You hesitate slightly before shaking his hand, “(Y/n).” You can smell alcohol on him, but he doesn’t seem wasted. He can tell that you’re still standoffish, so he turns away and leans his elbows on the rail of the bridge.

“Mind if I stand here with you for a moment? I gotta clear my head for a second before I go about my day.” He itches his beard, staring off into the distance. You stand there in silence, still suspicious. Most people who strike up a conversation in this city out of the blue probably want something, and you will not give him anything.

“I don’t own this bridge, so do what you must. I guess.” You state after a few moments of thinking.

He chuckles a bit at your tense tone before he takes another look at you, “You look like you’ve been through the grinder. It’s tough out here, isn’t it?”

You look down at yourself and frown a bit, “Gee, thanks.” So much for wearing your favorite fit.

“I meant your demeanor,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “You look like you’ve been dodging some of life’s punches. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Ain’t no bruises on that mug of yours. No offense, just an observation.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms. You’re still not sure what to make of him.

Loris shrugged, leaning more heavily on the railing. “Nothing, really. Just... I’ve been there. Lost a lot before I got to where I am now. Figured I’d say something in case you needed to hear it.”

“Not to be rude or anything, Loris, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for unsolicited advice, or…whatever you’re trying to do here.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his eyebrows raising at you skeptically, "Fair enough," he says, straightening up from the railing. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes." He stretches his arms behind his head, giving a small grin. "Just figured I’d try to be neighborly, but I’ll back off."

You’re a little taken aback by how easily he relents, expecting some pushback. Instead, he fishes a cog from his pocket, idly rolling it between his fingers as he looks back out over the city. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi.”

You tilt your head. “She told you about me? Wait. I haven’t even done anything for her. I’ve only spoken to her, like, twice. And the first time didn’t even go so well. I don’t even know her all that much.”

“No, she has not spoken about you. But you’re the one who had her go home both times with a cup of water, right?”

“That’s… yeah. Everybody should drink water with their booze. No biggie.”

Loris pockets his cog and pushes away from the rail, the metal making a creaky noise. "Well, don’t let me keep you. Gotta grab Vi for some pregaming soon—busy night ahead."

Before he walked away, he looked at you again, his expression softer. “Take care of yourself, (Y/n). And... try not to let whatever’s chasing you catch up.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to wonder how someone you barely knew could read you like that.

Vi was tossing out her empty bottles outside of her apartment. She dusted her hands off and let out a somewhat satisfied sigh. She was up earlier than usual, which kind of felt nice for a change. There was another part of her, however, that gnawed at the back of her mind. Being awake and sober meant that her brain was free to juggle memories of Caitlyn around while reminding her of all the love that she lost in her life. It felt like there was a hole in her chest. How can a heart feel so heavy when there was an entire chunk missing from it?

She clenches her fists and shakes her head as if all the haunting memories and thoughts will fly off of her. If only it worked that way. It didn’t help that she dreamt of her last night. She dreamt of the life that she envisioned with Caitlyn; Waking up to her. Their hands combing through each other's hair. Seeing that adorable gap-toothed smile. Feeling her soft, perfect skin. Breathing in her scent. Walking the streets of Piltover together and basking in the sunlight.

She spun around and punched the wall behind her with an angry snarl.

“Well that was a close one.” Loris spoke, staring directly at Vi’s arm. If he were just a few inches closer, she would have probably punched him right in the chest.

Vi lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her hand off, “Hey, Loris. Sorry, I didn’t know you were right there.”

“Water under the bridge,” he hums, turning on his heel to rest against the alley’s wall, “You’re up early.”

“Maybe I just wanted to pregame longer.” Vi straightens her jacket out, the black leather squeaking with her movement.

Loris’s eyes look past Vi, seeing a large bag with the necks of glass bottles sticking out of it. He doesn’t say anything about it.

“Shall we get started with it, then?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall.

Vi leads the way. After a few moments she speaks up, “Make sure you tell me when you’re behind me. I could’ve accidentally hurt you.”

“Eh, s’alright. That would be the second time I’ve snuck up on someone today.”

Vi shakes her head disapprovingly. “You have to stop that. Not everybody takes kindly to that shit.”

Loris chuckles lightly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But sometimes, it’s the only way to catch someone in their natural state, you know?" He thought about the way you looked out towards the city. The way your eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He almost laughed at how high you jumped when he spooked you even though a part of him felt kind of bad for it.

Vi side-eyes him, her mouth pulling into a line. "That’s one way to earn a black eye."

"Noted," Loris says with a smirk, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though, between you and me, I think most people are too distracted to notice me sneaking around. The current state of Zaun has everyone clouded nowadays.”

Vi snorts softly, her hands in her jacket pockets. "You’re not wrong about that." She glances down at the cracked pavement beneath her boots. "Guess you’ve been busy keeping tabs on everyone, huh?"

"Only the important ones," Loris replies, his tone more serious now. "Speaking of, you alright, Vi? You seem… tenser than usual."

Vi slows her pace, her jaw tightening. "Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all," she mutters, deflecting.

Loris doesn’t push, but the knowing look in his eyes says he doesn’t buy it. Instead, he switches gears. "Fair enough. Maybe the fight tonight’ll help clear your head. Nothing like knocking someone out to shake off the cobwebs, right? And if that’s not enough, there’s always a celebratory drink afterwards.”

Vi’s face softens. Her heartbeat quickens just a bit in anticipation. The image of you sitting at the bar blurred out Vi’s looping memories of Caitlyn. This time she wasn’t too fucked up to remember the conversation that she had with you the other night. She really, really hopes that you’ll be there to talk some more.

Loris catches a brief glimpse of Vi smiling. It makes him smile.

The day gets late enough for you to head to the arena. It was nice not having to rush for once, so you follow the crowd without a worry. Maybe you could get a front row seat this time!

However, something catches your attention. Your ears picked up on some gossip ahead of you.

“I heard Vi is guaranteed to lose tonight,” says one voice.

“Many people were saying that yesterday, but they were wrong. Did you see that guy? There was no way she was supposed to beat him, but she did. She always wins,” responds the other.

“I’m serious! Today she will lose. The Pit’s losing money because the majority are betting on Vi. I heard that tonight the opponent will be . . .”

You struggle to hear the conversation as more people follow the crowd, drowning that gossip with other voices. You think about it for a second. Should you not bet on Vi tonight? But that one guy says that she always manages to win. That one opponent seemed to have the biggest advantage being quick, big, and sturdy. Vi did take him down. You nod to yourself.

‘Yeah, gossip is just gossip. Vi never loses, right? That’s what everyone says.’

You get to the arena early enough to place a bet. You give up all the cogs you took with you and receive your ticket. When you were picking a seat, you decided to sit somewhere near the front. Hopefully you wouldn’t get queasy from seeing blood fly off of the fighters up close.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you look behind you. Upon seeing Loris, your face lit up in surprise.

“Oh! Loris, right? I guess you’d be here. Being Vi’s friend and all.”

He takes a step down, sitting next to you. You tense up a bit, not expecting him to move seats.

“Eeyup. Always here to support her.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks at you. “So you are a fan of hers, huh?”

You grip your ticket tightly. "This is my second time here, so it might be too soon for me to put a label like that on myself. I will admit, though, she’s something else in the ring."

"That she is," he says, his voice tinged with pride. "Vi’s got more fight in her than anyone I’ve ever met. But," he pauses, his tone lowering slightly, "it’s not just about the wins for her."

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Loris straightens up, offering a small shrug. "Just saying, it’s not always about the glory. Sometimes, it’s about proving something to yourself. You know what I mean?"

‘Prove what exactly?’ you think, ‘If she’s going through her own grief, then is there more to punching someone’s lights out as a coping mechanism?’

You shift in your seat, recalling the gossip you overheard earlier, "Do you think she’ll win tonight?"

Loris looks at you for a moment before responding, his gaze steady, "She’s got the fire in herself to win. But I suppose anything can happen."

You nod slowly, the weight of his words settling in. As the crowd grows louder and the arena begins to fill, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. Tonight's fight feels different somehow, and you wonder if Loris senses it too.

The stadium lights shut off, then the arena spotlights beam onto the pit. The crowd howls with excitement. You and Loris stay seated and quiet. Your leg bounces as you sit, feeling your clothing become a bit warm from the nerves. When the referee called out Vi’s name, you and Loris clapped.

Then you see her. She steps into the ring, arm raised into the air as nearly the entire audience cheers for her. Her steps are just a bit unstable– perhaps she’s been drinking beforehand. You slow your clapping upon seeing the opponent enter the ring. Then another opponent.

“Tonight is going to be a little bit different,” the referee says through the speakers, “Frontrunner Vi here has been tearing shit up for the past few months.”

The crowd hollers in agreement.

“Now, Vi is no stranger to fighting two people at once,” he laughs into the mic, “Does everyone think our champion has what it takes?”

The crowd screams louder. You want to cover your ears even though you agree with them all. However, you can feel your palms dampen at the thought of Vi having to fight two people. But if everyone seemed confident in her, and if she’s done it before, then she should be fine.

The bell rings, and the two opponents waste no time closing in on Vi. One is a tall and lean woman, with quick movements that scream agility, while the other is a hulking brute, slower but with arms as thick as Loris’ neck. Vi, her posture loose but ready, cracks her knuckles as a determined look crosses her face.

The agile one darts in first, aiming a sharp jab at her ribs. Vi sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing her arm and twisting it, using the momentum to slam her into the brute. The crowd roars as the two stumble apart, clearly thrown off by her opening move.

The brute growls, charging at her like a bear. Vi plants her feet, waiting until the last second before pivoting out of his path. She drives her elbow into his side as he barrels past, a sickening thud echoing through the arena. The brute grunts in pain but doesn’t go down, swinging a massive fist toward her head.

Vi barely manages to dodge it, feeling the end of his knuckle brush against her ear. The movement leaves her exposed to the agile one, who’s already recovered. She lands a quick kick to Vi’s thigh, causing her to fall. Vi quickly rolls out of the way when the brute slams his fists onto the ground. She springs to her feet, but is kicked down again by the slimmer one. The brute takes the opportunity to grab Vi, lifting her and squeezing the air out of her.

Vi swings her head back, making contact with his nose. He loosens his grip, and she drops to the ground, spinning to deliver a knee to his gut. Vi clutches her stomach, attempting to catch her breath. The agile one circles Vi as the brute covers his nose, staggering backwards. He shakes blood off of his hand, snarling in anger.

Vi’s eyes flick between them, calculating. When the agile one lunges, she ducks under his swing, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Using her momentum, Vi launches her into the brute, the two of them crashing to the ground in a heap.

Vi, victorious, raises her fists high as the crowd chants her name.

In the crowd, you excitedly cheer for her. You look at Loris, whose face drops in horror. You quickly look back into the ring.

The two opponents are standing back up, throwing empty glass vials at the walls of the pit as they wipe their mouths. From where you were sitting, you can see a familiar substance dripping from their lips. Shimmer.

Vi looks back at her opponents, quickly putting her fists into a fighting position. You can see her face from where you sit. Her body language says ‘come at me’, but her eyes are laced with fear. Like she’s remembering something. Like she has seen something like this before.

The look of Vi’s opponents was enough to scare sobriety back into her. She feels like she’s fifteen again. She’s seeing flashbacks. Tears well up in her eyes.

As Vi is frozen in her stance the brute rushes in again, landing a right hook before slamming a heavy blow into her ribs. She gasps, doubling over, and the agile one takes the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her.

Vi hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her once more. The crowd falls into a stunned silence as she struggles to get up, her arms trembling under her weight.

“Get up, Vi!” someone shouts from the audience, their voice nearly drowned out by the growing murmur of uncertainty. You look to whoever shouted; their voice was close enough to you. You caught a glimpse of the cloaked figure from yesterday. You turn back to the fight quickly.

The brute grabs her by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She swings wildly, desperation in her eyes, but he blocks her punch easily. The agile fighter moves in, landing a brutal uppercut that snaps her head back. Blood gushes from Vi’s nose as she struggles to find her footing.

The brute’s fist comes crashing down, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The bell dings, signaling the end of the fight. The crowd erupts, but not in cheers—there’s a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. If there was any cheering, they were concealed by angry yelling.

You sit frozen in your seat, your heart sinking as Vi lies on the ground. Loris stands abruptly, his face a mask of worry. “I need to check on her,” he mutters, darting toward the ring. You stand up from your seat, peering over the pit. Vi’s eyes are barely open, her breathing heavy.

You watch helplessly, gripping your ticket so tightly it crumples in your hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Vi was supposed to win. She always won.

But tonight, the champion had fallen.

The ringing in Vi’s ears was almost enough to drive her insane, but she was too out of it to express her discomfort. Her vision was blurry and coming in and out. She could barely hear any talking, if there was anyone speaking. She felt her body moving, some pressure on her sore belly as the ground beneath her got further away from her vision.

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to process what was happening. She is lowered to the ground, propped against a wall.

“Vander?” she mumbled out, her eyes trying to focus on her rescuer. Her head lols to the side, eyes shutting. Loris gently pats the side of her face, making her open her eyes again.

“You with me, Vi?” he asks. Vi grumbles, then winces as she puts a hand to her face.

“That’s it, come on. You’re okay,” Loris sighs.

Vi groans in pain, holding her sides now, “What the fuck happened?” she squeaks out, “Where are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “Just breathe. We’re near the locker rooms, but don’t worry. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

“Those fuckers. They cheated, didn’t they?” she hisses, picking dried blood off of her upper lip.

“Don’t worry about it.” Loris repeats himself. Vi angrily tries to stand up, but Loris forces her to sit back down, “Damn it, Vi. Won’t you stay put?”

“I want a rematch. I was too tipsy, my head wasn’t in the game,” she demands.

“You can ask for a rematch later. You have to rest right now, Vi.”

You curse to yourself, now owing The Pit money. At least you didn’t bet all your cogs; there were still some at your apartment. You wish you bet half of the half that you brought with you. The people around you were reasonably upset. In fact, you would be upset too if you had zero connection with Vi.

Despite barely knowing a thing about her, maybe it’s the fact that you had a full-on conversation with her yesterday that made your worry for her quickly eclipse your disappointment about the bet. Maybe it’s the fact that both of you have established a connection over having suffered the same kind of emotional pain. Maybe it’s the fact that she looked so hopeful to see you again. Maybe it’s the fact that she seemed genuinely interested in becoming your friend. Maybe it’s the fact that you want to be her friend.

You fan your face with your hands, anxiety creeping up on you. You search the crowd for Loris, but can’t find him anywhere. You choose a random direction to walk in and stick to it. After a few moments of walking, you find yourself at the entrance of the ring. Hoping that Vi and Loris were around there somewhere, you cautiously enter the dark hall.

“Loris?” you whisper-shout. “Vi?” But there is no response.

You can see the ring ahead. You linger at the arch, looking around to the best of your ability to make sure that no one is around. You step into the light, looking up at all the empty seats in the arena. You don’t understand how Vi can do something so scary like this. A bunch of people screaming at you and having the weight of the title of ‘champion’ on your shoulders was enough to make you lightheaded.

You look at the floor, seeing old bloodstains on the concrete. You wonder how much of Vi’s blood is forever merged with the floor beneath you. You wonder how many peoples’ blood are also a part of this pit. Your shoe crunches on some glass, stopping your thoughts.

You crouch down a bit, seeing some dried purple shimmer stains among the pieces of glass. There was one vial up ahead that wasn’t completely shattered, so you reach over to it and pick it up. Your fingers trace over the intact part of the vial, turning it in your hand. But then you squint your eyes when you feel an embossment on the glass. You bring it close to your face, then immediately drop it. You stand up and back away from the scene, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up because you recognized the embossment as your ex’s signature.

You run out of the arena. You wouldn’t put it past The Pit to use shady tactics for monetary gain, but out of all shimmer dealers it HAD to be theirs. You duck into an alleyway, looking at your fingers. There were tiny glowing droplets of shimmer on them, and you frantically wiped your hands off on the wall.

As you steady your breathing, you sink to the floor and hug your knees to your chest. Your mind wanders to all the times your ex would come home with heaps of cogs from selling their special formula. They would use their own supply sometimes just for the heck of it, and it would scare you. Luckily they never forced you to try it, but they would offer it to you constantly. You would never touch that stuff. Once, they got mad at you for refusing to help them sell it. Having an involvement in ruining people’s lives messed with your moral compass. You exclaim in frustration and bury your face in your hands, getting upset at yourself for even considering selling shimmer before you placed your first bet.

You pick your head back up, wondering if Vi was okay. Where could Loris have taken her?

Standing up, you walk around cautiously. There weren’t many people around. Most of them were hanging out in corners. Your nose burns with the smell of smoke and shimmer as gravel crunches beneath your shoes. Some people held out their hands for a spare cog, but you ignored them. Not like you had any on yourself at this time.

Eventually, you see the back of a familiar figure up ahead. You quicken your pace, “Loris!”

He turns around and slows his pace, letting you catch up. When you reach his side, he has Vi in his arms. Her face is wrinkled into a grimace.

“Vi!” You gasp out, putting a hand to your mouth upon seeing all the blood and bruises on her body. Her eyes slowly open, finding you.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she croaks out, trying to find it in herself to laugh. “You saw my ass get handed to me. Now I’m being carried like a fucking baby.”

“Stop it,” you say almost in a scolding tone, “How do you feel? Are you alright? Could I get you something?” You bombard her with questions.

Your concern makes her scoff, a smile creeping onto her face. “I could really use a drink right now, (Y/n). That would make me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’ll get you one, just… hold on, okay?” You dig through your bag, struggling to see anything from how dark it is.

“Sweet as a cupcake,” Vi mumbles, closing her eyes, “Sweet things are hard to come by in Zaun, ya know.”

You give her a quizzical look, not like she can see your confusion.

“She’s concussed.” Loris explains. That explains it, you guess.

You find some spare napkins at the bottom of your bag, clutching them in your hands. You look around as you walk, spotting a shortcut to the bar strip through an alleyway.

“I’m sorry, cupcake,” Vi whines, her face scrunching up in a mixture of grief and pain, “I could’ve been better.”

Now you were very confused, but she was probably talking about her performance in the ring.

“It’s a straight walk to Vi’s apartment. Go get her a drink. I won’t be too far when you’re done.” Loris motions to that alleyway with his head. You nod at him, taking a light jog to the shortcut.

The strip was not nearly as lively as it was. The people who were standing around were moping about losing their bets, therefore having to reason to celebrate. You were let into the bar without a problem, and it sure as hell was a lot emptier than usual. You have never seen such unenthusiastic dancing in your life.

No one was really talking at the bar either.

You rush over towards the bartender.

“Ah, the water girl.” He greets as he polishes some glasses.

“Just one water please,” you drum your fingers on the counter in anticipation. It only takes him a few moments to grab you a plastic cup with stale water in it.

“I heard Vi lost tonight’s fight. I guess I won’t be making much today.” He sighs as he hands it over to you.

“None of us made anything today, so welcome to the club…” mutters a random customer.

You hightail it out of there, not caring enough about engaging in conversation with the bartender or other customers. You walk quickly, trying not to slosh the water around too much and spill any.

You quickly find Loris and Vi again. You dampen the napkins from your bag in the water and lightly dab Vi’s nose to clean her up. She hisses in pain, nearly swatting your hand away.

“Let me get the blood off of you.” You say firmly. Vi’s eyes open, and she tries to pick her head up. You lightly press her forehead down so she is fully resting on Loris’ forearm. “Down.”

“Let me walk. I want to walk,” she grumbles, wiggling out of her lying position. Loris gently sets her on her feet. Vi stumbles as her feet hit the ground, her legs barely holding her up. “See? I’m fine,” she mumbles, though her knees wobble dangerously. Loris steadies her with one arm, but you’re already stepping closer, the cup of water trembling slightly in your hands.

“You’re not fine, Vi. Just let me—” you start, but her sharp glare cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me,” she snaps, though her voice cracks halfway through. “I’ve had worse nights.” She leans heavily on Loris, her bravado faltering as her breaths come shallow and uneven.

The street feels suffocating now, the smell of smoke and sweat clinging to the damp air. Somewhere in the distance, a bottle shatters, followed by muffled shouting. You glance nervously over your shoulder, half-expecting to see shadows closing in.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you say softly, trying to meet Vi’s gaze. “No one’s judging you for losing.”

She laughs bitterly, rasping like sandpaper, “You think they’re not judging? This city eats the weak alive. If you lose, you’re nothing.”

You try not to take her sudden snappiness to heart, but her icy glare was enough to make you look away in submission. Her ego was probably more bruised than her body was. Nonetheless, her words hit harder than they should, dredging up memories you’ve tried to bury.

“They cheated, Vi. It shouldn’t—” Loris was also cut off.

“I don’t fucking care, Loris!” she snaps.

“Vi,” you say, your voice gentle, “you’re not nothing.”

She looks at you then, her eyes glassy but piercing. For a moment, it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully constructed walls. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she murmurs, her voice softer now but no less sharp.

You step back, stung, but Loris steps in. “Enough, Vi,” he says firmly, “You’re concussed, confused, and bleeding. Save the tough act for later.”

You walk with them, trailing slightly behind. Eventually, the three of you climb up a small flight of stairs up to a shady-looking building. There is a rickety staircase attached to the right of it, so you and Loris carefully bring Vi over to it. She shrugs both of you off, putting a foot on one of the stairs and supporting herself with the railing.

“Did you get me a drink?” she asks, looking back at you. You quietly hand her the water cup. You brace yourself, expecting her to throw it at you. Instead, she takes it upstairs with her.

You relax, watching her leave. You exchange a glance with Loris, who rubs the back of his neck, looking equally drained. The faint creak of the rickety staircase echoes above, each step sounding like it might give way beneath her.

"Don’t take it to heart, (Y/n). There’s plenty of venom in her words, but she means no harm. She’s not in the right state of mind either," Loris mutters, breaking the silence.

“Has she ever been in the right state of mind?” Your voice is laced with bitterness.

“You know,” Loris surmised, “She really did look forward to seeing you tonight.” He ignored your question.

“Did she tell you that?” you scoff, skepticism in your tone.

“Not exactly, but last night she was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen. She kept looking to the sky today like she was waiting for time to pass,” he looks down at you, a smile on his face, “You seem like you’d be a great friend for her. Like I said, I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi. And I am thanking you for what you’ve done for her today.”

You exhale through your nose, unsure if Loris was just telling you that to make you feel better.

For a moment, the two of you stand there, listening to the sounds of the city creep back into focus. The buzz of lights, the low hum of voices muffled by brick walls. It’s almost peaceful if you ignore the sour stench of garbage and the flickering street lights overhead.

“You gonna hang around?” Loris asks, his tone neutral.

You hesitate, glancing back at the staircase Vi just climbed. There’s a part of you that wants to follow her, to make sure she doesn’t collapse in that dingy apartment. But another part of you—the part that remembers the weight of Vi’s concussed words—deems it inappropriate for you to intrude in her personal space. You were reminded that the two of you were far from that level.

“Nah, I think she wants space.”

“Alright then. Don’t worry too much about her, (Y/n), I’ll see how Vi’s holding up tomorrow.”

You nod at him, “Take care, Loris.”

As you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that Vi’s words will stick with you long after tonight. ‘You don’t know a damn thing about me.’ She was right—but the question gnaws at you: Do you want to? And if you do, will you end up losing yourself in the process? Did yesterday's conversation mean nothing to her? Because for a moment, it meant a lot to you.

The thoughts linger, heavy and suffocating, as you walk away into the neon haze of the city night.

End of Ch. 4

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch.3 Ch. 5

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

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart

#arcane #arcane x reader #pit fighter vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane vi x you #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #the rebound

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angel-of-the-moons · 9 months ago

Text

Over The Phone

Dad Bod!Professor!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Just... NSFW. So much NSFW. Phone sex, masturbating, sexy selfies, sexting, all that shit.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: God this took forever to churn out but I finally got motivation to finish it!!

Taglist: @cupcakeinat0r @tojishugetiddies (if I forgot to tag anybody let me know, pls! I lost the saved list I had for people alshldhd)

Divider by @/across-the-art-verse

Miguel art @ meeee

The day had dragged on for what felt like far longer than usual for him; the usual students who showed up late, tried to sneak out, slept through the lecture or just ignored whatever he said.

The students who listened and actively engaged with the lesson were few and far between, and the almost silent lull between classes felt felt almost too short. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, especially with the growing list of students who were disinterested in his class, or those that only signed up for extra credit and didn't want to do the work...

But, getting cards and thank-you post-its from students who felt like they wouldn't have been able to graduate without him kept him on in this tedium. He loved to hear from his former students about how their new careers were going--careers they credit hi to helping them achieve.

It never failed to make his heart all warm and fuzzy when he thought about them.

Miguel ran his hand across his beard, and a thought came to him about maybe shaving it off. He had grown it out; rather rugged if he had to admit it. But, he quickly shook that thought away--you loved his beard. Oftentimes he would wake up from a nap, you snuggled perfectly against his solid frame, your nails dragging through the short hairs with a content smile on your face.

Oh, he couldn't say no to you, his pretty little wife, could he?

Speaking of which... it was your day off. He couldn't help but wonder what you were--

When his phone pinged, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and unlocks the screen to see a text from you;

Hiii baby, how's work going?

He chuckled and replied, Same as usual. Only two students slept through class this lime

*time

Your reply was swift.

Awww I'm sry :(

If it makes you feel any better, if I were in your class... wait. I wouldn't get any work done either. I'd just be lookin at you :p

He laughed, his belly shaking a little bit as he grinned at his screen, his massive fingers fumbling the small keys once again on the too-small phone screen.

Yes, you would mafe a very door student, wouldn't you, amor?

*made *poor

Miguel rolled his eyes. He was tempted to try and see if they didn't make phones built for someone with his giant hands in mind... Damn this tiny screen!

Awww my Miggy gettin all frustrated?

Yes.

For what felt like too long, his message was left on "read". He quirked a bushy brow, scratching at his beard curiously at what was keeping you.

And then, his phone pinged again.

Here, maybe this'll keep you entertained ;)

*Image attached. Click to view.*

He hummed in curiosity. Maybe it was one of those silly little doodles you liked to send to him? One of your memes, maybe? Though, it didn't make sense why the image was blurred, when--

His heart lurched up into his throat and he instantly slammed his phone against his desk, screen down; looking around pointlessly as if he were worried someone was standing over his shoulder when the image finally cleared.

Cursing himself for acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Miguel slowly lifted his phone to his face and looked at the picture you'd sent him.

You were nude, laying belly-down in your bed, the blankets askew around you. Your feet crossed one over the other as you smiled at the lens--you must have moved the full body mirror from the living room to your bedroom to achieve this shot--and your back was arched slightly to show off your bare ass.

He felt his cock twitch to life as he examined every pixel on the screen; wishing so badly he were home right now, to touch that soft expanse of flesh he loved so much. To cup your ass in his palms, feeling the warmth of your skin in his palms as his fingers massaged and groped the skin.

He could feel your hands slide up the soft pouch of his belly, scraping your nails delectably through the short, curly dark hairs that ran up his abdomen and covered his chest. He could feel your teeth scrape and tug his nipple before kissing your way back down...

Dios, mi amor. You're lucky I am not in the middle of a meeting! He hastily typed, pretending he wasn't practically salivating over that selfie.

Aw, didn't you like what I sent? :'(

I didn't say--

But before he could finish typing and send the text, he got another attached image from you.

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat and his thumb hovered over the image hesitantly. He looked towards the clock above the door to his classroom. He had half an hour left...

When the image unblurred, he felt his heart damn near stop.

You were perched on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide; one hand was holding your phone while the others spread you slick folds with nimble fingers and a cheeky expression on your face.

How bout this one?

Miguel groaned, loudly. He actually slipped a hand over his plush lips, cringing at how damn near pathetic that sounded.

He immediately clicked your contact information and hit "call".

The phone rang a painfully long, droning tone until your bubbly voice giggled on the other end of the line, "Heyyyy Miggy~"

"You are going to kill me, baby." He hissed into his phone, pressing the heel of his palm into his throbbing erection, "I'm in the middle of a school day! The students are at lunch!"

"Ohhh, did I get you all hard and excited for me?" You sigh dreamily into the phone, your voice dropping into a more sultry tone.

"Naughty boy, popping a stiffy in the middle of class."

He grunted, his head dropping back against his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he tugged the ends of his button-up out from his rapidly-tightening jeans, "And whose fault is that?"

You gasp theatrically, "Mine? Oh, baby, I was just trying to provide you moral support, I swear!"

"Of course," Miguel huffed, eyeing the doorknob, waiting to see if he was unlucky enough that somebody were to walk in right as he pulled his cock free from his jeans, running his fingers over the swollen tip, smearing his precum around it.

He could hear in your voice, the way you were biting your lip in excitement as you spoke. "Baby, are you touching yourself?"

"You tell me, first." He replied, his voice strained as he gave himself a few tentative strokes; trying to gauge if the risk was worth it.

"Oh? Want me to tell you that I'm playing with my pussy?" You croon. "That I'm imagining you, and me, in bed..."

His teeth snagged his plush bottom lip briefly as he sped his hand up to your words, then slowed back down again. The friction wasn't right; too dry. So, he sucked on his tongue until he had a nice glob of saliva; bringing his hand up to his mouth to wet it before slicking his throbbing length up.

"Go on." He grumbled into the line.

"...ooooh." You giggled, your voice a little breathless. He could see you now, laying back on the bed, your fingers plunging in and out of you, pulling out to stroke your puffy clit; your pussy drooling into the blankets beneath you.

"Mmmm~ I'm also imagining you on top of me, my legs on your shoulders..."

He felt the oxygen squeeze from his lungs as he upped his pace, the vein in his cock throbbing and thumping in time with his rapid heart rate.

"Yeah, bebita?"

"Yeah." You huff, a small moan coming from you; "'m imagining you pinnin' me down, fucking a baby into me."

"Dios." Miguel groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet his fist. "You want a baby, hermosa? Want me to make you a mami?"

"Mhmm... want you to fill me aaaallllll the way up." You whined, your panting hot, even through the phone.

Miguel dared a glance up at the clock. Still had some time... He needed to do it quickly; needed to milk his cock so he wouldn't appear "improper" with a massive erection straining his pants.

As if enough of his female students (and even some of the male ones) didn't have enough difficulty paying attention in class...

He'd be lying if he hadn't gotten a few love confessions from students, present and former. He'd always politely turn them down, and then, if they were currently his pupils, politely and quietly have them sent to another class to avoid any improper behavior in the future.

It was as if none of them ever paid any mind to the gold band firmly secured to his ring finger--the matching mate to the one you wore on your own softer, delicate hand signifying your matrimonial bonds. Or... maybe they had and assumed they could tempt him from you.

Well, those assumptions were always wrong. The only person he could imagine bouncing on his cock, sucking it, milking it, stroking it--was you. You and only you.

Sometimes thinking of you when he was alone was the only ways he could get off, before you started dating. Even finding porn of a woman who looked like you wasn't enough. It had to be you.

And after the first time he felt your pretty pink pussy swallow his cock whole? Oh, he was addicted. Addicted and whipped, a few of his colleagues would say...

The professor and the school nurse; a bit of a cliche; but it was a nice one. The two of you had even played with a slutty nurse outfit or two.

You not always being the nurse...

"Fuck, Miggs, 'm so close." You whine loudly. He could see in his mind's eye how fast your fingers would be working your clit, maybe even giving in and plunging one of your silicone toys in and out of your tight hole for him.

In fact, he could imagine it so closely he could hear it.

"Shit, baby..." He hissed, his hand working his length furiously, now, almost in a race with you to see who would cum first. "You on speaker??"

"Mhmm~" You whine, your air leaving your body in wet-hot pants, the sound of your slick pussy being fucked--by your hand or your toy, he couldn't place--but the sound of it had his balls tightening up already.

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel huffed and puffed, more thick precum dribbling down from his tip. He smeared it over himself, using the fluid as lube to help hasten his impending orgasm.

"Yeah, baby~"

He snarled, the sound of stroking skin lewd and loud; your moans the best pornography his ears could ever be graced with.

"Cum for me, honey." Miguel whined, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he released his cock long enough to yank his shirt up over the soft, rounded edge of his tummy.

Immediately after, his hand returned once more around the thick pulsing shaft of him; stroking, tugging, milking himself like he knew your sweet cunt would. Your tight, wet, needy pussy that was dying for a drop of his cum.

As you wantonly moaned; he could imagine you splayed out in bed, legs wide and mouth open as you shout your orgasm out for him to hear, drowning out the outside world... and as his eyes would drift down, he could imagine your belly, cute and round; a baby kicking out at his hand as he caressed the stretched-out skin.

The image of you carrying his baby sent his mind into a blazing fire, the tightening in his balls and swelling of his cock too much to bear. Miguel arched his back, the wheels of his chair squeaking faintly across the floor as he curled his toes in his polished shoes, hot, thick ropes of cum shooting out to coat his belly, fingers, and even the underside of his desk; your name leaving his lips in a flurry of obscene prayers.

His mind was fuzzy as he slowly came down from his high, the sound of your giggle snapping him back to reality:

"See you when you get home, Miggy~"

The phone hangs up, and Miguel is left with his pearly white mess coating his belly, making his skin and hair sticky. At least he didn't get any on his shirt. This time.

The bell rang, suddenly, shaking him to full lucidity from his post-coital haze, his hairs standing on end and making him jolt up straight.

He hastily grabbed a few tissues from his desk drawer and began cleaning up, shoving a few stray stands of his graying hair back into place as he began to hear the chatter and footfall of students in the halls.

Oh, you would pay for this when you got home, all right.

#Db!Miguel O'hara #Dad bod!Miguel O'hara #Db!Professor!Miguel O'hara #Dad bod!Professor!Miguel O'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #Db!Miguel O'hara x Reader #Db!Miguel O'hara x you #Professor!Miguel O'hara x you #Professor!Miguel O'hara x reader #atsv x reader #teacher au

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mystxmomo · 3 months ago

Note

can you…write…kevgar… again.. please…

im not asking for a 100k words, 100 is enough for me.. please…

😭💔😭☹️☹️🥺😭😭💔😭eyyeus eueue 😭💔🥺🥺

Okay so like. I do actually want to come back and write something once this event wraps up, because I'm genuinely kind of baffled at how much we're being... like given? It's sparking some ideas. No promises on it though because I need to write being carried by the muses and the tides.

Edit: Also this art at the bottom is REALLY cute I forgot to mention it at first. Thank you for. Letting me see them....

Anyway. I can do you one better than 100 words. Back in like. 2022, I was working on a massive Hanahaki Kevgar AU. I ended up dropping it because I explored what I was interested in with "As the pieces fall into place" (Aka erectile dysfunction au) and was pretty happy with what I had + I think I used chunks of this dialog in that fic (So if some of that looks familiar thats why). However, I also had like. A REALLY NOT INSIGNIFICANT part of this fic written?

Thought it would sit around and collect dust forever in my docs, but you and I both know how sad the state of the Kevgar tag is in. Here's what I had of it put together. Again, I can't stress enough. This is unfinished. But it's also uhhh. Almost 5k words of unfinished? So hopefully some of it still scratches at your brain, even if it's just a draft.

"Original Authors note:

Hello there main friend group, extended twitter friendgroup, and three random strangers in my puter that this pairing will appeal to, I hope this fic finds you well.

Basically, I saw a tumblr post maybe a year or two back that talked about the idea of Hanahaki not as a lethal disease, but instead a chronic one. The idea that it’s a manifestation of your emotions, and your emotions aren’t going to kill you, but by damn they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with. Especially if you keep shoving them down in a little box and avoiding them.

Basically the flowers are a metaphor. It takes away from the tragedy but adds an angle of nuance that I as a writer find personally enjoyable to navigate and play with.

AND I thought to myself. Man you know who would be fun for that? Gay Kevin."

===================

Edgar Valden is real pretty, is the main thing.

Frustratingly so. Men, let alone men with personalities as rotten and cruel as Valden’s shouldn’t be allowed to be as pretty as he is.

But he is, and it’s an issue.

He’s also. Ah… Small. Frail enough to tug at Kevin’s heart strings in a way he’s not entirely comfortable with. He catches himself thinking about that mid-match, Edgar dizzy enough from a recent hit not to fight being carted around on his shoulder. A head smaller than Kevin, and lighter than some of the ladies, Edgar is easy on his arm and warm against his shoulder.

The first time he realizes it, the illusion is immediately ruined by Edgar catching his barings, and begins to kick and struggle out of his hold and cuss him clean. But a sickly, uncomfortable feeling settles in his stomach, and eventually even the most private of Kevin’s thoughts always have a funny way of haunting him. It’s easy to hate him when he’s standing in front of you, sneering and glaring like the bullheaded swine he is. But out on their game field, when the adrenaline runs so heavy his blood goes cold, and Edgar is flying around the field with the same amount of speed and dedication that he takes to his art, it becomes harder to separate pretty from fragile. And late into the night, when Kevin’s thoughts have a tendency to haunt him the most, there’s no escaping it. He prefers it to the guilt that plagues the back of his mind at those hours, but it sits at the pit of his stomach with the same amount of discomfort and nausea as that guilt does. And that guilt, inevitably, turns to rage.

And rage always comes back to frustration.

When he starts hacking up petals and blood, he doesn’t think it’s Valden. He doesn’t think it’s anyone, really.

Emily tells him that it’s called Hanahaki.

“I’m surprised you’ve never encountered it before,” She says, as a general musing.

“I’ve heard of things like it,” He says, “You tend to hear a lot of rumors n’ stories while travelin’ around. You can’t take everything at face value, y’know? Thought it was closer to tall-tales.”

She nods, her brows furrowing together. She tends to get like that when she’s deep in thought. Sort of snappy, and certainly less patient. But she hasn’t gotten to the point that she gets after they finish their matches, running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Instead, it’s quiet pacing.

“Our body has an odd way of reacting to…” She tilts her head, carefully considers her words before she says them. She’s smart like that, “Emotions. Stress. Eventually, it manifests itself physically,” She gives him a concerned look, “Has there been any changes in your life?”

He gives her a weird look. Permanent state of stasis they seemed to be trapped in, their changes were rare and minimal. He had less games these days then when he’d started here, and most of the new personalities at the manor were a respectable sort. To his silence, she almost rolls her eyes. Almost. She’s professional enough not to.

“Ayuso, it could be anything. Have the games been worse recently?” He gives her a stranger look for that one, and she tuts, runs her hands back through her hair and messes up her otherwise pristine looking bun, “Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t gotten a case of it in the manor sooner. Maybe because of how isolated we are..?” She considers it in silence, and Kevin thinks it would be wrong to interrupt her. But then she’s turning to look at him, “Can I see those petals again?”

Raising a brow, he takes out the handkerchief he’d collected them in. It’s from a personal favorite outfit of his, and at first he’s not actually sure what she’s looking for. Because she brushes the petals off to the side, and raises the cloth to the light, and what she says next concerns him more than anything else about the conversation has, “It’s an abnormal amount of blood for such a minor case,” She mutters, stares, “You did come to me immediately, right?”

He huffs laughter. His throat hurts, “‘Course, course. I didn’t see petals and think it was normal.”

She glares, “Don’t get smart with me, Ayuso. I swear, some of these people could come down with consumption and avoid me for it…” She sighs, and her shoulders fall, “Is it growing thorns…?”

“Is that possible?” He asks, and feels somewhat foolish for doing so. Of course it is. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if it hadn’t been.

“It’s not unheard of,” She says, and steps forward to hand him the handkerchief back. When she looks over at him again, it’s with a certain amount of sympathy he rarely sees on her face, “You should be fine, but…I won’t say it will be pleasant.”

He chuckles, and it comes across as weak and forced, “Ms. Dyer, I may be something of a foolish man, but I don’t think anyone is foolish enough think flowers in your throat are a’pleasant experience.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Let me see what medicine I can find. I might be able to kill a few of them off for you…”

He doesn’t want to acknowledge his unfortunate reality, but the first time he vomits up fist fulls of flowers, he’s in a match with Valen

It’s not a good match. Emily goes down fast. Kevin doesn’t have time to get across the map. Mike tries to pull off a rescue, but Michiko is faster than he is, and a bit more clever to boot. Edgar manages to pull something off with those paintings of his, but Kevin’s never been any good with the technology in the manor, and by the time Emily’s out of the game they barley have two ciphers done.

With Michiko distracted by Mike, it gives him the chance to slip away with Edgar. He knows Edgar took a bad hit, because he stays limp over his shoulder rather than attempt to fight and squirm against him.

(He’s warm, something whispers in Kevin’s ear.)

“There you are,” Kevin draws, and drops him on the ground with no amount of care or subtlety. Edgar stumbles back a few steps, attempting to blink away the lightheadedness that comes with these matches.

“... Thanks,” Edgar says, quietly, and brushes himself off at the knees. Though he’s doing well to hide it, he has an embarrassed blush on his face, and he needs to lean back against the crumbling wall to keep his balance.

Kevin reaches out to steady him a bit better, and Edgar shoots him a look that could kill.

“Go decode, I’ll catch my breath and find a way to distract her again,” Edgar turns to give him an odd sort of look, the normal irritation that shadows over his face mending away to something else entirely. Though what it is, he’s unsure, “We can probably still save this if I…” He’s trailing off, a distant, manic look to his eye as he does. It answers none of Kevin’s questions, and only increases his concern, and when Edgar kneels on the ground it’s to fuss with something in his hand.

He’d not noticed it before, but the painter already has a syringe in his hand. He must have scavenged the supplies from Dyer's chair, because he’s already trying to find a vein with shaking, cold-nipped looking fingers.

And like a pendulum swinging back and forth, his irritation washes back to sympathy. And with that sympathy comes guilt, and nausea.

Kevin steps forward, and grabs his arm for him. Edgar immediately tries to pull away, but Kevin is stronger than him, and it only takes tightening his grip to get Edgar to still. Edgar squirms under his touch, and something in Kevin’s head equates him to being no different than one of those squeaking barn kittens that didn’t know threats from friends and so they yelled and hissed at anything that grabbed ‘em.

“Hold still,” he says, his voice strained, and Edgar does glare at him this time, “Save the supplies. Y’might need it later.”

Edgar lets him. Patch him up. He can’t argue with strategy, and their playing field is the uncomfortable equalizer. To Kevin’s discomfort, Edgar spends the entire time staring at him with this ugly, uncanny look.

…

“You’re hurt,” Edgar says, suddenly, and reaches out to grab Kevin’s face. Edgar’s hands are soft, and but his touch is not. His thumb brushes against his mouth, and he’s surprised to find that it comes back with blood. He doesn’t remember tasting it. Maybe he’s already so used to it, that he’d just not noticed it, “When did you take a hit?”

A smarter man would be able to come up with an excuse on the spot. It’s not unusual, afterall, to end the match covered in your teammates blood. Especially ones that run as poorly as there’s. Especially with Kevin’s position being as it is.

Kevin is not a smart man. He’s dull, and a coward.

“I’m fine,” He snaps, and pulls back from Edgar. Feeling suddenly quite defensive, he feels his lips curl up in defiance. It’s all show, really. Because underneath it, he can’t deny the sudden surge of nerves and panic and fear. He’s never been any different or any smarter than a cornered animal, but most men in his position aren’t.

Edgar’s hand lingers in the air, fingers oddly delicate despite the blood. And Edgar stares at him. He stares at him for a long time, his eyes distant and hollow and cold, “Okay,” He says, and his tone is odd when he says it. Like Edgar doesn’t entirely believe him. And when Kevin thinks he’s going to leave it at that, he clarifies with, “Okay. You don’t have to tell me. Whatever. Just- Go decode. Maybe I can still save this for us, you useless asshole…”

And Edgar trails off, stares at the spot of the snow where his own blood has dripped on the snow.

There’s no fight left in him after that. There should be. This is the part where Kevin normally feels anger and discomfort at the mans provocation, where they ruin their match and draw the hunters ire. It’s normally the part where irritation takes over sensability.

Instead, Kevin stumbles away feeling nauseous. He doesn’t decode. Decoding would be the smart thing to do, and he is not a smart man. A cold sweat crawls over his skin, and he’s shaking hard enough that he’s having trouble staying upright. He feels it, in his throat and in his gut. Something cutting into his flesh, like the way a cats claws would dig into skin.

He makes it behind shack, before he needs to stop and stable his weight on the wall.

It’s petals and blood mix on the ground in a ugly red soup, chunky and red with rotting petals and cuts of flesh. He wheezes in an attempt to catch his breath, but he finds himself dizzy for it. Eventually, he needs to kneel on the ground and rest his head against the wall, unable to keep his eyes open without risking another fit. The cold weather of Leo’s is as much of a sting as it is a comfort on his throat and skin. And just when he thinks he’s settled his head, he lurches again, the cycle repeating all over.

He doesn’t realize the blood rushing in his ear is the hunter until he feels her cold hand on his back.

“Oh dear..” Michiko says, and her voice is soft on his ear, “This is where you’ve been hiding.”

Michiko is a sweet sort of lady. She doesn’t take the chance to knock him out over it. Instead, she lingers behind him and ushers him in the direction the dungeon must be, stopping him from falling over himself twice in the process

He’d not realized she’d found Edgar. She must have. By the time she guides him over to the dungeon, it’s already open, the wind blowing out of it. He drops into the dungeon without as much as a tip of his hat, and there's this cold, empty feeling that sits in the bottom of his stomach.

Valden was going to kill him.

// Editors note: These next sections are unfinished, but I still give everything I had for you. Anything that has a "...." Around it was supposed to have more of a lead in.

Edgar doesn’t kill him.

But also Edgar doesn’t talk to him for a while, after that.

He doesn’t talk to him. He expects a fight out of it, but he stumbles into the room so pale and dizzy that it draws the concern of Emily immediately.

[Edgar picks a fight with Emily because he's confused and irritated]

“Come on now Valden, don’t give her a hard time ‘cause you’re in a shitty mood,” He steps in between them, and Edgar snarls at him.

“Don't fucking touch me,"

...

Something clicks into place in Emily’s gaze, something Kevin barely catches himself. She looks at the two of them. Opens her mouth to say something. A scolding, maybe.

Then closes it, her eyebrows furrowing.

The first time he coughs up a stem, he cuts up his throat so badly he can’t talk.

Perhap's its for the best. He feels uncharacteristically irritable about the whole thing, as the rose thorns hook into his throat and restrict his breath.....

“Ayuso…?” Edgar calls out, and he sounds surprisingly… small. It pisses him off.

“Just-” Kevin draws in a long breath, holding his head in his hands,

Edgar lingers in the doorway for a few seconds, blinking dully. He looks away, “I was going to ask if you’re alright.” He says, sounding short with him. “I thought….” He trails off, stares at him for a long time. His gaze burns into Kevin’s skin

“Nevermind,” Edgar grumbles, and pushes past him. It’s with a harsh shove, and some smarter part of Kevin thinks he might deserve it. But some ugly, more stubborn part of him only makes him angrier.

....

“Of course I know what hanahaki is,” Edgar says, and the door closes with more force the necessary, “The droll hopeless romantics in the arts don’t know how to shut up about it.”

“You don’t hate me?” Kevin’s heart swells.

“Why would I hate you?” Edgar wrinkles his nose at him, “You’re annoying, and I wish you’d learn how to shut the hell up. But thats really not different than any of the other dumbasses that populate this manor."

Unsure of whether or not to be relieved or to scold the man, Kevin laughs. He feels light headed.

“Want to hear somethin’ funny?” Kevin doesn't wait for a reply, “I don’t…. think I hate you.”

Edgar takes a moment to process that. Then laughs at him. Loudly, and full body. It’s sharp on his ear, and as ugly as it is pretty. Perfect, for a man like Valden, “That's what you’re so worked up about?” He asks, and steps forward to look him over.

“You’re fuckin’-”

“You’re throwing around children's insults and throwing up flower petals over the fact you might not hate me. Ayuso that’s- Ridiculous. Tell me you see how ridiculous that is,” He says, and his smile is hidden behind his hand. Kevin feels ill looking at it. Because even when he’s mocking him, that smile causes his stomach to turn and nerves to creep under his skin.

(His smile is, while at first perplexed, otherwise sincere. It’s something rare to see on the man.)

And he- he doesn’t understand. Edgar doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand what this means for Kevin, he doesn’t understand the severity of that acknowledgement.

Kevin barely understands what this means for himself.

Kevin lunges forward and grabs him by the shirt. He kisses him.

Edgar looks startled. At first, he panics, and Kevin has acute awareness of the way his hand grabs at his shirt and wrist. He doesn’t pull away

But eventually, he calms as Kevin does. His hand moves from his chest to his jaw, cupping his cheek like it actually means something to him. His hands are soft, and Kevin’s are not. Kevin’s lips are chapped, and Edgar’s are sweet. It causes guilt and disgust to rest in his gut all the same, and instead of rage, it just sinks and sits there.

When he pulls away, Edgar is giving him a distant, careful look.

Kevin stares at him with exhaustion, pale in the face and ill in the stomach.

“Oh. You taste like blood. Come here.” Edgar says, and his hand lingers on top of Kevin’s wrist, on his cheek, thumb against the corner of his lip,

Edgar kisses him again. It doesn’t help, but Kevin still indulges in it like it does.

...

When Kevin breaks away, he’s shaking.

Guilt. Disgust. Anger. Discomfort. There are butterflies in his stomach, like the first time [his lady I forgot her name] grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

Fuck.

He pulls away, and he vomits.

Edgar is quiet this time. There’s no mockery, and no cruelty. He watches him with a blank expression on his face, hand drifting like he's unsure whether or not he wants to touch him again. Then, he kneels down next to him. A warm body against his side, a soft hand on his back, rubbing right up between his shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Edgar says, “Go to bed, Ayuso. We can talk later.”

His eyes burn.

Edgar helps him over into bed, and sits on the edge of it until he falls asleep.

They don’t talk about it.

He tries to talk to Patricia about it.

“Mother once told me that love was something you chose to do. People think they fall in love. And maybe there’s some honesty to that. But love is conditional. It’s as much of a choice as cruelty,” Patricia says. She looks toward him, frowns, “But I will admit. You seem to have been born strictly to challenge that idea.”

Kevin can’t help himself. A smile hesitantly pulls onto his lips, and he says, “Y’think?”

“That’s not a compliment. Moron,” Her tongue clicks against her teeth, but her eyes soften on him.

“I don’t know. It sort of sounded like one.”

...

"Listen, Kevin. And I am begging you to listen closely. Because I'm going to tell you something I wish, more then anything, someone had told me," She struts forward, placing her hands on either side of his cheek. The touch is gentle, but firm, guiding his gaze to hers. She has to gaze up at him to look him in the eye, but when that meets, hers narrows on his with an almost predatory look.

But then it falls. Her lips twitch down, and her hands fall, "It's okay."

He laughs, "That's it?"

She considers her next words carefully. Instead of snapping back at him, there's a patient, creeping look to her eye, "It's okay that you're uncomfortable with this."

And his blood runs cold.

Something must change about his expression, then. Because she sways forward again, closer than before. She swallows, slow and collected, "It's okay to feel disgusted with yourself, and it's okay to feel guilty. That's outside of your control. I need you to think about that, because I know you don't understand it. What you're feeling now is- it's fine. It's just... Fine. But if you sit there and let it eat you alive then you're better off dead."

....

He coughs.

And coughs again, . He’s struck with a sudden wave of exhaustion.

He ... Sits down. He feels winded.

He holds his head in his hands.

"I don't think this was ever about Valden," He says, and his hand scratches at his throat.

"Maybe not," Patricia shrugs, "Maybe it was. You'll have to be the one to figure that out.”

He extends an olive branch.

"Do you wanna come drinkin' with me tonight," Kevin asks, and he holds back a grimace as he asks.

Edgar looks at him weirdly, "Not really," He says, too fast for Kevin's heart to handle. But then he continues. Not in any consideration of Kevin’s immediate heartbreak, but because he muses outloud to himself more than he doesn’t, "It gets too loud in Demi's bar. That room is too damn small sometimes. That doesn't sound even remotely relaxing."

Kevin pauses.

"It can just be us," he offers, and takes a small step forward, "I ain't exactly picky about where I drink. If the bar is too loud I can come on up to your room, or you can come up to mine."

"..." Edgar turns to look at him, and his gaze glimmers with a curious interest, "Why don't you come by my studio tonight with some wine."

For a minute, the guilt in his heart is replaced by those soft, lovely butterflies that scatter and crawl about.

“Alright.”

....

“Oh, it’s you,” Edgar wipes away the paint off his arms, and nods him into the room. Kevin offers him a suspicious, quiet look, but steps forward.

“Hurt my heart, Valden. Soundin’ so disappointed I showed up.”

“I didn’t actually think you would,” Edgar says, like an admittance, “Sit down.”

Kevin does.

“I hope you don’t mind if I paint you while we drink,” Edgar says, pouring the wine Kevin brought into two cups. And Kevin - he grunts.

“Now I didn’t exactly remember that bein’ part of the deal.”

“Sucks.”

Edgar extends the cup out for him to take. Kevin does. Their fingers brush, and Kevin’s entire arm buzz with the nerves that come from it.

Edgar works in silence, for the most part. It’s awkward, and uncomfortable. Kevin falls into sharp coughing fits, and Edgar without fail will wrinkle his nose at him, come on over, and wordlessly tilt his head back to the position he wants him in. His touches are soft, and careful. Calculated in a way that Kevin doesn’t often see on him. The wine aside, Edgar has tea prepared for him, which surprises him. Given that Kevin arrived so late, it’s mostly luke-warm. Edgar doesn’t bother mentioning or apologizing for that.

He finishes off a glass of wine. Then another. It just further succeeds in giving him that uncomfortable, sticky feeling he’s never been good at handling.

Edgar stares at him, and Kevin feels that gaze crawling across his skin. The room isn’t warm, but it might as well be.

“I’ve never been good at portraits,” Edgar admits to him, suddenly, his gaze lowering to his pallet. Kevin waits for him to continue, but realizes that on his on he probably won’t.

Despite himself, he prompts him.

....

His gaze is tired. His figure is stiff, “I’m not good at this, Ayuso. I’ve never been good at this. So I’ll be forward. I don’t know why you’re here, and it’s really hard to convince myself of any explanation that seems reasonable.”

Kevin's throat itches. Edgar looks up at him.

“What are you asking me, then?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin says, “I don’t even really know what I want outt’a this, if I’m bein’ honest with you.”

Edgar rubs his eyes. It seems tired, “Fuck me, you’re so fucking stupid sometimes,”

Kevin feels that anger, that kneejerk horror, and he moves to stand. There’s a snarl on his lip before he knows it, as the embarrassment passes over him

“No, no. Jesus- Get that look off your face, I wasn’t insulting you. You just- Are.” Edgar’s jaw sets. His paintbrush slams down, and with it, Kevin stills. He looks like he has a headache, “You are.” He repeats, sharply, and more firm.

“How is callin’ me stupid not an insult?!”

“What else am I supposed to call you when you act like this!?”

Kevin stares at him in disbelief, and Edgar throws his hands up in the air. He holds his head in his hands and closes his eyes, and there’s this short, uncomfortable silence between the two of them. It passes. It always passes.

Kevin gets up to leave.

Edgar catches his hand and stare at him. Kevin hadn't realized he could move that fast, or maybe that he'd been approaching him to begin with. Kevin turns to snap at him, but when their eyes meet he feels it all die out.

“Sit down,” Edgar says

Kevin.... sits.

[The note in my drafts here just said "Second Base" With no other context]

He feels. Guilt. For for wanting him like this.

And, above all else, guilt at placing himself in Edgar’s life. Guilt for his feelings.

He coughs.

Kevin nudges Edgar off of him, and for a moment Edgar’s eyes flash with panic and - To Kevin’s mild horror, betrayal. But Kevin doesn’t have time to sit on it. He rolls over and, as he’s become so accustomed to, hacks and coughs until vomit and blood and whole flowers pool out of his mouth. At first in chunks, and then and into a puddle on the otherwise clean cloth. It tastes like rot in his mouth, stinks like the mush thrown at hogs.

When he comes back down from it all, Edgar is next to him folded on his knee’s. He has a hand between his shoulder blades, tracing sweet little lines into his back.

When Kevin breath’s again, he’s surprised.

His hand is still near his mouth, covered in the ugly [visceral] and gore.

Kevin think’s Edgar will leave him as he did before, especially when he leaves his side and mumbles about not needing to do anything tonight. But to his surprise, he comes back. He has a rag in his hand, stained by paint but otherwise clean, and a cup of water. Edgar takes his hands between his own again and mindfully begin to clean it. His nose wrinkles up when his hands touch a little too close to the gunk, but to Kevin’s surprise, he still works to clean them.

It’s been a while since anyone’s done that for Kevin.

He feels emptier for it.

...

“Didn’t think someone like you would have the stomach for this,” Kevin says, eventually, when his body no longer betrays him.

“... My sister used to get sick when she was younger,” Edgar says,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He looks ahead, rather than at Kevin, “The maids were supposed to take care of her, but I…” Edgar trails off, his fingers twitching. Kevin doesn’t push him about it. He has a few stories of his own that he wouldn’t want told.

“Sorry ‘bout your uh-”

Edgar looks down at the vile, and wrinkles his nose, “Why are you apologizing? It’s just spare bedsheets. They were probably Balsa’s anyway,”

They sit in silence.

Kevin is the one to leave.

What he hates most, he thinks, is that Edgar isn’t wrong. Kevin can’t deny his own attraction to the man at this point. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? And there’s such shame in that. He was better than that.

He doesn’t have a defense for himself. He says, "Is it hard to believe I find you kind of- I don’t know. You’re interesting?"

Edgar's nose wrinkles. His face blanks over. God that's - infuriating. He does that when he realizes he's not going to be getting his way, that he's maybe not as right as he thought he was. Kevin knows this because Kevin's argued with him before, "What could you possibly find fascinating about me?"

“I don’t know yet,” He answers, weakly, and Edgar gives him a look with disbelief so thick he can cut through it. His throat feels dry. Not even the stuffy, clogged dry that could get him out of this, but instead an uncomfortable, distant feeling that has him falling silent and still. He wants to raise his hands up and touch them to the other man's shoulders, but just as much, he finds his hand paralyzed at his sides.

Edgar tries to take pity on him.

“Ayuso, that’s not- It’s not an accusation,” Edgar says, slowly, “It’s just what it is.”

Kevin draws a long breath in. It's patient, and careful, "You were okay with me using you like that?"

"You weren't using me," Edgar sounds annoyed, but there’s confusion there, "I want to fuck you. If I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t be here.”

Kevin flinches at the vulgarity of it. Maybe it's just how sharply it contrasts the emotions of the conversation, but he - He does flinch.

...

Edgar steps closer, so that they can sit next to one another. He's still and uncomfortable. "Okay."

Kevin laces their fingers together.

There's no guilt for that.

#Kevgar #Kevin Ayuso #Edgar Valden #Kevin Alonso

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exorcqism · 1 year ago

Text

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; it comes in many forms. even clothing. wc, 4.39K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m backkk. i got so caught up in writing one-shots that i almost forgot to do the series. so i’m here. hope ya enjoyyy. reblog to support meeee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, reader has a motorcycle, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART FIVE

finally, the much-anticipated friday had arrived, as the clock struck 12:15, choso let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from his cluttered desk. the familiar sound of the bell signaling the end of class echoed through the room, soon followed by the lively chatter of students as they filed out into the hallway. as he stepped out, the distinct smell of freshly cleaned carpets mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of takoyaki and ramen wafted towards him. his stomach grumbled in response, and he rolled his eyes at his hunger pangs.

as the male strolled gracefully down the hall, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor, kashimo slung his arm over choso's broad shoulders. his face was lit up with a beaming grin that seemed to radiate energy. choso couldn't help but suppress a groan at the touch.

"what's with the frown?" kashimo asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity. "aren't you excited for tonight?" he continued; excitement evident in his tone as they made their way towards the bustling cafeteria.

"what day is it again?" choso rubbed his bleary eyes, his tiredness evident in the way he slumped in his chair. he had spent all night tending to his digital artwork and finishing up homework. kashimo nearly choked on his drink when he heard choso's question. the bags under his friend's eyes were deep and dark, a clear sign of exhaustion.

kashimo leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. "you know it's friday, right?" he reminded choso with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "your date with you-know-who is tonight." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing choso's eyes to widen with shock and surprise. suddenly, all traces of exhaustion seemed to vanish from choso's expression.

choso let out a frustrated sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "damn it, i almost forgot," he muttered to himself. "i need to find something nice to wear and freshen myself up. i probably look like death right now." his thoughts drifted to his upcoming date and he suddenly felt self-conscious about his appearance. kashimo waved a dismissive hand, trying to calm choso’s nerves.

"relax, you have plenty of time. your date isn't until seven and its only noon now. take a nap, get dressed, and do whatever else you gotta to do. maybe even pick up some flowers for the lovely lady." choso only rolled his eyes at kashimo's teasing words but was grateful for his reassurance.

after a satisfying lunch, the two boys retreated to choso's dorm room, where they spent their time sifting through an impressive collection of clothing. like pages in a newspaper, choso pulled each hanger from the rack and tossed the garments onto his bed.

"wow, you must come from money," remarked kashimo, studying the designer labels and high-end fabrics of the clothing strewn across the bed. the beige sweater with a brown collar and sleeves underneath that caught his eye looked like it belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. it was clear that choso had an eye for style and a wallet to match.

"i wouldn't say i'm wealthy in the traditional sense," choso replied with a hint of modesty, as he effortlessly pulled out a few pairs of designer boots. kashimo's expression shifted to one of disbelief as his eyes took in the luxurious footwear. he couldn't tell if choso was being humble or simply showcasing his affluent lifestyle.

"what’re you talking about? you have the largest room on campus, your wardrobe is filled with high-end fashion that could pay for my textbooks ten times over, you're top of the class, and you have an incredible talent for painting," kashimo exclaimed.

"you have everything. you don’t have to want for anything." the words tumbled out with a mix of admiration and envy, as kashimo couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy towards the male beside him.

choso chuckled humbly as he moved the pairs of boots closer to the bed, each one a work of art in its own right. they were made by the most prestigious fashion house in the world, a symbol of his wealth and status.

"the biggest room in the school? that's just because i got lucky with housing arrangements," choso replied nonchalantly, brushing off kashimo's words. "and these clothes and shoes? it's all just material possessions. it’s not like they define who i am." but even as he said this, a part of him couldn't help but feel proud of what he had achieved and acquired through hard work and determination.

a thoughtful look crossed kashimo's face as he sized up his friend. "you've got it all, man, i’m telling you. looks, brains, talent…what don't you have?" he couldn't help but feel envious of choso's seemingly perfect life. little did he know, beneath the surface, there were struggles and insecurities that even wealth and success couldn't erase.

choso simply shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips. "my wealth is of no concern to me, and it shouldn't be to you either. you are just as worthy as i am, if not more so. i refuse to be lumped in with those spoiled assholes who strut around this place as if they own it." he gestured towards the crowd of students milling about the school grounds outside his window.

“i’d rather not be labeled as an entitled individual that kicks another down because of their casual way of life." choso's eyes glinted with determination and a hint of defiance. he refused to let his family's fortune define him or dictate how he treated others.

kashimo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. but then, as if on cue, a smile lit up his face. "let's forget all that," he chirped. "we have more important things to focus on, like finding the perfect outfit for you." his gaze fell upon a rack of clothes. he strode towards it with purpose.

"i think i already have an idea," he added, gesturing towards a sleek and stylish collared shirt on display. it caught the light just right, highlighting its delicate details and flattering cut. kashimo's keen sense of fashion was always reliable, and he knew this would be the ideal choice for his new friend.

choso inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "you have an idea?" he repeated dryly, his dark eyes following kashimo's outstretched finger as it pointed towards the shirt.

with a flick of his wrist and a wide, toothy grin that always made choso roll his eyes and groan, kashimo declared confidently, "yeah, yeah, we'll have you looking like a vogue model by the time we're done." his hands moved deftly, as if conducting an orchestra, as he waved them around in front of choso's face.

the sunlight glinted off the sharp planes of his cheekbones and highlighted the smattering of his blood mark across his nose. choso couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance mixed with fondness for his friend's over-the-top antics. but he knew deep down that kashimo was just trying to help him look his best for his upcoming date.

after a few moments, choso found himself meticulously adjusting the crisp collar and sleeves of his tailored top, the fabric hugging his figure perfectly. he paired it with formal pants in a deep coffee shade, complementing the beige sweater he wore underneath. the overall effect created a polished and put-together appearance.

kashimo's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he lightly nudged choso. "well, you could pass for a model," he teased, his eyes flickering over choso's outfit. the male blushed, not expecting to be dressed in such a fashion so soon. "you're quite the handsome devil, choso." his words were laced with admiration and playfulness. choso's cheeks flushed deeply at the compliment.

"please don't say things like that," he murmured, trying to hide his bashful smile. "but thank you…i think." the soft breeze flowing through the window tousled his hair, adding an extra touch of dishevelment to his already dashing appearance.

placing his hands behind his head, kashimo's snicker broke through the quiet of the bedroom. choso shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt the tips of his ears grow warm with embarrassment. fidgeting with his fingers, he tried to push away the teasing.

"aw come on, choso. your lady friend would definitely approve," kashimo taunted, his laughter now booming in the open space around them.

choso's cheeks grew even redder as he found himself growing more uncomfortable. "can we please stop talking about this?" he pleaded, desperately wishing he could escape this conversation and the teasing that came with it. "and shouldn’t you be saving these comments for hakari, not me?"

kashimo's smirk faltered slightly at choso's words, hints of embarrassment creeping into his expression. "hey, it’s not like he's not my boyfriend or anything," he muttered, trying to brush off the earlier comment.

choso couldn't help but roll his eyes at kashimo's attempt to downplay their relationship. as much as kashimo denied it, everyone knew there was something more between them than just friends. but for now, choso was content with keeping their dynamic as it was - friends who teased each other mercilessly.

"right," choso muttered, his dark eyes flickering with curiosity. "so, what happened the other night with you and hakari, if i may ask? did you two have fun?"

kashimo exhaled slowly, his cheeks flushing as he thought back to that unforgettable evening. "i mean…yes, we did have fun, but a couple things happened that i didn't expect."

choso could see the telltale sign of embarrassment in kashimo's blush. He could only imagine what had transpired between the two of them, causing such a reaction in kashimo. a small smile curled at the corners of his lips, wondering just how wild their night together must have been.

kashimo shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words to explain his feelings about that night. but they eluded him, leaving him with a tangle of emotions that he couldn't quite put into words. nevertheless, one thing was for sure - it was a night he would never forget.

choso raised a skeptical brow at kashimo's wistful expression. "well, aren't you gonna tell me what happened?" he prodded with curiosity. "you seem like you're reminiscing about it."

kashimo was abruptly pulled from his reverie, caught off guard by choso's inquisitive tone. his lips pursed as he carefully considered how to explain the night's events. "i guess i could tell you," he began slowly. "it was a pretty nice night all around. we ate and drank a little, but then out of the blue, he asked me to give him my hand." a faint smile tugged at the corners of kashimo's mouth at the memory.

"i was confused as to why he wanted my hand, but i gave in anyway. we held hands for a while, just enjoying each other's company. and he had this silly grin on his face…" kashimo trailed off with a fond chuckle.

choso couldn't help but tease, "you didn't kiss, did you?" though his words were nonchalant, there was a hint of playful curiosity in his tone.

"stop," kashimo protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "it's not like that. we just held hands and…okay, we almost did but i got nervous." his words tumbled out in a rush, his eyes darting away from his teasing gaze. "but we're going to hang out again tonight," he continued, determined to prove that there was nothing more than friendship between them. "and i was thinking of having a double date soon since our situations are pretty similar."

choso chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "damn, you're really soiling my plans," he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"well excuse me, mr. kamo," kashimo chuckled jovially, his eyes glinting mischievously. "i should've considered that you might've wanted some alone time with the pretty lady… hey, let's head out and get some flowers. that'd be a nice touch, right?"

"i suppose," choso exhaled, rubbing his temples wearily. "would you mind passing me my wallet? it's on the desk." he pointed over to the umber wood desk that held his notebooks and other school supplies. kashimo retrieved the wallet and couldn't resist taking a quick peek inside. among choso's id, dorm room keycard, and a small polaroid of him and his brothers, was a thick wad of cash.

"holy shit, man," kashimo exclaimed before choso could snatch the wallet from his hands. "you could literally buy the whole planet with this amount of money."

"i said give me the wallet, not snoop around," choso narrowed his eyes, an edge of annoyance in his tone. the stack of bills represented years of hard work and sacrifice for him and his siblings. he didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it, let alone stare at it.

as the clock struck seven, you carefully chose your outfit - a sleek black leather jacket and fitted jeans paired with a simple yet elegant blouse. your trusted harley davidson roared as you rode into the parking lot of the upscale restaurant that choso had chosen for your meeting. you removed your helmet and placed it on the bike seat before walking confidently into the building.

inside, the restaurant was bathed in a warm, dim light that enhanced the romantic atmosphere. the scent of scented candles and sizzling food filled the air as you made your way to the table that had been reserved for you and choso. when you spotted him, your heart skipped a beat at his appearance.

instead of his usual intimidating demeanor, choso looked more like a regular academia student with metal adorning his face. he wore a cozy-looking sweater and a purple scarf wrapped around his neck, giving off a sense of vulnerability. a bandage on the corner of his lip suggested that he may have been injured recently. an expensive-looking watch around his wrist. and instead of his signature ponytails, his hair fell freely around his face, some strands neatly tied into a ponytail.

you sat down on the opposite side of the table, unable to contain the soft smile that spread across your face. "hey, choso," you greeted him warmly. the sound of your voice made him look up at you, seemingly surprised that you had actually shown up regardless of whether it was planned or not.

choso's voice was gentle and hesitant as he spoke, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "um…hi," he said, returning your smile with one of his own. he held something behind his back, and as he brought it forward, you saw that it was a bouquet of flowers. your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them.

"i brought you something," choso said, presenting the bouquet to you. each stem was carefully chosen and arranged, bursting with vibrant colors and delicate petals. you were not typically one to accept flowers as a gift, but these were too beautiful to resist.

you took the bouquet into your arms, feeling the softness of the petals against your skin. "wow," you chuckled in disbelief, admiring the intricate details of each flower. "these are really pretty…thank you." your eyes met choso's and you could see the sincerity and thoughtfulness in his expression. it made your heart swell with appreciation for this unexpected gesture of kindness.

choso nodded, a delicate pink hue blooming across his cheeks. "i'm…glad you like them," he stammered, his hand unconsciously smoothing out the creases in his scarf. "i was seriously struggling to decide which flowers would be best for you. i wasn't sure if i made the right choice."

you smiled warmly at him, taking the bouquet from his hands and inhaling the sweet scent of the blossoms. "no, it's okay," you reassured softly. "i love these flowers. no one has ever given me a bouquet before - let alone such beautiful ones like these. i can tell you put a lot of thought into this."

as always, your kind words had choso's heart fluttering and his chest feeling light as air. "well, i'm happy to be the first to give you such a gift," he replied, unable to contain the shy smile that spread across his face. "though now I'm starting to wonder if i should have just given you one of my paintings instead."

you shook your head gently. "whatever gift you came up with, i would’ve loved it," you assured him. "as long as it came from your heart and had some thought put into it, that's all that matters to me."

choso smiled softly, feeling a sense of confidence wash over him. after your simple conversation, the two of you finally sat down to order some delicious food and refreshing drinks. your conversations ranged from how your days had been to school-related topics like class projects and even delved into personal matters.

as the waiter placed your plates in front of you, choso couldn't resist taking a quick photo with his camera, capturing not only the mouth-watering food but also the charming interior of the restaurant.

"smile," choso said with a slight twitch at the corners of his lips. your eyebrows raised in surprise, but you quickly posed for the photo, revealing a flawless smile that made choso's heart skip a beat as he gazed at you through his camera lens.

the vibrant colors and warm atmosphere of the restaurant seemed to enhance your beauty, and choso couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment shared between the two of you.

with a contented smile on your face, you playfully plunged your fork into the steaming bowl of ramen, eagerly slurping up the tender noodles. across from you, choso calmly ate from his plate of shrimp tempura, occasionally watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

"hey, let's do that thing they always do in the movies with the noodles," you suggested, holding up your fork and wiggling it playfully. a faint blush colored choso's cheeks as he caught on to what you were referring to, and he couldn't help but internally sigh at the thought. it wasn't that he didn't want to do anything romantic with you, but he was wary of how things might change between the two of you afterward.

"i suppose there's no harm in trying," choso said with a small smile, taking the other end of the noodle between his lips. you mirrored his actions, using the thin noodle as a playful tool to bring each other closer. as your lips were only a breath away from touching, you both paused for a moment, your hearts racing in anticipation.

finally, unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance between your lips and shared a brief but sweet kiss. the remaining noodle was quickly swallowed as your lips met, causing choso's eyes to widen in shock and surprise. his cheeks flushed a deep red, almost matching the crimson liquid slowly seeping out from his blood mark and onto the table.

feeling slightly embarrassed by his unusual reaction, choso hastily pulled away and chuckled nervously. "that's part of why i always keep it covered up," he admitted, trying to make light of the situation. but before he could apologize or explain further, he felt your gentle touch as you began wiping away the traces of blood on his cheeks with a napkin.

"it's okay," you reassured him softly, carefully folding the napkin to a cleaner side and continuing to clean his face. "does this happen often?" you asked, genuinely curious about choso's sudden bleeding.

choso nodded, his expression slightly sheepish. "usually when i'm….overstimulated," he admitted with a small smile. it wasn't a common occurrence, but it did happen from time to time, especially in moments like this when he was caught off guard by unexpected yet welcomed intimacy with someone he cared for deeply. "but i can also make it bleed at will."

the sound of your laughter filled the room as choso's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your observation. "that explains why there isn't any red paint in your room. you use your own blood for art…i think that's so cool. but doesn't it hurt?" you asked, genuinely curious about his unique artistic process.

choso shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "no, not in the slightest." his mind seemed to go momentarily blank before he quickly changed the subject. "um…we should finish eating before the food gets cold."

you nodded, returning to your meal but unable to shake off your curiosity about choso's blood mark and how it worked. after dinner, the two of you left the restaurant and made your way back to your motorcycle. you eagerly held onto the bouquet of flowers as you mounted the vehicle and placed your helmet in your lap.

"well, i guess this is where we part ways for the night," choso said, his hand nervously fiddling with his scarf. you looked up at him and checked the time on his watch. despite the sun having set and the moon beginning to rise, the night was still young.

"come on, it's too early to call it a night. let's take a bike ride around shibuya for a bit," you pleaded, hoping to spend more time with choso. just as he was about to politely decline and suggest rescheduling for another day, he felt something stopping him from saying no.

"alright, but please don't drive too fast…i've never been on a motorcycle before," choso reluctantly agreed, surprising himself with his sudden change of heart.

you squealed in excitement and patted the padded seat before putting on your helmet. "you'll have to hold onto me unless you want to fly off," you advised quickly as choso settled himself onto the seat behind you.

"fly off?" choso repeated before you unexpectedly accelerated out of the parking lot, your harley roaring into the night. he inhaled sharply, feeling slightly scared as he instinctively wrapped his strong arms around your body and buried his face into your back. you couldn't help but smirk at your daring actions.

"please…slow down," choso's muffled and shaken voice pleaded from behind you, making you giggle mischievously.

·.⌇ bonus..

under the moonlit sky, you and choso sat on a wooden bench in front of a serene lake. the gentle breeze caused both of you to shiver, but the beauty of the setting made it worth it. as you watched the ripples of the water sway back and forth, you turned to look at choso beside you.

"i wanted to ask you something," you said softly. choso's head snapped over to face you, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"about?" he asked.

"you mentioned that you always keep your mark covered up. you said it was because of people's fear and judgment towards what you really are…but why does it worry you so much?" your question forced choso into a moment of silence as he pondered his response.

"i'm…" he let out a heavy sigh before continuing. "i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i'm not like other sorcerers or curses. i’m half curse, half human. my brother yuji is a sorcerer, while the other two are also curses. normally, humans can’t see curses, but because i am in this body, you can see me."

he glanced at you to confirm that you were still listening before revealing more. "i…um…i keep my blood mark covered because when i get overwhelmed or stressed, my face starts bleeding like i told you before. i'm just embarrassed about it. if people knew what i really was, they would probably be too scared to even look in my direction. people think curses are disgusting and unworthy of life; they are afraid of them. it's better that part of myself hidden and live as a human."

you placed a comforting hand on choso's thigh, gently rubbing it with your thumb. "but choso, i'm not scared of you at all. curse or not, i think you're one of the kindest and most genuine people i've ever met. i honestly thought your unique display of techniques was just your sorcery, but now i know the truth. my opinion of you will never change, i promise."

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "really?" he asked incredulously. "i'm not disgusting or horrible to you?" you shook your head, a small smile quirking at the corners of your lips.

"not even close," you reassured him. "the most people will say about you is how annoyingly smart you are." you playfully teased him, making him chuckle.

"but in all seriousness, you're a genuinely good person, choso." with a tender gesture, you reached up and cupped his cheek, causing his cheeks to flush a light shade of red. as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, choso couldn't help but place his hand where your lips had just been.

"my face is going to start bleeding again," he muttered with a shy smile, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

with excitement bubbling in your chest, you quickly pulled choso's camera out of his bag and slung an arm over his shoulder, positioning the lens perfectly in front of you both. "smile, choso," you chimed with a grin, capturing the moment forever.

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your quick movements, but he obliged and gave the camera his best smile as a bright flash illuminated the area and the sound of the photo printing echoed through the air.

as soon as the picture was fully developed, you eagerly removed it from the slot and examined it with satisfaction. "we look pretty damn good, don't we?" you commented, admiring how the lighting fell perfectly on both of you and the beautiful scenery around you.

"yeah, not bad at all," choso agreed as he gently took the photo from your hands and stowed it away with his camera in his bag. "that was actually the final picture i needed for my project."

"right, your scrapbook thing," you remembered with a smile as you rose from the bench. "shall we head back? i can help you put it together if you'd like."

choso's smile widened at your offer and he nodded eagerly. "i would love that."

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yourlocalartsonist · 7 months ago

Text

MONTHLY MFIP UPDATE✨✨

9/24 | Month 2 | Next Month | Month 1

Hey folks 🦐 I finally got the chance to make this month’s MFIP Update cuz god damn life was kicking my ass. College is fine for the most part tbh, just a lot of reading and writing cuz of the specific classes I chose. HOWEVER I have 💥FUCKING PMDD💥 so um skill issue on my part but it’s why I’ve been kinda exhausted as shit this week and was late with the update so my bad folks! (Also for more info on PMDD, click here! I don’t wanna spend this post yapping about it but wanted to leave a resource to spread awareness just in case :3). Also, Imma be tagging some of y'all who have been reading/supporting MFIP consistently just for this post, so yk you guys actually know these updates exist. I was gonna do that for the first ever update but as with many things, I forgor, so I'm doing it now! They’re supposed to come out on the 18th of every month, but yk sometimes life happens and I’m a lil late. It won’t be any earlier than the 18th tho so look out for these once it hits that date! Anywho, cheers to this month’s update!

Alrighty folks we be starting with the Art~!

Alrighty so obvious new thing, WE GOT RAPH’S REF SHEEEEEEEET TEEHEEEEEEE

BRO IM SO HYPE ABOUT IT! It turned out so genuinely amazing and I’m ridiculously proud of it! Especially cuz I honestly thought Raph was gonna be a harder design to figure out yk? I’m not used to drawing his body type, I wasn’t as familiar with his outfit, and even tho I’ve sketched him a few times before, I was just a bit nervous with Raph. Funfact, he’s also been the hardest to figure out how to write back when I was first starting MFIP. I genuinely don’t know why, but I got there eventually (I actually really love writing him now—) and same thing happened with his design!

Since MFIP’s taking place a few months after the Krang invasion, i’m able to take creative liberties and update the boys’ designs more! For some clarification btw, in my story’s lore, the invasion took place in September 2020, and MFIP starts on March 2021. Anywhizzle, my ideas for the boys’ designs is to combine their movie look with their show look, cuz while I do LOVE the black on them, it doesn’t feel right to me to not make them still unique in their own ways. These guys are all about authenticity, so why make their gear exactly the same, ya get me? I basically recolored his show gear to be black and red (and added a lil asymmetry on his legs) cuz I think it makes Raph feel older and more sure about himself, just feels right for him! I also just think the red fade on the black is hella cool! Fun lil color theory i think application, the black is more of a really dark, inky blue, so it makes the red pop out even more! I decided to make a bow out of his mask tails, too! I don’t wanna spoil the entire lore reasoning for it yet (it’ll pop up in the story), but I can indeed say it’s intentional that it looks a little like a lunamoth with damaged tails :3 I also took a BUNCH of creative liberties with his sais’ handles, since we haven’t really seen it much so like idk gaslight yourselves into thinking it’s always been this epic✨✨

Also I gave him his shorts back because FUCK YOU I LIKED THE RED TRIMMMM—

OH I ALMOST FORGOT yes he has longer eyelashes! I saw he grows to have really pretty eyelashes in the future cuz of his turtle species, and I wanted to lean into that by showing they’re starting to grow now :3

Bullshit Gag Because Yes‼️‼️

There ain’t shit to say about this, I just pulled a silly. I saw the fact Donnie was supposed to have a “Doctor Donatello” persona in the deleted episode where Dale turns into a werewolf. I’m really heavily on the train of Leo being the team medic and into medicine in general. I don’t think it makes sense for Donnie to be the medic judging by his sensory issues and this mf being as much of a germaphobe as my mom, and in my opinion it felt too stereotypical anyway to have Donnie be the medic. Ofc, to each their own, and this is just my interpretation of it, but I thought it’d be funny if Donnie still had this persona and was passionate about it, but was like horrifically bad at being a doctor. I made this dumbass sketch that I’ll finish sometime in the future (it’s gonna be a chapter in Arc 3 probably) and I just wanted to share it with yall~

THEY’RE HUMAN NOW⁉️

My ass wanted to show off cuz I’m sketching out some ideas of what my human designs for the boys culd be. I already did Leo’s like ages ago so he’s not on here but I’m realizing as I’m typing this my dumbass forgor to post it so um my bad I will do that in a few days—

But I wanted to design (or more accurately, redesign cuz I did draw em once a while back but I’m not satisfied with them) and I think I ate so far so uh yea. There isn’t any logic to sharing this, I just thought it was cool😭

And actually, imma share them here too just so y’all can see my boy ;w;

(A lil outdated cuz I didn’t give him lips at the time)

Okay there we go~

As you can see, I want all the boys to look kinda etherial and like they'd turn heads, and I think I am SUCCEEDING SO HARD SO FAR CUZ DAMNNNN THEY'RE ALL PRETTY AS SHIIIIIIIT TEEHEE✨ Also am tryna make sure they actually look Blasian since that's what the canon of my story says they are. I'll talk about them more another time when I have all of them on here~

But yea that's all for art this time folks :> ONTO THE NEXT THINGGG

Chapter Progress Time Whoop Whoooop‼️‼️

I didn’t make much progress on anything this month due to college—again, it’s fine, but there’s a shit ton of time management going on in my part to just manage everything and make sure I’m on track—BUT I am indeed still working on chapter 10. We’re up to 20 pages now which is only two more pages written from last month, but it’s kinda cool writing Donnie and I feel like I’m getting a better understanding of him! One thing I’ve been tryna do is understand autism better as a condition cuz I do wanna acknowledge and show bro’s autism instead of just ignoring it due to a lack of understanding. Donnie ain’t Donnie without it, ya know? I don’t know everything and tbh I would say I still have A LOT to learn on the subject matter, but I’m tryna expand my knowledge every opportunity I get and experimenting with how to better show it! This is to say tho, I’M NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL, NOR AN EXPERT ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM. This is what I’m finding and comprehending via my own research, and can tbh end up being wrong so please don’t quote me as a reliable source, I’m still learning ;v;

I remember one of the things I kept hearing about was autism leading people to struggle with empathy. The best way I heard it being described was someone bringing the example of when their friend was upset. That person can’t truly feel their friend’s emotions because they’re not the one experiencing it, so can’t properly understand how it’s making their friend feel. But they can see that their friend is communicating their sadness, and they still try to comfort them and make sure their friend knows they’re there for support. I understood it as bringing logic to emotions in a sense; collecting data and figuring out how to handle the situation based on the data rather than using intuition alone.

I’ve been using that to figure out how Donnie might handle more emotionally subtle situations, where he might try to rationally work through what’s happening and kinda substitute it in place of natural empathy. Like the little tidbit I gave above! Instead of just automatically being able to get vibes that the other person is upset, I felt maybe Donnie would instead notice the fact their tone is kinda different from before; it’s basically a data point. With that data point in mind, he could connect it to past experiences where a tone change could indicate a mood change, and as a result he might conclude that Salena’s tone change means she’s upset. I comprehend it as manually working through empathy rather than it being second nature, if that makes sense. Obviously and thankfully Donnie isn’t gonna spend the entire chapter playing a guessing game or anything with Salena’s emotions, it’s just one lil moment that I thought was cool challenge to myself with when writing him! I really love putting myself in the characters’ shoes when I’m writing them or their dialogue. I highly recommend it as a tool too, since it's helped me a lot with staying in character!

Last Lil Segment Y'all

Aight so, I wanted to try doing something cool if y'all are up for it. I really love rambling about my story and lore and characters blah blah blah, but I don't really know how to do so tbh. I'm not that familiar with how social medias work cuz I just never took it seriously, and I don't wanna just keep being like HEYYYYY ASK BOX IS OPENNNNN like I'm screaming from the top of the hill either. Sooooo insteaddddd

I think it'd be fun to do Q&As here! Or at least something similar. I'll open my ask box again and feel free to send any questions you want; it can be about the story, past lore, design questions, getting to know the characters, absolutely anything! Then when I'm gonna do my update for the month, I'll compile all y'all's asks, (prolly will have to tag to make sure you guys know I answered it, or if you ask anon then uh idk look out for the monthly update) and then answer them during the monthly update as the last section! I think it'll be a cool way to make this feel more interactive, and gives me an excuse to ramble. Don't be afraid to ask potentially spoilery questions either! If it's something I can't spoil yet or even give hints or vague answers about, I'll just say so in the update!

Anywhizzle, That's All Folks~!

I'm glad there was so much to talk about this month! I actually deadass thought it would be short but I should know better with my yapping' ass💀✨ But yeah, thanks for reading everyone! I hope y'all enjoy the rest of your days, and I shall see you next month~ Bye :D

Tageroonies:

@yosajaeofficial @chaoticspeedrun @ramblehour @randomcerealbrand @goldanrabbit @m1sf0rtun3 @foundthethief @ackalice @jellyfishheartsss @dollyrin @harukonene @iieieiw @mwantstossleep @zipzaizen @hypocriticaltypwriter @lordfreg @rainbowpr1sm @idioticsky @oleander-nin @cheeselord-official @skittlesqueen101

By the way, if you guys think you’d like to be tagged whenever an MFIP chapter is posted, lmk in a reblog or comment (no asks or dms plz, too inconvenient) and I’ll be sure to tag so it’s more reliable than tumblr notifs :3🫶

ROTTMNT: Moths Fly In Packs

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