#I still struggle to draw Patrick ; ;

[marble-trees]

I saw this on Twitter and I wanted to give it a shot teehee

@buggee22

[as-rare-as-trees]

Repost of a Wang Yibo in watercolor I did in 2020 taking ispiration from my favourite photoshoot of his

[ervotica]

milf!reader fucking coach!patrick because she wants her son to get accepted into his tennis program and they’re old friend who used to fuck in college but she despises him but she’ll do anything for her son👀

warnings; smut, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), cum eating, a smidge of foot stuff if you squint, hate sex, exes (ish) to lovers (ish)

a/n; your honor i need him actually

imagining him wolf-whistling at you when you seek him out on the courts, racket strapped over your shoulder, hand limply holding a basket of tennis balls as you watch him practice his serving, trying and failing not to ogle his entire body through his clothes.

a sweat soaked tank top, slick and transparent. the smell of musk and man and tennis. thick corded thighs dusted with dark hair as he moves fluidly, as though the racket is an extension of himself. a thick bulge in his shorts that, no matter how much you hate him, you want to have your mouth on.

he’s all fire and passion and heat, and you know from experience that trait rings true in all areas of his life.

“so, you’re a milf now,” he drawls, beckoning you closer with a tip of his chin. your mouth is dry, chest so hollow it feels like you’re about to crumble from the inside out.

you roll your eyes, hoping to look more confident than you feel, taking place on the other side of the net.

“and you’re still a prick. your point?”

“why are you here?” he presses, tossing the ball up and catching it with a skilled ease that has your stomach flipping.

“how do i guarantee my son a place in your tennis program?” the words feel heavy on your tongue, struggling not to curl your lips into a sneer at the sight of his smug expression.

“you think i’m a prick but you want me to teach your son?”

“i think you’re a prick but i know you’re good at tennis. and you’re a good teacher. and i want him to be good.” his brow quirks. at least you’re honest.

he discards the tennis ball behind him and crosses the distance between you, long legs coming up to step over the net.

“i can think of a few things.”

that’s how you find yourself at his place, legs slung over his shoulders. it’s wet and dirty, each rock of his hips squelching as he feeds you his cock into your needy cunt inch by inch.

“yeah, know this pussy missed me, baby,” he rasps, pinching at your twitching clit. his throat works around a thick swallow, lips parted in a groan when you clench your cunt round him, shifting your hips upward to allow him to sink further into the wet clutch of you.

“stop talking to my pussy, you freak,” you hiss, quickly silenced as he flattens his thumb over your swollen bud, rolling it in tight circles until you’re creaming round him, wailing with the sheer force of your orgasm

he lifts your ankle, turning his flushed face to mouth at the smooth skin there, huffing hot air against the sole of your foot that has you squirming.

there are some perks to fucking patrick zweig.

he knows every inch of your body, knows what makes you tick and which buttons to press to keep you babbling nonsensical filth beneath him. knows your pussy, knows how to fuck you until you cry.

you’re clinging to his shoulders, almost drawing blood as you dig your knuckles further into that skin, because you know him just as well. know that this gets him going, keeps him rutting into you with that fervour that - despite yourself, despite hating him - you’ve missed so desperately.

because despite hating patrick zweig, no one fucks you like he does.

when he cums it’s in excess, spurt after spurt of it until you’re plugged full and it’s flooding you, dripping out of your spasming hole and gathering over your furled asshole. he gathers some of it with two fingers, feeds it into your eager mouth.

“i’m sure we can work something out about those tennis lessons, sweets.” and he grins, all teeth. the look should have you balking, send you running, but you find yourself drawn to it, clinging to the familiarity of him.

you’re caught in his honey trap once again, and he has no plans of letting you get away this time.

because you both know, no matter how much you claim to hate him, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had.

and he’s sure he can make you love him. just with a little time.

[feyhunter78]

Hi!! I’ve been thinking about that one scene in 10 Things I Hate About You, when Patrick walks Kat to the swings when she’s drunk and he says “Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.” Except! Kat is Nerd Miguel who somehow ended up drunk at some frat party or something, and Patrick is reader who has to deal with his antics. I imagine him spewing random scientific words/facts that reader tries her best to understand. All while she’s just trying to sober him up a bit. This lil scenario has been running through my head, and who best to share with than you!

(The chokehold you’re Miguel, specifically nerd Miguel, has on me is insane! It’s a great distraction while at work! <3)

I love that scene so much!!!! I made this a bit different, but I think I still hit the mark for ya anon <3 (Also this is a normal house party bc guys that are not in a frat are not allowed to attend frat events just like with sororities!)

House Parties

Art cred: Treelover_5

Nerd!Miguel masterlist

You weave through Brett’s parents’ guest house on the edge of town, downing your drink as you search for Miguel. It was really nice of Brett to invite you and Miguel to his pre-winter break bash. You know Miguel doesn’t party much, and Brett has been trying to encourage him to come out of his shell, so this was the perfect opportunity.

The sound of chanting draws your attention, and you see Miguel surrounded by a few other friends of Brett’s. Brett seems to be explaining something to him, car keys in hand. You drove here, so you know the keys aren’t Miguel’s, which makes you feel a bit better.

“Chug, chug, chug.” They chant, and you watch as Brett and Miguel simultaneously shotgun their beers, the foam dripping down Miguel’s tan skin.

Smash. You think instantly, your brain supplying you with images of what Miguel might look like as he comes up from between your legs, his lips, and chin slick with your arousal.

Then Miguel throws the beer down and throws his arms up victoriously.

Brett finishes, then throws his beer down as well and hooks an arm around Miguel’s neck, bringing him down to his level. “My boy Miguel has done it again! Absolute beast of a man!”

The other guys cheer, and you see Miguel smile shyly.

He’s been gaining in popularity, not that he really cares, nor do you, but it makes you happy that he’s made some new friends. Even if those friends challenge him to shotgun races.

Miguel spots you before you can even breach the circle and latches onto you. “Y/N, I won, did you see?”

Brett gives you a look that means dude should probably get some air, and you nod in response.

“Yeah I did, hey Miguel, you wanna step outside with me?”

“Yes, always.” He says instantly, his lips far too close to your neck for you to feel normal about.

You guide him through the crowd and out the door, his arm slung over your shoulders. He’s so heavy, all those stupid hot muscles making him dead weight as he mumbles to himself incoherently.

“What was that sweet boy?” You ask, when you hear something that sounds like your name.

“Did you know that the hydrochloric acid in the human stomach is so strong it can dissolve metal? Thin metal, mind you, but still, metal.” Miguel says, his cheeks red, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, and a goofy smile on his face.

“Wow, that’s crazy.” You say, struggling under the weight of him as you try to lug him over to a nearby porch swing, the neatly trimmed grass around you littered with solo cups and soaked with various spilled drinks.

“And beer—beer is twice as fizzy as champagne. I know this for a fact, I had four or so beers? They taste bad, did you know that?”

“Yeah, house parties usually have pretty cheap beer.” You laugh, swaying a little when Miguel leans on you.

“And cheetahs, super inbred, ten thousand years ago, taboos were broken, and now they’re all…ya know, the way they are.” He continues on, letting out a surprise oof, when you slide him onto the white porch swing, the weathered green cushions not doing much to break his fall.

“Very cool, so now can you tell me what the hell you were drinking in the twenty minutes I left you alone? Besides beer? Because Miguel, you are so fucked up.” You ask, sitting next to him, your legs tucked beside you as you turn to face him, an affectionate smile on your face.

He drags a hand down his face, and his glasses fall into his lap. He pouts at them, a small aw leaving his lips.

You pick them up and hand them back to him, and he clumsily puts them back on.

“Brett suggested we do shots before the races, he passed his midterm, we were celebrating with him.”

Fucking Brett. You loved the guy, he was nice, nonthreatening, watched out for you when you were in the Sig Epp house, but he also was a menace, who wanted everyone to be as drunk as he was.

“Miguel, you’re a big guy, but you don’t have Brett’s tolerance.” You pat his chest consolingly.

Miguel looks at you, eyes a little hazy, his shirt unbuttoned far more than it normally would be, his hair ruffled. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leans his head back against the swing, staring up at the stars. “You know a cloud can weigh around a million pounds?”

“I did not know that.” You respond, trying to see if you can check his pupils without him noticing.

He notices and rolls his head to face you. “Everyone blames women when they don’t have sons, but it’s actually male genes that decide it.”

“I did know that one, actually.” You say, as you run your hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

He smiles, and you swear it’s brighter than any star in the sky. “You’re so smart, y/n.”

You’re taken aback for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”

“So smart and so, so pretty. I know I said it’s on me, but will you give me a girl y/n? I want a daughter with you, my brains, your everything else, she’d be unstoppable.” He says, his words slurring together. Then he falls forward with a yelp, hands, and elbows hitting the dirt.

You sit frozen in shock, staring down at Miguel, before you snap out of it and scramble to help him. “Shit, Miguel, are you okay?”

He holds up his right hand, it’s bleeding. “Just put some sugar on it, it’ll heal faster.”

“Full of fun facts, aren’t you?” It’s another trip back inside to find a sink and a band-aid, his words still bouncing around in your head.

I want a daughter with you.

Fuck, he’s going to kill you one day, and you’ll let him.

Not me doing a little callback to what Miguel thinks at the end of his encounter with drunk y/n hehe

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows

[ghostgirl-22]

omg! omg! omg! do you have ideas on older jealous art? like what if he saw patrick on the date with helen at the hotel instead? or maybe saw patrick on a date with another man (grosu? 👀) and got really upset but didn’t understand why!

Oh yes, oh yes….<3

I think Art goes in the sauna, yes that sauna. But it’s before they ever meet up the night before they play the final.

CW: NSFWish, 18+

Summary: in which Art has a Karen moment because how dare you try and take his man—that he really doesn’t want (he promises). And no he doesn’t know what he’s weirdly sexually confused about. But it’s not that.

-/-/-/-

Art’s winning again. He’s mostly playing kids who are just so happy to be there or sad older guys who are so jaded and defeated about the idea of playing him that they’ve beaten themselves before Art even has to do anything. But still he is winning and it does feel good.

He’s trying to put the idea of Patrick out of his mind. Tashi tells him every single day, “He’s never going to make it to the final. He’s gonna choke. That’s his thing.” But Art notices every round he wins Patrick wins too.

His body is sore and he always feels better in the heat but being who he is in the tennis world he usually waits till really late at night to relax in the sauna. He’s sure no one else is going to be there so he’ll get a moment of peace and quiet without any of the younger players gawking over him or asking him career questions. But as soon as he pushes open the door he realizes he’s not alone at all. Patrick’s sitting on the bench and he’s not alone. He’s got some guy kneeling between his legs. The guy quickly gets to his feet when he hears the door and Art recognizes him vaguely from the draw. Victor Grasi or Grossi. Something.

The guy wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and Patrick—very slowly— pulls the towel over himself, offering Art a smirk.

Art can feel his skin heating up. He wants to turn and run but he can’t move. His stomach is suddenly swooping around like he’s riding a rollercoaster. He didn’t know Patrick did stuff like that… with boys.

“What’s up Donaldson?” Patrick says brightly, like Art didn’t just catch him with some stupid pretty boy between his legs. “I’ve been meaning to come see you.”

Art glares at him still struggling to form words. He hasn’t seen Patrick this close in so many, many years. He still smiles with his eyes but they crinkle now with age and around the edges of that smile he looks like he might be tired(sad?). And not just from lack of sleep. His hair’s shorter, skin darker the way it always was in the summertime. It makes all his freckles that much more visible. Art hates to admit the facial hair looks kinda good on him.

His body looks good too… Art’s eyes drift downward over where the towel is covering his very hard dick.

”I am so sorry Mr. Donaldson I’m a big fan. I think you are so talented. Not many Americans can win on clay,” Whatever his name is saying with a thick accent Art can’t place. It pulls Art out of whatever daze he was in. God was he just staring? Why was he fucking staring? He looks at Patrick’s face again and he’s looking at Art, amused. Smug.

Art’s annoyed all over again.

“And your game against Padilla.” The kid is still talking. “That was so good. I rewatched it twice. You’re so—“

“Thanks,” Art interrupts, his tone clipped. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly irritated with his presence. This dumb kid, probably 24 or 25, pink cheeks, perfect body just on his knees for…

“Didn’t he beat you yesterday?” Art asks, meanly, with a smirk.

His pretty little face goes stormy and Art feels a cruel internal joy when he sees it.

He mutters something in another language but Art’s certain it’s a swear word.

“I just—it was a bad day. I’m ranked much higher than him.” The kid tries to recover but he’s clearly embarrassed.

“Sure, exactly. It was just a bad day, Grosu,” Patrick chimes in, smiling as he rubs himself idly. “Lemme make you feel better.”

“You’re no good for me, Zweig.” The kid mutters.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Patrick smirks up at him.

Art’s jaw sets with irritation. Especially when Patrick’s grabbing at the kid’s waist and pulling him closer. Art’s not trying to look but for whatever reason his eyes trail back down. Probably because Patrick is just so insistently hard. And he’s touching it, just casually touching it.

The weirdest part is the way Art can feel his own balls tightening. It makes no fucking sense. He can’t possibly be getting hard. He’s one fucking step away from talking to his doctor about Viagra because he can’t get it up for someone as fucking beautiful as his wife and right now on a random night in the middle of the sauna is when he’s just ready to go. Brilliant. It’s like the universe just enjoys finding new ways to fuck with him.

The kid has forgotten about him, mesmerized by Patrick. Letting Patrick just touch him, all over. Art feels like his blood is boiling hotter than the room. He hurries outside without another word before the way his cock is swelling becomes visible to them. Not that they fucking care.

He’s barely made it into the locker room toilet stall when he’s leaning against the door jerking himself stupid. The whole thing is so fucked because in his head he’s imagining Patrick’s hands all over him. Touching him. Fucking him. Not that stupid pretty boy loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. His mind chants over and over, not sure if it’s about the kid or Patrick or himself. All the while his hand is racing over his dick, so desperate until he’s coming hard, spraying his load all over his hand and the toilet seat. “Oh fuck,” he gasps.

Because what the fuck is he doing? He’s too old for this shit. Mind games and lust and weird teenaged flirting. He needs to go home to his wife and kid. He’s a grown up. He has responsibilities. Patrick’s still a fucking child. Just doing whatever he wants. Just fucking whoever he wants. Like Tashi. It’s been years and it still stings. And now some stupid fucking boy sucking his dick when anyone could just walk in. It’s offensive. Art should probably complain. Tell that loser kids coach or whoever he’s working with that he needs to focus and maybe not fuck around with someone like Patrick Zweig. He cleans up quickly and hurries to go wash his hands.

He spots movement behind him in the mirror and turns to see Patrick walking from the lockers towards the shower. Naked. With only a towel on his head. God how long was he in here? Did he hear Art?

Patrick stops to smirk at him. He’s not hard anymore which means he probably fucked the kid. It’s still so fucking big even when he’s soft. Art swallows. “What do you want?” He manages.

“Nothing. You just look pretty flushed. Are you okay?” He says, grinning (like he knows what Art did). “I thought you went home.” He wraps the extra towel he’s got draped over his shoulder around his waist, covering himself and Art relaxes a bit.

“I am going home,” Art says. “Where’s the dumb kid?”

Patrick laughs, “You know he’s 27, right.”

“Well he’s still a loser,” Art shrugs. He doesn’t care. He hopes he never sees him again. (And that Patrick doesn’t either).

“God, must feel good to walk around with all that power. He got so in his head from your little comment. He wanted to go home. Didn’t even want to finish. It’s like he didn’t even remember how much fun we had last night after drinks.”

Art’s not sure how to take any of that. On one hand he’s mildly satisfied that he sent the kid into a tailspin, but still fucking irritated that he… that he what… that he got to fuck Patrick in the first place? This is so fucked. He can’t want this. He cannot want this.

“Well you’re not dressed yet.” Patrick continues, casually. “You sure you don’t want to join me and clean up in the shower?”

“I uh— uh—“ Art stammers, while he white knuckles the towel on his waist, his heart rate picking up and the distant feeling of arousal that he’d just conquered incredibly stirring again. He wants this. Fuck he wants this. “No I—“

“I’m just teasing,” Patrick shrugs, interrupting before Art can finish. An oddly melancholic expression flitting over his face. And then immediately back to being his usual carefree (careless?) self. If not a little more distant. Formal. “Good night, Donaldson, see you in the final.”

“Good night,” Art says, feeling his stomach sink just a little bit. He wishes he didn’t— but he believes it now with 100 percent certainty that Patrick is right— that they’re both going to end up there.

(Sorry anon that this took so long and also I apologize if this is what you were looking for. It’s been hectic so I didn’t have much time to get to into it— also wanted to leave a little space for canon to canon lol. Art is still so mad that he’s attracted to Patrick he needs to hurt him more 😭)

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad 2: Post Captain, part 1

The main thing to know about the second book in Patrick O'Brian's Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin series is that it's really really really fucking long.

i was trying to sum up the plot even to myself and uh. it’s like. Late in the book there’s a dated letter and I realized it literally covers an almost four-year period. So like… as Inigo Montoya says, “Let me explain. No, no there is too much. Let me sum up.” But I can’t.

I went through and summarized the whole book in detail one night when I was having an insomnia issue and it was like a fever dream, and I'd read it twice and listened to it a third time before I started this project and still was like "WAIT there's MORE?" as I kept skimming through. But I'm gonna try.

I will begin unpromisingly with some tedious background worldbuilding stuff, though. Yes the entertaining way to do this would be We Didn't Start The Fire style rapid-fire snippets but do you know how much work that is? no I spent long enough reading this book I'm not doing that for you. Sorry.

I will relent, however, and give you one exciting tidbit: this book contains female characters, plural! Yes multiples of them! Round characters, with multiple facets apiece! Enticing, no?

So the underlying mechanic beneath like, a solid 75% of the plot of these books is promotion. For every naval officer in the series, this is a large portion of their motive for every issue.

There are three categories of members of the Navy in this respect. The first one is the foremast jacks-- your enlisted men, though in this time period they were often impressed, forcibly conscripted. They can achieve various ranks within themselves, specialty crews and various small statuses and such, but even the most dignified, long-serving of them is still subject to being flogged or beaten or disciplined at any time without any real recourse.

The next category is the ratings, or warrant officers-- subtle distinctions among them, but broadly speaking on the same level. The master is in charge of the navigation and general sailing of the ship, the bosun the rigging and masts, the purser the purse (money and supplies), the gunner you can probably guess. A surgeon has a warrant rather than a commission. And the midshipmen have ratings, not commissions either.

But midshipmen are eligible for promotion to lieutenant after six years of sea time. Once they are made lieutenant, they are a commissioned officer, no longer subject to flogging or dismissal out of hand-- they must be court-martialed for such a thing to occur. They get half-pay when on shore. They accrue seniority. A lieutenant can then be promoted to master and commander, as we saw in the first book. And from there he can be promoted to a post-captain, and from there promotion is automatic (though, crucially, a command is not), according to seniority. This will become important later. A post captain will become an admiral solely through seniority, in due time when it is his turn.

But an officer who doesn't have a stellar service record AND influential friends is very likely to be sidelined regardless of seniority. Many, many men serve thirty years as a lieutenant, never promoted. Still more languish as master's mates, the seniormost rating of a midshipman's rank. And even once made post, men languish ashore, and by the time they're made admiral, have so little renown that they're never given any kind of command at all and stay ashore doing nothing more than drawing half-pay.

I'm explaining all of this because much of the series winds up being an ongoing, meditative reflection on the benefits and flaws of such a situation, and we see incompetent men promoted while competent ones are sidelined, over and over. And this book shows the beginning of Jack Aubrey's career-long struggle to not only keep himself moving up this ladder, but also to try to take some of his people with him-- especially TOM PULLINGS, who as a former foremast jack from a family of dirt farmers, has absolutely no political influence of any kind, and cannot hope for any.

(This is, I think, part of what makes this series so readable. On the face of it it seems like oh no this is some rah-rah Royal Navy bullshit, but if you actually look at it, it's a pretty warts-and-all depiction, oftentimes depressingly heavy on the warts, which is much more interesting and also easier to stomach. I did have a little trouble with the book where they're fighting the War of 1812, though, where everyone was so dispirited that the Americans kept winning and I was like "wait no I'm rooting for those guys." LOLLL.)

But you didn't come here for this. You came here to know what happens in this book. And for that, I will do my best to convey some of it. I'll lead with a couple of teasers.

there are fly honeys. oh yes.

Stephen forcefems Jack into adopting a female bear as his fursona, for literally months. No I am not making this up.

TOM PULLINGS no you'll just have to get there to see, I can't bullet point him

Jack abducts a mugger

Barret Bonden beats a cop unconscious

That's enough teasers. Let's start with the fly honeys.

Everyone is ashore, and Jack has set himself and Stephen up in a sweet bachelor pad, with a crew of his favorite sailors as household staff. (Don't you fear, Preserved Killick is here.) His nearby neighbors are a household entirely made up of women: a horrible old woman, with three reasonably hot young daughters, and an incredibly hot niece. The war is over for now (it's the Peace of Amiens) and there are no ships to be had, but Jack has some money and is ready to do some fox hunting in more than one meaning of the word.

The neighbor is called Mrs. Williams and her oldest daughter, Sophia, is 27, willowy and ethereal, innocent and appealing. But her cousin Diana, about the same age, is a young widow brought up in India, and has incomparable style and dash. Stephen is completely smitten, but makes the mistake of telling her he's not really into women as women so much as he is interested in them as people, and she spends the next age treating him like absolute shit trying to get him to admit he's into her. Meanwhile, Jack is really into Sophia, but Diana is so dashing he can't help wanting to pursue her too, and so he and Stephen wind up unhappily romantic rivals. It doesn't help that Sophia is too innocent and entirely under her mother's idiot ill-natured thumb to straightforwardly reciprocate Jack's interest.

Jack throws a huge party, to be sociable, on Valentine's Day, in honor of the Battle of Cape St Vincent, of which he is a veteran. Babbington attends, and on his way there he is to pick up Diana, who had been sent to stay with another relative for a bit to get her out of the way so Jack would pay more attention to Sophia instead, Mrs. Williams being, to put it kindly, a conniving old bitch.

Babbington, as it turns out, is a horrible driver, which leads to perhaps the single funniest passage of the book.

“… she said [to herself], 'It will never do. This young man will have to be taken down.' The lane ran straight up hill, rising higher and higher, with God knows what breakneck descent the other side. The horse slowed to a walk - the bean-fed horse, as it proved by a thunderous, long, long fart. ‘I beg your pardon,' said the midshipman in the silence. 'Oh, that's all right,' said Diana coldly. 'I thought it was the horse.' A sideways glance showed that this had settled Babbington's hash for the moment. 'Let me show you how we do it in India,' she said, gathering the reins and taking his whip away from him.

Really, Diana is amazing, and you can almost forgive her for how horribly she treats Stephen. And Jack.

Anyway the overarching plot is now beginning-- it comes up (to the reader, though not to other characters per se) that Stephen is becoming quite involved in naval intelligence; his Catalan background means he's indispensible given that the British are keenly interested in using the cause of Catalan independence to divide Spain, preventing it from effectively allying with France, which is quite openly using this peace to amass an invasion army to take England. Shit is tense, in Europe.

But meanwhile at home, various legal matters are resolved badly and it turns out that instead of being owed thousands of pounds in prize-money, Jack has to repay eleven thousand pounds to the owners of ships he took that the courts decided were in fact neutrals. And to make matters worse, his prize-agent, to whom he had entrusted the management of all the money he did earn, suddenly folds, taking all the money and running. Jack's money is just gone, with no recourse. So now Jack, according to the law of the time, is subject to arrest and imprisonment until and unless he can pay off the entire debt.

Which he can't. So he has to go into hiding. And Mrs. Williams decides that as he is in her eyes a common criminal she no longer wants him to court her daughter, so contact with Sophia is cut off, which makes them both miserable.

But Stephen has a Spanish passport. So he takes Jack across to France with him. They visit Christy-Palliere, the French ship captain who captured the Sophie in the previous book. He is delighted to see them-- so delighted that he embraces Jack and kisses him soundly on both cheeks, which makes Jack blush enormously.

And then war breaks out again. Napoleon has all British citizens in France arrested. Jack and Stephen must flee, lest they rot in a French prison for the duration of however long this round of wars lasts.

Whew that's enough plot isn't it? Oh no. There's so much more. I'll divide here. Stay tuned for Part Two, in which the bear thing will be explained, oh yes.

[judeable-brainrot]

https://www.tumblr.com/judeable-brainrot/764303674389463040/hii-anon-req-cause-im-idk-but-would-you?source=share

Idk if your requests are open but im so glad it was patrick who asked to see reader again, as a trans person i struggle to feel wanted or desirable and i feel like an outsider/left out and i have to beg to be treated as an equal so im glad it wasnt the reader who had to ask, i havent had a normal or easy hook up since transitioning and forgot what that privilege felt like, i was wondering if i could request a follow up where they meet up again? The way you write patrick, hes so respectful and cool and treats reader like a person and worthy just like anyone else, not walking on eggshells but not treating him like a fetish, a girl or something inbetween or like hes an outsider whos lucky to be in pats presence. he just treats reader as reader and i really appreciate that about your writing! I dont have any particular idea what i would want to see in a second part but id just love to see him again! Maybe some body worship and praise of readers skills in bed (i have been very insecure recently lol can you tell, i really need that praise kink)

Reader and patrick need to ruin each other for anyone else 😈

hi anon! i'm so happy my writing connected with you, i very much understand where you're coming from<3 you are always worthy and you always deserve good hookups ;)

you hadn't been able to get Patrick out of your mind since that night. no one had ever treated you so...perfect. you wanted him, needed him. again and again and again, as many times as he would allow.

he wasn't any better. you'd been the only thing on his mind for days and days and days. he'd jerked off and hooked up with other people but only ever thought of you. he needed to see you again, touch you.

Patrick reached out once the weekend neared, tentitavely sending you a message on Grindr. "hey. are u busy this weekend?" you smiled when you read the message, nearly giggling with glee. "no, i'm free. did you have something in mind?" "i just wanna see u." And that's how you end up pressed against your front door with Patrick's tongue down your throat, his hands on your thighs to hold you up against the wood.

"Couldn't get you out of my head..wanted you so bad, needed you." He mumbles against your lips, trying to devour you whole. You moan, biting his lip. “Yeah? Me neither.” Patrick’s eyes flutter. “Shit..bedroom..?” You point over his shoulder. “Down the hall, first on the right.” And he’s moving in an instant, carrying you into the room, kicking the door shut. He walks over to the bed, turning before he sits so you end up straddling his lap.

Patrick looks up at you like some sort of god or piece of art. It makes your heart flutter in an unnatural way for a second hookup. You reach down and pull your shirt up and off your body, top surgery scars on display to him. He fixates on them, then tentatively reaches out a hand to brush along the pale crescent shapes. You let out a small shuddering breath, arching into the touch.

He doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t draw attention to it, and just keeps moving his hand over your torso slowly. You tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting to see him too. He obliges and pulls it off. Your mouth waters at the hair on his chest, down to his stomach and past his waistband. You run a hand down the trail, following it until you reach his jeans. You just hold them there, not asking to remove them.

And he’s still just looking at you, looking and looking, before he slowly leans in and presses a soft kiss behind your ear. You inhale sharply, hands trailing back up to find his shoulders as he continues, kissing further and further down your neck to your collarbones.

Patrick gently lifts you and flips to lay you down on the bed, hovering over you as he continues his kisses down, down, until he reaches your sweatpants. “Can I..?” You look down at him, giving him a nod through hazy eyes. He presses a kiss to your hipbones, sucking on them as he works the fabric down and off your body. You can feel yourself staining the fabric of your briefs already and you know he can see it. He just smiles and nuzzles into the small trail of hair on your tummy.

“Missed you..the way you tasted…missed your cock..” He whispers against your skin and you whine softly. “Jesus..” He chuckles, hand moving under his body to undo his jeans. “Yeah? You like that? Like the thought of me not being able to function without your dick..” You arch your back, hips shifting on the mattress. “Goddamn, Patrick..”

He wiggles the clothing off, leaving you both in your briefs. You salivate at his bulge, pushing yourself up on your elbows to get a better view. “Can I…well, could I..maybe..” He looks up at you, rubbing over your hip. “What? Use your words.” You moan softly. “Fuck…I wanna suck your dick. Okay. Happy?”

And yeah. He is. So fucking happy.

Patrick’s face splits into a wide grin. “Yeah. You can, c’mon.” You’re both moving in an instant, him taking your place and you taking his. You gently run a thumb over the waistband of his briefs, silently asking. “Take them off..” You smile at the permission and slide them down his thighs while he kicks them the rest of the way off with his feet.

God, he’s big. But you don’t care. You just want him so bad. You lean in and kitten lick the tip, keeping eye contact with him as you do. He throws his head back against the bed, hands finding your hair. “Oh fuck…” You like that, love that, and take him into your mouth as much as you can, starting up a stable pace. What you can’t fit you work with your hand, squeezing his balls too. He’s writhing under you, pulling your hair and bucking into your mouth.

“Fuck! Oh god—you’re so good! Your mouth…oh fuck—so perfect, so good, man..”

He spills into your mouth soon after, cumming hard with a cry. You swallow what you can, some of it spilling out the corners of your lips. You pull off him and kiss over his thighs gently, rubbing his knee. He pants, speaking shakily. “T-That was…god..” You smile, wiping your mouth. “Yeah?” He nods, petting your hair gently. “Yeah..god, you’re so good at that.”

“Maybe I can..return the favor?”

[spacerangersam]

Tell me more about your BBC Ghosts character swap AU please?

(like I wanna know from you about the other BH ghosts you didn't draw in their character swap AU version yet on what their character swap would be, for example Thomas, Mary & Robin please?)

Thanks!

I'd be happy to!

Thomas is a caveman, tricked into a fight by his cousin (with less of the dramatics though, since Francis couldn't have forged a letter)  who either got stabbed with a spear or bonked on the head with a club. Regardless, he was killed and in death, gets to carry around a spear. It‘s big, cumbersome and annoying, and I just think it’s funny. He can give the living bruises with it.

To blabber on a bit: his name is actually To, but Julian thought that was stupid so renamed him Thomas, and he did originally come from Scotland. Though it wasn't called Scotland when he was there, obviously.

He struggles a lot with modern English - he’s lived through the rise and fall and change of so many languages that he really struggles to keep up. He slips between using new English and old English, French, old Brythonic languages etc, especially when he’s upset. That's what really kick-started his friendship with Patrick- Pat was the first one really willing to just stop and try to understand what Thomas was saying, and the first one to really sit down and help Thomas with his English. They have lessons every Thursday evening. 

He still likes poetry, but because of all that he’s even worse at it. He also still hates Byron, just for less personal reasons.

With the whole having being around for thousands of years and watched people come and go, he's terrified of the other ghosts moving on without him. He doesn't like to sleep alone because of it, likes being able to keep an eye on at least one ghosts during the night. He tends to spend the night with Pat or Kitty, curled up on the foot of their beds, but he’ll stay with someone else now and then

Mary is a Girl Guide leader from the 80s. She's a timid woman to begin with, raised in a strict Catholic household, who works in a farm shop-come-cafe. She was encouraged to take up the Guide role by her husband to give her more confidence, and she stayed with it after his death. It didn't really make her more confident though, and her Guides quickly learned that they could walk all over her. She died while camping out on the Button grounds - some of the girls set a fire that quickly got out of control. Mary couldn't get out of her tent and died of asphyxiation (suspend your disbelief if you wouldn't mind). She still was close to Annie (and depending on how much you want to play around with the au, Annie could still be around, era switched with the plagues) and learned to be more confident through her.

She insists on doing grace at mealtimes, even though she can't eat, tells people off for blasphemy, and prays on Sundays in lieu of going to mass. The longer she's with the ghosts though, the less she does it. She has a few handy survival tools in her pockets, and like Pat, knows a thing or two about using a bow and arrow.

Robin is from the Georgian era, a nobleman's son who was sent to live with his uncle in hopes he'd straighten Robin out and turn him into a proper gentleman. Robin hated that idea. He planned to make a getaway and start a new life, one where he could just be himself, only to get struck by lightning before he ever made it off the grounds.

It's hard think of a Robin with ‘perfect’ speech, so I like to imagine he came over from North Wales, Welsh being his first language. He does speak English, albeit reluctantly, and has no desire to be fluent in it.

He's still outdoorsy and cares a lot about animals - his parents never had much time for him so he spent most of his time chasing around mice in the manor and sneaking into the stables to pet the horses. He can also still muck around with electricity.    

I don't think I've talked about Julian either, but he's the headless Tudor. Much like in canon, he didn't pay much attention to his wife or child, which was ultimately his downfall when he unknowingly partied with people who were plotting to kill the queen and was damned by association. He got his head lobbed off, and the head can appear in photographs. He makes so many jokes about it.

I can't really think of much else to say at the moment but yeah, that's them

[ducktracy]

Have you ever wanted to join the writers room of SpongeBob and the Patrick star show?

THIS IS A TIMELY QUESTION! i was just discussing this with my director a few weeks ago. tldr before i even get to the long part: not necessarily, it's never really been something on my radar and so i don't feel as equipped for it but that could--and i hope it does--change!

LONGER EXPLANATION.. i was in a meeting with my director recently pitching my boards to him, and we got spitballing back and forth and we essentially just started joke pitching an idea for an episode. he was like "yknow that's pretty good, i could get you in touch with our script coordinators if you ever felt you wanted to take it further" and my response was like ahhhhhhh nah i could never write an episode i wouldn't know where to start blah blah blah, and we basically had a talk that amounted to "don't knock it 'til you'll try it" and so it's definitely been more on my mind lately

IT'S AN INTERESTING SITUATION. i'd consider myself a decent writer and i certainly enjoy doing it, most of my free time is spent writing my reviews! likewise, i LOVE breaking down and analyzing dialogue and coming up with random character conversations. talking to the person who typed the entire Hamlet soliloquy in Porky's stutter one time because ?. i think i'm more interested in writing than i think i really am

but something about writing for cartoons has always been very intimidating to me HAHA. i'm not really someone who is sitting on a wealth of episode ideas and dying going like "ahhh man i wish we could see SpongeBob and Patrick doing this", etc--if and when i have those moments it's usually very spontaneous and in the moment! like what i mentioned above when i'm spitfiring in a meeting. i think i get intimidated by the "where the hell do i start" and "how do i organize this" aspects, because i have had ideas for cartoons before and aim to act on some of them! i still haven't forgotten the "Porky and Daffy are competing salesmen" cartoon idea i thought up in 2020 which is also partially responsible for my job in the first place. but it's like a blip, a skip in a record in that i struggle untangling and organizing and really establishing a working structure. i am a VERY detail oriented person and so i think i like working smaller and more intimately, where i can add my own personal flair to something that someone who may be more proficient in establishing a foundation has done.

BUT! maybe i just say all this because i haven't done it yet!! don't know it unless i try! for my purposes as an artist now i enjoy drawing and embellishing pre-existing ideas and suggesting gags and getting into the nitty gritty of the details on a small scale, but i also don't wanna put myself in any boxes and restrain myself from trying, either. i don't talk about them as much on here just because they literally dominate every other aspect of my life (well that and NDAs forbid me from doing so!), but i love SB and Patrick and all the Bikini Bottomites deeply! i'm so lucky to get to document their lives. they really are like real friends to me and i hope i'm lucky enough to find more ways to fraternize with them and learn about them and bring out their tics and habits and traits and how they contrast and support one another. i do that best through drawing right now, but i'm excited for all the ways i'll be able to expand beyond that. and maybe one day that'll include writing!

ALSO KINDA FRAGMENTED I KNOW i just made my closing statements above. i apologize for my pedanticism. but TPSS doesn't have a writer's room to my knowledge because it's board driven! we get to sit in on storyboard pitches (just had a wonderful one this evening) and watch the artists pitch their boards and it's such a wonderful experience. i have thought "i wonder how it would go if i pitched to the network like that" in sitting in these meetings. BUT JUST WANTED TO CLARIFY i know writer's room is an all consuming term and i'm being pedantic. but it's very neat that we get to work on a board driven show to begin with and has made quite a difference and so i just like pointing it out :) i love what we're doing

[fluentmoviequoter]

Surviving is Not Child's Play

Terrifying Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Fic-tober Masterlist

Summary: You and Dalton continue your game of "Can Josh Lambert survive horror movies?"

Warnings: fluff, spoilers for Child's Play (1988), brief description of an anxiety attack (Dalton), comfort, Josh slander?. 1.3k+ words

A/N: Terrifying Tuesdays are connected, so while this can be read as a standalone, I recommend reading "Surviving The Conjuring" first. Next week's will pick up where this leaves off. Hope you enjoy! :)

“What are we doing tonight?” Chris asks as she barges into your room.

“Dalton and I are going to Terrifying Tuesday. You can come if you want,” you answer, used to her lack of knocking and inviting herself in.

“Wait, isn’t Terrifying Tuesday the horror movie thing in the park?”

“Yep. We went to The Conjuring last week and he wanted to go with me this week too.”

Chris stares at you with a questioning look.

“What? I invited you last week, you said you were busy.”

“Dolphin Lambert is going to see, not just a horror movie, but another horror movie?”

“Yep. I didn’t think he’d like it, but he actually seemed to have a pretty good time. At least once we started talking about whether or not his dad could survive the events of the movie.”

Chris looks to the side for a second before laughing. “The Conjuring? Patrick Wilson looks like his dad.”

“Thank you!” you exclaim, glad someone else sees it.

“What did you decide? Because there is no way Josh would believe the house was haunted or whatever.”

“Oh, completely,” you agree as you gather your things. “It took him a while, but Dalton finally agreed; said his dad would be skeptical but would survive. I’m firm in my opinion that he’s not surviving tonight’s movie though.”

“Yeah, you still haven’t told me what it is,” Dalton says as he enters your room and pulls you into a side hug.

“Child’s Play,” you say, smiling at Chris.

“Oh, Josh is dead the minute that doll shows up,” Chris proclaims. “Dolls,” she adds quietly, shuddering.

“That’s Chucky, right?” Dalton asks. You nod at him, and he shakes his head before saying, “My dad could survive. He wouldn’t get near that thing.”

“That’s the thing, Dolphin,” Chris whispers.

“You don’t have to,” you say along with Chris.

You feel terrible trying to scare him but need him to know you’re right. No matter what he thinks Josh would or would not do, he would not survive.

“We’re leaving, Chris. See you later,” you say as you let Dalton lead you outside.

Dalton slips his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers as you walk. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, and you struggle to listen to him talk about his art assignment.

“Is this scarier than last week?” Dalton asks as you settle in the same area.

“Honestly, it depends entirely on how you feel about homicidal dolls.”

“That’s not helpful,” Dalton says severely, tugging your hand into his lap. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Dalton, this movie isn’t scary at all. We’ll be fine.’”

You furrow your brows and poke his chest as you say, “My voice isn’t that high.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Dalton,” you say, “we will be fine. Same as last week, if you want to leave, we can, and if you want to play with my hand or hair or anything, do it. This game is only fun when you’re comfortable.”

Dalton nods and shifts his focus to your hand, drawing intricate shapes on your palm as the crowd grows and the park lights dim.

‣‣

“Happy Birthday again, Andy,” Karen says onscreen, pulling the gift-wrapped package from the brown paper bag.

“Wow—” Andy begins before racing into the living room. He tears off the paper, revealing Chucky’s face smiling up at them through the cellophane top of the box. Andy’s face lights up as he exclaims, “A Play Pal. I knew it, I knew you’d get me one!”

As you did last week, you lean over and whisper, “Dead.”

Dalton shakes his head and continues his artistic ministrations up your arm. You suppress a shiver at the feel of his fingers on your bare skin and focus on the movie.

‣‣

Maggie steps into the kitchen, flipping on the light. A sugar bowl lies broken on the floor, the white powder spread across the linoleum. 

She looks at it, mumbling, “How did that happen?”

The wall phone suddenly rings behind her, startling her. She whirls, grabbing it.

As Maggie talks to Karen, you look over at Dalton. He knows what you’re about to say and speaks first.

“My dad wouldn’t be in this situation.”

You roll your eyes and watch as Maggie is hit with the rolling pin and falls through the window.

“Your argument is invalid,” you whisper when Dalton pulls your arm closer.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbles thoughtlessly, pushing your sleeve out of the way to finish the artwork only he can see.

Dalton has barely looked at the screen, far more interested in the invisible painting he is doing on your arm. You’re not sure he’s paying attention to the movie, but as long as he seems content, you don’t care.

‣‣

Andy leaps off the windowsill of the cell, looking around desperately for some way to save himself. He upends the table, shoving it against the window and pushing the chair against the table to block the window. Chucky climbs onto the ledge outside Andy’s window to find himself facing the table. His face turns purple with rage.

Dalton’s fingers slow on your arm, and he inches closer to you as Chucky sticks his hand through the window before leaving.

“He’s here, doctor, Chucky’s here!” Andy cries.

The doctor stares through the port. He sees nothing but an empty room with all the furniture piled up against the window and Andy inside.

“I don’t see anybody,” the doctor states.

“But he’s here. Chucky’s here and he’s going to kill me!” Andy explains frantically.

The doctor tells an orderly to sedate Andy and continues walking down the hall. Andy stands on his chair, watching the doctor walk away with tears in his eyes.

“No, don’t leave me, please, don’t leave!” Andy yells, crying. 

 Dalton’s chest is pressed against your shoulder, and you feel his short breaths and racing heartbeat. Looking over quickly, you see his eyes bouncing between you and the screen.

“Dalton, what’s going on?” you ask quietly, turning to face him.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers lowly.

You raise your hands to cup his face and smile reassuringly.

“Dalton, listen to me, I’m not going anywhere. This is just a movie, okay? Andy is fine and you are fine. I am never ever leaving you, Dalton. You’re stuck with me.”

Dalton nods slowly, leaning his face into your hands where you hold him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hand.

“Don’t apologize,” you say. “Do you want to leave?”

Dalton shakes his head, so you drop your hands and sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him. His fingers return to your palm, tracing what you think is a heart.

‣‣

As Chucky meets his demise, Dalton’s attention is stuck on you. The park lights turn on, and Dalton stands first, pulling you to your feet.

“What’d you draw?” you ask, pointing to your arm.

Dalton shrugs. “Just random stuff: shapes, feelings.”

“Artistic,” you tease.

“I know you’re about to ask. My dad would survive because he would never buy one of us a Play Pal.”

“Not even Kali?” you ask, wondering if he said that because it’s a doll or he doesn’t like buying toys.

“Not the point,” Dalton says, answering your question: he would buy it for Kali because it’s a doll.

“It is the point!” you argue as his arm wraps around your shoulders. “Besides, Andy’s mom bought it for him. So, let’s pretend that Renai bought you a Play Pal and it turned murderous. Would your dad believe you or get killed?”

Dalton sighs and says, “Get killed.”

Dalton knows his dad can survive at least one more of the Terrifying Tuesday horror movies. He tells you as much, and you laugh, leaning into him.

“Next week isn’t a movie, it’s a series marathon. And he’d die before it started; no way Josh Lambert survives the apocalypse.”

“You have no faith in my dad,” Dalton says, pulling you closer.

“Do you?”

“I lose more every time I let you talk to me.”

[horseshoemybeloved]

i just realized you don't really draw sp patrick lol he looks soooo different

i have SOOOOO many thoughts and feelings about soul punk and it makes me go crazyyy and i have tried so many times to capture how i feel about it via art and AAA like. like its so. That whole era is like,,, vibrantly sad to me. Like we all viewed him as this dazzling eccentric confident guy but like, man i feel like he was really sad :(. And I think soul punks music reflects that aswell. Like if you do a light listen it’s fun and loud and upbeat music, but the lyrics are all so… hopeless and hurt and SAD ( to me ). Like with run dry, its a fun very danceable song. but if you listen like,,, its kinda sad and about someone struggling with alcoholism ( ik he doesnt write about himself and it could be some meta commentary on like the glamorization of alcohol in media/music but still it is SAD to ME!) I feel like that era was him really masking his pain. Coverin him in dazzling neon yellows to distract from those cold lonely blues That came across kinda negative Soul Punk is like my fav album ever the sounds in it make me stim like CRAYZEE i am in my room like dis

[nats-reads-reviews]

December 2024 Book Reviews ❄️

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind (5/5) This was such an amazingly well-written and unique book! It really draws on the power of our sense of smell, our need for connection and love, and the means one will take to receive and feel love. This book had depth and left me thinking a lot about it once I finished it.

Cursed Bunny: Stories by Bora Chung (4/5) I thought these short stories were a good mix between Grimm's Fairy Tales and Black Mirror but with a twist of Asian culture. I liked some of the stories more than others but all of them were really neat to reflect on. The more I reflected on them, the more themes and lessons I found in the stories. Really neat!

It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover (3.5/5) I enjoyed this book and appreciate CoHo creating a romance with the theme of breaking free of the cycles of abuse from our upbringing when creating your own life. It wasn’t a phenomenal book but it was entertaining, full of drama, and the ending was touching.

Last Days in Plaka by Henriette Lazaridis (4/5) This book was very immersive in the life of Greek citizens in modern times and I really enjoyed the writing style. I liked the religious themes, and that both Irini and Anna were using their dynamic as a way to create some meaning in their last days in Plaka for very different reasons - to understand the past and to change the past.

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi (4.5/5) This was such a cute, heartwarming read. I absolutely loved the time-traveling cafe and the rules set to time traveling. I liked how each chapter was a small story and they were all interconnected. I’ll definitely be reading the rest of the series.

Cassandra in Reverse by Holly Smale (1/5) I couldn't finish this book. It started out interesting - a neurodivergent main-character who can time travel seemed like a neat story - but everything was so repetitive and there was so much unnecessary content that got in the way of the story picking up. I think there was potential here but it wasn't executed well.

Dark Succession by Katee Robert (2.5/5) This was my first mafia romance and I wasn't very impressed lol. I liked the power struggle dynamics, the arranged marriage, and how there was action right at the beginning. Teague and Callie's relationship wasn't very exciting to me. I thought it was kind of unrealistic that he wouldn't have asked her about her relationship with Brendan more. In that way, it made the whole story feel weak and forced to me.

The Maidens by Alex Michaelides (4.5/5) Wow! This book really had a crazy twist at the end. I didn’t see it coming at all. It was a great dark academia psychological thriller with themes of Greek tragedy and cult influence.

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson (1/5) I’ve read most of Jackson’s books and I loved them but this one really fell short for me. It had potential but there were way too many subplots that just didn’t add value. Marigold wasn’t a very likable character in my opinion. She had some good character development at the end but the ending was still very disappointing and incomplete feeling.

[ambrossart]

Hello, first of all, a thousand condolences❤ I hope you feel well and that's fine. If you don't answer my question, why don't you feel well? I think it's normal and answer it if you want when you feel well because it's quite hard to lose a pet that rests. In peace.... I hope I have not failed you in this regard and have not offended you, my question is why do you think that Patrick Hockstetter is so loved by the readers or at least that is what I have noticed in the votes as a character Favorite at least, I'm not just referring to readers but to the girls in the fanfic. Patricio draws the attention of so many girls despite what he does and the least they know that Patrick has done, I don't exclude myself from the equation, the character draws my attention. of Patrick but not because he is handsome or cool not only because of that at least they are interesting as a character I have never read a character in such depth it is as if you need to read more and more about him to dig deeper into that black hole that absorbs you to know more About him, he is out of the ordinary, out of the ordinary and makes you wonder why he is the way he is, why his solipsism in general... everything...

Thank you for checking in on me! ❤️ I wouldn’t say I’m doing well, but I’m dealing with it as best as I can. My husband is struggling more than I am because she was his dog before we met, so I’m just trying to be there for him as much as possible. The house is a lot emptier without her, but we’ll get through it.

Regarding Patrick, I think his looks are a huge and undeniable part of his appeal. Let’s be real, if Patrick looked the way he does in the novel, that boy wouldn’t be getting away with half the shit he does in Paper Men. Even Evelyn has commented on this before. The only reason girls at school don’t find him creepy is because he’s so attractive. And that’s not just limited to his face. It’s everything: his face, his hair, his style, the way he carries himself. The boy stands out. Simple as that.

Then there’s his personality, which only adds to his appeal. Evelyn has described him as “grotesquely charming” and I think that sums up Patrick pretty well. His behavior is disgusting, offensive, and crude, but he goes about it in a way that’s so shockingly candid and, yes, even charming. It’s hard not to get a little flustered with someone so… direct. Patrick does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, whether it’s appropriate or not. He doesn’t mince words and he doesn’t hold back. When Patrick wants someone, he’ll make sure they know about it. A lot of people must find that attractive.

Of course, most of Patrick’s personality is carefully manufactured. He developed it so that people would gradually forget about all the stuff he did as a kid (and it worked), so it's hard to say what his true personality is.

And that brings me to the next aspect of Patrick's appeal. There's a certain aura of mystery and danger that surrounds him. It's hard to tell what he's thinking and what his true motives are. Every time you think you've got him figured out, he flips the switch and does something completely out of character. He's a puzzle covered in red flags, but you still wanna get close to him... because that's the only way to figure him out. And I think right now that's why Evelyn's so attracted to him. She wants to see behind the mask. She wants to see what, if anything, is on the other side of the void.

Unfortunately, this is exactly what Patrick wants. So is Evelyn actually seeing glimpses of the real Patrick? Or is this just another mask?

[beardedmrbean]

MILAN (AP) — Amanda Knox faces another trial for slander this week in Italy in a case that could remove the last legal stain against her, nine years after Italy’s highest court threw out her conviction for the murder of her 21-year-old British roommate.

Knox, who was a 20-year-old student when she was accused along with her then-boyfriend of murdering Meredith Kercher in 2007, has built a life back in the United States as an advocate, writer, podcaster and producer — with much of her work drawing on her experience.

Now 36 and the mother of two small children, Knox campaigns for criminal justice reform and to raise awareness about forced confessions. She has recorded a series on resilience for a meditation app and has a podcast with her husband, Christopher Robinson, and an upcoming limited series on her struggles within the Italian legal system for Hulu that has Monica Lewinsky as an executive producer.

Despite a definitive ruling by Italy’s Cassation Court in 2015 that Knox and then-boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito did not commit the crime, and the conviction of another man whose DNA was at the scene, doubts persist about Knox’s role with the victim’s family and the man she wrongly accused.

That is largely due to the slander conviction for wrongly accusing a Congolese bar owner in the killing, which was confirmed by the highest court in 2015. That conviction was only thrown out last November, based on a European Court of Human Rights ruling that found Knox’s rights had been violated in a long night of questioning without a lawyer and official translator.

Even now, Knox isn’t sure that a not guilty verdict in the new trial, which opens Wednesday in Florence, will persuade her detractors.

“On the one hand, I am glad I have this chance to clear my name, and hopefully that will take away the stigma that I have been living with,’’ Knox, who did not respond to an interview request, said on her podcast Labyrinths in December.

“On the other hand, I don’t know if it ever will, in the way I am still traumatized by it,” she said. “I am sure people will still hold it against me because they don’t want to understand what happened, and they don’t want to accept that an innocent person can be gaslit and coerced into what I went through.”

Knox said on her podcast that she expects to testify, but her lawyer said she is not expected in court for opening day.

The Kercher family lawyer, Francesco Maresca, said the high court’s exoneration did little in his mind to dispel doubts following Knox’s conviction by a trial court and two appeals courts, the first confirming her sentence of 26 years and the second raising it to 28 ½ years.

“This trial never ends,’’ Maresca told The Associated Press, obscuring “the memory of poor Meredith, who is always remembered for these procedural aspects and not as a student and young woman.”

Among his doubts, Maresca cited Knox’s confused retraction of her accusation against Patrick Lumumba, the owner of the bar where she worked part-time, and the verdict in Rudy Guede’s conviction for killing Kercher that maintains that the Ivorian man did not act alone.

Now 36, Guede was released from prison in 2021 after serving 13 years of a 16-year term handed down in a fast-track trial. Guede was recently ordered to wear a monitoring bracelet and not leave his home at night after an ex-girlfriend accused him of physical and sexual abuse. An investigation is ongoing.

Knox’s new trial will admit just one piece of evidence: her four-page handwritten statement that the court will examine to see if it contains elements to support slander against Lumumba. Despite having an ironclad alibi, he was held in jail for some two weeks before police released him. Lumumba has since left Italy.

Two earlier statements typed up by police that Knox signed in the early hours of Nov. 6, 2007 that contained the accusation, and were considered the most incriminating, have been ruled inadmissible by Italy’s highest court.

The four-page letter, which she wrote in the same 53-hour span of questioning over four days starting Nov. 5, reflects someone in a state of confusion, trying to reconcile what police have told her with her own recollections.

“In regards to this ‘confession’ that I made last night, I want to make clear that I’m very doubtful of the verity of my statements because they were made under the pressures of stress, shock and extreme exhaustion,’’ Knox wrote.

She referred to police statements that she would be arrested and jailed for 30 years and that Sollecito was turning against her.

Lauria Baldassare, an Italian lawyer who founded the Innocents Project, said the topic of wrongful convictions in Italy is starting to “create social alarm as it assumes important dimensions.”

He cited 10 cases of defendants being paid damages for wrongful convictions over the last decade, but said they faced difficulty in escaping the stigma of their initial guilty verdict — much like Knox.

“There is still part of the public opinion that does not accept the Court of Cassation’s decision, and these debates become a sport,’' said Baldassare, whose organization is independent from the Innocence Project that Knox works with. ”Italy does not have the maturity to accept an exoneration, because social prejudices are stronger than the finding.”

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

Spongebob vs Kirby!

Conditions:

Speed Equalized.

Scenario:

Spongebob and Kirby are the final contestants in the cook-fight championship, where the contests have to simultaneously defeat their opponents in combat and cook a delicious meal better than their opponents and only one can take home the gold.

Analysis: Spongebob

Tell me.... WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Ah, yes, Spongebob SquarePants. We love him, we meme him, and we remember him as the purest essence of childhood cartoon nostalgia. This goofy goober, nautical nincompoop, and asexual icon may seem like a harmless wimp on the surface... and to an extent, he kinda is. His life long dream is to work as a fry cook at a dead end fast food restaurant, he once struggled to lift a glass of water, and he's easily small enough to fit in your hand, regularly getting overpowered by ordinary humans. You'd be forgiven for mistaking Bikini Bottom's best fry cook for a harmless goofball, wing nut, or knucklehead mcspazatron. But just you wait, this fry cook has a lot more up his virtually nonexistent sleeves.

There are three acronyms that one must always remember when discussing Spongebob. E.V.I.L, P.O.O.P., and T.F.I.B. Don't recognize that last one? It stands for Toon Force Is Bullshit.

When Spongebob isn't struggling to lift Teddy Bears, he's effortlessly rotating the entire planet, sucking up the entirety of Earth's oceans, and absorbing enough water to replace the moon in the sky. We're in for some shit now.

As a sea sponge, or, really more of a kitchen sponge I guess, Spongebob is remarkably durable and flexible. He can freely shspeshift into nearly any form he can imagine, regenerate from getting reduced to dust, duplicate himself millions of times, and absorb any liquid or physical attack thrown at him. Like the time he was able to walk around getting punched all week without feeling any of it, or the time he literally laughed off being erased from existence.

Moreover, he's a master of nearly any hobby or job he picks up. He's so good at cooking Krabby Patties that they can become sentient, cancel mind control, and make people romantically attracted to them, while his bubble blowing skills let him create torpedoes, create sentient life, and create entire fuctioning societies out of bubbles. He's such a Rockstar that his music can physically assault you and free you from mind control and one time he was able to rock out so hard he transformed into the sun.

On top of that, Spongebob can create anything he can conceivably need in any situation, either by drawing it with the magic pencil (which, yes, later seasons show he still has), blowing bubbles, letting his tears come to life to revive him from the dead, or just by willing it into existence with his imagination. And not only can the pencil's eraser erasing things from reality, but he can even erase reality itself by pulling on a string and unraveling the entire universe.

And then... there's his ability... to break the fourth wall.

Not only can he ride on the scene transitions, not only can he exit the comic book he's in, but he can also rewrite the plot of his own story as it's happening. And that's without the magic book from the second movie. He can just... do that. On his own.

He's strong enough to fuse together with Patrick down to the level of his DNA by hugging him really hard, fast enough to watch Patrick run to the sun in back in seconds, and strong enough to defeat and capture everyone else in Bikini Bottom within a single night (albiet with Patrick's help).

While this all may sound unbeatable, there is one major issue for Mr. SquarePants. He can only survive out of water for so long and if exposed to extreme heats outside the water for too long, he risks drying up and suffocating to death. But, that's okay, because if that does happen, his tears will come to life and resurrect him from the dead anyways.

So next time you think to underestimate your childhood icon, you'd do well to remember... he's ready.

Analysis: Kirby

Kirby, Kirby, Kirby. It's the name you should know, they're the star of the show, Kirby's the one. While this impossibly powerful little puffball's backstory is by an large a mystery, the widely accepted explanation is that they are a reincarnation of the immense god-like being known as Void that came about as a result of Void interacting with positive emotions. They are the positive counterpart to Zero's and Void Termina's dark and hateful incarnations, who came into being as a result of Void interacting with powerful negative emotions.

As a result of this, Kirby is paradoxically both horrifyingly powerful and unrelentingly cute, cuddly, and friendly. They may aspire to no higher cause than eating cake, making friends, and sleeping, but I do not exaggerate in the slightest when I call their power godlike. Kirby has been stated several times to have infinite power and has defeated beings amped by the Master Crown, which was stated to have the same. This alone would make them universe level at least, but they have feats that put them well above that. The parallel dimension known as... Another Dimension (great name guys, not confusing at all) is shown to contain at least sixteen universes, with Magalor's defeat destroying all of them.

But Kirby has far more than just raw power on their side. As a matter of fact, they are well known for their versatility thanks to their Copy Ability. With it, they can inhale an enemy or object into their maw and transmute it into either a star shaped projectile or a copy ability, allowing them to copy a wide variety of powers from their defeated foes. They can combine these abilities, store them for later, or transform these powers into allies who can fight alongside them. And provided their opponent is too big for them to inhale, Kirby has ways of copying their powers anyways. By tossing their ability at their foe as an energy projectile, they can transmute enemies into copy abilities or they can just scan enemies outright with the copy ability known as... Copy.

These copy abilities come in a wide variety, ranging from those that grant Kirby mastery over a specific weapon to those who bestow Kirby with some form of elemental power. Notable ones include ice Kirby, who can freeze foes solid even if they can survive in space, cook Kirby who can transmute enemies into food, magic Kirby who can use magic for a variety of purposes, ranging from summoning food to summoning allies, and Copy Kirby, which can copy the powers of whoever Kirby scans. Their most powerful Abilities can even do damage to the fabric of reality itself, ranging from their Ultra Sword cutting holes into other universes to Time Crash, which creates an explosion so powerful that it damages time itself, effectively allowing Kirby to stop time.

Even without their Copy abilities, Kirby is remarkably tough. Their incredibly small size of a mere eight inches makes them remarkably tough to hit, they can regenerate from being impaled in an instant, can inflate themselves with air and fly through the sky, and summon a warp star to help them fly across the galaxy in seconds. And if all that sounds like a lot for one little pink puffball, Kirby can just speed dial up three other identical Kirby's to help kick your ass on command. Or throw a Friend Heart at you to forcibly befriend you.

And if you somehow make it through all of that and manage to kill Kirby? They can simply come back as a ghost, steal your life energy, and regenerate their body from nothing. Unless you can kill ghosts, Kirby's just gonna come straight back.

Having said all that, Kirby isn't perfect. While they are shown to be strangely technologically and scientifically adept, they have also shown to be incredibly naive. They've been manipulated into doing the villain's bidding on more than one occasion and they tend to simply jump headlong into situations without any kind of plan.

While Kirby may not be Nintendo's strongest character as is widely believed, they are every bit the godkiller you've heard they are. The next eldritch terror that steps foot on the peaceful planet of Popstar is gonna end up like all the rest, running for it's goddamn life.

Throwdown Theme:

Throwdown Breakdown:

This... is a tricky one.

Both of these pint sized power houses have absolutely massive arsenals to throw at each other, with several of their abilities simply canceling each other out. Both of these characters are small enough to fight inside the palm of your hand, are nigh-unkillable, can breathe underwater forever, and can duplicate themselves in numerous ways.

Going for the kill is grossly out of character for both of them, but Spongebob is the only one with a way to actually kill their opponent. Kirby can't destroy someone who can come back from nothing, whereas the Magic Pencil would leave them with nothing to come back from. Spongebob has the means to create anything he can imagine to fight Kirby with, but Kirby can just copy whatever he creates by inhaling it or using Copy. Similarly, Kirby can also create beings to fight on their behalf with their Artist (not to be confused with Paint) ability, handly countering out Spongebob's bubbles.

Spongebob has quite few counters to Kirby's tricks. He can simply shapeshift out of being turned into a copy ability or food, his absorbent abilities makes powers like Fighter and Water useless or detrimental, he can simply draw a portal to escape Kirby's stomach pocket reality, and krabby patties can cancel out the effects of the Friend Heart (as well as other times Spongebob has resisted mind control). But, by that same notion, Kirby's ice is more than capable of freezing people who can withstand the vacuum of space, meaning it should work fine on Spongebob, the Pure Hearts is better mind manipulation than what Spongebob has shown to resist (they can counter out the mind control powers of Void Termina, whose incarnations such as Dark Matter can control entire planets), and should be much stronger physically.

The reason I Equalized Speed for this fight initially was because I assumed Spongebob was exponentially faster. Then I realized that both of them can move even after time has been destroyed, placing both at about equal speed. That's gow close this matchup is and that's how overpowered both of them are. Which is not at all helped by how few options they have to out each other down.

However, there are a few things that just barely make this Kirby's game.

Kirby is stronger, smarter, and more experienced. Spongebob can destroy the universe, but Kirby can tank sixteen blowing up in their face. Both can be incredibly naive and overly trusting, but Kirby is smart enough to build a rocket ship by themself. And both are no stranger to saving the world, but only Kirby fights off eldritch abominations on a near daily basis.

Spongebob has some clear win conditions here. But the issue is actually being willing to use them in this context. Spongebob isn't going to murder his competition in a cooking competition, so the magic pencil is out. That leaves fourth wall breaking and plot manipulation. However, Spongebob has never used those abilities in a straight up fight before. Even in situations where his life or the world was at risk, Spongebob has never simply rewritten the plot so that he wins a fight or competition and he likely wouldn't do so here. Because this fight is, in context, a friendly competition and it's really not like Spongebob to willingly cheat.

Kirby, meanwhile, has a few ways of incapacitating Spongebob. Their ice and Friend Hearts should be more potent than what Spongebob and his resistance to such things can handle, their strength and greater experience would give them an advantage in combat, and they can match Spongebob's versatility.

This fight is genuinely the closest one we've had all year. But, I think Kirby has just enough to overcome their aquatic adversary.

Spongebob wins the cooking competition though. Not even Cook Kirby competes with that. If Neptune himself can't match Spongebob, I don't know what Kirby can do.

Does that make this a tie? Eh, Throwdown's the name of the game so that's what I'll count.

This Throwdown's Winner is....

Kirby!

[hippolotamus]

A little ask for you my lovely hippo

I’ve seen glimpses of your art here and there and I’m a curious spot what kind of things do you enjoy drawing most and how much time do you get to draw - tell me about your favourite drawing 😘

A little answer for you, Dear Spots! (Also thank you for this question. It makes me all squishy and gooey 🥹)

I don’t know that I have a particular thing I enjoy. I do prefer not to draw humans (despite what I’m about to show) because I really have zero confidence when it comes to faces. I don’t take as much time as I would like to (probably because I’m trying to improve my faces and, well, see previous statement).

My goal is to do a drawing of Buddie slow dancing in their kitchen for @giddyupbuck. We’ll see…

My favorite drawing is a self portrait I did in high school. I wish I still had it but I’m honestly not sure that I do. It was for art class and done with charcoal, my favorite medium. Anyway, I’m going to shamelessly share all the drawings (good/bad/ugly) I have pics of under the cut.

Clockwise from top left: unfinished sketch of Oliver Stark, a practice sketch using a much better drawing by @nymika-arts as reference, Wyn from Lily Mayne’s Monstrous series, Wyn and Danny (both of these used references from Pinterest, I apologize I don’t remember the original artist 😬)

Clockwise from top left: Buddie drawing for @alyxmastershipper, Buddie sketch for a fic chapter I was struggling with, a silly sketch in my work notebook, a David & Patrick drawing for @blackandwhiteandrose’s amazing fic until I set him free 🖤