#and i am so burnt out for art today

[divinityofthemachine]

fuckkk. remake because the original was literally concept art and i got lazy and cleaned that up and called it a day like the dumbass i am. so embarrassing

[magnapanther]

FINISHED WORK?? on MY page??? it's far less likely than you'd think. and yet, somehow, here we are. :D

(well, finished enough to post and call "done", i should say. i may yet meddle with some details when i inevitably notice ten more flaws immediately after posting :D)

good old moss knight, such a devout follower of big slug. surely no wandering knight would ever end such a noble creature's life before he had the chance to speak with a certain fellow at a nearby bench! :D

this was essentially just me testing the waters with digital after some time avoiding it, and especially colours/lighting. it's been a while since i actually tried to make something fully fleshed out like this. i don't know, i feel like it could have come out worse :)

[dani-the-goblin]

.

[circusthing]

if i'm not being perceived, do i exist at all?

[moe-broey]

I don't really consider this a spoiler/might not even take this route anyway, but. Sharena Engage active wear color palette. Choose.

Also factoring in my notes from when I flipped through all the chara's outfits to find The Pattern

Okay NOW you can Choose

Another thing you can consider is having the shoes be all one color/Not having the second color stripe accent. I noticed some characters wouldn't have that as part of their palettes! Seemed arbitrary which ones would and which ones wouldn't!

[forzalando]

anyone can cook

max + cooking date - 3k celebration driver scenario for @foreveralbon !! liyah, i do not know what happened but somehow this turned into just jokes and banter. i am so sorry, i hope you still like it!!!! special bonus scene at the end that is the most unserious thing i have ever written and i apologize profusely for it but i was writing this past bedtime and couldn't get it out of my head this is the end of the 3k celebration blurbs, i am kind of sad but also feel accomplished🥹 i only had to write 6 but i am notorious for not finishing things. patting myself on the back today! pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader word count: 660 words tw: none, unless boxed pasta offends you

“MAX! I said salt the water, not create the sixth named ocean,” you said through giggles. “Here, let me help.”

You cupped your hands under his, leading him to the sink to dump a considerable amount of salt under the rushing water.

“Use about…this much,” you mumbled, tongue poking out and concentrating on dumping the granules into his hands without spilling any onto the floor. Jimmy and Sassy were weaving in between your legs and you didn’t want them tracking salt into every room or, heaven forbid, rolling around in your bed.

After guiding Max to the boiling water, you turned your attention back to your blistering tomatoes and garlic, but not before passing a cheese grater and block of parmesan over to him.

“Cooking is so much work,” he whined. “How do you enjoy this?”

“Max, you’ve literally done two things. You filled a pot with water and salted it, how many things do you have to do simultaneously while in the car?”

“That’s different, it’s fun!”

“Cooking can be fun! Cuisine is an art – it’s therapeutic, calming, and you get to eat something delicious after all your hard work!”

“Yeah, and do a million dishes,” he grumbled under his breath. You immediately shot him a steely glare and he smiled big enough that his eyes crinkled. “But I love doing dishes with you! Quality time, right?”

“Nice save, Verstappen.”

For the next few minutes you worked in tandem and in silence – Max furiously grating cheese and hissing every few seconds when he accidentally caught a finger against the sharp holes, you stirring and perfecting your sauce with ease.

The stove timer interrupted the peace and you called Max over from his place at the countertop.

“Ok, lesson number three of the evening – ”

“What were one and two?” He interrupted you, hints of hesitation and guilt in his voice. When you turned to look at him, your mouth open in exasperation, you saw the teasing look in his eye and rolled yours in return.

“If Gordon Ramsay were teaching you, you’d have been called an idiot sandwich twice and kicked out of the kitchen by now.”

“Lucky me, you’re way nicer, way more patient, and way prettier than Gordon.”

He tickled your ribcage lightly, causing you to flip a spoonful of pasta water across the room.

“New lesson number three – no tickling the chef when boiling water is nearby. Lesson number four, previously lesson number three – never trust the cook time on the pasta box. A true pasta chef also finishes cooking their pasta in the sauce, so we’re taking it out a few minutes early.”

“Wouldn’t a true pasta chef use fresh-made pasta?”

“You’re on thin ice, Max.”

He leaned in swiftly to kiss your cheek and stole the pasta spoon from your hand. “I’ll be dumping the water, I don’t want it to splash on you.”

“Don’t forget to – ”

“Reserve a cup of pasta water, where is your faith in me? I pay attention to everything you say, mijn liefje.”

It wasn’t long before you had served up plates of pasta as fresh as you could make considering you’d just gotten back to Monaco that morning, slightly burnt garlic bread because Max forgot to set a separate timer, and a mixed greens salad so Max’s trainer wouldn’t sue you for mistreatment and neglect.

“I’d say this was a very solid date night,” Max said between chews. “Thank you for teaching me and being patient with me – I take for granted how much you do for me when we’re home.” He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one longer and messier than the one before.

You couldn’t help but grin at him, a devastatingly lovesick grin, and your stomach fluttered when he returned the exact look. He had a tomato sauce stain in the corner of his mouth and a droplet of spilled wine on his shirt but to you he’d never looked more beautiful.

bonus snippet (i couldn’t help myself, please accept my apology)

“Y/N, I cannot cook. I can count on one hand the number of times I have cooked for myself in the past ten years. I will blow up the kitchen.”

“Relax, I’ll guide you the whole way! You’ll never be near an open flame unsupervised, no sharp knives, we can even start with something simple! Pasta al pomodoro – you’ll love it!”

“When the rat said anyone can cook, he did not mean me, I promise.”

You looked at him quizzically – “Max, what rat?”

“The little French rat, not Esteban, the one who lives in the chef’s hat and makes soup for him.”

“…Are you talking about Remy? From Ratatouille?”

“I don’t remember his name, I just know you made me watch a movie one time about a French rat that could cook.”

“Ok, well, that’s an animated kid’s movie, and actually Chef Gusteau said anyone can cook, but he's right! Anyone can cook, Remy is proof, so get ready to cook on date night.”

“Thanks a lot, Remy,” Max huffed, crossing his arms in defeat.

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

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @anaviieiraaa @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123

if you would like to be added to my taglist, please refer to this post!

[amorfista]

[WIP] "Shenanigans at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city there is out there!

But hold up just a second...

-"Hey Wrecker, look!"

"...now wouldn't it be a shame if someone was feeling extra mischievous today?" Omega thought to herself. Turning to her left, lips pressed in a smile, she discovered Wrecker mimicking her expression. Apparently, he had just read her mind >:).

Tech had felt such peace, such safety that he had fallen into a deep slumber, further fueled by his usual lack of sleep.

Tough seldom wrong, today he was.

Because at this moment Tech was, in fact, in grave danger.

...TO BE CONTINUED!!

[Part 3] [Part 4]

(Acknowledging the lil' banner for a fraction of a second, it's just something I'm testing out and would like some feedback if you'd be so kind to give it :)) I'll probably make it just a tad bit more refined and (possibly) include the members of the Batch appearing on the post? but I might just randomize it for fun too. Thank you for taking the time to read this!!)

OKAY SOO. I decided to post these two drawings that I completed a few days ago because:

- once again i deadass couldn't wait anymore💀

- I have decided to make as many "beach episode" themed drawings as I can during the summer (and fall if we get there cuz why not) so i'll just post them as I'm done with each of 'em! I have SO many ideas for it and I want it to be a big project and not some sketches as I had initially planned. I want to make it WHOLESOME and HEART MELTING!! Whenever I get burnt out or need some fresh air I'll draw other things, probably still within the Star Wars theme because the brainrot is real🤓, but just letting you know in advance because AAAH!! this is a big thing for me and I want to share it with you guys because love is all you've shown me and I want to reciprocate 💕 🥺 

- and last but DEF NITELY not least I want to celebrate thAT I REACHED 300+ FOLLOWERS TODAY!! AND ALSO 1000+ NOTES ON MY OMEGA DRAWING??!! IN LIKE NO TIME TOO!!? WHAT THE FRICK. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!

Never before had my art had such an impact in a community. I am so grateful for all of your comments and interactions with my drawings, it's a ridiculous boost in inspiration and confidence :) It makes me want to push my limits every time!! So once again THANK YOU!!☺️ 💕 

Here's my taglist, just let me know if you wish to join!! ♥

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes

[meichenxi]

Language learning: slow learning versus toxic productivity

Or: the process in crisis

Five years ago, all of the productivity advice I read (and gave out) as a successful self-learner of many different languages had one basic premise: that I was not doing enough, and that I could always be doing more.

Several burnouts later, running headlong from one mental illness into another, I'd like to invite you to entertain the exact opposite idea: there is a limit to what you can do. I have run face-first into mine on multiple occasions, and burnt out. At many points I've stopped learning the language at all. Most importantly, I've learnt to be distrustful of the very premise that all of the so-called productivity or optimisation advice is based on.

More is not always more.

Listen to a podcast in the target language whilst you exercise. Exercise to give yourself more energy to learn your target language. Talk to yourself in the shower in your target language. Do Anki whilst eating breakfast. Listen to Glossika whilst walking to work. Change your phone settings to your target language. Bullet journal. Manage your time. Make friends in your target language. Control your time. Write a diary. There's always enough time. These are all things I have done myself and recommended others do, to increase exposure to the language, to increase productivity.

Productivity? What productivity? What, exactly, is it that we are producing? I am producing sentences and words but - for who? Who is listening? Nobody's here, in my room, at 7am on a Sunday. If productivity were just speaking or writing, I'd be productive in my native language too, by virtue of speaking out loud. Or conversely, in language learning circles, should we measure it in terms of input? How many hours did you spend listening to Chinese yesterday? What about today? Is there anything you do in your life, in your daily life, that you could optimise? You're wasting time. There's time here, for those that want it. If you want to get ahead, to be successful, to be a good language learner, you have to know how to use that time. Go online, and debate over which tools are the best; watch your videos. What exactly is it that is being produced?

Productivity is a measuring tool for concrete output: the productivity of a field means how much crop it can yield per harvest. The productivity of a factory is how many mobile phone chargers it can bring to market per year. There are direct and measurable ways to increase this sort of productivity. But what is productivity when it comes to knowledge work? Cal Newport's work, The Minimalists, Essentialism: they all run into the same problem, which is that nobody seems to know what 'productivity' for knowledge workers means at all. You can look at a factory line and see which parts need greasing up, figuratively or literally: it is very difficult, on the other hand, to look at the work of a self-contained writer and tell her where she is going 'wrong'. (And by 'wrong', I mean - slow.) And language learning is an even more particular subset of that particular subset of work.

You could judge a novelists' productivity two ways: by the 'busyness' of her daily writing routine, or the amount of novels she produces. But what exactly is being produced when we learn a language? What is the end product?

In some ways, language learning as a hobby is even more playful than traditionally thought of arts and crafts. (By 'play' I mean something which is done for its own sake, and which is pleasurable, and which may yield next to no monetary reward.) We might think of the poet as sitting on a tree and dangling his feet in the river, a vision of artful indolence, but at the end of the day there is output - a poem. A knitter has a jumper. A potter has a pot. But language learning doesn't follow this [work] + [time] = [tangible output] structure. We can't even use the second metric of 'productivity' to measure it at all. Something is being done, of course - I can learn to speak Greek, and speak it markedly better after two months than one - but my point is you can't look at a day's work and say, this is exactly how much I learnt. Learning is not memorisation in the short term - it's receiving input, and practicing how to wield and use a structure. It doesn't happen over the course of a ten-minute podcast.

Learning happens - encoding happens - when the brain is doing other things. In other words, much like every creative process, you need downtime. You need rest, and sleep, and fun, and brightness and joy in your life. You might 'remember' a bunch of words on Anki, but you need to sleep before you can review them again: that's the whole point.

There is a much wider problem here, a culture of goals and optimising your life and glowing up, and to be honest, I find it disturbing. I think that for a very long time my language learning metrics were a stand-in, a relic, for the kinds of unhealthy and obsessively perfectionist thinking that gave me an eating disorder. How many of us truly believe - genuinely, with every inch of our heart - that we are better people if we 'better' ourselves? Learn more. Exercise more. Study more. How do you feel about yourself at the end of a day, exhausted, because you've completed day 75/100? Do you feel better about yourself because you've achieved? I'm guessing that you do.

For many people - including for myself - this wider culture has spilled over into their hobbies. Hobbies like language learning in particular are a target for this because they are so easily quantifiable - and we are encouraged, if we want to succeed, to quantify them. How else will we know how to improve?

Over the last few years, after burning out, after living off grid and without wifi and doing extreme minimalism and a lot of other lifestyle experiments to try and understand why modern life is so fucking hard, it's become clear that most systems of 'productivity' measure 'optimisation' by getting the most done in a day, but they don't stop to question whether you should be doing those things at all.

They don't stop to ask: what matters? They don't stop to ask: why am I trying to write a novel, finish my dissertation, pursue a romantic relationship, get healthy, learn ice-skating, learn to cook, look after my aging parents, and learn guitar at the same time? They don't ask: how do I prioritise, and where do I find silence? They ask: how do I cram more time in the day? They don't ask: how do I slow time down? They don't ask: how can I know what matters, if I never give myself space to think?

In other words: 'productivity' in language learning is measured by 'busy-work', by how much you can see from the surface.

You can't measure how well the learning is going, exactly, but you can measure how many hours a day you show up and grind. Whether or not that struggle is the best use of your time, or whether you're spending the time on things that will truly bring you value and quality, is a different question altogether.

And it's not one most 'productivity culture' will ever ask.

There will be things in your language learning journey that, to borrow from self-help terminology, no longer serve you. Habits and relics and resources and mindsets that worked for you once, or no longer did. Those books that are too advanced that you feel like you 'should' be able to read. That textbook that's been sitting beside your bed for a year. That habit of scrolling social media in your target language that was helpful when you were at a more intermediate level, but does little for you now that you're advanced.

Take stock of these. Simplify. Do less, but do it better. Productivity culture never stops to ask: what can I do without? It always asks, instead: how can I do more? But maybe - just maybe - the way to do more is to focus on fewer things, but do them well.

Multi-tasking isn't multi-tasking, but switching quickly between different focuses of attention. The average American owns 300,000 things, and watches television for 4-5 hours a day. On average, if you are distracted, it takes you 20 minutes to reach the same level of deep focus: but the average American office worker opens an email within six seconds of receiving it. Are you any better with your phone? How much time do you spend there? If you meditate, that's wonderful, but do you have any time to let yourself think? To walk and to understand how to feel? I don't want to sound like a boomer, but: can you name the birds? Do you live in a place, not just a room?

Stop trying to be 'productive'. Do less. Do it well.

I am now facing a wall in my learning of Chinese, and I'm still not sure how to get around it. The reason for this is because so much of the advice I gave others around language learning, and so much of the advice I found online, is focused on this sort of optimisation. But I no longer want to be listening to something, to be watching something, every second of every day. I have a partner to love and a house to appreciate and I want to spend time, humming and pleasant, alone with my thoughts, and it's summer, dear diary, and I don't want to stay indoors. Routines can keep you afloat, but they can also drown you. Do something different. Do something new. Do something that is not productive, that produces nothing, idle away, walk to work without music and perhaps when you sit down to your language learning that evening, you'll be filled with a renewed vigour and love for it. Do it because you love it, not because you scheduled it in your calendar.

A lesson, related, from my martial arts teacher. He said:

If you are tired, do not train. If you do not train, rest. 'Rest' does not mean go on your phone.

The same principle applies here. If you are tired of learning, which you may well be, rest. Not going on your phone, not watching Netflix. I mean taking a walk and sitting under the tree and looking at the patterning of the sky. I mean lying with your dog and absently scratching his tummy. If you're tired, and you have the luxury to stop - stop. Let yourself be tired. Don't drink caffeine. Sleep.

Last year, I was able to write 340,000 words of fiction because I focused on one thing: writing my book. Apart from things that I literally needed to do to survive and maintain my health and relationships around me, I didn't set a single other to-do. My daily list looked like: write for three hours. Not a word limit. Not exercise, though I ended up doing that, not learning a language. I imagine that if I had tried to focus on Chinese at the same time that I wouldn't have achieved anywhere near half the result. I still learnt Chinese, a very decent amount - I went to China and Taiwan for three months in total! - but I did it because I wanted to, of a whim, on a Sunday, something fun. It wasn't a must, or anything I was forcing myself to do. Many days I didn't do any Chinese at all. It was so immensely freeing to be able to think, at 11am: I'm finished for today. Even when I was at work, because I knew I was just there to pay the rent, I felt serene. Stressed on a day-to-day level, certainly, because all work is stressful, but - there wasn't any striving. I just did the best I could. And that was enough.

I am writing this, now, as I come out of my first ever information-overload burnout. I've burnt out, but I've never experienced one of these before: even looking at a book, at a phone, physically hurt my eyes. I couldn't bear to listen to people speak and would lock myself away in my room. I physically felt I could not talk, and had to take extensive time off work. Even looking at a pen and a blank page was too much; listening to podcasts was too much; reading the instructions for dinner was too much too. The only way I could heal was by doing absolutely nothing at all. That period shocked me deeply, because it showed me how absolutely dependent I was on having some input of information all of the time. No wonder I was tired.

I know, now, that there are lots of movements built around this same idea, by frustrated learners all over the world: the growing realisation that metrics and Excel and polylogger and tracking tracking tracking can't be the only way to learn. That a list of the number of books you've read in one year is hardly indicative of how well you understood those books, and what you learned from them. You've read 20 books this year already - good job. When do you think about them? What time do you spend on reflection? Why did you choose those books? Which chapters, and which characters, hit you the hardest? Why?

Minimalism, deep work, 'monk mode', essentialism, every writer's dream to run away and write in a cabin in the woods, slow learning, Buddhism, Stoicism, Marie Kondo-ism, the art of less, project 333, my no-buy-year, slow fashion, slow food, slow travel:

What all of these philosophies have in common is the idea that doing things deliberately ('mindfully') means 1) doing things slowly, 2) doing things well, and 3) doing things one at a time.

I am now at a place in my life where I understand the value of time alone with my thoughts. I don't want to listen to podcasts every minute of the waking day, because I need time to think about them. I need time to let the ideas for my novel grow in the dark. Nothing can be heard in noise; so make space for silence. I am a member of the real, living, breathing world, and that means I cannot devote 8 hours a day to Chinese television shows like I could when I was 20. I have to call my father. I have to do the dishes. I want to flex my creative muscles in other ways. Alternatively - I no longer believe that my worth is tied up inherently with how well I do my hobbies.

You're just some guy. There's freedom in that. You, my friend - you suck <3

Let yourself be bad. Let yourself be mediocre. Let yourself 'slide backwards' or regress, because all that means is that you're putting focus somewhere else. It'll come back. It always does.

I'm no longer comfortable, therefore, with the way that the language learning community tackles productivity. Please don't misunderstand; a lot of us have time spare that we could use to do things 'better' for us. I know. But I just believe now that getting rid of things, like the time you spend on your phone, is going to be more helpful in the long run than trying to force yourself into some gruelling, achievement-centric regime that collapses from within after two months of struggle and self-flagellation.

The other realisation I have had is just how much happier I am spending more time being alive, really alive, and less time in front of a screen. For a language like German or Gaelic that's much easier, because you can study with books, but with Chinese you always have to study to some extent with audios, flashcards, computers. Especially if - like me - you can read novels without a dictionary, but cannot handwrite even your Chinese name. So where next?

I don't have any answers. I'm not sure how to pair the two things together, to be honest, because almost all of my language learning has traditionally made use of technology. It's all been goal-orientated, systems-orientated, and despite the fact that I've failed at using these systems every day for years, despite the fact that Anki has NEVER worked for me, despite the fact that I have spent hundreds if not thousands of pounds on courses here, there, a wealth of overwhelm and five thousand words saved on Pleco, did I read that right? Five thousand. No wonder I'm stressed.

Regardless of happiness, it's much easier to achieve a state of deep focus and work when you're not online. After my period of information burnout, I feel actual physical pain from the weight of choices online. It's exhausting. I'm watching a Chinese show, but I want to go on tumblr. I'm on tumblr, but I feel guilty for not watching the Chinese show. I'm constantly torn between doing this and that, never fully committing to anything, seeing a post by Lindie Botes and thinking, damn, she's good. I should be better. But I don't want to compare myself to her. Do you know what? She is good. I admire her immensely. But I don't want to judge my self-worth by some imagined scale of productivity anymore - and, the more time passes, the more I'm not sure what 'productivity' in the context of language learning even means.

Try slow, focused, deep learning. You might just find it works.

There's something refreshing, almost counter-cultural, anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist, anti-rat-race, about this thought. Slow learning. I think there's an answer here, somewhere. It's a problem I've been dancing around for a while; and do you remember how you learnt your first foreign language? For me, it was on the floor, absolutely absorbed in German comic books, flicking through the dictionary furiously and scribbling things down in a notebook. I only had one book, and one dictionary, and one grammar book. I want to go back to that sort of simplicity. There was joy in that.

One again: I don't have any answers. I don't know exactly what direction this blog is going to go in, as I wrestle with these sorts of meta-problems. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And for now, if there's one thing I'd like you to take away from this long and frankly absurdly rambling post (thank you for bearing with me!) it's an alternative answer for the question I get so often, about what you can do to learn the language when you're tired, because:

Yes, you could watch reality TV shows in Chinese, or you could give yourself permission to be human. You could rest.

Thanks guys. Meichenxi out <3

[lilybug-02]

Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨

I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨

It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…

Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞

Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!

(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)

I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐

You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐

Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥

—

My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.

I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.

Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!

Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!

I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)

Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao

[zoobiefish]

Day 10: Self-Advocacy

Having a neurodevelopmental disability often means getting talked over, unfortunately. The moment they know I’m Autistic, most people tend to treat me as if I’m a child. I know this is sadly the experience of most of us on the spectrum. I’m a university student in my mid-20s earning an honours bachelors degree in psychology, yet I often get spoken down to. Not only that, but I’ve had people treat me outright with hostility when they found out I was Autistic; like I was a nuisance just for existing. I’m in a precarious position because I’m also considered “high functioning” by clinical standards. In no way am I saying “I have it worse” than “low functioning” Autistics, not by a long shot—nor am I saying our experiences are comparable. This isn’t any kind of “oppression olympics” or competition of any kind. But as someone who is “high functioning,” and considering this is my post, I will be talking about my personal experience and the specific nuance that comes with it. Additionally, please know that I’m not a fan of “functioning labels.” I am only using them here to describe myself as I would be described in clinical terms. Anyway, being high functioning means very specific and often contradictory expectations are put on me. I often don’t “look Autistic enough” for people to take my disability seriously. And anytime I’m legitimately struggling because of my very real disability, I get told to “suck it up” or that I’m “faking for attention” or something along those lines. I’m privileged enough to be able to speak and advocate for myself, yet it often still falls on deaf ears. At best, I’m just treated like a child and not the adult that I am. At worst, I’m treated like a pest. I need support, but I don’t need it “enough” in people’s eyes to “justify” needing it. I’m a leech in their eyes. I find being high functioning means that I feel compelled to mask more too. I recognize that being able to mask at all is a privilege, but it doesn’t make it any less stressful. Everyone expects that because my Autism is “mild,” I have some sort of unwritten duty to be performatively neurotypical 24/7. And that is cognitively exhausting. I just had several major tests in my uni program and I’m finally on break for a week, but I’m so burnt out now. I wanted to do a more relevant drawing for today’s prompt but then I thought “you know what? My art *is* my self-advocacy. So I’m gonna advocate by being honest about how tired I am.” I need a break. I need less stimulation. I need less expectations. I need to shut the blinds to my room and curl up with a favourite show. I have advocated my needs now.

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Shit at Feelings iii

Bodhi Durran x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS!! Swearing, drinking, trauma, probably not proofread well lmaooo, lmk if I missed anything

A/n: Part 3 weeeeeee! I hope you all enjoy! Couldn’t pass up on some more platonic banter between the crew. I have stuff cooking for part 4 👹👹

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You felt helpless, a pang of terror struck through you as three wyvern ganged up on Cleasaí and you. Though she was one of the most menacing and cunning of the Greens, every maneuver she tried to pull it seemed the wyvern knew. You were easily becoming burnt out of your power, astral projecting, never projecting the lengths you have until today to trick your opponents. Now you were about to be cornered.

“I have to try one more time,” you heaved heavily down the bond to Cleasaí. “Just to change our position.”

“You can’t,” she growled, quickly banking right past a sharp cliff side, her tail catching the earth and flinging it back at green fire wyverns. “You will drain yourself and die. I will not lose my human already.” The move proved to be useless for the wyverns just merely flinching at the rocks.

Violet was taking on two wyvern herself with the help of Xaden, and you lost sight of Bodhi, Imogen, and Soleil. You were on your own for this one.

“If I don’t try, not only am I dead, but you will be too.” You argued. “I need eyes on the rider.” Your skin was so hot, and a migraine was already wreaking havoc in your skull. But you would not let Cleasaí die, the creature that mercifully bonded with you and saw potential when you felt like no other did.

“Are you sure about this?” You could tell she was feeling the defeat you were plagued with. You straightened your shoulders, adjusting your goggles.

“No, but there’s no other way.” You held on tight to the ridge of her back as she darted up into the cloud coverage.

“Project the clouds, until we get sight on the one with a rider.” She ordered. You steadied your breathing, mentally grounding yourself in the art studio of your childhood home, letting her power take over within you. Before you can let out the last bit of energy, you’re jerked down.

“Cleasaí!” You screamed out loud. Her back claw is in the mouth of a wyvern and you can see her blood dripping. Another wyvern slammed into her side, throwing her into a cliff side. You jolted from your sitting position, trying to hang on for dear life, but ultimately sliding off into the sharp cliff side as well. The sting of gravel loitering in your hip and side as the festering migraine throbbed in your ears, and your vision gets spotty.

“Y/n!” A voice shouted, and you couldn’t tell if it was Xaden or Bodhi. Everything had started going in and out and black stars were hazing your vision.

Lightning strikes in the near distance, and the wyvern that slammed your dragon into the cliff goes down, but the one that has your dragon’s claw in a firm grip in its mouth still stands. You just wanted the wyvern off of Cleasaí as you hung on the prominent ridge on her back, keeping a leg hiked onto her the best you could.

You caught a glance of her kicking her claw out the wyvern’s grasp as her tail whips at it, repeatedly striking the head of the beast to no avail. The reverberating pain settles in your body making you release a blood curdling scream, Cleasaí roared with you as you mentally open the remaining bits of power you can access. The sound projected through the cliffs of Resson, no doubt alerting all your friends in radius.

The last thing you see is the wyvern’s jaw being forced open off Cleasaí’s claw by a phantom wind and wave of green taking the wyvern down before passing out.

The last thing you see is the wyvern’s jaw being forced open off Cleasaí’s claw by a phantom wind and wave of green taking the wyvern down before passing out.

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The scene on the paper was murky, much different than the precise nearly perfect sketch of Bodhi you had drawn the other day. The parchment smeared with charcoal and graphite with little ebbings of scenery with ink to depict the lightning and rocky mountain sides in Resson. The feeling of the rock shards embedded in your body is what woke you up this morning. You had been having the same nightmare every night. Of the same scene at Resson with different endings: one night it had been you that died, the venin scaling on to Cleasaí and not only draining the entirety of you, but her as well. The next night it was Bodhi who had died, he was in your position and all you could do was watch, paralyzed in place on your dragon.

You had ignored the knock of Imogen this morning to go on your daily run, listening to her curse and rattling your door trying to pick the lock. Quinn had taught you a lesser magic to keep your door locked yesterday after lunch, and it proved fruitful thus far. Imogen had tried for three minutes before accepting you weren’t up, and walking away, leaving you to go back to restlessly sketching in your book until you made your way down to the mess hall.

You were one of the first in the hall this morning, still working on your drawing while idly eating your breakfast. Preferring the solace of being alone and your haunting thoughts at the table that your wing would be filling up fast in the next forty minutes or so. With most of the cadets partying the last three days, no one was eager to get to breakfast right away. Leaving some extra quiet time in the mornings.

“Interesting drawing,” someone said from behind you. You jumped, abruptly shutting the book. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” You turned to see Violet tugging on her lip, brows furrowed.

You sighed, mustering a smile and thanking the gods it had only been her nonetheless. It would’ve been hard to explain why there was a wyvern on the page you were working on to anyone else. “Hey Violet,” you greeted, stifling a yawn as she walked around to sit across from you.

You noticed small dark circles formed under her eyes. You wondered if she had difficulty sleeping like you? You knew she had been struggling more than everyone else since returning from Resson. Feeling guilty you haven’t checked in on her much since your return, you watched her as she peeled an orange uninterestedly.

“How are you?” The question caught her off guard, when you spoke up, cutting the awkward tension like a knife. Faltering her movement in peeling.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” She had a strained smile on her lips. Her voice goes up an octave into an almost overly sweet tone.

“You don’t have to lie, I hope you know.” You looked at her earnestly, choosing your next words carefully. “Liam was a great man, always was. And I can’t imagine with everything else you know now, it can’t be easy.”

“I don't know how to go on like everything’s normal.” She quickly said, looking around to see if anyone’s paying attention before turning back to you. “Everyone’s partying expecting school to go on, and with what I know now—“

You grabbed on to her slightly trembling hand, surprising not only her but yourself. “You don’t have to continue that sentence. I’m sorry I brought it up.” You paused momentarily. “We had to do the same after the executions, our foster families threw us into training and academics. Aristocratic parties and bullshit, it felt all so cruel and surreal when we all knew what had been happening.” Then it was her hand that topped yours to stop your rambling.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a watery gaze in her eyes.

You pulled your hand away, “it’s been six years, it’s been easier to become desensitized about it.” You went back to playing with the porridge in your bowl and her to peeling her orange meticulously.

“That picture,” The silver haired girl started. “Was that of Resson?”

You nodded, “drawing helps me sort whatever’s going on up there.” You pointed to the side of your temple.

“I've never seen you with it before.” Nothing gets past a Sorrengail does it?

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot going on up there that I can’t sort out with a morning run, contrary to Imogen.” You grumbled the last part. That’s the excuse that she had given you when she dragged you out of bed yesterday after picking your lock again. When in reality she just egged you on for more information about what happened with Bodhi.

“Is that why I didn’t see you running with her earlier?” A hint of amusement sparkled in her blue grey eyes. You wondered when she saw you because you hadn’t seen any trace of her the prior mornings.

You shook your head, “She just wants an excuse to gossip.”

“About you and Bodhi?” A smirk grew wickedly on her lips. You tried to keep a poker face, but she had let a real smile break on her face. “Sorry, Xaden and I saw you two sneaking out the courtyard a couple nights ago. He filled me in on your complex… relationship?” She tested the last word out to see how you would react.

You flushed bright red, no longer letting your face stay neutral. This girl observed everything. Huffing out a breath of air, you weren’t surprised Xaden knew. But you were surprised he kept it to himself around you. Him and Garrick often loved to tease the shit for anything they could, just to get you upset. Seeing as Garrick was who you grew up with for a better half of your life those two were the closest things you’ve had to brothers.

“If it makes you feel better, it seems complex relationships run in the family.” She reassured meekly.

Your refrained from displaying your shock, you had figured Violet and Xaden’s relationship went much deeper than a bonded pair of dragons and his duty to General Sorrengail, but to actually hear it. This was the most exciting thing you heard about his love life since he broke his betrothal with Catriona. You liked Violet a lot more, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud quite yet.

You decided to entertain the conversation more, if she had caught you red handed there was no point in going around the topic. “I think the only one making it difficult is me.” You admitted frowning, wishing that it could be that easy of an explanation as she said.

It wasn’t even a relationship, only a friendship, and it just seemed Bodhi was a masochist at this point. You wielding all the power and torture making it harder than it needed to be.

“Liking complex women runs in the family then?” She offered. Gods could she be any more down to the earth? Soon enough your icy resolve will be melted around her and you would have to kick Riorson’s ass if he hurt her. And then that’s ultimately another person on your list to care about.

“I don’t even think I could classify it as him liking me either—��

“Like I said: complex.” She popped an orange slice into her mouth.

“I-I can’t argue with that.” You sighed.

“Xaden said you liked arguing if you had talked to me.” She said in a matter of fact tone. This was a stark contrast to a year ago when Sorrengail first made an appearance into everyone’s lives.

Before you could even say anything, Ridoc’s laugh bellowed into the mess hall. Turning you saw him trail in with Sawyer, Rhiannon, and Nadine. The purple haired girl is now notably wearing a sling. Did you even want to know?

“So much for peace and quiet.” You muttered under your breath, earning a laugh from the girl across from you.

“Since when have you two started taking meals together?” Rihannon teased, but you didn’t miss the look of apprehension she gave the both of you.

Violet went back to picking at the orange peel on her plate, avoiding her friend's eyes.

“That’s what surviving a Gryphon attack does? Bring two unlikely people together right?” Lightly kicking her under the table when she was still staring at her scraps.

She immediately started nodding looking at the group. “Yeah, exactly?” She gave you a look. You wanted to facepalm yourself, she did not do well at being discreet.

You brushed her off and smiled, “besides we’re all second years now, and I haven’t been the most warm? Charismatic?”

Ridoc snorted, “you do a hell of a job at being charismatic when you’re drinking.” You didn’t miss how he took a seat next to Violet though the empty spot next to you was closer. He had been creating as much distance as he could since the other night with you, which was a shame. You liked riling him up.

Rihannon rolled her eyes, taking the empty place next to you. “You’re not wrong, this is the most you have spoken to us ever.”

“I like that there’s another person to add to the conversation.” Nadine added diving into her porridge.

“You just like the idea there’s four ladies versus just me and Ridoc.” You could barely make out what Sawyer said through a mouthful of egg.

“Solidarity versus your two’s dumb ideas.” Rihannon laughed.

“Are you still on about us wanting to sneak out to Chantara tonight?” Ridoc said exasperated. Chantara? They were talking about the town the first night when you were drinking with them. It was banned for the rider’s quadrant to go there, but cadets still did it anyway. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea, especially if you or Violet sneaked away. You two were already on close watch with Varrish around, and you could already hear Xaden yelling at you if you encouraged his little girlfriend to do something that could put more of a target on her back.

“Second year hasn’t even started and you already want to break out! How can I be okay with that as squad leader?” Rihannon hissed.

“Could you be any louder about it?” Imogen interrupted, walking up to the group, and setting her tray down on the table. You gave her a bewildered look. She was in on this?

Bodhi, who had also walked up with your best friend, gave Ridoc an annoyed expression as he sat diagonally across from you. “You never know who’s listening to us.” You then looked at him with the same expression, him too? After just barely making it through graduation?

He merely just raised an eyebrow in your direction, that stupid lazy smirk lingering on his full lips whenever you were around him now. Like he always knew something you didn’t.

“Would you two be in?” Ridoc asked, whispering.

Violet line of vision flitting from each one of her friends back to you.

“Please, please agree.” Sawyer begged. “That will give these two no choice but to agree.” He gestured to the girls next to you.

“Y/n’s not going to agree.” Bodhi chuckled. “She doesn’t like breaking rules.” His tone was smug, causing heat to rush to your face.

You whipped your head towards him, sending him a pointed glare. “Who says?”

The table got quiet, anticipating what was about to happen. “You, you never liked to sneak out your Mistresses house with the rest of us to the fields at night when we were younger.” The curly dark haired man reminisced on your younger days in Aretia.

“Or skip lessons with me.” Imogen added quietly. “Or leave the balls or those important dinners early.” Her head slightly tilted thinking of all the other times you’d refused to join your friends because you were too nervous.

“You know how strict my foster parents were.” You argued.

Bodhi let out a hearty sarcastic, “Ha!”

Your pink haired friend gave a side eye, “you lived with Garrick, who snuck out allll the time.”

“Well, that’s Garrick. I was held to a different standard.” You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest. You weren’t wrong. If it weren’t for the promise of being enrolled into the rider’s quadrant, you would have been held to the standard of an Aretian aristocratic lady once you were 18. Only then you had the capability to do what you wanted with your friends in between war strategy and training.

“How bad can it be going for a couple hours, no one will notice right?” Violet interrupted, looking at you. Did no one see the harm in this idea? Think this through? It is obvious leadership is already suspicious of what happened in Resson.

The man diagonal from you had a ‘told you so’ expression. That only made you more irritated, what was he trying to prove? More importantly, what were you trying to prove as you opened your mouth?

“Fine I’ll go,” you announced. “The minute though—and I mean it—the minute something goes wrong I am returning with or without any of you.” Cheers rang through the table. Ridoc and Sawyer rubbing it in Rihannon and Nadine’s faces that they had to come now. Bodhi scowled now. You had actually agreed, and that pang of irritation turned to satisfaction and you offered a smirk to the look of disdain.

“That’s that, we’ll meet in the west alcove after curfew.” Imogen stated hesitatingly, looking in your direction also warily. This is what they wanted so now why were they both so apprehensive you agreed?

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“I didn’t actually think you would agree?” Imogen fixed your shirt—well her shirt. If that’s what you could call it?

You wore a black corset tank top, and a cropped hooded sweater connected that only covered your arms. The sleeves covering a majority of your rebellion relics, only the parts that scattered either side of collarbones displayed. The corset tank top covering the top of your dragon relic, Cleasaí’s clubtail peeking out from the bottom. Paired with your training leather pants and boots.

“I don’t know why I agreed either now.” You fidgeted with the ties of the corset. “What if we get in trouble?”

“We won’t,” she turned you to face the mirror in the corner of her room. “This has been happening for years now and no one has batted an eye.”

“But Varrish is around now.”

“Varrish can kiss my ass, this is tradition for the second and third years. A rite of passage you can say.” The pink haired girl retorted. “It’s going to be fun, Y/n. I promise.”

You only casted a sideways glance her way, and with a roll of her eyes she stood behind you grabbing your shoulders.

“Look how good you look too, I forgot what you look like out of uniform.” She grinned cheekily, prompting you to roll your eyes now.

She had lined your top eyelids with kohl that winged out on the edges, along with adding some to your lashes, and applied some lip oil to your lips. You had to admit you did look good, and sometimes missed getting dressed up like you had done all the time in Aretia.

“How’d you manage to get all of this stuff in here anyway?” You changed the subject, looking to your left at her overflowing armoire of regular clothes. Most of it consisted of black, white, and grey, but a few tones of greens and blues popped out as well.

“Supply runs, do you think I’d be in my normal training clothes going to the pubs?” Fair enough, Imogen always had a penchant to be the center of attention. Never shying away from looks, and a chance to fuel her ego; the complete opposite of you.

A knock on the door sounded before Quinn popped her head into the room, and you could see the colorful top she chose to wear from the armoire. “You two ready? The girl’s are waiting at the stairwell.”

“Be there in a minute,” your best friend said. Quinn only nodded, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.

“She doesn’t question where you get all this stuff?” You asked.

“Why ask when it benefits her?” She shrugged. Fair point too.

“What are you going to do with it all when you graduate?”

She grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door. “You ask too many questions, Y/l/n.”

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The tavern was in full swing at max capacity filled with Basigiath students and civilians. The majority of the students were Healers and infantry mainly, a few scribes littered amongst the crowd along with some other riders that had snuck out as well were scattered in the crowd. A live band played on a small stage in the back of the establishment. people dancing in the spaces that weren’t occupied by standing patrons to the sound of mandolins, drums, lyres, and guitars. The warm summer breeze wafting through the doors and windows not doing much to evade the heat in the room.

You had been to taverns and music halls back in Aretia, but this was insane.

“Over here!” Ridoc called excitedly to your group. Him, Bodhi, and Sawyer had left earlier to save a seat for the group. They sat at a circular booth nestled in the corner of the tavern giving enough room for the group.

“This is crazy!” Rihannon shouted over the loud music and talking as Ridoc got up to give her a huge hug in greeting.

“It’s great right?!” Sawyer grinned broadly sitting at the furthest part of the booth.

“Absolutely insane!” Nadine agreed, as Ridoc wrapped his arms around her and Violet.

“Wow, does Basigiath provide those clothes?” Ridoc asked, looking at the group of you girls. Imogen had let the other girls borrow something for the night as well, begrudgingly deciding to not let them feel left out.

“No, you idiot. There are more things to do than just drink in Chantara like shop.” Imogen flicked him as he tried to greet her with a hug. “How much have you given these fools to drink, Boh?” She looked over at the man who casually leaned against the booth, nursing a glass of amber liquid.

“‘Thank you Bodhi for reserving a booth.’ Oh you’re welcome Immy.” Bodhi replied sarcastically not looking at her.

No, his eyes were on you. Making you subconscious of what you looked like under the dim tavern lights and how his brown eyes drank you in. It felt like he took an eternity within seconds scanning every part of you before he met your gaze. His usually warm brown irises were darkened, and a look you couldn’t distinguish lay behind them. He then broke eye contact only when Ridoc came up to you, unsure to give you a hug. He finally looked at the pink haired woman as you just held up your hand for a high five from Ridoc who beamed at the idea.

“Besides, I'm not their babysitter.” Bodhi added.

“But now we have to catch up!” Quinn shouted teasingly. “I got the first round of shots!” She took Imogen’s and Rihannon’s hands, dragging them to the bar.

“Come sit,” Sawyer urged the rest of you to sit. Nadine and Ridoc slid in to the right of Sawyer, and Violet took the other side. You slide in next to her, and Bodhi takes a seat by you. Great.

“You might have overdressed, don’t you think?” Bodhi’s breath caressed your ear as he whispered. Even sitting, he was so much taller, having to crane his neck down to speak to you. The smell of his usual cedar, patchouli and musk filled your nose along with the scent of smoky churam filled your nose. He started to trace the skin along the sleeve of your sweater, despite the heat, you could feel goosebumps rise on your arms. Your stomach flipped in waves of butterflies at the small gesture.

You kept your eyes on the empty part of the booth across from you. “Says the one wearing their flight jacket.”

“Sorry I don’t have an armoire of clothes at my disposal like Imogen.” He still kept tracing your wrist softly. The sensation was driving you crazy.

“Maybe you should start smuggling clothes in, instead of churam?” Sarcasm dripped from your tongue.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “But churam is way more fun. And you know what would make it funner?”

“What is that?” You hummed, finally meeting his gaze. His stare had you frozen in place from how intently he looked at you, and your throat ran dry.

“If you joined me.” He murmured.

Your skin was warm from where his fingers were, and your cheeks were hot. Hoping the blush wasn’t noticeable, clearing your throat as you inhaled deeply through your nose remembering how to breathe. You hated what he did to you, and this had been the very reason you always tried to avoid him.

You pulled your hand away into your lap. “Funner’s not a word, Durran.”

He cracked a meek smile, pulling away from you. “Right.”

The girls returned with a tray of shots and drinks in their hands for everyone.

“Don’t say I haven’t ever done anything for you.” Imogen declared, passing the drinks around.

You straightened your back, trying to brush off the ignition of warmth that was still within you. Imogen had a smug look on her face when she handed you your drink and shot. You just subtly scratched your cheek with your middle finger at her.

“Welcome to your first night in Chantara newbs!” Quinn proclaimed, raising her shot glass. Everyone followed suit, providing excited celebratory ‘cheers’ and shouts as the clinks of the glasses rang out.

The clear liquid burned your throat when you knocked it back making you wince, the warmth spreading through your body instantly. Grimaces mirrored your expression from around the table, Ridoc downright making a disgusted face and noise causing a laugh to escape Violet’s lip and the remark of ‘pansy’ under Bodhi’s breath, but he too had a cringe on his lips as well.

The man you knew merely only a few years ago would have never made a face taking a measly shot.

“Lost your touch, I see.” You leaned over, your eyes full of amusement watching him take a big chug of the amber liquid finishing the glass.

He wiped the edge of his mouth with his thumb, his brows furrowed. “Me lose my touch? Y/l/n I think you have me mistaken.”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” You challenged him as you brought your own drink to your glossed lips. You could have sworn you caught him glance down as you took a sip, but his eyes were back on your own. You willed the shudder that wanted to escape you away, and the flip of your stomach at bay.

“Find me at the end of the night after you have had a few, then we’ll see who’s lost their touch. I finally get to see the real Y/n Y/l/n in action now that you don’t have to run back to foster mommy and daddy at midnight.” He taunted quietly, before standing up. “Immy you owe me a rematch of billiards from the last time.”

“So eager to get your ass beat?” She cracked her knuckles jokingly. “Anyone else want to join?” She looked towards mainly the guys.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sawyer and Ridoc stood to join the two.

“I hope you two have some coins to spare, it adds to the friendly competition!” Quinn added cheerily.

“Well you ladies know where to find us.” Imogen called over her shoulder, and Ridoc tipped his head as if he had an imaginary hat on his head following the smaller group that retreated to the billiards tables on the other side of the tavern.

Fuck Bodhi and his nonchalantness, was all you could think as you glared at his back walking away from the table.

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Feedback is always appreciated! Along with likes and reblogs 💞💖✨ lmk if you would want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @ablev92

[solxamber]

Hello! Can I please request some (HI3) Su or Kevin Kaslana × gn Reader? I am desperate for these men's attention and loveeee and there's still little content of them bc they're MEN

Kevin Kaslana, Su x reader (separate)

i hope you like it <3

Kevin Kaslana

The day starts with the unmistakable scent of… smoke?

You roll out of bed, eyes still heavy with sleep, and stumble your way to the kitchen. The sight that greets you is both terrifying and, somehow, endearing. Kevin Kaslana—legendary hero, the man who could probably fight a god and win—stands in front of the stove, holding a spatula like it’s a sword, fighting an invisible enemy. Except that enemy isn’t invisible at all; it’s the charred remains of what was probably once eggs.

“Kevin?” you ask, cautiously. “Are you… making breakfast?”

Kevin, with his signature stoic expression, looks up at you, his blue eyes alight with what could only be described as misplaced confidence. “Yes. Sit down. I wanted to make something special for you.”

You glance at the table, where a plate of pancakes—if you can even call them that—sit proudly. They’re oddly shaped, resembling abstract art more than anything edible. One has a suspiciously black ring around it, as though it was scorched in some breakfast-related battle.

Kevin, in all his earnest glory, beams. “I followed the recipe exactly.”

Oh no.

He approaches you with a plate in hand, the eggs…well, the crispy yellow-grey matter, and those "pancakes" sit like fallen soldiers on a battlefield. You can't help but blink back tears—whether from love or sheer horror, you’re not sure. Still, you sit down, heart full of affection for this man who could literally conquer worlds but was taken down by basic breakfast foods.

You pick up your fork, praying silently to whatever cosmic beings might be listening, and take a bite of the eggs first. They crunch. Eggs are not supposed to crunch.

Kevin’s eyes are on you, filled with hope. “How is it?” he asks, voice soft.

You nod, swallowing the egg with a Herculean effort. “It’s��� perfect,” you lie, because you love him. Because despite the fact that your teeth are struggling to make sense of what’s in your mouth, you’d eat burnt eggs for him any day.

Next, you tackle the pancake. This might be your biggest challenge yet. You stab your fork into it, and it fights back. You break off a piece and chew—slowly, carefully. You think, at one point, you might have cracked a tooth.

And yet, you smile through it all. Tears welling in your eyes. “It’s amazing, Kevin. You’re amazing.”

Kevin, ever the hero, takes a seat across from you, completely oblivious to the carnage on your plate. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll make breakfast more often.”

Your soul leaves your body for a moment. More often? You’d rather face a thousand Honkai Beasts than go through this breakfast nightmare again, but you simply nod because… well, you love him.

And love means sacrifice, even if that sacrifice is your taste buds.

Su

Living with Su was like living in a Zen garden. Every day felt like you were being gently guided toward inner peace, whether you asked for it or not.

Today, though, was different. Su had decided it was cleaning day.

You sat on the couch, buried under a blanket and scrolling mindlessly through your phone, while Su moved through the apartment like a breeze of calm efficiency. Armed with a feather duster, he approached the bookshelf like he was about to perform a sacred ritual. He wiped every surface with such gentleness that it made you feel like a heathen for how you usually did it: with a wet rag and a lot of impatience.

"You're really into this, huh?" you asked, glancing at him over the top of your phone. He was now rearranging the plants in the corner, positioning them so they could “better absorb the morning sunlight.”

He gave you that serene smile, the one that felt like a warm hug to your soul and also made you feel like you should be meditating more. "A tidy space promotes a tidy mind."

“Right, of course,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around you as though shielding yourself from his overly serene aura. “And here I thought we were just trying to find that sock I lost.”

Su, always in tune with the subtleties of the universe, of course already had the sock in his hand—folded neatly, as if it were a rare artifact. “This one?”

You stared at it, blinking. "That’s it? How did you—"

"I found it under the couch. It was stuck in the farthest corner," he said simply, as if retrieving lost items from the void was just part of his daily routine.

You let out a sigh of wonder. "You're like some kind of cleaning magician."

He chuckled softly, a rare sound, and moved on to the next task with the calm determination of a monk on a pilgrimage. Now he was folding laundry, and you felt a twinge of guilt watching him work so quietly, so efficiently.

Finally, you tossed the blanket aside, standing up dramatically. "Alright, alright! I’ll help!"

But the moment you grabbed a towel to fold, Su gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "There’s no rush," he said softly. "Sit. Relax."

You blinked. "Relax? While you do everything? I’ll feel like a horrible person!"

He smiled, his eyes half-lidded in that eternally calm way of his. "There’s balance in everything. Today, your role is to rest. Tomorrow, you’ll find your own tasks."

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly, already half-sitting back down.

“Positive,” he said, moving onto folding another perfectly aligned piece of laundry. “Besides, I enjoy this.”

You watched him for a moment, biting your lip. "You enjoy folding laundry?"

"It gives me time to think," he said, as if he were discussing the secrets of the cosmos. "It’s a form of meditation."

Right. Of course it was.

You sat back down, watching as Su continued his cleaning and folding. The air around him seemed to hum with tranquility, making you feel oddly relaxed despite the fact that he was doing all the work.

And then, to your surprise, he paused, turning to you with a faint smile. “Maybe next time, you can teach me your way of folding.”

You snorted, picturing the chaotic heap of mismatched clothes that passed as "folded" when you were in charge. “Trust me, you don’t want to learn my way.”

But Su just smiled, his eyes soft. “I think I’d enjoy learning anything from you.”

And somehow, in that simple, serene moment, your heart felt like it was being tucked neatly into a drawer, folded perfectly with the same care Su gave to everything in his life—including you.

i've only read elysia fics because i'm deeply in love with her but i see that there's a lack of fics in hi3 and i'm gonna fill that void myself now

Masterlist

[earthnashes]

Heyooooo ya'll! Figured it'd be a good idea to give a quick lil update on what I'm up to since it's been a while since I just talked on here.

If you don't wanna read here's the TL;DR:

-Fanart and headcanon AU projects in indefinite hiatus. This tumblr will host my commissioned art, original art/OC projects, and occasional tomfoolery of my thoughts, worldbuilding posts, interests, and updates on my Powerlifting venture.

The full update under the break! :)

Not so good news: Rent's going up. Who's isn't, right? Gonna be putting a serious effort on looking for a new place (I'm reeaaallly gunning for a house) because SHEEEEEEEEEEEESH that spike in price for the exact same shit? Nah man. Likely will get rough a few times over the next few months but I'm confident I'll figure things out!

----

I'm doing relatively good! Cool news: I will be competing in my first powerlifting meet this year! It's been made official as of two months ago, and I've been hard at work with training and prep for the meet. I have my eye on making the state record for the Benchpress in my weightclass and I think I have real shot at it, so I'm gonna make the attempt. Wish me luck! ;w;

Now, the crux of why the update: I figured it was probably high time to mention the complete lack of fanart and headcanons 'round here, especially because that's what helped me find all of you and vice versa.

I'll be honest; I am no longer burnt out on creating art, but I've found the interest to continue any of my AU fanprojects is still missing, so as of right now they are on an indefinite hiatus. I apologize to everyone who followed me for the Super Mario, the LoZ stuff, anything and everything I was working on before the burnout! ;w;

I'm still working on projects, they're just completely original ones! I've been having so much fun with them and I'm pretty happy with them; here's a quick preview of each:

One is a slowburn fantasy where a god becomes trapped in the mortal realm while on a mission, but ends up compromising said mission when she begins to believe everything she knew about mortals is a lie.

The second project is an anthro mystery/thriller about a doe who knows her husband was murdered, but no one else believes her. As she works to find his killer herself, the last thing she expects is falling in love.

The third is the only fanproject I have going and ya'll know of it: Melon's Adventure! Follow Melon as he faces dangers and villains on his quest to return baby Mario to his family. A retelling of Yoshi's Island with twists and a personal flair!

---

But ye! I wanna say thank you all so much for your interest and engagement with my fanart work; regardless of everything I had an absolute great time working on them, and you all made them all the more enjoyable. It may take a little bit before I start posting them, but I hope you stick around for the original/OC stuff and enjoy what I've got in store! ;w;

Feel free to ask questions or make comments, I'll be around to respond starting today. Until then keep them peepers open for more art! :)

[itgetsdark-x]

If You Want It, You Can Have It

Summary: After a long day of work, your loving boyfriend, Pedro surprises you with baked goods and takeout (and some super intimate, high sex).

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v (established relationship), oral (m & f receiving), marijuana use / being high, just fluffy smut tbh, vaguely mentioned age gap.

Pairing: Pedro x f!reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I’ve never written for Pedro himself before and it felt kinda weird ngl buuuut I spoke about this with @jksprincess10 and I couldn’t resist writing it. I just know Pedro would be so clingy and cuddly when high, he would be full of bad jokes and holding you as close as possible (not to mention I just know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, even more so when he’s high).

You sighed deeply as you entered your home, the one you lived in with your boyfriend, Pedro. It had been a stupidly long day at work, filled with meetings and arguments and setbacks at every corner, it felt like. Pedro had told you a million times that you could quit your job and focus on your art, he would support you through it but you weren’t wired that way, your money barely covered bills in the house but it made you feel like you could at least contribute in your own way. He admired that about you, most people would have quit their job at the first mention of it but not you. 

“Pedro? Honey?” You called out into the hallway of your home, you were sure Pedro had said he didn’t have anything on today and you were half expecting him to be curled up on the sofa asleep.

“In here, hermosa!” Pedro called out from the kitchen and you couldn’t help but smile at the pet name. 

You and Pedro had been together for a year or so now. You had been visiting New York for a work trip, your friends at work convinced you to not just sit in your hotel room all night and managed to drag you out to a couple bars; and my god, were you thankful for that now. It had all happened so quickly; you bumped into Pedro, physically bumped into him and split your drink down his, no doubt, expensive shirt and as they say, the rest was history. You spent the rest of the evening talking in a secluded corner of the bar, of course you knew who he was, you didn’t live under a rock but this man, he was so down to earth and caring from the get-go. You couldn’t quite believe he had shown such an interest in you, someone so normal, so plain, you thought but since that day Pedro had always looked at you as if you were the most exquisite piece of art. 

You wandered into the kitchen and dumped your work bag on the floor and your keys on the counter. Pedro was baking something, it smelled sweet and you couldn’t help but smile at the male. He was wearing baggy shorts, a black t-shirt which had flour stains on the front and as always, he was wearing those striped, coloured socks, the ones that he always wore, even with shorts, no matter how much you protested and told him they didn’t go or look right. 

He turned away from the oven and looked over at you, immediately he rushed to your side and brushed a strand of hair away from your face with a frown. Of course he knew when you had a long or bad day, he knew everything about you and anytime anything was wrong, he was there to fix it for you. He gently held your face with both of his hands and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before his plush lips placed a gentle peck to your own. 

“What’s happened, my love? You look exhausted. Beautiful… but exhausted. Bad day at work?” He asked with a frown, your hand came up to take one of Pedro’s and you gave him a soft smile, you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him. 

“I am exhausted; yeah, long day at work, let’s just say that. I don’t wanna bore you with all the details.” You sighed, kissing the palm of his hand you were holding. “What are you cooking anyway? Still surprises me to see you in here, especially when everything tends to come out burnt.” You jested, nipping your teeth at the tip of his fingers. 

“You confusing yourself again, mi amor? We both know I’m the one who cooks and you’re the one… well, who burns.” He laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. “Anyway, I’m baking some brownies… you know, the special kind that helps you relax; I just had a feeling your day was going to be long so thought we could order in some takeout and get high together. If that’s something you want to do.”

You grinned at your boyfriend, his puppy brown eyes were soft and filled with such love as you gazed into them. You leant up to capture his lips in a slow, soft kiss and you smiled against him. 

“You, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, are truly perfect. Where would I be without you?”

Pedro laughed, it was a familiar noise that filled your heart with such love. 

“Probably in a dingy apartment, burning your food.” He teased, kissing your cheek before going over to the oven to pull out the hot brownies. 

“I take it back, you’re an ass.” You huffed. 

“You love it, now go upstairs, shower away the bad day, get into your comfy clothes and I’ll order in some Chinese. Happy with that, cariño?” Pedro spoke softly, placing the tray of steaming brownies onto the cooling rack. 

“Yes sir!” You grinned, saluting him before going upstairs to shower. 

—

After your shower you dressed yourself in some comfy pyjama shorts and one of Pedro’s old t-shirts, your hair was thrown up and you were comfy and content. The smell of the freshly baked brownies and Chinese food wafted through the air, inviting you into the living room; Pedro had spread out blankets and cushions on the floor, the curtains were drawn and candles were lit. It was the epitome of relaxation and home for you. 

“Pedro,” you sighed happily and placed yourself next to him on the floor as he handed you your favourite noodle dish. “You’ve done so much for me this evening… what’s going on? Are you about to tell me you’re leaving for six months to film again. I can’t take that news today, baby. Please tell me tomorrow morning.” 

Pedro waved a hand at you in a somewhat dismissive manner and he shook his head. “No, my love, I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working and I wanted to have a relaxing evening. Smoke a bit of weed, or eat those special brownies, relax and listen to some music and hey, I may even get lucky.” He teased, his fingers tickling into your side. 

You batted his hand away and sighed happily as you got stuck into your food, moaning in appreciation as soon as you had your first bite. 

“Still as good as the first time!” You said, a mouthful of noodles. 

Pedro grinned at you, he was just so pleased to see you eating properly again after the stressful past couple of weeks you had barely even eaten a full meal. He brushed some loose hair away from your face and kissed you before he started eating his own food. 

“So beautiful, even with your mouth full, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes and let your back lean against the plush sofa cushions as you enjoyed your meal. There was one of your Fleetwood Mac records playing quietly in the background, the melodic music filled the empty space and it only relaxed you further, as if with every strum of the guitar strings more of your stress just melted away. 

—

You laid there, lazily as Pedro rolled you both another spliff to share. You had tried his brownies, of course they were amazing and already, you could feel the weed thrumming through your body. Your limbs were heavy and a dopey smile was plastered over your features. Your belly was full, your mind was relaxed and Pedro’s body was tightly pressed to your side. 

Pedro sparked up the spliff, the orange embers glowing in the darkened room and smoke filled the space between you both; he took a sharp inhale and held it for a few seconds before exhaling the herby smoke. You held your hand out slowly and made a grabby hand to take it, he obliged and handed it to you. You repeated the same motion as your partner before tapping the ash into a small ashtray between you both. 

“I fucking love you, have I told you that recently? I love you so much.” You mumbled, the words tumbling from your lips quicker than your brain could comprehend. 

“You tell me plenty, cariño. But I love you too, you keep me sane and I would be lost without you by my side and burning my food.” He grinned, it was boyish and handsome. 

“Oh my god, I get it, I suck at cooking. We can’t all be perfect, can we, Mr. Pascal.” You whined, slapping his arm lazily and passing him the spliff once again. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect.” He smirked. “C’mhere.” He mumbled, tilting his head to motion you over. 

You happily obliged and quickly climbed into your boyfriend’s lap, your legs straddled his thighs and your arms loosely looped around his neck, your fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape. Pedro brought the spliff up to his plush lips, he sucked in a long inhale and held it for a few seconds before drawing you closer with this empty hand; you got the idea and parted your lips for him, he slowly exhaled into your open mouth and allowed you to inhale the smoke. It reminded you of being a teenager and trying weed for the first time with your ex-boyfriend and friends. Only now, you felt truly safe and you could entirely enjoy the high without panicking. 

Pedro stubbed out the spliff, discarding it into the ashtray and pushed it aside, his fingers held onto your hips and he let them dip under the hem of his shirt on your body. You smiled as his warm fingers danced over your delicate skin under the fabric of his shirt. You slowly dipped your head down to press a soft and sensual kiss to the male’s lips, Pedro sighed happily into the kiss as you shared the taste of the lingering marijuana between you both. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip before entering his mouth to be greeted by his tongue, you explored him eagerly as your body moved slowly. The kiss lasted, for what felt like, an eternity as your heavy limbs clung to Pedro for support. 

You could feel Pedro’s cock growing in his shorts and it made you whine, your mouth salivated with the thought of sucking his dick as his hands travelled further up into your shirt. His soft hands ghosted over your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your nipples hardened as you shivered in his lap. 

“I love hearing you.” Pedro whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses to the expanse of your neck. “Make some more pretty noises for me, please.”

Pedro gently grazed his teeth against your neck just as his hands found your breasts once again, his thumbs rubbed over your sensitive nipples and you moaned in wanton. He couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he elicited more moans from your lazy lips. 

“Pedro,” you gasped softly. “Let me show you how thankful I am for this evening.” You purred seductively, smirking as you shimmied away from his grasp and out of his lap. 

You knelt on the floor, grabbed the waistband of his shorts and gently pulled them down until they were discarded to the side of you both. His cock sprung up as soon as the material constricting him was gone, you licked your lips and gently wrapped your fingers around his hard cock. You gave him a few gentle strokes, your thumb swiped over the tip and you grinned when Pedro gasped loudly, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. You pushed his thighs apart until you were knelt between them and you quickly took the tip of his cock into your mouth, immediately your senses were flooded with Pedro, he’s all you could taste and all you could smell. 

Your tongue swirled around his head before you sunk your mouth down, he was big and you always struggled to take him in but it never stopped you from trying. You breathed deeply through your nose until the tip of Pedro’s cock was hitting the back of your throat, you gagged softly around him and Pedro stroked your hair in encouragement. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good.” He hummed, his head lulling back until it hit the sofa behind him. 

You held back your smile as you heard the older male cursing above you and it only encouraged you to work his dick harder. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and stroked him in time with your bobbing head; in a matter of minutes, Pedro was shaking above you, his tender hand held onto your hair for leverage. 

“Baby, stop. Fuck. Gonna cum if you carry on.” He mumbled, his voice shaky. 

You popped your mouth off his cock with a loud pop and looked up at him with a smug grin.

“Maybe I wanna make you cum, right in my mouth so I can taste you.” You whispered, climbing up his body again so you could kiss him. 

Pedro smiled back at you, his hand held your cheek and he kissed you back. 

“Nope, I wanna make you feel good, hermosa. I wanna hear your pretty little mouth as I cum deep in you. Maybe I should fuck a baby into you right here and now.” He said, his words making you shiver. 

“Fuck.” You cursed. 

“Gotcha.” He winked. “Lay down for me, beautiful. Let me make you feel good.”

“Wanna see you first, take off your shirt, please.” You whispered with your hands splayed out onto his broad chest. 

Even though you had seen Pedro numerous times before, there was something within him that was still insecure about his body, he was never forthcoming at removing his shirt. He always felt embarrassed by his slight tummy, you told him you loved it, you loved him. You had told him so many times how attractive you found him, and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t change your feelings towards him. He always had the counter argument of you being younger and more beautiful, which in your mind, was absolutely ludicrous. 

He nodded slowly, his arms moved even slower to remove his shirt and suddenly you were greeted with the sight of Pedro’s bare chest; his tanned skin peppered with small freckles and hair. Your hands were on his skin immediately, hungrily exploring every perfect inch. Your dizzy mind found heaven within the expanse of his skin and you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss at his chest. 

“Uh uh, my love. Don’t get distracted.” Pedro warned with a smirk. “Your turn to remove your clothes for me, my pretty girl.”

You nodded and followed suit, stripping yourself of Pedro’s shirt and your pyjama shorts; since you were at home, you weren’t wearing any underwear. Normally, a small part of you would feel vulnerable like this, naked and on display so willingly for your boyfriend but the fact that you were high helped with it. 

Pedro gently pushed your shoulders until you were laid on the cushions on the floor, he protected the back of your head before he could slide a pillow under you. You couldn’t help but smile at the tender motion and your hands softly traced over the vague muscles in his biceps, you couldn’t get enough of him and your fingers wanted to drink in every inch of his body. 

The older male stroked his fingers gently over your face and trailed them down your body, they briefly brushed over your hard nipples until he was at your vagina. He dipped his fingers through your slick folds which caused your back to arch off the ground, Pedro was laid on his side next to you and he gave you a dopey, high smile. His fingers found your clit almost instantly and he rubbed quick circles around your sensitive bud, it had pleasure erupting throughout your whole body. 

“Always so wet for me, mi amor. Drives me mad.” Pedro groaned as his fingers pleasured you quickly. 

“Babe, please. I need you, need to feel you in me. Please.” You whined as your head lazily rolled to the side. 

Pedro would normally argue with you, he would pin you down and pleasure you until you were a wet, squirting mess but not tonight. The marijuana was making him feel more intimate and loving, he wanted to be as close to you as possible, just anything to please you and make you happy. He removed his hand from you and positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locked onto yours with no hint of breaking it. 

He gave in, without a second argument, he pressed himself to your slick hole and pushed in slowly, so tortuously slowly and all you could do was lie there and whine. You let out a small hum of appreciation as Pedro bottomed out in you, the older male groaned lowly and smiled down at your face. You drank in his features, he warm eyes and loving smile, his greying beard and his out-of-control curly locks. You felt so much love for the male, so wrapped up in your adoration for him that for a split second you forgot where you were or what you were doing, that was until Pedro slowly withdrew his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your head tipped back in pleasure and he gently held one of your hips in his hand whilst his other hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly. He brought your head back down so he could stare into your eyes again, he loved to see your face contort as he pleasured you further. Pedro rolled his hips sensually, with every thrust of his cock he edged you closer to your orgasm and he could tell, he knew every single one of your looks and with the soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, he knew you were already close. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs felt impossibly heavy but you held onto your boyfriend, his hand was still cupping your cheek and his thumb stroked over your flushed skin. 

“Look at me, hermosa. I wanna see you when you cum on my cock, look at me.” Pedro cooed softly, his voice like warm honey. 

You obliged to meet his gaze once again, his pupils were blown; from lust or from getting high, you weren’t sure but you knew yours were most likely the same. 

“Good girl. So beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, as he continued to fuck you closer to your ecstasy. Pedro finally removed his hand from your face to drop two fingers to your clit, as soon as his hand made contact with your clit you wanted to shut your eyes and let pleasure fully take over your body but you didn’t, instead you kept your eyes locked on his. It felt like a matter of mere seconds and there you were, cumming all over his cock; Pedro helped you through it, praising you and slowing his thrusts down further. 

He pulled out of you completely, you could see his hard cock glistening with your juices in the flickering lights of the candles as he knelt back. You didn’t even have time to protest before he was leaning down to lick a stripe through your wet folds; your hands immediately found comfort in his soft curls and you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the silent room. 

“God I love you.” He breathed into your core, his tongue lapping at your juices eagerly. 

You smiled, your body feeling as if it was floating in midair as Pedro pleasured you. Your fingers entangled further into his hair and you ground your hips down softly onto his face. Pedro smiled against you as your hips moved, he loved how eager you got to chase your high. 

“You’re so perfect. Taste perfect too, hermosa.” Pedro groaned, his voice breathy and rugged. 

Pedro wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, his moustache tickled at you but you were soon pulled from that thought as he suckled at your swollen clit. The tip of his tongue flicked on it as he sucked at you, your head was swimming and your eyes closed shut as your hips bucked up to meet Pedro’s mouth further. 

“Pedro, papi… fuck. Gonna cum.” You whimpered as Pedro brought you closer. 

“Cum for me then, mi amor.” He whispered against you, resuming his previous position of his lips. 

One last final flick of his tongue and you were seeing stars, your fingers gripped at his soft hair weakly, holding his head in place as you found you’re high on his face. Your greedy hole fluttered weakly around air as you craved for Pedro to fill you once again. 

“Fill me up,” you breathed as Pedro lapped at your arousal softly. “Please.”

Pedro peered up at you, his soft brown eyes were blown with lust and his own highness. He repositioned himself and lined himself up with your hole, he bottomed out in you quickly with a deep groan. 

“I’m not going to last long, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. So beautiful, my love, you’re everything.” Pedro mumbled, his face was buried into your neck and he peppered soft kisses to your skin there. 

His hips rolled sensually, everything felt all too good and simultaneously not enough, you needed to feel closer to Pedro. Pedro’s hands You’re wrapped your arms around your lover and held him closer, Pedro hummed in appreciation at your embrace as he drove his cock into you deeply. 

“I love you.” You whimpered. “I love you so much.” 

You were shaking as you held onto Pedro, you could tell he was getting closer by the way his hips faltered and he kept his thrusts short and deep. He made soft noises into the skin of your neck, they were soft whimpers and it only made your heartbeat quicken, a sense of pride flushed over you as you were the one to make him feel this way, you were the one to have him falling apart at the seams in your arms. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum in me, please. Want all of you. Feels so good, I need it. Please.” You cooed. 

Pedro bit softly at the skin on your neck as he came, you felt the first hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you and you moaned at the sensation of finally having his release into you. Your arms held him tighter, his face nuzzled into your neck further and he kissed along your jaw as he worked himself through his orgasm. 

“Cariño,” Pedro sighed as he rolled onto his side with a soft wince. “Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed your cheek and held your face in his hand as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip. 

“You’re amazing.” You corrected him before you leant in to press a soft kiss to his lips with a dazed smile spread over your face. “I need to go shower again, I’m all messy and sweaty. Plus I need to come down from my high a little otherwise I’m gonna be a big mess for work tomorrow.” You laughed softly. 

Pedro continued to stroke your face, smiling at you the entire time. 

“Fine but afterwards we should get into bed and watch a movie or something. Something funny! And I want snacks! I think we have those chips you love from the UK in the pantry or those chocolates we both like. Maybe I have some of those Chilean cookies I love!” Pedro listed, his brain working quicker than his mouth could. 

“You’re such an excitable little puppy sometimes, babe.” You laughed and shook your head fondly at your boyfriend. “I heard The Bubble on Netflix is meant to be pretty good, kinda funny or something. All I know is there’s a super hot guy in it. Pedro something.” You teased, winking at the male as you slowly stood up from the floor. 

“I dunno… I heard that movie sucks.” Pedro grinned up at you and took your hand to follow closely behind you. 

The rest of your night was spent making out lazily in the shower followed by lying in bed together and watching a romantic comedy in bed whilst you continued your high-school make out session. The air was filled with ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings before you fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. 

————————————————

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[phoenix-downer]

Leftover sales are open for @twosidesfanzine! Check out the store for a variety of bundle and à la carte options featuring SoKai and Rokunami.

I wrote this diary entry from Kairi’s POV about she, Sora, Roxas, and Naminé visiting New Orleans and meeting Tiana and Naveen. It was fun making a callback to some sketches Nomura made that were in one of the ultimanias as well.

A big thank you to @valiantmade and @amyhayanora for making the graphics, @scoobysnack1107 for doing the layout, and @true-intha-blu for creating the pumpkin chicken étouffée recipe ❤️ I was also inspired by the art spread by Miyanko for the world visit 🎺🐊

Text of the diary entry below the cut:

Dear Diary,

Today Sora, Roxas, Naminé and I visited a new world and met the most amazing people! It’s called New Orleans, and our new friend Tiana runs a beautiful restaurant, Tiana’s Palace, with her husband Naveen. They even have a trumpet-playing alligator named Louis for live entertainment! Naminé had a lot of fun sketching that, especially when Roxas got recruited to perform with him. Who knew Roxas could sing so well? And of course dinner was to die for: a delicious pumpkin chicken étoufée.

Afterwards, Tiana taught us how to make the perfect roux. It’s her family’s secret recipe, and she uses it in a bunch of her restaurant’s dishes. I got distracted and nearly burnt the flour, but Sora came to the rescue and we got things back on track. He’s gotten really good at cooking. That Little Chef has really helped him a lot. I remember when he couldn’t even help me make soup and choked on chicken bones. That dork, he’s come such a long way.

(Hey! I am not a dork!)

You’re my dork :3

(That’s better 😉)

I sensed something special about Tiana too. She has a heart of pure light. I think she must be one of the New Seven Hearts. I definitely want to come back and visit her sometime.

I’m having a blast on this journey. Each day is a new adventure. I’ll write more tomorrow!

Kairi

[moe-broey]

I feel like I'm breaking up with a video game LMFAOOOOOOOOOO