#bitch im writing again

[fiveredlights]

is it weird and evil that i feel a sense of joy watching other people experience the patented VCARB God Awful Strategy (or as I like to call it, the Daniel Ricciardo Experience™️) that we’ve been complaining about for literal months… i said may everyone get what they deserve… much love and light <3

[momotonescreaming]

Night Light

Rating: G | WC: 1.2k | Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard A mini Tommy Kinard character study [Read on AO3]

Tommy has an antique lamp in his entranceway and a child’s night light in the hall.

A small unassuming thing in a plastic white cover, subtly plugged into an outlet halfway down the hall to the master bedroom. Buck thought it was an air freshener at first, didn’t think much of it. Which was kind of the point. It wasn’t until he stayed the night that very first time when he noticed. Padding through Tommy’s house on unsure, socked feet, making his way through unfamiliar rooms. It was getting dark, Tommy’s house aglow in the lamplight, when he saw it projecting little golden stars up the wall.

Buck wondered if there was a story there. Of army flashbacks, and gifting yourself the childhood you never had. Of not holding yourself back, of letting go of the man people wanted you to be. Of loneliness.

He wondered if it was his place to know it just yet. Another piece of the Tommy-shaped puzzle, aglow with tiny stars. They had started touching at things like this, merely breaching the surface, hinting at the things below. The things that lurk in the dark. Quickly, swiftly, dropping hints and then diverting away. This felt like it might be one of those.

Tommy doesn’t have any kids, and from the hints Buck’s already gathered — he doesn’t have any kids in his life, period. No nieces and nephews. No kids of friends or co-workers.

So the night light can’t be for any of them. Those children that don’t exist. Buck thinks Tommy might have gotten it for himself. Buck kind of likes it. He doesn’t want to go too far down the rabbit hole, too far into research and facts and theories about why. Doesn’t want to dig this up and risk exposing something he shouldn’t. Not before either of them are ready. He wants Tommy to give it to him. Revealed in time.

So Buck walks past the night light, goes to the bathroom, and then walks straight back past them on his way back to Tommy. To the living room, where his boyfriend is waiting. Curled up on the couch, soft and inviting. Curtains half pulled shut and room lit by lamplight. As soon as it got dark, Buck Noticed, Tommy always leaned towards a lamp first. Not an overhead light.

None of the lamps have stars.

He thinks that might be an easier conversation. Might not poke what’s lurking beneath. But he likes it too. It feels very Tommy, his house. Warm. Cozy. Safe. Buck knows it wasn’t always that way. That Tommy’s house was a fixer-upper and was in a perpetual state of construction for years. That Tommy learned what he liked and built it himself. And it appears his boyfriend likes soft lighting.

Buck doesn’t say anything about the night light, but he swear he sees something flicker in Tommy’s expression. He stops thinking about the topic entirely when Tommy draws him into his arms and holds him close.

They spend more and more time together. Going on dates, getting to know one another. Spending time at each other’s places, slowly mapping out the shape of each other’ homes. They way they act in a place that’s theirs. When no one is around but the other.

A part of Buck will never understand why Tommy seemed so impressed with his loft — considering his house is so much cooler. A cozy renovated bungalow with a home gym and an extra large garage with a car lift. Lined with many a bookshelf, filled with romance novels and car manuals. Piles of DVD’s, a modest collection of vinyl and a CD collection he had been growing since he was a teen. All shelves dusted, in a very particular order. Tiny helicopters on display. Little figurines and models, breaking up the wall of things.

A large comfy couch in the middle of his living room, framed by a plush rug and draped in throw blankets. A lamp on the side table, and another in the corner. Some subtly queer artwork on the walls, if you know where and how to look. He’s not hiding who he is, but he’s not shouting it from the rooftop either. It’s nice. Homey. It suits Tommy.

Paint swatches on the wall of his dining room, and his kitchen, with the old wallpaper half peeling off. He hasn’t renovated that yet, Tommy tells him. Hasn’t found the time, he says with a smirk. As if it’s a hardship Tommy’s been spending time with him, going on dates, inviting him round — instead of ripping up and renovating his entire kitchen.

Next to one of his bookcases, is the night light. Halfway down the hall.

A part of Buck wondered if Tommy would hide it, after that first night when Buck saw it on his way to the bathroom. Would unplug it and squirrel it away where Buck couldn’t see. Until Tommy was ready to talk about it. But he didn’t, and yet Buck still didn’t say anything.

He finds out about the lamps, earlier. The collection of them scattered throughout his house — the antique one in the entranceway.

Tommy turns it on every time he leaves the house. It’s a part of his routine. Shut the windows, lock the doors, wallet, phone, keys, turn on the lamp. Says he likes the soft lighting better, as compared to the harsh lighting from the overheads. Makes it feel warmer, and enjoys the way it makes everything glow. Orange soft around the edges. He likes coming home to the light on, he says. Makes it feels less imposing, more inviting. Seeing the gold from the lamp light shining through the curtains. Distorted and hazy from the lampshade.

Buck’s getting better versed at Tommy-speak. He knows how to read between the lines on this one. It makes his house feel a little less empty. Makes him feel a little less alone.

The night light makes a little more sense then.

Tommy got the lamp at an estate sale, he says. Went sifting through for things to help fill his house with. He got the lamp, a table, and a large worn-in armchair with pride of place in his living room. Things to make his house seem a little more lived in, a little more homey, a little less empty.

Buck still doesn’t ask when he got the night light, but he thinks about it more now. He thinks about it when he gets off shift and heads straight to Tommy’s, seeing the lamp light shine through the window. He thinks about it when he gets up early to get ready for a shift, and sees the little golden stars glow as he makes his way down the hall to Tommy’s kitchen.

It makes him sort of sad, to picture it. Young Tommy, trying to figure out who he is, to unpluck threads while the pressure of the macho fire house presses down around him. And then turning around and coming home to an empty, pitch black house. Putting the lamp in the entranceway so it’s the first thing he sees when he gets home. Buying a little night light to lead his way down the hall.

When Buck was living in Abby’s apartment, way back when, he thinks maybe he should have bought himself a children’s night light with little golden stars.

[becauseplot]

In my head, q!Philza and q!Missa's relationship is the definition of undefined ((which is really funny now that I type it out lmao)). They've decided to completely sidestep concrete labels and use everything: husband, partner, boyfriend, friend, dumbass---whatever feels right (or whatever's funniest) in the moment. Phil tends to do introductions for them as, "Hi I'm Phil I'm Missa's husband and this is Missa, my friend... The fuck you mean 'that's confusing' I just spelled it out for you pretty clearly." Whenever someone tries to ask them something along the lines of, "So are you husbands/boyfriends/etc?" Phil---who knows that he'll take way too long trying to Explain---will just shrug and Missa will answer with a simple, "Estamos juntos." (We're together.) Bottom line, though, they are really good friends.

[aquickstart]

ok sure i'll talk about farleigh start. i'll talk about his tragedy of never being enough as it were and then having to deal with fucking oliver. sure. disclaimer: it's about class (and race) and the horrible reality of the rich. the horrible reality of living as farleigh.

another disclaimer: i'm white! and poc definitely pick up on everything i'm talking about here as it is, and better. i was and am specifically interested in farleigh vs. oliver but it's impossible to examine without considering race. definitely let me know if anything abt this sucks!

farleigh and oliver are similar. it's annoying because every intruder that is not himself is annoying, partly because felix's attention swaying from farleigh is dangerous; there is always a threat of being discarded, even if no precedent existed. the potential is terrifying.

but you'd think he's seen this before, every summer (if venetia is telling the truth) or at least often enough to learn to recognize it fast, so he should know this will pass. part of it is i think still the deep anxiety, and i think he hated every boy that was there before, and it is sort of routine.

but definitely a huge factor in farleigh's annoyance is the fact that he's a biracial (black for cattons, that's all they see) man in a white rich household. he's alert and exhausted all the time. of course he's angry at oliver, regardless of whether he's the first to crash at saltburn for the summer or the fifty-first.

but the important thing is this.

farleigh is very jealous of and angry and pissed at oliver because farleigh sees all the similarities between them. outsider, in financial trouble, whatever it is, in need of cattons; and yet oliver is preferred. and farleigh seems to be the only one to really consider it. felix does not pick up on the hint when farleigh brings up the birthday party vs. his mother. felix's clumsy "different or... anything like that" is as much about race as it is about class, of course. the "we've done all that we can" bit is felix absolving himself of guilt because surely they had, surely the mysterious collective cattons that he's not really part of had tried all they could do. to him, farleigh is different from oliver, because farleigh has been helped. felix is rich and white and twofold uncomfortable with farleigh, even if he's nice about it, even if he genuinely enjoys his company; he doesn't look too close at farleigh because he feels too guilty to come too close. and farleigh can't do anything about it. he can't nice himself into it. the fucking tragedy of him is that he's never enough in the world of the ultra-rich white, even if (especially because!) he's born into it.

farleigh is very pissed at oliver because farleigh also sees all the differences between them. you know who can be nice poor white enough to fit in? fucking oliver. felix says "just be yourself, they'll love you" when oliver first moves in. farleigh was also probably told the same thing, and felix also probably believed that farleigh could just be himself, but even if the cattons were magically not racist at all (impossible), it wouldn't make a difference to farleigh. he would still self-censor, keep in check, be in dangerous waters (because racism is not just about the individual, but about the system). we see that he'd won himself leeway by years of trial and error by the way he speaks to the family, but it's still within the boundaries of acceptable, built by the cattons. he's part of them because they allow it, and farleigh is very, very aware.

the annoying thing is oliver can be himself. like, truly, genuinely, he can just be. and farleigh can't help but envy that.

as a side note, oliver is obviously jealous of farleigh in the beginning as well, because regardless of the reality of farleigh's situation, he was born into it, and hence, at least in oliver's mind, has his position solidified. oliver's whole thing is unquenchable thirst and hunger for whatever and everything the cattons have (including themselves!). he wishes to have been a catton from birth. to oliver, at first, there's nothing farleigh can really do to lose it. and until he figures out the cattons completely, he can't help but envy that.

but i think farleigh senses something different about oliver early on. at least on the level of the text, we have "you're almost passing [for] a real, human boy", which is so important because farleigh is the first to point out oliver's weirdness. the next to do so is venetia in the bath scene calling him a freak, but it's too late. farleigh is too early.

and i like to think he clocks oliver too early because he sees the jagged edges that he recognizes in himself. i think that one other thing that farleigh envies is oliver's freedom to let go. freedom to let go is very similar to freedom to be, but not quite the same.

to be is about perception: farleigh knows he cannot fall out of line, but would like to, and oliver does not have to worry about it at all (i mean, he does, because oliver also performs for felix, but farleigh doesn't know that).

to let go is about the self: farleigh is too scared to even want what oliver eventually does, to even consider the possibility. oliver can let himself want. oliver can let himself act. oliver just can do things and want things. i'm not sure farleigh can.

and so in this scene, when oliver's wants and actions have landed him nowhere with farleigh, felix, venetia, the cattons, of course farleigh gloats. he can let himself do that, because if the cattons are slowly discarding him, farleigh can allow himself this one small victory. he's relieved because despite the dangerous similarities, oliver is, thankfully, not really the same as farleigh, right?

but like. this movie is a love letter to all things gothic. oliver is a white man. he prevails. the brief performance that oliver put on did eventually end up more effective than farleigh's lifetime of constraint. my heart fucking breaks for him to be honest.

the issue that remains is the fact of farleigh's survival. i like to think that oliver came to respect him. oliver is smart, but farleigh is clever. he picks up on everything oliver does (to refer back to the karaoke scene, farleigh immediately retaliates in the cleverest way, in the moment), and he's the only one to do so consistently (venetia, again, for example, comes close, but too late; oliver doesn't like that, there's nothing to work with). hence, stay with me for a little longer, the paradox: farleigh survives because he was never enough for the cattons, but he is very worthy of oliver's attention. in his own freaky way, oliver wants him. look at that.

so. farleigh. farleigh might come back. he always comes back. and i think oliver wants to try harder next time.

[bigmammallama5]

Finally, I have managed to write something again. It’s no joke when they say your physical health impacts your mental health and that you really shouldn’t push it when you aren’t well lmao. Dealing with body hurty this past near year has really made me desperately miss writing (and drawing, and goofing off in fandom in general). I’m still not quite better, but I’m getting there and hopefully will be back to normal soon (whatever my new normal will be). I still have many WIPS I want to get back to working on, but I come bearing a gift of a short oneshot to start. Thank you to all of you who are leaving kudos and comments on my fic, I’ll do my best to go through and answer some of you soon. <3

For @stnballoon, for being a wonderful and supportive human being not just to me but also to the supercorp fandom. I’m so grateful for you and your kind and patient positivity. I owe you so much more than this little gift.

Based off of an ask stnballoon sent me about the unfortunate perils of co-opted words having odd interpretations in business meetings. Please excuse any errors, I am... quite rusty after seven months.

[mistyscenter]

I love that this fandom doesn't understand Baxter's character, I adore how they patronize him,a whole ass adult, for facing the consequences of his actions.

I love how people make him feel like a sad little baby when he leaves mc as if that's not something he made extremely clear. I love how people treat this 19 year old as if he's not old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. I love how Baxter is aware of his flaw's but feels like he can't break them because people only see him as a tool and this fandom reinforces that.

I love how people will get mad at Nico for doing the cardinal crime of being 6 years old but will baby a 24 year old Baxter. I love how people make him this charismatic rich guy when it's shown that he's a hot mess that doesn't know what he wants. I love that Baxter's whole character arc is about his self sabotaging tendencies and how everyone ignores that. I love that people fell in love with the mask he had for most of the dlc.

I love that this fandom lacks reading comprehension skills and understanding of nuance characters, great job everyone for not understanding how writing works :)

[kirnet]

some of nocturna inferno's album and ep covers (all done by rowan of course)

[coffeeghoulie]

soft sleepy mountrain ahead:

Mountain wakes before the sun, as he always does. He smiles, not quite awake yet, as he feels the familiar weight of Rain sprawled over him. Rain's normally cool skin is warm with their shared body heat, covered comfortably in their blankets, their legs and tails tangled together.

Even though he knows he has duties to attend to (the greenhouse won't take care of itself, as much as he wishes it could sometimes), Mountain can't help himself but hold Rain closer, careful not to disturb his mate. It's just so warm, here in the safety of their nest.

He stares, eyes tracking over each silver freckle spattered over the water ghoul's powder blue skin, the way his long, dark eyelashes rest over his cheek. Rain's nose twitches, nuzzling closer into Mountain's warmth. Winter's coming, and it takes its toll on the two of them, the cold bringing out their aches and pains.

Mountain reaches for his phone with the arm not holding Rain to his chest, checks the time. He has half an hour before his alarm goes off and he has to get up, and he's going to treasure every second until he has to disturb Rain's peaceful sleep. Besides, their bed is soft and warm, and Mountain knows that the moment he steps out of bed, the cold air will sink into his bones.

He watches, eyes heavy with sleep, as the trails of sunlight pouring through the crack in their curtains cast Rain in golden light, freckles shimmering like scales. Rain's gills flutter, soft exhales of breath tickling against Mountain's skin, timed with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"How did I get so lucky, tadpole?" Mountain whispers, pushing a strand of blue black hair off of Rain's forehead with the blunt edge of his claw, tucking it behind his finned ear. Rain's ear twitches, and Mountain freezes as Rain stirs, grumbling before burying his freezing nose in the crook of his neck, searching for warmth.

Mountain, to his credit, barely winces as Rain shoves his cold nose into his neck. Instead, he brings a giant hand up to cup the back of Rain's skull, carding into the sleep-mussed waves. He hums softly, rubbing his cheek against one of Rain's seaglass horns, glinting in the ribbons of sunlight.

"Mount," Rain mumbles, nuzzling into Mountain's throat. Even half-asleep, he's careful to keep the sharp point of his horns from his skin. "S'early."

"I know, tadpole," Mountain says, kissing the crown of his head, inhaling his seasalt and lavender scent. "I don't have to head out quite yet, wanted to stay and look at you."

He can feel more than see Rain's blush as his cheeks heat. He has the exact shade of lilac memorized, and privately, thinks it's the prettiest color Top Side.

"You're a sap, Mount," Rain says, muffled into Mountain's skin. He purrs, turning to rub his cheek against Mountain's stubble.

"And yet you're still in my bed, Rainy," Mountain says, purring happily, a deep rumble like a rockslide.

"S'my favorite place when it's cold," Rain says, eyes stubbornly closed.

"You don't prefer Dew's nest, that little space heater?" Mountain teases, still combing through Rain's waves. Rain snorts, finally cracking open his pretty cerulean eyes. He raises an eyebrow, playful irritation peaking through the haze of sleep.

"You know I love Dew," Rain says, staring fondly at Mountain's sleep-warm face. "But this is ours. I like what we have, I like waking up in your arms." He reaches up, lazily running a finger along the line of Mountain's cheek, just above the edge of his stubble.

Mountain smiles, and Rain can't help but return it, finger moving to trace over his smile lines, deep along his lips. "I like this too, darling. Wouldn't trade it for the world."

They bask in each other's company, drifting slowly in and out of sleep, until Mountain's alarm sounds, shrill and harsh. Both of them startle, Mountain jolting upright. Rain laughs as Mountain drags him up, still holding him to his chest.

"Time for work?" Rain chuckles, yawning and stretching, and Mountain gets a good look at Rain's sharp, serrated teeth.

"Greenhouse's waiting," Mountain breathes, fighting his own yawn. He's supposed to be a morning ghoul, Lucifer damn it. "Chores have gotta get done."

Rain smiles, rubbing the side of his face against Mountain's chest. "I know, sunflower. I'll have tea ready when you get back," he tempts, even as he groans at the idea of getting out of bed.

Mountain hums, leaning down and kissing between Rain's horns. "You promise, tadpole? I'll take you up on that."

Rain chirps, extricating himself from his mate's arms, pushing him to his feet. Mountain hisses as his bare feet touch the cold floor, but stands anyways. "Go get your chores done. I'll be waiting."

Mountain turns, hand moving to cup Rain's cheek. He draws his face up, a sweet kiss pressed to his lips that lingers. Rain grins at him, and despite the cold, Mountain finds himself ready to face a new dawn.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 33

Geralt is a siren who lives with his pod in the deepest trenches of the ocean. Geralt and his pod frequently team up together to take down large seabeasts, protecting their oceans, other seafolk, and even the landfolk from certain monstrosities. Jaskier is a merman who lounges luxuriously in coral reefs and plays pretty relaxing music there all day every day. Both are crushed with a crippling loneliness.

Geralt's hunts that bring him closer to the surface of the water, (and by closer, I still mean deep as hell, he's just no longer surrounded by healthy non-blobby blobfish and photophores everywhere) He tends to hear the humming and chittering of a mer. The sound relaxes him so much, he begins swimming out of the deepest depths after certain battles to find the soothing noise. You can use just this if you prefer shorter prompts, OR, if you'll indulge my gay fantasies- One day, he swims over toward the reef only to hear panicked screeching, and scent blood in the water. He nYOOoms over and finds a mer being attacked by a monster. Geralt fights it off, either with swords or maybe perhaps just his claws and teeth if we're feeling ~✨feral✨~ Either way, he defeats the beast, and turns to the mer, only for the mer to pass out right then and there. Damn him. Geralt takes him to a nice cove nearby and begins patching him up. When the mer wakes up, he's all hissy and scared, but Geralt calms him quickly by humming one of his melodies. And apparently doing this flips a fuckin switch, because the Mer suddenly goes from being scared shitless of Geralt, to being scared shitless when not touching Geralt every second of every minute of every hour of every godsdamn day. It's already been a few days, he has to tell his pod why he's gone missing, but every time he goes to leave, the mer hisses at him. Eventually, Geralt grows tired of the worry he must be giving his family, and swims out of the cave, even as the Mer screeches at him. He informs his pod he's alive and well and just... b u s y... with.... t hi n g s... before he swims back to the cove only to find his mer BAWLING. The mer is ecstatic that he's returned and seems to forgive Geralt after a day of snuggling. Okay, new problem: The merman isn't healed enough to go back into the open ocean and yet keeps slipping out when Geralt is asleep only to return with shells, sea glass, moss, sometimes even anemones that are deemed prettier than others. It takes Geralt longer than he'd like to admit to figure out the merman is trying to court him.

[firemama]

Spamton fic where in very dramatic moments spamton drops solid lines that are definintely bangers in AND out of context, but they're like. Tumblr esc quotes.

Bitch says [[you cannot kill me in a way that matters]] and yeah it scares the shit outta whoever he's talking to but we, the 4th party internet people, know it is a quote from a tumblr post about mushrooms.

Spamton should say [[then perish.]] and everyone must take it seriously in-story.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[oneluckygoose]

Fuck depression I’m becoming a Percy Jackson blog

[venusbby]

the reddish pink color on his cheeks makes your heart warm, until he not so gently smother your face with the same colored powder, making you yelp and try to run.

"oh my god. you're absolutely sick for this, rin!"

"don't like the taste of your own medicine, pretty?"

his pink stained hands are quick to grab you by the waist and pull you back, his front flush against you from behind as he leaves a playful kiss on your ear, wiping away some of the red powder on your cheek, which results in making it worse as it spreads more. you whine, thinking about all the time you had spent doing your light makeup today, just for your entire face to be colored so soon before you could even get any good pictures.

"at least you look cute! you made me look like a monster." you glare at him as you crane your neck and look back, your eyes trailing from his teal ones to the red spots on his pale cheeks, your hands coming up to cup his face as you turn around to completely face him.

rin seems more carefree during this than you had ever expected him to be.

he slowly wraps his arms around you, until your noses touch and he can see your eyelashes covered in colored powder. his lips stay pressed in a thin line, yet the amusement in his eyes is enough to make you huff in annoyance.

"you look cute too." he says, earning another enjoyable reaction from you— your hand smacking his chest repeatedly (lightly, he knows you'd never ever hit him for real.) as you groan.

his white clothes are now covered in various colors, mostly red— matching your face.

"you know what," you finally declare after a few more minutes of him teasingly staring at you and ignoring your tantrum about how he's messed up your face too early for today.

"if i'm gonna be red, so are you."

your sentence isn't even finished and he's already furrowing his eyebrows, watching you as you lean in. in that split second his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips, thinking it's a kiss. but it's all a very good act from your side, because what happens next makes him feel a certain way that he can't even bring himself to explain. he feels your arms locking around his neck and smells your familiar perfume even in the fresh air of the garden that everyone is currently coloring up with yellows and reds along with various others.

you laugh into his ear as you quickly rub your cheek against his, most of the red shade transferring from your skin to his— doing the same to his other cheek, your hands buried in his hair as you hold him in place. he doesn't have the time to register it until you finally pull a few inches away and lean in again to peck his lips, your eyes sparkling with the same amusement he felt earlier.

rin is speechless, mouth agape, cheeks now red. they're probably naturally red too, under all that powder. his heart races.

"told you. now you look even cuter. happy holi, rinnie." you say with a sweet voice, before patting his cheek softly, lovingly and turning around to go celebrate this colorful festival with your other friends who have already gotten their hands on water-guns and water balloons. your beautiful laugh, his favourite laugh in the entire world, increases in volume as you try to avoid being the first target.

he stands there for a moment, staring at you as you walk away and start playing with the entire group. he watches you race around the garden, your white kurta slowly getting more and more colorful as you get attacked with colored water. his hands miss holding you already.

so he chases after you, his lips in a very subtle smirk, acting as if he's here to cover you and protect you from the colors, but with a water balloon secretly in his hand as he plans on getting you back.

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Swordtember 2024: The Results

Drawings made: 16

Prompts covered: 22

Breakups mined for inspiration: 1

...

I had fun with this! It made me feel better about the emotionally destroyed mess I was at the start of the year, and helped me break the massive creative block I was in for most of 2024. I had genuinely thought I would never create anything ever again, and yet somehow here I was, turning all that pain into pictures!

I'm a bit sad I didn't last through the challenge, there were some cool prompts I missed out on doing. Still, I'm genuinely happy I participated. I may not have finished this challenge, but I drew again! And in the meantime I found a new fandom to binge content from, I actually revived some of my interest in writing original work for my own enjoyment, and I'm finally, *finally* starting to feel like maybe I will be OK again, creativity-wise. Not now, but... eventually.

We're on our way out of the pit, one step at a time.

...

[anime-related]

Lmao, alternate universe of Season 1 where Saiki's in a relationship with Satou (or like pre relationship?) while Chiyo and Terhuhashi are both simping for him.

I just think it'd be funny if the whole time these two are trying to be with him, Saiki is totally head over heels for this average ass boi

Especially if while they're in Okinawa, Saiki's with Satou a lot of the time. I mean, Toritsuka's class is canonically on the trip too. And neither Teruhashi nor Chiyo of them notice Satou bc he just blends in so well.

Like, while Chiyo and Teruhashi are trying to show off their bathing suits or whatever, Saiki's just staring at Satou's unbelievably average self.

Or after Saiki gets the hotel back he goes to check on Satou.

Oh, and hey, might as well have Saiki say oh wow about Satou maybe.

[clowningcrows]

lol i pregamed a tiny bit for agatha but now after finishing im just taking shots for coping reasons