#it's a broad sketch here

[shutupineedtothink]

Post Ep 6 Theory: Billy Is Casting Agatha as the Villain

Well I really have no business writing theories at this point since I’ve been wrong multiple times but like maybe I really got something this time, you know? Isn’t that the point? Can’t I be right one time?? My Capricorn stellium is raging at having all these theories disproved. And I love it at the same time. 😅

Whatever. Potential spoilers under the cut.

So I’m fully on the “Billy magicked the Road” theory, he is Wanda’s son after all and tbh there’s just too much evidence to ignore it at this point. I won’t go into all of it, House of R pod does a great breakdown in their episode 6 review, check that out if you’re interested. The basic points are: Billy created the Road probably subconsciously, Agatha knows it, she’s trying to figure out how he did it and what his goal is, and also get her power back and not die from the Seven. Cool.

My theory is an offshoot of the Billy theory, and speaks to where he and Agatha are going to end this season (aka coven two). Ready? Ok.

Soooo if we take as fact that Billy conjured the Road, because he can’t control his magick and more broadly because he has some shit to work through (again, same as Wanda) then how do we explain Agatha’s trial within that framework.

Why was the trial to “punish Agatha?” If Billy, subconsciously or not, is in control of everything that happens on the Road, why do that?

Well, subconsciously, he’s angry at Agatha. Whether he’s actually angry at her specifically or just angry about what happened with the hex, it doesn’t really matter. He has a lot of suppressed anger that needs somewhere to go. And who’s the closest available probably evil witch? Ya girl, Agatha Harkness.

Someone he saw as his friend, possibly, in the hex. Someone who fought his mom and tried to take her power. And someone who ultimately, by disrupting the status quo, led to his literal world being destroyed. By that logic, I’d want to punish her too.

Billy, in his (probably subconscious) magic-fueled rage, grief, and sadness over what happened to him, his family, and his life, took all of that and blamed it on Agatha. In his fantasy of his own hero’s journey on the Road to find his brother, to get his family back, he has (spell)casted Agatha as the villain.

So when Agatha “can’t control” her power in episode 5, siphoning Alice, it’s not because she has issues with her own control of her powers. It’s because Billy was making her do it (again, probably subconsciously). She essentially blacked out at that moment, and turned into the evil witch Agatha Harkness. And when she comes to, she seemingly has no idea what she’s done.

So when she says she couldn’t control it, she’s not lying. But it’s not because she’s never been able to control her powers. She’s probably had control of them for centuries. It’s because in that moment, Billy was writing the narrative, not her. And then he confirms it to her face — you’re lying, you want power, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. Essentially saying, you’re the villain here not me not my mom.

And then it clicks for her, what he’s doing, subconsciously or not. And she turns on the evil villain persona herself to take back the narrative from him. And we get, you’re so much like your mother. Creating the Road, creating this whole story to serve yourself and the narrative you want to believe. Making me the bad guy. Undertones of fuck you.

Okay great, so where does this leave us now and how does this play into the show as a whole? I think the question the show is asking, as it relates to Agatha’s character, is who really is Agatha Harkness? Is she the villain? Is she the hero? Is she both, or neither? Is she her reputation, as Lilia reads in ep 2, or is she more than that? Can she be more than that? Can she be good?

Now here’s where it gets real juicy y’all, because as much as Billy has made Agatha the villain in his hero's journey, he's also made her the Guide.

He goes to her to lead him down the Road. He's constantly asking her questions and trying to learn from her. On some level, maybe a more conscious level, he does idolize her. He wants to see her as a witch to look up to. He even wants her love. Just look at his crestfallen face when she says she didn't put the sigil on him in ep 4.

She's the Yoda to his Luke, the Dumbledore to his Harry, the Moiraine to his Rand. And once again, subconsciously he knows it. And he wants it.

He says in ep 6, I don't know if I ever needed you (a mouthy teen if I ever heard one), but then his power immediately fizzles out. She calls him out on it, all that power and no access without a temper tantrum. He needs her. He needs to learn. Again, in this version, she has control over her powers normally, just not in her trial. So she can provide that knowledge.

He went to her to lead him down the Road. And she's been subtly teaching him this whole time. (Once vengeance is unleashed, you can't reel it back in. It's about selflessness, Teen.)

Now for her part, I don't know if she realizes she's mentoring him. But she definitely cares about him, as we saw at the end of ep 4. Again, partly a reaction fueled by Nicky, but I think she's been at least 80% sure it was Billy this whole time. So she genuinely cares for him too.

If I had to bet, I'd say Agatha very much knows the different parts she's playing, the villain evil witch, the guide, and somewhere under even that, the real Agatha.

She's just playing along, some times more willingly than others, because she needs to see where this goes. And she doesn't necessarily want to break his baby brain in the process.

It's almost the more subtle version of her leading Wanda through her memories in WandaVision. She's guiding him along the Road, partly to see what he can do and get her powers back if possible, but also for his own good.

So prediction time, where does this leave us in the finale.

I won't speak to the remaining trials, but I'm thinking there has to be a big showdown between Agatha, Billy, and Rio.

If we're going for Agatha becoming her most true self, and Billy seeing her for who she actually is, my money is on a reversal of the Agatha stealing Alice's power scene.

Rio's going go to after Billy, and Agatha, to save him, is going to start siphoning his power. It's going to look like she's killing him, being the evil witch of her reputation. But then she's going to stop (because she's been capable of control this whole time), taking just enough power to get her purple back. He has more than enough to spare.

Also fun fact, Wanda's power (red) -> Billy's power (blue) -> Agatha's power (purple). Do I want this to happen just because the colors make sense... maybe.

Ultimately, Agatha and Billy become a team, a coven two, a master and apprentice. They both see each other for who they are, imperfect, powerful, but capable of good. Rio is fended off/bargained with somehow. Maybe Agatha offers up her own soul in his place but Rio can't do it. Idk that's all wild speculation.

Point being, this is all about self-discovery, self-actualization, and deconstructing false narratives you have around others, and in Billy's case, around his own life. Dealing with your trauma to become a more whole version of yourself.

And as with WandaVision, dealing with grief and loss, but in this case, also finding a companion, a familiar, a family you never expected beside you All Along. 👀

What do you think? Can you believe I wrote this the day before ep 7 drops?? 😂

[femmeroi]

All robots please.. take off your clothes

[themadknightuniverse]

Thinking about Leofrith again, damn

1h study

[angelsdean]

the struggle of wanting to plop young dean down in new jersey like literally where i live for a fic but not wanting to say where i live sjkdfjsf 

[tracle0]

The hand fucks

[thydungeongal]

GMing doesn't have to be a chore and can in fact be extremely fun and rewarding but there are certain learned behaviors and attitudes that make things harder on the GM. Here are just a few tips on how to make the job easier on the GM which also may have the side effect of making the game more fun for everyone:

Everyone should make an effort to learn the rules. The rules are not there to make the game unfun and they are not a necessary evil, they are there to help carry the game so the group doesn't have to do all the work. And everyone taking part in learning the rules means the GM doesn't always have to be the one to remember how a rule works.

To that end, drop the "GM is the final word on the rules" attitude. This places the GM on a pedestal and can actually run counter to the idea of players learning the rules. If the GM has carte blanche to run over the rules it disincentivices players learning the rules because they can't actually rely on the text, and now you're right back to the GM having to carry the whole game. It is entirely okay for players to remind the GM how the rules should work and the group should agree on a method for dealing with rules disputes, and spot rulings should not rely on the GM making a unilateral decision but should rely on some kind of consensus.

Communicate your desires to the group and be willing to compromise; respect each other's prep. You may want a game that focuses on a long-form narrative but the GM wants to run an episodic series of largely unrelated singleton adventures. The GM is the one who is bringing the game, so ultimately be willing to compromise on your vision of the game and respect their prep. Ultimately, if the GM does not want to run the exact type of game you want and you can't see yourself having fun in the type of game they want to run, you will be doing everyone a favor by recusing yourself from the game.

Related to the above, communicating your desires should be an ongoing process. End each session by talking about what you want to do next and where you think the game should go. This will also make it easier for the GM to prep ahead.

This relates to learning the rules: pick a game that actually supports the type of game you want to run. Trust me, whatever time you think you will save by sticking to a game you already know you will make back by not having to fight the rules all the time and actually letting the rules take an active part in carrying the game.

You can literally just use prewritten adventures. Not every campaign or adventure needs to be custom-tailored for your specific group. Using prewritten adventures means that someone's already done a lot of the prep for you.

And finally, don't prep any more than you need to: there is this persistent myth that GMs need to have the entire campaign and world planned from the word go to begin with. While there is nothing wrong with expansive worldbuilding as such, you don't need to prep anything beyond what is strictly necessary. If you're running a wide open sandbox you can get by with a rough sketch of the world and only write things in as they become relevant. If you're running a megadungeon your players don't have to know that you've only prepared the first level for the first session, as long as you have a cohesive broad strokes plan that is perfectly fine. If you're running an episodic campaign, well, you don't need to have anything beyond the next episode prepped at a time, but of course having a rough plan can help.

Of course a lot of this is very opinionated and game specific: some games actively resist authoritative GM prep and want to involve each player equally in setting up the situation, and that's actually great, and in those types of games you should remember that the game is explicitly telling everyone to be involved in the prep. And once again, listen to what the rules have to say: they're there to tell you what the game wants you to do.

[otaku553]

Fire (part 4)

<- (PREV) (NEXT) ->

(Spade Pirate Sabo AU Masterpost)

We're finally here!!!!!! BABY'S FIRST FIRE FIST!!!!!

MASSIVE THANK YOU TO @where-does-the-heart-lie for writing the broad strokes of this 4 chapter arc!!!! it's been absolutely amazing having you as both a beta reader and a sounding board for comic ideas! thanks for being here since pretty much the very beginning :DDD

I've had this chapter sketched out since 2 months ago...... at long last it can see the day of light......

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Holy CRAP the UN Cybercrime Treaty is a nightmare

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If there's one thing I learned from all my years as an NGO delegate to UN specialized agencies, it's that UN treaties are dangerous, liable to capture by unholy alliances of authoritarian states and rapacious global capitalists.

Most of my UN work was on copyright and "paracopyright," and my track record was 2:0; I helped kill a terrible treaty (the WIPO Broadcast Treaty) and helped pass a great one (the Marrakesh Treaty on the rights of people with disabilities to access copyrighted works):

https://www.wipo.int/treaties/en/ip/marrakesh/

It's been many years since I had to shave and stuff myself into a suit and tie and go to Geneva, and I don't miss it – and thankfully, I have colleagues who do that work, better than I ever did. Yesterday, I heard from one such EFF colleague, Katitza Rodriguez, about the Cybercrime Treaty, which is about to pass, and which is, to put it mildly, terrifying:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-dangerously-expands-state-surveillance-powers

Look, cybercrime is a real thing, from pig butchering to ransomware, and there's real, global harms that can be attributed to it. Cybercrime is transnational, making it hard for cops in any one jurisdiction to handle it. So there's a reason to think about formal international standards for fighting cybercrime.

But that's not what's in the Cybercrime Treaty.

Here's a quick sketch of the significant defects in the Cybercrime Treaty.

The treaty has an extremely loose definition of cybercrime, and that looseness is deliberate. In authoritarian states like China and Russia (whose delegations are the driving force behind this treaty), "cybercrime" has come to mean "anything the government disfavors, if you do it with a computer." "Cybercrime" can mean online criticism of the government, or professions of religious belief, or material supporting LGBTQ rights.

Nations that sign up to the Cybercrime Treaty will be obliged to help other nations fight "cybercrime" – however those nations define it. They'll be required to provide surveillance data – for example, by forcing online services within their borders to cough up their users' private data, or even to pressure employees to install back-doors in their systems for ongoing monitoring.

These obligations to aid in surveillance are mandatory, but much of the Cybercrime Treaty is optional. What's optional? The human rights safeguards. Member states "should" or "may" create standards for legality, necessity, proportionality, non-discrimination, and legitimate purpose. But even if they do, the treaty can oblige them to assist in surveillance orders that originate with other states that decided not to create these standards.

When that happens, the citizens of the affected states may never find out about it. There are eight articles in the treaty that establish obligations for indefinite secrecy regarding surveillance undertaken on behalf of other signatories. That means that your government may be asked to spy on you and the people you love, they may order employees of tech companies to backdoor your account and devices, and that fact will remain secret forever. Forget challenging these sneak-and-peek orders in court – you won't even know about them:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-blank-check-unchecked-surveillance-abuses

Now here's the kicker: while this treaty creates broad powers to fight things governments dislike, simply by branding them "cybercrime," it actually undermines the fight against cybercrime itself. Most cybercrime involves exploiting security defects in devices and services – think of ransomware attacks – and the Cybercrime Treaty endangers the security researchers who point out these defects, creating grave criminal liability for the people we rely on to warn us when the tech vendors we rely upon have put us at risk.

This is the granddaddy of tech free speech fights. Since the paper tape days, researchers who discovered defects in critical systems have been intimidated, threatened, sued and even imprisoned for blowing the whistle. Tech giants insist that they should have a veto over who can publish true facts about the defects in their products, and dress up this demand as concern over security. "If you tell bad guys about the mistakes we made, they will exploit those bugs and harm our users. You should tell us about those bugs, sure, but only we can decide when it's the right time for our users and customers to find out about them."

When it comes to warnings about the defects in their own products, corporations have an irreconcilable conflict of interest. Time and again, we've seen corporations rationalize their way into suppressing or ignoring bug reports. Sometimes, they simply delay the warning until they've concluded a merger or secured a board vote on executive compensation.

Sometimes, they decide that a bug is really a feature – like when Facebook decided not to do anything about the fact that anyone could enumerate the full membership of any Facebook group (including, for example, members of a support group for people with cancer). This group enumeration bug was actually a part of the company's advertising targeting system, so they decided to let it stand, rather than re-engineer their surveillance advertising business.

The idea that users are safer when bugs are kept secret is called "security through obscurity" and no one believes in it – except corporate executives. As Bruce Schneier says, "Anyone can design a system that is so secure that they themselves can't break it. That doesn't mean it's secure – it just means that it's secure against people stupider than the system's designer":

The history of massive, brutal cybersecurity breaches is an unbroken string of heartbreakingly naive confidence in security through obscurity:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But despite this, the idea that some bugs should be kept secret and allowed to fester has powerful champions: a public-private partnership of corporate execs, government spy agencies and cyber-arms dealers. Agencies like the NSA and CIA have huge teams toiling away to discover defects in widely used products. These defects put the populations of their home countries in grave danger, but rather than reporting them, the spy agencies hoard these defects.

The spy agencies have an official doctrine defending this reckless practice: they call it "NOBUS," which stands for "No One But Us." As in: "No one but us is smart enough to find these bugs, so we can keep them secret and use them attack our adversaries, without worrying about those adversaries using them to attack the people we are sworn to protect."

NOBUS is empirically wrong. In the 2010s, we saw a string of leaked NSA and CIA cyberweapons. One of these, "Eternalblue" was incorporated into off-the-shelf ransomware, leading to the ransomware epidemic that rages even today. You can thank the NSA's decision to hoard – rather than disclose and patch – the Eternalblue exploit for the ransoming of cities like Baltimore, hospitals up and down the country, and an oil pipeline:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/EternalBlue

The leak of these cyberweapons didn't just provide raw material for the world's cybercriminals, it also provided data for researchers. A study of CIA and NSA NOBUS defects found that there was a one-in-five chance of a bug that had been hoarded by a spy agency being independently discovered by a criminal, weaponized, and released into the wild.

Not every government has the wherewithal to staff its own defect-mining operation, but that's where the private sector steps in. Cyber-arms dealers like the NSO Group find or buy security defects in widely used products and services and turn them into products – military-grade cyberweapons that are used to attack human rights groups, opposition figures, and journalists:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/breaking-the-news/#kingdom

A good Cybercrime Treaty would recognize the perverse incentives that create the coalition to keep us from knowing which products we can trust and which ones we should avoid. It would shut down companies like the NSO Group, ban spy agencies from hoarding defects, and establish an absolute defense for security researchers who reveal true facts about defects.

Instead, the Cybercrime Treaty creates new obligations on signatories to help other countries' cops and courts silence and punish security researchers who make these true disclosures, ensuring that spies and criminals will know which products aren't safe to use, but we won't (until it's too late):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/if-not-amended-states-must-reject-flawed-draft-un-cybercrime-convention

A Cybercrime Treaty is a good idea, and even this Cybercrime Treaty could be salvaged. The member-states have it in their power to accept proposed revisions that would protect human rights and security researchers, narrow the definition of "cybercrime," and mandate transparency. They could establish member states' powers to refuse illegitimate requests from other countries:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/media-briefing-eff-partners-warn-un-member-states-are-poised-approve-dangerou

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/23/expanded-spying-powers/#in-russia-crime-cybers-you

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/files/banner_library/cybercrime-2024-2b.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[drefear]

Imagine reader artist, who loves to draw Miguel. And the other day she's just drawing naked Miguel's body. He saw it and just smirks and say: "I've got bigger than that" or "I could show/pose for accuracy"

TW: raunchy smut, Dom!miguel, fem reader, smut with no plot.

A/N: I wrote half of this while at work and a little drunk. So here ya go. Also currently in the process of writing a part two.

Miguel’s face filled your sketchbook, his back in his spider suit, his mask, every angle you could find him at. You often sat in his office for hours while he did reports, sketching him and drawing him. You loved using different mediums and colors, giving him new features and styles. You specifically loved practicing drawing his broad body and sculpted as-

Ahem. Legs.

Yes, ok, fine, you had a small crush on your boss, whatever, no big deal.

You would purposefully finish all of your work as fast as possible so you could sit back and draw him. And because you weren’t loud or annoying, and everything was always done on time and orderly, he let you.

But one mission in particular made him stressed out, and as you watched him filling out data about the anomaly he’d just captured, he glitched his suit down his torso and injected himself with that mysterious green liquid, entrancing you for those glorious few seconds.

It was very obvious he had a nice body, duh. But you never let your mind go too far in imagining him out of his suit, scared to go into a territory you couldn’t back out of.

And now you did, drawing his torso and pecks, shading his abs, and this got you curious about more.

Lower.

Biting your lip, you sat in the cafeteria a few days later. You purposefully sat with your back to a wall, making sure no one could sneak up on you and see what you were drawing, as you drew him laying down. His arms splayed behind his head, face relaxed, as you defined his leg muscles. As you finished the piece of art, the only area you’d avoided was his groin.

And now you stared at the empty area of art, knee bouncing from anxiety about how you were supposed to draw this. You had no reference for him. Yes, you’d seen dicks before, obviously. You lived in a universe with unrestricted internet access, so it’s not like you’d never been around the block, but here you were, blushing like a 15 year old just because of a dick.

Drawing and then erasing and drawing, you repeated the process a few times before you heard someone click their tongue in front of you. You’d been so consumed by what you were doing, you didn’t even feel your spider senses or hear them come close.

Miguel stood with an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips, eyeing you curiously. “Why are you so jumpy?” He asked and you snatched the book in front of you to your chest, stuttering some bullshit answer about too much caffeine. He just nodded and continued giving you a new order.

You got up from your seat and moved to follow him to his cold, dark lair area. As you were about to step onto his platform, you tripped and your hands flew out to stabilize your fall. As you did, the notebook flew across the floor and slid as your vision blurred from how fast you’d collapsed, getting up slowly and rolling your shoulders. You reached to where the sketch book had fallen, but it was no longer there.

No.

NO.

It was between his fingers, as he flipped through the pages slowly, eyeing your work with his brows furrowed, focused. You jumped towards him and he just turned his back, making you feel like you ran into a wall. You reached around him and he webbed your wrist to the table beside you, still not tearing his eyes from your work.

“Stop, that’s private! Give it back!” You shouted and he rolled his eyes briefly.

“It’s all drawings of me, I think I’m allowed to see-“ and his words stopped as he flipped to the newest page.

The nude drawing of him.

You gulped as his expression became unreadable, stoic, and your eyes flashed between the art and him. “I-I was just practicing forms and poses-“

“It’s… inaccurate.” He spoke lowly before your eyes blinked for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean?”

He walked to you and stood tall, bending down slightly to stare directly into your eyes. His mouth turned up at the ends and his eyes glittered with something you’d never seen in him before.

Turning the book back to you and showing you your own drawing, he smirked deeper.

“I’m much bigger.” His eyes were almost challenging you, making your blood run ice cold, and you felt his hands yank your body against his. “Do you want to see for reference?”

And then his watch made a loud sound, Lyla popping up to explain some anomaly on earth number whatever. He groaned and turned to walk out. “I’ll be back once this is done. Don’t go anywhere because When I do return, we’re continuing where we left off.”

Then he was gone and you stood, mouth agape from the whole exchange. You thought it might take a while for him to capture this anomaly, so You’d decided to go back to your own universe in preparation, showering and fixing yourself up. You bit your nail nervously as you thought about it all. Was he serious? No way, right…?

As you stood in the bathroom mirror, the sound of a portal opening cut through your mind like a knife, making your body rush into your living room. You gripped the towel tight around your torso as you saw Miguel walk out of the colorful dimension behind him and into yours. The portal closed and with that, his mask disintegrated so you could see his face. A bit tired, he still had a less-than-enthusiastic expression on.

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere.” He repeated and you stood stuff as a board, now a bit scared. He took slow, calculated steps towards you as your head tilted back to continue watching him. “Inaccurate and disobedient. I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” His index finger hooked under your chin as he smirked and grabbed your hand with his free one, pulling you into your bathroom. He looked around for a second before hitting a button on his watch and letting the fabric disappear.

You bit your lip as your eyes took full advantage of his exposed skin. “You- it-“

“Yeah. I know.” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around, bending you over your counter with your hand breached against your back. “Now I want you to really study how I fuck you, so that you get a good look at how big I am, and how easy I can maneuver this body.” He whispered into your damp hair and pushed down, then ripping the towel away and throwing it out of the bathroom completely.

His eyes stared down at your weeping cunt and he licked his lips. “I’ll be tasting you another time. Today, I want you to really feel my size.” He was cocky, and he had a right to be. His dick was huge, almost alarmingly big.

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you clenched your jaw. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow. That way you can feel good and still learn.” He cooed in a teasing tone and your eyes found his in the mirror, watching intently as he began to push into you. The sudden width he was stretching you to was mind numbing and your knees began to buckle, but he just held you up with one hand, the other still guiding himself into you.

“Coño, your sucking me in so nicely, might not even need to slow down.” He spoke and your eyes were rolling back from his words, to which you snapped out of once his hand that was holding you up held your face harshly towards the mirror. “No slacking, little girl. You better keep your eyes on my cock.”

Halfway inside, and you were already fluttering around him, on the verge of orgasm. “That’s it, sucia, cum on my cock. It’ll be the first time of many.” You shivered at his words, feeling him sink in further and immediately orgasming. The rolls of pleasure washing through you made him grunt as his hips couldn’t help but rut into you harshly. The lack of prep had you feeling everything he was giving you, hyper aware of your insides wrapping around him.

“Mm, wanna fuck me back? Grind back onto my cock? Paciencia, Nena.” He instructed as you kept trying to get him in further. Wrapping a hand around your torso, he tweeked at your nipples and made you gasp from the sensation. “That’s it,” he mumbled.

Finally, smirked, he chuckled darkly as you tried once more to thrust backwards. “Fine, you asked for it.” He met your eyes in the mirror, now blood red and swirling with the threat as he snapped his hips forward and forced the rest of him into you, making you gargle out a strained sound in shock and pleasure. The pain was beautiful, and began to subside quickly as you felt him twitch. He hit every spot and more, feeling new depths and points of pleasure.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as he started a slightly faster pace. Your body jiggled from the movements and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your apartment, your mouth hanging open as your eyes never left were his dick was buried into you. He smiled, enjoying the way you watched his cock disappear into you over and over, and you felt the pressure building once more. How he bullied your cunt and grinned while doing it made you burst, tears breaking free and a scream ripping through you as your pussy squeezed him.

“Fuck, so tight.” He groaned, head now falling back and he kept going, beginning to chase his own high. Your mind had shut off now, fucked practically stupid on his cock and he rocking into you mercilessly. His speed was unmatched and he moved to pick up your hips to meet his, closing the gap your height difference had created, and finally having him slam into you until his hips met your ass, making you choke on your own oxygen from the absolute brutal beating he was giving your cervix.

He slid one hand to the back of your neck and pressed you further into the counter top of your sink, forcing your pert nipples to meet the cold marble and you cried out more, barely able to push back against him now as you were trapped between his body and your bathroom’s confinements with only your top toes touching the floor. Your face was streaked with tears as he grunted and let out ragged breaths.

“The perfect little pussy, so perfect for my cock. You can take it, little artist. You wanted to draw my cock so badly, now you have the perfect image to do it. Fucked deep inside of you. Draw us like this for me, yeah? I wanna see it everyday. Or should I just fuck you every day instead?” His words tumbled from his mouth like an avalanche and you could feel his cock about to burst, making you teeter over that cliff as well. “That’s it, strangle my cock. Cum all over me, niña, paint me with your cute cunt.” He demanded and you obliged, feeling a shooting electric sensation rip out of you. Suddenly, you were both a bit wet between the thighs and he was mesmerized by what he saw. Your juices squirt all over him and he came instantly after seeing that, pounding into you as far as he could and forcing his cum the deepest it could be inside of you.

Both of you were unmoving as you caught your breath, a layer of sweat covering you both as you stared at each other in the mirror. No words could describe what had just happened and Miguel smiled once more, which prompted you to ask.

“What?”

“You need to get a mirror by your bed. Because I want to do this to you every day.” He watched your eyes widen in the mirror in front of you both as he licked your neck from behind and sinking his fangs into your soft skin, jutting his hips once more and making you realize he was still hard.

“For art purposes.”

Part two is out!

[a-leg-without-fear]

Sweet Dreams, TN🩸🔥

shower smut with logan won the poll because of course it did. i love y'all, you horny bastards (affectionate)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 18+

Worcount: 4.7k words of pure sin

Warnings: cursing, shower sex, foreplay, choking, groping, fingering, grinding, biting, bloodplay, marking, Logan's dirty mouth, light dom/sub, overstimulation, unprotected p in v sex (use protection pls), uneven refractory period

Song: Sweet Dreams, TN by The Last Shadow Puppets

Hot water rained down on you from the shower head. Steam poured off your warm body, lavender soap washed away by the thin streams of water, hair plastered to your scalp and neck. A small hum came from between your closed lips. Something indistinct, a little off key, to keep your mind occupied while you rinsed off your arms.

It had been a good day in the mansion. Class went well, the students following your instruction on pinch pots to the T, hardly any children lashing out during your instruction. One of the kids, Shauna, had stayed behind after class to give you a drawing. A scribbled sketch of you, her, and a handful of other classmates drawn in colorful crayon. That had earned her a tight hug and a heartfelt thank you. The drawing was now pinned to the corkboard above your desk amongst dozens of other students’ drawings.

You loved your kids. You really, truly did. Having the good fortune of being able to teach them art was one of the best parts of your long life. Spreading the joy of artistic expression to the young folks around you, the calming aspect of coloring a sketch or the soothing feel of clay between your fingers, was what got you out of bed in the morning.

Just as you were reaching for your hair conditioner, the leaf-patterned shower curtain rustled and drew back from the wall behind you. You let out a hum of acknowledgement.

“Evening, Lo,” you said over your bare shoulder, a warm smirk turning up the corners of your lips. Your gaze was graced by the sight of a naked Logan behind you.

Warm, brown hair styled in two fluffy points, toned chest covered in dark curls, pronounced abs leading into more crisp, dark hair. You snapped your eyes back to his face to keep from staring. A cocky grin tugged on his lips.

“Hey there, doll,” he replied. Thick arms wrapped around your waist, gently tugging you backwards. Your back, covered in water droplets, collided with Logan’s chest. A breathy laugh came from your widening smile.

“Impatient, are we?” you asked teasingly. Your question was met with Logan trailing his lips up and down your exposed neck. An occasional nip with his canines here and there, scruffy beard scratching on your sensitive skin.

“You were taking too long,” Logan uttered as he nipped under your ear. Large, calloused hands began smoothing over your soaked skin. You shuddered against Logan, letting your head fall back against his broad shoulder.

“I’ve only been in the shower for ten minutes, Lo,” you breathed. You felt a puff of air brush against your neck as he huffed. 

“Still too long,” he said, snapping his teeth next to your earlobe. Logan’s hips rolled against your thighs. You could feel his half-hard cock grind between your legs. A choked moan leaked through your lips.

“Logan,” you whimpered under your breath. One of his warm hands traveled back up your body and wrapped loosely around your throat. You whined, high-pitched and needy, as your eyes fell closed.

His other hand continued its path south, smoothing water into your twitching skin, fingers pinching and teasing as they went. Sharp teeth scratched at the skin under your jaw.

“Tell me to stop and I will, doll. Don’t wanna interrupt your shower routine,” he whispered kindly into your skin. 

Your mind was utterly reeling. Consciousness split between a hand on your throat, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip, Logan’s cock against the back of your legs, hot water pouring on your front. It was nearly impossible to form a coherent sentence with how wrecked you already felt. You cleared your throat, swallowing a knot the size of a baseball.

“All I have left is hair conditioner,” you said. Logan’s chest rumbled with a thoughtful hum. His hands retreated in their path to rest gently on your waist.

“Then don’t let me keep you,” he purred, thumbs massaging at your lowest ribs. His lazy grinding against your ass had stopped. You whined, nuzzling your nose into Logan’s stubble-covered throat.

“Please, Lo,” you uttered. You licked at the droplets of water gathering under his jaw, trying to tempt him back into touching you. Logan hummed again. His hazel eyes peered down at you.

“Once you’re done, doll. Then I’ll reward ya,” he said reassuringly. He used his shoulder to nudge you forward, practically prying your naked bodies apart. 

You huffed, frustrated and horny, as you leaned down to pick up your conditioner bottle. The white container sat mockingly in your wrinkling hand. Why should it control whether you get dicked down by the gorgeous man behind you? What right did this bottle of hair conditioner have to keep you from a good fucking?

“Staring at the conditioner ain’t gonna put it in your hair, doll,” Logan teased from behind you. You grumbled at his words, popping open the lid and squeezing the pale conditioner into your palm. You set the accursed bottle back on its shelf.

“It’s an asshole,” you said. That earned you a surprised laugh that shook Logan’s chest. The deep sound bounced off the tile walls and settled deep in your bones. A small grin pulled at your deep frown.

“And what did the bottle do to earn that title?” Logan chuckled. His thumbs continued to trace the lines of your ribs. You sighed while massaging the conditioner between your palms.

“It’s a fucking cockblock, Lo. How dare it keep your hands off me?” you griped, raising your arms to rub the conditioner into the ends of your hair. The flowery, clean scent filled the steam rising from both your and Logan’s bodies.

Logan’s fingers squeezed the soft flesh at your sides, earning a shocked yelp and an elbow to his ribs. He smirked at your response, “My hands are still on you.”

“You know what I mean,” you groused. 

Your fingers wove through your hair as you lathered the strands in cream-colored conditioner. You could just barely feel Logan’s chest brushing against your back. His hands smoothed up and down your sides, a hum of adoration slipping from his lips now and then.

When it came time to rinse your hair out, Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, keeping you from sticking your head under the water.

“Wait,” he said, hands lifting to rest on your shoulders. You cocked an eyebrow at him from over your shoulder. His brow furrowed, clearing his throat, “I… Can I wash your hair for you?”

The pure, unadulterated affection that flowed from that question punched you in the gut like an MMA fighter. You were utterly stunned. Mouth hanging open, eyes wide, breath halted in your lungs. Logan shifted uncomfortably under your perplexed stare.

“Forget it, it’s not-”

“Yes!” you said loudly, cutting him off. He looked taken aback at your exclamation. You turned in his hold so you could face him, palms resting on his chest, “You can wash my hair, Lo. It’s just… The last thing I expected you to ask.”

“Oh,” he sighed, relieved. A small, fond grin grew across his previously grumpy expression. He used the grip on your shoulders to walk you backwards. 

You matched his movement, eyes tracing the crow’s feet around his eyes, until you felt the hot water raining from the shower head pelting your back. Your eyes squinted as water dripped from your scalp and into your face. Logan breathed a chuckle at you, then his hands traveled up your neck and buried his fingers in your hair.

An involuntary, quiet moan slinked up your throat as rough calluses scraped along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered closed. Logan’s fingers massaged between strands of soaked hair, hitting all the spots that made your eyes roll back beneath your eyelids.

“Feel good?” Logan muttered, breath fanning across your damp cheeks. His pinkies dug into a spot at the base of your skull that made your toes curl. You gnawed on your bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing noises.

You felt the faintest brush of Logan’s lips on yours. A ghost of a feeling, like the whisper of a summer breeze. Your fingers twitched against his chest. 

“How do I know your hair’s rinsed?” he asked. The buzz of the words on his lips vibrated your own. A needy whine clawed at the base of your throat.

“Not- Not slick anymore,” was all you could murmur. Your back arched, chest pressing against his, when he started massaging at the tense muscles in your neck. Heavy, warm strokes that eased any tension remaining along your shoulders. Logan chuckled above you.

“Your hair, or your cunt?” he whispered against your chewed lips. Your thighs clenched together around nothing. Burning arousal pooled in your stomach, your spine shivering beneath your flushed skin.

“Definitely hair,” you replied, a breathless laugh leaving your clenched jaw. You felt the smirk dance on Logan’s lips against your own. His fingers pulled through your hair, ringing the last remnants of conditioner out of the soaked strands. A light groan rattled your throat as he pulled on your roots.

Satisfied with his work, Logan slipped his fingers out of your hair and placed his palms on your waist again. It took a lot of effort to open your eyes.

Some of the water showering down on you had apparently reached Logan, as his dark hair laid flat against his scalp, slicked back away from his face. Thick droplets of water dripped from his soaked beard. Fond, wrinkled eyes traced along your face.

“How’d I do?” he asked. You lifted a hand from his chest, the limb feeling a hundred pounds heavier, and felt along the ends of your hair. Perfectly rinsed. Not a spot of conditioner left. You grinned up at him.

“A plus. Top marks,” you answered. His chest rumbled with a fond hum as he pulled you tighter against his chest. Knuckles traced along your spine, the rough joints digging into your back every other vertebrae. 

“And what do I get for such a high grade?” he questioned, hands shifting from stroking your back to gripping the plush skin of your ass. A startled gasp burst from your closed lips. Your nails dug into the firm muscle that lined his chest. 

“I thought you were rewarding me?” you replied shakily. Firm, rough squeezes of Logan’s long fingers on your ass kicked the air from your lungs. You could feel your knees start to buckle.

Logan ducked his head to nip under your chin. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses trailed along your quickly heating skin. Sharp drags of his teeth elicited quick, quiet moans from your lungs. His hot tongue trailed up the underside of your jaw and stopped just below your earlobe.

“I suppose I can make an exception this time,” he drawled in your ear, breath stirring the falling drops of water on your skin. Your hips bucked forward involuntarily. The trembling skin of your stomach rubbed against Logan’s fully hard cock. He groaned, pressing his cheek to yours, grinding his leaking tip into your abdomen.

“Logan,” you whined, nails scratching deep crescents into his skin. The grip on your ass tightened, pulling you impossibly closer to him, a deep growl rolling through his chest. Hot pants fell from his mouth as he continued to grind into you. 

The tile walls blurred as Logan spun you in his arms. Your back pinned against his chest, his cock wedged between your legs, his right arm wrapped around your throat, left hand gripping your hip. A startled moan punched its way out of your mouth.

“How many times do you think I can make you come, hotstuff? Three, four times?” he purred into your ear. The arm around your neck squeezed, choking you lightly, making your head spin. 

Gasping whimpers cascaded past your swollen lips. The heat gathering between your thighs spread through your whole body like a tidal wave. A sinful, aching need coursing through your veins. 

Logan’s fingers trailed down your stomach as he loosened his hold on your throat. The room around you swam amongst a sea of clouded desire. Your breath came back to you in brief spurts, your chest heaving and legs trembling.

“Hmm. Guess we’ll have to find out,” Logan said, then nipped at your earlobe while his middle finger traced a lazy circle around your clit. Your head flew back against his shoulder. Electric shocks of bliss radiated from where he rubbed at your bundle of nerves.

“God, fuck! Logan!” you exclaimed through clenched teeth. He placed a firm kiss beneath the hinge of your jaw. Your mind was short circuiting. It felt like your entire existence was focused on Logan’s fingers rubbing and pinching and lightly scratching at your clit. Your knees threatened to give out. You clawed at the arm wrapped around your neck.

“That’s a good girl. Shh, you’re being so good,” he breathed into your skin. Rough grunts filled your ear as he continued to grind against your ass. 

He shifted his hand, his palm digging into your clit as his fingers stroked up and down your folds. You squirmed in his tight hold. Nails scratching at the skin of his forearm, pinpricks of blood left in your scrabbling wake. Logan pressed his lips to your temple.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he whispered, breath stirring the hair along your forehead. 

The pressure from the heel of Logan’s palm lessened as his middle finger pushed inside you. Rough skin and bony knuckles hit every single nerve ending. The stretch of his finger was absolutely exquisite. Not nearly enough to dull the burning need inside you, but filling you just enough to leave you panting and wanting more.

He brushed the pad of his fingertip against that spongy spot inside you. White stars dotted along the edges of your blurred vision. Euphoria poured into your veins like a raging waterfall. The loud moan that threatened to escape your lips was cut off as Logan squeezed his arm, choking you. Your eyes rolled back in your head again.

The sensation of his finger sliding in and out of you was only intensified by the vice he had on your throat. Soft-edged pleasure filled your mind with nothing but Logan. His fingers on and inside you, his warm breath on your temple, his cock grinding against you.

He added his pointer finger on the next push inside you. You stretched around the digits, arousal coating them in slick. Logan grunted in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned. The grip on your throat lessened once again, humid air filling your strained lungs. His fingers glided inside you and brushed that spot, making you keen and whimper, then slid back out. 

A quick, brutal pace was set as he fingered you. Heel of Logan’s palm grinding against your clit, fingers pistoning in your cunt, arm squeezing and choking your neck. All you could do was cling to his forearm for dear life. That knot in your core twisted and churned with every shove of his fingers inside you. Unbridled ecstasy coated your bloodstream, shoving you further and further under the brutal waves drowning you with pleasure.

An enormous wave threatened to crash over you. The knot tightened, your breath hitched, your knees gave out. Logan cradled you against his chest as he continued to finger-fuck you. Delicate praise whispered through gritted teeth filtered through your swirling senses. You distantly thought of how lucky it was that Logan could support your entire weight, seeing as your legs no longer functioned.

The brief, wandering thought was quickly shoved from your mind when Logan added his ring finger inside you. Three thick, long digits fucking into you at a brutal pace. Every shove inside you brushing against the spot that held you beneath those waves. Warm, honeyed pleasure filled your lungs. That tidal wave crested over your helpless body. Your cunt clenched around Logan’s fingers. You felt a feral grin spread over the lips pressed to your temple.

“That’s it. Come for me, sugar,” Logan grunted into your ear. With one final squeeze around your throat, the wave came crashing down on top of you.

World-encompassing rapture flooded your senses. Violent swells of utter euphoria crashed into you, over and over again. Your mind exploded into fractured glass, your lungs stuttered behind your ribs, your eyes screwed shut. Loud, choked moans threatened to break through the barrier Logan built with his arm locked around your throat.

You barely felt alive. The destruction and devastation that lay in the wake of your climax left you shivering in Logan’s arms. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your chest heaved when the vice around your neck loosened, your fingers gripping limply at Logan’s arm.

But he didn’t let up. He kept pounding into you at the same brutal pace, palm slapping wetly against your clit. You squirmed in his hold. Desperate pleas fell from your lips. You clawed and scraped at his forearm.

“Lo- I can’t- I- Logan, please,” you begged. Logan nipped at your hairline, shifting the arm around your throat down to grip around your waist, holding you flush against him.

“You can, doll. You can give me one more,” he said, biting at the column of your neck. The grinding of his cock on your ass ceased as he focused entirely on dragging you into another orgasm. You writhed against his chest, a sob rattling inside your chest.

The growing wave above you climbed higher and higher. Every pound inside you sent ripples of sharp heat coursing through your body. It was nearly nauseating, how quick the knot built up in your core. Almost painful how the surges of pleasure overtook your dazed mind.

Your orgasm rocked through you like a kick to the chest. Choked sobs wracked your trembling body, splashes of rapture coating your lungs and throat, leaving you a shaking and blubbering mess. Incoherent strings of curses and Logan’s name fell from your gaped mouth.

It seemed Logan had taken pity on you, as he withdrew his hand from between your thighs. A strained, relieved sigh broke through the incomprehensible noises and words streaming from your lips. He placed chaste kisses along the side of your face.

“Shhh, good girl. That’s my good girl,” Logan murmured against your temple. He rubbed soothing circles into your oversensitive skin. Heavy pants heaved out of you. The floor swayed beneath you, jets of hot water beating at you like hail on a window.

You gulped the steam-filled air into your lungs. Electric aftershocks made you shudder at each brush of Logan’s fingers on your body or his lips on your neck. The room around you returned to your vision in bits and pieces. White tiles lined in gray grout, yellow shower curtain decorated in painted leaves, silver handles and shower head, white hair conditioner bottle sitting on a clear plastic shelf.

“H-Holy shit, Lo,” you gasped. You felt a proud smile cross the lips pressed against your jaw. The arm tucked along your waist smoothed up and down your stomach. Gentle glides of his palms and fond kisses along your neck cleared the cloud that filled your mind. 

“Back with us?” he asked, setting you down on your unsteady feet. He held you upright as you found your footing on the slick shower floor. 

“Yeah. I think so,” you said as you turned to face Logan. As soon as your chest was pressed to his, a warm hand tucked under your chin and brought your lips to his. Gentle, sweet, relaxed. His tongue passed through your lips and licked into your pliant mouth. A light sigh escaped your throat and slipped between you.

“We can pause for a bit,” he whispered as he pulled back. A touch of concern furrowed between his dark brows. His thumb ran along your chin as he searched your eyes for hesitancy.

“No need,” you said, throwing him a lopsided smile as you carded your fingers through his drenched hair. You looped your arms around his shoulders, “I’m good to go. Wreck me all you want.”

The same feral grin you felt against your temple stretched across Logan’s lips. Sharp canines bared, eyes wide and looking at you like you were dinner. Excitement reawakened the arousal that had subsided in your abdomen.

Logan’s large hands scooped under your thighs and slammed your back against the slippery tile wall, your legs wrapping around his hips, as his mouth crashed into yours. His cock grinded into your oversensitive folds, flushed tip brushing at your clit. High, airy moans filtered from your throat and into the space your mouths shared. Your fingers buried themselves in his drenched hair.

A low growl left Logan’s chest when you tugged at his roots. His hips snapped forward, fingers digging into thick flesh, crisp hair at the base of his cock scraping the inside of your thighs.

“Shit, Lo, please just fuck me already,” you whined into his open mouth. Your hips moved in rhythm with Logan’s, desperation beginning to claw at your throat. Scalding waves of needneedneed coated your body in thick honey. 

Water cascaded down your bodies as Logan angled his hips to line up with your entrance. Anticipation burned away at your nerve endings.

The slow push inside, stretching and straining your soaked cunt to the limit, thick cock brushing against every bump and ridge. Your back bowed off the tile wall, pain and pleasure making an intoxicating concoction between your thighs. Blunt nails scraped at Logan’s shoulders. 

When, at last, he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused to allow you to adjust. His hazel eyes remained locked with yours, fingers squeezing at the skin along your thighs, gasping breath mingling with yours. 

He released his hold on one of your legs and directed you to bear your own weight. Your other leg remained hiked up over his hip. His forearm rested on the tile by your head as he leaned over you. The change in position drove him impossibly deeper inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned.

“Ah- fuck, doll. Good?” Logan grunted next to your ear. You nodded, fingers burying themselves deeper in his hair. 

He tightened his grip on your leg as he pulled out. The slick glide overpowered your mind, sparks igniting on the edges of your vision. Logan wasted no time before thrusting back inside you to the hilt. A sharp groan shot out of your lips. His mouth crashed into yours as he set a slow, grinding pace. Hips barely leaving the inside of your thighs before rutting his cock against that spot inside you. 

“Sh-it!” you whined into Logan’s mouth. Every slow pull along your walls knocked the breath from your lungs. The skin above his cock, firm with taut muscle, rubbed at your aching clit. Shockwaves of pleasure centered on your cunt ricocheted through your body. 

You wouldn’t last long. Not with the remnants of your two previous orgasms hanging over you like a dense fog. You felt submerged in an ocean of sin. Dancing sunlight filtering through roaring waves above your head. Deep blue surrounding you on all sides. Thick, molasses leaden desire filling your lungs and making you gasp.

Logan’s teeth scraped at the skin above the artery in your neck. Canines digging into the flesh and drawing small droplets of blood. The arm he had braced above your head tangled in your freshly washed hair. He tilted your head to drink from the wine your body willingly provided.

This orgasm didn’t wash over you, it yanked. Grabbing you by the ankles and pulling your feet out from under you, sending you careening into a void of white hot ecstasy that coated you like black ink. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s a good girl,” Logan groaned against your throat as he withdrew from your cunt. Before you could blink you were spun in place, chest pressed against the tiled wall, knee hiked up by Logan’s hand. 

Tremors from your climax still rattled your joints as he pushed back inside you. His chest pressing into your back, lips wrapping around the cut in your neck, hand not supporting your leg squeezing at your breast. Rough fingers rolled your nipple between callused pads.

You could barely breathe after Logan started pounding into you. Cock ramming into you so hard you knew you’d walk funny for a week. Your hands scratched helplessly at the white tile. His teeth scraped at the thin skin under your ear, grunts thick with pleasure bouncing off the wall in front of you. You reached a hand over your shoulder and threaded your fingers in his hair, holding his mouth to your throat.

“B-Bite me, Lo. Mark me,” you breathed. He needed no further encouragement. His sharp canines pierced your skin and dug into your veins. You cried out at the intrusion in your flesh. Fresh, hot blood leaked from the bites and into Logan’s waiting mouth. You felt his breath hitch against your neck.

“God, vampire. I- fuck!” he panted. The hand holding your leg squeezed bruises into your thigh, the beginnings of painted blues and purples covering your flushed skin. Logan’s hips stuttered against your thighs. You could feel his chest heaving. It seemed the relentless fucking was absolutely destroying you both.

The large hand playing with your breast slipped between your thighs. Lazy, distracted circles rubbed into your overstimulated clit. You lurched against Logan’s chest. Head falling back on his broad shoulder, fingers squeezing damp hair, hips bucking to match his steadily slowing thrusts. 

A jagged groan stirred against your throat as Logan came undone, cock buried deep and spilling inside you. His heavy head fell to your shoulder. Heaving breaths gusted from his lips and blew the remaining water droplets off your heated skin. 

You only had a moment to breathe before he rubbed at your clit with new fervor. Cock still within your cunt, release leaking out of you and down your legs, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw. 

“Gimme one more. C’mon, vampire. You can do it,” Logan said. He licked up the streams of blood spilling from the cuts in your neck. Your head spun, lungs feeling far too empty, cunt pulsing around his softening cock.

An explosion of stabbing, almost painful euphoria burst from your core and burned the rest of your body. Rubble crashed into your skin, fire burned at your senses, smoke filled your already heaving lungs. Your vision blacked out as your climax wiped your mind clean. 

You felt like you were drifting on a raft in a lazy river. Cool water ushering your limp body down a calm stream. An occasional wave rocking the raft to and fro. Warm sun streaming through breaks in the trees and heating your skin.

A light caress on your cheek broke you from your revere. Your eyelids peeled open, blurry gaze focusing on an incredibly hazy Logan sitting in front of you. When did you end up on the floor?

“There you are,” he said, breathing a small sigh of relief. You were both sprawled out on the floor of the shower. Logan must have shut off the water at some point as the steady stream wasn’t bouncing off the white tiles. Your tired gaze flitted over Logan’s seated body.

He was still naked. That much was delightfully obvious. Remnants of water from the shower head dripped from his soaked hair and down his face. Hazel eyes inspected your exhausted body from head to toe.

“Hey,” you mumbled, a weak smile gracing your lips. You felt utterly drained. It took everything in you to keep your eyes open and your head up. 

“Hey. You alright?” Logan replied while moving to kneel in front of you. Warm fingers brushed against the sides of your face. You gave him a tired nod. “Yeah, I’m good,” you said. Logan pressed a brief kiss into your hairline. You hummed in response, “Don’t know what I did to warrant all that, though.”

Logan breathed out a chuckle, “Nothing special. Just couldn’t deal with you getting all hot and wet without me.”

You weakly slapped him in the stomach. The attack was met with an amused sigh and another kiss to your forehead. A whisper of “asshole” left your reluctantly smiling lips.

i have been writing this for a solid eight hours now. enjoy

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[catmask]

Looked at art FAQ and I hope this isn't too similar to the brush setting question óvò. But one thing I admire is how smooth and confident your lines are!! :0 They're so smooth!! Do you have any advice on how to practice or general tips? Do you utilize the stabilization tool? I've tried to use it here and there but I'm worried about relying on it too much. Also honestly using stabilization makes drawing feel "slower" and off.

i dont actually draw with stabilization on (very much at least. i think ive got it set to like 12%, so it imitates the drag drawing on real paper might have)

personally for learning smoother lineart other than the general rule of 'move fast, make swooping motions, redo it as many times as you need to get a broad stroke' is to draw traditionally in pen!

so like no sketch or anything underneath just Draw in pen. if u mess up either keep going or start over. this gradually kind of forces you to gain a confidence to your lines bc you got no eraser and no undo button.

additionally, i think this is part of why i really dislike youtube sketchbook tours... pretty frequently those sketchbooks are full of really beautiful clean pieces, and no mockups or swatches anywhere! nothing wrong with that ofc but i think culutrally as artists its given everyone a really twisted idea of what a sketchbook is for. theyre meant to be places where you practice and get loose! i sometimes draw the same thing three times on the same page if i mess up.

for example, these are some sketchbook pages of mine ^_^ i draw in colored pencil too bc i like the texture and you cant erase it easy + it doesnt smudge

[astralnymphh]

Omg can I request Ellie and reader on halloween night exploring an abandoned house that’s known to be haunted. Ellie and reader are both huge fans of horror and ghosts, often exploring abandoned places and even using those apps that you can talk to ghosts with. So, you both go, but terrifying things begin to happen and you’re both freaking the fuck out equally. Bonus points if Ellie gets protective <3

ok so yeah i had to do a bit of a drabble for this one! nothing too extreme though, but i love this idea. instead of them using apps, because ellie is such a nerd, i think she would have the genuine gear for it. girl heard the words "ghost hunting" and decked out immediately in all the utilities. ellie image @/angel-gbc

“Can you tell us your name?”

This house is a chamber of disembodied sounds. Ellie discovered it on her usual walk from work, dead and moth-eaten as ever, and all she wanted to do was explore it through and through. She loves horror, and you follow her on that sentiment. The Victorian face of the house has remained gently intact—a debris-ridden ghost of its preceding self—save for a few holes, shattered windows, spots of soot from fire, and the eternal state of squalor. Eternal life of loneliness, unwantedness. Quite a big, blotchy stain on a lovely modern neighborhood full of copy and paste houses, huh?

Wrong!

Gentry used to live there, and now the gentry want it torn up. Like a sketch you feel disgust looking at.

But you admit this plainly. Watching your nerdy girlfriend psych herself to come here with every gimmick and gadget pushing on the seams of her backpack really is cute. Noticing her lip curl when there's even a second of static feedback on the spirit box, really is the cherry on top of a long weekend; you regret nothing.

For now.

She is kneeling, you are crouching. “You can use the—um, spirit box,” Ellie swallows her throat clear, adjusting the placement of the equipment. ”To talk to us.” Ridiculous excursion or not, you both felt a bit on edge. Hairs raise in anticipation.

Your pores felt susceptible. Open to the change in the air, responsive to the uncomfortable sounds of clothes and limbs shifting. Maybe your mind had made up an individual now: a pompous and rich woman. Tight in the waist from the boning of a corset, and rather busty because of it. She is the woman of this household, you believe, and she circles you with broad shoulders and steel curiosity. Not too creative for a nineteenth-century ghost.

You could feel her stare crawling all over you. Or your imagination. Shivers run up your spine regardless.

“Hey, maybe we should ask what happened to her,” you bleat, not conscious of how disomforted you look palming the back of your neck, or your words. The air has gone cold.

Ellie scales a brow at you. “Her? Shit, have you gone psychic now?” Her questioning tone drips of mock and shock, somehow simultaneously. But one widens her expression when static crackles inside the receiver, and lets a low sound through. She props up on her knees. “Could you tell us what happened to you?”

The feedback ends.

Ellie huffs a sigh of disappointment, lowering herself again. So much for going psychic. “Good job, though. Seem to 've said somethin' right,” she reveres you softly, pricking a knee up to set her fist on. Her leather jacket shines low with your flashlight.

The event left you paranoid, but all you can do is wonder if she feels the same, but stomachs a facade over it. God, does she think she needs to impress you?

Apparently so. Behind the silence, came a violent clatter of wood, or a door, none can be sure. You were the first instantiation; something between a shirek and a gasp calls your hand to cocoon at your chest, and you scatter aimlessly onto your bottom. It felt like an injection of fear. It made your blood drain. Made your breath run thick.

Fucking ghosts.

Ellie repined in a yelling whisper. “Jesus!” Her silhouette much more composed and still upright, but with a hand on her heart. Faint sounds of her scooting over, however, spurn your sight from the suspected room of activity, her acorn-brown brows pulled to a worried low. “You good?”

The gentleness of the question soothes. “Sure.” Somewhat.

Her lips quirk, and she hesitates a laugh. “Ha—yeah. No clue what the fuck that was,” she rasps as she slides up next to you, the warmth of her hand eroding the stifle in your back. She encourages you to ease into it with rubbing motions. “Way scarier than horror movies make it out to be, huh?”

You over-ease, “Definitely,” the word falling out so heavy. The charm of her actions make you forget this place even surrounds you. Material disappears. “God, my heart is racing.” You lean into your knees.

Ellie noses at your neck, tip smushing. “I got you.”

She does. You cannot see her from your cocooned vantage, but you can feel her breath, and sweet lips forming into kisses. The little noises created let you imagine instead: she is probably donning a dorky smile, and has wispy, brown, shut eyes. You picture her hand coming up to clasp your shoulder, right when it actually does.

“Good thing we aren't in an actual horror movie, though,” Ellie presses the joke into your humid neck, slowly creeping behind your ear. “That would suck.”

You bring your forehead up, smiling tauntingly. “You would probably die first since you're so distracted.”

Her mouth clicks. “Shut up.” But resumes the delicate act of pinching at your skin without shame. That, for her, is the reason the other-worldly, torturing atmosphere around you turns to something of a soothing bliss. Funnily enough, it happens during said movies. Distractions on your neck and a greedy girl hungry to eat them whole and proudly.

Though, when she finally comes to her senses, she plays knight in converse and band-shirt armor and scopes the area of interest. Nothing was there except an old broom and a rat nest. Made for a whole lot of embarrassment later on in bed, that is for damn sure. Little comments of “I'm such an idiot,” rolling off your tongue while Ellie complimented you on your sudden intuition; the house did indeed belong to a woman of affluent status. How sexy is intuition? Ellie would know.

But Ellie loves being your ghost-hunting bodyguard—and nerd—either way. Something inherent inside her says she might be made for it.

a/n: wrote this in one go so i hope it suffices enough! click here for my autumntime masterlist!

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[crabsnpersimmons]

MAKE A DRAWING OF THE HEADS OF THE ATTENDANTS AT YOUR AU 'eaten' SO I HAVE REFERENCES FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.... I'm dying to do this....

help Lina dear👍....please...

hahaha no prob lina! you actually have great timing! i've been working on some headshots of my DCA OCs (so i can make a masterlist of them all eventually)

so here's a preview of that with the Have You Eaten? boys:

P.S. "Sunshine" and "Mooncake" are their nicknames (from Moon of course!) i often use them in my notes just so i can differentiate all the different Suns and Moons (the Eclipses are harder to keep track of... but i guess that's in-character for them 😂)

this drawing also gives you an idea of their outfits and the shape of their torsos:

Sun and Moon are the same height at 7'5" and Eclipse is taller at 8'

they have broad shoulders, leading to a triangular shaped torso

they wear grey chefs jackets and black trousers. Eclipse will also wear a yellow and red striped waist apron. i haven't thought of their casual outfits at all, i should think about that 😂

Eclipse also has a second pair of arms that come out from his back:

both right arms are orange and yellow, and both left arms are blue and grey. he usually keeps them tucked inside his casing unless he needs them

here's their side profiles too:

they have a cranium behind their faceplates and thicker necks as part of their upgrades that allow them to eat food as an alternative to charging

also! their mouths are functional, so they can open and close their lips, part their teeth, and they have a tongue with taste receptors. the best reference i have is a sketch for a funny comic i'll be drawing soon:

they all have blank eyes, but they do have white pupils that show occasionally (with another WIP for reference):

anyways! can't wait to see what you draw! your art is always such a treat!

[homiesexuallaj]

Request: Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård version) introverted loner, meets Shelly who helps bring him out of his shell. Its love at first sight for Eric😍🖤

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Warnings/Genre: heavy au, fluff, rehab, troublemaker Shelly, Shelly makes you into a troublemaker, you and Shelly are like besties, shy Eric, reader flirts with Eric a tad, drug mention, mention of cigarettes

A/N: Okay yes I did read the ask wrong but in my defense I was blinded by the god of “x reader’s” and somehow my brain added that shelly introduced the reader to Eric, but hopefully you still enjoy it!

--- --- ---

You'd been in rehab awhile now. At least a couple months. You didn't have many friends, or any really. You had a few acquaintances that you got along with but no one that you had a true bond with.

Every day became the same for you. Shower, get dressed, breakfast, group therapy, afternoon outside time, lunch, one-on-one therapy, evening outside time, dinner, sleep, and repeat. It was tiring with no change. Until a certain duo started to cause some ruckus.

You didn't know who they were. The noticeable things were that they both were severely tatted up and that there seemed to be a whole foot of height difference between the two. The girl of the duo seemed to cause the trouble and disruption, dragging the poor, tall boy into her shenanigans. After getting in trouble for the umpteenth time, the boy disappeared and you came into view.

The girl, who's name was Shelly, popped herself right down at your table during lunch time. She had such a wide smile that her usual wide eyes turned to crescents. She twirled her hair as you two talked.

You two seemed to click almost instantly and Shelly quickly brought you out of your shell, dragging you into mischief. Mischief like sitting with boys Shelly thought were attractive, causing food fights, sneaking around after hours, escaping through the narrow windows in the laundry room, and giving each other stick-and-poke tattoos.

Shelly really did bring the troublemaker out of you.

Three weeks went by before Shelly's male companion was released from solitary confinement.

Shelly quickly flew back into his arms, dragging you by your hands. And here, you finally got a good close-up look at the man.

Compared to before solitary confinement, the man has black, crow-colored hair. Throughout the weeks here, his mullet had grown out, the tips of his hair curling up and peaking out from behind his neck. His eyes were a muddy green, brown flecks turning golden in the sunlight. His black tattoos were a stark contrast against his pale skin. And up close now, the man really was tall. So tall that you were face-to-face with his chest, his very broad chest.

Over the next few weeks of troublemaking, you learned that Shelly's male companion's name was Eric Draven and that Shelly often took the lead in troublemaking (with you being announced as second-in-command). Eric was rather shy and was often dragging in your's and Shelly's troublemaking. And he wasn't lookout, oh no, Eric was dragged down right into the middle. He often hoisted you girls up into places where your heights wouldn't allow you to reach.

At the moment, it was just you prancing through the halls. Shelly was off playing with one of her boy toys. You weren't looking for anyone in particular but when you came upon an open door on the second floor you couldn't help but peer in.

The room was messy. The mattress was overturned and the sheets torn off. There were papers everywhere, practically covering the tile floor, and a couple sheets of paper were thrown out into the hallway. In the middle of the room, picking up some of the papers, was Eric. He seemed irritated, probably because the care staff had ransacked his room. You shrugged, picking up the papers that led from the hallway and into his room.

"Well well well," You started, leaning against the doorframe. "What do we have here?"

"Oh um," Eric seemed to jump a bit at your presence. "Just some sketches."

You hummed, "You mind if I take a peak?"

"Not at all," Eric responded, swiping aside a couple papers so he could out his mattress right side up.

You flipped through your hand full of papers. Eric's drawings were good. Many were of the outside forest that surrounded the rehab building, others were of people around the common areas, and a few more caught your eye. There were some drawings of Shelly, mostly closeups like poses or while she was doing something nearby. The rest were of... you. Most from afar, drawn from across rooms or from different floors (as the angle suggested). The drawings were innocent enough, but one or two were you drawn in your undershirt and sweats with a hint of your nipples poking through the thin material. You blushed and cleared your throat.

"You like women with tight clothes, don't you?" You teased, watching as Eric put the sheets back on his bed.

Eric stood and looked down at your hand, seeing the slightly provocative drawings. He blushed heavy, spreading out across is cheeks and down his neck.

"Sometimes," He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

You only hummed in response and nodded, setting the papers down on a nearby table. You sauntered over to the taller man, causing him to drop his sheets that he was attempting to wrap around his mattress. You stood as tall as you could and wrapped your arms around Eric's shoulders, pulling him down to you a bit.

"What do you like to do for fun, Eric?" You practically purred, standing close but yet not close enough.

Eric looked between your eyes, nervous but there was obviously something else ticking in his mind. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his hands twitching. It was like he was itching to touch you but wasn't sure if he was allowed.

"I'll-I'll show you," Eric told you and made a motion to stand at his full height.

You pulled away from Eric and watched his movement.

Eric moved around you and peaked out the doorway of his room, looking for wandering staff. Once the coast was deemed clear, Eric grabbed your hand (almost on instinct) and lead you down and around the hallways.

The white walls twisted and turned. Wherever Eric was leading you, it got dimmer and dimmer. After another look around, Eric opened a door that he lead you two to. It squeaked loudly and you both cringed. Before you could have a look around, Eric pulled you into the dark room. The door shut behind you and you were befallen into pure darkness.

Eric let go of your hand and you could hear him shuffling around. He knocked into a couple things, cursing under his breath. A metallic creak and a groan were heard and the room was lit up from the ceiling. A ladder came down from the square opening. You stared at it, wondering what Eric had gotten you into.

"I'll go first," Eric muttered, already climbing up the ladder.

You followed a few steps behind.

Eric disappeared into the light. You followed and peaked your head up into the open air.

You were on top of the rehab building, rocks covered the entire roof. It was all flat, save for the three-foot-tall border around the roof to keep people from falling off. There were a few machines up here, like for air conditioning and stuff. It was all white up here, with the texture of gray from the rocks.

A tattooed hand interrupted your looking around. You followed the arm up to the face of the person. Eric was giving you an amused look. You rolled your eyes and grabbed Eric's hand, allowing him to help you the rest of the way up.

"So how did you learn to come up here?" You asked once your feet hit the rocks.

"The staff only come up here during certain times of the day," Eric answered, leading you to some metal duct-work that laid down on the roof. "If you watch it's not hard to learn their routines."

"Ah," You responded, now realizing how much Eric really watched his surroundings. "So this.. is what you do for fun?"

"Kinda boring, right?" Eric chuckled, sitting down on the duct-work and fishing a couple thin, white objects and an orange lighter from between the rocks.

"Why this?" You asked, avoiding Eric's question.

"It's just nice to get away from people sometimes," Eric lit the thin object, a cigarette, and took a hit. "It's loud down there. Out here is quiet."

Eric blew the smoke away from you and offered you the cigarette.

"No thanks," You held a hand up. "I don't smoke."

Eric nodded, keeping the cigarette to himself now.

It was quiet now. You couldn't help but side-eye Eric, admiring his smoking form. His long fingers kept the cigarette held in place, you noticed a slight tremor in them.

You could help but scoot a bit closer to the tall man, still eyeing him to see his reaction to you testing the waters. You saw him side-eyeing you back. You switched your eyes to the forest ahead, watching the swaying trees. Slowly, you leaned over towards Eric and laid your head atop his shoulder.

He tensed for a moment but relaxed, taking another hit from his cigarette.

"You're right," You muttered. "It is quiet up here."

--- --- ---

A/N: My askbox is open for Eric Draven! Feel free to drop one in!

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?)

genre: enemies to lovers I guess? I'm bad at these 😭

summary: one week, your usual work partner is absent, so instead you are seated next to a genius with attitude problems. it happens.

wc: ~500

A/N: if i can manage to be consistent for once, this will probably be a series because I haven't done one in a while. pls feel free to leave your reactions in the tags or comments! happy reading 🫶🏾

next see all parts in my masterlist!

Sunlight filtered through the large classroom window. Usually, you'd be seated right by it, letting the rays warm your face in the air-conditioned room.

Not today. Your usual partner was out sick, so you were moved to the back of the classroom. Blocking out the sunshine was the silhouette of a boy you had only seen in the hallways once or twice.

He had deep brown skin, with two neat cornrows cascading down either side of his neck and brushing his shoulders. You also made out an undercut, faded cleanly beneath the braids. There was a case meant for holding glasses sitting at the front of his desk, but no spectacles sitting on his prominent nose. 

The boy was bent over his worksheet already, arm covering the page.

"Hey," you said with a pleasant upturn in your voice. A full thirty seconds passed. He didn't answer, so you try again.

"Um, excuse me-"

"I heard you." 

The boy kept his eyes on his desk, brows knitted together with focus. He was making broad, sharp strokes with his pencil. His elbow moved for a moment, revealing not a sheet of math problems, but a piece of printer paper filled with intricate geometric designs. Precise lines come together to create the form of a caped figure. It has large, mechanical claws and a mask with sharp, wide eyes.

"That's a cool drawing," you commented. The boy's shoulders jumped to his ears as if he'd been caught before dropping back down. He finally looked up from the page and paused. Wide, brown eyes flickered across your face, trying to determine what to make of you.

"Thanks," was all that the boy said before returning to his sketching. It wasn't long before you interrupted him again.

"You not gonna finish your work?"

"I'm already done, that's why Ms. Jones put me back here and let me rock."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me," you muttered to yourself. 

You messed with the sleeve of your royal blue uniform blazer in silence, weighing your options. Ms. Jones wasn't going to let you turn in another incomplete assignment, and this kid couldn't even be assed to say 'hello'. A deep sigh escapes your lips.

"Can I get your name, at least?"

The boy set his pen down with a slam, and looked up at you as if he'd just been asked what color the sky was.

"Morales," he deadpanned, with a slight roll on the 'r'. 

"Which Morales?"

"Miles."

You hummed in slight recognition, having heard the name somewhere before, murmured next to you in passing.

"You Dominican?"

"Puerto Rican."

"Oh, cool."

"M-hm." 

He picked up his pen again and began to twirl it between his pointer and middle finger, but held your gaze. You looked like you were finally about to get to the actual question.

"Well, Morales," you began with a smile.

Here it comes.

"Since you're done, can you help me with-"

"No."

You scoffed, "What's the point of being partners, then?"

Miles had already returned to his original position, scribbling away. He didn't look at you, this time.

"We not partners, ma."

...And so began the longest school week of your life.