#trying not to hate everything I draw challenge impossible

[oreokins]

speedstorm anxiety doodles

ft. some joy too,, tho don't really like how the joy ones came out,, aghhh

[theonottsbxtch]

Hi again! It’s 🐴

I have a request for youuu. What if there is a spy!reader that has been at blows with spy!Oscar Piastri? They’re enemies that will eventually turn to lovers perhaps? 👀 I do love me a good enemies to lovers trope sometimes.

SKYFALL PT.1 | OP81

an: hello again sugar! oh my god the fun i had so much fun writing this, it's a short series. i wrote it all yesterday when i was on a massive coach trip up to see my friend and i am now in love with spy!oscar piastri RAHHH, i also had to name this skyfall because that's like the trademark song for formula one

wc: 2.5k

The rain was relentless, a steady downpour that washed over the narrow Italian streets, cloaking everything in a hazy mist. The city had always had a certain charm, but tonight it felt like a battlefield. She moved swiftly through the shadows, the collar of her coat pulled up, shielding her from the cold rain. She’d memorised every turn, every alley. There was no room for mistakes tonight.

She approached the dimly lit café, her pulse steady, her mind sharp. This was supposed to be an easy job—retrieve the data, disappear. But in her line of work, things rarely went as planned.

Inside, the familiar hum of quiet conversations filled the air. Tourists sipped espresso, locals lingered over wine. She took a seat by the window, her eyes scanning the room beneath her calm exterior. The contact was late. She hated late.

Just as she began to grow impatient, the door swung open, and he walked in.

Her breath caught in her throat. Him.

Oscar Piastri.

Of all the spies in the world, it had to be him on the same mission as her.

He strode in with that same infuriating confidence, the same icy precision that made her blood boil. His eyes flicked toward her, and for the briefest moment, a spark of recognition passed between them, but his expression remained unreadable. He was good at that—masking every emotion behind that cold, calculating demeanour.

They had a history, and it wasn't a pleasant one. Their agencies had been at odds for years, and every time they crossed paths, it ended in a battle of wits, and occasionally, fists. Oscar represented everything she loathed—arrogance, superiority, and an unnerving calm that made him impossible to shake.

She kept her eyes on him, but her heart raced faster now. She couldn’t afford to lose focus. He was here for the same reason she was. The data. The intel. A mission neither could fail.

Oscar made his way to the counter, seemingly unaware of her presence, but she knew better. He never missed anything. Every move he made was deliberate, every step calculated. When he glanced her way again, their eyes locked, and this time, the tension between them was palpable. It crackled in the air, sharp and electric, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons. It could have been cut with a butter knife.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew.

Of course, he knew.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain still. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled. Not again. Not like last time.

But that smirk. That damn smirk was infuriating.

He slid into a seat at the bar, casually ordering a drink. His back was to her, but she could feel his attention on her, a subtle challenge in the air. They both knew what this meant. Their agencies might have sent them for the same intel, but there was no sharing in their world. It was winner take all.

The only problem? He was as skilled as she was. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little better.

The waitress approached, handing her a folded napkin along with her coffee. She didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. She unfolded the paper carefully, her hands steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath her skin.

"Looks like we’re playing this game again, sweetheart. Try to keep up this time."

Her fingers curled around the napkin, crumpling it as she glanced up at him. Oscar didn’t turn around, but she could sense the amusement radiating off him.

He was baiting her.

This was how it always started between them. A game of cat and mouse. Only neither of them was ever quite sure who was which.

She stood up, throwing a few bills on the table when she noticed her contact. If he wanted a chase, she would give him one. But this time, she wouldn’t let him win. Not again.

She stepped outside, the rain cooling the heat of her frustration. As she disappeared into the night, she could feel his eyes on her back, watching, waiting.

But if Oscar Piastri thought he could outsmart her this time, he was sorely mistaken.

She moved through the rain-slick streets, her mind racing ahead of her. She knew Oscar wouldn’t wait long to make his move. He never did. This was a game they’d played too many times before, and she knew the pattern. He would strike soon—he had to. They were after the same intel, and neither of them could afford to let the other get ahead.

She ducked into a narrow alley, her hand resting lightly on the concealed weapon at her side. Her eyes scanned the rooftops, the windows, anywhere an ambush could come from. Oscar was as subtle as a shadow, but she knew his tricks.

Her ears caught the faintest scrape of a shoe against wet pavement, and she spun around just as a figure emerged from the dark. Oscar, dressed in black, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight’s faint glow.

“Took you long enough,” she called, her voice dripping with challenge.

“I thought I’d give you a head start this time,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the rain. He stepped closer, his movements fluid, predatory. “How kind of me, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

She scoffed, her muscles tensing as she prepared for what was coming. Oscar was many things—arrogant, infuriating, dangerous—but slow wasn’t one of them. He’d never given her a head start in his life, and he wasn’t about to now.

The brief moment of stillness stretched between them like the taut string of a bow, tension building, unspoken. Then, without warning, he lunged.

She darted backward, her reflexes sharp, as his fist cut through the air where her face had been seconds ago. He was fast, faster than most, but she was ready. She countered with a sharp kick aimed at his ribs, but Oscar caught her ankle mid-air, twisting just enough to throw her off balance.

Before she could react, he yanked her toward him, spinning her in a blur of motion. Her body twisted through the air, her legs wrapping around his neck as she locked her thighs, using his own strength against him. For a split second, she thought she had the upper hand, feeling his body jerk in surprise as she clung to his shoulders, her weight dragging him downward.

But Oscar was quick to recover. He snarled under his breath, his hands gripping her waist as he spun, using the momentum to slam her back-first into a nearby table of a cafe that most certainly didn’t deserve this. The wooden surface cracked beneath the force of the impact, and pain shot through her spine.

He didn’t stop. His hands were on her throat before she could regain her footing, the pressure cutting off her air as he loomed over her, his expression dark and dangerous. His body was close, too close, and the heat radiating from him only made the fight more intense.

She struggled beneath his grip, her vision swimming as his fingers tightened. She had to admit, he was stronger than she remembered. But she wasn’t going to lose this one.

A wicked grin spread across her lips, even as she gasped for breath.

"Careful, Piastri," she rasped, her voice teasing despite the situation. "If you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask."

For a fraction of a second, his grip faltered, his dark eyes narrowing in irritation. That split-second was all she needed.

With a sudden, powerful twist of her hips, She used his distraction to break free, her legs kicking up to hook around his arm. She yanked hard, flipping him off balance and sending him crashing into the ground beside her. She rolled, agile as ever, and landed on top of him, pinning him with her knee pressed firmly into his chest.

Oscar gasped, his chest heaving beneath her weight as she leaned down, her face inches from his.

"Guess I still have the upper hand, sweetheart," she whispered, her tone mocking, breathless, but victorious.

He glared up at her, lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled beneath her, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed a mix of frustration and something else. Something darker, deeper.

But she didn’t linger on the moment. She leaped off him, her body moving like liquid as she darted toward the edge of the alley, knowing she needed to escape before he recovered.

Oscar was strong, but she was faster. He wouldn’t stay down for long, though. They both knew this was far from over.

As she melted into the shadows, her heart pounding, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had shifted something between them. The game they’d been playing for years now felt different, more dangerous. The stakes had always been high, but now, there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a heat neither of them was ready to acknowledge.

Not yet, at least.

************************************************************************

The sterile lights of the Mercedes Headquarters flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows on the cold concrete walls. Her footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway as she approached the director’s office, her mind replaying the events of the night. She hadn’t expected to run into Oscar—certainly not like that. And yet, here she was, about to explain why she had come back empty-handed.

Her stomach knotted, not from nerves, but frustration. She’d let him get too close. She’d let him distract her. And now, there would be hell to pay.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door to her boss’s office. The room was dimly lit, with a desk cluttered with files and a single lamp illuminating the figure seated behind it—Director Wolff. He didn’t look up as she entered, but the air around him was heavy with expectation. She had been here before—too many times, honestly—but something about this time felt different.

“Agent,” Wolff said finally, his voice low and gruff, as he finished signing a report and set the pen down with deliberate precision. His piercing blue eyes lifted to meet hers. “I take it you have the intel?”

She stood straighter, her jaw tightening. “No, sir.”

The silence that followed her words was thick, suffocating. Wolff leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him as he regarded her with a look that was both calm and dangerous.

“No?” His voice was soft, too soft, and that made it worse.

She shook her head, holding his gaze. “There was... interference. Agent Piastri showed up. He’s working for—”

“I don’t care who he’s working for.” Wolff’s words cut through hers like a knife. “I care that you don’t have the intel you were sent to retrieve.”

She swallowed hard, knowing there was no good explanation for this. “We fought. He got in my way, and the situation escalated. By the time I—”

Wolff slammed his hand on the desk, making her flinch. “You let him distract you.” His voice was low, but laced with fury. “This isn’t the first time Piastri has interfered with one of your missions, is it?”

She gritted her teeth. “No, sir.”

“And yet, every time you come face to face with him, you come back empty-handed.” Wolff stood, walking around his desk with a measured calm that only added to the tension in the room. His tall frame cast a long shadow as he stopped in front of her. “I’m beginning to wonder if you have a weakness for him, Agent.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Absolutely not. He’s a distraction, but—”

“But nothing,” Wolff snapped. “You’re one of the best agents I’ve got, but lately it seems like Piastri has you off your game. Why is that?” He raised an eyebrow, scrutinising her in a way that made her feel exposed, vulnerable. “Why is it that whenever Agent Piastri shows up, you forget your mission?”

“I didn’t forget my mission.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. The insinuation that she had been anything but focused stung. “He ambushed me, and it slowed me down. I was going to—”

“You were going to what?” Wolff’s tone dripped with disappointment. “Let him slam you into a table again?” His eyes flicked over her, taking in the faint bruising on her collarbone, the subtle strain in her movements. He knew. Of course, he knew. He always knew. “I heard what happened, Agent. And don’t tell me he caught you off guard, because that’s not an excuse I’ll accept.”

She clenched her fists at her sides, biting back the anger that threatened to bubble over. He made it sound so simple. So black and white. “He’s not just anyone, sir. You know that. He’s trained, just like I am. Better, in some ways. I’m not going to pretend that he doesn’t—”

“Better?” Wolff cut her off, his voice rising for the first time. “If he’s better, it’s because you let him be. He knows how to push your buttons. That’s his strength. And you let him. Again and again, you let him get into your head.”

She winced. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know this. Oscar had a way of playing with her, of winding her up, of distracting her just enough to gain the upper hand. And she hated him for it. But more than that, she hated that Director Wolff was right.

“I didn’t let him,” she said, her voice quieter now, more controlled. “But I underestimated him. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You’re damn right you won’t,” Wolff said, his eyes hard. He moved back to his desk, leaning on it as he folded his arms. “Because next time, if you fail to retrieve the intel because of him, I won’t be so forgiving. This is your last warning, Agent. I expect results. Not excuses. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” She said, swallowing her pride. She couldn’t afford to push back. Not now.

“Good.” He didn’t soften, didn’t let her off the hook. Instead, he straightened and looked down at her with a calculating gaze. “We have a mission coming up. A big one. I was considering putting you on the team, but if you’re going to let Piastri get the better of you again, I’ll reconsider.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “I’ll handle him.”

“You’d better,” Wolff said, his tone cold. “Because if you don’t, someone else will. And I won’t be as concerned about what happens to him—or you—next time.”

She stood there for a moment, the gravity of his words sinking in. Wolff wasn’t bluffing. If she didn’t prove herself, if she let Oscar interfere again, her career could be over. And worse, the agency wouldn’t hesitate to take out both of them if they became a liability.

She turned to leave, her thoughts a whirlwind of frustration, anger, and something else. Something that gnawed at the edges of her mind, though she refused to acknowledge it.

Oscar.

He’d been under her skin for too long, and now, it was affecting her missions. That couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it.

But even as she left Wolff’s office, her heart still pounding from the confrontation, a small part of her wondered if it was already too late. Oscar Piastri wasn’t just an enemy anymore. He was something far more dangerous.

And she had to figure out how to beat him, before he beat her.

part two

[jakethesequel]

Welcome back to Tumblr's Poorest Wettest Saddest Littlest Meow Meow Competition! Before we announce the final verdict, let's see how our "lovely" contestants are doing backstage!

VRISKA SERKET, hailing from welcoming Homestuck, is in the blue corner! She's a TROLL, a TELEPATH, and a THIEF. She has also attained GODHOOD, and I'm informed she did nothing wrong! Just off the heels of a dramatic loss in the recent Tumblrwoman Election, she deeply resents being trapped in this narrative device!

Her attire today is plain by Earth standards, but well put-together by ALTERNIAN ones. Nevertheless, she has been known to dress up on occasion, particularly in the colors of her ANCESTOR, the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!

She is extraordinarily determined, and extremely manipulative. She will do anything she can to make herself into the hero her story needs, consequences be damned. Her actions have made her the source of eternal, vitriolic discourse. Some believe her entirely justified, some believe her a heartless villain, and others believe everything in between; every one steadfast and passionate about their specific stance! Love her or hate her: VRISKA!!!!!!!!

HARRIER DU BOIS, also known as HARRY, sometimes referring to himself as RAPHAEL AMBROSIUS COSTEAU or THE REINCARNATION OF KRAS MAZOV, is here representing scenic Disco Elysium! He is a DETECTIVE, an ALCOHOLIC, a recent AMNESIAC, and a WASTE of ENERGY. Having just recently recovered from an attempt at drinking himself to death, we thought inviting him to compete might raise his spirits some! Unfortunately he does not seem to be totally aware of his surroundings, as he has already tried to touch himself twice on air!

His garish and mismatched clothes are STAINED with seemingly every substance a human body can produce. His face is locked in an EXPRESSION that can only induce disgust and discomfort in those who view it.

The few memories he can draw from his fractured mind paint him as violent, selfish, cruel, and pitiful. He has been trying to get over a breakup for six years, and has only partially succeeded through near-total retrograde amnesia. Worst of all, he's still somehow a decently successful cop. He has no friends and few allies on Revachol, with perhaps the sole exception of the impossibly patient and composed Lt. Kim Katsuragi. Even among his fans, you'd be hard pressed to find one who'd defend him, and ever harder pressed to find one willing to stand in the same room as him. Nevertheless, from the safe distance of fiction, let's hear it for HARRY!

In but a few moments, the doors in front of them will open, and they will be able to approach the trophy onto which we have engraved the name of the winner. 5… 4… 3… 2…

AND THE WINNER IS: VRISKAAAAAAAA SERKET!

—

Vriska: WH8T THE FUCK.

Vriska: WHAT THE F8CK!!!!!!!!

Vriska: I WON THIS????????

Vriska: You pieces of shit can't supp8rt me to win ag8inst some lanky rain8bow-drinking 8itch, 8ut 8eat one-in-fuck8ng 16777216 odds to win poorest, wettest, saddest, littlest g8ddamn meow8east?

Logic [Easy:Success]: She won. That means we lost.

Conceptualization [Challenging:Failure]: Another loss in a long, long line of losses.

Pain Threshold: You've gotten used to the feeling by now. Losing something barely even hurts anymore.

Endurance: You still carry each one with you. Well, except…

Volition: Not now. Not yet.

Authority [Medium:Success]: This doesn't have to stay a loss. Stare the girl down. Challenge her. Don't let this be taken from you.

Wait, what *is* she doing, anyway?

Perception: The grey girl seems to be shouting at someone, but there's no one else here.

Vriska: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Inland Empire [Godly:Success]: The unseen audience, the string-pullers of fate. The sadistic writer terrorizing their creation. The storybook itself, the confines it sets. She has seen the death of the author, and needs more.

Empathy [Medium:Failure]: What's got her so upset?

Harry: Is there something wrong with you?

Vriska: I'm not taking that from a walking dumpster, asshole!

Suggestion: There's still time to fix this. Say something nice, quickly.

Harry: I just mean, you seem upset. I thought you'd be celebrating your win. It’s a big accomplishment, right?

Vriska: Are you kidding?

Drama: Are we, sire? Should we be, perhaps?

Vriska: You thought I’d 8e cele8r8ing this? A vote for the most pitia8le, pathetic person in paradox space? I’m not so desper8 to fill my pity quadrant that I need to resort to CROWDFUNDING! That’s like the lowest form of 8egging!

Electrochemistry: You are that desperate. Don’t think we're above begging for it, piggy.

Conceptualization [Easy:Success]: Oh. This was not a contest one wants to win. Maybe our loss was for the best.

Vriska: And I WON!!!!!!!! With this kind of competition, HOW did I get all the votes? All of them!

Reaction Speed [Trivial:Success]: "This kind of competition?" She’s talking about you! Say something!

Harry: It was a tight race. You fought with honor.

Vriska: IT SH8ULDN’T HAVE FUCKIN8 8EEN!

Vriska: Look at you! What the fuck kind of su8juggl8or suit are you wearing? Did someone 8leed on it?

Savoir Faire: No, no, this outfit is *cool*. You just have to give it a little *disco*, man.

Strike a pose.

Vriska: …

Vriska: You can’t seriously think any of that is appealing.

Vriska: Your clothes look like they were dragged out of 8 different gar8age 8ins.

Vriska: You couldn’t 8e more greasy and stained if you drowned in a pail of 8rooding slurry. From the st8 of your body, you actually might have!

Physical Instrument: I told you. You need to cultivate more mass.

Composure [Challenging:Failure]: Please, don’t start crying in front of a teenager.

You realize that you already have.

Vriska: Are you seriously crying right now? I might not 8e an expert on the human metamorphological process 8ut you definitely aren’t a pupa anymore. Shit, you look like you’re halfway dead already. Grow up, Pupa Pan!

Endurance: You need to stop this, now, before you break down further.

Harry: Fuck off, fucking spidery bitch! Leave me alone!

Vriska: Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen a grown man act this pathetic 8efore. How the hell did you not win this!?!?!?!? Do you even have a single thing going for you?

Esprit De Corps: You have a badge and a gun. You are a Detective Lieutenant-Yefreitor of the RCM. At least for now, you have that.

Harry: I’m a pretty good fucking cop.

Vriska: There are no good cops you dum8 8itch!

Authority: Make her stop.

Vriska: I’ve known you less than a minute and you already disgust me. I feel 8ad for the people that actually have to 8e near you.

Half Light: Do what you have to do and do it now.

Vriska: You deserved to win this. I don’t know how you can live like that. 8ack home you would have 8een culled sweeps ago.

Hand Eye Coordination [Legendary:Success]: You have never fired a shot so quickly or instinctually. You didn’t even know your gun was loaded. You pulled it out the way a cat scratches a hand, or a drunk pisses himself. You don’t remember when violence became second nature to you, but you didn’t forget how to do it either.

Harry: Oh, God.

Perception (Sight): Is that blood… blue?

Visual Calculus [Legendary:Success]: Light swirls and shimmers around the girl’s body, flashing a technicolor code you cannot decipher. Her body floats into the air, and her eyes flash open. All eight of them.

Inland Empire: No justice. No heroism. Just mindless violence.

Half Light: RUN.

Vriska: OW!

Vriska: Oh no you fucking don’t!!!!!!!!

(♏) Volition [Impossible:Failure]: You try to run, but your will is seemingly powerless to drive your body. I’m sorry.

Physical Instrument: Don’t look at me. I’m in great shape.

Interfacing: Connections seem fine. Don’t tell me we have to unplug him again…

♏Vriska♏: What the fuck.

Harry: Wh-wh-what are you doing to me?

Vriska: Shut up I’m trying to f8cus!

Inland Empire: Welcome, Thief of Light.

♏Vriska♏: What the hell is wrong with you?

Encyclopedia: Severe alcoholism. Retrograde amnesia. Partial facial paralysis. Dehydration. Heart palpi- (♏)

♏Vriska♏: 8e quiet, 8ook8rain! I’m trying to rifle through memories here and it’s a MESS!

Interfacing: We haven’t quite organized since our recent… restructuring. Try the thought cabinet.

Rhetoric: Don’t tell her that!

♏Vriska♏: Too late, sucker! Found it!

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: Jegus christ.

♏Vriska♏: In pu8lic? Why would you—

♏Vriska♏: Ugh!

♏Vriska♏: You said THAT?

♏Vriska♏: There was a8solutely no reason to do ANY of that, what the hell!

♏Vriska♏: You should honestly just kill yourself if you’re going to keep 8eing such a fuckup!

Reaction Speed: Yes!

Logic: Sound. You should kill yourself.

Empathy: It would make everyone feel better.

Endurance: Hasn’t this all gone on long enough?

Savoir Faire: It’s a hell of a statement.

Drama: The noble sacrifice, like Romeo, like Juliet!

Rhetoric: You should kill yourself NOW!

Authority: She has bested you. Listen to your better.

Half Light: Anything to get away from her.

Volition: …

♏Vriska♏: Can you creeps 8e normal for two damn seconds?

MORALE CRITICAL

The light fades from your eyes, and you fall to the floor.

Shivers: You are being called back where you belong....

—

Kim: Yes, Lieutenant. A fascinating dream. I’m sorry you did not win the competition.

Harry: What do you think it means, Kim? Do you think it could be some kind of message? Should I try to find that girl?

Kim: “That girl?”

Harry: Yeah! Vriska!

Kim: No, Lieutenant. I do not think you should go looking for Vriska Serket from Homestuck. Perhaps try looking for the killer in our murder case?

[lucy90712]

Road to recovery- part 8

Masterlist

Part of me was hoping that the hate would slow down a bit but of course it didn't. Every time I checked any form of social media all I saw was people posting about how much they didn't like me and assuming that I'm only friends with Pablo to gain something. I thought I'd be able to handle the comments but I just can't there has been so many more than I thought there would be and people have said such hurtful things about my appearance and my character. Pablo keeps apologising and asking if I'm ok and I just keep telling him I'm fine which is a bit of a lie but I can tell he already feels bad enough I don't want to make him feel worse by telling him how I really feel. The worst part about it is that everyone seems to be drawing attention to the things I was already insecure about which hasn't helped my mental state at all.

Today though I have a chance to cheer myself up a bit as I have a big check up with my doctor to see how my recovery is progressing. I think it's going pretty good so hopefully he agrees and says something positive as that would really lift my spirits. I've been nervous about the appointment today as well which has really made the last few days even more challenging on my mental health but I'm trying to stay positive as I know wallowing in sadness and anxiety won't do me any good. 

Alonso came to pick me up a bit before my appointment; when I got in the car I expected him to tease me about everything that happened with the game this weekend but he didn't instead he asked if I was ok. I was going to lie to him too but because he's my brother he knows exactly when I'm lying so I had to tell him the truth. It was kind of nice to get all of my feelings off my chest and Alonso was really supportive and gave me some good advice. He's been through things like this before with getting hate for his performances out on track so he told me to just delete the apps off my phone for a bit that way I'm not tempted to look at what people are saying. In fact he stole my phone and did it for me as I think he knew I probably wouldn't do it myself. 

Once I had my phone back I went into the hospital on my own leaving Alonso to wait in the car for me. The wait for my appointment wasn't long at all and then I went in and was immediately taken for some new scans to see how everything was healing. After scans I was subjected to a load of tests on my range of movement, how much weight I could put on my leg and how much pain I was in. The testing was rigorous and honestly quite exhausting as it's been a long time since I've done this much movement with my knee but for the most part it felt good. After I had done everything the doctor left for a while to review it all and look at my scans which left me just staring at the wall hoping to hear good news. Just as I was daydreaming the door opened again and the doctor came back in, his expression was impossible to read which for some reason filled me with a few more nerves.

"Ok Lola things aren't progressing as we would like them too internally you aren't healing as quick as we thought you would and your movement isn't at the range we would expect it to be" he said 

"What does that mean?" I asked holding back tears 

"For now it doesn't mean too much this can happen as we can't always accurately predict how quickly people will recover but we will set another one of these appointments in a few weeks and if we aren't seeing improvement you may need a second surgery so that we can see what's going on" the doctor explained 

"Ok" was all I could manage to say 

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear but don't let it discourage you if you keep working hard you won't need the surgery" he said 

We scheduled my next appointment and that was as long as I could hold it together. All of my emotions that I'd been holding onto for the last few days came out all at once, as soon as I left the hospital doors I burst into tears and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I made my way back to where Alonso parked but before I could get into the car Alonso had got out and wrapped me in his arms. He tried to get me to stop crying and tell him what was wrong but I just couldn't he tried everything to help me all of which had worked before but today nothing could stop me. Eventually he gave up and let me get in the car so we could go home because right now all I want is to just go home and get to grips with my emotions as I clearly have a lot to process. 

As much as my eyes were filled with tears I could tell that Alonso didn't take the turn to take me back to my place which meant he was going to take me somewhere in hopes of cheering me up. I really didn't want to go wherever it was he was planning to go but I was sobbing too much to tell him to take me home. We went a bit further before the car stopped and I looked round a bit as at first I didn't recognise where we were but then I saw Pablo's house and realised we were just down the street. I should've known Alonso was going to bring me here but this is the last place I want to be I don't want Pablo to see me like this. I knew we said we would help each other out but I know for a fact Pablo is doing better and I know he's in a better place mentally and I don't want to ruin that by projecting my problems onto him that wouldn't be fair. 

Alonso had to practically drag me out of the car and down the road which was rather easy for him as I'm not strong enough to put up too much of a fight. We walked down the street to Pablo's house where Alonso left me to ring the doorbell, part of me was hoping that he wouldn't be in even though he said he had no plans today. Of course after just a few seconds the door opened and I locked eyes with Pablo who straight away rushed over as quick as he could and wrapped me up in his arms. I wanted to stop crying but for some reason I only cried more once I was in Pablo's arms it was like he made me feel safe enough to truly let all of my feelings out. Pablo said a few words to my brother before taking me inside and allowing him to leave. 

Pablo took me to the sofa and allowed me to settle into his embrace with my head buried in his chest so he couldn't see my tear stained and probably red and puffy face. His hand was gently stroking my back trying to calm me down while he whispered comforting words in my ears. It wasn't anything special what he was doing but hearing his words and feeling his hands on me did wonders in helping calm my emotions which I didn't have any control over. As my tears began to slow down Pablo kept rubbing my back and he even wiped some of the tears from my face that he could reach as I was still hiding most of my face. I never would've thought he would be so good at comforting me I mean he's always so hyper and full of energy I never imagined that he'd be any good at keeping calm and radiating that onto others but clearly he is. Once I had completely stopped crying and my breathing was getting back to normal Pablo put a hand under my chin and got me to look at him.

"Can you tell me what's wrong I hate seeing you so upset and I want to help" he said 

"The doctor said my knee isn't healing properly and I might need another surgery if things don't get better" I said still sniffling slightly 

"I'm sorry that sounds awful but that's not the only thing on your mind is it" he probed further 

"No that's it" I lied 

"Don't lie to me please just tell me what's wrong I'll do whatever I can to help and I won't judge you you know that" he said 

Damn why doesn't he have to be able to read me like a book.

"Ok I've been getting a lot of hate since we were seen together at the game and it's been getting to me a bit I thought I could handle it as I'm used to criticism but I can't some people are just so mean" I admitted letting a few more tears fall 

"I knew it was getting to you people on social media are assholes because they don't feel the consequences of what they say but none of what they say is true" he said 

"But they keep talking about how I must be using you or how I don't deserve to even be friends with you which that part is kind of true" I rambled 

"No it's not true I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you I love spending time with you just because you aren't famous doesn't mean you don't deserve to be friends with me and despite what they say I know you aren't using me I know you would never do that" he said 

"And before you say anything all of the things they say about your appearance aren't true either you are beautiful inside and out and they are just jealous" he added 

Hearing him say that put a smile on my face. Pablo has never really complimented me before he's told me my outfit was cool a few times but he's never called me beautiful so hearing it made me feel a lot better about myself. He must've noticed that I was finally smiling again as he told me I looked pretty when I smiled which only made my cheeks heat up but luckily my face was already red from crying so Pablo probably wouldn't have noticed. Although I kind of wish he knew how he made me feel because as time goes on it's getting harder and harder to hide my true feelings from him. 

Pablo's POV

The pain in her eyes just shattered my heart. She's been my rock throughout every step of the way so far so to see her breakdown right in front of me really hurt. This whole time she's been the strong one never letting anything get to her but finally it's caught up with her and part of it's my fault because we got seen together at the game and now people are tearing her apart and one person can only handle so much. I feel so awful that I'm part of the reason she's so upset but knowing that I can be there for her and calm her down makes me feel a bit better. When she arrived she was hysterical and her brother told me he couldn't get a word out of her so he wanted me to try so that's what I did. I'm not very good at keeping myself calm at times let alone other people but I tried my best and after a while of just rubbing her back and whispering to her she calmed down. It felt good to be the one to help her because she's done so much for me that anything I can do to even remotely repay that I'll do in a heartbeat.

Hearing the way she criticised herself as well it pained me. She's the most beautiful and kind person I've ever met so to hear her say that she thought she didn't deserve to be friends with me hurt but what hurt more was to see that those horrible people got to her and made her feel insecure in herself. Throughout the time we've known each other I've always wanted to tell her just how beautiful she is but I've refrained as I know once I open the flood gates there's no going back. Once I start complimenting her I'm scared that I'll let my feelings show but today she needed it so I knew I had to take the risk. Seeing the smile that my compliments gave her made the risk feel worth it though as I'd do anything to keep her smiling 24/7.

Looking into her eyes as she smiled and blushed at my words made me feel some type of way. I've felt something for her since we first met and I've kept those feelings repressed until now but I don't know if I can do it any longer. She's just the most perfect girl I've ever met and I don't want to lose her whether that be to another guy or to the fear of what us being friends might mean for her. I have to tell her how I feel in hopes that as long as she feels the same way it gives her a reason to stick around even when things are tough like they are right now. As scary as it is I have to take the risk. 

[aetherialpiplup108]

How the Alchemy of Souls Season 1 Ending Perfectly Demonstrates Yeong's Guilt, Uk's Persistence, and the Beauty of their Bond

I should hate the ending of Alchemy of Souls season 1. Jin Mu's random contrived bells showing up and being used as a pivotal series-defining plot-point in the same episode drives me just as insane as it did Mu-deok. And it kills me to watch two characters who are defined by their ability to challenge the world and resist fate succumb to its pressures (note: I don't think this is a flaw in the series since it's simply a fraction of the overarching theme the story is trying to convey but boy did it hurt). I should have been so massively disappointed and yet the climax itself runs rent-free in my head a full year after I saw it for the first time.

First of all, we finally get sword-fighting Yeong again and in the absolute worst way possible. It creates this wonderful cognitive dissonance in your head where you're simultaneously crying in angst while cheering on Jung So-min as she puts on the performance we've been longing for the entire show.

Next, there's the behemoth stabbing scene itself. When Mu-deok regains consciousness in Uk's arms, there's a brief look of confusion in her eyes likely due to the gaps in her memory, the heaving of his voice, the desperate way his arms are wrapped around her, or maybe even the blood seeping between them. But the first thing she says even before processing everything is: "Jang Uk? ...Did I do this?"

Despite embracing the ruthless assassin lifestyle (a hard path she undertook due to the love she felt for her family and the immense grief felt in their loss), Yeong does care about other people. We know this through the way she slyly sneaks in affection towards Uk, helps Yul heal and let go of the guilt he's held onto since running into her as children, and offers Go-won an esoteric companionship they both come to value greatly. In season 2, through amnesiac!Yeong, we're given an even clearer glimpse at her intrinsic compassion through the unhidden empathy she shows to practically everyone she meets.

But the real Cho-Yeong spent years of isolation in Danhyanggok's cruel winters training, breathing, and living for revenge. Knowing only how to kill and draw blood, of course Yeong believed she'd end up hurting anyone stupid enough to come too close. It's why her first instinct is to shear off every potential bond she could make: to protect herself from any more loss and to protect others from her. When it became impossible to deny the love she and Uk shared, Yeong chose to wield it callously to avoid getting attached, to remind him and her that she wasn't round-faced Mu-deok who was free to earn and give affection. She was Naksu. Undeserving, dangerous, poisonous Naksu. We see this thought process and self-denial make a reoccurrence in season 2 when Yeong immediately distances herself from Uk the second she gets her memories back, even if it agonizes her, because she can't bear to hurt him again.

Rather than assigning blame to Jin Mu, she takes her sword through Uk's chest as mere confirmation of what she always believed: how could the ruthless shadow assassin that lives off revenge be allowed to love and be loved?

Yeong's guilt is especially ironic when paired with Jang Uk having no doubt in his mind that she's innocent. He gets stabbed and just pulls her close before he's even able to process what's going on because they'd been there before at Jeojingak when he had her hold a sword to his neck.

Jang Uk is the first and only person, really, to hold complete confidence not in Yeong's prowess as a mage but in her character and ability to care. And it means more because as her pupil, he's the person (aside from herself) that Yeong's been the harshest with. She continually put his life in danger whether through poison or overtraining or by inciting death matches, and hurts him again and again with words and actions (gambling the jade egg) meant to prod right at his insecurities. Yeong had thought this would be enough to keep him at bay, to force him into a transactional relationship where she wasn't afraid he'd run away too soon and yet wouldn't let herself build up hope that he'd actually stay when the terms of their initial agreement were met.

Except.

Uk had already seen glimpses of that lonely girl Yeong buried inside and actually tried to understand her, failing at times but doing his best to make sense of the way she thinks without judgement. In the process, he realized just how much Yeong values the people she loves, how much she wants to protect those who've shown her even the ounce of kindness she doesn't think she deserves. That's how he knows, instinctively, that she couldn't have stabbed him. It's how he knows she wouldn't even fight Dang-gu (although, I'm not sure if he was aware that she killed Cho-yeon's father before arriving in the forest). Because how could someone who's so grateful for the love they deem themselves undeserving of cast it aside so easily?

And finally, because somewhere along the way this post devolved from a loosely structured rant over one scene to a frantic gush over these two ridiculously endearing characters, the beauty of the climax is shown in the way Uk just watches helplessly as Yeong struggles and breaks down in a way so uncharacteristic of the stoic, emotion-swallowing woman who could only say "I like you" under copious amounts of alcohol. It's so unbelievably soft (idk, maybe I'm just a lunatic) when he slowly searches for her hand, using the last pieces of his strength and then some to lace their wounded fingers together, somehow managing to use his entire blood-soaked body in the last 2 minutes to show her that she has his entire heart, whether she deserved it or not, and there wasn't anything she could do that would make him leave.

of course, these are just my interpretations of the characters. Maybe I'm completely off or reading way too much into it.

tl;dr: I have a lot of criticism for certain aspects of Alchemy of Souls, but the relationship Jang Uk and Cho Yeong share is so powerful. Though tragic and shockingly reliant on plot-convenience, the finale of season 1 depicts their relationship beautifully by illustrating the depth of their trust and reliance on the other. Also, UkYeong has rooted itself thoroughly in my head. I've never been so invested in a ship, someone send help!!!!!

[floweyheadcanons]

Some more headcannons and questions coming up! Clover can't dance for the life of them, so Flowey helped them by moving their feet to the right bars on El Baildor's fight. Clover felt indebted to him for doing that, but Flowey just told them it was painful to watch them fail over and over and over again. Flash forward to the Omega Flowey fight, Clover is the last to rebel because they still feel indebted to him. They don't want to leave their best friend alone. They realize that what Flowey is doing isn't justified, but a small part of Flowey, that Clover can feel, is feeling like this is justified, for Chara, for Clover...When Frisk wins, Flowey sees a figure behind Frisk, holding out a hand. He sees Clover with a genuine smile, wanting him to join them with doing justice. But Clover isn't there. Flowey understands and tries to tell Frisk and, by extention, Ghost/Hallucination Clover, that he can't. He doesn't understand why they show care to him after all that. He doesn't understand... Flowey has talked to Papyrus about Clover. He likes to see his reactions to their adventures and everything. Seeing someone adore this child while never knowing them makes him seen like the care he had for them wasn't him being weak, but Clover having that ability on monsters. Flowey like card games. He also likes chess, but card games are his favorite. He's good at them, that's way.

Now here is some for the Gusty Gaggle and Feisty Five, well, one of the Feisty Five at least. So the Gusty Gaggle are all actors in the Ghosty South. I mean, like everyone is am actor there. Flowey plays the role of the murderous Flower monster that is part of a gang, and is the brains, with a human and another monster. Clover plays the leader, and human. Kanako plays the happy monster with a bit of scare to her. They basically play themselves, in the Gusty Gaggle. They are actors but not. Also, Mooch and Flowey are friends. Theif and murderous flower bring friends just makes me happy. Mooch is also Flowey's favorite Festiy 4 member.

Now some questions! Who does Flowey hate more, Ceroba or Alphys, and why? Has Flowey ever became friends with Sans in past resets? Does Flowey feel a sense of belonging with the amagates? Has Dalv ever realized he didn't draw the draws Flowey drew? What's his relationship with Decibat and El Bailador? Who is Flowey's favorite Festiy Four person? Out of Starlo, Axis, Martlet, and Chujin, who does Flowey like and hate the most? What kind of games does Flowey like and dislike? Did Flowey ever watch Chujin, and, by extent, The Wild East and Kestukane's before Clover fell? If so, did he judge Chujin for being an idiot? Why does he feel the need to keep his throwing skills up? And, where would Flowey stay most of the time on the surface? Frisk's town or The Ghosty South?

(AAAA- I LOVE HIM!!! HIM AND ENDOGENY IS SO CUTE!!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!! Also, him to Kanako being like, "Hey! Welcome to the children revived club! Don't tell your mother we are here okay? I hate her!" is so funny to me. HE'S SUCH A LITTLE GUY!!!)

those ideas up there are PEAK?! try not to cook challenge (impossible)

i honestly think the idea of the gusty gaggle both acting and not acting at the same time is really cool, it's more like they overblow their personalities, i really like that.

this is the funny headcanon blog so it's time for the questions now!!

1 .Who does Flowey hate more, Ceroba or Alphys, and why?

Flowey hates Ceroba more because at least Alphys changed. And even before that she pretty clearly was tortured by what she'd done, while I don't think it'd be as obvious to Flowey that Ceroba was suffering too. Does not help that Ceroba has also tried to kill Clover.

2. Has Flowey ever became friends with Sans in past resets?

I'm awfully fond of the idea that at one point or another Sans had some sort of big brother-ish relationship with Flowey because he just has that effect on people™ and would rather not fight this nerd, so yeah! I'd actually be surprised if at no point were they on good terms.

3. Does Flowey feel a sense of belonging with the amagates?

Yeah, it makes him feel better to know he's not the only little freak out there... Not the only experiment gone horribly wrong.

4. Has Dalv ever realized he didn't draw the drawings Flowey drew?

He's probably realized a few weren't his because they were a little too bad. Don't blame Flowey ok?? He hasn't had proper hands for a comical amount of time. I think in secret he'd redraw those because they're usually fire ideas, just bad illustration-wise.

5. What's his relationship with Decibat and El Bailador?

Flowey is a little hater, so I think he'd be a big El Bailador anti... Probably follows the guy around with a comical amount of signs that say things like "CANCEL THIS DANCE MANIAC!!!" "THIS BUFFOON MUST BE STOPPED!!!" that all point in his direction but when Baily turns around to look at them they're gone. Decibat, on the other hand gets a pass. I think Flowey would like sleep in Deci's cave because it's nice and quiet... Probably sneaks in Echo Flowers sometimes because he thinks it's funny™.

6. Who is Flowey's favorite Feisty Four member?

I'm indecisive on this one, but it'd probably be Mooch because he can't help but respect a devious little thief. I think in a couple saves he'd probably help her with her little heists!

7. Out of Starlo, Axis, Martlet, and Chujin, who does Flowey like and hate the most?

Chujin: Mostly considers the man a joke, wouldn't say he hates Chujin.

Axis: Bro is on thin ice. Flowey is always very close to destroying that bucket of bolts and considers him very irritating to be around and a needless nuisance.

Starlo: Finds the guy somewhat annoying, but also interesting. Mostly upset with him for attacking Clover and for being so easily excited into doing stupid things. Would probably like him more if he wasn't an idiot.

Martlet: Wants to pluck every feather off her one by one, and hear her scream. Why does she keep INTERVENING??? She's part of that stupid guard, she wants Clover dead, she doesn't get to decide they're important to her. Her existence fills him with rage.

Of them all, I think he hates Martlet the most for trying to steal Clover away, and likes Starlo the most because he IS just a little goober.

8. What kind of games does Flowey like and dislike?

I think he'd like things like puzzle games (they make him feel big brained), RPGs, and first person shooters and shoot em up games (especially if they're combined. he likes feeling tough.)

9. Did Flowey ever watch Chujin, and, by extent, The Wild East and Kestukane's before Clover fell? If so, did he judge Chujin for being an idiot?

He probably judged Chujin very heavily for being an idiot. I think for the most part he probably watched Chujin the most out of the other Ketsukanes (with Ceroba probably being the one he watched the least) because he finds his stupidity very entertaining.

9. Why does he feel the need to keep his throwing skills up?

It's a worry of his because what if he needs to throw something far for one reason or another but he can't? And what if that thing is something so important that it CAN'T just be forgotten about??

10. Where would Flowey stay most of the time on the surface? Frisk's town or The Ghosty South?

He'd probably visit Frisk's town every now and again but I think he'd prefer The Ghosty South as he'd probably feel more at home and able to be his truest self there. Frisk's town is probably just boring to him as well.

[chiangyorange]

You ever think about how Isles added a. Checks notes. Goddess of flow. Because I think about that.

thank fuck isles canonically is not a real realm that exists

nah but fr tho i DO actually have quite a few thoughts on how isles fits in to the overall narrative of mianite being such a strange offshoot compared to s1 and s2 read more if u want, i will say that its gonna get rambly and also im going to drop a few of my design notes about the isles gods specifically if that interests you

i have been piecing together lore via friends and the mianite wiki (which is a fucking dumpster fire for anyone that's trying to look for a specifics in lore but i digress) so not everything people may care about will feature in here (like the whole light/dark thing. gandus, she shadows, w/e im just focusing on the overall story. sorry but there is only so much i can handle atm) i DO actually think that isles is really interesting despite my initial dislike for it towards the end (yes yes ik but i can admit that i was a little. too indulgent of myself at the time) ANYWAY i think isles was some sort of like... fucked up puzzle box reality???? of the s1 world because there are just SO many references to s1 like ianites heart being stolen and dianite slowly becoming more demon-like and all those theories way back when of isles really being s-1 like its a prequel of s1 world which i think its semi true?? basically my thoughts are; isles is an offshoot mimic world intended to emulate the life of the s1 gods in their youth for whatever reason, and in their timeloop is trying to create a trap? a new world? essentially perfect the mannerisms and legitimacy of a real realm like the realm of mianite and the realm of ruxomar. why tom n jordan got pulled into it interrupting the timeloop for a moment, who knows. (also in reflection? thats so fucked up and rude to karl like king is trapped in a timeloop for no goddamn reason) the 4th god is weird tho and i hated every minute of it stop trying to make trio into 4 challenge (impossible, apparently) i choose to believe that the 4th god thing only happened because of fucked up timeloop interruption consequence ONTO MY DESIGN NOTES

so. you probably noticed that their hands have visible joints like a doll or a marionette puppet. that is entirely intentional bc i legit think the isles gods are not real and instead constructs made with to have god-like powers. (shameless plug to the og post here if you wanna see every design ive made of the gods layed out all at once)

each design is supposed to be just a little uncanny like with all of them having pupils compared to the s1 and s2 gods who i draw them without. their smiles are a little too wide to match with their eyes. the green and red of ianite and dianite's eyes are a little too bright and noxious. overall i really wanted them to look as unsettling as possible if you imagine them limp and slumped over like a broken doll and theyre all dressed in something that is a little too perfect you know? like mianite looks like a friend you meet in the town square, ianite looks like a damsel princess, dianite is a handsome prince, like theyre all dressed a little too royal from a classic fairytale-- theyre too good to be true.

augh i think i have more to say but theres already so much in this one post that ill save it for another time

[coffee-n-some-cream]

Here's a little Rasey meet cute snippet from a bigger project I'm working on. The story isn't Raph/Casey centric and I wasn't sure I was even gonna put the ship in, but apparently I can't help myself!

Casey Jones was on the hunt. Shrouded in a dark hood and menacing mask, he lurked in the shadows, watching over his city from the rooftops and striking fear into the hearts of friends and foe alike.

The lead of the pencil Casey was sketching with broke at the tip, and he sighed as he pushed more out. One sneaker-clad foot hung down, tapping a rhythm against the fire escape. His earbuds hung in a loop around his neck and pushed out music as loud as they could, the sound tinny and crunchy. His mask was pushed up onto the top of his head, and he stuck his tongue out as he concentrated on the drawing, filling in his hoodie with hatching. His own dark form crouched on the page, intense gaze peering out from his skull-like mask. He hummed, lightly sketched out a cape flowing dramatically from his back, then frowned and erased it. Nah, that looked stupid.

He glanced up to check the surrounding alleyways and streets for any nefarious criminals.

From the highest point, he could survey all of Brooklyn. He was an all-seeing watchdog, ready to sink his teeth into the neck of any foolish trespasser.

A breeze tousled his messy hair. He watched an empty plastic bag dance down an alley, listened to the rustle of a cat digging through the trash. Nothing. He sighed. Another dead night. Maybe he needed to take his act to another part of the city?

Movement along the rooftops caught his eye. He squinted and leaned forward, peering at the shadowy figure that was sprinting across roofs and hopping alleyway gaps with a speed and grace that was, frankly, unfair. Was that…? Casey shoved his hand in his backpack and frantically fished out his binoculars, wanting to get a good look at the person before they ran out of sight. But lucky for him, as he raised them to his eyes, the person paused on one of the rooftops and didn’t move.

A burly build, green skin, red bandana hanging around his shoulders. “Hello again,” Casey muttered to himself, zooming the binoculars in to get a better look at him. He was slumped over the edge of the rooftop, resting his arms on the ledge and letting his head hang down.

An old challenger returns.

Casey threw his things into his backpack, pulled his mask down over his face, and scrambled up. The clanging of the fire escape followed him as he made for the turtle mutant.

The night air was cool and felt good against the warmth of his skin. Raph took deep breaths, trying to let it soak into him, to temper the burning that was starting to choke him from the inside out, but it didn’t help any.

His brothers' eyes flashed through his mind. Worried, gentle, caring, unsure. Unsure what to say to him, what to do with him, but always trying to be understanding. They were everything but what they should be, which was angry. Resentful. They should even hate him a little bit. He knew they wouldn't. Couldn't. But they should.

He dug his fingernails into his arm, willing the skin to break and bleed. It didn't, of course. It held firm like soft leather. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, the lump in his throat unbearable.

“Fuck,” he muttered, before taking one more deep breath and forcing himself to relax. His face, his throat, his back, his chest, his hands, all loosened the impossible tension he held them under. And slowly, his chin trembled, his lips pulled back, his throat pushed, and a sob fell out of his mouth.

He ducked his head down. It didn’t matter that he was entirely alone. His hands went over his face as another sob tore through him and tears started to pool in his palms. His breathing was haggard and quick no matter how he tried to deepen it, and his shoulders heaved. He let it go, knowing that the tears and the snot and the cries were the only way to loosen the knot in his chest, to quell the burning in his throat.

A shuffling of feet sounded to his left. He whipped his head up, jumping back and reaching one hand for the sai at his side.

“Woah there.” Hands up in surrender, the guy came to a halt. Hockey mask over his face, golf bag of old sports equipment on his back… it was the guy from the park. Casey Jones. Fucking Christ. “I come in peace.”

Raph eyed him up and down, taking in the relaxed stance and unassuming gaze. He let his hand fall from his sai and turned so he was staring over the ledge again, very aware of how he must look. Great. This total asshole of a stranger had caught him alone on a rooftop, bawling his eyes out. It made his hackles rise, and he opened his mouth to tell the guy to fuck off.

A little hiccup came out instead, and with that, he lost every ounce of energy he had to be upset. Instead of saying anything, he just gave the guy a watery glare.

Seeing that Raph wasn’t about to attack him, Casey moved a bit closer and leaned one hand casually against the ledge, propping the other one on his hip. He gave Raph a lidded look. “We meet again.”

Raph cocked a brow at him. “Uh-huh. What do you want?”

Casey shrugged. “Well, I was gonna challenge you to a duel, but seeing as you’re in the middle of crying, I’m gonna assume you’re not in the headspace for it.”

“I’m not in the middle of crying,” Raph lied, unsure why he was even trying.

“You very clearly are crying.”

“Also, a duel? Really? What, are we gonna turn our backs? Take ten paces?” He laughed a little at the ridiculous image. “Draw pistols?”

Raph couldn’t see it behind the mask, but Casey smiled at him. The turtle mutant looked so different without the mask over his eyes, face open and bare. He was an absolute mess. His face was covered in tears and snot, his eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks were flushed, he looked miserable. His glare was still biting, his watery laugh was still deep and full. Something about it all tugged at Casey’s chest. 

“Okay, fine, wise guy.” He stepped closer so he was right next to the mutant, put his back against the ledge, and tipped the mask back so it was on top of his head. “What do you wanna call it?”

“A fight.” The turtle wiped some of the snot off his face with the back of his hand, then turned his head to look at Casey full-on. “It’s just a fight.”

Casey sat under the heavy stare of both amber eyes for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. “Pssshhh. Boring! Duel sounds way cooler. I don’t care if we have to break out the pistols, we’re gonna duel.”

The turtle shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah but in a cute way, right?”

Raph gave him an incredulous look and lied for the second time that night. “No. Not in a cute way.”

Casey shoved a fist against his chest. “Oof! Straight to the heart!” He leaned closer to Raph. “So… since we can’t duel because you’re crying and stuff–”

“Not crying.”

“Uh-huh. Do you wanna talk about why you’re crying?”

Raph gave him a truly disgusted look. “To you?”

“Why not?”

“You’re a total stranger, and the only other time I interacted with you, we were enemies.”

“Woah, woah, enemies? I wouldn’t say that.”

“We fought.”

“We dueled, totally different.”

Raph scoffed and looked away. Casey chewed on his lip, thinking, then slapped a hand against the turtle’s shoulder.

“You know what makes me feel better when everything is shit?”

Raph looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “...what?”

Casey pulled a baseball bat from the golf bag on his back and brandished it proudly. “Bustin’ heads.”

The turtle eyed the bat warily for a moment. “Uh, yeah, I noticed that’s how you get your kicks. You kinda have a hard time… stopping. Busting their heads, I mean.”

A shrug. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He batted eyelashes at Raph and offered a winning grin. “C’mon.”

Raph pursed his lips, thinking that he should really be getting back because Leo did not like anyone being gone too long, especially when he was injured like this, when he couldn’t just get up and track them down. But Casey’s smile was lively and warm, and it was hard not to smile back.

“Alright.” He pushed away from the ledge and gave his face one last wipe to remove the evidence of his crying session. “I could go for some head-busting.”

“Hell yeah!” Casey grabbed his wrist to tug him toward the fire escape, then let go. “Hey, what’s your name by the way? Or, like, do you have a name?”

Raph looked down at his own wrist, then back up at Casey as he pulled his hockey mask back over his face. He actually looked kind of menacing, with a face of bone white and shadow, but Raph knew that the smile was still wide and burning bright under there. “It’s Raph.”

Casey swung down onto the fire escape. “They won’t know what hit ‘em, Raph!”

[kii-chan-reloaded]

I'm frustrated that I am so incapable at critical thinking that after 12+ years of playing Magic, a 16 minute video about fucking Goblin Grenade made me finally realize the exact reason why I both love playing Magic in concept and hate playing Magic in any sort of organized setting.

And now I need to get the words out of my head before I go insane. As an act of benevolence, I'll put all my pointless ramblings beneath a read more. You're welcome.

The video poses the simple question "What is your favorite Magic card?" I waffled on it for a minute, going over some candidates in my head, but the clear winner for me was Progenitus.

It's everything a Timmy like me wants - a big, stompy creature that is instantly a threat that is both hard to get rid of and to shut down. But, coming off probably a month straight of my main source of entertainment being video essays, I was essentially tricked into breaking it down further and expressing my reasoning why:

Progenitus is a challenge.

It's the game designers putting a seemingly impossible-to-cast creature in your hands and taunting you to even try to cast it. Casting Progenitus, even in EDH where play is typically slower than any 60-card variant and has the benefit of almost the entire pool of Magic cards to pull from, isn't a reliable or easy thing to do. It essentially turns the game into a puzzle - How can you cut corners to cast this obvious threat before your opponents can do anything to stop you?

And that "puzzle" aspect is where I draw my fun from in Magic. I don't approach Magic as a competition. I don't have fun restricting or controlling my opponents. My fun comes from solving puzzles - from finding creative ways to circumvent expectations (i.e. pulling off difficult alternate win conditions like Maze's end or Hellkite Tyrant), and from giving my opponents difficult puzzles to solve (i.e. Progenitus and/or Ulamog, affecting the board state in insane ways with chaos group hug, etc)

Clearly, this is in contention with how the majority of people who play Magic at organized events approach the game. They want to win. They want to come out on top of their opponent and walk away with the rewards, social or material. They're not interested in setting up puzzles, they want to get the game over as quickly as possible and to make sure they always have the upper hand.

I always just assumed that I was just a "casual" Magic player, someone who is "bad at Magic". But it turns out, I have just been playing a different game than what 90% of my opponents were.

This also feeds into my recent inclination to try to become a judge. By distancing myself from the emotional aspect of the game, the only thing remaining is the bare mechanics of Magic, an intricate and dense web of rules... A puzzle to be navigated and solved.

I have yet to decide if this invalidates my desire to judge or if it reinforces my place as a judge. Because that would require critical thinking, which I am incapable of unless someone makes a fun and engaging video showing me how to first.

Anyway, rant over.

[monsterkiss]

One of the things I appreciate a lot about choosing to do Cringetober is that it made me feel closer to my F/Os because I've been spending all this time drawing them and thinking about them.

Another thing is that it pushed me to draw selfship art probably for the first time in about 3 years. It provided me with ideas (prompts) and motivation (time constraints + it being a challenge that lots of other people are doing, and jumping on the bandwagon seems to be interesting/entertaining enough for my brain).

Generally it's also been keeping me somewhat busy since it created this sort of artificial schedule I'm trying to follow and, then again, pushed me to draw more in general. It reminded me that I also can, in fact, draw more than once per several months. That even if drawing has felt pretty damn hard for a while now, even impossible sometimes, I still can manage to do it, and do it in a way I like and then again, not spend literal months trying to finish one single thing, reminded me that I can finish some drawings relatively quickly.

Of course it helps that like I said, it provided me with a list of prompts, gave me motivation and sort of a schedule… Once again I'm reminded that I work best with time constaints or some kind of pressure. (Even when I really really hate it... not in this particular case but lots of others.)

Because in case of a monthly challenge, I know that if I fall behind the "schedule", even if it doesn't actually matter, but I'd be dragging behind while more and more days of Cringetober pass, and that doesn't feel good to me, and then I'd end up feeling overwhelmed and would probably just completely drop it. That's also why it's important that I've chosen to ignore some of the prompts and not try to do everything because otherwise, again, I'd get overwhelmed and would hardly finish anything, and that's also why it's good that for some prompts I've made pretty messy and simplistic drawings. I've actually never managed to stick to a monthly drawing challenge this long before, I think.

So just, this has been pretty cool.

[inkofamethyst]

December 22, 2022

Warning: Anxiety Post.  We all knew this was coming.

It’s just that any email in my inbox between now and the beginning of March that isn’t an interview offer or an acceptance is superfluous to me.  Now that all of my top ones are submitted (all that’s left is my “safety” which I may not submit until January tbh bc I’d heard that one of my schools could get back to me as soon as January and I’d choose that one over my safety any day, I think), I am officially starting to feel that icky feeling of “what if I don’t get in anywhere, what if everything I did is wrong, what if my only choice is between somewhere I definitely don’t want to go and not going anywhere at all, what if, what if, what if, I’m afraid, I’m so scared, I wish I just knew already” and so on and so forth.  But I am going to hold out.  Regardless of what happens, I will survive.  I refuse to consult admissions forums or subreddits like I have during my past few admission cycles because they only make me more anxious.  I just... I hate the wait, you know?  And the uncertainty that comes with it.  And while there is some comfort in knowing that there are tons of people out there just like you who are in the same boat because misery loves company, miserable, anxious people generally don’t help other miserable people feel all that much better.

And so I wait.  And I will have to keep myself busy in the meantime.  I will have to find some ways to distract myself into forgetting that my future plans, goals, and dreams are on the line here and that I don’t really have a backup plan lined up and.. hhhhh.  (Also I think I should’ve at least mentioned the consortium involved in two of my applications because that was a huge draw for why I was applying there in the first place, but those are also the two places that I.. am the most certain I will not be accepted to, so (they’d be dope��schools to attend, don’t get me wrong, but for a variety of reasons I don’t think it will work out (or maybe I’m just being pessimistic disguised as realistic again to save myself from eventual heartache, but, really, who knows)).)

Plus I can’t help but think that maybe I should’ve done something different in this app or that app and maybe I should’ve talked more about why I really liked the school in my statement or maybe I should’ve submitted a copy of my poster as a representation of some of my old work and I just...  I’m just so worried.  Like I’m structuring my entire Spring around the possibility of interviewing and recruitment days, and it’d be so embarrassing to have none of that happen at all.  This ain’t undergrad with an average of 35% acceptance.  I’m looking at rates of 1-5% bruh.  And if I don’t get in anywhere I have to go back and tell that to my recommenders and I physically don’t know if I can handle that, and it makes me feel sick just thinking about it.

As much as I try to remember that I have great qualifications, fantastic recommenders, and a solid history when it comes to beating the odds of low acceptance rates (for the selective programs with ridiculously low acceptance rates to which I’ve applied, I’ve been accepted an almost unreasonably high percentage of the time), every single time feels like a new, more impossible beast.  

But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right?  As you become more qualified, the applicant pool around you increases in their qualifications as well.  So you know you’re putting up a fight in your application.  And your achievements, your selection over other talented candidates, represent not only the fight but the victory.  And that’s all I want, really.  A victory.  Even if it’s a choice between two of my preferred programs, I don’t need all six.  The victory wouldn’t feel so amazing if it was easy, would it?  So I accept the challenge (I have no choice at this point).  I accept the challenge and pray for the best. 

And if it doesn’t work out this go round, I have plenty that I can evaluate and improve up for the next go round.  Ideally, a year of setback won’t put me out of the running.

Today I’m thankful for all As this semester.  I’m thankful for my ecoanth prof who was far more lenient than she should have been but her goal was fully for us to learn in whatever way worked best for us and I can respect that.  I’m thankful for my easy archaeology class where all I did most days was show up and lazily scribble notes.  I’m thankful for my evolution class where there were so many opportunities to actively engage with the material (and gain points) before taking the exams that I never felt too worried about keeping a good overall grade.  I’m thankful for my popgen class where I learned! so! much! about genetics and computer modeling and I wish I could take another class with that prof in particular, he was probably the best prof I’ve had at this university (closely followed by my biochem 1 prof, I’d think).  I’m thankful for devbio, a class I only took because I needed it to fulfill a requirement and I didn’t think I’d care about it at all, but it introduced me to a whole new field in biology which I actually might want to explore more if I’m offered the opportunity.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Childhood

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

+ This Game of Ours

Jason’s eyes snapped open at a sound that no human should be able to hear.

Ever since he’d been resurrected from the Lazarus pit, his senses had grown abnormally acute – amongst other strange things. 

Sometimes he swore he could even hear Y/N’s heartbeat. It was easiest to do with her, after all he was so intone with her very being.

But all of that made nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him – let alone in his own home. Which someone was. He could feel it.

Jason’s eyes glanced down at Y/N, who was sound asleep on his chest.

Ever so carefully, he lifted her body off of him so he could slip out of bed.

But Y/N was a light sleeper, unfortunately. She must’ve inherited that from Bruce, even though she wasn’t even raised by the man.

Y/N winced as her eyes opened just in time to see Jason grabbing one of his hidden guns from below their bed frame.

“What’s going on?” Her voice raspy.

“Nothing,” Jason lied. “Stay here.”

Now that she found out about another hidden gun in their apartment, Jason knew he was going to return to a lecture from Y/N. She never hid her hatred for guns, and had asked him to keep them out of their apartment.

“Jason…” Y/N whispered desperately, now more awake and concerned.

“Stay here,” Jason said, more firmly this time.

Then he quickly kissed her, leaving even less room for her to argue.

In only his black boxer briefs, Jason snuck out of their bedroom and into the living room without making any sound. Y/N had always been shocked at how quiet her giant boyfriend could make himself.

Just as Jason raised his gun, he heard the familiar voice.

“Put some clothes on, Todd.”

Damian stepped out of the shadows.

To Jason’s surprise, he was in civilian clothes and not in his Robin uniform.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking in like that?” Jason reprimanded as he uncocked the gun.

But before Damian could defend himself, the bedroom door squeaked open and Y/N was rushing out into the living room.

“I told you to stay there,” Jason growled.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s overprotectiveness. “Obviously I recognized Damian’s voice, Jason.”

Then Y/N looked at her half-brother for a second and quickly realized Damian had come there for a reason.

“Everything alright, Damian?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” he lied.

Jason remembered when Damian despised Y/N. He saw her as a threat to his claim to the Wayne throne. But Y/N had immediately made her intentions clear. “I have my own reputation, money, and career that I built without a name attached to me. I want nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises,” she had told Damian as soon as she realized he saw her as some sort of competition.

It took Damian months to even acknowledge Y/N. And he really only did because both his father and Dick – basically his surrogate father – scolded him for not doing so.

Slowly but surely, the two grew closer.

Y/N didn’t put up with Damian’s attitude. But she also didn’t scold him like a child. If he was rude or aggressive, she spoke to him the same way she would speak to a grown man who behaved in such a manner. Somehow it made the boy slowly start to respect her more.

Eventually, they bonded over their mutual love of the arts. Damian was impressed with her photographs, while Y/N was honored whenever Damian decided to share his drawings with her. Y/N had gifted Damian his first camera. And Damian once gave her a few lessons on the basics of sketching and painting.

Who knew Waynes were the creative type?

And it was when Damian’s pets all seemed to be obsessed with Y/N that the boy finally decided to get over his original opinions and feelings.

It was by no means a short or easy battle. But the rest of the family was relieved when Damian finally accepted Y/N as one of their own.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?” Y/N offered Damian.

The boy just shrugged, but she noticed his eyes subtly light up.

She never understood why he refused to let himself feel joy in the simple things. It was like she could catch him stopping himself from being a kid.

“I’m going to bed,” Jason announced with exhaustion.

It was clear to him that Damian came to see his sister, not him. And he was nice enough to leave the two of them alone. Even though he was a bit bitter that his girlfriend was being stolen from their bed.

Before turning back to the bedroom, Jason invaded Y/N’s space and gently grabbed her jaw before pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross,” Damian groaned.

Jason glared and pointed at the boy. “You’re in our apartment, demon spawn. I’ll kiss my girlfriend if I fuckin’ want to.”

Y/N just laughed as she watched Jason close their bedroom door behind him.

“Come on,” she nudged her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make some hot chocolate. I think I have some of Alfred’s cookies hiding somewhere, too.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Damian mumbled.

Y/N smirked and shook her head. Tonight, she wasn’t taking the bait. 

Once Damian decided he didn’t hate Y/N, he jumped right to making it known that he did not think Jason was good enough for her. But she knew it was an act – mostly.

“Why aren’t you on patrol?” She asked casually once they had giant mugs of hot chocolate and cookies in front of them, making sure to give the boy extra marshmallows. 

“I’m grounded,” Damian muttered.

Y/N tilted her head. “Grounded?”

It seemed like a far too normal concept for a family of vigilantes.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed.

“I’m guessing that means Bruce and Alfred don’t know you’re here…?”

“I snuck out,” he admitted.

“Why did you get grounded?”

“Father found out I was skipping school. And then that I skipped the school dance.”

“Why does it matter if you skipped the dance?” She asked, clearly confused.

Y/N was also struggling to imagine Bruce caring about such a trivial thing like that.  

“Father wishes for me to have normal experiences that young man of my age is expected to have,” Damian said with a roll of his eyes.

“School dances are lame,” Y/N commented.

Damian sat up straighter, not expecting that to be her response.

“I skipped prom. I didn’t want to go,” she added.

“Why not?” The boy challenge, somewhat caught off guard by that.

Y/N shrugged. “Bad music. Bad dancing. Tacky dresses. Just wasn’t all that appealing to angsty, teenage me.”

Damian just nodded slowly, and then got quiet.

“I have no desire to be normal,” he finally stated after a few minutes.

“I’m not taking his side, but I get why Bruce wants you to do these things, Damian. You were robbed of a lot of things because of the way you were raised. I’m not saying that it’s bad or good. But I think Bruce just wants to give you the opportunity to experience the life of a – well...of a kid.”

“And was your life normal?” Damian quickly asked.

Y/N nodded. “So normal that it was boring.” She laughed, “My entire life was normal until I met all of you weirdos.”

That got a smile out of Damian.

But then it slowly dropped and he seemed to get lost in his head.

“I don’t…I don’t have any friends,” Damian finally whimpered.

Y/N was shocked by the boy’s emotion.

Damian was always composed.

“It’s like they speak a different language. And it’s one I can never learn.”

“Oh, Damian,” Y/N sighed as she rushed from her seat to kneel beside him. “I know it must be hard to try and fit in. But you’re not doing anything wrong. None of that’s your fault.”

“Father is more than aware that I don’t need the education,” Damian’s voice shook as he tried not to cry. “He only forces me to attend so I can make friends. And that is one thing I am unable to do.”

Y/N let him breathe and have an opportunity to continue before she spoke again. 

“I hate school, so I skip. And the school dance seemed so ridiculous to me, so I skipped that too – even after father specifically requested that I attend.”

Y/N sighed, “And did you tell him how you’re feeling when he grounded you?”

Damian shook his head no.

She hadn’t expected anything different. She could easily imagine Damian lashing out at Bruce when he received his punishment, saying that the requests were a waste of his time and beneath him. 

Damian was good at hiding his emotional pain – maybe even better than their father.

Y/N was sure Bruce didn’t have a true understanding of what Damian was going through.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Damian asked.

“Of course,” she gave him a sad smile. “How about we take this hot chocolate to the couch and watch a movie?”

Damian shrugged. But it wasn’t a no.

Y/N let him pick the movie.

He chose Fantasia. 

When Y/N didn’t hide her surprise, he explained that he respected the animation and loved all of the classical music. Even when they did a child-like activity, he still always found way to remind the world that he was no normal child.

An hour later, both of them had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still playing.

When Damian felt another presence, he awoke with a jolt and grabbed his hidden knife, holding it to the throat of the intruder.

But it was Jason, gently bringing Y/N’s sleeping body into his arms.

“Once again, demon spawn, you’re in our apartment,” Jason hissed with annoyance.

The man was completely unfazed by the feeling of a blade threatening to slit his throat. 

Damian huffed.

“I’m taking her to bed,” Jason explained the obvious. Then he nudged his head at the love-seat across from Damian. “There’s a blanket right there if you want to sleep on the couch. Or you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

But Jason paused, with Y/N sleeping in his arms, as he noticed a strange look on Damian’s face.

“What?” He urged.

“If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself,” Damian growled softly.

Jason looked utterly unimpressed. “You’d have to get in line,” he answered, making sure to keep his voice quiet to prevent waking Y/N.

But then Jason’s face softened. “Look, kid, I think you know that she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I’d die before doing anything to mess this up.”

“Hmph,” was the only noise Damian made in response.

Jason rolled his eyes and carried Y/N back to their bedroom.

In all honesty, he couldn’t fall asleep while she had been in with Damian. With Jason’s weird enhanced hearing because of the pit, he was able to catch a bit of their conversation.

Jason softly place Y/N back in bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. When he joined her on the other side of the bed, she didn’t even wake as she slid back into his arms.

Now Jason could finally go to sleep.

When there was a knock on the apartment door the next morning, Damian and Y/N shared a look.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N sighed.

Jason had made all three of them breakfast that morning.

But now Damian pushed the food around his plate, knowing this was the end of his small rebellion. Who knew what his new punishment would be?

Y/N opened the door to unsurprisingly find her father.

Bruce was wearing a full suit, despite it being a Sunday morning. On top was a heavy, black overcoat with the back of the collar slightly propped up.

“You could have least told me he was here,” Bruce greeted his daughter.

She smirked mischievously and shrugged. “I’m no snitch.”

Damian appeared behind Y/N, not seeing the point in dragging this out any longer than necessary.

“Alfred’s downstairs with the car,” Bruce told his son evenly.

The disappointment in both his expression and tone was obvious.

Damian looked up at Y/N. “Thank you for having me, Y/N.”

“Next time, use the actual door so you don’t give me or Jason a heart attack.”

Damian smiled at that before walking past his father and down the hallway.

“Can I talk to you a second?” Y/N asked Bruce.

Her father seemed surprised by the request, but nodded anyways and closed the door behind him.

“I think Damian is really struggling – more than you think, I mean.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “He hasn’t even been remotely injured from patrols in months…”

“No, Bruce,” she quickly cut off. “Not as Robin. As Damian.”

Bruce was quiet.

“He doesn’t know how to fit in, Bruce. And you’re putting a lot of pressure on him to live a normal life. Bu he’s never gonna have normal. That was taken away from him before you even knew he existed.”

“He said that to you?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. “In so few words, yes.”

“And I’m assuming you have some advice,” he quirked a brow.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you should just homeschool him.”

“Y/N, the whole point of him going to school is to be around kids his own age. We both know the education is beneath him already.”

“But that’s the thing, Bruce. He’s never going to relate to any of those kids. Going to school makes him feel like a freak. Let him get homeschooled.”

“He needs to learn to make friends,” Bruce argued.

“You’re right. He does. But not with the spoiled brats of Gotham Academy. How many superheroes are you friends with?”

“He doesn’t consider them friends!” Jason shouted from the kitchen.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine. How many superheroes are you acquainted with, who have kids around Damian’s age?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

“I know you like to keep your personal life away from Batman. But those are the only kids that Damian is ever going to relate to in some way. Do you get what I’m saying?”

To her surprise, Bruce nodded. “You’re right.”

Her brows shot up. “I am?”

Y/N had really expected him to fight her on this.

Bruce chuckled. “Of course you are. Out of everyone in this family, you are the only one who can say they had any semblance of a normal childhood.”

Suddenly his phone dinged and he glanced down at it.

“I have to go,” he regretfully told her.

When he looked back up at her, his face softened. “Come to the manor soon for dinner,” he asked her gently.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded, “I will.”

Bruce nodded in the direction of the kitchen where Jason was hiding. “And bring that one with you, will you?”

Y/N laughed. “He’ll go wherever I go. He’s like a puppy, that one.”

“I can hear you!” Jason called out.

Bruce laughed and stepped forward to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for looking out for Damian, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bruce.”

––––––––––––––––––––

[ksbbb]

“You think that’s gonna dissuade me?”

It’s entirely possible that Theo does everything in his power to aggravate Liam to no end. Even going so far as to smirk at him with those eyes and with that annoyingly attractive face. Everything is an argument. Everything he says Theo has to challenge him on. So why would now be any different?

Theo runs his fingers through his hair, giving Liam that smug smirk, attempting to distract him from the task at hand, but he quickly turns his back to the chimera. He hates when Theo feels the need to touch his hair. Especially when it’s messy, all in his face, and it’s just perfectly enhances the features of the chimera. It makes him want to scream sometimes. It’s unfair. Who even looks like that in a stakeout?

Theo gently taps his shoulders, earning a scowl from Liam, and he chuckles at him, as if this situation is funny, because it’s not. Any minute now he expects a hunter to find them and probably use something lethal on them. He can’t focus. He never can when Theo is around, especially when Theo places his hand on his shoulder at this exact moment.

“Get off. I’m thinking.” Liam huffs out, shrugging Theo off his shoulder and trying his best to focus on what the next step is. He tries. Even with the skip in his heart rate. He really does but Theo being Theo, does everything he can to make that impossible. He merely tilts his head at Liam and looks amused.

“If you thought this through before we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Theo points out, flashing his yellow eyes at him, just as Liam opens his mouth and he attempts to argue with the chimera. He quickly turns around when he hears footsteps drawing closer. A branch snaps and his werewolf senses are in high alert.

Even so, he feels Theo’s eyes on him, waiting, expecting him to respond, and argue with him. Again.

“You didn’t have to come. I didn’t even ask for your help. I actually told you I could handle it. You don’t always have to help me.” He turns to glance back at Theo when he doesn’t hear his typical snarky comeback. He was waiting for it, but when he glances at Theo, he’s looking back softly at him. His body is tense, but the typical sass is non existent.

“You think that’s gonna dissuade me?” Theo asks softly, making Liam shiver, and any thought in his head leaves him. He can only stare back at Theo as he takes a step closer, and his normal aggravated feelings evaporite. It’s replaced with a soft flutter in his stomach. His skin is on fire from the look Theo is giving him. It ignites a flame and he has to look away.

“I…we’re in the middle of the woods Theo…focus.” As the words leave his lips he can hear his own heartbeat skip to signal the lie. The lie of wanting Theo to focus on anything but this moment. Anything but him. He nervously shifts on his feet, waiting, expecting the chimera to refocus.

Liam swallows, his breath hitching slightly as Theo takes a step closer, almost entirely in his space, and leaving no room to turn away. Like all those other times when he was trying to ignore whatever it is that was happening between them. Whatever this is.

This time he doesn’t feel like turning away, or moving. His feet are stuck to the floor, and Theo is leaning…leaning closer….

Liam closes the distance between them, and everything slows down. He can’t breath, can’t smell anything but Theo, and his fingers close around the hew of his shirt, a soft whine leaving his lips. Or maybe it was Theo who whined. He can’t tell. He can only feel.

Feel Theo and the never ending connection that has grown between them. Feel the distance close and the unspoken thing between them evaporate completely.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[nagipops]

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.