#i think i could make some really nice background objects.

[blluesiide]

And I, I Had a Feeling That I Belonged

happy pride month! once again back with another pride collection drabble featuring Bisexual!Spencer with some loving mentions of Ethan :) bi!Spence's first pride parade. enjoy. I love you all. title from Tracy Chapman's 'fast car'.

"This might be a bit cold, okay?" You gently speak.

Spencer nods, hands coming up to hold your waist as you lift his chin. You're standing between his legs in the bathroom, a face painting pallet resting on the counter. You're painting a rainbow on his cheek for his first pride parade.

He flinches a little, trying to resist the urge to scrunch up his nose at the cold feeling. When it's done, you rinse the brush, dipping it into the other colors to paint a little bisexual flag on his other cheek. His eyes are big, looking up at you in anticipation.

His hands curl into the fabric of your shirt, thumb absentmindedly drawing soft circles.

When it's finished, you blow a little to help it dry, patting it down with a little powder before pressing a warm kiss to his forehead. He hugs your midsection, mindful not to smear the paint on your clothing. "Can I see?"

"Go ahead. I'm gonna put this away."

You exit the bathroom to return the supplies to their rightful drawer, and Spencer swallows hard, standing up as his hands flex at his side. When he steps in front of the mirror and sees the flags branded on his own skin, he feels oddly euphoric. A heat arises behind his eyes and he blinks rapidly, not wanting to ruin your beautiful work. When you return, you find him staring at himself, really looking.

You don't say anything, but you place a loving hand on his back, rub a few circles into it and smile.

"You ready?" You prompt quietly.

"Yeah," he nods "Yes. I'm... I'm ready." Your hand trails down, interlocking your fingers. He smiles softly at you, and you grab your things and head out.

His first pride. He never had time to think about what he liked when he was a kid. Even into his teenage years, he was more worried about his mom than anything else. He has no time for crushes, especially not when nobody came near him to begin with. It wasn't until he met Ethan that he became aware that he could even fall for someone at all.

First it was gazing over his features, quiet study sessions in the library, his dorm... Late nights and hushed voices, gentle teasing, until Spencer realized he didn't mind the proximity. Until the heat in his cheeks and the fluttering of his heart were clearly caused by feelings far beyond simple friendship.

It was nice, that time. He looks back on it fondly, his heart still fluttering when he thinks of the times he would look up to find Ethan's eyes already locked on his, that soft smirk on his lips as he admired him.

It broke his heart when Ethan decided to leave, his feelings burning at the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down, knowing there was no point in telling him, now. If he was unhappy, he didn't want to make him stay. If being a musician in New Orleans was what he needed, then so be it. Spencer chalked it up to his bad luck, another person he cared for leaving him in the end.

There's a part of Spencer that will always care for him. A part of him that will always fluster when they meet again, and Ethan steps into his personal space, something he's never once objected to. He's only ever felt that ease with one other person, you.

You, who showed him nothing but love and support. You, who had infinite patience for him, his job, his lifestyle. You, who always left the light on for him. You, who painted his sexuality on his cheeks. You, with your hand in his as you attend his first ever pride parade, a celebration of pure queer joy and elation. A celebration of the self, of the community, of belonging. Something Spencer never thought he would have a sense of in his life.

To see the joy, the lack of fear, the wild acceptance and celebration of everyone, every shape, size, color, background, all coming together to support and love one another... It brings tears to his eyes again.

He's never felt so happy. So, free. So, himself.

When the final float passes you by, the energy doesn't end. People walk the streets, adorned in flags and colors of all kinds, holding hands with their loved ones, celebrating on sidewalks and in front of businesses. He looks around and sees people of all ages, and realizes that he, too, could grow older and be happy. That he could live, and have a future, and that everything isn't bad in the world.

It strikes him deeply, how important this all is. He swallows down a lump in his throat, apologizing to his younger self for not looking into this sooner. For not knowing. For everything bad he's ever said to himself.

"Happy Pride!" A person shouts as they walk past, and he doesn't even think, just shouts back, "Happy Pride!"

A soft sob slips past his lips, and he turns towards you, who quickly reaches up to catch his tears, "Honey, your makeup!" You softly say, protecting the flags from his tears.

He lets out a wet laugh, cups your cheeks and kisses you firmly. "I love you." He whispers.

"I love you," you return. "So much."

"Thank you." He murmurs, kissing you again. "Thank you."

That night, after the paint has been washed away, he still feels it. The joy, the celebration. The pride. This is a part of him. Intrinsically, undeniably.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

[remxedmoon]

yeah i don’t really know how we got here either.

hey uh. something occurred???? so yesterday i decided to try and resprite ralsei for funsies and i got really carried away. there’s 16 of these now. my friends are actively on their way to grab and shake me like orange juice. i have no self control.

this was partially a style test? i’ve got to get to the isat redraw sprites at some point (i promise i haven’t completely dropped the project) and i didn’t really like how Derivative the old mockups were? i wanted to figure out my pixel art style! and i think these helped! so that’s a win in my books. anyways go my sprites. there’s two because i didn’t have room for chara.

[piplup335]

Cruel King x reader! (ya have his call card lol)

hello, F E L L A S

yeah so uh I got bored lmao

there really isn’t anything much to it, and I just felt like creating fluff of this guy

short one lol

enjoy! :D

⋯⇋ ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა ⇌⋯

Another day, another eight hours of training for Shedletsky's quests.

After fighting some sort of Egyptian god to retrieve the Firebrand, you realised that everything would probably only get more bizarre from there.

You started out having to fight two children with their uncle, and now you were moving up to full-on deities. So, of course, you went training to ensure you wouldn't get brutally beaten up by anything else.

However, this time, your training left you exhausted and spent. Not even the soothing restorative energy that coursed through your veins as you stepped on the healing pad could get rid of that feeling of utter lethargy.

As you flopped down on the bed, you were ready to use some of your consumables to rest and relax. Some of the things you duelled today did have pre-packaged ice cream with them when you looted their dead bodies, and you did get quite a bit of Tix from beating up all those Camels today...or whatever they were. Really, what normal camel would be able to inflict some unknown curse of the gods upon you?

To make matters even worse, the air conditioning in Vermillion Village's Inn broke down, so you were stuck in the sweltering desert heat. After a short back-and-forth debate with yourself, you decided to munch on some ice cream.

As you reached into your inventory for the sweet treat, your fingers brushed against something cold. Thinking it would help you cool down, you pulled it out, expecting it to be one of your desserts.

What you did not expect was to pull out a flat object- a card with a red and blue vortex in the background. A golden crown sat in the middle of the card, coloured jewels adorning its exterior.

Cruel King's call card.

"...oh, shoot-"

The card glowed brightly in your hand, and Cruel King appeared before you in a puff of frost and snowflakes.

"Go forth, my l- oh?"

His cyan eyes glanced around the room, scanning the area for any threats.

"...you're not fighting?"

You sat back in your bed, looking up at him with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry...I wanted to grab an ice cream to cool off and accidentally summoned you instead..."

The King sighed. He could feel the heat of the room, but the relaxing chill emanating from his body served to cancel out the humid environment. With a soft sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced down at your smaller form.

"...I can cool you off if you'd prefer, my dear."

The both of you lay in bed as you clung onto him like a koala. You were basically using him as a cooling pad at this point, and Cruel King didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Cruel King, you're cold..."

"If I am too cold for you, allow me to warm you up."

He draped his thick, fluffy silk cape over your form. Since he was significantly taller than you, his cape easily wrapped around you like a burrito.

The King pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the chill of his lips lingering on your skin as his arms wrapped around your smaller form.

"It's nice spending time with you outside of battle, my sweet. Every moment with you is one I will always cherish and hold dear to my heart."

His crown lay on the bedside table, forgotten. For now, all he cared about was not his past status as a respected king. He cared about you.

The person who brought him out of the Ice Dagger's trance.

The person who finally opened his eyes and broke him free from the illusions he had been fed.

He had fallen for you, purely because of the amount of time he had spent with you.

He loved you for always sticking with him even when he lashed out at you, oblivious to your true intentions behind getting the Ice Dagger.

When you struck him down in his own personal Nirvana for the fifth time, he felt something stir within him.

Affection. Love...for you.

He wanted to see you more. He needed you in his life.

So, he gave you his Call Card. He wanted to aid you in every step of your journey, even if it meant putting his soul in peril.

He wanted to see you smile every time you won a battle. He wanted to celebrate your little moments with you.

He loved you dearly. He loved you with every fibre of his being.

As you lay there, arms wrapped around his torso, one of his hands snaked around your waist while the other caressed your face. His icy exterior melted for you, and only you.

"My sweetheart...my beloved..."

He moved his hand up, his fingers tenderly carding through your hair. He gently straightened out the tangled strands, calmly massaging any parts of your scalp he thought he pulled too hard on.

"Rest, my dear...you must be tired from all that training."

You pressed the side of your face against his chest, enjoying the cool surface. You felt exhausted, and you were ready to crash right then and there.

"...I will...thank you..."

Cruel King glanced down at you with a tender, loving smile, his arms tightening their grasp on you.

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. It's simply my duty as your King, after all."

You let out a small, tired yawn. You felt so comfortable in Cruel King's arms, that it was almost impossible to stay awake. The tender scalp massages, the way his fingers caressed your back...it was all so relaxing.

You didn't even realise you needed the comfort until then.

With the softest of sighs, you finally drifted off to sleep in his embrace, Blackrock's King silently vowing to watch over you as you slept.

Not even the old King could resist the sweet temptation of sleep, though.

Maybe you'd call him outside of battle more often.

⋯⇋ ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა ⇌⋯

aaaand that’s all for today! I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll see you all soon :D

do drop any feedback in the comments or the askbox, it’s always open! :)

[doofsevilinc]

Let Me?

Art Donaldson x reader

Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️

Word count: 1k

A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me

Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.

Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez

“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,

just me and you and you and me alone.”

——————————————————————

Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.

You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how they drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.

So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.

And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.

Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes fell back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. He looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.

You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”

He was still upright, looking at you keenly.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.

“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”

He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.

“I could…help you with that.”

Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.

His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.

“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”

He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.

It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.

Your silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”

You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.

You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”

“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.

Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.

He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.

“Let me?”

[subtextdecoder]

Continuing the thoughts from the previous post because I kept thinking about it.

You should read the previous post before this, so you won't be lost.

The ED: I mentioned that there were 9 pigeons looking at the heroes, but when the camera moves a bit further we can see 10 pigeons.

Which confused me at first—until I realized that if X is helping to free the heroes from the system, it would make sense for him to join them. After all, he does pass through the 'breach' with the rest.

Previously, I mentioned the idea that the feathers falling from the sky might represent everyone else in the world switching timelines along with the ten heroes, which would explain why the city appears empty in the color sequence. But let’s assume that’s not the case.

Another possibility is that the feathers symbolize the pigeons (i.e. the heroes) being “destroyed” in that timeline in order to return through the breach—freed, in a way—linking it to the magician metaphor. This ties back to my earlier thought: that it’s not their physical bodies moving between universes, but their consciousness. So the feathers would be a metaphor for destruction and rebirth—like a phoenix—hinting that they awaken anew after their consciousness returns. Remember that moment with the hand becoming responsive after the Trust count disappears?

'Born in the ashes'—sounds like something a phoenix would do, doesn’t it? (Thanks @nilo-77 for reminding me of that scene.)

This detail about the number of pigeons reminded me of another moment:

Here, X throws a coin into water, and it becomes a king chess piece. Around him, other chess pieces fall—there are ten in total, including X as the tenth. The king piece then transitions into X himself. That speaks volumes. He’s clearly been playing chess with everyone all along, watching and moving pieces behind the scenes. And while "king" has a powerful connotation to it, in chess, it's actually a pretty vulnerable role, one that has to run and dodge all the time, otherwise, checkmate. Does this mean X has a weakness we don't know about?

Before I get into more chess references and how omnipresent he seems, let me show you the scene that made me believe he’s actually everywhere at once:

I love this one. It starts with him “entering” the ads on his smartwatch. The interactions look like he’s behind the screen—or rather, inside the internet. We see him removing some of the people's comments, so can he also change or stop public opinion? Well, let's not go there now. He steps out, walks through the city's buildings, grabs a drink from a screen ad, and drinks it. What does this tell us? That he can interact with any screen/surface, teleport through them, and even manipulate the digital world too. It's even a nice discussion because the coke and the watch band are real objects, through the screen or not, what happens here is that he can access the other side seamlessly. I love the parallel with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, when Willy Wonka made it so you could watch a chocolate bar commercial, reach out your hand and take it without leaving the comfort of your couch. Now, going back to what matters...

This is important because in many dangerous moments for the heroes, there’s always an image of X in the background—on a screen. Those aren’t just advertisements. They’re him watching. Always. And maybe he wants people to know he’s there. He doesn’t seem to hide—especially in that scene where he pulls the camera, as if to force us to look at him.

There are more scenes like that, but I’ll stop here for now.

Now, I really believe his power opens breaches in space-time. Every time he uses it, the world glitches—the visuals suggest he “breaks” reality itself.

And linking that with the red strings at the end of the ED: he’s not just pulling the strings—he’s also playing the keys… of the universe?

He clearly knows his place as the king. Again, so many chess references.

He also loves to flip his coin—a nice tie-in to the show’s gambling motifs. It’s like he’s playing with probability. Maybe that’s what the strings represent. If he controls probability, then he essentially controls everything. It’s not really a gamble for him—but it is for everyone else.

There’s a frame I love that shows him seeing the reflection of the villains behind him on the coin’s surface. Sure, they were behind him, but what matters is the metaphor of the showing him important information, maybe helping him tweak the probabilities and with that change the outcome of things? Like winning a bet you never feared losing in the first place.

Then there’s the scene where he looks into the camera—and suddenly we’re inside his eye:

It looks like an eye, but it also resembles a casino roulette wheel from above—the same one the CEOs play on in the OP:

And eventually, it becomes a stage—where X is about to perform. So in a single image, we get three meanings: an eye, a roulette, a stage. This metaphor suggests that fate isn’t as random as it seems. Beneath the surface, all the chance and chaos are actually intertwined with control, and what we think is a spontaneous event might be part of a much bigger, carefully crafted plan. It’s the illusion of randomness—when in reality, everything is being steered by someone behind the scenes. What’s key in this metaphor is the idea of controlling how things are seen. The "eye" represents the observer, the one watching as the "roulette" of fate spins—like a symbol of randomness and unpredictability. But what seems like pure chance could actually be part of a well-thought-out show, where the "stage" reveals a narrative that’s been carefully set up. This connects to the idea that someone—maybe X—isn’t just watching fate unfold, but actively controlling it.

I’m almost at the image limit, so I'm gonna end it in the next post. There are a few lines scattered through the story that have really sparked my curiosity about who X truly is. This post started with doves, but here I am now, unraveling cinematographic cues and trying to make sense of it all. Part.3 ->

[ranticore]

I really find the personal side of Qedivar's study of Ishmael and how he relates to him interesting. Are there any misconceptions that Qedivar is kind of projecting onto him because of this feeling of closeness and relatability?

oh GOD yes !!!!!!

i'm going to copy paste some stuff from my dms because i was talking about this exact thing with a friend recently too:

For background I'd not really thought much of the emotional bond between Qedivar and Ishmael until about this week aside from a few jokes about him developing a crush but when actually thinking about it, what stood out to me is the parasocial nature of the bond because of course one is dead and never could have imagined somebody like the other ever existing. There is a voyeuristic slant to it, it's almost similar to making up an oc who suffers continually for your entertainment/catharsis, but it gains this new dimension when the historical figure was real and not just someone you invented, an extension of the self. In this case he's almost turning Ishmael into that extension of himself, adopting him as part of his identity - his biographer.

Qedi lives in a repressive work-work-work environment and he is discriminated against for his characteristics, so he has a natural empathy for Ishmael, but he has these small freedoms that Ishmael couldn't hope for. He is aware of all of this - he's a good scholar and he knows perfectly well (again, more than anyone) what he has and what Ishmael lacked. Basic comforts, for instance

Ultimately the "next morning knowing he's wrong" part comes from some late night imaginings, he has this extreme almost x-ray view of Ishmael at this point, inside and out he has all this information from a 100 year lifespan accessible all at once, this insight which lets him know exactly when he could intervene to "save" Ishmael. If he had a time machine he would know when to appear in Ishmael's life and exactly what he could have said - he could have intervened, because nobody else did when the time was right - but it's a saviour mentality based on an empathetic response to tragedy. In the cold light of day he can go back to writing the paper with objective, detached language, knowing he could have done nothing even if he had been there at the time, because if they were both born in the same time period, he'd have no insight at all into that weird freak from lab block 1. He would behave exactly as everyone else had, with the information available to them.

Which is the big tragedy of being a historian I suppose

The culture Qedivar lives in is one of alienation where you can't even really be friends with anyone, so him thinking he and Ishmael could be friends isn't exactly the right language but an approximation - he'd think they could be close colleagues with an informal friendliness lol. But yes as a bit of an outcast himself the empathy has enough space to turn to this possessive attitude [towards Ishmael]. We're BOTH outcasts therefore I have some degree of authority over how YOU feel.

His own paper is objective and he does a bit of speculation with evidence but the fact of the matter is that outside of Ishmael's own journals (which are not at all exhaustive, he gave up journaling every few months), Qedi has no way of knowing how Ishmael actually felt. He's interpreting and he's fairly accurate but he cannot know the inner thoughts just from video footage and lab write-ups. And in looking at these write-ups, he's also aware that he's participating in the dehumanisation of their subject, hundreds of years later, because they were written by people with zero interest in Ishmael's mental state.

This frustrates Qedi which leads to all that wishful thinking and private speculation and saviour fantasies. But ultimately it does boil down to a kind of "wowww you're so interesting and weird and abused.. I bet I can fix you" arrogance. And, again, knowing from the evidence in front of his eyes, that this is not the case. But it would be nice if it was.

[cynicalmusings]

i’m kind of tempted to write a series of little anecdotes of socrates!reader interacting with each amphoreus cast member and just… either winding them up or confusing the hell out of them until the characters give up and leave the conversation.

mydei is the easiest to frustrate, and about three minutes into the discussion, he’s just like “i don’t care about this. go away before i want to punch you,” and goes off.

phainon is initially willing to have a discussion—it couldn’t hurt that much, right?—before regretting it severely. to do him justice, he fares relatively well, but after ten to fifteen minutes he has to leave (1) he has no idea what’s going on anymore and (2) he feels a crushing existential crisis coming on which he would rather suffer through in privacy (which is to say he breaks down from existential dread the moment he leaves your line of sight).

tribbie doesn’t get angry, but they’re another one who gets a touch confused. they get both the others in on it, too, and by the end you’ve got the whole group being like “…we’re sorry, we don’t think we can do this anymore” and flying off. they’re pretty polite and honest about what they don’t understand, though, which you appreciate.

castorice, having studied at the grove, has some background in this kind of thing, and she keeps up with the debate pretty well. when she doesn’t understand something, she’ll be open about it and ask you to clarify, making for a good conversation partner. she also strikes me as a pretty patient type, so she won’t lose her temper or anything while you get very particular in your arguments, either. i feel like the main reason she would call off the discussion is because she needs more time to think about how to respond to something you’ve said (and the constant interchange has probably tired her out a little, too).

hyacine is pretty honest from the get-go that philosophy isn’t an area she has much direct experience with, but because she’s nice and doesn’t want to let you down, she’s happy to go along with it. she gets a little emotion when you question her about why life is meaningful and whether it’s really worth inconveniencing oneself to help another (which isn’t to necessarily say you hold these views yourself; your main objective is to gauge her position and how she responds to such a challenge) — and soon tells you that she feels like she can’t do this anymore and needs a moment to herself.

aglaea would be really difficult to befuddle, frustrate, or get any major reaction from. she’s very calculated with her responses, good at keeping a level head, and doesn’t reveal her emotional position. the only way you could get under her skin, if you so wished to play devil’s advocate, is by challenging her about the value of okhema and its citizens. even then, she’d barely crack, but if you’re looking closely, you might be able to tell she’s

finally, debates with anaxa are… literally nothing new. you’ve been bugging him with constant questions for years, and he’s used to it by now (to be honest, he probably ought to thank you for it — you kind of act as his argument-checker to see if he’s overlooked any problems or made any assumptions with any claim he makes). he might pretend to be a little annoyed, but really, he enjoys your intellectual matches. the only ways you could wind him up is (1) committing a fallacy in your argument on purpose/ acting with intellectual dishonesty, which you would just… never do, or (2) saying something (probably negative) about yourself, which… also would never really come up in a discussion, because you’re interested in knowing stuff, not talking about yourself.

(he’s also definitely tried to convince you to take part in the annual great debate on multiple occasions, but you refuse every time. to be fair, every day is a ‘great debate’ for you and whichever unfortunate soul you run into that day… so it’s understandable why you don’t need to join some tournament to get, what, some public affirmation of your debating skill? who needs that? does it get you closer to uncovering knowledge about the world? no? well, you’re just not interested, then.)

[ratsypatsy]

Hello Tumblr! This is me posting on why is Mikaela a better option of protagonist than Sam.

I know the reason why Sam is the way it is, it's because they wanted people to feel identified by a character that's an average and simple person, I guess that's an interesting idea, however, Sam wasn't a very good example of this, they want to show a guy who is nice and find himself being brave at some point. But when I see the movie, I just see a horny teenager who did what he did just because he was involved in it, and to impress a gal, cause there wasn't an option, you can put make up on it by adding those scenes of him saying badass stuff... But that's not enough for me, the character itself seems as a lazy example of what they wanted to show, there's no flavor in it.

And then they made Mikaela as his romantic interest and it's crazy how she's better constructed than he is.

Her past is very interesting, let's start with that. She was considered a criminal at some point, but she had her reason. Then all the school looked as her just as a "sexy and privileged girl who is the gf of the popular guy", they saw her just as their "hot classmate", and not by what she actually is, and this is probably because she didn't wanted them to know the truth, because it's dangerous for her future.

Now, they could've used this to make the kind of character that did something wrong, but then risks it all to save the world, find her place and gain the forgiveness from her crimes.

She is a mechanic, what made her really interesting as a TF human protagonist, similar as Charlie, this ability of her is very useful for her alien comrades.

She is also brave, mature, and responsible.

She had her doubts at the beginning when she first saw Bumblebee, Sam convinced her in that part, but as he did it so easily, I think, without Sam there, a little chat with Bee would've been enough to make her change her mind. Even after that, she didn't questioned to keep helping the Autobots every time she could during the movie, not because she just had to be there, but because she actually wanted to help, she saw Bumblebee more as an individual than as an object, feeling bad for him when he got hurt (Sam kept calling him "my car" as if he was some pet or something that he own, he kept this behavior the next movies)

The reason why we couldn't see more of her interacting with the bots is because she wasn't the protagonist, even in the next movie, her role was mostly secondary, and all her relevance there was to add some drama to the relationship... The rest is just Sam doing his stuff (zzzz) they just throw most of the character to the trash, her only purpose was to be the badie of the movie, what's a shame, since it could've been more interesting.

Her character in the first movie felt more real than her boyfriend, more organic, she had problems, she wasn't perfect, and she had more feelings than being horny and trying to make the other character fell in love with her.

She was witty when she had to take actions.

I mean, is sad how they just putted her in the hot girl place, while giving her an interesting personality and background, jut to throw that, because they were more interested in taking shoots of the actress being sexy, and all of what surrounds her is just the fetish of someone who wanted a "bad girl", that's also smart and brave to fell in love with him, it's unfair. Meanwhile they gave us sam who is less interesting and irritating... Like, do you have a brain that works? The movie is very interesting, I think, it could've worked better for me with a better human protagonist.

[shapelytimber]

do u have a colouring tutorial / tips n tricks up anywhere???

Well no, but I can share my usual process :))

Hi hello, welcome to my personal hell : colors ! It's the part of the process I struggle with the most, and how I do it really isn't efficient or time saving <3 so take what I'm about to tell you with a grain of salt ! I went to art school n shit, but this is not something that comes easily to me. (Also note : I'll only be talking about how I color lined drawings, my process when painting is pretty different)

Ok so first thing first, the most important thing to do : define your light source(s), and the overall lighting ambience of your drawing, even if you don't have a background. To do so : let's do a quick n dirty black and white ! Why black and white ? When you select a color there is three parameters you have to keep in mind : saturation, warmth and value. Beginning in black and white simplify things by only making you think about values. Please note this black and white is only a sketch, and that when adding colors in it will inevitably change.

Step two, where hell begins ! But before questioning every life choices that brought us here, some basic things ! Our sun's light isn't yellow it's orange, and that works for a lot of artificial lighting too be it flames, warm lightbulbs... So unless you are going for a colder light, or something else altogether like neons or alien planet, use orange ! And if you are familiar with the color wheel, you know that what contrasts best with orange is blue, so shading with blues to contrast with the light works great. Of course there is a billion scenario where this does not apply and I could go in more details but the general tip here is : contrast warm colors with cold colors.

But let's come back to our black and white, it's time to add some colors with my trusted friend : 👄🌸✨gradient map ✨🌸🫦 (and others). Let's apply a gradient map to broadly and rapidly put down the major colors of our piece ! My favorite is a light orange and dark greens one but to each their own, depends on what you are going for

And now..... It's time to fuck with it ! I use a combination of "color lookup" layers (photoshop filters), levels, saturation (because I love my colors *very* saturated), special layer types (color, multiply, lighten...ect...) to add specific colors but not fuck too much with the light and warmth, and sometimes I tweak the color balance. Rinse and repeat until you have something you are somewhat happy with. pro tip : at this point you'll have stared at your drawing so long you'll not be able to objectively know what it looks like anymore. So this is a good point to stop drawing for the day, do something else, go to sleep and come back the next day with fresh eyes. Borrowing the eyes of a trusted friend is a nice bonus and helps having a second opinion on what the hell you are doing (thank you to my friend quiji who usually receives discord messages at 3am with a photoshop screenshot and a message "does it look ugly or is it just me ;;")

And now for the final and longest step !!!!!!!!!! Well just gotta make it look good- but we now have a solid base to work out of (or a shit base that I'll change my mind and radically alter at this stage but shhhh, this is a scenario where everything goes right), so all colors we'll add at this stage will generally not stray to far from what we already have ! At this stage I'm focused on 1) having everything have it's "right" color, 2) having every important element highlighted and clearly visible (for this it helps to keep a "hue/saturation" layer with saturation turned all the way down at the very top of your layers : it's a quick way to switch to black and white and make sure you're not fucking up you're values too much) 3) remember I'm not going for realism and 4) create *interest* ! To create interest, I vary the way I add colors and shadows depending on the texture I apply them to :))) here are some fun examples :

And voila !

and the final black and white, to show that it did change a lot but the general values are still roughly the same :

Hope that was useful fjdjdk

Tldr : one must love and cherish the color wheel, cruel mistress with many secrets. And ugly colors are very important

[kenniecrazyface]

Genuine question!!

I really would like to know any opinions on my art style, I suppose specifically for MD. If it’s bad, please let me know how I should change it.

Mostly it’s the head/face/eyes/hair that are different. (There are definitely the full bodies on posts I’ve made) below the poll I’ll put some examples of that to judge (I know the composition isn’t great, I’m just wondering specifically about my STYLE.)

Below the cut I’ll put my personal opinions and background on it, I just don’t want to sway anybody to pick a certain option. I need to know the cold truth lol.

To explain the heads, when I first tried drawing them a long time back I tried to the original design, but I’ve always had trouble with rounder heads. For the eyes, I just wanted to change it in a way that kinda reflects how I’d naturally draw. I just don’t know if that’s any good ofc. Here’s a couple for comparison from the current style

Even though I do joke stuff a lot, I want to be able to have the serious stuff I make to look good; I truly think I’m doing something wrong because stuff I spend more effort on seems to always flop heh. I always wonder if it’s my cheap equipment, just algorithm, bad skills, or if I did something wrong in order to deserve failure. I really want my best to be good enough.

My wish is to be one of those notable people in the community, in whatever (positive) way that could be. I’d like people to look up to me. Thinking things like that feels very arrogant though.

[wonislife17]

POV: Yang Jungwon starts to notice someone who appears to ardently admire him in one of his courses. How did it happen?

The first part is Your POV,

pairing: reader x yang jungwon

WC: 981

(is it really one-sided?, slowly noticing someone who wasn't seen by one before, wrote this while listening to 'For the First Time' by Mac DeMarco, one person requested pt 2 and now it's 2am and I got inspired, looked at Elle magazine pics of Jungwon, mentions of Heeseung, Reader is referred to as 'she', actual thoughts in internal dialogue? that's crazy, I'm pretending this is A03 tags)

(If you like this, I could try to piece a confrontation of sorts, or some type of slow burn thing?)

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

Jungwon doesn't have to look behind him to know that someone is looking at him in his 08:30 lecture on Tuesday. He can feel it. 'That stare.'

It distracts him. Pulls his focus from what the Prof. is saying. He can't afford to be distracted. He needs to pass this class. If not for himself, then for the people who are looking at him, eyes filled with unspoken expectation.

When the lecture finally ends, he packs up quickly, and makes his way out of the lecture hall.

That same Thursday, he notices someone from his class, looking everywhere except in front of her. It's almost like she's avoiding looking at something, or someone. 'Strange.' He thinks, as he watches her walk past him, eyes on her phone. He remembers speaking to her a couple of times outside lectures, about the weather, or something. The memory is vague, blurry. But he does remember how pretty her eyelashes are, and the curve of her lips when she smiles, and the faint hint of vanilla that clings to her form. Small, irrelevant things.

The next Tuesday arrives painfully slowly for him. He just wanted to get it over, so that he could chill with his friends after the lecture. He could feel the person staring. He still doesn't know who it is. But a small part of him wonders, or hopes (he can't tell which one it is), it's that girl looking so intently at him.

At 10:30, the lecture ends, and like clockwork, he quickly packs his things, and goes to hangout with his friends.

His friend Heeseung likes someone he's seen hanging out with the girl from his lecture, so when Heeseung tried to constantly be in the background for the friend, he doesn't object much. It's not his fault if he sees her more often on campus.

She's more at ease outside the lecture hall, chatting with friends, laughing. He notices that her smile brightens up her face, and how she looks more... refreshed, pretty. 'She has a nice smile...' He thinks to himself during one of those hangouts with Heeseung and the rest of his friends.

Sometimes he's not with Heeseung, he sees her, and something in him is reluctant to look away. But he doesn't have time for distractions. He has things to do, goals to achieve. He doesn't know her that much anyway. He's barely spoken to her. Vaguely remembers her name. He just remembered that it somewhat suited her. He walks on.

It's Friday evening. His roommate is out, probably partying, or something. He would've gone, but he didn't have the energy. He needed to get some stuff from the shop too, so with minimal effort, he dons a hoodie and sweatpants. It's getting chilly anyway. He makes a short list of things to get on his phone, and then he's out.

Instant Ramen? Check.

Eggs? Check.

Peanut Butter? Check.

Strawberries? ....Ah, I need to get those still. Along with that chocolate sauce...

Jungwon pushes his cart in the store, mind half on his surroundings, half on the grocery list before him, as he makes his way to the fresh ingredients section.

His hand is almost by the strawberry carton he's going to take when he feels it.

That stare.

He looks around and that's when he spots her. She's already looking at him. 'Hmmm... isn't that...?' It's that girl from his Tuesday lecture. Looking at him, staring. He smiles politely and waves, unsure of what else to do, and it snaps her out of her reverie. She waves at him, face blooming with color, before she rushes off, somewhere further in the store. She looks cute like that. He thinks, but quickly shakes off the thought. 'No. I don't think stuff like that. Maybe Heeseung's crazy talk is getting to me. Focus... Strawberries, chocolate sauce.'

He watches her leave, but wonders if she's the person who's been looking at him all this time. He gets the rest of the items on his grocery list, then leaves the store. He knows he'll see her in the lecture next Tuesday.

Jungwon is running late.

He didn't mean to oversleep, really, but with late nights he'd been having, he figured his body really needed the rest. By the time he gets to the lecture hall, he notices he usual spot is taken. It irritates him a little. In the same way that one would feel if they felt they owned something that wasn't theirs, only to find someone else using it. (naturally).

As his gaze sweeps the lecture hall, his eyes spot that girl almost frighteningly quickly. He sees the spot next to her is empty, but decides against sitting next to her. It seems like something messy, and Jungwon knows he's not one for messy things. About 8 seats to the right of her, he spots an empty seat. He quickly makes his way there, and gets his stuff out just before the lecture starts.

For some strange reason, he can't seem to focus wholly on what Prof. is saying, his gaze darting back to the girl 8 seats to his right, every so often. Funnily enough, he hasn't felt that intense stare the entire lecture, and starts to wonder if he made the wrong idea by assuming this quieter, attractive girl was his not-so-secret admirer.

'10 minutes. I just need to get through that, then I can get some coffee.' He thinks to himself, gaze wandering to that girl once more. This time however, as he's looking at her, she gives him a quick glance. It's the type of look one knows isn't a random glance. It's pointed. Intentional. She clearly meant to look at him. She sees him looking at her, and freezes.

It gives him a shot of adrenaline, knowing that he was right, but also getting to look properly into her eyes.

He smirks.

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

pt3, pt4

[whinlatter]

I have a guess as to what may be revealed in the future, Molly dropped out of Hogwarts didn't she? She never graduated? If her brothers died when she was young, how could she ever have the will to graduate after that? And then she couldn't really get a job because she had no qualifications despite being an extraordinary witch. It made her dependent on Arthur financially even though she loved raising her kids. So she really wanted her kids to finish school and take it seriously. IDK. I feel like this makes sense! She prob never expected Ginny to return for her last year and was surprised (and proud) when Ginny wanted to. 🥺

ahh this is such juicy compelling headcanon, anon, but i think the timelines don't add up. fabian and gideon prewett had to have died in mid/late 1981, as they appear in the order photograph that was taken two weeks before the death of the mckinnons (both marlene and the prewetts are in the photo, and we know the mckinnons are killed just before lily and james themselves are murdered). this means that at the least all of the weasley children bar ginny had been born by the time fabian and gideon are killed, so molly couldn't have been at school at the time.

that said... i think you are right that we should cut molly a lot more slack in trying to make sure her children get on in life, do well in school and make something of themselves in terms of sourcing a stable livelihood that doesn't have them socially discounted. for me, one of the most interesting things about molly is that she is consistently torn between her stalwart commitment to the moral cause that the order represents and also acutely aware that life is going to be hard on her children because of their family's reputation, and the need to overcompensate for it through academic achievement and securing stable employment. there are several hints in the series that molly does come from some level of wizarding aristo background/faded grandeur - muriel's priceless goblin heirlooms, her big house and the promise of an inheritance - and that it is the weasley side of the family that is responsible for the broke blood traitor reputation.

i think, given these hints, we can assume that molly and her big brothers had a strong principled objection to pure blood supremacy and to the death eaters during the first wizarding war, and sacrificed a great deal fighting in its name. but it shouldn't be surprising that molly, a character who seems to have given up some amount of financial stability and pureblood safety to marry arthur and join the anti-voldemort resistance, would be aware of what it is to be without money and how much one might need a safety net as part of a family marked as armed resistors and political radicals.

would molly be proud of ginny going back to school? it is a really nice idea. a few times in early(ish) chapters of beasts i have ginny mentally justify her going back in reference to what her mum would want. but i knew i wanted a different arc for molly and for ginny's relationship with her mum. when we finally do see molly in chapter 9, not just in flashbacks but in the flesh, you can see that ginny's difficult decision to go back to school is the last thing on molly's mind; that the part of molly weasley that fretted and cajoled and lovingly nagged her children died with fred, and ginny has been in denial, engaging in wishful thinking because she hasn't really wanted to confront that her mother may never be in a fit state to fret and cajole and nag her ever again. she is trying to make her mum proud, for sure - but, increasingly, as she accepts her mother will never be the same again, her motivations shift away from maternal pressure to wanting to make life a little bit easier and more bearable for her mum knowing she is trying to set her life straight and build enough material comfort not to have to worry about surviving.

sorry for that bummer! to end on a lighter, if grumpier note... i've said this before so forgive me getting back on this soapbox, but i also don't buy the arguments of the 'molly weasley get a job' tiktok brigade, who seem to grow in number every passing week. i know you're absolutely not saying this, anon, but it comes up a lot in the online discourse, and i do think it is broadly bullshit and worth consistently critiquing. until 1991 molly is doing a huge amount of childcare full-time. once ginny goes to hogwarts, we don't know that molly does nothing for any money - she is a famously industrial knitter! - but also can assume that, after that long without formal employment in a very hierarchical (and misogynistic) society, it might be quite difficult for her to just glibly rejoin the workforce (this is, in fact, a common feature of most modern economies where the burden of childcare still falls on women; it's also clear that in lots of wizarding families women don't work at all after having children). molly also clearly lives on a property with a large amount of land and substantial upkeep requirements (have you ever kept chickens? they are a minimum twice daily ballache).

it's also worth saying that the weasleys don't actually need any more money to pay for basic essentials. that they provide everything their children (and their friends) actually need whenever they need to: they just lack a great deal of discretionary income to splash the cash on material goods. and that's fine! sorry! teenagers are allowed to sulk that they have some secondhand stuff, sure. but it isn't actually material deprivation or a moral failing to reuse stuff you have and not be able to afford elite-level sporting equipment for your children. even if molly weasley never took up paid work outside the home ever in her life, i don't think anyone can reasonably claim she did not undertake essential labour. and, as of summer 1995, it is clear molly is doing missions for the order (canon is clear!), while also feeding and housing and clothing a great chunk of the wartime resistance. seems harder than most other wizarding jobs, to me!

[lizhly-writes]

hi. we're back to svsss again. i read Asymptotical's Many an Ill to Cure yesterday. There was this line that sort of caught in my head:

If this bit of lore was true, then Yue Qingyuan was married to Shang Qinghua of all people, and that was about the only matchup he could think of that was possibly worse than pairing Shen Qingqiu with Liu Qingge.

and my brain.... ran with it. not for very long, because i really don't have a GREAT grasp of these characters and also i should absolutely be doing something else. but here you go.

At the ripe old age of twenty-something, Shang Qinghua had successfully lied and cheated his ass off to become the An Ding Head Disciple. It absolutely didn't mean his troubles were over -- it was still An Ding, and An Ding always meant backbreaking work, no matter how high up you climbed, and haha also there was still the entire fucking plot left. But at least he had a really nice house now! At least people had to pretend to respect him! At least the System wouldn't keep that fucking countdown clock in the corner of his eye about how he had X months to make Head Disciple before it nuked his brain into a crisp!

Overall, things were going about as great as could be expected!

Except for, you know, this... this one little thing.

"What???" Shang Qinghua said, when Shizun had first lobbed it at his head.

The Lord of An Ding Peak looked askance at him. Shang Qinghua cleared his throat and tried again. "Begging this one's pardon, but... but could Shizun repeat that?"

"You'll be engaged to Yue Qingyuan," said the An Ding Peak Lord.

Yeah, that's what Shang Qinghua thought Shizun said.

FUCK!

This was his fault. Like, literally everything was his fault, seeing how he was effectively God, but this was a mistake that he didn't have to make! You could argue about the violence and the papapa, but in the end, he was speed-writing a stallion novel for money so he didn't starve.

But the engagement.

Airplane-Shooting-Towards-The-Sky had been trying to explain exactly why so many young, beautiful, cold cultivators were so eager to get with Bing-ge, even if they seemed to hate literally any other person ever. He'd eventually settled on the idea that in PIDW, even cultivators weren't truly respected as adults until they were married. In other words, marriage was a requirement! A spouse was a job position! Of course Bing-ge's wives would sell out for the best possible candidate, even if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body! Especially if they were ambitious power-hungry snakes without a romantic bone in their body!

In fact, even the Peak Lords of Cang Qiong did it! They were even married to each other! Even the Sect Leader! Haha, it wasn't so weird after all!

God. It would have been fine if he left it without explanation. It wasn't even like he kept the explanation -- no, he wrote it and forgot about it, just like how he did with half of the shit he wrote sleep-deprived and running on caffeine alone. And now he was stuck with this.

"Do you have any objections?" Shizun said, and then Shang Qinghua had to go noooo, of course not, Yue Qingyuan was a mighty and handsome cultivator who topped the unofficial rankings for most eligible bachelor on Cang Qiong for three years straight! How could this lowly Shang Qinghua possibly have any objections?

It was super lucky that Shen Qingqiu was too busy being engaged with Liu Qingge to murder Shang Qinghua for the affront.

Anyway, that was how Shang Qinghua had ended up here -- alone with Yue Qingyuan, sitting across from each other and drinking tea. There was a plate of delicately shaped cakes sitting between them that Shizun had heavily suggested Shang Qinghua should make. You know, to show off his culinary skills to his... his fiance.

“Shang-shidi," Yue Qingyuan said, turning a cake over in one hand. There was some muffled yelling in the background. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge were clearly having a great time of their own scheduled courtship meeting session.

"Yue-shixiong," Shang Qinghua said. "Hi."

Yue Qingyuan's smile didn't waver. "These are very good," he said politely.

Of course they were good. Shang Qinghua wouldn't have been able to successfully suck up to Shizun if they weren't good. It had taken a lot of practice! And sabotage! Practice AND sabotage!

"Haha, thanks," Shang Qinghua said.

Faintly, an explosion sounded in the background. Yue Qingyuan's brows furrowed slightly. "Shidi," he said. "Could you perhaps open the door?"

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 2 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 2/?

Read other parts here.

———

It’s strange the way that fate sometimes works.

You’d heard whispers that England would be hosting a mini tournament during the February international window in preparation for the Euros, even heard talk that Germany could be one of the potential opponents, but you didn’t really think much of the rumours at first. 

But not even two weeks after Arsenal’s second defeat to Barcelona and your little makeout session with Leila in a deserted equipment room at the Emirates, a public announcement goes out. England will host the Arnold Clark Cup in February, playing matches against Germany, Canada, and most significantly Spain.

You’ll get to see Leila again.

She messages you with a link to the announcement almost immediately, and it’s nice to know that her first thoughts are also about a reunion with you.

Leila See you soon! Already practising my slide tackles 😜

You smile to yourself and shake your head as you type out a reply.

You I thought we agreed there were better ways to get my attention?

You’re in the Arsenal gym with the rest of the team doing some conditioning exercises before you head out onto the pitch for training. It’s hardly the ideal place to start another flirty text exchange with Leila, but you can’t deny the fact that knowing you’re on her mind is nice.

Leila Like this?

Leila has attached a picture to her message and it’s bordering on obscene. It’s just a mirror selfie but Leila is wearing only a sports bra and a pair of Barcelona shorts that she’s rolled up at the bottom to make her already long legs seem even longer. In the picture she’s sticking out her tongue and throwing a peace sign but it’s her tanned abs that catch your attention.

Sparing a quick glance around to check there’s nobody close enough in the gym to see what’s on the screen of your phone, you zoom in, practically drooling at what you see.

She’s ridiculously attractive. Suddenly you regret not taking things further the other week at the Emirates. 

But at least the announcement of the Arnold Clark Cup means you’ll get to see her again sooner than you realised.

You Yeah, that works 🥵

Leila Your turn 😉

Here in the gym, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to take your top off and take a tantalising picture for Leila without getting absolutely rinsed by the girls.

You I’m in the gym

You try to make your excuses but Leila’s not letting you get away with it that easily.

Leila Mmm perfect

You definitely want to give Leila something in return, something to tease her and let her know you’re appreciative of the picture she sent that’s now permanently burned onto the inside of your eyelids. You just need a way of doing it that doesn’t alert the rest of your teammates to your new flirtationship.

“I need the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, and nobody pays you much attention as you leave the gym.

Once you’re alone in the bathroom, you remove your training top and take out your phone, before you stand in front of the sink and check out your reflection in the mirror. You try to find a good angle but it just feels awkward and there isn’t really a way to make a picture in a public bathroom sexy. But you tense your abs anyway and take a few photos of your reflection, trying and probably failing to smoulder at the camera.

You scroll through the results. It’s very hard to look at the pictures with anything other than mortifying shame, but you try to be objective. The lighting is unflattering, the toilet cubicles in the background ruin the sexy vibe you want to go for, but hopefully Leila won’t pay attention to that and will just appreciate that you’ve tried.

Before you can send one of the photos, the bathroom door crashes open behind you and Leah walks in, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.

“I was just…” you stutter, scrambling for an excuse to explain why you’re topless in the bathroom when you’re supposed to be in the gym. Improvising a lie, you continue, “My back was itchy so I just thought I’d check to see if I had a rash or something. Can you see anything?”

You turn to expose your back to Leah and you can tell from the reflection of her expression in the mirror that she doesn’t quite buy your excuses, but all she says is, “Looks fine to me.”

“Cool, thanks,” you reply, tugging your turquoise training top back over your head. “See you back out there.”

With your phone in your hand, you leave the bathroom, sending Leila one of the photos you took as you go.

She replies immediately with a single emoji.

Leila 🤤

You have absolutely no idea how you’re going to survive until February.

———

What you didn’t realise is that the Spanish team is also using St George’s Park as their base camp for the tournament. 

You discover this information in the food hall on the first morning of camp. The two squads are mostly kept separate, training on different pitches and sleeping in different accommodation blocks, but some of the communal areas on campus like the cafeteria and the recreational spaces are shared. 

As you go down to breakfast with Ella, who’s staying in the room across the hall from you, half the Spanish squad is already in the dining hall. The two teams seem to have segregated themselves pretty well, the Spaniards occupying one side of the hall while the few Lionesses who are already here have taken up places at tables on the other side.

You join the back of the queue for food and Ella greets the Spanish player in front of you, her Manchester United teammate Ona Batlle, with enthusiasm.

“Hey Ona!”

“Tooney!” Ona says, as both her and one of her Spanish teammates turn around at the sound of Ella’s voice.

And who just happens to be the teammate standing with Ona?

“Hey,” Leila says, a small smile just teasing the corners of her mouth upwards when she sees you.

“Alright,” you greet her, feigning polite indifference, as if you didn’t have your tongue in her mouth and her hands feeling you up under your shirt two months ago after the game at the Emirates. As if you don’t have a couple of borderline racy pictures of her saved on the phone that suddenly feels very heavy in your pocket.

“You two know each other?” Ella asks.

“We played against each other in the Champions League,” you’re quick to explain. “You know, that competition you don’t get to play in because you play for a shit club like United.”

“Hey!” Ella protests.

You grew up about ten minutes away from Ella, a couple of years older than her but moving through similar youth pathways until your journey took you south to Arsenal. She’s a diehard United fan, while your family’s loyalty lies with the blue side of Manchester, and the rivalry is a constant source of entertainment and banter between the two of you. 

It’s also a very easy way to distract Ella from more serious topics. Such as how you know Leila.

“United are not shit,” Ella insists. “Don’t forget who knocked you out of the Conti Cup.”

“Ouch, that one’s still sore,” you say, wincing at the memory of Arsenal’s defeat to Manchester United just a few weeks ago. 

“Well just remember that next time you think about chatting shit about United.”

You pick out some breakfast food from the serving counter and follow Ella to a table where Alessia and Georgia are already sitting. As you drop into an empty seat, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you take it out to see that Leila has sent you a message.

Leila You look cute

You glance up, looking for Leila, and realise she’s positioned herself at a table across the room where she’s got a clear line of sight at you. She’s looking at you now, teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for your reaction.

You look back down at your phone and type out a response.

You Stop looking at me like that

Leila Why?

You’ve completely tuned out the conversation at the table around you, entirely focused on Leila across the room and her messages lighting up your phone.

You Because now I want to kiss you

You watch Leila as she reads your response, and she looks from her phone back up at you, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, before she sends her next reply.

Leila Laterrrr

You Is that a promise?

Leila doesn’t reply, but every time you look up as you eat your breakfast, she’s watching you from across the room, and that’s enough of an answer.

Later can’t come soon enough.

———

Worked up from your impromptu morning flirtation with Leila, you channel all your sexual frustration into training. By the end of the morning, you’re exhausted but in a good way, and the reward of getting congratulated on a good session from Sarina as you head in for a shower makes it all worthwhile.

After having some lunch and a brief tactics meeting led by Sarina in preparation for your first game against Canada, the rest of the afternoon is for downtime. You’re slumped in a beanbag in the recreation room, watching Georgia get thrashed by Lucy at some shooting game on the PlayStation, when a small group of Spanish girls enter and make their way to a pool table at the back of the room. Leila is among them and she makes eye contact with you for just a moment as she passes. Her expression doesn’t change, but her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long for it to feel like you’re strangers.

It feels like the air in the room has shifted with Leila’s presence. You can hear the Spanish girls behind you, arguing over something in words you don’t understand as the balls of the pool table clack against each other with every shot, but you can only think of Leila. You’ve spent months dreaming of being in the same country as her, let alone the same room, and the opportunity to actually have time to spend with each other instead of a quick ten minutes in a store cupboard or a flirty exchange of messages has seemed like a luxury you would never have.

Until now.

But you can’t exactly walk over to the pool table, grab Leila by the hand, and drag her to your room upstairs in front of teammates from both sides.

Or can you?

You’re getting restless in your beanbag when footsteps come up behind you and Leila walks past again, this time alone. As she opens the door to leave the room, she lingers, looking back at you and somehow beckoning you with just the look in her eyes. She disappears before anybody else can notice, and you think your self-restraint deserves a commendation because you manage to wait a whole forty-five seconds before you haul yourself out of the beanbag and make excuses that fall on deaf ears as the other girls celebrate Lucy winning yet another round against Georgia.

You slip out of the room almost unnoticed by everybody else to find Leila hanging around outside.

“I found a place,” Leila tells you, as she starts to walk away down the hall.

You chuckle in amusement at the image of Leila sneaking around St George’s Park on a recon mission to find somewhere private for a hookup, and follow just a few paces behind her, keeping enough distance between you so that it doesn’t look like you’re together, though luckily you don’t bump into anyone along the way.

She leads you to the media area of the building, which is thankfully deserted, and eventually pushes open the door to a large room that is used for press conferences, a long table in front of a sponsorship board at the front of the room and rows of chairs set up facing it. Leila turns to look at you, an expectant smile on her face and her arms outstretched.

“This is the place you found?” you ask.

“Uh huh. Look.” Leila walks past you to the door and reaches for the lock, which she twists with a click, before turning her attention back to you. “Now it’s private.”

Locked or not, it’s still a bit of a thrill to know that you could be caught at any moment, but you’ve been thinking about Leila’s lips since you last kissed her two months ago and all the teasing today has only worked you up further. You take a few steps forward, pushing Leila back against the door she’s just locked with a little grunt, your hands coming to rest on her hips.

“And what are we going to do with all this privacy?” you ask.

“I think you know what.”

“Show me,” you instruct Leila.

All you can think as your lips move against each other and your hands tug at clothing is finally.

———

Afterwards, you redress yourselves and try to look presentable - you’d really rather you kept this from your teammates for now and you definitely don’t want to announce it to them by re-entering the recreation room with tousled hair and dishevelled clothing. You pull your top back over your head, then use the front camera of your phone to check that your hair isn’t too messed up.

You glance across at Leila, who is doing the same thing nearby, and feel a fresh wave of attraction towards her as she runs her long fingers through her dark hair.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say.

“We should,” Leila agrees, with a smile.

And you do. It’s difficult, given the fact that you’re both busy with your separate preparations for the first games of the tournament and that there’s also the challenge of sneaking away without anybody noticing, but over the next two days you manage to rendezvous with Leila no fewer than three more times. 

When you’re not with her, you spend most of your time thinking about her - the taste of her lips, the way her hands feel on your body, the look in her eyes when she smiles at you. It’s probably not a good thing to be this distracted by an opponent while at camp but thankfully nobody seems to notice that your mind is wandering, nor that you keep sneaking away to meet Leila when you get downtime.

———

The first games of the Arnold Clark Cup - England versus Canada and Germany against Spain - take place in Middlesbrough. With travel both ways, an overnight stay in a local hotel, and the games themselves, it means you go almost thirty-six hours without seeing Leila.

That’s something that shouldn’t be a problem, but is. 

It’s crazy how in just three short days, most of which have been spent with your respective teams anyway, you’ve become dependent on those secret little meetings with Leila. 

You draw against Canada, playing the last ten minutes of the game off the bench, and if you’re in a bad mood on the bus back to St George’s Park the following morning, your England teammates think it’s just because you’re disappointed with your lack of minutes. 

You let them believe that, even though you know the whole point of this tournament is rotation and that you’ll get your chance to start in another game, and sit quietly with your headphones on and your head leaning against the window. You even try to convince yourself that that’s the problem, because the other alternative is admitting to yourself that you miss a girl you’ve been hooking up with for three days.

And so what if the only thing that puts you in a good mood is a message from Leila that says ‘Want to hang out later?’ that lights up your phone when you’re about thirty minutes away from returning to camp?

At least she misses you too.

———

The day before the game against Spain, you’re asked to do the pre-match press conference with Sarina and Leah. You sit at the front of a room that has become familiar to you over the last five days, being one of the regular spots that you keep returning to when you want some alone time with Leila, only this time it’s with your captain and your coach at your side and two dozen reporters all watching intently as they ask about your preparations for the biggest test England have faced so far under the new management.

“We know that Spain has a very distinct style of football,” Leah says, answering one reporter’s question about the opposition. “In some of our recent games - the World Cup qualifiers - we’ve been used to having a lot of possession and a lot of chances. But Spain likes to have the ball, they like to pass the ball around a lot, and we need to make sure we’re patient but also clinical in taking the chances we do get.”

“You’ll both be familiar with some of your opponents tomorrow from your recent Champions League games with Arsenal, but how do you prepare for coming up against star players like Alexia Putellas?”

Leah nods for you to speak and you give your answer.

“There’s no denying that Spain has a lot of quality all over the pitch,” you say. “They’re a team full of world class players. But these are the opponents we want to be playing against as we prepare for the summer. In order to be the best we need to test ourselves against the best.”

The next question goes to Sarina, and you lean back in your chair again as you listen to her response.

———

Later, you’re back in the press conference room, the door locked and the lights off, as Leila peppers your neck with kisses while her hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt and up your sides.

“You think Spain is the best?” she murmurs against the skin of your neck, her voice a low rumble that sends a shiver of arousal throughout your entire body.

Suddenly it all makes sense. No sooner had Leila got you alone and locked the door, did she steer you towards the table at the front of the room, where she pressed you into the exact spot where you sat a couple of hours earlier to speak to the media.

“You watched my press conference?” you ask, letting out a gasp as her teeth find a sensitive spot. 

Leila confirms with a hum.

“I think Spain is one of the best,” you clarify.

Pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes, Leila smirks and asks, “Do you think I’m the best?”

As she speaks, one of her hands toys with the elastic at the bottom of your sports bra.

“At this, yes. At football, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

Your teasing seems to be enough to satisfy Leila, who lifts your top over your head and captures your lips in another bruising kiss.

———

The game against Spain the following day finishes goalless. It’s not the result you wanted but the overall performance was good and you know there’ll be lots that Sarina will pick apart and ask you all to learn from the game.

Having been substituted off after around sixty minutes, you push yourself off the bench when the final whistle blows and wander back out onto the pitch. 

You shake hands with a few of the Spanish players and hug your own teammates, before finally going over to Leila, who greets you with a smile and wastes no time asking, “Can I get your shirt?”

“Normally when you want me topless, you take it off yourself,” you tease her, thinking about yesterday’s encounter in the press room as you remove your white England shirt.

She removes her own and whips your leg with it in retaliation for your teasing, before you both swap shirts. It’s cold and rainy and you don’t want to walk around in just your bra so you pull Leila’s jersey on, smoothing out the red fabric.

“Maybe I’ll take it back off you later,” Leila replies, her eyes raking down your body. “You look good wearing my name.”

The look in Leila’s eyes and the slight hint of possessiveness in her voice turns you on more than you’d care to admit.

Your mind is already running at a million miles an hour, playing out fantasies that involve Leila wearing nothing but your England shirt. You briefly wonder if there’s a hidden corner in this stadium, just like the closet you found at the Emirates, where you can show Leila exactly what the vision of her in your jersey is doing to you, but you know it’s an even greater risk here than it was last time.

The fantasies will have to wait for now. 

———

England wins the Arnold Clark Cup after beating Germany and while you’re delighted to get your hands on some silverware and know that it’s a promising sign ahead of the Euros in the summer, there’s a tiny part in the back of your mind that is sad that the international break is coming to an end.

Though you don’t want to admit it, you know that’s probably because of Leila.

You return to St George’s Park for one last night with a medal around your neck. Tomorrow, you go back to London and Arsenal, while Leila will fly back to Spain. Normality will resume and you know it’s unlikely you’ll see Leila again before the Euros at the earliest, when there will be more important things on your mind than hooking up.

But if you only have one more night with Leila, you want to make the most of it. Clearly she does too, because she messages you later that night asking to meet, and you sneak out of your room and down to the communal areas to meet her.

You don’t bother to look for any real privacy, instead taking your time with each other right there in the rec room. Your teammates are all asleep in their beds and now that the tournament is officially over, you don’t really care if you get caught anyway. A twisted part of you actually wants to get caught, wants somebody else to know that at least for these short ten days, Leila has belonged to you and you to her.

But nobody interrupts.

Afterwards, you dress again but instead of returning to your separate rooms, you end up on one of the beanbags together. Your head rests against Leila’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath she takes, and her fingers play absently with your hair.

It’s perhaps more intimate than all of the actual sex you’ve been having over the last week and a half.

“This has been fun,” you murmur, though your words feel empty compared to the weight of how significant Leila has been to your life in recent days.

“It has,” Leila agrees, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

If the situation was different, if you lived closer together, you might ask Leila out. In all honesty, you haven’t actually talked much, partly due to the language barrier and partly because you’ve just wanted to jump straight to the physical stuff in the limited time you’ve been able to spend together.

Despite that, you’ve clicked with Leila in a way that feels special and you want to get to know her better. How does she take her coffee? Is she a dog person or a cat person? Stupid things like that but also what annoys her, what makes her laugh? What are her fears and ambitions?

Maybe you’ll never know those things.

You doze together on the beanbags, never quite fully drifting off to sleep but much more content in Leila’s arms than you would be if you returned to your empty bed. It’s only when the first glimpse of dawn starts to filter into the room that you reluctantly start to get up to return to your rooms before any of the other players from either team come down. 

You don’t know how to say goodbye so you don’t, parting ways with a silent hug that lasts an eternity but still isn’t long enough. It’s a goodbye that doesn’t quite feel final, but with a huge question mark hanging over when you’ll be able to see Leila again, or even if you’ll get that chance, it does feel like the end of something.

Whatever this has been between you, for now, is over.

[bethanydelleman]

do you have any theories on why wickham turned out the way he did? his background sounds humble but not dirt poor as i know steward was a really valued job at the time. and as the elder mr. darcy liked him, he probably had a better life than plenty of boys. correct me if i'm wrong but i don't recall any mention of a mom or siblings, so darcy was probably his main childhood companion. it's just horrible to think that over the years he went from seeing darcy as a friend to someone he could ruin. and he was prepared to ruin georgiana's life, not just take all her money but cause a scandal so she might not ever get married again. and if darcy hadn't found lydia he'd probably just leave her where she was with no way of getting home and destroyed the bennets. like why? everyone was nothing but nice to him his whole life and all he does is hurt them and enjoy doing it. when you think about it kind of sounds evil.

From what I understand, Wickham was a failure of a system whereby a rich person would choose someone poorer to patronize. We can see other examples of this in Emma (Jane Fairfax & Harriet Smith) and especially Mansfield Park (Fanny & William Price).

The idea was that the rich would find someone worthy of improvement, sponsor their education, and give them the ability to raise into the gentry class. This sounds like what Mr. Darcy Sr. tried with Wickham, but in this case it was a failure. What ended up happening isn't that Wickham was grateful, but he ended up feeling entitled to the life of a Darcy. The novel's implication is that Wickham had a bad character, which education could not improve, and that Mr. Darcy Sr. was deceived in because Wickham had a veneer of decency.

From Darcy's Letter:

Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education. My father was not only fond of this young man’s society, whose manners were always engaging, he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities, the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have.

Wickham's account:

“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest part of our youth was passed together: inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care."

In Mansfield Park, Sir Thomas talks about how difficult it will be to maintain the distinction between his daughters and Fanny, their adopted niece, and when I think about how Wickham turned out, I think this is meant to be taken seriously (even though Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris screwed up massively):

“There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Norris,” observed Sir Thomas, “as to the distinction proper to be made between the girls as they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my daughters the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her remember that she is not a Miss Bertram. I should wish to see them very good friends, and would, on no account, authorise in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance towards their relation; but still they cannot be equals. Their rank, fortune, rights, and expectations will always be different. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must assist us in our endeavours to choose exactly the right line of conduct.”

Fanny feels grateful for what the Bertrams give her, even though it's scraps of a real education. Wickham ends up feeling entitled, even though he is "liberally bestowed" and that may have been the problem. He was treated too similarly to Darcy and felt that he was a Darcy, only to find out the patronage didn't go as far as he wanted.

Wickham comes off to me as one of those people who is ALWAYS innocent in his own mind, someone else is always the cause of his misfortunes (he's like Willoughby in that respect). So when he tells Elizabeth about how he lost his inheritance, I think he believes what he is saying. He does think Darcy cheated him somehow even though he was in the wrong. Darcy becomes the tyrant because Wickham refuses to be the villain of his own story.

In addition, I don't know if he would have seen Darcy as a friend. Darcy is one of the few people who can see through Wickham and a con man would hate that. Wickham's dislike of Darcy may well have started because he hates that Darcy can perceive and judge the real him.

[thebruno65]

(almost) Every Danganronpa Entries Tier List.

Don’t know much:

Danganronpa Togami: I’ve read the first two chapters, and they seem kinda fun! I like that another of the Sayaka group idol gets a role in this, but I’ll probably wait until we get like a full fan translation of the novel, bc I’m not reading a resume of it I’m sorry.

Danganronpa 2.5: I probably need to rewatch this one, I don’t remember much abt it, but it seemed cool, I like the idea of the world ender and all of that. And it’s a good way to explain how they made the rest wake up.

Danganronpa 1.2 Beautiful days: read like the first story, odd as fuck, left it halfway through the other one, might read one day but not too keen of non-canon stories.

Danganronpa 3 CD Drama: no translation = Not being able to watch it, I’ve heard what its abt tho, Koichi going and taking a background check on students to enrol, sounds fun.

D Tier:

Danganronpa 1 anime: just objectively worse than the VN in every way possible, way too short and summarized, less funny, less exciting, etc. there are some good scenes here and there, but if you really want to get a feel for the saga, just watch a playthrough of it.

Danganronpa S: One word, Disappointing. What could have been a fun and nostalgic trip through all characters with fun dynamics and cool interactions showing how far the saga has gone turned into a blatant cash grab to get something out for the 10th anniversary. Missed potential in adding dr 3 and even 0 characters in this.

C Tier:

Makoto Secret File: it’s alright, cool view into how Makoto’s luck works, and heck we even get two new lucky people introduced, one a girl who’s unnamed, and Jutaro Akafuku.

Kirigiriso: Def the most bizarre entry out of all, the worst part probably has to be the super galaxy level invaders, don’t fit dr at all. Worst part is that they’re lit canon to the universe with Danganronpa Togami making it so. But I adore Kohei and Santa here, and Kyoka is cool.

Danganronpa 3: Hope Arc: Nothing to say here except it’s okay, I like the scene of Ryota and class 77-B, the final scene is nice and new ultimates too ig?

B Tier:

Ultra Despair Girls: this game could have been perfect, if they bothered taking their plots seriously, it’s the biggest blunder of this game. Taking extremely sensitive yet effective plots for a story like this and not treating them with any respect at all. Tokomaru is cute tho.

Danganronpa IF: cool view into Mukuro and supposedly the one Kodaka likes the most. I think the story is a cool concept, and a lot of ideas for fanfic expansions, I feel like they should make more ifs.

Danganronpa V3: Weakest of the main games, and by far. Sorry to everyone that likes this game, but it just wasn’t for me. I think it has the weakest cast with not much going for them. A lot of them kind of seemed to just serve as canon fodders imo. I’m mixed on the ending, and the trials always seemed to resemble dr 2 but weaker. But Ryoma was peak tho, I’ll say that.

Danganronpa 3 Despair Arc: this entry and future arc are overhated, they’re really cool. I like this one with how we see everything that happened before the tragedy and how everything connected to lead up to it. Kinda wished it was a bit longer tho, maybe like 4-5 episodes longer, get some time to develop characters like Sato, Natsumi, real Miaya and have some parts of zero too maybe?

Ultra Despair Hagakure: it’s this high because of how peak and funny Yasuhiro is, ppl love to flack on this guy and say he should have died, those ppl don’t know what comedy is at all. Also, we get introduced to Kanon which is… controversial, it suffers from the same thing as UDG, with a good concept but horrible execution.

A Tier:

Killer Killer: I love Gaiden! I love the characters that were introduced here, Misaki is cute, Takumi is cool, and Shuji is an awesome Antag. I love the unique art style, it’s such a nice breath of fresh air from Ruis one which was getting really tiring to look at. And the story is so cool! Though I wished the ending with the collar was different, that was too unrealistic, though ig we got the final scene which was cute between Takumi and Misaki.

Danganronpa 3 Future Arc: This one is underrated as fuck, I love most of the characters introduced here with amazing designs, we get a nice return to the more claustrophobic setting from the first game, it’s a new type of killing game which is a nice change, and I like the story of it being two different hopes clashing instead of hope vs despair.

Danganronpa 1: this is an awesome first entry, awesome setting, really nice and memorable characters, cool linear story, best surviving cast, cool murders and development, this game has it all, but I still think others can beat it. But hey, it made it top 4!

S Tier:

Danganronpa 2: My fav game out of the ones here, I think it has the most fun cast, its cases are a step up compared to the first one in terms of difficulty, but not too much like v3. I love the setting too, the happy, cheery island makes the creepy and murders all the more terrifying, and it has the best final trial in the game.

Danganronpa 0: I love Zero! It gives us all amazing characters, Yasuke is like top 3 character, Yuto is such a fun character too, just kinda wished he dumbed down his pervertedness, Isshiki Madarai, while weird still fun too. And Ryoko is so cool too! I like the lore and story it gives to Junko in this and how she was able to get away from the murders of the student council. Def a fantastic read.

Danganronpa Kirigiri: No words can possible explain how good this entry is, and its not even close. Yui is like the best protag tied with Hajime, gives Kyoko a great explanation to her backstory and explanation as to how she is, amazing characters with different yet fun personalities, an amazing plot with the duel noirs, the mysteries of the murders themselves and trying to piece together what happened, and the ending… THE ENDING BRO… YUIIIII I MISSS YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU. Def the best entry in the saga and rightfully deserves the number 1 spot.