#i think this was a good year for my art especially in the second half of the year

[cuplague]

no way i finish another piece (or like it as much as this one) for december so happy Art Wrapped ^_^

[zweiginator]

Reader making out with Tashi after she wins a game at Stanford. And Art and Patrick are jealous!

Oh my god yes...

Patrick and Art are obsessed with you two. You're not on the women's tennis team at Stanford, but you and Tashi had been assigned as random roommates freshman year and had been inseparable since. You came to all of her matches; you were the first person she ran to after a big win, pressing a big kiss against your cheek and spinning you around, high on adrenaline.

Patrick and Art had fantasies about the two of you. Of course, as the two best players on the men's tennis team, you both knew of them. But neither of you had paid much attention to them. They were exceptionally popular and well-liked, and every girl (and mom) within a 100-mile radius of Stanford University knew and admired the two of them. Fire and ice.

They would talk about the two of you late at night as they stared at the ceiling, watching the fan go around and around until they were dizzy and drunk off PBRs.

"I think they are just really close. Girls are like that." Art said, sitting up to rest on his elbows. They had a match the next morning at UC Berkeley; the team was staying at a hotel close to the campus.

"Yeah, maybe." Patrick sighed. "I would do anything for them."

"I don't know who wouldn't."

Patrick sat up quickly. "Do you think she is here?"

"Well," Art responded, his mouth full of cool ranch Doritos. "Given Tashi is on the team, I would say yes."

Patrick threw a pillow at his friend from his side of the room. "No, dipshit. Like, I think Y/N comes with Tashi sometimes on these trips. 'Cause she never misses a match."

"Okay asshole." Art rolled his eyes. "I don't obsess over every move they make like you do."

"Bullshit."

"What is your point?" Art changed the subject, confused at where Patrick's mind was headed. He figured somewhere perverted.

"I mean," Maybe it was the five beers in Patrick's quite empty stomach that was giving him this idea. This confidence. He was usually good at girls, but he couldn't get himself to talk to the two of you--especially not sober. "Maybe we could find their room. And maybe we could hang out with them."

Art lit a cigarette, his second of the night. "We have never spoken more than 5 consecutive words to them. What makes you think that would ever work out?"

"Can you not be a pussy for just tonight?" Patrick got up, pulling his linen button down on. He grabbed Art's cigarette from between his lips and took a hit. "Or be a pussy, and I'll just go by myself."

Art stood up quickly. "I'll go." He stole his cigarette back, ashing it into the trash bin haphazardly placed between their beds. "But how do we know what room they are in?"

They knew the girls' team was staying on the floor above them. And they knocked on every door until you answered, rubbing your eyes.

"What are you guys doing here?" You yawned, whispering to not awake Tashi, who was sleeping soundly on the side of the bed closest to the alarm clock, which read 2:15 AM. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Art looked embarrassed; he was red in the face. But Patrick leaned into the room, looking down at you in a shirt he recognized as Tashi's and little sleeping shorts that made his breath hitch.

"We wanted to see if you guys wanted to hang out." Patrick raised his eyebrows and looked over to Art, who nodded.

"We can't sleep. We were thinking it would be cool to get to know you guys better, I guess."

"You mean Tashi?" You whispered. "She's sleeping, you know."

"No," Patrick shook his head. "Both of you."

Tashi stirred awake. She was wearing a black tank top and similar sleeping shorts as you were. "What's goin' on?" She slurred.

"Patrick and Art are here."

"Why?" Tashi, sat up; her hair was in a neat braid. "It's late."

"They have beer, and they want to hang out." You were half making fun of them, how they looked so nervous.

"We can't sleep." Art repeated.

"Sure, come in." You didn't know if Tashi meant it. She was delirious when she was tired. But you allowed them inside, curious about their intentions.

Obviously, they were attractive. They were also exceptionally talented. But you and Tashi were content in your own little bubble, eating gummy bears and potato chips in bed and laughing at inside jokes from 3 years before.

You sat on the bed, next to Tashi. The boys sat on the carpet, looking up at the two of you.

"So," You said, hugging a pillow to your chest. Tashi rested her head on your shoulder. "Did you come here hoping to fuck us or?"

"Wha-"

"No," They responded, simultaneously. But their cheeks changing from peach to crimson told you and Tashi otherwise.

"We are just interested in getting to know you both."

Tashi scoffed. "Oh, Y/N, they are interested in getting to know us."

You laughed, throwing your head back.

You and Tashi noticed the dynamic you had created, completely on accident. She and you on the bed, them below you. Their eyes were glassy and lips parted, and you knew if you told them both to jump out the fifth story window, they would do it before they knew what exactly they were doing. You looked at each other and licked your lips.

"So if we offered to fuck you guys, you would say no?" You asked, furrowing your brows together.

"No, no, I wouldn't say that," Patrick scooted forward, hugging his knees. He looked vulnerable and small. "I can't speak for Art, but I-"

"I wouldn't say that either." Art said bluntly.

"Y/N," Tashi said, pushing your hair behind your ears. You were facing each other on the bed now; the boys were blurry in your peripheral vision. "How do you think they would kiss us?"

Patrick and Art swallowed.

You thought. "Hmm," You answered. "I bet it would be desperate."

"I think so too," Tashi leaned in, her lips brushing yours. "Probably pretty sloppy."

She kissed you, tangling her hands into your hair. You cupped your face, pulling her even closer than she already was. Your mouths opened against each other's, exchanging spit and each other's hungry moans. You pulled her braid to expose her neck, and kissed down the column of her throat, climbing on top of her. You and her had never done this before; of course, there existed the inevitable rumors, but they were untrue--until now.

"Holy fuck." Patrick was the first to break the silence; you and Tashi grinding against each other as Tashi's hands kneaded your ass.

Patrick's hand grazed the bed, a move made in an attempt to join.

"Uh uh uh." You tsked. "No touching."

Tashi flipped you around so she was on top now. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. You whimpered as her spit fell onto your tongue. Tashi pushed your--her--shirt up, palming your tits.

"Can we-" Art began.

"Can you what?" You and Tashi asked simultaneously, pulling away from each other. A string of your mixed saliva connected the two of you for just a second longer.

The boys rolled their heads back and moaned.

"Can we join you?" You could see their boners, prominent in their sweatpants. Beads of sweat dribbled between their collarbones and over their brows.

"God, you guys sound pathetic." Tashi laughed. "What do you think, Y/N?"

You pretended to think. "Well, I guess it's only fair." You began. You saw the boys' ears perk up like they were hungry little puppies, their lips bitten from lust. "That you guys show each other a little love and appreciation."

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 18

Part 18:

"Why are you walking in circles around my house?" Art looked amused as he opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, and that he was a bit of a jerk for enjoying her embarrassment so much. But her flushed face and the staged eye roll were worth it.

"Because I was early." Liana muttered. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, stepping closer to him while he stayed put, taking his time to look at her. Still amused but also trying to hide his concern. He hadn’t heard from her for three weeks. Not since Atlanta. Until she sent a message yesterday asking if she could come over.

"I have windows in my house and you've been doing patrols here for ten minutes. The option to ring the bell exists, you know." He said, keeping his tone light. "I have a friend who always says that being early is just as rude as being late. You could have had plans." She said and shrugged. As if he would make plans half an hour before knowing Liana was supposed to come over. After five years of not being alone in the same room.

"I didn’t have plans and you can always come early when you come to me." He rolled his eyes. If he had the courage, he would have told her what he wanted to say and offered her a key to his apartment under the excuse that he wasn't always home, but if she was early, she could come in. He desperately wanted her to feel comfortable entering his home. Without knocking. Without ringing the bell. Just come in and sit on the couch or open the fridge. To be an active part of his life. The life he was trying to build for both of them.

"I brought wine. It's cheap, don't be a snob about it." She showed him the bottle and walked past him, causing him to move a bit but not manage to ignore the sensation of her body brushing against his for a second. He knew leaning on the doorframe like a douchebag was a good plan. God, in moments like these, Art felt so pathetic. "Put it in the fridge if you want. There's a bottle of white wine there, we can open it in the meantime." He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he hadn’t put that bottle there especially because he saw her order white wine that night.

"So we won't drink my cheap wine?" she asked, opening the fridge and pulling out the cold bottle that even looked fancy. Annoying. "If you prefer the wine you brought, I can open it, it doesn't really matter, it'll just take time to chill, and there's already a cold one." Art said. He didn’t want to come off as condescending. He knew she hated that. He wasn’t trying to buy her friendship with money. He knew he couldn't. They both grew up in abundance, Liana never lacked anything. He wouldn't buy her with wine. But the hangover from the wine he offered would pass faster than from the one she bought.

"I don't know." She really thought about it.

"Next time you come and we want wine, we'll open the bottle you brought, deal?" He liked the sentence that came out of his mouth. As if stating she would come again. She just rolled her eyes. "You think that was smooth, don't you?" she asked and laughed. "You have to admit it was something." He retorted, seeing her move to the living room while he pulled out the wine and took out two glasses.

"Hey." He said after he sat next to her on the couch and they both took a sip of the wine. "This is really good wine. I kinda hate you." she said in response and he laughed. "It's whatever." He shrugged. "Hey." She replied, looking at him. "You disappeared on me." He said quietly, not taking his eyes off her. Art Donaldson had a way of examining Liana as if he saw all of her. As if he had all the time in the world to look at her, and he would use all of it. She felt her ears turn red under the intensity of his blue eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Art. It makes me nervous." She sighed, and he shrugged again. "Do I have to think twice now about how I look at you so you won't get nervous? You're a big girl, stop getting nervous from looks." There was amusement in his voice. It was friendly but had an additional layer that Liana couldn’t quite put her finger on. "You're such a dick." Another sip of the wine.

"Tell me about those weeks." He stated. Almost not giving her a choice, there was no question mark at the end of his sentence. "It was a great fun, I watched all seasons of 'Gossip Girl' from the beginning." She smiled a forced smile.

Art recognized the exhaustion. She looked tired and sad, trying to hide it with excessive perkiness and humor. He didn’t want to give her the pleasure. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted honesty and he wanted it now. He wanted to touch the raw flesh. He wanted to know her level of loneliness, if she was thinking about Patrick. If she was in contact with him. If she planned to forgive him.

"Liana." He sighed, running a hand over his neck as he took another sip of the wine. "You want to hear that it was shitty? Because I didn’t come here to cry, Arthur. I'm kinda tired of crying." She lifted her legs onto the couch and put her head on her knees.

"Then don’t cry. Just tell me what's going on here. I never know." He said, gently pointing at her head as she smiled a sad smile. Art thought that smile hurt him too much. He didn’t know that someone else’s smile could hurt him in his bones. How is that even possible? What kind of connection is this? How long has he felt this way? Did he feel her inside his body since he was born? Will it pass with the years?

"I miss him. A lot." She said after a few seconds of silence and didn’t look at Art. "I know it's not what you want to hear, Art. But that's the truth," she returned her gaze to him, her head still on her knees. Art moved close enough so he could hug her. He didn’t know what got into him, but she looked so small on his couch. So fragile.

"Can I?" he asked after her head was already on his chest, as if the question even mattered. He put down his glass and with his free hand ran his fingers through her hair. Inhaling what he could of her scent. "It doesn’t matter what I want to hear, Lia, I just want you to tell me something. It doesn’t have to be good this time." He muttered, wondering if she could hear his heart beating as she curled up on his chest.

"I feel so alone here, Art. Sometimes it hurts my whole body. It's like everyone dressed in white, and I dressed in black. And losing Patrick for so long was really too much. I feel crazy," her voice was so small and he knew her eyes were full of tears even without seeing her. It made him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"You're not alone, Liana. Not in America. Not when you and I are in the same time zone..." He moved for a moment, missing her touch automatically. He felt the need to look her in the eyes when he spoke. "You could have called me. I would have come. I would have stayed with you." He meant every word he said. "You know that's not possible, Art, right?" she muttered, her voice accompanied by a faint sob. "I can't be what you want me to be right now." She looked back at him. Big green eyes full of tears. "You surely know by now that I'll take whatever you give me, Liana. If you need a friend, I'll be your friend. It doesn’t have to be more than that." And that probably hurt him to say more than it should have.

"You don’t want to be my friend, Art." She said, taking a sip of her wine that stood next to his on the table. "I want to be what you want me to be." And in Art's opinion, that sentence was the most logical thing that had ever come out of his mouth.

When Liana entered her apartment, she wasn’t drunk. She was tipsy. The boxes she had packed for Patrick were no longer in the middle of the living room, and getting to the kitchen to grab a glass of water wasn’t as complicated as it had been a few hours ago.

“Hey.” She heard from behind as she took a sip of water. “Fuck! Patrick!” she screamed a second after the glass fell from her hand and shattered on the floor. “Shit, don’t pick it up with your hands, wait a second.” He mumbled and went to get a broom and dustpan. She sat down on the kitchen chair and looked at him. He looked neglected. His stubble was long and messy, there was a stain on his shirt, and in her untrained opinion, he had lost weight.

When he finished cleaning up, he stood in front of her. Neither of them said anything; they just stared at each other, and Liana felt that if this silence continued, she would burst into uncontrollable tears. “Why are you here, Patrick? I gave you plenty of time to collect your shit.” She sighed. “I needed to see you.” He said quietly, leaning against the counter, not taking his eyes off her. “You’ve seen me. Now you can go.” She swallowed, afraid to stop looking at him.

“No. Liana. I need…” his eyes reddened. He tried to hold back the tears. Seeing him like this made Liana want to forget everything. To overlook. To let it pass. To give in. Because who is Liana Levy without Patrick Zweig at this stage of their lives? And how can she let him leave her (their) apartment when he looks like this? How can she continue living without knowing if she will ever see him again?

“I’m sorry I told you like that about the baby. It wasn’t right.” She said, forcing herself to keep looking at him, because turning her head now would be insensitive. Patrick respects her more when she doesn’t avoid looking at him. Why does she still care if he respects her? He definitely didn’t respect her in Atlanta.

“Can you tell me about it, please?” he asked in a choked voice, and she sighed. “There’s not much to tell,” she took a deep breath, hearing the tremor in her own voice. The whole situation was strange, “I don’t know if you remember, but about half a year ago, there were a few days when I felt really bad? I threw up a lot?” she asked, checking if he understood what she was talking about. He nodded silently.

“I didn’t know who to talk to,” she continued, and this time he looked away. As if to say what they both knew was in the air;  Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you talk to me? “I talked to Tashi…” his gaze returned to her, surprised. “She went with me to the clinic, and that’s it.” Again, deafening silence.

“Do you want to know about Atlanta?” he asked. “Will it help you to know?” he added quietly, wiping away the tears and continuing to look at her. “What will it give us, Pat?” she asked with an exhausted chuckle. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked what had been on his mind for the last few minutes. Maybe for the last three weeks, since she had venomously yelled at him about the baby, trying to hurt him as he had hurt her.

“Because I no longer think I know how to talk to you.” This time she couldn’t stop the tears. She was choked with them. Her hands covered her face from him, and he automatically moved closer to her, detaching from the counter. “Lilo, look at me for a second.” He asked softly. Where was this softness in the last few years? Where was the man she thought she knew so well?

She stood in front of him, letting him hold her hands by her sides. They looked at each other, his tears dried up while hers still flowed uncontrollably, her lip trembling almost as much as her leg. She just wanted one more moment. Just one. A good one. One she would remember fondly. “It’s me. It’s still me. I got a little lost, but it’s still me.” He said, wiping her face once more. Again, gentleness, again, tenderness. “I don’t know how to find you, Patrick, and I can’t keep wasting my life searching.” She hugged him suddenly, pressing her cheek against his chest while he wrapped her in his big arms, the ones that always promised it would be okay. But how would it be okay? How would it be okay if he left this apartment and didn’t come back?

“I love you.” He whispered above her head. “I love you too.” She replied. It was the truth. “I just don’t think it’s enough,” she pulled away from him.

All that was left were two people who knew each other perfectly. Every smile and every freckle. Every facial expression. Every emotion, but they caused each other more harm than good. “I wish you had told me.” He meant the baby again, and she nodded, “I wish I could have been there for you.” He added.

“I wish a lot of things.” She sighed.

She kissed him suddenly.  It wasn’t full of passion and wildness like most times their lips met, it was heavy and tense. A feeling of necessity and fragility conveyed in salty lips from tears. Tongues slowly uniting, an understanding of an end. Of something that would never return. Patrick’s lips parted from hers only when they were both desperate for air. His forehead touched hers amid short breaths.

“I love you so much, Liana. I don’t know who I am without you.” He said again. Like a child’s confession. Like a convict’s confession who received a death sentence. “We owe it to ourselves to find out. I have to learn to love myself enough alone. And you have to find real reasons to get up in the morning.” She responded After a few seconds. “I’m afraid that I’ll leave here and won’t have a way back into your life, Lilo. I’m afraid you’ll erase my existence as I can never erase yours.” Another confession. His eyes were closed; this time he couldn’t look at her. Not when he was this exposed. Not when he had no defenses.

‘So why did you do it?’ That’s what she wanted to ask in response. ‘Why did you throw away four years of our lives and many more years of pure friendship? Why didn’t you give us a real chance at any stage? Why do you always give up on yourself? why did you give up on us?’ “It hasn’t been working for a long time, Pat, we were just afraid to admit it.” She sighed again. “And if I’m still afraid to admit it?” Another quiet question. A rhetorical one because what else was there to say.

“I love you. I will always love you.” He said for the third time and placed his key on the table. His fingers touched hers for one more moment.

“Maybe in another lifetime, it’s enough,” she said with a forced smile as another tear fell. “Maybe there’s a world where Liana and Patrick are in love, and it’s enough.” He nodded and chuckled in defeat. “Sounds like a beautiful world. Call me when you find it, okay, Amanda?” He asked in a broken voice and left the apartment.

“I promise.” She said, but no one heard her.

Hey again, how are we doing with all the angst? I swear, this part was almost too sad to write, but I feel like it's important to have some healthy conversations. It helps them all to grow. As always, I love it when you message me what you're thinking, so use that askbox PLEASE :)

taglist (if anyone wants to join, just ask) @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[sim0nril3y]

First Date

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: It's no denying that their first date is a little rocky to begin with, but as things settle Simon wondered if he is in too deep. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mentions of alcohol, suggestive conversation, slight mention of smut, canon-typical swearing (I mean, it's Ghost for fuck sake!).

Bloody fucking hell. It was still beyond him why Simon had actually agreed to this mess. Why had he done this to himself? Maybe he’d had too much to drink. Maybe a pretty face made him completely lose his mind… or whatever was left of it. Whatever the reason was he was here now. Waiting in an Italian restaurant with a cold lager half-finished beside him and the chair opposite him empty. Maybe you’d thought better of it. Maybe that was for the best. Fuck, it still fucking hurt though…

A sudden flutter of commotion came from behind him. Looking over his shoulder to watching as you rushed across the room, removing your coat to reveal a beautiful silky dress that contoured to your frame seamlessly, his eyes had lingered on your body for so long he almost missed the guilty smile you shared with him. “Bloody taxi driver got the wrong restaurant.” You announced before allowing your tense shoulders to fall. “I’m not typically this flustered – I promise.”

“I believe you.” Simon then rose and stepped around the table, taking your chair in hand and pulling it out for you to sit in before tucking it in. There was a lot you could say about Simon Riley, but he was a gentleman to the people that deserved it the most. After giving you a few moments to settle Simon finally asked. “You want a drink?” Taking a swig of his own beer and quirking his brow at you. “God, yes. I’d literally murder for a white wine.” Your dramatics made him laugh, like genuinely, he wasn’t really sure the last time someone had made him do that… Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mine Simon flagged down the waiter and ordering you one.

“What s’it you do for work?” Simon asked then, forgetting for a moment that it might be very possible for you not to be established into the working world yet, especially with how long young people seemed to stay at university now. “I’m a barmaid down at the Golden Lion.” Oh, he knew that place. It wasn’t so fancy up-and-coming gastropub. No, it was a rundown old pub owned by a miserable git. He knew the type of tossers that went in there too. “It’s not what I want to do forever, but it works right now.” There was an easy shrug to your shoulders before you admitted. “I’m an artist.” The words had drifted from your mouth with such ease. An artist. That wasn’t a real job, Simon thought. “You got any backup plans, kid?”

You blinked at him blankly before a grin spread across your features. “You sound like my parents.” Brushing away the question with another carefree shrug. That second Simon hated your optimism. It was that same optimism all kids your age had. That same sense that the world owed them their dreams. There was this malicious part of Simon that wanted to burst your bubble, deflate your self-entitled ego and remind you that the real world didn’t care about your dreams or your wants. Your voice cut through the silence again. “Who knows, it probably won’t work out, but I want to try just for a few more years.”

“Yeah…” Jesus, he felt like such a prick. He had just assumed that you was just some dumb kid that felt like the world owed them something, but… but you were just a hopeful girl that was chasing a very tricky and far away dream. Who was he to judge? You’d found a way to sustain yourself whilst also trying to navigate into a very select profession. “You any good?” His cheeks suddenly set aflame at how the question sounded on his tongue. “Your art, I mean. Is it good?”

A delicate giggle bubbled in your throat as you finished your wine with a quick swig. “I like to think I’m pretty good…” Lifting your sultry and inviting gaze to find his own. “Maybe I could show you sometime…” Simon couldn’t believe it when he felt his heart fucking stutter in his chest. Fucking hell. It was that moment that he realised was in deep here. Clearing his throat Simon adjusted himself discreetly in his seat. It was going to be a hard end to this dinner – no pun intended.

Leading her across the carpark Simon stood beside the waiting cab, hand on the open door as you spoke softly to the driver through the window. A moment later you gazed up into his eyes and offered quietly. “I had a really nice time tonight…” The sweetness of your tone was enough to warm him even in this bitter night air. “Yeah…” He grunted out. “Me too…” Adding swiftly a moment later causing you to breathe out a subtle sigh of relief. “Are you gonna put me out of my misery and take me out again, or gonna make me beg for it?” Jesus, the idea of you begging was something that made his heart race. Knelt. Eyes pleading. Every inch of you- Stop. He can’t do that right now.

Placing a firm finger under your chin Simon jutted her head back forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “Get the feeling you don’t beg all that often, kid.” That same little smirk found your lips, watching as your eyes darkened at his comment. “M’sure it’s a sweet fuckin’ sound…” He was fighting internally with himself. Part of him screamed to just give you exactly what you wanted. Bend your tight body over that bonnet and fuck you stupid. Another part of him told himself to allow himself some form of happiness, take you out again and see what might happen. The final part scoffed and scowled at that optimism. It warned him that being with him was practically a death sentence. No, he needed to let you go, let you move on and find a boring man to turn into a husband and pop out a couple ankle-biters with.  “Are you free next week?” Your question came interrupting his cruel inner monologue. No. Say no. End this. “Yes.” A wild grin tore across your features, you had certainly won this round.

Masterlist | Ask | 30-08-2023

[teabutmakeitazure]

Zuri's Declassified University Survival Guide

This is a post about survival tips in university (undergraduate), especially if you're an international student living alone in a different country in this circumstance. I will be adding onto this later on if there's something I want to add, so keep an eye out for update reblogs of this I guess.

General Tips:

it's okay to make mistakes. you are here to learn and grow. no one is perfect, especially in the first and second year of their studies. those are mandatory experimental years. you're not expected to get magically mature and perfect when you get to university (or college for you americans). be kind to yourself and analyse your mistakes instead of beating yourself over them.

don't bother too much about your wardrobe. just wear whatever's comfortable. you might think people care but no one does. more than half of the people at campus will be in sweats or pyjamas and if someone IS dressed up, they're probably arts kids or business majors and they're the ones with the least workload (yes i am dissing you guys I've seen your workloads stop lying).

put yourself in uncomfortable social situations. yes i said that. the only reason i somewhat learnt to make small talk and learnt to talk to strangers is because I go to every single social event that I can. it's not necessary to make friends in all of them. just talk to people, exchange contacts, laugh while the event lasts even if you never see them again. this is how you survive in the lonely dorm life. and if you make an actual good friend? amazing! it paid off. even if it didn't you'll probably network and build rapport and have acquaintances from different majors.

if you're an ethnic minority, don't be afraid. I cannot stress this enough. don't be afraid to be there and take up space. you are there because you deserve to be and qualified. sure, it sucks at times because a good amount of people won't interact with you because you're 'different' but the international students will and trust me they're the coolest bunch to be friends with (I have 0 such friends so far). most times you will have to take the initiative to talk and sometimes they won't respond or worse flat out ignore you but don't let that get you down. just don't interact with them again. the world is big. not everyone will like you and accept you. find the ones that will.

eggs and milk are your best friend. a glass of milk everyday and 2 eggs. make that a staple. eggs are also very versatile for recipes. more on that in the recipes section. also yoghurt. a smol cup of yoghurt everyday too and nuts whenever you can buy them.

always have a few pack of instant noodles at home. sometimes you have deadlines or you forgot to cook or need a quick dinner because there's so much to do and you didn't get groceries. always keep them in stock. they're a quick fix for food. I'm not promoting them for frequent dinner but it's better than starving. just eat the noodles man. there's already so much shit to keep track of just eat the damn noodles.

incorporate veggies into everything food. they're good for you. if you're like me and don't like veggies, experiment with different recipes and find the one you like best. one good way is fried rice or rice with mushrooms, veggies, and meat in the rice cooker (I don't own a rice cooker when I'm writing this). just eat your veggies and thank me later. if you don't wanna cut them up, get a pack of frozen veggies. it's better than nothing. baby steps.

meal plan. if I don't plan my entire week's food on sunday night, I do it the night before for the next day. eat out as less as you can. homemade is better even if you're a horrible cook. practice makes perfect and you'll be grateful for learning a few basic cooking skills along with your degree later on. cooking your own food also gives you the liberty to add more veggies or save money.

treat yourself to stuff sometimes. yes you deserve it even if you don't meet your goals. you're trying. be kind to yourself. get that boba.

study everything done the week by that week's weekend. do the day's content that same day and don't lag behind. utilise reading week and read. don't slack off please I'm begging you. I'll even get on my knees if I have to.

you're gonna miss home and it sucks. yes you will be having your fourth mental breakdown of the week on a wednesday night and you will be alone or hiding under the blanket as your roommate is asleep. you're gonna have to tough it out soldier. I see you and I feel you. it gets easier with time and when you're doing better, you'll feel relieved for toughing through. it's so lonely sometimes and it sucks but it's worth the pain. don't lose hope.

seniors are your friends. they will give you forbidden knowledge for free. from hidden places with good food or convenience things or just life advice exclusive to your institute, they have it all. they're also generally very friendly so don't be afraid to interact with them.

annoy the living hell out of your professor during office hours if need be and utilise the student help room for help. your tutors will be happy to help you so don't be shy to ask for help. they will appreciate you coming to them, trust me. as for your professor, they're lonely people. go to office hours if you need to, chat, ask them what you need. they'll appreciate your presence and happily help you.

the security guards and cleaning staff will be witnesses to your worst states (freshly out of bed or haven't showered in 2 days) but they don't care. they're just happy to be of service and have you around. be kind to them. greet them whenever you pass by.

sometimes coffee is bad.

if your classes start at noon or later, get an hour of exercise in the morning at around 8 or 9 am. the serotonin that will hit you will be unreal. trust me.

make local friends. they're cool people and friendly and very helpful and accommodating. I may be biased but it's true.

being a student helper, student tutor, or a research assistant looks good on your resume and helps you win more scholarships.

put headphones on when in public if you don't want to end up talking to someone you might bump into. it works.

your body also has rights. treat it with care. don't abuse it. nourish it. you should take care of your body like you would a loved one. feed it good things, clean it everyday, and so on. when you feel good by taking care of yourself, you still do better and feel more confident. wash your hair with a set schedule and use good products.

make your wardrobe easier. hang your usual shirts and maybe wear the one in front each day, the previous day's being hung in the back or in the laundry basket. it saves time.

there's no shame in not having stuff. I still don't own a proper laundry basket it all goes into an IKEA bag. you live in a dorm, not a house. sometimes not having every single kind of furniture or accessory isn't bad. don't compare your setup to others. if it's convenient, clean, and homey, it's good. you don't need those expensive lights or those expensive posters to make it seem cool. what you have and what you may collect among the way is enough.

notes on paper are better than laptop or ipad

take breaks. be kind to yourself. it is you for yourself. treat yourself with love.

manage your time by designating time blocks to a certain task. it might not always work but it will help create some discipline in the routine.

having a set everyday routine helps. you don't have to think what to do, thus saving you brain power.

use a semester planner for deadlines and important information. it's useful. I highly recommend. I also have a template if anyone wants.

write down your thoughts, what's bothering you, your feelings, everything on a piece of paper or journal at the end of the day. it'll help process your emotions and you won't have to let the thoughts and emotions fester inside you, slowly simmering and coming to a boil. remember, you are your best friend.

Recipes to help you stay afloat (they're all quick and easy dw):

right off the bat I want to say boiled jasmine rice with sunny side up eggs. you drizzle a pinch of salt onto the yolk, break it over the rice, mix it with the rice and eat it and it's just *chef's kiss*. definitely a comfort food and a very easy quick dinner.

a lot of these I found while scrolling through instagram and some are from when I was trying to lose weight. hope they're helpful!

oyakodon

one pot rice cooker rice with veggies

veggie and meat single serve in one pot

chicken wrap (primarily for weight loss I think)

chicken gyros (this guy makes amazing food)

minced meat weight loss meal prep

chickpeas (chana masala. this shit is bussin i swear)

something tomato + onion + egg

one pot veggie rice (recommended)

chicken shawarma (not dorm friendly cooking but looks delicious)

egg sandwich in one pan

potato marraka (THIS IS SO GOOD)

one pot rice cooker with meat and veggies

daal

chicken and rice

pizza style chicken wrap

five different chicken marinades for meal prep

one pot biryani

takeout style egg fried rice

rice cooker carbonara

one pot yoghurt curry chicken rice

weight loss chicken shawarma

healthier mac and cheese

chicken fajita

chicken tikka masala crunch tacos

one pan braised eggs

air fryer garlic bread pizza

another veggie and rice in rice cooker

fried rice recipe

hainanese inspired chicken rice in rice cooker

tomato orzo(?)

creamy tomato pasta

tomato and egg rice

mushroom sauce (can be eaten with rice)

creamy tomato tortellini

grilled cheese sandwich

[flymetosnarryland]

My Snarry WIPs' list.

I would like to share something. My Snarry WIPs' list, yup. Why? I always felt weird writing about myself and stuff I do, but I'm processing changes and thought I can share not only art, lol.

How many project are you working on? I'll dive into couple of mine:

Date with a Star - a Post-War romantic comedy. Harry is in love with Severus, Severus secretly loves Harry. Both are too scared to say what they feel to not lose their friendship. A friend in need asks Harry for help and this is where the wild ride with dumb dating TV-show starts. Especially because Harry don't know that the same friend-in-need blackmailed Severus to get him into the same show too. This is actually a second Snarry fic I ever started to write, inspired by dating TV-show from 1992. I remember that when the idea for this one hit me, I was laughing for a good hour (that TV-show was absolutely ridiculous). And I still feel a pinch of positive embarrassment when think about what's going on there. In fact this story made me want to learn how to translate my wiritngs into English. It's half written and translated too. I really have to finish second part.

Infraction - my first monster fic. My baby. Crime (serial killer), slow burn, Muggle AU featuring Marauders and Death Eaters, political sheananigans and Severus' old flame. I have entire story written out from beginning to the end. What's more... with an ending that allows me to dive into second book (I'm excited lika a child) including the initial idea for it, ahh. Every time I think about Infraction, I feel butterflies in my stomach and a tear comes to my eye, damn. However, the entire project requires a huge amount of work. And a few modifications that I finally have to do to complete the first stage. It's not simple, though. I regret a bit that I released the cover, prologue and first chapter. I was prematurely carried away by the joy of creation, but that's okay. Going to fix it all in time.

In the Moonlight - working title. Something I planned to write for last year's Snarry AUctoberfest, but the beast got bigger, lol. Crime (kidnapping), Muggle AU - my great weakness and, most importantly, inspired by the movie Bodyguard (the one with Whitney Huston). Much like Infraction, this fic is fully planned and scripted. I can't believe I managed to do it. I wrote 1/4 of the whole thing and even have the lyrics of original song that Harry dedicates to Severus, although I don't know anything about music at all (an elephant stepped on my ear).

In between - a drawing series. Harry and Severus in a cute/fluff version. Post-War and happy life, because that's what they deserve!

First time - Drama/Romance, Muggle AU (gosh, yeah, again!). This is a project I want to do 50/50 as a fic/comic. A few works and dirty sketches have already landed here. I have a little dream of writing something that includes e-mails/text messages. In general, a romance that started online. Aren't Harry and Severus purfect for this? (Plus doing art in colour for this project was a test I wanted to start before 3B.)

3B - a Vampire fic, yessss. Can you believe that once I said, I'll never ever write or do anything connected to vampires? Hehe, now I'm in the middle of it, fully commited and over the moon. A bit dark/angsty story with a bonus: illustrations. Crime (more like, cri-me a river, lol; I mean, again? Yup xD), Post-War, a few intrigues, even a SnarryWedding o_0 gosh. That is another thing I said: "No, that's not going to happen." I guess, I fell on my head since now I do everything I promised to myself not to. But it's fun. And bloody, mhaha. I also created my own Vampire Villains and I kinda fell in love with them. Going to sneak into this fic a bit of blood magic mechanics that I created for my fantasy book, too. The picture at the top is one version of the cover sketches ɷ◡ɷ

Adrenaline - working title. Post-War/Drama/Romance and slow burn, a bit of Hogwarts, a bit of Quidditch and for a change Severus will have to show that he wants something more. I mean, I always writing/thinking about Harry chasing Severus. So here the dynamic will change a little. Can't wait for it! The idea for this one was accidentaly born last week and I can't stop it anymore. The inspiration comes from the cover art for Witch Weekly that I did, lol. I had no idea that at the stage of brainstorming, it would turn into another monster. It supposed to be a short story, but, apparently, I'm not good at short stories and it's time to come to terms with it xD I won't cry either because I like Harry and Severus pairing up in different ways/AU's, hehe. And most importantly - creating all these things, even if they don't fully see the world outside my drawer, still gives me great joy!

[ataraxiaspainting]

Shameless.

Yan Chrollo x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Chrollo is many things; annoying, chatty, selfish, petty. Especially petty.

Warnings: Yandere themes and kidnapping.

Word Count: 700.

“Petty, much?”

The damn devil doesn’t even turn to look at you. Instead, he turns to the next chapter of his book, a book large enough to easily force you or any other ordinary person into a yearlong coma if it hits your head. His humming physically hurts your ears and almost makes their drums burst, you are sure of it. You would much rather listen to his trill sonata from a gramophone and disc that is at least five times your age.

You cannot find the stuffed animal you normally sleep with. You have been looking all day while this clone of the antichrist just sits and reads in whatever the hell that language on the dusty cover is. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had made it himself, it’s only further proof that he is just an old man on the inside. Or at least half; the other part may as well be a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

Maybe less than half, now that you think about it. That plush was a gift from Chrollo to you, after all, a symbol of how adorable you are or something else in that vein that made his face all the more punchable. The bunny made for a good pillow and could be used as a sort of wall whenever the epitome of hell lays on the bed beside you, trying to converse or cuddle with you. 

It certainly yielded better results than biting, kicking, and hitting him at least. Your knuckles and palms still sometimes hurt. Ow. His flesh is made of iron, you know it. Maybe you should dare him to get his DNA tested to ensure that he is indeed human before speaking with you again. 

You could fake an allergic reaction to automatons perhaps. Even though you were never a drama kid in school you think you can still pull it off. 

You can craft yourself an Emmy using what remains of your old art supplies, though that would require having Chrollo cut the papers and cardboard for you. You bet that if he is a robot, he will eventually use up all his battery by chatting away and then shutting down. 

“What are you, a kindergartener?” You move closer to his unholy throne, stomping with each step forward. “Stop acting like you are eight, you swindler, and give it back.”

It would be easier that way if he went unconscious because of his powerless charge. 

If you are feeling particularly sadistic you could use electric shocks on his unconscious tin can of a body until it explodes. It would be a great thing, the sound. Like fireworks, if you avoid getting stabbed by tiny slabs of hot metal.

“Kindergarteners are ages five to six.” You could picture dreaming of it now if you can go to sleep tonight. “Eight-year-olds are typically in the grades second and third.”

“So you do admit to stealing it, then. This trial has now concluded, you have been sentenced to life without parole.”

You can hear a slight chuckle that makes you want to fall down the stairs while playing jump rope. Anything to make sure you never hear it again. “You get points for effort, darling. That wasn’t a confession, I was just correcting your utterly adorable libel.”

“Don’t talk like that to your judge, you larcenist.”

“I see you have been reading the books I have given you.”

You grumble a curse under your breath as you walk a bit closer. “It is amazing what the human mind can remember from a dictionary when there is nothing better to do. I think if I ever see my literary teacher again she’d be impressed. I’d pass with flying colors if I ever had to retake her class.”

At the sight of your laid-out hand, a slight frown appears on Chrollo’s face. “Being polite never hurt anyone, you know.”

You scoff and cross your arms, not looking at him anymore. “It hurts me every time I say anything to you instead of trying to find out how to give you enough papercuts to make you internally bleed.” 

Underneath the table, you can see the rabbit plush, and crouch down to grab it.

“Take this as an act of precaution then; don’t test my limits, dear.” As soon as you look into his eyes, hugging the stuffed animal, you look away as you see what lies beneath the surface once more. 

Nothing.

[cynthiav06]

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

1.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

2.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

3.

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

4.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

[holllandtrash]

better late than never | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 3 to better left unsaid (the better series)

the first race weekend after the break is filled with drama, tension and words that you all wished could be taken back, and you're not even referring to what happened on the track

word count: 5.1k tags: angst lmao also more social media stuff

“What if you just quit your job?” Pierre asked. You told yourself he was only joking, but when you glanced away from the computer screen to look at your propped up phone and his charming eyes on facetime, you knew he wasn’t joking.

“I’m not throwing away six years of post secondary education and thousands of dollars of tuition because you’re batting your pretty little eyes at me,” you looked back at the computer screen that held the blueprints for an upcoming gallery exhibit. As an assistant curator at an art gallery, you had a lot on your plate and you had a dozen things to catch up on before your next trip out of the city.

“You think my eyes are pretty?”

Of course that was the only part he heard. 

“Pierre I can't-” you cut yourself off when someone in the background called Pierre’s name. It took a second but you recognized the female voice as one of the student engineers at Alpine. You waited until Pierre and her finished their quick conversation and he turned back to you.

Pierre smirked at how your expression dropped. Even when you forced yourself to focus on your computer screen, those forehead lines could be spotted through the bad quality facetime call.

“Ma chérie, don’t tell me you’re jealous because I’m talking to another girl,” Pierre laughed. You had half a mind to hang up on him.

If you were being honest, the female voice did speed up your heart rate a bit until you figured out who it was. Pierre was somewhere in a hotel, you weren’t sure where because his face took up most of the screen, but you knew he wasn’t alone. 

And you didn’t have a right to be jealous either. You and Pierre still weren’t an item, despite what the rumour mill was saying. 

You just talked everyday and he sent you flowers to your place of work and he bought your next plane ticket for you to watch the race and you were constantly thinking about how nice it would be to wake up beside him. 

For fuck sakes, you liked him. 

A lot.

In a matter of weeks you had fallen for him. And he hadn’t even kissed you yet. There were a few times when it came close, but the moment was never right. You weren’t going to rush into anything either, especially not with Lando being an ever lingering thought in the back of your mind that you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“I’m not the jealous type,” you told him. Lies. You liked when his eyes were on you and only you. You liked how he had treated you during the break. You couldn’t get enough of it.

Pierre didn’t seem to believe you, but he changed the topic regardless, “Did you watch qualifying today?”

“P7 baby,” you grinned, hitting send on the last email before calling it a night. “Alpine’s kicking ass in the midfield.”

“So you’ll be watching the race tomorrow?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Pierre liked knowing you’d be rooting for him. “I wish you were here now, though.”

With yours and Pierre’s relationship, or whatever you wanted to call it, starting at the beginning of the summer break, you had yet to accompany him during a race weekend. 

That would change next weekend. You were set to attend the Monza Grand Prix. 

And for the first time, you wouldn’t be hanging out in the McLaren garage. Pierre had to pull some strings to ensure you’d be allowed access, but once he made it clear that you didn’t have any affiliation to the papaya team, he sent you the paddock pass and flight information.

Pierre really wanted you with him that weekend. He had won in Monza before, he considered it one of his lucky tracks. Plus Italy was like a second home to him, he wanted everything to be perfect and your presence was a crucial part of that.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for the fans to share their opinions online. Lando had a huge following, and because of that, most of his fans knew who you were. You could only imagine what people would be saying when you were spotted in the Alpine garage for a change.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but you weren’t as strong as you wanted to be.

“Chérie,” Pierre’s voice had the ability to calm your nerves, even if it was just temporary. “If you’re having second thoughts about Monza, please let me know.”

It was insane how well he knew you. In a few short weeks, Pierre was able to recognize even the slightest change in your mannerisms when something was bothering you. He was observant and it showed.

“No,” you assured him, or maybe you were assuring yourself. “No, I want to be there with you.”

He believed you, why wouldn’t he? These last few weeks with him were otherworldly to say the least. You wanted to keep this going for as long as possible. Pierre left you feeling hopeful and optimistic and after the fallout with Lando, you needed that. 

Pierre couldn’t replace Lando, not like you wanted him to, but you knew you had room in your heart for that French driver.

And you were going to see things through.

———————

pre-race press conference

The pizza had just been delivered. You poured yourself a rum and coke. You had on booty shorts and one of Pierre’s Alpine jumpers and you were ready to watch the race. 

What you weren’t ready for, was a knock at your door.

“Who the fuck…” It was a Sunday, you weren’t expecting anyone. You put your drink down and headed over to the front door. You rented the bottom half of a house, it wasn’t ideal but the private entryway was nice. 

You pulled the door open and was quite literally taken aback to see Max standing there. A case of beer in his hands as he sported a Quadrant sweater.

“Hi,” you said, hearing Will Buxton's voice coming from your speakers. It was only a few minutes until lights out. 

“Want some company?” Max asked. 

You missed him, there was no doubt about that. He had been so intertwined with Lando’s life these last few weeks that you genuinely thought he forgot about you after your phone call. You didn’t even see him in Monaco until you stopped by Lando’s place. 

You weren’t going to question why he was in London. He, like you, was always flying back and forth. At least he had the decency to reach out this time. 

“Always,” you stepped aside, making room for him to come in. 

Max didn’t comment on your apparel. He also didn’t comment on the state of your place which was always in slight ruins. You had been travelling so much and when you were in the city, most of your time was spent at work and you just could not be arsed to hang your jackets up when you got home, or put your shoes away properly. 

It was a little awkward when Max sat down. Not because he wasn’t comfortable in your home, he had been there dozens upon dozens of times before. But because you hadn’t spoken in weeks.

And now here he was with a case of beer acting as an olive branch. You were both hoping it would work, honestly. You didn’t want to have to rely on Lando to be the glue in your friendship. He didn’t own Max. 

“How’s Pierre?” Max asked, eyes glued to the screen.

You laughed, reaching for a slice of pizza and sliding the box across the coffee table for him to grab one. “We’re not dating, Max.”

“Kind of seems like it,” Max chuckled as well. You shot him a look, one that basically said shut up and he held his hand up in defence. “I’m just saying, Y/N, he seems to make you happy. It’s not a bad thing. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as he opened up one of the cans he brought but the second it started foaming over the sides, he jumped up in a panic. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing at his mess and he just stared at you with wide eyes.

“For Christ sakes women, get a towel!” He tried to drink what he could but excess liquid was streaming down his chin.

You held your hand out towards the screen, “The race is about to start! I’m not cleaning up your mess!” 

“I’m using the pillow as a towel then,” Max scoffed, wiping his hand on his jeans and grabbing one of the round pillows from the other couch. He did what he could to clean up the spill with the pillow, but your attention was on the screen. You could help him later.

The second the five lights went out, the drivers were off. You held your breath as the twenty cars fought to be the first to make it to that first corner, but all in all it was a pretty clean start. Pierre gained a place. Lando lost one. They were currently P6 and P5.

Why were you even watching the McLaren?  

Don’t kid yourself, you still cared.

You cleared your throat, “How’s Lando?”

Max seemed surprised that you asked. So much so that he paused to make sure he actually heard you correctly, “Yeah he’s good.”

“Is he?” The question slipped out. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Max was telling the truth but you just knew there was more to it. Lando was never just good. And especially after your last conversation…part of you knew he was struggling as much as you were, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

‘See you around then, maybe.’ He said. He could have just said goodbye. He could have just stayed quiet. 

Max sighed. It wasn’t a good sigh, but he kept his eyes on the race. Probably for the better. If you saw the hurt he was feeling for his friend, it would have broken you.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Max asked. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy. You weren’t hot a minute ago but your mouth was dry now and your hands were clamming up. “He’s been better, that’s for damn sure. I know he regrets what he said to you and I also know he hates seeing you with Gasly. He nearly breaks his phone every time a photo of you two pops up.”

“So why hasn’t he reached out?” You weren’t under the impression Lando regretted anything. He might have missed you, but he seemed to stick by his words, as did you. 

Max turned it around on you, “Why haven’t you reached out?” 

“It’s not on me to fix anything.” your voice trembled. Focus on the race. Pierre was doing good. He defended one of the Aston Martin’s seamlessly. He was catching up to Lando. “Plus I-”

Nope, you didn’t need to say it. You shook your head, shoving the last bit of crust into your mouth. 

“You still love him?” 

And then you were choking on said crust. Max swore under his breath and grabbed your drink for you, encouraging you to take a sip and clear your airways. Water would have been better but maybe chugging the rum and coke would make this conversation a little easier.

You dabbed the corner of your eye, “No Max I don’t,” you inhaled a heavy breath, “I mean, it’s hard to say, okay? Part of me will always love Lando, but I need it to be a different type of love. I need to be content with knowing that him and I will never happen, that we were never supposed to happen. I want to be able to look at him and be his friend but not have it hurt and I just- I don’t know how I’ll ever get to that point.”

Max nodded. You could tell he was trying to understand but you were feeling way too many emotions at once and spilling that beer on his Quadrant hoodie was probably the most traumatic thing he’s had to deal with in the last month.

“So do you want him to reach out or not?” Max asked after a few minutes.

You slumped further into the corner of the couch, “I really don’t know.”

The two of you could have dived deeper into this topic. There was no one better to bounce your thoughts off of than Max. He knew you, he knew Lando. He wouldn’t purposely steer you in the wrong direction and secretly, he was rooting for the two of you to make up. 

But the race suddenly got interesting. 

You both saw it. Your eyes were glued to the tv throughout your conversation and while the multitasking had worked, now the only thing that mattered were the drivers.

It was only lap 10 of 72, but Lando braked early going into turn 13. Too early, like he knew Pierre’s Alpine was within DRS range behind him and wanted to purposely fuck with him before the start/finish straight. 

Pierre usually had better reflexes. But Lando shouldn’t have braked when he did. 

The front wing jammed into the back of the McLaren, sending both cars off the track. Lando’s tyres locked up and he spun out but Pierre went directly into the barrier. The cars behind them managed to avoid it, but there was no salvaging the damage on either car. Pierre would have to retire and the hit from the Alpine caused a sudden hydraulics issue in the McLaren.

They were lucky, honestly, it could have been a lot worse. 

But you didn’t give a shit about the cars. You were watching the drama unfold on screen as a red flag was announced to pull both cars off the track. 

Pierre climbed out of the car first. A marshall tried to usher him towards one of the exit holes in the gate, but he turned his attention to Lando who was also being escorted by a marshall. 

Pierre pointed his finger at Lando. The cameras couldn’t pick up what they were saying but you knew it wasn’t friendly. Not by the way the marshall had now positioned himself in between the two drivers.

“He did it on purpose,” Max voiced what everyone and their dog was thinking. 

“He wouldn’t,” you wanted to believe that Lando just made a mistake. “No, he wouldn’t sacrifice a race like this. Not to be petty.”

Max could argue that in a second. He had seen first hand how livid and unbearable Lando had become recently. He wouldn’t put it past his friend to pull a dirty move like this. 

The camera followed the drivers getting into the separate golf carts as they were driven back to the pit lane. From body language alone you could tell how frustrated Pierre was. This wasn’t his own error that caused him to retire, it was all on Lando. There was no doubt about it.

Somewhere along the lines you had reached across the couch to grab Max’s arm. The anticipation killed both of you as you watched in silence. You didn’t know if one of the drivers would approach the other in the pit lane but you were praying they would stay in their own garages.

“I told you,” Max whispered. “Lando hates that you’re with Pierre.”

“Lando’s an idiot for screwing up his own race because of some childish jealousy,” you said through clenched teeth. 

The screen was only showing Pierre now as he pulled his helmet off to speak to his engineers in the garage. His usually charismatic and inviting features were cold and hardened as he vented for anyone to hear. You wished the camera was able to pick up on what he was saying but it was for the better that it couldn’t. 

He wasn’t injured, thank god. That was always a fear you had when you watched collisions. But now there was a new fear. 

The media was going to have a field day over this. And because you weren’t necessarily private about hanging out with Pierre after having such a public friendship with Lando, you knew that one way or another, you’d be dragged into this.

“I have to call him,” you said, more to yourself than to Max, but he nodded in encouragement. “Before this blows up, I have to talk to him.”

"Him, who?" Max asked, wanting clarification. There were two drivers involved in that accident. Two drivers that had taken up two very different spots in your heart.

You grabbed your phone from the coffee table and your mind turned on autopilot, calling the one driver that you knew you had to speak to first.

“Don’t say anything,” Amelia, Lando’s PR assistant, instructed. “Not to the media, not online, no public statements until we sort this out, do you understand?” 

Lando nodded and Amelia waited until she got verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t turn this into a bigger mess before leaving the drivers room.

“Yes, don’t worry,” he huffed out. “Lips are sealed.”

“God you make my life difficult,” Amelia pulled out her phone and walked back into the motorhome, shutting his door with more force than necessary. 

Lando changed out of his fireproofs, knowing he wouldn’t need them to watch the rest of the race. He slid on a McLaren polo t and a pair of black joggers. He combed his fingers through his hair and grabbed his phone off the table. He didn’t usually look at his phone much during race days, but he was dying to know what people were saying, what sort of assumptions were being thrown around. 

He had just opened twitter when your name showed up on his phone screen. The image being one of the two of you a few years back. He remembered setting it as your contact photo even though you hated how your side profile looked. 

Lando wasn’t sure if this was a mistake or not. He had retired early from races before and if you weren’t watching in the paddock, you wouldn’t call him until the race completed, giving him the time he always needed to cool off or collect himself. 

But you were calling him now.

Lando slid his finger across the screen and brought the phone up to his ear. He didn’t even get a word in, not like he would act as this was a normal conversation anyway. You were calling because Pierre was involved. Hell you probably already called him first and talking to Lando was just additional damage control.

“What the fuck, Lando?” 

He missed your voice. He didn’t miss you scolding him.

“Y/N I-”

“Tell me it wasn’t on purpose,” you demanded. He could hear it in your voice, the shakiness of your breath, the false confidence. You were mad at him, but up until recently, you were never one to paint him as the bad guy so this was completely new territory for you. 

Lando sat down on the edge of the couch, foot tapping against the floor, “I didn’t intend to ruin both our races.”

That wasn’t the answer you were looking for and all you could do was sigh in defeat.

But that single breath into the receiver made Lando regret every single wrong action he had ever done. It didn’t matter that you weren’t in the same room, that one goddamn breath ringing in his ear had a way of hitting Lando the way no words ever could. 

It reminded him of when you two were twelve and you spent a week at his place with his family and he yelled at you when you tried on one of his karting helmets. You didn’t mean anything by it, you just wanted to see if it fit. Lando yanked it off your head and lost it on you, telling you to never touch it again. 

Your eyes welled up immediately. You didn’t even apologise, you couldn’t. You just inhaled and exhaled the heaviest breath your twelve year old lungs could handle and Lando knew he crossed a line more than you had. You shouldn’t have touched his helmet but he shouldn’t have raised his voice. He spent the rest of the day making sure you didn’t hold it against him. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings, he never wanted to hurt your feelings.

And in these last few weeks, that’s all he’s done. 

Pulling that one reckless move on the track didn’t just risk hurting Pierre. Lando knew how much Pierre meant to you, for some fucking reason, and he knew that you’d be watching. He knew that move would hurt you. 

“You braked early on purpose,” it wasn’t a question. Your assumptions were correct. You just needed to hear it.

“I wanted to get him off my tail,” Lando tried to defend his choices but he didn’t sound the least bit convincing. But that’s what he did when he felt as though he was backed into a corner, even if he was in the wrong, he always tried to talk himself out of whatever mess he made. “Gasly’s reaction times are off the charts, Y/N I just thought I’d mess him up a little. I didn’t think he'd crash into me.”

“God you are so full of yourself,” you spat out. “Lando, we haven't talked in weeks. I’ve been happy hanging out with Pierre, I’ve left you alone like you wanted and you go and pull this shit?”

Lando instantly became defensive, he had to. “Oh I’m full of myself? Why are you assuming this had anything to do with you?”

“I- because-” you stammered. “Lando, come on. You and Pierre have never had issues on track before.”

“He’s been getting on my nerves lately.”

“Since when do you bring your outside problems into the car with you?” You asked. 

“He’s been getting on my nerves all weekend, Y/N,” Lando clarified. Why did he feel the need to explain himself? 

Maybe because this was the longest you had spoken in weeks and even if you were arguing, he’d rather keep you on the phone and listen to you snap at him than hang up and not know when he’d hear from you next.

You paused, “What do you mean?”

“He’s been dragging my name through the mud since the press conference, did you not watch it?”

You had been at work during the press conferences, plus they weren’t always entertaining so no, you had missed it. 

“Subtle jabs here and there,” Lando went on further. “He thinks because you’re his now-”

“I’m not his,” you were quick to interject. You weren’t some piece of property that the guys would fight over. You were a goddamn human being and you didn’t ask for this mess. “I also was never yours.”

That shut Lando up. It was a harsh slap to the face. The painful reality he had to accept but didn’t want to because you should have been his. 

He should have worked harder to keep you in his life.

He should have realised how important you were to him before letting you slip through his fingers. 

It shouldn’t have taken him seeing you with Pierre to know that he needed you.

“I know,” Lando couldn’t argue with you. You were never his. “I didn’t mean it like-” God this was harder than it should have been. “It’s just- you care about Pierre now, is all.”

You hesitated. Lando wouldn’t have been surprised if you hung up. This conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere. 

And then your voice dropped to a whisper, like you were even debating letting the next words out of your mouth, knowing they would only add fuel to this fire. 

“That doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

Lando froze. Quite literally. His legs went numb, thank god he was sitting down. He counted each individual breath you took and he was asking himself why you weren’t there with him, to say this in person. He could only imagine what you were like right now.

He had no idea that you were curled up on the couch, fingers trembling as you held the phone to your ear. He had no clue that Max was staring at you, mouth agape as you said the words that could have single handedly fixed what went wrong. Lando didn’t know that you called him first and that Pierre would just have to wait to hear your voice. 

You continued, “Lando we both said some hurtful things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re-” you chuckled and Lando instantly felt a weight lift from his shoulders. When was the last time he heard your laugh? “It’s not easy to throw away fifteen plus years of friendship, you idiot.”

“I guess that’s true,” he agreed, a smile forming on his own lips. Things weren’t permanently broken between you. There was damage, but it wasn’t a shattered mirror. You could put the pieces back together and not have the remnants of the incident ruin your relationship moving forward. 

“I think space is needed, though” you then said. Lando’s heart sank a little further into his chest. “I don’t want to be reliant on you anymore, Lando. For so long, you were all I cared about and I can’t keep living like that.”

You needed the time to get over him. 

Lando understood what you were trying to say. You didn’t want to love him anymore. You wanted a clean slate of friendship, something that wouldn’t keep you up at night, haunting your thoughts with all the what-if’s. 

He could wait. 

He had no choice, essentially. 

You weren’t ready to let him go and he was going to do whatever he could to get you back in his life. These last few weeks were hard enough with you. He didn’t want to go the next few years without you at his side. 

“Y/N I-” Lando paused, taking his lower lip between his teeth. He’d been holding onto that night in the club for so long, he had to let it go. “I’m sorry.”

If he could see you right now, he’d probably laugh at the way your forehead wrinkled as your eyebrows pinched together. 

“For the braking?”

“For everything I said,” he ran his fingers through his hair. It would be so much easier if you two were in the same room. “For making you feel as though I was paying for your friendship. For cancelling your flights. For being a shitty person, you didn’t deserve any of it. Especially knowing how you feel- how you felt, I mean. I made everything worse and I'm sorry.”

This time when you let out a breath into the receiver, it sounded more hopeful, if that was even possible. It sounded like the type of breath you’d take before rolling your eyes at him. 

“You couldn’t have apologised the morning after?” You asked. Your tone was finally starting to lighten up. “It took you causing an accident during a race to realise you fucked things up between us?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“I know.”

You were both silent. Lando didn’t want to hang up first. He wanted to keep you on the phone for the rest of the day. 

But he knew he couldn’t. His team was waiting for him in the garage. There was still a race going on. He had to sit and watch and think about his mistakes. He should probably apologise to Pierre. 

“Are we okay?” Lando asked. 

“We will be.”

You didn’t hesitate, but it wasn’t the answer Lando was hoping for. He had to be patient.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he said.

You knew he meant it.

When you hung up, Max was waiting on the opposite end of the couch for an explanation. He only caught bits and pieces of what Lando said and he couldn’t piece together anything.

“He apologised,” you said. 

The smile that spread across Max’s face was photo-worthy. He’d been waiting to hear that. He’d been telling Lando to say sorry since you ran out of the club with Pierre.

“Thank god!” Max fist bumped the air. “Does that mean we can finally all hang out again? I love Lando, I just can’t deal with him alone. He-”

“Woah, okay, slow down,” you felt bad, but you couldn’t let Max get ahead of himself. “I still need time. I can’t just hang out with him and pretend I never loved him, I need to be in a place where I’m content with just being his friend.”

Max’s face dropped, “How long is that going to take.”

You shrugged. You didn’t have an answer. All you knew was that things were going to be okay. You didn’t lose Lando like you thought you had. He was still there and he would continue to be there, waiting for you to return to his life when you were ready. When you could look at him and not see the face of the man you loved. 

You then thought about what Lando said about Pierre’s comments during the press conference. 

“Hey, what did Pierre say to the media?” You asked. “Did you watch the press conference?”

Max’s face said it all. He inhaled a sharp breath through clenched teeth and you regretted asking the question. 

“It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it,” Max clarified. “He talked about the competition between himself and Lando, but the underlying tone…you could tell it wasn’t just about the points or the driver standings. Pierre was referring to you. As if you were the prize.”

That wasn’t the least bit flattering, but you made a mental note to search up the clip after the race. 

At that same moment, Pierre’s face showed up in a split screen on the tv. You couldn’t put into words how mad he was that his race was over as he sat in the garage, watching the other drivers continue on without him. You knew he had a few choice words for Lando and honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

You had to talk to Pierre, about the incident, about what Lando said, about where you two stood. But after your conversation with Lando, you decided that Pierre could wait. 

You were leaving for Monza on Friday anyways, which was a good thing. You were going to need those extra days to prepare for what was to come.

part 4 here read all parts here

[hapuriainen]

Some comparisons of the “Disney girls if they were the player character in a pokemon game” designs, the earliest being from 2012.

Snow White - hasn’t changed much from the initial idea. For the most recent version aside from the improved colours (which really goes for all of these) I made the pocket a bit more sensible in size and less bland with the logo and changed the sleeves into something a little less costume-y looking. And apparently I had never bothered to check what her eye colour is supposed to be before?

Cinderella - I think the first one is way too tomboyish for Cinderella so it was a good idea to give her a skirt instead. And stop trying to copy the hairstyle as is, how is it supposed to work anyway? The most recent version is supposed to be wearing see-through plastic sneakers which was the closest equivalent of a glass slipper I could think of, but I don’t think you can see that well enough from this far.

Alice - I also like the original idea but it does look a bit too much like a costume. The more recent version is one of my favourites of the set, both with the design and how the art turned out overall.

Tinkerbell - I remember being dissatisfied with the first version (mostly for being boring) and thought I should have given her shorts instead, so here is that now. The top could still use some work though.

Aurora - She feels like she’s incrementally getting towards my ideal design but isn’t there quite yet. I probably should have done more with the half pink-half blue thing.

Eilonwy - not a lot to work with about her, though what is up with the shoes on the middle one?

Ariel - I don’t know what I was thinking with the turtleneck in the middle one, it’s supposed to be a warm weather design. Though to be fair sandals would be a better fit for that, but I like the stockings to represent her tail. Also apparently I got obscenely lazy with the shoes with the most recent one.

Belle - has barely changed at all, I remember being very happy with the initial design. Though now that I think about it the bag probably should use a different shade of blue. I’ve also done an earlier design with the yellow dress, but it’s so monochrome that it’s a bit hard to work with it.

Jasmine - I clearly wasn’t even trying with the first design, it’s just her canon outfit with very minor tweaks and a pokeball, and the second one isn’t any better. But to me Jasmine had one of the biggest glow ups with the most recent design and the art turned out cute as well.

Pocahontas - I really like the pants and would have liked to use them again, but then I thought, “is this problematic”, and ended up not using the tassel fringe thing. Overall she was a huge struggle and I’m not happy with the result at all, Pocahontas’ canon design has a lot of elements to work with, but I tried so many versions of one sleeved/one sleeve off the shoulder/layered tops and they all looked like a dancer or a figure skater. And I also attempted a tunic-like design like Yellow but that just looked like a LoZ oc. So this design is definitely subject to change if I redo everyone again in ten years. At least her face turned out cute..

Esmeralda - Another mess in both attempts, her canon design also has a lot of interesting details but somehow the best I could do with ended up being a schoolgirl? In my defense she was among the last characters I drew for this set and at that point I was just burnt out and ready to move to something else, so it was either this or not being drawn at all. Better luck next time!

Megara - the first attempt is pretty random and lazy and I don’t like it at all, but I do like how the second one turned out. Overall it does skew a bit too young though especially for a character like Megara, but she’s a kid here so maybe it’s ok?

Mulan - she is my favourite Disney heroine so it’s always frustrated me that I had never been able to really get the Poke design to work. But this time it somehow clicked that I could take inspiration from the male protagonists instead. I think the details could still do some workshopping but overall I like the result this time around.

Jane - the first one isn’t a Poketrainer at all, it’s just a jungle explorer anime girl. Though I guess there’s not much change in the second one either...

Kida - this has always been somewhat of a “just throw random ideas in there” kind of design and especially the first one I clearly had no idea what I was doing. In the most recent version I think the decision to move the mark to her hat was the best update, a facial tattoo on the supposed average kid feels kind of strange. 

Giselle - I really like the most recent one, it’s one of the most dynamic poses and I think it has a nice balance of “fine lady” and “going on a Pokemon adventure”. Not sure if any of them are properly recognisable as Giselle though.

Tiana - as you can see I have no idea what to do with her. I don’t know what’s wrong, there’s so much to work with her canon design but nothing ever works out properly. Many of my ideas, like poofy pants (because of the dress shape) also felt too kiddy and so out of character for Tiana who is at the more mature end of Disney princesses. Still, with the most recent attempt there is a lot I like, but somehow it doesn’t quite fit together and I now notice that repeating the flower shape everywhere is pretty awkward. Sorry Tiana! Maybe fourth time is the charm.

Charlotte - the first attempts feel too much like a formal party outfit instead of something for an adventure, so I had to lose the updo at least. The hat is a little silly but I figured it would fit the goofier Charlotte. I do like the bubble skirt (one of the abandoned Tiana ideas) but the top could still use some work.

Rapunzel - very pleased with how the most recent one turned out apart from the hair looking a little too brown, it’s supposed to be just shading and not two-tone hair. 

Merida - I’ve never figured out how to do her hair in Pokemon form and her canon dress is pretty stingy with workable details. I got the idea of using plaid from Sword/Shield, but I noticed everyone and their mother already drew Merida in a plaid shirt so I put it on her shorts instead. But in hindsight maybe I should have just gone with the flow.

Vanellope - her design is really fun to work with and the result is one of my favourites. With the newer version I realised that I tend to use white a lot when I don’t know what to do, which usually is at least inoffensive, but that there could be a more interesting option if I dare to try something else (talking about the socks here).

Anna - quite pleased with how the new version turned out but it could still do with some work, what was I thinking with black boots and almost-black tights? 

Elsa - I really like how the cardigan thing turned out, except for the fact that I realised I had already used practically the same thing for Aurora (but hers is more boring so it’s the one subject to change). Meanwhile the dress is pretty bland. The leggings use the ice type uniform design from Sword/Shield.

Moana - Another victim of the “I have to churn out something” project finale. I think I already had this queued and had to go back to doing at least some fixes because the initial version was somehow even more boring. I think the loose pants idea is very workable but she’ll just need more time and effort.

Raya, Mirabel - they’re too recent to have a comparison but let’s have a few words on them anyway. I just couldn’t get anything out of Raya’s design (though she was one of the last characters  to be drawn and also I really don’t like her movie so I was very much not in a mood to try very hard) so the result ended up pretty boring and definitely waiting for a redesign. As for Mirabel I like her look a lot more and especially the skirt practically designed itself, but this still kinda feels like a first draft. 

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 09/13: Fanart!

Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.

Before we begin...I'm not sure I have a cool address created for this latest update, other than the seasons are about to change, and I think that...for better or for worse, I'm probably changing a little right along with them.

I have no idea whether this will prove to be a good thing or not in the long run, only that I'm still learning new things even as I face my elder nerd years, and my ever-increasing amount of gray hairs upon my head keep reminding me that there's still a ways for me to go here...so please. I hope that anybody still reading my words will continue to be patient with me, especially if I don't always feel in the mood to draw, write, or otherwise create eye-catching things for the rest of the interwebs to enjoy.

And so without further delay...here are my picks of the week.

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @clownbloody:

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @lonewolflupe:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @thora-sniper:

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @elslittlestories:

ANDOR/ROGUE ONE

Andor Fanart--By @fen-luciel:

Rogue One Fanart--By @aron-mp4:

STAR WARS REBELS

Star Wars Rebels Fanart--By @hayesflint:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanart--By @shadsthequeenofthepotatopeople:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every two weeks, highlight those artists who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the artists a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…this post will be continued in its second half: the Fanfiction Edition.

Thank you, good morning, and I’ll see you in the next post!

No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @theosb0rnway @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom

@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenabb104104 @gun-roswell @tazmbc1

@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanart.

[suusoh]

i wanna know what’s your theory on what happened to johan after the ending since it’s up to the audiences imagination yk?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING MY THOUGHTS ON THIS ANON! I give you kiss ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ I'm going to diverge more on headcanons of him in another post. These are just my nonsensical interpretations of Johan after monster.

(tw: talks of multiple suicide attempts (all failed though don't worry))

Another anon of mine sent another similar ask (will post said ask shortly as it dwelves more into the x reader aspects hehe) gave the description of post-monster/ post-rurenheim johan as "a juxtaposition to his regular omnipotent self" which is a 1000% perfect way on how I'd describe him post-monster/post-rurenheim.

I really do believe that although he still has a prowess for manipulation skills and psychology after monster, he wouldn't have as much charisma as before. Part of his godly charisma came from the fact that he himself has no identity so he can fine tune himself to anyone (presenting himself with such a pleasing expression and personality, his agreeability with some would come from his own lack of personall thoughts). But now that he's got his own individuality and a name, he wouldn't bother with being agreeable anymore, as it isn't as natural for him anymore.

It's kind of why he doesn't even bother keeping a soft smile anymore at the end of monster when he was confronting dr tenma. He's not trying to be approachable anymore, and instead opts to actually showing how he's feeling rn. Instead of just using a pleasant expression as a placeholder on his face. I mean just look at the stark difference:

All the trauma and stress has finally catched up to him and has even taken a PHYSICAL toll on his body as well. I haven't noticed it before as I thought it was just an art style, but you can can notice that over time after he uncovers his past since the library, his face actually starts growing eye bags

like he is TIRED. He cannot do this anymore, he's burnt out. Which is the number one characterization I would give him post-monster.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE when he is interpreted as still having that small serene smile on his face and living his life calmly after monster. I subscribe to that characterization and would write him like that too, especially if we're going to interpret it as it being second nature or muscle memory for him to have that politeness. —It's just another part of me loves the idea that him being slightly rude and unapproachable even. A part of his reclaiming of his own humanity, is him not keeping up appearances anymore. He doesn't need to keep up politeness and being friendly anymore.

Another thing I can see him doing for a while is actually being quite... listless? If that makes sense. Like he would just do a good solid nothing for a while. Walk around in parks and other places trying to take in the world around him again. Trying to grasp life after losing his inner monster/kinderheim programming/fucked up coping mechanism.

He might try bars now and other social gatherings to see the hype and try to feel something. But maybe it just makes him feel all the more alienated and detached from society. Imagine being surrounded by so much people but still feel so alone. He'd feel all the more disconnected from humanity.

--- talks of suicide start here ---

Kind of dark here but I think this might lead him to trying to attempt at ending his life again. He sees it so pointless now and his entire focal point has been shattered

He knows him and his sister aren't the same people anymore, he knows that he doesn't have to keep living his life as her shadow/half a person/the "worse" version of her. But man... after 20+ years of living like that it's really gonna hit once you realise that you can't do your sole life goal anymore...

His despair might come in the form of him genuinely not knowing how to live. Throughout monster it kinda felt like he was on autopilot, his own individuality and sense of self taking a backseat. So imagine out of nowhere the plane's crashing and you're suddenly put in the driver's seat all of a sudden when, you didn't even bother learning how to drive or fly this thing in the first place because 1.) You were convinced you didn't need to drive ever, you were forcefully stuffed in the plane's cargo by adults who traumatized you, 2.) You didn't even know you'd be flying this long.

(sorry for the plane analogy i'm just rambling my raw thoughts 💀 but yes man is lowkey crashing and burning)

If we're gonna put it in a smaller more related level, imagine your entire life you grew up trained to be like...like an archaeologist or something, like your childhood bedroom had archaeology stuff, you were raised to study archaeology and only archaeology, you excelled at it, you had the gear for archaeology, you're in college studying archaeology and even having a specific vision in your mind of you being an archaeologist....the only thoughts you grew up with is you and archaeology.

Only to find out from nowhere that you never actually were into archaeology. And that you liking archaeology (aka your hobby/interest, your entire IDENTITY) was conditioned and instilled into you by weird freaky scientists when you were a child. You find out that you actually had a personality BEFORE archaelogy, and now you're 20 and you've spent more than a decade of your life dedicated to archaeology only to find out that maybe this whole time archaeology isn't even a thing you liked in the first place.

yeah that's basically the library revelation. HAFHDJAH archaeology being his "monster".

And now you're wandering through life, that isn't about you being an archaeologist..... OF COURSE YOU'D FUCKING DESPAIR. What are you even supposed to do now????

But funnily enough, Naoki Urusawa says that monster is actually a dark comedy in his eyes (Lmaooo just as I thought. I was giggling watching monster), so in true shakespearean tragic-comedy fashion, Johan's attempt here might become a fail. Divine intervention if you will.

But worry not friends, as this suicide attempt of his was made when his monster was gone, where his coolness and emotional detachment are also gone. So I think him doing a suicide attempt post-monster might actually, in some miraculous roundabout way.... scare him a bit for the first time.

I think the scene/poem "The View from Halfway Down" from "Bojack Horseman" is the best way to describe how I see he'll start feeling things.

He'd wonder why his heart is beating suddenly and why a cold sweat is forming on his face and on his palms, and why his breathing is out of control. He's confused as hell as to why his adrenaline spiked up. He walked on the ledges of rooftops, the number of times he's had guns pointed at him is more than the fingers on his hands, he died twice for goodness sakes. So why?...why is he feeling this all of a sudden? he'd start to grow a bit frustrated because this doesn't. make. sense.

If we're still gonna go with the dark comedy route, we could write him as him trying and trying again to off himself💀i'm so sorry. I'm just rolling with Urusawa's vision here of him saying monster is a dark comedy. Each time Johan attempts with ending his life, it would just fail.

But if he got spooked off on his first suicide attempt post-monster, he'd probably stop after that one. Not because he wants to keep living, but because his stupid (incredible) brain chemicals keep making his body hesitate to off himself.

He'd be pissed at his own fear. I could see him actually almost tearing up in frustration at what's happening. He's never had to deal with shit like this before, he never hesitated, he never had to feel fear, hell— he didn't even have to LIVE before. He wasn't actually living during his time as "Johan Liebert". He didn't get the same agency to fully explore and navigate his own life in his own time like every other human being. He doesn't want to try. He just wants to end himself— and he can't even do that anymore. He's so frustrated, and pissed, and he's honestly just so... lost.

Buuuut! To quote Tom Hanks from "Castaway":

I was gonna die there, totally alone. I was gonna get sick, or get injured or something. The only choice I had, the only thing I could control was when, and how, and where it was going to happen. So... I made a rope and I went up to the summit, to hang myself. I had to test it, you know? Of course. You know me. And the weight of the log, snapped the limb of the tree, so I-I - , I couldn't even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *nothing*. And that's when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail."

He'd then sigh softly and shake his head...maybe let out a small sardonic laugh. Ah, how fate really does love to mess with him. Some higher being out there is really taking the piss with him, wasn't it? Because maybe.... just maybe. He kind of realises that Dr. Tenma and Nina were right.

I think this is the point where he'd kinda like.... cancel out nihilism WITH nihilism.

" I found everything pointless... until I realised even that was pointless" kinda vibe

Hope this satisfied your question anon! My thoughts are not organized here so pardon :)! Also please excuse if my tone in the more serious parts sounds a bit too light.

Thank you for reading and and asking me anon! ˘ ³ ˘ mwuah!!

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

[sitp-recs]

🎶 HD Wireless 2023 - Sitp Recs

After a short hiatus I come bearing Wireless gifts! I was hoping to get started today but a power outage gave me some free hours (and a charged phone) on Thursday night so here we are. The fest has been posting for the past two weeks and these are my favorites so far. I was thinking I might just update this list as I go on through the second half (instead of creating a new one) so pls expect a few reblogs. The idea is to celebrate these amazing works and invite folks to check them out before reveals! Keep in mind that as usual, my picks are 100% personal and based on my own preferences. I strongly recommend checking the full collection. Enjoy!

Fic:

🚬 Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave by @deliciousblizzardshark (M, 2k)

The linens are white and empty, sunlight slanting through the window illuminating a bed that has been deserted. Draco knew Potter would leave; he’s always gone by morning. Draco doesn’t even remember what he looks like in daylight.

🦵Wrong in all the Right Ways by @phdmama (E, 4k)

Draco is pretty sure that Potter is trying to kill him. Not in, like a murdery sort of way. There’s been too much atonement and forgiveness and redemption for that. Too many difficult conversations that ended, more than once, with awkward hugs. Maybe even some tears. They’re not friends obviously, but at the very least, they’ve moved past the past. (Mostly.) So no, Potter’s definitely not trying to kill him in a permanent death sort of way, but more like… In a horny sort of way.

🌃 All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites (T, 4.4k)

Sometimes all it takes is one perfect late summer night in June.

📱 Mirrors inside me by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 6k)

Draco’s been in love with Potter forever. And just because they work together, and they fuck, and they text and break up and get back together regularly doesn’t mean Potter needs to know. In fact, it’s a pretty good reason why he shouldn’t.

🎹 About This Place by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Harry left everything, including Draco. Harry’s returned to everything, including Draco. Things are never quite so simple, though perhaps they could be. Based on ‘You and I’ by Lady Gaga for Wireless 2023.

🌈 I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by porcelainheart3 (E, 13k)

Despite this arrangement he has with Draco, conducted entirely in the privacy of a dusty stationery cabinet, Harry is definitely not gay. But to appease his friends, he agrees to go on one (1) date with a man. Just to be sure.

🥃 if i could never give you peace by poisonivy206 (E, 17k)

Eleven years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forcibly brought together by a new case that's bound to reopen old wounds. Enter a Firewhisky problem, prejudices that never really go away, and an obsession as old as time.

🚙 Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

🍫 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w, art by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🪩 Take You Home by @lqtraintracks (E, 26k)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

🐍 Sun Thief by @floydig, art by BlackRose532 (E, 28k)

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs. Or: Harry beats up a pimp and isn’t sorry about it, Draco deals black market potions, and they’re shagging. Again.

🍊 Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose (M, 29k)

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They'll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

🌊 What We Left Behind by peachydreamxx (E, 33k)

Harry's recovering from an injury. Malfoy's recovering from heartbreak. Beaten down and bruised, Harry takes up Malfoy's offer to stay at his secluded seaside cottage in Dorset. It'll be good to get away from it all. It's only for a few days, and it's only so he can heal. Nothing else. Digging up past feelings will only make matters worse, and besides, Malfoy doesn't feel the same way. Does he?

🏝️ LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 42k) ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

🧩 The Waiting by @oknowkiss (E, 43.5k)

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

🐶 Everybody Hates a Tourist by @wolfpants (E, 51k)

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school.

Art:

📸 Alive by @itsphantasmagoria (E)

Harry is lost after the final battle, but he finds comfort from an unexpected source.

🎙️ Why don't you like me? by @caroll-in (T)

Failing to ask Harry out, Draco deals with his feelings in a very dramatic fashion.

🥂 Shivers and Cold Champagne by @maesterchill (T)

Sometimes, you meet someone in the club, and you just know...they’re all in.

🕶️ keep driving by @babooshkart (M)

cocaine, side boob, choke her with a sea view

[mmoodd-jobutupaki]

*takes a deep breath* AHHHHHDKAJFKSJA

I JUST WATCHED BOY AND THE HERON AND I LOVE IT SM AND IT'S SO GOOD.

So obvs, it's studio ghibli, it's gna be some of the prettiest stuff you've ever seen. So many scenery frames made me think "I'm gna scour the internet for them and repaint them as art practice. It resembles smudgy oil paintings rather than studio ghibli's gouache style (see spirited away, Totoro) but it's honestly beautiful nonetheless, and seeing it on the big screen made me feel like I was in the movie. There's even a stone passage that looks like the one from Coraline. The animation works so smoothly to make the film an overall wonderful immersive experience.

The character design was so good. You have your classic ghibli, countryside, apron wearing girl. Your boy with spiky hair. And probably the best addition of a butch seafarer, Kiriko, dubbed by Florence Pugh (oh my goodness I am too gay for this). The grannies were so inexplicably lovely and visually distinct I just want a hug from them. The wizard (Mark Hamill having this otherworldly yet grounded design and amazing hair. The heron was oddly grotesque without being scary (this is such a gift only japanese have.) and his various designs fluctuate along with the story. I was surprisingly intrigued by the fact that even in crane form, he had human teeth. And ofc THE WARAWARA.

GOSH THEY ARE ADORABLE I LOVE THESE DAMN TAPIOCA PEARL LOOKING THINGS THEY HAD ME SQUEALING IN THE THEATRE EITH HOW CUTE THEY ARE.

The score is beautiful and I dare say that it's on par, maybe even better than the Spiderverse score (and that's REALLY HIGH praise coming from me, I love the Spiderverse score to the point where it's on my Spotify wrapped.) I loved how the use of motifs, especially in relation to magic in the film. And definitely need to go give it more listens. 11/10 would recommend listening to it even outside of the film, it's just that great, give it a Grammy or smth.

Humor in this film is hilarious without being corny. It's very on the nose, what's currently happening in the scene humor. Characters (won't say who) also have amazing dynamics that supply a lot of humor for the film. Obviously we have that last snippet from the trailer and I'll give you this out of context "Mahito's turned into a parakeet"

The story is very easy to follow. The first half of the story is very grounded. And even in the second fantastical half, the visuals and little sprinkles of just the right amount of information help to guide us through the amazing fantastical world. Nothing ever feels too spoonfed to the audience or too overwhelming.

Spoilers below the cut

Character was great too. The main cast each have a very touching emotional aspect and nothing is what it seems, not from the trailers and not even within the show. Characters go on journeys you never could've expected from the beginning of the show. Such as the heron, who I genuinely thought from trailers was gna be the bad guy but turned into a genuine, squat goblin companion. And the parakeet king goddamn I thought he was gna be a good guy with his "we must protect this world" gig, not some giant cannibalistic parakeet with a surprising penchant for sneaking. Anyway, I especially loved how we meet characters almost multiple times with how we're introduced to different versions of them. Kiriko>>>

The moral of this story had me confused ngl, but I'm fcking dumb and need to go read some analysis so ignore this. The main message I got was that "Life is shit. But it's worth living and I can make it better for myself. Through friends, I don't have to be alone through it all" which made me tear up ngl since I've been struggling with life this year and seeing how our boy Mahito went from being a closed off lil squat to that *cries*. Personally I interpreted the great granduncle and his blocks as seeing what's wrong with the system the older generation has built, and demanding more from it/straight up turning away from it. Also Mahito learning to let go of his mom. The pelicans wanting the best for their children and not always liking what they have to do for survival as a link to war soldiers @hamable . I also read from @simplysparrow14 and @rockpaperimpala the film is also Miyazaki coming to the realisation that 'studio ghibli will be his legacy and it will be put to rest, it won't be the same if continued without him and that's okay' and ow I just got hit in the feels.

To summarize the boy and the heron excelled, slaps, is show stopping, brilliant, awesome, a true work of art and soul and 11000/10 go watch it ON THE BIG SCREEN I am not joking.

[ququb444hm]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

part 22 / side-hustling ☆

masterlist

warning(s): *REPOST!!* some bs lore (๑>ᴗ<๑), keiji is the badd guy, profanity +possible typos

half-lidded somber eyes stay glued to the ceiling, fighting the urge to fall into a deep slumber. kozume’s mind continued to replay the conversation he had in the morning with keiji once yn had left his dorm room.

“i think i might like yn,” the sudden announcement took the blond by surprise, his brows knitting together as he tried to let those six words sink in. 

“...again?” his cat-like eyes seemed to pierce into keiji’s soul who was a bit too intimidated to return the gaze. a sudden mixture of bitter resentment, anxiety, insecurity, and even possessiveness started to brew inside the blond. 

“i think i might like yn.. again.” keiji restated, hands tightening around the bag of ice he held against his nose.

a few silent seconds pass by. kozume kept his gaze on keiji, arms now firmly crossed against his chest. “how long has it been since you realized you liked her again? or … could it be you just never got over her since the two of you broke up?” not wanting to sound accusing and have this conversation make things awkward between the two, kozume tried to keep the tone of his voice natural. ‘just a normal conversation between friends.’ but deep down he knew it was already beginning to stir unwanted feelings amongst them. 

keiji hummed, genuinely trying to give kozume an answer, “i don’t know. i really don’t know. it’s just…seeing her so often during volleyball practice and the band…i realized that i missed how we were. i missed our relationship, and i missed her in general. and i know,” he met kozume’s eyes now, deep blue contrasting heavily against a warm golden pair, “the break up was entirely my fault, but sometimes i wonder what it would be like if i was given another chance to show yn that i really am a good boyfriend and that, what happened back then was me just not knowing what my priorities were.”

‘...another chance…’ those two words seemed to mock kozume, unbeknownst to keiji. ‘how long have i known yn and still not been given a single chance?’ of course, none of this was yn’s fault. she didn’t know kozume had hidden feelings for her. she couldn’t have known that he began developing a crush on her in the second grade when she easily beat him in his favorite game that he had been working so hard to earn a high score on. she couldn’t have known that part of the reason he had joined volleyball in middle school along with tetsurou was that he wanted her to see how cool he was, even though he hated it so much in the beginning. she couldn’t have known that he secretly hated when other people started to copy her and call him ‘kozu’ or ‘koz’ because it felt special having a nickname that only she called him by. yn could not have known that kozume had liked her first, far beyond when she started unknowingly reciprocating his feelings because the only people that truly knew the truth were tetsurou and later on, shoyou.

their junior year of high school was the only time, it seemed, that the two had the possibility of ending up together before things took a turn once they entered college. yn began to notice how cute kozume was, she was comfortable enough to even openly say how attractive he was whenever she got the chance, and tetsurou, being the wingman that he says he is, pushed kozume to confess his feelings after seeing his sister show common attraction. unfortunately, the whole thing lasted for a short time as yn grew busy with her passion for the arts and didn’t want to concern herself in a relationship. fast-forward to their sophomore year in college, kozume met keiji who quickly grew interested in yn and persistently tried to woo her. keiji didn’t know kozume still (or at all) bore the same feelings, especially when kozume did nothing to stop the two from slowly falling for each other.

content with even just staying close friends with yn after high school was enough for the blond. or well, that was what he tried to tell himself. in all honesty, he slowly began to resent himself for not allowing himself to be a bit selfish. whenever he saw yn, who was one of his best friends and crush, be with keiji, another friend, he felt everything to be unfair. no matter how hard he tried to get over her, his feelings toward yn felt like a magnetic force, always pulling, luring, beckoning him to be caged with his unrequited love forever.

when he found out yn broke up with keiji, the part of his heart that swore to always belong to her lit up with hope and he hated himself for that. that’s why, even with yn’s current feelings for him, he just couldn’t fully let himself be happy. he knew, because of his friendship with keiji, one of them had to sacrifice their feelings in order to continue being friends. and he tried to force himself to be the one who would do so.

but is that really true? would keiji be mad at him for liking yn?  even if kozume liked her first?  even if yn was the one to break off the relationship with keiji?

keiji cleared his throat, seeing as kozume suddenly went unresponsive and lost in thought. “so, if it’s not too much to ask, could you back off?”

“what?”

“y’know…” the black-haired setter tilted his head, now seemingly looking down at his friend. “because even if i try to get back with yn, she’s too focused on you right now so it’ll be close to impossible. i can’t get her back when she thinks she likes you. i mean, you don’t actually believe that she likes you right?” the question felt like a stab to the chest and kozume couldn’t help but dig his fingernails into his triceps to prevent himself from suddenly lashing out. “and besides, even if you did start to develop feelings for yn in the short amount of time she started ‘liking’ you, it’s just not the same as how i feel for her. i love yn, which is why i’m trying to be better for her so that we can try again and actually work out this time. c’mon kozume, this isn’t something you need a lot of time to think about. i’m the right one for yn, not you. you’re her childhood friend, i thought you were fine with that role?”

the memory of the conversation was put to a stop by a familiar ringtone. finding his phone on the table beside the couch he lay on, kozume answered the call,

"bro, kozu, where are you? practice started like five minutes ago. it's not like you to be late." it was tetsu.

kozume pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time, a tired sigh escaping his lips as he realized he let his mind eat away his awareness of reality. "shit."

"and don't think i haven't forgotten about your little text. what do you mean by 'sorry'? what's happening, kozume? are you okay? c'mon talk to me, i'm like side-hustling as a therapist right now, i’ll even give you a free trial, no payment bro trust. just this once though, gotta pay for my tuition somehow y’know."

"nothing. let coach now i'll be there soon."

"hey wait—"

before letting tetsurou finish his sentence, kozume ended the call and got ready for practice.

part 21 grandmama chocolate cake <- | masterlist | -> part 23 mistake

note(s): im going on a trip in like 2 days for a week n idk if im gonna update when im there but hopefully i do bc lololol ALSO IF U WERE ONE OF THE FEW WHO SAW THE POST BEFORE THIS no u didnt !! :33 +none of the pictures used are mine!!

✩⡱ taglist !! + @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anny-bah @ast4rg1rl @sukunasrealgf @killed-kiss lmk if u want to be added (msg or inbox)ヾ(･ω･`；)ﾉ