Heart Eyes

Kevin Day falls into Raven habits without even realizing it. Despite his best efforts to adjust to a normal life. He runs laps to keep himself awake because he's never quite adjusted to 24 hour days. He struggles to eat anything he perceives as unhealthy despite his dependence on alcohol. When he gets frustrated he plays with a brutality ingrained in him since he was old enough to hold a racquet. He refuses to go anywhere without Andrew, without a partner. Do you think when he wakes up in the middle of the night, to a dark room, he looks over at the other bed expecting Riko to be there? Do you think he traces the ghost of a 2 on his cheek, hidden beneath a chess piece tattoo, out of habit? Do you think despite being a fox he feels as though he'll always be one of them? That, despite it all, he'll always be a Raven?

small thing bc i want to draw them

🐕🐕🐕💞

reading mistborn for the first time and I refuse to believe Kelsier is dead simply because he’s too annoying to die

Strolling towards a case🍂🍁

Another practice/pose study of the 1984 series with an autumn vibe as it is summerween.

I don't remember the episode because I forgot to organize my screenshots for practice, but this is one of the beginning scenes where Holmes forgot his cane. Thankfully Dr. Watson is there for the rescue by lending his arm.

full disclosure i hope jean does his time on his pro team so he can pay off the moriyamas and when he retires i hope he never goes near exy again. i hope he doesn't become a coach or a manager or anything i hope he leaves it entirely i hope he never goes to the olympics i hope he lives somewhere in california and maybe he becomes a florist or something but i hope he does something that's his for once. i hope he gets a chance to live a different part of his life that isn't tied to anything or anyone else i hope he gets to grow old and smile so much he gets laugh lines and i hope jean dies with the knowledge that while he gave his all to exy as a teenager, as an adult, it did not take his life from him it did not take away his world. he did not endure he survived. i hope he lives something that isn't exy that isn't blood and pain and loss. i hope jean moreau gets to live.

See, I love the chapter in Rhythm of War where Adolin drags Kaladin to the tavern but promises him that he won't make him talk. The narration makes a big deal out of the fact that Adolin "outsmarted" Kaladin when getting him to give a treatment plan for Shallan, but Adolin actually outsmarted Kaladin a moment before that, too. Adolin said he wouldn't make Kaladin talk, and he doesn't, but he DOES let an awkward silence hang, which Kaladin eventually fills. The funniest thing about that is that, just a few chapters before and narratively only a few hours before, Dalinar tried the same tactic on him, and Kaladin didn't fall for it, which the narration comments on. But he totally fell for the same trick when Adolin tries it and Kaladin doesn't even notice!

The gentleman of Lethe

adansey

imagine being kevin day, son of exy, born and bred to be a cog in the well-oiled machine that is the edgar allan ravens. all you know being the routine of practice and practice and practice and performance and victory alongside those you call brothers.

-and then one day you wake up in your estranged father's apartment between a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of vodka and there is a knot of bandages where your future used to be. you don't wake up at 4am anymore. you sleep until noon and vomit the remainders of life as you knew it into unfamiliar toilets. you watch orange and white clash against each other from sidelines you haven't touched since you started growing facial hair.

your brother doesn't ask you to come home. you would come if he asked. the days are longer here and the food is too rich. the colors are too harsh, the language barrier is too much. you speak and no one understands.

they feel sorry for you, but not for what you have lost, instead for what you have suffered. you try to show them what belonging means, to sever parts of yourself to fit inside a uniform, but they don't understand the necessity of the blade the way your brothers did. they don't understand that suffering feels religious if you do it right.

the therapist tells you it's survivor's guilt but the only survivors you can see are on the court in black and red and they read your eulogy after the game at a press conference. you are not a survivor in any way that matters anymore. how treacherous your heart is for continuing to beat when you can't even hold your lifeline in your hand without dropping it.

you want to go home but your key doesn't open the same door anymore. you want to sit beside your brother but there is no space on his side of the table. you want to be a raven but you are a fox.

you grieve for connection until there is a knife where your neck guard used to sit. you grieve for your life until a boy offers to show you how it feels to survive. you offer to show him how it feels to live. he tells you he won't sever parts of himself to fit the uniform, but there are telltale bloodstains in the fabric from long before you asked.

you wake up at 4am again. you take turns vomiting in the toilet, you when the alcohol level dips too low and him when his smile runs out. he doesn't speak your language but he understands it. he keeps the car running when you visit the therapist. he keeps an eye on your back to watch the 02 on your jersey turn orange. the colors don't seem as harsh anymore.

he offers you safety. he offers you belonging. he offers you the only thing he knows how to give, the only thing you know how to take.

he offers you a lifeline. you pick it up with your right hand.