because i like to make graphics like this

Meta Post: How did Shiro get his scar?

So a few days ago I did a post about Shiro’s prosthetic arm and the response was amazing! Many of you also showed interest in me doing one on Shiro’s scar as well, so here we are. This one took me a lot longer to make because it’s not as cut-and-dry as the arm. There’s a lot of variables and speculation. We can’t really know for sure what DID happen, but we can most likely deduce what DIDN’T happen. (WARNING–I’m going to discuss some graphic stuff, blood/gore/injuries, etc. So be aware.)

In this post we’ll go through the possibilities and see which ones are the most likely to occur. There will be one numbered point per general option, and I will narrow them down to the ones I think could happen. I would love for you to share your thoughts on the matter! At one point most of us, myself included, assumed Shiro got the scar on his face during battle, so this brings us to the first option:

1. The scar is the result of a sword or other blade swipe during battle

Let’s take a look at what would have to happen for this option to be the case. There’s an easy way to visualize this in 10 seconds or less.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can i request RFA reaction when they recieve news that MC is dead or in danger but than she's actually alive and well

I’m sorry this took so long, nonnie! I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like how it turned out at first, whoops. hopefully this is what you had in mind? if not, make sure to let me know! warning: there are slight mentions of death, dead bodies, hospitals, kidnapping, accidents etc. nothing graphic, though, but read at your own discretion anyway!

- Admin Cat Mom.


  • sunshine boy goes apeshit crazy right after hanging up the phone.
  • who on earth would dare to hurt such a precious being like you?
  • whoever the responsible for this car accident that took your life is… they are in big trouble.
  • his brain is not responding properly anymore.
  • and he just plain refuses to live in a world where you no longer exist.
  • he could’ve easily succumbed to his tears, and trembling hands and legs.
  • but oh, no.
  • he’s going to take matters into his own hands.
  • so he pretty much grabs his coat and leaves the apartment as fast as lightning.
  • somehow he’s at the scene in less than fifteen minutes.
  • and you’re there, the police and paramedics are there, and your car is there too.
  • your car is wrecked.
  • but you’re standing right next to it safe and sound, and your legs, arms and head are all in the right places.
  • you seem a little distressed, that’s all.
  • after staring blankly at the scene, he runs up to you and holds you tightly, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek multiple times to prove himself that you’re there and you’re alive.
  • “what in the world happened oh my god MC.”
  • “jumin is a bad influence please stop hanging out with him.”


  • he’s going to punch someone.
  • he’s also going to punch himself.
  • it’s weird enough that you haven’t come home in the past few days, and he has tried to reach you plenty of times but you’re not answering your phone.
  • now that he’s heard about the dead body that’s been discovered near a river (which description matches you almost perfectly) he starts panicking.
  • and he wants to die too.
  • instead of going to the police to make sure it’s not you, he spends an entire night looking for you.
  • because the mere thought of seeing your lifeless body would destroy every inch of his soul.
  • yes, zen has a strong body and soul, but not when it comes to the idea of you not being by his side.
  • after checking every damn corner of the city, he goes home feeling defeated.
  • he has a lot of missed calls and texts from the rest of RFA.
  • does he care at this point? not really, he doesn’t feel like answering to anyone but his dear MC.
  • when he opens the door, he’s surprised to see you sitting comfortably on the couch and going through your phone.
  • “MC? Where… where have you been?”
  • “you silly! I told you I was going out of town this weekend to visit my family. I even left you a message! because I didn’t have any signal there.”
  • oh, so that’s why even mr. trust fund kid has been calling non stop.
  • you spend the next day cuddling, and kissing, and talking—he feels so relieved that you’re not dead.
  • from now on you’re not allowed to leave this wreck of a man alone for more than a day.


  • her heart sinks to her stomach as soon as she hears the news.
  • you are her guardian angel, she said it herself.
  • you cannot leave just yet.
  • a relative/acquaintance of yours had called her that morning to let her know that you’re in hospital and things aren’t looking too great.
  • after all, you’ve been sick the past days, that’s a fact, and you weren’t taking care of yourself.
  • she scolded you a lot, but she also did her best to make you feel better.
  • still, she thought it was just a cold that would go away eventually.
  • it turns out now that your life is at risk?
  • on her way to the hospital, all she can think of is you lying on a bed connected to a hundred wires.
  • but she tries really hard not to focus on worst-case scenarios, takes a deep breath, and drinks her entire cup of coffee in one sitting.
  • staying calm and thinking straight, that’s all she gotta do.
  • she already has a contingency plan anyways, and jumin is more than ready to help with anything you need (he cares about your health as well).
  • when she arrives at the hospital, she’s surprised to see you on the entrance blowing your nose and looking like a mess.
  • a regular, definitely not on the verge of death kind of mess.
  • “jaehee, what are you doing here?”
  • she sighs in relief and gives you a hug.
  • you then explain that your relative/acquaintance tends to blow things out of proportion, that you’re just a bit sick and that’s all.
  • “for the love of god, MC, please take care of yourself.”
  • and… you have your very own personal nurse now.


  • this man turns into a mess.
  • he knew it, he knew that he should’ve taken you to the airport.
  • he only let you convince him to go alone because you told him you didn’t like goodbyes, and that everything was going to be just fine.
  • the report on the news says otherwise.
  • the plane you took a few hours ago has crashed.
  • he sits calmly on the couch and lets the information sink in, it takes a while.
  • an hour passes by, he should start making calls.
  • his rational side is telling to send help, helicopters, anything in order to save you and bring you back home safe.
  • his sense of revenge is telling him to sue the airline, find the culprit of this injustice, and make them pay.
  • but his body is not responding to his orders, he’s gone completely numb.
  • how could you, MC? how could you leave him like this? you are his source of happines and stability.
  • god… his clothes start feeling way too tight, he’s having trouble breathing.
  • and then, when he’s about to call assistant kang, his phone rings.
  • your name showed up on the  screen. “hello? jumin? I don’t know if you’ve heard about the plane crash—”
  • like a sweet lullaby, your voice soothes him instantly, so he clears his throat and manages to say only one thing: “MC, I am so glad you’re well.”
  • you had lost the flight and decided to wait for the next one as you didn’t want to bother jumin, but after hearing about the accident, you thought it was best to return home and postpone your trip.
  • he refuses to hang up the phone until he’s there because yes, he’s going to pick you up (feat. good ol’ driver kim).


  • he knew something like this would happen sooner or later.
  • just when he starts feeling like he can live a normal, happy life, someone decides to take you away from him.
  • with the amount of enemies he’s gained through his job as an agent, he should’ve know.
  • yet there he is, in shock, sweating, and feeling extremely nauseated.
  • he’s panicking so much he forgets for a moment that he’s a skilled hacker.
  • he doesn’t know what this person that took you wants because the message they left was too vague, but he’s going to find out one way or another.
  • even if it costs him his life.
  • the only problem is that he can’t seem to focus and he’s making mistakes left and right.
  • MC please be okay.
  • he keeps picturing you locked in a filthy basement, tied up, scared and alone.
  • that is until you finally showed up—you were buying groceries.
  • prepare yourself for a tacklehug.
  • wait, if you’re here and you’re well, what’s up with this weird message?
  • wrong number? a distasteful prank? 
  • he’s baffled and doesn’t understand what’s going on.
  • then decides to dig into it later and increase security, you can’t take threats like this lightly.
  • he’s a clingy mess for the rest of the day and does everything you ask him to, he even cleans the living room and eats a proper meal.


  • this sweet, selfless man just can’t catch a break.
  • it took him so long to heal his wounds and allow himself to love someone healthy and good for him.
  • a building has caught fire and collapsed, and not many people made it.
  • the same building you say you were going to.
  • he hasn’t heard anything from you yet, and you’re not answering your phone.
  • so he calls every person he knows and does everything he can to find the tiniest bit of information about the fire and the survivors.
  • his efforts are useless.
  • his chest is hurting so much? he doesn’t think he can take it?
  • all he can do is hold his head in his hands, bite his lip and quietly swallow his tears, because he knows how much you hate to see him sad.
  • and as expected, he blames himself for it.
  • it should have been him.
  • you didn’t deserve such a horrible death, let alone such a short life.
  • after all, you brought so much joy into his life.
  • when it seems like he’s lost all hope, the door opens.
  • it’s MC!
  • you swear you’ve never seen him smile so brightly, like he’s witnessing a miracle of some sort.
  • he asks you where you were and you explain that your job interview was cancelled, so you weren’t there when the building caught fire.
  • he holds you so tightly he leaves you gasping for air, but you don’t complain and instead comfort him with tender kisses.
Accept my Apology

Summary: Your exhaustion creates worry after a particularly tiring day of training. Bucky is determined to make it up to you.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Language, explicit sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 2, 049

A/N: I felt like writing some smut and Kinza requested some cuddly!Bucky smut. Since she’s not feeling well (and I love her dearly) I acquiesced. This is super graphic smut, guys. NSFW.

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

“Bucky, I’m fine!” You squeaked through a raspy voice. “Steve, tell him I’m fine!”

“I would, but… You’re translucent.” Steve winced. 

“I am not translucent!”

“Plus you sound like nails on a chalkboard.” Bucky added with a sad smile.

“That’s because I’ve had to yell at you two during the drills all day!” You protested stubbornly.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you definitely weren’t feeling your best. It felt like your brain was two sizes too big for your skull and stuck in a heavy fog, and you could feel a fever growing in your chest. The throat, however, was definitely from yelling at your two supersoldiers who couldn’t be bothered to take training drills seriously. How were you supposed to strike the fear of god into the new recruits when these two are giggling like school girls and treating the drills like a play school recess break?

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  • what she says: I'm fine
  • what she means: Do you know why I hate Undertale? Because it's the best game ever made. The graphics look like they were drawn by a four year old with the talents of Pablo Picasso in his prime - which is what I would have said if I liked the graphics, which I do… not. Narratively, this game is a paragon of interactive storytelling; every decision you make weigh on your conscience, because every connection you make with the characters feels organic. That’s why I am giving this game a 5/5... billion. It fucking suc

C A T H E R I N E • R U S S E L L

Making Sense

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

There was flour fucking everywhere.

“Did any of the flour get into the bowl?” Baz mused as Simon dumped another cup of the powder on the countertop, dropping a ball of dough on top and sending a cloud of flour drifting across the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Simon grinned, gingerly biting the leftover dough off of his fingers.  “Do you think we put in enough cherries?”

“We already did double what the recipe called for.”

“I know, but I want there to be cherries -”

“In every bite,” Baz finished, smiling fondly at Simon concentrating on the dough, his brow furrowing involuntarily.  Baz loved that furrow.  That furrow was only one of countless things Baz loved about Simon.

Simon turned to meet his eye, and Baz quickly dropped his gaze to the flour-covered counter.  Baz loved Simon’s eyes too much to even be able to look at them.  It was like trying to stare at the sun; he had to look away after a second, but the image was still there, stuck behind his own eyes, burnt onto his retinas.

Oblivious little fuck.

“Should I roll it thinner?” Simon asked, snapping Baz out of his thoughts.  Not that it mattered, the thoughts would carry on, like subtitles in his brain, impossible to ignore.

“It looks fine,” Baz shook his head.  “I wonder though, should we add something to them?  Like peppermint extract or something?”

“Why would we do that?”

“They are meant to be for a Christmas party…”

“So we’ll make Christmas cookies next,” Simon shrugged, “I’m not going to change the scones, they’re perfect as they are.”

Baz got an idea.  “How about we cut them with Christmas cutters?”

Simon laughed.  “The scones?”



They dipped their cookie cutters in the inch-thick layer of flour that covered the counter and cut their scones into Christmas trees and gingerbread men.  They worked in silence, side by side, Baz trying to hide the bristling that occurred whenever he was close to Simon.  He still found it hard to believe that after all these years of being friends and spending time together, Simon had still never seemed to notice the effect he had on Baz.

They both reached into the flour bowl at the same time, their hands brushing.  It shouldn’t have made Baz blush, it wasn’t like they never touched each other, but Baz couldn’t help the fact that every touch felt like an electric shock, like it made his neck crawl.

The second their hands brushed, Baz fought the urge to snatch his back.  He wasn’t expecting Simon to do the snatching.

Baz peeked at Simon’s face.  The boy was staring down at the dough, but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were…

Don’t overthink it, he told himself. You mean nothing to him, not like that.

But there was that tiny voice inside somewhere that kept him hoping.  What if you do?

“Ready for the oven then?” Simon broke the silence, a little loudly for such a simple question, especially with Baz right beside him.

“Sure,” Baz replied, trying to sound light, and they transferred the dough onto the pan, sliding it into the oven and setting the timer. Baz brushed the flour dust off his hands and turned back to Simon.  “Now we wait.”

Simon had an odd expression on his face.  He stared sort of… past Baz, like he was so lost in thought that he was seeing the things he was thinking, and they were happening right behind Baz.  “What shall we do in the meantime?” Simon murmured.

“Well,” Baz watched Simon’s face, puzzled.  “We could start to clean up, I guess.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed.  “We could, yeah.”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Suddenly Simon’s eyes met Baz’s, too quickly for Baz to look away.  He returned the gaze as coolly as he could, feeling more and more exposed with every second that dragged by.  “Something wrong?” he managed, his mouth dry.

“No,” Simon murmured, not looking away.  “Nothing’s wrong.  In fact, something’s right.  Everything’s right.”  He took a deep breath.  “Everything is… making sense.”


Simon took a step towards Baz, then another.  His gaze was so intense that Baz instinctively backed up, finding that he had nowhere to go, he was already backed against the counter. “Simon,” he stammered, “what are you doing?”

“There’s…” Simon cocked his head up at Baz, now only inches away.  “There’s flour on your face.”  He reached a hand up to brush his thumb across Baz’s cheek, so softly that it felt like a butterfly’s touch.  Baz could hear his heart pounding in his ears, louder and louder and…

And then Simon reached up…

And Baz’s heart went silent.

Because Simon was kissing him.  Shyly.  On the mouth.

Baz’s eyes scrunched shut, and he went so tense that his stomach almost felt sick.

Simon dropped away from Baz’s mouth.  When Baz opened his eyes, Simon’s face was red, and his brow was furrowed again.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Baz had to take a couple of breaths before he found his voice. “W-what for?”

Simon’s eyes were blurring up.  “I thought I’d figured it out,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought that you wanted… that. I guess not.”

“Did… did you want that?”

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear dripped from one of them.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Simon,” Baz rushed to dry the tear from Simon’s cheek, not even thinking about the gesture.  “I need to know.”

For once, it was Simon who couldn’t meet Baz’s eyes.  “Yes, alright?  I wanted it, but clearly you didn’t, so let’s just forget it happened and carry on.”  His voice was hitching as he fought back tears, his breath becoming ragged.

Baz didn’t know it was possible for a heart to be broken and mended at the exact same time, but while Simon’s tears tore him apart, he felt light as air, practically giddy.  Without letting himself think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tear off of Simon’s face, letting his lips linger a second longer than they needed to.  He felt Simon’s shuddering stop in surprise.  When he met Simon’s eyes, neither of them looked away.  “Wait,” Simon breathed, “did you want that?”

Baz could barely whisper the words “God, yes” before he was crashing into Simon’s mouth again.  This time there was no hesitation, no stiffness, just a lifetime of wanting coming to a head.  

Simon’s mouth tasted of cherries and the salty sweetness of the dough he’d been sneaking the entire time.  Baz’s hands went from Simon’s face to his hair, one hand exploring the back of Simon’s neck.  Simon gave Baz’s chest a push, and before either of them knew what was happening, Baz was sitting on the countertop, Simon straddling his lap and kissing him so deeply that Baz thought he might faint.  Simon’s hands cupped Baz’s face, still pushing him back until Baz was leaning his head against the cupboards, the cold wood the only thing giving him any sense of direction.  His world was nothing but Simon, and he couldn’t hold back a moan as Simon angled his head and opened Baz’s mouth with his own.  

It wasn’t until much later, when they finally broke apart, dizzy and gasping for breath, that they realized they’d sat in the flour.

Basic HUD circles in After Effects

I’ll be showing how to make simple HUD (heads-up display) circles (aka futuristic circle things) in After Effects (and without using keyframes) like these:

This tutorial is designed for people with little experience with After Effects, so theres a lot of extra explanations

Click “Keep reading” below to view the tutorial because looonngg post

Keep reading


Neymar jr; Neymar is the future, is the future and the present he’s a player that makes you enjoy football, i’m a football player but when i look at neymar i just enjoy, he makes me enjoy footbal. Then i say: This guy is the man. because he does skills, he enjoy, you know? it’s like he’s dancing on the pitch, he’s scoring goals doing assists, he’s dribbling, he plays for himself and for everyone, he gives this to everyone, so i like this - Paul Pogba


lit meme: 1/8 otps  —  will herondale and tessa gray, the infernal devices by cassandra clare

“Tess, Tess, Tessa.
Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it – a heart ringing – but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.
Why have I written these words in this book? Because of you. You taught me to love this book where I had scorned it. When I read it for the second time, with an open mind and heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy of Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the woman he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die.
I would have chosen death for a chance to tell you the truth, Tessa, if I could have been assured that death would be my own. And that is why I envied Sydney, for he was free.
And now at last I am free, and I can finally tell you, without fear of danger to you, all that I feel in my heart.
You are not the last dream of my soul.
You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.
With hope at least,
Will Herondale”

Out Run My Gun ~Jerome Valeska~

    // Hey! I already answered the ask, so here’s your request. I took my own sorta spin on it, and as I was writing I just thought of lyrics that sorta work with it, and I could see Jerome doing something like he does. Anyways, I hope you like it, hun.

Disclaimer!! Some lines are taken from a song! All credits of the song go to Foster The People. The song is Pumped up Kicks.


Title: Out Run My Gun

Rating: Fluff.

Warnings: Threats (not graphic, or bad), also, is whaddya a word because I don’t know it sounds like one. I use it as one, in case that bothers you. There might be some more words in here that are like, verbally accepted. Like, you can use them when talking, but they aren’t really a “word” that you would write in a paper or something, if that makes sense.

Need To Know: Things will be explained(a little bit) in Jerome talking. //


    Loud laughter fills the silence, startling everyone in the class. Something about it feels so familiar to y/n. The wild, varying pitches. She doesn’t have time to recognize who it belongs to though; the door bursts open and the loud, persistent banging of a machine gun fills elicits screams. Her eyes widen, yet she doesn’t scream. All the other kids get to the floor, hiding under their desks and screaming, some even sobbing. A flight or fight response kicks in, and y/n blindly launches herself at the door, making it through due to the incompetence of the lackey guarding the door. As she continues to run forward, out of the corner of her eyes she can just barely see someone walking towards her leisurely. He cackles light-heartedly, calling out in a sing-songy voice, “Darling, don’t run from me.” He pulls the safety on his gun, aiming it at her lazily. He laughs again, and begins to call out to her once more. 

All the other kids with the pumped-up kicks,” he pulls the trigger and the loud bang causes his laugh to become more wild. 

“They better run,” he pulls the trigger again. 

“Better run, outrun my gun,” he pulls the trigger as y/n turns a corner, her heart stopping when she sees no option but one. She rushes into the girls’ locker room, ducking into the nearest shower and pulling the curtain across. His footsteps seem unnaturally loud as he walks into the locker room, instantly seeing her shoes behind one of the curtains. 

“All the other kids with the pumped-up kicks,” He calls out, at this point just taunting y/n. 

“They better run,” he murmurs, his eyes growing dark as he fires another shot, this one at the ceiling, more to elicit a reaction from y/n. When she lets out a small cry, he smiles. He laughs maliciously, jumping up onto one of the benches and spinning, kicking a binder off in a flashy manner. He pounces forward, landing in front of the shower she’s hiding in. 

“Better run…” He reaches forward, his motions painstakingly slow as he grabs the curtain and pulls it back. Before he can get it over all the way, y/n bolts out in a futile attempt to get away he grabs her arm and throws her into the locker area, moving forward. He saunters forward and tilts his head. He snakes his arm around her waist, pulling her too him.

    He presses the gun to her temple. He tilts his head down, his lips only inches from her ear. “Faster than my bullet.” He whispers, his hot breath causing her to shudder. He pushes her forward. “Turn around,” he says, motioning his gun in a circle. She turns around slowly, trying to calm herself down. When her eyes meet his, everything clicks into place.

His laugh.

His voice.

“Jerome.” She whispers.

His face darkens slightly, and he points the gun at her, not faltering, his lips turning up in a cruel smile. Before she can say anything, he pulls the trigger. Her hands fly up to her face, although that wouldn’t protect her from a bullet.

But nothing happens. Jerome stares down at his gun, pulling the trigger again.

Nothing happens.

He moves forward, pulling the trigger aggressively, only stopping when he reaches her. He throws the gun, and it skids far away from them. Y/n smiles, opening her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off quickly, shoving her back. His pale hand wraps around her neck.

“Je-jerome,” she gasps. “Stop, please. I can explain,” her mind goes into panic mode as he pulls out a second gun, pressing it to her temple.

“Explain leaving me? Explain telling me you never loved me, never cared for me? It’s pretty obvious what ya meant, darling.” He growls, his eyes growing dangerous.

“It wasn’t like that!” She raises her voice as much as she can.

“Then what was it like, y/n!” He snaps viciously, his grip tightening slightly.

“It was a fight. I didn’t mean it.” She whispers. “I didn’t mean any of it, Jerome. I was angry…but…” Jerome pulls the safety.

“But what?”

“I…I love you, Jerome.” She says, daring to meet his gaze. A smile slips onto his face, and he steps back.

“That’s great, darling.” He holds the gun up, aiming it at her. “But tell me the truth.”

“I am! I am, I promise!”

“I don’t believe you!” Although he seems angry, it’s clear that his mood is fully playful, which only confuses y/n more. Before she can ask, or move, he pulls the trigger. She jumps back, staring at him with wide eyes. Jerome throws his arms up in an over exasperated shrug and sighs loudly. “Right, I forgot. This one has blanks.” He tosses it to the side and smiles, skipping forward. “But I scared ya, didn’t I?” She shakes slightly as he pulls her into a hug. “Did you think I’d hurt you? I mean, I was going to. Only because I thought cha’ hated me. I guess I was wrong though, huh?” He kisses her temple, tangling his hand in her h/c hair. He hums, swaying back and forth slightly.

Y/n pulls away from him harshly, and sticks her tongue out at him. “Whatever ginger.” She says, walking past him. Jerome’s eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, his movements resembling a snake as he turns around. “Don’t be like that darlin’,” he says, skipping forward to throw his arm around her. He pulls her to his side, and stops her. “Or I might not make you my queen.” She turns her head to look at him, and he kisses her forward, turning his head to stare forward, motioning out widely with his free hand. “We could have it all.” He looks back at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Whaddya say, darling?” She looks off to the left, pretending to consider this for a while before turning to him, and nodding. Jerome smiles, wrapping both arms around her and kissing her softly before pulling back. “Let’s go cause some trouble.”

anonymous asked:

Can u write jerejean where the trojans have an upcoming game against the ravens so a few select ravens who in particular have a bad history with jean show up to usc in their true cult fashion and try to psych him out in a way the trojans dont really understand but he (and jeremy) knows Exactly what they r talking about and when they leave he is just kind of stoic and scary looking and acts unaffected infront of his team but later when theyre alone jeremy comforts him and makes him feel better

I may have gotten carried away. I really liked this prompt lol. Thanks anon! It’s 1.4 k, so more is under the cut.

Warnings for mentions of sexual assault/slurs. Not graphic, but consistent with Jean’s past.

Jean wakes with a pounding headache behind his eye. It was most likely because he hadn’t slept all day, but no one needed to know that except him and his therapist. Tomorrow’s date on the calendar loomed the way a prisoner’s execution date might.

It was the day USC was scheduled to play the Ravens in a wildcard game before the playoffs. Jean had been mentally preparing for it for weeks, but as the date drew closer, his heart felt more and more constricted in his chest. The team noticed in the way he checked harder at practice and Jeremy had been sending him concerned looks all week, but they all knew better than to ask.

Jean sighs and unlocks his phone so he could make a call. He knocks his head against the headrest of his bed, but clicks call all the same.

He taps his foot impatiently as the phone rang. Just when he begins to hope that he wouldn’t pick up, he hears Kevin’s impatient voice go, “Jean? What’s going on?”

As if he doesn’t know. As if the Ravens’ schedule doesn’t run through his head every goddamn day.

Jean sighs. This was a wretched idea. “I have to play them tomorrow.” A beat of knowing silence passes before Jean follows up with, “How did you do it?”

He hears Kevin exhale and what he assumes is Kevin sitting down followed by, “It was the court. They couldn’t hurt me there.”

“They can always hurt you. You know that,” Jean deadpanned.

“And you know them. Beat them at their own game.”

“I didn’t call you to ask how to win a fucking game.”

“Then why did you call?”

Jean tries to remember a time when the sound of Kevin’s voice didn’t feel like salt in an open wound. “It’s not as though I have an abundance of other options.”

Kevin laughs humorlessly. Jean’s about to hang up when Kevin says, “I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me.”

Jean closes his eyes. “You’re really not.”

“I’ll see you at finals.”

He hears a click to signal that Kevin hung up. Jean realized that it was the closest to encouragement that he’d ever get from Kevin. It’s enough.

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