#Drawing muscles still freaks me out though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gayeddieagenda · 2 months ago

Note

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them��has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

#buddie #911 fic #emoji prompt fic #buddie fic #my fic tag #this is silly goofy <3 #i'll post it on ao3 also just gimme a sec

294 notes · View notes

stirthewaters · 1 year ago

Text

Too Sharp to Touch pt.2

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Summary: After your fight last week you've been sentenced to community service in Jericho, and you take a break at the Weathervane for some peace and quiet

Pairing: Wednesday x Reader

“This stinks,” you muttered to yourself as you pulled a discarded paper cup from the sidewalk and placed it into your bag.

After your so called ‘dogfight’ a week before, you’d been sentenced by Weems to go out and do some community service in Jericho. On a Saturday. So unfair. So while you could’ve been drawing with Xavier and Eugene in the shed, instead you were stuck outside in the unusually hot September sun, picking up bits of trash, surrounded by normies, a few of those who’d give you dirty looks as they passed.

It wasn’t the act of simply cleaning up discarded trash and whatnot that bothered you; it was the fact that it was boring, hot, and unfair. Since when did a little fight deserve this cruel of a punishment? And on a Saturday? That was just cruel.

Grunting slightly, you moved your trash bag over to your right shoulder, kneeling slightly to grab a broken plastic spoon from a crack in the sidewalk. This punishment was stupid; there was barely any trash anyway. You’d been out here for nearly an hour and a half and yet your bag was barely half-full; was Weems just trying to make you suffer? Deep down you knew of course she wasn’t, but still. It felt good to complain about something while you were forced to endure this.

Your muscles still felt uncomfortably tight from your fight. Sure, you had given the other guy a pretty good whooping but even you couldn’t deny that he had beat the shit out of you; your bruise lingered on your cheekbone and jaw, and every time you moved too sharply your side ached. You could definitely go for a nice cool shower right now, but no. Today was not a good day.

Maybe Wednesday was right though. You weren’t the best at fighting, especially for a werewolf, which was pretty odd even to you. Sure, you could throw a decent punch, but couldn’t anyone? You wouldn’t admit it to her but you wished you were as good at fighting as Wednesday was.

Every time you thought of that fight you remembered the feeling of her eyes on you, examining you, thoughts and focus only on you.

It made that little bit of fur on the back of your neck rise and tingle, embarrassingly enough.

You were walking by Uriah’s Heap when you heard the bell at the door signaling someone exiting the shop, and you briefly glanced over your shoulder to see a young-aged man in a plaid button up with a gun slung over his shoulder exit the store. Eyebrows furling in slight disgust, you started to move on, trying to hustle away from him, but you weren’t fast enough and felt a hand clamp on your shoulder, followed by his voice

“Hey, you’re that Lyall kid, right?”

Eyes rolling with a little bit of disgust, without even looking behind you, you muttered, “you’ve got the wrong person,” stepping forward and away, but the man hurried to catch up beside you.

“No, no, I’ve seen you before, I swear.” The man’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Aren’t you some kinda wolf freak?”

You started walking faster, getting irritated; you needed to control yourself or you were going to get into another fight and get punished even worse.

“I’m not supposed to be talking to people right now, okay?”

Completely ignoring what you had just said, the man walked alongside you, tone prodding you for information.

“You know, I’ve heard some pretty wild shit about you,” he grinned, showing a single gold tooth replacing one of his canines. “Aren’t you rolled up in that weird-ass school, Nevermore?”

Not wanting to seem rude, you just stared straight ahead as you walked, muttering, “yes.”

The man smiled, seeming pleased to get some sort of information out of you. “So what are you doing all the way in Vermont instead of in New Hampshire? With your daddy?”

“This school fits me better,” you responded stiffly, rolling your eyes again.

“What, because you’re a freak?”

Clearly this man was just trying to provoke you. And, annoyingly, it was working. You could feel that familiar bubble in your chest that made you want to get mad. Punch someone. Especially him. Yet, you knew that if Weems heard about you beating up a normie in town, your punishment would surely be so much worse.The man continued to pester you as you passed the antique shop, your eyes flickering to the gun strapped over his neck as you muttered, ready to be out of this conversation, “look, I gotta go.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned sharply and crossed the street, garbage bag thumping repeatedly against your back. Skirting around a parked car, you paused on the sidewalk, looking over at the man on the other side of the road, wondering if he was planning on following you. Relief flooded you and your stiff posture disappeared as you watched the man turn the corner and disappear.

Still a little on edge, you noticed that now you were right in front of the Weathervane. Hesitating, you debated your options. It was hot, you’d already been out there for a while, and you had to admit that what little trash there had been around town was now safely tucked in your bag. Surely you deserved a break at least?

You let out a long exhale of relief as you entered the shop, the air conditioning soothing your sore muscles from bending over all morning. The smell of coffee grounds was particularly strong and you felt yourself untense further as your fear started to melt. You headed for the counter, and then stopped short, immediately recognizing a familiar goth seated in one of the booths in the corner, eyes focused on a book in her hand as her mug sat beside her, seemingly untouched.

It took you a moment to pull your eyes away from Wednesday before you walked over to the counter, ordering yourself a hot chocolate as you let your bag drop to the floor. Pulling off your tight latex gloves, those of which you shoved in your pocket, you paid for your hot chocolate, thanking the kid working there, and headed straight for the table in the back.

When you approached her, you watched as Wednesday’s eyes didn’t move from what she was working on as she spoke. “Done already?”

“I should be,” you huffed, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “It’s too damn hot.”

The raven raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes. “So you’re not done.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, “I’ve been working for like three hours; it’s a cruel punishment.”

“Lucky you,” she muttered, turning back to her work as she spoke, writing a little bit more. Without asking, you slid into the booth opposite her, not noticing her turn on the page faltering slightly as you did so, adjusting yourself comfortably as you placed your hot chocolate down.

Not feeling much of a need to say anything, you just stayed silent, laying against the cool cushioned padding of the booth and taking a well deserved break, the sound of customers murmuring, coffee cups clinking, and the turning of pages doing well to add to the comfortable atmosphere.

You two both sat there in silence; Wednesday never once speaking as she worked, you relaxing with your eyes half closed, not noticing the raven’s eyes flicking up to observe you every now and then.

It was the most peace you had gotten the whole week and it felt good.

And you couldn’t deny that you were maybe watching Wednesday too. You weren’t being creepy at all, but you were just always drawn to those dark brown eyes, always filled with focus and concentration, and the sea of freckles dotting her cheeks. The way she read every single line as if she truly wanted to understand it; how she took notes every now and then, muttering under her breath as she did so. Hadn’t you ever called her pretty before? Because she definitely was.

The silence lulled on until it was broken by the ringing of the bell to the entrance of the shop, you turning your head to see Enid followed by Yoko enter; as the blonde spotted you and Wednesday, immediately that stupid grin came over her face; the one that you knew too well; she was up to something.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, returning to drinking peacefully and reluctantly realizing that this peace wasn’t going to last as long as you hoped.

You heard the sound of Enid skipping over to where you and Wednesday were sitting as Yoko approached the counter, with a cheerful “hiya, Willa! Didn’t know that when you left this morning you were going out for coffee with Y/N?” The blonde waggled her eyebrows suggestively, a smirk on her face as she looked between you two. Oh, she was so dead.

You had to bite down a smirk of your own as you saw Wednesday stiffen even more than she usually was, slowly looking up from her book to glare at Enid. Oh, if looks could kill the blonde would be six feet under right now, although both you and Enid knew that she’d never follow through on any threats she might make.

“I’m merely reading. I had no intention on Y/N being here, nor is this any form of…” - the raven paused, her eyes scrunching up slightly in disdain as she refused to say the word - “affectionate interaction. Y/N was fulfilling her assigned punishment and happened to interrupt me.”

This time you actually smirked when you saw Enid’s smug smile disappear and you stuck your tongue out at her, though that promptly resulted in you catching an elbow thrown into your side, you letting out an ‘oof’, and doubling over as Wednesday smirked slightly.

“You’re skimping out on your service?” Enid asked, tilting her head slightly in exasperation. “If Weems catches you…”

You cut her off, “even if she does find out, she’s got a soft spot for me. At the least I’ll get a detention. Simple.”

You heard Wednesday scoff softly, though she stayed silent otherwise.

Yoko shortly returned, with two drinks in hand, giving one to Enid. You watched as through her shades the vampire’s eyes studied both you and Wednesday, a tiny smirk appearing on her face, eyebrow raising slightly as she glanced between you two. Nodding once at the raven, who didn’t respond, as well as you, she gave Enid a little nudge on the shoulder. “Come on, E, let’s give ‘em some space.”

You watched as Enid gave you and Wednesday a wave goodbye, the latter of which met both Yoko and Enid with a glare that could’ve easily frightened any grown man. Both Enid and Yoko exited, leaving you and Wednesday alone.

“Idiots”, she muttered under her breath, eyebrows furrowed in slight annoyance. You chuckled softly and leaned back in the booth, resuming your own little trance of being comfortably aware of everything around you, your sensitive hearing picking up every single noise. The clinking of coffee cups. The sound of the machine whirring and hissing every now and then. The turning of pages. Soft murmurs of conversation.

It almost made you forget about the conversation you’d had earlier with that man.

It was after another good thirty minutes that you glanced down at your phone as it pinged, receiving a text from Weems notifying you that she would be picking you up in estimately thirty minutes.

Which meant that you had to leave.

Damnit.

Sliding out of the booth, you glanced at your phone and then at the door, sighing with disappointment as you grabbed your hot chocolate and downed the rest of it easily. You noticed how Wednesday’s eyes briefly flicked up to you as you started pulling your gloves on. “Going to complete your procrastinated duties?”

You nodded grimly with a small sigh, “I’m sure as hell not getting another detention this week.”

She hummed ever so softly, eyes falling back to her paper as she deadpanned, “if your behavior isn’t corrected than you surely will be.”

You didn’t even hesitate to give her a small kick to the shin, which was met with a harder one to yours in response, you groaning “don’t be a dick.”

Finishing with pulling your gloves on, you rubbed your sore shin with a grimace, shooting her a dirty look, though you had to look away to stop yourself from laughing, rolling your eyes at her smirk. You walked backwards with your bag, sticking your tongue out at her, causing her to roll her own eyes in response and return to her book as you exited the cafe, a grin on your face and the heat of the sun on your back not as prominent in your mind as it was before.

In your mind, you could still hear her turning the pages

—————

pt.3 here!

#wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednsday addams #jenna ortega #werewolf reader #werewolf #tstt

383 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 months ago

Note

once again, congratulations on 1k, I'm so happy for you homie :)

I have a request: X 🧜🏻‍♂️🥵 and I'll leave the 4th option up to you

Listen, if this is your attempt at getting me to write porn involving Steve’s fishy parts ... you've succeeded. Happy mermay! 🧜‍♂️

Full of surprises

Rated: E

Words: 999

Tags: Mer!Steve Harrington; established relationship; explicit sexual content; explicit descriptions of mermaid anatomy

Notes: Shoutout to that one nonny who asked me if Eddie was gonna fuck the merussy in Just add water. (I opened that ask in a work meeting. I've never been so proud of my poker face.) Well, he never got to in the original story. We're fixing this now.

To say that Eddie's utterly obsessed with his boyfriend would be an understatement.

What's not to love? Steve is sweet, handsome, has a delightfully snarky sense of humor, and he drives Eddie absolutely fucking insane.

What he loves most of all, Eddie thinks, while Steve presses sun-warmed lips to his wet skin, chasing the droplets on his throat and chest with kisses, is that Steve’s just as head over heels for him.

Even though head over tail fin might be more correct just now.

It started out as just another summer night by the lake. Only the two of them, surrounded by a myriad of twinkling candles (that's another thing about Steve, he's a hopeless sap). As often, their romantic date soon escalated into mock-bickering and a heated wrestling-slash-makeout session. At least they remembered to take off their clothes before they went tumbling into the water. Steve has lost one too many pairs of pants to their spontaneous forays into the lake.

Steve's legs last just long enough to launch himself at Eddie in a flying tackle, and then they both go down in a flurry of water and flailing limbs and glistening scales.

They end up in the shallow water, hidden by the onset of darkness and the low-hanging branches of the trees.

They've never done this before, Eddie realizes as he slips his tongue past Steve's lips, drawing the first moans from them. Not like this. Sure, he has taken his sweet time mapping Steve's body with his lips and hands, has familiarized himself with the feel of golden skin and shiny scales, the lines where the two melt into each other. Has stroked his fingers from the base of those magnificent fins all the way to their edges and reveled in the sighs and shudders it gets him.

But they’ve never done it in the water before. Steve has always made sure to get them back to land, where they could wait until his legs returned - naked and still glistening from the water, and beautifully eager to part under Eddie’s touch.

Today, Steve seems to have no such plans, if the way he wraps his fins around Eddie’s legs to draw him closer is anything to go by. Or the way his hands stray deeper.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to say, “Don't you wanna-”

Steve does not wanna, evidently, because he lets out a growl, cupping Eddie’s naked ass in a deliciously firm hold and slotting their bodies together in the water. A while ago, when he first learned about Steve’s fishy little secret, Eddie would’ve probably freaked out now - unsure what to do with the foreign shape of the tail slipping between his naked thighs, where to put his hands.

Now though, he traces the shape of Steve’s fins with his thumbs and licks his way back into that warm, wet mouth, drinking down the answering moan it gets him. Steve sucks on his tongue and rolls his hips - one long, powerful ripple of those incredible muscles. Eddie meets him halfway, pleasure pooling warm and tight in his belly, and grinds himself down on the tail, half-hard against Steve’s body already-

-and then he stops.

“Hold on a sec,” he mutters. “What's this?”

Because there's … something on Steve's tail he didn’t notice before. The slightest of dips where there should be only smooth scales, right where his cock would be if he was human-shaped. It’s kind of difficult to make out in the water and the hazy candlelight, and what can Eddie say? Impulse control is hard for him. Of course he needs to reach out and touch.

Steve makes a punched-out sound and jerks so hard Eddie almost topples off him.

“Careful,” he hisses. “It's sensitive.”

“It's sensitive?” Eddie parrots, still unable to take his hand off the spot. He goes gentler, though, pressing down on it slightly. His fingers slip inside, and he gasps in surprise at the slick, tight heat that engulfs them. Steve gasps, too, but not from surprise. “What is it?”

Steve scowls at him - or tries to. He has flushed a dark, delicious shade of pink and his eyes are glassy. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. He is, Eddie realizes, almost painfully aroused. The thought makes something warm and urgent tingle in his own blood.

“What do you think it is?” Steve retaliates, even as his hips twitch and his fins flutter excitedly. “Did you think I was, like, sex-less when I'm like this or what? I told you I had … parts, they're just a bit different.”

“Well, excuse me,” Eddie blurts. His flush is trying to compete with Steve's now. “I like your other parts just fine, so I never really put a lot of thought into it.”

Somewhere around the middle of his frantic string of words, Steve's expression shifts.

“Oh?” he hums, and rolls his hips again, taking Eddie’s fingers deeper. Eddie can feel how he clenches around them, and his cock gives a needy little throb in response. “Any thoughts now?”

“Many,” he rasps, “So many thoughts, none of them sex-less.”

He curls his fingers experimentally, and Steve makes a noise he's never heard from him before. Primal and desperate and positively wrecked. Eddie’s mouth twitches into a sly smile of his own.

“Why, fish boy,” he purrs against Steve’s lips, starting to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You've never done this before, have you?”

Steve whines and shudders under his touch, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulders.

“Of course not, what d’you think? You're the first I've ever- Shit, there's only you, Eds. Only you.”

And damn, how's a guy supposed to stay calm in the face of that confession?

“Well then,” he murmurs, brushing back Steve's hair so that he can kiss the tiny patch of scales on his temple. “I guess we're both in for some interesting discoveries.”

That's another great thing about having Steve Harrington for a boyfriend. He never stops surprising you.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #mermay #just add water

137 notes · View notes

gigglesandfreckles-hp · 2 months ago

Note

hi abi! hope you're doing good! since I'm curious, I wanted to ask for a prompt with number 100 from your wrapped!

(what was that one song that just barely made it onto your most listened to list? 👀)

And I am freaking out in the middle of the street With the complete conviction of someone who's never had anything actually really bad happen to them But I am committed now to the feeling Choreomania by Florence + the Machine

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Shit.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. James!”

The voices sound distant, warped, like echoes trapped in a seashell. He used to press them to his ear on the beach as a kid, listening to the rush of waves with his mum and dad. Sandbanks. He hasn’t been there in years.

“Sirius!” Lily’s voice sharpens, louder now, though still strangely far away. “Go get a teacher! I’ll stay with him—I’ll…Rennervate.”

Warmth floods through him, pulling him out of the cold, aching numbness. His joints feel sluggish, his muscles protesting as they remember how to move. Lily is on the ground beside him in an instant, pulling his head into her lap, her hair cascading down like a curtain around his face, obscuring his view of her.

He feels an odd surge of frustration. He wants to see her.

She’s so pretty.

“James. James, look at me.”

“Trying,” he manages, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

She lets out a laugh, a sound of relief so raw it makes his chest tighten. Her forehead drops to his, her breath warm against his face.

“You’re freezing, Potter,” she murmurs, her hands cupping his cheeks. He wonders if she knows they’re icy, the touch almost jarring, but he doesn’t want her to stop touching him.

“Say something,” she demands, giving him a small shove even as her lips brush against his in a kiss that’s searing but far too brief. “What happened, James? Talk to me.”

He wants her to keep kissing him.

“James,” she repeats, and her voice wavers now, breaking. “Please. You’re—you’re scaring me.”

“They hexed me,” he croaks. “Body-bind.”

“Who?” she asks, her tone instantly snapping to fury. She hisses through her teeth. “I’m going to burn Slytherin House to the ground, I swear to God. If Slughorn doesn’t get his shit together and—” She stops abruptly, shaking her head and turning her focus back to him. She brushes her hair behind her ears, and he smiles faintly. He can see her now.

“I don’t understand. How did they find you? What were you doing out here?”

“I was flying,” he mutters. “Didn’t even see them—”

“They hexed you while you were flying?” she cries, her voice rising in anger. “They could have fucking killed you.”

He doesn’t know if he should tell her that was probably their intent or let her draw her own conclusion.

Lily’s grip on him tightens. “Sirius has gone to get a teacher,” she says quickly. “Can you walk? Did they—” Her voice falters, trembling. “I mean, was it just a body-bind? You’re not bleeding. I don’t—please open your eyes and look at me, James.”

He obeys, blinking up at her, but the sight only seems to make her sadder.

“Jesus,” she whispers. Her fingers leave his cheek, and for a moment, he panics, but then she retrieves her wand and casts a warming spell over him. The heat seeps into his limbs, dulling the worst of the cold. She sets the wand aside, her hand returning to his hair, softly carding her fingers through his curls.

“They have my mum, Lily,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her fingers freeze. “What? You found out—”

He shakes his head, the motion weak. “No. Not any names. But they—Mulciber and Dolohov. Avery. They were talking about her. After they attacked me. Saying my Christmas… that it—”

“Oh, James,” she sighs, her voice breaking as her thumbs brush over his cheeks. He realises belatedly that he’s crying.

“What if she—’’

“No,” Lily cuts him off firmly.

“Lily, I—” His breath hitches, a sob escaping. “I’m not strong like you. I can’t…I can’t—”

“Sh,” she soothes, her voice low and steady. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, James Potter. Besides, you heard the Aurors. Mad-Eye himself is on the case. They’ll get her back, and your family will have the loveliest Christmas of your life. All three of you. And Sirius,” she adds, a wet laugh escaping her.

“You’re my family, too, Evans,” he says.

A small, shaky smile crosses her lips. “I love you, you know.”

“Do you really think she—”

“I do,” she interrupts, leaning down to capture his lips in another kiss, this one softer, lingering, and full of promises he desperately wants to believe.

#of course no 100 is a song about the dancing plague and panic attacks hahahahaha #somehow this is my brand #my fic #jily #writing prompts

36 notes · View notes

swiftiewillwrite · 8 months ago

Text

caramel iced coffee -

a spencer agnew fanfic

pairing - spencer agnew x reader

warnings - none! slight anxiety for like a paragraph :)

a/n - hello!!! ive written a ton of fanfics but only published two, and this is my first published on tumblr! hope yall enjoy !!

You stand behind the counter, muscle memory making your fifth pumpkin spice latte in a row. Oh, how you love fall. Even during your least busy time of day, you still get to spend what feels like forever on overly complicated drinks.

You hand the last one to a teenage girl, looking very apologetic. You give her a smile.

“Next!”

Woah. the man who now stands in front of you was definitely gonna fuck up your work day. He wore thinly framed round glasses and had messy curly hair, plus a beard that you found all too attractive. You attempted to compose yourself. “What can I get you?”

The man stared blankly for a moment, then responded. Must've not gotten a lot of sleep last night. “Uh.. what do you recommend?”

“Oh! I guess I'm kind of a sucker for anything caramel, do you want something hot or cold?”

“Really just make me your favorite, I haven't done this in a while.”

“What, ordered coffee?” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Ooh-kay, name for the order?”

“Spencer.” (god, why is it always the s names?)

“Alright Spencer, that will be 5 bucks, just tap or swipe or do whatever, and I'll have that ready for you in just a minute.” you smile, not letting the customer service voice falter, ignoring the unholy visions of what you wanted this man to do to you invading your mind.

You set to work on another overly complicated drink. Usually you would be complaining your ass off to yourself right now, but youre the one who subjected yourself to this. You're too weak when it comes to cute customers.

Working alone on slow days was your favorite kind of shift, because you got to play your own playlist. Today, that was a bit more of a curse as you notice Spencer humming along.

As you placed the lid on the cup, you looked up to the booth where he was waiting. He looked away immediately, as if he had already been staring. You hoped that he was.

Walking out from behind the counter, you set the cup on the table in front of him. “Here you go,”

He smiles softly, uttering a soft thanks. You made your way back to the counter, watching from a distance as he collected his things and walked out of the cafe.

God, you had never wanted a new regular more.

—

The next morning, he was back. Looking up at the door as the bell rang, you saw him once again. Spencer was wearing a graphic tee, revealing tattoos you hadn't seen yesterday. You felt a smile creep up your face, but a pit form in your stomach with no discernible cause. Before you could get too lost in thought, though, Spencer was at the counter, ready to order.

"Hey,” you smiled, “Are you ready to order for yourself today, or want another surprise?”

He let out a soft laugh, a sound that made your heart leap out of your chest. “If it isn't too much of a burden-,” he started, the last word dripping with sarcasm. “-I would enjoy a surprise drink.”

You sigh dramatically, “Fine,” drawing out the word with childlike brattiness. “Here or to go?”

Spencer said something he never could have if actual thoughts were going through his head:

“Here, but only if you sit with me while I drink,”

Holyshitholyshitholyshit- “Keep trying, maybe you'll get there eventually. Your total is 5.25.” You joked, a smile on your face covering your internal freak out over the fact that you just rejected the hottest guy you had ever seen.

And try he did. Every day, without fail, he came into your cafe, ordered his usual (your usual) and asked you to sit with him. And every day, you were too afraid to say yes.

"Are you sure that you don't want something new?”

“Give me the drink, please.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, but got to work making his drink. For the first time in three weeks, he stayed near the counter as you made it. As you let the coffee brew, you leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“So.. why are you always here so early? Like; this is earlier than all my other usuals,”

“You have other usuals? Wow, and I thought I was special,”

“Yes, I have other usuals. But you might be a favorite.” you smiled at him softly, and he returned the look. “Answer my question, though. Why are you here at like.. Six every day? How early do you work?”

Spencer looked slightly uncomfortable, then spoke. “I actually don't have to be there until 10 most days.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I work at this Youtube comedy company, and so the first time I came here was a shoot week, so I did have to be at work by 7 to set up. It's just that when that week ended… I decided to just always get here early.”

“Wait, what company? Also, why? Why not just come later?” you questioned, trying to silence the hopeful voice in your head saying that you were the reason he kept coming back.

“It's less busy at this time. I get to actually talk to you.” What.

“Oh.. that's really sweet, man.” Man? Why would you say that- “I like talking to you too. So where do you work?”

Spencer looked slightly reluctant, but you tried to not read into it. “It's called Smosh,”

You perked up. “No shit? I was obsessed with Smosh when I was younger. Like- I got home from school every day and immediately pulled up whatever was posted that day,” you notice him looking down, and poke his arm, near a tattoo of a thwomp. “Why didn't you want to tell me?”

Spencer looks up at you. “Hmm?”

“You tried to change the topic. What's up?”

He purses his lips, then softly says “I didn't want that to be the only reason you like me. Or- like talking to me. Sorry.”

You open your mouth to respond, to tell him his worries were wrong, but are interrupted by the sound of the bell on the door. You look up and see your favorite coworker. “Hey Zoë! Can you watch the counter for like.. Two minutes for me?”

She raised an eyebrow at you and the man standing next to you. “It's about to get really busy.”

“I know, I know, just- please?” you looked at her, and she must've seen the desperation in your eyes, because she responded-

“Fine. Just be back soon. Love ya.”

You looked at her like she had just saved your life, and turned back to Spencer. “Wanna talk at a table?” Spencer just looked at you like you had grown a second head, but nodded. When you sat down, you started talking again. “I really like talking to you. And I did before you told me you have my childhood dream job. I like your humor and your laugh and your hair. I like your taste in music and movies and I like you.”

Spencer took a moment to collect his words. He couldn't find any, so he just leaned across the table and kissed you. A million thoughts raced through both of your heads, until you heard Zoë cough at you from behind the counter, and pulled away.

“Sorry.” Spencer apologized. You shook your head with a smile, and asked if you could put your number in his phone. He handed you the device, and you pondered for a moment before you put your name in as ‘beautiful sexy perfect human’. You texted yourself a “hey” from his phone, and added his name as ‘spenner’. He took his phone back, immediately letting out a “Shit! I have to get to work.” When he saw the time, and standing up to leave.

You frowned, but as he walked out and let the door close behind him, you sent him a simple two word text.

spenner

bye cutie

He was still close enough that you could see him smile through the window when he opened his phone. You turned to the counter to get back to work, when Zoë asked you:

“Was that Spencer Agnew?”

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #swiftiewillwrite #smoshblr #smosh games

108 notes · View notes

foureyedfella · 22 days ago

Text

☆ Decided to pump out some more secondary characters (sorry super punch out nation, but if I'm being for real these 2 hold a lot of weight in the story so hey they might as well be main characters :,D)

☆ Drawing these made me appreciate Rick Bruiser a lot more I love the guy 😁 (still hate masked muscle though, sorry masked muscle enjoyers 😞 he's growing on me a little but but I have personal beef)

☆ I'll probably revisit Masked Muscle because I think he has pretty curly hair but he just slicks it back with like freaking grease so that it fits in his mask more without being annoying

#do NOT put masked muscle rick bruiser and aran ryan in the same room #punch out #punchout #super punch out #masked muscle #rick bruiser #nick bruiser #dweeb punch out cowboy au

36 notes · View notes

eluminium · 10 months ago

Text

Skizz week day 2 lets GOO!!!!

I apologize for the lack of polish on these. I have seemingly caught a cold and am also in the middle of important schoolwork. But hey, it's better than nothing!

Anyway, this is kind of a sneak peek into an AU I've been working on. It doesn't have a name yet, but it sure exists! I hope I can post about it more when I have more things to work with!

Once again, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for todays prompt!

Prompt 2: Hybrid/AU

Impulse has lost his mind.

That's the only logical conclusion to this situation. To him sitting here on his dead best friend's bed while talking to said best friend who's apparently ascended to godhood? But he doesn't know what kind of God he is yet somehow? He also may have given Impulse some knowledge about the divine that Impulse is 75% sure he isn't supposed to know, even as his best god friend's semi-accidental oracle and/or priest. Probably. Maybe.

It's been a rough couple of hours, to say the least.

"Impulse! You're not listening to me!" A voice, Skizz's voice, echoes through his head. Impulses hands fly to his ears as he groans in pain. "Control your volume, dude! You're gonna blow out my ears!" He hisses.

"Oh...! Sorry...!" Skizz whisper-yells in response, although not without a mischievous giggle. Oh gods above, Impulse was gonna have to deal with SKIZZ. TALKING IN HIS BRAIN. UNINTERUPRABLY. FOR THE FORSEEABLE FUTURE. He shakes his head to try and get rid of that awful realization and quickly moves to change the subject before Skizz catches on.

"Alright, so. You became a God, but you don't know what of. So you appeared back here and found me. And you want me to help you figure out what you are the God of. Did I get that right?" He summarizes, looking at the faint blue outline of his best friend sitting on the same bed they spent years having pillow fights on in their youth-

Skizz sticks out his hand and does a so-and-so motion. "Well, yeah...But since I picked you as my oracle, as in my special important mortal representative guy, you're also gonna have to start my cult and get people to worship me!" He exclaims, clearly excited at the prospects.

"Wow, we really got a Mr. Humble Guy over here," Impulse deadpans.

"HEY! You know I'm not in it for the fame, man! Even though I am really handsome and my godly muscles are huge!" Skizz huffs in mock offense. Impulse rolls his eyes in response.

But instead of another sarcastic quip, the barely visible parts of Skizz's face soften into something dangerously genuine. "I mean it, dude. Think about it. Think about how cool this is gonna be. Think about how deadly we are as a duo now that we have divine power behind us. Think about how many people we can help!"

"But we don't even know what you're the God of!" Impulse snaps with a glare. "How are we supposed to get people to join in on this when we can't gurantee anything?! And don't say 'We'll make something up', you KNOW I'm a TERRIBLE liar! I can't lead a whole freaking cult by myself! I need yo-"

His throat closes up. He can't say that. Because that would mean Skizz couldn't help him, that his best friend was...not with him in some way. That he was alone in this, for now. No, no it's too raw. He breaks eye contact as his eyes snap towards a corner of the room. He draws in a shaky breath and blinks rapidly.

"Dipple Dop..." Skizz's tone is...sad. He reaches out towards Impulse before remembering that he can't really...touch him. Nor can he touch anything mortal, really. He needs belief for that, followers who believe in him.

A sigh leaves him as he retracts his hand. "I know this is a lot for you. To be honest, it's a lot for me too. You're scared, and I'm scared. And you're probably thinking something like: 'This is a total disaster, we're so screwed'-"

Huh, that was...exactly what Impulse was thinking. To the word. Weird.

"-but man, dude, my homieh buddeah-"

Impulse can't help but snort at that one. The man is a god now, and yet he's still just Skizz.

"We got all the time in the world to do this. We don't have to rush this. We'll make a plan. We'll do our research! The big fancy library we used to study at had a bunch of books about the gods and stuff, remember? Maybe we can find the step-by-step guide to finding your godly trait and a "How to Cult for Dummies"! Gee, wouldn't that be convinient!"

They're both giggling now. Why? They don't fully know. Probably the absurdity of sneaking into a royal library to read the most suspicious books of all time is getting to them. But, somehow, there's a glow of warmth in Impulse's chest. A feeling he's been missing ever since Skizz unwillingly left the mortal realm for the divine.

Hope.

As the giggling dies down, a timid smile settles on Impulse's face. Gods, how does Skizz do it? How does he make Impulse believe in some new goal that fast? Well, he supposes he can blame it on magical god powers now. Hell yeah.

He takes a deep breath in, jumps off the bed, and stands up. "Alright, I'm in. What's the worst that could happen?" He says with attempted confidence. Despite Skizz certainly detecting his lingering anxiety, he jumps up (or well, floats) up in the air beside him with a barely seeable hand pumped up in the air.

"Allllright!!! Imp and Skizz are reunited and back on the case! I love it!" He cheers.

Impulse wastes no time in heading to their shared kitchen and grabbing a snack for the road. The library isn't far (perks of living in the capital) but hey, emotional rollercoasters tend to leave ya a bit tired. A snack for the road never hurt anybody!

Skizz unexpectedly chuckles. "Except that one time you decided to shove jello in your backpack," he points out.

Impulse freezes.

"...Are there more things in my head than just your voice?" He questions while slowly turning around to face Skizz. Skizz, in response, raises an eyebrow.

"Of course! I know everything going on in there! That's what happens between a God and their oracle!" He says like it's common knowledge.

"So you know all my deep dark secrets now?"

"Well, kinda!"

"Does the "kinda" include how much I missed you?"

"Awww yeah!!! I know you love me soooo muuuchhh now!"

"God damn it- I hate you. You SUCK."

At Impulse's overly sulky tone, Skizz giggles like the sacred bastard he is. And once again, something cozy and soft glows and grows in Impulse's chest. It feels...good. Happy. Like it's right as it should be. And looking at the faded form of his best friend, he knows Skizz feels it growing too.

Maybe, even with all the responsibility and having Skizzleman but now with divine powers in his head 24/7, this won't be so bad.

Maybe this could become something great.

#skizzleman #impulsesv #skizz week 2 #skizz week #my writing #Unnamed God Skizz Oracle Impulse AU #hermitfic #THE COLD MIGHT FUCK ME UP BUT THE GRIND NEVER ENDS PEOPLE #I WILL COMPLETE SKIZZ WEEK

60 notes · View notes

anlian-aishang · 2 years ago

Text

Tired, burdened, annoyed by all those "morons" at work. There is only one medicine, and it lies between your legs.

// levi x reader, smut, oral sex, squirting, modern AU, fem!reader // 1300 words // while writing this, i listened to

People like you two were pulled in all directions. Your merits recognized in work and in play. Overtime at the office, overbooked for coffees with friends. During the work week, sleeping hours were about all you had to share with Levi, morning face washes and nighttime recaps now and then. Had you not moved in together, your relationship would be confined to Saturdays and Sundays, that was certain.

Somedays, it was dreadful. Mondays marked the start of separation. Wednesdays felt far from halfway. Fridays, though. Fridays made you forget.

That look in his eyes, anticipation that teetered on mania. The twitches of his hands, a man on the brink. Tie half loosened and collar undone. Idiot coworkers and pointless meetings had nicked him to his last thread. With you alone, at last, the Ackerman’s composure snapped. Faced with his unravel, you bit your lip, yet still could not help but smirk. This was what you worked for.

Hand instinctively snapped to the small of your back. Before you could blink, Levi whipped you to the sofa. A ballroom dip gone dirty. Left hand held your head - a finger on each of the important spots - temple, cheek, lips, jawline. Tongue swept yours in a dance, wordlessly communicating all he was about to do with you.

That did not mean you were immune to his actions, though. Your startled shrieks as he hoisted your ankles beside his ears - Levi allowed a single snicker - and in that moment, you knew you were fucked. An inadvertent humbling as your stilettos scraped his neck on the way up, drawing a hiss more sinful than sex itself.

Palm pushed strong against your stomach, Levi leveraged himself lower and lower. Fingers wound between your buttons wove you free on their way down. So familiar with your body, moves practiced to perfection were made to look effortless. Eyes closed in bliss, in exertion, his grasp easily found the hem of your tights. His pull easily found where to yank them to.

Kisses marked your legs, fingernails traced their path: a crude connect-the–dots. Levi was always eager to remind you: your body was art. A canvas he corrupted with sweat, saliva, and swears. Painting you up - all the way to your middle.

At the sight of your slick, Levi growled between clenched teeth, “Dripping already.” Slowly, his finger glided between your split. End to end: arousal spilled over his touch. Your clean freak examined the glisten on his finger, feigning disgust, but the way his tongue savored your cream proved the opposite.

Chapped lips to your soft, smooth skin. Eyes met as he spoke into you, “Seems like you’ve been waiting for this, hm?”

Face burned in humiliation, Levi swiftly ditched his sadism and soothed you with sympathy, “Me too, baby.” Hips rutted into the couch cushions, “Me, too.”

Actions were evidence of his words. Hard, fast, hungry, he began to eat you out. Clit rode the bridge of his nose. Tongue pried into your depths. White-knuckle grip spread you wide open - your secrets finally in his hands. And goddamn, did it feel good.

Pantyhose calves on his cotton shoulders made satisfying sounds, not as satisfying, though, as the ones below. Gasps for air: he had delayed the pull away as long as possible, reluctant to leave. Long hums: the sensation of a hot shower’s first spray. Whispers of your name, as though it was a curse word.

Levi drank you down like a gulp of water on a humid hike. Ate you out like the first day after a fast. When you thought he would tire, his body showed just how desperately it needed you. Muscles rippled, tendons stretched, all in endeavor: you were life itself.

“Missed you.” Levi moaned between smacks of his lips on yours. “Missed you too much.”

Too much, not so much.

Indeed, so much would have been one thing. Too much was another. Come the weekend, he was so tired, but not too tired - not too tired to provide you the release you deserved. So burdened, but not too burdened - not too burdened to put your pleasure on his shoulders literally. So annoyed, but not too annoyed - not too annoyed to withstand your glass-shattering cries. In fact, those seemed to ease him.

Ease him in some ways, rile him in others. When you got like this, all felt right in the world, his universe no wider than this sofa. At the same time, with each of your screams, nerves stung along his spine. Hairs stood on end. He longed to love you, to destroy you. To praise you, to remind you who you belonged to. You were the mystery that snared him, one he tried to solve one lick at a time.

Those were getting more frantic. Your fingers thrown in his hair and the dire calls of his name - shots of adrenaline in his pursuit. Thick gulps of your syrup - an adult sugar rush. Levi winked one eye open, split-second precision to catch the pulse of your abdomen. Ovaries danced. Nipples took a stand against their imprisonment, black-lace bra their cage. At your pathetic, dismantling state, a smile you could feel.

“You’ve been such a good girl, such a good girl,” Levi cooed, cupping your thighs, slurping between breaths. “So patient, I bet you wanna cum, huh?”

The arch of your back answered better than words could. Still, even as your pussy twitched and as your dam began to crack, you clenched your fists in the couch, a sorry attempt to delay the inevitable.

You both knew, the longer the race, the better the finish. Dreams of this scene had propelled you through hell-sent day-to-days, the last thing you wanted was for it to end early.

But with a mouth like his, “you’re not gonna last, sweetheart.” Against his fingers, he could feel your waves build, could see the impatience in your yearning. Pupils had dilated in lust, but knowing that your demise, your nirvana, was near spilled love into that concoction.

Beckoning, “Let go, princess.” You’ve had such a long week. “Come on, let me taste you.” All of you.

From pleading to ordering, Levi’s voice drowned deep, “Cum on my face.” Use me. Surrender to me. “Cum on me.” Stern, then shouting, “Cum on me!”

The juxtaposition of soft and strict. Dichotomy of begging and demanding. Mentality fucked by his overstimulation, by the debate of delayed gratification, it could not handle one more head game.

“Levi, I…” you writhed in his grasp, yet his tongue spared you no mercy. “Le-Levi!!”

In the first rush, you knew you had made the right choice in submitting. Fuck foreplay. Whatever this was - that was all you needed in life. Levi’s head between your thighs - what bills, what schedule? Flooding him in your love, turning his face wet, coating each strand of hair - better than any promotion. Who needed one? You were Levi Ackerman’s significant other, that was a superlative in itself. A million thoughts in each of those ten seconds, none of them coherent, always interrupted by an immaculate moan or motion of his.

With your first ounce of composure, you took a deep breath. In your second, you gazed down to him. Shirt wrinkled with divots beneath your heels. Jawbone dripping with God knows what. It had glued his clothes-transparent-to his skin-flushed. He did not seem to care. More than that, even, he seemed to adore.

But in that aftermath, you could not help but wonder. What if you held out for one minute longer? Would he be even more wet? Even more red? Even more breathless?

By this point, he could read your mind and could see the first sparks of regret-his most hated look on anyone. Thankfully, he knew the remedy.

“Who said you only get one?”

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi #levi ackerman #smut #2023 #oneshot #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #salt and pepper

136 notes · View notes

moonstruckdraws · 2 months ago

Text

Ares

I think this is a good time to say that idk how to draw dudes or buffer muscles on any character lol. Though drawing mutant turtles for over a year did help

That being said, I also don't know armor and tried to make it as fun for me as possible. And to be honest, I do like how this came out. Regardless this is really an excuse to draw him with Aphrodite....

I am without a doubt an Ares fan as of now. Learning about him has been so fun and interesting. I haven't delve into too many myths with any of the gods I plan to draw, as I just wanted their titles, symbols, and what they rule over to decide how to draw them, but still read a bit. (I learned about Aphrodite Areia and what epithets were over the weekend so I am freaking out internally. I already want to redesign/tweak Aphrodite's design lol)

Alright, moving on to design choice, this took forever to make. I had a board for Ares, like the rest, in ideas or concepts or images I thought were cool, but I had no idea what to draw for literally two hours. Just starin' at my screen. And then I spent another two hours just on his frickin helmet lol. So I made the bottom of the helmet turn up in spikes to kinda-very loosely-be like boar tusks. The helmet itself is like a vulture head with pseudo eyes.

I gave him a cape that starts at the vulture's head, and it's specifically a bearded vulture because they look insanely cool and crazy. It blinks when he does and looks around. Is it alive? Is it its own being or a second pair of Ares's eyes for his blind spots? Idk :] The ends are messed up because war, yadda yadda, probably gets set on fire a lot somehow. And is always bloody.

I didn't know what to do with the waist, so to try and incorporate the boar more, I first added big tusks, but they just ended up looking like teeth, so I wrapped them around his waist entirely. I added the pelvic curtain for flare, but now it makes it look like a tongue and I think that's cool, as if his stomach would just open into a gorey mouth or something.

Snakes, like Athena, are also associated with Ares. And because another symbol of his is the flaming torch, I thought it'd be cool if his hair turned to flaming snakes when angered. Not inferno levels of hot, because I didn't want him to be so elemental, just a little fire. In execution, I'm not sold on it, so it'll probably change. I'll probably put some snake design on his boots as they lookin' bland (I don't like drawing shoes).

Last thing is his face! I want the war gods to have their faces blocked out because they wear their helmets so much. I feel like keeping their faces hidden this way was so normal that they unintentionally morphed their faces to be this way. Ares's eyes would be closed the majority of the time his helmet is off, barely opening them at most probably, to keep that sharp look. With Athena, I plan for hers to almost always be open, like an owl constantly watching.

I feel like he feels a bit too human to me, which isn't a bad thing, but not exactly what I want. Maybe he'll get winged ears to be more vulture? And idea I had was for his cape to actually be his wings, so maybe I'll do that?

#greek mythology #ares #this design has me the most mixed feelings on #i like it but then i feel like it could be more #idk ill figure it out when drawing him with his lover lmao #november 2024

18 notes · View notes

hepilsketches · 3 months ago

Text

silly Jee sketch

you know, initially I planned to draw all sorts of different atla characters to not appear like a boring one-track-mind dude I am

until I realized that I'm, in fact, falling into autumn depression

you would never believe it looking at my recent sketches would you pfft

so shifting to something new would stress me out way too much right now, I'm afraid. Hence...

Here's another Jee :Р

jeeko if you squint really hard

ugh, I reread my anatomy textbook, but I still suck at predicting how exactly the torso and arm muscles shift with the body movements. and there's also fat and skin to consider. I need to do a lot of copying stuff, apparently

---

Dunno why, but drawing Jee really comforts me for some reason. Maybe that's because of a general association with safe vibe of jeeko fandom my brain formed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

... I have a suspicion though that most people would prefer looking at shirtless Zuko or even Zhao instead lol

(really, I wonder how many people find canonical Jee sexually appealing without any glamorization involved. I saw ficwriters calling him handsome, but it feels more like comforting lie to me, tbh. On the other hand, being fond of Zuko's ponytail myself, I know what it's like to have something you enjoy to be discarded all the freaking time for the sake of majority's preferences. I don't want to do the same kind of shit with Jee fans, even if I myself don't get the appeal.

... and now I wonder if giving Jee defined abs can be considered a glamorization too D: I mean, we didn't see him shirtless in canon, so...

ugh! to hell with it! I study basic anatomy at the moment, so defined muscles it is >__<

shut it, my pesky super-ego, I can give Jee a mirrorverse-canon belly later)

#lieutenant jee

16 notes · View notes

rwprincess · 2 years ago

Text

Teenage Dirtbag (Robin Buckley x Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Synopsis: Reader is hopelessly pining for Robin, even though she knows the girl is out of her league and hardly knows who she is…and that she’s already dating King Harrington…right?

Honestly, this song originally struck me as being for EddiexReader. But I love PostModern Jukebox (ft Jax)’s take on it and was like “what if it was wlw for ROBIN?!” and here we are. Happy Pride, mfers.

CW: Self-doubt and loathing; reader being a useless-sapphic ™; homophobia common of the 80s; unfair stereotypes to ‘freaks’; Minor Steddie if you squint; song lyrics mention a gun and ass-kicking; swears; jealousy of Steve (we’re pretty mean to him here)/mistaken identity; also, we’re tweaking canon because Eddie lives. Fight me.

She radiated beauty and light, and while you hadn’t had more than a minute-long conversation with her, you could tell that she was intelligent and that her soul was deep. Robin Buckley was the coolest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. Even in that dorky band uniform with the oversized hat and bobbing feather, chin-strap snugly tucked underneath her beautiful face. Luckily for you, she was out of uniform today and you drank in her long, thin frame, adorned with a striped t-shirt, and a skirt…but most importantly her legs were being caressed by knee-high tube socks. The stark yellow stripe drawing attention to her taut calf muscle as she walked down the hallway, carefree and angelic. Somehow, the buzzing fluorescence of the lights in this shitty hallway took on a heavenly light when they met her skin. You sighed in both admiration and frustration. There she was treading so perfectly and she hardly knew you existed.

Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her

She rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

Oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

You leaned against your locker, biting your lip in silent longing. You weren’t in her league; you weren’t sure you were even in the same species. She was somewhere between a nerd and a prep, and you were a certifiable freak. Besides the homosexual tendencies you were harboring that would make you a pariah in this town if you were found out, you generally were clad in black and heavy makeup, looking like a walking The Cure album, a poster-child for loneliness and therapy, surrounding yourself with other freaks, most notably your best friend, Eddie Munson. You were no stranger to being called a ‘demon’ or having wild accusations thrown your way. No wonder Robin’s gaze never turned to you. While you loved your friends and relished your lowkey lifestyle, particularly because it made you feel comfortable with who you really were, you still lamented that that meant you were invisible to the most beautiful, captivating eyes you had ever seen.

“C’mon, band geeks aren’t that far from D&D dorks,” Eddie tried to cheer you up, putting an optimistic spin on it, like he always did. You wondered how someone with so much pain and darkness in their life could be so light. He was always smiling and had a way about him that made everyone want to bare their souls to him. He put out beams of trustworthiness and others gravitated toward it. You yourself had been sucked into that unrelenting positivity. He was one of the limited few who really knew you, and one that you had confided in about your sexuality, and eventually your ridiculous crush on Robin.

“It’s very different, Eddie,” you admonished him. How could he not know how the rest of the school saw you? “They all think we’re devil worshipers and shit and she just like, plays the trumpet,” you shrugged. “It’s totally not the same. Even if they get made fun of, we are not on the same level.”

“Maybe they just don’t know how dumb and nerdy our club is. Maybe she doesn’t know and you should introduce her to the fine world of Dungeons and Dragons,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes at him, black lids almost sticking to your brows at the effort.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Ed,” you replied in a dismissive tone.

“Ya know, I heard she got a job at Scoops Ahoy…” his grin grew larger at his implication.

You acted unfazed by this information, but soon you went there consistently and not-so-innocently to indulge your sweet tooth, but the only sweet you were really gorging yourself on was Robin. You teetered between feeling guilty for going to sneak looks at her in her adorable, short uniform…and wholly enjoying it.

You never really struck up a conversation. You’d just place your order and sit in a booth, nursing the dairy dessert as slowly as possible to get your fill of Robin in a sailor hat, eyeliner thickly applied and pink lips parted in a rehearsed sales monologue or talking to herself. Good thing you had the ice cream to tamp down the burning you felt in your stomach and your cheeks whenever you looked up at her, averting your gaze if she so much as twitched in your direction.

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

And then one day, Steve fuckin’ Harrington had to ruin your reverent ritual. It startled you the first time he was behind the counter instead of Robin, as if you’d walked into the wrong store. It felt so…unnatural. Steve lived down the street from you and had been an entitled dickweed ever since you were young. You were always more of an introvert and liked reading or drawing on your driveway with chalk when you were little, whereas Steve was a stereotypical rough-and-tumble boy, throwing his football into your lawn to disrupt you, or climbing trees and yelling loudly. He always reeked of desperation for attention, while you opposed having the spotlight on you. High school had only widened the gap between you two, as he fell in with the popular crowd and ruled the school. On a good day, you were invisible to him and his cohorts. On a bad day, you were a target of their slurs and slander and Steve dove right in to join them. You’d hear him mutter about how unfortunate it was to live near you, like he’d catch your cooties…or you’d put a witchy hex on him.

Her boyfriend's a dick

And he brings a gun to school

And he'd simply kick

My ass if he knew the truth

He lives on my block

And he drives an IROC

You couldn’t walk into your house without being reminded of his existence, and your one respite of Scoops Ahoy was now tainted with his god awful Farrah Fawcet hair spray and cocky demeanor. Even worse, he now created a barrier between you and Robin. You were no longer guaranteed to talk to her. Especially when Steve tried to butt-in to take your order.

It was obvious he liked her, too. He would be a fool not to, sure. You couldn’t imagine anyone not being drawn into Robin and her dark, reflective eyes or her goofy smile. But you caught Steve blatantly checking her out, and more than once. You knew you had no claim to her, and were probably hoping against all hope to be with her one day, but it still irked you. Particularly because he didn’t have eyes just for her. He seemed to hit on every girl who breezed through the ice cream parlor, even though he struck out time and time again, looking like the biggest dork in that uniform, showing everybody that he truly peaked in high school now that he had graduated and was not having a glamorous jet-setting summer like his ilk. He didn’t deserve Robin as it was, but especially when he couldn’t put her first. She was your only crush and had been for some time.

“What can I do for you?” He had the nerve to ask and grin blankly at you, nothing going on behind his eyes. ‘You could back off of Robin and take your douchey self out of here--’ you began to think snidely, biting the inside of your cheek so as not to let the words slip out. Luckily, it created a clever disguise, looking as though you were just debating what you wanted.

“Uh, I guess strawberry today.”

“Would you like some sprinkles? They’re on the house.” He winked and you tried to hide your gagging revulsion. Customer-service Steve was totally fake and he acted as if he didn’t have a distaste for you his entire life. ‘What could Robin ever see in someone like him?’ you thought. But truth-be-told, most girls your age tended to fawn over Steve and he could give her something you never could: a normal life.

But he doesn't know who I am

And he doesn't give a damn about me

The mall fire marked a sort of beginning-of-the-end in Hawkins. Starcourt was the one hip thing about the town, the one thing to do. And now that had all been scrapped. Rightfully so, as it seemed macabre to just go on with it as if nothing ever happened there. People died, the town had to even elect a new chief of police because he had perished as well. But it left you in a lurch regarding activities you could do, especially on your own…and particularly to have access to Robin. Now, you didn’t know where she worked and you certainly couldn’t ask her. It would give off stalker vibes in waves if you approached and said, “hey, I miss watching you at your work all the time, mind telling me where I can find you now?”

Even worse, she seemed to be closer with Steve. The rumor mill didn’t explicitly say they were dating, but you assumed they were. It was a small town and you’d see them together frequently. Steve even dropped her off at school most mornings, which seemed to you like something couples would do. It completely dashed your hopes that this would be like a Hollywood fairy tale and you’d get the girl in the final act. Time was running out, as it was your last year at Hawkins High, and quite possibly the last stretch of time you’d ever see Robin Buckley. Then, the unthinkable happened when Eddie betrayed you and became cozy with Steve after Spring Break in your Senior year. "I can't believe you're actually hanging out with--no, that you're friends with that douchebag, now." It was a charming little development that Eddie had been spending time with Steve.

“He’s not really that bad. I know, I know,” he responded immediately to your huff and look of disgusted disbelief, “A month ago I would have dropped dead before I would have said something like that, but it’s the truth, Y/N. He’s changed a lot since he was in school. He’s actually a pretty cool dude.” You may have been a little over-dramatic with your resulting retching, as Eddie asked, “What’s your deal with him, anyway?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s my deal?’ Like you said, a month ago, you would have been calling him a douchebag right along with me! What’s your deal?” You didn’t give him time to respond and jumped right into your tirade instead, “First of all, in case you’ve forgotten, he hates us. Or at least, hates me still, since you’re all chummy now, apparently. He has made fun of me his whole life and uses it as fodder to yuck it up with his friends.

“‘Fodder,’ nice word choice,” Eddie smirked, eyes gleaming. He was clearly amused watching you get riled up over this, but you didn’t let that stop you.

“He’s so vapid and shallow. I’m pretty sure all of those hairspray fumes fried his few functioning brain cells. He pants after every girl he lays eyes on, like a dopey dog but without the loyalty. The most frustrating and asinine part of that aspect of him is that he does it with Robin! I’ve seen him drool over her and then turn around to immediately follow some other girl, but he--he still gets to drive her to school every day and talk to her and…I can’t,” you squeaked out the last two words, the realization crashing down on you: you hated Steve most because you were jealous.

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me

Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn't know what she's missin'

"Oh, trust me, she and little Stevie are just friends." He waggled his eyebrows and you stared at him in confusion.

“Wh-what? How? They’re like, always together, and--and. Did he tell you this because you’re best buddies now, or what?” You were flustered and were sure you weren’t making any sense, but Eddie just smiled in a smug way. He was hiding a secret, but you didn’t dig further right now. You had no idea what he meant, how he knew, but this revelation was a breath of fresh air: your spirit renewed.

Spring and the school year were quickly coming to a close. While you wouldn’t consider yourself one for tradition, nor attending events with people, Eddie convinced you to partake some of the normal teenage activities. “You’re only going to be a senior once, Y/N,” he goaded you.

“This is your third senior year,” you reminded him with a deadpan expression and tone.

“I know. I said you’re only going to be a senior once. You.” He gave you a playful smile in return, “And hey, life is short and not always guaranteed.” The smile faltered a bit, and you could tell he was remembering Chrissy’s death, all of the deaths that occurred over Spring Break. You couldn’t really argue with Eddie when he was being serious for once in his life. He blinked the memory away and put on a cheerful facade again, “Hopefully, this will be my last senior year, too, so we have to make it a momentous occasion. You should go to prom with me.”

“Oh Eddie, I thought you’d never ask,” you put your hand over your heart sarcastically as you replied to him in a monotone voice, “how romantic.”

“Oh God, stop. That’s embarrassing for the both of us,” he joked. “What I mean is, we should both go to prom. Make the memory, all that jazz. I think you’ll be…pleasantly surprised.” You were used to his theatrical pauses by now, but it sounded like he was up to something. Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie without hatching a plan or scheme, but you agreed anyway.

“This is the most conformist thing I have ever done,” you greeted Eddie at your door, “I hate it.”

“It’s just a dress, Y/N. It isn’t the end of the world,” he cleared his throat to hide his laugh, but you caught it anyway and shoved him out of your doorway.

“This was all your idea, Munson. I will never let you forget that.”

At first, it wasn’t all that bad. Some of the music wasn’t totally abhorrent and Eddie was making your group laugh, dancing and miming his way through various activities. But the fun was cut short when Eddie’s other group of friends came in. You felt betrayed as Eddie brought Steve back to the gym that he once owned. Amongst this new group was of course, Robin. Your cheeks flared and your heart raced at the sight of her. She was always beautiful, but tonight she had a touch of glamor, wearing a knee-length green dress. However, that happiness was also fleeting. Eddie took off with their group and had them laughing and dancing, and you even saw him twirl Robin around. You sat and sulked in the bleachers, meaning you missed Eddie pointing you out to her.

Man, I feel like mold

It's prom night and I am lonely

Your elbows were propped against your knees and your hands cradled your face as you stared down at the floor. This could have been a great night, a fun night. But you just weren’t cut out for that typical teenage fun. Perhaps it wouldn’t sting so much if you had chosen to stay home rather than put yourself out there; if you weren’t dragged here only to be ditched by Eddie. But him choosing Steve and his group only solidified the feeling that burned deep within you: you didn’t fit in. Anywhere.

You glanced up, hoping that maybe Eddie had noticed your absence from the dance floor and would take pity on you. However, you saw Robin walking unsteadily in your direction instead. It wasn’t a too-much-spiked-punch walk. It was more hesitant, methodical. The changing lights cascaded across her hair and skin, making her seem even more unreal. As she drew nearer, you gained more of an appreciation for her dressed-up look. The makeup highlighted her cheekbones and lips; the way the dress hugged her waist and the length of it emphasized her legs. You smiled softly when you noticed that she was still wearing sneakers, though. That was much more like the Robin you knew.

“Is this seat taken?” She was standing directly in front of you, but you weren’t completely sure she was talking to you. You looked to your left, then to your right, confirming that you were alone. You nodded, automatically, but were still in disbelief. You’d hardly exchanged words that weren’t related to ice cream before.

Lo and behold

She's walking over to me

This must be fake

My lip starts to shake

How does she know who I am?

And why does she give a damn about me

“Eddie’s told me all about you. Well, everything I didn’t already know,” she said, effortlessly flashing you that radiant smile. You were glad to be sitting down already as your knees began to quake.

“Is that right?” You asked nervously, throat suddenly becoming dry. Your eyes flicked across the room towards Eddie. You discovered him watching you intently and when you made eye contact, he gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Mm-hmm. He said you were the coolest girl he’s ever met. But I already guessed that. I mean, I thought that. I mean---well, and he said you’re his best friend.” She quickly tacked on the change in subject, but your heart hammered in your chest. Robin thinks you’re cool? Wait, Robin knows who you are and thinks about you? Your mind was racing.

“He, he is. I mean, I am. His best friend. And he’s mine. He’s a good guy.”

“Oh yeah, he’s totally great!” She rushed out, flustered. “He uh…he said that you were maybe, like…like me, too?” She looked at you with meaningful implication. Oh, shit. Did she just--is she saying she’s gay, too? It was a hopeful thought, but you were sure you were misreading it, and it’s not like you could just ask her for clarification. Not on this topic.

When you didn’t give a definitive answer (truthfully, you probably looked more deer-in-the-headlights confused instead), Robin continued, “Anyway, uh, I’d like to get to know you better and Eddie said you liked Iron Maiden?” You nodded numbly in response to this and she reached into her small purse, “Well, I’ve got two tickets, would you maybe like to go? With me?”

“I--yeah, of course! I’d love to go with you, Robin!” You blurted out, not wanting the opportunity to pass you by. Like Eddie said, life is short and you only get this one go-around. “I’d like to get to know you better, too. I think maybe we are a lot alike,” you replied, giving her a similar knowing look before you both broke out in smiles, grinning like lunatics.

I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby

Come with me Friday, don't say "maybe"

I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fluff #stranger things robin #stranger things robin x reader #gay #gay pride #even though there's like two days left #take your time #lesbian!#sapphic #useless sapphic #tm

71 notes · View notes

mschismosa · 9 months ago

Text

Hey can i ask yall something, am I the only one who does this, bc it has recently come to my attention that I exhibit freak behavior. It's for art reasons though.

I ramble about this a little bit u can ignore me

I hate that I started doing this bc i'll be somewhere & catch myself looking really spaced out touching my jaw or something. In my mind I'm trying to visualize the jawline i wanna draw but I bet i just look like a freak lmao 😭

I have the adhd, I can't afford to exit the drawing app & get distracted so i end up doing this. It's like my personal quick reference trick. Feeling the features of my face as I draw helps me visualize the shapes in a 3D way, does that make sense?

Anyway i felt like admitting this stupid habit of mine bc I just wonder if others do this?? But also I recommend it if you're more of a tactile learner. Sometimes clear reference images still don't make sense to me but this does. Particularly when thinking about how light/shadows hit a certain part of your face or like visualizing lines and shapes and small overlooked features. Like, how often do you really think about noses and ears and cheekbones... I have gone into mental rabbitholes thinking about variety in facial features compared to my own and how the feel & structure differ and then wonder how I'd apply it to drawing. Same goes for like visualizing expressions by feeling the pull and tension of muscle & such. It really helps me figure out how faces work and in a way makes simplifying it in drawings a little easier even. Of course I still look at references but it takes this to really GET it in an irl sense. Its usually not this deep though, I just find feeling something is faster for like remembering the basic build of it without having to look it up. hence the comic. Im aware my skills/ability to actually draw what I think are still too limited to be parading this as some kind of secret art hack but idk? I think you can learn a lot from your own face. Or maybe I have too much time on my hands and I've tricked myself into thinking im onto something lmao

Sorry im aware this is how I look rn

#please tell me you get it #i gave myself the morning to doodle #but then i ended up thinking too much about this lol #im still procrastinating packing #back to work #chisme

15 notes · View notes

hyuge · 1 year ago

Text

Schrödinger's Co-Habitation

Katsuki nuzzles into Eijirou’s side on the couch, tired from the long day they had. Empty boxes are strewn about the apartment and the sun is beginning to set. Moving is a lot of work, even if your boyfriend is a muscle-freak firefighter. He yawns as he feels the weight of the exhaustion tug at his tired eyes. Eijirou wraps an arm around Katsuki’s waist, drawing him closer.

“Should I grab one of those boxes?”

Katsuki cracks an eye open and peers up at Eijirou. “Hm?”

“So that you can take a cat nap,” he teases.

Katsuki scowls. “I don’t sleep in boxes.” His ears flick backwards to show how annoyed he is and Eijirou kisses Katsuki’s temple in apology.

“I’m teasing. Are you hungry? I could order pizza.”

Katsuki holds his stern gaze for a moment longer before conceding his anger to the backburner. “Pizza sounds good. Wake me up when it gets here?”

Eijirou nods. “Go lay down.”

Climbing off the sofa, Katsuki’s arms and legs want to give out on him. Considering the fact that Eijirou already has a fully furnished apartment, they didn’t move a ton of Katsuki’s belongings, but it was still a lot of work. He slinks off to the bedroom and pulls back the comforter. Katsuki paws at the sheets and the pillows for a minute, then curls up into a ball, and draws the blanket over his body. His tail swishes between the sheets until he drifts off into the unknown.

He wakes to the sound of Eijirou’s voice and a gentle nudge of his shoulder shaking him awake. Katsuki blinks twice, then picks up the scent of pizza.

“Food’s here,” says Eijirou.

Katsuki sits up to yawn, arching his back as he stretches his arms high above his head. It feels like he had only been asleep for minutes. He crawls out of bed and follows Eijirou to the kitchen sleepily. Plates are already set on the table. There’s a cup of iced tea waiting for him, and he takes a seat. Eijirou sits across from him and opens the pizza box. Katsuki dishes his pizza slices onto his plate, then pauses.

“Should we say something? Do people usually say something when they move in together?”

Eijirou shrugs. “I’ve never lived with anyone so I’m not sure, but we can. It sounds nice.”

Katsuki can hardly believe Eijirou has never lived with anyone else given his age, but he holds his tongue. “Um, okay… I guess I’m glad you asked me to move in. You gave me a key right away, but I never anticipated we would get this far.”

Eijirou smiles. “I still can’t believe the angry kitty I rescued from a tree in the park wound up being my boyfriend.” He leans across the table and presses a soft kiss to Katsuki’s lips. “I love you, Kats.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I love you too or whatever.” He waves his hand to brush off the affection, then picks up a slice of pizza and begins to eat, though he can’t help the blush that colors his cheeks.

A gift for @0ceanbleuu and @alythekitten

You can also read it on AO3 and consider checking out the entire series.

#fanfiction #fanfic #krbk #bnha #kiribaku #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #cat hybrid bakugou #firefighter kirishima #established relationship #fluff #domestic fluff #moving in together

15 notes · View notes

fake-married-my-dead-fiance · 2 years ago

Text

And I wrote some fan fiction. Read it below or on AO3

*****

Random snippets of Mu-deok/Naksu's diary:

Master Kill List: -trader who sold Mu-deok -Joo-wol nah she's cool -Jang Uk I promised I wouldn't, but I might... - Park Dang-Gu (I mean, I like him but he's related to Park Jin so I have to keep him here) -Jin Cho-yeon (no regrets there) -Lady Jin -Sang-ho (how dare he not let me in to Songrim!) -Jin Mu -That guy who knocked the meat stick out of my hands -Crown Prince he can live

-This jerk is the most spoiled, most picky, most annoying, most whiney human being I have met in my life. I did not know people like this even existed.

-The Danju abandoned me, guess I'll go watch my own funeral. Not sure what else to even do. This body is the worst body. I used to have actual muscles. Like how long would it even take for me to be able to climb up the side of a bridge? Ridiculous.

-My only option is this idiot...

-The poisoning plan worked perfectly. No regrets

-If Park Dang-Gu or ANYONE touches my hair or attempts to pat my head ONE MORE TIME I am killing them right then and there. I don't care if they're mages and I'm powerless. Poison. I'll use poison.

-Why does Jang Uk take so many baths? I don't get him at all. Before I guess he got cold because his gate of energy was closed but he's supposed to be normal now. Why the baths? WHY?

-This is the best luck ever! As long as Jang Uk doesn't die figuring out how to use it, he's going to have a whole ton of energy! This dude is so lucky.

-Jang Uk thinks I have to try not to fall in love with him?! Full of himself much? Now Seo Yul...

-Jang Uk randomly hugged me today just because he was happy despite the fact that I was covered with filth. He's so weird. I wish he had spent some of his lazy childhood actually learning how to fight because watching him was embarrassing.

He did manage to draw his father's sword though. Progress!

Crown Prince seems fairly easy to manipulate, Seo Yul not so much. I gave my sword to the C.P., not happy about that but I didn't have much choice. Jang Uk cannot fight with the C.P. again until he's stronger.

-Jang Uk was crying. It was awkward so I left.

-Jang Uk is still sad. He does not understand the basics of burying the hurt until it becomes hatred which is used to fuel your relentless training. It's how I became so powerful. (I need my power back!) I'm not actually sure what to do other than kicking him. I have no use for a student who won't learn.

-Master Heo has horrible self-control for someone his age. Finally got my useless student to move. Also, weird seeing Park Jin and he has no idea who I am. Even weirder with Seo Yul...

-Came here to focus on training and Jang Uk just wants to take baths again...

-WHY WON'T HE JUST DRINK THE CHASTE TEA??? I would in a heartbeat if I could get my powers back. I would cut it off permanently! I would give up a hand! This is Master Lee! He is legendary. He is the strongest mage I've ever seen. Drink the freaking tea!

It's some weird guy thing. I do not understand men.

-Threw a knife at that bastard, he deserved it. I'm going to burn the whole cottage down if he doesn't start training.

Went into town and almost got dragged away. Learned that this body can't tolerate alcohol which is just... perfect.

-It's so strange to be here with other people. Far less lonely I guess. I wish I could climb my tree. I can hardly climb a shrub in this useless body. Jang Uk still can't control his hand.

-Jang Uk thought he was so fast but I poked HIM in the eyes. That's what he deserves. He said some weird stuff about my soul marks and standing close to people. Ridiculous.

-Decided to hand him over to stay alive. It's only right... Traded my life for a damn bird egg. But Jang Uk actually did Tansu! We might survive this duel after all

-WHAT DO THEY MEAN I'M NOT ALLOWED IN SONGRIM?

-Now that Jang Uk got what he wanted he might just leave me behind. I'm not staying here and working as a servant for the rest of my life. I should have blackmailed him before he went; I didn't know the stupid rules. How could he do this? Trained him to win and now I'm left behind. He better not forget about our promise. But unless I'm there how will I make sure he keep training? I'm not staying in this pathetic body for years...

-Is the Crown Price in love with Mu-deok? Also, I cannot even express how much I hate cinnamon.

-Shit. Why did he have to say that? What is wrong with him? It was *not* a love letter.

-HE IS SAD AGAIN! I do not know how to deal with sad people. Why does this jerk have so many emotions? Why is he so lazy? You just keep going no matter how much pain you feel.

Also, Songrim wont even beat a student who won't train? They also suck at torture. How has this organization even survived? Pathetic.

-Ha ha! Bet my bird egg to make Jang Uk train. Was forced to admit I value the jade egg. Overall worked great. I do hope he manages to get it back. Because I want my power back and that would prove he's improving, no other reason.

-Jang Uk keeps hugging me. It's weird. Why is he so clingy? At least he's happy now. I'll bring him some snacks.

Another woman attempted to bring Jang Uk snacks. I wonder if I should kill her?

-So do I love him? Maybe? Doesn't matter if I do; once I get my powers back I'm gone. He's the crazy one who thinks we could possibly have a future after all of this. It would never work. It doesn't matter, love is useless and fickle. It's not worth risking your life over.

-Stupid love. Stupid ice stone. Stupid giving up my chance at powers. Stupid people that I love didn't want to see die being inside the ice stone. Stupid stupid stupid. Now I'm stuck in this useless body forever.

#and there's the fan fiction #knew that would happen eventually #alchemy of souls #naksu #mu deok #jang uk #Random thoughts from her diary

25 notes · View notes