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littleredwolf · 4 years ago

Text

Confessions

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader

Summary: Defeating the galaxy’s biggest foe and being brought to the brink of death causes Tony to get a little sentimental.

Warnings: Endgame spoilers.

Word Count: 1,969

A/N: I hope you enjoy some Tony fluff. ^^

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You chewed your lip as you glanced at the clock for what felt like the millionth time, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter with each second that passed. You turned your attention to the door opposite, your leg bouncing erratically as you resisted the urge to jump out of your seat and charge through it in your impatience. You hardly dared to think about what was going on on the other side, all manner of scenarios rushing through your head.

What was taking so long? Had something gone wrong?

That last thought alone caused your breath to catch in your throat and you hastily got up and walked to the nearby water cooler, busying yourself by filling a plastic cup and gulping down the lukewarm liquid. It wasn't the most refreshing experience, but it eased the lump in your throat. When the sound of the door handle turning filled your ears you whipped around to face it, eyes wide as a doctor and nurse emerged. You looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to break the news. You hoped it was good news.

"Everything is fine," the doctor assured with a polite smile. "He's going to need a little rehabilitation and there's a few things to keep a careful eye on, but he's going to be okay."

The sigh of relief you breathed could have knocked them both off their feet, as all the anxiety and uneasiness that had been building up over the last 12 hours fizzled and ebbed away.

"Can I see him?" You asked hopefully, chewing your lip again as you nervously awaited a reply.

The doctor and nurse shared a knowing look, before the doctor gave you a sympathetic smile.

"You can see him," he nodded, "but please keep in mind what he's been through. He's going to be okay but he is in pretty bad shape - just keep that in mind and try not to be too alarmed when you see him."

You nodded in understanding, a new wave of anxiety rolling over you as you placed a hand on the door handle. After what seemed like an eternity you were finally going to see him. So many hours of waiting with nothing to do but replay the last time you saw him over and over and over again - it had driven you almost mad. Now, you were allowed to see him, and it all felt so surreal.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your nerves and stepped inside.

The rhythmic humming and beeping of machines filled the otherwise silent room, and as you laid your eyes upon the figure on the bed you felt a wave of emotions overwhelm you. Relief, shock, worry, guilt, happiness, sadness, all swirling around like a chemical cocktail. You stepped forward with legs that felt like lead and stopped at the end of the bed, resting a hand on the frame and just looking at him. Taking him all in.

Tony Stark, the symbol of strength and durability, lay bruised and broken before you, tucked beneath a crisp white hospital blanket. A multitude of wires snaked out from beneath the cover, attached to various machines that monitored who knew what - all that mattered was that they were keeping him stable. The beeping of the heart monitor was like a symphony to your ears, reassuring you that he was okay, he was alive. After everything that had happened, Tony Stark was alive.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as the weight of the situation hit you. It could so easily have gone the other way. Using the gauntlet against Thanos should have killed him, the power in the stones more than any human could endure, yet somehow, against all odds, he'd survived. For once in your life, you were grateful for his stubbornness.

"Are you gonna stare at me this whole time or are you actually gonna say something?" Tony's voice cut through the silence, weak but still filled with his usual sarcasm, and you jumped at the sudden sound, blushing in embarrassment for getting caught staring. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and came closer to sit beside him.

"I thought you were asleep," you said softly, voice threatening to break.

"That's even creepier," he remarked, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with a smirk.

"Nice to see you still have your crappy sense of humour," you teased, causing him to pout.

"Hey, you're supposed to be nice to me, I almost died."

"Really? You're playing that card already?" It was surprising how easy it was to fall back into your old habit of swapping banter - it made the current situation a lot easier to deal with, which you suspected was exactly why Tony was doing it. The serious talk would come later, when he was ready, but for now you were happy to lean on humour as a coping mechanism.

"Just tell me, how's the face? Because that's the real money maker."

You took the opportunity to really look at him, heart sinking as your eyes trailed over every bruise and cut and scar - reminders of what he'd been through. He looked a mess, but it was a relief to see that the impish glint was still in his eyes.

"Well, you're not gonna get any calls from Vogue anytime soon, but it'll do," you shrugged, unable to stifle a giggle.

"Ouch!" He gasped, holding a hand to his heart.

A heavy silence followed and you found yourself struggling for what to say next. When Tony’s hand touched yours you looked up to meet his eye.

"I'm okay," he reassured, squeezing your hand. "I'm okay."

You shared a smile as your eyes filled with more tears, and you finally allowed the emotions you’d been holding back to break through.

"I was so scared," you breathed, inching closer and gripping his hand tighter. "I thought we'd lost you."

It seemed wrong that he was the one who'd almost died yet you were the one sitting there crying, but now that you'd started you couldn't stop, as sobs ripped through you and the tears just kept coming. Tony did his best to comfort you, rubbing circles into the palm of the hand he was still holding and encouraging you to let it all out. He'd been through hell, but he could only imagine what it must have been like for his friends to witness it all unfold.

"You could've just said if I looked that bad, you know."

"Shut up," you giggled through your tears, taking a series of breaths to help calm down.

"You know, there's something I realised while I was busy thinking I was dead…”

"Yeah? What's that?"

"We may be a bunch of superheroes with fancy technology and the best gadgets money can buy, but it only takes one crazy guy, high on power, to bring it all crashing down."

"I'd really rather not think about that just yet."

"Sorry, it's just...I nearly died, and of all the things in my life I've messed up or regretted, not getting this off of my chest would have been my biggest mistake."

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, sitting straighter in your chair in preparation for what he had to say.

"When I thought it was over and was heading towards the light - yeah, it's real - I didn't see God or St Peter or any other bearded guy waiting for me...I saw you,"

"What?"

He nodded, "I was done, Y/N. I was ready to die. I knew all along that's how it was going to end, and I'd accepted that. I was sick of fighting, just delaying the inevitable. I was ready to go, but then, right at the end, I saw you, and I remembered why I'd been fighting so hard in the first place."

You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but your heart beat just that little bit faster in anticipation anyway.

It was no lie that you’d harboured feelings for Tony over the years, but you'd never once expected that he might actually feel the same. It was much easier to bury it away than admit how you felt about someone with his reputation.

"I couldn't leave without telling you how I really felt. Because it's you, Y/N, it's always been you - you've set me straight when I've lost my way, you've pulled me back from the edge more times than I can count. You've stopped me getting carried away, going overboard. You've always been there making sure I stayed on the right path, and I guess I wasn't ready to admit it before but, I kinda liked the thought of you having my back. I guess nearly dying puts things into perspective, but I just know that I couldn't leave without telling you how I really feel."

You stared, dumbfounded, as he babbled on. "Tony, what are you trying to say?"

At this point you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating altogether, that familiar knot of anxiety twisting in your chest again. He took a deep breath as he carefully contemplated his next words.

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time, but I never wanted to admit it because I knew that if I did it would mean it was real. I've spent so many years building this persona, wrapping myself up in a safety blanket and hiding away from my emotions. I didn’t want to just lay everything out for the world to see and make myself vulnerable."

"But. You're Tony Stark."

"I'm aware of that, yes."

"You're one of the biggest names in the world. You're important. I'm just a nobody."

"You're not a nobody, Y/N. Not to me."

Tears filled your eyes again but this time for a completely different reason. You couldn't deny that you hadn't thought about this moment from time to time, imagining how it might feel if he were to feel the same, but now that he was actually confessing it, it didn't feel real.

"It's always been you," he repeated, cupping a hand to your cheek and swiping a tear away with his thumb.

"Oh, Tony," you whimpered, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. It felt so good to feel his warm palm against your skin, as though his hands had been made just to hold you. When he moved to tilt your chin up you opened your eyes, finding him already looking at you with an affectionate smile.

"Does this mean it's okay to kiss you?" He asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. Without another word, you leaned forward and closed the gap between you, pressing the most gentle of kisses to his lips in fear of hurting him. He hummed in content and ran his free hand through your hair, holding you close for just a little longer.

When you parted, Tony rested his forehead against yours, the two of you closing your eyes and relishing this quiet moment between you. You weren’t sure when you’d get another, knowing the others would be here soon now that he was awake.

"You're not just saying you love me so that I smuggle you in some cheeseburgers are you?" You asked after a while, pulling away to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"No, but is that a request I can make?"

"Well, I don’t want to get caught,” you thought aloud, tapping a finger on your chin for added effect. “But I can get Happy to pick some up for you. That way my hands stay clean.”

Tony grinned, the mischief in his eyes mirroring yours.

"That genius thinking is just one of the many reasons why I love you," he grinned, pulling you closer for another chaste kiss.

#marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #iron man #tony stark #avengers #endgame #the avengers #tony stark fluff #tony stark has a heart #tony stank #thanos #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark fanfiction #infinity gauntlet #infinity war

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funtimefishy · 4 years ago

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Beyond the Gate ~ PT.1

request: none!!

word count: 1192

warnings: no warnings that i can think of

canonical inconsistencies: i’m not too sure if a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza would still be standing 30/40 years later, but thats not really canonical, is it?

A/N: hi again! ive been working on this for a couple of days and i kinda like it tbh. its definitely better than some of my... OTHER posts (ahem.. As Time Ticked On). i think you might like this one if you’re always looking for action/exciting things to do. enjoy!!

extra: gender neutral reader :) this fic was created with a younger reader in mind (12-16), but it works with people of all ages. THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC FNAF X READER POST!! part 2 coming... whenever

“Are you sure we should do this?” Finn asked, glancing at the exterior of the abandoned building. “I mean, what are we getting out of this? Juvenile detention?”

“Come on, Finn,” You said, eagerly. “Take your nose out of a book sometimes and have some fun.”

“I have fun reading.” Finn proudly said.

“Some real fun.” You corrected yourself, scoffing as you stared up at the rain pouring down. “Let’s hurry up and go inside. It’s not getting any drier out here.” You began walking through the tall grass and plants that spread like an infection as the building grew older. The wet grass beneath you squished and squelched as you walked through.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Finn said. “We’re trespassing. Illegally trespassing.”

“Okay?” You asked. “It’s not illegal if we don’t get caught, and we won’t.”

“And if we do?” Finn affirmed. You stopped walking and spun around, facing Finn, who still hasn’t stepped an inch closer.

“We say we’re on a school field trip and got lost. Simple.” You grinned. “Now, come on.” You continued walking towards the building, and Finn finally decided to follow.

“A school field trip on a Sunday?” Finn snickered. “I can’t wait to explain that to the cops.”

“Okay, Mr. Unhappy.” You said, pausing in your tracks once more. Finn also stopped walking. “If you don’t wanna do this, you can happily turn around and ride your bike back to my house. I’ll meet you there in an hour. Now, are you in or out?”

Finn looked away from you, aiming his eyes towards the ground. He sighed. “I’m in.”

“Good!” You grinned, patting Finn on his shoulder. “Let’s go.” You both continued your slow walk through the overgrown and thick nature.

“What do you expect to find here?” Finn asked. “The place has probably been picked clean by robbers or graffiti artists.”

“You think I’m here to steal?” You replied. “Nah, I plan to just look around and maybe pick at something that catches my eye. This place is, like, historic!”

“How?”

“You don’t know where we are?” You questioned. “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza? That name doesn’t found familiar to you?”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, years ago, like, 30 or 40, this place used to be really popular. Your grandma probably came here!” You explained. “Then, out of nowhere, it just, like, shut down randomly, and no one ever knew why.”

“Well, there has to be a reason it shut down, right?” Finn was loaded with questions today, but it took you by no surprise.

“Well,” You started. “I spent about five minutes of research on this place and there are two possibilities. One, the company was hiding information from the public until the commotion died down, or two, what I think happened, it shut down for no reason.”

“Five whole minutes of research!? Wow, you’re really good at this!” Finn sarcastically laughed.

“You flatter me.” You smiled. The rain got heavier (as the forecast predicted), and you noticed a flash of light in the sky, followed by a loud crash. Finn jumped, startled by the thunder. “You don’t wanna be struck by lightning? Then let’s go inside.”

“Or we can just turn back and go back to your house, which is probably a much safer bet,” Finn replied. “I’m no expert, but you’ll probably be far better protected in an actual sturdy home than some rust bucket.”

“I told you, you’re more than welcome to turn back.” You reminded Finn. “And this isn’t a rust bucket.” You and Finn stopped walked as you reached the building’s double doors; the front doors. “This is history. You love history!”

The doors appeared to once be red, but years of decay and withering made them faded and scratched, leaving behind a pale pinkish color. You reached out your hand and gripped the metal doorknob, twisting it and pulling outward. Instead of the door swinging open, the door jolted and buckled as you yanked on the doorknob.

“This is a sign we should leave,” Finn muttered under his breath.

“Shut up and help me.” You replied. You continued pulling the doorknob as Finn walked up next to you. “You grab one, I’ll grab the other, okay?”

Finn twisted the doorknob of the other door and began pulling too, yet neither of you could get the doors open.

“We’ll find a way in through the back.” You uttered. “I’m sure there’s a backdoor or something.”

“Is this really worth it?” Finn complained once more. “Seriously, I mean, there’s probably nothing to look at in here.”

“Probably,” You said, turning to the right of the front doors and walking along the side of the building. Finn hesitated for a bit, then growled as he followed you through the heavy rain. “But that’s why we have to see.”

“We have to or we want to? By ‘we’, I only mean ‘you’.” You both turned the corner of the building and continued walking.

“I want to.” You nearly tripped on a stick on the ground, catching yourself before you fell face-flat on the grass. You pretended it didn’t happen. “Come on, Finn. How often do we get to hang out, just me and you?” Lightning flashed in the sky again, followed by another boom. Finn shivered.

“Last time we hung out, it ended in two broken tables, a shattered window, and an awkward trip to the emergency room,” Finn assured you. “I still have that scar-”

You stopped walking abruptly and Finn did the same, stopping in the middle of his sentence. “Look! An entrance!”

“Where?” Finn asked, staring at the outer wall of the building, the same wall you were looking at.

“Right here, Finn!” You walked up to the wall and lifted a bunch of vines that hid a small hole from view. Alas, you were right. There was an entrance to the inside of Freddy’s. You were surprised you noticed it. It was at the bottom of the wall, allowing tall grass and all different kinds of nature to unintentionally hide it, but also making entry much easier.

“That isn’t the most ideal entrance, don’t you think?” Finn mentioned. “Can’t we look for a backdoor, you know, a real entrance?”

“You can look for one if you want to, but I’m going in through here.” You said, determined to find something; anything inside the old pizzeria. There was something here. You knew it. There had to be.

You dropped to all fours, looking through the hole in the wall. It was dark inside except for the streaks of light that came in through holes in the roof, allowing other things like rain and vines to seep in. You didn’t mind the mud and grass stains getting in your jeans as you began crawling through the small hole, just big enough for a human to crawl through. How convenient.

“Y/N,” Finn nervously babbled. “This isn’t allowed. We’re on private property.” Once you were through the hole, you rose to your feet and glanced at your surroundings. You nearly screamed but quickly stopped yourself. You should have screamed.

“Finn,” You gasped. “You have to come see this.”

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf writing #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #freddy fazbear's pizza #fnaf 1 #fnaf 2 #fnaf 3 #fnaf 4 #freddy fazbear #bonnie #chica #foxy #part 1 #five nights at freddys

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jenivi7 · 4 years ago

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First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE! Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories!

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses.

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch."

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not.

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time." Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention. He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board. "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.)

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written!

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

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snowdice · 5 years ago

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 13)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 My Master Post

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions over the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he’d almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a signal this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then went offline probably when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really know anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top-of-the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mumbled. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her into Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep on a school night, but because he’d insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted off were quite embellished.

Emile had tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay the fact that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 14

#sanders sides #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #platonic remile #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #adriana writes #murder mentioned #emile piccani

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leviathanswingman · 5 years ago

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killing me softly, chapter 5: acceptance

Love

Of course Lucifer had to have come to such a life changing revelation at the worst of times. They were in the middle of planning a celebration for the royals of the kingdom Diavolo had last visited, as some sort of peace offering and mutual treaty after a bunch of altercations between their kingdoms.

The celebrations were set to take place in five days.

Lucifer was up to his neck in preparations since he had to plan everything on short notice. Now he had to somehow balance the stress of all of that combined with the uncertainty of whether or not he should tell Diavolo what he'd been going through all these days the prince had been gone.

Even worse, the demon prince had certainly started to get suspicious that something was going on with him, but due to their busy schedules, Lucifer had always managed to slip past him at just the right time. It was getting harder and harder on him, both physically and mentally.

The few hours of sleep he managed to get, he found himself stuck in a drowsy state; not asleep yet not quite awake either. He couldn't escape it. Whenever he closed his eyes he was haunted by pictures of Diavolo, was haunted by his voice when he wasn't even remotely close. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to renounce his position as Diavolo's right hand man. It would've been the right thing to do, yet there was no way for him to betray his prince like that. Lucifer had always taken pride in being like the personification of loyalty itself, so he had quietly and fiercely chosen death over disloyalty.

However, this didn't lessen his suffering. It was as if his body was longing to be close to Diavolo's and Lucifer himself played the part of the ruthless dictator. He denied his body what it so desperately wanted. What it desperately needed. But Diavolo was not in love with him, he was most certain of that fact. Lucifer's heart hurt and his lungs ached at that thought, yet he wouldn't allow himself to slip into foolish illusions. He'd always been a realist. Of course, Diavolo had developed a certain fondness of Lucifer, but that didn't mean anything.

So whenever Lucifer saw Diavolo, he conveniently had to attend business on the other side of the academy, when in truth, he was spending minutes upon minutes in the bathroom, coughing up blood, roses and regrets. What he regretted the most he himself couldn't even tell.

The only thing Lucifer knew was that he was running out of time. He had less than five days left because for the first time in his life, he'd let someone in and had fallen in love. Talk about eternal punishment.

Whenever he thought fate couldn't deal him more malice, he was massively disappointed all over again.

All of a sudden, his DDD rang loud and clear, pulling him out of his thoughts, back to the real world. Subconsciously, he rubbed his chest, right where his lungs were sitting, tangled up in roots and thorns. He shouldn't think this much about Diavolo, he was aware of that, but it was the only thing concerning him that Lucifer could allow himself without doubling over with flowers filling up his windpipe. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he was in love with him after all. What a strange twist of fate.

He picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Yahoo, it's your darling little brother, the one and only Asmodeus!” the melodious voice of his brother rang through the speakers.

A sigh left Lucifer's lips as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. “You are aware that I can see your caller ID, right? I do in fact have your contact saved,” he grumbled.

“Aww Lucifer! You flatter me!” Asmo chirped on, his loud and hyper voice only amplifying Lucifer's ever-growing headache.

“If you consider something like that flattery you might need to get your standards checked. So, what do you want? You know I'm preparing for the celebration, there's still too much to do. I'm not in the mood for your games, so no dawdling unless you want to get punished thoroughly and rigidly,” he said in a brash manner, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, yeah! No need to get so worked up, I can almost hear you glaring at me again! All that frowning will get you wrinkles at your young age, you know?” Asmo began to babble.

“I am giving you a count to three,” Lucifer stated coldly. “One.”

“Live a little! I Just wanted to-”

“Two,” Lucifer continued, a threatening aura starting to seep from every single of his pores. Asmodeus was really testing him today with the way he was clearly avoiding to finally get to the reason for his little call.

For a moment there came nothing but silence from the other end of the phone, then there was an audible intake of breath. “So... The thing is...” Asmo started, voice suddenly nervous.

“Thr-”

Click

“Eek!” with a startling yelp, Asmodeus had hung up on him.

For a moment, Lucifer simply stared at the symbol signalling that the call had been disconnected. “Oh? Well that just takes the cake. I will teach him his place, that little-”

“Lucifer.”

That voice again. Realization dawned upon him as he turned around. It all made sense now. The nonsensical call, the stalling. All of this had been a setup. There was a reason Asmo had been dawdling around like that.

Someone must've asked him to distract Lucifer. And that exact someone was now standing behind him. Lucifer wasn't even surprised Asmo had agreed to this. His brother knew about his illness and had grand illusions about the way Lord Diavolo felt for Lucifer. Asmodeus now definitely deserved a few proper nights in the punishment chambers.

„Is there anything you need from me, Diavolo?“ Lucifer asked, trying to sound as normal as usual. He was still exceptionally mad about this whole little diversion, but didn't try to show it all that much. After all, Diavolo's plan had worked out just fine. Lucifer was less attentive due to his hanahaki, and had been even more distracted by Asmo's shenanigans. He tried to represent what was always expected from him:a calm and collected demeanour.

„My my, Lucifer. It's been a while since I've seen you this worked up. Is anything the matter?“ he purred. There was a confusing smile on his face before he let his warm hand run down Lucifer's naked arm.

For a moment Lucifer cursed himself for having swapped out his suit for a sleeveless black turtleneck, but it had simply been too hot. Despite the warm air in the room he found himself shivering under Diavolo's touch.

“Maybe that's because I haven't seen you around all that much lately,” he mumbled, letting his hand run even deeper down until he could run his thumbs over Lucifer's knuckles.

Lucifer shook under the unexpected soft touches. He was used to violence and terror, but soft touches like these were completely strange to him. Involuntarily, he could feel his gut filling up with want, yet he also trembled under Diavolo's overwhelming presence, which threatened to swallow him whole.

“Making up excuses doesn't sound like you Lucifer, and I know you'd never lie to me, which would explain your silence right now. You're avoiding me for a reason, am I correct?” Diavolo asked calmly, with an unreadable expression. His hand gripped Lucifer's more tightly and with that, Lucifer forced himself to lock eyes with Diavolo.

For once, he wished his eyes could express what his mouth refused to say. He had always been the oldest, had always carried responsibilities too big for his beaten body. Now for once, he refused to solve his problems heartlessly and without regards to his own well-being. For once, he disobeyed and decided to be oh so selfish.

As he refused to look away from Diavolo's eyes, an electric shock ran through him. He had made his decision and there was no going back. He truly loved Diavolo.

This was the first time in ages that he had allowed Diavolo to stay this close to him for this long. He felt hypnotized by the prince's eyes, hypnotized by the way they seemed to practically devour him whole.

As soon as it had started, the moment was ruined when Lucifer grabbed Diavolo's other arm in a tight grip without letting go.

“Leave before it's too late, Diavolo. You shouldn't be here,” he forced out, breathing heavily, desperately trying to control his breathing until Diavolo would finally leave the room. “I don't want your pity.

“Before it's too late for what?” Diavolo managed to ask before he saw the other's pained expression. A disturbing smile was painted across Lucifer's face and his otherwise emotionless eyes looked wet and conflicted.

“Before it's too late for what?! Lucifer, talk to me!”

Lucifer opened up his mouth, but before he could talk he suddenly gripped Diavolo tightly by his wrists, leaving red claw marks.

A sea of bloody petals, flowers, thorns and stems forced themselves out of his mouth as he began to crumble to the ground, hands still holding onto Diavolo desperately and painfully.

Quickly, Diavolo lowered Lucifer to the ground and tried to hold him up by his shoulders as best as he could.

“LUCIFER!”

Lucifer was wheezing and choking, but still he held onto Diavolo for dear life. Even if he wanted to let go, he didn't think he could.

With one big cough, a full white rose with a stem and thorns forced itself out of Lucifer's mouth, followed by huge amounts of blood. As he gasped for air, Diavolo carefully put his hand on the back of Lucifer's neck and leaned his head against his chest, letting him rest there for a moment.

“Who is it?” he whispered, but didn't get an answer.

Lucifer had lost consciousness.

Fighting against the panic rising up in his chest, Diavolo picked Lucifer up, one arm supporting his back while the other went under his legs. Barbatos would certainly know how to help Lucifer. He just had to know.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

taglist: @el-does-photography

#my writing #obey me!#shall we date? obey me #dialuci #lucifer x diavolo #diavolo x lucifer #obey me! diavolo #obey me! lucifer #hanahaki au #angst #obey me! asmodeus #i'm not as confident with this chapter as i was with the others #i'm always struggling with the way i write lucifer and while the dialogue is fine #when i write more about his inner thinkins i often doubt myself lots #but i know i included everything i wanted to so #i'm okay

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th3okamid3monart · 4 years ago

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Things I’m going to miss this Holidays

There are a couple of traditions we do in my family that I havent seen in other places and with one search on the internet I realize that most of the things we do are from my own country + some that we make up ourselves.

So Im going to share them here because... Well, there’s a big-ass chance I wont be able to do them this Christmas nor New years.

NOTE: When I say ‘my family’ in a lot of this, I mean ALL my family. Which means, all my grandparents, all my aunts, all my uncles, all my cousins, and, yes, EVEN my great grandaparents, cousins, uncles, aunts and more. Because we all know each other and we even make a party once a year for my dad’s side of the family

Here I go:

Las Posadas

There’s this thing that we do at one of my grandparents’ house that involves singing a carol about the time Maria and Jose were looking for a place to stay to rest before travel far away for the birth of Jesus. It is a song which is singed by 2 groups, one that is inside and the other that’s outside. What we do is the following: One group goes inside a room in the house while the other stays outside the door, the group outside sings one part and the other sings the other. We go back and forward until we finish the song. It is pretty funny because no one sings well and its just like a bunch of grown ups practically screaming but we always end up chuckling. I used to think it was pointless and boring but that was because I was an edgy potato, after I enter University i began to enjoy more things and be happier. This is going to be the second time I wont be with my complete family for Christmas and now its all the family who wont be able to go to my grandparents house for a celebration.

12 grapes, 12 wishes

In both sides of my family we usually fill up 12 grapes in a cup and give everyone 1 cup each. I dont remember what exactly the grapes meant or the story about the wishes but it’s supposedly like before it strikes 12 am on New Years, we have to eat our grapes while also wishing for something. I remember when I was younger I’d wish for peace on the world or that everything went well for everyone. I think I’m going to buy a bigger bag of grapes this year.

Something that was funny was that everyone would just... Stuff their mouths with grapes, mostly my cousins and I, just to see how many we could fit. Not everyone wished for many things in the family because I think we all feel we had and have enough. If my family does this again on their own, I’m pretty certain their wishes would be to be able to meet with the family.

Piñata

Every year since I was little, my grandparents buy a piñata to smash before or during Christmas. They find it such a good activity for cousins and even for my aunts, my mom and uncle. They literally havent stopped buying them, the oldest grandchild in that side of the family its in her 30s, but they still buy a piñata. I think its mostly for the youngest which are below 16, never the less, its still super funny and hilarious because we go from youngest to oldest. By the time it gets to my brother, its still intact, he only swings it once and its completely DESTROYED. We just have a lot of fun, and sometimes we make my mom or my aunts to hit it. My mom wasnt as cheery when I was a kid, but now she laughs more and when it comes to the piñata she laughs and enjoys her time even more.

Games

Like any gathering, all cousins bring up something we can do to entertain ourselves. At first they were toys my grandparents had for us, then it was videogames and now... Its board games. My bro is the one obsess with different boardgames and DnD and other card games. So, about 5 years ago he began bringing boardgames for all cousins to play along. We either talk with each other or try to destroy each other with any game there is. Videogames are fun but we all find it a drag to bring the console to the place, besides we usually get so busy with each others banter and weird conversations that we just forget about the videogames all together.

At my other grandparents house it becomes W I L D. Last time someone brough a beer pong table and they all began to take shots with mezcal (I’m trying to not drink a lot of the time ever since I puked one time. If I drink its light things like wine and only one glass). Then my aunts play music and began to sing and everyone follows up, and... Well last time they began to dance.... And all my cousins were very embarassed and I was hella confused. Suffice to say, my dad’s side of the family are super freakishly energetic and wild, while my mom’s side is more of a geeky, nerdy vibe with a lot of meme stuff and political conversations at times (Oh yeah, we talk a lot of different political stuff, but guess what? It never derails into a fight. I note this due to always reading people’s talks ending with fights and stuff and that kinda weirds me out a bit at times)

Dinners

I don’t remember the time exactly, probably since I was 15 maybe, my dad and I turned into the designated ‘chefs’. Every year we’ve been deciding and preparing foods for each house. We make the main course while my aunts do the sides (although sometimes it becomes like 3 main courses with 2 sides). Im waaaaaaaaay into the cooking and I try to make it perfect each year. I kinda chillaxed a bit with some foods because it wasnt that big of a deal. Besides the main course, I also decide to make a dessert and sometimes they arent eaten because my families have some sugar regulations. They are stored and kept after Christmas because thats better than eating it all in one sitting and having sugar poisoning (AKA, high sugar that needs a fast Insuline injection afterwards).

It is always fun to make food with my dad, and to make the famous Tamales from my grandma’s recipe. Last time i think we made around 400? Between green salsa chicken, red salsa beef and pork, and some that were like... its like an adobe, its with achiote and orange juice. It was very tasty. We usually make a lot and freeze them. THEY ARENT COOKED, they are raw and then frozen. Every time we take some out, we make them with vapor, takes around 2 hours and they are always tasty. I remember I made a batch all by myself, I made the feelings, I mixed the masa, and I assemble 100 by my own, the rest was thankfully made by my parents. And it was the best when I gave some to my grandma and she told me that they were super good. Of course, I made a couple mistakes, Im not perfect but she still enjoyed it with the salsa I made. Maybe I can still make some this year and give each family a batch.

Aunt’s cookies

Every year, every god damn year... We all wait for one thing... It’s not the presents, its not the food... Its the cookies. The motherfucking cookies. My aunt has made this cookies since I was a kid, and we all fought to get a bunch of them. She has made choco chip with nuts cookies every year without missing. And they always end before Christmas even hits. She once gave me frozen batch so I can cook them at home and she told me ‘Dont tell anybody’. Of course I cannot not tell anyone since I live with my parents and siblings but when I made them I made sure to make them when my dad wasnt home. Not only because Im a gluttonous fuck but because my dad is diabetic and he shouldnt be eating anything like that.

It used to be a battle royal between my cousins, now its a battle against my uncles cause they LOVE TO FUCKING HIDE THE BIG ASS CONTAINER. I swear, i only got 1 or 2 god damn cookies last time.

Breakfast at...Lunch at...

After Christmas, we always go eat at my grandparents house. Always. And it’s, most of the time, Menudo. The most delicious food you can make with cow stomach. It’s my grandpa’s recipe and it’s always good. Meanwhile, we lunch at my grandma’s house the leftovers of yesterdays dinner which it varies if its turkey or pork but it always ends up as a torta. Delicious, leftover, tortas.

We end up... SUPER CONSTIPATED because you eat menudo with bread, and you make tortas with bread, and we all eat bread and like... A LOT. Its hella good but well... THERE ARE CONCEQUENCES!!

I think thats all, at least the most relevant parts. There’s also The Toast of El Bohemio, the stupidity and over eating i do for fun for some cousins, the conversations that go from super deep to stupidity with cousins, the music we play, the hugs...

THE HUGS

When its the New Year, we scream out HAPPY NEW YEAR. And we proceed to hug each and everyone, one time I waited to see everyone and they all were very very happy. Its something I didnt realize before, but that was a happy thing all the time. Last year we event celebrated with other family, most of this reunions are compose with the nuclear family, but we arent shy about involving more family or friends. So last year not only included some family and their friends, we also included a 2 new members of the family: My newborn cousin and my cousin’s now husband.

It was like.. One of the best beginnings... Which kind of... didnt prepared us for what this...sucky year.

I’m sure we’ll make it ok... I sure hope so, I wanna see my grandparents again... I wanna see my baby cousin, he is babbling and has already learned to walk. The little dude doesnt have cousins to play with anymore, I wanna make sure he doesnt confuse me by his aunt ajjajajaja. I want to talk to my cousins, I want to hug them and scream with them and eat with them all.

But maybe this year it wont happen, and I rather it not happening than loosing any of them.

Right now I cant smell, and everything hurts, but it kinda helps ease things when i remember this and when I think they all are still kinda healthy.

Maybe when it all passes we can make a march reunion, to celebrate my grandma’s birthday. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get better and wish for this Christmas to not suck now that It’s only my main family and I.

Hope everyone is safe, I hope you can at least see your parents or siblings. I hope you dont get sick nor have to spend time at a hospital or anything. I hope all who are, get help and dont get worse. I hope you all get better.

Hope you have Happy Holidays.

#writing #things to remember #christmas #1 month away #november #november 2020 #december #december 2020 #holidays #traditions #christmas 2020

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vesuviannights · 5 years ago

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Hi~ I just found your blog and I love it! Could I request Valerius x trans!reader (ftm) (if you're comfortable) using prompt #12 ( “you’re so hugging my cock so nicely, i don’t want to move just yet.” ) thank you if you do!!

Hello my wonderful anon 🖤 I hope you are still around, and I’m sorry that I didn’t get this to you as soon as I wanted. I always talk about wanting to create content for all types of people, and I wanted to be absolutely certain that what I was giving in this situation was not only fabulously hot, but also fabulously respectful and accurate.

I chose to write this with a ftm trans reader (top surgery, not bottom, male pronouns) in mind, and I hope this is what you were after. For the penetration parts, I have not specifically referred to a front or back hole, so you can enjoy yourself and imagine either!

I’m a little nervous and truly do hope that it is enjoyed by all, because I most certainly enjoyed writing it.

Valerius/You. Trans!reader (ftm). Lemon.

After using you as a cockwarmer for hours and ignoring every attempt you made to convince him otherwise, Valerius finally gives his good boy the reward you deserve. Lots of verbal praise and worship, while still containing the standard filthy level of dirty talk you would expect from me.

“Mmmm, you’re hugging my cock so nicely, little one. So warm and wet around me. Have you always been so perfect, such a good boy?”

Valerius sighs into your neck, a long and drawn out sound that seeps into the end of every nerve in your body, that you can just barely hear shaking in its last few moments—or perhaps that is just your wishful thinking.

You keen, so quietly, at the feel of being stretched around the base of his cock, at it being seated so completely inside of you. You want so desperately for him to move, and you have been begging in every way you know without your words—shifting your hips, squeezing his cock, letting out soft little mewls—but he has refused you each and every time.

And this time is no different. He smiles into your neck and releases another content sigh at your frustration. His lips are a little cracked from the warm day, dragging along your pulse as he begins yet another trail along the underside of your jaw while he speaks to you.

“Such a good pet who deserves all the pleasure I can give him…but I don’t want to move just yet.”

He is merciful, though, and he seems to know that you are growing restless and you need something to placate you. He drags his fingertips through your hair as you lean back against his chest, then flattens his palms and smooths them down over your neck, your shoulders, your scarred chest and down still, taking in every inch of your warmth.

You reach back, slow and unsure, to slide your fingers into his hair. He tenses against you, always so particular about his hair, but it is something he has grown to love you doing, especially when you are pulling just enough to guide him when he fucks you with his mouth and tongue, or when you are tugging softly to tell him without words yes, or thank you, or I love you.

You feel him twitch inside of you, reminding you of the frustrating stretch of him and the even more maddening knowledge of his resolve, that he hasn’t fucked you in all the time he has been inside of you despite every one of your best efforts.

Though perhaps you hadn’t truly been putting in your best efforts, enjoying the torture of it just a fraction more than the frustration. He has held you like this, been buried completely inside of you for so long, hours maybe, while he has worked and held you and sighed into your neck. You could never quite tell which you enjoyed the more—the euphoria of your release exactly when you want it, or the warmth that flushed your entire body when he called you his good boy for doing exactly as he asked and making him so happy.

“Do you want me to move, little one?”

You feel him smile into your shoulder, or maybe it’s finally one of his trademark smirks finally breaking through. You whine in response, and it is a little brattier and far more desperate than you had intended.

There can never be another one for me quite as glorious as you, he had murmured to you when he had first nudged the head of his cock against you, when he had asked to be warmed by you while he read his papers for the evening.

He had promised to reward you, call you his good pet, his good boy, praise you for your warmth and marvel at your body, but now—so many hours later, twitching and shuddering around him and only wanting him to move—you are struggling to see the light at the end of that tunnel.

Every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, feels like an electric shock of white-hot need jolting through you. He has a map to your body—every proud and wondrous inch of it—ingrained in his fingertips, to be used only at his whim and pleasure.

With that map, he could very well drag out your frustration and torture until dawn breaks the city—and by gods if you weren’t a desperate, pathetic mess in his hands who would very much let him.

“Well?” He asks. A familiar edge has lilted his voice, one that makes something inside of you stir, the part that recognises his different tones and the promises they bring. “Shall I move, little one? Have you been a good boy?”

You nod, and he shifts beneath you, giving you the first iota of movement in so long; you swallow a whimper, but that only stirs something inside of him.

“Don’t ever hide from me,” he murmurs quietly into your shoulder. “No sounds, no sighs, no words. All of you is mine, a gift I will take and devour without question, understood?”

You nod again, he lifts his head to press his nose into your hair.

And then he begins moving.

It is so slow at first so as not to startle you, to make sure you are still adjusted around him, slick and ready to stretch and squeeze his cock. His hands are on your hips, steadying you, holding you there so he can thrust in and out at a slow, intimate pace. Every thrust comes with a groan, a murmur of your name, something to tell you how good it feels.

“Do need more of me, more of my cock?” He croons to you. “I want you to take all of it, I need to fuck every inch of your insides until you are screaming out for the entire city to hear.”

You think you answer him—something definitely falls from your lips, a whisper, a babble, a plea—but it must not be the right thing because suddenly he is shifting you, pulling out of you despite your whining protests.

You feel almost painfully empty after warming his cock for so long, but he moves you quickly to lay back down along the bed, murmuring for you to be patient, giving reassurances that he will fill you with his glorious cock once again if only you wait a moment longer.

From his position above you, strands of his braid coming loose as it falls over his shoulder, he looks you over. You are a wondrous gift spread out below him, your cheeks flush with your arousal, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you run your hands down your chest. His lips crook as he follows the action, giving you a smile no one but you has ever been allowed to see—all the way to his eyes, a true smile without a hint of malice or disgust.

“You made it so hard for me,” he tells you, tilting his head to watch the uneven rise and fall of your chest. “So wondrous, hugging my cock so nicely while I worked, keeping it warm just the way I like, tempting me to fuck you every time you squeezed around me. I want to reward you for being so good, and yet punish you for being so tempting. Which do you think you deserve, little one?”

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a few seconds before you answer.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say. It’s another whine, one you don’t bother to disguise. Valerius lifts an eyebrow at you.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I deserve to be fucked!” Your fists bunch the sheets as you say it, pressing your hips up toward where his cock is bobbing between you. “I was a good boy, a good pet, I warmed your cock for so long and I didn’t move once. Please! Please fuck me, reward me for being good!”

Seeming satisfied with your words, he shifts forward and reaches down to between your legs, just his fingertips and with barely-there brushes exactly where you want him. His cock—hot, twitching, shining with the mess of you both and the lubricant he had applied—lays against your inner thigh, and he thrusts lazily against it as he leans over your body and kisses you.

“I do so love it when you use your words,” he murmurs against your lips. “I think it is definitely time for your reward.”

And then he is pushing back into you, swallowing every moan and sigh as he begins to fuck you, groaning as you squeeze and contract around him, as the hardness of his body moves and sinks into yours

“My love,” he groans into your neck, a shaking edge to his voice. “My little one, my good boy—will you moan for me? Will you scream? Do you want to squeeze and milk my cock with that tight, wet little hole? Earn it, you must earn it, let me hear you scream my name for all to hear.”

And the door is open, and perhaps even if you weren’t insane with lust and from your need to come, and perhaps even if he wasn’t fucking you to within an inch of your life and making you delirious every time the head of his cock hit that perfect spot…perhaps you still would have done it.

“AH! Val—Valerius—FUCK—”

“Tell me how good it feels, little one. Tell me how much you love me fucking that tight little hole.”

You do.

“Scream for me.”

Oh, you do.

He croons to you, pushing your hair back from your face as he does. “What a good boy I have pinned and writhing beneath me. Now…let’s give you your final reward.”

He drops his hips, the angle of his cock changing, the head of him dragging along your insides in long, slow pulls that make you feel like you could sob. His hand moves down to find you between your legs, moving in sure and certain touches, his lips whispering praises into your ear as he works you to your orgasm.

And when you come, you feel already so exhausted, and it crashes over you in shivering waves, your eyes closed, Valerius taking your bottom lip between his teeth to suckle gently.

You moan his name like a mantra, your tongue rolling over and over until it’s barely a whisper, until you barely have the breath to give it and you must stop, because you know if forced to choose between breathing and whispering his name, you would not survive the hour.

He pulls out of you when you settle beneath him, your muscles melting back into the lounge, your lids heavy in your daze. His eyes are dark and raking you over as he takes himself in his hand, grunting softly as he fucks it and fucks it until he is coming all over it in jerking movements that stiffen his jaw and rattle his entire body. Some of his seed spills out of his hand and onto your stomach and you moan softly at the sight, still too greedy for any mark of his to be on your body, even in such a sated state.

Exhaling in a long, shaking breath, Valerius drops back to his hands and knees, covering you with his body while he nuzzles into your neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” he tells you. His voice is that wonderful, soft caress he always prefers to give you after he has been mean to you, or after he has made you really earn your reward. “But I think you almost did your job too well as my cockwarmer.”

You smile and stretch out beneath him at the praise. He nips at your earlobe before pushing himself back and onto his feet. After wiping his hand on his robe he slips it into yours, taking the other to your hip, and helps you to your feet.

“Are you ready for bed?” He asks. You shake your head, and he takes the chance to capture your chin between his fingers, his gaze tracing the curve of your lips as he smirks. “Excellent. I’ll draw us a bath to clean you up,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, then gives you a look that has you shaking. “Then we can discuss my plans for you in our bedroom. Perhaps a good few hours of orgasm denial will finally sate my need for you.”

And then he sweeps you toward the bath, your half-hearted protests and full-hearted moans lost to the sounds of the water crashing as it fills the tub.

#claire speaks #smutty drabble game #writing #valerius #trans reader (ftm)#anon #valerius x reader #lemon

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pisati · 5 years ago

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I already posted on main about it and I’ve got nowhere else to really vent. I know my co-receptionist is active on twitter and I don’t know if she’s ever tried to look for me (probably not), but I don’t want to risk complaining where she could possibly see.

it’s just been a long, shitty week. and it’s only tuesday. we had two euthanasias yesterday and two today. usually we get one TOPS in a week. most weeks we don’t have any.

I don’t know how many weeks we’ve been doing this now, but it’s definitely been over a month. I’ve worked with the lead receptionist a bunch since I started. she’s nice, but she’s very much got her own personality. she’s from new jersey, and that’s the explanation for a lot of her attitude, she says. I respect her and how well she knows herself and her boundaries. but I really feel like she could be a little nicer. I get that she’s worked in healthcare for a long time and she’s seen some shit but she acts like she knows everything and sometimes it’s just really insensitive.

I don’t think she means to sound rude, but there have been times when I’ve been talking about something and she’s only half-listening, usually because she’s working on something, and she’ll finish what she was doing and go “now what are you babbling about?” she did it to one of the techs the other day too. I know she just means to ask “what were you saying?” but it really makes me feel like whatever I’m saying is just nonsense to her, like I’m running at the mouth and whatever it is isn’t important.

we listen to what she wants to listen to. for 12 straight hours, 3 days a week, every week. according to her my music taste is respectable, but “a lot of sad-sackery”, so we listen to her music. we have limited overlap, but I don’t say anything. not because I don’t want to start an argument, I’m pretty much cool with whatever. but I’ve noticed that when we listen to what she likes, it’s often just a small handful of things she likes. I KNOW DMX has way more songs than just the same few. same with nicki minaj and beyonce. we’ve listened to some rage against the machine, which I can appreciate, but there are definitely way more songs than just killing in the name, bombtrack, take the power back, and know your enemy. I’ve listened to musical soundtracks. we did les mis and chicago and maybe a few others last week. I’ve sat there and watched videos I didn’t care to watch, because she’s really enthused about black opera singers and bruce springsteen and whomever the fuck else, because I like to think I’m a nice person and when someone is excited about something and wants to share it I let them be fucking excited about it, even if I don’t give half a flying fuck about it. today was a disney day, apparently, so I listened to soundtracks for mary poppins, the little mermaid, and beauty and the beast. sound of music too. whatever other eclectic songs tickle her fancy on any given day. but I’ve noticed it seems to just be the things she likes. I’ve come to work on disney days before but I don’t recall hearing soundtracks to more than just a few movies. I tried to get her to listen to a little hozier once or twice; since she’s a singer we often end up talking about vocal talent. and I was trying to show her what a great vocalist he is. she listened to maybe a few seconds of a song or two and, nah, not her taste. she gets why someone like me would like his voice, though. today she was laughing about something one of the techs had said; we have a whiteboard in the back hallway and every week or so someone (her, maybe?) puts up a prompt and people can write their responses. ya know, team bonding, sorta. this week she’d put up “what two famous people would you like to have dinner with?” and one of the techs had written “leo dicaprio and billie eilish”. and she was laughing about it. she’s not a fan of billie’s popular stuff. I told her about how I didn’t think I’d much like billie at first, but I listened to her whole album and I was surprised, I thought she had a really nice voice. just.. nope. I asked if I could play one song. just one. nope, nope, nope. she’d listened to half a second of each song on her album and decided she didn’t like any of them. I didn’t press.

yesterday she really just... ugh. the head vet had come up to the front desk to tell us that a really sweet client offered to buy us lunch, and did we have any ideas on what we’d like? they were thinking panera. I wasn’t sure if there was anything there I’d eat, but I’d take a look at the menu. my coworker had piped up with “she’s like super picky” and then ensued the “so what do you eat?” conversation. I didn’t really have much to say, since I’m tired of that fucking question and I don’t have such a small palate that I can just list off everything. she interrupted with “mac and cheese, I know that.” I forget what else she said, but I tried to explain that it was a sensory issue and there’s actually a disorder that involves a sensory rejection of food that lasts well into adulthood, and she was just sitting there next to me trying to hold back laughs. I asked her what was funny, she goes “it just sounds like picky eating, like it sounds so ridiculous”.

yeah, because I love being 25 and not being able to go to more than a tiny handful of restaurants with friends because those few places have one thing on the menu I’ll eat. I fucking love being too deeply embarrassed to special-order anything plain that I’d rather not eat at all. I love the “so what DO you eat” question, I love being laughed at and made fun of, I love feeling like a child who could never “grow out of it”. I really fucking love it, that’s why I continue to do this to myself. fuck’s sake.

this is the person who takes euthanasias so seriously that she’ll fuck anyone’s day up if they interrupt her while she’s getting paperwork together or if they’re being loud while the owner is in the room. she told me about her home health care work and how she dealt with a lot of people who were in hospice and she was real sympathetic to just about anything, because they were dying. I know I’m not dying, this doesn’t involve death, but the complete lack of empathy towards me just... really hurts. here I am trying to explain myself the way I always feel the need to, because I apparently have to have a fucking reason why I’m so picky, and she won’t hear any of it. she was fucking laughing at me.

I don’t feel disliked at my job, but I’m getting that feeling like I did in high school and college. like I’m both a part of something and not. I know I’m weird and a little awkward, but... she talks to people on the other team and they leave memes for each other. there’s a new girl on the other team who only started a month or two ago, but my co-receptionist is leaving memes for her specifically; the new girl even called today and she picked up, and they were having a riot of a conversation from what I could hear; a lot of genuine laughter, and I could hear the way she was talking, it sounded just so natural. a lot of the time with me she doesn’t quite sound like that. she’s got a pretty dirty sense of humor, and she was leaving some pretty gross memes for the new girl, meanwhile there was a video she’d shown the new doctor and the head vet that she didn’t want to show me because she “wasn’t sure if we were there yet”. she’d already described it to me, and she finally showed it to me today; it was just some nerdy guy singing about pussy in an 80s R&B voice. nothing I couldn’t have found somewhere on the internet myself. hell, it’s probably already floating around tumblr somewhere. idk, I don’t feel disliked but I am starting to feel left out. like, even the new people are more integrated than I am, and I’ve been there 8 months. I don’t know why this happens to me literally everywhere I go. every job, every school (except IUP somehow??), fucking everything. I just never feel like a true part of anything and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m not unfriendly. I don’t think I’m unapproachable. maybe I really just am that boring.

I’m just really tired of this. when she was out sick that one day last week, and I had to handle 13 straight hours of reception basically by myself, with some help from the office manager, I actually felt less tired than when she was there. I feel like I have to put on a face for her, like I have to pretend to be interested in whatever she’s going on about all day. I can’t say anything to her because she’s the lead receptionist, but it’s been getting on my nerves lately that I try to actually do work and she’s sitting there looking at memes, telling me she has to find this particular one of jason momoa so she can print it out have it at her desk because he’s just so attractive

I didn’t get a break yesterday, because our doctors were lagging so far behind and I had to keep the phones on. she left to go do something, and I was left to answer phones by myself. I almost didn’t get a break today either; there were still one or two clients left by 1pm and I couldn’t turn the phones over to the break message, and she had a thing to do with her car so she’d be back. I forget how I ended up mentioning that I didn’t get a break yesterday either and she was like “well that’s me the other times the doctors are behind. it’s your turn”. and while that is fair... one of the techs came up to talk to her after she’d left. she looked at me and was like, “where’s trish?” and I was like “... on break”. and she looked at me and I looked at her and she was like “...she’s been taking more breaks than any of us”. and I was like “yyyyep.” she goes out a few times during the day to have a cigarette too. usually when it’s quiet, but of course in the space of 10 minutes there’s a lot that can happen. often it does. thankfully today we had those last few clients out by 1:30 so I did get to clock out, and she let me stay off the clock until 2:30. but if the doctors were as behind today as they were yesterday, I’d have had no break today either.

we pretty much only ever talk about what she wants to talk about. she’s constantly interrupting me or talking over me, so I just let her talk. I’ve heard more about her wild sex life back in her 20s than I’d ever care to know. today she told a story three times (once to me, once to the head vet, and once to one of the techs) about how she can accurately guess a man’s dick size by the way he walks, and how she did this to some guy she dated in her early 20s and he was surprised by it. I don’t want to make things tense or awkward by saying I don’t want to talk about these things and I’d personally rather listen to music that keeps me calm and just quietly scan, fax, label, and attach things in between the periodic phone calls, but I can hardly get a word in edgewise anyway, so it’s mostly just me listening. she’s let me know in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t like rats and doesn’t think they’re cute; doesn’t want to see pictures of them, just.. nothing. I personally think that you can’t claim to love animals if you only love the ones you think are cute. but I don’t even know if she does. I couldn’t tell you why she’s working at a vet clinic.

it’s fucking exhausting. it’d be exhausting with alexa too, I know that for a fact. I’m getting better at my job but I still need a supervising receptionist, so either way I’d have to deal with one of the two. I’m just glad it’s only 3 days a week, but even my 4 day weekends are flying by. the days are all blending together and I’m having a hard time getting my brain to work. none of this is easy. but it definitely doesn’t help to have to work with someone who’s so rigid about everything they do; like, I spend all fucking day listening to what you have to say and listening to every single song you want to listen to and watching every stupid video you think is funny (though some of them are; other times it’s like.. something reminded her of a veggie tales episode so now we have to watch it), and I can’t even play one song I like because you’ve listened to a split second of it and automatically think you don’t like it? the fuck, dude.

just.. the way she acts like she knows everything about the way people act, and how little tolerance she has for bullshit. I appreciate that second bit, but there’s other times when she really just has no sympathy and I feel like everything would be easier if she did. yesterday our one doctor was lagging really far behind and she was getting so annoyed because he had all this time for his appointments and people were having to wait and he never caught up all day; one of the clients ended up being one who was VERY particular about estimates and payments and shit and apparently he’d fucked something up after she had told him and the tech well ahead of time to be very careful with her. and she’d about had enough of him after that. by the end of the day he looked like he was either about to cry or had been crying. and he apologized to her for fucking up; I forget exactly what he said and she accepted his apology, but it almost seemed superficial. she had had it. the second she was done with her shit for the night she left. I stayed a few extra minutes to do something, but... like, even I could tell there was more to the story there. you don’t just lag all day for no reason, and especially not when you have to start the day on a euthanasia that wasn’t expected. I get that when you’ve worked with people for so many years you end up with a low tolerance for bullshit, but come on. I’ve been dealing with shitty people my whole life but I at least understand what it’s like to have a bad day. this particular doctor, a lottttt of the staff has a problem with, for many reasons. he’s only ever been nice to me, and I don’t know a lot of what goes on that annoys reception and the techs so much (often it’s some of his medical decisions, which... I wouldn’t know anything about that. how am I supposed to know what his rationale was for prescribing meloxidyl for a rhodesian ridgeback? the owner asked me for a refill and I requested it). so I guess some people’s patience runs low with him. but even so, I don’t think I could ever lack empathy that much. no matter how long I do this shit. I was tempted to ask him if he was okay, but I figured he had a lot on his plate to get to. he was there til like 10 last night, and his worklist was really long today too. I could tell he’s been on edge since last week. it’s not my business to know why, and I don’t have to. just be fucking nice to people, lmao

for someone who’s so picky about her music taste, she’s got no fucking right to talk about my eating. she won’t even venture outside the things she likes. she decides once that she doesn’t like something and that’s the end of it. so why is it suddenly a problem when I don’t want to try a variety of foods?

I’m just. really frustrated. I don’t want to have to vent about my coworkers but I’m not going to get through this easily. we don’t even know how long we’re going to have to do this. I found out today alexa’s husband is now in the hospital; they’re treating it like COVID and/or really bad pneumonia, but what the fuck does that mean for her team? for mine? did she bring germs to the clinic? is she going to have to quarantine along with her team? is my team going to have to run shit? I have no idea, and I only found out about this through facebook. I haven’t heard anything else from anyone. we do sanitize between teams so there’s a low risk of cross-contamination, but... we don’t get everything. there’s no way to.

I need to go to bed soon. I’m so glad tomorrow’s my friday. I’m ready for this week to be over.

#ugh.

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wanderingclark · 5 years ago

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Bank of Sugar || Clark and Sugar

Who: Clark Meeks and Sugar Motta ( @usecodesugar ) When: Wednesday, January 22, 2020 Where: Sugars house What: Clark ask Sugar for a loan. Doesn’t turn out quite as planned.

Clark

Clark was nervous. She had bought a nice shirt and pair of pants for this evening, showered at the school, did their hair nicely and made sure they looked good. They wanted to be as professional as possible for this. Yeah, Sugar was their friend, but they were about to ask for a massive amount of money. The home they found was perfect for what they wanted and it was used so it was already built. They just had to pay for the house and the shipping to get it to Doveport and the first and last months rent for the plot of land they had found to rent to put it on. Everything was in place, they just needed the money. And no bank would ever give them the amount of money they were gonna need. So Sugar was their one and only shot at this. Pulling up to the gate and entering in the code Sugar gave them, they parked and grabbed all the paperwork they needed for this meeting. Taking a deep breath and brushing off the imaginary dust off their shirt, the walked up and rang the doorbell before pushing their glasses up their face as they waited for Sugar to answer

Sugar

Sugar performed her usual routine of checking that everything was clean, she had put Simon in one of his nicer bow ties, just for kicks, and changed into jeans and a Gucci tshirt. She had gotten her checkbook from her business manager earlier, knowing Clark would want to collect on the bet they had made, she'd honestly been so impressed that they had lasted. She never would have been able to do it. At the bell, Simon ran to the door and Sugar followed, opening it with a smile. "Hey come on in!" She made room for Clark to come inside. "Is this couch talk or do we need like a table?"

Clark

Clark smiled and followed her in. Tapping their notebook against their hand, they licked their lips. "Uh. Probably a table" they said nervously. God they needed to stop being so nervous. They needed to get their shit together. They followed Sugar to the formal dining table and sat next to the girl at the table before opening their notebook and pulling out a bunch of papers with a bunch of numbers and she could already see them scrambling in the page. Shaking their head, they cleared their throat before closing their eyes for a moment and then opening them back up to look at Sugar. "I found a house." they said bluntly before continuing. "It's a tiny home actually. On wheels. It's preowned so it's already built with all the bells and whistles and has like top of the line everything but the previous owners couldn't finish their payments so they got foreclosed on or something. I don't know but they're now selling it for cheap. I mean, for cheap for a tiny home" they rambled before shaking their head and looking back down to the papers before grabbing a few. "This is the house and all the specs. There's plumbing, electric, a kitchen, a bathroom with a full shower, a living room, an office and a loft bedroom. And it's on wheels so all I'd have to do is hook it up if I ever wanted to go somewhere else" they said, their heart racing inside of their chest as they watched Sugar look over the paper work.

Sugar

There was something off about Clark tonight, Sugar could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of them. Sitting at the table, she realized this was actually really serious, and she wanted to be there for her friend, so she vowed to give her complete attention. Even Simon could sense something was up and sat next to Sugar's chair, straight and tall, like the dignified businessman he was. Before Sugar could open her mouth to congratulated Clark on finding a place, they went on. She remembered when she'd finally decided to get this house and she'd been so happy that day, her very first home. Clark handed her some paperwork, and she did her best to look interested, but she honestly couldn't make heads or tails of it. It looked nice, smaller than the play house she'd had as a kid, but clean. She nodded her head, looking up at Clark with a smile. "It looks very nice!”

Clark

Clark licked their lips when Sugar spoke and nodded. "It is really nice. And I've contacted the seller and I threw a number at them and they accepted it and gave me a week to get the loan approved on my end" the said before taking a deep breath. "The thing is, I'm 23, a student with no actual physical address with a part time minimum wage job. No bank in their right mind would loan me the kind of money I'm asking for. So I wanted to ask you" they said straight out, letting out a slow breath of air before looking down at their paperwork, shuffling it around to try and find the sheet that had all the numbers they needed on it.

Sugar

Nodding, Sugar looked down again. She had a vague understanding of mortgages and stuff, but honestly, she hadn't needed one to buy her house, so she didn't know what Clark was getting at, did they want Sugar's advice on homeownership? Then she heard it, this was about money. Definitely a sticky topic between the two of them, but Sugar had money, everyone knew she had money, it wasn't a secret. In fact, the Mottas had more than they could spend in several lifetimes even before counting Sugar's success on Instagram, she never understood the concept of being greedy with her money. Her father had taught her to invest wisely... was Clark a wise investment? She looked at them, at how anxious they were, and she nodded. "How much?"

Clark

Clark finally found the piece of paper they were looking for before looking up at the question. "This number includes the house, the shipping of the house to Doveport and the first and last months rent on the plot of land I found that I can rent for the next year. I did all the math and if I pick up some extra hours at the shop and maybe a second job, I can make monthly payments of $287 a month for the next 12 years to pay off this loan with an interest rate of .125% add on top of it" they said, hoping the numbers they were saying were the correct numbers as their hands worried the paper they were holding inside of them.

Sugar

Sugar shook her head. "I can't made heads or tails of this, Clark, just give me a number." She said, standing. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed her checkbook and pen and walked back into the dining room. She opened the book and poised her pen, looking to Clark for an answer.

Clark

Clark watched Sugar walk out of the room, brows furrowed. Didn't Sugar understand money and how everything worked? They shook their head when the girl walked back into the room. "Um. $35,000" they said before looking down at their paper again. "They're accepting $29,500 for the house and then it's $3,000 to ship it here and then it's $2,500 for first and last months rent for the land. It'll be $1,250 a month for rent which is gonna be rough but I think I'm gonna put my $10,000 prize money into the rent for the year so I don't have to worry about it" they explained.

Sugar

"Okayyyy..." She said, scribbling down the information on the check. She made it out to CASH, unsure of what name was on Clark's ID, the amount, in the notes she wrote "gift" and finally, with a flourish, her signature. She ripped the check from the book and slid it over to Clark, making no mention of the fact that it was made out for $50,000 instead of 35. "That includes your bet win." She said casually

Clark

Clark watched Sugar write out the check and hand it over, looking at the girl before looking down at the check. They furrowed their eyebrows, trying to do math in their heads before pulling out their phone and adding everything up before looking back up. "This is too much?" they said before scribbling some numbers down on a sheet of paper and crossing them out before scribbling more numbers down and trying to do math on their phone, clenching their teeth as they tried to get all the numbers to stop swirling around on the page in front of them.

Sugar

Sugar shrugged. "I like round numbers!" She smiled. "Just, put the extra 5 grand toward your rent too, or toward new bedding or something!" Simon gave his bark of approval. "Do you want something to drink or something? Or like a snack? I'm kind of starving."

Clark

Clark shook their head. "The extra 5 grand puts it up to a 15 year loan though. Are you okay with that?" the asked, shaking their head again. "And how am I supposed to put this in the bank if it's made out to cash. That's not my name" they continued, still confused.

Sugar

Furrowing her brow, Sugar leaned against the table. "Loan?" She shook her head, what was Clark babbling about, did they not want the money? "You just take it to my bank and cash it, and then you put the money in your bank... I wasn't sure what name was on your ID, so I figured cash was just easier. And then you can keep some extra cash if you want...." Had she done something wrong?

Clark

Clark was so confused. "Yeah. Loan. You loan me the money I pay you back. That's what I was talking about. I can get a second job and it would be.." they said shuffling through the pages in front of them. "$287 a month. I would pay you that over the next 12 years to pay you back $40,000 because I was adding a 12.5% interest to it" they explained.

Sugar

"You don't need to pay me back, Clark." Sugar shook her head, she knew it was a large amount of money, she wasn't stupid, but it was genuinely less than she usually spent on clothes in a week. She could afford to help Clark out, and she wanted Clark to know that everything was fine between them after their disagreement, she didn't want Clark to think she was going to start being weird about money.

Clark

Clark's jaw literally dropped. They were frozen in shock for a few seconds before shaking their head. "No dude. You can't just give me $40,000" they said before setting the check down in front of them. "This is a huge deal to me. Getting a house and staying in one place for at least a year if not longer. I never thought I'd leave Eileen until I got a new car. So this is huge for me. And I wanna do it right. I don't want you to think I'm just using you for money because that's not...that's not the case at all. I'm asking you because a bank would say no, but I need the money to pull this off and a loan is the only way for me to do that" they rambled, their thoughts not even coming out in full sentences yet. "We literally just had an argument about this like...less than a week ago. I don't want you to sit here and think you're money is all i see you as because it's not. I just...you were my only option at securing a loan. You giving me money is not a loan. And I don't want you to think that I'm only sticking around because you're giving me money." Their brain was not comprehending the fact that Sugar wanted to give her such a large amount of money. This was more money than they'd ever seen in their entire life time. They had no idea how to comprehend what was going on.

Sugar

Sugar reached out and put her hand over Clark's. "Clark, you're my friend. You need money for a house and I have it. I don't..." She paused. "Look, I feel really bad for getting so worked up about all that, I was just feeling really weird and I was on edge and you just... pushed a button, but I know you don't really care about my money, I mean, if you did you'd have taken advantage of all this by now. Unless you're running like the longest con ever. So, please, let me do this." She chewed her lip. "Will it help if the gift comes with conditions? So it feels more... contractural?"

Clark

Clark could feel tears welling up in their eyes but they didn't know why. They could see how genuine Sugar was when she spoke and they shook their head. "Why can't I just pay you back?" they asked, not knowing how else to thank the girl for the check in between them.

Sugar

"Because you're already going to school and working at the shop, and my friendship is very high maintenance, I can't have some stupid second job cutting into my ice cream time!" She said, as if it were completely obvious. "This money is supposed to make your life easier not harder, so no second job. What you can do is buy me dinner once a month. I want an actual meal too, not drive thru. I mean... you can buy me drive thru too, but it won't count... and you can't ask me for money again for.... um... a year?" She was trying to think of conditions that would make Clark more comfortable. "And you can't tell anyone you got the money from me. I mean, I'll probably tell Finn, but besides him."

Clark

Clark listened to the girls conditions, biting the inside of their lip as they did so. If Sugar wasn't gonna take their money, they'd have to get creative so they put that thought in the back of their mind before nodding. "Okay. Okay fine but can we put it in writing? And honestly, I don't think I'll ever ask you for money again because this is way too much for a lifetime" they said as they looked down at the check again.

Sugar

Sugar nodded. "Of course, I'll have my lawyer draw something up." She leaned back, her eyes scanning Clark, trying to figure them out. "Do you want this house? Is it a place you can be proud of and feel safe and at home?"

Clark

Clark nodded before locking eyes with the girl and nodding again. "I've done my research. And I'm sick of the parking tickets I have to contest. It's too much time and money. And I plan on sticking around for at least a year. I want a little bit of space and I think this is the best option for me. I've done my research, I've looked at a lot of different places and I think this is really gonna probably be my forever home" they said honestly.

Sugar

"Then it's worth it." Sugar said, nodding toward the check. As far as she was concerned the case was closed. "So, like... was that a no on the snack, or...?" Making dreams come true seemed to really work up an appetite, and she had already been hungry before Clark had come over, almost as if she associated Clark with food.

Clark

Clark ran a hand through their hair as they nodded. Picking up the check, the pulled out their wallet and put the check inside just to keep it safe before turning back to Sugar. "I'm down. How about those pizza puffs?" they asked with a smile. Standing up with Sugar, they reached out and grabbed her arm before wrapping their own arms around the girl in a hug. "Seriously. Thank you" they whispered.

Sugar

Sugar laughed. "I'm sure I have some somewhere." She stood, ready to lead the way into the kitchen. Suddenly, she was being wrapped in a hug, and she smiled, returning the hug and relaxing into it. It felt nice to just be normal with Clark again, like their fight was finally actually behind them. "You're welcome." She whispered back, happy to have been able to help.

Clark

Clark let the hug go one for a moment longer before pulling back some. "Okay. Enough with numbers and sappy shit. Food" they said with a grin as they pointed towards the kitchen, happy to follow the girl into it.

#sugar #bank of sugar #adventures with clark #adventures

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

Text

March 28th-April 3rd, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from March 28th, 2020 to April 3rd, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

How many hours do you work on your comic per week, and how do you manager to balance that with other responsibilities?

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

heheh So we are.. cheating a bit Both me and my coworker are unemployed, and is working on hour comic, like was it a full time job. It is our passion project, and dream that we can work and live of makeing comics. In Denmark you can apply for grants from the government, but you need to have releashed a book before that is possible. We are useing the comic, to show potentional clients in the future what we can do. For now we are working on it from 09:00-17:00 ish (with a long lunch break) while applying for other kinds of grants, and also does all the things we are supposed to to get our unemplyment money, and searching for jobs, and freelance gigs, gathering the courage to start our own small company (not right now though) and yeaah time will tell

carcarchu

@Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS that doesn't sound like cheating to me? more like using the tools at your disposal to turn your passion into a viable career

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

hehe it feels a little like cheating! there are some debates about if it is okay or not, but we think that strengthening our skills is a good use of our time

eli [a winged tale]

Haha also not cheating! It’s great you’re using the time to chase the dream I’m curious what’s your breakdown for those time working on the comic? As for me, usually 1-2 hours a day with a bit more on the weekend if time permits. These days with the quarantine it’s about 2-3 h a day

DanitheCarutor

Since I'm unemployed until who knows when I've been working on my comic between 40-50 hours a week about 6 to 7 days a week... most weeks. Some days, like update day or chore day, I hardly work on the comic or don't work on it at all. Admittedly I'm not the best at balancing drawing with other responsibilities, sometimes I get so into it that I forget about daily house chores, other weeks I do the opposite and only do house chores which makes me totally behind of comic stuff. I can't seem to find a good middle ground, it always turns into completely focusing on one or the other.

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah when I get in the zone, time flies and life gets put to the wayside

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

So I have no school or work, so the webcomic has become almost a fulltime project for me

I average about 10 hours per day working on it, not counting on chores and exercise

Another thing I worry about is the possibility of carpal tunnel syndrome, which is why I've been relentless with exercise, too

I guess it's just a combination of relentless reminders and also sheer willpower that gets me to do other responsibilities haha

@eli [a winged tale] also I know that feeling

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

So since my school had to cancel, I have to be more responsible for my online course. Sometimes I give myself 2 days off each week to work more into my upcoming webcomic but I have to switch my mind for school work, online classes. Also extra time for food. I need to get back into exercise or I feel exhausted more easily. I keep a wall schedule so that I make it a routine to write what I'll do every 3 or 5 days, to keep my active brain reminded(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I spent the majority of last year (fun)employed (partially by choice, partially not! my previous job let me go rather unceremoniously... and I needed a hiatus anyway... so it worked out) so I poured a lot more hours into that chapter of Phantomarine than I usually did. I worked on it almost every day - at least for a couple of hours, but sometimes up to a full eight-hour day. That number has dipped tremendously since I’ve gone back to work, but I’m spreading the same amount of time out in a broader way. I’m trying to get a good buffer during my hiatus, so I can work and draw in a healthy balance. I don’t have crazy overtime at my current job like I did at my last one, so that’s already a comfort. I’m confident I’ll be able to hit a good stride once the comic returns in June (edited)

eli [a winged tale]

Can’t wait Lady!!

Feather J. Fern

Two part time jobs, and school killed my comic, but I been working on getting one panel done a day, which is around 30minutes to an hour if possible.

eli [a winged tale]

My routine used to be rendering on the commute but now just once in am and once pm until this limbo time is clarified

That’s awesome Feather! It’s so rewarding when everything comes together after putting effort everyday

Feather J. Fern

Once school is done in two more weeks I will be more free to do things so I hope to get maybe two panels done in a day XD

Online school, stupid quarantine

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Due to the pandemic im mostly off school and my part time job so i spend like 4-5 hours on my comic per day. Still would like try to get a page done per day but lmao digital painting is slowwww

eli [a winged tale]

What’s everyone’s tips for breaks/stretches/balance? I feel like I certainly need to revisit these to avoid burnout and continue feeling motivated!

Feather J. Fern

Actually there was a cool manga artist who's tip was literally he only worked working hours. His mornings are free and since manga was his job, he worked form 12-6, giving him 2 hours to do other work he needs to get done, and takes morning walks and stuff.

Another person I know had "No working weekends" as a thing becuase they are a freelancer.

I personally have try to make sure I ahve a routine, and actually, stretch before drawing.

Streetch before, during a break, and then after, to keep that body nice and warmed up

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Health-wise there's this hing for your : every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds. I'm not good at following this, but when I do it, it helps a lot.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Despite the current pandemic, my work-life hasn't changed much (unless you count stress getting in the way). I am currently "unemployed," but I do consider comicking my full-time job. I am also not very good at balancing work and life. Something's always gotta give. Last year, I worked at a job that basically ruined my ability to work on my comic. I worked 30-40 hours typically, ruined my sleep schedule, took work home sometimes, and was constantly exhausted. This is what resulted in my year and a half long hiatus, and it's what drove me to work like hell on my comic when I quit. Now (when I'm in the groove and not suffering from art block), I typically spend 60-70 hours on my comic and get 2-3 pages done: - 30 hours sketching (I know, ridiculous) - 5 hours filling in base colors - 20-25 hours painting - 5 hours adding text, speech bubbles, sfx, and finishing touches - 1-2 hours formatting for Webtoon I also spend some time throughout the week typing up the script, doing concept art for things coming in the future of the comic, and preparing for conventions, but I can't tell you exactly how much time.

eli [a winged tale]

Thanks for the breakdown! I’m always keen to learn from everyone and seeing how the workflow is like for different people

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

oh don't forget to do wrist stretches!

eli [a winged tale]

Ahh formatting time is always so tedious for me!

Yes wrist exercises! Any recommendations?

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

hmmm well the easiest one is literally just shaking it out

like every hour

and I also like to hold my arm out parallel, point my fingers up and using my other hand to pull the fingers back so i'm stretching the wrist

then I point the fingers down and pull on the fingers until my wrist is stretching

eli [a winged tale]

Awesome. Will be adopting those!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I'm pretty fast. 2-6 hours per page, depending on how detailed it is. Average of 3-4. I could probably do 2 pages/ week easily enough, but don't want to do more than that. I'm the kind of person who always needs to be doing a million different things. I need to leave time for my other hobbies and my paintings and my academics and extracurriculars. Otherwise I'd get burnt out doing one thing only

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

@eli [a winged tale] So since it is both me and @Q (Wayfinders: Off Course) working, we start with working on a rough each, our goal is one step (so rough, ink, color) for two pages pr day, pr person. So in a weak the goal is four finished pages a week, and then we upload 3 pages per week. So it is divided that in the morning we start at 09:00 in the morning, maybe checking mail, being practical or whatever. Then we work until 12:00 were we eat lunch, go for a long nice walk and then we go back to work between 13:00 and 14:00 ish and then work until 17:00 when we begin to prepare dinner. Then of course breaks inbetween

Q (Wayfinders: Off Course)

It’s pretty wild to be able to dedicate your entire day to comics like that

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

damn you all work fast

do you guys have any tips on how to work on a webcomic faster?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Lol, I wish!

Still looking for those magical secrets

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

@shadowhood (SunnyxRain) You know the 80-20 rule? You can get 80% of the result with 20% of the effort? My comic is very messy if you zoom in. I don't spend time making sure the linework or the coloring is perfectly clean. Also, I'm pretty fast at drawing figures. I used to practice figure drawing a lot by rushing to draw strangers irl before they moved, or by drawing a bunch of fast figures from the free figure drawing model websites online. I've also taken a figure drawing course (didn't even have to pay because it was part of my university! Even if you don't have that option you can probably find free life drawing sessions on Meetup or similar!) which really helped me streamline my process for drawing people

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh I see! Yes, I used to take life drawing classes too! And your response makes me feel a lot better

I tend to be a bit messy with inking, and since i'm a perfectionist a lot of my time is wasted on editing/clean up

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I've seen cronaj draw, and while I think the results look excellent, I think her method is a kind of inefficient. She draws like a printer, nearly finishing one detailed body part before moving on the the next. I think maybe if she drew in a more classical way, going from a gesture drawing to progressively more detailed, it might help her be faster and her poses more cohesive and dynamic. Maybe working on 1 or 5 min figures would help? Practicing things like this?

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah I try to do figure practices for efficiency

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I heard that there are some online life drawing vids you can follow too

but what are your experiences with online life drawing vids versus the real thing

like is there a real difference?

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

found some of my old 1 minutes

To me there's not too much difference

I've heard some people say that life drawing is either way easier or way harder though. Because of your depth perception when looking at a real person

But the bruises on my legs can attest to my horrid depth perception haha. That might be why I don't notice a difference

Actually those previous sketches might be 30 seconds? I don't remember

I would recommend you try both but right now we pretty much only have the online option haha

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah I’ve done both and I think irl creates complexity with depth and the interactions with others etc is helpful but online is my go to for flexibility

I think having a process streamlined will make things more efficient. The downside is that it might feel tedious and I do switch it up from time to time for variety

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Might feel uncomfortable but that's how you know you're improving

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There is a TON of difference for me. I HAVE to look at a physical model in front of me.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Can't get better if you always do the same things

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

This is what my brain does.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I wonder- could drawing yourself in a mirror be a decent substitute?

If youre lucky you might also be able to ask an SO or roommate to model for you. Should probably pay them back by cooking for them or something though

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Brain: sees a real model in front of me Brain: translates 3D to 2D, result: drawing Brain: sees a photo/video of a model Brain: SHIT. That's supposed to be 3D, isn't it? Brain: Translates 2D to 3D (basically re-constructing it in my head, or attempting to re-construct) so that it can translate it back to 2D Brain: BSOD

There's some online resources out there that have "3D" photos... you know, two near-identical images side by side, so if you look at it cross-eyed, it becomes 3D?

But I can't do those because I get a headache X'D

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Just thinking about drawing from that makes me dizzy

eli [a winged tale]

Oh interesting!

Yeah maybe looking out the window to draw people would be the way to go...

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

But maybe figure drawing in VR exists?

eli [a winged tale]

Balcony figure drawings

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I live on the top floor so those are going to be some very small figures

eli [a winged tale]

For ants

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Once this coronavirus thing is over, there's lots of ways you can do gesture drawings from just random people -- bus stops, cafes, museums (I have not done this, but people who have done this report this is really good because others assume you're drawing the artworks. XD)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I've done this a lot

Sometimes I've even shown people drawing of themselves if they've turned out particularly nice

They've always taken it well

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I like drawing my professors because they use hand gestures a lot when they talk

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Airport was REALLY good for finding people stuck in one pose indefinitely

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

they alwayas laugh when I show them

eli [a winged tale]

Shadow omg I do that too

Draws classmates

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

yeah the only issue i have with drawing classmates

is that they're always doing the "i'm using my phone" pose

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Become the master of drawing people on their phones

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Maybe try drawing children on the playground?

This works better if you're a woman

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

oh thank jesus

I also like going to the zoo or the museum

or the aquarium if i'm feeling adventurous

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I am a University student so I also have some pretty interestng drawings of people asleep in weird poses

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I really need to start going to weekly figure drawing sessions once this is over (there's one here... 20 min drive... 8AM Saturdays )

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

ditto or just go to the park and draw

and @Eightfish (Puppeteer) I've had some.....weird poses from all my profs

one guy was incredibly hard to draw; he was VERY enthusiastic about showing us knife skills

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

The parks here are too spacious, to a degree where it's weird to get close enough to people

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Bring binoculars

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Don't worry ma'am I'm an artist

nothing sketchy

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

(except my sketch)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

A+ pun right there

another place to go for figure drawing

theaters

like.....opera/plays

I once tried drawing the men dancing in the Newsies musical

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Tried that once, but it took me out of the performance

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

same i was dazzled by dancing men

aaaaand then i abandoned sketching at all when they started throwing newspaper strips into the audience

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

But they were giving you free paper!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

THEY WERE

i'll take what i can get

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@Eightfish (Puppeteer) While I agree that my method of drawing is "inefficient," I do not draw like a printer. There are videos of people drawing like a printer and it's not what I'm doing. I have done gesture drawing before, but it always looked incredibly abstract, and not quite like people, which is fine, but not what I'm going for. I treat gesture drawing like a warm-up exercise. It doesn't really do anything for my end result, but gets my drawing muscles stretched out.(edited)

eli [a winged tale]

Gesture drawings are definitely a good warmup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Perhaps it was an inappropriate analogy. What works for me I guess wouldn't work for everyone. I was trying to offer advice because whenever you talk about how much time you spend on art and you work life balance it's commendable but also dismaying. I hope you find something that works for you in the future

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Oh god.. I sometimes work 6 hours a day. I guess thats like 30 hours a week? Crazy to think about, it's like a full job

Oooh you guys are sharing figure drawings... I swant to show some of mine

Behold

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My figure drawing usually breaks down into like, medical anatomy study. I feel like I understand body shapes better by including the muscles & bones

carcarchu

ABS the most important figure study

Deo101 [Millennium]

ah figure drawing? I love figure drawing ^^

I do like a lot but this kinda thing is most of it

anyways as for the question at hand, I do a lot of different things for my comics weekly. My millennium pages take me 2-6 hours i would say, but I also have patreon things I need to do so I'd say i spend 10-15 hours on it a week. for my other comic, I spend about 6 hours an update, and it updates every other week. but honestly, all of my free time goes to assorted comics. If i'm not working on school work or chatting with people, I'm working on things for patreon, potential merch, or other comics I want to start sometime.

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Oooh nice poses!!’

Deo101 [Millennium]

thanks!! I have a ton of gesture/figure drawings but these ones are my most recent that I have saved to my computer i think

10 minutes im pretty sure. very good for speeding up

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Those look really nice, good values

Deo101 [Millennium]

thanks ^^ I really hate working in charcoal honestly, it kinda always winds up hurting my body somehow, but its very quick sooooooo

kayotics

My answer for the prompt question has changed a lot since I started quarantine lmao... I used to do about 10 hours of work throughout the week on my comic page (usually after work, I have an office job) but ironically it’s gotten harder while I work from home. I’ve been struggling to find time since I don’t have a separation between work and home now, and putting the boundaries up of “I’m not always available” to coworkers is difficult.

Also on figure studies: they’re a great way to practice speed. I use the concepts of figure drawings all the time.

RebelVampire

@kayotics As someone who always works from home doing remote contract work, I have to say I think this is something a lot of people underestimate about work at home life. In that it's sometimes really difficult to establish boundaries with ppl and make them understand you aren't always available and also aren't gonna work billions of hours of overtime. So I'm sorry to hear that's affecting your comic work.

Shadowmark Productions

I work anywhere from 6-8 hours a day on comic stuff. That’s an average though. Sometimes I slack and need to pull all nighters to make up for it. Yes, I am terrible at time management. They say entrepreneurs are the only people willing to work 80 hours a week for themselves so they do not have to work 40 hours a week for someone else. I guess webcomic creators are the only people willing to work 80+ hours a week so that they can... go to work for someone else afterwards

AntiBunny

4 days of procrastinating, 1 of procrastinating and hating myself, and 2 of actual comic drawing seems to make up my weekly comic making schedule. :p

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I can only imagine how stressed I would be if I forced myself to update weekly

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

This is a hard question to answer because it varies a lot depending on my energy levels. Ideally I’d spend several hours a day on comics, but realistically I draw as much as possible when I have the energy (5+ hours a day for as many days in a row as I can handle it) and then go weeks or months too tired to do comics. On average, barring any long periods of exhaustion or other interruptions from RL, I spend about 20+ hours a week making pages for my comics.

sagaholmgaard

I prefer to work on my comic for about an hour ever morning and maybe 2-3 hours in the evening, that's the ideal routine for me. Right now I sadly have a lot of schoolwork to do (writing my thesis) so i might get less than 30 minutes in the morning and then feel rlly tired in the evening so I dont get as much time then either. but oh well!

I can still work for 4-5 hours on the weekends so I manage ^^(edited)

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

The whole stay-indoors order's currently completely wrecked my pattern, but before that I did between 3-4 hours a day.

Shadowmark Productions

Can’t imagine the stress of a daily or even weekly posting schedule. Hats off.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator babble #creator interview #comic creator interview #comic tea party #ctp

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whiskynottea · 6 years ago

Text

An interruption in the 1st law of thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35

@theministerskat, thank you for being my awesome beta for this story!!

Chapter 36. Almond and Cherries

Spring break.

My last spring break as a teenager. The one in which my suspicion that adults can be just as ridiculous as teenagers was confirmed. And that they’re especially ridiculous when they think themselves funny.

Another silly bit of knowledge I also learned overt spring break was that adults - particularly my uncle - find young love adorable. And because of that, they think it’s quite funny to tease young lovers about it.

“Claire,” Lamb said from his spot in front of the bookshelf. He had been standing there for more than ten minutes, inspecting the books with a frown on his face, his index finger drumming against his chin. “Can you please get me the volumes on the Jacobite rebellion from my desk? Those ones, with the red leather cover,” he pointed towards his desk and my gaze followed his finger across the room, landing on the large hardcover tomes on his desk, their covers a deep burgundy, carved with black letters.

“That’s burgundy, not red,” I playfully snipped, then I rose from the couch, sighing. I walked to his desk, slipping my phone into my pocket just a second before I picked the books up in my hands.

“Well, look at that now,” Lamb said with a cocked eyebrow and a crooked smile. “I would swear that phone was glued to your hand!”

I shot him a glare before rolling my eyes. “Ha, ha, ha. What a funny uncle I have.”

Lamb chuckled at his own joke and extended a hand to take a volume from me. “Yer a lucky lass,” he said, his Scottish accent even worse than mine.

Remarks like that had become a staple in our interactions during spring break because, apparently, I was always texting, half my mind focused on Jamie. The fact that I took a new selfie every two minutes didn’t help with Lamb’s teasing much, but there was nothing I could do about it. Lamb just went on with his hilarious remarks and I thought my eyes would get stuck looking skywards from being rolled all the time.

My phone buzzed with hundreds of messages every day – and every night: the night texts being the reason I never let it out of my sight. Lamb’s teasing of me was bearable, but I couldn’t risk him accidentally reading Jamie’s texts about what he planned to do to me once he was back from Lallybroch. I, however, found myself scrolling up every night before sleeping, reading and rereading his texts, feeling an ache in my chest and a tightening low in my belly. It was like getting drunk on him. I usually fell asleep with a silly smile on my face and one of Jamie’s pictures on my phone’s screen.

Jamie’s pictures. In just a few days my phone was full of them, to an extent that proved detrimental to my phone’s free storage space.

Jamie in bed, with tousled hair and a sleepy smile.

Scot: Moooorning, Sassenach.

And then, after a long silence on my part because I was obviously still sleeping,

Scot: Wake up, babe! Don’t leave me alone!

The porridge Jamie had for breakfast – extremely similar to the one he had had the day before, but still worth sharing.

Scot: Breakfast! Have to eat fast, da waiting to leave for the distillery.

Jamie at the distillery, making a goofy face in front of the copper stills.

Scot: Hard working man, here. You like?

His distillery picture - every time at a different place of the distillery - came through at approximately the time I woke up.

Sassenach: Mmmm. Morning!

Another picture showing half the ceiling and half Jamie’s face, taken from a weird angle.

Sassenach: What’s this?

Scot: Da watching. Was the best I could do.

Jamie’s time at the distillery was the only part of the day when we didn’t text. Brian was serious about his son’s training concerning the family whisky, and Jamie soon realized that since he was going to be there, he better make it count. It would be a few hours later when another picture would arrive.

Jamie back home, grinning broadly to the camera next to Bran, his deerhound, patiently awaiting his favorite human to stop with the nonsense and play with him.

Scot: Back home!

Sassenach: Play-time?

Scot: Going to run up the hill, Sassenach. Train to keep up with the lack of swimming ☹️

Jamie with Bran again, the human feigning sleep, while the dog slept on his lap.

Scot: DEAD

Sassenach: Oh what a pity! You’re not coming back, then?

Scot: YOU WISH

Sassenach: In fact I’m not.

Scot: Can’t wait to kiss you again. To lick you, to touch you.

Sassenach: OMG CAN YOU STOP IT?

Scot: I’ve big plans for you when I get back. 😏

Sassenach: Have you now?

Scot: Wait and you’ll see. What are you doing?

Sassenach: Studying! Won’t YOU study??

Scot: Ffs

Jamie in his room, my notes and the book in front of him.

Scot: Not the same without you.

Sassenach: I know…

We’d study together then, usually until our eyes hurt and our yawns took the better of us. The last picture he always sent me was of him looking just as sleepy as the first picture of the day.

Jamie’s face covering the whole screen, sending me a goodnight kiss.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. He was everywhere, and yet I missed him insufferably much.

Apart from texting with Jamie - that took more time than one could imagine - my spring break was quiet, and I finally found time to catch up with Joe. It was unbelievable how the two of us were perfectly synchronized in finding love. And we both fell face first into that buzzing feeling that took hold of all our senses.

Two days before going back to school, Joe and I finally arranged to meet. We had so much to tell and texts seemed insufficient. I sent my morning selfie to Jamie, teasing him about staying at home to study while I went out. A series of angry emojis arrived seconds after my message was seen. After a bunch of hearts of all colours from me, he suggested we go to his favorite bakehouse, and I texted Joe with the address.

Sassenach: Are you sure you don’t want to be the one who’ll take me there for the first time?

Scot: Nah, Sassenach. It’s okay. If you like it we can go as many times as we want.

Scot: Try the cherry and almond tart!

I was getting dressed and didn’t reply. When I checked my phone again, I had two new messages.

Scot: Try the tart. Seriously.

Scot: It’s the beeeest. My fav.

Smiling, I texted back.

Sassenach: Okay! I’ll order your tart!

One hour later, I was sitting at a small cute table in the corner of the shop, a big piece of the cherry and almond tart in front of me, next to my cup of chai. I had three major subjects to discuss with Joe, and we jumped from one to the other several times every minute.

Jamie. Gail. Our exams.

I knew he was madly in love with Gail – actually the whole school knew, one glance at the two of them and everyone could see it – and my heart swelled when I heard him talking about her, his voice low and mellow, her name bringing a soft curve to his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. He got dreamy when he told me how they were spending their days, how they loved the same things, how her left cheek had this infinitesimally small dimple when she laughed. We talked about her family and her ideas, the way she saw the world – which had clearly affected Joe. Long gone was his cynical side, his absolute beliefs. He was softer somehow, his edges smoother.

“I certainly need to get to know her better! She sounds so awesome, Joe!”

“She is,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“We’re lucky, aren’t we?” I asked, beaming. “Who would imagine that Scotland would be this good. I got to meet the most amazing people - you included,” I smirked, and Joe smiled back.

“I know, LJ. Pretty awesome, ain’t it?” He then took on one of his teasing looks, and I knew I was in trouble. “Amazing people… Who would have guessed,” he said and I raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, I have a text here… somewhere...” he unlocked his phone, pretending to search for the text. “Saying ‘Jamie Fraser can go fuck himself’ or something along these lines?”

I scoffed and narrowed my eyes at him.

“And here we are now,” he continued, “With you unable to stop babbling about your dashing Highlander.”

“Well,” I shrugged. “He turned out to be a bit better than I thought.”

“A bit,” Joe smirked. “So did he fuck himself? Or did you help him with it?”

I burst out in laughter, feeling my cheeks burn crimson.

“Oh I see,” Joe said, winking at me.

The bastard.

After the enormous amount of time it took me to catch my breath, I decided the best I could do was to change the subject. “So,” I said. “Universities. Where will you apply? Do you still plan on going back to the US?”

“Hell yes! Scotland is great, lass,” he said winking at me – again –, “But we’re definitely going to the US, bae!”

“Where?” I asked smiling at the thought of studying in the US.

“New. York. City.” Joe said with a smug grin. “At least we hope so,” he added, sobering up a bit.

“That’s so cool! School of Medicine and…?” I trailed off, not knowing Gail’s goals.

“Silver School of Social Work, for Gail. She’ll be great, she’s made for it.” Joe took a big bite of his chocolate brownie. “And you?”

“Oxford University, both of us.” I said, proud of our choice. “I’ll miss you so much,” I added with a pout. “But it’s going to be so good, Joe!” Joe’s smile became broader, just a second before I heard an all too familiar voice, low and deep, coming from behind my ear.

“Oh yes. It’s going to be amazing, Joe.” I could hear the grin in his voice, but I couldn’t turn, my eyes wide looking at Joe. “Hello, babe,” Jamie said, and I felt his lips warm on the tender skin of my neck. He lingered a bit, breathing me in, and then moved away, making me long for more.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice high pitched with excitement.

“I told you I missed you,” Jamie answered, plopping himself down on the chair next to me.

I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. “You’re incredible.”

Jamie smiled and kissed me, and I lost myself in the sweet taste of his lips – or was that the dessert on my lips – and the heat that rose in my body - an effect Jamie always had on me when so close.

“Ahem.” Joe pretended to clear his throat before he laughed. We broke the kiss, smiling sheepishly.

“My cherry tart!” Jamie said, licking his lips as he reached for my fork. The last bite was still on my plate.

“So, what do you think you’re doing?” I asked, trying to hide the smile I felt springing up on my face.

“Eating my order?” He smiled smugly and I realized the reason he insisted on me ordering his favorite dessert. “At least ye left me a bite!”

“You fool,” I said, pinching his ribs.

Jamie swallowed and kissed me once more. His hand trailed up my thigh until it found mine on my lap and our fingers intertwined, finally in the right place. He told us that had taken the morning train from Inverness and came back – alone. His coach had called, asking him if he could at least be there for Sunday training and after the exemplary behavior he’d shown during the break, his dad allowed him to go. Ian and Jenny would return the next day. My mind ran so fast, thinking of the possibilities over and over.

Was Murtagh at home?

We left the bakehouse almost half an hour later, parting ways with Joe who was headed to meet Gail at the library.

“Finally,” Jamie breathed in my ear.

I shot him a knowing glance but he spoke before I could say anything.

“Dinna get me wrong, Sassenach, Joe is a verra fine lad and all, but I haven't seen ye in twelve days and tis making me crazy.”

“Crazy?” I asked. “Crazy, how?”

I found myself pushed into a close, my back flush on the rough stone, my lip taken hostage by Jamie's teeth.

“Crazy,” he said and our tongues collided, thirsty for each other. “Like,” He bit me lightly and his hand snuck under my coat, then under my sweater, until it was resting on my bare skin. Goosebumps rose in his fingers’ wake, and I didn’t know if they were from his cold hand or the heat of being touched. “That,” he concluded, one hand cupping my breast and the other my butt. Searching for connection, as much connection as possible. It was a need, a reaction necessary for survival and we couldn't but surrender to it.

“Oh God, Jamie.” His mouth left mine and he licked a trail down my neck, making me shiver.

“I want you,” he sighed. “I need you. I need to get my hands on you, on all of you, and feel your skin burn under my fingers and feel your breath come faster in my mouth. Ye wear,” he said, squeezing my butt, “too many bloody clothes, Sassenach.”

I moaned and laughed, and I opened my eyes, realizing where we were. People were passing by the close. Just a slight turn of their heads and they would see us. Burning.

“Jamie,” I stopped him, regretting it the moment I did it. “People are passing by right next to us.”

He opened his eyes and looked around, as if taking the place in for the first time. He took his hands off me with great difficulty, leaning his forehead against mine. “Ye’ll be the death of me,” he whispered, a small lopsided smile on his face. He breathed twice; full, deep breaths. “Claire,” he said then, his thumb running on my cheek, and he moved a strong arm to envelope me in his warmth. My body responded immediately, my hand coming to rest over his heart, feeling it pounding. “My training is tomorrow and Murtagh is in Glasgow. He will be there for at least four more hours. Come home with me.”

I felt my body melting into his, flesh igniting, our hearts beating to a rhythm that was ours alone. I nodded and kissed his soft smile; a kiss that tasted like almond, cherries, and happiness. Jamie took my hand and led me back to the main street, and I wondered if I could walk all the way to his house, my breath already coming short and shallow. Burning with love.

Chapter 37

#thermodynamics #The first law of thermodynamics #high school AU #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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valsnonsense · 6 years ago

Text

BNHA x Soul Eater Pt. 1 - A Fateful Encounter

Hey I did a thing. Please excuse the crappy coloring. I may make this a series or something. Dialogue under the cut!!!

I think in this universe where meisters, weapons, and people with quirks exsist, people with quirks are called ‘Quirkies”

Lol im funny

Soul sighed.

This always happened when he and Maka took leave. Especially when they took leave to a place they currently had a mission at.

Soul kicked up an empty soda can lying abandoned on the floor as he walked the streets of the amusement park.

He and Maka decided that with their trip to Tokyo, they could spend some time seeing the sights. While they were originally here for a three-day mission, they got done early and decided to take some r&r.

Soul wanted to try the park’s super crazy rollercoasters, while his partner wanted to just go through some of the simpler rides, like those haunted houses or teacups or some shit like that.

So, for the afternoon, they decided to split up and enjoy the rides they wanted to and meet up later for dinner.

Soul looked up from his phone, currently texting his buddy Black☆Star about his quest for a rollercoaster.

And it wasn’t hard to find one.

When he looked up, a large, twisting railway greeted him, making him hum in surprise.

“...That was easy…”

He smiled, sending a ‘found one’ text to Black☆Star before stuffing his phone in his pocket and beginning to trot forward.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he looked at all the entrances to try and find the one to the rollercoaster he saw.

When he saw a long line right in front of it, he picked up his pace to a slight jog, wanted to worm his way in line now and maybe have enough time later to do more things.

He placed himself in line, sighing in relief and checking his watch.

11:23.

He had time. He’d get through the line, ride the rollercoaster, probably tweet about it then move on. Easy peasy.

Not easy peasy.

It was 12:20 before he got even close to the front of the line.

Soul was biting his lip in frustration, tapping his foot impatiently as the next lucky group crossed the rope and boarded the ride.

He had gotten a few texts from Maka during his hour-long wait, asking how many rides he had gotten on. He wanted to just lie and say three, but he actually saw Maka pass by, and decided against it. The only thing he said was that he wasted time playing those rigged carnival games, winning nothing, and was now in line for a rollercoaster.

He sighed, watching the people board, strap themselves in, and the rollercoaster mozied off, climbing up the ramp.

But, he was alright. Soul only had three people in front of him, and that thing could hold twelve people. He’d be getting on next time around.

It was maybe five minutes before it came back around again, the people on the ride chittering excitedly about how extreme it was.

Soul’s heart began to pound in excitement and nervousness, bouncing a little on his feet in anticipation.

When the guard unhooked the rope, Soul had to claw his way forward while a bunch people behind him tried to fight their way to the front.

When he got past the barrier, he had to stop and dust himself off quickly, looking behind him to make sure he was past the barrier.

He smiled, fixing his jacket and looking up towards the rollercoaster.

Most of the seats had been filled up, and he felt a slight twang of panic go off.

But he sighed when he saw one left.

Up in the front, next to a boy with fluffy green hair, who looked about his age.

And seemed to have a green face to match.

When Soul sat down, the restraint was lowered, and he couldn’t help but peak off to his right.

The boy was trembling something fierce, gripping the brace so tightly it was like he’d fall out now. He had a freckly face and matching green eyes, those eyes watered with some tears.

Soul pursed his lips in concern. If he was this scared why he was on the ride?

“...Hey, you okay?”

The boy jumped, not only because of his words but also because the rollercoaster lurched and began to move forward slowly.

“U-Um… y-yeah… I guess,” the boy whimpered, wiping his eyes furiously as they began to climb.

Soul rose a brow, leaning forward slightly to see him better.

“Are you sure, you look a little pale. Why’d you come on the ride by yourself?” he asked, watching the boy sniffle.

“I-I was supposed to be on with my friends. B-But the line was so chaotic, we got separated. So n-now I’m he-here by my s-self,” he replied, staring at the top of the incline fearfully.

This ride had three loops and at least five sudden drops. Soul could see he wasn’t ready to face this thing by himself.

Soul looked up, seeing they only had a few moments before they dropped.

He lifted his hand, observing it for a second before offering it to the boy.

“...Wanna hold my hand?”

It was almost funny to him how quickly the boy seized his hand, squeezing it with one hell of a monster grip. Soul winced, biting his lip to suppress a yell of pain, but he squeezed back, knowing his rollercoaster buddy needed a hand.

He looked up, their cart reaching the top so that he could see the drop and the rest of the ride.

After that, the coaster dropped.

Soul should not have ridden that.

In a surprising twist, it was Soul who was barfing into the trash can while the boy rubbed his back, holding his bangs up so that he wouldn’t get them dirty.

“Are you sure you’re cut out for roller coasters? You were practically emerald in color by the time the ride was over,” the boy asked, Soul coughing up the last of his lunch.

Soul heaved a few times, before coughing and spitting out all of the residue in his mouth. He grimaced.

“God… I’ve never felt motion sickness like that in my entire-HRK!”

Soul coughed, and heaved up some bile, his throat burning. The boy continued to rub his back, even going to massage the back of his neck to try and lessen the pain.

After Soul was coughing up nothing but bile, the boy reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle and wipe.

Soul stood up slowly, taking a few deep breaths while trying to regain control of his stomach. The boy held out the water.

“Rinse your mouth before you drink it, and here’s a wipe. You’ve got some on your chin,” he explained, watching Soul take the cloth first and wipe his chin before taking the bottle of water and taking a few sips.

The boy smiled, rubbing Soul’s back a few times.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” The boy asked, Soul gargling some water a few times before nodding his head.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. Damn… that didn’t feel too good,” he huffed, rubbing his chest.

The boy chuckled, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry that you had to endure the ride with me, I hope you’re feeling a bit better,” he apologized, rubbing his arm sadly.

Soul rose a brow, giving the boy a confused glance.

“Why are you apologizing? I was the one who got on the ride. I knew I had a little bit of a motion sickness problem, but I didn’t listen to my brain,” he laughed, tapping his head for emphasis.

The boy laughed, smiling warmly at Soul.

“Heh, I guess you’re right… OH! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! You helped me through all that and I haven’t even introduced myself!” The boy cried, placing his hands on his knees and bowing.

“My name is Midoriya! Midoriya Izuku! Thank you for what you did for me!”

Soul jumped slightly at the act, but waved his hands.

“N-No need for the bows, it’s alright. I’m Soul though, Soul Eater. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, holding his hand out.

The boy, now Izuku, looked down at his hand curiously, before reaching out to shake it.

“Nice to meet you too! So… you got any plans after this? My friends are all still in line and it may an hour before they get to the ride,” Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

Soul shook his head, looking down at his watch.

“Nope, not really. I mean, I’m meeting back up with my meister for dinner around sixish. You can join us if you-“

“Wait. You’re meister? That means… are-ARE YOU A WEAPON?!”

Soul reeled back when Izuku suddenly got in his face, his eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation. He nodded nervously.

“U-Um… Yes? You sound excited, about that…”

Izuku’s head bobbed up and down, bouncing on his toes excitedly.

“Yeah! I’ve never met a demon weapon before, and they’re kinda like us Quirkies but all the same in a way but not because they all have a different weapon and-OH! What kind of weapon are you?!” He screeched, clapping his hands together.

Soul bit his lip, feeling a bit bashful due to the sudden attention he was getting.

“U-Um, just a scythe. N-Not anything too special-“

“Can I see?!”

Soul jumped, looking down at the excited Quirkie.

At first, he wasn’t sure, not wanting to transform and make a scene. But, when Soul looked down and saw those big, sparkling green looking up at him hopefully, he kind of…

Melted.

He held his arm out, shifting his forearm into his blade.

Izuku made a small gasping noise, even squeaking when Soul flashed his blade.

“It’s not anything too amazing. I’m only really cool when I have my meister with m-“

“It’s beautiful!”

Soul suddenly choked on his words. He felt his face explode with heat almost up to his ears, staring down at Izuku with wide eyes.

“It’s… what?” He whispered, his head reeling when Izuku grabbed the blade and pulled it down towards him.

“It’s beautiful! Not dull in any way, and the design fits with your structure. The blade itself doesn’t weight much and can be easily swung. It’s the perfect blade for a meister! I can only imagine what it looks like when you’re wielded!” Izuku began to babble on about how amazing Soul’s weapon was, making Soul get redder and redder by the second.

“And another thing is-oh. Are you okay? You look a little red.”

Izuku suddenly stopped when he noticed that Soul’s face could put a firetruck to shame.

The weapon swallowed, smiling nervously.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine. It’s j-just that… n-no one’s ever said so many nice things about m-me before…” he admitted, shuffling his feet.

Izuku gasped as if offended, staring up angrily.

“Really? No one!? Well, that’s… that’s just… dumb! How can no one see how amazing this is I mean there are people who’d kill for this kind of quirk! Well, I mean it’s not a quirk for you but this thing just looks powerful, with or without a meister!”

Soul’s blush darkened as he tried to suppress a huge, goofy grin.

Izuku smiles, letting go of Soul’s blade and throwing his arms behind his back.

“You wanna hang out with me until my friends are done? They’ll probably be a while,” He asked, giving Soul a warm smile.

Soul smiled back, looking down at his watch and nodding.

“S-Sure…”

Izuku smiled, turning around and slipping off happily, taking Soul’s hand to lead him around.

Soul blushed, his ears becoming hot in embarrassment as he wandered off with his new friend.

The two weren’t seen until around eight, where they parted ways for the night and got scolded by their friends for disappearing.

But neither minded, not in the slightest.

#myart #textpost #bnha #my hero academia #soul eater #izuku midoriya #soul x izuku #dekusoul

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brightlycoloredteacups · 8 years ago

Text

Students Like That

@ivartheboneme @wanderingsorceress27 @cherrytrinkets and everyone else on that damn thread I’ve forgotten to tag.

Yo, ya’ll are some seriously bad influences! I hope you’re happy.

Professor Ivar X reader.

NSFW

Ivar Lothbrok had a serious problem. You. You were his problem student. You plagued him for four years. He understood it wasn’t your fault. He taught at an elite college with a very small student population. He oversaw the entire history department, your degree just so happened to be in history. You were his top student, attending every lecture even when you were sick. Turning in every paper, acing every test. And you were his problem.

It wasn’t just your beauty, you see. Ivar was used to pretty students in his class. He’d found himself admiring male and female students alike once or twice. But other than recognizing their good looks, nothing had come of it. Then you stepped into his class, looking every bit like a goddess. He was sure his infatuation with you would abate in a few days, it always did, but this was different. You had that brains to go with your beauty, that had been his downfall.

It didn’t help matters that you were closer to him than Ivar was comfortable. As well as his top student, you’d become something of an aide. Organizing his lecture notes, grading other student’s papers, spending hours upon hours debating some trivial historical fact or another. It was no secrete you were teacher’s pet. It was also no secrete he was harder on your than any of the other students because of it. It reduced the envy of your classmate considerably.

Thankfully today, at precisely 12:00 p.m. you would cease being his student. He wouldn’t have to deal with you, or his feelings, any longer. A sort of peace settled over him with that knowledge. He was able to enter his class room confidently for the first time in four years. He said his customary greeting, and began to hand out the exam.

When he passed you, he noticed the effort you’d put in your appearance today. Wearing one of his favorite dresses, the red one that stopped just above you knee, and makeup. You’d even bothered with putting on a pearl necklace. You must have a date later. He pushed down his overwhelming sense of jealousy and moved on.

Of course, you were the first to be done. Walking confidently to his desk, you turned in your exam, and gave him a bright smile. “Thanks for everything Professor Lothbrok.” You tell him, and sail out of his classroom, and out of his life, forever. Relief and regret washes over him. How many opportunities had he missed to kiss you? How many times had he convinced himself that adoring glimmer in your eye was nothing more than a trick of light?

When the last student turned in their paper and left, he sat alone for a few moments, wondering how long he could avoid his office. All the memories of being alone with you took place in there. He even had a picture of you on his shelf. That isn’t accurate, it was him surrounded by a bunch of students that managed not to be utterly terrified of him. But you were front and center, smiling brightly, arm slung over his shoulders, giving him rabbit ears with your fingers.

He growled and got up. No sense in mourning the loss. You were never his in the first place. He did take his time walking to the office, all the while trying to clear his head. The closer he got, the better he felt. That was, until, he reached his door to see you sitting on the bench across the hall from his door.

You stood up the moment you saw him, looking anxious. “What are you doing here?” He asked, thrilled but confused. “I left some things in your office,” you tell him. “I need them.” He nods and unlocks the door. He holds it open for you. As you walk past, he gets a whiff of your perfume. It was cruel of you to drive him insane the way you did.

He settles behind his desk as you gather your things. Papers, notebooks, a sweater. When you’re finished, you stand beside him, still looking rather anxious. “Something the matter?” He asks. You rarely confided in him, trying to keep things strictly professional. He appreciated your efforts, but he still longed for you to open up to him even just a little. “I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful four years.” You say quietly. “I learned a lot, and I appreciate all the opportunities you’ve given me.” He gives you a small smile. “Don’t mention it, you were always my favorite student.” You nod slowly.

He turns to the stack of ungraded papers on his desk and sets about marking them. You don’t move. After a few moments, he looks back at you. “Was there something else?” He asks, worried now. A blush settles over your cheeks. “I um,” You begin to fiddle with the sweater in your hand. “I uh,” You’re looking everywhere but at him. He places a hand on your forearm, trying to be comforting. “Whatever it is,” he says, “You can tell me.” Your eyes snap to his. Your mouth opens and close, trying to get the words out, but none ever come. That’s when you do something surprising and lean down to kiss him.

The brush of your lips against his was so soft and quick when you pulled back he had to wonder if you’d actually just kissed him. If you hadn’t started babbling an apology, he would’ve spent the rest of his life wondering. As it was, he stood and leaned on his desk, legs not strong enough to hold his weight. “Come here,” He growls, pulling you towards him.

It takes a few moments for you to react, but when you do, it’s passionate. You throw your arms around his neck, dropping everything in your arms to the floor, and press yourself to him. Your groan nearly undoes him right there. Almost without thinking, his hand moves downward and takes a handful of your ass, squeezing rather fondly. You break the kiss to giggle. “Professor Lothbrok,” You breathe. “Ivar,” he corrects. “You’re no longer my student. Remember?”

“I, well, I am.” You stutter. He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been accepted to the master’s program.” You explain. “So we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” He says, more to himself than to you. “I suppose not.” You whisper, moving to break his hold. He doesn’t let you go, bringing you in for another kiss. You return it just as enthusiastically as before. “Do you want to stop?” He whispers, breaking the kiss. “No,” You admit. He grins, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You gasp as he hits a sensitive spot. As much as he just wants to bite down on you, he knows better. He cannot leave a mark on you this time, leaving his office in such a state would surely get him fired.

The hand on your ass snakes around your body to the top part of your thigh. “So, I get to keep you for another two years, hm?” You nod. “Of course, you’ll want extracurricular I’m sure.”

“Of course, Profe-”

“Ivar,” He corrects gain. The hand on your thigh moves up, achingly slow. “In this office, you will call me Ivar.” You nod and moan as his hand passes over your crotch. “I wonder what it is I could come up with that will challenge such a brilliant student?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” You say. His hand slips past your panties and delves into your folds. “Look at you,” he whispers in your ear. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs on it while a finger wets itself with your slick. “You’re soaked. Are you always so eager to have your professor fuck you?”

“Just you.” You tell him. He rewards your answer by slipping a finger inside you. You let out a gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders as he begins a lazy pace. He pushes you back slightly so he can stare at all the pretty faces you make. Your mouth is hanging open, your brows furrowed. “Ivar, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need more.” You confess. “Of course you do, teacher’s pets like you always need more attention.” You nod eagerly, and he slips another finger into you. Your grip on his shoulders tightens. After a few moments, he adds is thumb and begins to circle your clit. “Ivar!”

“Sh,” He warns. “We can’t let everyone know what we’re doing.” You whimper and bite your lip to keep quiet. “Look at me,” He commands. “I want you to look at me as you come.” You do as he asks, looking him directly in the eye. He had to admit, agony looked good on you.

Your grip tightens once more. “Oh, Ivar,” You gasp. By the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers, he knows what’s happening. You can’t bear the force of your orgasm and lean into him. He laments not being able to see your pretty face contort as you come, but holds you up with one strong arm as best he can. It’s just as good to feel your body writhe against his, your gasping breath ghosting over his ear.

When you’re finished, you continue to cling to him, trying to calm yourself. He takes his finger from inside you and wipes them on his pants. Then holds you close to him. He places sweet kisses on your shoulder, trying his best not to grind his hips into you to relieve the pressure of his aching erection.

Soon enough, he feels one of your hands creep down and grasp him. He lets out a groan of his own as your stroke him through his pants. Suddenly, you disentangle yourself from him and duck to grab your things. He’s about to ask you what he did wrong when his door opens. “Anyway,” You say, popping back up after you’ve gathered your things. All traces of what just occurred between you two are gone. He’s impressed at your quick recovery. “I was just wondering what classes you think I should take. Considering you’ve been through it all.” Her gaze snaps to the person behind him. He looks. Of course, it’s Ubbe. “Hey, Professor Lothbrok!” You say brightly. He nods to you, smiling. “I heard someone got accepted into our master’s program.”

“I did!” You tell him. “I was just telling the professor about it,” You nod to Ivar, as if that hadn’t all been obvious. “I need to get going now,” You tell them. You mumble a goodbye to them both and slip past Ubbe with a smirk. He looks after you for a few moments, before looking back to Ivar. “It’s students like that, that make it incredibly hard to be professional.” Ivar smirks, slipping from his position on the desk. “Tell me about it.”

#ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #bad influences #i can get down with teaching thrusday #that post though #professor lothbrok

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snowdice · 5 years ago

Text

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 35]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 13 and what I have done of Chapter 14 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today.

The Gobiln Brain is a problem today. I’d planned to start like 2 hours ago. :/

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions in the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a single this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then broke when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really no anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top of the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mentioned. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her in to Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question asked. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep, but because he insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted out were quite embellished.

He’d tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

Chapter 14

“You two doing okay back there?” Roman asked, glancing into the rearview window at them as he exited the interstate onto highway 236.

“We’re perfectly fine,” Janus replied evenly.

“Ow ow ow ow ow! You’re crushing me!” Remus complained. Janus was currently sitting on his chest, pinning him to the back seat.

“You should probably put your seatbelt on,” Roman advised.

“You’re probably right,” Janus agreed.

“No! Get off!” Remus said. “Or I’m going to scream!”

“Oh, because you don’t scream randomly when someone isn’t sitting on top of you?” Janus shot back. Roman officially liked Janus; he’d just decided. “Give me that!” Janus said, and a moment later, Remus’s phone was thrown into the passenger seat.

Remus whined and Roman glanced back at them once again, amused. That is when he caught sight of a car behind them. He glanced at his speedometer and then back at the car. Roman was currently going a little over 90mph, having slowed down a bit now that they were off the interstate. Yet, the car was gaining on them.

“Hey,” Roman said. “Wh-,” and that’s when a bullet came through the back window right past Janus’s head. “Holy fuck!” Roman screamed, swerving a bit before getting the car back under control. Remus grabbed Janus by the front of his shirt and pulled him down as more bullets rained on them courtesy of the car Roman had spotted. The glass from his car’s back window shattered over the two of them.

Roman pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator and started purposefully swerving to throw off their shots as Remus shoved Janus down onto the floor so he could lunge into the front seat. He grabbed the gun Roman stored in his glove box and loaded it with practiced ease.

“My bag,” Janus requested, and Remus threw the asked for object over his shoulder before rolling down the window.

“Methinks mommy dearest’s people may have found us,” Remus commented.

#study break stories #remy sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #guns #platonic moxiety #platonic remile #creativitwins #emile piccani

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