#compared to drawing on paper this somehow looks okay

[graminos]

im no artist, but ampharos is in my brain and I had to let him out

#ampharos my beloved #compared to drawing on paper this somehow looks okay #my motor skills is atrocious #psmd #pmd

[moonlightsolo]

can you write neteyam and human reader you’re exploring in the forest and ends up losing you and when he finds you after searching for a long time you’re actually having so much fun gathering things and running around and it’s all cute and protective! ^.^

i looove nete n human reader it’s my weakness … i hope u like this!!!

“nete! c’mon!” you call out to your boyfriend as you run amongst the trees. you giggle as you leap over a fallen log in one fluid motion, somehow landing on your feet over the other side.

“hey!” your boyfriends accented voice cackles from behind you, but your feet refuse to relent. obviously, if he really wanted to catch up to you, he would. his long legs give him the advantage. your head dodges branches, and vines, and your legs hop over rocks as you sprint through the foliage.

something bright catches your eyes next to your swift feet, stopping you in your tracks. you’re finally able to take a deep breath as you slowly backtrack. right at the base of a tree trunk, three bright pink flowers sit buried in the dirt, rustling slightly in the wind.

a fwäkìwll; a mantis orchid.

the huffing and puffing boy catches up to you, his usual unruly braids are secured behind his head. with two that must’ve escaped that frame his face perfectly, “you’re nuts, you know that?” he laughs breathlessly.

“look!” you bend down to examine the flora, admiring the softness of the petals, “oh my, it’s so beautiful.”

neteyam can’t help but giggle at how you gawk over a simple little plant. something he’ll never understand, but he will always appreciate your fascination.

your hands reach into the small bag slung across your body to pull out a notebook, flipping to an empty page to sketch a rough draft of the flowers.

his large four-fingered hand rests on the top of your head to softly rustle your hair, pressing his fingers into your skin to slightly massage your scalp. your head angles up to look at him, smiling wide at your boy before stuffing your head back into your book.

your pencil scratches satisfyingly against the lined paper; instinctively bringing your lip between your teeth as you focus.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here, my love.” neteyam pats your head as you nod, but truly his words went in one ear and out the other. it was something about him leaving, but your attention is taken up by the flower.

once you have a few key points labeled on your little picture, you finally close the book. your eyes dart around to seek out the blue skin of your na’vi boyfriend, but something else catches your eye.

behind a wide tree trunk in the distance, you see the edge of a plant. the loreyu; also known as the helicoradian!! you excitedly spring to your feet, and creep toward the giant plant. ducking under thick vines and swatting at buzzing bugs.

on the way there, you stumble upon a small stream that has glittering rocks and gems under the water. obviously, you can’t help but snag a few and store them in your bag— but you can’t let yourself get too off track, so you continue forward.

the salmon-colored spiraled plant is almost twenty feet high, which is ginormous compared to your tiny human body. as you grow closer, you realize the one loreyu is surrounded by clusters of smaller and even bigger ones.

“oh my god.” you breathe out in shock as you carefully weave between the helicoradia; already having the knowledge that if they’re merely brushed against, they’ll retract into the ground.

you mindfully sink to your knees, folding your legs underneath your body as you lean back on your heels. you unlatch the notebook from being pressed against your chest, flipping through the used pages to find the one you’re looking for.

you’ve already observed this plant elsewhere in the forest, so theres a few notes and drawings written down already. you decide to perfect the previous drawing you have in the middle of your page, even sketching a close-up of the edge of the leaf.

you tuck your pencil into the crease of the book before closing it and sliding it back into the safety of your bag. you glance up into the sky, but you can barely make out the blue color from the plants that tower over you.

it’s so serene and peaceful; you’re hidden amongst these intimidating plants that are five times the size of you. it seems like nothing could ever hurt you, as if you’re shielded from the unforgiving environment of pandora.

you carefully lay down against the grassy soil. once your back hits the warm ground, you suck in a deep breath— mentally wishing you could breathe their air to be able to smell the fresh dirt.

although the oxygen mask is your key to survive, it’s also so suffocating. one of the biggest problems it gives you is that you’re unable to kiss neteyam whenever you want. only able to get inside the privacy of your room in the scientists shack, but even he needs his own mask.

wait, neteyam. where is neteyam?!

you abruptly sit up in your spot, suddenly feeling as if you’re claustrophobic from the menancing plants that surround you in every which way. oh god, you’re gonna throw up. your feet scramble to stand as you panic, causing your shoulder to brush against the tendrils of the plant.

with a pop, it sucks itself into the ground. the movement creates a chain reaction that triggers the entire field to recoil into the dirt. you watch as each plant disappears, waiting until the area clears entirely. everything around you looks the same, and absolutely nothing looks familiar.

something firm grasps your upper body from behind, strongly spinning you around to face them.

your frozen expression is met with wide, worried eyes that belong to neteyam, “what are you doing?!? where were you?” he lectures as arms tug you tightly into his chest. he briefly embraces you before pulling away just as fast to stare back down at you.

“i told you to stay where you were! why did you walk away?” his voice cracks from his raw emotion, his honey-colored eyes dart frantically over your face.

“i’m—i’m sorry, i- i didn’t realize i walked so far away… i was just taking notes and… drawing.” your voice stumbles over itself.

his shoulders drop slightly from your anxious voice, his eyes watch how your quickened breath slightly fogs the glass of your mask.

coldness washes over his body when he realizes just how harsh he sounds and the points of his ears droop from his realization, “you scared me. i thought i lost you.” his sharp voice has softened and his tight grip loosens on your shoulders.

you take a step forward to stand in between his feet to wrap yourself around his body, smooshing yourself into the warm skin just above his navel. “i’m sorry i won’t do it again.” you whimper out, your apology slightly muffled.

his hand soothingly cradles the back of your head as he holds you against him, “don’t be sorry.” he tsks, “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have left you.”

your head angles up to gaze at him, giving him a soft downturned smile, “well, i should’ve listened to what you were saying.”

“s’okay. you’re with me now, that’s all that matters.” his fingers toy with the elastic band of your oxygen mask, itching to rip it off and kiss you; but he knows that he can’t.

“oh! i uh- i found some crystals! i think you can use them for your clothing and your hair beads, ‘n stuff.. do you wanna see?” your hand wiggles your bag persuadingly with an excited grin.

neteyam stares down at you in awe and nods his head, “‘course i wanna see, ma yawntu. show me.” he nudges his nose in the air for you to continue.

your hands rummage through the weaved sack on your hip, pushing past your notebook to the little bag at the bottom filled with the rocks. you pluck it out to dump the contents into your palm, admiring how the multi-colored crystals sparkle under the sunlight.

“those are perfect. i must make you some jewelry out of them.” his eyes brighten from the idea, “what would you like? a necklace or somethin’ else?” one of his fingertips roll the rocks in your palm to examine them, careful not to push them off into the grass.

“really? you‘re gonna make me something?” your voice sounds surprised, which is shocking to him. of course, he is going to make you something; you’re his mate, his muntxate.

when he first courted you, he gifted you a handmade bracelet — which you’re currently still wearing and have no plans to take it off, and the weaved bag that never leaves your side.

“yes, for you, silly. who else would i make jewelry for?” neteyam rolls his eyes at you playfully, a sneaky smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips.

your eyes flit over his face, still surprised, even after all this time, that you’ve bagged yourself a tall, gorgeous, blue alien. something comes over your body, a sudden rush of adrenaline as you suck in a deep breath of your oxygen to hold your breath.

confusion twists over neteyams features as your hand grips the lower part of your mask to push it over the top of your head, “what are you-?” his question is cut off by your hands reaching up to grip the edge of his waist adornment to tug him down to you.

he happily obliges with a pearly grin, ducking his head down to your height to urgently pull you into a kiss. you smile when his lips move against yours and his hand presses into the small of your back to lean your body slightly backwards.

even though kissing him is a rare occasion in itself, it still feels like the first time— every. single. time.

his tail curls around his back to wrap around your upper thigh to hold your body in place, as if his hands aren’t strong enough to do so by themselves.

neteyam reluctantly pulls back, staring down to admire your beauty without something separating him from you. his hand sits heavy on your neck with his fingers curled up under your jaw. his thumb swipes down the bridge of your nose, and over your plump lips before pulling the mask back over your face.

your human features are so soft, and delicate; he can’t help but touch you without your mask whenever he gets the chance.

once the mask is firmly fitted over your face you suck in, a definitely needed, sharp breath. your chest expands as your lungs inhale the air, giving neteyam a small sad smile. “i love you.” you whisper once you’re finally able to talk.

neteyam’s face lights up from those three words, his lanky arms wrap around your tiny frame to lift you into the air to his height. it’s nothing new to express your love to each other, but whenever he hears those words it feels surreal to him.

the sudden change in height makes you squeal, and wrap your arms around his neck for support, “i love you.” he replies and presses his forehead to the glass, which you instantly lean forward into.

“let’s head back to camp. we can get some food, and just hide in your room and do nothing for the rest of the day?” he offers as he lowers you back down to the ground.

when your feet hit the softness of the grass, your hand reaches out to grab his. neteyam’s fingers practically engulf yours, so you decide to hold onto him the best you can.

“sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.” your voice hums with a content grin.

neteyam gives you a little nod, before looking around to see which way he should go. he begins to walk to lead you back to his ikran, mindful to go slow since his legs are much longer than yours.

but not without his tail wrapping protectively around your leg. this time, he’ll make sure you won’t stray away from his side, not even a little bit...

-

stop this is so cute i’m in love w this 😭

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x human!reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x human reader #neteyam sully fluff #avatar twow #avatar #avatar neteyam #avatar x you #avatar x human reader #neteyam fic #neteyam imagine #neteyam blurb #neteyam request

[saiidahyunie]

you are such a good writer i am genuienly crying!!!!

ykykykykyk my bday is on the 20th december. ......

like if you have time.... maybe you could write a chaeyoung fic... maybeeee....

maybe something angsty + including them as art lovers... like chae using reader as a muse and her art gets sadder and sadder from time to time...

she fits the art trope so well ugh it hurts me, so here's my thoughts on this.

chaeyoung deserves the entire world btw

--

it all started with a stupid semester long project for your art class. you were late and the professor thought it was a good idea to pair you up with the last person you would ever want to be with. 

most of the classmates were in awe that the professor thought it would be a challenging task to pair up you with chaeyoung as you two were the best and brightest in terms of the creative minds you and her shared.

what they didn’t know was that about thirty minutes prior, you and chaeyoung were in a complete accident out of nowhere that gave both of you guys a really bad first impression.

the project itself didn’t have to be started right away, you just continued to show your talents through multiple works of sketches and paintings in your professor’s monthly competition. nobody else came close, it was always you and chaeyoung head to head as her’s were a complete contrast to your style.

“i love y/n’s works so much!” 

“chaeyoung’s send a message i don’t know if you guys can see it.” 

“it’s almost as if they’re speaking to each other through their art.”

you hear the things your classmates would compliment or compare, but it was never about seeing who was better no–more like trying to pry about each other’s minds and emotions.

aside from all the numerous things and assignments, you and chaeyoung somehow manage to go to an art museum together despite the bitterness when she turned you down, but she came back around only because for the sake of drawing inspiration.

i think it would’ve been a good idea to just get lost in the museum by yourself, but you end up sticking with chaeyoung as you follow her around as she studied the more sad and darker works.

eventually you and her stumble across a piece where it’s a simple machine in the middle that’s closed off by glass panes. you watch the machine clean itself of the leaking oil that’s spilling around, almost like it’s enslaved for its entire existence.

you meet up with chaeyoung at the center of the piece where it shows the name of the artwork titled: can’t help myself. you found the title to be fitting since it literally shows the machine working for its entire existence.

“we should probably go now, the museum is about to close.” you say to chaeyoung as you turn to look at her, catching a tear falling down her cheek. you would try to comfort her as it hurt to see her like this especially in public, but you decide to do nothing as you take a couple steps back to give her space. 

--

it’s almost the end of the semester and you and chaeyoung eventually get started on your collaborative project that ends up being a sculpture. since there was a dry period of inspiration, you and chaeyoung argue over who should do what.

“we’re out of options.” 

“no, you’re just not thinking hard enough.” chaeyoung retorts at you, scoffing as she continues to draw her heart away on her sketchbook.

“this was professor schick’s worst idea putting us as partners.” you shoot back as you sit across from her in the small vanity of the school’s art studio.

“i already told you i don’t want any part of this project, so this is all on you.” chaeyoung mumbles as nothing is heard except the scribbles of her pencil onto the paper. 

you shuffle forward and close her sketchbook, “you said we can do the sculpture, i’ll be the model.” chaeyoung stares at your shocking proposition and contemplates on the idea, given the fact that it’s almost due and there’s no time left, it seemed the only logical thing to do.

“okay, lets do it.” 

--

once chaeyoung got her art materials setup, you sat and took your position on the stool as chaeyoung got to work at molding the sculpture from your reference. 

it seemed like torture that you had to keep yourself up for what seemed like hours, chaeyoung took her time etching in the details of your unbuttoned shirt, exposing your midriff and just stopping right before the shirt parts at your breasts. 

you hear a smack on the canvas in front of you as she scooched back, facing the floor as you stepped down the elevated platform, making your way to her as you were genuinely concerned for her at this point. 

“chae, everything alright?” you ask as you kneel down to get a better look of her face.

she’s crying. 

“you have to tell me what’s going on, i don’t want to see you sad all the time.” you say to her as you try to place your hands on her shoulders, chaeyoung swatting them away instantly.

“i don’t know how you do it…” she mutters, “how can you be okay with us being like this?!” 

you step back to give her breathing room, still unsure about her feelings.

“what are you talking about-”

“i wish i could see the world through you!” chaeyoung exclaims, “i don’t want to be hurt like this anymore!” her voice breaking as the tears came streaming down.

pulling her in for a hug as she cries on your shoulder, “you don’t have to hold it all in anymore chae, i don’t want us to be enemies.” you say as the sadness comes over you as well.

who would’ve thought that opposites can be attracted in the most unexpected circumstances of pain. 

</3

hopefully you'll like this and thank you omg ur actually the sweetest i can't

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #son chaeyoung #twice chaeyoung #chaeyoung x reader #twice fluff

[salchat]

Dean-in-progress Part 2

More adventures in the continuing development of my latest Dean portrait!

In this stage, I did a little bit more work on his mouth and chin, which I wasn't happy with at all.

And then, enough's enough with the dark purple. I need to work on the light, which will give me a better idea of the form. I know if I put light in, I'll somehow see it differently. And maybe some brown mid-tones. Both of these ideas might be a mistake, of course! It might be more effective with just the dark purple on the purple paper. But I'm doing it anyway! Yay!

Oh. Okay. Well, I think that was the right thing to do. Especially the hint of brown on his lower lip. It think the brown might be good for kind of reflected light? For softening edges maybe and for bringing life to the colour scheme. Or it could, of course, go horribly wrong. But that's half the fun.

Let's do some more. And, for the next progress shot, I'll edit so that it looks more like what I actually see.

Well, I think this is making good progress. Am I satisfied with it as a finished portrait? Not remotely! And now (rubs hands together), now comes the stage that always reminds me of that bit in Amadeus, where Mozart's dictating the Confutatis of his Requiem to Salieri. No, I'm not comparing my artistic skill to Mozart's musical genius (snort, chortle), but as a teen I had a massive crush on Mozart (yes, really) and I loved that movie, even though a lot of it is dramatic licence. Anyway, I get to a stage in many of my drawings where the big chunkies and finger smudges aren't quite cutting it. And so I bring in the pencils! And it always makes me think of Salieri asking, 'That's it?" And Mozart replies, with a smirk, 'No. Now for the real fire." The pencils!

All these options... I think the Payne's grey, which is actually a dark purple, like the chunky pastel I've been using. And for something pretty bright and luminous, actually that pale pink one is usually effective.

But don't be thinking I'm going to be holding the pencils in a writing grip and getting all tiny and delicate and detailed. Oh no! That's just not me!

Mostly, I like to grab hold and scrub using an overhand grip with lots of pressure. The only time I really need to use a writing grip is when I want a really strong highlight in a very specific small area and if I stuck with the overhand grip, I'd probably either miss my mark, or more likely break the tip off. I do that all the time! There's lots of vague, light softening too, though, and that needs a looser grip, getting as much of the side of the pastel in contact with the paper as possible.

And here's my third main strategy, which sometimes ties me down too much to a photographic representation, but often is the way I spot errors, because after a while your eye just can't see them. I bring up my progress shot and the original reference alongside, like this:

My poor phone gets very confused, but look how easy it is to spot the glaring, obvious discrepancies! I mean, wtaf? For heaven's sake - what have I been doing? So, yeah, there are thing that look pretty okay, but that mouth! And that chin! Still not right, are they? And there's still not anywhere near enough Deanishness! I'm going to focus in on the eye, though, and see what I can do. And the reference won't enlarge, but if you do it in photo editor it will! Neat little trick! Aha!

And now some more work on his mouth and a general run-around with a soft skin-toned pastel to soften the edges. Or soften them in some places, because now I really need to think about which edges are hard and which are soft and how. It's a crucial stage and can make a massive difference. And I'm playing with his hair too, because playing with Dean's hair is so much fun.

So this is what I've got so far. Am I satisfied? No! I most certainly am not. It's getting there. But there are loads of things to improve on yet. And it's still not Deanish enough! It just isn't. Look back at the reference. His mouth and his eye in particular are expressing very familiar Deanisms, aren't they? Sadness, resignation, probably lots of internal negative thoughts - almost certainly in John Winchester's voice. And I haven't captured that. I'm not saying that in any 'oh no, I'm so bad!' way. I'm saying it with relish, because I'm going to keep plugging away until I can see that emotion and make it as real as possible. And I'm going to enjoy that process and disappear into it completely and get into an almost meditative state, where the world and my problems melt away.

But not tomorrow. Because tomorrow is chemo day and the one really big positive of chemo day is that there's so much hanging around that it's possible to get loads of fanfic written, which is another really great way (actually even more effective that drawing) of disappearing from this world entirely and living, for a while, with Sam and Dean and a tiny-Jack, and tomorrow I'll get to the bit where Cas pops up. Nice.

#fanart #my art process #dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural

[a-casual-kpopfan]

Last Christmas Prompt. 🫡

Pale Blue Dot - Jinsoul

A/N: I know who you are…

This would be a good one to end the year with.

Dec 25th, 2022.

You open your eyes, your first instinct is to check the time. Your eyes swerve around the room, seeing the clock on the wall saying 2:07am. The grogginess started lifting and to your realization there’s a dim light coming from the other side of your bed.

“Sol?” You spoke up seeing the your wife sitting at her desk, writing out something. She hasn’t heard you the first time so you decided to sit up from your bed. “Sol?” You called out once again, this time grabbing her attention. “Oh, baby you’re awake?”

Jinsol ran over from her desk over to your shared bed to prevent you from getting up. “Yah, baby don’t get up.” Jinsol places her hands on your shoulders preventing you from getting up, instead laying you back down.

“Sol, I’m okay!” You try to convince your wife that everything is okay, you’re not having an attack of anything whatsoever.

It’s been 3 years since you’ve been married.

1 since you’ve been diagnosed with bradycardia, a condition when a heart’s resting rate is less than 60 beats per minute.

Meaning anything that exerts an excessive amount of energy, can lead to cardiac arrest, possibly worse.

Jinsol was scared, she was a full time astronomy professor at the South Korea college before she decided to change to doing part time in online teaching. You were in construction, labour intensive, definitely didn’t help your case of a slowed down heart.

She knew at any moment in time, your heart will fail you.

“You know I want you to save your energy baby, don’t waste it.” Jinsol smiles and pecks you on the forehead. “I’ll come to bed soon, I just need to finish some paper work.” You just agree knowing nothing will stop your wife. “Okay Sol, hurry up.” You smile and lean upwards, letting her lead down to leave a kiss on your lips.

“Merry Christmas baby.”

Jinsol goes back to her desk finishing her paper… Her application.

~~~~~

Dec 24th, 2023.

“I’m heading to the hospital now Sol, Sooyoung offered to drive me over there.” You tell your wife over the phone, she was called into the university, probably for student program reasons.

“Okay baby, you be safe okay? I’ll kill Sooyoung if you’re not in one peace.” Jinsol smiles as she’s sitting in her chair at the hospital. “You know I love you right?”

“I love you too honey.” Both you and Jinsol said your goodbyes, you were excited. You were moved up somehow on the queue for the heart transplant. “You ready?” Sooyoung opens the front door, ready to take you over.

“I can’t wait to go out with Jinsol again, have dates with her again. I can finally take her roller skating like how she always wanted!” You were so excited to see Jinsol after this done and over with.

Sooyoung didn’t say much. “I’m sure Sol will be happy too.” Sooyoung looked like she was trying to hold something back, like she knew something.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Take care of them Sooyoung.”

~~~~~

“Are you going to wait for Sol?” You’re sitting in a wheelchair, ready to be wheeled off for the surgery. “Yes, I’ll be waiting here.” Sooyoung smiles, trying to hide the truth for however long it takes.

You nod and you get wheeled off.

“GOOD LUCK!” Sooyoung waves at you until your pass through the doors to not be seen.

~~~~~

Dec 25th, 2023

You open your eyes, your first instinct was to look for the time. This isn’t your usual bedroom, this is a hospital room, white walls, thin bed sheets, a hell of an uncomfortable mattress compared to what you’re used to.

2:07am.

The grogginess started lifting up from your being, you notice on your chest a blue envelope with a drawing of a fish. You also look to your left a sleeping Sooyoung, but no wife to be seen.

You take the envelope and slowly open the it containing a letter and Jinsol’s engagement ring.

“Hello baby,

You made me the happiest woman on this planet and further beyond that. You gave me your heart last Christmas, the Christmas before that, the Christmas before that, all the way since we met in that car accident on that faithful day, it was still your fault you rear ended my car!

This Christmas, I give you my heart. For all those time you sacrificed yourself for me, all those times you put me in front of you. My best friend, my live, my partner. You were ever so perfect, like the one I always dreamed of as a child.

Please don’t hate yourself, this was a choice I made and I wish for you to live a fuller and happier life. Someone else in this world is here for you to make you happy, just as I once did.

Sooyoung was awakened, she looks up to see you sobbing in tears, holding your chest.

She knew you found out.

She saw the letter on your lap, only to read the last phrase of it, she got up from her chair to embrace you in a hug, you took her in and held her as tight as you could.

.

.

.

.

We’ll fly again tonight.

Whatever comes to might.

It’s going to be alright.

My Pale Blue Dot.”

#loona #jinsoul #jeong jinsol #loona fic #fanfic #yves #ha sooyoung #anon prompt

[juni-ravenhall]

therapy went okay today. i dont really like her but we did the EMDR thing and that was fine since it was guided and not much related to her personality. i found out an interesting thing about the mind-safe-space because of that. (mine is an all-wooden cabin of the type we stayed at over yule as a kid twice or thrice - just without all the crazy people in it. its dark outside the window, deep snow and stars in the sky. you could see a tomte slowly walking past in the distance with a lantern, if you watch quietly.)

first she told me to feel where exactly i am in this cabin, which i havent really done before. i would *put* myself somewhere, not feel "where do i end up if i just ask myself without assumptions". the answer was in the kids bedroom, in the bottom part of a bunk bed, with clean soft bedding in warm yule-y colours like red and green. its a small room mostly just fitting the beds on each side. there are our travel bags on the floor. you can close the door if you need to, which feels safer. (i usually put myself on the wooden couch/bench in the main room where i can look out the window, and then i talk to my fictional guardian or whatever to call it, together on the couch.)

then she told me to focus on senses in my mindspace, which i also havent done before. it smells strongly like wood of course, its almost all wood in this cabin (that sort of medium orangey colour). but then i could feel the press of the pencil to the crappy drawing paper. that soft and grainy kind of kids drawing paper that your pencil pushes into and creates dents. a thick pad of it. and a regular kids pencil, which ive barely used in my adult life in favour of pens and mechanical pencils. so the feeling of a dulled pencil pressing into the soft crappy paper, and the scritch scritch sound of it. i could see the pencil pressing into the paper really clearly in front of me and hear the scratching loudly in my ears. at this point i got teary, partially because the memory of childhood drawing in that cabin and what it felt like, which made me emotional, and partially just out of the stress and illness im under in general atm.

she asked me to name a (positive) word for my safespace and its obviously just "wood".

she asked me to continue feeling what it feels like in my body when im there in the bed drawing. i feel the drawing sounds intensely. im 12ish, its quiet and smells like wood, its dark outside the window and the deep snow, the yule-y bedding is clean and comfortable, our bags with our gameboys and comic magazines and clothes and snacks are on the floor, there are some holiday decorations here and there, i can smell the paper and the pencil along with the wood, the air is so different than our dirty house, all the furniture and floors and walls somehow feel loving and almost like a hug instead of feeling weird and uncomfortable, i can hear and feel and see the scratches of my pencil pressing into the paper, im drawing something inspired by lord of the rings, im listening to "mo ghaol mo ghràdh" on my portable CD player.

i cried for a bit bc it was really overwhelming feeling the drawing so strongly. it raised a lot of thoughts for me like, i havent drawn with a regular pencil since such a long time and therefore havent experienced those sensations. a pen is not the same. decent quality paper is not the same as that shit paper.

after this she said to imagine a situation that makes me feel bothered (i took this to mean things like mildly triggering but not as bad as a full on panic attack), and to feel how i feel in my body in that situation. the answer was i felt sort of tense in my arms as if im about to move them because i have to "do something about it", and ofc kinda tense overall. (im a problem solver, so it makes sense about the moving arms thing, but i didnt know i felt that.)

then to go back to the safe space and feel that in my body again, and compare the two situations and how it feels different. obviously in my safe space i feel less tense (not not-tense, just better) and notably i dont feel like i have to solve anything, i dont have to do anything with my arms. i just exist. then she asked me to do the same thing again with another bothering situation and it felt the same that time too.

after that i think we were done for today, she asked me how i feel but i didnt really know. it was interesting but i didnt feel relieved or anything like that in general, i still feel like shit bc none of my problems went away. but it did feel nice to feel slightly more calm in the safespace and i felt very strongly about the drawing thing. it felt like something i didnt know i missed (and art is a struggle for me as an adult because im so apathetic that its not fun to draw anymore and i barely feel anything about it 99% of the time, unlike back then).

after i left i decided to go past a toy shop and buy a nostalgic pencil, pencil sharpener, eraser and drawing pad, so i have the full set to try doodling in the same way as in childhood. there was a problem in that those super crappy kids paper are hard to find in sweden nowadays. i went in 3 different shops that have kids art supplies and none of them had it. so i had to settle for a better quality paper, sadly, but i will keep my eye out for really crappy paper. my goal is to just doodle whatever i want in there and not share it with anyone unless i really really want to, and to mostly doodle the type of stuff i did as a kid. not strictly, if i want to draw current ocs or whatever thats fine, but i want to try to reconnect stronger with that safespace feeling by drawing in the way and themes of that time period.

since i love girly 90s-y2k things so much, i picked a lipstick-shaped eraser with synthetic cherry scent (we had these when i was a kid), a pencil sharpener shaped like a juice box (its purple with grapes on it), one of those pencils you dont sharpen with short nibs you switch out?- with strawberries on it, and for the regular pencil i went for one with constellations theme, dark blue with golden stars and names of constellations on it, its pretty.

[arthyritis]

A Wonderful World (Welcome Home/Puppet Friends AU) - Chapter One

It was a gloomy day, raindrops hitting the windows and making puddles outside. Phoebe's parents decided it was the perfect day to stay in and, finally, explore the attic.

Well, a few hours had passed since her parents had gone up there, and when they returned, it was with a box of old tapes.

Phoebe didn't even know why her parents had these tapes, but they had found them and given her an open invitation to watch them--they were of a puppet cartoon from the 70s that neither of them remembered ever watching but somehow knew the entire premise of, despite not even being native English speakers.

And, of course, Phoebe had accepted this, bless her little heart. Even if she was a little bit sceptical of them, she knew her friends would like them, being puppets themselves.

They sat on the upstairs couch together and watched Phoebe's parents slide the first tape into the old player and let it start.

The girl's first impression was as expected, a quiet squeal of excitement as she adjusted on the couch before the world of bright colours encapsulated her and her puppets' little heads.

Pip wasn't so convinced. It looked around, admiring how quickly the others had gotten sucked into the show. The picture was grainy, the bright colours dim from time but still quite eye-catching. Pip just wasn't interested.

It tried to get the attention of its keeper, but she was just as sucked in as the rest of the puppets, watching the characters talk and laugh on screen as they introduced the show.

They looked to be... actual puppets as compared to him. While Pip could stand and move around freely, the puppets on the television needed people to move them around, though the rigging was impressively well-hidden to the point he couldn't see anything--however, he just knew.

With the others distracted, Pip dropped his small body down from the couch cushions to the carpeted floor below and grabbed a piece of paper and the box of crayons from the bottom shelf of the coffee table.

...He didn't know what to draw.

Looking around, he tried to find something, but all that kept grabbing his attention was the television. He sighed and picked the first puppet on the screen, a small yellow one with a bush of blue hair and a happy smile. Good, he didn't look as hard to draw as the others.

Pip got to work, taking his time using the black crayon to line the drawing so that he could move on to his favourite part--the colours.

Except... every time it looked up at the screen to ensure it was getting the details right, the puppet was looking right back. It could have sworn he was staring right at it. Okay, weird.

It shook the thought out and finished the swirl within the hair. Finally, colours.

The blue, which happened to be one of his favourite crayons, went down easily, while the yellow smeared against the black lines and created an ugly mark through his drawing.

And then that part was done, too, just as the tape finished. It looked up, seeing the puppet--Wally, as he'd heard him called--still just staring at it from behind the credits. If Pip had any nerves to swallow, it would.

"Do you guys want to watch another?" Phoebe asked. She still didn't seem to have noticed Pip left the couch, or maybe she did but assumed he wasn't interested.

The others all agreed they wanted to watch another, and while Phoebe waited for her parents to come put another tape in, Pip took the opportunity to ditch the room and headed to Phoebe's bedroom.

It looked around before remembering Phoebe's service dog was at the vet, and that was its last option of having someone to sit with who would listen to it.

Resigning itself to falling asleep in its blanket nest on the shelf above the desk, it began climbing the desk handles like ladder rungs to get up there. From the desk, it could use a bunch of strategically placed push pins in the wall like climbing rocks. Then it would be at peace.

The others would probably only be watching a couple more episodes of the show, anyway, with how late it was getting.

He felt the wood under his felt hands and pulled himself onto the desk, then stepped towards the push pins. One hand, one foot, pull and--

Almost immediately, he lost his grip and started plummeting back down, missing the desk by a long shot and heading toward the trash can beside it.

He closed his button eyes, expecting the final drop to feel cushy with all of the paper in it, but instead, he kept going past his expectations.

His eyes flew open as he hit the ground, grass tickling his bare arms, but the fall sending his head into a dizzy spell. He tried to figure out what had happened, but all that came to him was that dang television show as the last memory he had.

It waited patiently for the dizziness to let up before finally sitting and looking around. And maybe it was the hit to the head, but why did this look exactly like the set from the tapes except... real?

Pip didn't even know he could be knocked out. Sure, he slept on his own though he didn't need to, it was just something to pass the time, but this was absurd!

Then again, the pain he was experiencing told him a different story, one that he wasn't ready to accept.

Had he just been teleported? No, there was no way-

Shuffling behind him. Pip spun around quickly to find what was making the noise and spotted a... bush of blue hair sitting atop a yellow figure. The puppet smiled at him from a distance but didn't advance, and when Pip blinked, he had disappeared.

Not freaky at all.

More noise from a different direction. It turned again and, this time was greeted by a giant bird that it had not seen in the show, running directly towards it. It shuffled back a couple of steps, allowing the bird time to slow down and see that it was scared.

"Oh, feathers!" She held her wings to her beak. "Are you all right, little one? You're not hurt, are you?"

Oh, she seemed... kind! Still, Pip was startled by her size, and standing from the grass didn't help that any. She was at least four times Pip's size.

Pip pointed to himself, then held out a thumbs up to let her know he was okay, still slowly backing away. He didn't know where he planned to go, but he knew he didn't want to be here.

The bird lady blinked. "You're okay? That's good to... see. Oh, feathers, you have a loose thread. Is that new? I can patch that right up for you!"

Pip's hand rose to find the thread, discovering the newly separated piece of string somewhere near his ear. Dang it, one of his hearing aids had cracked in the fall and ripped his stitching. That was probably where the pain was coming from, and if he didn't get it fixed, it could rip further, and he could start losing stuffing!

He opened his mouth a few times until, finally, he was able to form words. "Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble."

"I'm sure!" she insisted. "I always have a bandage on hand--or wing!" she laughed a little, and it sounded worried enough that it eased Pip's own anxieties. She pulled a bandaid from a little patterned kerchief around her neck and bent down in front of him. "Turn around and hold still, dear. I'll be quick as possible with these clumsy wings."

Pip nodded and turned. Some of her feathers peeked into its vision, a couple even tickling its nose as she attached the bandage to its felt.

"And done!" she said. "How does that feel? Better? I noticed the contraption on your ear has a piece that's stuck in the tear, but- oh, feathers. We might need to get one of the others to help with that. It will take a more delicate touch!"

Pip's button eyes widened as he turned to look at her again. "That's okay, really. I can get my keeper to fix it when I go home!"

He tried to sound anything but worried, but failed as evidenced by the bird lady's expression changing.

"Keeper? Home? Do you mean to say you're not the new neighbour everyone has been talking about? Oh, feathers..."

"What are you--?"

"I'm so sorry, little one." The bird interrupted, startling even herself by the way her wing flew to her beak again. She cleared her... throat and lowered the wing to him. "I'm Poppy. Poppy Partridge. What's your name?"

Pip hesitated before raising his own hand to meet what was meant to be a handshake. Her feathers were soft. "I'm Puppet, but my keeper and friends call me Pip."

"Pip! Oh, that's adorable. And it fits you, oh, so well!" She retracted her wing and stood to her full height again, looking around. "Well, we should find Wally. He'll know how you got here and how to get you home!"

The name of the one he had seen on the television finally escaped her mouth and Pip backed up once again, unintentionally this time. "Who's Wally?" Of course, he partially knew the answer, but maybe she could answer some questions before dragging him off to the puppet who had been seemingly staring at him through the screen at home.

"Oh!" Poppy started. Pip swore he could see a bead of sweat drip down her feathers but he blinked and it was gone. "Wally is what we consider to be the heart of our little neighbourhood, called Home! He lives in a house right in the middle of the neighbourhood, and he's... well he's a whole nest of fun."

That last part didn't sound like a positive thing. "So he's like the mayor?"

"Not exactly." Poppy shook her feathery head and sighed. "Just follow me. He might be able to explain better; I'm just the neighbourhood baker, after all."

Pip felt bad but followed behind her anyway. He couldn't help but look around at everything. It was as colourful as it had been on the television, or maybe even more so, considering the age of those tapes. He wondered if Poppy knew she was from a television show, but decided not to ask in case it just caused more anxiety in her. So, he kept his mouth shut and followed silently.

The houses were actual houses, with interiors Pip could see through the windows. The one he had fallen down by looked like some sort of post office, and there was one about 25 meters west that looked like the back of a store with a loading dock and everything. 20 meters north was a barn that Poppy cheerfully pointed out was her house.

Northwest from the post office was the way they were headed, but Pip didn't have it in him to calculate the distance this time.

The little red house was friendly looking from the outside, save for the black pathway out front, and the window eyes watching as he and Poppy approached.

Wally was sitting on the front stoop with a piece of chalk and a stick, scraping dust off of the drawing utensil into a small pile by his feet. He looked up as the odd couple got closer, that smile still on his face.

"Hello, neighbours." His eyes trailed from Poppy's height to Pip's. "Quite the tumble you took, earlier, wasn't it, neighbour? Are you all right?"

"He's fine, Wally," Poppy told the smaller puppet. "Though, he does have some questions for you."

Wally's eyes never left Pip. "I would hope so. You can leave, Poppy. Thank you for delivering me the new neighbour."

Poppy stayed silent, turning her head to look down at Pip. "Is it all right if I leave you with Wally? You can tell me all about things later, all right?"

"Oh, there won't be anything significant to tell, neighbour. Come, let's sit you down, Pip."

Neither Pip nor Poppy had introduced him.

Suddenly, Poppy's wing left Pip's head and she smiled sadly as she walked away with a wave, leaving Pip with Wally.

"How did you know my name?" Pip asked, growing impatient as the yellow puppet just kept staring at it. "And how and why am I here?"

Wally tilted his head. "You don't remember? You came here yourself. I'm sorry to say we were expecting you--" he didn't sound sorry-- "but Home is a fine little place. Though, if you want to go back to your home, I'll understand, too."

He put a hand to his chest and tilted his head from sideways to facing down at the ground, his eyes peeking up darkly from under his styled hair.

Pip shifted in its spot. "I just want to know how, that's all. I have friends at home, a keeper--"

"All of which you can return to once you give Home a fair chance," Wally suddenly said. The words sounded forced, but genuine as could be. "Now, I heard you have an injury that requires a more delicate touch than our other neighbour could offer. I think I have just the one."

,

Wally knocked on the door to his neighbours house. The outside looked beautiful, yellow and green with orange flowers in the planter boxes and vines hanging from the roof, looking seemingly controlled and non-destructive. Wally played with the wreath on the door while he waited for the footsteps inside of the house to get closer.

The door unlocked and someone looked around. They had black hair and grey skin and were dressed quite smartly for just being at home. Their eyes widened and then narrowed at the sight of Wally at their door, then shifted to Pip.

"Can I help you?"

Wally pulled Pip closer, putting on what Pip could already tell was a façade of worry.

"Hello, Frank. You have small hands," he said bluntly, to which Frank scoffed. "This is our new neighbour, Pip. He has a problem. You see, he fell when he arrived here and damaged one of these contraptions in his ear. There's a piece stuck in his plush. Would you mind helping him to dislodge it?"

Frank perked up slightly at the question of help. They fiddled with the bottom button of their vest. "I'm... not particularly busy at the moment, but I don't normally work on other people, just butterflies." Pip, already worried, frowned. Frank sighed. "However, I'll make an exception. Come on in, Pip."

They led Pip inside, leaving Wally at the door and letting it close in his face, then turning Pip around a corner into a room that Pip could only describe as its own personal heaven.

Frames upon frames of butterflies, stacks and shelves of books on them, too. Its button eyes were wide and it heard Frank chuckle vaguely. Pip looked at them.

"When you said you work on butterflies, this is not what I was expecting," Pip said, expecting some sarcastic answer based on their tone, but got a simple nod in response. Pip grinned. "I like butterflies, too! My keeper used to read me books about them, but now I read them by myself."

Frank sidled over to a shelf of various equipment; extra frames, a sewing kit, and a pair of sturdy looking tweezers from a case. "Keeper?" they asked, and that did seem to be the thing everyone focused on, wasn't it?

"She's like my guardian, except I have one of those as well. The man who made me. I've never seen him, but I've heard his voice and he seemed nice. My keeper is nice, too," Pip rambled, before stopping when it noticed Frank's confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just all new to me," Frank assured with a vague expression. They held the tweezers up. "Now, let's see what Wally was talking about."

Pip covered his ears and the bandage on the side of his head. "They're my hearing aids. I can't hear properly without them. I can't... talk, either. It's how I was made."

"I'll be gentle," Frank said. They lowered themself closer to Pip's height and pulled his hand away, slightly surprised when the smaller puppet didn't resist. "I promise."

He pulled the bandage off and set it aside, eyeing the wound with his normally furrowed brow. Then, without another word, he detached the hearing aid from the Velcro it was hooked onto. Pip visibly winced, turning slightly to see what Frank was doing, but he turned it back around and brought the tweezers to the wound.

"Just hang on..."

The wound was deeper than the actual piece of plastic lodged into it, so the tweezers didn't have to dig far. Frank pulled them back out triumphantly, their frown turning to a grin as they looked at the purple plastic.

Soon, they were attaching the rest of the hearing aid back on, the bandage tossed when they realised they had the supplies to fix the wound.

Frank stood in front of Pip, waiting for him to speak. "How does it feel?"

"G... good." The relief that ran through Pip's body felt great. "Thank you for that. I'll fix the hearing aid whenever I get a chance." He took the piece of plastic from Frank's outstretched grey hand.

"Anything for a new neighbour; especially one who enjoys butterflies almost as much as I do." He stood and walked to the window. "Hmm, Wally must have wandered off. Say, I would never under normal circumstances offer this to just anyone, but I’m feeling nice today—would you like to stay for tea?”

#welcome home fanfic #Puppet Friends #grey does writing

[drawingpad-studios]

Anyways, a few posts after my past sprite edits of the final designs for As Thin As Paper. Here's more.

Content warning for blood and such, which y'all probably already know if you've been keeping up with my As Thin As Paper posts

Tretone:

Basically yeah, sense Tretone had 2-3 stages(if you count being fucking dead as a stage) of appearance, I thought it would be interesting if the bugs and glitches would mix up the sprites. Resulting in a painful sensation of being ripped apart, limp from limb. Since he's a Crevon and those are basically just demons, I would like to think he would survive this. Keeping a spell on his heart, which is the whole note on fire on the concept art, to keep it going and trying to keep his body together so that he could survive and potentially overcome the corruption. With his design, it's pretty obvious it didn't work. And that's pretty much the effect the bugs and glitches had on him. It was pretty fun to draw.

Here's the 6th chapter boss, with the idea of by the end of chapter 5, you would have been chased down to Sphaiano Spire. He would really have one of the least appearances in his particular chapter, mainly because of his size compared to the doors and such of the spire. Maybe being able to send down a spell or two, or maybe trying to grab at you. Basically this chapter will be like those early gen pokemon gyms before the gym leader, especially the gyms that have more than the members as obstacles in the maze.

Antagon:

This boy has EMOTIONAL DAMAGE.

Okay jokes aside, this is technically idea 2 for Antagon and Antagamom. Originally I had it where Antagamom was the one alive, with her flames turning her into a bear because she's like a "mama bear" in the original game, and the one grieving the other's death with her holding her son's heart and crown(?) thing. The whole idea of them was just "Why don't I make this family grieve". But sense I didn't really like the design I did for Antagamom, I decided to swap them and make Antagon the alive one. Taking inspiration from Onion Cookie from the game Cookie Run Kingdom, where he has a plushie(that looks like the fire element on the cards) that's possessed(by his mom) and his tears make him cry more.

Practically what happened to him was that, since he and his mom are Torchkin, I would imagine the bugs and glitches would change their fire into real fire. With his mom being burned to ashes, and Antagon almost fully burning away until Duskkar "helped" him by somehow stabilizing the flame and his body. It didn't take away the pain of the flames though. Now, under the belief that Duskkar could help his mom, he's basically just wandering around looking for her(either for each piece of ash or maybe in his hopeful heart maybe her actual body that he hopes there is a slight chance of not having been burned up fully). Sad shit times.

Sense he isn't really aggressive, with unintentionally hurting others with his tears and fire, chapter 7 isn't really that dangerous. In fact Antagon is gonna be a part of your party while you're in this chapter, since he thinks you're gonna help him find his mom, with a small random chance of him accidentally hurting you and your "party" during the random encounters. It's kinda like one of those "Bring something somewhere" missions(I forgot the actual term ATM). By the end of Chapter 7, you will find Duskkar, who will scare Antagon to not be around you and use Antagon to battle you. From inspiration of a drawing I rebloged by @theothergueck , Duskkar would basically use Antagon as a flamethrower; covering one of your options during random times, hurting Antagon to get more flames, etc and etc. to end this battle, you got to attack Duskkar until he's at half health, Kill Antagon(if you're going for a genocide route), or "passify" Duskkar somehow.

Lanter:

Basically, I had no idea better than this design. Had the thought of a sort of headless horseman, with his head being able to come off, along with being chained like "The One Who Waits" from The Cult of Lamb. Yeah this is definitely one of the designs where it's obvious I was losing steam for the concept arts.

Basically, he and Duskkar were some of the first people that the Bugs and Glitches targeted. Seeing his cousin being turned into a monster with the bugs and glitches amplifying his shown negative traits, Lanter tried to stop Duskkar. This led to a battle, where; Duskkar won, took Lanter's light in his pumpkin head, and chained his cousin to the room where you originally saw 1x/Tess in the original game. After a while of pulling and tugging at the chains, the chains still held but the ground that the chains were connected to pooped off. Once freed, while Duskkar's "help" to the others had no care in it, Lanter at least tried to make things better whenever he tried to help the others. Like when he Sewed Back together an orange haired girl that was torn to shreds.

While he does have a chapter, which is like chapter 10, he will appear throughout the game as a harmless merchant. Where you can buy some cards, weapons, tips, and healing items, and you can sell him some stuff too. By the time you get to his chapter, his chapter will be adorned with certain stuff you sold to him. Especially his battle. Practically, you're setting the difficulty of his chapter when selling certain items. Not every item, but specific items like certain weapons or something.

#super paper roblox #sprite edit #digital art #art #as thin as paper #tretone #Antagon #Lanter #cw blood

[shonpota]

Computer (Kasumi - Yakou)

Kasumi pet Yakou's head when Yakou was using Haseyama's computer. The computer was always been in front of him, so of course Yakou would be interested in it, yet the interest is also dangerous since the computer has all personal informations of the casts, like names and everything, rumours said it even has personal and crime records of each casts.

Yakou spent times to open random files after he finished his task. Yakou simply got bored, that's all. His hand almost moved to file that keep all secrets of the casts, Starless hidden history, and underground works.

Quickly, Kasumi tilted the seat back and sighing, then he leaned closer when Yakou was surprised with sudden movement. Yakou stared at him with confused eyes,

"Kasumi, that surprises me.. Since when you are here?"

"Since awhile ssu, you sure like to explore about Starless huh?" Kasumi return the chair position, then gave him a warm tea. "This is still Haseyama's computer, don't open it like it is yours, ok?" He let a soft warning, after all isn't he the adult compared to him?

Yakou frowned for a bit while thinking, he did admit Kasumi is right, but his ego insisted that he have to find something deeper in Starless that he can help,

"I guess.. You are right, but I am so curious...!!!".

Kasumi chuckled and watched Yakou showing stubborn youthfulness as usual, he then carried him up and took him outside of the office,

"I know, why not asking everyone about what they think about problems in Starless? " Asked Kasumi softly and tap his nose.

Yakou nodded excitedly and took some papers and pen, "I am going start from you!". Kasumi suddenly feels a bit nervous, Yakou is a grown up, yet somehow there's a feeling to protect him from Starless underground side. Kasumi will feel bad about lying too...

"Uhm, I wish everyone start getting along, Yakou. That's all, do you know how?"

Yakou stunned at the answer and shook head, "I don't know how, everyone is already an adult, do adults usually fight a lot?" His gentle blue eyes gazed to the stage, "The stage is like a fighting place!! I just realized it! It is still beautiful!"

Kasumi lit up his smoke and blew the smoke, "Yakou, true.. The stage is beautiful. I want to protect it, we all want to protect it.".

Yakou nodded and sit down on floor, "I have idea!! Let's write what casts think about ways to protect Starless, then we can grouped them into similar thoughts and have brainstorm session together.". Kasumi laughed and almost choked on his cigar, " i guess you are right, let's draw something on whiteboard. We will ask everyone okay?". Yakou nodded softly and smiles, "I want to! But I am hungry, going to get food from Kongou!" He then run off.

Kasumi sighed and cameback to the room and hide the bad files, "How to repress the curiosity in him, this is bad...". Takami came to the room and chuckled, "Kasumi, he is an adult, he can protect himself. Since when Starless is a soft place where we start to like each other? This place been distorted." He pour tea and gave it to him,

"Yakou's temper is something else. He can be so twisted under bad people. He is also greedy and ignorant. Yet he is also innocent at times. Isn't it ironic that both of us volunteer to help him? " Kasumi sighed. "Why Kei don't want to be the owner? This doesn't make any sense. Wasn't he came to takeover Starless? This is a good time." Kasumi added.

Takami was amused and smirked at the confused mob-looking man, "I know right? Both of us and most of the casts are bad adults, but I guess not enough to affect him and twist him to a demon.". He drank the tea and looked at rhe computer, "Hiding the files? Clever. Hopefully no one will find the secrets.". " I really hope Haseyama wake up soon, this room is most corrupted after all-oh! Yakou? You carried lots of food, want to share?"

Yakou nodded and put the food on table, "Let's eat together!" He gave them plates amd start to eat, enjoying everything he ate, "So tasty!! Starless is the best!"

Takami and Kasumi looked at each other and chuckled, "Starless is your heaven, huh Yakou? You have everything you want?". Yakou nodded and drank juice, "Pretty much! Everyone is good!".

"Aah, i hope this heaven can be given to everyone too." Takami chuckled and start to eat with Kasumi.

-end-

#blackstar theater starless #blst fanfic

[what-if-nct]

I had a dream I was at this like vacation house with Stray Kids. And Hyunjin was trying to get me to swim. Like he was holding my hand and pulling me saying it'd be fun, I vividly remember him looking back once in awhile while pulling me to make sure he didn't get too close to the pool. But I didn't want to be in a swimsuit in front of all of them. And he kept telling me it was okay and trying to take off the terry cloth strapless dress I had over my swimsuit until he stopped right in front of the pool and softly said its okay. And I took the dress off and we jumped into the pool.

And we were just running around the pool and playing and splashing each other with water. Then I was sitting with Felix and Seungmin when Hyunjin disappeared and I walked into the house to find him. And he was burning a picture of us with a candle. And I started crying and took the picture out of his hand and said what are you doing? And put it in a glass of water. He said he was burning the edges so it looked old for his collage and he showed me a collage of pictures of us he had printed in sepia to look older and there was ribbons, and flowers and copies of letters from him he had burned the edges of and I didn't know what to say he just held my hand and smiled at me with his little hyunjin smile.

Then around dinner Exo joined us and Yixing was with them it felt like it was a reunion for them. And I was on the phone to my friend comparing the differences between Hyunjin and Yixing telling her Yixing never that in reference to the pool thing with Hyunjin. Then it was late and I couldn't sleep and was in living room and Yixing was walking out of his room and said can I show you something. And he pulled out a bag of something in a container and told me he genetically engineered a neverending soup. And showed it to me and tried to explain how it worked. Then he pulled out drawings and said "my daughters made these. They somehow write in an ancient form of Chinese and I cant read it. But they're English is in cursive it's easier but still kind of hard to read" He was really sad he couldn't read his daughters writings. But he showed me more things. Before putting everything down on the table. I then hugged him and told him I will always love him before going back to bed. And he said you too. And he just stayed in the living room eating his soup and staring at his daughters papers all night.

#im afraid of swimming but for some reason that wasn't a reason i didn't want to swim #dream hyunjin #dream yixing #stray kids dreams #stray kids dream

[silvfyre-writings]

Aizawa Cares Pt. 2 (MHA Fanfic)

I'm on a role with writing this apparently. Be prepared to deal with just this for a bit.

----------

Kaminari had learnt very quickly upon entering UA that him getting accepted onto the hero course was an absolute fluke. He didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d somehow managed to pass the written portion of the entrance exam, and he’d managed to score enough points on the practical to get his foot in the door. But now? Now he was lucky to pass the quizzes that the teachers set for his class. And don’t even remind him about the midterms. Or the finals. It made him shudder every time to even think about his scores then. Kaminari knew that he was the bottom of the class, and while his classmates might like to remind him of it, it didn’t mean that he liked to be reminded of his stupidity. He tried not to let his friend’s words get to him, after all, they were only teasing and they teased everybody, not just him, but it was hard not to let every comment cut deep. At least Bakugo calling him ‘Dunce-face’ was just the explosive teens way of showing that they were friends.

So why was he in the men’s restroom, sitting on one of the toilets and crying after the boy had done exactly that?

He knew why of course. He wasn’t that stupid. Clenched in one of his fists was his latest test, the big red score at the top of the paper indicating that he’d once again, failed. And spectacularly at that. Kaminari’s classmates had immediately compared test scores of course, most of them cheering at how well they’d done. It’d brought a smile to his face to see Kirishima and Ashido so excited over passing the test. Bakugo and Yaoyorozu’s tutoring had done the two a lot of good. Unlike him. He’d accepted tutoring from Bakugo this time, hoping that his friend’s method of tutoring would work. And it hadn’t.

“Oh Kami…” Ashido’s face had fallen when she’d caught sight of his test score.

“It’s fine!” Kaminari had covered his test score, plastering a strained smile on his face. “There’s always next time!”

“Oi.” Bakugo had stormed up to him. “You passed that mock test I gave you Dunce-face, so what the fuck happened?”

Kaminari had tried to laugh it off. “I guess I just got distracted, that’s all. Sorry you wasted your time, Bakugo.”

Bakugo had stared at him intensely before clicking his tongue and storming off without saying a word.

“Kaminari? Are you okay?” Kirishima’s voice called out, drawing Kaminari back into the present. Quickly, he rubbed his arm across his face to try and scrub away the evidence that he’d been crying, although he was sure that his eyes were red and puffy anyways.

“I’m fine!” Kaminari shoved is test into one of his bags pockets before leaving the toilet stall, silently begging Kirishima to not say anything. “Did I miss the bell or something?”

He felt his friends gaze linger on him before the redheaded boy slung an arm around Kaminari’s shoulder, leading him from the bathroom. “Nah, you just disappeared real quick so I wanted to make sure everything was fine. Besides, one of the business course students picked a fight with Bakugo.”

“Oh my god.” Kaminari could only imagine how well that had gone down. “Evacuation?”

“Evacuation.” Kirishima confirmed with a nod. Silence passed between the two before they both burst into laughter. It wasn’t uncommon for the cafeteria to be evacuated at least once a week after someone’s quirk went off, something that Kaminari knew drove the teachers insane. Especially since most of the time it was Bakugo exploding some poor student that had wronged him in some way that set off the fire system. “You should’ve seen Aizawa-sensei’s face when he walked in!”

Kaminari shuddered as he imagined the look of fury that would no doubt have been on his homeroom teachers face upon walking into such a scene. Aizawa-sensei was terrifying when he wanted to be and Kaminari had no doubt the man could reduce villains to tears with just a glare if he tried. Who needed to erase people’s quirk when you could just stare at them until they submitted?

“Kirishima! Kaminari!” Ashido waved at them from her desk where Jirou and Sero were already sitting, eating what remained of their lunches.

Kaminari smiled and waved back, dragging another desk to make more room for he and his friends to spread out over. “So you guys escaped the chaos?”

“Yep!” Ashido laughed. “We fled the moment Bakugo went after that poor student. The rest of our class? Not so lucky.”

The group of friends jolted as the classroom door slammed open. And as if Ashido’s words had summoned them, the rest of Kaminari’s classmates trudged into the room, all of them looking irritated and miserable at the same time, water dripping from their uniforms. Kaminari’s heart panged in sympathy, having been caught by the cafeteria’s extremely sensitive fire system more than once himself.

“You guys, okay?” Kaminari found himself asking. There probably wasn’t much he could really do to help his soaked classmates, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“We’re alright, no thanks to Bakugo.” Sato grumbled. “Yaoyorozu’s making us some towels so we can dry off. Thanks for checking on us though.”

Kaminari smiled. Making sure that his classmates were happy was the one thing he was good at doing after all. He took pride in every smile that he managed to bring to someone’s face, no matter the reason they were feeling down. Hell, if he couldn’t make them smile, then he’d just sit with them in silent company, something that his less chatty classmates appreciated. There was something about helping his friends that made him happy.

It’s hopeless. I’m never going to become a hero at this rate. Kaminari curled in on himself at his desk, biting back tears. No way would be start crying in class. No way. But the longer he stared at the test that Ectoplasm-sensei had handed back, the more he could feel the tears building in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand across his face before any of them could drip down his face.

“Kaminari.”

He looked up into his teacher’s face, watching the stern expression soften slightly. “Yes, Sensei?”

“Are you alright? You usually score better than this.” His teacher asked, concern laced throughout his voice.

Kaminari dropped his eyes to stare at his desk. “I’ll try harder next time, Sensei.” He heard his teacher hum quietly to himself before moving on to the person behind him. Kaminari bit back a sob. There was no helping him at this point, he was just too stupid to do this. He had tried so hard to study for this test. He had studied every night, going over each problem until he could finally do it, and yet when it had come to actually doing the test, he’d been unable to remember how to solve most of the problems. And it frustrated him because he knew how to solve them, but he just couldn’t remember how to when it mattered the most.

The moment that the bell rang to signify the end of the day, Kaminari was out of his seat and out the door, ignoring the calls of his friends as he fled the stifling classroom. Stupid, so fucking stupid. Can’t even pass a simple math test. Can’t even go through one heroics class without becoming an idiot either. Kaminari thought angrily as he stormed towards the dorms, the tears he’d been fighting back finally escaping, sobs tearing themselves from his chest. His whole day had just been terrible, nothing going right one bit. He could tell that his teachers were getting tired with every mistake he made during their classes, and frustrated with his declining grades. Not that he understood why they were getting made about his grades. He was already the bottom of the class after all.

Once he’d made it to the dorms, Kaminari opened the door and rushed to his room, slamming the door behind him and throwing his bag into the corner to be dealt with later. He collapsed onto his bed, and screamed into his pillow before he just broke down into sobs, shoulders shaking with each one. He was interrupted by a knock on his door. Just how long had he been crying for?

“Kami?” It was Ashido’s voice. Kaminari pushed himself up and tucked himself into the corner where his bed met the wall. “Kami, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Kaminari called back, wincing at how his voice croaked. “I’d… I’d just like to be alone for now, Mina.”

“Okay… text us if you need anything?”

“Will do.” Kaminari listened as the footsteps faded away. He appreciated his friend coming to check on him, and normally, he would’ve let her in and accepted the warm hug she no doubt would’ve given him. But there was only so much pity he could take from his friends when it came to his test scores, and right now, he’d just much rather break down in the privacy of his own room right now than have them trying to comfort him.

~~~

“He seemed rather distressed after I handed back his test today. His grades in my class have always been low, but this is the worst score Kaminari’s gotten since the start of the year. I fear that there may be something else going on with the boy.” Aizawa listened as Ectoplasm explained his concerns. In his hand was a copy of Kaminari’s most recent test that Ectoplasm had given, the failing grade glaring at him from the top of the page.

“Hmm…” Aizawa responded, flicking through the pages and thinking hard about how to approach this issue with his student. Ectoplasm wasn’t the first of 1-A’s teachers to come to him with concern about Kaminari’s grades. He placed the test down on his desk where copies of Kaminari’s tests from his other classes also lay. It was clear that the boy was struggling, but he’d never been afraid to ask for help in understanding the material before. So what had changed?

“Do you think it’s test anxiety, Eraser?” Ectoplasm asked, taking a seat at the desk beside Aizawa’s own. “He always looks like he’s about to have a breakdown whenever a test comes around in my class.”

“Could be.” Aizawa sighed. “Although it could just be mathematics that he struggles with. Mic has said that Kaminari has no issues in his class, although his grades are still poor.” Leaning back in his chair, he glanced over at Ectoplasm. “Leave it with me and I’ll talk to him when I go and do the dorm check. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Ectoplasm gave a short nod before he stood and left the room, leaving Aizawa alone to continue to shift through Kaminari’s test results, trying to understand what had caused the sudden decline in his grades. It’s been a few months since the training camp and Hound Dog said that he hadn’t noticed anything concerning in their session… and he passed the license exam… so what’s going on with you, Kaminari?

Aizawa let out a deep sigh before he stood from his desk. Sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to help him solve this problem, so he began to make the five-minute trek to 1-A’s dorm. His colleague had said Kaminari was distressed, so he’d go make sure the boy was okay. He was sure that his student would have his closest friends by his side, as they were the kind of kids that would stick by a friend in distress no matter what. So when he entered the dorm and saw Ashido and the rest of Kaminari’s friends on the couch, a seed of worry began to bloom within him.

“Ashido.” He called, waiting for the girl to acknowledge him before he continued. “Where’s Kaminari?”

Immediately, Ashido’s face crumpled and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Sensei! Can you help him? He seemed so upset after we got our tests back from Ectoplasm-sensei today, but he stormed off before we could speak to him. And when we got back, he was already in his room, and he said he wanted to be alone!”

“I’m going to speak with him, yes.” Aizawa dodged the question of whether he was going to help Kaminari, since he didn’t even know if he’d be able to in the first place. “But first, has something happened to Kaminari recently?”

The small group of friends turned to look at each other before they turned back to him. “No, I don’t think so.” Kirishima frowned. “We did get to visit home a few weeks ago though? But Kami never said anything happened.”

Aizawa nodded and made his way up towards the third floor where Kaminari resided. Some of his students greeted him as he passed them, no doubt on their way down to make themselves dinner. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe that these teenagers were capable of cooking, considering how little self-preservation they seemed to have, and the other part was proud that they could look after themselves somewhat. Of course that didn’t mean the dorms escaped from having kitchen disasters every now and then. These were teenagers after all. Teenagers with a multitude of different quirks spread amongst them.

“Kaminari.” Aizawa knocked on his student’s door. “May I come in?”

“Sensei! Uh, sure, I guess.” Came Kaminari’s voice through the door. Aizawa carefully turned the handle and let himself into the room, taking note of the tear tracks running down Kaminari’s cheeks and the bloodshot eyes that came from crying. He caught himself before he stared for too long. His student was already embarrassed enough from the look of it. Instead, Aizawa walked over to Kaminari’s desk, pulled out the chair and sat facing his student’s bed, resting his head on a hand.

“Is there something going on?”

Kaminari looked stunned, suddenly finding his sheets more interesting. “N-No. Nothing’s going on.”

“So why are all your teachers coming to me about the sudden decline in your grades?” Silence followed his question. “If it’s test anxiety then you need to tell us. We can help find another way for you to take your tests. If it’s something personal, then tell me. I might be able to help, and if I can’t, I’ll at least listen to you. But we can’t help you if you won’t talk to us, Kaminari.”

Aizawa waited patiently while a thoughtful expression crossed Kaminari’s face. He knew that some of his students needed a moment to think before they spoke, so he was more than happy to give them that moment if it meant they’d talk to him. He would always listen to and believe his students, no matter what the situation was. His co-workers could mock him for all eternity, but the joke was on them because his method worked. His students talked to him when they had something going on. Most of the time at least.

“Sensei…” Kaminari finally spoke. “Am I stupid?”

“No.” Aizawa said without a hint of hesitation. To his shock, Kaminari teared up.

“So why do I keep failing?” A sob broke from Kaminari’s chest, the boy pulling his knees to his chest and shoving his face into them. “Why can’t I just—why can’t I do anything right? I’m just the idiot of the class that can’t do anything right! I study so, so much, but the moment it comes to a test, I can’t remember. I try so hard at training just to have to sit out because I can’t control my quirk properly! And everyone makes fun of how stupid I am, so I must be stupid.”

“Enough.” Aizawa said. It hurt to hear his student being so harsh on himself, and he wouldn’t let it continue. “You aren’t stupid, Kaminari.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re you. You’re the one that brightens the classroom with his presence. You’re the one who knows how to cheer up his classmates when they’re having a tough day. And right now, you’re struggling.” Aizawa said with a gentle tone, getting up from the chair to sit on the edge of Kaminari’s bed. He reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And it’s okay to be struggling.”

It appeared that that was the correct thing to say, for Kaminari’s gaze finally lifted to meet Aizawa’s own. And seconds later, he had a student clutching at his shirt, Kaminari burying his face into Aizawa’s chest, shoulders shaking. Aizawa wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and just held him.

“My parents weren’t pleased with my grades when we were allowed to visit home.” Kaminari said once he’d finally calmed down. He showed no signs of moving, not that Aizawa was going to move either. He just sat there and listened to his student talk. “They’ve never called me stupid to my face, but I can tell they’re disappointed in me every time they see my grades. And it’s—it’s different ya know? Cause I know that Jirou and Mina are just teasing. I know that Bakugo calling me ‘Dunce-face’ is just what he does. But—but it hurts when your own parents give up on you…”

Aizawa brought his other arm around to wrap Kaminari into a proper hug. “Is that what started this?” He feels Kaminari nod against his chest. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You said…” Kaminari began before trailing off.

“What is it?”

“You said—you said that you could help me?”

“I did.” Aizawa confirmed.

“How?”

“We can start by doing some tutoring after school. We’ll try different methods to find what works for you. And we can also give your tests to you in a different way to the rest of your classmates. It might take some time to find what works, but we’d be poor teachers if we just gave up on you, Kaminari.” Aizawa squeezed his student’s shoulders in reassurance before pulling away from the boy, looking at the tear-stained face in sympathy.

“So I’m not stupid?” Kaminari croaked.

“No, you’re not stupid. You just learn differently.” Aizawa gave one of his rare smiles, the worry inside him dissipating as Kaminari gave him one in return. “Come see me after school, problem child, and we’ll sort out a new study schedule for you.”

“Okay.” Kaminari paused for a moment. “Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa stood and ruffled Kaminari’s hair. “It’s nothing. Now I believe you have some friends down in the common room who’ve been itching to check on you. Might be worth letting them know.”

“I will, Sensei.”

“Good.” Aizawa reached over and squeezed Kaminari’s shoulder once more before quietly leaving the room. He wanted to get back to the teacher dorms so that he could plot of a way to murder Kaminari’s parents and get away with it. And also design a new study plan to help the boy improve his grades. But mostly plot murder.

#mha #mha fanfic #kaminari denki #fanfiction #writing #dadzawa #aizawa shota

[elis-corner]

Can we hear a bit more about them (your ocs).

I've wanted to write them for ages but I don't really where to start

thx

Heya anon :) Of course! I never really planned to share any of them on Tumblr but here we are, I guess!

The first proper OC I created was a Lord of the Rings OC. Her name was Cuil, and she was a Dunedain ranger. I came up with her as a character because I wanted to start writing fanfiction for myself but without my parents knowing, and so she was born! I don't write her much anymore, but if I roleplay with my friends she often comes out for a duel or two. The way she ties in with my OCs who live in our world is in a different "timeline", to quote FNAF. One of my OCs is a writer and when they write about Cuil in a certain notebook they bring Cuil into the world in a manner of their choice.

The three OCs I spend the most time on in the present are John, Eva, and their daughter. Yes I am a minor with zero parenting experience and barely any romantic experience, but no one sees it, it doesn't have to be 100% realistic, alright?

John was originally based off the guy I like, but he ended up evolving into his own person over time. Eva was quite heavily based off me; mainly the stuff I love about myself, but also the things I don't as a way for me to convince myself that they're okay. Their daughter is a mix of the two, mainly, and has those parts of me that are rather small and quite different to Eva.

Notice the key right here: Based off, based off, and based off and based off. Every single character I create is based off someone in my life. They serve as a great base for different personalities, and help each character have their own unique touch.

If you want to see the kind of things I write, under the cut I've included part of the first thing I ever wrote for Eva and John, earlier this year. Right from that first paragraph, try to establish the OCs personality and possibly behaviour. Their physical description is not mandatory for one to enjoy your works.

Anyway, I don't really know how to help, but I reckon this is good? If not let me know and I'll write more. Have fun writing! If you do ever decide to post it, tag me, or even just DM something to me. I'd love to see!

It really was a perfect view. Eva pulled out her sketchpad, the paper coarse on the side she began to draw on, compared to the smooth and glossy material opposite. It was a comforting feeling, the sand beneath her, rubbing against her skin, with the warm sunrise reaching over the pungent ocean, its warm colours reflecting off of the wet surface. Somehow, it was something that had never come to mind as something to capture–until John recommended it, of course. She couldn’t help but sketch him in as he jogged alongside the waves, mostly just a silhouette as the grand raging ball of flame illuminated the area behind. Her watercolours were the best medium to select, she thought, though nothing could ever properly capture the beauty she looked upon.

The sun further above them than before, John retreated from the waves, coming to lay down beside his kindred spirit. Gently, he brushed some hair that was obscuring his vision to look at Eva’s dabble. The way she moved her brush across the page, the way she bit lightly on her lip as she worked, the way she could capture life and beauty in an unbiased and graceful manner; they were small things about her art that John adored, feeling like he received an insight into the world from her gorgeous eyes. She was a wonderful person. She deserved so much more than he could ever offer, and she did not deserve the kind of treatment that led them here in the first place.

‘You weren’t wrong,’ she said to fill the heavy silence. ‘It is beautiful out here. A good way to distract from… recent events.’ John couldn’t quite understand how she could talk so casually about the end of her relationship–it almost felt as if she didn’t really care all that much, as if she didn’t really love the man who betrayed her.

#ocs #long post

[ceejaykayess]

Throwback to Dazecon for a minute and when my introduction on there ended up digging into a ten minute conversation with others on a Kagerou Daze/AI The Somnium Files group of ideas, of which included Shintaro with the Eneball.

This is my first attempt at doing a sketch page type thing rather than just drawing a solitary figure on a piece of paper and calling it one and done. It means you can also see me testing colours to make sure I got the right shit. This included me practising creating different skin tones with other colours before just getting the pencil I wanted, which once again has left me with a Shintaro that looks like he has spent too much time outside.

I wanted to give him some fresh drip for being in the "future" (literally in terms of when AI takes place compared to when Kagepro can assume to be taken, and sarcastically in that it's 2019 and we all know what people were wearing in 2019), and my friend was like "go triangles over squares," so here we are.

Also, Shintaro's a cop? Of sorts? Which is why he has a gun. And an AI-Ball. I promise he didn't just steal some shit. This is also why he has a necktie, to maintain some level of formality in his dress (read: his Boss forced him to). He also has a black suit jacket that he can actually wear in combination with the tie. I suppose that can be considered the XX equivalent?

It might be hard to see, but he's got a scar over the eye where Ene resides. As well, the Eneball appears bright blue at a distance, but up close has a gradient that shifts from bright blue to dark blue, like Aiba's iris shifting from yellow to orange up close but I used textas and positively fucked it. Anyways, I wonder how he got the scar over his eye~?

Second part featuring everyone's favourite cyber-girl, Ene. Third part featuring everyone's tragic heroine alter, Yaki.

He stared at the shifting summer sky. Bright, bright blue, painted over with oblong streaks of white, as the barest hint of red coul be seen in the corner of his eye. In his hand, a weight pressed down on the skin-tight glove that covered sweating, itching flesh.

An annoyed voice rang in his mind, not at all cute and definitely aggravating. Warning, challenging, mocking, and maybe, just maybe, caring. One that might have looked good in blue, like a bolt of lightning, maybe. Ha, she'd hate to hear that. A much gentler, much more carefree voice followed, openly showing concern and pitifully trying to reproach the former. A voice that felt like a bright green, as full of life as any healer, despite his actual taste in games and characters.

A third voice joined them, one that felt infinitely warm, infinitely kind, infinitely patient. One that felt much like that encroaching red summer sky, that signals endings and departures. It was a voice that suited the colour red much more than anyone else he knew, and much more than the voice thought it suited him.

A conversation played between the three, one that he could almost hear, could almost interject in, if only he would close his eyes, if only he would just listen-

But then an even more annoying voice echoed through his mind, blue as a lightning flash and somehow more irritating to be around.

"Master, Master! Are you okay!?"

He groaned. He wished he wasn't. He wanted to listen more. To talk more.

"Ugh... yeah. Yeah, just peachy."

But, he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. He bid farewell to the hazy figures once more, sitting upright and letting the sky fade from his view.

"Well, good! Y'know Master, if something like this kept you down, you'd be absolutely bullied down at the station! Maybe I should spread this recording around, just to give everyone a laugh..."

"You better not! And, don't you have to hand in recordings anyways? What's the threat here...?"

"Well Master, this super cute cyber girl only has to give in recordings related to cases. Something a bit more personal, though, like a certain leg folder..."

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up!"

As he let that now familiar blue voice fill his head, he stood, holding his Evolver firmly. God knows she would have given him shit for dropping her gun. Even if he tried to placate her in Shintaro's place, Shintaro would have to hide behind her and silently plead before he would be saved from any cruel and unusual punishments.

But, they'e not here.

Instead, he let his head fill with that blue voice. Instead, he thought of that old man with a voice like burnt orange. Instead, he thought of those bratty kids he helped take care of, an annoying orange, a painfully relatable cyan, and a deeply irritating magenta. Instead, he thought of those he might meet again, a kind green, a confident purple, a conniving black, a curious pink, a quiet lime.

Even if he might wish to disappear, he knows that even he has a place in the world. Even he has a place among others. So he'll stay. To protect that sort of peace he has reluctantly come to love.

He brings his Evolver up, and prepares to fight once more.

"Let's go, Ene."

"Of course, Master!"

#kagerou project #ai the somnium files #shintaro kisaragi #art #The full body sketch is based on one of his stances in the Mekakucity Actors OP #The sketch of his face is based on him mocking Takane back in episode 6 #His Evolver is based on the pistols Talane and Headphone Actor used also in episode 6 #Is it even really an Evolver at this point if it isn't even a revolver? #Shintaro needs a haircut but he won't get one because fuck you #He's 22 here instead of 18 so that's neat #Deeply uncertain how or even if I want to combine the supernatural BS of both franchises or just focus on Kagepro's #Should actually finish watching NI so I can understand Fraying and shit

[aurumacadicus]

@winterironmonth​ prompt -- SFW Sunday: Word, Dialogue

Word: Confession

Dialogue: “Shit… I’m in love with [pronounce choice].”

I’d like to apologize in advance because this is so chaotic compared to the beauty I posted yesterday. 😔 On the other hand, working in a school is chaotic, and it’s worse when the kids are smart. Don’t forget to blacklist ‘long post’!

--

Tony was explaining the concept of electromagnetism, red marker bright against his whiteboard, when he realized the truth. “Shit. I’m in love with him. I’m in love with Bucky Barnes.”

Then he remembered where he was and he spun around to face the class, mortified. He didn’t make a sound. On the other hand, neither did the class, who were staring at him in what looked like astonishment. He wondered if he could make a break for the door and turn in his resignation before word got out.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter finally said, voice weak. “Are you telling us that you didn’t know?”

“What do you mean am I telling you? You knew?!” Tony barked, somehow even more mortified than before. He hadn’t even thought that was possible.

“Mr. Stark, you’re like, embarrassingly obvious,” M.J. drawled, finally turning her attention back to her desk.

Tony was dismayed to realize she was pulling out her sketchbook where she practiced drawing people in crisis. Was he in crisis? Was he going into her sketchbook? He should probably resign with an email and go live in the forest in shame. Could he survive in a forest? Oh God. He was in crisis.

“You signed up to participate in the student verses teacher basketball game just so you could be on the team with him, Mr. Stark,” Ned told him, not unkindly.

“I—I could be into sports,” Tony began to sputter.

“Everyone knows you’re not into sports, Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

Tony squinted at him, trying to decide if the gentleness of his tone annoyed him. Mostly it just made the prospect of fucking off to a forest and dying more palatable. He turned back to the board and mechanically wrote the rest of the equation he’d been writing. Stared at it. Turned back to the class. “If any of you tell Barnes, you will be directly responsible for my death.”

“I don’t think anyone’s died of humiliation yet, Mr. Stark,” Flash said sarcastically.

“I’ll walk straight out into traffic,” Tony corrected, returning his attention to the board. He drew a stick figure and a square car. “Let’s get back to physics. How fast does a car need to go to kill me instantly when it hits me?”

Kamala raised her hand. “Mr. Stark? This is making me really uncomfortable.”

Tony paused, then added a necktie to the stick figure before turning to face the class again. “Okay. How fast does a car need to go to kill Elon Musk instantly when it hits him?” He watched several more hands fly up and hoped that none of this got back to their parents.

.-.

Miraculously, it didn’t get back to Barnes. Tony figured that the being hit by a car thing had made all the kids keep their mouths shut.

“Am I too dramatic?” Tony asked himself as he printed out flyers for the robotics club.

Steve looked over from the coffee machine with a raised eyebrow. “You? Too dramatic? Absolutely.”

“Hey,” Tony began, offended.

“You said you were going to tar and feather me for shit-talking the Mets,” Steve deadpanned. “And then you burst into my classroom of freshmen, threw paint on me, then dumped a bag of feathers on me.”

“I feel like, since I was reprimanded by Fury, I should get a pass for that,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself but partly to Steve.

Steve shrugged. “I mean, I thought it was funny. The Mets lost that week.”

“The disrespect I get in this fucking building,” Tony huffed, tapping the sheaf of papers to shuffle them together.

Steve ignored him. He normally did when Tony was complaining. “Anyway, have you noticed the decathlon team being super secretive lately?”

“I rarely notice anything about teenagers,” Tony said.

“God, I wish that was me,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he sighed, letting his hand drop to the counter. “They’ll be whispering amongst themselves, and whenever I ask what it’s about, they pretend like it was about school. I know it wasn’t about school. They’re shifty,” he added when Tony raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Like I am whenever Natasha tries to set me up on dates.”

“Ah,” Tony said with understanding. Then he remembered his ill-timed Moment of Clarity, and he nearly swallowed his tongue. “Steve. Steve do you ever hear what they’re saying. Steve this is important.”

Steve frowned at him, concerned. “…I guess I hear them mention Bucky. Surely they’re not talking about our fifteenth president, James Buchanan, in terms of his romantic status. Although they might,” he added to himself, ignorant of the way Tony was starting to hyperventilate. “Kids are weird. Especially smart ones.”

Tony managed to slow his breathing to take a deep breath. Then he threw his head back and let out a deep, primal pterodactyl screech.

Steve stared at him, then threw his hands up in exasperation. “Oh my God. And you seriously wondered if you were too dramatic. Cut that out,” he added sharply when Tony didn’t stop on his own. He looked up as Clint came into the staff room. “Clint—”

“Nope,” Clint said, turning on his heel and leaving.

Steve eventually got Tony to calm down, mostly by shaking him and threatening to get Fury and then, when that failed, threatening to get Pepper, which made Tony clam up and skitter out of the room in terror. Steve wanted to kick himself over it for days, because he didn’t have time to pry the reason for his screams before he escaped like a fucking eel. It would have saved him a lot of time and misery.

.-.

Tony got stuck putting up the flyers. It was technically Peter’s duty, but he was studying for the upcoming decathlon meet, and Tony had had work he wanted to avoid, so there he stood, putting up flyers and avoiding some grading.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky said, coming up beside him.

Tony stapled a flyer to his thumb. He stared at the blood welling up around the staple and tried to remember the last time he’d had a Tetanus shot. Could he pretend that he had not just stapled a flyer to himself? He peeked up at Bucky. Bucky looked reasonably horrified, so he figured playing it off was out. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to ignore this happened.”

“No,” Bucky said, like it was punched out of him.

Tony sighed, frowning at his thumb. He glanced at Bucky. Looked back down at his finger. Considered.

“Oh God please don’t do what I think you’re about to do,” Bucky begged.

Tony ignored him, grabbed the piece of paper, and yanked. “Ah, that was a mistake,” he said sadly when the paper pulled away, but the staple stayed in his finger.

“Stop,” Bucky cut in before he could pick at it. “I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Tony did not swoon when Bucky grabbed his arm to tow him to the office, but mostly because he was staring at the staple in his thumb. “Anyway, what did you want?”

“Well, I was going to confess I knew you were in love with me for months and was just waiting for you to make a move, since I overheard the students trying to figure out if I was single for you,” Bucky explained, grimacing a little. “Then I overheard the part about you walking into traffic, and I decided waiting wasn’t a chance I wanted to take.”

Tony tried to surreptitiously escape his grip so he could walk out of the school and then simply keep walking until he could disappear straight into the ocean. Bucky tightened his grip and yanked him over to the office instead.

“You’re just saying what I want to hear,” Tony said.

“No I’m not,” Bucky told him firmly. “And you’re an idiot. I’ve known ever since you joined the first staff versus student basketball game three years ago. You don’t even like sports.”

“I like sports!” Tony exclaimed, offended.

Bucky turned to give him a scowl. “Yeah, watching them, maybe. Could even enjoy a little one-on-one. But playing with two full teams? You look like a fucking chihuahua trying not to get stepped on, Tony.”

“It’s not my fault that Steve and Thor are both giants and I’m small,” Tony said indignantly.

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sigh, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing I think you’re cute, I guess. Otherwise I might be put off.”

“I have a staple in my thumb,” Tony reminded him, waving his thumb in his face for good measure, as if he might have forgotten the reason he was frogmarching him to the nurse’s office.

Bucky turned to give him his best bitch face, usually reserved for Steve when he got up to shenanigans or students when they were purposely trying his patience to see if he’d throw a chair like rumors said. “Yeah, and I thought maybe I’d kiss it better after we got the staple out and we got it bandaged up. Maybe take you out for ice-cream to make you feel better.”

“Are you telling me this staple got me a date?” Tony asked indignantly as Bucky dug around in a drawer for tweezers.

“Well, I was going to ask you out regardless, I just don’t think you’ll want to dig your wounded finger into a bucket of salty popcorn or a basket of fries,” Bucky told him, then grabbed his hand and yanked it close. “Hold still.”

“You don’t know,” Tony muttered, petulant, as Bucky carefully prodded at the staple to figure out the best way to pull it out. “Maybe I would. Maybe I’m kinky and like that kind of thing. Maybe I’m a masochist!”

Bucky carefully grasped the staple with the tweezers and gave Tony a very unimpressed frown. “Are you turning down ice-cream?”

“No, I like mocha almond fudge,” Tony began, scowling at him.

“Then we’ll go get ice-cream, and if you really need that kinky itch scratched, I’ll take you home and spank you,” Bucky replied.

Tony opened his mouth, even though he had no idea what he would have said. Luckily(?), Bucky yanked the staple out at that moment, so all that came out was a yelp.

.-.

“And on to the next order of business,” Coulson said, looking through his papers. “Ms. Romanoff, who won the pot?”

Natasha poked at her phone, going over the spread sheet. “It looks like a tie between Bruce and Pepper.”

“What,” Bucky said.

“Bruce got the time slot,” Natasha continued, ignoring him. “And Pepper’s position of ‘Tony will embarrass himself in front of students, cause physical injury to himself, and that will kick Bucky’s ass into gear to ask him out’ as how they’d get together was closest. Although Steve was close with ‘eventually Bucky will realize Tony’s an idiot.’”

“I concede to Pepper’s scarily accurate prediction,” Steve said, and Pepper smiled smugly.

“What,” Bucky repeated, scowling.

Bruce turned to Tony. “Shall I put your cut into the robotics club fund?”

“Please,” Tony said agreeably.

Bucky swiveled around to stare at him, aghast. His mouth worked wordlessly before he finally managed to burst out, “Tony, what the fuck?!”

Tony blinked at him placidly. “I’m eccentric but predictable. I am a safe bet. That means I get ten percent off the top.”

“It’s true,” Clint added when Bucky didn’t immediately have a response. “You were the wild card here, not Tony. None of us knew when you would get your head out of your ass. Well, except Steve,” he muttered, and Steve perked up like the golden retriever he was. “He thought it would take longer, though.”

“I miscalculated on how soon his electromagnetism unit was coming up in his curriculum,” Steve grumbled.

“Hey am I the only one who thinks this is all FUCKING WEIRD,” Bucky shouted.

Coulson frowned at him. “No need to yell, Barnes.”

“This is part of the experience of working here,” Thor told him kindly. “It is the nature of a small school.”

“I don’t like this,” Bucky said.

“Would it make you feel better if I gave you a cut, too,” Pepper deadpanned.

Bucky stared at her for a moment, then muttered, “Maybe.”

“Twenty-six dollars to Barnes, Phil,” Pepper said, looking at him.

“YOU GUYS BET TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY DOLLARS ON WHEN WE WERE GONNA DATE?!” Bucky bellowed, standing.

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. “No, that’s just half. Bruce and Pepper have to split it, remember?”

“You can use your cut to pay for our next date,” Tony added helpfully.

Bucky fell back into his seat with a groan, putting his face in his hands. “God.”

Steve patted him on the back perhaps a little harder than necessary. “You’ll get used to it, bud.”

“Get away from me. You didn’t even get the pot,” Bucky hissed, pushing him away.

“I was working on misinformation, I said!” Steve argued. “I was looking at his schedule from last year!”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Bucky said, and then they lunged at each other.

Tony watched them wrestle on the floor, then turned back to Coulson. “What’s next on the list? I have to prep for our experiment today.”

Coulson looked back at his clipboard. “Parent-teacher conferences are next month.”

Everyone at the table groaned, loudly, even Steve and Bucky, and they were still wrestling under the table.

#aurumacadicus writes #winterironmonth #winteriron #long post

[sinswithpleasure]

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 2] [Female Reader]

---------------

Hello! I'm back with part 2!

Futa!Yves x Fem Reader, just in case ya forgot.

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

---------------

Yves shows up on time for tutoring, to your surprise.

"Hey baby."

"Don't 'baby' me."

"Sure. Let's start."

"Alright. Open up the textbook. We're starting from the basics. I've printed out some of the prerequisites for this topic, since what you did last time wasn't up to standard due to lack of practice of the basics. Now…"

Yves listens attentively. In fact, things go a bit too smoothly for the both of you. Yves doesn't make any cheeky quip, pull out any pet names, or flirt with anyone that passes by. The womanizing playgirl you knew disappears, and in its place is a focused, dedicated young woman. Sometimes, you even find yourself staring at her work on the problems in front of her. The change is… welcome, to say the least.

Your eyes roam Yves's styled hair, swiped back to expose her forehead, down to her beautiful large eyes, button nose, and full lips.

God, you're gay. Sure, you're literally admiring the beauty of the most insufferable bane of the universe, but you're just so fucking gay and hot people are hot, no matter how irritating they are, so...

When your eyes shift back up, you're met with Yves's smirk.

"See something you like, babe?"

Fuck.

"N-no."

"Liar."

"Fuck off." You rush to change the subject. "How're you doing?"

"I've been done for a while. You would know if you weren't spending the time looking at me."

You refuse to dignify her with a response, checking through the solved problems. With your coaching, Yves manages to get two more questions correct as compared to last time, but she still makes some simple mistakes.

"Okay, here's the issue. In question two…"

---------------

Yves continues to show up for every tutoring session. Somehow, a week passes by, and it is now Friday.

"Good afternoon, babygirl."

"Don't 'babygirl' me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Mm, whatever. How're you doing?"

"Why do you care?"

Yves pulls out the chair next to you, leaning back on it, resting her legs on the table. She turns to you, grinning.

"Of course I'd care! You're my tutor, and if you don't feel good, you won't be able to teach me properly. If I don't get taught, I won't learn, then I'll fail, and I don't get to win. You know that I always win."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's what you say, but not what you mean."

"Fuck you."

"That's what you'll be doing in five months' time."

"No I won't. Bring out the Calc textbook. We're going through Chapter 4 today."

"Alright, babygirl."

----------------

The change in Yves becomes apparent when she somehow is present earlier than you on Monday morning.

"Yves?"

"Oh, hey babe."

You sigh at the pet name, but having heard her call you that for quite some time now, it doesn't grind your gears as much anymore.

"Don't 'babe' me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Yves returns her attention to the papers she is working on, and the familiar math problems catch your eye.

"Calc?"

"Yeah. I promised I'll be the best student. Here I am."

"We'll see about that."

"You're looking at it right now." Yves rises from her chair, and in a flash, she has her arm around your waist, her face inches from yours. "I'm going to win, babygirl."

"G-Get off me!" Your face reddens instantly at the close proximity of your lips to hers. Memories of the chaste kiss Yves planted take front and center stage, and you can't help but look away from Yves.

"You're so pretty."

Yves has her gaze locked on your lips, then to your eyes. She is so close, too close, even. Heat flashes all over your body—every touch Yves leaves on you seems to burn.

"I mean it. You're gorgeous."

"T-Thank you."

The smug smirk never leaves Yves's face. She releases you from her smoldering gaze and grip, but she leaves you with a rapidly beating heart and a large distraction for the day to come.

When class begins, Yves tries to take the time to listen to the professor. However, she is soon back to her old ways, flicking paper balls at classmates and being on her phone more than she listens.

"Yves."

"Yeah, baby?" She meets your gaze, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips. Her hands carry on working on moulding another tiny paper ball.

"You're not listening."

"I am!"

"What was the last thing the prof said?"

"Um…"

You roll your eyes.

"Best student, my ass."

"I made that promise to you, not to him."

"You won't learn if you don't listen to him either. How're you going to be the best if you can't even do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"That's right." You think hard about the words you want to say next, but maybe… maybe it is worth the risk. After all, Yves is still the bane of your existence, but she could be less of that if she keeps up her effort in trying to learn.

"You don't get to fuck me if you're not the best."

You watch as Yves freezes. She stares at you, her jaw hanging, before she steels her gaze to your eyes, staring deep into your soul.

"So this is how you wanna play, babygirl?"

"Yeah." You can feel your bravado slowly disappearing.

"Fine. I'll listen. I'll play by your rules."

Yves leans to your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her deep whisper makes you shudder.

"You will be mine at the end of the year, baby. I promise you: I'll ace my exams, and you'll love me for it."

Perhaps provoking your seatmate wasn't the best idea. Now you have to deal with the deep flush on your face and neck, as well as the heat between your legs.

---------------

A month passes.

Every week, the same things go by—tutoring, classes, more tutoring, more classes. However, what changes is how close you and Yves get with each other. By no means were the both of you friends, but she isn't as much of a thorn in your side anymore.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Baby

I need a bit more help with the math from the last chapter.

Can I see you this weekend?

Saturday, 10am, Seoul U entrance?

[You sent a message:]

Sure.

I'll see you.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Good.

Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.

[You sent a message:]

Fuck off.

You groan when Yves manages to charm you through text. Outfit ideas are already flowing through your head, and you sink your face into the comfort of your palms. Why do you even care about looking pretty for Yves?⁶

Well… that genuine grin she flashed after a muffled gasp of surprise when you wore a dress once in the past month was gorgeous on her. That was why.

You remember Yves actually having the slightest hint of a blush when looking at you, and she seemed to be a little less flirty that day, opting to take short glances at you when she thought you weren't watching. This newfound attention was… welcome. You couldn't deny feeling shy having Yves check you out. After all, you were just the nerd girl in class, and having this attention from a hot girl you could consider a crush not as much of a pain in your ass felt so good.

-----

Saturday arrives, and here you are, waiting outside Seoul University.

You choose to keep things simple: just a simple button-down dress with daisies printed on the fabric. Your hair is tied up in a cute bun. The pink backpack you carry completes the look, with a nice pair of flats.

The sun isn't too bright, and a cool breeze keeps you comfortable while waiting. You can't help but get nervous, though you know it is irrational to feel so. After all, this is just another study session. However, Yves's text to you earlier in the week keeps flashing across your eyes.

'Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.'

You know this is just a study session. However, a part of you dimly wishes that it isn't, before you hurriedly bash those thoughts with a hammer and then set them on fire.

The revving of a motorbike catches your attention before it zooms down the road. You can see the bike move across the lanes, then slowing to a stop in front of you. The rider, clad in all black leather, complete with jacket and boots, seems to freeze in front of you, before slowly drawing the helmet off their head.

"Hey, babygirl."

Yves grins at you, her eyes sweeping over your body. Her gaze lands on your legs, moving up to your torso, your chest, and then to your eyes and hair.

The next words she mutters are meant to be kept to herself, but you hear her anyway.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Your heart takes off, pounding against your chest. You try to hide the flush on your face by staring at the ground, but you field a gaze to Yves, who looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights. She looks so handsome, so cool, and downright fucking hot at the same time.

Hmm… What would it feel like being pinned under her again?

The intrusive thought you have gets stamped out instantly, but the effect lingers—you can't help but check Yves out, feeling a rush of heat deep within your loins.

Her agreement with you was starting to look more and more appealing. Maybe you do have to teach her well.

"Get on."

"What?"

"Let's go. I gotta park the bike, and the cafe isn't close by. Get on."

Yves hands you a spare black helmet, and you hesitantly take it.

"Don't kill me."

"I won't." She grins. "I like you too much to think about doing that."

Your breath catches in your throat. It's not uncharacteristic of her to say things like that so easily, but maybe… just maybe… you want her to mean it.

You get onto the bike as Yves holds it steady. You don't know where to put your hands, but Yves grabs your arms, pulling them to wrap around her waist.

"Hold on tight, babygirl."

"Okay." You can't believe what's happening right now.

"I'm gonna go."

The engine revs.

-----

Yves trails behind you as both of you make your way to the cafe. Yves is quiet along the way, unlike her usual flirting if she caught you staring at her. When you glance back to her, you see her eyes dart away from you, staring at the floor as she swipes her hair back.

Weird.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Never been better, baby." Her reply is unconvincing, especially with a forced grin, but you don't want to really push her for a reply.

"Er… Okay. Sure."

Both of you make your way into the cafe, stopping by the counter to grab the menu. When you sit down at a table, Yves sits across you, her eyes locked onto you as you peruse your options.

"You're staring a lot today, Yves."

"Oh, um, er…" She looks away, her voice soft. This is very unlike her.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm feelin' great, ready to learn, and get good." She leans back, resting her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Oh.

She has a crop top on.

Oh my fucking God, she has abs.

You short circuit.

Two columns of defined muscle greet your eyes, as if to mock you. It wasn't like she was someone you didn't find hot. Now, you have to find out that she also has abs?!

Your mouth dries instantly, and you grab your bottle, taking a swig. The cool liquid quenches your physical thirst, but your mental thirst…

"Don't look too much, babygirl. You might get hypnotized."

Yves tilts your chin up with a finger, moving to lean close to your face.

"My eyes are up here."

Holy fucking shit, she's so fucking hot.

You wonder how you didn't notice them when she had that fishnet and crop top combo. Maybe her pants covered them, maybe you were blinded in your dislike for her. Whatever, you've seen them now. No reason to stop… respectfully staring, especially when you can.

"Look at me."

You meet Yves's smoldering gaze.

"Keep your eyes up here, babygirl." Her warm breath against your lips makes you yearn to lean in and close the gap. "I don't want them anywhere else when they're so beautiful."

You whimper involuntarily, and Yves chuckles.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?"

The shame that burns when you squeak and break your gaze to hide in the pretense of reading the menu is something you don't want to admit that you feel coursing through your veins, but it's there. When you lower the menu, Yves has her chin in her palm, her head tilted to the left, a satisfied grin on her features.

"I mean it, baby. You look really pretty today."

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's order, I'm starving."

"Okay."

"Oh." Yves leans towards you, lowering the menu to stare into your eyes once more. "You'll get to see what you want to see when I ace the exams. Be patient, babe."

You groan.

-----

That night, you toss and turn on the bed incessantly. Every time you close your eyes, you can feel hot breath across your lips, smell the scent emanating off Yves, and sense her burning gaze on you. Yves's handsome features are burnt deep into your head, and just the thought of her sends your heart pounding and temperature rising.

You think of her abs under her clothes, the defined muscle jumping out to your eyes. She already looks so good, so delicious, and yet, things only go up from here.

The rush of heat between your legs doesn't help things.

You turn again, ignoring your basest desires. Bedtime it is.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #loona yves #ha sooyoung #loona fanfiction #loona fanfic #female reader insert #female reader

[bts-bay-bee]

see you in class, professor kim.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1743

Request: married professor!namjoon and single college student!reader, please. smutty as possible.

Warnings: infidelity, professor!namjoon, slight dom!namjoon, college student!reader, let’s pretend miss rona doesnt exist in this, unprotected sex, slight impregnantion kink, creampie, spanking, slight degradation, sex over a desk, finger sucking,

a/n: honestly, you guys always ruin me with these prompts :( enjoy kim namjoon being a distraction in class while I prepare for a new semester! also, please, please, PLEASE do NOT sleep with your professor!!! this is just smut, and it should never be compared to irl. also, this is very random but let me know if youd be interested in a jungkook sm au :)

 “Professor Kim? Y/N from Calc101 is here to see you.” You hear the department secretary say clearly into the telephone, promptly nodding at you, allowing you to walk through the glass doors.

 Nervousness blossomed in the pit of your stomach, each step through the tiled corridor only amplifying it. You could not explain it; you knew that you were about to be severely admonished, yet you could not help but feel giddy; finally, Professor Kim saw you in the way you wanted to be noticed.

 Maybe it was the fact that he had finally noticed how you lingered after class, just to ask questions that he knew you knew the answer to. Maybe it was the fact that you had made the conscious decision to stop wearing panties during your Friday morning class, instead opting to go commando with your too-short skirts.

 “Come in and close the door.” He snapped as soon as he saw you in the doorway of his office. The irritation, and ill-disguised anger laced in his tone made you gulp. Maybe it was the fact that he had enough of your stupid antics… He was a married man, after all.

 Closing the door behind you, you quickly took the seat on the opposite side of the desk, eyes downcast. You dropped your backpack to your feet, belly consumed by nervousness. Bravely, in your opinion, glancing up at him for a brief second, you immediately looked down at the floor again, his gaze much too intense to meet.

 “Did I say you could sit down, Y/N?”

 “N-No, sir.” You mumbled, moving to stand up. He tutted, jerking his head to the side to indicate he wanted you next to his seat. As you were passing the door, he tilted his head, almost pondering something.

 “Lock the door.”

 A smirk threatened to claim your lips; he might be pissed off to no end right now, but he was still about to give you everything you had wanted. Walking over to his side of the desk, your eyes trailed over the pile of test papers he had placed on the mahogany tabletop, seeing your mark sheet on the top.

 “Do you know how I hand back test sheets, Y/N?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he placed his glasses on the table.

 “Highest grades first.” You mumbled; your confidence shrunk significantly now that he regarded you with bare eyes.

 “And whose paper is on top?” He asked whilst standing up and moving behind you to grab something from the shelf.

 “Mine.”

 “Hmm,” He hummed, pressing his body against your own, drawing a gasp out of you. “You’ve gotten the highest mark, little one. We both know you’re smart, yeah?”

 Nodding desperately, you started grinding your ass against his clothed cock, breathing harshly. His hands latched onto your waist, halting your movement. You could feel his wedding band pressing into you, but right now, you could not care less.

 “If we both know you’re smart,” He began, breathing out gently, hands pressing into your skin almost too harshly. “Why do you stay back to ask questions that even a seventh grader would know? Do you want my attention that badly?”

 “Yes, sir!” You desperately whined, feeling his head dip to your pulse point. Despite being in such close proximity, he did not place his lips on you, instead he just continued teasing you.

 “But you know I’m not single, right?” He asked, trailing his wedding ring over the exposed skin on your leg, the metal bringing a welcome coolness to your over sensitized skin. “You kept trying to seduce a married man?”

 “I knew.” You mumbled, trying to press your ass into his crotch now that his left hand roamed amongst the expanse of your bare thigh.

 “And you still kept flashing your dripping cunt during 8am classes?” He wondered out aloud, right hand travelling further up your body to palm your chest. “You still kept coming up to me with your perky tits? Nipples begging to be sucked?”

 Whining in response, you felt him press your upper body to his desk, immediately flipping over your skirt to reveal your ass and drooling pussy lips. His hand barely ghosted over your skin, skimming over the globes of you ass, fingertip ever so slightly collecting your arousal.

 “You want me that badly, Y/N?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, yet still strong, holding a domineering stance. Without waiting for a response, his hand slapped against your sensitive skin, his large palm leaving reddened skin in its wake. He continued bringing down his palm against you, his wedding band leaving darker patches, the metal biting into your skin in the most sinful way.

 Tiny groans left your drying lips, tongue darting out to wet them every minute or so. You could feel his other hand dig into your side, ensuring you did not move from where he wanted you, while he shifted his target to your slightly swollen pussy lips.

 “You hear how wet you are for me?” He asked, voice gruff and low. Dipping two fingers into your core, you knew that if you had a shred of dignity left, you should have been ashamed by the wet sound that rang in your ears. However, Professor Kim seemed to be getting off on this, adding another finger to amplify the squelching sound.

 “S-Sir, please!” You begged, feeling your core pulse at not being filled enough. “Please fuck me. I need your cock!”

 Ripping his fingers out of your cunt, he shoved them into your mouth, making you gag slightly.

 “Shut the fuck up before someone hears you!” He hissed; his mouth right next to your ear. Sucking on his fingers to desperately shut yourself up, you began grinding against him again, basically fucking yourself against his clothed crotch.

 You whined against his fingers, trying not to gag as he pressed his fingers deeper into your mouth.

 “God damn it, I want to fill your mouth so badly,” He murmured, slipping his fingers out from between your lips, your spit gleaming on his skin. You ignored his words, choosing to rub your naked core against his slacks. “Guess that’s going to have to wait, huh? My little slut wants her little cunt to be stuffed, hmm?”

 Nodding silently, body trembling in anticipation, you felt him moving away from your arched body. His free hand moved to his crotch, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks just enough to let his angry red cock spring out, the tip dribbling the smallest bit of precum on your skin. He aligned himself at your entrance, groaning into your ear as your core squeezed his length. You bit your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning and whining out in pleasure; the fluttering stretch of your core sending euphoric shockwaves throughout your entire being.

 After giving you the briefest moment to adjust, he began ploughing into you, his skin slapping against your own. His length rubbed against, what seemed like, every nerve ending in your cunt, your wetness only aiding in both of your pleasures.

 Realising that with the harshness of his thrusts, he was making it harder for you to keep quiet, and by extension not alerting anyone in the department offices, you reached behind you and grabbed his hand, plastering it over your mouth to keep your moans contained.

 “Fuck, what a good girl,” He moaned softly, speeding up his thrusts as he used his hand to pull you up, his ring biting into your skin. Professor Kim brought his right hand down to your clit, the rough pads of his fingers pressing down onto the delicate skin, making your knees weak with pleasure. You used your hands to support yourself on the desk, not trusting your legs to work properly whilst he continued to assault the bundle of nerves with unwavering pleasure.

 Tiny moans and sounds escaped your mouth, forced Professor Kim to shove his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them to shut you up. Unknowingly, your tongue darted out to lick every inch of his skin but settled on the metal band that covered his skin.

 The knowledge of knowing he made the conscious decision to be intimate with you, whilst being someone else’s, made the pleasure multiply tenfold, taking you right on the brink of your high. He seemed to be on the same wavelength, your core fluttering around his cock enough to make his thighs tremble.

 “Are you close, Y/N?” He panted, thrusting into you harder as your cunt became even more difficult to leave. “Pretty, little whore ready to cum over my cock?”

 Nodding uselessly tears gathering in your eyes, your body convulsed around his cock, your entire form being taken over by your climax. Vaguely, you could hear him swearing, profanities still somehow sounding sexy coming from his lips.

 “Fuck, fuck, Y/N,” He groaned, “Going to cum in you, angel. My good girl takes my cum, right? Going to fill you up, Y/N!”

 “Please,” You whispered, feeling his cock throb as you fucked yourself on him. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

 Groaning, he released his hot, sticky seed into your pussy, filling you up. Thrusting into you gently, he squeezed every last drop of his cum into you. Slowly taking his cock out of you, he felt blood rush back to his length when his cum slowly dribbled out of your core; the white seed a stark contrast to your reddened skin.

 Smirking at his handy work, he flipped your skirt back down, scribbling his number onto your hand.

 “Go back home and send me a picture of your pussy stuffed with my cum, okay?” He instructed, almost playfully squeezing your neck. You tried to not let the smirk show on your face, your core clenched, trying to not let his cum spill out of you and onto your thighs.

 “Yes, sir.” You murmured, reaching down to grab your bag, making him groaned at your exposed, and now puffy, pussy lips. “See you in class, Professor Kim.”

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