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grxmreaperx · 7 months

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Professor Hoffman

Pairing: (professor!) Mark Hoffman x (f!) reader

Word count: 3.1k (oops)

Warnings: 18+!! this is absolute filth. Daddy kink, choking, oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie, age gap (everyone is over 18!!), praise/degradation. Mark being a bastard. I’m so sorry

Summary: You weren’t expecting much from your criminology class. But when you see your professor for the first time, you realize the class may be much more interesting than you were expecting.

I went so overboard with this. I do not know where this came from. I apologize for my actions. Also, all of my knowledge comes from Jim Can’t Swim and Explore With Us interrogation analysis videos, so don’t come for me if some of the criminology stuff is wrong!!

You walked into the lecture hall, bag digging into your shoulder after a long day, trying to find a seat. You sighed. Almost every seat was full, people congregating in the back. You set yourself down in the second row from the front, one of the few empty seats.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag, trying to keep yourself awake. This was your last class of the day and all you could think about was getting back to your apartment and having a nice dinner.

You stifled a yawn, eyes unfocused on your screen.

“Welcome, everyone.”

The deep voice jolted you from your haze, drawing your eyes up from your computer, and onto him.

You felt a jolt run through your body as you took him in. Dark hair neatly pushed back, full lips, chest straining at his suit.

“I’m Professor Hoffman. I’ll be your criminology instructor this semester.”

Shit, maybe you weren’t so ready to go home anymore.

That was the one class you didn’t find yourself dreading. Your other psychology and criminal justice classes were a bore, lecturers talking monotonously for an hour and twenty minutes as you tried desperately to stay awake. Professor Hoffman’s class was actually interesting, it challenged you, made you think. He didn’t force you all to listen to him talk the entire time, even if you wouldn’t have minded hearing that voice for hours on end. He had been a detective before switching to teaching a few years back, so he played interrogation tapes, having you all watch the body language, the word choice, the facial expressions of the suspect.

And it was nice to have something pretty to look at while he taught.

You were a bit embarrassed by how many times he had caught you staring at him. You had never looked at a professor as anything more than a teacher, a mentor, before now. But during his lecture, you found your mind drifting. What his voice would sound like in your ear, how his hands would feel roaming over you, the noises he would make.

You had had your fair share of adventures in college, going out with your friends and ending up in someone’s bed every once in a while. But none of them had been anything to brag about; frat boys only in it for themselves, guys who had no idea what they were doing, or didn’t know how to make it last.

You needed something more, something satisfying.

“So, tell me, do you think this suspect was guilty or not guilty? And tell me why.”

His voice shook you out of your daydream, bringing you back to your reality. Your eyes scanned over the screen, trying to remember bits and pieces of the interrogation you were supposed to have been watching.

You raised your hand; as much as you hated it, you wanted to impress the man. You wanted to show him that you were smart, that you knew what you were talking about. And that you were paying attention, not just staring at him the entire time.

He nodded towards you, telling you to go ahead. “Not guilty. He got angry when you accused him, which is a very typical response from someone who is being falsely accused. And he didn’t use any hedge words when he was talking, which would be unusual for a guilty person. And there’s no obvious motive.”

Your professor smirked, nodding along as you answered. “Very good. That’s exactly right. Another clue to tell you this was…”

You zoned out, trying to contain yourself at his praise.

He scolded himself, his gaze continuously falling onto you throughout every class.

He had left the police department a couple years ago, looking for a job with shorter hours, more time to relax, less frustration.

But now he had a different kind of frustration.

Every class, there you were. Sitting right in front of him, eyes watching him intently as he spoke. He saw the way your face changed every time he walked in the room, your tired face lighting up a bit. He saw the way your gaze lingered on him when you were supposed to be working on an assignment, or watching one of the interviews you were meant to be dissecting.

He noticed your attempts to impress him, always eager to answer his questions. You were always there early, even when others began to slowly fade out, showing up late or not showing up at all.

And, he had to admit, it was working. You were smart, and he could see how interested you were in this topic, even if you seemed to be a bit more interested in him than the class. He knew you’d make a great detective one day; your understanding of others’ minds would be a great asset to the force.

He almost wished he hadn’t left the department. He would give anything to still be in his position when you were first starting out in the field, eager to learn, to impress, to please. He would love for you to train under him, your frustration growing as he teased you, giving you smaller and smaller tasks, making you prove yourself.

He pulled himself away from his thoughts, shuffling his notes together before the start of class.

“Alright everyone, I’ve posted your grades for your last assignment. Some of you did very well, others seem to be a bit distracted in this course.” He purposefully shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes as he spoke this last part.

He suppressed a smirk as he saw your face flush.

“Now, the rational choice theory…”

“I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong in that class,” you sighed.

Your friend nodded. “I mean, he is a pretty tough grader. I don’t think I’ve gotten above a C on anything.”

“Yeah, but I feel like my work is good! Some of it he seems to really like, and then others he’s super harsh. But I thought this last paper was really good!”

“Maybe you should go talk to him about it. Maybe he could help you out, tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess. I probably should. I really like this class; I want to do well in it.”

Your friend smirked. “Do you like the class, or do you like the hot professor?”

You lightly slapped their arm. “Shut up, I don’t think he’s hot.”

They laughed. “Of course you do! I see you staring at him all the time! It’s ok: he is pretty hot.”

You felt your face heating up. “Ok, maybe I think he’s kinda hot, but I like the class too!”

“I hear you.”

As class ended the next day, you took a breath. You shouldn’t be this nervous to talk to him, he was your professor, of course he would be willing to help you. You lingered in your seat for a few moments, taking longer than usual to stuff your laptop back in your bag. As people filed out of the room, you carefully approached his desk.

“Professor Hoffman?”

He looked up, smiling slightly as he met your eyes. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping that maybe you had time to talk to me about my last paper? I was wondering if you could tell me what I did wrong, or what I could improve next time?”

He regarded you for a moment and you couldn’t help but shift a bit under his gaze.

“Of course. I have another class in a few minutes, but I have time to meet tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You nodded, thanking him as he gave you a time and his office number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He smirked. “See you then. Don’t be late.”

“What are you all dressed up for?” your friend asked.

“What? I’m not dressed up. Do I look dressed up?”

“I mean, maybe not dressed up, but you look nice. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They smiled. “Oh! Now I remember. You have your meeting with the hot professor today! That’s why you dressed so cute.”

“I did not!”

“I don’t believe you. You better hurry up, don’t you have to be there in a few minutes?”

You looked at your phone, cursing under your breath. They were right, you only had a couple minutes before your meeting. You sped up your pace, telling your friend you’d see them later as they walked to their class building.

“You better tell me all about it! Don’t do anything inappropriate, young lady!”

You hurried into the brick building that held Professor Hoffman’s office, trying to find the room number he had given you. Your eyes scanned the plaques next to each door, looking for the one engraved with his name. When you finally found it, the door was shut. You knocked softly, waiting patiently until you heard a voice tell you to come in.

You pushed the door open, examining his office as you entered. One wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with books on psychology, criminal justice, and what looked like case files. His desk sat in front of the window, his back to the light streaming in through the glass. He sat, leaned back in his desk chair, shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly complied, smoothing your skirt as you sat down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you walked into his office, closing the door behind you. He should have punished you right then for testing him like that: all dressed up for him, pretty skirt cutting off just above your knees, shirt lower cut than he had ever seen you wearing in class.

“So,” he started, trying to regain his composure. “You wanted to talk to me about your paper?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” Fuck. “I was wondering if you could tell me what I could have done better with this assignment. I thought I did really well on it, until I got my grade back.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it was very well-written. And you have the concepts down. But your job was to analyze the video, not just repeat what I had said in class. Even if you put it a bit more eloquently than I did.” He smiled. “I almost get the feeling that you’re a bit…distracted in my class.

He watched as you became flustered, a smile still on his lips. “Well, professor, I just – I just have a lot on my mind. Sometimes it wanders, you know?” Your eyes darted around, staring at your hands, your bag on the floor, the surface of his desk.

He nodded. “Wanders to what?”

He couldn’t help the smug look on his face as you struggled to answer. He knew what your mind wandered to, he could see it on your face when you were supposed to be paying attention to his lectures. He saw the blush on your face, the way your pupils were blown. And he knew exactly where your mind was wandering to.

“Well, you know, to other things I have to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like me?”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. I see the way you stare at me, the look on your face when I catch you. You think I have no idea what you think about when you’re in my class? You think I can’t read you like a book, sweetheart?”

He tilted his head, watching as you took in his words. You looked like a deer in headlights, knowing he had figured out your secret. He saw the way your body stiffened at the pet name, your legs pressing together.

“I’ll tell you what,” he started, against his better judgement. “You really want to improve your grade?”

You nodded. He told himself to stop, to kick you out of his office before he put his career in jeopardy. But, God, the look on your face, so eager to hear what he had to say, pretty face flushed with embarrassment, legs squeezed together so tight he thought you might explode.

“Cmere,” he said in a low voice.

You slowly stood, making your way around his desk to stand in front of him. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled. “Where does your mind wander to during my class? I want to hear you tell me.”

“To you,” you said softly.

“Cmon, baby, you can do better than that.” He knew he was being a dick, he saw how flustered you were, how you were trying to work up the courage to answer his question. And he loved it.

“To you – to you…”

“To me fucking you?” he helped.

“Yes.” Your eyes were fixed on your hands.

“Look at me and say it.”

Your eyes met his. “My mind wanders to – to you fucking me.”

“Much better. Now, you really want to improve your grade, sweetheart?”

You nodded and he saw the eagerness in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He smiled, chuckling as you quickly dropped to your knees in front of his chair, hands getting to work on his belt. He watched your eyes widen as you released him from his dress pants and couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, cocky smile spreading across his face. You shook your head. “Then go on.”

He let out a deep groan as you took him into your mouth, placing a hand on the back of your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you as his dick hit the back of your throat. “Such a good girl.” He leaned his head back against the chair, savoring the feeling of your head bobbing on his cock.

His looked back down at you, eyes darkening as he saw how eagerly you sucked him off, spit coating your lips, tears welling in your eyes every time you took him down your throat. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted during classes too, picturing you just like this.

He pulled your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. “Get up here, sweetheart,” he said, motioning to his lap.

You shakily got to your feet before straddling his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He reached under your skirt, hands gripping your ass. He watched as you began to grind your clothed core on his dick, admiring the desperate look on your face.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, hand slowly wrapping around your throat. “So desperate for me. No one been taking care of this pussy?”

You frantically shook your head, grinding down harder.

“Poor little slut. Take them off. I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.”

You shifted on his lap, pulling your underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side. He slowly ran a finger through your folds, letting out a low hum. “God, baby, this all for me?” Your answer was cut off by him pushing two fingers inside of you, your words turning to a moan. He slowly pumped his fingers, curling them inside you while your ground down on his hand.

“Poor baby, those college boys don’t know how to make you feel good? You’re so fuckin’ desperate.” You quickly shook your head, too lost in the feeling of him working you to form words. You whined when he pulled his fingers out.

He lined himself up at your entrance, the other hand wrapping around your waist, holding you steady. “Go on, baby. Show me how needy you are.”

You slowly slid yourself down onto his cock, mouth falling open as he stretched you out. His head fell back onto his chair, eyes screwing shut, before quickly opening them again, taking in the sight of you full of his dick. He placed his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as you began to bounce. You quickly picked up the pace, grinding yourself down on him, eyes clouded from pleasure.

Your moans filled his ears, eyes roaming your body as you fucked yourself on his cock.

“God, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty. Such a good little whore for me, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, just for you, Daddy!” you moaned, before quickly catching yourself. He saw your eyes widen, realizing what you had just said.

He wrapped his strong arm around your waist, standing from his chair, still buried deep inside you, before setting you on his desk. He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and pushing your back down onto the surface. “Say it again.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said softly.

“That’s fuckin’ right baby.” He set a fast pace, roughly fucking into you, one hand still around your throat, the other gripping your hip so hard he knew it would probably leave marks.

He let out a groan at the sight of you underneath him, skirt bunched around your waist, mouth hanging open, hands gripping his arms. He watched your back arch off the table, squeezing your eyes shut.

He froze, abruptly stopping his thrusts. “Look at me when you cum on my dick, baby. Fuckin’ look at me or I’ll stop again. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you cried, eyes locked on his.

“Much better.” His fingers found their way to your clit as he continued burying himself in you. “Cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock.”

Your nails dug into his arm as your legs shook around him, moaning loudly as you reached your high. He felt his own end coming on. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Tell me sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside…” was all you could manage, still overcome with pleasure.

He smiled. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nodded, begging him to fill you.

His pace faltered as he came, gripping your hips tightly. He let go of you, placing his hands on his desk, catching his breath. He slowly pulled out of you, pulling his pants back up and tossing you your underwear. You carefully sat up, legs still shaking slightly.

He settled himself back in his chair, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, sitting on his desk, completely undone.

“I suppose I can raise your grade on that paper,” he started. “But I do think we should have weekly tutoring sessions. You obviously need some more help with this.” He smirked at you. “Does that sound good to you?”

You never agreed to something faster in your life.

I really liked writing this, if y’all like it I may give you a part 2👀

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #saw #saw franchise

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darkbluekies · 1 year

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A oneshot let's see if I do this right, can you do a oneshot of Hedwig meeting the reader? As in the start of it all I wanna see a little mini story of all that

I've got my eye on you

female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: A new students catches the eye of the popular, rich girl and she finds herself falling for you harder than she's ever done before. Hedwig comes up with a plan to lull you in and make sure you'll be hers only.

Warnings: none really, I think, maybe manipulation? Hedwig changes in front of reader (back towards them) but still-

Word count: 2.1k

Senior year. Only one more year until she’s free and gets out of here. She’ll go to Paris. Or Milan. Maybe travel around the world?

Hedwig steps into the classroom and greets her friends. Her father has forced her to go to a normal school to understand the normal people. They’re nice, but she feels like they’re not understanding her in the way her rich friends understand her. Hedwig can’t talk about her life in the same way without getting jealous looks. But she’s come to terms with it now. Her wealth isn’t only negative, she's gotten quite popular by it. If you don’t want her, you want to be her.

Everything is normal … until she steps her foot into the art classroom for the first time this semester. Someone is sitting in the very spot she normally sits. Someone she’s never seen before.

“Excuse me”, she says.

The person — who happens to be you — looks up.

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“This is my desk”, she says.

“Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t know …”

You’re about to take your stuff and leave, but she stops you.

“No, no, no”, she says. “It’s okay. You can stay. There are two chairs, aren’t there? I’ll sit beside you.”

“I’ll remember it for the next time.”

“Thank you.”

Hedwig's friend has to sit somewhere else. The friend gives you a nasty look before sitting down in the front of the class.

You start working on your new projects. Hedwig glances over at your self portrait and finds herself smiling.

“Pretty”, she says.

“Oh, thank you”, you say quietly without looking at her.

“I don’t know what I should do. I can’t come up with something.” She drops her pencil down on the table. “My brain isn’t working.”

You look up from your portrait and meet her hazel eyes.

“Why don’t you paint a scenery?” you ask. “That always works.”

Hedwig smiles. “What kind of scenery should I paint?

You think. “Maybe … a winter landscape? You won’t have to use too many colors and details.”

“Thank you.” She blushes. “What’s your name, by the way? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Y/N, I’m new.”

“Really? No wonder I didn’t know who you were. I’m so sorry for not noticing you earlier.”

She can’t understand how she hasn’t. You’re gorgeous! How has she not noticed you until today? Now that she has, she can’t tear her eyes off of you.

“It’s okay”, you whisper, suddenly embarrassed. “I was actually trying my best not to be noticed.”

“Why?”

You shrug and look away. Hedwig can feel her entire body heat up. She looks down at your hand holding the pen and wants nothing more than to take it in hers.

“You’re good at drawing”, she says when she realizes that she’s been staring at your hand for a few minutes. Playing it off as staring at your drawing. “It really looks like you.”

“Thank you.”

“Could you help me with mine?”

You nod and turn to her. Hedwig’s holding her pen and you take it out of her hands in a gentle manner that makes her heart flip. Your fingers brush against her hand and it sends electric shocks all throughout her body. She gulps and watches how you help her sketch out an outline of a few mountains before turning back to your own drawing. All nerves in her body are screaming at her to make you touch her again. She can’t understand why she’s suddenly feeling like this, but she knows that she needs more.

“I-I’m Hedwig by the way”, she says quickly, desperate to pick up the conversation again.

“I know”, you answer quietly. “Everyone talks about you.”

“Oh.” Hedwig’s suddenly terrified of what you’ve heard about her, maybe people’s gossip has made you dislike her already? She feels a weird longing for you to like her, to give her approval. “What are they saying?”

“They talk about you like you’re a celebrity. They’re talking about your parents and how they think your life is. I’m not really sure, I haven’t heard much.”

“Don’t listen. People are always talking.”

You nod and the situation grows silent again. Hedwig bites her lip.

“Could you help me again?” she asks. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You give out a small sigh and turn to her again. Unlike last time, you place your hand over hers, guiding her hand and the pen. Hedwig can swear that her heart stops at the feeling of your soft hand against hers. She feels dizzy.

WHen it’s lunch time, Hedwig asks if you want to eat with her. You nod shyly. You’ve never sat with the popular kids before and you don’t know any of these kids. Only Hedwig and you only met her an hour ago. To your surprise, she barely acknowledges her friends. Her full attention is on you, asking you where you’re from, what made you move here, how your family life looks like, what your interests are, what makes you scared and happy and what kind of person you are. Not a single time during lunch does she look away from your face. She has a sparkling hint in her eyes and a smile on her perfect face.

The very next day, Hedwig looks up from her desk when you enter the classroom. She’s sitting alone today.

“Y/N, do you want to sit with me?” she asks and removes her bag from the chair beside her. “I saved a seat for you.”

Without answering, you sit down beside her. She’s quick to turn to you and ask you about your morning.

“Y/N, would you like to come over to my house after school and study?” she asks. “We have a test coming up in two weeks and … I need a study buddy.”

You nod carefully. A bit of help on geometry wouldn’t hurt. And that’s how you come home to Hedwig’s gigantic villa for the first time. It looks more like a smaller mansion than a regular house. A white — almost yellow — Georgian house with lots of details. The entrance to the driveway is a pair of giant black gates to keep unwanted people from coming in. She has a chauffeur who drives her to and from school each day and he greets you nicely, adding honorifics.

“My parents aren’t home”, Hedwig says over her shoulder as you enter the big hall.

A maid welcomes Hedwig home and offers to take your bag, but you shake your head, too intimidated by the sheer size of Hedwig’s house to be able to think clearly.

You follow Hedwig upstairs, bag clutched in your hands.

“This is scaring me a bit …”, you whisper.

“What?” she asks in worry.

“All of this … it’s a bit intimidating.”

Hedwig smiles reassuringly. “Don’t be scared. It’s not a museum, it’s a home.”

Hopefully it’s your home too, but Hedwig doesn’t say that.

“Are you hungry?” she asks and opens the door to her room.

Even her room looks like money.

“A bit” you admit.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you didn’t eat the school lunch”, Hedwig smiles and. “I don’t blame you. I’ll go tell the chef to prepare something for you, okay? He makes fantastic food.”

“You have a chef?”

“Yeah! You’ll love his food, I promise. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches you’ll ever have. I’ll go tell him to make some for you.”

Before you can stop her, she’s already darted out the door. You decide to pass the time by looking around her white room. You find pictures of her and alleged friends on cruises and yachts, her in pools and in the mountains plastered on the wall. This girl seems to have been everywhere.

“I’m back!” Hedwig smiles and creeps up beside you. “What are you looking at?”

“Just your pictures”, you answer. “Are these your friends?”

“Yeah … they are. I don’t meet them as much because my father wants me to be in a public school with all the other children of our city. They go to a private school together. But I spend a lot of my vacations with them. We’ve been all around the world.”

“I can tell.”

“Do you like to travel?”

“Who doesn’t? I like to explore new places, but it costs a lot to go somewhere.”

“What’s your favorite place to visit?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been to so many places. What’s yours?”

“I really like Paris. It’s a beautiful city and they have such tasty food.” She turns around. “Should we study a little?”

You nod. You sit down at her desk and bring out your calculators.

A knock on the door interrupts you. It's the chef with the grilled cheese sandwiches. Hedwig thanks him and brings the plate over to you. Two perfectly grilled sandwiches are placed on the porcelain. Your mouth waters.

“Bon appetit”, Hedwig smiles. “They’re all yours.”

“Thank you”, you say shyly but you don’t dare to touch them. Somehow you feel guilty.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yes … I just feel weird for making your chef make this for me.”

“It’s his job, don’t worry about it. Eat up now!”

This time, you dare to pick it up and take a bite. Heaven has granted access to your mouth.

“I told you it was good”, Hedwig smiles.

You eat while you study and when you’re finally done, you notice how much time has passed.

“It seems like you’ll have to stay here overnight …”, Hedwig says and the next sentence she says is nothing but a great lie. “The last bus has gone and my driver has finished for the day. Can your parents pick you up?”

You shake your head. They wouldn’t be pleased to drive you at this hour. It only makes Hedwig smile. Perfect.

“You can stay here, my bed is big enough for two”, she says. “Just send a quick message to your parents and tell them that you’ll stay here.”

You sigh and do as she says. Your parents send you a heart back. They’re only happy that you’ve made a friend.

You eat a delicious dinner in the kitchen made by her chef. It hits you that you haven’t seen her parents at all, but you don’t question it. From what you know about her, they’re busy.

When you’re going to bed, Hedwig walks over to her walk-in closet to grab herself a new pair of pajamas for both you and her. One of them being in your size. To your great surprise, she turns her back to you and removes her clothes. You gulp and try to look away in embarrassment.

“S-Shouldn’t you go into the bathroom to change?” you stutter.

“Why?” she asks and turns around. “It’s my room. Besides, if models can change in front of twenty people they don’t know … I can change in front of one person I hold dearly. But if you want to change in the bathroom, it’s down the hall. If you want to take a shower, there’s a white towel for you hanging on the hook.”

It sounds like she has planned this. Because she has.

You do take a shower before you change into her pajamas and return to her room. She’s lying in her bed, scrolling on her phone.

“We have to be up by seven tomorrow”, she says. “Otherwise we’ll be late to school.”

You nod and walk around the queen sized bed. This feels so wrong somehow. You’ve never shared a bed with someone before and especially not a beautiful girl who changed in front of you fifteen minutes ago. Hedwig turns off her phone and lies down with her front facing you. You try to mirror her motions and soon you're both lying down, facing one another.

“Goodnight, sleep well”, she smiles and turns off the light.

Her fluffy sheets and soft mattress lull you into a deep slumber. Hedwig, however, can’t seem to be able to close her eyes. She’s staring at your features, wondering how she got so lucky to get you here. Her plan worked! She’s a genius! Soon, you’ll agree to be hers and these kinds of nights will be a recurring thing. Soon, she’ll dare to wrap her arms around you as you go to sleep. She’ll be able to kiss you and give you everything you want.

Oh, Hedwig can’t wait until you’re fully hers. Then, no one will be able to take you from her, because what Hedwig wants, Hedwig gets … and so has it always been. The ones that cross her always get shoved aside one way or another.

“You’re mine, my wonderful little Y/N”, she whispers and lets her fingertips brush over your cheek. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. My beautiful Y/N.”

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere ocs #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere female #clingy yandere #possesive yandere #yancore #soft yandere

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blueskittlesart · 1 month

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Question abt drawing: been trying to attempt learning how to draw forever but I always have trouble getting over the obstacle of having to learn/study things like anatomy and shading, which then causes me to stop drawing and have a harder time picking it back up. I know it's important for improving your art and yourself as an artist but I can't help but see it as tedious and overwhelming, especially the anatomy since it's more on the science side of things and science is not my thing lol. Do you have any advice on how to get over it or work thru it?

i think there's a couple facets to this question. firstly i'd recommend you consider what exactly your end goal is in learning how to draw: do you specifically want to be able to produce anatomically accurate figures and true-to-life shading, or do you just want to be able to make something for fun that looks good to you? one of the most helpful things I ever learned at art school was that accuracy doesn't matter if it looks good. 99% of my art isn't strictly anatomically accurate, and part of that is stylization, but even when i'm doing realistic figure drawings i like to lengthen limbs and exaggerate curves in order to make my drawings look better. So if your only real goal with art is to make something that looks good and enjoy the process, my first piece of advice would be to stop worrying so much about stuff like perfect accuracy! if you use references and keep pushing yourself, the skill and understanding you're looking for will come naturally with time. before I was ever classically trained, I got pretty far just by drawing my favorite characters in different poses and situations over and over again, and that experience laid the groundwork for when classical training did become available to me. Just because you're not necessarily doing serious figure studies doesn't mean you're not getting valuable practice--what it means is that you're having FUN while you're practicing, and having fun with your art is the most important thing!!!

Secondly, you mentioned anatomy being on the science side of things, which suggests to me that you may be looking in the wrong places when trying to do more serious anatomical study. if you look up 'anatomy' or anything similar on a web search engine, you're likely going to get a lot of very complex scientific illustrations. and while those aren't necessarily devoid of artistic value (I took a class all about scientific anatomy for artists last semester and it was GREAT) for a beginner who's just trying to learn how to make a body look like a body, they're not what you're looking for. what is going to be much more helpful for you are sites like line of action or quickposes. these sites are basically repositories of figure drawing images, and you can set them to automatically switch to a new image after a certain interval of time. if you really, desperately want to improve your anatomy specifically, what I recommend is going to one of these sites, setting it to the shortest interval possible, and trying to copy the pose as closely as you can before time is up. this might sound crazy, since the shortest interval is usually somewhere between 30-60 seconds, which obviously isn't enough to get much down. but what this will do is force you to look at how these models' bodies are constructed and translate it onto the page quickly and without overthinking it. be warned, your first maybe hundred of these are going to look like shit. but if you do this enough, you're eventually going to gain an intrinsic sense for 1. how a body works and 2. the easiest way for you personally to construct a body when drawing it. even without knowing the scientific names and anatomical rules, you're going to get a FEEL for how things work, which is much more important and useful to you as a character artist.

Finally, i think the most important thing to remember is that no art is bad art, even if you're not satisfied with the end product. when you're first starting out as an artist, you're going to make things that don't look right and you're going to be frustrated with yourself because of it. i vividly remember crying over a sketchbook at maybe age 11 or 12 because I was so upset i couldn't put exactly what was in my head on the page. Skill comes with time and practice and that is a frustrating fact of life, but no time spent doing something you enjoy and are passionate about is wasted. It might look bad now but you are laying the groundwork for your future success, and someday you're probably going to look back on your past work and say "I can't believe I thought this looked bad back then. for my age and my skill level i was doing AMAZING." And as previously mentioned, it's a lot less discouraging when something looks bad if you had fun making it, so try to have FUN with your art. draw things you enjoy and are passionate about and don't worry if it looks bad. focus on the experience, the skill will come in time. you've got this!!

#i've had this account since i was 15 years old. you can literally go back and see my ass did NOT know what i was doing #but i was having fun and the weird stuff that i was trying that maybe didn't always look right was what laid the groundwork #for my current skills!#i know this advice is basically just 'practice' which is what everyone says but it's important to me that you know #that practice should be FUN too. practice isn't drawing boring shit over and over again before you get to draw the fun stuff #practice is drawing the fun stuff that is maybe a little out of your comfort zone and maybe it looks a little wonky but you did it #and you had fun doing it! and now you'll be a little more prepared to do it again in the future!#asks

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jeanboyjean · 3 months

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PART 3: jean has friends

a/n: teehee! guys im on a roll rn weekly updates? who is she wc: 5.8k MASTERLIST | AO3 taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @plutoccult @milky-aeons

“So Jean, what do you do in your spare time?”

Leaning back in your chair, you stretch out your arms behind you and roll out your neck. It’s another week into semester and you and Jean are back at it again, in the same room as the week prior, trying to get ahead on the report for the day’s lab. The two of you have been sitting here for the past half hour in a mostly comfortable silence but you've just finished most of your part and it’s time for a little break. The comforting scent of earl grey lingers in the air, wafting from your travel mug while the sound of Jean tapping away on his laptop fills the silence. His jaw ticks when he hears your voice and his hands pause, hovering over the keyboard.

“I'm sure there's more to you than gym and study. What are your hobbies?” You try again, rolling your head towards him.

Jean sighs. To your delight he bites, pushing his laptop away and crossing his arms over his chest. The motion flexes the muscles in his arms, drawing your eyes to the corded slopes of his forearms. You try not to let your eyes linger, instead flicking them up to catch his mildly annoyed expression.

“I hang out with my friends. I listen to music. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I was just curious,” comes your cheery response. This week, you’ve decided to take a new approach to Jean - this being that you’re going to be as unbothered as possible. Truthfully, you really couldn’t care less about him, so unfazed are you by his character. His rude nature towards you may grind your gears but at the end of the day, you don't know this guy. His presence means almost nothing to you. It’s so insignificant in your life that you don’t even know why you’re bothering asking him these questions or why you’re grasping at straws to ask him more. As long as he pulls his weight, you're perfectly fine to not get along - in fact it’s the most ideal outcome.

You cup your head in your hands as you peer up at him with mild curiosity. “What kind of music?”

“None of your business.” He huffs. His eyes flit to you and then away, refusing to meet your scrutinising gaze. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I'm not interrogating you.” You wave a hand dismissively. “Just wondering.”

“You’re very nosy.”

“These are normal questions to ask someone when you’re trying to get to know them.”

He scoffs in response. There’s a small lull as you study him, taking in the slope of his tall nose and the hollows underneath his cheekbones. He glances at you from the side, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “I’m surprised you even want to get to know me now.”

You snort. Well, at least he’s self aware. “Huh, well I’m surprised you have friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Sure you do,” you taunt with only a little malice in your tone. Honestly, you’re not entirely convinced. It’s hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily spend time with someone as dry and unappealing as Jean.

Jean narrows his eyes at you. You smirk, picking up a pen and twirling it in your fingers. He follows the movement carefully, eyes tracking the flicking of your fingers. Despite the front he’s putting on, you’re almost certain he’s not as prickly as he was last week. You could have sworn today in your lab that you had seen just the slightest hint of a smile when you had slipped on the linoleum floor. Granted, he had probably been laughing at you, but you’ll take what little you can get. You decide to play into it, trying to wear him down to see how long it’ll take you to get him to crack. If anything, you’re starting to enjoy getting a reaction out of him.

“Well, what about you then?” he asks.

Your head tilts in thought. “Hmm, I guess the same. Hang out with friends … we like to watch movies and stuff.”

Speaking of friends, you perk up when you remember the party Historia had invited you to for Friday night. You’re not much of a drinker but you’re looking forward to the night, definitely ready to let your hair down and get a little loose. It makes you wonder about Jean - you don’t think you’ve seen him at many of the parties you’ve gone to, even ones hosted by your mutual classmates. The question forms in your brain and you blurt it out without thinking. “Do you drink?”

There's a pause as something flashes over Jean's face, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. All the muscles in his body seem to tense as a flush creeps up his neck and tinges his ears pink. His eyes dart away from you and he clears his throat as he shrugs. “Now and then,” he says, attempting to seem indifferent but the words come out stilted.

You peer at him curiously. His reaction surprises you. There’s clearly something he’s not letting on. “Hmm, I think you’re lying,” you say with a teasing lilt to your tone. “You’re acting weirder than usual. I bet you’re a huge partier.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. It’s a familiar and welcome sight. You wouldn’t be surprised if a tally revealed he had rolled his eyes every ten minutes whenever in your presence.

“I’m too busy to party much,” he finally admits through gritted teeth. His chin tucks down and his hair falls to cast a shadow over his eyes.

Oh? You’re like a squirrel pouncing on every little nugget of information he drops. “What are you so busy with then?”

“Work.”

Interesting. You lean forward. Your elbows sneak closer to him, brushing against the side of his laptop. He narrows his eyes and nudges you back with the tip of his finger. The touch triggers a tiny current of electricity, running up your arm and tingling your nerves. A small laugh bubbles out of you and you ease up, sliding back a little.

“And where do you work?”

“That’s for me to know,” he replies shortly. His brown eyes are almost slits now, annoyance clear as day on his expression and he gestures toward your laptop. “Come on, let’s just finish this.”

You snort in response, finally letting off. He’s clearly uncomfortable and you decide to take mercy and stop torturing him. Your shoulders heave as you let out a deep sigh, reluctant to get back into it. “You know,” you start again, glancing over at him. “We barely even talk when we write this. We could probably just work on it separately and discuss things over text.”

He lets out a low grunt, his hand pausing over his keyboard. He glances back at you and his expression is hard to read. “Nah, I would prefer to just meet up and get it over with. Wouldn’t want to have to wait on you to reply and everything.”

You shrug. “Okay, suit yourself. Works for me. I’m a fast replier though.”

Jean doesn’t say anything, just lets out a low uh huh with a disbelieving look on his face, shaking his head. You swing your legs under your chair, pursing your lips. The desire to retaliate burns within you but you hold back and chew the inside of your mouth, watching him deliberately ignore you.

“Alright then, let’s get this done,” you say eventually, tilting your screen back to your face.

Friday at 18:32

queenstoria!: sent a link queenstoria!: can’t wait to see you tonight!! here's my address on maps You: so excited!! we’ll be there around 8 🙂 queenstoria!: oh also! guess who i ran into You: who?? queenstoria!: ur lab partner jean. i saw him at the library and we chatted for a bit. i invited him to come tonight 🙂 You: you what??? i told u that guy hates me queenstoria!: well he doesn't hate me so he said he’s gonna come

With a scoff you put down your phone. Eren looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch next to you. Exasperation boils your veins as you reread the text, her words taunting you with her indifference. Your face screws up in irritation, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your brows. Eren raises an eyebrow at you in question, steam rising from the pizza slice in his hand as he lifts it to his mouth. Two open pizza boxes sit in front of you on the coffee table, your dinner to pad your stomach before you absolutely obliterate it tonight.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He asks, dipping his open mouth to catch a bit of melted cheese about to fall off.

“Historia invited my stupid lab partner Jean tonight.”

“Well, it is her party. She can invite whoever she wants.”

“No you don’t understand,” you groan, running a hand over your face. You slump back into the couch, chin tucking down to rest on top of your chest. Your next words come out slightly muffled as a result. “He’s actually so weird. I don’t think I’ve had a single normal conversation with him.”

Eren snorts. He reaches forward to flick your forehead and you hiss, swatting his hand away. “He’s clearly not that weird if she invited him. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. You’re just judgy.”

You suck your teeth and stick out your tongue at him. He doesn’t get it. His dismissal adds fuel to the fire of indignation burning in your brain. Why is everyone so ready to discount how much of a struggle you’ve had for the past two weeks dealing with Jean.

Your heads raise when Mikasa walks in from the kitchen with Armin in tow, two drinks in hand. Bright red liquid sloshes in the glasses, the ice inside clinking when she hands one to you and you raise it to your nose, taking a sniff. You inhale a classic fruitiness masking the telltale scent of vodka and hum in approval. Vodka cran, your favouite. She settles down on am armchair next to the couch and tucks her feet under her legs while Armin sits on the floor next to the coffee table, leaning back to rest against the couch. He fiddles with his phone and a moment later, music plays from the speakers.

“Oi,” Eren says, nudging your side with his elbow. “What do you think of her?” He shoves his phone under your eyes and you blink, pushing his hand back to focus on the screen. It's open to an instagram photo of a girl with blonde hair and sharp features, staring up at the camera with a blank expression. You take his phone, scrolling through her profile as you take a sip of your drink.

“She looks nice. Pretty. Maybe a bit intimidating,” you pass the phone back to him. “Why?”

“We matched on Hinge. We've been talking a bit over the past couple days and she said she knows Historia.”

“Oh, is she coming tonight?”

He nods, smacking his lips. “Yeah, we're gonna meet up there.”

It’s no surprise. Eren's been on a bit of a dating spree lately, chatting up someone new every other day. Unfortunately, none of his pursuits have been particularly successful, flings that come and go so you don't really pay this too much attention. Chances are it’s just going to be another failed attempt and there's no point in getting too invested. He's been trying to get you on as well, something about “putting yourself out there” and “it would be good for you!” but in all honesty it's really not for you. The one time you had relented, you had deleted the app in horror in about an hour after coming across one of your lecturers. It had been a little too close for comfort if you say so yourself.

“You should get back on the apps again,” he starts, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He continues hurriedly when he sees your sceptical expression. “It's literally been years since you last went on a date. I'm starting to worry about you.”

“Firstly, it's only been one year,�� you sass, holding up a finger in count, then putting up another. “Secondly, neither have Armin and Mikasa. Why are you always on my ass about this.”

Mikasa looks up when she hears her name and cocks her head at you. You pull a face at her, making a thumbs down gesture with your hand while you pull a face at Eren.

He sighs, shaking his head. An arm comes around your shoulders to pull you into his side and he pats your head as if to soothe you. “Those two are fine. Me and you though? We're the kind of people that need a little extra, a warm body to sleep next to… you know. Who knows, maybe you'll even find someone tonight!”

You huff, rolling your eyes and shoving him off you. “Speak for yourself. I'm not a horny gremlin like you.”

He smirks, his green eyes dancing in delight. His lives to tease you, the two of you naturally bickering all the time like a pair of school girls. It’s been the nature of your relationship from the moment you had first been introduced to each other as five year olds on your first day of school. Sometimes you wonder how you've still managed to remain friends after all this time.

A blessed distraction comes when Armin taps Eren’s leg to get his attention and he turns to him, looking at something on his phone. You sigh in relief and reach forward to grab a slice of pizza, setting your glass down carefully on the table. As you take a bite, you meet Mikasa’s eyes and she beckons you in closer.

“What were you guys talking about?” She asks with a low voice, resting her weight on her elbows as she leans over the armrest.

“Just Eren talking about his hinge dates again. One’s coming tonight apparently.”

Mikasa nods slowly, lips thinning into a line. She sinks back into the seat cushions, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she lifts her glass to her lips. “Oh.”

“Yeah and then he was just being dumb, trying to get me to download it again.”

She shakes her head, chuckling softly at your misery. This is nothing new for her either, she’s used to hearing you complain about Eren pestering you. It’s how it’s always been - you and him, the troublemakers, with Mikasa and Armin, the peacekeepers. It’s how you always hope it’ll be, you think, when you’re old and grey and living in neighbouring retirement homes.

A hush falls over the room when the song trails off and you hear the two boys murmuring together. You follow her gaze to watch them and warmth glows from your chest, a sense of fondness for your friends overwhelming you in an instant. No matter how much they may get on your nerves, these are your ride or dies, your home away from home. Something about it triggers the memory of your earlier conversation with Jean and honestly it's still hard to imagine him spending time with anyone except his own shadow. A thought crosses your mind, something petty and probably untrue but it rests there and you allow it to fester.

Bet Jean doesn’t have any friendships as strong as this.

The party is definitely underway by the time the four of you clamber out of your uber. Historia and Ymir’s place is a nice two bedroom house a little out of the way from campus down a quiet street and you almost feel a little bad for her neighbours with the way you can hear bass thumping from outside. It’s absolutely all Historia’s doing. She’s one of the most popular people you know, befriending everyone she meets, and it makes you wonder how she and Ymir could have possibly ended up together. Street lights illuminate your path as you make your way up to her door, passing a small lawn out front with potted plants lining the steps of the entranceway. You press a worn bell and a moment later the door swings open.

“Come in!” Historia exclaims with a wide grin, flapping her hands and pulling you into a warm hug. It’s only been a few hours since you last saw her in one of your lectures but she’s still as welcoming as ever. “It’s good to see you guys!”

She exchanges greetings and hugs with the others, ushering you all in before disappearing. Inside, the living room is buzzing with people, dance music blasting from speakers. You and your friends quickly make your way in, waving at the faces you recognise. After a minute, Eren and Armin split off when they see a few of their friends from outside your circle, telling you to meet them later. Mikasa also murmurs an apology when she sees someone she recognises and squeezes past you. You're left alone for a moment before Historia appears beside you with a couple drinks in her hands and shoves one into your hands which you receive gratefully.

“Here, have this! And look who I found!” She raises her voice to be heard over the background noise. She grins at you, eyes lighting up when she focuses on something behind you. Her hand waves excitedly, beckoning someone forward. “Ymir! Come here.”

You turn and see her partner Ymir, a scowl on her face as always. In all honesty, you don’t really know her that well, having only met her a couple times when she’s with Historia. Her standoffish nature seems natural though, not really rude, just more reserved, especially when compared to her girlfriend’s perpetual sunny persona. She stalks towards you and stops next to Historia, putting an arm around her shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Hey Ymir, how are you? The place looks great!” You say enthusiastically.

A small smile lights up her face as she looks around at the surroundings. “Yeah, Historia did a good job, didn’t she?” Your heart swells at the warm look on her face when she gazes down at Historia’s face. “Too bad, it’s gonna be a mess after tonight.”

“I’ll help you guys clean up,” you offer with a laugh.

Historia shakes her head, playfully rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Ymir’s just being dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic. I just saw some dumb guy drop his entire drink on the carpet. I had to give him a cloth and some carpet cleaner so it doesn't stain."

“Oops,” you wince in sympathy. “I'm sure it'll be fine.

Historia nods. “Yeah, Ymir don't worry.” She glances over at you and catches your eyes. The two of you try to smother your laughter as Ymir scowls, stewing in irritation. Historia pats her shoulder reassuringly and she shakes her head, heaving a resigned sigh.

“Okay come on, let me introduce you to some people," Historia announces, grabbing your hand. She squeezes tight, waving goodbye to Ymir as you let her pull you through the crowd, introducing you to her friends. The two of you make your rounds and you're surprised by just how many people she knows - some familiar from class, others are new from the various clubs she takes part in.

“Oh!” She gasps, looking over your shoulder when you’re standing talking with one of your classmates. “Look who’s here.”

You glance over your shoulder and your blood drains from your face, eyes widening in surprise. You hadn’t really expected to see him today but there he is. You watch as Jean makes his way towards the kitchen with two people in tow, one male and one female. They’re engrossed in conversation, laughing merrily. You realise you’ve never seen him laugh before and it shakes you to your core. His brown eyes are scrunched up in delight, the skin of his eyelids crinkling as his lips stretch into a wide grin. It makes him almost unrecognisable, so different from the perpetual grimace he wears around you. He slaps a hand across the back of the guy, who’s a little shorter with short cropped hair. The girl holds her stomach as she watches him stumble over his feet, almost doubled over in laughter.

Historia pulls your arm, catching your attention. “Come on, let’s go say hi.”

You shake your head furiously. You twist out of her grasp and cross your hands in an X in front of your face. “No, no no. I’m good, thanks. I want to actually have a good time.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll go by myself then.” With that, she shrugs and disappears from your side.

You turn back to your conversation. In the corner of your eye, you see Historia intercepting Jean at the kitchen island, letting him pour her a drink. You try not to stare at the way he smiles at her, body language loose and open. He’s never looked at you like that. His friends disappear from his side as the two of them chat and he says something which makes her laugh, a hand flying up to hide her mouth. Jean's shoulders heave as he laughs with her, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. His body shifts to the side slightly and he raises his head to look around the room and you stiffen, quickly looking away with wide eyes before you can be caught watching.

Mikasa finds you a moment later, stumbling up to you and grabbing your arm. Her cheeks are tinged pink from drinking as she sways to a stop in front of you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She exclaims, her words coming out louder than they need to.

You giggle at her. “I’ve been here the whole time. Where were you?”

“Eren and Armin are playing beer pong and it’s getting good. Come.” She grabs your hand and starts tugging you forward. You mouth an apology to your classmate as you turn and Mikasa drags you along, weaving past the people standing as obstacles in your way. You dodge them carefully as you follow her, almost tripping over your own feet.

The two of you find yourself next to the kitchen, stopping in front of the dining table where you see cups set up in formation, more than half missing already. You nudge your way through the small crowd that’s gathered to stand in the front to get a clear view of the spectacle. Eren and Armin are in the middle of playing against another pair - one girl, one guy, and you realise it’s the two people Jean came in with. They’re going back and forth, cheers erupting from all around as they play, downing drinks along the way. Laughter bubbles out of you when Eren misses his shot and groans dramatically, punching the air. There are only two cups left now, one on each side. The guy with the buzzcut carefully takes aim and then roars triumphantly when the ball plops deftly into the cup left on your boys' side. Eren’s hands press into the sides of his head as he sulks, lips pulled down in a disbelieving pout. Armin takes one for the team, grabbing the drink and sinking the liquid, making a face when he sets it back down on the table.

“GG!” The guy calls across the table. “Too bad we’re just too good.”

You snort. Oh god. You already know that’s going to rub Eren the wrong way with his competitive nature. Right on cue, Eren straightens up, pulling his shoulders back, mustering up all the bravado he can manage.

“Let’s go again. Round two.”

“I mean, if you want to lose again then I’m all for it,” Buzzcut taunts.

Eren scans the crowd around the table, lighting up when he sees you. He beckons his hand and you step forward, shaking your head in laughter.

“Nah, I’m not losing this time. I have my lucky charm here now.” He slings an arm around you and turns to Armin who puts his hands up in knowing defeat. “Sorry Armin. I’m gonna have to sub you out.”

“Fair, fair,” Armin replies unfazed, happily taking your place where you were standing next to Mikasa.

Buzzcut looks around himself. “Okay well if you’re swapping then I will too.” He points at someone in the crowd. “Jean get over here.”

Your blood turns cold, your hands stopping in motion where you were setting up the cups. Your head snaps up and you see Jean striding towards his friend. His eyes dart towards you then back at his friend’s face.

“I don’t really want to play, Connie.” You hear him say.

Buzzcut, or Connie, makes a face and punches his arm lightly. “What do you mean? You love beer pong we play all the time.”

All the time? Your ears perk up and you study Jean. He grimaces, before finally shrugging, accepting his fate. Eren pours alcohol from a bottle someone passes him into the cups and you grab the ball, tossing it to Connie.

“Winner starts.”

He crouches, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he lines up. His aim is accurate, falling into his target right in the centre. You exchange a glance with Eren - he’s clearly had a lot more to drink than you. Playfully, you roll your eyes, snatching up the cup and swallowing down the liquid. It's bitter and burns as it goes down your throat and you stick out your tongue, shaking your head in disgust. Whatever it is, it's definitely not just beer. In a rare moment of generosity, Eren lets you take the first go and you toss carefully, watching the ball travel in a smooth arc. You jump up, clapping in satisfaction when it sloshes into a cup right in front of Jean, who stands with his hands in his pockets. His eyes narrow at you in response and you smile sheepishly, innocently blinking up at him. Without a word, he snakes out a hand out to grab the cup, fingers wrapping tight around the plastic.

When he takes aim, his eyes flicker up to you for a brief second. The air is charged with tension, a competitive edge forming around the game as he shifts to the centre of his side, rolling the ball in his fingertips. His eyes glint with fire as he looks back down at the table and you shouldn’t be surprised when the liquid in the cup in front of you splashes, the ball falling in with ease. You seethe quietly as Jean stands back tall with a pleased smirk on his face. He meets your eyes and raises an eyebrow as if in challenge. Oh, it’s on.

The game continues in a tense back and forth, neither side willing to let the win slip through their fingertips. Somehow, it’s become centred around you and Jean with Eren and Connie as your personal cheerleaders, hooting and hollering beside you. You’re both well underway and you don’t know how many drinks you’ve had to swallow but suddenly, it’s your turn and you’ve got your eyes set on the single remaining cup on Jean’s side of the table. You crouch down, leaning over your side of the table, surveying your opponent. Eren taps your shoulder, cutting your concentration.

“Want me to take this one?”

You shake your head, arm paused ready to take aim. “No, I’ve got this. I’m gonna make sure we win.”

He nods, patting your back in encouragement. Your vision tunnels in to focus on your target, everything slowing down to this one moment. You take a deep breath.Three, two, one.

You let go and satisfaction blooms from your chest when you manage to sink the ball right where you want it. A cheer bellows around you and you join in, jumping up and down and waving your arms in the air. On the other side of the table Jean huffs, shoulders slumping as he reluctantly accepts his defeat. Victory has never tasted sweeter.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” Eren yells next to you, slapping a hand on the table. He takes you in his arms and lifts you off your feet. You giggle, letting him swing you around in a circle and the room spins, all the faces around you blurring together. When he sets you down, you look across the table, ready to throw it in Jean’s face but he’s nowhere to be seen. You clap your hands, relishing in the victory all the same as Mikasa races forward to highfive the two of you. Across from you, Connie yells out for another round but he’s shushed by his friend who tells him not to be a sore loser. As your shoulder heave in laughter, a heavy weight in your bladder comes as a reminder that you’ve just drank more than it can handle. You excuse yourself regretfully, announcing you need to go to the toilet.

Once again, you’re threading yourself through the crowd as you take yourself down the hallway to the bathroom. The music quiets the further you walk and the groups of people thin out to just a few leaning against the walls, seeking solace from the hubbub. You’re almost at the bathroom, identified by a cutesy sign with a doodle of a toilet hanging from the door, when you stop short. Jean steps out from the open doorway, looking down at his phone. His head lifts when he notices your presence and he pauses, a small frown on his face already.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you sing-song cheerily, your tongue a little loose from the alcohol running through your veins. “I totally beat your ass.”

He scoffs, putting his phone in his pocket. He crosses his arms against his chest and tilts his chin up to look down his nose at you. “I went easy on you.”

“Sure you did, superstar,” you smirk, eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You sniff, rocking back on your heels. “No need to lie.”

“I don’t lie,” Jean says, clearly lying through his teeth.

“Well, I mean I guess you weren’t lying about one thing … you do have friends.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “What made you think I didn't? I’m actually very popular.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s not popular would say. Now I’m starting to think these are paid actors.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“Pfft, okayyyy,” you say unbothered, drawing out the vowels and letting his words roll off you. Maybe it's the alcohol but his words no longer have the sting they used to. You let your reply hang in the air and there’s an awkward silence as you look down at your shoes, neither of you sure of what to say now. The music is muffled this distance from the speakers, and you can hear the hitch as Jean takes in breath before speaking.

“You have interesting friends too. That Eren guy seems like … a lot.”

“Oh, I guess so.” Your lips split in a smile and you beam at him. “He’s definitely a lot but that’s why we love him.”

Jean nods slowly. His throat bobs as he puts his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet. All of a sudden, everything you’ve had to drink is starting to hit you now - your vision blurring, the floor wobbling underneath you as your knees buckle and you lurch forward slightly. Jean catches your arm to steady you. His hand is burning hot against your skin and goosebumps run up your arm radiating from his touch. “Woah,” you hear him say, his voice sounds a little distant like you’re hearing him through a fog. “You okay?”

You let out a groan. Unintentionally, you reach out a hand to rest against his chest in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. A wave of nausea passes over you and you screw your eyes shut but the darkness doesn’t help much to ground you as you teeter on your feet. Somewhere in your subconscious, you're aware of his heartbeat thrumming under your fingertips and the faint scent of something woody and fresh.

You don’t know how long it takes before a squeeze on your arm brings you back to reality and you slowly open your eyes, taking in a deep breath. The sight of your fingers clenched tight to grip his shirt hits you like a freight train. You jump back as if burned, pulling your hand away and wrenching yourself from his grasp in an instant. His hand lingers for a moment in the space between you before dropping back to his side. Concern is etched in his gaze, his brows furrowing low over his eyes as he watches you cautiously. You clear your throat, wrapping your shaky hands around yourself.

“Sorry,” you squeak, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. You wrestle to take control of your mind and body as you sway on your feet again. “I think I drank too much and it hit me all at once. You know how it is”

Jean studies your face, eyes hard in disapproval. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You clear your throat and brush him off. “Whatever, it’s none of your business.” You try not to slur your words as you side step past him and gesture towards the open bathroom door. “If you don’t mind, I need to pee.”

He lets you go and you stumble into the bathroom. Hesitantly, you peek behind the door to watch him stalk away with his hands in his pockets. As if aware of your eyes on him, he pauses, his head turning back in your direction. It's the last thing you see before you slam the door shut so he doesn't catch you. A shaky sigh escapes your lips as you sink back to lean against it, pressing your hands into your racing chest. Jean may be a dick but you can’t lie he’s attractive and at this very moment your body is betraying you. It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself but when you raise your hands in front of your face, they tingle, reliving the feeling of his solid chest and steady heartbeat.

A shiver washes over you and all of a sudden the room is spinning again. “Oh god,” you mumble as you race to drop in front of the toilet and retch, releasing everything you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tears sting your eyes as wave after wave of nausea overcomes you while you crouch over the toilet seat. You slump against it, spitting bile from your mouth feeling the acrid burn in your throat. Using the small ounce of mental clarity you have, you grab your phone and type out a shaky text.

Today 21:49

You: pls helppopp im in bsthrom rn throwinh up mama mika: o god mama mika: stay there im omw

the girl on eren’s phone was annie and i think it’s hilarious imagining them going on a date LMAO

songs i listened to writing this/songs i WILL play on repeat at a party: give me everything (pitbull), hotel room service (pitbull), time of our lives (pitbull)

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #aot x reader #✎ . chloe wrote smth #attack on titan

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plumadot · 2 months

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Currently neck-deep in semester so I haven’t been drawing much but I just wanna say your stuff has really inspired me to practice and develop my art style more, Plume!

Keep going girl! And remember to take time for yourself to chill. Have a virtual hot chocolate on me. 🍫 ☕️

- Tyx

aaaaaaa good luck with your semester!!!!! i really hope you get more time to yourself soon!!! <3 <3 <3

thank you for the yummy hot chocolate and i'll work really hard at relaxing...? well you know!!! i'll try my best to do it well heheh

#ask

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ask-the-bone-boys · 4 months

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I have enjoyed this series SO much. It really shows how much work and love you've put into it and how much it means to you; I'll absolutely keep following it along through its completion. I look forward to its return in any form!

With that said, here's a proposal for you (and this is not me trying to sway what you decide; it's simply an idea I had after reading your post): since you DO enjoy the asking interactions, you could always continue doing that (obviously much less often so you're not burning yourself out) in the form of an OOC accompaniment to the fics! And by that, I mean, people could ask you or the characters about their thoughts on specific (non spoiler) things happening in the plot that wouldn't be actually happening in the fic itself. That would both let you continue to do some of the answering asks, AND it would mean you would need to do a lot less of it since you can progress the plot and provide answers to spoiler related asks at your leisure with writing, which wouldn't depend on the ask feature itself since it's already a planned part of the story.

P.S: I hope your winter break and next semester go great!

I'm glad you've liked it so much!! It's funny, this blog was originally meant to be a much smaller project that'd just give me something to do when I was bored, but now it's really grown into something I love working on just for the sake of creating! its such a weird mix of personal-to-me and just fucking around and its so so fun even if I have to change it up a lot!

that's a pretty cool idea, and I have seen others do it before, but sadly i don't really think it's very feasible at the moment :( ask culture itself has honestly been suffering a Ton on tumblr lately already, which was a big reason I stopped enjoying the ask blog format in the first place. But even besides that, there are. a LOT of things that happen in this story!!! And I know myself well enough to know that I would Not be satisfied by using character portraits that don't match the setting of whatever update they're commenting on. Meaning, I would likely end up putting in the work to draw a bunch of stuff anyway.

I'm trying to get this final event set up in time for me to get a large portion of it finished before I go back to school, because I know that once I get into the meat of the semester and living with roommates again I won't have nearly as much time or energy to put into answering asks in-character. It is very difficult to be constantly drawing the same character in 532 different outfits when your roommate is constantly sitting directly behind you !!!!! (and also i'll have homework and classes taking up my time too i guess)

So as sad as I am about it, once this event is wrapped up I really do think it'll be time I'll have to let the ask blog format go. I've been thinking on it for a really long time, honestly I think right after I posted that very last comic update, even before I went on hiatus, a part of me knew that I just couldn't keep doing this.

But I still love remembering it for what it was! That's the entire reason I'm setting up a send-off event in the first place, so we can have one last taste of that fun that comes with working on a story with other people! I'll admit I'm a little scared, but hopefully it'll be a blast!!!!

#i really should be tagging all of these ooc but i refuse to let that tag become the most used one i dont care #anyway sorry this sounds kinda like a PR statement and is long as hell unfortunately i really like words 😔 its a problem

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thestoryden · 2 years

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hello love,

i would like to Request where the reader is a quiet nerd, who secret is into dnd, one day Eddie Finds out when they are sketching out the Dnd oc of said person and gets them to jokn hell fire.

Unnoticed

Eddie Munson x Nerd!Reader Warnings: Embarrassment Word Count: 781

Most places you flew under the radar completely unnoticed. You only hit an even five foot once you got into high school and never really got that passed. You blended in, not too short and not too tall. You had not realized how bad it was till the day you ran into him. You were hurrying to get to Spanish class when BAM! you face plant directly into Eddie’s chest. Your face burns bright red. He puts a hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you off him.

“Whoa their freshman,” He says, “gotta watch where you're going.”

You can not take it anymore; you feel like you are going to melt out of embarrassment. You shove him hard and go into the classroom. He of course follows in after as you two have shared this class the whole entire semester. Miss O’Donnell begins handing back tests.

She smiles when she gets to you,“Perfect score as always. Maybe some of the other students could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Thank you,” you respond quietly.

The class drones on and the thought of what happened starts to eat away at you. You replay his voice over and over again in your head. You had gone unnoticed but this time it was for four years. He genuinely thought that you were a freshman. You had been in multiple classes with him and yet he couldn’t remember your face. The bell suddenly rang bringing you out of your stupor.

“Wait, I need you two stay after.” Miss O’Donnell calls out.

She points at Eddie and you.You try to hide your disgust, because you know exactly what is going to happen.

Miss O’Donnell looks up from her desk, “Here is the deal. I don't want to see Mr.Munson’s face again in the school next year, and you are going to make that happen. I just need you to tutor-”

“Not happening.” Eddie and you say in unison.

You both look at each other and then back at Miss O’Donnell.

“He can’t afford my rate Miss O’Donnell and I doubt he’d listen.” you retort.

“I’ll make sure you get to take the Spanish two credit exam.” She says.

You give Eddie a once over and think about what happened earlier.

“Universities won’t blink an eye at that. Let me take the Spanish two and three credit exams, and we will have a deal.” you say.

She relents and gives a hopeless, “Yes.”

“Wait don’t I get a say in this?” Eddie says

“No, you either take lessons and get your less than deserving D, or you fail and repeat senior year again.” Miss O’Donnell says.

He sticks his hand out, “Happy to do business with you Freshman.”

You slap his hand away, “We meet in the Library after school.”

Later during your free period you were pouring over your copy over The Master Rules developing your character further, when you decided to draw it. You started out with a basic body type and started adding details from one of your earlier sketches.

Eddie plants his hand down firmly on the table, “What are you doing young adventurer!”

You look up at him and flush a deep red and quickly stuff your pages into your book, putting it into your backpack.

“Oh come on, I already saw it. I know you play Dungeons and Dragons.” he made a small flourish with his hands.

You breathed out a steady stream of air and pulled out your Spanish textbook.

“You are early.” you reply curtly.

He snorted, “Yeah, I have Hellfire club tonight, I can't miss it and neither can you”

You begin flipping through the textbook and pull out a set of flashcards.

“Come on, we need a sub for tonight's game. My little Freshman minions couldn’t find a replacement for their friend, and you’ll do perfect.” he implores.

Someone is finally noticing you and all you want to do is run and hide. Tuck yourself back into the corner of the library and fit yourself right between the pages of The Hobbit.

“Fine, I will join for this session.” you say pointedly, “The only way I’ll come back is if the game is actually good. And you come to tutoring and actually make progress.”

He sticks his hand out, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

You take his hand and shake it this time. It feels kinda liberating to be noticed .

-EXTRA-

You trail behind him on the way to Hellfire Club.

“About that Freshman thing.” you mumble.

“Oh that,” He says, “yeah I know your senior. I was just messing with you.”

Your jaw drops open. He smiles at you.

How long had he noticed you?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x nerd!reader #eddie munson one shot #nongendered reader

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gremlins-hotel · 9 months

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　ANON LOVE　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Just wanted to stop by and share what I love about you and it's your art! I could probably ramble on and on and on about your art for pages and pages but only a smidgen of it would even be coherent, especially when writing about the way you draw Russia! And I can't remember the name of the AU, but that render of America standing under I think a sign in the desert? The lighting, the drama, and I'm not sure if you have fics too, but just from that image alone, I just know I would read the HECK out of that!! I also love your archaeology Jones blog and all the stuff I get to learn, something that has to be one of my favorite things about this fandom, thank you for being such a wonderful part of it!

Now spread the love! (But no pressure!) You can tag someone to say what you love about them, or if you're shy like me, drop some love as anon in their inbox! There's never too much love for us to share with each other 💖

so i've had this sitting in my inbox for nearly two weeks, trying to think of how to respond. nothing eloquent came. so i am thanking you from the bottom of my cringe-loving heart and here to spread some of that love in the most obnoxious way possible.

@ironicorange i can't not start with my goof squad, my beloved, my sunbeam. i love you lots, more than i can say. thank you for always letting me be in your dms with insane words and ideas, we both grow closer to delirium each day. watch your back you whore i'm going to steal your hands so i can one day draw like you.

@abbittheturtle my beloved irl bestie, this creature would be wayward without you. you are a fucking jewel and i will eat your art at every opportunity. also seeing you be happy in working with metal and jewelry has been amazing. i hope you continue to enjoy it! i'm wishing you love and luck with your move and good luck in our upcoming semester! i will be coming up there. this is a threat.

@temtamoo our romerica echo chamber and transatlantic 5g connection is so strong dude. your ideas are deep and your art is stunning, i love to hear from you always, regardless of the topic.

@artistically-hershie from late-night crazy au ideas to invading your workplace establishment to give you a soul-crushing hug, seeing messages from you so we can both be giggly and nuts is the best. also ugh, bro, teach me to draw.

@sunnysssol clown duo, clown twins, the dumbass squad. i will slobber for your oc and your art right here, right now. can i just say i specifically love how you color eyes. like bro!! the sol eye stare. trademark it.

@dusklikescats to you, who was one of my first more steadfast buddies after rejoining hetalia, i know you aren't into it much now, but i still light up seeing your messages. you have an energy unmatched and a contagious laugh.

@snackbar-chez-paro i drooled over your art for a long time dude and similar to miq, you became a fast friend. i always adore seeing your headcanons on discord even if you say wonderful things my tiny anglo brain doesn't always understand. you're awesome!

@irlusa you, good sir, are a fucking angel. and i will smooch you on the lips. stop living so far away!! i'm gonna fight the state. you are far kinder than you let yourself think and your art style is so fucking soft i'm gonna sleep on it.

@picturespurple-68 i'm sending you to the camps for revealing my classified secrets (code for i'm definitely going to watch more shows and movies with you someday). you are so very quick on your feet with ideas and always have fun ones to share. i could slurp up your writing like a fuckign smoothie it's so wonderful. i love our conversations and our hangouts.

there are so many more people i would love to ping but then this post would be far too long. return rebloggers and likers and people in my askbox, those whose posts i see on my dash and interact with, names i have come to recognize and associate with the crazy tunglrites, i salute you. and ily guys.

#callsign gremlin checking in #i'm feeling so fucking soft rn it's ridiculous goddamn ily guys #hhrrnngg

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studysprine · 2 years

Text

1/100 days of productivity & doing better | 07.22.2022

photo is mine

today's goals: take adhd meds, make breakfast, journal, organize laundry, start laundry, finish laundry, plan what to cook, study german for an hour, make an advisor appointment, move my body, look into credit cards, be outside, finish looking into the local library's resources online, look into job opportunities, look into internships, read, cook, call dad in the evening, brush teeth, wash face, and plan tomorrow's day

things I have accomplished today:

made oatmeal for breakfast & right now (4:00pm) I'm drinking tea and eating sunflower kernels. afternoon, i ate some jellybeans bc i felt like i had low blood sugar. didn’t have the focus to cook or plan cooking but thankfully a friend brought us some extra food the other day so i microwaved some eggs, grits, and ate it with some of the diced cheese, fruit, and a biscuit (all brought from the friend) + blackberry jam w/tea for dinner!

called my dad in the afternoon

tried tidying up my laptop organization (gave up)

journaled for about thirty minutes about the upcoming semester, potential routines for me to start practicing, the poem I'm Tired by Langston Hughes and the reasons I love it so much, and a personal commentary on how I love accessible poetry and creating prose.

i have organized my unclean laundry into it's different categories to start with laundry (dark colored or thick material clothes, very thick material clothes, whites/creams, towels/rags, blankets, socks, idk pile, and light material/color) and began two loads ! the thick material clothes and very thick material clothes r all washed and i’m finishing the v thick material load in the dryer now. ill have to put the rest away tomorrow bc i’m too tired n sleepy

looked at stuff for my major

began drawing a red crossbill and practiced anatomy

buddy read some of Aristotle’s & Dante’s secrets to the universe one of my roommates !!! that was pleasant

brushed teeth for 45 seconds before sleep, soso proud of myself

what am i doing right now as i type this? (4:38pm) sitting outside on my townhouse porch smoking with my lovely roommate, M. It is a nice day out, the sky is blue, it's decently warm, and there's some Columbus clouds at the edges of the sky. i just saw a pretty bird, which i'm currently trying to identify. (it was a red crossbill!)/ (11:38pm) sitting upstairs on the floor in our lil living room, patiently waiting for the clothes to finish drying. i really like the sound of crickets at night. i like the warm summer. i was/am drawing, trying to practice anatomy because i rlly suck at anything other than realistic faces. the house and the townhouse neighborhood is quiet right now. everything is quiet (except for the crickets and the drying machine, i like the cricket noise, not the drying machine). i have to move everything downstairs to my roooooooom and i dread it but at least then i can change and fall asleep. i’m happy how today went / 12:22 night, i’m in sleep clothes, laundry basket downstairs, fresh teeth, sleepy, will try to close some tabs for future me, then sleep

gratitude timeee: i am SO relieved that I still have my financial support, even if it has been minimized. at least, it'll actually force me to focus to find a job that will help build my resume levels. thankful for the blue sky I saw today and the pleasant temperature, and thankful to have friends who are so kind to me. very thankful for A, the one who brought the food, because cooking can be hard for me and i struggle remembering to eat as it is!! clean clothes finally!! yayayay

last updated: 12:21 at night

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

I’m in a modern fcc mood, so here’s some funny aemyrah stuff

You Drive Me Crazy

Aemond knew something was off the moment he pulled onto the property, and saw an unfamiliar car sitting in the driveway of his childhood home.

Closer he got, the more the sense of annoyance crept in. The car was not unfamiliar after all. Quite the opposite; he recognized the beat up black Audi, hot pink license plate, and ‘Please let me merge before I cry’ bumper sticker.

She was here.

When he had time, Aemond made it a habit to come visit his mother on the weekends. He knows she has been taken the newly empty house hard. Daeron starting the semester at a new boarding school. Alicent had been trying to find hobbies to past the time. Aemond remembers coming over one weekend to find her reading a book on the history of backgammon. Aemond did not believe his mother when she mentioned wanting to take painting lessons. Chalking up to another idea that would eventually fall through as she moved onto the next idea that briefly stimulated.

As he walked up the door, he could hear music coming from inside. Taking a deep breath before using his key to open the door.

He walks through the large foyer on the home, moving towards the living area as Amy Winehouse fills the space. The first thing he notices is the canvas tarp on the floor. Then two easels and various paints all around. A bottle of wine and a cleared sushi platter.

His mother and Myrah are curled up on the couch giggling over something on Alicent’s phone.

Aemond goes over to turn down the music coming from the turntable, making both of them look up from the phone.

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent’s cheeks are flushed and her smile is warm. She gets up from the couch; Aemond takes in the paint splattered button up and black leggings she had on. He has never seen his mother so… casual. “I forgot you said you were coming over.”

He leans down as she kisses him on the cheek, but his gaze stays trained on Myrah. He has no reason not to be cold towards her, but something about the way his body feels like it is vibrating when she is around makes him want to chalk it up to simple dislike.

“Are these for me,” Alicent smiles at the flowers in Aemond’s hand before turning back to Myrah. “Isn’t he sweet.”

“The sweetest.”

The mirth on her face only made him feel more out of place in his own home. It was something he noticed when she painted the portrait for their mother or when he saw her again at Helaena’s apartment warming party; it feels like she always has a joke running through her head. A joke she makes no effort to let anyone in on. Doe like eyes playful and light.

“I am going to put these in some water.”

Alicent takes the flowers with her to the kitchen.

“Do you think it is appropriate to be drinking with someone paying you,” Aemond waits until Alicent is out of earshot.

Myrah tilts her head to the side in confusion. “Your mom invited me over. She opened the wine, and asked me if I wanted any. I’m teaching her to paint Aemond, not operate heavy machinery. Neither of us even finished our glass.”

“It is still highly unsuitable.”

“Ok, I am sorry,” he can tell by the smile on her face, and the way she brushes a coil back into her ponytail, she does not mean it. A laugh follows to seal a level of nonchalance.

He was rueing the day he even brought up getting a portrait of him and his siblings for his mother’s birthday. If he never brought it up, then Helaena may have never reconnected with Myrah, and he would not get this odd concaving feeling in his chest every time he sees her.

Alicent’s footsteps become closer as she sets the pink tulips on the table in the living area.

“I am so glad you are here,” she beams at Aemond. “Now I can show you one of my drawings. I have not painted it yet”

Aemond’s sight goes from Myrah to the two easels in the room. His brows furrow as he tries to make out what it is on the one his mother is gesturing to. He can see a head and eyes but blinks blankly.

“It is quite an ambitious feat to go for a human portrait on her third try,” Myrah pipes up to help. “But I think she almost has your brother’s likeness down.”

He then looks at the easel next to Alicent’s. On it a faint charcoal drawing of what now is clearly Daeron. His short curls, his freckles, his big dark eyes. Their mom’s eyes.

For everything Myrah may be, she is talented.

Alicent’s sheepishness at Myrah’s compliment makes his heart sting a bit. His mother has never been good at taking praise.

“It is lovely.”

“When I am done, I think I will send it to him.”

Myrah stands off the couch will a soft sigh. “I can help you clean up, and then I have to hit the road.”

Alicent pouts. “So soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you two have your mother-son time,” she gives a small smile. Aemond takes note of the way her shirt dwarfs her when she get up. The yellow, orange, and pink of the tie-dye.

The three of them tiddy up the living room. Aemond tries not focus on when their hands brush when they pick up the paint. He sees the ladybug ring on her finger, the one that matches Helaena’s butterfly one.

“Remember what I said: traveling picture, Pilates picture, then pretend candid with your friends,” Myrah hugs Alicent before turning to Aemond and giving him a simple nod. “Aemond.”

“Myrah.”

Her keychain covered in fuzzy balls and trickers jingle as she leaves. Her foot is barely out the door before Aemond looks at him mom.

“What was that about?”

Alicent’s dark brows shoot up is false confusion. “What was what?”

“The ‘traveling and Pilates’ pictures thing,” he crosses his arms.

“Well,” Alicent sighs, pondering if she should tell him. “I asked Myrah to help me set up a dating profile.”

Aemond blanches, and does nothing to hide it.

Dating. “That is extremely weird for her to agree to.”

“I am lonely, Aemond,” Alicent shrugs truthfully. “I have not been on a date since I was 25.”

His disposition softens. Aemond knows his mother has been through a lot, too much, at the hands of his father. Viserys did not ask for anyone’s permission to date; in fact, he did not even wait till he was single to.

“Fine, but I get full sign off on who you go on date with.”

Alicent rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say sweetheart,” she bites her lips for a moment. “You should be nicer to Myrah. She’s nice and fun.”

Aemond just grunts.

“…. And pretty.”

Alicent gives him a sly smile. “Like really pretty. If I was your age, I’d want to date her.”

Aemond narrows his eyes. “Then why don’t you set her up with Aegon, since she’s so amazing.”

Alicent narrows hers back. “Fine, maybe I will.”

Aemond scoffs. Like hell she will. Not that Aemond cares at all, but Aegon wouldn’t know what to do with someone like Myrah. He already made an ass of himself when she did the portrait. Aemond was sure she only laughed at his jokes to appease an already awkward situation.

“Maybe I will set her up with Jace.”

Aemond can’t help but let out a incredulous laugh.

It doesn’t matter… because Aemond doesn’t care what Myrah does. Let alone who she dates. He really really doesn’t care. It is that no one should be subjected to spending more time with certain members family of his family than need be.

Plus he already has to see Myrah now because of Helaena and his mother. The idea of her being at family events on the arm of his brother or nephew is vommit inducing. If Myrah could dance circles around Aegon, she’d slaughter someone like Jace. Wit does not run in that side of the family he’s afraid.

“Whatever,” is all he can come up with.

He does not care.

#Aemond: *has a crush*#Aemond: maybe I just hate her idk #if you see typos no you didn’t 🫶🏽❤️#modern fcc inspo

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antihell · 1 year

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An excerpt of Twisted Stitches (Chapter One)

by @antihell

AUDIENCE: NA POV: 3rd person limited STATUS: writing first draft TW: body horror, homophobia mention WORD COUNT: 938 or smth

There is no way in Hell Oliver Kaito is going to make it through this semester.

Oliver is seated at his desk in his dorm room as he bites at his cuticles, tearing each one from jagged hangnail to root, while his mother incessantly yaps at him over the phone. He spaced out a long time ago, but that’s not unique to his mother. After a long time without sleep, it’s a lot easier for Oliver to coast between that shaky period of sleep and wakefulness. That place is where Oliver calls the shadows, but only to himself. Nobody else really knows the extent of his insomnia. Truth be told, he does not remember the last time he slept.

“Attendance is the easiest grade to get, Oliver! There’s no reason for you to miss points because you skipped class. Oliver? Oliver, this is important! Are you listening to me?” His mom drones on, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgement from her son. “Go to class, Oli. I know you’re struggling. Just- Just go to class, okay?” It’s as if she’s calming herself, collecting her chakras or whatever they’re called before Oliver can even complain. Maybe all those spiritual retreats have been beneficial after all.

“Yeah, okay Mom,” Oliver sighs. “I’ll go to class. Just don’t tell dad about me missing, okay?” His desk is littered with bloody tissues from trying to stop the blood leaking from his fingertips, but to no avail. His finger draws a sticky dot of red on his phone screen as he presses to hang up.

As if on cue, his roommate Carson comes in, surely ready to set into motion some scheme he has come up with to get Oliver laid. Oliver isn’t sure why Carson is so obsessed with his sex life, but he won’t stop Carson from having his fun with it. “Alright,” Carson begins, taking a deep breath, and Oliver is ready to nod along to whatever plan he has cooked up. Nodding along is about as much you’ll get out of Oliver as a response these days. “There’s a girl in my philosophy II class you’ll love. She’s really smart with all that metaphysical science shit you’re into.”

Oliver can’t find it within himself to tell Carson that metaphysical science is kind of an oxymoron. He still hasn’t bothered to tell Carson that he’s gay either. Oliver doesn’t want to spoil the fun for Carson.

“Alright, what’s her name?” Oliver says, pretending to be interested, collecting all his bloodied tissues from his desk and tossing them in the trash bin beneath his desk. He rolls his desk chair around to where Carson is, combing still-bleeding fingers through his hair, getting much too long even for his own standards. His mom would throw a fit if she knew he had not gotten it cut since he left home in the little town outside Spokane for the summer semester 300 miles away.

“Kayla Greene,” Carson replies, as if Oliver should already know who she is. Carson’s eyes are dead focused on his laptop as he looks her up on social media and pulls up her page. “Okay, I know she’s white but…” Carson tells him, trailing off. Oliver has not once said, or implied, that he wouldn’t date a girl that’s white. His mom is white, for God’s sake! Still, Oliver looks more Japanese than his genes, and Carson gets so excited that Oliver doesn’t want to interrupt and trip him up.

The dreary pace of the dorm internet is pretty infuriating sometimes. Her page finally loads, and Oliver is alarmed at first to see how much skin is showing. And he hates how that trips him up. Hates it. He hates how he seems to have inherited some signs of bigotry his dad has always displayed. His dad would probably call Kayla Greene a trollop from what little clothing she is wearing.

“She’s cute,” Oliver says, convincingly enough. Carson seems pleased.

“Yeah? Total stunner, right? And brains, too. I know that stuff matters to you, and shit.”

Oliver, again, hasn’t even had enough time to tell Carson that he wants someone smart to date. Carson just gets those vibes from him. Oliver is frankly comfortable knowing that.

“Also a sophomore,” Carson begins reading off her supposedly attractive traits. “20 years old. Does gymnastics. Philosophy major. Eh? Eh?” Carson finally looks at Oliver to gauge his opinion. Oliver laughs to make his smile appear more genuine.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” Oliver repeats, nodding with fake enthusiasm.

“Just cute? Come on, roomie.” Carson insists on calling Oliver his roomie, even giving it as a nickname, on a regular basis. “She’s into all that mindful crap you’re into.”

This time Oliver’s laugh is genuine. “Alright, I’ll give her a chance.” He tilts Carson’s laptop up so he can see the screen better. She looks like a nice girl. Oliver just is not into girls. He considers telling Carson now. It would save a lot of time and effort. But Carson always gets so excited when he’s setting Oliver up on these potential dates, none of which ever follow through for obvious reasons. Maybe he should just put his sexual orientation up on his profile. But the risk of Oliver’s parents finding that out is far too great. So, Oliver will let Carson have his fun.

“You know dating is not all that important to me, right?” Oliver asks him.

Carson laughs, shutting his laptop. “I know.” He doesn’t seem too upset about it.

#if you like this pls reblog the intro linked in the first line of text tysm #wip: twisted stitches #ex: twisted stitches #belial wrote #body horror tw

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slopofpaws · 1 year

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self-doubt (rant)

I feel pretty useless. Can’t do my homework, can’t function like a normal human being aka I can’t eat without being sick after, can’t remember anything except stuff that makes me anxious/sad, I can’t draw well, can’t write anything that I want to have written by now (the first couple chapters of my fanfic)....it just feels like an endless loop.

I constantly feel off.

I don’t know how to describe this feeling of being “off”. Is it my medication? Is it anxiety of the end of the semester approaching? Is it because I feel alone- isolated from friends and family even though they’re within my reach?

I was just with two of my IRL friends that I adore very much, but I got food poisoning when I was with them and everything was ruined. My spring break was ruined by stomach issues that I’ve been having for THREE YEARS at this point, and my doctor only now scheduled me with a GI. I don’t know what to do about that until I go there in May, so here I am with my medical grade TUMS and watching what I eat.

Come to think of it, I haven’t had a proper sob session in a couple months, but every time I try to do it I can only get a couple tears out and that’s it. Does anyone know what that means? I looked it up and it says medication can be a cause of that so I’m gonna go with that unless someone has a better explanation.

All I ever do is watch videos on my phone, try to draw, go to school, and attempt to hang out with friends so I can feel better- but as soon as I leave them I feel bad again. However, as I’m hanging out with them I want to go home because I have a headache or some form of body problem.

I constantly feel useless, like I’m not going anywhere, all that BS.

anyway, sorry for taking up your time if you wanted to read this. I want to thank you for taking the time to read this if you did, and I just want to let you know that feeling bad doesn’t last forever, even if it feels like it does

#sloppy rants #sloppy writes #personal rant

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darnedchild · 1 year

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I’m dumping my emotional guts here, please ignore if you just follow me for funny memes and fandom shit

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been mostly absent and disengaged for a bit. Truth is, I’m emotionally drained and barely keeping my head up enough to care about anything going on outside of my home and immediate family. And I have been for so long I’ve stopped counting.

Just for the highlights over the last few months -

My son has been having issues in one of his classes at school. It was like pulling teeth to get his teachers to communicate with us about what they were seeing on their end; but eventually we had enough information to push to get the Demon Spawn evaluated and he was diagnosed with inattentive ADHD. I’m not going to go into the details but I will say that the “F” this specific teacher had been threatening him with all semester was suddenly an “A” when we were able to put in an official request for a 504. My husband, myself, my sister who teaches the same grade in a different district, and my therapist (all 100% biased, obviously) agree that it feels like we’ve been gaslit.

His teachers noted in the evaluation forms that my son is demonstrably depressed, anxious, feels isolated, and thinks no one likes him at school. That was the first time I’d heard ANY of that. I knew my son was anxious and sensitive, but there is a HUGE step from what we see at home and what they wrote on his evaluation forms. His teachers are our eyes and ears during the school day, they see my son when he’s not dealing with his emotionally damaged mother who is trying her best not to show her son how anxious and scared she is while he does the exact same because we both want the other to just be happy. They recognized and identified all this devastating stuff about my child and didn’t tell us. I have been informed that there are “reasons” the teachers might not have feel comfortable approaching us directly but I’m pretty sure this is exactly the kind of thing a school counselor is for.

I was a depressed, anxious, isolated child. I very clearly remember what it was like. And I damn sure do not want my kid to go through that. If something tragic had happened and they knew he was on the edge of crisis and they didn’t tell us... I don’t even want to think about it.

One of my best friends died last year. Her birthday was in February. I did not handle the lead up to that well. And in just a week or so it’s going to be the first anniversary of her passing. I am definitely not dealing well with that. I got a little note from the family, written by her mother, two weeks ago. It’s been almost a year since she died and the family is still using the old address labels that include my friend’s name along side her husband’s (different last names), her mom crossed out her daughter’s name. Maybe, maybe toss those labels out and get new ones so that people don’t break into tears the second they see their dead best friend’s name scratched out with a fucking black pen?

And the final highlight of this shit parade is that my 15 year old baby kitten Bellatrix was just diagnosed with stage IV kidney disease. We took her to the vet because she’d lost some more weight (down to just over six pounds) and it was yearly shot time anyway, so why not draw some blood and see what’s going on? She’s dying, that’s what’s going on. Fun phone call - the vet, my husband, and me on speaker phone. All three of us audibly sniffling away tears while we discussed palliative care options and best case scenarios and how much time do we have left with her? The answer is not enough. Never enough. She turns 16 this year. Would turn 16, but the vet insists we understand that the likelihood of her reaching her birthday is extremely low.

I rescued her neurotic, balding butt when she was 11 months old. My son has never known life without Bella. She let him pull her hair with his chubby, sticky fingers and give her slobbery open-mouthed toddler kisses and use her has a pillow when he didn’t feel well, with only her usual “See what I put up with” side-eye in complaint. If I’m sick, she’s at my side. If I’m upset or anxious, she somehow knows. She’s sleeps at the head of my bed (sometimes with her fur pressed against my face) and snores like a sputtering chainsaw.

We haven’t told my son yet. He had a big thing last weekend and we didn’t want him to forever associate that memory with finding out. Our plan is to tell him this weekend so we can make sure he has a day or two to deal with his feelings before he has to go back to school. I feel guilty about keeping it from him, though.

And I’ve spent the last week wondering if this cuddle will be the last, so... yeah.

#personal problems

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spockette11a2b · 2 years

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Your Autobiography.

Little kiddies. (Grades 1-5) --> i’ll change that in French years so 6 to 10yo

What color hair did you have? Natural light dirty blonde

Did you wear glasses or have contacts? I had glasses when i was like 8yo, only for reading because i had headache... i still have that but not the glasses anymore lol

Did you have braces? Nope

Did you go to pre-school or go straight to kindergarten? I think it’s mandatory in France to send your kid in pre-school... so yeah i’ve been to pre-school.

Out of grades 1-5, which one was the best for you? talking with the french system, i’d say the last one (10yo).

Did you have a lot of friends, or just a couple? just a couple

What were your favorite shows? i don’t remember, i just know i like the Tintin animated series, and i watched a lot of something called “petit ours brun” on VHS

What were your favorite movies? Did toy story was already out ? probably that one

Did you read Goosebumps? no, don’t like horror story

What was your favorite thing to do on weekends? I have no memories of my week-ends as a kid

Pre-Teens. (Grades 6-9)--> 10 to 13yo

What color hair did you have? Still natural hair

What color hair did you want? Red, i always dreamt of having a beautiful red hair

Was your Middle School a seperate school from Junior High? Well, here junior high does’t really exist... we have middle school then high school. But yes that was in 2 seperates towns

Did you have a lot of boyfriends/girlfriends? No, but a few crushes lol

Did you still watch Disney movies? i wasn’t raised on Disney movies

What kind of music did you listen to? Avril Lavigne, Nolwenn Leroy, Muse

What were some of your interests? the Witch magazine, Third Watch (not really for kids but i was really into it), Star Academy

What was your favorite animal? Dolphins

What was your favorite color? blue

Did you draw? yes, i liked to draw Bill from the BD Boule & Bill

What was your favorite subject? None

Did you have any piercings? just the usual at the ears. But the right ear never stayed open for a long time. I had to do it severals times until it stayed open. The last try was when i was 19yo...

Did you wear make-up to school? Nope, i slept till the last minute, didn’t have time to do that

What kinds of clothes did you wear? jeans and fashionless top lol nothing interesting and always to big for me

What did you do on the weekends? I still don’t remember but i know i had a cumputer in my room at some point, so i guess i was on that. Playing video games, chatting on msn, having a skyblog lol

Smells Like… Teeeenagerrrrs. (Grades 10-12) --> 14 to 17yo

Did you like your high school? Yeah, i was in a good class

Was it as bad as they were on TV? arg well our high school have nothing to do with the american high school, so no

What color hair did you have? Still the same

Did you have any piercings? Not new ones

…How about tattoos? Not an adult yet so no...

What age did you learn to drive? 20yo...

When did you get your license? first try at 20yo

What was your first car? my brother old megane II blue, i had her a year after i got my licence, and she (yes she, i called her Meg) stayed with me for 6 years, i was sad when she died :( But without her dying i wouldn’t have met my boyfriend so...

What was your style? i did not know what having a style meant lol but mostly flannels... it’s only now i realise that was maybe a sign i was bi already... damn... mind blowing

Did you have a lot of friends or just a few? a couple, i was in a small boarding school, so i was close to the girls i was sharing a room with (we were 5 in a room)

What did you do on weekends? ah, internet and video games i guess...

Did you have a lot of boyfriends/girlfriends or did you have one or two? none, all the guys i had a crush on liked a (former) friend of mine better...

What were some of your favorite bands? Muse, marron 5, and old disco stuff

What college were you considering? i had nothing planned until the last semester of high school lol

Did you get along with teachers, etc? yeah, kind of

Young Adults. (College years)

What did you look like? still the same, out of fashion, out of style type of person

When did you first move out of your parents’ house? like i said i was in boarding school so does that count eventhough i got back home on the weekend? But otherwise, first year after high school, 18yo. In the most horrible appartement ever, only stayed one year there. brrr

What college did you end up going to? First a sport university where i stayed 4 months lol and then the history and art history one

What kind of music did you like? i fell deep for a local band called P.O.Box (ska punk rock)

Did you like college? it was okay i guess. I did met some beautiful people i’m still friend with.

How long were you there? 3 years

Careers. (Any time of your life)

What was your first job? photographer for an association

Did you like it? yes, the people there were cool and the job was fun. I learn a lot there

Are you still there? obviously not

What do you do now? cleaning cars and building our own company with my boyfriend

Do you like it? for now it’s ok, but once it will be ours it will be better

What do you want to do? If i’d follow my dream i would be a sport journalist. I’d also like to travel and take pictures

Odds and ends.

Were you a loud baby or a quiet one? quiet

Did you collect anything growing up? calendars and stuffed animals.

Do you still have anything from it? I still have some stuffed animals, but i throw away the remaining calendars this year when i emptied the family house

When did you first hear about Myspace? don’t know... 12yo maybe ? so like in 2004 ?

Did you have a VF? (VampireFreaks.) No, never had a vampire phase

When did you get your first tattoo? february 2021, 28yo

Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes, last year i finally got that red hair color i dreamt about. But it was too much to take care of, so now i’m light blonde

Did you study any languages (other than the one you were raised to speak)? We had German at school from the beginning (and i still can’t speak it) and English, i try Swedish too but i already forgot most of it

Are you still into the things you were into when you were 12? i don’t think so... but if they decide to do a Witch tv show, i’d watch it

How about 15? no

Do you listen to the same bands you did growing up? yeah, i like to go back there sometimes

Were your parents cool parents or were they strict? They were cool, i was lucky

Have you ever been in a car accident? yep, a few times... once when i was a kid and my mom was driving. She avoided cows on the road. Nothing serious. Once i didn’t saw a car coming so i engaged my car on the road and the guy coming had to avoid me... he hit a fence but nothing serious either. And this year i slipped on an icy road, finish in a field, nothing serious but i got the scare of my life that day.

What was your favorite food as a kid? french fries and french toast

What is it now? everything lol, but carbonara is always a good choice lol

#spockettehasspocken

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