#:3 (insanity in my eyes as i draw them non stop for reasons i cannot explain) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

codenamed-queenie · 4 years

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#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years

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a message.

This whole post is full of things I’ve wanted to say for a very long time. So yes, this is going to be very long.

Before I begin, I just wanted to say I’m sorry to the innocent people who had nothing to do with this. I’ve never ever been involved with online/fandom drama before, I hate being in this position so fucking much with all my heart and soul, and I never thought in my whole life that I’d be in this position, either.

Secondly, this is about the DEF LEPPARD FANDOM ON TUMBLR. If you’re not part of this fandom, kindly fuck off :^) This is not about you.

This post explains why I feel this way. And to those innocent people who aren’t involved with this, I’m sincerely sorry if any of this has changed your opinions of me.

I’m in a mood and a half, so I’ll do my best to effectively tell everything from my perspective. Read if you want, but this is just what I’m thinking.

I’ve been running this blog for almost three years now. When I first joined this fandom on tumblr at the beginning of 2018, there wasn’t really a ‘fandom’ per se; all the main blogs were dead, no one ever really posted, and there wasn’t much content. I decided to start a DL blog of my own to vent my love into it and not spam my main account.

Within a month, I could quickly see that some sort of renaissance was happening in this fandom; more blogs were popping up, more people were posting, and more people were just participating in general. There were memes now, there were conversations now- it was great! There was a real community; it was all about sharing information, spewing our love, getting creative, and interacting!

There was integrity, and there was respect for the band as well as one another.

I, as part of this community, wanted to do everything in my physical power to contribute in any way I could. I was insanely active and hyper-productive and could not be stopped. I still haven’t stopped, but I certainly have slowed down significantly (due to lack of new activity from the band and increased mental health issues I won’t get into). I don’t want to be self-centered and say that I was “running” this branch of the fandom for the past 2.7 years, but I was certainly a big player in it, and I feel everyone agreed (and some still agree) with that as well.

There were some times where disagreements happened. There were times where many of us knew that someone else was crossing a line in a post. We knew what qualified as “not okay” in terms of being perverted and such. We’d solve this by not blaming, not hounding, not sending anon hate, not calling out, but by presenting facts, talking maturely, and trying to right the wrongs as maturely as we could.

Yes, it was possible. Was.

I don’t think you guys realize just how much content I’ve contributed to this fandom. I have spent basically every single day of the past 3-ish years trying to spread information/content/photos/videos/links/etc. to everyone who follows me (and everyone who doesn’t). This fandom was (and I cannot stress this enough), literally my entire life for the past 3 odd years, and I really wanted to spend the rest of my life contributing to it the way I’ve been.

I don't think anyone on here realizes everything that I have done for this community. Because of me:

this fandom has access to Animal Instinct for free

this fandom has access to the rare picture disc interview

this fandom has numerous scans of photos that may have not ended up online otherwise (I also paid $70 to have access to some of these. You're welcome.)

we have Fabulist Icons content

we have a decent amount of fanfiction that doesn't only focus on the boys banging each other/sex in general (seriously, this simply didn’t exist on here before I started posting my shit)

we have a little more fan art

we have content from Phil's and Ross's books

we have hundreds (yes, literally, HUNDREDS) of edits/moodboards/memes/etc. that I made myself

we have gifsets of things that no one else would have made

we have achieved justice a lot of the time when content was stolen because I have defended everyone without question/rallied up armies the second I heard it happened

some of you have gotten updates on news/facts/history/details/etc. that you’ve never even heard of

probably a shit ton more things, but that’s all I can think of for now. You get the point.

But that’s only half the story. This band and fandom has given me so much to cherish over the past few years.

Because of this fandom and the people (that were once) in it, I have:

met Rick in person

met, quite honestly, my two best friends ever, @ballistic-lipstick-dream-machine (my true Terror Twin) and @paper-sxn (adopted little sister/cousin)

became in contact with Phil's guitar tech from the mid-80s (Mike)

gained creative ambition to play guitar, create art, write stories, make edits/gifs, travel, and basically just better myself

began a record collection that is now in the hundreds and gained a lot of knowledge from it

discovered a whole new genre of music

found a community/culture where, for the very very first time in my life, I felt like I BELONGED.

fallen in love with something and someone for the first time

felt like I actually mattered to people, like I was actually important (because people would always come to me for information or help if they needed it)

basically impacted every corner of my life

just about a million other things, too, but I will be here all night if I try to list them all.

To put it delicately: Def Leppard and this fandom on tumblr absolutely changed my life, and was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.

I have spread so much information around, you newer people wouldn't imagine. I have gathered and seen so much information, you wouldn't believe how much I know and how much I've learned. I have bounced back and forth between formats time after time again that I feel like I’m stuck in a time warp. I have edited so many things on non-professional programs that I am an MS paint expert. I have been here so long, that I’ve seen 98% of the people in this branch of the fandom rotate in and out at least two or three times.

That being said, all of the toxic people in this fandom will most likely be gone within the next 6 months.

Def Leppard has taught me so much, but a big thing was love and loyalty. It's clear that the majority of people in this fandom (read my lips- I am N O T saying anyone’s names. I mean that.) do not know the meanings of either of these words. I've been practically running this fandom on Tumblr for nearly three years now, you’ve seen all that I’ve done for you, and what have I gotten in return?

Slander, cyberbullying, disrespect, consistently stolen content, etc. That’s what I’ve gotten. I’ve never attacked anyone on here, and that is still something I won’t do.

Yes, I am against slash fic, and I can’t believe that THAT’S the only reason why I’m being torn down like this. Something so dumb and immature as that has torn my beloved community in half. I have never attacked ANYONE for writing slash fic, yet I’ve been getting attacked since August (it is November now) for simply believing it is wrong to openly admit you want the boys to fuck each other.

(I’d also like to point out that someone from the KISS fandom ((god knows why)) had the balls to call me “homophobic” for hating slashfic. I can’t even begin to explain how much I laughed at that.)

I just wanna say that these are REAL people you’re writing about, you know. Don’t you think THEY would be against it? I know I cannot stop anyone from writing slash (I’ve said that before, but no one seems to remember it). I don’t think any of you realize that there is a certain line you shouldn’t cross when it comes to the internet, and being perverted in such an explicit and disrespectful way is one of them. We always had integrity in this fandom, and slash was never part of something we stood for. We knew when to stop, and we kept the slash on rockfic.com (where it belongs imo. That’s like their element).

I was very confused when more slash fics started appearing on tumblr this year. Now, it seems like that’s all there is, and I’m disgusted.

Whenever something close to that happened in 2018, everyone would be totally against it, and we’d talk it out and explain. While we all had our fair share of horny (and maybe then some) in this fandom, but we always knew where to draw the line. That was the line. That line doesn’t exist anymore, apparently, and nobody knows how to be mature and respectful to the band, to each other, and just for fuck’s sake. Now, I’m being slammed that being perverted for them fucking their best friends is “just fandom, bitch” and “the norm” and that it’s done “out of respect”, which I will never understand. You can’t use “slash” and “respectful” in the same sentence, and you can’t change my mind, but I know I can’t change yours, either.

Slash is not, nor will it ever be, respectful. This fandom has become toxic.

Fanfiction is an outlet for creativity to be used for fun, not to be used as an excuse to project your sexually perverted sexuality headcannons/fetishes onto innocent, REAL, LIVE people. If all you write/read is them having sex with each other, then it really makes you wonder if it’s about “respect” anymore, doesn’t it?

In my opinion it’s fucked up that it’s “normal” and “just part of fandom” to create sexualities for- again- REAL, LIVE PEOPLE, and it’s everyone’s first instinct to argue that it’s fine, apparently? If you “respect” your idols so much like you claim you do, then why don’t you maybe respect their actual orientations instead of creating masturbation material for random 12 year olds and boomers, perhaps?

I don’t know what I did that was so fucking wrong in your eyes, as I’ve always tried to keep integrity in this area of tumblr.

I'm very deeply hurt, more than I've ever been by this. It physically hurts me to admit that this fandom has become as toxic as it currently is. I don’t feel welcome here anymore at all, despite practically running things on here for so long.

I don’t know how I could ever live without this fandom, but now it looks like I’m going to have to try, or at least try and rebuild it on my own (again). I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop posting about Def Leppard, and after all, I only started posting about them for myself to begin with.

We were supposed to be the good fandom, the happy fandom, the fandom with no drama. I am ashamed to be associated with you now. I tried to stop it as best as I could, and hoped people would back me up, but I’ve received nothing but hate for simply trying to preserve some dignity.

You guys have been immature to say the least, and I find it very hard to believe that some of you are legal adults (but let’s be honest; most of you toxic people are probably too young to even be behind a computer, anyway).

I’ve had to block some people that I really didn’t want to, but the deed is done. Keep your slash to yourself, tag it, do a read more, post it somewhere else, even- that’s how you co-exist. Just don’t come after me because I think it’s wrong. I never came after anyone specifically like that.

This isn’t goodbye, but I certainly am leaving for a while. I hope I got my point, my history, and my perspective across.

And I hope you’re fucking happy, because you’ve destroyed something I loved.

-Rachel

#also to helena_s_renn on rockfic: suck my dick bitch :3 #thank you to those who have messaged me and been kind #time to watch my follower count dwindle at the speed of sound #goodbye

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bittervitter · 4 years

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ang0mang0′s “copycat” claims

I didn’t want to have to make another post about this, but since people on sonicfan799 / thatAnge / @ang0mang0′s Tumblr profile are getting riled up about this ridiculous drama that should have died ages ago, I figured I’d defend myself. Some people who are trying to support me have been saying incorrect things too, so I also wanted to clear that up. This crap has been going on for months, everyone is sick of it by now. Instead of being brief like I did for other social medias, I’ll be as detailed as possible this time.

[1] “she’s copying/imitating/heavily referencing from my art style!!!”

Like people have said a million times, no I’m not. And nor is anyone else. Just because someone draws the Sonic characters in a similar style to you does not automatically mean they took, copied or “stole” those ideas from you. You don’t own the concept of buff, fluffy bodies or chubby muzzles. COINCIDENCE, as much as you hopelessly deny it, is very much a possible thing- even in crazy situations such as this. There are several other artists who have similar art styles by mere coincidence. IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. As examples, these Instagram artists have similar styles: @ azulytoons and @ indigonite0 / @ magenta_mel and @ zer0finix / @ himemikal and @ natirix. NONE of these artists are “stealing” or referencing from each other- they just have similar art styles, and that is perfectly okay! They draw completely different things with completely different mindsets. The world does not revolve around you, ang0. Not everyone knows who you are, so some people who use the same traits that we do don’t even know we exist.

Also, to anyone unaware, an art STYLE is not merely how one chooses to portray a character. An art STYLE is also what brushes you use, how you sketch, how you line, how you colour, how you shade, how you choose to portray certain objects or ideas- basically your entire fucking understanding of how something’s supposed to look and how you LIKE it to look. It’s not just “chubby faces, poofy curly hair, buff bodies”. It’s everything in a piece AND that.

[2] “she’s tracing my art/ redrawing my ideas!”

Literally no. People have constantly asked you to provide evidence and you refused to. All you did was scream “but it’s so obvious, just look at it!” or “are you dumb? use your eyes!” and several other insults. If you want to prove a point or make someone see something, GIVE. EVIDENCE. The only person who actually provided “proof” was pin_kpeach, your ever so loyal whiteknight, but her “proof” only backfired and proved that the both of you are extremely delusional. In the drawings of ours that she layered over each other, next to NONE of the lines lined up. It looked like a clustered mess of scrap, and the reason for that is because IT WASN’T TRACED. In the one or two drawings where ONE. SINGLE. PIECE. actually lined up was entirely zoomed in to make it seem as though the whole thing was traced. No, honey, that’s not how you provide proof. That’s how you pull a muscle by reaching so desperately to lie about me. The rest of the drawings in those pictures didn’t line up at all, and one- or I believe both- needed to be titled to line them up in the first place. You could say that some people trace things and resize or rotate them, but if I were as dumb as you persist to say, then I wouldn’t have done something like that. Either way, one aspect of a drawing lining up is a common thing for people who have similar styles because- well, I just said it. THEY HAVE SIMILAR STYLES. If they draw something the same way, well fucking duh, it’ll match someone else’s drawing almost exactly sometimes.

[3] “she’s too petty and too much of a liar to credit me! saying the art isn’t hers will hurt her oversized ego!”

Ahaha no. The only one here with an inflated ego is you, ang0. You call me the egotistical one yet you act as though your life is falling apart just because someone else draws like you on the internet. Stop acting like a special snowflake, you are not the only one on this planet with an art style of that nature. I don’t credit you because crediting you makes no damn sense. Why should I credit someone who’s had absolutely no impact on my work whatsoever? What in the hell did you do for my drawings that makes you deserve so much credit? Did you sketch it? No. Did you line it? Nope. Did you colour or shade it? Not a chance. Just because I came up with a design for the characters that happens to look like yours does not mean I owe you jack shit. You cannot. own. a style. Get over it.

[4] “she worsened my depression and is the reason I can’t draw anymore! I have no motivation when there’s some idiot copycat stealing all my art!”

I don’t want to sound like that kind of person, but you worsened your own depression. You painted this false picture in your head and continue to hang onto that belief like your life depends on it. I haven’t done ANYthing to you. You came to ME with these stupid claims back when my art looked LESS like yours, before I even knew who you were. You’re making yourself feel horrible because you, for some paranormal reason, refuse to believe that you’re not the only one with that kind of style. This is why people call you childish, you’re like a whiny baby that can’t accept another child having a toy similar to yours. I can’t even decide whether I should say “grow up” because you’re older than me- not to mention you’re an ADULT.

[5]”she constantly sends her whiteknights to attack me, harass me and send me threatening messages!”

I’ve said several times to my followers NOT to harass you or your followers or anyone against me in this mess at all. I do not send anyone after you. People say things to you out of their own free will and with their own words. I can’t magically know when this happens, why they decide to and I especially can’t control anyone. I’m sorry that my friend Koro sent you all those DMs and horrible messages wishing a lot of very bad things onto you and your family- I asked her several times before and after not to do that, but I didn’t have a clue she did it until after the fact. Either way, don’t go around assuming that I put people up to this or I intentionally ask people to do these things to you. Why in the hell would I do that? What good does that do? All I wanted to do was talk things out but at this point, you don’t even take me seriously, so I can’t even try anymore. The few times we did talk you refuse to see my point of view and just see me as a liar. What the hell am I supposed to do then?

[6]”all vio does is lie, she’s so fake all the time, lying for her petty ego”

I’m not even sure how to respond to this but I thought I might as well bring it up. No matter what I do or say, ang0 sees me as nothing but some retarded liar that can’t help but lie their way around everything, even though I’ve been nothing but genuine all this time. It’s why I can’t even communicate with her anymore, because “shut up, stop lying you copycat” is all I get in response basically.

[7] her insane hypocrisy

Ange and pin_kpeach have said numerous times that I’m rude or insult her, and there have been times where I’ve been mean out of anger, but I know for a fact I apologized for it in DMs. Ange apologized too. I don’t remember ever insulting her after that, but ang0 doesn’t ever stop ridiculing and insulting me with almost every comment she makes on the drama. If she really was sorry, she wouldn’t have done it again, but I guess she said “fuck it” and just continued anyway. Pin_kpeach likes to say I’M the hypocrite for saying Ange is harassing me yet being rude to her a couple times, yet they do they exact same thing, but even worse?? I try my best to be as civil as possible, but ang0 and pink don’t waste a second calling me and my supporters all sorts of colourful names just because they don’t agree with her claims. In fact, here’s a list of every single thing ang0’s ever called me:

retarded, retard, stupid, idiot, dumb, low IQ, mentally ill, crazy, talentless, skill-less, copycat, art thief, (dumb) cow, fuckhole, asshole, bitch, wanna-be artist, unreasonable, clown, fake, liar, hypocrite, delusional, dick, stalker, bittershitter, dumbass, immature

There’s probably more than that, but that’s as much as I can remember. Not hard to forget when she repeats them almost all the time.

[8] gatekeeping ideas

Ange and pink act as if two people drawing a character in the same outfit automatically equals “du bist kopying mein style!!”. I can’t even begin to imagine the mental gymnastics you need to do in order to believe a thought process like that is logical. She thinks that anyone who draws Amy in a dress with a white under-skirt or white ruffles underneath is nothing but a copied idea from her. She thinks that me drawing Amy in a green tank top, blue backwards cap and blue sports shorts is copying her drawing of Amy in a green unidentifiable top (you could only see her back, she didn’t seem to have straps) and blue sports shorts with a slightly different design is automatically copied from her. The poses, shading, angle and idea behind the drawing were COMPLETELY different- but nonono, “this is stolen because the outfit is the same!” They also use the excuse of the whole chubby faces, curly hair, blah blah blah- see point [1] as to why that’s BS.

[9] her perception of my followers/supporters

Aside from Koro, I don’t know if anyone has seriously threatened or harassed her. Her followers comment on my posts, my followers only comment when she brings up the drama or whines about it. She insults my supporters when they don’t agree with her and act like they’re a bunch of immature brats who are wrong while she’s the high and mighty mature one seeing through non-existent lies. I’m used to her making fun of me, but I’m sick and tired of her insulting people who have nothing to do with the drama just because they don’t agree with her. Like, seriously? You call everyone immature and stupid yet you’re the one insulting people non-stop just because they realize how ridiculous and childish you’re acting. That’s why “childish” has become a popular adjective for you, ang0. BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING CHILDISH. CONSTANTLY. You get pissy, insult others and put people down but whine and cry the next minute because you constantly like to play the victim. Speaking of which...

[10] the victim card

I have absolutely no idea what ang0 goes through in real life, but there is no excuse for how she’s behaved during this drama AT ALL. Ange constantly defames her own artwork, calling it shit, calling it every bad name in the book, but doesn’t hesitate for a minute to gatekeep her style as if it was the best thing in the world. She says it’s because she “worked her ass off” and doesn’t want people just stealing her hard work. Okay, but you do realize that other people put just as much work into their own art, no matter if it looks like yours or not, right? She demands that people change their style to stop looking like hers, acting as if that can be done in a matter of minutes, because people having similar styles makes her uncomfortable. Well, surprise motherfucker- welcome to the internet. No one is original and everyone is original at the same time. People are bound to come up with similar ideas and you’re just going to have to deal with it. But despite the similarities, people are still original in their own right. If you believe that people can change a style so easily, why not just change your OWN style? Because you worked your ass off? Well, THEY WORKED THEIR ASS OFF TOO. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s put effort into their craft. Art is hard, and that applies to EVERYONE- even professionals.

You blame me and other “copycats” for all your problems, blaming us for worsening your depression, ruining your passion for art- when you’re the only one who does this to yourself. Yes, there have been genuine art thieves in your life, and people who have stolen your art- but what I’m talking about are the people like me who DON’T steal your art or are merely inspired by you. People who say “you should be happy they’re inspired!” aren’t saying “you should be happy they’re copying!”. They’re saying that you should be glad that your work is so inspiring that people create their own unique ideas based off your own. Inspiration doesn’t require credit unless they’re purposefully taking a massive part of the original. But being inspired by a hair style or even a pose isn’t stealing. It’s inspiration, that’s it. I’m not inspired by you at all, but I can at least appreciate your art- even if you think I’m just being fake.

[11] ang0mang0′s history and why this shit doesn’t even make sense

Ange has said publicly and to me in detail about how she’s been accused of the same “art style theft” in the past. From what I’ve gathered or heard, people used to accuse her of copying a popular artist called myly14 who’s Sonic art is pretty much everywhere. Whether it be in edits, MVs or whatever else. Looking at her old art when she went under the name sonicfan799, her art does look similar to myly’s, but ang0 insisted that she didn’t copy myly and didn’t even know who she was. She legit said “it’s not my fault my art looks like someone else’s”, so basically- it was coincidence. She said she changed her art style because she “isn’t an asshole and didn’t want to make the other artist uncomfortable”, even though art style theft isn’t a thing and no one needs to be forced out of a style just because someone else already draws that way. I have no idea what myly’s stance on that situation was, but the fact that it happened just proves how stupid her current claims are.

Ange says that her style is “too complex” to be coincidentally similar to someone else’s, even though the fact that it’s happened 30 times (according to her) just proves that no, ang0, no it fucking isn’t. Your style isn’t complicated at all. Detailed sure, but no style is too complicated to be similar to another’s. Being complex doesn’t make something any less likely to be identical to another complex style.If you didn’t copy myly14 in the past, what right do you have to accuse me of the same damn thing? If I really am copying you, then you have to admit to copying myly, because you can’t just lie about your past and then shit on me for doing the same thing. So it’s either you stop this nonsense or you drag this drama down with you to your grave and admit you copied myly14.

Another thing, myly14 didn’t even have a “simple” style. The fact that her art was almost instantly recognizable and popular meant that she had a signature style that stood out. Yes, she used a lot of the original Sonic style’s anatomy, but her stylization of said anatomy, her shading and the way she composed her pieces gave her a signature style. The most stylized thing I could see was how she drew muzzles, and guess who drew muzzles in a similar way as well? You did. People saw how your way of drawing faces and some parts of the body and thought it looked liked myly’s. The similarities in your anatomy, and not your shading or colouring, was what made people think you copied her. That exact same thing is happening between me and you. My shading, colouring and composition is entirely different from yours, but some parts of the anatomy are similar.

If you really didn’t copy myly14, you have absolutely no. fucking. excuse. to accuse me of the EXACT. SAME. SHIT. that happened to you.

You never needed or deserved to be pressured out of your old style just because people thought it looked similar to someone else’s, and that’s why I refuse to change my style now. Because it isn’t. fucking. fair. To ANYONE.

[12] how I feel (this is copied over from my DeviantART)

At this point I've grown used to what she has to say, but it still hurts. She thinks that I'm some kind of cartoon villain maniacally laughing behind a computer screen every time I post something because she's so deep into her belief that I really copy everything she draws and that nothing I've never posted has any true effort put into it. She genuinely believes she owns all my art and that I devote my entire gallery into recreating her image or some crazy shit like that. It sounds really dumb, but from what I've read from her poorly constructed comments and rants, that's basically what she believes.

She thinks I don't care at all about how all this affects her or anyone at all, but I do. It doesn't just hurt me in the sense that she makes me feel awful with all her insults, but I just feel so bad for her. I feel guilty in the sense that I couldn't do anything at all to help her, not that "shes prolly feeling guilty and made that april fools joke to let out some guilt!!". (If you don’t know, on April Fools Day, I changed my Instagram bio to say “clown” and call myself “the ultimate copycat” as a joke.) That was a really stupid reaction from her by the way... who the hell comes up with that? Now that she's going away for a month, I feel even worse because all I wanted to do was try to make her come to her senses and end this mess. I thought I could talk some sense into her- that didn't work. Her delusions are so strong, she's like a brick wall. I thought I could ignore the drama- that didn't work. She "clowns" and talks about it so annoyingly often. Not to mention people do things on their own to stir shit up. I thought I could support her regardless and maybe try making her feel better about her art- that didn't work. She thinks I'm fake and that everything I say is a lie. Because of me, she probably doesn't believe other people too- and that makes me feel even more terrible.

No matter what I do, I'm automatically the villain and she's the tortured, helpless artist that everyone is against because "everyone is dumb, supporting a copycat" and she's just "used to it, because she's dealt with so much shit already!". It's so ridiculous. If she would just try to actually better herself or the situation, she wouldn't feel so horrible all the time. Like... for god's sake, she relied on a video game to make her happy- that's not healthy, and just like I suspected, it didn't fucking work.

more of how I feel

Because of ang0, I just feel like garbage. My self esteem and confidence in my art was already low. Thanks to her, I don’t feel original (or as original) anymore- and I’m afraid to show many of my new or old ideas because she or her whiteknight pin_kpeach may spring out and say “copycat! stolen! you’re not original!” and a plethora of other insults. I can barely sketch or draw Sonic content without panicking and feeling worthless because all I have is her words and her opinions stuck in my head. She blames me for her demotivation and shit like that when she’s done the same thing to me. She thinks I don’t care about her or her art, when I do, but when I say that, she calls me fake. In reality, ang0 couldn’t give a damn about me and I’m pretty sure she’d be happy if I were dead. She has said before that she doesn’t care if I killed myself soo... there’s that. Anyway lemme not drag my feelings out too long, I just thought I’d say it to anyone willing to listen since her immediate response would’ve been “fake, liar” etc, etc. I really don’t want anyone to feel bad for me or anything like that, I just want people to listen and understand. That’s all.

a final note

I’m really thankful- like, REALLY thankful- for everyone who’s been on my side throughout this. I don’t like picking sides, and I’d hate to make people do so, but there doesn’t seem to be any in between to this at all. It’s either you believe I’m copying her or you don’t. Most people don’t- thank goodness for that- but some do. And there’s nothing I can do about it. At this point, whatever man.

Please please PLEASE do not harass ang0. Don’t threaten her, don’t insult her, don’t do anything rash or fucking illegal. It’s all fair game if you want to POLITELY SPEAK to her, or try to start a discussion, but please don’t do anything stupid. And especially don’t do things in my name. If you want to debate with me or her, do research first- don’t just jump to conclusions or make assumptions.If you want nothing to do with this drama, then simply don’t say anything- just be aware of what’s going on, that’s all I ask. So nobody gets the wrong idea on either side.

Sorry for this being so long, I think I’m done for now.

Thank you if you read the whole thing.

[9.4.2020]

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

It’s November, but I still want you part 3

Genre: Drama, romance, smut (eventually), werewolf AU, art school AU

Pairing: Artist!Jimin / Werewolf!Jimin x Reader

Warning: Mention of mating and knotting, toxic relationships

Summary: A first love is always bittersweet, but this time it is perchance the hardest pill to swallow. Especially when the aftermath can still be felt years after.

In the month of November.

Author’s Note: I sincerely apologize for the long period of waiting for this fanfic to finally update or announce it is discontinued. However, as you can see, the latter does, fortunately, not apply. Henceforth, I would like to say this fic is still up and running with this chapter likely being the second-to-last one. It is time to wrap up some old projects.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (yet to be written)

Masterlist

Two autumns without sketching the falling dying leaves together, three winters without sharing warm beverages in the usual spot in the same coffee shop every day, three springs eyes beheld the fall of cherry blossom without him and three summers passed with so much as a word.

Ever since the young artist left, nobody closely connected to him has seen the lad. Classes went by unattended, fingers nervously and softly ticking a pencil against the table surface in the exact spot that would have formed the workspace of the one who walked away for the safety of the heart it hurt. However, what was not given a thought at the time, was that the flight inflicted more harm than when everything had been as of old and the night we first laid down as lovers remained cloaked in silence.

Stayed our forbidden fruit.

Even during graduation, the raven-haired creator was not there to celebrate the end of endless study hours stained with paint, charcoal and cramped digits. Not even the six guys with whom a group of brothers was formed had the knowledge concerning the whereabouts of the wolf boy. Nevertheless, something had tainted sincerity for the older ones’ attitude stirred up a deep-rooted sense of suspicion within, but it could also have meant nothing at all. Regardless of the truth, they tried to remain in contact and lighten the mood as much as possible, elevating the gloom left behind by the dear friend turned lover turned... away.

Limits were pushed too much, the warnings and pleads should have been heeded but the mind was too naive to notice the danger lurking beneath the mask of a familiar face, skin flushed with the anticipation to have fingertips grab it tightly and possessively by the small hands that had held even smaller ones throughout many sleepless nights. The animalistic behaviour that needed to be repressed was foolishly underestimated, leading us to ruin.

Jimin has never had to carry the blame for the situation because the mistake is entirely that of the individual who thought to be able to handle what clearly could not be. The mirror shows the reminder of devastating stubbornness daily, still adorning the neck in the form of two pieces of jewellery. The gift that has become the last physical memory of a beautiful moment in life. One thin bronze chain with a crescent moon pendant made of the same metal hanging from it and one chain that is a tad longer and made of a mixture between silver and gold with a handcrafted wolf pendant crafted from tiger's eye matrix.

Only once have they been forgotten, when it was the youngest among the broken band of comrades - Jungkook - who held a soul devoid of love and craving it so badly it gripped the first source of simulacrum tightly to have a taste of it again. The morning brought the shame of having used the sweet guy’s hidden sentiments portrayed by gentle kisses and careful movements between the thighs wrapped around a slim waist after coming undone twice before even starting in earnest. The whined and panted ‘I love you’s were already a vague memory when the sun rose over haphazard sheets partially concealing a thoroughly dishevelled dark bedhead and back engraved with scratches that likely caused more pain than pleasure. Nevertheless, perchance it is because of the guilt of having played a sick game with genuine emotions that the decision to stay by the youth’s side was made.

Eventually, the self-loathing blame turned to a non-sustainable yet believable form of affection reserved for lovers. Almost akin to what was only temporarily had with Jimin.

Until he, too, walked away for the same reasons.

Funny.

History repeats itself.

But not today after finding a pamphlet for an art exhibition near the marketing office where a fortunate job as a graphic designer was picked up soon after graduation, the grand opening of which is tonight. Normally, similar events would have been evaded since too many bodies occupy a space which cannot possibly handle them all at once and the gallery visited at a later date when the hype has died down enough to allow for calmly enjoying the art. However, the default course of action does not form an option in this case due to the artist presenting his piece of art.

Because it is the work of an old friend who gave two beautiful necklaces as a gift a long time ago.

A refugee lover who bound a reckless girl to him with the jewellery.

An onyx wolf to whom an apology is in order and the guilt more than justified.

Park Jimin.

The low heels of ballerinas click on the marble linoleum floor of the bare brick space after finding a sign outside pointing towards the entrance of the grand creative event, eyes wavering to the sides to observe the sketches of faceless women while also frantically searching for the grand master himself. Shreds of murmured conversation compose a rumbling radiating flood when entering the edifice, making the discovery of the wanted man that much more difficult since a familiar voice could not possibly be recognized in this chaotic mess of speakers.

The quest is halted when the gaze wanders to the side entirely, the attention of the panicked thoughts about coming in vain and being rejected from the beginning of the conversation suddenly focusing on a grand featureless portrait. To any other person, it might signify the blank canvas an individual essentially forms, smithing yet another temporary identity to go by until it loses its beauty like its predecessors and repeating the process each time. Withal, the shape of the face is undeniable and cannot be unseen as its familiarity is unavoidable.

Self-hatred, unintended hurt, past mistakes and various trips of guilt are depicted in the simple though meaningful drawing.

It is mine.

My face.

‘It’s the biggest piece of the collection. I wanted to give this person an expression yet couldn’t because I didn’t know what it should look like. Hence, I settled for this.’ The casual tone betrays not knowing who the listener is or the artist is beating around the bush because he, too, cannot handle the strangeness of the circumstances caused by a mayhaps unwelcome visitor in the way it perhaps should be.

‘Your lines are still off.’ A slim index finger points to the traced shape of the jaw, indicating inherently nothing although the turn to bad humour somehow seems a logical direction to take in the situation. Just as it has always been since it functions as a shield against overwhelming emotions. An old habit rooted in days gone by which dies hard, as those kinds of things tend to do. ‘I thought you’d gotten better at drawing by now, Park Jimin.’

‘Y/N.’ The manner of speech indicates having recognized the admirer far before the conversation even started, relieved delight mixed with agonized graveness.

The scars still hurt.

The fumbling digits reaching out brush against those of the individual who remains focused on the image in front. Eventually, they entwine with those that had to be let go after fully committing to the steadfast faith of being a wolf, but after more hesitation upon noticing the awkward gesture than had ever been the case in the past. ‘Can you look at me?’

‘I’m sorry, Chim. For everything. I push- pushed you too far.’ The burning tears slowly begin to create small brooks over the cheeks, the unoccupied hand wiping them away as the other tries to free itself in order to make an escape. A plan that already comes too late. ‘I shou- shouldn’t even be here. I have to go.’

But the fingers of the once intimately loved beloved remain strongly wrapped around the others, their counterparts coming to rest where frantic digits endeavoured to stop the water, thumb gently continuing the attempts with affectionate sweeps. Gazes meet by means of forceful albeit kind-hearted compelling, the palm on the face of an unworthy mistress turning the head to do so and fulfil the earlier disregarded request. ‘That’s not how you apologize to someone, Y/N. You’re raised knowing better.’

Jimin has changed, not only on the inside - if there has been no help in the form of therapy to drive the insane beast out - but on the outside as well. Onyx has made place for pale sandstone which resembles limestone if the light falls on it in a specific angle, paint-stained shirts and jeans are replaced by a stylish nightly black outfit of which the shirt lights up in the purplish lilac shades of twilight whenever it is illuminated directly. Of course, this style has merely been chosen to conform to the formality of the event, though there is a suspicion former characteristic clothes and their sentiments have been abandoned aside from the casual ones that were often worn during a happening like this back in college.

The past has clearly been endeavoured to be erased.

Good.

I was not the only one trying.

Nonetheless, the most obvious physical change makes eyes widen in astonishment due to the uncharacteristic feature.

Purple flowing over in sickly yellow on cheekbones, a scar marring the left side of a sympathetic expression as full lips speak so kindly in spite of the immense wrongdoing three years ago, the bottom split in the middle by a healing scarlet wound.

Hurt.

Actual clear signs of pain.

Afraid of the impact that may or may not still be felt, two small hands - the left one slipping easily from the grip weakened by oddly loving renewed feelings - languidly rise to remove those framing a face the artist idiotically seems to adore still and trace the trail of inflicted harm with a slightly opened mouth. ‘What happened?’

A spark lights up the warm dark brown gaze of the lad who was thought never to even kill a fly, moved by the concern and showing this by the tiniest hasty smile. ‘It’s alright, Y/N. Just...’ Lashes flutter shut as the gesture is leaned into, briefly forgetting whatever coverup is created to not ignite any type of worry akin to the sort that has been tainting living in general since the first and last bittersweet night together. ‘Just business... nothing... serious.’

A warm teardrop slides down the wrist enveloped by the fingers which were good-naturedly removed, the narrow surface of skin snuggled against regardless of the barely audible pained whines the motions evoke. Teeth lightly grazing over the surface, just tangible enough to send shivers down the spine in a paradoxical mixture of pleasure and worry about the wolfish behaviour that essentially drove us apart. Furthermore, what circumstances could have asked for bodily harm, form the root for obvious pain? ‘Jimin, what’s going on? Talk to me.’

You never fought, bodily nor verbally. Did you get beat up? What happened to you? On the other hand, we both changed and know nothing anymore. Notwithstanding, just tell me. Tell me what caused this, what took place and of which the visible aftermath is so damn painful to witness without knowing the background.

The soft kiss on the pulse evokes a hitched breath, astonished by the blatant display of wishing for intimacy once more even though it brought nothing but misfortune in the past. ‘I still want you. I wish... I wish you could stay.’ The last word is a mere whisper, only audible to the ears of the listener and the speaker in the ocean of murmurs. ‘Stay with me, be mine again.’

More tears roll down the smooth skin of the forearm before watery solemn dark irises quickly turn from the former point of focus to two staring in wonder when the wrist manages to slip from the novel fairly firm hold, having made use of the temporary weak spot caused by sadness. Fast as lightning hands pull the artist into a tight embrace at seeing a quivering pillowy bottom lip, determined to keep the sobs dimmed as much as possible and to not lose face to any potential buyers or investors.

‘Don’t cry, Chim. You’re not at fault, never have been. You were right to walk away and I’m not even mad at you for doing it. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.’ Kindly, bleak sandy locks are affectionately stroked while nuzzling the old lover’s warm neck, growing drowsy, no, getting hypnotized by the heat radiating from the body still built like a dancer’s and the musky alluring scent containing hints of turpentine and summer flowers. ‘As I said, I pushed you too much and should’ve listened. But I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

The hug tightens, star-crossed lovers holding on to one another as if the only way to stay afloat in the turbulent sea of life is by clinging to the buoy in the shape of the other beloved.

And just for a split second, all seems well. Exactly like the old days, filled with hope for a future together.

However, the girl who ruined everything might as well drown in spite of the lifeline because the blonde lad lets go too soon, arms untangling and keeping the adored soul at bay by creating a new distance with shaking hands, just enough not to touch directly. The voice has gained a ghastly tone, speaking as if this time the farewell is permanent. ‘Let’s agree to disagree.’

A foot sweeps uncertainly over the alabaster marbled linoleum, acting as if removing a stain on it as locked gazes are briefly broken up while a hand combs through the strands that were lovingly caressed a split second ago. Withal, like is the case with the entire body, they shortly find each other again afterwards. ‘I really wish we could have a second chance, Y/N.’

‘If- If you want, we can still-’

A solitary head shake cuts off the desperate argument that was about to be given, nullifying every spark of hope which had collected and started a grand bright foolish fire within. ‘We can’t. You’re better off without me. Vice versa it’s not the case, but even though I still long for you, I know that a part of loving you comes with sacrifice and the desire for you to be happy.’

‘I was with you! In fact, I was the most cheery whenever we went out to the park to draw the flowers in the flowerbed or to the coffee shop. The most restful nights were those when you were lying beside me. Now, all that remains of those beautiful moments are these.’ Fingers clearly display the thin bronze chain with a crescent moon pendant and one that is a tad longer and made of a mixture between silver and gold with a tiger's eye matrix wolf pendant. ‘A daily reminder of what we had. Of you.’

A melancholic grin carves itself onto full plush roseate lips, an almost invisible nod acknowledging the meaning behind the jewellery which clearly does not add any convincing nor credible reason to change a stubborn mind set on its own opinion. ‘You still have them. I’m glad because I thought you’d have thrown them away. Or, if not you... never mind, I don’t want to think about that.’

‘Think about what? Jimin, you’re not making any sense. The last time you spoke in riddles, there was clearly something going on.’ The old Self awakens, having pushed aside the pathetic contemporary ego out of the overwhelming determination to not let things remain unresolved upon being compelled to part ways like before. To leave behind loose ends. ‘At least honestly tell me if everything is alright this time. Or just the reason for why you look like you fought a war and lost. Anything. Don’t send me away without a proper goodbye, fill up the distance with making this fucking lingering concern about you I’ve been living with for the past three years a heavier burden than it already is. Yes, I understand you don’t want me by your side anymore. But, I beg of you, grant me this last favour.’

‘I never said that, that I don’t want you by my side anymore so don’t put words in my mouth. Besides, if I did I wouldn’t wish for you to be mine again, would I? I can’t tell you what happened when I was gone, merely that it has to do with what caused our goodbye in the first place. As for the wounds, it’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine.’ Hands mould into trembling fists, the emitted heat turning to menacing rage.

The made point is justified because the used wording which is reacted to never had any valid worth, to begin with. Rashness can push one’s own opinion despite the nullifications which are or are not already present, making the individual solely focused on their hellbent desire to drive their own beliefs through.

The realization of this calms the raging storm within, knowing that more yelling and arguing will lead nowhere. Instead, a deep steadying breath is taken and a new attempt at making amends undertaken. ‘Chim...’

A careful step forward is rewarded with a petrifying glance, feet immediately stuck in the place of the last retraced track. Stare wavers for a moment to the spot which was nuzzled against and kissed longingly, imagining what could have happened had the gesture advanced. Memories of the first and last night as more than friends resurface.

Even the worst event is no longer regarded in a negative light, a hidden absurd persona craving for it to happen again.

Get knotted, feel him again.

He is not a senseless beast, but a caring young man. Why do I long for that side of him, thinking in such terms? Furthermore, how did I get so carried away by just hugging? That’s never happened.

Nevertheless, the contemplating train of thoughts inherently boils down to the same wanton wish.

To be his.

‘Go.’

Simply have him back.

Resume our tale.

‘Please-’

We can work this out. We can get you help. Therapy. You’re not an animal, Jimin. You don’t have to hold back because of it. Come back. Come back to me.

‘Go!’ The command is growled like a wolf grown sick with the obligation to wait for a dumb opposing party to leave and giving a warning shot that any further provocation has consequences. The sternness rapidly fades, softening into sweet stained nostalgia when realizing what the hurtful impact of the chosen attitude is. ‘Go, Y/N. Just go. It’s better for us. For you. I have nothing to offer, nothing to be better than the man you belong to.’

‘I belong to nobody. I’m my own person.’ It is weird to hear the statement of essentially being some individual’s property being said with so much certainty when the speaker initially was the one to say a person should never be subject to another. ‘That’s what we artists are, independent and stubbornly liberated.’

A weak bubbly chuckle, no extravagant motions that express amusement as per habit. Instead, composure portrays not wanting this outcome to the circumstances either and come closer to make resume making amends as intended by the graphic designer who was once a free-spirited artist like him, continue where the mutual story abruptly ended. Yet, behaviour obviously gives away that the alternate route is not possible if it ever has been. ‘Goodbye.’

End of the line.

Don’t. Don’t do this, you bastard!

But the tongue is rendered silent, paralyzed with grieving shock and the ability to speak abandons the mute girl with the leaving footsteps of a sandstone wolf clad in black like the starry night sky.

The same heaven above a lonely head wandering the street again after leaving the gallery, fighting to tune out the repeating material of the emotional conversation while low heels click against the concrete. Regardless, the words are resonating as if freshly spoken and fingers have the remnants of touches by other ones clearly engraved in muscle memory.

But they have to take a moment to remember the hand grabbing them now for, although more recent than Jimin’s, it seems a longer period of time has passed since it was held by this particular one. Even longer so for the voice accompanying it, containing a strange sort of confidence that would have been quite uncharacteristic up until last January. ‘He left you again, didn’t he?’

Raven locks partially shroud feverish yet trusted doe eyes above a cute nose, a paradoxical bunny-like smile playing on pale pink lips seemingly belonging to a predator. But the person in front after accidentally bumping into them after being pulled flush against a well-trained chest is known to be better than that, never having had the aura of cunning dominance. Henceforth, looking down is the kind gentle boy with the scratched back who disappeared because of the reasons another had already given three years prior.

But Time has the ability to evoke a transformation in every aspect of and being in existence and it forms the cause for this grown-up version of a shy comic artist whose creative persona is a pink muscly rabbit. Although all former anticipating illusions are forever erased by the reflection, it is still a grand comfort to see a familiar face which holds the credible promise of staying. Thus, there is a glad surrender to the intoxicating heat scented with a delicious potion of peppermint, blue ink, markers, lily and jasmine.

To the hands framing the face perfectly and body pressing against one drunk on the temporary happiness offered by the situation.

To Jungkook.

#BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #BANGTANARMYNET #btsguild #BTS Werewolf AU #Werewolf AU #Jimin #Park Jimin #Werewolf!Jimin #Artist!Jimin

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darlinggod · 7 years

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title: how was i to know (i was far too much in love to see) (AO3 link)

summary: There’s a perfectly rational explanation as to why Clarke doesn’t like Bree and Bellamy has nothing to do with it. She’s mostly sure.

A/N: This is mostly fluff and pining!Clarke. I love only ever writing, like, one kind of fanfiction!

Bree is not exactly hard to like. She’s smart, if a little lazy. Her jokes are inappropriate, but she’s charming enough to pull it off. In theory, she sounds like someone Clarke might actually like. But, there’s just something off about her. Clarke can’t like her. Not for a lack of trying, she’s looked at it from every angle. Clarke finds herself thinking about it a lot. It’s like staring at a painting that’s technically sound and still getting repulsed by it. It’s driving her insane.

But, Bree is Bellamy’s… something. She should, at least, figure out what she doesn’t like about her. He’s her best friend and she’s gotten along with most of his hook-ups. Though, she has to admit, none of them have hung around him this long.

The point is, once she understands why she doesn’t get along with his... whatever she is to him (because there absolutely has to be a reason for it), she might be able to look Bellamy in the eye again without feeling like she’s doing something wrong and just barely getting away with it.

Raven is as sympathetic as Clarke expects she would be when she tells her about it at brunch.

“You can’t be serious.” Raven looks utterly unimpressed but she can’t be exactly sure if it’s a reaction to what she said or if it’s just her default mood. “Oh, my god, you are unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath. Okay, so it’s her, then.

Clarke shifts uncomfortably. “What?”

“Clarke.” Raven stops herself abruptly, biting her bottom lip. “Never mind,” she says and chugs the rest of her mimosa, instead.

She doesn’t push, knows she won’t like what Raven has to say. Clarke considers her words, instead. “Do you like Bree?”

Raven makes a non-committal noise. “She’s fine.”

“Just fine?” Clarke asks and feels hope sparking in her chest. If Raven doesn’t like Bree either, there’s hope she isn’t over-reacting.

“Clarke, you know that it’s hard for me to like people. I barely know her,” Raven tells her and, she knows she’s right. Raven doesn’t take easy to anyone, except for Luna, maybe. But,she was in love with Luna almost immediately, so that doesn’t count.

She thinks of Bree, for what seems like the millionth time, and tries to make sense of all this, but she draws a blank. Instead, she finds herself thinking of the time she’d seen Bellamy’s arm wrapped around Bree’s waist and her grinning up at him. Her stomach feels like lead.

Clarke pokes at her salad with her knife, her appetite gone. “But, you know why I don’t.” The answer is buzzing at the back of her head. Clarke has every intention of ignoring it until she absolutely has no choice.

“I’m not interfering.”

Clarke doesn’t laugh at that but it’s a close thing. Raven’s the most meddlesome person she knows. If she were to make a list of every single inappropriate comment someone has made about her love-life—or lack thereof—, Raven would make most of it.

But she doesn’t feel like following that train of thought. “You hacked into my laptop yesterday!”

“Okay, first,” she says, holding up a single finger, “guessing that your password is your middle name is not hacking— “

“Hey, that’s genius. No one knows my middle name which, conveniently, also means that witches can’t put curses on me!”

“— Second,” Raven continues, ignoring her, which, fair, “you kept going on and on about you haven’t installed any anti-virus software in your new laptop yet, and it was driving me insane.”

“I was getting to it,” Clarke protests in a tone that suggests she was not, in fact, getting to it.

“You needed it too with all the weird porn you watch.”

“For the last time, I was dating Sterling at the time and he was into some weird things!” Raven makes a face. “It was one time!”

“One time too many,” Raven mumbles.

Clarke smacks her shoulder with a discarded napkin and Raven jabs her in her ribcage.

“Next time, I’ll let you catch the virus.”

“Well, I like it better when you meddle.”

There’s an extended silence. Clarke’s not talking about the computer anymore and Raven is both smart and a good enough friend to pick up on it.

“Fine,” she relents, “you’re jealous.”

There it is. The most obvious explanation to her troubles. She knows that if she digs enough, she’ll find it’s true. And that, unfortunately, also makes it the most problematic explanation.

“He’s my best friend,” she reasons weakly, “We’re not a thing.”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” her friend retorts, not unkindly.

“Yeah but I don’t have feelings…” she trails off. She can’t say that. Even before this whole thing, she could never say that. They were Bellamy and Clarke. She realizes, with an ungentle tug of her stomach, that she had always thought that it was going to be them in the end. She swallows and it hurts.

Her expression must be truly pitiful because Raven backtracks. “He’s your best friend. Maybe, you just don’t want to share him.”

“Maybe.” She knows Raven is lying for her benefit. But, Clarke feels like she’s lying too.

Millers and Boon

Miller

Is bellamy dead???

What

Why are you texting me then

It’s 3 in the morning

I’m working I can’t tell the time

There aren’t any clocks in the hospital?

It’s how they keep us here

Wait why would I be the one telling you that bellamy’s dead

Idk you’re always together

And youre his emergency contact

It makes perfect sense to have a doctor as your emergency contact

Right.

Fuck off

But seriously

Bree

(two attachments sent)

She looks like me doesn’t she?

I guess I see it

But you also said bryan looks like bellamy

HE DOES

Ok Clarke whatever

Wait you woke me up for this??????

I mean you didn’t have to wake up for a text

I cannot stand you.

Does this have anything to do with your feelings for him

…………..

Did you talk to raven

you think raven is the only person who thinks you’re in love with bellamy

jasper calls you guys mom and dad

yeah but we’re talking about real people

im going to bed clarke

tell your boyfriend I said hi

im not relaying your existence to bryan

you made it too weird with the bellamy comment

YOU CANT HIDE FROM THE TRUTH NATHAN

Millers and Boon is offline

She feels bad when she invites her friends over for dinner the next day and it’s only half because she misses them. In truth, she needs a distraction. Clarke’s never been particularly good at feelings. And whenever she’s had them, they were short-lived, all-consuming and almost painful. But, with Bellamy, it’s— it’s all encompassing. It’s soft and sweet and makes her feel like she’s doing something right. It’s a feeling in her chest that she carries with her everywhere she goes. She knows what she feels, and she’ll be fucked if she lets him go because she’s too afraid to be happy.

When Bellamy shoots her a messing telling her that he’s on his way, she finds that she isn’t actually that afraid anymore. It’s always nice seeing Bellamy, Clarke decides, when he pokes his head into her apartment without knocking. It’s nice to see him when she’s upset, and when she’s excited, it’s even nice when she’s on the brink of admitting that she’s in love with him. If there’s only thing she can be sure of, it’s that she’ll always want to see him. His smile is the one she’ll most easily recognize. She’d know him from miles away. He sets her at ease.

“Hey.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder as he enters the apartment and absent-mindedly presses a kiss to her temple.

“Oh,” she says. I love you, she thinks. “You’re early.”

“Nice to see you, too,” he replies, a teasing lilt to his voice. You have no idea, she thinks. She gravitates towards him, smile growing on its own accord. Not a fucking clue. Bellamy smiles back with his whole body. His shoulders perk up and his eyes sparkles and her head feels like it’s clearing itself up, like the noise is leaking out. She’s starting to realize that he loves her too. In whatever way.

He drops onto the couch and she slots herself next to him, the way she always has. “I just didn’t realize you were going to be early.”

He shrugs. “I’m on time. Everyone else is just late.”

“You’ve been friends with us for years, you should know what ‘on time’ means.”

“Just because my friends are impolite assholes, doesn’t mean I have to be.” She sticks out his tongue at him and he rolls his eyes, but it’s all stained with fondness.

“Yeah, you’re just a regular asshole.”

“Run of the mill,” he agrees, deadpan. Clarke bites her bottom lip to stop herself from giggling. It was all fairly clear, in hindsight. He makes her forget herself. He makes her happy.

“Here.” He gets up abruptly and extends a hand to her. She raises an eyebrow. “Help me set the table,” says Bellamy. She snorts and lets him help her to her feet.

“I was going to do that on my own before you got here,” she says primly.

He snorts. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know.”

Her whole body feel warm, her skin buzzing lightly. “I know.” She bumps his shoulder with hers. “I got you for that.”

They’re standing closely, and there’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her. But, he grabs the pizza boxes from the counter and sets them on the table instead. She sighs and sets out to search for the paper plates she hasn’t seen in weeks.

There’s a few minutes of easy silence. He gets the beer out of the fridge and she finally finds the paper plates in the cabinet next to stove she never uses. He even helps her clean up a little, dusting the countertops and picking up some of the garbage she had left lying around. He calls her a spoilt princess teasingly even though she knows it’s true and she calls him a dumb, helpful idiot, which rings, like, thirty percent true, at least.

“Hey,” he calls when the place looks – what she can only assume is—satisfactory to him, “Bree’s going to stop by to drop something off. Is that cool?”

A wave of hurt hits her. It starts at her stomach and she feels it constrict her insides. She’s surprised at how violent it is. How momentarily blinding. “Yeah,” she replies, not really looking at him. “Of course, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He laughs, not unkindly. “I didn’t think you really liked her.”

“That’s crazy,” she scoffs, but she sounds defensive to her own ears. “I don’t have a reason not to.”

“I just thought—“

“—Well, you thought wrong,” Clarke snaps.

Hurt flashes in his eyes and she regrets. The jealousy is immediately replaced with a vague sadness. She wants him to be happy. She would like him to be happy with her, but that’s secondary. That’s another unchangeable truth. But she can’t just stand there and pretend it’s all okay. She thought she was ready, but. She doesn’t think she’s strong enough. Maybe, just not yet.

“I have to go.” She doesn’t have the desire nor the energy to hide the breaking of her voice, or heart. She spins on her heel before she can do something even stupider like yell. Or cry.

“Wait,” he calls. She pauses long enough for him to catch her wrist. Her skin burns hot where he touches her. Her eyes burn. She burns. She turns to face him slowly, her heart thundering in her chest, and stares at the spot above his shoulder, still not daring to look at him. She’s sure he can feel her pulse, wild and erratic.

“Are you jealous, Clarke?”

Her first instinct is to laugh it off. Her second is to run for the hills. Maybe, that says something about her character. She does neither, which definitely says something about what he means to her. She risks a glance at him. His face is wide open, eyes as honest as she’s ever seen. His expression, she’s hopeful enough to call it longing. It hits her, for maybe the first time, that she wants him to know. That he might want to know.

She blinks. “Yes.”

His eyes widen, the grip on her wrist loosening. Her hands are shaking, her throat is dry. She only notices that his hands are shaking, too, when he slides it into hers.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” His voice is so soft, she’s half-sure she imagined it. Mostly, she finds herself settling into the revelation the way one might settle into their bed after a long, tiring day.

She feels relief and joy and she feels. More than she’s felt in a long time. She laughs, watery, and squeezes his hand. “I didn’t.”

He grins, a little crooked, a little shy. “Well, I am,” he says. He is beaming. She thinks she might explode, come undone. But she stays the way she is, and he looks at her the way he does. They are the same and they are in love.

“Oh.” I love you, she thinks. She tugs him closer, just because she can. “I love you, too,” she says.

He brushes her cheek with his thumb and she lets out a sigh so loud, it’s almost embarrassing. Almost. She gets on her tiptoes and kisses him then. He kisses her sweetly, and if he hadn’t said it before, she would’ve known that he loved her right there. She pulls away, places her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

“Bree?” she asks because, apparently, she’s the jealous type. He kisses her quickly and she giggles into it, coaxing a longer one out of him. He grins smugly

“We slept together once. She’s pretty cool so, we hang out.”

She smiles, resting her forehead against his. “You know, I think I see it.”

#bellarke #bellarkefanfiction #fluff #jealousy #me publishing this: and the 100 cast were at a con (oh my god they were at a con #the text convo looks awkward here but im exhausted

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