#god it feels good to draw again after a month of art block | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lowkeyrobin · 2 months

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MCYT with artist reader and like R makes them art all the time weather it's using them as an art reference and having a bunch of doodles of them, or painting full portraits of them, or like painting pictures of their pets🪩🩷🥹🛸

ooooo I'm an artsy weirdo so here you go!!! thanks for the request ; also this is the day I figure out the ufo emoji existed

MCYT ; artsy reader

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro u got a whole sketchbook dedicated to doodles of him and his character versions in mc smps (dsmp, osmp, etc)

you love painting him in watercolors 🫶🫶

you made him a watercolor portrait thing with the HTBAB logo behind him, freddie & jack

he treasures the art you give him

literally frames it and hangs it on the wall or puts it on the shelves in his office

sometimes he'll take a picture of them and posts them w ur consent to show off your talent

"look what y/n made me 🫶" or "now wtf why can't I have this kind of talent?"

will chill out with you while you're drawing/painting etc

you go over to his parents house ONCE and make a family portrait + the dogs for them

that painting hangs above their fireplace, his parents look at it everyday

he does little drawing competitions with you on stream just to bond with you a bit and make you laugh

like the "we go back to school" video, the paint gets everywhere because of him LMAO

will straight up show off your sketchbooks on stream too

TUBBO

absolutely loves that you draw him

and the fact you have so much q!tubbo and sunny fanart 💔💔

he hangs all the physical art up around his house

you made a little oil pastel portrait of you two with tommy, freddie & molly under you like they were your kids 😭🙏

it hangs in a frame in his background so everyone watching stream can see it

he absolutely loves your character designs and your art style/s

you straight up animated the life by the sea music video as a little present for his birthday

took 5 months but you got it done 💪💪

genuinley rewatches it a million times

he posted it to his YouTube as well to show off your talent

adores watching you draw/paint in silence

and he loves posing for you to help you get a good reference

beware cause he'll start complaining after 30 seconds

RANBOO

absolutely loves showing off your art and praising you for it

you've made them so much genloss fanart

you even made them a few channel banners, especially after the rebrand (and they will never change them ever again omg)

gives you a bunch of ideas for drawing

you love drawing the lanky d!ranboo and gl!ran especially w the mask and wide arrangement of wires and stuff

you made a textured painting of genloss!ranboo and it sits on one of the shelves in his office

he's obsessed with touching it and feeling the paint

its like feeling the hours of work you put into it, something just for them

also loves posing for you

they will get so extravagant and unique with it LMAO

FREDDIE BADLINU

anything you make for him is a treasure

you made a little portrait of him and his closest friends, and it hangs on his bedroom wall where he can see it constantly

shows off your art and totally praises you for it

does silly poses for you to reference

you've made him a couple screensavers and stream starting soon pages

he absolutely loves your color pallettes good god

Freddie in acrylic paint>>>>>

"guys look at what my amazing partner made me today 🫶❤️"

sends you links to Instagram shorts or whatever to little crafts/ideas if you're having artist block

he finds a notebook full of sketches and random blurbs of/about him when you get bored and shit and have nothing better to do

absolutely head over heels because the fact you spend so much time making art of/for him, omg

if you bleach-paint shirts yk damn well he's wearing whatever you made him 24/7

NIKI NIHACHU

absolutely loves your character designs for her characters, they're all so unique and different and she loves it

your designs of osmp!niki are her favorite, considering she's literally a mermaid

the art you make with all her tattoos and piercings>>> omg

either totally adorable or totally badass

"more biker! niki bc she needs to learn how to bike rn... @/nikinihachu"

"amazing as always y/n/n 🫶 maybe I will..."

loves just quietly watching you do your thing

her and watercolor paints will never not be perfect

you make a whole mural for her because you got bored...

it's an abstract kind of goth-ish mermaid kinda thing on one of her office walls, and 'nihachu' spread across it in white, kinda cursive lettering, it's amazing

always making silly little doodles of her too

ALEX QUACKITY

cant even comprehend how talented you are

he always sees you drawing him and painting him and he's like "bro go touch grass u spend too much time thinking about me"

you also made a textured painting for Tiger

it's his prized possession, he loves it to much

almost broke down and cried when you gave it to him

loves looking at all the little doodles, drawings and character designs

his favorites are the ones of him with dynamic arm poses, even if you think they're bad

he thinks it adds a lot more personality and makes him look better LMAO

he loves and appreciates that you spend so much time on something about/for him, and so often as well

he looks so good in gouche paints that's all I'm saying

and in a kinda graffiti style as well omg

FOOLISH GAMERS

absolutely adores all the art you make of him

he'll even pose so you can get references and shit LMAO

him and watercolor paints... lord

AND COLORED PENCILS

any painting you've made for him is hung up on the wall

loves seeing your character designs for his dsmp/qsmp etc characters

he also shows them off online and points out all the cool things you've added and shit

even if it's just simple doodles of him, you'll add a splash of color w a marker or highlighter and he thinks it looks so awesome

you have post it notes all over your wall thatre just doodles of him and shit

you painted his shark logo on a giant canvas for him for a YouTube video

like 59 hours later you completed it and gave it to him as a birthday gift

he doesn't shut up about it after that

literally brags about it like he's a 15yo who just got a girlfriend for the first time before all his other friends

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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skitskatdacat63 · 8 months

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We literally switched places lol catie 😭😭😭 like you've been drawing a lot lately(WHICH ISNSO AWESOME IBLOVE YOUR ART AND SKETCHES SOSOSO MUCH!!!>333) and I've been drawing so rarely like the a r t has been sucked out of me 😭😭😭😭

This message is just me admiring you arts and wishing you neverrr stop drawing !!!<33 not really a vettonso fan,didn't really know this ship existed until.well japan💀, but i can't stop looking at your art they are soosoososos cute ESPECIALLY THE BEE NANDO AND SEB FLOWERR HHJDHSH THAT WAS CUTTTE 🥺🥺🥺🥺

drawww >:3333 👍

Art block is the absolute worst isn't it, Elle???? 😭😭😭😭 I totally empathize with you because for a while I feel like I could only really finish drawings once a month or, most times, even less than that. I guess inspiration runs out and you need to revitalize yourself!! It's always good to take a break imo bcs forcing it just makes you frustrated. So I really hope you can get your motivation back 🥺🥺 it might take a while but god it's so good when it hits you again 💕💕

But yes Vettonso!!!! Such a sleeper ship imo!! I kinda kept it in the back of my mind for a while and didn't really do much with it bcs its such a small ship. But then suddenly got hit with it very deep right after Monza I think? Its very very very fun to draw for a small ship bcs I feel so connected with everyone 🥺 it's our little gang y'know!!!! The bee/flower art...soooooo funny to me oh my god, I was dying while drawing it. Like I said to Athy I mostly just like drawing my AU stuff but my god it was so fun to draw super relevant stuff this weekend!!! Also so fun to ensnare people in the vettonso brainrot 🤭🤭 yes yes look at them, look upon my boys >:)

#AAAAAAHHHHHH ELLE RECEIVEING THIS MADE ME SO HAPPYYYYYY THANNM YOUUU <33333333÷#whenever i see your namw in my askbox i get so excited!!!!!!!#also i wont lie. some of my original vettonso reasoning stemmed from the fact that theyre the only two i really like to draw #rn i am so deranged and insane and emotional about everything about them #but like. yeah part of it was kinda smashing my two top favs together like barbie dolls #but so happy to feed the preexisting fandom and also indoctrinate new people :)#but gahhhhh yeah japan seriously so fucking good to me bcs we got new pics #BUT THANK UOU FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS 🥺🥺🥺 YOURE SO SWEET YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY #and also thank you for your comment on my recent post!!! i appreciate your support <33 #catie.asks.

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robo-milky · 1 year

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[Vent: This will be my last update about my wrists! Thank you for those who took the time to read and/or sent “get-well-soon”s- It does mean a lot! Anything relating to more personal issues can be very taxing to read or “not what I signed up for” and that’s perfectly valid!! In the end, we are strangers on the web ^^ Feels like the more I post updates or anything— it feels very attention seeking— so I want to make this a good send off. I might update/edit the log if anything comes up.]

A little bit about why the sudden change in art style

Acknowledgements: There are bigger issues in the world, there are threatening crises and positions people face that could be physically/and or emotionally damaging. My condition isn’t chronic, but for those who have do have life-long issues— my heart really goes out to them; I’ve only been through the tip of the iceberg of what they might have been through.

It’s hypocritical of me to make posts about having to recover/exhausting myself from writing/drawing, yet I still draw anyways. I guess I wanted to end this off comically— making silly memes or inside jokes with friends definitely lifted my mood. (Edit: I can’t type (on a keyboard)/write, but you know what I can do? Text.)

Having to do art in school and outside is not great for recovery (if I want both my wrists back to normal) but I compulsively draw anyways- I think it’s probably because I’m aiming for an art school, I’m scared of ever stopping and getting rusty with art again. While it’s true that a lot of art is really boiled down to how well you can break down concepts and memorizing the technical knowledge, it took me years to finally develop a hand that could draw clean lines and hold things steadily.

Compared to Summer 2022, I definitely recovered much more and made a lot of progress. I didn’t have to eat painkillers every single day, I didn’t have to rely on wrist splints, I can hold a half-filled mug with one hand, and so much more. I’d say the conditions of my wrists is tolerable; it still hinders me when I try to open doorknobs, but I’ll take whatever accomplishments I can get.

It wasn’t until finally seeing a physiotherapist, after god knows how long (Please- I grew up in a traditionally Chinese family that doesn’t believe in western medicines ;;), I was diagnosed with early osteoarthritis on my left wrist. Even though only one wrist is diagnosed, I have difficulties moving both my wrists, and according to my X-ray back in September 2022, the bones in both my wrist have narrowed from a lack of use. I’m kinda baffled because you’d think it’d be my dominant hand, the hand I use everyday and stress out, would be diagnosed. I’m told that I’ll need an MRI for my left, so hopefully nothing goes too wrong.

I love drawing, fanart or original— for myself or others. I don’t think it’s something I can ever stop? Maybe I’ve gotten on a high now that I’ve recovered bit by bit, and having gotten out of art block for months helped too. I can’t help but feel like part of my art block is because of my wrists. Even when my wrists were not as bad, I still couldn’t find the motivation to do line art. Maybe my current development in art isn’t actually laziness but just how my wrists have subconsciously been affecting my performance. When I looked back on my old art, I truly loved line art, rendering, having to press hard with pencil crayons to blend, oil pastels— I really did enjoy them.

If I ever drew gifts/requests/others for you, I want to say that I opened them because I wanted to— I knew what I was signing up for. Heck— when I did them— I did them on a good day.

* Am I ever going to take a break? I’ll be honest- probably not. Plus- the watercolour mimic style let’s me draw looser lines and with the colouring? I don’t have to worry about pen pressure or pressing hard- But I’ll try?? I might try to see if I can dig up any older art of mine that still holds up to my standards.

With school, I always feel like I have to take on extra jobs and volunteer to help out in areas that are within my field. I’ve also contemplated telling or broadcasting my needs to others because I’m always scared they’ll think I’m “being dramatic” or “faking it”. I’m also scared that the one time I ask for help to do a “simple” task, my peers will start questioning my recovery. I can’t describe how shameful it feels to not be able to help out a friend if they want to move a desk or even with chores. Maybe it’s me self projecting, but I always feel like if I can’t help someone, I’d be selfish.

Since I can never truly articulate my experiences and thoughts in person (cause I’d forget details or cut out too much because I feel rushed), I’ll be using this to send out ^^

If you *actually* read all of this- thank you and please don’t think too much of it! I don’t want this post to be the reason someone’s mood gets drained— so I drew the cat maid instead of putting my usual reaction images. I hope my attempt at humour came through?? But at what cost…

#my art #meowing 🌸#vent art #vent #personal vent #cw vent #vent post

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madfantasy · 3 years

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I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

#ask #text #diary #personal #my art #miss

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pien-art · 3 years

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You got any tips on getting out of art burn out? I haven’t been able to draw for months cause of my art teacher lol

oh god i feel you :( long story short i went to my dream school for painting/fine arts after so much hard work for years only for me to drop out after my first year bc my teachers had completely taken all my joy out of painting/creating. And!! its so unfair!! What helped me get out of it after several months, was that i found something i really enjoyed, (could be a series or movie or game or just a subject like a favorite fruit or animal whatever.) and the enjoyment i got from that thing, which for me was stephanie j block and the roles she's played on broadway, was what motivated me! i started making art of her and her characters! not for anyone else, but just for my own enjoyment. And I was able to pour the love i had for her into my art, and that made me enjoy creating again! I do still get some art slumps or periods where i cant motivate myself to draw or paint or whatever. But i know that those will pass. I usually try my best not to be too hard on myself when im unable to draw, and to fill the time i spend not drawing and feeling bad about it, i pick up another hobby like crocheting to keep creating without pressuring myself to contantly make good, finished products, if that makes sense? i hope you'll be able to find something that helps you, and im sorry your teacher's put you in this situation. Don't be too hard on yourself! it's not your fault <3

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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Writing Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora! <3

Time to show people just how much of a baby I am in the fanfic world~! >:3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A total of ten! Mainly because I lump drabbles together for easy access!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

....273502 words so far. :3 I like words. Words are good. Words are friends.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows (the very first rendition!) - 48 kudos

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Bound Brighter - 24 kudos

A Dragon’s Hope - 15 kudos

Dragon Drabbles - 13 kudos

Poetry of Wolves - 11 kudos

(Honestly, the progression of style change in each of these fics is terrifying to me. I look back on the last one, and I’m like, ‘Oh my god.’ X’D)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do, on occasion, respond! Though I may use a lot of words while writing, when it comes to communication? I suck. XD But, I do get extremely, extremely excited whenever I see a comment in my inbox, and I do go back and re-read them when I’m feeling down about my writing! I usually respond when a person asks questions, but I try to read them as rhetoric since I don’t want to spoil too much! X3 So, to everyone who has left me comments on my fics: THANK YOU. I do really appreciate and adore them. :3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Many of my short fics (those ranging from one to two chapters) all end relatively happy. I like angst, but I also enjoy making characters that are usually somber and stressed a little lighter. :3 If we want to get technical, then the first several chapters of my main fic all have rather angsty endings because the beginning of Fane’s journey is...heh. It’s not easy, and it’s not supposed to be.

Although, now that I look, a very old fic of mine called ‘A Dragon’s Guilt’ has a rather angsty ending. Basically, Solas’ frescoes in the rotunda send Fane into a momentary spiral, and it was me playing with Adamant possibilities before he was ‘set in stone’. Panic attacks and mixed memories galore! :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

*rifes through my fics* Uhhhh... All of them? :3 Okay, okay! No, if I had to choose it would have to be...one of the short stories in ‘Dragon Drabbles’. It’s a four part story (and my first hand at smut >:3) that’s titled ‘Existence is Not a Sin’. It starts off angsty, but by the end it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that I’m like, “...How did I write this?” X’D ...I’m actually thinking of re-writing a lot of my previous fics just to see if I’ve improved with writing! :D

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not write crossovers, but I’m open to the idea! Sadly, my brain hyperfixates on one thing at time, so my imagination is limited. X’D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven’t, and I’m very grateful that I haven’t. To be honest, when I started writing and posting, I expected to get hate (prepare for the worst, you know?) because I was doing something that wasn’t really the ‘norm’ for a lot of people. After all, people are entitled to their own interpretations and mine some times don’t link up with someone else’s. I understand that, and I respect that, but some people...don’t offer the same courtesy. All I’ll say is, if you don’t enjoy my content, don’t read it. We’re all adults, so shrug your shoulders, say, “Not for me”, and move on. Just know that if you do leave a hate comment, you will receive no reply, no fuel. So, don’t waste your time and don’t waste mine. Simple as that. I’m here to share and make people smile, not argue. :3

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have. Once, and I for the life of me can’t figure out how to do it again. X’D I’m very into soft intimacy; gestures and actions that speak a thousand words. Close positions (missionary, straddling, etc.) and a lot of eye contact with some healthy crying in the mix. *winks* I’m kind of inching towards a theme of ‘body worship’ when it comes to Fane and Solas because those two.. *sighs* They really need to shown that they are beautiful people; inside and out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not. Thank God. XD All I’ll say is this though, you steal my fic, my son and claim them as your own? *gets close to the screen* I will track you down and demand a talk. Don’t steal other’s hard work. Don’t. Writing is not easy, and it takes weeks, months, years for authors to pump out their inspiration, so don’t steal that labor just because you want to say you could. Same goes for drawings and pieces of art. Don’t.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! English is my first language, but I understand some French! :D

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t, but the idea is intriguing to me sometimes! I’m just a tad unreliable due to how my mood ebbs and flows. I have very long dry spells. X’D

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan! >:D While I write solely M!Lavellan/Solas, I do support all genders and orientations for the ship! Because I didn’t get into the ship because of what I saw, it’s what it meant to me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*side eyes my main fic* LISTEN. It’s coming! I swear. I’m just having intense writer’s block with my main fic, and I’m not sure why. That’s why I’ve been messing with prompts and drabbles. X’D There’s also my modernAU, too.. *sweats* TIIIIIME! WHERE ARE YOU?!

What are your writing strengths?

Describing emotions. I like emotions. Emotions are nice. :3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Mainly because Fane...doesn’t speak much at the beginning of his journey. He’s very curt, short, so I have hard time incorporating other’s reactions to him. I’m getting better though, I think! :D

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m for it! Sometimes that little splash of altering dialect can draw someone in and establish a connection! Language connects us, and it’s never too late to try and learn so as to reach out to another! :D

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, my beloved~

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

A short story of mine called ‘Blood in the Snow’. It was one of my very first fics and it was the first time I was like, ‘This Lavellan is my muse. I can do so much with him.’ It was just so fun to write a vulnerable moment for Fane, but still keep him locked up. ...It was also where I went, ‘Oh. This is Solavellan Hell. I wasn’t meant to go there, but I DID.’ X’D

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @rosella-writes @aymayzing @drag-on-age @varric-tethras-editor and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course! <3)

#did i get a little harsh with a few of the questions? perhaps~ >:3 #art theft and hate comments are touchy subjects for me XD #art can be critiqued but it has to be productive or at least civilly worded #don't come at someone just to make them feel like shit #and shall i say; i've only been writing fanfic for a year #A YEAR #not even actually #*looks back* ...#my first fic was in december of last year so yeah. not even a year yet #*laughs nervously*#tagged #about me

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Tracing Time

Again a tiny mention of the hate crime in the first few paragraphs here, just as Sander is thinking of the last clip.

Thursday, 12:03

Song: Agnes Obel - Island of Doom

“Oh my god, Gilles, can you please just stop for five minutes?”

Sander’s not sure where the outburst comes from; he regrets it instantly. He feels better today, after the shit-show that was last night. He’s stopped thinking about punches and bruises and pain and lies and Robbe curled up on the ground. Or at least, he’s stopped thinking about it enough that he can breathe easier again. He had never even really noticed the weight, until he’d spoken to Jens the other night. Until then, it had been about Robbe. Robbe being okay, Robbe feeling safe and not missing out, Robbe not hating himself for loving Sander. Robbe moving on. Recovering, healing. Forgetting.

They’ll never forget it entirely, he knows that. But he sees it in Robbe, and he can see it in himself now, those times when it leaves them for a moment. When the universe shrinks back down, and centers them in its orbit, and blocks out the rest of the world. They can forget, for more and more moments.

Once they admit that they haven’t, it becomes easier to try. Ignoring it hasn’t given it less power; it only makes the memory scarier when it pops up unexpectedly.

He’s allowed to curse it. To hate faces he doesn’t even remember. It’s all that anger, that spark of spite, that lights a fire in him and allows him to grow bigger than it. He should have known, with how long Agathe has been ingraining the thought process in him. Giving voice to it, letting his words be carried away on the air, shifts the concrete away to prod at the core, which is only as heavy as damp, rotting leaves. If he speaks at the right moment, the wind will be strong enough to sweep them out.

Maybe the right moment should have happened before last night. Maybe it should have come a year ago. But he’d woken up this morning with such an unexpected sense of light and relief, and he thinks that should count for something, no matter the time.

Then he’d gone to class, and the usual restless-and-bored feeling kicked in, and then he’d settled himself down at one of the picnic benches outside. Now, he’s still there, with the addition of his friends, and the good mood he’d woken up in is dissipating quickly the longer he tries to work on this assignment.

And the longer Gilles keeps distracting him from it.

They’re looking at Sander now from right next to him like he’d just slapped them across the face, and the regret deepens, twists itself into something gnarled and jagged that hooks and tugs at his ribs. Thomas and Emilie have gone silent and, effectively, so has Gilles. They open their mouth only once and quickly snap it shut again.

“I’m sorry,” Sander says quickly. “I honestly didn’t mean it. It’s just—“ he gestures to his laptop “—this fucking assignment.”

Gilles wipes the surprise away and forces a smile, giving a tiny nod. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I can keep it down. Actually, I think I’m gonna go get something to eat, anyway.”

They begin to rise from the bench as they speak, and Sander quickly latches onto their arm and gives a pleading tug. “No. Gilles, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” Gilles waves him off. At Sander’s unconvinced look, they insist, “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sander tries. “Don’t leave.”

Gilles just shakes their head. “I’ll come back. Compromise, yeah? You asked for five minutes.”

Sander slowly lets his hand fall, feeling lost. He can’t just keep apologising, but he doesn’t know what to actually say to make it better. He’s hopeless in such situations. He glances at Thomas and Emilie for help, but they both seem disappointed, too.

“Sander.” Gilles sets a hand on the back of his neck as they finally stand and gives a gentle squeeze. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll...try to actually help you, or just be quiet whenever I get back, okay? Whichever you want.” They duck down and press a firm kiss to his cheek, and he barely has time to lean towards them before they hoist up their bag and walk off.

Sander wants to call out, but he still can’t find the words, and Gilles won’t be dragged back if they want to go. Instead his mouth opens and closes as helplessly as a fish’s, and Thomas slowly packs up his things and stands instead.

“I’m gonna go…” He juts his thumb over his shoulder, hovering by the table hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s fine, but, you know. But it’ll be fine, Sander.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but he nods, and Thomas smiles at him before running to catch up to Gilles. Sander pushes his laptop back far enough that he can plant his elbows on the table and drop his head into his hands with a sigh.

“Hey,” Emilie breaks through his thoughts, voice soft. “Gilles is a big boy. They’ll get over it quickly. They really know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It was still shitty,” Sander sighs.

Emilie gives him a sympathetic smile and slides across the seat to sit directly across from him, where Thomas had been a moment ago. “What’s going on?”

Sander huffs. “You mean why am I being a dick?”

She ignores him. “The assignment can’t be that bad. Maybe give yourself a break from it, get something to eat as well. Come back to it with a clearer head.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sander says, frustrated. “Just because you can pass all this stuff without even trying, doesn’t mean it’s the same for all of us.”

“Okay, wow, you really do have a stick up your ass today.”

Sander shrinks back, effectively admonished. He, again, didn’t mean to be so harsh. He probably should just stop speaking altogether. Which means he probably should stop writing this essay, too, at least for a moment, until he gets his head under control again. Chances are it will be more strongly worded than he intends if he continues at this rate. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Emilie stares him down for a moment, then sighs. She reaches out and carefully pushes his laptop aside, and Sander doesn’t even attempt to muster the energy for a protest. Emilie lays her hands over his and doesn’t hold them, but massages the pressure points between each thumb and forefinger as she speaks.

“You know, it would take me a full month to do the kind of art you can pull off in like, a day. And I’m no smarter than Tom. It’s not just easy for me, Sander. I work my ass off to be here as much as anyone else.”

Sander curls in on himself a little more, nodding. He could mumble another apology, but he doesn’t quite see the point. He knows it’s not what she’s looking for. “I know,” he says instead. “I didn’t mean to discredit you.”

“I know.” She gives his hands a squeeze and sighs, leaning in closer to catch his eye. “And I would never discredit you, either, because I know none of us would be here if we didn’t deserve it. It’s not supposed to be easy. But we can do it. That’s the whole point.”

Is that true? It’s something Sander would like to believe, certainly, but at times like this...he doubts his abilities and his choices. What if he’s just not meant for study? In that case, what is he supposed to do?

“And you know it’s okay,” Emilie continues softly, “to ask for help when you feel like you can’t do it.”

Of course she sees right through him. He smiles weakly and works one of his hands free to draw his laptop backs towards him, angling it towards Emilie. “Will you help me?”

She huffs now, but smiles. “If only you’d had to ask one of us that last week. But when it comes to practicals you’re a pro. Otherwise we would’ve realised you’d gotten mixed up.”

“Are you saying,” Sander asks slowly, “that I messed up because I’m too good?”

She grins at him. “Exactly.”

“Cute. Just say you want help with your piece too and be done with it.”

“I want help with my piece, too.”

“At your service,” Sander smirks.

He feels only mildly anxious as she quickly skims through what he has already done, and relieved when her first response is a question that unexpectedly prompts him onwards. He’s typing away again within moments, ignoring the girl’s smug smile as he flicks between tabs and documents and his own thoughts.

When he’s completed another, rather lengthy paragraph, Gilles and Thomas return.

Sander is surprised enough to stop immediately; he hadn’t actually expected the two to come back. But Gilles perches next to him again with only the slightest hesitance and passes him a small, white paper bag with two croques tucked inside.

Sander instantly wraps an arm around their waist and leans into them in a hug, mumbling another apology. It’s all it takes to have Gilles beaming and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re both so easy,” Thomas muses. “Remember this, Em. Just give Sander food and Gilles affection and they’re fine.”

“Or the other way around,” Gilles offers, to which Sander immediately nods.

“Both,” he agrees. “Both is good.”

They’re all halfway through their food when Sander remembers the other thing he wanted to talk to them about, and a smile is stretching his lips before he actually speaks. “So, what did you guys think of Luca? She’s pretty fun, right?”

Gilles and Emilie choke on the same bite, with Gilles falling into a dramatic coughing fit and Emilie just politely clearing her throat with the back of her hand pressed to her lips. Thomas’s sandwich is held halfway up to his mouth as he freezes and examines the scene, the top rim of his glasses cutting his eyes in half as he widens them at Sander. Sander simply laughs, shaking his head at the two culprits and remarking on all their old comments about him being the one lacking subtlety.

As if.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #gilles visser #emilie de vries #thomas aarden #one clip left now

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nitannichionne · 4 years

Text

If He Was YOUR Fan, Chapter 21: Face Off (A Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

You were happy to go home with Henry, but your home? It was a shoebox. You are quiet all the way home in the car. He parks his car next to the garage and follows you up the steps to your small apartment.

“Cozy,” He gives an impressed nod.

“Okay,” you chuckle, looking around and shaking your head.

“No, no,” He puts his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder as Kal sniffs the place over. He sits on the mat by the kitchen. “I think it’s charming, but….” You feel him shrug behind you.

“What?”

“That bed needs testing.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “didn’t think of that.”

“But first—” he turns and walks away.

He can’t go far, and you frown. “What?”

“Want to see your fridge.”

You inwardly cringe, remembering the conversation you had earlier, and remind him. “I’m only here in the morning and evenings on weeknights.”

He goes to the refrigerator and exhales heavily. “Let’s see…” he clucks his tongue. “Hmmm, well at least you grilled chicken strips.”

“Yeah.” You say, forgetting about that.

“Romaine, spinach, radish, kale…tomato, carrot, cucumbers, egss—”

“I have fruit—”

“I see,” he says frowning and opening the cupboard. “Cereal, cookies—”

“From the bakery,” you interject. “Bread, too.” He returns to you and you smile. “Not bad.”

“Not iron rich, either.”

You exhale. “Some of it.”

“Not enough.” He pauses. “You must have salads every night.”

“Just about,” you admit. “I can make us some.”

“Thanks,” he smiles.

You are cutting up ingredients and then you hear him bounce on the bed. “Oh—”

“Oh, a bed desk,” Henry smiles, pulling it onto his lap as he sat on the bed. “Where the magic happens?”

“Magic?”

“The stories?”

You laugh softly. “Yes, I suppose so—”

“Good Lord!” He reaches back.

“I would call that the top hat if the stories are magic.”

He picks up a handful of SD cards, looking at them. “They’re color coded.”

“It’s easier.”

He picks up the case the cards go into. “I can put them back, if you like.”

“Sure.”

You hear him shuffling. “Oooh, so the purple ones are Romance and Sex cards?” He immediately inserts that one.

“Henry--!”

“The Art of Kissing? Joys of Sex? Sensual Massage?” Henry reads. “Bedroom Games?!”

“Research, Henry.”

“Ideas, Fitness, Fighting, Psychology, Spiritualism, Poetry, JPEG’s?” His eyes widen. “You have a library in this case, love.”

“Yeah, wanted to take it all with me.” You confess. “I miss books.”

“You’ve been in Europe for months,” he says. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“What did you leave behind?”

“Whatever needed leaving.”

“Family?”

“Some I deeply miss, yes.”

“Who, then?”

“Who what?” you bring the salads to the table.

“Are you running from?”

You turn and put the salads down. “Not from the law.”

He pulls you into his arms. “Things have a way of catching up.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You have dinner, binge watching Mrs. Brown’s Boys. Henry offers to take out the trash, and returns with an odd smile on his face.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“I was surrounded by cats?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you gasp. You run to the kitchen and pull kibble out from under the sink. “Lots of cats, been feeding them. It started as like, one—”

“And they tell two friends, and they tell two friends?” he jokes softly.

You roll your eyes at him. “And so on, and so on?” You pull out some beat up cake pans and fill one with water, one with the kibble. “I’ll be right back.” You carry the pans down the steps to next to the staircase away from the garage door and set them down. “Dinner!” you sing, and before you can say the second syllable they are in view. You kneel down, lightly petting them as they eat. They are used to you now, and pay no attention to your touch.

Suddenly, one of the males hiss.

You gasp and stand up quickly, never seeing it behave like that. “Gus?” You say and back a step—right into Archer.

“Feeding strays?” Archer asks, putting a garbage bag in the can.

You spin around, now facing him and hoping he’ll leave the cats alone. “Yes, Stella and I have been for some time now.”

Archer sees Henry’s car. “You brought him here?”

“You’re here,” you point out. “You and your brother have a place in town.”

“So…you’re going public?”

You blink. “That’s really none of your business, Archer.”

“Do you think he is really going to fall in with you?”

“Archer, he is the guy from London I met!”

Archer’s eyes widen. “It was him?”

“Yes,” you nod. “I told Stella he was a lookalike, but it was him.”

“His idea?”

“No,” you admit. “but he did invite me to the challenge, if you must know.”

“Can’t you see he’s using you?”

“Can’ you see you’re jealous?”

“Sweetheart?”

You look up and see Henry coming down the steps. “Henry—”

Henry’s eyes lock on Archer’s. “Everything alright?”

You put your hands on Henry’s chest, trying to push him back. “Yes, everything’s—”

“Archer?”

“Fine, fine,” Archer said. Just as you get Henry to the bottom step, he murmurs, “Well off, all mouth, no trousers.”

Henry spins around you and faces Archer. “What did you say?”

“Well-off, all mouth, no trousers.” Archer bit out every syllable, facing Henry.

“One could say the same about you.”

“Henry!” you plead.

“Five minutes, backyard?” Archer asks.

“Five minutes,” Henry agrees.

Archer spins on his heel and goes back into the house.

You follow Henry to his car and he pulls out his gym bag. “Henry?” He goes up the steps and back into your apartment. “Henry!”

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry!” Henry shakes his head as he kicks off his shoes and pulls out his gym shoes. He pulls his sweater off, revealing a tight t-shirt. “I’ve had it with that guy.”

“You’re not going to do this,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s the beer, right?”

“I’m not drunk!” He is annoyed. “Do you want him?”

“What?!”

“Are you playing at something?”

“God, Henry, no!�� you can’t believe he asked that. “I lo-loathe the idea of you being hurt.” You drop your gaze, unbelieving that you almost let the biggest cat out of the bag in your life, the lion out of its cage. Confessing your feelings could send him packing.

He tilts your chin up, his anger completely gone, a small smile its place. “I…loathe the idea of you being hurt, too.” He turns to you, and holds you by your shoulders. “Let me tell you something, love. Sometimes, words aren’t enough. Sometimes a man just has to be a bit primal to get his point across.”

“Henry—” you are cut off as he draws you to him, your body crashing into his.

“You’re mine,” he says in a low voice.

You gasp softly, not only at the words, but the ferocity behind them, the sight of his eyes looking almost gray in the moonlight from the kitchen window, the fact that he passionately drew you to him and it was a painless collision.

“You’re mine. He can’t have you. I saw you first. I will not relinquish my claim. It’s that simple.”

You blink at him, the set of his jaw. “Don’t send him to the hospital. Hard to explain.”

He chuckles as that. “I will try not to.”

You watch Henry walk out, and you follow quietly. He grew up in a house with four brothers, three being older. He suffered bullying in prep school. He has had to learn fighting sequences and disciplines for movies and studies jiu-jitsu.

And Archer was an amateur boxer?

This is going to get good and bad at the same time.

You walk after Henry down the steps and find that half the house is home…on a Friday night, no less! You’d hoped most had gone to the pub in town, but it’s possible that texts were sent and calls were made, even in five minutes. It is turning dusk, two of the SUVs are parked in such a way to illuminate the back area of the house, which had no light.

“I’ll be damned, you came!” Archer tries to goad Henry, but that wasn’t going to work.

Henry says nothing, and steps into the lit area. His stare is penetrating, not leaving Archer for a second.

“What’s going on?” one of the crew asks.

“An experiment,” you say. “Jiu Jitsu versus Boxing.”

“Do we have time for bets?”

“I said this is an experiment not a pay per view!” You answer.

Stella grabs your hand, her eyes full of concern and whispers. “This is more than just an experiment, isn’t it?”

You only stare ahead.

Archer and Henry start circling each other. The crew is split on who to cheer for-Henry or Archer.

“Knock him out, Archer!”

“Let’s go, Henry!”

Archer moves in and lunges. Henry push kicks him back.

“Oooh.” The crowd says.

Archer tries to kick, but Henry deflects his leg with a downward block, pushing Archer back and down.

“Aw, let’s go, let’s go!” someone claps.

Archer charges again, and Henry catches the arm with both hands, pulling Archer to the ground. Archer slides on the grass, keeping his head up so he isn’t face down. He rolls to his back and jumps up into a standing position.

“Oh!”

“Awww!”

“You dodging me, Cavill?” Archer taunts.

“Right here,” Henry growls softly.

Archer strides to him and Henry doesn’t move, but puts up his fists. Archer starts trying to deliver punches, but Henry blocks them. When Archer tries to do a cross, Henry slips under and delivers an upper cut, causing him to stumble back. Henry tries to attack with a cross, but Archer punches his kidneys and Henry flinches. Archer upper cuts and clips his chin.

“Oh, got ‘em there!”

You gasp, covering your mouth. You don’t want to make a sound unless it’s positive. Stella squeezes your hand.

Henry straightens and regains his stance. Archer comes at him again and tries to get him to open up his defenses with a couple of jabs but Henry grabs his wrist and takes a step back, lifting Archer at the waist and throwing him to the ground. “Stay down.”

“Fuck you!” Archer says, going into a football stance. He charges for Henry and misses like a bull in an arena.

Henry stands at the ready as Archer charges again, but this time turns aside and grabs the back of Archer’s neck and bounces his head off the top of an SUV, dazing him. When Archer stumbles back, Henry takes him to the ground and tangles his arms around Archer’s arm, pulling it, and wraps his legs around his one, stretching Archer’s smaller body. Archer yells in pain not wanting to give in. You “Come on!” Henry roars.

Archer taps and Henry rolls to his feet. Hannah rushes to Archer’s side to help him up and he waves her away, wanting to get up on his own steam. Everyone starts clapping and talking, the excitement over.

You are mortified to see money exchange between crew members. How did this become a pay per view-a fucking betting game-so quickly?

People try to congratulate Henry, but his look says he wants none though he nods in thanks. He is watching and waiting for Archer.

Archer walks over and shakes Henry’s hand, and the crew claps and cheers. He pulls Henry close and whispers something in his ear.

“I know,” Henry nods. He takes your hand and leads you back inside.

You stand there looking up at him. His eyes are intense and are watching your every move. You’re breathing hard and you don’t know why. You touch his face, and turn it. You see a bruise starting at his chin and he has a little blood coming from his mouth. You gently remove his shirt and see bruises forming on his torso from the body punches and being pushed into the SUV.

“It’s not bad. Tournaments have been worse.” He kicks off his shoes.

You rush to the kitchen and get ice, putting it in a plastic bag and then wrapping it in a towel, then apply it to his face. You have no idea what to say. You feel bad about it. Now you just hope it’s over.

“I’ve never fought for a woman before,” he says softly. He seems in deep thought.

“I’m sorry-“ Your breath hitches as he grabs your wrist while icing his jaw.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he whispers, kissing it and taking the ice out of your hand. He brushes his lips along your inner wrist, starting a trail of goosebumps that travel up your arm.

You recognize the look in his eyes and your entire body is awash with heated awareness. He pulls you close, his hands aligning your hips with his as he brushes his lips against your neck and ear over and over again. He starts guiding you toward the couch step by step. You hear him inhale. “Henry?”

“You smell nice,” his voice vibrates against you as his hands travel under your top. He pulls it over your head and off, then drops it on the floor. His hands smooth over your bare arms and then come up your back which enables him to unfasten your bra, and then slide over your shoulders. “Soft.”

Your heart skips and your mind goes blank. You’re suddenly nervous. You sit on the couch, having nowhere else to go, and he kneels before you, pushing your legs apart. His hands move over your shoulders to take off the bra. He returns to your breasts, cupping as if weighing them. He kisses your neck and you squirm at the heat of his lips against your jugular, gasp when his tongue traces your pulse down to your collarbone. He leans forward, pushing you back and puts his hands at the small of your back, pulling your leggings and underwear down and off. You raise your hips and his attention falls between your legs, looking at how the position puts you in one of offering. You are nude before him as his hands slide up the outside of your legs to your hips again, dragging you to the edge of the couch and resting your thighs on his shoulders as he sucks on your outer lips.

You cry out and arch, then feel your body go lax only to do it again as his tongue surges and lashes within your folds. You begin to writhe as he sharpens a need that goes so much deeper than he can go at this position. Your hands rest on the back of his head as your hips rise off the edge of the couch, offering and demanding more, and he moans in response, still lapping at what he has drawn from you.

He rises coming forward on the couch and hooks your knees over his shoulder, leaving you vulnerable and open, then thrusts into you to the hilt in one movement. A kitten cry comes from you, being filled and stretched so quickly, but you exhale with relief, the fullness making you pulse around him, making him throb inside you. He stills for few moments and starts to slowly move in and out of you; for a moment you could swear your hearts are beating together.

His rhythm quickens and you gasp his name. You can’t move, the position and hold he has you in does not permit it. He is taking you-maybe even claiming you after what has happened-so this time, you just take it…gladly.

You arch, your hips coming off the couch as you cry his name, climaxing around him. He holds your legs tight, and licks his lips, slowing for a moment, but keeps going. With no reprieve, you are panting now, your head rocking side to side. Your body is coming apart and coming together around him at once.

“Henry!”

His eyes close and he bites his bottom lip as you feel him swell within you. You think he is about to climax, but then his eyes open as he slows. He is determined to keep going. His eyes looking as dark as a stormy sea, he increases the intensity, still holding onto your legs with one arm, but now his other hand is at your hip, guiding you onto him as you squirm, your nerves becoming a bit raw, your senses tuned into him-his eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, the flexing of his arms as he holds you in a position of submission, the softness of hair that surrounds a hardness that is claiming you over and over, a combination of a naturally male essence that is his own. You are his own.

A scream tears from your throat, and you start to tremble. You feel liquid heat inside you, and you know it isn’t you. He pounds slow and hard, panting and growling over you, and you are able to loosen one leg and put it on his other shoulder. He smirks, letting your legs down around his waist to kiss you, and then lifts you off the couch, still kissing you, still pulsating inside you, and now his arms keep you wrapped around him as you move to the bed.

He crashes onto the bed with you beneath him and you are in heaven. Feeling him so deep inside you, being completely surrounded by his scent, rubbing your cheek against his, tears spring to your eyes. “I’m not moving.” He breathes.

Thanking the technology of the depo-provera, you giggle, your limbs wrapping around him. “Nobody is telling you to.”

He rotates his hips, and you gasp at the how good it feels. “Neither are you.”

Thanks, followers! Tagmates Please DM for tag and please confirm that it’s spelled correctly. TO ALL: As always I welcome comments! Thanks.

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomniacbookgirl @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @kinbhot4henners @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @michelehansel @tumblnewby @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @mrskikkirazz @daydreamin83 @musicartmayheminmyheart @mis-lil-red @kaatelyynn @forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @messyinsomnimaniac @mary-ann84 @radofrivia @henryobsessed @rn7rocks @liquorlaughslove

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #geraltedit #the witcher #superman #sherlock #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you

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beckzorz · 4 years

Text

At Kimberly’s Door (one-shot)

Pairing, Words: Bucky Barnes/Reader, 2.4k Prompt/Warnings: Bucky Barnes finally reaches out. A/N: Written by a prompt from @randomfandompenguin for extended Drunk Drabbles with @the-ss-horniest-book-club! As usual, it got a bit long ;-) Thanks to @jewels2876 for her readthrough! Hope you enjoy!

The internet’s a dangerous place.

With a few clicks—at least, a few clicks for Bucky—he knows his great-niece’s favorite cereal, her shoe size, her bra size, her favorite shows, the concert she was at last Thursday. Her phone number, the type of phone she has, how much she pays for internet and electricity every month month. The electric bill goes up in the summer, apparently.

Oh, of course, Air conditioning.

Her address, let alone her face, is nothing.

Less than four hours after arriving in New York, Bucky is at Kimberly’s door.

He’d’ve started with his Rebecca, but her address… isn’t one he wants to go to alone. Kimberly’s closest to the airport, and from her search history Bucky knows she’s looked into him.

Wondering, probably, where he is.

He doesn’t know if she’s hoping he comes—or stays away.

The younger generation seems less bothered, at this point. So… it’s worth a try.

Kimberly lives in an tall house with four apartments. He can hear music and giggling from the open window on the second floor—her floor. Is that her laugh? It’s a nice laugh.

Bucky steels himself and rings once, holding the doorbell down a second longer than necessary.

Feet pound down unseen stairs, and the door yanks open, and—

It’s not Kimberly.

Bucky’s shoulders sag in the split second before he recognizes your face. You—you’re a frequent guest star in Kimberly’s photos, not just this year but years past, for a decade if nothing. He’d liked your face then, and he likes it better now, or he would, if he wasn’t choked up on his own nerves.

You’re smiling, inviting, but he can’t think of the words.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

Bucky clears his throat. That had been you laughing, not Kimberly. Nerves be damned, he does like your face. Likes the sound of your voice, your eyes, your smile… He clears his throat again.

“Is Kimberly home?”

You open your mouth, then your eyebrows draw together in a frown. You look at him, tilt your head to the side, and—

“Oh my gosh!”

You reach for him, and Bucky’s eyes widen in shock and a split-second of hope before you pull your hand away, covering your mouth with wonder all over your face. “Sorry, sorry,” you blurt, and glance back at the stairs up. “She’s not home, but she should be soon. Let me—give me a minute, would you? And please don’t run off.”

Bucky nods. He can’t say no. How could he say no? Refuse you? Refuse you? He couldn’t.

You run back upstairs, loud and quick, the front door still open. Through the window, he can hear you ushering people out, using all the right words to make your friends do your bidding. Clever and kind, suggestive and loving—it’s like he’s fallen through the looking glass, away from worry and nerves. It’s like all that wonder that had been on your face has trapped him, and he can’t bear to think he might ever be released.

Soon enough a gaggle of young women trickle by, eyeing him curiously. You’re last down, but you stop halfway.

“Come in, come in,” you call, and rush back up.

Bucky lets out a breath between his teeth. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this was not it. Kimberly, anxious or eager or furious—that’s what he was expecting. Not a stranger whose very manner is an invitation, whose whole self is a beacon.

He heads inside slowly, closing the door behind him—the knob locks automatically, at least—and staring up after you.

You’re a witch. You’ve got to be. He doesn’t even have the wherewithal to check if he’s being followed, let alone watched. He wasn’t before he knocked, but who knows now? Certainly not him.

The entryway is dark, but once he’s out of it, the whole place is light and cheery. Art and posters on the walls that he can see at a glance were chosen by at least two different people, fairy lights strung up in the wide open doorway between the living room and kitchen, colorful dishes and furniture.

“Kim should be home in, like, twenty minutes,” you tell him, passing by with five cups balanced between your two hands. “You can sit down, I’m just putting all this away.”

“I’ll help.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

But he’s already got all the plates stacked and the orange juice—he takes a subtle sniff, not orange juice, mimosa—pitcher in hand. If he helps, maybe you’ll sit with him. Talk to him. Soothe him, now the nerves are back. Being in his great-niece’s home brings it all back. Had his sister come here? Did she climb those stairs, drink from these cups, sit on that couch? Can she even walk or drink on her own?

Have you seen his sister?

Bucky hands you the plates and pitcher, drinking in your face.

“Thanks,” you murmur, and turn away quickly, setting it all down.

No, crap—he didn’t mean to—

But you turn back, expression gentle even with your brow slightly furrowed. You wipe your hands absently against your hips. “That’s good enough for now. I should… call Kim.”

Bucky swallows. “Yeah,” he rasps. He clears his throat. “Okay.”

He lets you guide him to the living room and into a chintzy chair. You don’t linger, but he can hear the phone ringing from his spot even when you settle against the kitchen counter, watching him as he watches you. There’s still wonder in your eyes, even clouded as it is with concern. Are you worried? Is he making you worried? Are you worried about Kim? Worried for her?

Impossible to tell, impossible to look away. Those two and a half rings stretch into an eternity, and when Kim picks up you both flinch.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kim says. She’s a little out of breath, like she’s rushing.

You look away from Bucky. “Are you on your way home yet?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got… a visitor.”

“Who?”

You look back at Bucky, expectant, worried still, and he realizes he’s never so much as introduced himself.

“Bucky,” he mouths.

“Bucky,” you repeat, so soft and tenderly that his breath catches in his throat.

“Oh my god,” Kim says. “He’s there? He’s really there?”

“He’s here,” you tell her, but you’re still gazing at him. “He’s here.”

—

“Back when we were in college, I went to her for Thanksgiving. I’m not from around here, but I couldn’t go home, so Kim said I could come with her.”

You’re sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the couch opposite Bucky, telling him about his own sister. It’s a strange feeling, like you’ve met someone at a funeral and you’re swapping stories—but Aunt Rebecca is still alive. Still sometimes herself, even.

Sometimes.

But beyond all that, beyond Aunt Rebecca and the bizarre fact that her brother, a hundred years old, practically, looks only a bit older than you and as perfect as any human has a right to be. And… he’s not scary. You hadn’t known what to expect, but from the moment you knew it was him—you weren’t afraid.

But it’s not just a lack of fear. It’s… the presence of something else. Not comfort, not exactly. He’s a stranger, for heaven’s sake! A stranger and a… a… not a celebrity, that’s not right, but he’s world-famous at this point. Yet he’s sitting in a chintzy chair, basking in your words with a rapt look on his face. He’s looking at you like you’ve got the moon and stars in your eyes—but you can’t blame him. You must be the first one who’s spoken to him about Rebecca firsthand in far too many years.

That’s got to be it.

You don’t dare let yourself think it’s anything else.

“When did you last see her?” Bucky asks.

“A couple months ago, for the holidays. Kim brought me along to the family shindig.” You smile sadly. “That was the first time she didn’t always recognize Kim.”

He opens his mouth, blue eyes wide, but before he can speak, you can hear Kim pounding up the stairs. You surge to your feet, clasping your hands together, still looking at Bucky as Kim works her key into the lock. He stands slowly and swallows.

“I—”

Kim bursts in, sees Bucky, and bursts into tears.

You leave them to it, not daring to look back.

They’re family. You’re not.

Simple as that.

—

Later, sprawled on Kim’s bed, you hear about their visit to Aunt Rebecca. A happy reunion, if sad for Bucky, Kim says.

“But he handled it really well,” she continues. “I swear, he’s more well-adjusted than anyone else in the family.”

“He seemed it.” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “I think it’s easier to seem normal around people you don’t know, though. Hopefully it holds up long-term,” you tease.

“Ha ha,” Kim deadpans. She nudges your thigh with her foot. “Careful, wouldn’t want to spoil his good opinion of you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh please, Kim.”

“I’m serious! He said you were wonderful.” She nudges your thigh again. “Which I already knew, but it’s still nice when other people validate my opinions.”

“But did you think you were wonderful?”

Kim laughs, you laugh, but as you tuck yourself in, you wonder.

—

You don’t have to wonder long.

Two days later, your doorbell rings in the hour when you’re home and Kim’s not. This time, you’re home alone, just you and the cars honking down the block, the wind rustling the shades, the kettle rumbling as it heats to a boil.

And the doorbell.

That same ring, a touch longer than you expect.

You set your phone down on the kitchen counter slowly while your heart pounds like a baby rabbit’s. Is he back so soon? You only just got home ten minutes ago; Kim won’t be back for nearly an hour.

If it’s even him.

It couldn’t be him.

But it is.

Bucky Barnes stands at your door, a wrapped bouquet of flowers clenched at his side. He’s dressed nondescriptly, boots and jeans and a jacket, but there’s nothing nondescript about him. Not him, or his hopeful little smile, or his beautiful blue eyes.

You swallow. “Hello…?”

“I wanted to thank you for the other day,” he says, holding out the bouquet. You take it, speechless, as he goes on, his cheeks tinged pink. “I didn’t know what to expect when I came here, but you’re just what I needed.”

Your smile is automatic, but his words are a punch in the gut. You knew he didn’t mean to look like he was worshipping you with his eyes, but the blatant truth in his past tense hurts. “I’m glad. I can’t imagine going through that. I’m glad I could help. If I helped.”

“You did,” Bucky insists, stepping closer.

You’re breathless. He’s close, too close, so close that if you leaned forward you could touch him. You could kiss him, if you dared. But you don’t dare. The bouquet is a barrier, at least, from letting him come any closer.

“I’m glad.”

It’s the only thing you can say, and Bucky sighs. He runs a hand through his dark hair, making it stick up on end, and looks everywhere but you.

“Look, I didn’t expect to meet you, but now that I have, I can’t not do anything about it.” He takes a deep breath and looks back up. His eyes are bright, dark, determined. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Your jaw drops. If you didn’t have tendons, it’d be on the floor. “Dinner? You want to take me to dinner?”

Bucky shifts his weight, cheeks nearly red now. “It’s crazy, I know. You’re Kim’s roommate, it could get awkward, I know. But you’re somethin’ special. I can’t pass that up. Pass you up.”

“I hadn’t even gotten past the fact that you want to take me out to dinner!” You’re grinning so hard your cheeks are already starting to hurt.

Bucky chuckles, scratches the back of his neck. “So… will you? Tonight?”

“Tonight?” You glance down at your outfit. Nice, presentable, no more flashy than his.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and you catch his eye. “You look amazing.”

He’s entirely serious, and by the time you can speak again, you’re entirely serious too.

“Did you talk to Kim about it?”

Bucky blushes all over again.

“Yeah, a bit. She doesn’t mind.”

One of your neighbors comes into view, and you realize how long you’ve been standing at the door with Bucky outside.

“Come inside.” You tuck your hand around his elbow and nudge him upstairs; watching him go up ahead of you is a marvelous view. But when you shut the door and turn to face him, he’s close again, and the bouquet is out of your hand, abandoned on the counter.

Bucky cups your face, his eyes as full of wonder as the other day. You’re putty in his hands, gazing up at him, lips barely parted and your heart pounding all to pieces.

“Can I?” he breathes.

You turn your head just enough to kiss the inside of his wrist, not taking your eyes from his. “Yes.”

—

“Ahem.”

You leap off Bucky’s lap, horrified, but Kim’s snickering.

“Damn, Bucky, you waste no time! What happened to dinner?”

“Dinner is now,” Bucky says firmly. He stands up and grabs your hand—a perfect fit. “See you later, Kim.”

“Bring her home in one piece,” Kim says. To you, she gives a gentler smile. “I have no idea what’s going to happen, but if I got to get a new family member right now, I’d sure as hell want it to be you.” She gives you a hug and shoves you both of the door.

Downstairs, outside, under the tree by your front door, Bucky holds you tight as you tremble from Kim’s words.

“Do you know,” he says quietly, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen either, but I know one thing.”

You pull back enough to look at him. “Oh?”

“Kim’s right. You’re a keeper.”

Bucky kisses you under the leaves and the wires and the cloudy sky, the world spinning but for you, in that moment, it’s totally still.

No one knows what might happen, least of all you, but here, in Bucky’s arms, you think that maybe, just maybe, it might be a happy ending after all.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes

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dalamjisung · 4 years

Text

picture it ❊ kim taehyung

word count: 4905

genre: fluff

pairing: reader x kim taehyung

description: he could practically picture your future together... and you could write it.

You write about him everyday.

Not in a creepy way, though, but in a very separated, utopian way. Idealized, if you must. The problem isn’t you, and you are sure it also isn’t him, but the conditions– the situation. Every morning, before class, and surely before work, you head to the same small coffee shop, where your best friend works and where you have an honorary table, right in the left corner, next to the big window; this way you can both do your work and get distracted as people run by you without even noticing.

You think it is about four months after your friend started that he began showing up, first as a client, then as a barista. His ascend to fame followed quickly after; the cute guy that made the disastrous latter art. You think that’s what started this thing of yours– the writing; the moment he gave you your latte, boxy smile in place, and something that resembled a dying cat on top of your coffee. You chuckle, captivated by the pride shinning in his eyes. You write about that moment, later.

“First coffee that I didn’t spill,” He says, looking a bit embarrassed still.

“Congratulations,” You tell him, and it’s sincere. He should be proud of his work, even though you are now rethinking if it ever was a dying cat or if it’s just a very deformed smiley face.

You sit on your usual table and pull out your books, ready to start studying for the upcoming biology test. But then you hear it– a symphony of crashing ceramic and startled screams coming from the back. His laugh covers the noise as best as it can, but what’s done is done, and the very next day the boy is demoted back to his position as a mere customer.

He stands in front of you, ordering his coffee, while struggling to hold all of his materials– paint, camera, computer. The heavy objects weight him down enough that he can’t really move a finger to reach for his waller, or else everything would come crashing down, much like the day before.

“Just… just a s-second,” He says grunting with tired arms. “I can’t–“

“I’ll pay for him,” You smile at your friend, giving her your card. “And my usual, please.”

“Gotcha,” She winks and quickly moves, getting better and better at her job by the day.

“Thank you,” He sighs, now using a knee to help with the wright of his things, but struggling with balance. “I just… argh!”

His camera slips and you catch it just as it is about to shatter on the floor.

“Why don’t you go and put your things down on a table?” You say, laughing a bit. “I’ll take your coffee to you.”

“Uh… about that,” He smiles again, that same boxy smile as before. “There are no tables available.”

You look around, only now noticing how full the place is. “My table is right there,” You point to your backpack. “We can share, if that’s okay with you.”

“Thanks, Y/N!” He exclaims, and you are surprised that he knows your name. “Thanks a lot!”

When you take the beverages to the table, you’ve had enough time to build up courage. “So… how’d you know my name?”

“Your friend,” He points to the counter, without raising his eyes from his computer. “Talks about you all the time. Pointed you out to me once and told me exactly how you like your coffee.”

“Ah, I see,” You nod. “And what is your name, then?”

“Ah! Sorry,” He scratches his head. “My name is Kim Taehyung. I’m in the Visual Arts department.”

“That’s why I’ve never seen you around before,” You say. “I’m in the Biology department.”

“Biology?” He frowns. “I thought you were in the Literature department… you are always writing something on your computer, or reading a new book.”

You raise your brows.

“And how would you know that?”

“I notice you,” He says with not even an ounce of shame. “You come here everyday. So do I. It’s only natural.”

“Of course,” You chuckle, opening your book. “Only natural.”

——————————

After that small interaction, given that you two didn’t talk for the rest of the day while sharing a table, it is almost like Taehyung is suddenly everywhere. So of course, it is only nature, following his train of thought, that you’d start noticing him, too.

In the bowling alley, giving people their shoes, and then a month later with his friends renting a lane.

Then the bistro nearby campus, busting tables, and then a couple of weeks later on a date with a girl.

The bookstore close to your dorm is the place place you see him working, and you think it lasts a few months, since the opportunities for weird and extreme incidents are minimum. You first find out when you have to get a new textbook for your anatomy class, and as always, the professor put some on reserve, at the bookstore.

“You again.”

You look at him, behind the counter with his black rimmed glasses and boxy smile. His hair is longer now, even darker, and the ends that meet his cheeks and neck curve upwards. You don’t even try to deny his attractiveness, but there is something about Kim Taehyung that intrigues you more than draws you to him– maybe the clumsiness, or the boxy smile, or even the alienated personality; you are not sure, but you are willing to find out.

“Me again,” You smile wide. “You work here now?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles. “After getting fired from the coffee shop, the bowling alley, and the bistro, this was pretty much the only place that would take me in. All I have to do is stand behind the counter and put the money in the register… easy enough.”

“Well, can you also help me find a book I need for class?”

“Sure,” He nods. “Biology, right?”

“Ah, you remember,” You tease.

“Hard to forget when you are everywhere,” He rolls his eyes. “Human Anatomy?”

“Yes,” You look at his computer screen, making sure it is the right one. “That one.”

“Be right back.”

Taehyung disappears in the back and you hear a few thumps here and there, and maybe even a pained moan, but you let it slide. It is better to have books falling on him than sharp shreds of glass, you think, but why do you care?

“Here you go, Y/N,” He sighs, hair messy and, surprisingly, no smile. “That’ll be $67– $67?! Holy shit! That’s so expensive! Wah… no fucking way!”

And there he is… Kim Taehyung in the flesh.

“Unfortunately textbooks are always around that price,” You groan, pulling your debit card out of your wallet. “Here you go. Take my money.”

“Now I feel bad about this…” He pouts, but charges you nonetheless. “They told me to always thanks the costumer after a sale, but wow, I don’t think I can thank you for this… I feel like I just personally bankrupted you.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” You wink, grabbing your stuff. “This textbook just means that I’ll have to cut down on the coffee for a week or so. I’ll be okay.”

Just as you are turning around to leave, he calls you back.

“Or!” He shouts, and instantly blushes as your wide eyes meet his. “Or… or, you know, I could… I c-could buy you coffee. If that’s okay with you. And you want it. Coffee, I mean.”

“Coffee,” You echo, holding in your laughter. “Sure. I’d love coffee.”

“Awesome!” Boxy smile is back. “Tomorrow, then? Let’s say around 10AM?”

“Perfect,” You wave. “See you then, Taehyung.”

“Call me Tae!”

With that, you go home happy and giggly. You were getting coffee tomorrow, and you’re writing today.

——————————

“This is not charity, Miss,” He teases, before giving the drink over to you. Looming the cup in front of you, close enough that you could smell it, he continues. “I want a favor, actually.”

“And here I thought this was out of your pure and innocent heart,” You sigh, joking along with him. “Do tell, Mister, what could a humble peasant like me offer you?”

Trying to hide his smile, Taehyung sips his drink, eyes locked on yours, and you have to cross your legs, a but uncomfortable with how quickly your body reacted under his hungry eyes.

“In case you haven’t figured out yet,” Tae says and leans forward, holding his face with his elbows on his knees. “I’m a photographer. And every photographer needs a… muse. I want you to be mine.”

Choking slightly on your drink, you look at him, alarmed. “Muse? You want me as a model?”

“Please, Y/N,” Every single ounce of his sexy, mysterious façade is gone and he pouts, lips jutting forward in the cutest way possible. Makes you want to kiss them. “I desperately need a model for my portfolio, and I’m running out of time. I don’t have the money to hire a professional model, even though I tried to get it with the jobs and all, but… it’s impossible; I’m useless and got fired from all of them.”

You notice a bit of anger in his voice and tension on his shoulders and you can’t help but wonder what this happy, giddy boy hides behind laughter and playful remarks.

“Okay,” You nod, breathless with impulsivity. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’m sorry if I suck, though, but I’ll do my best to help.”

“Really?!” He smiles to wide that you just have to smile, too. “Oh my god, thank you so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it! Coffee on me, anytime you want it during a photoshoot, okay? Anytime!”

“Sounds perfect,” You say and point at his phone. “Would you mind if I gave you my number? I think that would be the easiest way for us to schedule everything.”

“Oh, y-yeah,” He also grabs your phone. “G-good idea.”

It is settled, then. You would model for Taehyung, and he would repay you with coffee, even though later you tried to make him give up on that idea, uncomfortable to have him paying for your coffee when you can do it yourself.

“No way,” He shakes his head and as fluffy as his hair is, it doesn’t distract you from what’s important at the moment. “I’d feel terrible having you do it for free, so the least I can do it feed your caffeine addiction.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” You deadpan, stopping in front of your dorm. “Anyways, thanks for walking me back… It got pretty dark, are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yeah, I live just a couple of blocks from here,” He looks tired; eyes sunken, with dark circle underneath them. He still looks beautiful, though. “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

“Please do,” You wave. “Be safe!”

“Yes, mom!”

Going inside, you rethink your decision; maybe this isn’t right for you. Modeling? You have no experience, or comfort, for that matter, in front of a camera. Usually you are the one in the backstage of everything, hiding behind a computer and a username so that you can post your stories online. What if you suck at it? What if because of you his portfolio ends up incomplete and improper? Modeling is a career and you are just not fit for it… but it’s a deal. You’ll have to pull through, and you only have one shot at it– so you better give it your all.

You ignore your roommate in the kitchen, and run straight to your room, calling the only person you can think of to help you in this desperate situation.

“Mom,” You breath out, glad that she picked up. From the looks of it, she had just gotten home from work, her face still covered in professional makeup. “I need your help.”

“Hi, my love,” She smiles and you just love how different this smile looks from the ones you see in the magazines. “What’s up?”

You explain everything; from how you met Taehyung, to how you started talking, to how you ended up agreeing to be his model. Her happiness is visible, and you are sure she is extremely excited about you trying out her profession.

“Ah, I like this boy, already,” She jokes. “He sees just how beautiful you are; like a model!” “I’m not you mom,” You sigh. “I’m not an international supermodel that is natural and cheerful and good at modeling.”

“But I can teach you a few things so that the camera doesn’t scare you,” She explains. “It scares me, too, baby. It’s not that easy…”

“I know, I know,” Taking a deep breath, you focus. “Teach me what I need to know.”

For hours, you work with your mom on posing, and relaxing, and focusing. She tells you about different photo feelings, and different lightening, and how the right tilt of your head, or look in your eyes is enough to dictate the mood of the picture.

“It’s getting late, Y/N,” Your mom yawns. “You should rest. I’m sure you’ll do great when it’s time.”

“Thanks mom,” You smile, eyes dropping with tiredness. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” And then she hangs up.

I can do this. I can help him.

——————————

It is around a week later that he calls you, in the morning, on a Saturday.

“Hey!” You groan in response. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Photoshoot!” He practically shouts in your ear. “Now! The sun is perfect and we’ll get an amazing natural light.”

“Tae, why didn’t you text me about this yesterday?!” You cry out, running to your closet in look of anything decent to wear. “I just woke up! I look like a zombie!”

“You look beautiful all the time,” He chuckles. “Now get dressed and come down; and don’t worry about hair and makeup, my friend will help us with that.”

You are not sure what he means with that but follows his instructions nonetheless. In five minutes, you are downstairs in sweatpants and ponytail, ready to face what you are sure will be your biggest challenge so far.

“Y/N!” Taehyung is excited when he spots you; waving frantically and smiling wide. “Right here!”

Next to him there are two guys.

“These are my friends,” He introduces. “Jin-hyung and Jimin-ah!”

You feel a bit intimidated now, staring next to three incredibly handsome men and literally looking like you just rolled out of bed.

“Nice to meet you,” You try out, smiling shyly. “I’m Y/N.”

“Wah,” Jin sighs, looking you up and down. “She really is just like you said, Taehyung-ah… beautiful. I am confident that I chose the right outfits for you.”

You blush.

“Ignore him,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Hyung is a huge flirt. I’ll be in charge of makeup, by the way. I can run some ideas by you, if you’d like.”

You four talk all the way to the park, where Tae wanted to start the day– after some coffee, of course. You get dressed in the public bathroom nearby and your makeup is quick and natural. As Jin sets everything up and Jimin tries to find some flowers for your hair, you pull Taehyung aside.

“Why me?!” You whisper, panic in your eyes. “Tae, look at your friends! They were born models!”

“Them?” He frowns. “Yeah, they’re pretty. But you’re different.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve observed you for months, Y/N,” He chuckles, cheeks getting redder by the second. “Trust me when I say you are exactly what I need.”

“Tae–“

“Let’s go!” Jimin shouts. “Everything is ready.”

It’s time. You take a deep breath, and close your eyes, thinking about all the tips and lessons your mom gave you for the past week; mood, pose, focus. You can do this. You have to do this.

“Let’s give it a try,” You sigh. “If I do anything wrong, let me know.”

Taehyung just winks at you, and the shoot starts. More than just guiding you, his voice starts to calm you done; the low baritone of his natural tone starting to sooth your insides, and not log after you notice you are actually having fun with them. They ask you to do ridiculous poses and you follow, laughing as you can’t keep your balance, or as Jin makes another dad joke. For a second, you forget that Taehyung is behind a camera, capturing your every move, and you think that he is right next to you; hand in yours, smiling and giggling with you. You break away from your daydream soon enough, trying to memorize it all to heart– you just have to write about this after. Actually, you are pretty sure you have, and all that happiness before seeps away as you recall your words. You can just picture it…

Big hands meet small ones, swallowing them, protecting them. There is more to the boy than his hands, but these are the only thing she can feel, the only thing she can touch– they scream for reality, proving something she’s been looking for for months… sanity. He grounds her, and she allows him to fly. Seems fair.

This was the last thing you wrote about him, and you wonder why; why did you start? Continue? Would it end? Would you one day stop?

What hurts the most is not knowing that one day he’ll simply be a fictional character in your portfolio; what hurts the most is knowing that everything you wrote feels true. As you got to know Taehyung, you’ve learned that your character Taehyung and the real Taehyung are incredibly similar… but you can only have one.

“Let’s take a break!”

Jimin is the first one to disappear, talking to himself about ice cream or something of the sort. Jin is next, when he spots a group of girls by the pond looking and giggling at him. Tae, however, stays; and walks to where you sit, playing with the hem of your long dress.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” You mumble, feeling tired and, now, discouraged. “Did I mess up?”

“No,” He chuckles. “You are doing great, and acting borderline professionally, but then you just… got sad.”

You freeze. “I don’t–”

“Do you know why I thought you were perfect for this project?” You shake your head. “You wear your emotions on your face, Y/N. It’s been like that since I first saw you… you looked calm and relaxed and I could practically feel it, too. You are an open book, to me, at least, and I can ready you so, so easily. I wasn’t looking for shallow beauty; I was looking for emotion. Raw. And you are it.”

“Taehyung,” You gasp. “That’s–“

“What happened?” He asks again, this time turning to face you. “Why are you sad?”

“I write about you.”

It comes out like a confession and you suddenly feel guilty.

“I am taking a creative writing class and it was right when you started working at the cafe,” You hide your face in your hands. “And I saw you and you looked so happy, and so unique, and something about you just seemed surreal. So I started using you as a physical model. But then I got to know you, and oh god, Taehyung, stop laughing!”

You are stunned by the choked sound you hear coming from him and when you notice him trying to hold his laughter in, you whine, hitting him in the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” He raises his hands, openly laughing now, and trying to stop you from hitting him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but… I kind of knew.”

“What?” You shriek, distancing yourself away from him almost as if touching him burns your skin. “How?”

“Your friend told me,” He admits sheepishly. “I had to press her for it, though, so please don’t be angry at her…”

“Press her?”

“I noticed that every time you were writing you kept looking at me,” He shrugs, with his stupid smug smile on his face. “So I had a guess. She just confirmed it for me.”

“This is so embarrassing,” You whine, getting up. “I should probably go, if we’re done here, right? Right… are we done here?”

This time, he is the one that whines. “You promised I’d get to buy you coffee! Let’s go get coffee!”

“Taehyung,” You sigh. “I am mortified right now. I think I need–“

“Coffee,” He insists. “You just need coffee. What’s so wrong about writing about me, anyways? I felt pretty good, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” You deadpan. “I’m sure you did.”

——————————

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You look at the boy sitting in front of you and you frown a bit.

“Well, you did promise me coffee,” You joke, but something in his eyes tell you that there is more to what he means. “What’s up with you, now? Don’t act all smug about it, I know there is something bothering you.”

“How?”

“Eyes,” You point at your and the his. “Your look sad. You say I wear my emotions on my face, well, you wear yours on your eyes. ‘Fess up, kiddo. What’s going on?”

“My parents think I suck,” He groans, forehead hitting the table. “At photography, I mean. They are farmers and they don’t really understand why I would study something so risky. I understand their worries, but it sucks. I just needed their support, right now…”

“Why right now?”

“I’m on a scholarship,” He sighs, finally moving to look at you. “And my final portfolio will determine if the school will offer me the scholarship again next year or if it goes to someone else.”

You almost spit your coffee all over his pretty face.

“Taehyung!” You chastise him, frowning. “You should’ve hired a professional model!”

“I told you a tried!” He defends himself, throwing his head back in frustration. “Not that you didn’t do amazing today, by the way. You should totally start charging after this.”

“I don’t think I’ll follow this line of work,” You winced. “Too tiring. My mom is a model and she is always working late.”

“Who’s your mom?” He asks.

“Y/M/N Y/L/N,” You smile, proud. “I called her for tips on how to model. She was really happy I was doing this.”

“Ah, I see,” He chuckles. “You actually look a lot like her.”

“I do?” You are surprised, to say the least.

“Definitely,” He winks. “Beautiful, too.”

You roll your eyes, but that is not enough to hide the blush blooming in your cheeks.

“Focus on you,” You say, looking at his sigh. “Do you think you have a chance?”

“After what I saw today?” He breaths out, smile back. “Totally. There’s only one part missing, anyways. We got most of it today.”

“Which part?”

“Self-portrait,” He gulps. “And I have no fucking clue how I will do this.”

“What do you mean? That should be the easiest part!”

“No, it’s always the hardest for me,” His eyes are intense on yours. “I have too many people talking in my ear… Taehyung-ie this, Taehyung-ie that, such a smart boy, making such stupid choices. Ugh! I have no clue what to do because I think I have no real clue about who I think I am.”

Well, this took a turn. You aren’t expecting him to be so open, so real, but he is and you feel it– the butterflies in your stomach. You know you’re done for when he looks at you and you have to look away. Goddammit Y/N, you think. Why’d you have to start liking him now?

“Everyone that told me their opinions of me are incredibly biased,” He squints at you, almost as if he is deep in thought. “But you know who isn’t?”

You just shrug.

“You.”

“No.”

You know what he’s about to ask you. Or at least you have a hint, and you don’t think you’d ever be able to face him if you did.

“Y/N, please!” He whines. “I’m begging you! You wrote them before you got to know me, so I’m sure that will be the most honest opinion of myself I’ll ever get.”

“It’s called self-reflection, Tae,” You chuckle. “Not Y/N-reflection. You have to figure out for yourself, love.”

“But you can help me,” He whispers, and for a second everything stops; his eyes, so lost and desperate, find yours and nothing but him seems to exist. Here is this man– this beautiful man– asking for your help to find himself. “Please Y/N… help me.”

You let your head fall on the table with a soft thud.

“When you put it like that it makes it hard to say no,” You mumble.

“That’s the point,” He laughs, and when you raise your head he’s already walking to the door. “Let’s go to your dorm.”

——————————

You pace around nervously, bitting your finger nails as Taehyung is sitting on your bed, laptop in his lap. It takes him a long time– or at least you think it does,– but when he’s finished, he has a glint in his eyes, something that looks like… is he crying?

“Tae…” You call softly. “Are you okay?”

“I just,” He sighs, rubbing his eyes and chuckling to himself. “I just never heard things like these being said about me.”

“Tae, I didn’t know you back then,” You try to explain, afraid to have hurt the sensible man. “Right now, I think you are so much more.”

“More?” He asks, and now you know what shines in his eyes. “I can be more?”

Hope.

“You can be so much more, Kim Taehyung,” You move to sit next to him, legs touching and shoulders bumping. “You can be anything you want.”

“Y/N,” He whispers, and his voice sounds strangled, contained, somehow. “Y/N, thank you.”

“For what?” His hand finds yours and you hold your breath as it swallows yours. Your mind wonders to the words on your computer and you force yourself back to reality.

“For giving me space,” His fingers dance on your palm, caressing your skin as if it is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “For giving me hope. I’ve never felt this free before, and it’s all because of you.”

“Taehyung,” You smile, pulling him by the hand to look at you. “You’ve always been free. You just needed a push to fly.”

Nodding, your heads start to get closer and closer. With his hand in yours, warm and firm, he pulls you to him, lips finding yours with an unexpected hunger; a need beyond imagination. Beyond words. When the kiss deepens, you two are a mess of emotions; your body lays down and his follow suit, covering you and weighting you down, and you loved it. You could feel his presence, now; this is different then writing about him, then picturing him– this is real. This is warm, and desperate, and hungry, and caring. This is love at its rawest form.

This is us.

As his lips descend to your neck, you smile. Fingers in his hair and neck pull him back to you, mouth hot on yours, and you two talk without words; you see without pictures. It’s something that only you two understand, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Both of you are free.

Falling asleep comes easily after you two settle down, whispering secrets and wishes to each other, arms and legs tangled like vines. He tells you about his family and his grandmother, and how, one day, he wants to be a professional photographer, one that tells stories of feelings and emotions and places and people. In return, he learns about your passion for writing, and how unlike him, you gave into your parents pressure and decided to study biology instead, hoping to one day be a researcher.

“It’s a form of writing,” You shrug, scooting closer to him, loving the sensation of his soft curls tickling your forehead. “And I kind of like it.”

“That’s what matters,” He kisses you again and that is the last thing you remember before falling asleep.

When you wake up, Tae is trying to balance his camera on top of your dresser, pointing at the bed.

“What on earth are you doing?” You laugh at his wide eyes and messy hair. He’s still wearing yesterdays clothes and so are you, remembering the comfort of his arms being too much to even change.

“I had an idea for my self-portrait assignment,” He smiles, boxy, true, loving. “And I want you in it.”

“Me?” You frown, confused.

He walks to you, calm and confident, and kneels down in from of you, body in between your legs, chin on your stomach. He takes a deep breath, kissing all the way up to your mouth, where he spends some time exploring, imploring.

“I’ve never felt more myself then when I’m with you, Y/N,” He pulls away. “This is the best self-portrait I can have– you and me. I can just picture it, us, two, three years from now, looking back at them, remembering the night we truly met each other…”

You just smile.

“Will you do it?” He asks, holding you r face in between his hands. “Will you help me?”

“Always.”

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

And with this fic, I officially open my multi-fandom blog to BTS fics! Wohoo! Taehyung is my favorite boxy smile, omg. I am so happy with this fic, though, and there is nothing like the accomplishment feeling that comes after finishing a story. As always, please let me know what you guys think :) Comments, likes, and reblogs fuel creators to keep going... I have also linked a Ko-Fi button on my page! Don’t feel obligated, but all donations are appreciated <3 Love you all!

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morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy · 3 years

Note

All of them *^*

Heya Ash!! Oof you're giving me a project lol thank you so much for the ask!!!

1. How big is your mods folder?

That is a really great question. I couldn't tell you off the top of my head, but it got to the point where I had to put all my mods on a thumb drive and only move them around as I need them because I'm computer was running so terribly. So I'd say it's a lot 😅.

2. How would you describe your style?

Uh, I would say very graphic novel type vibes. I'm a huge graphic novel buff and the story I'm actually working on I intended to be a graphic novel, but it really got away from me and is much too big for that now (not a brag, just my legitimate crack head antics) so when I got into Sims editing the thought was always to kind of keep the drawn/comicbook-y feel to it.

3. What is your favorite challenge?

Thus far it's been the stereotype challenge ! It was a lot of fun and I got to do it with four of my OCs who ended up fitting the criteria pretty well! I just think it came out really well both as an edit and as my OCs.

4. Do you make CC?

Aahahaahahahhaahahaah!!!!!! No. I tried to make poses one time! One singular time and it ended so poorly that I decided to swear off making anymore off my own CC for the distant future. Maybe I'll try it again, maybe I'm scarred for life, only time can tell!

5. What type of CC do you hoard?

I had answered this one before, but I FUCKING LOVE POSES!!!! And like I said I didn't have the best experience making my own so I prefer to use downloaded ones. But I never really clean out my poses in case I need them for something else! So my pose folder is astronomical at this point.

6. What default eyes and skin do you use?

You know.... This really is a question I should have the answer to but I'm totally drawing a blank right now so I'll go ahead and put a link to the eyes here and the skin here when I can look it up! ✌

7. How many URLs have you had, and what are the meanings behind them?

On this blog I've only had the one? And I feel like it's pretty self explanatory, I love Morgyn because 1.) They're the absolute best 2.) Untamed magic? Yes ma'am! 3.) They're gender fluid / nonbinary like me!! And 4.) They're an absolute snack!!!! So it was a perfect fit for me.

8. Who is your favorite gameplay blog?

Why would you do me like this??????? I can't choose!!! I love them all and I'm friends with all of them because they're absolutely amazing people that I love so much!!! I don't have a favorite! 🥺

9. Favorite story telling blog?

Please see above answer!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS ALL SO MUCH I AHDHAHSGA I CANT!!!!

10. Who is your favorite CC creator?

I don't really want to answer this one either 😭 but I think the only person I know that makes CC is the awesome @barbieaiden they made a really kick ass emo glove CC that I absolutely love and you should check out. (Sorry if the rest of you make CC I'm sure I've probably seen it, probably even downloaded and reblogged, but this is all I can think if right now 💜) Also my go to for all pose stuff is the glorious @katverse they do incredible poses for pretty much anything you could think up, highly recommend.

11. How do you edit you photos?

This is certainly going to get a few gasps, but I make all of my edits on my phone!!!!! I use just a basic free photo editor app and kind of bend it to my will to get what I want out of it! I'm really bad at figuring out stuff like Photoshop and I'm not willing to pay the expensive price when I can do it and get just as good as a result as I want from something free easy and portable.

12. What's the last screenshot you took?

Once again it has to do with an edit I'm working on so here's the last one I put up if you're interested.

13. What do you do when you are unmotivated?

Honestly, this! Editing and the Sims are my escape from the real world. It helps me when I'm having a hard time with my anxiety because it gives me control over something, it helps me a lot with writer's block I can't tell you how my stories have been inspired because of it. But I guess if I'm bored in the game I usually just start a new save or play another game for a bit, I always come back after like a day though! To be fair I haven't been doing this long enough to feel unmotivated yet, maybe we should revisit this when I've been doing this longer than two months 😅

14. Who is your current favorite Sim?

Ugh!!! As you guys have found out about me I don't like to play favorites......... But if I had to say maybe my OC Parker's Sim, he just came out perfectly and is just spot on.

15. Who is your current favorite Sims that isn't yours?

Guidry!!!! He's frickin' hilarious and just so great. I honestly didn't expect them to put as much into him as they did but I'm glad they did!!! He's the best!! He's no Morgyn, but he's pretty great too.

16. Recreate someone else's Sim in your style.

So this sounds like a lot of fun! But I really don't want to change anyone else's Sim, I know how much we all put into them and they're basically like our babies. They mean a lot, so unless I get explicit consent from someone saying I can use their Sim in my style I'm going to pass out of respect this time.

17. Do you talk about the Sims with people in your life?

Yes! One of my really close friends is the whole reason I'm into editing and mods and stuff! She showed me everything I know and is totally awesome for that. (@jennifermakesstuff on Instagram, go check out she's absolutely amazing and a crocheting god, go do it)

18. How many packs do you own?

.......... I don't want to answer this..... It's honestly a problem..... But I have them all.... Minus the star wars one I just I cannot bring myself to get it, it just looks terrible. But yeah I collect the packs and it's a problem 😅 but if you need advice on what pack to get next I'm your person!

19. How many posts do you have on your blog currently?

141 👀 I uh.... I have nothing else to say about that lol

20. How many drafts do you have currently?

Too many. But they're all like ask games and stuff for my OCs so yup!

21. How many posts are currently in your queue?

Only two 🙃 I need to get back to editing so I can hopefully have some more but I'm sick right now so... Maybe it's time for me to start that gameplay I've been threatening.

22. Have you ever moved blogs?

Okay yes, but not intentionally but I've moved three times? I had a blog for when I first started on tumblr it was for music stuff but I forgot to pass code to it so now it's just there, the other one I had was for my art & make up stuff but it wasn't doing good at all so I just turned it into my personal blog, and then from there I moved to this one! Also I'm avoiding my personal one like the plague right now because of a whole disaster that happened with someone I followed and I don't have the balls to unfollow them so I'm just pretending that account doesn't exist 😅.

23. Are you in any Sims related discords?

Yep! This one right here by the very amazing @clumsyghostie I'm really new to discord so it's the only one I've been apart of (EVER) but everyone has been really nice and friendly!!

24. What are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (Paranormal)

I like it! It added more to the gameplay than past packs have, but I always felt it left something to be desired in the way of CAS and build mode. Spoilers starting here if you care: Also it would've been cool if you could have had more interactions with Temperance like you can with Guidry, and if the specters did more that would be cool too. Either way I think it's good, I wouldn't say it's groundbreaking for the game experience, but it is fun.

25. How many hours have you played the Sims?

Let's find out 3,215 hours 😅 that's board line a problem hahaha if my math is right (it probably isn't because I'm gay and bad at math) that's a hundred and thirty three days straight? Jesus I might need help lol.

26. If you play gameplay, do you play with mods?

I used to! But I play on a regular laptop so it can't really run gameplay mods unfortunately so unless I'm doing edits my game is vanilla.

27. What's the furthest you've gotten on a challenge?

So I'm really bad at challenges! My favorite lately has been rags to riches it's a lot of fun but I always get bored after they get married and pregnant :/ I never know what to do after that because like the challenge is over but I'm so invested in these Sims 😅

Thank you again for the asks! This was a lot of fun 💖 I know I answered all the questions just now but feel free to send me an ask for whatever you want! I love interacting with you all, you're all so amazing 💖💖💖

#get to know the simblr #get to know me #izzy answers things #izzy speaks but i really shouldnt #lilypixels #love ya ash!!!#ask game #ask #send me an ask if you want

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kustovshik · 4 years

Text

Talking.

This post is informative in connection with a dispute that one of the parties decided to make absurd. If you don't want to get involved, just skip it. I don't force anyone to look into it or read it.

Kust is in touch. As many people have noticed, there was a small(not small now) conflict between me and a couple of other people, which could have already been eliminated, but was brought to total clowning. Names/nicknames named in this post will not be in order to avoid any negative towards those people. Also, no correspondence will be shown here, although they will be mentioned. If someone asks , I'm ready to go and personally collect all the screenshots of the two conversations, without losing any moments.

As a person in some way responsible for the current situation, I have a desire to illuminate everything from the side of my vision of things.

The conflict conditionally began three days ago. Let's call the person who initially had a small argument with me a certain person "A".

Well. in March. March 24th. We can assume that almost 5 months ago I published a post: https://kustovshik.tumblr.com/post/613504425335586816/i-want-to-be-in-fiars-stomach-he-looks-like-a

Many people remember it, I hope. I'll attach an old screenshot here just in case.

The whole conflict initially started because of the double meaning of the context behind the work itself. The problem, I was told, was the tags. Namely, in the tag highlighted in the screenshot above: ‘safe vore(or is it?)’.

This tag was originally put up there not because I didn't know what type of vore to call it, but specifically so that people themselves would sit and think: what do they want to see in my drawing. Simply put, a drawing with an open context. And it seems like no one has had any problems with it for few months.

That's what person A didn't like. I was told in a very unpleasant way for me personally that the person was very offended by this use of tags. And other problems with how they don't like 'fatal vore'. It was also suggested to me that I don't know about how fatal can be quite a painful experience for some.

I admit. My answer was quite abrupt. I can't deny it, and I won't, because that's the kind of person I am. My language is harsh on words and expressions. Instead of a thousand words and a selection of expressions, I usually tell people everything openly, or I am ready to openly indicate that something is wrong. Also, I fully admit that I have problems controlling my emotions, which makes it difficult for me to establish contact with strangers. I grew up in a different mindset, which is why I have a different view of many things. It's like putting two people who know the same language, but from different parts of the world, next to each other and forcing them to express their position on some moral principles or other things, and then wonder why their answers are different. A very exaggerated and crude comparison, but that how it looks like.

Why did I respond harshly? I am a rather rude person, and I do not like when people come to me in private messages, starting to talk about how bad they are feeling, because of things that can be safely ignored or blocked by them, so that there are no problems.

My first fatal mistake was when I decided to answer to "A". Afterwards, I talked to a couple of my friends and got cold feet. And then I apologized, trying to come to some compromise, adding the tag 'open ending' so that no one would be confused. But it seems that this was not enough, because “A” continued to say how it’s bad from what she found, even if not quite fatal stuff. Refusing to compromise in any way, as I suggested.

After that, we parted with apologies to each other, and neither of us wrote to each other again. I honestly thought it was over.

Now, before I go on to the man who has been driving me mad for the past two days, I will make a pure assumption and try to explain my indignation in a different way...

Out of human interest, I went through the 'safe vore' tag. Noted an interesting feature. Both tags had quite a lot of posts there. Namely, tags are 'safe vore' AND 'fatal vore'. Why did my post cause the problem? Have no idea.

Then another point became incomprehensible to me. How did a person get to this post at all? It would be difficult to find it through search, but you can: there is a lot of content by tag. I flipped the feed down from the second account for a long time and didn't come across my own post.

Then, in my little investigation, I looked into Tumblr's alerts. Likes, reblogs, well, you understand in short. And noticed it.

This is the first appearance of "A" in my notifications.

Hence, I dare to assume that "A" came across one of the reblogs of this post: https://kustovshik.tumblr.com/post/616227708116025344/a-new-player-has-joined-the-game And then "A" went to my blog, along the way ignoring the description specially written for such people at the very top of the blog, and came across my two-meaning post.

But after that, I had a rhetorical question: Why go to the blog of a person who has this written in the description, and hope that there will not be a fatal vore?

Of course, this theory is based only on my assumptions. But I think this scenario is quite real.

Thus, we can say that I have every right to be angry at the indignation expressed in my direction, because it is not my fault that the person ignored my preferences, scrolled down my blog page and started complaining.

Back to reality.

As you can understand, " A " shared our conversation with their friend, who the next day suddenly came to me with a long message about his position, offering help that was not needed.

Even then, I began to suspect that this person(let's call him "B") was somehow connected with "A". Moreover, the reason for the visit was the same for both of them.

I have already mentioned that I am an irritable and rather rude person. I was already stressed enough by the appearance of "A" and the consequences of my reflections that occurred after what I thought was an end to the conflict. And the repeated mention of the situation has already infuriated me.

I fully admit that I reacted very sharply to the "B" message. I had reasons for this that the other side chose not to consider.

Well. After receiving the message I gave sharp response expressing extreme dissatisfaction, but without insults to "B". Was there passive-aggressive speech? Yes. Were words said that I am not obliged to monitor the health of people who do not concern me? Yes. Do I have the right to think so? Yes. Does this fall under the moral code? It depends on the person's personal worldview.

Yes, I was rude due to the fact that on the second day I was exhausted and angry about this situation. I wanted to end this conflict and repeatedly asked both of them to block me and remain neutral. In addition, I tried to somehow explain that we are people of different mentalities and grew up with different life standards, so in this situation we see this conflict differently. Yes, in a rough way, but I tried to explain it.

I received a ton of direct insults, was accused of narcissism and high self-esteem, as well as refusing to take care of other people's problems. In addition, I received lines like, quote: "...but let me see you talk like you did to me or anyone else simply trying to converse with you over a serious topic and I will not hesitate to have your content and eventually your account removed from this site.".

Isn't this a direct threat?

I understand that passive-aggressive speech itself can offend someone. But you can't call it an insult. Passive-aggression is a hidden way of expressing negative feelings and emotions to a person. This is not an insult. But, Yes, I admit that this is a very harsh and rude way of communicating.

That's just after such an exchange of pleasantries, I snapped. 3 days of unquenchable conflict, when one side refused to listen to the other, at the same time. There were attempts on my part to end the conflict. There was one repeated request to block and disperse, so as not to inflame everything to the point of absurdity.

"Want to stay safe with your own preferences? "Please, God, don't touch me, that's all. Block me already and we will live in peace. "- This was the message of my answers. It's sad, but instead of just ending the conflict, I got the brand of a person with a capitalist mindset, the brand of a bitch-whiner, and other other charms.

And I swear that I was ready to just leave all this and stop responding to such outbursts in my direction, banal blocking "B", if they can’t themselves do it.

As here I get a notification with a post where this person changed my art / tags and basically uploaded the changed image to his blog, hiding behind good intentions. "B" did not receive permission for such actions. Even with an indication of authorship. I am most outraged by such actions at the moment.

Better look on the two images compared to each other.

And after that, everyone wants me to try to understand how bad I was and how poor they are, that from a simple argument that could have ended without even starting, it turned into an absurd clowning with offended people, insults and changing someone else's drawings and whole character reaction. Just a note. Fiar is not so nice, he’s a wild monster leech and he just grumbles about everything as much as he don’t understands why some people willing to let him eat them. He’ll never say something as “I’ll keep you safe”.

There it is. The comedy of a three days.

This post is for informational purposes only. Namely, how I see this situation.

All I want now is for "B" to delete the post, and for both sides to banal block each other, so that we never meet again.

I refuse to apologize to "B" for their latest act of outraging my drawing by completely distorting the meaning from a neutral drawing to something that only "B" and their friend like. In conclusion I can say, that I do not call myself a good one in that confrontation. I did some terrible mistakes while talking to both of those people. But it’s not only I’m here being on the bad side. People are not black and white.

After this I’ll not respond to any of the continuation of that conflict anymore. I’m tired of this.

#long post #Kust talking #trigger warning

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aloesarchives · 4 years

Note

im sorry to hear abt ur situation! take it easy and don’t feel bad for not being able to write or post as much. that being said, do u think u could squeeze in a fluffy gaolang x fem!reader scenario where the reader is an artist and likes to use him as reference for practice? tysm!

Sure thing, Anon! Sorry if it's not as much as I usually write but I hope you enjoy.

Warning: Narrator(aka me) swearing

Having artists block is goddamn terrible. It's been like this for a month and you couldn't take it anymore. No matter how hard you tried to get inspiration, it either was an unfinished project or it wasn't enough to satisfy your artistic nature. The thing about you is you're a well-known artist that does digital but mostly traditional art. You always carry around a sketchbook where ever you go when the thought of drawing comes to mind. Besides doing commissions, you could draw something of your own free will without it looking like a bad art restoration project.

But once you’re you know once you start drawing, you'll finish at least 3 art projects in a span of 3-4days. Now you just need something to get you going, but what should it be?

While you're sitting on the couch with your sketchbook in hand and chewing your pencil/pen, the clicking of the door snapped you out of the whirlpool of thoughts.

Gaolang's home from work

Upon announcing his return, Gaolang makes his way to the living room. Placing down your stuff on the table, you greeted your beloved with a kiss while taking his blazer to be stem later.

“How's work, Gao?”

“The same as usually, nothing too eventful.”

You nod your head and went to grab your stuff from the table. While walking back, the most random but inspirational epiphany came to your mind. Why not use Gaolang as one of your projects? You always used him as a reference and he doesn't mind it as long it wasn't time consuming. You used old videos of Gaolang’s fights for reference for most of your art work and one note you can make out was that he was beautiful in them. Then again, why wouldn’t he be beautiful? Anyway, your brain went into ultra instinct mode and straight started planning out the art piece. You practically spaced out so hard that Gaolang has been calling out your name for the past minute or so. Once your brain calmed down, you were faced directly with the Thai God of War and his chest.

“(Y/N), is everything okay?”

You looked up to make eye contact towards him with soft eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine Gao...”

He raised an eyebrow at your answer indicating that he know there’s more behind your behavior. You sigh as you were there was no point in getting pass him.

“Umm, Gaolang, if it possible if I come watch you train tomorrow? I promise I won’t get in the way of your training since one of your boxing matches is coming up soon.”

Gaolang was going to ask why but after seeing the way your hand grasp your sketchbook, he put two and two together and understood what you were going to say to him. He nods his head before going into your shared bedroom to shower and change into more comfortable clothes.

As the next day rolls in, you’re sitting on a wall bench while watching Gaolang practice and train. Although his primary martial art is boxing, he still does Muay Thai training as it would be foolish to forget it. While sketching, you would occasionally stop yourself and watch his movements and strikes. It was almost mesmerizing to see, from fluid clean kicks to the firm precise strikes. It was beautiful. It was also the way Gaolang’s sweat marbled his muscles and the clear focus in his eyes was something for sore eyes. Besides getting sidetrack, you admitted from time and time again that Muay Thai is a gorgeous Martial Art and sport. After all, being the Thai God of War’s girlfriend made you appreciate the art even more.

By the time he was finished, you already had the sketch completed. Now, it just needs color and the outlining. It took some time but it was worth it, it was finally down. It wasn’t bad either too. You drew Gaolang in one of Muay Thai’s traditional poses and in the background was a roaring tiger that was surrounded by wisps of fire. It was a pretty awesome the more you looked at it. Not a lot of bright colors but the wisps of the flames are an eye catcher. You’ll probably hang it somewhere around the apartment since it looked nice. You asked Gaolang for his opinion, and he said it looks good while kissing your forehead to look at the painting. In return, you hugged his side, slightly snuggling him.

As you stayed like that with Gaolang, you can for sure know your artist block was gone(for now) as other ideas start to spur up in your creative brain. Most of them involved you and Gaolang together. Those heavenly depictions/mythical peaked your interest, along with the domestic ones as well.

Maybe one about your wedding in the near future but that’s on you to decide

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #gaolang wongsawat #kengan ashura × reader

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inspirationdivine · 4 years

Text

Scream || Sammy Solo

Timing: Today, mid afternoon, read part 1 first Summary: As the full moon draws nearer, Sammy gets desperate. Trigger warnings: domestic abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, gun use

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Sammy didn’t get a chance to answer before Lydia yanked him backwards, scraping up his knees against the concrete floor. She grabbed his arm, hauling him upright. It was so easy to forget at times, just how incredibly strong she was. Fire burned in her eyes as she looked him up and down, disgust curling her lips. Sammy’s stomach dropped. She still had her coat on, her handbag slung over her shoulders, her hair fluffy where the autumn wind had whipped it around. She looked beautiful, and terrifying.

“Answer me,” Lydia snarled, pushing him back against the wall.

“I-I need to go,” Sammy stammered, “it’s to keep you safe! I’ll come back, I promise, I always come back!” He stumbled and tripped over his words. “It’s just tonight. I promise, I’ll be back before you know it!”

“But I know it. Where. Were. You. Going?” Lydia hissed, pushing him harder against the wall with every word. Unbidden, tears sprung to Sammy’s eyes. He touched her wrist, not to push her away but to reassure her, calm her. It didn’t seem to work.

“The- the woods. Lydia, I need to go, the sun will start setting soon. Please, I’ll explain everything. I’m doing this for you. I want to be better for you!”

“What are you doing?” Lydia’s eyes narrowed, looking down to the tunnel. “Sammy, what have you done?!”

She was panicked. Sammy swallowed, his stomach curling and twisting. He’d done this to her, made her frightened, made her worried. God, how was he stilling fucking up? This was supposed to fix things, make Sammy worth her while, instead of a pathetic human. “It’s for you. I- I want to be better, I made myself better, for-”

“What did you do?!” Lydia yelled, shaking his shoulder. The door upstairs creaked. Sammy looked up with a pale face and wide eyes at Chloe, who froze, her mouth covered with her hands. She was staring at the tunnel too. The tunnel she’d found all those months ago, that they could escape through because they’d promised never to cross over the thresholds of Lydia’s home. But the tunnel went right under it. Chloe had told him over and over to be careful, to play itself. She’d told him to stop seeing Ari until she was blue in the face.

“I made myself better! You’re always telling us how pathetic we are, how hard we make your life, how much it sucks to live with humans. You deserve better than that. I-if I could give you the world, Lydia, I would, no doubt, but I wanted to make myself someone you could be happy around, so that you didn’t feel like you were wasting your time on me.” The move Sammy talked, the more understanding seemed to calm Lydia down. Her bruising grip on his arm slackened, she stepped back, staring at him like he was a painting to solve. Unspeakingly, Lydia reaches up to one of her ears, and unfastened an earring, before dropping it in Sammy’s hand. All at once, his palm began to sting, and he yelled as he threw it out of his hand.

“Show me,” Lydia said after a long beat.

“What’s goi-“

“Don’t interrupt,” Lydia interrupted Chloe, her voice tense and cloaked, like she was actively holding something back. Relief? Joy? Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought it would be. Even if it was surprise, or anger, he could fix it. He could explain everything. He was better now. Sammy yanked up his shorts to show the still healing bite to Lydia.

“You’ll like me more like this! I’m always letting you down but like this I’m not human anymore, you don’t have to hate me anymore! This is a good thing-“

“You betrayed me.” Lydia spoke softly.

“No, no!” The thought made his stomach turn. Sammy began to sob, frantically wiping away his tears. “I’d never. I kept all my promis-“

She slapped him across the face, all semblance of restraint gone. Sammy shrank in on himself, cupping his cheek. She grabbed his shoulder, shoving him against the wall, then grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “That’s where you were! The night I was attacked, you snuck off to meet your werewolf best friend. You’ve put all of us in danger!”

“No!”

“How many people, Sammy? When they come to hurt Chloe, when they come to kill me, will that make you happy?! Is that what you want!”

“No, Lydia, I didn’t-“

Lydia grabbed him and threw him accros the room into an adjacent wall. Sammy groaned, standing upright, his hands raised in front of him, but she was already there again. He looked to Chloe frantically, but she had huddled herself into the corner, frozen. Lydia was never like this, never, she never hit them or threw them around,

she never looked so-

“You did! You selfish brat, you thought you could escape me? You thought you could deprive me of yourself!”

Sammy opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came out. In a tiny corner of his mind, he knew she was right. He loved her, he wanted to spend every moment with her and make her happy, but he also… he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to dread being kissed, to feel exhausted every time they interacted. Being around her was like walking on eggshells. He wanted so much more for them. For him.

Lydia looked at him with a furious satisfaction. “Is it going the way you planned? Do you think you’ll just run off into the sunset while you send hunters to slaughter me? I made you everything you are. You were a pathetic, friendless brat when I found you, so unimpressive even your own family couldn’t be bothered to protect you from me. I made you everything you are! And now you’re trying to leave me.”

“No,” Sammy replied hoarsely, his voice cracking and broken. He reached for her in comfort, and she pushed his hand away. “I was going to come back. I will come back. Please, Lydia.” Lydia dropped him, and Sammy immediately dropped to his knees, hugging himself as he fought back hard sobs. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could make things better. I was wrong, let me fix this, please, tell me how to fix this.”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Lydia repeated, stepping back. He kept his gaze down and away from her, terrified of summoning another wave of her wrath, but she didn’t say anything else, rummaging through her things, probably trying to calm herself down. Werewolves were supposed to be strong, Ari had told him, and maybe that part would come later, but Sammy didn’t feel strong right now. He wanted to lie down and sob, ashamed and humiliated, and work out how to fix this. Maybe there was a potion or something, so he could fix this. They could go back to before. No more Ari, but he could live with that if it would mean he didn’t make Lydia mad anymore.

Chloe gasped, moving towards Lydia for the first time since she’d walked in. He looked up, right into the barrel of a brass gun.

“What a waste,” Lydia said with a blood freezing calm.

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

Lydia stared at the art she’d painted all over the wall. Red on grey, arranged like a rose bouquet. Small fragments of white and pink stuck like textured highlights, although some slowly slid down, spoiling the image. There were people who would pay good money for abstract pieces like this. Especially if they knew the medium.

“Stop screaming.” Lydia’s voice sounded distant even to herself. She was breathing deeply, Lydia realised, like she’d run a mile. The ringing in her ears stopped - that had been the screaming, apparently. It was like experiencing it all through glass - the racing of her heart, the smell of urine, the thundering of footsteps down the stairs. Behind her, Chloe coughed and gagged, choking back her screams until she could hardly breathe.

Chloe threw up. The longer Lydia stared at the wall, the more she wanted to too. Her habd was shaking. Anger, Lydia thought distantly. That was what this felt like. Anger. She turned her gaze to the hole in the wall, the tunnel she had so apparently missed all year. It would need to be filled with cement, blocked at both ends so no one would find it. Those ungrateful humans, really thinking they could -

“Clean this up,” Lydia said. It wasn’t glass at all. All that rage, betrayal, fear, all of it had been soothed by the ringing of that gunshot, puncturing through all of it.

“No-” Chloe said, her voice broken in disbelief, in grief, her voice raw from suppressed screams. Lydia felt none of it.

“Clean this up before I get back, or there will be hell to pay,” Lydia replied calmly, her voice cutting through Chloe’s like ice. There was blood on Lydia’s shoes, on her skin. What a fucking waste. She looked down from her bloody bouquet to the figure slumped at the wall. He stared back at her, his eyes glassy with shock and fear. “Don’t even think about leaving.”

The bloody black hole she’d shot through his face stared back too. Stupid boy. He’d had potential, and now he was just another mess for her to clean up. He’d really thought he was worth it.

Humans never understood just how little their lives were worth. Lydia looked down to the bite on his leg, swallowed, staring at the bites and the silver burn for a second too long. Bile rose in her throat as she Lydia spun away from him. Lydia’s stilettos clicked up the stairs, chased by Chloe’s wails long after she’d locked the human in.

#wickedswriting #para #solo #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #physical abuse tw #gun use tw #again message for summary

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

One In A Million - Chpt.8

Summary: The three of you settle into your new lives together as the inevitable draft day draws near.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This chapter is super short and I’m sorry for that but I really couldn’t make it any longer if I’d tried. It’s a doozy though. Hang on to your hats darlings! XOXO - Ash

Chapter Eight

March is almost over when you finally find a place. It’s a cute little ground floor apartment over in Cobble Hill with big windows and a tiny patch of grass out back for a yard. Just right for the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. Steve dreams of sitting outside to paint and Bucky promises to grill your dinners all summer long. Your commute is longer now that you’re not in Brooklyn Heights but it’s manageable and you don’t mind since it means Bucky’s commute is shorter to the docks over in Red Hook. Steve gives up his job at the grocery store and takes a position at a nearby newspaper helping to draw copies of ads. The pay isn’t as good but he’s happier and between the three of you, you get by just fine.

April comes and you want to enjoy the warmer weather and settling into your lives together, but Bucky has less than a month left before he’s drafted and you’re heartsick at the thought. You try not to let it get you down, pouring yourself into the little garden patch you’ve started out back instead. You’re tending to your tiny pea vines when Steve gets home with a slam of your screen door.

You join him in the kitchen, worried when you see his glowering expression. “What’s wrong?”

Steve slaps his hand down on the counter top, frustrated. “I’m never gonna join the army.”

“Another 4F?” you guess, “You’re gonna break Bucky’s heart.”

“Worse.” he grits out, taking another long drink of water from his glass. “They caught me this time. Had all of my files spread out on the Captain’s desk. I could have been arrested, they told me as much. The guy was nice but he doesn’t get it, he can’t. He told me this was my only warning. If I get caught again they’ll lock me up. Said he couldn’t blame me for trying but I needed to accept things for what they were.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” you pull him into your arms, letting his anger burn off until the sadness pours from him like waves. You’re still holding him when Bucky comes in quietly behind you. You look up when you smell the familiar scent of saltwater that clings to him after a hard day’s work. He doesn’t ask, he just curls himself around Steve, holding on to comfort his partner.

“I won’t try again, Buck.” Steve says, finally breaking the silence. “I love you and Rose too much to risk getting locked up. I’m sorry.”

Bucky turns Steve around to face him, leaving you to rub his narrow shoulders. “Don’t you ever apologize for doing what you believe is right. That’s part of who you are, Stevie, and I love you. I’m glad you’re done trying but I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

Steve nods and holds onto Bucky tightly for a minute.

“Why don’t you two go sit in the living room and I’ll run down the block to get us sandwiches for dinner?” you offer.

“It was my night to cook.” Bucky frowns.

“You have something more important to take care of tonight.” you shoot a meaningful glance at Steve and Bucky nods in agreement. “I’ll be back in a few.”

That night you and Bucky are extra attentive to Steve, helping him work through the sadness and loss he’s dealing with. He tries to brush it off but you know he’s hurting. Giving up is something Steve Rogers never learned how to do and you can’t imagine the toll this is taking on him. You quietly hope that this set back doesn’t prevent him from meeting Erskine when the time comes but you have to have faith that it’ll happen the way it should.

After a few weeks in your new place, Bucky invites his parents and sisters down for Easter. He claims it’s because you and Steve have your heart set on hosting the first holiday in your new home. It’s really because Bucky wants you to meet his family and to show off your new place. You and Winifred Barnes hit it off from the second she walks through your door. You wish you could tell her how much you love her son, what an amazing partner he is to you and Steve. You settle for the friendship version of your affections, just as he and Steve have been doing their whole lives. It’s harder than you expected but you try and focus on being a good host and loving wife to Steve. You only have to slip away once to cry quietly in the bathroom, heartbroken for your boys who can’t live their lives out in the open. It makes you want to say timelines be damned and snatch the pair of them back into the future with you.

The day of the draft is coming, quicker than any of you would like. Bucky had to re-register when you moved, putting his name back into the lottery you already know he’s going to win. He gets quieter in the days before the announcement, a little more withdrawn. He holds you and Steve tighter at night, tells you he loves you more frequently too. Steve worries by throwing himself into this art. He leaves sketches of you and Bucky all around the apartment for you to find and pack away in a hat box for safe keeping.

The whole world seems on edge the closer draft day comes. Everyone has someone to worry over it seems. You kiss Bucky just a little longer that morning before he leaves for work. “It’ll be okay no matter what.” you promise him. “We’ll get through it together.”

“At least I know you and Stevie have each other if I have to go.” he tells you quietly. Your heart aches knowing you won’t. Your jump point is shortly after when he’ll be reporting for basic. The three of you will be separated and all alone, the way history is meant for it to be.

You can barely sit still at work waiting for the announcement over the radio. You have Bucky’s number written on a scrap of paper in your pocket. The girls in your pool are all worried about their husbands/ boyfriends/ brothers, and you sit huddled together praying when President Roosevelt’s voice comes over the radio. You can’t breathe when he starts calling out numbers, waiting for Bucky’s to be pulled. It’s for the best, it needs to happen, it already has happened technically. And then it’s over. Clara two desks over is wailing, her brother’s number was called. You sit stone still, staring at the piece of paper in your hand that has a number that wasn’t called.

You convince yourself you wrote it down wrong and fake sick to get sent home early. You race across the bustling city to get to Bucky, needing to comfort him and prove to yourself you did write it down wrong. Because Bucky Barnes was drafted into the US Army. He became a sergeant and was deployed to Azzano where he was taken by HYDRA and given a version of the serum. The same serum that Steve Rogers is given by Dr. Erskine to become Captain America. The history lessons fly through your mind like mantras as you hurry to get to the docks.

Bucky is standing with a group of men when you find him, his face grim. Relief washes over you that the timeline is intact, followed by the ache that you’ll be losing him to a hard life that no one deserves. Bucky steps away from the group to pull you aside.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” you tell him, tears in your eyes.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“Your number… It was called. Right?”

“No, darlin’. I’m fine! You must’ve written it down wrong. I lucked out again.”

“But your face, you looked…”

“Tim got called, he’s a good man and a fine worker. I’m okay, Rose. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re at a loss for words and Bucky just holds you close, assuming you’re relieved and happy. You want to be happy, you want to go home and celebrate with Steve that your little family gets to stay together. But the world feels like an unfamiliar place now. You look around taking in the sights you know by heart but no longer connect with. It’s a strange new time you’re living in now. A world where Bucky Barnes doesn’t go off to war. Where he doesn’t get captured and almost die. Where he isn’t brainwashed and tortured for seventy years. Possibly where Captain America never exists.

Oh god, what have you done.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz

#one in a million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #preserum steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #named reader #captain america #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #captain america fanfiction #time travel #1940s setting #marvel #marvel fanfic

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