#REMINDER REBLOGS HELP ARTISTS MORE!!!!

[ms-demeanor]

Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

[emptymasks]

They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

[maryland-no-rabies]

Tumblr (for newbies):

Reblogging ≠ reposting. You aren't stealing content by reblogging it, it's basically a 'group share' button. It also helps give artists/posts attention and you can reblog to interact with people. Reblog things you like.

Reblog bait. You can reblog it, but if a mutual hates reblog bait, you may tag it with 'reblog bait'. Or, find a tag with your mutual to put on posts they don't like, and block the tag under the 'content you see' tab in settings.

If someone reblogs your post, and you like their reblog, you just liked your own post.

(Sideblog section)

See my name? This is a gimmick. If a Tumblr says 'officially-(company/country/state)' then it's probably a gimmick! Check their content first because there are a few actual brand blogs, like Grammarly!

You can only make 250 posts (per email) on an account per day. This is called 'post limit' or 'PL'. I am currently on account 2, because I post too much. You may or may not hit post limit in your lifetime.

You can create as many sideblogs as you want, but you cannot like, follow, or send asks as a sideblog, and if you do so, it'll show up as from your main.

(Gimmicks)

Nobody can see your main from your sideblog, so you can have as many followers on your gimmick and none of them on your main

You will see gimmicks. A lot. It's fun.

You can interact with a gimmick as a non-gimmick

As a tumblr user, you have anon powers. You can turn any/most gimmicks into a pretty princess by typing something like '*turns you into a pretty princess*' into their ask box.

Nobody will be mad at you for making a gimmick. At all. There are like, 4 Jesus gimmicks. And it's great.

(General)

Tag a mutuals post with '10k to me', 'future 10k', '10k', or 'this will have 10k' for some fun chaos :3

Submit posts to PM Seymour's discord for MORE fun chaos

(General controls and understanding of Tumblr)

If you are in a youtube video online, you have broken containment

If you are getting a bunch of notifications from a post, you can hold down a notification from it or click the three dots on the post and click 'mute' to stop getting notifications (other than mentions)

You can also filter your notifications by clicking on the top left of your notifications tab and tapping 'custom'

The 'for you' tab of Tumblr is what the algorithm thinks you'll like based on your interests and stuff

The 'following' tab is blogs and tags you follow

On Tumblr, you can add not only extra notes in the tags but also regular tags. Spaces are allowed

If you get an ask from a Palestinian blogger, check yourself (you may find places where it's vetted/verified in their reblogs. You can also tell by them having no photos/story at all [no name, no information, just a donate link], and scams commonly use photos from Google images. Be suspicious if there's anything other than GoFundMe or something similar. PayPal is banned there.) or send a screenshot to me/somebody who offered to help. Then, you can answer the ask so people who can donate can see it, or donate yourself. DO. NOT. PRESSURE. YOURSELF.

Tumblr has a unique punctuation, in a way. which you will figure out on your own. An example is. periods to show a slight. pause

It reminds me of poetry

You can post whatever you want and you will find your people

Block people who make you uncomfortable and report bots for spam.

Welcome to Tumblr

Do what you want forever

[bamjammy]

Doomed by the narrative

Quick reminder that reblogs help artists WAY more than likes!

[i23kazu]

♡ TO BE LOVED BY

characters. albedo zhongli diluc alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff + hurt/comfort. 1.6k words. an. part 1 , part 2 coming soon!!!! | to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. ; reader is insecure + has low self esteem, and the men help them think otherwise. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

the painter

to be loved by albedo, the painter — people realise that the faces that he paints every day seem to resemble one person and one person alone. the high cheekbones, the crooked smile, the monolids — its either the artist has a case of the same face syndrome, or there is only one source of inspiration for him . . .

albedo sits by his artistry room, the window tinting golden light that shines onto your features. it highlights parts of you that you dislike, you argue, but he tenderly kisses each spot that brings you distaste. if you cannot love yourself, then let him love you extra. if you cannot see yourself the way he looks at you – with all the love and admiration and sweet infatuation in the world – then let him paint you in the way he so lovingly sees you so.

he motions for you to tilt to your left with a flick of his finger, not looking up from the blended paints on his wooden palette. you freeze – you don’t want to make him unhappy by not complying but complying also means seeing the ugliness of you. you don’t want him to see you ugly.

“i don’t like that side of me,” you whisper blankly. “it doesn’t make me look good.”

it is at these few words that albedo looks up from his painting.

“you are beautiful.”

he says the three words so matter-of-factly that you wonder if he even means it at all. they are so quick to fall out of his mouth – does he love you too little to properly regard them so, or does he love you so much that it requires no hesitation on his end to reassure you?

“albedo, thank you, but i am not-”

“you are so beautiful, my love,” albedo repeats. “and it pains me so because you don’t seem to believe it for yourself.”

“i am not-” you blink back salty tears.

“do my words hold no weight to you?” he asks, not unkindly. there’s an awkward stare that the both of you share before he lets a soft sigh part his lips, and he gathers you in his arms.

you look at him tiredly. this was not the battle you wanted to fight today, you think to yourself.

“i am beautiful.” you repeat after him. maybe, just maybe – if you say it enough, you can believe it just as wholeheartedly as albedo believes so. you can see the corners of his lips turn upwards into a soft smile – your lover smooths back your hair, planting a sweet kiss in the middle of your forehead.

“i love you, my muse. it’s alright if you don’t believe it just yet. you’ll have me to remind you that you are beautiful, every day.”

the poet

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet.

you are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your writing is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

the photographer

to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.

”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you giggle as he, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi.

“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.

it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good” – was diluc blind, or lying?

you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.

“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it. you look wonderful.”

“how?” you blink back frustrated tears.

“diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk’s. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”

he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if that was the right thing to say at all. maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right? he tucks your hair away from your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i urge you – look again, (y/n).”

“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”

diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet. just keep quiet, (y/n). your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand.

“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be immediately satisfied with what they are?

“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly.

“i don’t believe so, not at all. you see it, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun. undoubtedly so – for that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”

the writer

to be loved by alhaitham, the writer — people often wonder who sparks these passionate feelings of infatuation in his writing; all they need to look at is the person he leaves his gaze to linger on for a little while longer. his smile seems to brighten a little when he’s talking with you . . .

he describes a love scene so tenderly. a man and his partner, dancing in the stillness of a living room in the witching hours of the night – sweet, loving words fall clumsily out of the man’s mouth – it’s obvious he’s infatuated with his partner. two words, my angel, stands out in the manuscript you read.

“hayi, why do you never call me your angel? ever?” you ask, a slight pout on your face.

“because you are not a metaphor for me to use,” he counters, not unkindly. “you are not someone who i want to compare a mere object to.”

you see the slight disappointment in his face, and you hate yourself for it.

“maybe being compared to something would be better.” you reply softly.

“you are so much more than that,” he cradles your face in his palm, so gently it hurts.

you don’t deserve this gentleness, do you?

“who am i to take that away from you?”

the silence that follows seems louder than anything else you have ever heard. he sighs softly, not with frustration, but with a tenderness that only alhaitham can muster. he gathers you in his arms – he is so, so much bigger and taller than you – he never wants to crush you. never with his anger, nor his fear, or his hurt or his sadness.

“i’m sorry for always asking that. i don’t want to be annoying.” you murmur, blinking away tears.

“you will never be annoying to me, (y/n).” he exhales.

another quiet moment is shared between the two of you – it’s healing. the silence seems to nod to a shared understanding of a love that need not be said.

“i love you, (y/n), most magnificently so. and if it would take a lifetime for you to remember that, i would like to ask for a chance to spend that lifetime with you,” he whispers these words with a quiet fierceness, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @camvrin @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes @mxyarylla @starchivves (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

just for this post: @dailypenpen

reblogs w/ tags & comments are highly appreciated !!! <3 every reblog with a tag or comment gets a cookie from me hehe

[xkatsukizukux]

POV: You light a stranger's candle in 'Sky: Children Of The Light'

Thank you for the love on this silly post! But I would like to take a moment to remind you to check out the resources I've rebloged in regards to Palestine,Sudan,Congo and more!! Some really great stuff/creators are there. Of course I urge you to look/educate yourself though on these issues & gen0cides! People need our help! I reblog a lot on my tiktok @m00n_ivy as well!

If you also would like to support me as an artist so I can become fulltime, my art account is @moony-mai if you are interested.

Happy flying!! I truly didn't expect so many people to reblog this! I love reading your silly reblogs and they make me smile!😊💕

[slashercult]

pick a fruit bowl to find out how you will recognize your future spouse

reminder that not all of the messages in this reading may apply to everyone. so with that i urge you to take what resonates and leave the rest. don't force anything if it does not fit. this reading is mainly just for fun. don't forget to follow or reblog if you want to see me do more readings like this.

pile one

you will know that your future spouse is your future spouse because the connection will be instant between you two. it will feel completely different from all of the other relationships that you have been in, a lot more passionate. i feel like with your past lovers, you would make them out to be a lot better than they actually were to you. but this isn't the case for your future spouse because they are the real deal and you know it. your future spouse could be an air sign (gemini, libra, aquarius) or could be a talented artist. i feel like they enjoy doodling in their journals, they seem like a daydreamer kind of person, their head is always in the clouds. they have strong arms, i feel like they could be a bit buff and like working out. they won't be shy with their displays of affection in public but i also don't see them trying to do anything that could possibly embarass you. they value you your feelings over everything.

pile two

you will recognize who your future spouse is because of how calm and peaceful you feel whenever you are around them. they won't sugercoat things when talking to you, but not in a negative way, more of like if they feel something is upsetting you they will go ahead and ask you what's wrong because they don't like seeing you feel bad. communication is something they do not take lightly, and this works in your favor because i don't see you two arguing with each other as much because of this. this person could be a lawyer or could be in a profession that has somethng to do with law. they have a well defined chest and back area, nice neck area as well. i feel like they enjoy being outdoors and taking care of their plants in a garden. they are wise and may look a bit intimidating at first but they are actually super sweet and understanding.

pile three

you will recognize your future spouse because of how optimistic and confident they are. this person is also be extremely lucky, they may have some sagittarius placements. they just radiate golden retriever boyfriend/girlfriend energy. they are a deep thinker and they are not afraid to voice their opinons. you both may share the same political beliefs (or just beliefs in general). you could come from the same religious backgrounds and may have a similar childhood. this person enjoys watching sunsets with you and their favorite holiday is halloween because they love pumpkin flavored things. they definitely play a sport, i feel like the sport could be hockey or lacrosse, something that involves a stick. you will know your future spouse is your future spouse because their beautiful wide smile. they are soft, warm, and love cuddling on the couch while watching a sports match. your relationship with them could help heal your inner child.

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed or resonated please heart and reblog so i can do more of these readings.

[zu-is-here]

Underverse will likely be discontinued D:

I did (◞‸◟)

It's truly devastating to hear this from one of, if not the most influential creator in our fandom whose work I've admired since before I started drawing.

Although I can understand her decision due to all the stress she's been going through throughout these years, especially after some events.

We know it's up to Jakei anyway, but I do believe this is our chance to gather our support and let her know how much we love and appreciate her work.

We often forget to be responsive to our favorite artists, we take their work for granted, so this is a reminder: rewatch your favorite Underverse or XTale episode, like it where it's forgotten, share your thoughts in comments, reblog your favorite posts here with some nice tags, — this is the fuel for a creator that makes them happy and motivates them to keep creating.

If some managed to lead her astray with their hatred, then we have the strength to help her with our love. Words can kill, and words can save╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

That was explained here, and I hope it's still valid <3

UPD:

You're absolutely right, I didn't emphasize it after the second anon's ask (as well as Jakei herself in her statement), but we do understand that all people are different, so we can't draw such conclusions and paint everyone with the same brush ʅ(◞‿◟)ʃ

Indeed, antis may be different too, and I believe that there are actually much more of those who respect the interests of others despite different views ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

[sunboki]

⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

[navybrat817]

Sweet and Strong

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You stop by the parlor to drop off some treats. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Fluff, flir-ting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Tess is a real one, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from my Sin on Skin AU.❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You did your best not to let your mind wander during the work day, but Bucky hadn’t left your thoughts since he dropped you off at your place. A dopey smile formed on your face more times than you could count. The tattoo artist was your dream come true. Someone who looked like they could destroy everything in their path, but treated you with such care.

And he said yes to a date with you.

How does a man like him exist?

“Careful,” Tess said, nudging you to the side so she could take a cookie from the case. “Keep making that happy face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled, making sure there were no customers looking as you typed a quick message to Bucky on your phone.

“Hope you have a good day, Hottie.”

After a moment, you cringed and put the device away. Though Bucky gave you his number after he dropped you off, you didn’t message him immediately. Waiting until today was better because enough time had passed, but was the text too casual? Not casual enough? Was it clingy to message him before you had your date?

Why am I overthinking this?

“If you’re smiling because of Bucky, it’s a very good thing. Especially after what he did to help you. I think he should get a permanent discount,” Tess said, making you raise an eyebrow when you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“We talked about this,” you gently reminded her when she pouted, a look that told you she was still upset. “Please, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

When Tess heard that Richard ambushed you after closing, she beat herself up for not being there. You assured her it wasn’t her fault that your ex showed up. She was thankful you were okay and that Bucky, and everyone else in the shop, stood up for you. She also added that if she saw Richard sniffing around the place that she’d kick him in the nuts.

Bucky assured you he wouldn’t come around and you believed him.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t see him get put in his place. Been a long time coming,” she said, a bit of mischief back in her eyes as she leaned against the counter to smile at you. “And I’m bummed I missed that kiss.”

“Why did I tell you about that?” you asked, your cheeks hot as you recalled the moment Bucky’s lip touched yours. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel him kissing you again. The memory made your heart swell.

As if on cue, your phone went off.

“Day’s better now that I’ve heard from you, Sugar. Can’t wait for our date. Planned something special.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reread the message and hugged the device to your chest. You weren't sure how many women Bucky dated or how many special dates he planned before you. The thought of it being a high number didn't make your stomach sink as you expected. What mattered was that the two of you were taking a chance on each other.

And even though you technically asked him out, he took the time to plan something for you. When was the last time a guy did anything remotely nice for you without expecting something in return? Why had you settled in the past for less than what you deserved?

“You told me because we’re best friends,” Tess answered with a smirk when you looked her way. “Is that him?”

“Yeah, it’s him,” you smiled, showing her the message. “I wonder what he has planned.”

“Whatever it is, you better give all the dirty details when he dicks you down. And not to be graphic, but I bet he eats pussy like-"

“Tess!" you groaned, praying the nearby customers weren’t listening. But, god, if you hadn’t thought about what he’d be like in bed. He’d be so good to you. “Let’s try and be professional.”

“Professional, my ass. I’m not the one flirting with the hunk or making eyes at him every time he steps into the shop,” she pointed out.

Fair.

“And, look, I’m not saying you have to get laid on the first date, but I am saying you have to let him in your pants at some point,” she said, laughing as you tossed a towel at her face.

You laughed, too, and wondered just how the night would go. If you put out on the first date, would he think you were easy? If you waited too long, would he move on? You were overthinking again, but you couldn't help it. You really liked him.

He likes me, too, so I must be doing something right.

“What do you get out of it if I let him in my pants?” you asked curiously.

Tess placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I get to keep seeing you happy, which you have every right to be."

"Thanks," you smiled, a wave of fondness crashing over you. The two of you saw each other go through many ups and downs of life. She deserved the world and it meant a lot that she wanted that for you, too. "Is it too much if I run some treats over for him? Especially since I just texted him?"

Bringing a small selection of baked goods for Bucky and the guys would be a small way to thank them for defending you. Deep down, it was also an excuse to see him before your date. You hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"The guy has visited the shop for all of your shifts since he first came in. So, no, it isn't too much if you surprise him and send something his way. He might like it."

"I'll be quick," you promised, selecting some of the best treats from the case, including one with little hearts.

"Take your time. Jill and I can handle this," she smiled as if she sensed your giddiness. "Go treat your man."

"He isn't my man yet," you teased.

But I'm already his girl.

"Yeah, he is," Tess winked, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now go."

It didn't take you long to cross the street to the parlor and thankfully you didn't drop the box. You hoped you looked decent. Well, as much as you could during a work day. At least you had a cute apron on.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" Jake said as you walked through the door. "Sugar! It's you!"

You held back a laugh when his voice echoed. "Yeah, it's me," you smiled, holding up the box. "I wanted to drop these off Bucky and the rest of you, if that's okay?"

"You brought us food?!" he asked, leaning on his arms to look over the counter. "Hold on. Lemme grab him."

"You sure? If he's with a client…" you trailed off when Jake dashed away from the counter.

You took a moment to look around again, your gaze settling on an intricate flower tattoo. Seeing the place without the fear of your ex following you made it even brighter than before. Like your shop, it was expressive and inviting. Bucky likely put as much love into it as you did with yours.

"That was my first piece."

You tore your gaze away from the wall to find Bucky beside you, a dopey smile back on your face. There was only a small amount of space between you and your heart raced as you looked him over, the large man clad in his usual tight shirt and jeans. He had his hair pulled back and you resisted the urge to tuck a few strands back that came loose.

He would manage to look sexy as hell with latex gloves on.

"It's beautiful," you said honestly.

"Thanks. She's a good friend and still a client of mine. So is her husband," he smiled gently. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me, too," you smiled back, holding up the box in your hands. "I just wanted to say thanks again to you and the guys for sticking up for me. It isn't much, but I hope you all enjoy them."

"Oh." A slight frown formed on his face when you handed him the treats. "You know you don't have to give us these, right? We didn't do it expecting you to give us anything in return and I'm sure as hell not going to let anyone speak to you the way that prick did."

You furrowed your brows a bit, even as you nearly swooned at his protectiveness. Had you upset him? "I know I don't have to," you said, clearing your throat. Why did the thought of them defending you just for being good guys make you emotional? "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Was this a bad idea?

You let out a breath when he smiled again. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated," he said, touching your arm. Even with the glove, the touch sent heat between your thighs. "It's a very sweet gesture, Sugar. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you said, satisfied that he wasn't unhappy with the small gift. "And I'll admit. I also stopped by because I wanted to see you before our date," you added.

"You did?" he smirked, bringing warmth to your cheeks as you nodded. "While we're admitting things to each other, I've been watching the door and hoping you'd stop in. I even dreamt about you when I took a nap."

"No, you didn't," you giggled, a sense of power and elatedness filling you that his pull to you was that strong.

"I swear. I don't think Steve will let me live that down" he chuckled. You wondered what exactly he dreamt about. Was it passionate? Intense? "Can't get you outta my mind. And, frankly, I don't want to."

Oh.

You didn't think he could make your heart beat any faster, but he continued to surprise you. There was no shame or timidness in his tone or his stare. It was steadfast and true, like he wasn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve with you. If he could be vulnerable and open with you this way, you could do the same in return.

Go big or go home, right?

"I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him, proud that your voice didn't waver.

"You can't?" he whispered and you suddenly didn't like the box between your bodies. It made him feel too far away.

"No, I can't," you whispered back, gazing into his blue eyes. "I waited to text you because I didn't want it to be too soon. And even though I don't know where you're taking me on our date, I already have the perfect sundress laid out and ready to go."

"You can text me as much as you want. I don't care what time of day," he assured you before his eyes lit up mischievously, like he knew something you didn't. "And a sundress is fucking perfect, but no asking for hints about our date"

"Not even a little one? Please?" you asked, giving him what you hoped was a cute pout. You didn't actually want him to tell you because you wanted him to surprise you, but you hoped you looked enticing.

Bucky slowly licked his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look hot, he more than succeeded. If he wasn't, did he have any idea what that teasing motion of his tongue did to you? "I'm tempted to tell you and I'm very tempted to kiss you right now, but no. No hints. I need to stay strong."

I'm very tempted to kiss you, too.

"Fine, Hottie. I'll be good," you teased, pouting again. "For now."

Bucky moved the box beside him so he could step closer, his eyes darker than before. "You wanna be good for me?"

Yes, sir.

"Yes," you answered, leaving out the "sir" that echoed in your mind and shivering as he continued to stare. Before you could say anything more, you noticed that the shop had gone quiet. You leaned over to look past Bucky and giggled when you saw the crew staring, taking you out of the moment. Steve and Hal both had knowing smirks on their faces, but no way could they have heard your conversation. "Hope you enjoy the treats!"

"Oh, we will," Hal winked. "What about you, Bucky? You gonna enjoy your treat?"

"Get back to work!" Bucky called back before he smiled disappointedly. "Speaking of, I should, too. I think my client gave me enough of a break."

"Yeah, I need to get back," you said. You didn't want to leave Tess and Jill hanging. "I hope you have a good rest of the day."

"You, too," he said as you went to the door. "Be good for me until I see you again."

Fuck.

"Only if you're good for me," you smiled over your shoulder, catching his surprised smirk before the door shut.

You took a breath, allowing the breeze to cool you off. Maybe a cold shower would do a better job. You smiled as your phone went off, expecting a teasing text from Tess. It caught you off guard when "Mom" popped up.

Well, that can't be good if she's texting me. God, did she somehow hear about Richard? The last thing I need is a lecture.

Instead of opening the message, you tucked your phone away. You needed to get back to work and you had a date to look forward to. You wouldn't allow your mom to sour your mood because Tess was right.

You had the right to be happy.

No ruining this upcoming date, mom! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[03jyh23]

🫀⌇enamored┆choi jongho (fluff? version)

jongho x tattoo-artist!reader

│synopsis: the tattoo appointment turns unexpectedly intimate when jongho offers you, a drenched tattoo artist, his hoodie

│genre: fluff, sugestive

│trigger warnings: physical touch/intimacy, mild sexual tension, embarrassment, pain (tattoo process)

│words: 4.8k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│the requested prompt is bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! i had so much fun writing this one! it was a request for drabble yet i couldn't help myself but write a fuller story. this one is slightly more sfw than the smut version that will be published soon! hope you will enjoy it! I LOVE WRITING JONGHO FR

thank you for requesting! ♡

love, monika ♡

i’d be so grateful for a little love – a tagged reblog or comment would truly make my day!

You started your day by sleeping through two of your alarms, and you were in a hurry to make it to your appointment. You cursed yourself for scheduling the first client of the day as early as 9 AM, knowing you preferred to sleep till noon rather than wake up at 7:30. The sound of rain pattering against your window only made it harder to leave the warmth of your bed. It was raining heavily, autumn was coming closer, and instead of colorful leaves, the world was grey and rainy. As you rushed through your morning routine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread for the day ahead. The dark clouds outside mirrored your mood, and the chill in the air made you shiver. You grabbed a quick breakfast—if a hastily made cup of coffee and a piece of toast could be called that—and dashed out the door, umbrella in hand. The streets were slick with rain, and you had to carefully navigate the puddles to avoid soaking your shoes. The wind was stronger than you expected. Halfway through your walk, it broke your umbrella, leaving you drenched in heavy rain. You cursed under your breath and started running, shielding yourself with your bag. Despite your efforts, the rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. Each step felt like a struggle as you splashed through puddles, your shoes squelching with every move. 

You took the last turn to reach your studio, and to your surprise, it was still closed. You could swear your colleague was supposed to open at 8. As you approached the entrance, you saw a boy waiting outside—a handsome boy at that. He was standing there in a casual, dry outfit (at least his umbrella did its job) —a comfortable hoodie and dark jeans. The hoodie looked soft and warm, perfect for the gloomy weather. His hair was slightly damp, the ends curling adorably near his face. His big, boba eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and alertness. Despite the rain, he looked effortlessly cute, and you couldn’t help but feel a warm flutter in your chest. The way his hair falls into his eyes and the serene expression on his face all make you pause for a moment, just to take him in. You feel a smile tug at your lips as you watch him, utterly enamored by the sight. 

Finally, you step closer, dripping water with every movement. The boy turns his gaze towards you, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise, "Hi, are you here for an appointment?" you ask, your voice cutting through the sound of the rain around you. 

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he responds, "Yes, I am. I think I'm a little early though." Despite the dreary weather, his smile seems to brighten the rainy morning. 

You nod, shivering slightly from the cold and the wetness that has seeped through your clothes. "I'm sorry for this, my colleague was supposed to be here already and welcome you in," you say, feeling embarrassed about the situation. 

Tho boy’s smile widens, and he steps a little closer, offering his umbrella to shield you from the rain. "It's okay, really. I don't mind waiting," he reassures you. His kindness and the simple gesture of sharing his umbrella, made you smile. 

"Thank you," you say, grateful for his thoughtfulness. As you huddle together under the small umbrella, you can't help but feel a little warmer, "I'll let us in," you quickly reach into your bag and pull out the key, unlocking the door to the studio. As you push the door open, the warmth inside immediately contrasts with the cold, damp air outside, and you both step in, grateful to be out of the rain. The sound of the door closing behind you feels like a barrier against the chaos of the morning. You gesture towards the sitting area. "Please, make yourself comfortable," you say, trying to shake off the cold. 

You quickly run to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to dry at least some of the water from your hair. As you pat your hair dry, you glance at your reflection in the mirror, the water droplets clinging stubbornly to your clothes. With a sigh, you do your best to freshen up. After a few moments of trying to get the worst of the dampness out, you return to the main area where the boy is waiting. He still stands near the entrance, looking around the studio with mild curiosity. The cozy interior, with its warm lighting and comfortable furniture, is a stark contrast to the way he imagined a tattoo studio. You approach him with a tentative smile, hoping to make up for the less-than-ideal first impression. "Who are you having an appointment with?" you ask, your voice steadying as you try to regain some sense of normalcy despite the chaotic start to your day. 

Jongho turns his attention back to you, his eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. "I'm here to see Y/N," he replies, his tone polite and friendly. His presence seems to bring a calming effect, making you feel slightly more at ease. 

"Oh, that's me then," you smile at him and offer your hand. "Nice to meet you." 

The boy’s eyes light up, and he takes your hand in a gentle handshake. "Nice to meet you too, I’m Jongho" he replies, his cute, gummy smile widening. The warmth of his hand contrasts with the chill still lingering from your earlier drenching, and you feel a small spark of comfort. 

"I will give you a few papers to fill in, a consent form, and a health questionnaire," you say, reaching for the necessary documents from the desk. You hand them to Jongho with a polite smile, "Please take your time to fill these out. It's important that we have all the necessary information to ensure everything goes smoothly and that I can provide you with the best possible service." 

Jongho nods, taking the papers from you with a grateful smile. "Of course, I'll get started on these right away," he says, moving towards the couch. You watch as he settles in, his expression focused as he begins to fill out the forms. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, the warmth of the studio slowly seeping into your bones and easing the chill from the morning's rain. As you glance around, you notice how Jongho carefully reads each question, his pen moving steadily across the page.  

You smile as you watch him read through the forms. Your regulars usually breeze through the paperwork, filling them out quickly and almost mindlessly. Jongho, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his time, meticulously going over each question. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you couldn't help but be a little amused by his thoroughness. 

"You've never done this before, have you?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement. 

Jongho looks up from the papers, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Is it that obvious?" he replies, chuckling softly. 

"Just a little bit," you say with a playful grin. "But don't worry, you're in good hands. I love new clients. There's something about watching them squirm in pain that just makes my day," you joke, giving him a teasing wink. "Kidding, of course. I promise to be gentle. Mostly." 

Jongho laughs, the sound warm and genuine and you feel weak in your knees. "Well, that's reassuring," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'll try not to squirm too much then." 

"Good plan," you reply, still smiling. "But seriously, if you have any questions or concerns, just let me know. I'm here to make sure you have the best experience possible." 

After a while, Jongho looks up from the forms, a puzzled expression on his face. "What's a Release of Liability?" he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Oh, it's a form that releases the tattoo artist and studio from liability for any issues that may arise during or after the tattoo process, as long as proper procedures were followed," you explain, your tone reassuring. "It's just a precaution to make sure everyone's on the same page and understands the risks involved." 

Jongho nods slowly, absorbing the information. "Got it. Thanks for explaining," he says and you could hear a hint of relief in his voice. He quickly returns to filling out the forms. 

You decide to search through your cabinets in the hope of finding at least a spare t-shirt when Jongho's voice breaks the silence once again. "Aren't you a bit uncomfortable with those wet clothes?" he asks, concern evident in his tone. 

You pause, looking back at him with a small, embarrassed smile. "Yeah, it's not the most pleasant feeling," you admit, continuing your search. "I'm hoping I left something here that I can change into." 

"You will also be a bit uncomfortable if I start tattooing you like that," you add with a light chuckle, your concern mixed with a touch of humor. 

Jongho looks thoughtful for a moment before standing up and walking over to you, handing you filled out papers. "If you don't mind, I could offer you my hoodie, at least?" He suggests, his tone sincere and considerate. 

You look at him, surprised by his offer. "Are you sure?" you reply, touched by his kindness. 

He smiles (damn, his cheeks look so adorable when he smiles like that), shaking his head. "It's no trouble. Besides, I'm going to have to take it off for the tattoo anyway," he insists, already starting to remove the hoodie. 

"Then I'd be really grateful," you say, your voice soft with appreciation. Jongho takes off his hoodie, and as he does, the hem of his t-shirt gets stuck and rides up a bit, revealing his lower abs. You can't help but glance, feeling a flutter in your stomach at the sight. His toned muscles and smooth skin make you momentarily forget the chill from your wet clothes. Cute and with a hot body, God really does have her favorites.

You quickly avert your gaze, hoping he didn't notice, and take the hoodie from him with a thankful smile. "Thank you, Jongho. This will help a lot," 

He grins, seemingly oblivious to your momentary distraction. "No problem. I'm glad to help," he replies, his eyes warm and friendly as he watches you. 

"Alright, I will change quickly, and we will get started," you say while walking to the bathroom. You took off your drenched shirt and bra, leaving them in the sink, and slipped on Jongho's warm hoodie. His perfume envelops you with its intensity, you sniff it in, and you swear it does something to you. It was almost as if the perfume was made only to ignite a spark within you. You shake this thought off, then you take off your drenched shoes, thankful you had a spare pair of sneakers and shorts—you had left them to have something to change into when you were cleaning the studio. As you put on the dry clothes, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the warmth from Jongho's hoodie providing much-needed comfort. Once you're dressed, you proceed to your station and start to prepare it for the session. The familiar routine of setting up your tools and arranging the workspace helps to steady your nerves. You glance over at Jongho, who is still seated in the cozy area, his eyes following your movements with quiet curiosity. Something is reassuring about his presence, and you find yourself feeling more at ease. "I usually don't do somebody else's designs," you start the conversation, breaking the silence as you continue to set up your station. "I only tattoo my own, but yours looked too nice to decline. Did you draw it yourself?" 

Jongho looks up, a modest smile forming on his lips. "No, my best friend did. I've always been a fan of his drawings, and I thought it would be meaningful to have something he created permanently inked on me."  

"That's really special," you reply, genuinely touched by the sentiment. "It's always nice to have a personal connection to the artwork. I'm honored to be the one to bring it to life for you." 

Jongho nods appreciatively. "Thank you, it means a lot to me," he says, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. You can't help but wonder whether he's holding an entire galaxy in them.

After your station was set up, you printed out the tattoo stencil and transferred the design onto Jongho's skin. You carefully ensured that the placement and size were to his liking, and he nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Once satisfied with the stencil, you guided him to a chair. "We are doing this on your arm, so instead of lying down on a bed, I'll ask you to sit down," you explain, gesturing to the chair. Jongho takes his seat, settling in and getting comfortable. "Put your arm here on the armrest and make sure your muscles are relaxed, alright?" You instruct, your voice calm and reassuring as you guide Jongho into position. He follows your directions, placing his arm on the armrest and taking a deep breath to relax. You can see the tension easing out of his body, and you offer him an encouraging smile. "It's important to stay as still and relaxed as possible," you continue, preparing your tools with practiced efficiency. "The more relaxed you are, the smoother the process will be. If you start to feel uncomfortable or need a break, just let me know, okay?" 

Jongho nods, his eyes focused on you with a mix of anticipation and trust. "Got it," he replies, his voice steady. "I'll do my best to stay still." You give him a nod before turning your attention back to your equipment. The familiar routine of setting up your tools and arranging the workspace helps to steady your nerves, and you find a sense of calm in the precision of your movements. 

Glancing back at Jongho, you see that he’s watching you intently, his expression one of quiet curiosity. "Alright, we're ready to start," you say, meeting his gaze. "Remember, if you need anything, just let me know." 

He smiles, a hint of nerves in his eyes but also excitement. "I'm ready."

With that, you begin the process, your focus entirely on bringing the design to life on his skin. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the room and it makes you feel at ease. You glance at Jongho, your eyes filled with concern. "How's the pain?" you ask softly, ensuring your voice carries a tone of genuine care. You know that for many, the first moments of a tattoo can be the most daunting, and you're keen to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. 

Jongho looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. "It's not too bad," he replies, chuckling lightly. "It's a bit more intense than I expected, but nothing I can't handle." His attempt to stay brave and composed only makes you admire him more. 

You nod, offering him a warm smile. "That's good to hear. But remember, if it gets too much, just let me know, okay? We can take a break anytime."  

Jongho's gaze softens, and he nods appreciatively. "Thanks, I will," he says, his voice sincere.  

As you continue your work, you realize you need to reposition yourself to get a better angle. Leaning down to adjust your position, you inadvertently move closer to Jongho. You get lost in your work again, the hum of the tattoo machine and the rhythm of your movements creating a focused trance. As you glance up at Jongho, you notice his cheeks are flushed with a deep blush. Confused, you follow his gaze downwards and realize, with a sudden jolt, that your chest is pressed against the armrest in such a way that Jongho’s open hand is inadvertently cupping your boob. 

"Oh, it's fine!" you are quick to reassure him, but your voice comes out a bit louder than you expected. "It happens all the time,"  you add more gently, trying to compose yourself.

Despite your attempt to ease the tension, Jongho remains frozen, blinking a couple of times as he processes the situation. His cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red, "I'm so sorry," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to—" 

You cut him off with a warm smile, hoping to put him at ease. "Really, it's okay," you say, this time your tone light. "These things can happen when you're in such close quarters. No harm done." You look up at him adding, ''Oh, and you can squeeze it if you want," you joke as you lean in again, a playful grin spreading across your face as you try to lift the mood. "I won't charge extra for that." 

Jongho's eyes widen, and he stammers, "N-no, I couldn't! I mean, I didn't mean to—I'm so sorry!" His face turns an even deeper shade of red, and he looks utterly mortified. He quickly averts his gaze, staring at the floor as if it might open and swallow him whole. 

You can't help but chuckle at his reaction, finding his shyness endearing. "It's really okay, Jongho. I was just teasing," you say, your voice gentle and reassuring. "Let's just focus on the tattoo, alright?" 

Jongho nods vigorously, still unable to meet your eyes. "Y-yeah, let's do that," he mumbles. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but you can see the frustration and embarrassment still lingering in his expression. 

But the thing is that suddenly you can't quite focus on your job. You feel the warmth from Jongho's hand on your chest, with only the fabric of his hoodie between you, and you start to feel uneasy. He was good-looking, sure, but you've been in this situation a hundred times before with plenty of other good-looking clients and never really minded it. So why now? As you continue to work, the sensation lingers. You steal a glance at Jongho, noticing the way his eyes are now fixed on the tattoo, his brows slightly furrowed as he looks at how the needle works, and how it deposits the ink into his skin. There's something about his presence that's different, something that stirs feelings you can't quite put into words. You try to push your thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythmic hum of the tattoo machine and the precise movements of your hands. But it's no use. Every time you lean in, every time you brush against his arm or hand, you feel a spark, a weird sensation in your stomach. His scent, the warmth of his body—everything about him seems to draw you in, making it difficult to maintain your professional detachment. In the quiet moments between the buzz of the machine, you find yourself wondering about him. What kind of person is he? What stories lie behind those boba eyes? Curiosity is distracting, pulling your attention away from the task at hand. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts, but the fluttering in your chest refuses to subside. You can't help but feel a bit frustrated with yourself. This isn't like you. You've always prided yourself on your ability to stay focused and professional, no matter the circumstances. Yet here you are, struggling to keep your mind from wandering, struggling to keep your emotions in check. It's both exhilarating and unsettling, and you can't decide whether you love it or hate it. 

Suddenly Jongho lets out a small whimper, and for a second his hand squeezes your boob. Your eyes widen, and you swallow hard after clearing your throat, trying once again to compose yourself. The warmth of his touch sent electric tingles through your body, making it hard to focus, the sensation in your stomach only getting stronger. If you weren't before, you were definitely turned on now. "Are you alright?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky and betraying the flustered state you were in. 

He looked up at you, his eyes wide with a mix of pain and embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, it's just the pain stung a little bit," he explained quickly, his voice laced with genuine regret. It was clear that he was unaware of his hand's movement, and the unintentional intimacy of the moment seemed to have gone unnoticed by him. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "It's okay," you managed to say, your voice softer as you tried to reassure him. "Just try to relax." You hoped your words would calm him, even though you could barely calm yourself. Jongho nodded, his cheeks flushed as he attempted to regain his composure.

As you continued to work, the air between you seemed charged with an unspoken tension. You couldn't shake the feeling of his touch, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the unexpected moment.  Every glance at Jongho, every accidental brush, seemed to reignite the fluttering in your chest. You took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside as best as you could. "Alright, we're almost there," you said, your voice steadying as you neared the completion of the tattoo. "Just hang in there a little longer." Jongho nodded, his focus returning to the tattoo process. He seemed more relaxed now, his earlier embarrassment fading away as he concentrated on the sensation of the needle against his skin. Finally, you finished the last stroke and lifted the machine, taking a step back to admire your work. "All done," you announced with a smile, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction.  

Jongho looked down at the fresh tattoo, his eyes lighting up with excitement and appreciation. "It looks amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Thank you so much." 

You smiled, feeling a warm rush of pride. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it." 

You put your tattoo machine down and take off your gloves. You glance at Jongho as you throw the needle and other trash, and you notice how Jongho hesitates before standing up, his movements deliberate and cautious. You didn't pay too much mind, assuming he might just be feeling a bit sore or stiff from sitting in one position for so long. You turned to search for a new pair of gloves and the tattoo bandage, focusing on gathering the necessary supplies to wrap his fresh ink and ensure it was properly protected. As you turned back to face him, you saw him tugging his shirt down with an almost desperate force. It was then that you noticed the distinct outline in his jeans. The sight caused a sudden jolt in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a rush of emotions, a blush creeping in. You reminded yourself to keep things professional, but the unspoken tension in the room was too obvious, and you couldn't ignore the way your own body reacted. Taking a deep breath, you approached Jongho with the bandage, your hands steady even though your heart was racing. 

"Looks like I'll need to wrap this up nice and tight," you say with a teasing smile, your voice carrying a hint of playful suggestion. "We wouldn't want anything to get out of hand." 

Jongho's eyes widen slightly at your words, a faint blush creeping back onto his cheeks. He chuckles nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, definitely wouldn't want that," he replies, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. 

You carefully begin to wrap the tattoo with the dedicated bandage, ensuring it's secure and protected. As you work, you can't help but notice the slight tension in Jongho's body, the way his breathing seems to have quickened just a bit.

The silence between you was getting uncomfortable. Jongho cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "So, uh," he began, his voice shakier than before. "Do you have any tips for taking care of the tattoo?" His attempt at casual conversation was endearing, and you could tell he was trying to steer the moment back to a more normal footing. 

You nodded, grateful for the chance to focus on something else than the burning feeling in your stomach. "Yes, absolutely," you replied, your voice steadying. "Keep it clean and moisturize it every three to four hours with the cream I'll give you. Avoid soaking it in water and stay out of direct sunlight. I'll give you an aftercare sheet with all the details." 

Jongho listened intently, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and lingering embarrassment. "Got it. I'll make sure to follow the instructions," he said, his voice more composed now. As you finished applying the tattoo bandage, the proximity between you felt charged, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breath hitched slightly whenever your fingers brushed against his warm skin.

"If you have any questions or need a touch-up, don't hesitate to contact me," you added, trying to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. 

"Thank you," Jongho replied, his expression softening. "I really appreciate the care and effort you put into this. It means a lot to me." 

You smiled, "It's been a pleasure, Jongho. I'm glad I could help bring your friend's design to life." 

As Jongho gets ready to leave, he gathers his things and glances at you with a shy smile. You can see him hesitating slightly before he gestures toward you saying, "I guess I'll have to come back to get my hoodie."

You chuckle, leaning against the counter with a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah, looks like you'll have to," you reply with a wink. "Or maybe I could just keep it as a souvenir?" You draw out the words, making sure he knows you're teasing him. 

Jongho laughs, shaking his head. "I don't think I could let you get away with that, this one's my favorite" he teases back, his tone light but his eyes serious. "But I wouldn't mind another visit." The implication hangs in the air, making your heart skip a beat. 

You smile, feeling a warmth in his words that makes your cheeks flush. "Well, the door's always open for you," you say, a hint of anticipation in your voice. The thought of seeing him again fills you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to muster up the courage to say something more. "Actually, I was wondering if... maybe..." He trails off, his cheeks flushing slightly as he struggles to find the right words. "I mean, would you like to... go out for a—" He stumbles over the words, his voice trembling slightly. 

Before he can finish his sentence, you cut in with a teasing smile, unable to resist the urge to make him squirm a little. You raise an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Are you trying to ask me out on a date?" you tease, your eyes twinkling with amusement. 

He blushes deeper, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart melt. 

"Are you sure you want to ask me out while you have a boner?" you quip, unable to keep a straight face. 

Jongho's eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. "Hey, you were the one who put your boob in my hand on purpose," he jokes back, his tone light and playful, trying to deflect the embarrassment. 

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. "I promise it wasn't on purpose," you say, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "But hey, if I wanted to, I'd definitely charge extra for that." The playful banter eases the tension between you.

Jongho laughs, the tension easing as he meets your gaze with a playful glint. "Fair enough."

"So, dinner today at 8?" you ask, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Jongho's eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. "Today at 8," he confirms, his voice filled with excitement. The anticipation in his voice mirrors your own feelings, making your heart beat a little faster. 

You smile warmly at him, and at this point, your cheeks start to hurt "Will you pick me up?" 

"Absolutely," he replies, "I'll see you then." The promise of the evening ahead fills you both with a mix of nerves and excitement. 

As Jongho heads for the door, you can't resist adding one last teasing remark. "Oh, and Jongho," you call out making him turn his head back to you, his hand backing off from the handle of the doors. Your smile at him sweetly, before continuing, your voice playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You better not... you know, take care of yourself before our date. If dinner's a flop, I might need something else to stuff my mouth with." You give him a wink, your tone suggestive but not too forward. 

Jongho blinked a few times before meeting your gaze straight-on, a confident yet mischievous smile finally forming on his lips "Oh, don't worry," he replies, his voice smooth and bold. "I'll make sure to save plenty for you. Just don't be surprised if dessert comes before dinner." He winks back at you, leaving you with a racing heart and a grin you can't wipe off your face. 

[elenthyaolyenths]

𝐌𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 "𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧".

This post is a little bit about me ranting, but mostly about education and how to appreciate fanarts on socials. Please I'm not trying to hurt anybody, I just realised today that, maybe, there are things we artists all need to say one day, and so it's my turn.

A very kind person (Thanks again, dear.) just told me that someone was reposting my art, without even naming me, on a public group on Facebook. I reported it to the admins, but I still don't know if they will do something about this problem, or if they'll do nothing about it or if they'll simply kick me out of their group so I won't be able anymore to see what they are doing with my reposted art. So, for now, I won't cite this Public group.

So. Hello, my name is Elenthya Olyenths, a.k.a @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist on Tumblr.

And my art has been stolen. Again.

Even if there was my signature on it, and a discrete stamp with my name right in the middle of the canvas. It's... awful to see. Because this time, it's clearly not from someone who doesn't know yet the basic "share and reblog but DO NOT REPOST" rule. And it's not someone who reposted my art crediting the wrong name either because they have found my art with the wrong name, in a illegal re-post on another social.

This time, it's someone who downloaded my art pictures, reposted it in the same order, and even copy-pasted my personal explanations (about my injured wrist!!). The stealing intention is quite clear.

(and please don't tell me it's probably a bot aka a programm doing it, because we will never know but it FEELS THE SAME AWFULLY WRONG and whatever, if it's a bot, someone DO has created this bot and so we need to talk about this and teach to people how to recognise a illegal repost.)

So, please, dear Good Omens fans, and my dear fellows from other fandoms.

I just want to kindly remind you all that seeing our art reposted, even with credits, even with our signature, is very hard to live for us artists.

Please, if you see an official artist post that you like, think about using the "share" functions (reblog on tumblr, "Share" on FB and Instagram, etc...), it helps us artists to see where and how our art is appreciated. And for me it's a wonderful way to bring back motivation to me and then to draw/write even more. 𝐒𝐞𝐞, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫f𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐧-𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬! *^__^*

And about reposting art but crediting the artist with the @ (like in here @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist):

Sometimes it's quite okay... but not so great in my own personal opinion. Because it still might be misunderstood by other fans that can't always see the @ and just repost the art with the reposter wrong name on it - or whitout any name at all, which is not better.

Signatures and stamps and watermarks can help us to avoid these problems, but reposting art whitout explicit and personal agreement from the artist is still a issue and in my humble opinion it's NOT RIGHT.

Reposting, even with credits, even made by trustworthy followers, is an issue. T𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 f𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, f𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨f 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 f𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧. It hurts, believe me.

And I alreay know that the current situation will bother me for several days, and it will make me struggle about my drawing schedule, and it will make me brainstorm about which huge and ugly watermarks i need to use again for avoiding such issues.

This is why I can't allow anybody else to repost my art anymore, except for a collab and only with my explicit consent.

Please. Thank you.

Have you all a happy timezone and a wonderful week.

Elen, aka Elenthya Olyenths, aka @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist

Thanks to the TNAN Discord for their amazing support and @itsscottiesstark for her kind advice on this text.

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet ; @naturallyteal

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[emptymasks]

The quickest I've ever gained motivation to draw a whole piece with a background. Thank you Viktor Arcane for being the beautiful man that you are. Two days of drawing and a lot of stressing over how to draw the painting behind Viktor, but I had to stop adding more shading eventually.

This is available as an A4 sized print on my Etsy shop! I've put 25 up for sale for now, but will add more if they sell out.

Also after many people asking over the couple years they've been out of stock, my Viktor flower pins are back open for preorder. And a reminder that I have other Arcane stickers and customisable badges.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[transform-artion]

¡¡¡HELP A VENEZUELAN ARTIST!!!

I'M OPENING EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!

You are on Tumblr? you are able to Reblog,reminder to include venezuelans in your activism and prayers!!

✦ ORDER via KO-FI! Or just DM ME And donations are more than welcome!

Many people tell me to leave the country but I can't, my life is here and even though everything is on fire I want to support my family no matter what, art is my only income so I really hope you guys can help me...

Please concider reposting! I'd really appreciate it! and remember:

EYES ON VENEZUELA!

[theguildawards]

We're All Fired Up!!

Hey everyone!

The Guild Awards are back for the second term of 2024! We hope everyone had a wonderful summer season! Thank you to those who participated last term for making it so enjoyable. We look forward to all the new fanfiction and fanart to be nominated for this term.

Shout out to @pencilofawesomeness for creating last term's banners! If you haven't received yours, please reach out to one of the mods asap!

Our roulette category for this term is Best NSFW Fanfiction. This is defined as: Sexual Content/Smut with plot. Both one-shots and specific chapters from multi-chapter fics are accepted in this category. If coming from a multi-chapter fic, a link for that specific chapter is required and must include content depicting an act of sexual nature. (i.e.: intercourse, masturbation, heavy petting - etc.

As a reminder, there is a Winner Ban in place. This means that once any piece of artwork or fanfiction has won an award for a category, it automatically becomes ineligible and cannot be nominated again for that category. However, it can be nominated for other categories after two consecutive terms have passed (ie: one year since that piece won) as long as it fits within that definition. We do not have a rule against nominating an author/artist back into the category they won for in the past, as long as its a different piece of work that is being nominated.

In addition, we are also going to have a mobile-friendly Google Doc with all current nominations listed. This will be updated as frequently as possible so you can be aware of all the nominations that have currently been reviewed and notified. Hopefully this will help everyone select their own nominations. You can access this doc here.

If it was not mentioned above, chances are it hasn’t changed. Please be aware that the moderators always take suggestions regarding how the awards are run and category changes into consideration. You can read up on the most recent FAQs, Rules of Eligibility, and Categories for more information. [these links are only available on desktop]

For ease of access, we also include a mobile-friendly Google Docs for the FAQs, Rules of Eligibility, and Categories that will be kept up-to-date each term, which can be viewed here.

The Second Term 2024 Nomination Period will begin October 1st and will end October 31st. Please send in your nominations through the submit button. If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to send in an ask or reach out to one of the mods!

Don’t forget we also have a discord that is open to everyone!

Mods: @classysassy9791​, @kiliinstinct​, @phoenix-before-the-flame​, @ratretro​, @phoeneboxfairy​

Please reblog and spread the word of the start of the new term!

[naruhina-2024]

🎑 Hello all! It is that time! This December 2024 we are officially bringing you NaruHina 2024. We hope you enjoy the prompts, special events and more! This year we will even have a, 'Naruto: The Last' movie night on discord!

Each week I will release the prompts listing for that week.

🎑 Special Events: Event Icon Ribbon 🪔 Creator Spotlight 🪔 Secret Santa 🪔 Live Q&A 🪔 TBA

🎑 Details and Guidelines:

🪔 Open to all kinds of content and genre! Artwork, Graphics, Fanfics, AMVs, essays, angst, NSFW, fluff, anything under the sun!

🪔 However, incest, adult/minor, NTR and under-age (below 18 characters) NSFW contents are prohibited. Please make sure to specify if your content is Rated M/E in consideration to the younger audiences. For NSFW artwork, please be mindful to use the content warning on Twitter and Tumblr.

🪔 Kindly include #nhmonth2024 and/ or #nhmonth in your first five tags to help us monitor and reblog/retweet your submissions.

🪔 Just a gentle reminder that any form of ship/character bashing are not allowed. Harassment towards anyone is not tolerated. Please be respectful and observed peace around everyone.

🪔 Commissioned work are allowed as long as the artist/ writer permitted use, properly acknowledged, and credited. Reposts and content theft will be ignored; please bear in mind to avoid doing so.

🎑 Additional information for Non-Tumblr users (Including anons):

🪔 Twitter users may tag our twitter mod @Opal or may use visit @NaruHina2024 (These are twitter tags)

🪔 You may also leave out your preferred pen-name or other online accounts including but not limited to: Ao3, Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, Twitter, IG, etc.

🎑 In case I missed out on your post, feel free to hit up the event moderator: @opal-chan

🎑 For questions and clarifications, please feel free to drop an ASK, PM or check the FAQs.

🎑 Enjoy the event everyone! I hope you have a good time!