#anyway people who make it their business to put shit on a pedestal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tressasinterlude · 3 years ago

Text

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ��Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

#i’m finally done after having this sitting in the drafts for about a good month... or two. 🥴🥴#abuse apologists #pro black #activism #feminism #body posititivity #colorism #raven tracy #kehlani #rihanna #yg #asap rocky #rant #my uploads.

214 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise (1)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, the first splinter in the wall around Bucky’s heart 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

This was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea.

Bucky closed his apartment door behind him, pausing for a moment at the top of brownstone steps as a chill of autumn air swept by. Brittle to the touch, cool on his skin, it nestled into his spine and ached deep in his bones— in ones that had been long abandoned, too. The sun reflected against the shine of the pavement from last night’s rainfall, forcing Bucky to squint his eyes.

Was it always so bright outside? Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t left his apartment for nearly a week before Sam threatened to turn him over to Steve that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the streets of New York could be. Loud. Cold. Chaotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, slipping out of the path of a jogger who nearly ran him over and had the gull to flip him the bird. Bucky groaned, curling his right hand into a fist and digging it deep into his pocket as he tried to calm the sudden racing in his chest. The free arm of his army jacket swung down by his left side, empty.

Not even a few steps outside the sanctuary of closed curtains, warm bedsheets, and the unattended static of a decade old television, and Bucky was already regretting ever knowing Sam Wilson.

Bucky turned towards the busy street ahead, staring up at the hustle of pedestrians and rush of taxis for a moment longer before he dared to take a step. His feet felt remarkably heavy and he had more than half a mind to tell Wilson to shove it and head back up to his apartment. He had better things to do than make a completely unnecessary trip to the VA.

What those things were, he couldn’t say, but they didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could stare at a wall for a few hours, for example – see if he could find the crack in the drywall again and follow it to the ceiling.

“Don't be a coward, Barnes,” Bucky grumbled to himself, earning a strange look from an elderly woman as she passed by. Her eyes held on him longer than she should; clearly a woman who had little shame in her degradation of strangers.

He gritted his teeth and commanded his legs to move. Those worked, at least.

As he made his way to the main street, his palm started to sweat inside his pocket. He could see his breath in every tense exhale, and still, he was boiling hot under his jacket. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d remove it, because even with a sleeve hanging loose off his shoulder, he could at least keep up the pretense there was something inside. People would have to look twice before they realized. Wasn’t so easy to hide a missing arm in a short sleeve shirt.

Still—he was thankful as he weaved his way upstream through the crowd that he wasn’t as broad as he used to be. A couple months' worth of weight loss, diminished muscle mass, and one less limb will do that do a guy.

He used to be the sort of man that women would glance at as he passed by. Charming smile. Infectious energy. He could make a woman bite shamelessly at the edge of her bottom lip with a single trail of his eyes along her figure. Extend a hand, offer a drink and a dance. He used to hold confidence in every ounce of his body.

Now, he kept his eyes on the pavement. He hid from the sun and the curious looks of strangers under the brim of a baseball cap. No one looked twice in his direction. He was invisible these days and that was just the way he liked it.

By the time he reached the VA, he was surprised to find it a little less than pristine. The windows were dirty with handprints and smudges, the window panes covered in soot. A few of the roofing panels were missing from harsh New York winters. Even some of the outer brick wall had seen some weathering.

Though, if he were honest, it wasn’t usual at all. Made some sense that the VA was left to wash and wear on its own, deteriorating in front of a busy street of onlookers, right out in plain sight. It was how Bucky felt after he’d come home from his last tour— discarded. Placed upon a pedestal, but only as long as you wear the uniform, only as long as you’re staring down the other end of a barrel. Once you’re shipped back home and cast out from desert, you’re made to fend for yourself. Pull up your bootstraps. Adjust.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Sam insisted this would help. The people at the VA were good, he’d said. They were like him. They’d understand.

While Bucky was suspicious, it was enough to drag him a couple blocks from his apartment. It was more than he’d done in weeks anyway. Sam would put on his makeshift shrink hat and call that a meaningful step. Bucky would call it pathetic.

He stared at the double doors, focusing on dark red rust on the metal hinges. He wondered if he put enough pressure on the latch if it would snap clean off. It looked sharp on the edges, too. Someone could easily cut themselves on it if they weren’t careful—

BEEEEEEP!

A jolt surged through Bucky’s chest enough to nearly knocked him off his feet.

Sudden flashes of a sweltering heat, the unnatural vibration of the desert under his feet. The car horn echoed into the back of his head, longer than it should have, and his ears started to ring. His vision felt tunneled and Bucky quickly stumbled his way through the double doors just to escape the blare of the horn outside.

It took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It was darker inside than what he was expecting. He blinked a few times, hand resting on the wall to hold his balance as he looked around, shaking himself from the memories.

Lamps were spread throughout the common room to offset the abrasive overhead lighting left untouched. Bucky started to wonder if he maybe it was on purpose, if he wasn’t the only one who had become sensitive to these things, when Sam walked into the room.

He froze.

“Holy shit!” Sam’s mouth rose up into that goddamn know-it-all smile, wide enough to show teeth and the dimples in his cheeks, and Bucky winced. Sam started to laugh as he crossed the space to where Bucky was standing. “I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m here. Don’t make this a big thing.”

“Who me?” Sam scoffed, feigning offense. “You know Steve’s the one who’s going to blow this up. He might throw a welcome party if you ever show up to the support group.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sam nodded, though he was still smiling. He looked almost... proud? It didn’t sit well in Bucky’s stomach. “Still, got you out of that cramped apartment, didn’t I? You open those curtains yet or are you still living like a vampire?”

Bucky glared at him. Sure, Sam was right... but he didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Sam put a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him down the hall.

He was only one of two people Bucky tolerated touching him at all and he was lucky he didn’t flinch anymore. Even an innocent touch from his own mother when she tried to hold his hand after he came back from his final tour had nearly left him in a panic attack. She’d cried as Bucky desperately tried to gather his breath, shoving her away as if she’d burned him.

Sam and Steve didn’t give him much of a choice. They didn’t handle him with kid gloves or treat him like he was about to break. Even if he was splintering at the seams, you’d never be able to tell with how Sam and Steve were around him; like old times, like nothing had changed, like they were still three kids dressed in fresh uniforms with chips on their shoulders and a whole new world ahead of them.

After a while, the small pats on the back and the nudges in his side became a small comfort; not that he’d tell them. It was a strange feeling to both be repulsed by touch and crave it. But the topic didn’t come up much these days outside of his friends anyway. No one tried to touch him and he didn’t seek it out. It was easier that way.

“The kitchen’s over here,” Sam said as he pointed into a room that had likely once been covered in white tiles and appliances, though now resembled more of a pale yellow. Two men were hunched over at the table, nursing coffee out of Styrofoam cups as a woman waited eagerly by a toaster.

“Everything in there is free rein,” Sam added. “Always stocked with food from donations, though I would make sure to check the expirations on the milk before adding it to your coffee.” He shivered at an unpleasant memory and Bucky found the edge of his mouth curl, though he suppressed it rather quickly.

The next room was mostly empty save for the wooden lined floors and chairs folded up against the wall. A sheet covered the small window peering inside that read ‘group in session when closed.’

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam started, to which Bucky narrowed his eyes, “but I’m not going to force you into the support group, Buck. You go when you’re ready. If you ever are. Talking about this stuff, or even listening to it... it isn't for everybody. Steve will get that, too. We all find our outlets eventually. You’ll find yours, too.”

Bucky nodded, a swell of relief in his chest. He’d been forced into a mental evaluation by the army docs shortly after his discharge; something about routine testing, but he knew what they were looking for – what all those shrinks were looking for – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The nightmares came first, soon after he’d returned to the States. It started in screams that burned deep into his throat, waking up neighbors at two in the morning, finding blood in his bed from injuries he’d caused in his sleep. Lately they’d manifested into sweat drenched in his sheets and a heart rate that couldn’t seem to even out until the sun rose.

Then came the jumpiness – the flinching at every loud noise, thinking it was a bomb or the latch of a safety. He’d broken more glasses than he cared to admit, knocking them straight of his hand at the sound of a gunshot on the television.

Then the paranoia settled in, then the hypervigilance. The anxiety in crowds and tight spaces was new, though. Add it to the list, he supposed.

Through all of it, he never let the shrink catch on. He’d put on a smile and tell them he was proud of his service, that he’d serviced his country with honor and he was thankful to return to the civilian side of things for a change.

It was bullshit.

He was pissed. He lost an arm and half his mind to a war that recruited him young and idealistic right out of high school, when he was looking for a better life than what his neighborhood could offer, to put food on the table for his ma and sister. Pissed was understated.

He wouldn’t find himself in Steve’s group; of that he was certain. You don’t talk about those things after you leave the desert. Hell, you barely acknowledge them while you’re there. It’s just how it works. It’s how you deal with it. Bucky didn’t allow himself to consider whether his method was doing him much better.

Sam walked him through the common areas, the lounge space, even a room with a pretty decent sized television and a shelf filled with DVDs. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. But so was his apartment.

“Now this is the best room in the house.” Sam opened a door on his left, the hinges squeaking under an old wooden frame as he stepped inside.

Bucky followed in closely behind and was surprised when a subtle scent of pine brushed his senses. A small candle was burning at the center of a coffee table, surrounding it were a few couches, all with mismatched fabrics, laid upon a carpet that looked to have been donated from an estate sale. The walls around him were lined with shelves, though they were completely empty. Cob webs hung in the corners and dust lined the wood.

What caught his eye was a single cart at the edge of the room. It was filled with books, all in bright colors on the binding and tags from the Brooklyn Public Library piled high on top of one another, far beyond the confines of the cart itself.

“Y/n? Where you at, kid? We got a newbie!” Sam called, nudging Bucky in the side with a playful wink he did not return.

A figure suddenly jumped from behind the couch with a book in hand covered in layers of dust and crumbs. The sudden movement forced a flinch deep in Bucky’s chest, his breath held tight in his lungs, though he kept himself firm on the surface, like stone. It took a minute before he realized how tight he’d barreled his fist and he slowly released his grip before Sam could notice.

“Been looking for this one for over a year!” you exclaimed, holding up the book for Sam to see. You brushed off the cover, restoring the original vibrant hue of the artwork. “Can’t even imagine the overdue fees I’ve racked up on this sucker...”

There was a strange lightness in your voice Bucky didn’t expect, a tenderness and a sunshine that didn’t belong amongst the dark overcast of the men and women who occupied these rooms. It certainly sat in dangerous contrast to the gravel and stone in Bucky’s voice and the clouds that usually followed in his wake.

He glanced down at his clothes as you approached; a pair of old ripped jeans from a few years ago, a faded t-shirt, and his army jacket hung over his shoulders. Dull and raggedy, ripping at the seams.

But you? Dressed in the warmest shade of a red knit sweater, a gentle glow on your cheeks, a softness about your movements, you resembled the sort of sunset at the end of a highway one would stop the car to capture on film. Inviting. Tender and ethereal. Lovely.

You stepped closer and he noticed the knees of your jeans were covered in dust, your palms too. Messy in the pursuit of happiness, like a child on a playground. You didn’t seem to mind the dust as you brushed it off your knees, holding the found book close to your chest like an extension of your own heart.

“Blame it on Lang. He's always losing stuff around here,” Sam offered as you set the book on the cart. You started to laugh and swatted Sam in the arm. A pout perched on your lips, though it didn’t seem to last long. Your laugh was infectious.

Bucky swallowed as he watched you; the way your smile wrinkled up into your eyes as if a face like yours was drawn and designed to curve at the lips and push dimples to your cheeks. It shined into the bright hues in your irises and Bucky wondered if you would keep smiling like that forever, if it were possible that he could stare into the sun and not be burned; if instead, he could find warmth in its embrace.

His heart stammered, his breath shallow, but it wasn’t unpleasant like it had been on the busy streets. It was something new, a sensation he hadn’t had since before he signed his name to a cause that took his arm and his dignity.

Y/n, Sam had called you. It was a beautiful name. He didn’t know if he could even find things beautiful again after what he’d seen overseas. You were the first, he supposed.

He must have been staring too long, because your lips were moving to words he didn’t hear, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him. His heart skipped, frozen in embarrassment.

“This must be your first day of school,” you teased, extending your right hand to him.

Bucky stared down at it, heart pounding, and before Sam could politely tell you that Bucky didn’t really do that sort of thing, he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook it. You had a firmer grip than he was expecting, but still soft. Your fingers were like ice and it was a nice contrast to the swelter he felt under his jacket.

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bucky's sudden willingness to take the hand of a stranger, though thankfully he didn’t say anything. A shit eating grin curved up upon his lips and that, Bucky could have done without.

“Thought it was time I checked it out,” Bucky said, his voice a little dry. You let go of his hand and Bucky found he missed the contact almost instantly.

“Dragged him here by the skin of his teeth is more like it,” Sam interjected and Bucky’s ears burned red. He shot Sam a glare, who only shrugged, unbothered by his humiliation of his friend. “Been trying to get his sorry ass through the door for a few months now.”

You nodded, though your smile never wavered. Your eyes remained on Bucky, listening to Sam, but intently studying the lines on Bucky’s face. It left him feeling exposed, but somehow, even as his own gaze trailed to the floor, he didn’t mind you watching him like that, like maybe you found worth in what you saw. He adjusted his stance, suddenly remembering the startling absence on his left.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” you said, brushing Sam off in his teasing. “I’ve been volunteering at this place for a little over a year. We got good people here. I’m sure you’ll fit right in...” you paused, biting on your lip.

“Bucky,” he offered because he could tell you were waiting for it. You smiled at his name and a sense of pride burned bright in his chest. God, if he could just make you smile like that again...

“Bucky’s a cool name,” you grinned, though Sam rolled his eyes. “That short for something?”

“Don’t lie to the new kid, Y/n. We all know it’s corny as hell,” Sam interrupted playfully before Bucky could get a word in. You wacked Sam on the shoulder and Bucky felt the edges of his lips curve. It felt strange, achy, like he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he hadn’t.

“Buchanan,” Bucky answered, though he quickly added, “but my first name’s James. James Barnes.”

“Well, James Barnes,” you started, exchanging a knowing look with Sam that made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots, “I run a book club of sorts on Sunday evenings around six. You should swing by. We’re always looking for new members.”

“Y/n works at the Brooklyn library most days,” Sam explained. “We’re lucky to have her. Never thought I’d see so many tattooed men with biceps the size of my head sitting in a circle talking ‘bout books, but Y/n works magic. Everyone loves her. Helps that her book club is pretty unconventional.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unconventional?”

Sam started to say more, but you pouted your lips at him and he left the words on the edge of his tongue. He held up his hands in defense and took a step back, returning the smile to your face.

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, laughing so sweetly Bucky was sure his knees might give out at any second. “It’s a good time, I promise. No pressure at all.”

Bucky nodded, considering his options. The idea of seeing you again could make the walk down to the VA worth it, but he wasn’t sold on the concept of sitting in a room full of ex-combat vets probably using a shared book as a proxy for a support group. He wondered if you had them reading something about PTSD or adjusting to civilian life or a memoir of some guy embellishing his time overseas to make a quick buck.

But he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, so he asked, “what are you reading?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Just think about it,” you suggested as you unclicked the lock at the bottom of the cart. The front wheel was broken and you struggled to get an angle to move in the direction you pushed it. “I should head back to the library. It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Bucky nodded, finding himself searching for something else to say, some kind of excuse to get you to stay longer, but came up empty. You smiled at him, all bright and starry eyed, and his knees felt weak again. Shit.

“Don’t let Stark talk your ear off on the way out,” Sam warned, a laugh in his voice.

“I think I know my boys around here by now, Samuel,” you teased back. Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was a pang of jealousy in his stomach or an eagerness to be included. It was a strange rush of feelings he hadn’t tapped into in years; not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unfamiliar.

You paused by the door, turning back and capturing Bucky’s eye one last time. “Sunday at six, alright? I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t say anything, but you seemed to take his silence as confirmation. You gave him a final wave before you disappeared into the hallway. He could hear the click of the broken front wheel on your cart echoing down the hall.

Bucky and Sam followed you out of the room and hung back by the makeshift library doors.

“What did I tell you!” Sam cheered, nudging Bucky hard enough on the side to knock him off his balance. He was too fixated on watching grumpy old men and stone-faced women pass by in the hallway with smiles on their faces as they saw you.

“It’s, uh, it’s not bad.” Bucky waited until you disappeared out the front doors and onto the busy sidewalks before he turned to Sam. He was watching him with a sort of I-told-you-so look that made Bucky want to slap the dimples straight from his face. “...what?”

“Nothing, man.” Sam shrugged, though there was something lingering in the smirk he wore, like maybe he knew something Bucky didn’t.

He didn’t care for that one bit.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

2K notes · View notes

siennamain · 1 year ago

Text

its not enough to write pages on my diary, i need to be seen^tm

i feel so fucking insane and like a child,,, this all sound so ridiculous and im such a fucking mess. i have no idea what the fuck is truly going on inside my mind.

and it starts in such a fucking small place,,,

but basically, there's gonna be a theatre in my uni city that im so hyped to see, so i went to my friends from there group chat to ask them if anyone wanted to come.

a friend replied that i should invite my crush. another friend agreed. i told them I'd try to see if he was interested monday, and the second friend said she wasn't sure he'd come monday (fair enough, the guy skips classes frequently) she made a joke about how i should show up to his house, followed by her realization that they lived together (in the students dorms, which makes that a stretch).

i forgot the students dorms cuz the way she worded it made me think it was an apartment, and said we (2nd friend and i) could make dinner together and invite him in, since he's in the same place. after some confusing back and fort realized the students dorm thing and also that no dinner would be happening cuz,,,, students dorms

but anyway, i said it wouldn't be happening, it'd be weird to invite him to dinner to try and invite him to go see a theater (something I'd also llve doing with him completely platonically) that friend said something about how how i should try it anyway cuz I'm going nowhere with this and that stuck such a nerve.

and it's not her fault, i haven't gotten close enough to my uni friends to tell them about my issues. but holy fucking shit. i know im not doing shit. i hate it but i was so proud of myself for actually just talking to him more.

like, me going to him monday, to just fucking mention the theater, and vaguely invite him to go with me is already going to be so fucking brave of me. that's gonna require so much fucking vulnerability already.

but then, i dont even fucking know if these are just wounds from the past or me being a fucking coward who can't take rejection.

like, I'm so hyper aware of this middle school social hierarchy, where he's so so much above me. (and i feel so fucking immature for this) but he's just so beautiful, and smart, and skilled and he just charms people so effortlessly. and he deserves someone without all this baggage. like, what the fuck have i got to give that would at least balance the scales? i have no idea. but there are so many people who are similar to me without all my problems.

but holy shit, am i not dehumanizing him in some way? to self-flagelate? he deserves better than that.

what my uni friends don't get is that i need to be his friend first (and want! i want to be his friend too). i cant imagine a world where someone could feel what i feel for him for me, in such a "spontaneous" way, without knowing me deeply first. least of all someone like him.

and it does sound like im putting him on a pedestal, but he's so fucking well liked, and again, so fucking pretty.

with that face alone, hes the kind of guy to date a girl who doesn't use makeup, because her skin is already just completely perfect, and doesn't do plastics, but her face looks like a sculpture. i don't do either of those things, because i dont need it, sure, nobody does, but my skin has breakouts and i see flaws that could be fixed goin under the knife.

and if i invited him, and he answered that he wasn't in the mood/was too busy/whatever, would i give up "chasing" him? blame it on him not knowing me enough to want to hang out? would i insist, keep insisting, until he had no choice but to scream at my face he's not interested?

am i that kind of monster?

i dont want to hurt him, i truly dont. i dont want my insecurities and past etc to hurt someone else.

i dont want to humiliate myself either. i feel like all my desires end up just humiliating me. never fucking satisfied.

and i feel like a coward, and a freak that's willing to hurt someone just to play out her fantasies.

and i feel like all of this is a show im putting on, a pity party, idk what for.

I'm having a miserable time :))))

2 notes · View notes

lustbile · 3 years ago

Text

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

��

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

#nct smut #ten smut #chittaphon smut #nct imagine #nct series #nct fic #ten imagines #ten oneshot #nct oneshot #kpop smut #wayv smut #wayv imagine #wayv oneshot

210 notes · View notes

obsessivelollipoplalala · 2 years ago

Note

Particularly among the older Queen crowd outside of Tumblr, Roger seems to be relatively shielded from criticism and personal attacks in regards to post-Freddie Queen projects, while Brian is often painted as the sole person responsible for everything wrong with whatever the band does, though sometimes poor Roger also gets dragged in. But his loyalty to and friendship with Freddie doesn’t nearly get as disputed or dismissed as much. John’s silent approval for these projects mostly goes unnoticed. It’s strange.

Oh and I have another one: the biopic gets a lot of flack and criticism but often for the wrong and weirdest reasons. And because of that, I rarely pay mind to any criticism of it now, despite the fact that some could be well constructed and warranted.

Take 1:

Strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

Yes. Absolutely, yes. I think Roger is shielded from 99% of criticism in general (hence me getting blocked by Roger stans after making a mild criticism of him/more of a criticism of his stans lmao) but I'll stick to the subject you brought up. People act like Brian bullies Roger into agreeing to every post-Freddie Queen project, which is utterly laughable. I don't think Roger is capable of being bullied lol and he's certainly not afraid of disagreeing with Brian! I don't know if people zero in on Brian's ardent defense of Queen's post-Freddie actions because we hear from him the most or because they just love hating him (I think it's both), but when Roger does open his mouth publicly, it's never to bow to criticism of the band or say Brian was the one who made him do X. Every major thing done in the Queen name right now has both of their approval.

Yes, there's John, too. Maybe one could argue that he doesn't actually approve but doesn't want to bother fighting any business decisions anymore, but idk, I don't think we have evidence of that, and he certainly still gets paid for everything Brian and Roger do in the band's name. I remember a post on here made by someone outside the fandom that asserted John didn't do borhap press or show up at award shows for borhap because he didn't approve of the movie--unlike Brian and Roger who were supposedly homophobic and selling out Freddie--and it was so, so fucking stupid that I immediately blocked that person lmao. We all know John has been out of sight for +20 years! Anyway, yeah, Brian is the face of post-Freddie Queen to some people, so they take their angst out on mainly him.

Take 2:

Strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

Let me give you the reasons for my contradictory response. I loathe that film lol. I despise its sloppy, lazy writing, inaccuracies, Mary worship, Jim (almost) erasure, undermining the band's familial relationship, and (intentional? Unintentional?) homophobia in its demonization of gay club culture and simultaneous putting Mary/hetero shit on a pedestal. However, since I don't know what particular criticisms you're referring to, I can't fully disagree, because I don't discount that people probably hate it for really weird reasons. One thing I've learned in this fandom is that pretty much everything Queen has said or done is hated by someone for a batshit reason I would never think of in a million years lmao. I don't talk about the movie much anymore because it's been years and I've talked about it a lot, but I can't think about it too long without wanting to bite something.

#queen #movie stans don't interact #replies

9 notes · View notes

elysianslove · 4 years ago

Note

hihi, can I request smth! Idk of this comply to your request rules cause I can't find it in your blog (sorry!!) The request is hc with Atsumu, Kuroo and Iwaizumi with an s/o that is considered a bitch by people. Like they don't let anyone walk all over them, people are scared of them but admire them esp in terms of academics but they're actually v loving and a big clumsy mess.

hii!! yeah i don’t really have a set of rules for requesting mainly cause i couldn’t think of any haha, but your request is more than okay! i’ve been obsessing nonstop over atsumu especially recently, and today wasn’t the best of days for me, so this was nice to write heh. thank you for requesting it. i hope you enjoy <3

miya atsumu

atsumu is obsessed w you

seriously, he is just enamored by you. the way you hold your ground and always stand up for yourself, never letting anyone saying anything about you pass by you, your presence so intimidating. he loves it so much. he’s especially fond of the way you’re not even a bitch, you’re just confident in who you are, and everything you’re good at.

he observes from afar at first, the way people shrink in comparison to you regardless of your height. your aura just seems so. powerful? he really wants to approach you, and because this is miya atsumu, the first thought that crosses his mind is this person needs to be mine <3 no he will not take criticism.

so he does. approaches you, introduces himself in a way like you’re already meant to know who he is and he’s just doing you a favor. his heart breaks into tiny little pieces when you just go, “sorry, but no.”

like literally just that you don’t go in detail or anything. you just reject him so plain and simple it’s actually worse than a full fledged out angry rejection. osamu’s so impressed he ready to have you added to his future will.

he grows on you, though, over time. atsumu’s so quitter, and your rejection had only spurred him on. he would’ve backed off, because is a consent king, as they all are and should be, but you’re always so prepared with a quip back at him and you never actually push him away. it’s like a flirty game of tug of war between you two. eventually, he asks you out again, and just for old time’s sake, you jokingly say no lmao. all blood drains from his face that you actually kinda feel bad.

generally, he’s very proud to have you as his s/o. he himself has dealt with people constantly being put off by him and his attitude, so to see you deal with it so well is kind of? encouraging? uplifting? yk?

he also likes how people are both scared of you and admire you. like. he relates to them! you’re incredible!

he’s always snickering when he sees a student approach you literally trembling like a leaf and asks for your help in something academics related. you always say yes, which is something that just. pinches at his heart. the student is also always so surprised at the fact that you’re willing to help. god. atsumu will never have enough of their reactions to you.

when you grow more comfortable with each other, and he discovers what you’re truly like, the person you really are beneath, atsumu just straight up falls in love. he didn’t think you could be any more perfect for him, honestly.

he’s loves the way people are so intimidated by you but he knows that just a few minutes ago you were doodling little hearts in his notebook.

a part of him wants so many more people to be aware that sometimes you can trip over air, and that you’re not as elegant and stoic as everyone thinks you are, but then he’s reminded of the fact that only he knows you’re truly like this, and he shakes that part of him off. atsumu genuinely adores knowing this additional, secret part of you. he doesn’t think you’re fake at all for having what’s seemingly a facade. he just thinks not enough people know what you’re truly like, and that you’re a gem, truly.

he’s also like weirdly obsessed with the two of you as a couple? he knows people are intimidated by him, and it’s so painfully obvious people are intimidated by you. he just. eats that shit up.

he’d also be really supportive if it ever gets to you. super ready to fight anyone. he’ll always tell you “these fake bitches don’t matter babe we the only real ones 😼💯” god havejkdkd

anyways i been fantasizing about having miya atsumu as my bf somebody help im going insane

kuroo tetsurō

kuroo knows of you. everybody does. you’re like, exceptionally good at being one of the most talked about people and also being the most mysterious person in school. the duality has him heart eyes for you.

what probably catches his attention is the way people talk about you, in general, but specifically regarding academics. he overhears a group of people like whispering to each other about you while you’re just standing there minding your own business. they’re just encouraging one of them to approach you and kuroo’s like hm ! let me butt in bc why not !

as a joke, he slides up next to you and points at the group of students and whispers, “they’re talking about you.”

this obviously ticks you off and without looking back you stomp over to the students and just go, “if you have something to say about me say it to my face!” and kuroo’s just watching like ,,, damn that’s hot. the students are so confused and ten times more scared than they first were and one of them just squeaks out that they only wanted to ask for help and you just , “oh. okay! :D.” kuroo’s just ,,, he’s losing his damn mind.

he finds you really interesting, honestly, the way you’re just so strong? like mentally especially. you’re really mature, and you have a strong sense of self. he admires that about you, and continues to love that even when you start dating.

he does ask you out, and he’s a little surprised you said yes, he’s not gonna lie. but you did, from the first time, and he just took you out to a simple picnic date. it was very cute, and the whole time he made you laugh and you were a completely different person than what he had first seen and expected.

he really likes the fact that you’re really confident in yourself in that you won’t let anyone step on you or walk all over you. like he just loves watching you hand someone’s ass to them because they decided they wanted to make a smart comment about you. seriously, he’s insanely in love with it.

he realizes pretty quick that the only reason people are so thrown off by you or are scared to approach you is because no one really gives you a chance to be yourself? like they’re always expecting the worst from you, having heard all these terrible things about you that half aren’t even true, that they don’t even bother trying to get to know you. and that fact really bothers him a lot, he’s not gonna lie, because he believes you’re the best person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.

he really loves that you don’t let it bother you though. he’s impressed with how it doesn’t matter if some friends turn out fake, because, in your words, “good riddance.”

the two of you kind of feed off each other’s energies? like he’s super confident in himself, and so are you, so you two only benefit each other in your presences.

to put it simply, kuroo is incredibly impressed with who you are as a person, and it warms his heart so much how you’re so incredible of a person in so many ways, in that you neither let anything pass you by, and in that you’re the cutest, kindest soul he knows.

iwaizumi hajime

brat tamer #1 <3

i think iwa genuinely doesn’t care. not about you! about the things people say. like he hears so many rumors about you and he’s like .... ok. oikawa’s always feeding them to him but he’s just? not bothered by it? doesn’t care? it’s irrelevant information for him anyways?

but then.

he walks past a scene where he sees you just destroying this poor kid. you’re verbally destroying him. the kid’s buried six feet under at this point. you’re not even yelling, but the guy’s shrinking under your gaze and your words and iwazumi’s so mesmerized by the way you do it so flawlessly. you don’t stutter because you’re so sure of your words and so confident in your stance. iwazumi. hums in approval. like. hm. good for them. as they should.

after that he starts paying more attention to anything he hears about you, because he wants to know more. he doesn’t know why. he just does. and then he hears all these different things like “they’re so good at everything they do they can’t be real” and “i would never speak to them if they were the last person on earth” like ? he’s so confused WHICH IS IT

so, because iwaizumi’s a pretty straightforward person, he approaches you.

do not confuse this though, because iwa is a blushing and flustered mess as he asks you to hang out. he’s never done this before, and this is not his style, but he’s just so interested in who you are as a person he was doing it before he realized it happened.

the way you react is so? sweet?

it’s so different than that day he saw you murdering that guy for talking smack, you seem so light and loving he actually feels his heart beat a little too fast in his chest.

as his s/o, iwaizumi likes that he can trust you with yourself. like a part of him will always have that protective side to him, because that’s just the person iwa is, and he’ll always feel the need to step up and speak for you. but another part of him is really amazed by the way you can and are so able of speaking up for yourself. he feels really proud at the lack of insecurity.

he also feels really smug about being with you. because he knows people are intimidated by him, and especially by you, but now that you’re together, he feels untouchable, and he knows you are too. he likes that feeling of power a little too much.

if you ever step out of line at some point, iwaizumi will definitely let you know. he’ll point it out, and if you resist, he knows how to get you down off the pedestal. he’s had brat taming training for years lmao

but he doesn’t think you’re a brat, not at all. in fact, he thinks you’re the sweetest person ever. he loves the versatility of your personality and attitude, in that you’re not just black and white and there’s so much more to you, there’s always grey in between. he likes that you’re endlessly dimensional and that he’s always learning something new about you.

he especially loves the side of you that’s so soft spoken. it’s so endearing to him how you’re one moment so angry you could murder someone in cold blood but then all of a sudden you’re pinching his cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose telling him how cute he is.

yeah iwa really loves you hehe <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons

971 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 4 years ago

Note

thought of this cute concept! Where you have to get a bridesmaid dress and Tom comes with you and the worker thinks you came to try on wedding dresses and toms like 👀👀👀 try some on. And you do and toms really acting like it’s a say yes to the dress episode and making up a whole fake scenario about you two getting married 😂

This is such a fucking cuute ideaaa. i love it. for real, like i don’t ever really see myself getting marries but whenever i flip the channel to TLC and say yes to the dress is on I get so emotional because yesss i also wanna be a pretty princessss _______________________________________

You had felt honoured when one of your friends has asked you to be one of the bridesmaids but with that came that you had to wear a bridesmaid dress at the ceremony. Your friend had always wanted a big traditional wedding, and you got that, but why she wanted to continue the tradition of disgusting bridesmaid dresses, you never understood. The dress design she had chosen was bright big and frilly, everything that you hated, basically. So, when you learned that you had to go to the store yourself to pick it up, something in you struck a cord of humiliation.

You could not go in there alone.

Fortunately, your best friend Tom sacrificed himself to tag along with you. That made it already slightly better, Tom always knew how to make a bad situation better. The two of you always had fun. It would be alright.

So you walked into the store. Tom had his arm around your shoulder. The second you walked in it was as if you had been punched in the face with chiffon and organza. And it was all so. white. You looked over at Tom but he just winked.

“Good morning,” a woman behind the counter said, “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a bridesmaid dress, should be under the name y/n?” You told her, still looking around at the racks of dresses. You had no idea where one started and the other ended. It was one big cloud of material and rhinestones.

“Let me take a look in the back, make yourself comfortable, this might take a while,” she smiled before leaving through the door. Not really sure what to do, Tom sat down in a chair and you looked through the dresses. You had never been a fan of them, but there was something about the wedding dress that made you melt a bit. Carefully, you pushed the hangers to the side, one by one. Each piece looked beautiful.

“Looking for one yourself?” The clerk had come back, and you startled your way around to look at her. She had come back and was holding a large black garment bag. At least you didn’t have to walk around the city with it being visible.

“Oh, huh-”

“Yes, she is!” Tom stood up. You looked over at him, confused. He made his way over to you. “She’s been putting it off forever. I’ve tried to tell her that she should do it before it’s too late. Of course, I think she’d look amazing in whatever she wore, but I want my girl to look and feel like a queen.” He ended his little theatrics with a kiss on your cheek. You kept looking like a deer in the headlights at him, having no idea what he was talking about, stunned at how he had called you his girl. The woman, however, was smiling and looked as if she was about to cry.

“Well then, would you like to try some on?” she asked hopefully.

“Don’t we need an appointment?” You asked.

“Usually yes, but today business has been a bit slow, as you can see.” The woman, who’s name tag you could now read to be saying “Layla”, pointed around the shopping space.

“I don’t think we got the money on us to-” you tried to stop this but Tom was having none of it.

“Pish posh, darling. I’ll pay.”

“Walk in’s only pay the cost of the champagne and cake if you’d like some,” Layla smiled. “and any damage to the dresses, if it happens.”

“Have people sat on the cake?” Tom asked curiously.

“It has happened. It would only be a dry-cleaning or repair fee, not the full price, of course, but anyway, shall we get started?” Layla looked at you excitedly. It was nice to know she was actually enthusiastic about her job. You nervously looked over at Tom, who was just nudging you to go with it.

“Alright then,” you gave in.

The next moment, Layla took out a very generous slice of red velvet cake for Tom and a glass of champagne, which he more than enjoyed while you got changed into a dress. You were taken to a little room in the back and waited for Layla to bring you a few dresses to choose from. Since you had no idea what you would like in a dress, you let her pick whatever and you’d go from there.

“Alright, so I picked out a bit of everything. We got an A-line, mermaid, ballgown.” Now, you had watched a few episodes of Say Yes to the Dress so you knew the basics of the terms, but it still felt very intimidating to have it in front of you.

“Let’s go with the mermaid?” you said a bit unsure. Layla nodded at your choice and helped you get dressed in it. There was no mirror in the room so you had to go out to the main space to see yourself. It was a bit of a hassle to walk in it, especially in the borrowed heels that the store provided, but you got there. When you walked in, Tom had looked up and the cake he was eating almost fell out of his mouth as he stared.

“Holy shit,” he choked out. He kept looking at you in this awe as you made your way to the pedestal in front of the mirrors. Now you could finally look at yourself. You gasped at what you saw.

The dress was gorgeous and elegant, with more lace than rhinestones covering it. The shape of it fitted your shape perfectly (with the help of some clippers in the back, of course, to adjust to your size). The straps were the off the shoulder kind, hanging on loosely on your arms. The train fell smoothly down and followed your every move and turn, like your own waves of organza sea at your feet. Layla walked up to you and pinned in a veiled tiara in your hair for the full effect.

You could see Tom in your reflection, and you saw how he was trying to hold in his tears. You turned to face him.

“What do we think?”

“It’s gorgeous.” He said, “You look fucking amazing- sorry,” he apologised to Layla for his language, but she didn’t seem to mind. He put the plate of cake down on the little table next to him and once again got up to make his way over to you. He took your hand and leaned in to kiss you. It was happening so suddenly that you forgot to panic and just let it happen, giving into it. His lips were so soft and tasted like cream cheese frosting, which made you giggle a bit.

Tom pulled away, now looking a bit sour. “I’m just not really sure about the veil, do you have another one maybe?” He asked. Layla said she’d go look in the back and disappeared, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

“What the hell is going on,” you said in disbelief at what just happened. You had just kissed Tom!? Your childhood best friend Tom?! Or actually, he had kissed you?!

“Well, it feels a bit backward but I was hoping if I could take you out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d love to,” you said. He pulled you in for another soft kiss. You pulled away right at the same time as Layla walked back into the room with another veil.

“So are you saying yes to dress, hun?” she asked. You looked over at Tom. His wink made you roll your eyes.

“Actually, I think we’ll have to wait a bit on that.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb #imagine #au #fluff #request

207 notes · View notes

ironwoman359 · 4 years ago

Note

Okay smart ass. How come you and the other big blogs aren't saying shit about the racism and other problematic things happening in the fandom? Specially when almost all of you were always ready to put your opinions on something as petty as fans criticizing Thomas for how he wears a skirt.

Well, I cannot speak for other ‘big blogs’ because, while I am friends with some of the people who run the blogs that you’re lumping into the ‘big’ cateogory, we are not a monolith. We don’t have a secret group chat where we all decide “today we shall talk about Thomas wearing a skirt and ignore racism on purpose.” I can offer speculation that perhaps more people quickly added their own two cents on the skirt thing because when compared to everything else that was going on in the world, both on tumblr and off it, it was such a simple thing to digest. Everyone was craving something simple at that time, so it was an easy, cathartic thing to jump in and say “hey, don’t be mean in people’s inboxes” and proceed to stop thinking about almost just as fast. Anyway, like I said, I can’t speak for other people, only for myself. So since you apparently want me to, I’ll speak for myself.

“How come you and the other big blogs aren’t saying shit about the racism...”

I am white. It is not my place to speak over poc about racism. It is my place to reblog their posts, elevating their voices without commentary. That is something that I learned this year, and it is something I intend to continue to practice. I do recall making one post in early June, about not using the b/l.m tag on fanart posts, but after seeing several poc express that they wanted white people to talk less and listen more, I elected to make no more original posts about the subject and stick to reblogging without comment. If you’re looking for some good posts about racism in the sanders sides fandom, here are a few good ones. Though most of the posts about racism that make their way across my dash and subsequently onto my blog are less fandom focused and more broad.

“...and other problematic things happening in the fandom?”

This is where I must repeat what I said the other day; this could relate to any NUMBER of things, and unless you are more specific I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you talking about callouts for specific creators? There were two that happened over the summer that I know about, but A) again, those were about racism, so I chose not to muddle the conversation with my voice, and B) the works being discussed in those situations were works I was personally unfamiliar with, and thus did not feel like I had enough information to state an opinion publically (which again, as I understand it, would have been unneccessary additions to an issue I have no authority to speak on).

So maybe you’re talking about the Twitter callouts, or the situation with the artists for the Storytime Madlibs video? Again, I felt as though I lacked sufficient need/information to make any statements about those issues. I have a twitter, but I barely use it, and don’t use it for the fander community at all. I had NO IDEA what any of that stuff people were talking about was, and still don’t, and since I don’t use Twitter and am not in that community, it seemed pointless to speak about. That is not to trivialize any hurt or harm that was caused or experienced during those events, just to say that I have nothing to do with them, which is why there’s nothing about it on my blog. (The joke I made about fandom twitter was supposed to be universal and relate to how all the twitter discourse these days seems to be a rehash of tumblr discourse from five years ago. Bad timing on my part I guess, oh well.) And, being 100% honest here, I don’t think I even watched the Storytime Madlibs video. If i did, I don’t remember much about it. I know that when it came out that the artists were underpaid, I reblogged one or two posts about how content creators should not be put on pedestals and are not perfect, but the rest of that situation was centered around the artists involved in that video, and since I was not one of them nor did I know any of them personally, it seemed like something that again, I shouldn’t bring up because I didn’t know anything about it. From what I understand, a solution is/was being worked out, but I haven’t heard anything recently.

Or by ‘problematic things’ do you mean the existence of remrom, or unsympathetic sides, or how I’ve been in this fandom for over 3 years and our anon hate problem has never gone away, or the rampant purity culture, or the pervasive ageism, or literally a dozen other things, some of which are genuine issues and some of which are simply differing opinions being handled with all the grace of an elephant on roller skates? I’ve said it over and over again on this blog, but this fandom is not perfect. No fandom is perfect, but this one in particular has a reputation for being ‘pure’ and ‘wholesome’ for some reason; a reputation that it has never upheld by the way, because, shocker, fandoms are made of humans, and humans are not flawless porcelein dolls. We’re incredibly flawed creatures, and mistakes are inevitable. The sooner we all accept that and start treating our mistakes as an opportunity to learn and grow and do better next time instead of a signal that we were always worthless pieces of garbage that had no chance to do anything other than fuck up, the better off we’ll all be.

And may I reiterate: look outside this website for a minute. There is SO MUCH going on in the world right now, every single one of us is utterly exhausted, we are suffering from a massive traumatic event, several massive traumatic events at once, actually, forgive me if my attention is spread a little thin at the moment.

I’ll readily admit, there have been posts in the past several months that I’ve seen, read, and then not reblogged. Often this is because I feel as though the post that I am seeing does not have the full picture, and that it would be irresponsible to reblog only that part of the ‘discourse.’ And most of the time, I just don’t have the mental energy to go looking for the full story on whatever the Issue of the Week is. And I shouldn’t have to. Because at the end of the day, what I put on my own blog is my business, and no one else’s. There’s not some rule list that magically appears once you pass 1,000 followers that tells you what you must and must not do as a blogger. I am not required to weigh in on every little thing that happens in this fandom just because a lot of people in it follow me, and in fact, NO ONE is obligated to reblog something regardless of how many followers they have. If you are dissatisfied with the posts I make and/or reblog, you’re welcome to unfollow, there’s no rule that says you have to stay. But my energy is so limited these days, and I’m not going to devote what little free time and headspace I have to figuring out the ‘Correct’ take on fandom discourse.

I’d like to end by once again reiterating what many have said beffore, that racism is not the same thing as fandom discourse. It is always my goal to not speak over the voices of poc, and if in this post I have done that in any way, I’d like to apologize. Poc are welcome to DM me so that we can discuss it in any such instance, whether on this post or any other from the past or that comes up in the future. I am still working on unlearning racism, and know I am likely to make many more missteps on that journey. Stay safe out there everyone.

#taylor talks #fanders #fandom discourse #racism tw #longpost #ask to tag #asks and answers

104 notes · View notes

gffa · 4 years ago

Note

I feel people prop Ahsoka up a little too much. They seem to put her on this pedestal of moral superiority over literally everyone else. Idk maybe I’m just being salty lmao

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree My problem is less that people put her on a pedestal (go nuts with that, if you love her, there’s nothing wrong with doing so!) and more that there’s a specific type of fan who puts her on a pedestal of moral superiority and then uses her to bash on the Jedi Order or other characters. So, it can be hard not to recoil into, “No, she’s actually got a lot of shit going on and is not morally perfect and people saying she is are obnoxious.” because who doesn’t recoil away from a character when they’re used to beat on your faves? (Which isn’t the same as saying that those fans are obligated to change or do things differently, because they’re not! Only that I don’t like it and they’re in no way obligated to give a shit that I don’t like it. 😂) Ahsoka fans have every right to be totally enthralled with her character and to celebrate how much they love her--I love when people love the character they love and want to share that love with others! Who cares if others think she’s literally perfect, that kind of affection for a character actually warms my heart a lot, when it’s used with love and kindness! And while I don’t think Ahsoka is superior, like a HUGE part of her character arc is that she couldn’t admit even to herself that Anakin might have fallen, that the Jedi Temple on Lothal literally had to shove it in her face to get her to acknowledge it. Also, she was being snotty in The Siege of Mandalore and THAT’S FINE, SHE IS COMING FROM A SUPER REASONABLE PLACE, she was working through some shit and she’s not going to be perfect about it, sometimes she’s going to be kind of snippy, that doesn’t detract one iota from that she’s a compassionate, caring person. She can be unfair in her conversation with Obi-Wan (ignoring that Coruscant legitimately needs the Jedi and basically writing those people off, because she felt more passionate about Mandalore), she can let her emotions get the better of her in The Wrong Jedi and make mistakes (the Crystal Crisis arc has Obi-Wan and Anakin talk about this and Obi-Wan actually is a pretty reliable narrator in the bigger picture of SW), and none of this takes away from being an amazingly resilient, wonderful person who cares about others very much. But if someone wants to defend her, if they want to yell about how she’s literally flawless, I have no problems with that. Tell me all about how you love her the most! But I’m probably going to recoil if it’s only propping her up in service of telling me how terrible my faves are. (Which is why I have no problem with people who don’t care for the way I talk about Anakin’s relationship with the Jedi. If you feel very tender-hearted towards his character, it’s not going to vibe with you when I talk about the way I see him and the way I see the Jedi, so my posts are better off skipped. To be fair, I feel the same way about the reverse--people who see Anakin as a victim of the Jedi aren’t ones I really read anymore because what am I going to do? Argue with the way they see it? Eh, who cares, it’s not my business, so long as they’re not coming onto my posts to be a dick about it in my face. The only time I get annoyed by it is when it’s implied that I’m not a ~real~ Anakin fan because I view him a certain way, like, nah, I love my dumpster baby and nobody gets to say whether or not my way of loving him is ~real~ or not except me. These kinds of consideration for other fans are a fine line to walk, you shouldn’t have to kowtow to how others like/dislike things to express your own like/dislike of things, but also don’t be a dick to people and maybe some of you could really get some better boundaries. And, as always, my solution is that I think I’ll attract far more people by telling you what I love about everyone, even if I have my personal faves. So, anyway, yes, sometimes I roll my eyes at some of the things people say about Ahsoka, but also YOU WILL TEAR MY LOVE FOR HER FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS, SHE WENT THROUGH SO MUCH AND SHE WAS REALLY TRYING AND OH MY GOD SHE WAS THINKING ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE JEDI, SOBS SHE WANTED TO BE A JEDI AGAIN, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED AHSOKA TO HAVE THE TIME TO COME BACK WHEN SHE WAS READY? TO JUST HAVE THE CHOICE TO DO SO OR NOT? AND THAT THE CHOICE WAS STOLEN FROM HER? OH MY GOD AHSOKA BABY GIRL YOU DESERVED BETTER!!!!)

#ahsoka tano #meta #unpopular opinions meme #Anonymous

72 notes · View notes

reapyboy · 4 years ago

Note

Honestly all these passionate cries of "we know you'd never do this ever!! This is all blatantly false and absurd! You're way too nice to do this!!" are probably making Vinny feel even worse because it's extremely likely that the allegations are true. So he now has to watch his obsessive fans defend his honor over shit he most likely did. And what is he supposed to do now? He can't admit to them out of fear his fans will turn on him and if he completely denies everything, he's probably lying. His best choice right now is to admit that he did have sex with these people and ghosted them etc. but that its his private life and that nobody had any business putting this on the internet anyway. But how do you explain this to a fanbase of people who adore you for being so soft and pure and seemingly uninterested in any type of vice?

Really great point to bring up. If the allegations are true, I cannot imagine how he might feel with the community raising him even higher on that pedestal, and how the ppl who spoke out might feel. He clearly doesn’t seem to be doing well mentally atm, and this could potentially be making it so much worse, no matter what. That’s why I really think the community should’ve stayed neutral before concrete evidence of innocence or guilt was released. We actually have nothing about that yet. Either way, always be critical about the things or people you like, especially if they do something kinda shitty.

Hopefully he apologizes, and the community will wake up to the fact that their precious babby gaem streamer isn’t the pure, non-sexual person they fantasized about being friends with and projected themselves onto. People we like online are always capable of being assholes or doing unsavory things in the shadows. I really do want him to apologize if the post is true, but it’ll be bittersweet. He’d be essentially giving up some of his privacy he’s carefully maintained for years, especially because it’d be his SEX LIFE that the public now definitely knows details of.

If he doesn’t apologize or if the allegations are false, I fear that they will raise him higher on that pedestal to the point of being ‘unproblematic’ and ‘untouchable’, which would go ever further against his wishes. I feel like the chat before the allegations were all like “it’s ok Vinny no one is perfect! everyone has flaws!”, but at the same time are holding him up to a standard of innocence and perfection in his own god damn private life.

#vinesauce #Anonymous #IM SORRYYYY I HAVE A LOT TO SAY #LONGASK

25 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

#bnha 300 #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #all them todorokis #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I can't believe I've done 300 of these now lol #think I'm gonna finally have to update the post index again

341 notes · View notes