#if this gets me blocked. good. less people i have to block myself
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other queer people who call a queer actor of a character they happen to hate (because he and/or his fans are bad in their eyes) a sexual harasser and homophobic because of their own bad faith interpretations of that actor should be ashamed of themselves
#izzy hands#con o'neill#ofmd#our flag means death#sorry to put more negativity into the tags that are already so drenched with negativity#(because these people will not rest until the tags are filled with their fearmongering personal takes apparently)#but i'm so done with constantly having to see this kind of crap which keeps getting more blown out of context and hostile#at this point you're posting libel about an actual real life queer person#if this gets me blocked. good. less people i have to block myself
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only posting this here because i dont think anyone will see it. i need to get this out
im so fucking tired of my life. im tired of caring, like, in general. as stupid as it sounds, i was watching kitchen nightmares, and gordon said something about a chef or an owner, i dont remember exactly, he said; "losing hope is a scary thing to do, when theres just no more light at the end of the tunnel, it takes you down dark paths." or something like that. and ive been suicidal/depressed since i was 9, but i thought to myself "im not hopeless, am i?". the more i thought about it, the worse i felt because, god no, im not hopeless. im helpless, or maybe i wallow too much in my own self pity. i dont know the difference. every goddamn day feels like another waking nightmare, im sick of living with my mom, im sick of her not letting me get a job. i dont want my name on the damn electric bill because shes over $1,000 in debt to the power company anymore. shes already ruining my credit, and i dont even have a damn job! not to mention her fucking kid, her 5yo fucking kid, im taking care of. the product of the man who beat me over and over again, threatened to kill me, and then he took a greyhound bus out of our lives. why didnt she protect me? he never once hit her, or anyone else, why didnt mom help me? i was only 13 when he first pulled me by my hair and slammed me into the stairs because i let moms ice cream tub melt on the kitchen table for half an hour. it took him till my brother was 3 to leave. she valued him over me, and even now. im always taking care of my brother, even when he screams at me, cusses at me, throws things at me, spits on me, hits me, kicks me, claws me, bites me, and more. you get the point. she never even tells him to stop, she doesnt have to scream, or hurt him, or anything. just please, please tell them to stop hurting me. i still take care of him. i take care of him when she takes 20 fucking benadryl and passes out for the full time shes at home between shifts. i sacrificed my education to "help her" take care of him. and she gets mad at me when i parent him, when i tell him off, or even more mad when i have to cry and beg him to stop hurting me. she says "youre 22 years old, get a grip" when im covered in bruises from the 5 year old "hes five!" she will scream when i tell her he hurts me. "he is five, hes supposed to listen to you" i said once, and she just stared at me. im always fucking things up, she never fails to let me know, when she looks at me like that i know its my fault. i cant even begin on my relationship, i shouldnt, he might see this. i just want to give up, im so tired of caring, i want to let it all go. my dog died, i ruined him too, i couldnt take him to the vet i couldnt help him. hes gone because i failed. my baby, im not saying that in the cringy melinial way, he saved me from suicide. so many times, it was "hell be so confused why im gone..", "hes gonna miss me", "whos gonna take care of him?" but now hes gone and im still here. my baby, is gone and im so selfishly still here. why wouldnt she let me get a job? i couldve taken him, i couldve at least got him put down so he didnt have to suffer in his favourite spot on my bed till his kidneys put him down for us. if i didnt know, my boyfriend would kill himself too when he comes home from classes tomorrow, and i was dead, i would take the entire 160 count bottle of benadryl i stole from moms room. i want to see my baby, he never ever missed on helping me, i owe him my life and couldnt even give him that when he passed. but not for lack of trying.
but even so, i dont feel hopeless. maybe only yearning, but it feels enough like hope. when i use my right hand to stroke my left cheek and neck, it almost feels like someone else. i get a glimmer of a thought, "one day, i wont have to beg to be taken care of. someone will do it because they want to.", but still, it hurts worse. i dont know how i can possibly derive so much gut wrenching pain from that little bit of hope, but i do. and still, i cant help myself, i cant blame anyone else. i can only hope someone will come save me. if i could handle this all on my own, i wouldnt be here typing this.
i want to decompose.
writing this after that monster of a textblock in the tags, but if you were wondering. im not exaggerating about the mess, and i wouldnt normally judge. because i have had worse bedrooms, mental illness is a bitch. but its in the common area, and she absolutely does make the 5yo live in it. she moved out to the living room after their room was too trashed for her to even walk in, so she toated her 50" fucking tv right out there and hasnt moved, accept to go to work, since. everyone pray or cross your fingers or send me some good energy to hope she gets sliced into a million pieces at work instead of accidentally oding on bennies so i can raise my brother with her life insurance money.
#tw: abuse#tw: death#tw: suicidality#are people even gonna have that tag blocked? i didnt even know that was a word#tw: suidice#this will hopefully feel a lot better and more freeing that venting to a character aye eye lud#and hopefully i wont have a panic attack from my intense fear of rejection (someone will see this and not even read it all#im already shitting myself about it)#not really. but if one person has something mean to say. i might actually commit#not to put any pressure onto whoever is reading this#if anyone#if you are. i love you. even if i dont know you- right now in this moment i genuinely feel an intense swell of affection#i love you dear reader. probably more than my boyfriend loves me hahahhhh.#doesnt it feel good to feel so intensely. and never have those overwhelming feelings reciprocated?#i want to go to sleep so bad but i have to get up and go clean the living room#mom has started living out there. she sleeps on the couch and the entire room is trashed#like level 2 hoarder. 2020 depression bedroom. typa thing. its genuinely so disgusting.#no matter how clean i keep my room the bugs still come in and live in my furniture#i want to sleep or kill every one of us. im not entirely sure what would feel better#i actually want to kms less now but i dont know if i can post this. i dont think i have the confidence#pressing post before i psych myself out. if i dwell on this anymore i might actually do it.#i also wanna say. im so so SO sorry to whoever might actually see this. im sorry you came into contact with me in any way#and im even more sorry if you felt bad for me or something. im sorry. i dont know why i think writing this was okay.#but whats done is done. and i love you still. and im so sorry.
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GAAHAHHHHH
#venting in the tags#maybe its just past darkness and the Bad Thoughts which i shouldnt listen to are clouding my brain too much#but i feel so fucking weird and inadequate over everything rn#im unable to work on drawings as i usually would have and its kinda plaguing everything which it should like yeah i love drawing but#i cant let just one aspect of me ruin everything. right? the fact that i havent been able to draw as well as i usually can should make me#feel sick to the stomach and unsure about everything i do but it happening and i hate it.#plus i got the ipad id saved up from the comms to buy and its fun and nice and all and maybe i just need more practice with it but i feel#like im not able to draw on it even more? and i spent the whole day trying to get used to it but its just not as good?? and then when i went#back to the no screen wacom i couldnt get a hang of it becuase idek its just not happening#and also the fucking art block wants me dead i swear i want to draw so bad and i have so many ideas but the moment i start anything its just#crumbles down into nothingness and i hate everything i do and gods fuck i want to cry but i can because there are people at home and#usually im a big 'crybaby' when im at home but i dont fucjing wanna be like that anymore like i can handly my shit myself im fine.#i dont need to just fuckinf cry abiut it becuase thats not gonna fox anything but also i feel like crying might just make me feel better#but then id have to hear shit from my family and i know theyre just teasing in a /pos way but i dont wanna fucking deal with that#plus my brother iust talking to him os annoying sometimes like he talks about things so condescendingly and fucking hel dude shut#the fuck up i dont need you telling me that my art is something people can 'just do' and the fact that i was able to get the ipad#'basically for free since i got that money from the little drawings i make' as if they dont fucking mean anything to you like#shut the fucking fuck up dude i worked hard on those and even though i dont like my own shit sometimes i still fucking work hard on those#fuck you you bitch#i think a lot of things are just piling up and i need to sleep#tomorrow will be a new dawn and a fresh start and maybe ill hate myself less#ps. note to anyone reading the tags#im fine i just needed to yell out and express my frustration a bit. some sleep will help surely.
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sending laser beams to my professor with my mind. kenneth you said midterm grades would b up by this afternoon. it is officially TONIGHT and guess what? kenneth i would love to not be clenching my teeth in my sleep tonight. kenneth i will be sending you a bill in the mail. yes i know its probably a TAs responsibility but i blame you personally. i hate school
#i dont im having a lot of fun (genuinely) but it is often pretty stressful#did find out there are a few folks adjacent to my program doing zoonoses & climate change research so im very excited to chat w them next w#possibly directing my thesis towards one health. social epi gradually becoming less interesting#plus i think my strengths do lie in applying epi to biological concepts so. one health works there#my brain continually trying to get back to lyme disease :( sometimes i really do miss the east coast tbh!#not lying actually i think the number one thing i miss is the amt of vector borne disease research LMFAO#i do unfortunately kind of have a crush on a classmate so that's fine but whatever. grad school. men are nice to me and i lose my mind ig#need to go make out w a hot trans person i think that would solve my problems rn#but also it's nice to be so excited about someone deciding to sit next to me in every class :)#like wow how isolated have i been the last 3 years to be so delighted by like. active signs i have Officially Made Friends.#even if he does live like a block away from my dad and jokes every goddamn day like 'so i saw your dad yesterday' no you DIDNT shut UP#idk yesterday he sat right next to me in a class he usually sits w other people in and it sort of sent my brain off the edge and now im jus#yeah. sitting with this one. it's fine like it's normal. but wowie i do think it's my first time having a Big Ol Crush since (redacted)#a little scary for my animal brain i think but it's okay!#im 25 in like 3 ish weeks and i still get embarrassed about this stuff somehow? stupid.#he's just really nice and always really fun to talk to! i think i had to officially Sit With Myself today bc epi is doing a holiday party#and there's a baking contest and we were talking abt it in class and i was indecisive abt whether i want to participate#and he like fully cut me off and was like oh you should bake something so i can have some :)#and. well fuck now i have to lmao. IM SO EASY IT'S SO EMBARRASSING#good evening everyone. guess this is my journal now. anyway ken rice you owe me twenty dollars and i aim to COLLECT
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i dont wanna decide on a career unfortunately everyone wants me to soso bad
#i have to have it in. checks watch. 6 months maximum :)#just because i want biomedical something its what im good at and i cant not help people#like thats not some hero complex thing if o dont get motivated by helping people i will be a danger to myself within a couple months#but guys i am fucking ASS at coding. im goated at block coding i always make it past that#but my neocities wont work even tho im basically copy and pasting from html tutorials#i walk into the room and the machine makes it clear that it does NOT fuck with me#maybe i want biomedical research or something thats a little less hands on#or maybe an occupational therapy direction because i learn a lot about disabilities in my free time#or one of the cna or ekg practicum classes i can take through the local college#OR i can pay minimum a couple thousand for coding classes and brute force it#or stay biomedical engineering and focus on improving the mechanical aspects of existing biomed devices without personally coding as much#or veer way off course for something in sustainability#im literally just gonna end up teaching ap bio somewhere lmfao. why are we stressing#< NO hate to ap bio teachers i fuck with you#but i see that shit in my future Vividly#(or i could plan curriculums for teaching biology and standardize methods for courses such as pltw in the real setting ETC ETC ETC)
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So what I thought was art block might’ve just been dizziness from not having eaten all day on accident. Uhhhh whoops.
#art block probably is hot on my heels given the amount of pressure I’ve been putting on myself to draw but I’m hoping to lean away from that#also I deleted most of my art ideas so I didn’t have anymore pressure than necessary#and only really kept two which is fanart for a friend which.#admittedly does put more pressure on me than other stuff#look idk I just get weird about making stuff for other people and it ends up making me all nervous#but I do still enjoy doing it!!#and I think it’s a good step in a less strict art direction#god that hotdog was fucking banging though#mmmmmm
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Does anyone else just like… not give a fuck if they’re chopping vegetables evenly
#not gonna lie this onion was a bad one. my eyes were hurting so bad i actually felt lightheaded; and that was BEHIND my sunglasses#i could barely see. i was just putting the knife down like ‘is this right?’#i couldn’t remember if the recipe called for a diced or sliced onion so i was sort of doing both and it was an actual shitshow#settled on dicing then realised the recipe called for a ‘thinly sliced’ onion. pain#y’know what. fuck it. i’m cooking for myself; not gordon ramsay#but seriously i have knife skills so bad they can’t even be comprehended by the common man#i hear so many people say ‘oh i’m a bad cook’ but have you ever had someone watch you cook; say ‘no no no’ and physically take a knife#out of your hand? while you were chopping CARROTS no less#i do have the bluntest knife in christendom so that can’t possibly help#i’ve also just discovered that i was supposed to sprinkle paprika over my potato wedges AND i’m supposed to grate some cheese#but the wedges are already in the oven and grating cheese sounds exhausting to me#i’ve got a cheese grater with two different surfaces but one of them is so thin you can’t get cheese through it#and the other is so thick that it lets giant crumbs of cheese fall through#so i might just fully eat a block of cheese later this evening. i can have it on oat cakes and pretend it’s healthy. it’s fine#the thing about it all is. i have class in an hour and a half and this recipe is honestly way too intensive for me to handle in my current#state of mind; but if i don’t cook the pork today it is GOING to go off and then i’ll just be annoyed#so i have to eat this. i fucking hope it’s good#the other loaded wedges recipe i tried was honestly not all that. but i realised i made the sauce wrong so that was probably why#this one doesn’t really have an intensive process… i just kind of throw everything in the pan and then toss in garlic and wet components#and when i eat the leftovers tomorrow i can obviously add mayo or sour cream or sriracha or whatever seems to be the vibe#it’s FINE. i’ll be fine. just wish i’d made this yesterday so i could have the leftovers today lol#but if it had reheated badly i’d be sooo annoyed. so there is that#personal
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I’m started to get really pissed off that I’m bad at this game
#I’ve only played it every single day since it released you think I’d be pretty good by now#but noooo#and it just makes me even more pissed off when I see people like ‘hehe I APed this master song first try!’#like I can’t even get CLOSE to an AP on EASY. much less clear a master song without losing half my life bar at MINIMUM#and I know by now it’s not a matter of practicing because I’ve played EVERY FUCKING DAY. I HAVE CHALLENGED MYSELF TIME AND AGAIN BUT I -#-NEVER GET BETTER. AND IT PISSES ME OFF#i know it’s just a game and it’s supposed to be fun but I’m so fucking upset about it all the time#i want to be good at it I dedicate so much time to it so why can’t I fucking be good#I’ve almost blocked people I like because they’re better at this game than me that’s how fucking bad this is#I’m not asking to be on fucking. Jack level. but I want to at least be able to AP a level six fucking song
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Why can't people like a celebrity without imagine them as queer? Can't people like Taylor music without go saying she's lesbian/queer when she hasn't said anything about that. Pretty sure if she was attracted to women she would have already said it 🫠
Even in the hypothetical scenario where she was queer indeed pressuring somebody to come out or out them yourself is selfish, stupid, dangerous, toxic and overall fucked up (-᷅_-᷄)
We have so many queer pop icons out of the closet but you need to headcanon your favourite ally/het as lgbt for...comfort reasons? Just because she's your fav? Because you are queer? Dude she's not a fictional character can you not spread false information or discuss real people orientations and just enjoy their content 💀
all goofing aside I genuinely don't understand the urge to reimagine Taylor Allison Swift as a secretly queer icon when the pop music scene(TM) is like. literally overflowing with women who actually like women. Gaga and Kesha and Miley and Halsey are right there. Rina Sawayama and Hayley Kiyoko and Rebecca Black and Kehlani and Victoria Monét and Miya Folick if you're willing to get slightly less top 100. Janelle and Demi for them nonbinary takes on liking girls. like what are we doing here. like I'm not even saying you can't enjoy Taylor but why would you hang all your little gay hopes on her.
#saying this as bi myself btw#WHO SAYS LADY GAGA DOESN'T COUNT AS QUEER JUST BECAUSE SHE'S A BOY KISSER TOO#i'm tired of this shit#please remember that is LGBT+ NOT LGT+#bi/pan folks exist. No need to act like people is either gay or straight and there's no in between when that's clearly *false*!#And even if you aren't lgbt+ I think having this opinion of not giving real people hc sexualities/orientations is still valid#you have too much free time if you're wasting it to theorize about somebody private life while ignoring the very much confirmed queer icons#Plus. If you care sm about somebody sexuality to the point if they aren't what you want them to be you get disappointed/upset#rather than caring more about their work which they produced and you supposedly consume as a self-proclaimed fan...#Are you really a fan of them? I don't think so.#A true fan loves them for who they are or what they produce. Not because for who they feel attracted to#Imagine working your way to the top as a musician or whatever career you pursue and your fans grade your worth or their liking to you#based on who you kiss or sleep with or who you don't 💀#feeling like OOP pfp for real#this is exhausting#Idc less about who Lady Gaga kisses. Yeah having her as bi icon was important to me but if tomorrow she decides to come out as smth else#I'll keep listening her music. Because I like her music. And her personality. And some of her outfits. The end#there are many songs made by women/nb who like women iswtg#you don't need to pretend straight people isn't straight in order to like their music or to like them as a person I promise it's okay 🙏#Also what in the actual fuck is that article??? People seriously get paid for writing that? 💀💀💀💀#So sorry for all the shit you must have read in order to need to do this thread OP and afterwards too#ALSO BATMAN NAME based opinion and good taste hell yeah ✨#the you in all this post only goes to those who think like that btw. If you feel offended the problem is on you#how about taking reading comprehension classes before speaking. Some people are in dire need of it#those who believe a bi is less queer icon than a gay one is in my blacklist. If you come to me with that bs I'll block you on sight
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US Presidents as Dril Tweets
George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it
John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.
Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts
James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby
James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"
John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit
Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!
Martin Van Buren: Food $200
Data $150
Rent $800
Candles $3,600
Utility $150
someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying
William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good
John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this
James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom
Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying
Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...
Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin
James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...
Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"
Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off
Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT
Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,
James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now
Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark
Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site
Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc
William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!
Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL
William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*
Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer
Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me
Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals
Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud
Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me
Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume
Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed
John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self
Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"
Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups
Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right
Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again
Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn
George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT
Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,
George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,
Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line
Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.
ME: I agree
Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm
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forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
pt 2 -> control
two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite.
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.
and then there was a knock at the door.
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes fluff#marvel#sargeant barnes#sargeant bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes hurt/comfort#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes whump#bucky x fem!reader#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#bucky x y/n#winter soldier#marvel au#bucky barnes au#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky x reader#mob!bucky fanfic
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IMPORTANT POST PLEASE READ
Im gonna be honest and open for a sec, and please do not take this as "oh I HATE my community or I dont like the people who watch me" but honestly as of late (and I did highlight this during the mcc bit), ive felt like I havent been able to really be in my own community simply because of the constant way that "discourse" is handled. Making vague posts and not really tackling issues in a good way, all that is going to do is just show people a big "THIS COMMUNITY BAD" sign and not actually help anything within the community, all its going to do is have the good and potentially good people leave or not join in the first place. The way that discourse is treated that ive seen has been the main reason why I have started to try to distance myself, which has been the most heartbreaking thing I have had to do. I want problems to be solved in a mature, civil way, with either a dm or a reply, not an entire vague thing that only says "bad things are happening" and doesnt elaborate on anything or barely elaboratesa and only gives people on both the inside and outside a bad sign of what the community is. Making posts whenever something happens being like "here we go again" is only going to highlight the wrong things, and actually DOESNT help the issue at all! The problems should be discussed directly with the people who are doing said problems FIRST! Bring attention to behaviors and things that arent good DIRECTLY! And also, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO!!! It is not your duty as a viewer or fan of me to be involved in any of this if you do not want to! Just enjoy the content and make silly posts! As someone who constantly tried to fix and get into every problem as it was happening, it took a huge toll on my mental health, and I want you guys to just be able to enjoy the content without having to worry about what you say about it! Be constructive! Dont make posts again just being like "wow this community is so bad" because that doesnt solve literally anything! If you have enough passion to make the posts saying "wow this community is bad" then only post about that, you are only spreading that negative message, and not uplifting anything of actual value! And if the person you are trying to help is not willing or not listening, BLOCK! MUTE! DONT BRING MORE ATTENTION TO THE PERSON IF THEY ARE NOT BEING A GOOD PART OF THE COMMUNITY!!!! I know I say that if I see problems I will call them out, but I shouldnt have to babysit every single time a thing happens within the community as that just isnt a healthy way for a creator or a community to be handled. This does not mean that I do not care about the issues or dont want them fixed, rather it shouldnt take me having to make some grand statement every single time something happens it should take only your own self reflection and self awareness. And to add onto this, make sure that every once in a while no matter who you are you think and have that self reflection, you should be open to being willing to learn and grow as a person! And again, I do NOT want anyone taking this as "Wow this community is terrible" but rather that we just have things that need to be fixed and changed and THAT IS OKAY! I do not hate the community, I care so much about it that I want it to be a silly place for my content again! I want it to be the reason why people get into what I do because of it again! And I want to be able to just have fun and relax without having to worry about how every single thing that I may say could have someone stirring things up that simply dont help or solve anything! Take care of yourselves. And this isnt coming from a place of "I hate the community as a whole" but rather again I want to be able to exist and make content that we can all enjoy without having to worry about walking on eggshells around me or around eachother! At the end of the day im just a fella that wants to make silly videos for you all, and you are people who enjoy said videos. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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Why You Should ‘Make Yourself’ Write (And How To Do It)
Most people who write for a hobby - especially the neurodivergent crowd - will write whenever they’re inspired, and many will be able to get an insane amount of writing done in one go, but then there’s a good while of writer’s block and low motivation/inspiration in between those bursts of creativity. You can see forcing yourself to write as something irrelevant to you; it’s just a hobby, so why burn yourself out forcing yourself to do it until it’s no longer fun?
The reason people say this, even for hobbyists, is so that you have some level of consistent progress; relying on random spikes in creativity or convenient hyperfocus isn’t a sustainable plan when it can either leave you burnt out after or leave you at a creative dead end for weeks or months between actual writing sessions
If you write consistently, you make progress consistently, so it’s good practice to make a habit out of using writing goals to keep you on track. Maybe you work best writing X amount of words, or maybe you prefer to write for X amount of time. Maybe you want to meet this goal every day, or maybe every few days, or maybe every week, or so on. I’m personally on 1000 words per week, and despite my autistic brain that thought I’d never be able to set and keep a consistent goal, I’ve been able to stick to it for nearly six months now. I also know people who are on 10 minutes per day, 100 words per week, 500 words every three days, 5000 words per month, etc
For me, being able to keep track of this not only means I get to see consistent progress being made, but it’s actually been really encouraging to see that word count go up so often and I’ve found that it motivates me to keep up with it. I’ve really enjoyed getting to work on this and having a minimum amount of progress per week really helps me feel like this is something real and something that’s slowly but surely going to be complete soon enough
Give it a try; say to yourself “if I want to achieve this goal, how long do I reasonably need to give myself to do it?” and have a go. After a few cycles it starts to register in your brain that, hey, you’re actually getting something done and being productive and watching that word count going up every day/week/etc! And don’t be afraid to change up your goal and your deadline if you think you’re not being challenged enough or if you’re starting to get burnt out on it - I’d consider it burning out when it’s consistently feeling less like a fun activity and more like a chore you have to do. It should still be fun!
#writing#writers#writeblr#bookblr#book#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writers of tumblr#writer#creative writing#how to write#on writing#writing prompt#writers block#write#writers and poets#female writers#queer writers#writing tips#writblr#writer things#writer stuff#writing is hard#writing advice#writing life#young writer#writerscreed#writer problems#writerblr#new writers on tumblr
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Very closed off reader who kinda clings to Klaus because they relate to him in the fact that he has family troubles :( she sees that he clearley does the things he does because of trauma or whatever and so does everything in her power to show him that he's got someone to fall back on.
Every time he shouts at her or retaleates because he's upset and dosent understand how soemone could be so nice to him she simply gives him a hug or a gift or just sits some distance away to show he isn't alone.
She deals with all his meanness quite well because she's used to it from her family and has learned to block it out :( one day he really has enough of her and after something goes wrong with Elena or Salvatore he really doesn't want reader around him. She tells him quite confidently that he needs soemone to help him and she would never leave him alone at which point he smirks and says something snarky before proving that he doesn't need her. He reaches into her chest and grips her heart and kinda realises he is in the wrong when she looks kinda shocked and sad so he gently takes his hand out and feeds her his blood to help with the damage he left behind. Afterwards reader is less affectionate with him and only sits with him when he is in a state, now afraid to touch him incase he lashes out but still wanting to support him cuz she cares about him :(
Thanks for reading, love your stories!
The Betrayed Becomes The Betrayer.
Growing up on an aggressive household desensitised me to a lot of things; yelling and smashing objects especially. My parents were a mess, I'm not sure if they didn't know how to love or just didn't want to.
Eventually I realised that they were the same thing and that I wasn't wanted at home, so I left and found Hayley.
Which was how I wound up finding Klaus.
He was a broken man, I could tell. Elijah confirmed that their parents had been cruel and abusive almost as soon as we met him which I assumed they also must've become desensitised over it after a thousand years.
However when I actually met Klaus, it was obvious that he was still deeply affected by it. I could understand him, his feelings and his thoughts. I got why he wanted to be so strategic, to have the control that was taken form him. I knew why he wanted to make people hurt the way he hurt and why he was as aggressive as the the people that raised him.
I wasn't violent, or an angry person. I had learnt to be quiet and keep things to myself so that I didn't get in the way but I would think about it. How it would feel to hurt someone, to make them feel worthless and then leave them. Could it really feel good enough to do over and over?
In my head I assumed it must do but I could never bring myself to actually torment someone the way I had been.
But I could tell that Klaus was still haunted by the past and it affected his every move. I couldn't blame him, or fault him for acting upon the images that swirled in my own mind.
Often he got frustrated, angry and inevitably lash out against someone. Something would be thrown, smashed. Someone would be yelling, screaming.
But I never wanted to be mad at him, to me he didn't deserve to be ranted at for what he'd done. They were riling him up further and it was obvious, it was like they wanted him to explode and hurt someone.
So instead of pushing him off that edge, I tried to help him back up.
To begin with I would just be the only one in the room not glaring at him with hatred. I just wanted him to know that there was someone on his side. He didn't notice for a little while but after a couple arguments I think he started to feel my presence. Sometimes he would get snappy, ask what I was looking at but when I'd just tell him that I understood why he did what he did, Klaus would get less defensive.
I wasn't a touchy person, ever, but the time his mother had been back and she hurt him so bad that he cried in his room, I didn't know what else to do but hug him.
After that it seemed like I was hugging him all the time. He calmed so much easier with some touch.
Sometimes he accepted it without complaint but sometimes he didn't want anyone near him so I would go away and come back later. He knew I was there when he needed me and I learnt to be a patient person.
I also learnt not to react so when he screamed in my face I didn't yell back. He had been so stressed lately and a lot of people had died yesterday the day before. I left him alone for the night before coming back in the morning to try and be there, he didn't want to talk so I went away and came back in the afternoon. To begin with he was fine but he got angry so fast, I barely said anything before he was yelling.
I tried not to react, not to talk back or get defensive but then he pushed me. Both hands on my shoulders, shoving me backward toward the wall and I tensed and something stirred in me.
I told him he was being ridiculous, pathetic and he didn't know what he needed.
"What? You think I need you? You think I like your desperate little cuddles. I'm not the one craving touch and love. I've been fine for centuries and I don't need a clingy little thing following me around." He snapped at me and I felt my frown deepen and the hurt biting at me.
"I'm not being clingy...I'm just trying to be helpful." I whispered and he scoffed.
Klaus got close, too close and it frightened me a little. I took a few steps back and he chuckled, trapping me to the wall.
"What is it, love? No more snuggles? You don't want to tell me it's okay? You gonna tell me I should paint a picture?" He mocked, his breath hot on my face. "You think I'm pathetic sweetheart? Think I need you? All I need is for you to disappear." His voice was low but clear, eyes cold and I felt the adrenaline hit and screaming for me to run but I froze just like I used to when I was little.
The smallest sound left me when I felt something agonising within my chest. My mouth opened but no noise would come out and I struggled to breath at all. I looked down, watching my own blood seep through my clothes and drip down his wrist. My eyes were stinging and I could feel my heart close to exploding as his grip tightened. I wasn't sure if I was stood there for hours or seconds before my body reacted and my arms shot up, both my hands latching onto his wrist so he couldn't pull the organ out.
My eyes shot up to look into his, seeing them soften after a second before his hand let go around my heart. A loud cry left me when he tore his fist out of my chest, leaving a gaping hole. I panted and a strong metallic taste filled my mouth as blood dripped past my lips.
His voice sounded blurry when he tried to tell me something, nothing felt real as my legs went weak and his hands touched my sides. The touch made me cry again and I felt him hesitate before something gross was pressed to my mouth and I couldn't tell if I was choking on my blood or his.
After a moment I could feel my body healing from the inside out, physically I felt better but now my mind was spinning. I looked up at him again, I could feel the fear pulsing through my veins when he reached his hand toward me.
This time I didn't freeze.
I was up and out of the room as fast as my legs could move.
I avoided him for a few days, part of me knew he wasn't going to do anything again and that he felt bad about it but the other part of me couldn't help but worry.
It was only when he was attacked again that I willingly sat in the same room as him.
"You okay?" I asked and he looked over to me, he was splattered with blood but at least it wasn’t mine.
"Yeah...I'm okay." He whispered, nodding.
I shifted in my place and he shuffled over on the couch so I could sit on the other end to him. The silence was awkward for a while, actually the entire time.
It was for quite a lot of the times I was near him. I wanted to be there for him, show him I understood but I was still scared and I didn't want to be close enough that he could kill me or hurt me just incase he did.
It was when he was carried in my Elijah, Papa Tunde’s blade in his chest causing him to be immobile and in agonising pain, when I got close again.
Elijah dropped him to the bed with a soft thud and was moving fast. He turned, looking right at me before talking.
“I need you to feed him your blood. It’s laced with vervain, he’ll heal slow. You need to keep him here or he is going to kill Rebekah. I don’t want to burden you, Y/N, but I’m afraid you’re the only who’s even a possibility.” He directed quickly, whilst dragging the blade from his brother’s chest.
“A possibility for what?” I asked, confused and afraid. I didn’t want to give him my blood. It was like asking him to kill me.
“You’re the only person he might listen to.” He explained as he headed for the door. “He won’t hurt you.” He told me and it sounded like a promise before he left.
Klaus let out a groan and I turned, hesitantly walking over to the edge of his bed. I silently dammed myself for being concerned enough to follow Elijah when he carried him in here.
I looked down at him, wincing at the cut that hadn’t healed down the length of his bare chest.
“What…what happened?” I whispered, wanting to reach out to touch but willing myself not to.
“Elijah-“ Klaus grunted, his teeth grinding as he forced words out. “He stabbed me for her.” It was clear that rage was all he felt in that moment as he tried to push himself up, only to let out a cry of pain.
“Rebekah?” I wondered and he seethed.
“She betrayed me. Called Mikael. She wanted me dead!” He yelled, his aggression growing as I felt my hairs stand on edge.
I was quiet, watching him struggle desperately.
I understand why he was so mad, betrayal was a huge thing for him. Abandonment, paranoia. It made him this way and Rebekah used it and ruined all of their lives but I had no doubt she had her reasons…not that I’d tell him that.
“She doesn’t now” I whispered and his had snapped to me. “She loved you now, she’s here now-“
“Only months ago did she stand beside Marcellus and watch as his vampires tried to kill me. She has always wanted me gone. She’s so desperate for Marcel that she’d kill her own brother-“ he snapped and I flinched.
His voice died off when I stepped back and he grunted softly. He was taking fast but deep breaths, trying to gather some stability and I could feel Elijah’s words echoing through me. That I had to let Klaus feed from me.
Reluctantly I shifted closer again, he was quiet as I sat down on the edge of his bed. His body was laid so close to me and his chest moved with each pain-filled breath.
My entire arm shook as I held it out, right infront of his face and it made his skin dance with veins. “Love…” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he inhaled through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you” he uttered, I could feel his eyes on my but I couldn’t look back at his. “Not again. Just…there’s blood bags downstairs”
“Elijah said I have to use mine, the vervain makes it slower or something? I don’t know…I can’t do it wrong” I pushed my wrist closer, glancing at the fangs that were pushing past his gums.
“He won’t be mad.”
“He’s trusting me.” I whispered, finally looking up to klaus’s eyes and he sighed before slowly nodding.
I almost tugged my arm back when I felt his teeth pierce the skin, the sting making me move but his hand lifted to keep me in place. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he fed, it was such a strange sensation; much less painful than a needle.
As I felt myself weaken, I noticed the wound across his body fixing itself. My eyes started to go and for a second I faltered, my head beginning to drop but his other hand caught my chin and held me up. His fangs retreated back up and something warm and wet slid across my wrist before I was leaned up against him.
“I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered into my ear. “I have to finish what they’ve started.” He told me and I knew he wanted to murder Rebekah and I wanted to talk to him but he’d taken so much blood. His eyes stared straight into mine, reaching into my mind. “You’re going to fall asleep, you’ll wake tomorrow morning and you will feel no pain from this bite. I will heal you when I return. I promise I didn’t take enough to kill you, just to empty you of vervain.”
I wanted to argue, yell or anything but my mind shut down and my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I sunk into myself completely and lay, somehow conscious and unconscious as I tried to wake myself up.
I woke the next morning like he instructed my body to do, I glanced at my wrist to find it wrapped in bandages. My head lifted to see a glass of water, tinted pink by what I assumed was blood beside a small teddybear.
Hesitantly I sipped the drink, feeling instantly better before picking up the toy.
“I thought you’d like it” a voice sounded from the doorway, I glanced to see Klaus. Both his hands were behind his back and a guilty look painted his face.
I pushed myself up, it felt strange being in someone else’s bed; especially Klaus’s.
I didn’t answer him as I got up and pushed past him, shoving the teddy into his chest and going straight to my own room.
For a man who hated betrayal, he sure knew how to commit it.
He knew I was already afraid of him, that I didn’t want to be that close again and he took advantage of the ounce of trust I still had.
I understood him, but I couldn’t do this again. I’d been in this situation too many times.
#tvdu angst#angst no happy ending#angst no comfort#klaus mikaelson angst#klaus angst#the originals#the vampire diaries#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikealson fanfiction#klaus mikaelson one shot#klaus mikaleson imagine#elijah mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson#the vampire diares imagine#kol mikaelson#niklaus imagines#niklaus mikaelson#tvd klaus#klaus m#klaus mikaelson x y/n#klaus michaelson#tvd universe#hope mikaelson#klaus mikaelson headcanon#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson yandere#klaus mikealson smut#klaus mikaelson x yn#klaus mikealson x reader
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All In 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)
based on the winning option for this poll
Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes
Note: told myself to slow down, didn't.
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It’s your first time wearing that skirt. You’ve had it in your closet for two years. At least. You’re not really a skirt person but it’s cute. The floral on black with the zipper up the front. It drapes nicely enough though you’re not used to wearing anything so short. You have a trusty pair of shorts on just in case.
You don’t go out either. Definitely not to places like this. You keep an arm across your middle, gripping your other as the hordes of people make you dizzy. The shining gold accoutrement of the decor along with the waft of low music over the noise of tables and voices add to your vertigo.
The casino is busy and bright and loud. You stay close to your sister as she leads you across the carpet; ivory with golden curliques patterned across them. You’re no gambler either but you’re not there to play cards.
“I think it’s upstairs,” Roxie says as she looks at the tickets in her hand. “Gala Room B.”
“Oh, right,” you murmur and smile at her, “what’s the band again?”
“Don’t worry about it the tickets were free,” she chirps as you look up at her. You feel even more a child beside her; your height often adds to your inferiority complex. Historically, you think, those characteristics have been often intertwined.
“No, but--”
“You need to get out of mom’s place more,” she chides, “I could’ve brought Katie instead, but I chose you, sis.”
“I know, er, thanks,” you run your hand up to your shoulder and rub it nervously.
“Show doesn’t start for another hour. Let’s get a drink,” she insists and turns, strutting towards the long bar at the other side of the grand space. You trail after her, shrinking down even further. She turns back to you as she leans on a tall stool, “what d’ya want?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really...”
“I know, it’s one drink, how about a vodka-cran?” She suggests, “you love cranberry.”
“Um, sure, if you think that’s good.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s the wild one, not you. You know you bore her and since your parents’ divorce, years ago, you haven’t really hung out together. She went with your dad and you with your mom, since then, it’s all been a bit fuzzy.
She orders as you stand back, not wanting to get in the way of the people all around you. You lean back, rocking nervously as you glance around. You feel underdressed as you see women in cocktail dresses and men in suits. Even your sister is a stark contrast to your overly casual attire; your favourite purple cardigan and the skirt you’ve never worn.
Your eyes scan the room, admiring the golden sconces of bulbs that resemble candelabras and the gilt trim all along the wall. The more you look around, the less you belong. You don’t even know why you said yes. Well, your mom pushed you into it. Just like your sister, she keeps saying you need to get out more.
You rub your lips together and feel around your small tassled purse. It’s used, like most of your things. The thrift store is as much as your mom can afford and you still haven’t found a solid job. You worked at the grocery for a summer before they laid off half of you then did a one-day stint at a polling centre for the last municipal election. Even if you wanted to go out, you don’t have the money for it.
You pull out your chapstick and smear it around your chafed lips as you sway back the other direction. You stop short as you nearly slam into another body and you stumble out of the way of the man in his black-and-white suit. Embarrassment creeps hotly up your cheeks and you cap your lip balm and stand out of his path.
He’s taller than you. Well, everyone is. But to you, he seems huge. His suit is finely tailored to his figure though his hair seems to clash with the refined style. It’s almost to his collar but neatly parted, a shank falling forward to frame his sharp cheekbone. His square jaw is trimmed thickly with a dark beard, peppered with strands of silver and patch along the dimple of his chin. You’ve never seen anything as blue as his eyes, they are almost inhumanly vivid.
“Sorry, doll,” he touches your arm as he passes and smirks, swiftly turning his sights ahead of him.
You gulp as your shoulder hits someone else. You spin to face your sister as she offers you a glass. You take the red concoction with the short black straw sticking out over the ice cubes. You thank her as the chill seeps into your hand.
“Oof, look at him,” she leans to watch after the man in his dark suit, “damn.” You frown and look in the other direction. She scoffs and nudges you, “come on. That guy is totally stunning. Even you can see that.”
“I don’t wanna gawk at him,” you mutter, “he’s a stranger.”
“Oh, whatever, not like he’d notice,” she snips.
You scrunch up your lip and tuck your chapstick away as you peer toward the man. He goes up to a table, sliding in next to a taller woman with honey-blond hair and a shimmery dress. He rests his hand along her lower back as he chatters to her and the rest of the players around the leather trim.
“Sheesh, he’s fine,” she puts a twang on the last word, “mmph. If I wasn’t with Tom...”
“Right,” you look down at the drink and sip from the straw. You make a face and cough.
“It’s not that strong,” she slaps your back, “don’t be dramatic.”
“I know,” you clear your throat, “I just wasn’t expecting the taste.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” she points above.
“Uh, okay,” you agree to her sudden diversion. You suppose you really are boring.
You follow her up the curved stairs and along the railing that overlooks the lower casino room. Arched windows let in the night and the glow of the facade. You lean on the polished wood and peer down at the first floor; it looks even more resplendent from there. You sister puts her elbow on the railing as she looks around.
“We could stick around after, lose some money,” she says.
“I don’t... mom only gave me a twenty and I owe you for the drink.”
“Pfft, whatever, I’ll spot ya. Tom gave me some extra with the tickets,” she trills, “it’ll be fun. Play some black jack. It’ll be an experience. You could say you’ve actually done something.”
You smile, closed-lipped and tight. She isn’t wrong. It’s your first concert, for some cover band, and your first time at a casino. It’s not an exaggeration to say this is the height of your life experience.
Your eyes wander down and meet another pair. You wince. It’s that same man. He walks towards you, a certain swagger in his stride. As he peers up at you, his cheeks dimple and he winks. You wrinkle your brow and look behind you. When you turn back, he’s gone. Right, you’re imagining things.
Roxie slurps as her straw turns hollow. She’s already drained her cocktail, meanwhile you’ve barely taken a sip. She stirs the ice and hums.
“Wait here, I’m gonna get a refill,” she raises her glass.
“Oh, I can come with you--”
“Nah, just stand here,” she insists. “You’ll just slow me down.”
“Sure, uh, okay.”
You curl your shoulders inward as she walks away. Great. All alone. You avoid looking anywhere but your glass. You face the railing again and balance your drink on it. It’s not bad, tarter than you’re used to and a little burny.
You play with the black bracelet around your wrist, the band they stuck around it when they scanned your ID at the door. You suppose it’s a good idea but they wouldn’t be letting kids in here, would they? Oh yeah, the hotel is attached.
As a kid, you never went on vacations like that. No hotels, no casinos, no shows. It seems like Roxie is catching up on all of that and you’re just there. The world is so much scarier when it’s all a mystery to you.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking it’s merely a passerby, “miss?”
There’s a tap on your shoulder and you barely save your cocktail from spilling over the edge. You clutch the glass with both hands and face the stranger. It’s that same man, with the suit and the long hair and the oceanic eyes. Something about him is familiar beyond your few earlier glances.
“I think you dropped this?” He holds up a chip with a golden 100 on it. You blink and shake your head.
“No,” you scrape out of your throat, “I don’t-- I didn’t--”
“I swear I saw it fall out of your bag,” he looks down at your purse.
“Really, I’m not... I don’t gamble.”
“Ah, well, if it’s just hanging around, might as well use it, huh?” He keeps his hand out, “maybe it’s your lucky day.”
“I couldn’t. If someone lost it...” your voice doesn’t want to go and he leans in to hear you, adding to the heat spreading through your chest. Is it the alcohol or him?
“You’re sweet, keep it,” he shoves the chip toward you.
“Please, I... I... can’t...” you wipe a hand on your skirt and clutch the fabric.
“Doll, I can’t hear you,” he says as he grabs your hand and dislodges it from your skirt, “here.”
He presses the chip into your palm. You stare at his tie then look down at the white chip with gold detailing. His hand brushes yours before he rescinds his touch.
“Erm...” you murmur dumbly and shake your head.
“My treat,” he growls.
“But...”
“Like the skirt, by the way,” he surprises you as he pinches a fold, “cute on you.”
Just as quickly as he appeared, he strides away, leaving you blankly staring after him. His broad shoulders move beyond a thick marble pillar as you hold up your drink and the chip. You just look between them.
“Hey,” Roxie approaches again, “oh, what’s that?”
“A chip...” you state plainly.
“Duh, I know. Where’d you get it?”
You look at the floor. Would she even believe you? “The floor.”
“Ooo,” she plucks it from your fingers, “awesome, “now we’re definitely having some fun tonight.”
“Rox,” you swallow and look up at her, “we should hand it in. It’s a lot of money. If someone lost it--”
“If they lost it, they can afford it,” she bobs her neck as she speaks, “live a little,” she sneers and taps your glass, “and finish your drink. Maybe that’ll loosen you up.”
You nod and recede into yourself, cradling the glass again with both hands. You put your lips to the straw and drink until you can’t anymore. She gulps straight from the brim of her glass and sighs, wiggling as she peers around.
“I almost don’t even want to see these old men play music,” she snickers as she takes in the expanse of tables flashing lights.
“Oh?”
“Relax, we’re going to see the show. You’re a horrible liar and mom will see right through you,” she sneers, “besides, I told her I wouldn’t get you in too much trouble.”
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#all in#series#au#casino au#winter soldier#captain america#avengers#mcu#marvel
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i have knee problems stemming from an injury when i was younger. if i step wrong and fall in a certain way, the pain is so bad i can’t walk. but sometimes i like to fantasize: what if something even worse happens and i can’t walk for weeks? what if i happen to be in regular close contact with my feeder?
it’d be hard being told i have rest and let myself heal. there are plans coming up that have to be cancelled, the few active hobbies i have left take a hit. but…it’s so easy to accept every snack brought to me. after all, i sought out a feeder—this lifestyle is the one i’ve eaten myself towards. and he knows i have an inclination towards eating too much. that first week goes easier than it should; weight starts to pile on. but i miss going out, even running errands sounds nice. in the few moments my hands are absent of food or a shake i am regularly in contact with my friends.
the next week i’m better but… i feel slow. my feeder has started to keep people away because i need to rest and he’s right, healing is taxing on the body. i start responding less to others, too. our funnel has gotten so much more use in the last few days. the sugar and constant snacks step up and i can tell there is an agenda behind it all but *god* it feels good to be doted on. he helps me through the necessary exercises but trips across the house are rare. i notice how difficult it is to lift myself up now—how sedentary have i been?
that question doesn’t cross my mind again, there are better things to focus on. my feeder knows how to use my adhd to his advantage—food, sex, TV, and games all provide the dopamine hit needed to keep me distracted. the 3rd week is similar enough to the 2nd: ritualistic feeding becomes the norm. we don’t need a valve to control the flow on the funnel anymore, he knows i can finish everything. my belly is swollen out into my lap all of the time now, if i hold my boobs aside i can see new stretch marks creeping across my expanding hips. i expect the snacks, “babe, can you grab me something from the fridge?” is a phrase heard several times in the day. and my feeder obliges.
the 4th week we have an appointment and im told i should walk and start being active again. the doctor looks nervous though and tells me i need to watch my weight, he says something like “its alarming how quickly this happened,” but i blocked it out because—i can’t even see how much i weigh? my belly blocks the view now. oh my god.
in the car afterwards my feeder expresses doubt at the situation: “you don’t look so steady on your feet, i think you should still take it easy.” his eyes meet mine and i don’t miss the brief glance away, desire obvious at the sight of my rounded figure that’s entirely his fault. i know what he wants and i can’t deny myself that want, either. and he knows better in these situations, i trust his judgement. maybe it is best to stay in. plans can be pushed further back… the walk back to the car was a little difficult, too.
the next weeks—or does it span months?—pass in a blur. staying in is all i want to do. although i’m supposedly healthy again, i rarely get up and walk around more than needed. “needed” means a slow, clumsy walk to the fridge and back to either the couch or the bed. when my feeder is not there to feed me himself he takes time to order food to the door. bending down to pick things up is a monumental effort for me—a heavy, wide belly pressing into my fattened thighs. my swollen tits obscure my vision but serve as an excellent table when i need.
my feeder comes home one day and im asleep, taking up more than my fair share of the couch. my breaths are not easy and its obvious how much i ate beforehand: mostly-empty 2 liters, takeout containers haphazardly stacked on top of one another as they were finished, countless snack packages balled up and stuck between the couch cushions because sometimes i like to squirrel stuff away. as if there was a chance of hiding these habits my feeder built.
but the best part of it all is the empty pitcher sat against the corner of the couch, because i couldn’t reach to the coffee table to properly set it down with so much fat making every movement difficult.
the remnants a weight gain shake. our usual ingredients of cake mix, melted ice cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup, nutella, crushed oreos. it was hastily made, however, and it’s obvious by the chocolatey powder on the sides of the container that it was about the calories this time, not the taste. he can see where some escaped the pitcher and poured down my overly plump, round face and past the lovingly cultivated double chin. it dripped onto my breasts, lovely puddles of calories he wish made it inside of me even if the sight is wonderful. after that thought, an idea comes up. how deep are the rolls he’s gifted me? a cow this size needs to be used.
#feedism.#feeder/feedee#feedee.#hucow.#writing#is this too much 🫣#i wrote this late last night after overeating :3#formatting may be edited later#it was written with big chunky paragraphs but i find that hard to read#it may read choppily bc of how i split it though :((
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