#look! lazy is making a big dramatic post again

[lazylogic]

TL;DR: I’ve let my online art presence and the internet as a whole become so weighty to me that I’m constantly having a meltdown over how the internet has changed and how I present myself online, so I’m cutting myself off from being an artist on the internet, because it seems like the only healthy option for me right now.

I think I need to stop posting online entirely. As drastic and melodramatic as that sounds, I’m spending time on an internet that I hate, wishing for an internet that no longer exists. I’ve repeatedly ~taken breaks from social media to try and detox~, and it does help in the short term, but eventually I just fall back into my “existential art crisis” and become anxious, stressed, and frustrated again, hating myself and hating every choice I’ve made up to this point. I’m happy when I draw at my own pace, but I’m quickly overwhelmed by the “I’m not posting enough so people won’t like me anymore” anxiety I get.

I know I’m like, the only one who feels this way, the only one who cares this much and takes art this seriously that I’ve let it crush me so much. For some reason my art and my ability to draw is so deeply ingrained in my identity and sense of self, and it’s become so monumentally important to me that it’s worn me down this much. But I know I’m not the only artist online who feels pressure to perform every day, who compares themself to others, who feels burnt out every month, and who is constantly fighting with the evolving technology and society that seems to be consistently designed to screw us. I know many have been able to adapt, and have done it smoothly, and I commend them and am incredibly happy for them. I’m proud to have happy and well-adjusted art peers! I can’t do that. I want to put in the effort to adapt, I have to many ideas to share and stories to tell, but I’m just…spent. Every time I try, it takes up all of my very limited energy, and I’m back to hibernation mode again. I am tired. I’m too small, sensitive and self-conscious to simply keep trucking along. My fragility makes every effort so painful. I really cannot do this anymore.

Posting my art online used to be fun. I loved connecting with people over fan art, OCs, gushing with other artists about each other’s creations, and getting love and support from people who found enjoyment in it. I used to get kind asks on Tumblr just complimenting my art or encouraging me when I posted a vent piece. Tumblr especially used to be my chill place. Most of those people, along with that happy and peaceful environment, are gone now. Old Tumblr is dead, old DeviantArt is gone, I feel detached from FA more than I ever have. Everything feels scattered and divided, and people are so jaded, which I really can’t blame anyone for. No matter where I go, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, and I don’t really want to be anywhere, either. I feel like I don’t even fit in with my own demographic, no matter what I try. I can’t emphasize enough that I’m trying to post for and enjoy an internet and online community that no longer exists. It’s my own fault for living in the past. Everything is far too fleeting now, engagement is king and constant streams of new content, as well as outrage, equals that. Everyone else seems to be able to change so readily with it, and I’m still stuck figuring things out from five years ago. I can’t seem to recognize or understand anyone anymore, either. I can’t keep up, and I don’t want to try to anymore.

I think what I wanted the most for my art was for it to resonate with people. It’s always been my favorite thing to do for fun, and it always made me so happy knowing my art made someone’s day better, even if it was just Hattie being silly or cute fan art. The idea that I could make someone breathe easier because I drew something soft and comforting is incredibly meaningful to me. But my art was always a powerful emotional outlet for me, too. I know my vent art would often dip into edgy territory, especially in my teenage years, and I withdrew from drawing vent art as a whole because I became too self-aware of it and I felt too exposed. But it was real, and it came from a real place and real emotions, and that’s still important to me. I feel emotions very strongly. I wanted to say something and be understood. And I guess that’s what I still want? To be understood, like anyone else would want, I guess.

I don’t even know what I want out of posting online anymore, or why I bother to check it. Every bit of engagement I get feels more empty than rewarding, and that discrepancy keeps growing. I hate it, because I know it’s because my brain has been trained to want more. I hate that I need more and more validation that people care about me via my art, because it used to be purely mine. And I want so much for it to just be mine again. It’s really felt like I’ve been drawing for everyone else for such a long time, and I guess that’s also my own fault. I feel trapped here. I really don’t enjoy drawing anymore, and I never get the urge to like I used to, and I cannot express how much that absolutely guts me. I always say social media is what ruined it for me, but I know that my participation in social media was my own choice, so I know I actually ruined it for myself.

I have a lot of work to do. I need to just get better as a person, fix my mental health, gain any semblance of self-worth so that I’m not breaking down every week over my value as an artist being synonymous with my value as a person (before you wonder, I am working with mental health professionals regularly now). I know I complain a LOT about the internet and how it’s changed, but I need to make it very clear that I don’t meant to put the blame solely on all of that for my mental state. I recognize that I just have a lot of issues and I make things harder for myself all the time. I’m chronically living in the past and unhappy with the present, and that’s 100% a me problem. This is the only move I can think of that will allow me to actually focus on getting my shit together; removing the option of being an online artist altogether. I can’t cheat and peek at Twitter and slowly make my way back after three weeks. While I’m at it, I will probably stop posting everywhere else too (not that I was really posting much anyway). I don’t want to say I’m leaving forever but I will say that I want no more expectations, I’m not gonna be posting anymore, basically until further notice. I have to figure my shit out for real. I’m not sure if this will even work, it might just make things worse for me. But I’m just at a loss and I feel like I need to do something. I don’t know if my absence from online art posting will cause me to miraculously enjoy drawing again and a year from now I’ll have a massive backlog to show everyone, I’ll be fixed and happy…I don’t know. I just know this isn’t for me, not right now.

I feel guilty doing this, because I have people who have been following me and supporting me for well over a decade, and I think you guys deserve better than this. It’s a big part of my motivation for doing this to begin with - I’m kind of ashamed to show myself to these awesome people every day, I feel like I owe everyone more than just my gratitude, but I haven’t been able to deliver consistent art or content in years. I feel like I'm letting so many people down every day, and ultimately I feel the same about leaving. But I need to get better first. I think about everyone all the time and feel so lucky and so stupid. I know it’s dramatic, but to everyone, thank you, and I’m sorry.

For anybody going, “it’s not that deep,” I’ve heard that plenty. This post isn’t for you.

I’m not completely disappearing from the internet. If you want to get into contact with me, you can add me on Discord at RealaChao#7312. I will still accept commissions privately for now, so just reach out to me (I’ll update my commissions Carrd site if I decide to close them). I won’t necessarily be deleting my accounts, but I will be logging out of everything at least and disabling notifications, so please don’t message me on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or anywhere else expecting a reply. You can also email me at plutoeffoart@gmail.com. Lastly, my main focus these days has been my Neocities, so you’re welcome to check that out (though it's largely a draft right now). It’s not going to be an art site, though, at least not only art. It’s gonna be my quiet home.

I also posted this here. Genuinely, thanks for everything.

[idanceuntilidie]

Can I request a yandere!ceo x male reader please

Ps, I love your writing ♥️

Thank you!

I hope this was to your liking,

I am working on next request and it will be posted tomorrow.

You are sure your boss hates you.

Sighing dramatically you are met with eyes of worried co workers that are looking at you from behind a comically large stack of documents.

You try to smile at them, then your eyes scan the paperwork again.

You will have to stay after work to even get rid of almost half of the documents.

You rub your face sighing dramatically.

It was tiring, you even regret getting this job in the first place.

“Y/n?”

You feel a light tap on your shoulder, you slowly turn around to face the person who disturbed your moment of self reflection.

It was May, your co worker, she smiled apologetically.

“The big guy wants to see you. What on earth have you done this time man?” She laughs quietly, you join her.

May must be one of the nicest people you have ever met.

“Man, my excuse of ‘the dog ate my homework’ didn’t go through?”

“It seems like it”

She looks at your pile, her cherry red lips forming an o shape.

“Don’t even start May I swear to God”

“What? What? I haven’t said anything”

She huffed.

„You better go, or he will kick your ass out.”

You groaned, lazily moving your body out of the uncomfortable chair that you are pretty sure has reflected shape of your because of the amount of time you had to spend to sitting on it. May patted your back as you dragged yourself out of the office.

You really REALLY don’t want to go there.

Finally you got to the black door, only now you noticed how sweaty your hands were when you were about to open the door your boss did it first.

You came almost face to face with him, he was slightly shorter than you.

He looked at you with a scowl.

“I was about to get you, come in.”

You only nodded, following him in and quietly praying you won’t die in there.

You sat in front of him, eyes scanning the environment and coming in contact with plate containing his last name.

Kingston.

Oh right, you are so used to calling him big man you actually forgot his name.

“Sir L/n, I am not satisfied with your work.

You are lazy, you are coming late.”

Ouch, that’s, that’s not true, you might have been late few times but you are working as hard as everyone else.

“I was thinking about firing you actually”

Your heart sank, mouth opening to argue. Nothing came out.

“You are so lucky I like you.”

“I’m- I’m sorry?”

“I like you. I thought I was clear.”

Your face burned. How is he even saying it so bluntly???

You saw him get up and walk to the big window that was behind him.

He motioned you to come. You did, you swear you couldn’t feel your legs. You wobbly walked next to Kingston. Your eyes looked at the city underneath you.

“Please go out with me”

That didn’t sound like a question nor request.

“You don’t have a choice really, I can make your life a living hell y/n. I can ruin your image, make you loose your job. You don’t want that do you?” he smiled at you,

You swallowed weakly, nodding.

“Great, I will pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

He clapped his hands.

“You aren’t getting rid of me, you belong to me now honey.”

[wasyago]

okay don't mind me just gonna ramble for a second haha-

(this was originally going to be under the drawing, but it got too long, and i can't add it in a reblog because both things are on queue, so separate post it is)

i just love how every time i start a drawing im like "well alright, just a quick sketch yea? no color, maybe some gray to white gradient and that's it, okay?". and then i start drawing (and obviously it takes longer than i thought because duh) and i go "okay but- i gotta at least do the flat colors, right? just the flats- maybe even some random colors to not spend too much time on it--". and then. of course. i do the flats, and im pretty happy with the result yeah? looks simple but not too simple, like it has some color some personality to it, but its not over the top so. so, i leave the drawing i go to get some water and start on an actual piece, and when i come back and take a look at what i drew its like, "well. listen. listen-- yeah im still pretty happy with how it looks but, but. it could be a little better, yea?" and then i sit down, put my water down, put my other drawing to the side, and i sit there making this quick sketch look better. "oh i don't like the colors anymore! but its all on one layer now so i can't exactly change them, plus i still like the idea, so maybe some filters? yeaj some filters on top will do!" (and of course its a yellow shade filter, because im original like that and 90% of my drawings don't also have it on). and then i add them filters and i think" well maybe some bounce light now? surely it already looks better with the filter but its kinda flat, and i want to bring *a little bit* of the original color in" so i add the bounce light, but now it looks out of place! shocker! so i decide that surely i can maybe add some grass at the bottom to hide the edge of the drawing a little. and well, alright, grass looks good, but its too dark, brings a lot of attention to it! and i can't exactly make it lighter, so, the logical choice would be to make the characters darker too, bring some contrast into the thing! and lets just do all the values while we're at it, why not! patterns to the horse, make the pants and skin darker, yes yes. and, oh- but now the eyes are lost because there's more dark hues! gotta make a new layer on top and make them eyes a little bit darker, maybe also color the bandana red and not brown so it looks special, hm? oh and! while we're on this top layer, lets also fix up the hair a little, maybe add some blush... oh and the straps of the saddle look weird, gotta fix those too! oh man and not that i look at it-- the head is too big! lets merge all the layers together and start that same thing over again! yes yes make the head a little smaller, yeah looks much better now! oh, better add some fading as well, to make it fit in the background a little, oh and some glow, suuure sure, and some lights in the eyes, and-

(and now that im looking at it, i realize that i somehow didn't save the final version????? like, i did a lot more to the thing, fixed up the saddle and that awkward shade oh his knee, and the grass-- i wont fix it now because NOW im too lazy to do it for some reason, but yeah, a bit unfortunate u_u)

anyways, point being, love art, art is pog, wish i cared a little less about it sometimes, but it also turnes this into this (imagine me pointing at the drawings as i say that, overly dramatic and sounding a little annoyed with myself)

[modelbus]

Tommy, band au, and bassist!

confession: I play acoustic guitar, so I’m not a bassist… I apologize in advance

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x gn!Reader

Band AU - Bassist

“Every day I wait for you to switch to an electric guitar.” You tell Tommy, watching him mess with the strings on his bass guitar. With ten minutes to stage, he was absolutely convinced that something was wrong with the thing.

“Fuck off.” He huffs back, not even looking at you. “Stupid acoustic guitarist.”

“Damn right I am.” You were the band’s acoustic. And electric, if they really needed it. But you were still trying to get Tommy to take that place.

Finally, he lifts his head to shoot you a fierce glare. There’s your bassist. Whenever the band gets in trouble, it’s always him. And whenever the band needs someone to energize the hell out of everyone, it’s also always him.

He’s a fan favorite for a reason, you suppose.

“Your bass is fine.” You finally sigh. “You keep messing with it and you’ll fuck it up.”

“I will not! Cant you hear something’s wrong with it?”

“All I hear is you freaking out.” You reach over to a cup nearby, grabbing a pick to throw at him. He shouts dramatically, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Oi!”

“Get your ass up and ready. At this rate, you’ll be going on without an instrument.”

And he didn’t need to be told what a mess that’d be. He dropped his bass in the crowd once on accident — that thing was long gone within seconds.

That was also in a crowd half the size of this one.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you got here. Going from playing in garages with your friends to a stage in front of hundreds wasn’t something you ever planned for. You were meant to get a degree, have a stable employment. Not blow up like some rockstar, flabbergasted by the idea of fanfictions about you.

The first merch of the band was some shitty make-your-own tee that was a joke. Tubbo had (very poorly) bleached Tommy’s face onto it. And now you were up to your ears in merch sales, half-convinced you’d run out of things to print a design on. Even now, Tommy has on a graphic t-shirt of your logo.

“You guys ready?” Someone asks, popping their head into Tommy’s changing room. They have a headset on: some tech guy, probably. “On in two!”

You raise your eyebrows at Tommy, who gives a reluctant look at his bass before nodding. “Ready, big man.”

The guy nods, vanishing again.

When Tommy gives his bass another sad look, you groan and reach out for it. “Fine. Hand it the fuck over.”

“I knew you’d cave!” He exclaims, practically throwing the thing at you.

You run your fingers over the strings, plucking at them then twisting the knobs to tune them a bit more. Technically, Tommy is able to do this on his own. The idiot just tends to be a lazy ass, and you were the only one who could tune by ear.

“Here, does the tension feel right?” You ask him, holding it out for him to pluck at the strings.

“This one is—“ The string snaps, making him yelp and you scream.

Oh fuck. Holy shit.

He can’t play if his stupid bass doesn’t have strings.

“Where do you keep your strings?” You shout at him, diving for his bag and emptying it in a pile.

“I don’t fucking know! The side! The side!” He shouts right back at you, trying to untangle the string so you can replace it. You throw wire cutters at him so he can remove it easier, then find the packet of wire.

“Move it, dumbass.” You shoulder him aside, shoving the string through the bridge entry.

There’s not much time, but you’re still careful to align it perfectly. The last thing you need is this thing snapping on stage. Tommy bends it around the tuning post, cutting the excess wire.

You keep the string aligned, twisting the tuning post to tighten the string as you need. Once it’s good and on, you switch to making sure the thing is actually in tune.

“Did you get it?” Tommy asks, hovering over you. “Is it fixed?”

“You better fucking hope so!” You exclaim, scrambling up. “Shit, how much time do we have?”

The same tech person from before opens the door, looking worried. “Guys, you’re meant to be on now, the rest of the band is—“

You and Tommy don’t stick around to hear the rest. Tommy shoves past the poor tech guy, bass in hand, sprinting for the stage. You’re right behind him, your acoustic getting slung hastily over your back with the strap.

“Sorry guys, two of our members seem to have disappeared.” You can hear Tubbo saying, sounding confused. “Um…”

“We’re here!” Tommy screams, almost tripping over the stage stairs and hurtling into the view of the audience. You take the stairs a bit more gracefully, trailing behind him with an awkward wave to the crowd.

“Oops?”

Their screams of excitement answer you. Tommy turns, craning his neck to grin at you.

“Made it.”

[shuhwaa]

Twice as Types of Kisses

Twice all members x gn!reader genre: fluff warnings: slightly suggestive in some parts

Author’s note: I’ve finally given in to the need to write for them, so I thought I’d post this little imagine for a start~

Nayeon:

deep, adoring kisses

loves kissing you whenever and wherever she can

will literally pull you aside, seeming like she has something important to say, but she just wanted to share a quick kiss with you

always looks at you so fondly because she loves you and the way your lips feel against hers

every single kiss she shares with you is filled with her feelings for you - there will never be a kiss that means nothing

Jeongyeon:

sneaky, playful kisses

will carefully tiptoe up to you and wrap her arms around your body before pressing her lips against your jaw

likes catching you off guard with kisses on the lips or elsewhere on your face or hands (or tbh anywhere she knows you like receiving them) just to see you all flustered because of her

always apologizes with a warm smile

but that’s just another excuse to kiss you again

Momo:

chaste kisses all over your body

loves tracing the lines of your body with her fingertips and trailing kisses along them

when she’s hugging you from behind she will sometimes brush her lips against your shoulders, kissing her way up your nape until she reaches your ear

they’re always light kisses, careful and teasing

loves nipping at your collarbones and jaw too

smiles victoriously after a kiss to the corner of your mouth because it’s clear as day that you’re already under her spell

Sana:

energetic and all over the place kisses

feels the need to tightly squeeze your hand, hug you or kiss you whenever she’s excited

will pull you close, and if you initiate the kiss she’ll be blushing and super happy at the same time

breaks the kiss in a smile, but as soon as she’s collected herself she’ll take the lead

grabs your face and presses a big smooch on the tip of your nose and then your lips

kisses you all over your face and smiles happily in between, until there’s no more space to do anything else in between kisses

Jihyo:

caring, warm kisses

she’s so fond of you, and everytime she sees you, she wants to convey that to you with a kiss

loves putting her arms around your shoulders before grinning at you and slowly going in for a kiss

her kisses are usually both deep and make you feel safe

there’s warmth in the way she moves her lips against yours, and she always matches her energy with yours

sometimes that warmth turns into fiery kisses that might lead to more

Mina:

lingering kisses

a bit shy about kissing you, especially when other people are around

but once she has the courage to simply walk up to you and to kiss you, she will do it fairly often

very careful whenever she touches you

loves the feeling of kissing you so much, she might actually break the kiss because she can’t suppress her smile

soft kisses that linger, foreheads pressed together

she doesn’t want this moment to end

Dahyun:

morning kisses

loves nothing more than to wake you up in the morning with kisses

will already be snuggled up to you when you open your eyes and be overflowing with love as she sees your sleepy face

soft kisses on your cheeks and forehead to help you wake up

cups your face with her hand when you’re fully awake and presses her lips against yours

some days it ends like that, other days it’ll turn into a lazy morning make-out

Chaeyoung:

feathery light kisses

loves surprising you with pecks on the cheek or your neck, that make both of you smile

this often ends in her hugging you tight and scattering light kisses on your neck

will make you laugh at the ticklish sensation before applying just a bit more pressure to feel you melt into her kisses

she might go back to just hugging you, resting her head on your shoulder

or things will end in a make-out session

Tzuyu:

hand kisses

dramatically picks up your hand to kiss the back of it

laughs at the silly gesture, but from the sparkles in her eyes you can see how much she adores you and that her kiss was genuine

other times she’ll play with your fingers while holding hands absentmindedly

then she suddenly brings your hand up to her mouth to brush her lips against your knuckles

shows you a soft smile and continues placing soft kisses on your hand as her cheeks redden, because you really are her whole world

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 12

AO3

Master list (too lazy to post all the links LMAO, im gonna make a proper master post at some point lol)

Thanks to @micropoe10 and @tragedybunny for giving this a once over to make sure it flows well.

Also as always thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for allowing me to use their art as inspiration for this :3

12. Clean

The closer the time got the more she was second guessing herself. Octavia kept battling in her mind over and over again. She had to tell him at some point. 

He's not dumb. He will find out. You have to say something. What if he doesn't want to be with you? You have to say something. What if he's just a fame chaser like the last guy? 

Octavia paces her front room. He's supposed to be here already. She stares at the clock against the wall, it was around 7 in the evening. They hadn't agreed on a time, Astarion just said dusk. He already knew where she lived so what's taking him so long? 

It's her, it's definitely her. He'll come by, he has to. 

Right? 

She plays with the hair hanging off her shoulder, why is she so nervous? It was only dinner. Alone. In her house. She needs wine. Her hands tremble slightly as she opens the bottle on the table.

The cork fumbles out of her hand and falls to the floor. She sighs and pours out a glass for herself. Why was she so nervous? It's not like they've never been alone in the same room. 

She peers back at the clock, 2 minutes have passed. 

She takes a big swig of the glass. Her eyes close and she exhales all the air in her lungs. No amount of alcohol can ease the turbulence ripping through her belly. She sits at the table, running her finger along the rim of the glass.

The food she made was barely enough for her, let alone for two. Astarion assured her that he didn't need much, but she couldn't help but feel slightly off about it. 

She gets up and paces the room some more. There's candles on the table in front of her fireplace, she walks over and lights some. Sitting on the couch behind her, she throws her head back, places a pillow on her face, and screams into it. 

The room feels so huge when she takes the pillow off her face and stares at the fireplace. There's no reason to be nervous.

Of course there isn't, he likes me…right?

She was only going to tell her boyfriend- was he her boyfriend? 

They never really established that.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Octavia downed the rest of the wine in her glass and quickly walked towards the sound. She takes a second to look in the mirror and fix her face. 

Breathe , you can do this. 

She opens the door and greets Astarion. "Took you long enough, I've been waiting out here all by myself." He pouts dramatically and smiles. "I'm not going to have to stand out here anymore, right?" 

Octavia shakes her head and steps aside, Astarion stares at her with a cocked eyebrow and clears his throat. "Really? I have to make it all proper and invite you in?" She laughs as he playfully shrugs, in a sarcastic sweeping flourish she bows and extends her arm "Astarion, please come into my home won't you?"

His grin takes over his whole face, he walks inside as Octavia closes the door behind him. "Quite the invitation, darling. I admire the theatrics." 

He looks around her flat, the quaint furnishings and decorations are cute. She has a small couch with two fluffy cushions and a blanket. The coffee table in between her and the lit fireplace has a few books on it. There's a vase of yellow flowers on the fireplace mantle, the warmth of her home felt comfortable and familiar. 

“Cute little place you got here. I like it better than your back garden, feels more like you.” Astarion smiles at Octavia, she feels her face flush and she clears her throat, turning her head toward the candlelit table. 

"Are you hungry? I made some food. I know you said you don't eat much..but…" she shrugs and flops down on the couch and sighs, "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous to have you here. Inside my house. Alone." She laughs awkwardly. 

He sits beside her, and holds her hand, easing her tension. "It's fine. I won't bite. Unless you ask me to." He chuckles darkly, Octavia laughs along, the first clue lost to her. "Here, let me give you a little gift." He reaches into a worn leather bag he carried over his shoulder. Within a few moments he takes the old book out.

As he hands it to her, their fingers touch. Octavia lingers on his hand, wanting to feel his hand on hers. "Thank you. I know you probably would rather I keep it in the museum but I do think I'll be able to get this done quicker here."

Astarion pulls the book back towards him, breaking their contact. "We just can't let Gale know. Can't have him get mad at me you know?" He ends with a wink, placing the book on her coffee table. 

He turns his head towards her dining room table. The candles she lit are half burned. Whatever she prepared sits covered in the middle. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I appreciate it, though.” She blushes, feeling as if she did something wrong. “I'm sorry, I know you said you didn't need it, but I'm so used to doing this for people I care about. I wanted to do it for you too.”

Astarion smiles and takes her hand, leading her to the table. “Well I certainly can't let your hard work go unappreciated, can I? Shall we then, my sweet?” 

He slides a chair open for her and motions her to sit down. Octavia laughs softly and sits. “Thank you, how chivalrous of you.” He pushes the chair in and takes a seat across from her. “Just doing what I can to show my gratitude, dearest. So what's on the menu?”

Octavia clears her throat and waves her left hand around. A transparent purple hand appears in front of her. With a flick of her wrist, the hand takes the coverings on the plates off and reveals two perfectly set small portions of sauteed fish with mushrooms, rosemary, and green beans. It had a red drizzle on it, and yet another familiar scent. “Hope you like it. According to my mom, it's an old family recipe.” 

He didn't know how to explain to her that he was hungry for something that can't really be cooked and served in a candlelit dinner. So for now he goes through with the motions of putting it in his mouth and swallowing it. 

This time though, the second the smell of it hits his nose he feels as if he's been transported back to camp. 

The light of the fire silhouettes his love, her outline blackened by the shadows of the night. He smiles as she turns. She holds a plate of food in her hands for herself, she has to eat something before he does, after all. The fish she eats will make her blood irony tasting, but it makes him stronger for tomorrow's inevitable fight. She smiles and places a hand at his cheek, sitting by his side. They silently watch the fire as she nourishes herself. 

“Hellooo? Are you there? Something wrong?” Astarion snaps out of his trance and blinks back into the current moment. He looks at Octavia, the look of confusion painted clearly on her face. 

“Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, what was that again?” He smiles sheepishly and goes to grab another piece of food when he smacks the now empty plate with the fork. “I was asking if you liked it, Astarion, but I think you just answered my question before I finished asking it.”  Octavia smiles awkwardly at him, he can feel the embarrassment on his face. 

“Oh..” he puts the utensil down and grabs for the wine glass to his right. He drinks some of the wine and stares at the fireplace. He watches the flames dance like he did back then.

“Do you want to go sit by the fireplace with me, again? I tend to run a bit cold.” he asks, his voice low and soft. Octavia nods and she stands, her turn to lead now. She holds his hand and starts to walk over towards the couch, until she gets a brilliant little idea.

“Hold on!” Octavia releases her hand and turns back to the table, she grabs their glasses and the second full bottle of wine she had on the kitchen counter. 

Octavia makes her way to the coffee table and places the drinks down. Then she goes to the couch and pushes it closer to the fireplace. She finally grabs the giant throw blanket by her book corner and throws it on the couch. “Hmmm” 

She circles around the living room making sure her work is perfect like a bird inspecting its nest. She nods reaffirming it and guides Astarion over. She pushes him into the couch, eliciting a confused look from him. 

Octavia pours some wine into the glass and hands it to him. He takes it from her as she's taking off her shoes. She sits with her legs crossed to her side, holds out her hand and flicks it making the purple hand reappear. It takes the blanket float up and wrap itself around the two of them.

With the same hand she makes it pour her a glass of wine and bring it over to her. “Quite the trick! Very self indulgent, I like that.” He tips his glass to her, and she does the same towards him, their glasses touching with a soft clink.

“Being a stressed out college student comes in ‘handy’ sometimes don't you think?” She grins a cheesy smile knowing he would cringe at the poor pun. 

As predicted he groans and rolls his eyes. Octavia giggles into her wine, settling under his arm. They smile at each other and stare at the fire. “I really feel like I can be myself around you, Astarion. You’ve been so kind to me.” She holds his hand that's draped over her shoulder and leans into him more. The feeling of wanting to tell her his secret weighed on his mind. 

“I feel like I can be myself around you as well, Octavia. You have made me feel things I haven't felt in a very very long time.” He squeezed her hand a little.

They sit intertwined in each other's arms, Astarion feels the familiar pang of guilt building inside him. She's been so open and honest with him. It's not fair to her, and it's certainly not the way he thought this would go. But something inside is telling him to do it, and to do it now. 

He clears his throat and shifts away from Octavia a bit, separating their hands and sitting up straight. “There's something I feel I should tell you, Octavia. It's kind of important.” 

She got up a little to face him. She holds onto his hand, rubbing small circles into the top like he did for her earlier. “I…That is to say..I mean…” he stammers through, not keeping eye contact. 

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Astarion, if you aren't ready to of course.” she continues the contact on his hand. “I want to. I want you to be able to truly see me as I am. What I am…” Astarion is clearly fighting with himself, but it seems like no matter what, he's determined to get this done and over with.

Octavia cocks her head to the side as Astarion downs the rest of his wine. He places the glass on the table and takes a deep breath. “You might want to finish yours as well..or you could wait til after, your choice.” She takes a big gulp of her drink and places the glass next to his. 

She turns to him and takes a deep breath as well. “Whatever it is, I don't think it'll change my mind about you. Unless you’re a cold blooded murderer or some monster come to kill me in my sleep.” Octavia laughs, not noticing the worried look on Astarion’s face, he laughs awkwardly. 

He gulps in fear and anticipation, Octavia looks at him slightly grimacing “Come on it can't be that bad right? We all have our secrets.” Her throat catches the strange laugh that escapes.

If he only knew what she wanted to tell him as well. She likes him, and whatever things he has to keep to himself couldn't keep her from being nervous about her own hang ups. 

Octavia hopes whatever it is, he isn't going to stop what they had going on. She was happy, and she hoped he was too. 

They sit together for a few moments, he watches the glow of the fire. He doesn't want to ruin this moment with her. The pretty little gift that was dropped in his lap after a century of solitude. He sighs, and holds her closer, if his heart could work, it would be beating through his chest.

Astarion clears his throat “I’m not sure you'll feel that way in a few minutes, darling.”

“Astarion, you can trust me. I trust you. Just tell me. I’m a big girl.” Octavia leans closer, as Astarion holds her hands and presses his lips to the tops of her palms. He hears her breath catch and then he lets his confession roll out of his lips.

Octavia, I'm a vampire.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

[ridiasfangirlings]

Saruhiko decides to get a haircut because his hair is really long and he meets Misaki in the same barber shop

Imagine this post-betrayal, Fushimi decides his hair’s getting too long but he’s feeling too lazy to cut it himself so he finally drags himself down to a barbershop. Fushimi probably doesn’t normally like having his hair cut by other people, especially since I imagine the poor guy cutting his hair would want to make small talk and Fushimi’s just clicking his tongue and radiating ‘leave me alone’ energy, but he also doesn’t want to cut his own hair and he doesn’t want to be attacked by Hidaka with the scissors again so he has no choice but to get a proper haircut at a barbershop. Luckily the guy cutting his hair realizes pretty quickly that Fushimi just wants to sit in silence and have his hair cut so he just gets to work while Fushimi sits there with his glasses off staring blurring ahead.

He’s about halfway through his haircut when he hears the barber next to him chatting with his new client. Fushimi grimaces and clicks his tongue quietly, like oh great now I have to listen to idiots talking until my haircut is done. That’s when the client next to him responds to the barber and Fushimi immediately does a double take because he would know that voice anywhere. Imagine him sitting there silently, waiting to see if he’s noticed, and then when Yata’s barber asks him a question Fushimi pipes up in response instead with something insulting. Yata’s like wait what and then he almost jumps out of his seat like ‘Saruhiko!’. The barber tells him to sit down and Fushimi snickers, telling Yata he won’t get a lollipop if he isn’t good. Yata’s like fuck you I’m not a kid, Fushimi’s like if you’re not then why did the barber give you a booster seat to sit in.

This time Fushimi’s barber scolds him, telling him not to lean forward so much. Yata huffs like maybe you should pay attention before you end up bald Saruhiko, Fushimi says he thought Yata was the one with the receding hairline. Yata’s all what was that, almost jumping up again before stopping himself, and Fushimi says that’s why Yata wears the hat all the time isn’t it. Yata says well at least his hair doesn’t look like a rat’s nest full of product, Fushimi says if he has problems with hair products then maybe he should talk to his hair-dyeing King. Yata says Mikoto’s hair is natural and Fushimi snickers again, wondering how Yata knows that, did he ask Mikoto if the curtains match the drapes. Yata looks at him blankly all why are we talking about curtains and Fushimi sighs dramatically, what a virgin after all. 

Yata almost jumps up once again and this time imagine his barber isn’t able to tell him to sit down quickly enough and ends up chopping a big chunk of hair right off at the top of his head. Fushimi cracks up at this, because now Misaki really has a bald spot. Yata’s all that’s it, I’m gonna kick your ass, and Fushimi’s like any time Misaki — and he leans forward too fast, just in time for his barber to cut his long bangs neatly off. The two of them just stare blankly at each other for a moment, Yata with his bald spot and Fushimi with his short uneven bangs, and then the two of them are then promptly kicked out of the barbershop and told not to come back. Yata pulls his hat over his bald spot as he complains this is all Fushimi’s fault, Fushimi’s like how is it my fault you’re an idiot as he fusses with his bangs to try and get them to lay right.

[unclewaynemunson]

hi i just found your blog and i’m in love with ur writing<3 imma stalk it, if that’s ok!! also, saw ppl can send writing ideas (u don’t have to do this it’s just something i like reading lol) and i see lots of angsty fics where steve is the one that fucks up and has to apologize but I also think eddie could fuck up too - so if you could right something angsty (with a happy ending obv lol i’m not made of stone) where eddie fucks up and has to figure out how to apologize to steve :) but like i said no pressure if it’s not something you want to do <333

keep up with your writing, it’s beautiful <33

Ohmygod this is such a lovely message, thank you so much <333 Seriously this really means sooo much! I hope you're having a good day, lots of love!

And YESSS i love this prompt! I started writing something and it completely got away from me so now it's getting waaayyy longer than i planned it to be, whoops. I'll give you the first part already and I hope to have the second (longer) part ready soon.

(also, i wrote this post a while ago which also has angst and eddie being kind of a dick so you might like that one, too)

XXXXX

'Do you know what day it is tomorrow?'

They're on Eddie's bed together, the two of them, not doing much – or rather, Steve's not doing much. Eddie, however, is tirelessly scribbling down ideas in his notepad to prepare for the next Hellfire meeting.

He looks up from his notes to look at Steve in disbelief, wondering if he's for real with that question.

'Friday,' he answers in the most scathing tone he can muster.

'C'mon Eddie, don't be a dick,' says Steve, but a small smile is playing around his lips. 'Can I take you out tomorrow night?'

'I have band practice on Fridays. You know that.'

'Yeah, but I talked to the guys. They're okay with skipping it one time.'

'Dude, I'm not gonna miss my band practice for fucking Valentine's Day.'

Steve frowns. 'You don't have to say it like it's a gross word, you know.'

'But it is a gross word, Stevie!' Eddie exclaims dramatically. 'Come on, you know just as well as I do that it's not for people like us.'

'Seriously?'

Eddie doesn't understand why Steve is acting so surprised. Honestly, what did he expect from dating a non-conformist queer metalhead, exactly?

'It's not even about romance, man! It's a conspiracy of the big corporations so they can capitalize off their ridiculous made-up heterosexual ideas of what relationships should be like. Nothing romantic about it, it's all bullshit.'

Something shifts in Steve's gaze. 'It's all bullshit?' he repeats, eyebrows arched into a frown.

There's something in his tone and in his pose, his arms crossed in front of his chest, like he's challenging Eddie, that makes Eddie feel like he can only double down on this now.

'Yeah. Complete bullshit.'

'Okay.' Steve nods, opens his mouth, then closes it again – seems to swallow his own words, before he continues: 'Okay, good to know. I won't keep you away from your band practice, then. Um, you know what, I should be heading home now.'

'I thought you were staying here for the night?'

'No, I changed my mind.' Steve doesn't look him quite in his eyes. 'I think I just wanna be alone. Get a good night's sleep.'

Eddie squints at Steve as he gets up from his lazy position on the bed to grab his shoes.

'Are you angry?'

'No, I'm just – you're probably right, I don't know why I even thought – never mind.'

But Eddie can't see Steve's face as he's ducked down to tie his shoelaces, and his voice sounds oddly strained. Steve leaves Eddie's room without so much as a kiss on Eddie's cheek and only stops in the living room to say goodbye to Wayne before he heads out into the cold evening.

'You and Steve okay?' Wayne asks after the sound of Steve's car has faded away. Eddie is still standing in the middle of the living room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

'I... don't know,' he answers his uncle's question. 'He was being all weird about fucking Valentine's Day, can you believe that?' He lets himself fall onto the couch. 'What about this –' he makes a vague gesture at both himself and the room around them – 'could have ever given him the idea that I'd care about Valentine's Day?' It's impossible for him to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Wayne sighs. 'And did it ever occur to you that maybe he cares 'bout Valentine's Day?'

Eddie scoffs. 'Of course he doesn't care about Valentine's Day, he's –' Shit. The horrifying realization dawns over him and it makes so much sense that he wonders how he didn't see it right away. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Steve Harrington cares about Valentine's Day. And he probably planned some big romantic surprise date for Eddie and all Eddie said was that it was bullshit.

He groans and lets himself fall further into the worn-out couch cushions.

'That's what I thought,' Wayne comments dryly.

'Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I fucked up so bad, Wayne! How could I have known?! He's a fucking badass, I didn't think – Ah, damnit, I'm such an idiot!'

'Badass or not, if you didn't wanna be with some hopeless romantic, you been lookin' in the wrong place, boy,' Wayne says.

Eddie lifts his head up to take a look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's almost eleven thirty. That leaves him with about eight hours until Steve wakes up on his own in that big empty house, on Valentine's Day, ready to start his day feeling completely miserable. It's time to switch into all-nighter mode.

XXXXX

(Update: read pt2 here)

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Inspired by this post @xoxogabriella hope you don’t mind me using your art for inspiration (:

*based in 1987, where everyone’s finishing up school due to it not being in session after all of the “earth quakes” that and I realize I made plot hole and I’m to lazy to fix it*

Eddies hair whips around in whatever direction the wind wants to take it, fingers strumming on the drivers wheel as his other hand fidgets with the rings on his right hand. Leaning forward a bit as he looks out the front window, trying to make sure he didn’t get to close to the bumper of the car that was driving twenty in a fifty zone. He was tempted to start honking, but he recognized the car belonged to one of the older woman a few trailers down from his. She was a sweet lady, but her driving skills sucked. There was literally no one else on the country road except her and his van. Groaning he’s tempted to throw his head back in a dramatic way, just to make Chrissy laugh in his passenger seat. A sweet laugh that made his stomachs do flips. If he wasn’t currently into someone else, and she wasn’t into someone else they would have been dating by now. “Eddie! Eyes on the road you goober?” Chrissy has the passenger mirror pulled down as she does a attempt at fixing her hair. Which was in a high pony tail, to go along with the cheer outfit she was wearing. Moving her leg up on the glove department as she fits herself into a awkward way so that she could start to adjust what was underneath her skirt. The first sign that the two were a little to close. Though that point may have been proven with the fact that Eddie was currently wearing one of her newer thongs that one, she did not want back and two, he couldn’t take off until he grew a pair and asked Steve Harrington out.

Eddies eyes flick over to her in response before returning back to the road, nearly cheering when the woman’s turn signal starts to click on and off. Moving to lay back in a more relaxed position in his seat with a loud sigh. Before he’s yelping when he feels lace riding up his ass. Grunting he doesn’t hesitate moving his hand down to adjust his crotch and try to pick the worst wedgie known to man. His attempts at being discreet fail as Chrissy snorts next to him. “You know if you just asked him out you wouldn’t have to be wearing that thong right now.” She giggles. Moving the mirror up to click back into place as she gets situated in her seat. Moving to grab the seat belt to put back on, clicking it into place right as Eddie purposely breaks a bit harder forcing her to fall forward. Messing up her hair that fell in her face, sticking to her make up. Spitting lose strands out of her mouth she moves and punches him in the shoulder. Smiling proudly as he yelps out, rubbing his shoulder in pain as he winces.

“Chrissy! You hit harder then my dad after a few to many,” he jokes, knowing she didn’t enjoy his taste in dark jokes. The cheerleader doesn’t even bother to a-knowledge that joke as she starts to fix herself again.

“You know Teddy bear, it’s no big deal, I like dick, you like dick and Steve Harrington definitely loves cock. Have you not see the way he praises KFC when he’s out with Robin.” Chrissy is teasing, enjoying the way Eddie’s face goes a bright pink in response. Moving to quickly try and turn up the Ozzy album that was currently playing. In a attempt to drown her out. Only causing her high pitch giggle to somehow go over the guitar solo that was playing. His hand is slapped away as Chrissy moves turning it down. Beaming as she twists her body to look at Eddie. A knowing look on her face as she playfully pouts. “You know, at this rate you might have to start tucking so you don’t rip that thong. Remember what that drag queen said about how you shove it in and use tape to pull your dick back-”

“Will you stop talking about Dick! And I will not be tucking my jewels away, I’m wearing them loud and proud and if that means I have to buy a new pack of thongs then so be it. That’s gods will Chrissy, and who am I to break his-” Eddies rambling as his hands fly around in the air. Chrissy’s laughing harder as they pull into town.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-” she chants out louder over his words to get his attention. Getting it only after a few attempts, “I’m sorry to inform you of this but Steve Harrington definitely has a thing for dick. Did you not see him in that scoops ahoy uniform? Or the way he was drooling over Johnny Depp in that denim vest on twenty one street? I even asked Robin how many tapes he’s recorded of the damn show and she says he has a full shelf dedicated to the damn show, now that isn’t straight behavior everyone knows you don’t watch that show for the plot. Apparently he has season one all recorded.” Chrissy is talking in a scandalous tone as Eddie groans. He was aware of how obsessed Steve was with that show. It was one of the first things he clicked with after the whole world ending situation. It had been the first show to start airing when everything started to become “normal” which was a little over a year after everything that had happened.

“First off, it’s 21 Jump Street-”

“Oh my god! He’s gotten you to!” Chrissy squeals right as Eddie parks right in front of family video. Where they would most likely find their dinguses doing something stupid.

“Oh shut up, and second don’t act like you aren’t whipped for Robin!” Eddie points a finger at her with raised eyebrows.

“Hey! At least I know she likes boobies.” Chrissy giggles as she hops out of the van. Slamming the door to the van ending the conversation there.

[iii-days-grace]

The Father, the Bun, and the Holy Ghost

Hey! I don't have the spoons today to put this up and tag it on AO3 and/or Knotfic, but I wanted to post it anyway. I'll upload it there in a few days or whenever I have the time and energy.

In that case, consider this a sort of open beta reading :) Summary: Shawn and Sid get the munchies one night while on tour, and explore a new city to find a restaurant with an unusual theme.

Word Count: 1076

Rating: Gen

Characters: Sid Wilson, Shawn Crahan

Pairing: 0/6

The Father, the Bun, and the Holy Ghost

‘Sorry daddy, I’ve been -’

Shawn swats Sid from across the table. ‘That’s not the words. Here.’ He shoves a fry into his hand and pops the lid from off Sid’s drink. Not technically the right ritual either, but they’ll skip the confession shit for now. The food is hot, so state of grace be damned.

As he shifts he catches a whiff of pot stink from his jacket. They shared another joint on the way over so he knows they both have to stink at this point, all the smoke and sweat and probably other things liberated by the misty spring rain they had walked through to get here. Everything in this city closed early for some reason.

But this is a burger place somewhere close to midnight, who else is it open for anyway besides the stoners?

Probably not good Christian boys, even if weed was legal in this country. He thinks. He doesn’t have time to remember such things on tour. Nobody seems to be batting an eye about the smell of the Devil’s lettuce though, so they’re probably fine.

Something about the cocktail tickles his limbic system in a way that reminds him of evenings spent loitering behind the high school, bumming smokes off each other from friends and tucking butts inside their pockets to avoid leaving evidence.

Anyway, the stench that leaches off them still doesn’t mask the hot and crispy smell from off the trays. Thick-cut golden fries with skin, the burger bleeds that weird pink juice that isn’t blood, but sure looks like it — nothing like the anaemic grey things they usually manage to grab from a drive-through between shows.

‘Earth to Shawn?’ Sid’s still holding his fry between his fingertips like a joint, waiting.

‘Alright, alright. Now eat it.’ Shawn sloshes the open drink in one hand as he gestures. A few drops — (the blood of Christ, amen) — land on the buns, fries scattered around it like manna (don’t worry, I’ll pay. Let’s go. No, it’s not too far, we’ll walk, I’m starving.) Midnight, high school, hotel. Follow the fryer and grease smell inside.

Where were they again?

He shakes his head and floats himself back down to Earth, and listens to the ice crackling in his drink as he waits for the man across the table to finish chewing. Somewhere between one and thirty minutes later, Sid conquers the solitary little fry and grins.

‘Okay, now gimme the blood,’ he says, wiggling his fingers in a lazy impression of Count Dracula.

He pauses. ‘Wait, does this make us vampires? Holy shit, is Jesus a zombie?’ Sid whispers in horror — maybe dramatic, but maybe real if his high is anything like the one smoothing out Shawn’s frontal lobes.

Grabbing Shawn’s free hand, Sid peels his sparkling, bloodshot eyes open like he’s about to spill some big secret and over the table. Sid blinks, trying and mostly failing to focus, his eyes swimming a little as he’s distracted by the neon sign over Shawn’s shoulder.

Shawn’s facing away from the wall, but he can see the logo mirrored on the window, shimmering through the glazed reflection and backlit by the city lights beyond it.

‘Sidney.’

‘Are we cannibals?’

‘You’re not even Catholic. Do you want me to do it or not?’ Shawn asks. Goddamn zombie Jesus. He sighs. An argument for when they’re more baked, perhaps.

Not that they’re being proper about the thing anyway, but this isn’t much of a church either, let alone a cathedral, so who cares. Despite the topical verses printed on the cups and the cheeky golden calf by the tip jar (’alms for the poor’). In another life he might be able to remember what the verses are about, but currently his attention is doing double duty.

Shawn holds the drink to Sid’s face and gently backhands him again when he moves to pick it up. Sid gets the idea and lets Shawn hold the cup while he takes a sip, swishing it around in his mouth. He looks at Shawn expectantly.

‘That’s it?’

‘By the power vested in me by the state of Iowa, I now pronounce you cleansed of fast food sins. Heathen. Can we eat now?’

‘Can I have your pickle?’

‘What, your thirst hasn’t been slaked yet? Spiritually speaking of course. Don’t waste the blessing, or we’ll have to do it all over again.’ He laughs and shakes his head, and peels open his sandwich, plopping the vinegary wafer onto Sid’s plate.

‘You’re gross,’ he says.

‘Hey, fuck you, it was your weed.’

Sid tucks the evil green thing into the real lettuce and folds his burger back together. Shawn methodically snaps the lid back on his drink and unwraps his straw, squinting at the verse printed on the paper, something from Ecclesiastes. One of the nicer books of the thing, if he remembers correctly. He tucks the paper his pocket to look up in the bedside Bible back at the hotel.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the sizzle of fries cooking. Now and then the doorbell jingles as someone enters the restaurant. Sid bums the occasional fry from his plate; Shawn lets him. The high settles into his muscles as the food sits warm in his belly.

There's no clock in here, but the sound of the remaining ice cubes rattling as Sid finishes his drink bring him back to Earth again.

Sid taps his arm.

‘Hey, I saw a fried chicken place with a sexy chicken lady logo on the way here. Do you think that one’s themed like a strip club?’

Sure, why not? If a burger could be redeemed, chicken probably could too.

‘Let’s check it out. There’s a mini-fridge in the room for leftovers.‘

They clear their table and stack the trays on top of the bin. Shawn slips his jacket back on again as they go outside. As they open the door, in the distance, he fancies he hears the ring of a church bell.

‘I’ll buy,’ Shawn says, ‘but you owe me a joint for this one.’

Sid laughs and gently shoves into Shawn with his shoulder, hands in his pockets as they head back into the night.

‘Any time, dude. Any time.’

FINI

Ecclesiastes 9:7 - Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do.

[dirtbra1n]

tagged by @aranarumei hi kiri. I copy-pasted these however from @sunnnfish because of post work laziness. hi sunnnfish

1. Are you named after anyone?

if we’re talking real person name then no. if we’re talking dirtbrain name then also no, unless you count a joke from 50% off, which I do not. I like both names just fine though

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was shedding tears over silly things last night if that counts. real big emotion crying I don’t remember actually how long ago, but probably not very. I’m a crybaby I cry all the time

3. Do you have kids? / recommend a song?

got apollo justice on the brain and in the membrane so Solitary Confinement - Darkness Theme. for when you’re feeling nefarious and willing to take all of your many secrets to the fucking grave

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

well. yes. way way more when I was younger but I think it still makes up like a sizable fraction of my speech. I do think I’m a little less of an asshole now though

5. What sports do you play/have played?

Ha ha. ah. I did ballet and other dance for a spell when I was a kid but unfortunately didn’t keep that up, but I was generally pretty fast and halfway athletic then too. didn’t do sports after that unless you. unless you want to count marching band, which I wouldn’t because we were pretty lax about it. like marching band can be very impressive and deeply deeply athletic but ours was not, which was fine because I got sick and fucked up for a while anyway. and I’m not doing any sports now in college, but if it doesn’t get cancelled* then I’ll be doing table tennis this next semester. Guess why

*several similar classes I’ve signed up for previously have gotten cancelled. massive bummer

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I guess from afar how tall someone is. up close more just expression, try to get a read on how they’re feeling and so on

7. Eye color?

also hazel :)

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I think. I can probably count on one hand the amount of horror movies I’ve watched. but then again I’m not much of a movies guy to begin with. so happy endings

9. Any special talents?

ahhhh I can clap with one hand with both hands. like both hands can clap without the other. I have gotten weird looks for this

10. Where were you born / what made you make a tumblr account?

a hospital that is not in the united states :) / my sister made one and the younger sibling follower gene compelled me to do so also. and that was. maybe 9 years ago. 2014 ish. I should be clear that I was not old enough to be making an account, or on the internet in general probably, and this is definitely a big contributor to the various things wrong with me

11. What are your hobbies?

video game slash reading slash talking to myself slash writing slash watching things when I can get myself to. I don’t leave the house. occasionally I will get into a big crossword and word search phase. I almost forgot photography That would’ve been silly

12. Do you have any pets?

two of them! a cat and dog we all collectively call them the kids even though dogs an old man. he is a human person with anxiety. cat is more dog than dog, who is as we just established a human person. they both get a photo with dramatic lighting

they are everything to me

13. How tall are you?

5’6” last I checked

14. Favorite subject in school?

when there was a good teacher then anything english adjacent. specifically with a focus on literature. otherwise. band. actually I lied the real answer is essentially always band

15. Dream job?

I don’t . have one. I know what I’m aiming for and I’m really pretty sure I’ll enjoy it but I think if we’re talking dreams like ‘I don’t have back problems nor the stamina of a grandparent’ then I’d do odd jobs I think. I’d probably be content picking up trash

as for tags @x-eins @vyathacov if you wanna and anyone else who feels like it. it’s fun it’s like a sharing circle

[titoist]

Young George Willard got out of bed at four in the morning. It was April and the young tree leaves were just coming out of their buds. The trees along the residence streets in Winesburg are maple and the seeds are winged. When the wind blows they whirl crazily about, filling the air and making a carpet underfoot. George came downstairs into the hotel office carrying a brown leather bag. His trunk was packed for departure. Since two o'clock he had been awake thinking of the journey he was about to take and wondering what he would find at the end of his journey. The boy who slept in the hotel office lay on a cot by the door. His mouth was open and he snored lustily. George crept past the cot and went out into the silent deserted main street. The east was pink with the dawn and long streaks of light climbed into the sky where a few stars still shone. Beyond the last house on Trunion Pike in Winesburg there is a great stretch of open fields. The fields are owned by farmers who live in town and drive homeward at evening along Trunion Pike in light creaking wagons. In the fields are planted berries and small fruits. In the late afternoon in the hot summers when the road and the fields are covered with dust, a smoky haze lies over the great flat basin of land. To look across it is like looking out across the sea. In the spring when the land is green the effect is somewhat different. The land becomes a wide green billiard table on which tiny human insects toil up and down. All through his boyhood and young manhood George Willard had been in the habit of walking on Trunion Pike. He had been in the midst of the great open place on winter nights when it was covered with snow and only the moon looked down at him; he had been there in the fall when bleak winds blew and on summer evenings when the air vibrated with the song of insects. On the April morning he wanted to go there again, to walk again in the silence. He did walk to where the road dipped down by a little stream two miles from town and then turned and walked silently back again. When he got to Main Street clerks were sweeping the sidewalks before the stores. "Hey, you George. How does it feel to be going away?" they asked.

[...]

On the station platform everyone shook the young man's hand. More than a dozen people waited about. Then they talked of their own affairs. Even Will Henderson, who was lazy and often slept until nine, had got out of bed. George was embarrassed. Gertrude Wilmot, a tall thin woman of fifty who worked in the Winesburg post office, came along the station platform. She had never before paid any attention to George. Now she stopped and put out her hand. In two words she voiced what everyone felt. "Good luck," she said sharply and then turning went on her way.

[...]

George glanced up and down the car to be sure no one was looking, then took out his pocketbook and counted his money. His mind was occupied with a desire not to appear green. Almost the last words his father had said to him concerned the matter of his behavior when he got to the city. "Be a sharp one," Tom Willard had said. "Keep your eyes on your money. Be awake. That's the ticket. Don't let anyone think you're a greenhorn." After George counted his money he looked out of the window and was surprised to see that the train was still in Winesburg. The young man, going out of his town to meet the adventure of life, began to think but he did not think of anything very big or dramatic. Things like his mother's death, his departure from Winesburg, the uncertainty of his future life in the city, the serious and larger aspects of his life did not come into his mind. He thought of little things--Turk Smollet wheeling boards through the main street of his town in the morning, a tall woman, beautifully gowned, who had once stayed overnight at his father's hotel, Butch Wheeler the lamp lighter of Winesburg hurrying through the streets on a summer evening and holding a torch in his hand, Helen White standing by a window in the Winesburg post office and putting a stamp on an envelope. The young man's mind was carried away by his growing passion for dreams. One looking at him would not have thought him particularly sharp. With the recollection of little things occupying his mind he closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He stayed that way for a long time and when he aroused himself and again looked out of the car window the town of Winesburg had disappeared and his life there had become but a background on which to paint the dreams of his manhood. THE END

i was right in my assumption, it made me cry. how could it not have?;

— 07/16/2023 6:42 PM yesterday night: holding my face close to my face in the bathroom mirror, moving & posing & staring at my reflection, lecturing myself, telling me over & over that after the big change or whatever it is that i have to do, after i finally move somewhere else or whatever i have to do, i know i will be scared of the big change, but i will feel better. i know that it is going to scare you, but you will be happier after the big change or whatever it is that you have to do. after it you will be happier

[clowningismyboyfriend]

Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to interrupt your current/relevant and recent social media doom scrolls to share something wholesome and that I will forever treasure thanks to and about @taylorswift

Hi!

My goodness! This isn’t the normal for me but why not. I figure the chances of a #Taylurking would be higher here!

Ok so here’s a straight forward, insightful and personal look into my world and how it is travelling with the post below that I recently shared in the Facebook Fan Group “Taylor Swifts Vault” Thanks to this page I discovered (thankfully in time to get some tickets!!) that my local cinema will be playing the Eras tour movie and after locking down tickets, I was beyond stoked and have had the best day celebrating and singing Taylor ALL DAY. Now look, this is the usual for me to sing all the things all of the times, but it was next level for the family, trust me.

I thought it was only being shown in Brisbane and was sorta kinda hurt all over again after not being able to get tickets. After making peace with not getting tickets, I buried any hard feels by creating this very blog page you find yourself eyeballing!

I’d been gently guiding my niece (I am her full time guardian) and stepdaughter, also 12, into Swiftie Territory. I mean, we would already regularly bust out to a song together; I am always oversharing facts and insights into whatever song might be playing or giving Swiftstory Lessons on the crucial moments in Taylor’s life and what impact they might have had, BUT most importantly I am forever establishing Taylor as a perfect role model for them by talking about/reminding them of all the amazing acts of kindness she does, her humble nature and generous bonuses to staff and the wonderful ways she shows up for her fans in so many ways.

I have been know to correlate lyrics and thematic aspects of Taylor’s songs when we are having the big “life” talks; you know, relationship talks and whatever- There is always something that can be tied to a TS song, particularly with 12 year old girls who have huge amounts of feelings and a tendency to be dramatic.

I was SO happy they agreed to be my dates on Friday the 13th October at 6pm AEST at Reading Cinemas, Harbourtown, Gold Coast/Queensland Australia (phew what a mouthful lol. Posted this specific info in the hopes of catching the attention of any other fellow local Swifites!)

But when we started excitedly discussing and began whipping up our friendship bracelets and planning our outfits together (..or “fits” as my niece calls it) I had to hold back from crying happy, deep realisation in the in the moment style of tears.

Anyone with 12 year old girls knows how difficult it can be navigating this period of life in general; the attitudes, moodiness and rapid increase in laziness is enough with just the one, but here I am with TWOz And although I love them like my own and treat ALL the kids equally (there’s 4 other boys too,step sons a nephews and a biological Threenager turddler) - It can be so hard, often at times THAT much harder not actually being their Mum.

Why is it that much harder? When they were younger, the dynamics were strictly that of parental figure and child and rules that were more firmer given their ages.

Now, as they get older and start to outgrow previous rules and are given slightly more leeway, they sometimes get more resistant, stubborn and more argumentative as they relearn different and new boundaries.

.. Ladies and gentleman I present to you The Tween Era. Colour Scheme identifiers: Bleak and tonal Thundercloud Grey, with extremely rare flecks of crystal skies blue and cheeky dashes of vibrant colour 😅

.. So anyway I definitely digressed a little bit!

What I am trying to convey is how today I discovered an extra love and appreciation for Taylor Swift that I didn’t consider as a possibility- that being an unexpected but highly enjoyable new bond between my girls and I.

@taylorswift you might not see this, but just knowing that the good intentions of my appreciation will come back to you in the form of positive karma is enough for me:

The impact of your incredibly gifted artistry to date and the resulting, pivotal decision in YOUR world @taylornation to release The Eras Tour to cinemas worldwide has flowed into MY world in the most amazing way…

My niece, stepdaughter and I have successfully managed to find a rare, balancing foundation that I feel will underpin the strength and continuity of so much more love to come. This seemingly flippant bond over you will smoothly carry us through the predicted and potentially rocky hard years to come as they enter the teenager years and beyond.

The simple act of showing our support to you will deepen our connection and positive growth for us for years to come. The wonders it’s worked on our communication already is a priceless gift I’ll always treasure xx

Normally I sign off my posts with the whole swirly font

“until then..” *insert random Taylor lyric alluding to or contextualised into a farewell* resume swirly fancy big font xx Dani.

But this is a bonus round post so here are some bonus photos!

Recent pic of me and my beautiful girls.. again, yes I know they aren’t mine by blood but they are mine in heart and the heart is what that keeps everything flowing and continually going.. I couldn’t think of a better analogy to represent me.

(Yes I was in my Red era that day with the hat/white tee and shirts combo, but the extra layer of “Red” that you didn’t see was how I had “22” blasting through a speaker under the pram, me singing at the top of my lungs as I took 5 kids for a walk up to the local Broadwater to cool off and vibe with the creation of some truly magical, summer beach memories ✨🏝️

Bonus pic 1. Circa being done with “22” 🤪 ( The fella in the purple shirt isn’t mine but he and his sister are practically part of the furniture anyway)

Bonus pic 2. My step kids, niece and nephew and the boss of them all, the tiny, tyrannical, trex-sounding, tantrum throwing , threenager turddler 😂 He’s the problem, it’s him! Everybody agrees everybody agreeeess.. 😜

[btsmosphere]

2022 Writing Roundup

Tagged by @here4theheartbreak forever ago!! I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a bit but only getting it up now because I just couldn’t come up with answers for some sections, but since I have some I wanted to post it anyway! It’s always nice to look back on the year😊

Fandom: bts

Total fics: 11

Total words: 43,143 note: I only included word counts of what I published because I am lazy :)) I have written some wips this year that have yet to see the light of day, but some of them have been going since 2021 and I cba to try and figure it all out

~Favourite Things~

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. Why? This has got to be Still Waters Run Deep, written for the ghibli collab this year. It’s a only fic I really got my teeth into this year, while a lot of my other work was quite short. Not that that’s a bad thing, but Still Waters felt like much more a labour of love for the fact I pushed it longer than I intended, and it’s still something I enjoy reading!

Top 4 current WIPs - if anyone’s been paying attention to my blog, you’ll have heard a lot about certain wips, which still haven’t made it out and I’m sorry! Here they are:

Supercharged is the big one - and by big I mean it!! This is the longest thing I’ve ever written as it stands and it’s still not finished! Started in 2021 and still persevering, this is a Jungkook x reader enemies to lovers with superheroes, villains and all the trimmings! Highway to You drabbles (I’m grouping this into one here) - I have more in the works for my Highway to You universe (2 stories are already out), which I’m very excited for. It’s a Yoongi x reader mafia au, childhood friends to lovers and stuffed with my fave hurt/comfort Sunken Heart - another story that’s been kicking around since the dawn of time, demigod!Namjoon x royalty!reader mythology au set in atlantis. I promise I haven’t forgotten this one! Autumn drabbles - I had a great time writing 3 bullet fics for 3 hyungs this autumn, and I planned one for every member, so maybe you’ll see those this fall!

Favorite Line - I have a few lines that make me smile this year, but I’m gonna pick the most dramatic one haha: Lightning washed the nightmare in white. - from Still Waters Run Deep. I liked it when I wrote it, but I appreciated it even more when I was reading this part to my bf and he paused at that sentence to tell me how effective he thought it was!

~Question and Answer Time~

Top 2 Resolutions for 2023

Hmm, actually write? I’ve had big chunks away from writing in 2022 and while that’s okay, and breaks can be helpful, mostly these were not. I wanted to write, just never got down to it. When I took part in a november writing goal event, I loved it! just getting myself motivated without that is a challenge Start daydreaming again! In line with my first resolution, I think this is a way to get me motivated. I still daydream of course, but it has shifted to some other fandoms, and while I still love bts, I don’t have their stories on my mind all the time, even though they are stories I like. When I start dreaming up scenes, the need to write them follows, and it’s fun besides :)

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than, or about what was expected? Why? I can’t say I really had any expectations, but I have to say less than what I expected. I had been tailing off but I thought I might naturally swing back up again in terms of writing, but alas.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year? How was it? I haven’t really done anything on this blog that I couldn’t have predicted.. maybe the bullet fic series? I usually am a bit of a completionist but I found the bullet fics gave me some freedom when working from just a concept/aesthetic, as I did in my autumn drabbles. It was a refreshing change to write! Oh, and they were all in present tense? took a while to get used to and a while to switch back, but it fit the ~vibe~ in terms of other differences, I’ve written a few things behind the scenes for new fandoms, but that’s just for my personal enjoyment at the moment :)

What’s your most popular story with readers?

Heaven’s Open - 534 Number 45 - 178 Won’t Tell - 170 Ride or Die - 139 Still Waters Run Deep - 124 The Web part 6 - 121 Say it with Flour - 94 Autumn with Namjoon - 78 Autumn with Hobi - 58 Autumn with Jin - 36 Trade my Life - 10 (at time of writing, notes are probably a bit different as of posting date)

The magic of Jungkook wins out this year with 534 notes on Heaven’s Open!

What was your most productive days/day of the week/month, etc in terms of writing? October and November! In October I got inspired again by the season and I was buzzing to create again, I started with the seasonal drabbles and then in November I took part in the BTS Writers’ Club’s wrimo challenge, where I wrote something every day! I only posted one fic off the back of that but I wrote over 10k words that month, mostly behind the scenes with longer wips :))

~ Fics Written in 2022~

In chronological order of posting

The Web (part 6) - Jimin x reader You made it out of the web, mostly whole. But will you be able to overcome the damage done to you and your family?

Say it with Flour - Namjoon x reader This had always been a bad idea. You, notorious for kitchen disasters, attending a cooking class. Maybe it could be what you needed to fix your terrible cooking skills - or maybe you could meet someone who makes it so much worse!

Won’t Tell - Jin x reader You aren’t the only one sneaking out at night at hogwarts. In fact, it appears to be a popular pastime - shame it also happens to be extremely banned. Oh well, he won’t tell if you won’t…

Number 45 - Namjoon x reader The man at number 45 becomes the highlight of your shift… Five times you delivered something to Namjoon, and one time he gave something back to you!

Still Waters Run Deep - Taehyung x reader down at the riverbank is a boy whose eyes hold each swell of the waves, whose hair ruffles like the reeds. but the peaceful magic of the river may become your only sanctuary when wilder forces come into play

Heaven’s Open - Jungkook x reader it’s never a good time for the heavens to open, trapping you to wait out the storm. but your own piece of heaven is stuck right there with you - maybe the rainclouds will shed some light on the cold front that has formed between you and Jungkook

autumn with: hobi - “are you cold?” - college au ft. apple picking, chasing leaves, wearing each other’s clothes

autumn with: namjoon -  “you kept this?” - established relationship ft. a carnival, getting lost in a good book, a kiss for good luck

autumn with: jin -  “I hate you - I love you too” - childhood friends au ft. a graveyard, a thunderstorm and seokjin’s sweater paws

Ride or Die - Yoongi x reader yoongi isn’t sure when he became so accustomed to your ineffably cheery presence. until he sees that innocence crack, he hadn’t realised how far he would go to keep it there.

Trade my Life - Jin x reader once, you were just two children giggling in the corner of the dojang, trading equally in punches and hugs, everything a game. but that was long ago, and now that man stands day after day outside the door which separates your two worlds. is the throne really worth leaving the barrier unbroken?

[times-eclipse]

Thought Debris on Social Media

Hmm.

Things seem... unstable internally, for Twitter, huh. We don't think anything big and dramatic is going to happen -- rather, we think we're going to look at Twitter one day and not realise no one is in the office, and the only thing keeping the site running is the ever-ticking machinery of The Cloud.

And that lasts only for so long.

We (collectively) should never have all moved to "the only site that exists on the internet". This applies to Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, take your pick. A singular, global website simply isn't fit for how our brains work.

We all felt we had to be on the same site, because within our own circles that's all we could conceive. It was our entire World. "Everyone" you could comprehend was on [insert fansite forum here]. So "everyone" should come to Twitter (or whatever else) too, right?

The problem with this is that everyone else's "Conceivable World" did the same. And after 10 years of this, we're unable to separate our worlds. We have to keep making websites for everyone, ever. We're afraid to have separate places again, because that would take work.

We've had friends straight up say they don't want to go back to having to manage different websites. It's frankly rather insulting, but it highlights a degree of laziness and entitlement towards the status quo we've found ourselves in.

Some people have thrived on this transition to social media. The narcissists whom have built their presence on virality, or simply through the lottery lucked out on getting an audience that spreads their words and works far and wide. No one else can hope to catch up.

This is not just about the influencers or the bigots or such. Even a few artists happen upon popularity seemingly by a chance snowballing that has no consistent repeatability.

Yes, we (I) admit to being slightly bitter and envious of those that have this. But this is simply because we have reached a point where it feels like even our oldest friends aren't seeing what we post.

Unfortunately capitalism knows this, and built a system to exploit this. To lend this situation the most sympathetic view, people who managed to thrive on virality cannot go back to the days of forums and the like. They need the eyes and customers. If they don't have that continued scope, they cannot afford necessities. Some can't afford it now even with four-digit follower counts.

We're (collectively) so used to sharing anything and everything to these single websites too. Things can go viral simply for being random daily observations or funny videos. Previously such things had to jump different channels, newsgroups, whatever, to do that. Now things are so easy to share that we've begun treating such things as fundamental to human communication, but they're frankly bizarre.

We're (I'm) honestly not sure how things might go. Maybe a sudden shift results in both artists and their customers moving back to art sites, despite their hesitation. Maybe we'll all stop oversharing on these metaphorical playgrounds and learn to put things once again in private chatrooms.

Or maybe Twitter will stay aloft on a Cloud, and we (collectively) will continue to not escape the hell we didn't notice was being built around us.

We (I) just want friends to be seeing the things we make again.

[lovelybarnes]

hopeless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, tony stark. oc warnings: kidnap, torture, reader is threatened, rejection, ANGST about: request! “where bucky nd reader have a big argument nd then she storms out in the middle of the night leading to her being kidnapped. Then the whole time she thinks bucky isn't coming for her due to the fight” a/n: phew this took a hot minute. my longest fic. do not like the ending, but i hope you enjoy!!

bucky’s smile is wide as he observes you flit about your room, a silly twinkle in his eyes while they observe your exaggerated thinking gesture, obviously dramatic in your search for his next book to read. he leans against your wall, amused by your pulled features as they contemplate two different books: one red and well-loved and one blue and weathered.

“hmm, do you want something sad and romantic that has lines that make me doubt that i’ll ever find love,” you begin, raising the blue book higher. “or something classic and sweet and scary?” you continue, shaking the red one.

“how could you doubt you’ll find love?” bucky wonders aloud then, and you turn to your bookshelf again just to get away from the intensity of his gaze. 

you shrug, unsure of how to respond, busying yourself with putting one of the books away.

“it’s you,” bucky continues, stressing the pronoun as if its implication is obvious. “you’ll get the best love. the pure and mushy type.”

the lazy shapes your fingers are rubbing into the spine of your book slow as you soak in the implications that bucky’s words carry with them. when you force yourself to meet his eyes, you’re unsurprised to find them on you already, but it’s startling to meet their depth, the way they were willing you to turn around without your knowledge. you begin to walk toward him, feigning your purpose as handing him the blue book.

“yeah?” you find yourself replying as you step forward slowly, searching for something deeper in bucky’s face as it breaks out in a smile.

“yeah,” bucky agrees with dead-set certainty. “the universe would be insane for giving you anything less.”

you smother the bashful smile that fights to make only its whisper appear on your face, holding back the urge to look at the ground in overwhelming emotions due to the entirety of the situation—the implications that you’d thought ridiculous of you to even consider seeming more concrete with the honesty of the words that bucky promises to you, making his eyes gleam just a little bit brighter with an unbridled determination that you’d never seen before.

“anything less than what?” you ask, testing the waters simply for reassurance that might push you over an edge you aren’t sure you want to cross.

“anything less than what you deserve,” bucky clarifies. “the sweet, sappy love with the notes and pictures and gifts and safety and never letting you forget how loved you are. the basics.”

you cock your head at him, trying not to drown in the wishes you had listed long ago that tumble from bucky’s mouth. 

“oh,” you whisper, eyes flickering to the polaroids you have around your room, adorned with small, smudged words written messily in pen by bucky when he’d given them to you. there are post-its scrawled with his handwriting taped to your walls and hidden in a box underneath your bed. you can’t help but see the parallels between his explanation of the love you “deserve” and the love he constantly rains over you.

the attraction you’d begun to harbor for him yearns more at the possibility of it being returned—because here he is, laying it out for you with his reflection displayed on the plans.

“the universe would be insane to not give you that,” bucky goes on, the absolute resolve that you can make out in his words staggering. “anyone overall would be insane not to love you.”

there’s a twinkle in his eye that you’d grown used to, yet you observe when you look up at him again, what you were trying to do forgotten as you search his features. he doesn’t seem to acknowledge how deeply you scrutinize the softened lines of his face, the gentle lift of his lip as he looks at you.

you swallow, beginning to step toward him. “really?”

“yeah,” bucky replies like it’s obvious, nearly nonchalant but it fails with how deep his intent runs. 

you realize the space that separated you wasn’t all that large when you find yourself closer to him than you thought before, and your breath stalls, completely caught up in the moment. bucky doesn’t seem too different, dilated pupils unmoving from your face, tugging you closer without a single touch.

“oh,” you breathe out, goosebumps rising on your skin when bucky puffs out a gentle laugh, his hand reaching to set on your jaw.

“what?” he asks curiously, his thumb pressing soft shapes into your cheek.

it’s like honey, his touch, the severity of his stare clicking something inside of you that you’d been so afraid to open.

suddenly, you’re certain. because surely nobody can look at you the way bucky is looking at you—touch you with the care he treats you with, tell you all the things he whispers in your ear without reflecting the feelings you have for him.

“i love you,” you blurt, tangled in a breath with the relief of the admission finally meeting your tongue, watching as something passes through his face—surprise, at first, and then there’s a brief indication of relief, just a flash, gone quickly enough to let you believe it was simply a figment of your imagination. his fingers stop moving on your face, and suddenly his features harden, pulling his touch away entirely.

there are alarm bells ringing in your brain, because this is not going the way you’d convinced yourself it would. he was supposed to smile and kiss you clumsily, mumbling out that he loved you too and you would say obviously and he would laugh.

not removing himself from your reach, staring holes into your head, red bubbles of frustration darkening his eyes.

“what the fuck?” he snaps. and the words are so sudden and sharp that they nearly make you flinch, spine straightening with a velocity that jumbles your words with the speed at which they try to tumble from your lips. he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 

“you what?” he demands, his tone foreign to your ears coming from the same lips that have never once let words edged with a raised tone slip past. bucky doesn’t speak to you like that. bucky doesn’t harden and bucky never raises his voice. not at you, never at you.

you swallow harshly, trying to remember the bucky that you know, convince yourself that this isn’t real—this is wrong—but his features are masked with a pinch you’d never seen directed at you, tense lines hardening his face with a chilling anger.

“i love you,” you repeat, but the words are weaker now, not as easily formed as the first time.

“no you don’t,” bucky interrupts immediately, thinning his eyes at you. “what the hell? no, you don’t—you can’t.”

you blink fast, looking away from his face, scrunched in anger, but he isn’t having it. “i do—”

“you can’t fuckin’ do this to me, y/n. i don’t need this,” he growls.

“what?” you croak. “i don’t—i thought you—”

“i don’t,” bucky snaps, forcing the lies to escape his throat. “i don’t love you.”

the words knock the air from your lungs, eyes beginning to burn with tears that don’t come easily to you. “what?” you whimper.

“how could you think i did?” he asks, ripping out your heart as it beats and shakes and sobs.

he tries to pretend like it’s not him who is saying these horrible things, as if he’s closing his eyes, hidden away from the body that continues to deny your confession for your own good. “what the hell is wrong with you?” he’s never thought his voice could be so harsh.

“i didn’t mean to—” you begin, your voice as small as you’d ever heard it, trembling with your worst fear solidifying. you should have known. how could you have been such a fool? bucky does not need to deal with one of the few friends he’s so close to in the tower having a stupid, unrequited crush on him. you’ve made things so difficult, you’ve ruined your relationship. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” he mocks cruelly, shaking his head. “i don’t want this. i don’t want you.”

your neck snaps up when you hear him beginning to leave, rushing forward to tug his arm gently. “please don’t leave,” you plead tearily. “can we pretend like i never said anything? nothing will change, i promise. i can’t lose you.”

bucky’s laugh is cold, splintering through your heart. “how could you be so—” he shakes his head, shutting his mouth before he can finish his thought. “i can’t believe you.”

“i’m sorry,” you cry, tears bubbling down your cheeks before you can stop them in a stupor of shame. “i’m so sorry, bucky, i will do anything—”

“shut up,” he snarls, and the words die on your tongue with the venom in the way he looks at you. “i can’t even look at you right now. stop fuckin’ crying and leave me alone. i can’t deal with you.”

his words, dipped in his fury, are unrecognizable, foreign from the man who mutters jokes into your ear on movie nights and tucks pieces of hair away from your eyes, who deals with any problem with a deep breath and an assurance that it will be okay because he hates to get mad at you, he hates seeing you cry and there is absolutely nothing you could do to make him love you any less.

the sharp slam of the door of your room counters that, bringing with it the blade of the words that still thunder in your head.

your face crumples, hot droplets of tears burning your skin.

the heat of bucky’s anger burns even from where you’re standing, and the utter hatred in the way he looked at you, spoke to you, makes you shake. you stifle cries, desperate to not bother your best friend and slide down your bed to the floor, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in a weak attempt to calm your cries.

you shut your eyes, bucky’s words displayed proudly across your dark lids. you straighten, sadness melting away into anger. you rub at your nose, face heating in your fury, and rush out of the room, not bothering to grab your phone or bag, uncaring that it’s the middle of the night and the sky is the darkest you’ve ever seen.

you pointlessly wipe your face with your sleeve as you rush into the elevator and push the button for the ground floor, your mask of rage slipping when you pass bucky’s room. your lip wobbles as you stare at the numbers above the elevator doors until you’re unable to help the sobs as your mind races to find a solution to what you’ve done.

this is your fault. this is your fault and you need to fix it or else the only person you’ve felt so much love for and so loved by will never look at you the same again. you can’t stand making bucky angry, much less causing something that will make his life difficult—especially after he’s worked so hard to create some sense of normalcy and trusting relationships—but it’s difficult to concentrate on how to fix it when the fear that you’ve ruined the best relationship you’ve had over your stupidity inks your thoughts.

you’re distraught enough to walk six blocks and never once notice the men that follow behind you.

your mind lags when you’re suddenly thrown against a wall, the hiccups from your sobs increasing because of the hand that covers your mouth. your vision is too blurry with tears for you to recognize any of the people that are in front of you, hands useless as they attempt to claw at the arms that hold you against the unyielding alley. the training tony had made you go through when he hired you as his lab tech feels useless as you choke on your grief and fear, weak in your struggles against their attack.

it’s easy for them to knock you out, and you can only feel the ache of your hurt expanding icily as your attacks cede, limbs growing limp, damp eyelids drooping shut.

-

your eyes are swollen when you come to again, and you can’t be sure if it’s from the crying you could still feel in your raw throat or the assault you couldn’t even remember anymore. you blink hard, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room you think you’re in.

briefly, tony’s voice rings in your head, reminding you to look for exits and weapons. you can only see one door in the darkness, and as far as you can make out, it does not have a doorknob. although you doubt you could muster up enough strength to escape from the binds that dig into your wrists and ankles, surely bruising your skin although you barely fight against them. the room is bare and unclean, with stains of the color of rust at your feet.

you know it’s no use screaming. all it would do is bleed your throat further and anger your kidnappers.

the name makes you flinch. the word feels so usual yet foreign in your mind. it’s unfairly common in your place of work, but never to you—not the scientist that tony keeps safely hidden away in the lab. not the tech that has gone on the field once and was stuck to bucky’s side for the entirety of the time.

the thought of him brings an ugly taste to your mouth and a new rush of painful tears. you fucked up the relationship with your best friend and now he was furious at you. he doesn’t even want to look at you. will he ever even get the chance again? would he notice you were gone? would he care?

there’s a faint commotion beyond the doors that makes your thoughts freeze in their tracks. your kidnappers are saying something.

the rightful title appears in your thoughts again, making the reality of your situation set in faster than you were expecting it to; you were kidnapped, and nobody was going to find you.

-

out of everything, it’s guilt that bucky is most accustomed to.

it’s heavy and spiteful, eating away at his mind until it’s clouded even the memories he’s tried to keep hidden away from the fog that is his sin. it sneaks into the crooks of his life—the argument his brain pipes up with when he’s debating taking the last donut, the reason that he doesn’t allow himself to enjoy himself fully—why he won’t let himself believe that your revelation was anything more than fake.

why would an honor so sweet be bestowed upon someone like him? someone with stained fingertips and a broken mind.

it screws with him, the possibility of the truth. because no matter how much the voice of logic in his mind insists that someone like you could never love someone like him, there’s the gentle light of hope that you’ve helped rekindle, nudging him toward something that will surely only end up hurting him, and most importantly, hurting you.

he brings with him pain and ghosts and you are so undeserving of it.

so no, he decides. you cannot possibly love him.

but the look on your face flashes in front of his eyes, and he realizes that the circumstance of you actually loving him back might be more dangerous than the lie of it. 

he needs to protect you—from him, from everything that haunts him—he loves you too much to let you fall into the fire that is him.

he did the right thing by rejecting you, yet the guilt continues to gnaw at him, the tears that wouldn’t stop sliding down your cheeks carrying something worse than what he expected. you’re what he has always wanted and he pushed you away, and as much as that is what he needed to do for you, he’s selfish in wanting you still. in any way.

he opens his eyes again with a sad little gasp, surprised at the chill that hits his face wet with tears he wasn’t aware of. he catches a glimpse of himself in his broken mirror, and he’s never hated the sight more, the words he spat at you tattooed on his skin in dark ink.

he shakes his head, standing from his bed to apologize until he can’t anymore and plead that you stay in his life.

he runs a hand over his face as he walks out of his room, clenching his jaw when he catches sight of the door he slammed now slightly open. he knocks softly, forcing his eyes to the ground when the door opens further.

“y/n?” he calls out hesitantly when there’s no response, finally looking up to an empty room. his brows furrow. something is wrong.

you never leave your room if you’re upset; it’s always either his room or yours, because your bed is here and everyone else is outside.

he opens the door fully when he spots your phone on your bed where he last saw it. in fact, everything is as he last saw it.

he knows he has no right after what he said to you, but his bad feeling won’t allow him to leave without knowing where you are.

“friday, where’s y/n?” he asks.

“miss l/n left her room three hours ago,” the ai responds curtly. and he swears it sounds colder than the last time he talked to her.

“three hours?” bucky repeats. friday confirms, and bucky shakes his head. “no… she wouldn’t leave her phone. where did she go? has she come back?”

“miss y/n left the building, and without her phone, i cannot track her.”

“you have to be able to do something,” bucky insists. “she’s a part of the team.”

“i am unable to do anything further without mister stark’s permission,” friday informs.

bucky’s fingers reach up to tangle in his hair, tugging in frustration as panic begins to brew. alarm bells are going off in his head and an anvil sits on his chest.

“well, get his permission,” bucky orders, but friday’s voice comes back as calm as ever as she rebuts him. he doesn’t care to stick around for the end of her sentence, taking off toward the door to head to tony.

he’s eating a granola bar with natasha and steve in a conference room when he finds him, features scrunching when bucky tells him to order his ai to track you.

“no,” he replies incredulously. “shouldn’t you know either way? you’re always attached at the hip,” he points out. bucky’s jaw clenches, mind running in every possible direction. natasha offers a scrutinizing glance, eyebrows joining. “actually, building on that—” tony starts. “wouldn’t blame her if she needed a little break.” he points the granola at bucky, but he isn’t fazed.

“something is wrong,” he says, as calm as he can muster. “friday says she hasn’t been in her room for three hours and she left her phone there.”

“so? she could’ve forgotten. maybe she left with wanda or bruce or someone. unlike you, she has more than one friend.”

“not today. not right now,” bucky snaps. “tony,” he pleads now, meeting steve’s eye. “something is wrong.”

tony’s features set as he scans bucky’s face, and suddenly something clicks, his head cocking to the side dangerously.

“what happened?” steve asks worriedly as tony finally reaches for his tablet.

“we had a fight. she wouldn’t leave for so long—without her phone, without telling anyone.”

tony listens along as he looks at the screen, typing things into the keyboard. “friday, get me all footage of y/n in the last three hours.”

“what did you do?” natasha cuts in, her words sharp as if she knew exactly what he’d said to you.

“it doesn’t matter right now,” bucky mumbles, his gaze glued to the screen. the screen showcases the hallway outside yours and bucky’s rooms, and he tenses as he watches the footage of you poking your head out from your door, greeting him with a smile.

“fast forward,” tony tells friday. bucky hoods his eyes when it lands on another screen, where he can catch his own muffled words, knowing what’s coming.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" he flinches at his own words, hating the sight of the shine of the tears streaking down your cheeks when he closes his eyes. he can feel natasha’s glare. more of his voice comes from the creaked door, your own clothed in tears.

"i don't want you." bucky squeezes his eyes shut. "stop fuckin’ crying and leave me alone." hearing the words in his voice hurts impossibly more than he thought it would. they’re sharper, more convincing than he thought, and the things he tried to comfort himself with fade away with the slam of the door after he walks out, the only sound remaining your cries.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” natasha echoes, her words echoing his from the video. “i’m going to murder you.”

“where did she go after that?” bucky ignores her. “i just need to know she’s okay.”

“you don’t deserve to know anything about her—” natasha hisses, beginning to stand from her chair, but steve sets a hand on her shoulder, directing her burning glare to the screen, where you leave your room, sniffling. the video switches to the feed inside the elevator, where buck can’t tear his eyes off of you as you sob, a hand desperately trying to wipe away your tears.

tony’s turned to bucky now, too.

bucky follows your figure when you leave the elevator and then the building, and friday fast-fowards through video feed from various different cameras until one finally slows, and you’re suddenly pulled into an alley. the angle is awful, but there’s just enough light to catch the light reflecting off your terrified face as three men push you against a wall.

the one not touching you catches sight of the camera, pulling a gun from his coat to point and shoot. the video crackles to static.

“no, no, no…” bucky mumbles, hands reaching up to his hair, beginning to tug. the clip replays, pausing on a close up of your face, cheek pressed against the wall with a force that must be painful, eyebrows joined and eyes widened in fear.

tony sets down his tablet with a quiet thump, rubbing the bridge of his nose, mulling over what he had just seen. natasha is still for only a few seconds before she’s into action, reaching for the tablet and beginning to mutter orders to friday. there’s an imperceptible shake of her hands as she allows a glance up to your face again.

“this is my fault,” bucky mumbles angrily. “fuck me. fuck me.”

“yes, fuck you,” natasha agrees, coolly and to the point, not once sparing him a look. “fuck you for saying that to her and for making her cry but mostly fuck you for not doing everything you fucking can to find her right now. fix your fucking mistake and get to work, barnes.”

he squeezes his fist, tugging on the bracelet you’d made and lovingly tied around his wrist. the emotion that had kissed his face pink and tugged his features in guilt disappears within a second, wiped clean enough for the memory of it to be hazy even if it was so fresh. he sniffs, nods curtly, and steps out of the conference room, entirely business even as he drowns in what you’ve always encouraged him to pour out to you.

“i’m gonna check the place we last had eyes on her,” he informs briefly, hearing no audible response from the distracted avengers inside the conference room.

he doesn’t let his guilt tinge his vision as he examines your blood on the wall, too terrified to let himself mess up at your expense again.

-

you gasp in air as soon as the wet towel someone had thrown over your face before dumping water on your head is removed, whimpers sewn in between desperate panting. your lashes are wet and hairs stick to your forehead, fat droplets of water running down your chin.

unforgiving fingers clasp your chin, cruelly tilting your face up to meet unfamiliar eyes. you squint against the light, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and pretend that there is no man scanning your face hungrily, sinister amusement crinkling his eyes, contempt puckering his lips.

“such a pretty thing,” he drawls, a finger pressing into your skin. “i don’t think your avengers would be too happy to lose something as pretty as you,” he mocks.

“i’m not gonna tell you anything,” you croak.

the playfulness in his features disappears then, and his bruising grip disappears into a resounding slap.

you can’t help the gasp that parts your lips and stings your eyes, whimpers slipping past your throat when he grabs you again, pulling your face close to his.

“listen to me, little girl,” he growls. “either you tell me and i let you live or your stupid little soldier comes and i take my time killing him until you cough it up. then i kill you.”

you scan his face, swallowing hard. “you mean bucky? he’s not gonna come for me.”

“he will. and when he does, i’ll enjoy making him pay for betraying hydra. maybe i’ll have a little walk down memory lane. the doc left great notes on the winter soldier.”

you scoff, pushing past the fear although your trembling is undeniable. “didn’t you do your homework? bucky doesn’t give a shit about me. you really think he’d risk his life—his freedom for someone he doesn’t even like? you kidnapped the wrong person if what you want is bucky.” the thought is bitter enough to comfort you, the reassurance that bucky will be fine sweet enough to combat the acridity of his resent for you.

the man’s lip twitches, his eyes boring into yours as they try to find if you’re being honest. he shoves your face back, and you slam into the chair with a shuddering breath, the phantom of his grip still heavy on your skin.

he sniffs and gestures vaguely. “let’s give her the winter soldier treatment.”

your heart drops, memories of what bucky’s told you displayed across your mind until they blackout your mind completely, and the only thing left is a promise.

you are going to die today.

-

bucky feels blurry, as if he’s flickering in and out of awareness in his frantic panic. the words he says are cut and dry, carrying only information because it is the only thing he has the strength for—but it feels rehearsed, scripted.

he wishes it were. he aches for this not to be real, and what he would offer a god he doesn’t believe in for you is heavy on his mind, pleading so desperately that he begins to eye the tower, the team, and selfishly offer it all up for you.

his anger shoves him down on a chair, but his desperation is frenetic in its reminders that any second not searching for you is a second longer that you will be out of his grasp and in the thorns of someone else’s. the handles of the chair groan underneath the pressure of his fingers, wrapping around the metal in their attempts to clutch something tangible, something real and not the idea of where you are, or the leads that only end in strangled cries, the numbers that float by on the screen in front of tony. 

his arm sits heavy by his side, tapping the table curtly so as to have something to do, although bucky has never hated it more—to have something so sought after, stained with blood and tears and pain and bitter triumphs, yet be so incredibly useless when it counts.

he doesn’t want to ask what he can do because he should know. he got you into this mess and he should know how to get you out, but he’s flailing, his fingers only grazing the edges of everything he’s already done. he knows what it means and he wants to scream at the universe for it.

there’s a thin beep that echoes in the conference room, muting steve’s mumbled plans and bucky’s silent examination of any files he can get his hands on, although his eyes kept drifting to the grainy picture of you pressed up against the wall.

tony freezes, the pen in his mouth dropping as he stares at his tablet.

“what?” natasha demands, looking away from her work to catch sight of tony, all color drained from his face.

he sucks in a breath and taps at the screen. “friday, search for any identifying features, scan every pixel, do you understand?”

the large monitor in front of the table darkens for a second before a video begins to play, and it doesn’t take long for the team to figure out what’s going on. bucky’s heart drops to his stomach as he rises from his chair, breathing heavily. “no,” he murmurs, terrified. his worst fears come into fruition as he stares at your unmoving figure tied up in a chair, the shaky camera only allowing him view to the worst of your injuries—already darkened bruises littering your skin, smudged red on your face.

a different face overtakes the picture, dark eyes lit with amusement and crinkled by a smile. “a pretty thing, isn’t she?” he croaks, moving the camera back to you. he moves closer, and bucky feels bile rise up his throat.

natasha presses her eyes shut when the camera pans straight over your face, where bucky can see cuts and the indentations of fingers and hands. your eyes are shut, and you remain unmoving even when gloved fingers wrap around your chin tightly, tipping your head back.

bucky nearly follows her lead.

and then you groan. your eyes flutter open, but they only allow bucky to see the insipid acceptance that laces your irises, coated by fear.

“she’s holdin’ up better than we thought,” his tone is impressed, but as silence drags on, he becomes angrier, his hold on your jaw digging deeper until you wince and move back, but he doesn’t let you. “‘but she won’t for long.”

the camera flips back to him. “hey, winter. if you think you had it bad, it won’t be nothin’ compared to this. promise.”

the camera moves around, catching the ceiling and other frames while he seems to look for something. he hums in delight when he finds it, and excitedly waves a sharp blade in front of the camera. “she swears winter won’t come for her,” he starts, lips contorting in disappointment. the camera slips again to capture the blade against your skin. “but i kinda hope he does. for her sake. such a pretty thing… “

the conference room darkens, the video’s end calling for an entirely new wave of terror.

“we have his face,” natasha pipes up, weakly.

“‘lotta good that’s done us,” tony argues.

“we know she's alive. we have an image of where she is,” natasha snaps, stepping toward him. “and if you were as good as you say you are, his face would be all we needed.”

tony’s about to reply when friday cuts in, bringing up the frames of the video where the man was distracted. “mister stark, i have a location.”

the argument forgotten, natasha and tony snap to the screen. bucky stands, stepping toward them to see the blinking dot indicating your whereabouts. once his eyes have memorized the street names, he’s out the door and headed for his bike, the rest of the group not far behind. a plan is forming behind him, and he manages to catch the bones of it, his role outlined with enough trust for him to not question it.

the rumble of his bike underneath him allows him an anchor to reality, where he’s threatened to float away otherwise.

“i’m coming,” he whispers, speeding up as he remembers your desolate eyes and broken skin.  “just hold on, sweetheart. i’m on my way.”

-

there’s a pout on your kidnapper’s lips as he observes you, looking back to his wrist to tap his watch. judging by the ticks, it’s been too long since he’s sent the video. his jaw is tense, probably nearing realization that you were right. the thought is as satisfying as it is heartbreaking.

“i told you. you can’t get what you want from me,” you rasp.

the man scowls, nostrils flaring. his patience is thin and his anger raw, awakened with the gentle nudge of your words. he comes close enough for you to feel his breath on your face, and his fingers are around your neck when you close your eyes, unwilling to continue looking into his.

“i better,” he threatens. “that’s the only thing keeping me from screwing your mind up so bad you’ll be better off dead.”

you swallow hard, your consciousness vignetting as oxygen continues to escape you. you nearly wish it did so faster, but your torturer is too cruel for even that, releasing you as you begin to go limp.

you choke in air and cough, your tongue catching iron from the split in your lip.

he hums as he takes you in. “you’re like him. at least like how zola wrote about him,” he states, cocking his head at you.

“what?” you cough.

“the winter soldier. before he became useful,” he explains thoughtfully, eyeing you. he wipes away the blood from your cupid’s bow with a thumb. “if he won’t come, maybe we’ll make a new one.”

your blood is ice in your veins as you absorb what he’s implying. his touch is tender, careful on your skin. you flinch.

“imagine that. the wit of iron man and looks of the black widow. the ability of the winter soldier, but… no connections. no one to save the soldier this time.” his voice is dreamy, excited. “we’ll break you even worse. we’ll make you kill them all.”

“no,” you whimper, straining against your restraints. “no, please. just kill me, please.”

“i think he begged like that, too,” he muses.

-

bucky is tinged with the soldier.

he darkens his thoughts until they become locked memories with only bodies and guilt as remnants. but now, it’s bucky who pulls the trigger, who finds himself too bitter to pull punches.

he's left the guards to the rest of the group to move forward faster, sticking by natasha.

there’s a room at the end of the building, and he takes off at the same time nat does. she turns to him when they slow, catching the voice from the video. “you’re not going in there,” she tells him, pulling a gun from her belt.

“of course i am,” bucky argues, readying himself to kick the door in.

“this is your fault. you don’t deserve to feel like the hero, barnes.”

“this isn’t that,” bucky insists. “i need to feel that she’s okay.”

natasha settles an unsure glance his way, but the conversation is over, drowned by the dust that follows bucky’s easy entrance.

your kidnapper wears a coy grin, stepping in front of you, yet bucky’s zeroed in on you and the tears that streak across dried vermillion and dark purples. “winter,” he begins. “i’m so glad you—”

bucky takes off toward you while natasha ends the speech before it can start with a clean shot, watching as the man drops to the floor. she’s a quick step toward you before she stops, noting the anguish with which bucky spills over.

you're alive is all she needs to know, and she gets in a few more shots at the man who did this to you as bucky rushes to you.

his name falls from your lips in a small croak, coated in disbelief, obvious you had succumbed to the fear, slipped into the exhaustion and dreadful acceptance. but the torment displayed on bucky’s face is unlike you have ever seen before—crumpled far beyond what your mind could make up, and you allow yourself to fall into the hope you couldn’t help but hold onto, completely uncaring if this isn’t real because it’s so much better than what you will surely open your eyes to otherwise.

he is at your side immediately, face falling as he catches sight of the bruises that coat your skin. he crouches to you, undoing your restraints with ease. his strength makes you flinch, even though it’s not toward you, and he pauses when he notices, something you don’t recognize glossing over his face before he continues, attempting to be calmer.

you can’t stop looking at him, your eyes crazed as they scan the reality of him. you repeat his name softly, a beg of are you real? in the way you stare.

“i’m here,” he promises, a hesitant hand reaching out to you. the warmth of it as it comes in contact with your cheek is as safe as you remember his touch, and you lean into it, letting out a stifled sob of relief.

“you came,” you cry, throwing yourself against him. his arms wrap around you securely, pulling as close as he can with as much delicacy he can muster in his desperation. “i thought you weren’t gonna come,” you sob, grasping his shirt as tight as you can.

“‘m always gonna come,” he tells you, tightening his grip on you.

“you were mad. i thought you didn’t care. i thought—” your words cut off as you push your face into the crook of his neck. “you came for me.”

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i love you so much, i shouldn’t have yelled—i shouldn’t have said any of that. i love you and i’m sorry i made you feel like that. i’m so sorry. i just need you to be safe. you’re safe now, i swear.”

you can only shut your eyes, unable to absorb his words in the relief that he’s here, real and solid and saving you like he always does. he mumbles his apologies as he gently hoists you into his arms and carries you out of the dreaded room, repeatedly pressing kisses into your hair between strings of i love yous and i’m sorrys.

right now, it’s enough that he’s in between your fingers, warm underneath your skin, his promises sweet against your neck. right now, the safety of him is enough.