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marvellous1917 · 1 year ago

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Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mob!bucky #mob!au #tattoo artist!reader

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 6 months ago

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 28: Games

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...

AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit. Word Count: 3,874 Warnings: allusions to abuse

It’s a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. It’s comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these ‘mixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You don’t fully understand how he’s able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms.

Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. It’s the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics.

“People think I’m insane, because I’m frowning all the time… I need someone to show me the things in life that I can’t find I can’t see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind.”

“Who sings this?” You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy.

“Black Sabbath.” He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. “It’s one of their older songs but it still holds up.” He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait. I want to hear the rest.” You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume. Billy doesn’t fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song.

“Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal… I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could, but it’s too late”

Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You don’t know why you're squeezing Billy’s wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well.

“You okay?” Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.

“Yea, it’s just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all it’s actually really sad.” You explain. “Like a cry for help.” Billy’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Maybe that’s what they were going for?” He says. “Music is just another way to tell a story. I’m surprised you’re not more into it.” He tells you, moving to exit the car. “If you thought that was good I’ll have to show you some Bon Jovi.” He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. “I’m assuming you have no idea who that is.” Billy says with a smirk.

“Yea yea, save it. Max already thinks I’ve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.” You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh.

“That little shit wouldn’t know dick about music if it weren’t for me.” He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them.

“Well this is a first.” You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. “A whole different experience than coming in though the window.” You joke, stepping into the house.

“We can always go around back if you’d feel more comfortable.” He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. You’ve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. It’s not a large space and it’s clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around.

“I think I’m good.” You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic.

Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Max’s voice calls from her room.

“Billy, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.” She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach.

“Hey Max.” You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy.

“What’s your malfunction?” Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable.

“Are you two dating?” Max asks bluntly.

“What?!” Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially.

“Mind your own business you little shit.” Billy bites at the same time you try to explain.

“He’s tutoring me in history.” A smirk, eerily similar to Billy’s, spreads across Max’s face.

“Is that what they call it these days?” She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow.

“If you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.” Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead.

“Jeez, learn how to take a joke.” Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room.

“I swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.” He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Be ready in 20 minutes!” He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan.

“That’s how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didn’t have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and don’t get me started on Hopper. I’m pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.” You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years.

“Sometimes being a kid isn’t a good enough excuse.” Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago.

“Neil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so I’m playing chauffeur for the day.” Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it.

“I don’t mind helping watch her.” You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. It’s not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you can’t be sure that it wasn’t always there.

“Neil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.” Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.

“It’s not ‘pawning’ them off on me. We would do it together.” You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what you’re touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.

This isn’t just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it.

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” He tells you flatly.

“Then don’t tell him.” You say simply, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll help you out today and I’ll be gone by the time they get home. “ you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. “Just like when we painted the porch.” You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. “Consider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isn’t a fair trade.” You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile.

“Fine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brain… and leaving her alone is not an option.” He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves.

Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately.

“Oh sorry, am I making you nervous?” He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.

“No.” You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking.

“You sure?” He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.

“I’m fine.” You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance.

“You can tell me if you’re not.” Billy insists, his voice just as soft. He’s flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. He’s making sure you know he’ll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.

“I’m okay.” You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-

“Right, that’s what ‘not dating’ looks like.” Max’s voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door.

“Fuck off!” He yells, slamming the door closed.

“I still need a ride!” Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billy’s shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans.

“You sure you want in on this shit show?” He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind.

“Oh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow.

“I’m more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.” He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes.

“I do have a life outside of this room you know.” You tell him. You won’t admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters.

Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism.

“Come on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.” You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to be late!” Max yells, pounding harder.

“Be my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.” Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billy’s confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if he’s a different person now too.

Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.

“Finally!” She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her.

“Hey, Max?” You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. “Do you mind if I tag along to the arcade?” You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you.

“Did he ask you to babysit me?” She asks indignantly.

“No!” You say, throwing your hands up. “I just thought you could teach me some stuff. I’m not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.” You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs.

“Fine. But don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing. It throws me off.” She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll.

The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. It’s a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out.

“I’ll meet you in there.” you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. “You coming?” you ask Billy, leaning back into the car.

“Hell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldn’t pay me to go into that dork pit.” He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“Oh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.” you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return.

“Whimsy?” He asks, his lip curling at the word.

“I’ll buy you a coke.” you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billy’s lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth.

“Fine.” he says after a moment. “But I have to run an errand real quick.” He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes.

“You promise to come in when you get back?” you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.

“What are you 12?” He asks. When you don’t show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. “Fine, yes. I promise I’ll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.” He promises with a teasing smirk.

“Good.” you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. “And I’m not that bad.” you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb.

It turns out that you ARE that bad.

Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she can’t stand watching you throw away quarters like that. You’re a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. It’s alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores.

The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but don’t seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume he’s anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though you’ve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You can’t say that you don’t understand where he’s coming from.

Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group.

After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and it’s located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game.

Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. You’re able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging.

“Fuck…” you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.

“Hey.” Keiths’ monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other.

“Hi Keith.” you reply politely. You aren’t sure why he’s approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. “What’s up?” you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak.

“I see you around sometimes.” he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You don’t know what to say to that.

“Yea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.” you tell him.

“That’s cool.” he mumbles “You know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?” He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you can’t help your slight cringe.

“No, I’m actually with-” you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders.

“Me.” He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“O-oh, cool.” Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. “Nevermind then” he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.

“I’ll see you around.” you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billy’s side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling.

“Did you have to mad dog him? He was just saying ‘Hi’.” you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game.

“Yea, right.” He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You didn’t see how he’s been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come ‘say hi’.” he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words.

“And how long were you watching that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“You’re missing the point.” He tells you, deflecting the question.

“What point is that?” You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on.

“The point is that you’re playing a game you don’t know the rules of and guys like that-” he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. “Will take advantage of that.” he tells you, his voice low. You know he’s too close. That you should take a step back. That the way he’s looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath.

“I’m not really good at games.” you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you can’t seem to look away. Billy’s sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission.

“I know…” He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “I just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.” He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.

“You stalker!” you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. “And I was multitasking.” you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga.

“Sure, sure. Let me show you how it’s done.” he says confidently, starting the queued up game.

“Hey! That was my quarter!” You protest. Billy only chuckles again.

“I’ll get the next one, crazy.” he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long... again!

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kunikukitty · 9 months ago

Text

☆ Always An Artist, Never The Muse

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader

ix. beauty of art

Since when did it started?

You've always been complimented to be a beauty, always been given praises, and you too are confident when it comes to your appearance.

Not to mention, you are also surrounded by good-looking girls such as Mona, Hutao, and Faruzan.

When did it started, when you began to question your own vision and the mirror? Since when were you became so sensitive about your appearance?

Being an artist who desired to be a muse was your ultimate struggle before. And perhaps, even until today.

You never made a portrait of yourself, having more interest in other scenery you see — and never did you became anyone's art inspiration.

To the non-artists, this might not be a thought worth being sad about. You too, you tell yourself it isn't a big deal, yet it persists. There is an ache, a longing to be admired just as how much you used to admire those whom you painted.

You used to be saddened over the fact that no artist chose you— maybe because you are an artist yourself?

However, even after your candle of passion became unlit— even after the spark that used to shine so brightly began to lose its light, you didn't became anyone's object of admiration.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you company."

You heaved a sigh as you heard Capitano utter those words in a reassuring manner, resting your head to the backrest of the bus seat you're sitting on.

He must've sensed your nervousness, also with the fact that he knows what you've been through.

That's the reason why you rejected those other fine art students anyway, since you didn't want to be just become a muse because you're a part of the options.

They were tasked to ask exchange students to be their model for their project. None of them would ask you if you weren't one, and you hated that. Could it be your pride as an artist hovering over your mind, that you wished to be somebody's muse because they specifically chose you and not just because you happened to be there as an option?

And now you were asked again yet for the same situation— you weren't the first choice.

Is this petty? You honestly don't care.

How silly these emotions of yours, hindering you from enjoying being a muse for the first time.

The bus stopped and the two of you exits the ride. You walked with Capitano as he led the way, coming to a halt some minutes later in front of a black gate. He looked at you before hitting the doorbell.

You brought a hand to caress your own face. Your skin isn't exactly clear, though you do not have many blemishes either.

You've always been confident of your appearance, and you didn't know why. Is it because you truly are indeed beautiful, or where you just blinded because of the praises you've heard?

Yet whenever you look in the mirror, you can't help but to see your image turning uglier each second. Is what you see in the mirror what you actually looked like?

You breathed in and out, wanting to mask the nervousness you're feeling. Faruzan is pretty, would the artist be disappointed upon seeing a face inferior to hers—

Forget about that, because you are the one disappointed right now...!

You regretted getting swayed with Faruzan's words. You even asked Mona for an advice to strengthen your decision, and she also said some motivating words similar to Faruzan.

What a load of bullshit, you shouldn't had listened!

Because it's fine, yes, it would be fine.

This trip could've turn out good just as your friends say— if not for the man standing before you! This... is he the artist?

The moment he opened the gate, you glared at him from head to toe, in which he responded with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention to Capitano instead.

The same shade of indigo that ruined your mood at the time you first entered the university, the blind-hater man!

Honestly, you could brush that off as just bad day for both of you which led to a stupid argument, but the bad impression lasted!

Whenever you see him around the campus, there's just this underlying vibes around him that ruins your mood. So even if you both ain't having a conversation, it's as if you are being brought back to that argument and you can't help but to feel the annoyance all over again.

And therefore strengthening the bad impression.

You followed after them as they entered his... kind of a huge house.

Of course, of course. Students at that goddamn university are rich, it's no wonder.

You eyed the interior, a minimalist design yet it looks extravagant due to the high-end materials. High ceilings, big chandeliers— his living room is grand and sophisticated space. The walls are in neutral colors, decorated with many paintings...

Oh.

Are these his works? They are... beautiful.

Not just beautiful, but breathtakingly beautiful.

Every pieces are paintings of abstracts and places, and there are no single painting of an image of a human.

The scenery looks realistic though, are portraits just not his forte? Or maybe he just didn't displayed them.

You got too absorbed at staring at them that Capitano had to tug you forward. His gentle hold brought you out of your reverie, continuing to follow after his friend.

"What even is his name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Oh right, you didn't get to be introduced properly." He nodded at himself, "Scaramouche is his name," then he called his friend's attention, "And she is [Name]."

...That turned awkward, just for you maybe. 'Scaramouche' just nodded his head and so did you.

When he opened another door, you almost drooled at the sight. Because why wouldn't you— it is his very own art studio inside his home! It's huge and definitely pleasing to look at. There are many paintings on the floor and some are hanging over the wall, all of the pieces are masterpiece! There are an unfinished sculpture of a head on one of the tables, charcoal drawings on paper, sketches of anatomy, movable wooden figure, and more.

Despite not liking him, you hold a respect to every artists. Not to mention, one look at his studio and you could tell he is talented...

You had to contain your excitement.

It's not like you're hiding that you are an (ex) artist, but you also do not want to show hints or tell that you are one, especially that you have nothing to show.

You would rather keep it that way, people not having an answer whether you are or not an artist— except for those who already know, of course.

"Pardon me, [Name]." You looked over to Capitano who has an apologetic expression on his face. "There happen to be an emergency, I'll leave you to Scaramouche's care."

You just nodded, Capitano had always been a busy man. You watched as he converse with the said man before he gave you a small wave, walking away.

"Stay here."

'Scaramouche' said, and you were left alone in his very own art studio.

You sat down on a stool, probably the seat he prepared for Faruzan. With a frown, you looked around.

Your heart raced as your eyes met your own pair of eyes, the full length mirror in front of you glinted in an ugly way.

You felt frozen in time. Is it because you would be exposed to an artist's eyes who would look at every detail of your appearance so he could draw it, the reason why you felt so bare in your own vision?

It was as if suddenly, you appear naked in front of everyone— drowning in their uncomfortable stares that ran through your insides.Your skin is getting ripped the more you stare at your own reflection, and you feel so exposed to the point that every nook of your face became visible in your eyes.

Since when this started, really? Where you no longer feel beautiful at every angle, as if your features are becoming distorted.

Ah, right. The people who compliments you are non-artists. You used to be one and yet you never drew yourself, and now you feel so imperfect and full of flaws. Maybe because you're aware of the truth.

Maybe this is why you've only became a muse now of an artist who had no choice but to draw you— you are indeed pretty, just not pretty enough that people wants to keep looking at you.

An art is supposed to be beautiful in every way, a masterpiece people enjoy looking at.

You, are not a piece worth staring at.

You are not designed to be a muse in the first place— and you no longer had the skills to paint.

Everyone is either an artist or the art, so now, where do you stand?

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note. im back yippiiieeee hello yall ^^

taglist. @veekoko @aeongiies @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @magica-ren @feiherp @beriiov @hiraethhv @kleej @eutopiastar @keiiqq @bananasquash @kuniisvt (i cant tag those in bold ;(()

#genshin impact #kabukimono #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wanderer fanfic #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #wanderer smau

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mysticheathenn · 11 months ago

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Your Ideal Person VS Who your Soulmate is

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card is all about how you see yourself versus how others see you. This is a Patreon exclusive for all tiers.

Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The Patreon Reading includes:

Who is your Ideal Person? (What do you want to attract)

What will your person be like? (The "One" / Soulmate")

Extra Messages

Patreon Link

YouTube Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile l:

What type do you typically go for? (Who do you keep attracting) Tarot: 6 of Pentacles (Reversed), Justice, The Emperor (reversed), 6 of Cups (reversed), The Sun.

Two words: Losers & Pretenders. The song Pretenders by Foo Fighters popped into my head as soon as the Sun card came out to tie the pile together pile l. The type of person you typically go for are those who appeal to be one way but show up as something completely different. Similar to the song Stranger by Hilary Duff where she mentions in front of everyone you are the perfect person but behind closed doors you're nothing but a lie, a con artist, a loser. Your type possibly approached you with love bombing where they fed you a lot with false hope, and promises, saying that you deserve the world but their actions never back it up and it typically takes you a while for you to catch on but when you do you find it hard to leave because wanting to give this person the benefit of the doubt. For some of you, it's not even that, you're just d*ck or p*ssy whipped and can't let go of that. Your type isn't very generous even though they can be, just not towards you. They may come off as toxic masculine or even appear as masculine but again behind closed doors they are not that. The vibe I'm getting from your pile is you may have a thing for Alpha podcasters or pick-me podcasters. Those who claim they lay down the law when in reality they just transmute bullshit, manipulation, toxicity, etc. Remember energy has nothing to do with gender so this can go for anyone.

Patreon Post Link

Pile ll:

What type do you typically go for? (What do you keep attracting) Tarot: The Emperor, Judgement, 8 of Cups, Ace of Cups, King of Wands, 6 of Swords (reversed)

Two words Pile ll: Toxic and Passion. Two songs popped into my head, Fetish by Selena Gomez and Toxic by Kehlani. A popular Tv couple also sprung into my head and it's Olivia Pope and Fitzgerald Grant from Scandal and in the words of our girl Olivia Pope: "I want that painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love."You love your relatiponships toxic where you break up and make up agai with classic make up sex. Might I add kinky, rough, and passionate sex..I feel some of you like to be twisted like a pretzel, ahaha. No kink shaming here, lord knows I like it too. Another song came through it's by Beyonce Up All Night.

" So many people that I know, they just tryna touch ya Kiss up, and rub up, and feel up Kiss up, and rub up, and feel up on ya Give you some time to prove that I can trust you again I'm gonna kiss up, and rub up, and feel up Kiss up, and rub up, and feel up on ya"

Some of you keep going back to a cheater. If not a cheater maybe you are a side chick, mistress, maybe even sex worker for some of you, but overall the people you love to attract just aren't shit. But you can't help but keep falling for them because they fill some sort of emotional and sometimes even physical need that you feel you can't find anywhere else. This reminds me of when SZA mentioned her ex-fiance and how no one competes to the connection that they had. You may feel this way about the kind of people you attract romantically pile ll. You can't seem to let them go sometimes until you feel it's too much but then you are right back at it again with this person in the same cycle never wanting it to end. Hoping that what you guys do share is enough. I can tell this question "Is it enough?" may keep you up at night sometimes. Some of you the type you attract support you financially, some physically, others, emotionally.

Patreon Post Link

Pile lll: (I teared up at your reading on Patreon)

What type do you typically go for? (Who do you keep attracting?) Tarot: Queen of Cups, 3 of Swords, King of Swords (reversed), 7 of Pentacles (reversed), The Chariot (reversed)

Two Words: Maneater & Manipulator. Maneater by Nelly Furtado is playing in my head as I look at your cards pile ll. You love to go for the bad boy/Girl/person type pile lll. Some of you keep dealing with heartbreak when it comes to the people who you keep attracting. They come in as a smooth talker and then leave you high and dry after they get what they wanted out of you. Whatever that is some of you it's sex, some it's money, your time. your beauty, or just for you to be their emotional dump. You may also be the type of person who when someone leaves you they find their person right afterwards. This is only for a select few of you. Overall you never get anywhere with your type because when you think things are going good things take a wild turn and you're left in confusion as to what happened. Why again are you going through people who don't truly want to deal with you but what you can give them. Culture Club "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me:

"Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry? Precious kisses, words that burn me Lovers never ask you why In my heart, the fire's burning"

You are tired, lonely, and worn out by the people who come into your life. You just want someone genuine I feel.

Patreon Post Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon. I hope you guys love this reading as much as I do. It was fun doing it, especially piles 2 and 3.

Stay safe and be blessed

#tarot reading #spirituality #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #pick a card #tarot cards #witchblr #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick an image

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yeetus-feetus · 1 year ago

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Random ra'stim idea:

What if they just don't tell anyone. Like Ra's quietly courts Tim the old fashioned way but like on the down low.

Tim's bookcase is slowly being filled with love poems written in Arabic, he gets his ears re-pierced but he's not wearing Alvin Draper's earrings- he's wearing emeralds and jade.

He starts wearing fine fabrics to Gala's, professional but not a western style suit, and that's where Damian starts catching on. Because he knows these types of clothing intimately, and Drake is too white to have picked such outfits out on his own.

Then there's a ring. Gold banded, studded in tiny green gemstones that seem to glow when viewed from certain angles and a large diamond to top it off. When Stephanie admires it and asks about it, Tim tells her it's his mother's, something he found going through her old jewellery box. But it's obviously foreign- His excuse is his parents former line of work. Damian knows better, he just doesn't have anything to back up his suspicions.

Tim is seeing someone. Why is he keeping it a secret? Why is he wearing foreign jewellery and why is his Arabic now so perfectly spoken.

Then there's the kohl Tim starts wearing to special events, the same kind his own mother wears. The same kind Ra's wears.

Damian tries to convince Grayson that something is going on between Tim and the LOA. That Tim is romantically involved with someone. It couldn't be his mother, and there's only one other person who wears that same green fabric Drake had draped himself in just the other day.

But Damian is brushed off. Told to stop being paranoid and to leave Tim alone. And the others are too busy to listen to him, or simply don't want to.

Dick, though, doesn't admit to the younger that he too is starting to grow just a little bit suspicious.

Then there's the second ring. A thick, shiny gold band inscribed with Arabic text, and Damian is sure to point it out when they all end up in the same room. Tim tries for the excuse he used for the last ring, but Damian points out clearly that it's written in a way specific to the league only.

Tim is pink in the face, but he manages to keep his other features otherwise expressionless as he gaslights Damian, claiming that he is being absurd.

Finally Dick steps in to back Damian up. Dick is a bullshit artist himself, and he can see through the gaslighting immediately.

"You married my grandfather didn't you, Drake?" Damian hisses out.

Tim only frowns at the fourteen year old. "I'm 19 and a CEO, I can do what I want. There's a reason I never told anybody about us."

"He intends to clone you for an heir to replace me, Drake, have you forgotten that!?" Damian asks.

"less pressure on you. Now you only need to focus on becoming the next Batman," Tim shrugs in reply.

"woah wait!" Stephanie speaks up. "How can you be so okay with the whole cloning thing??"

Tim shrugs again. "It is what it is."

"fuck off, you are not using a meme to justify this right now", Jason says in disbelief.

"Tim who are you texting??"

He looks up from his phone with a small smile. "I'm getting my husband to pick me up y'all are lame, peace out ✌️😙"

"Tim! You come back here this instant!"

"You're not my dad!"

#cleaning my drafts #rastim #ra'stim #ra's al ghul #tim drake #Rastim uses vampire logic in my mind #Immortality n all that

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velvetvexations · 1 month ago

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All the Dropout transmisogyny discourse anons I got, because there are a ton. I don't have much to add here that I haven't already said and aren't going to repeat a million times in the near future, and I have a million more asks still in my inbox, so these don't have answers, but each of them has values of their own and I'm happy to platform them. Yall are very insightful and articulate.

cw for suicide mention

"dropout doesn't have enough transfems"

my best friend tried to kill herself a couple of months ago just because being alive as a poor trans fem in a red state is that fucking painful and difficult. that's the state of the world for 90% of trans people. and that other 10%? thats you (not you velvet, the people that are whining about dropout).

shut the FUCK up about dropout. you don't fucking care about trans women, you care about being mad about stupid bullshit so you can get off to feeling oppressed by the only company on fucking earth who is making ANY effort to fucking platform and take care of queer artists. it is so disgustingly priveleged to be upset about a fucking streaming platform as small as dropout not having "enough" of the Right Kind of Tranny on it.

i am so sick of these fucking people. trans people are getting fucking murdered and killing themselves, we are losing our fucking siblings, and instead of trying to take action to stop & prevent violence against us, they're bitching online because Show They Don't Watch doesn't have enough trans women on it.

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Ngl this discord is coming off very white and representative politics had already been disproven by black folks in America. Representation is nice but does nothing to fix the root issues, why expect a private company to be able to fix it? This anger could be place in more productive and necessary trans issues

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the talk about dropout not including transfems annoys me on a couple of levels of like, yeah, they could have more transfems. factual statement. but there very well may be transfems working in or around dropout that either are in the closet or don't feel like making themselves known, and demanding that you know the agab (tma or tme) of every person involved in dropout just so you can fufill some kind of tme vs tma trans quota is. a tad fucked up.

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"#and people have been pointing out how its fucked that theres p good transmasc representation on drop out" wow! I hate this! like i guess i should be grateful that they're saying the quiet part out loud or whatever but how have we gotten to a point where having good trans representation is "fucked"??? just because it's not the Specific Type of Trans you want to see represented. Especially when the most prominent one came out and transitioned after being hired???? so they weren't even hired to fill some "quota" of representation ALSO i think i sent asks to you about this before but i'm tired as fuck of people just immediately pointing at nonbinary people and calling them transmasc!!!! y'all are so fucking exorsexist and binarist that you genuinely view the world as "men and men-adjacent" and "woman and woman-adjacent" we're never escaping the hell that is binary gender norms are we. also like. immediately calling all nonbinary people transmasc is actively participating in the erasure of transfem nonbinary people. you don't know someone's ASAB by looking at them. you don't know how or if someone has transitioned already. all you know is that they're not cis and use they/them pronouns. as a smaller note, i've seen people saying something like the drag queens don't count as transfem rep on dropout and it makes me so angry! why are we buying into the Rupaul Drag Race-ification of drag that tries to deny the foundational role trans people of all types have in drag? did they bother to look into the queens to see which are transfem or not?? i cannot name a drag queen in my city that is a cis man. i live in a major city. i'm sure they're out there, but the scene is rightfully filled with trans women artistically expressing exploring and celebrating their gender. this dropout drama is so manufactured and for what. what's the goal here? dropout reads to me like a group of comedians who are friends and are still sticking together after college humor died. it's not like they have constant main cast recruitment drives, from what i can tell, it's more of a "hey I (dropout cast member) know this other comedian that'd be a great fit. we should hire them". i'm just so tired of this faux moral outrage when nothing of substance has occurred and every trans person in my life is struggling to afford to survive and being crushed under the weight of the ongoing supreme court case on gender affirming care

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I don’t have the energy to unblock plaidos long enough to rewrite the anon I forgot I wouldn’t be able to send, but I don’t think she understands that Bezos (owner of Amazon Prime, a much larger streaming service with presumably dozens of original shows, but I don’t actually know and don’t really care) could buy Sam Reich for exactly his net worth literally a million times over and eat him for breakfast as easily as he could anyone else in this country. Why are we supposed to be mad at him for not being above and beyond what every other company’s standards are?? Show me PROOF trans women are getting snubbed for roles on Dropout shows or shut the fuck up. A show having any ONE trans person should be seen as a win, now we have to have multiple kinds? (And don’t think us nonbinary people can’t see the blatant fucking binary they’re boiling trans rep down to. At least make the categories “transmisogyny affected” “transandromisia affected” (that’s the term Ive seen the least hate for so in my head it’s what the tmas are most okay with) and “exorsexism affected” and pretend to care about unaligned enbans not IDing as teansfem or transmasc?????

okay im done i should really go to bed i don’t even know why i care ive never watched a dropout show i guess im just fucking sick of people inventing problems where there are none so they can feel properly downtrodden. Im in constant physical pain and going on year 5 of disability benefit denials, my anxiety is off the charts, im falling back into suicidal ideation since the election, and I’m homeless and once again living with my queerphobic just left of fundie family. Some of us have REAL FUCKING PROBLEMS and there’s plenty of other stuff being created that claims to care about queer people and has yet to have any trans rep. Go yell at goddamn disney some more, fuck!!!!)

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So how do you think all the people mad about dropout right now would react to me pointing out the lack of transmasc creators on nebula?

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i wouldn't be surprised if one of the reasons trfs are deciding to get mad at dropout is because you like it

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I was reading the dropout discourse with a furrowed brow. Real stink face situation. Just due to the ridiculousness of it all. And my boyfriend comes up and goes "hey :D! Wait, what's wrong?" N I'm like "nothing, just ppl being dumb." And he was like "oh. Well, it's snowing outside! :D" and we went outside with the dog and played in the snow and it was a real eye opening experience. Real ppl online vs people in real life kind of situation.

People online: the streaming platform Dropout is not TMA enough

People in real life: hey, it's snowing outside!

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yknow how right wing pundits will pick the culture war du jour to make a huge deal out of? remember how they were SO upset about mr potato head being potato they or whatever, which was quickly dropped because santa claus is black sometimes and we need to be worried about that, which was then dropped because the green m&m wasnt sexy enough...

and how it's this neverending cycle of picking non-issues to fight about? because it's more about riling up general-your base, making them think everyone is out to get them all the time in all these insidious ways, to make the entire world seem darker and more dangerous than it is? and when people outside this circle say these are non-issues, their lack of understanding about how bad the world actually is serves to further rile up that same base, who now think they're the only truth-seers?

anyway, dropout has marginally more tmascs than tfems and we're all really very mad about this real issue

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People are really showing their ~tme discourse~ asses with this dropout thing because like: by their own stupid framework definition isn’t TME supposed to be all non-transfems? So like… cis people? But their graphs are instead just singling out Beardsley as the Evil Appropriating Interloper Stealing Opportunities From Real Trans People. Like… y’all aren’t even PRETENDING that your entire position isn’t just “fuck transmascs in particular”

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re: the dropout discourse like yeah it did take a while for Brennan to make a transfem NPC but does nobody remember The Seven??? a whole season where a transfem PC was played by a transfem person? i haven’t finished the season yet but cmon people. it came up in like the first or second episode.

#droppedout #discourse

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weareallgonnaliveforawhile · 7 months ago

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Mob Psycho x Saiki K AU/ Kokomi Reigen AU

Alright so, to start, I'm gonna start from the very beginning, before the actual start of the story.

You might be asking, why the hell would Kokomi decide to work at a run-down little 'company' that specializes in exorcising spirits where the only other workers is this weird sweaty adult guy and his middle schooler son(?)

I am here to say that it started with one little thing; Kokomi realized that Saiki was in the 'occult' club. Now Kokomi is a normal teenager and when she finds out that her crush is interested in something, she wants to join it...

if she did, she'd have to deal with Toritsuka all the time plus she doesn't want her fans to flood the club and ruin the time she wants to spend with Saiki, so joining was absolutely out of the question.

But what WASN'T out of the question was trying to learn more about the occult and that type of thing so that later she can mention it to Saiki, and then he'll be so impressed with her that he'll have to say Oh wow-

But the thing is that going to libraries is also really hard for her because of her looks, so she decides to google the shit out of things and stumbles upon a site for this quiet little 'Exorcist' place that has a lot of positive reviews, and it's the only place that she's seen that's not a tourist spot.

Maybe if she talked to the owner, she'll be able to learn more about the occult! (From the reviews, he’s either a middle-aged man or a dude in college and both types of dude LOVE her so she'll be able to charm him into helping her with her research if need be) Plus, it's in an isolated area so if she does her best to attract as little attention as possible, she'll be able to get there with 50% fewer stalkers!

Though, when she gets there she's given several surprises

The owner guy, while he did (predictably) say 'Oh wow' when he saw her...that was it. He didn't get heart eyes or anything like that, he just went straight to business

There was a random middle schooler there and he was the same! He said 'Oh wow' and blushed but all he did was quietly ask if she was related to some girl at his school then get embarrassed and continue his own work without looking at her!

The office is a real hole-in-the-wall place, hard to find if you don't have an exact address or were told by someone else where it was.

She made it there with no stalkers. She managed to lose some stragglers by hiding behind a tree, but there was just a weird energy in the area that seemed to make them go away on their own. She liked it.

She gathered that the occult was almost definitely not what they did most of the time. While the dude did seem to offer some 'Ghost Hunting Services', the other half of the services were just a lot of fancy words used to hide the fact that they were just doing bullshit to make people who didn't have ghosts (or demons or whatever it was)

Maybe it was a mix of all five of these. Maybe it's because the middle schooler's calm demeanor reminds her of Saiki. Maybe it's cause the dudes causal reaction to her beauty (something that made lesser men faint) was some of the closest that she's had to being treated like a human being by a dude older than her. Maybe it's because Makoto last check that he sent for bills came last night with the note 'Love you, my dear kokomi <3' and she couldn't stop herself from burning it.

But when the blond, sweaty, and over-the-top scam artist owner who hasn't ONCE blushed when looking at her asks her what she's here for-

-she says the only thing that comes to mind and asks for a job.

It takes everyone in the room off guard, but she liked to think that she was hiding it decently enough. But after filling out some paperwork and answering some surprisingly short questions, she's hired and expected to start working next Monday after school.

Her mind kinda goes blank after that.

But can she really be blamed? She’s had a long week this is the first time in ages that someone (Other than Saiki) didn’t fawn over her.

It isn't until much later, when she's been working there for a few weeks that she begins to loosen up and not be the 'perfect pretty girl' all the time during work hours.

Mob helps.

Reigen punching her brother in the face helps a lot more.

#kokomi teruhashi #Kokomi Reigen AU #reigen arataka #mp100 reigen #Teruhashi joins Spirits and Such AU #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #Mob Psycho x Saiki K #crossover au #crossover #god i love this au #I also want it to be known that this is like a month or two before the first season of MP 100 #shiego kagayama #I just want it to be known #that while Teruhashi DOES love attention given to her #It's mainly cause she has no other choice #and i do think she'd quite like a space where the people don't oogle her #and there's a 'weird presence' that seemingly drives away all her stalkers #(she quickly learns what that presence is.)

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derww · 2 months ago

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DAY 26: POWER

CW: Still crackfic

There is something wrong with Ashes bow now. This is, atleast, what he thinks after his arrow, shot by him as a joke, pierces through Pangi's shoulder.

– Oh, fuck! – Pangi is expectedly surprised. – What the fuck, man.

– Sorry, sorry, sorry, – Ash repeats again and again, and he's just saying words, but he actually has no idea how this had happened. – I didn't want to get you; look, its just a mistake; just take the arrow out and eat some gapples, – hes not coming closer, but he gestures artistically with his hands, making more noise about it, – i don't know, man, im sorry, okay-

– Accidentally hit someone with a bow, aiming in the right direction... – Pangi remarks skeptically, casually pulling out an arrow and stopping the flowing blood. – of course, man. Whatever you say. Whatever.

And, like- it's not like Ash was a pacifist or he had anything against hitting Pangi; no, hed gladly do it again just for the fun of it, but fucking arrow wasn't supposed to fly even close. He shot it to hit the no-spawnkills bell, but at the moment when he was not paying attention, the arrow somehow turned out to be two meters to the right, securing him an accurate hit.

And it was freaking him out- like, new abilities always were good, but he'd prefer to KNOW ABOUT THEM AND HOW THEY WORK, thank you very much. He didn't like having a pig in a poke. This is, after all, an animal abuse.

He easily forgets about it. After all, he was a bug itself; some temporary anomaly of that kind was possible, even tho improbable. He still hated to have no idea what was happening, but it does not matter if you are convinced that the strangeness will go away, like, soon. He has better things to do, tho. Like sleeping and watching cartoons. His life literally depended on both of them. What could he say?

The next time it's yet another accident and it's Mapicc and he catches the arrow before it hits him.

– And why the fuck would you do that, – Mapicc plainly asks, and Ash steps away.

– It is an accident! – he swears even tho his words are worth nothing again, – man, I'm really sorry, okay! Lets just go both of us our paths and-

In the end, he has to run. Like, he's cool and all, but he can't mess with Empire, okay? not without a plan, atleast. He has no time to create a plan for now. He has to look into all this bullshit that's been happening.

He drags Squiddo away with him, and they build a very messy training ground with a bunch of different targets. Squiddo tries first – she hits the biggest target, on the verge of the middle circle, which she actively rejoices at, and then crushingly misses everyone else. She whines that this game is too weird. Ash doesn't understand what game she's talking about, but it's his turn.

He's aiming, shooting – at the bull's eye! The next target is slightly smaller – a clear hit! A hit! A hit! A hit!

When the turn comes to the last target, the smallest, almost the size of the yellow circle on the first, Ash rolls his eyes and shoots into the air. And then he and Squiddo watch, stunned, as the arrow makes a detour and incredibly hits the target – not in the center, of course, but still in the red zone.

They look at each other in silence. Squiddo opens her mouth.

– Maybe it's because of that one versus-

They never talk about it ever again.

– Shut the fuck up.

#ashswag #squiddo #d.fics #lifestealtober2024 #fanfiction

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yridenergyridenergy · 8 months ago

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On the eve of the seven-year mark for this account, let's address the biggest hate point about me: how I insist that people either ask before, come and say thanks, simply link to or credit this page when they share/repost the content.

Even if I manage to convince a handful of peopIe, I will continually have to argue and work with people on this because it's not inherent. For example, I come from an online community where, decades ago, we were shocked when we learned that Japanese artists were mad that some people had simply copied and pasted their fanart. It's obvious when you stop to put yourself in their shoes, but for a lot of people, it takes some personal effort to accept the realization that: "Oh okay, I see where you're coming from." In no way am I comparing fanart with most of my content, as artists deserve a ton more praise, but the concept of being grateful for where you got stuff and not simply saving and reposting stuff is the same. And guess what? People outside of that aforementioned community, and even probably newcomers to that community, are still sharing uncredited fanart. It's not inherent, I get it.

For almost seven years, I have posted twice daily, at least, and this requires quite a lot of budget, time, innovation and effort. And absolutely, the content comes from the band themselves, I'm not the photographer(s), the live show recorders, the interviewers, etc. However, you also wouldn't have that GIF, JPG, etc. if it wasn't for me. I do it to share the love, the passion. If I don't mention the source in my post, then it's either directly cited on the picture or the band has not mentioned the source either, like for memocas.

Also, each perpetrator thinks of themselves individually, but imagine my perspective too: it's not just one, but dozens of people who keep reposting my content to their own crowd of followers without any context. When you don't mention a source and just display new content out of nowhere, you are indeed claiming it as if you were the benefactor.

So, am I fighting for the "clout" or whatever? Well, maybe in the same capacity as those people are clearly attracted to. Whether we are or not, it's just about the principle behind the whole situation that reposting is not the proper way to show that you are grateful about something. Unless it came from a robot or some big corporation without feelings or humanity. If you don't wish to interact and ask permission or say thanks at all, let alone like or reblog on Tumblr, then the least you can do is to mention where you found stuff. To whom you owe the pleasure of having seen that content and being able to share it.

And it's so stupid because on Twitter, for example, you benefit from 280 characters now, plus a link gives a preview of the images that are on the landing site. There is zero excuse for not mentioning your source right there in the post where you repost an image (or screenshots of a translated interview, mindblowingly enough), in addition to whatever small comment you want to make regarding the content, instead of in a subsequent reply that nobody will bother to check.

A lot of people will still disagree on this and hate me, and that's fine. If you don't like me, then don't engage with what I share, because that's just hypocritical. This really shouldn't be that controversial, it's just that your feathers are temporarily ruffled. People added watermarks on their GIFs and scans etc. way before I did.

And the descent from "Please credit if you repost" to "Do not repost" came because people didn't do even that anyway. But if someone comes to ask me if they can nevertheless, I'm super likely to say 'yes'.

At the end of the day, I want to keep this blog positive, I want to foster a good environment to lift people's mood day by day. We have enough bullshit in our lives. I've heard of the Dir en grey community being toxic at probably more than one stage of its existence, but hopefully we can keep avoiding that.

As for me, I am eternally grateful to those who keep up with my apparently insufferable self.

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twopoppies · 4 months ago

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Hi!! First time in ur inbox- sorry it's such word vomit. I've seen you be so sweet to people in your asks and I thought I'd join with my own thoughts that have been rattling around in my head since last night.

Why is it that the general population see larries as actually, genuinely, crazy and delusional fans? I know it serves it's purpose in maintaining the believability of a closet, but

when i got into the fandom and started going through all the receipts& explanations, I remember still being on the fence for a while, unsure and sort of paranoid about whether I was allowed to believe in it. I can remember telling a friend that asked if I thought it was real: "The craziest part is that you look through everything, read about PR and closeting in the industry, and you are left thinking: Well, holy shit. It's entirely possible that this is true. It wouldn't even be a special case- all of these things that fans theorise about Larry have 100% happened to other celebs."

I understand people not wanting to believe in 'conspiracies' but when it's straight relationships, it's ok? when it's the mainstream media narrative, it's ok? even though artists have told us repeatedly that the media has their own agenda? I'll never get that. How are we the crazy ones? They're the hypocrites.

Because I'm new to the fandom I've been watching old clips on youtube, and I got recommended a video essay on 1D and the whole comment section was full of people saying larries caused gaylor to happen (ew as if we would ever), and comparing what we believe to kpop stans thinking every one of their idols is secretly dating (which btw, yes kpop stans are intense and often fall for easily debunked conspiracies but. statistically speaking, some of those boys have GOT to be fruity.)

It just makes me wonder why people have to come at us like that. Saying all our proof can be debunked... a lot of it can lol but that's more of an issue of younger or naiver people getting obsessed with the idealised romance of H&L and seeing writing on the wall when it's just some accidental smudges. If they don't want to believe us, fine. But why are they so sure they know better than we do?

Hi, love. This would be a PhD thesis if I really broke it down. But I think a couple of the main reasons are that 1DHQ worked overtime on the gaslighting and the story that larries ruined HL's friendship. Then they added in "Louis" tweeting about how Larry is bullshit, and he's straight, and he's had to deny "Larry" a bunch of times over the years. So from the early days, it was considered being a "good fan" to shit on larries. Then, add in that Harry was marketed as a womanizer, Louis was marketed as the world's best boyfriend, and tabloids calling anyone "crazy" who thought they could be anything but aggressively straight. Larries just became the scapegoat.

Add in a sprinkle of homophobia ("stop assigning a sexuality to people" as if "straight" isn't a sexuality) and compulsory heterosexuality, and you've got a perfect storm. Plus, unless you've got a basic understanding of closeting and the way the music/film industries operate and only you've really followed things from early on and cataloged the insane amount of "coincidences," it's easy to explain everything away.

more here

#closeting #pr and marketing #harry's image #louis' image #fandom dynamics

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avianyuh · 11 months ago

Text

I'll Call You; Jaehyun (part 2)

~Jaehyun's POV~

parts: 1 2 3?

It had been over a month since that fight between Y/n and I. In the heat of the moment I was mad, but thinking about it now...it was an overreaction.

I had spent the night, for over three years we had been sneaking around. Around last year is when I started openly showing up at her dorm, getting to know her members, friends. Even knew her manager.

The morning of the fight, I had told her that I had to leave, I had a recording session later that day. It had been around 9 in the morning, I didn't have to be at the studio until 5.

I was packing my stuff, she was still on the bed, laying on her side with her body weight resting on one arm. This was one of my favorite moments with her, just the two of us. I was searching the bedroom floor for my shirt when I heard her start to say something. Like she was inhaling. I looked up at her and turned my head to the side, a silent, 'You wanted to say something?'

That's when she asked if I could stay a little longer.

I'll admit, it was tempting and I couldn't help but allow a small smile to creep up on me. But I'm not exactly sure, but something changed my demeanor in a matter of seconds.

I had to remind myself that a relationship would be too complicated. Too nerve-racking for the both of us. There was a reason why the relationship was kept so vague in the first place. She was making everything more complicated than it had to be, I told myself.

And that's when I snapped.

"I thought what we had going on was enough? Now you want more? I mean...what the fuck Y/n? You spring this on me now. What do you expect me to say?", I said. I knew it sounded harsh, but I was defensive. The fight had happened so fast, I had no filter.

She told me to just forget it, she didn't mean it. But by that point, I knew I had not only sent out a harsh message that I'm not even 100% certain I meant, and now she was hurt. All I knew was that I had to get out of there before I said anything else.

I came up with some bullshit answer, "But now I feel like you want more from me. You know Y/n I just think we need a break for awhile okay, I'm busy with work right now anyways so i'll call you in a few weeks", but before I left she stopped me.

"I'll let you go but can I just say one thing", I looked over at her and waiting for her to continue. "If you would give me a bit more to work with, I wouldn't have asked in the first place, because I would've known you were busy. I had no idea you were preoccupied with work because you never tell me about any of that. Plus I thought the deal was that we only see each other when we're both not busy?"

And yet again, I was angry. To be fair, I DID have work later that day, so yes, I was busy. But I just couldn't believe it, she was making everything so complicated.

The last thing I had said to her was, "Oh, so now you're trying to twist my words. Like I said, I'll call you in a few weeks."

Now a month had passed. I didn't even know what I would say to her.

But because I had time to think, not only did I regret everything, but now I just don't know how to face her. Part of me wants to coincidentally run into her, the other part doesn't.

About two weeks after the fight, I had assumed things were over since she hadn't called me. At the time I was still felt like the anger was simmering. I still didn't know why though. Why was I angry at her asking me to stay with her for a few more hours?

Since I couldn't come up with a solid answer, I just decided to ignore the problem all together. I had been going out with friends and members almost every night, people from the company, one of which was Min-jeong, or Winter.

I could tell she liked me, I didn't really care, I was just looking for the company. I just wanted to get my mind off of things. Plus, I only really ever went out with her in a group.

This leads me to the current situation. Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, and I went out with some other SM staff and artists, her included.

We were all sitting at a restaurant, all quietly talking, when I had turned to Johnny and said something. To this, she grabbed my arm and laughed playfully. Johnny looked at me suspiciously and raised his eyebrow. He had known about my relationship with Y/n and was of the first people I had spoken too after the fight we had. He was the one who told me I freaked out on her because I was the one who was afraid of commitment. I told him he was crazy, that a lack of commitment had nothing to do with the argument, but deep down, I was beginning to think he was right.

When we all got up to leave, I told Winter that I'd see her around which she seemed disappointed to hear. The more time I spent thinking about it, the fight I mean. The dumber I sounded in my head every time I tried to justify my actions. The things I said, the fact that I hadn't even texted her, let alone called to apologize.

So the next morning, the first thing I did was send Y/n a text, simply put: Can we talk?

She didn't respond immediately, so I sat around for a bit, glancing at my phone over and over again. But 10 minutes later I heard my phone go off. I felt my heart rate increase, but as I read her message, I felt it sink.

There's nothing to talk about.

'Nothing to talk about? I don't think so', I thought to myself.

So I texted her back: I just want to see you and apologize. I was a massive dick.

Another 5 minutes went by before she responded: Oh? I see that your new girlfriend has made you a better person, I don't want to talk to you. Leave me ALONE.

To this, I didn't know what to say. What girlfriend? Who told her I had a girlfriend? Did she see me with someone and got the wrong idea?

So texted her back: What are you talking about? I don't have a girlfriend, the only person I'm seeing is you.

All I got in response was: Bullshit.

When I responded back with a, 'I really need to talk to you', the message wouldn't send, signaling that I was blocked.

'Shit', I thought to myself. 'I have to fix this'.

_______________________________________________

{A/N: Hewoooo, so I know I said I'd only be doing two parts, but halfway through writing this, I realized I'd rather make this a 3 or 4 parter. Depends on how I write part 3. Sorry for taking so long to come out with part 2 btw, I've been doing a lot of school work lately and my GPA fell🤧so I'm trying to make it up. If anyone has any tips for that plz let me know lol. Piece of advice; DO NOT TAKE AN INTERCESSION CLASS IF IT'S NOT URGENT LMAO, cuz that's what ruined my grade.

But anyways, I'm having fun with this series, like I said, I think part 3 will be the finale, but I'll see how it goes while writing it. Part 3 could be out the day after this part, or a month later, I'm like CoryXKenshin, you never know when I post lol, the difference is that I write fanfics on Tumblr}

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jung jaehyun #nct johnny #nct angst #jungwoo #doyoung #fanfiction #yes im tagging them bc they're mentioned don't @ me

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