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bakugohoex · 3 years

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hi i love your works <3! i was wondering if you could write a little lighthearted scenario where reader makes an egg omelette for her crush jean (pref post timeskip? is okay if that can't work though), but somehow sasha and connie finds the omelette and eats it when reader steps outside the kitchen, leaving her confused on what to do? sorry, that's a big blog of a sentence! i hope it made sense

“you brats ate it didn’t you”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: aged up, fluff, language

word count: 1600+

a/n: hi thank you so much for the support, hope you liked it and it’s fine it all made sense to me i changed the ending a bit cause i think it fit better but i hope you still like it

summary: in which you make an omelette that jean’s mother had taught you how to make for the boy to confess your love for him, but sasha and connie had other ideas in mind

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Four long years, four long, strenuous years of planning the next move, getting rid of all the titans and having seen the sea multiple times already. Being back in Trost, the sounds of the streets bustling with happiness was new and would never have been expected four years ago. The way people admired the survey corps now, admired the regain of Wall Maria and the faith they had of a better world outside the sea.

“Y/n, dear, have you got everything you need?” Jean’s mother had been helping you find the ingredients you needed for the famous omelette she made for him when he was a kid. You had met his mother previously; she was a lovely woman and in a matter of minutes had known your crush for the boy. Having finally gotten the nerve to confess, his mother being the sweetest woman alive offered her helping hand.

Having shown you how to make it and now you’d have to go back to the Survey Corps kitchens to make it yourself. It was a lot having not ever made anything in your life it was worrying to say the least. “Dear, stop looking so frightened my Jean boy will love it.” You smile at the woman taking a deep breath.

“Thank you Mrs. Kirschtein.” You give the woman a gracious look, she really was the greatest mum, even after how Jean treated her after she visited in the training days. You knew he loved her, he loved lots of things, this omelette hopefully being one of them.

You walked through the gates, going towards the stone building that was housing you for a couple days. Seeing Sasha and Connie fight over some food, you didn't bother to question it, “Y/n, you’re back.” Jean smiled running up to you, his long hair curling at the bottom just reaching above his shoulders.

“Yeah, I got everything I needed; your mother was a great help.” You didn't explain what you had gotten, wanting it to be a surprise for the boy.

“You were with my mother.” Your eyes flashed red at how stupidly you had said it.

Trying to recover your words, “i met her on my way out, she offered the help.” He smiled before trying to peek inside the bag you were holding.

“No peeking.” You slapped his hand away, chuckling at how he pretended to be hurt.

“Oww, what is it? A surprise?” He grinned out.

“Yes, it is.” You stood tall walking to the kitchens that were rarely used. You didn't really even know why they had one, but you didn't question it.

Jean followed trying to find out what it was, “what is it Y/n?” He pouted before trying to put his hand again in the bag.

“Jean.” You scowled grabbing the bag before he could grab it.

“Whoever it’s for must be a lucky man.” He scratched the back of his head before putting his arms on the table leaning against it.

“Who says it’s for a man?” You knitted your eyebrows and crossed your arms, of course it was for a man, more specifically the man in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow staring at you with his light brown eyes, you stared back not knowing what to say. “No woman decides to just spontaneously make a surprise meal for their friend, and you wouldn't make shit for Sasha.”

You had to agree with him there, “it’s a surprise Jean, I can't tell anybody.”

“It isn't for Captain Levi is it?” Your eyes widened at the thought of Levi even tasting your food, you could only imagine the grimace look that would plaster onto his face.

“God no, please Jean I’ll tell you later who it's for?” You really just wanted to make it and get it over and done with, it was a confession, and you were scared you'd mess it up and having the 190cm tall boy hovering over you would most likely not help you in any way.

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered leaving, he had only pestered you as a way to hide how jealous he felt. Was it to Eren, he had seen you talking to him a couple weeks ago, but it couldn't be. Unless it was someone you knew in Trost, worry filled his mind, the love of his life confessing to another guy. He looked down, hands in his pocket as he walked away, whoever the fuck it was, was a lucky man.

The piece of paper with the recipe fell onto the countertop, it was easy enough you didn't know why you had even felt worried when making it was easy, the two eggs going into the pan, the other pan with the filling and your ingredients for the sauce being chopped up, having put the filling into the omelette, the smell of it intoxicated the air. But worst of all it had gotten outside of the kitchens and directly to where Sasha and Connie both were.

“Do you smell that?” Having stopped fighting over the bread and potato, Sasha became rabid sniffing the air as she ran forward, like a woman on a mission. Connie followed, having nothing better to do, “it’s eggs and… potatoes.” She continued sniffing rambling on about the ingredients.

Just as you had finished every component and added them all together, the omelette looked like how Jean’s mothers was. It looked perfect and even smelt perfect as well, if being a part of the Survey corps didn't pan out you knew you’d have something to fall back on, or death. Death having a higher percentage of occurring, you played it up leaving it too cool on the side as you left the dishes on the side to do after you had brought Jean back with you.

Exiting the kitchen, you walked to the opposite direction of where both Sasha and Connie were, they both found the smell, the plate being left unattended. “Dinner is served.” Sasha gleamed, grabbing a fork that you had left on the side.

“Sasha, it could be someone’s...” Connie warned.

Sasha hadn't heard and instead started digging into the food, Connie reluctantly trying some as well. If it smelt nice it had to taste nice, and God did it taste perfect, like heaven for their mouths.

Whilst this was all occurring, you saw Jean with Eren, an unusual sight but then again, they both were somewhat friends. Jean noticed you coming up to him, but a fear erupted, were you actually here for Eren instead? “Jean.” You smiled at the boy, you had put a little note underneath the plate so once he finished you could grab the plate and leave him to read it. It was trivial but you were too scared to say it out loud.

Jean was waiting for the can i speak to Eren alone, but it never came instead you put your hand out. “Come with me.” He complied, grabbing your hand, your soft warm fingers interlaced with his own, even though the confidence of holding his hand you were scared shitless at the thought of rejection.

“You're going to tell me who it’s for now.” He chuckled through having been dragged the whole way, just as you entered the kitchen, shock filled your eyes and Jean looked between you and the scene.

The empty plate with Sasha and Connie putting their forks down, “you brats ate it didn’t you?” You seethed out letting go of Jean’s hand, they had ruined the surprise and all you could do was stay in shock.

“I’m so sorry, I told Sasha not to…” Connie trailed off seeing anger come from you.

Jean saw the dishes and had an idea for them to make it up to you, “because you two ate it, you both can clean up.” Connie obliged not wanting to get hurt by you and Sasha was in a partial food coma at how much she’d eaten.

“Y/n, it was fucking amazing.” She chuckled following Connie to the dishes.

Jean went over to the plate, “don’t forget this.” Just as he lifted the plate up to pass it, you remembered the note hiding underneath, his name written right on top of it. Your eyes widened but it was too late to say anything, Jean had grabbed it and had flipped it over.

It was for you, I fell in love with you, I’m still falling in love with you

The three lines melted his heart, he watched how your eyes began to become saddened from his silent expression. He went to speak but you didn't dare look at him, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.”

Jean went over stuffing the note in his pocket before taking you away from Sasha and Connie, “you love me?”

“Don’t mock me Jean, just reject me if you…” Before you could finish your sentence, his grip of his hands moved to your face, grabbing it and your hair, your lips collided together in an instant. You could feel his teeth against your own, his tongue moving along with your own. Your own hands had moved to his locks of hair, feeling it entangle through your fingers, you were actually doing it. You were kissing Jean Kirschtein, your love, your happiness, your home. He heard your soft moan through the kiss making his heart go wild, your confession had been a surprise, always believing his love for you to be unrequited but here you were in his arms.

Finally letting go to breathe, his hands still brushing your hair out and cheek away, he went down to your ear, soft kisses against your jaw before speaking the four words that melted you, “I love you, too.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

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favefandomimagines · 4 years

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Soul Surfer (j.m.)

Summary: JJ’s surfing idol moves to town and that happens to include his daughter.

AN: here it is!!!! i’m posting it early in celebration of hitting 900 followers! there are 900+ of you who are reading my stuff like that’s insane to me!!

Part 2 of soul surfer will be up hopefully by Tuesday! Wednesday at the latest!

Tag list: @outerbxmalia @hockeyschmockey @allie-mcginn @prejudic3 @sexualparkour @k-k0129 @iamaunicorn4704 @milamaybank @jj-maybabe @divcrdown @sweetwatermelonsugar @alexa-playafricabytoto @aaleksmorozova @fandom-phaser @lulbabes @princessmugglecup @infinityspacesuniverse @teamnick @frankiebcanon @srirachabi @starxdame @holadrxrry @drizzlethatfalls

JJ, Pope and John B were on their way to The Wreck to annoy Kie at work. It was customary, almost traditional, to stop by the restaurant to bother their friend while she was working.

When John B parked in front, they noticed a similar van next to theirs with Hawaii license plates, that read ‘HANG LOOSE.’ JJ also couldn’t help but admire the two surfboards strapped to the roof.

“Who in their right mind would want to leave Hawaii for the Outer Banks?” Pope asked. “I don’t know but whoever it is must be a killer surfer. Look at these boards, they’re the best money can get right now.” JJ added.

“Don’t get any ideas, J.” John B said, pulling his friend along. “What? I wasn’t going to steal them.” JJ rebutted.

The three teenage boys walked into the building and looked around for Kie. “Guys!” Kie practically yelled, appearing behind them. “You will never believe who’s here right now.” She added.

“Who?” John B asked. But before Kie could answer his question, JJ grabbed ahold of him. “Holy shit. That’s Rob Elliot. He’s a surf legend. I’ve been watching him since I was 10.” He exclaimed, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “No way. What is he doing here?” Pope asked. “That must be who’s van we saw outside.” John B said.

The four friends watched the famous surfer when JJ saw the girl sitting next to the man. The brunette girl, with blue eyes who radiated everything he found perfect. He was probably being creepy but he couldn’t find himself being able to look away from her. Especially when her father said something to make her laugh. Seeing her smile did something to JJ he couldn’t really explain.

And he didn’t go unnoticed by her. Her eyes went to him the second he stepped through the door. Though she was more subtle about her ‘observing’ than he was. She wanted to know who he was. It was like a weird pull that told her ‘this is a boy you need to know.’ It was strange to say the least. She had just moved here and already she was forming a crush on someone she hasn’t said a word to.

Violet wasn't so keen on moving from Hawaii, her safe place, to an island town in North Carolina. But her father wanted a change of venue now that he was retired from surfing. The town of Outer Banks lives off of tourism and he figured he could start a pretty successful surfboard business that would bring in plenty enough money to pay the bills.

Though JJ was following John B and Pope towards a table, his eyes remained fixated on the brunette. “If you stare long enough she’s going to have to get a restraining order.” Pope commented. The blonde rolled his eyes before he looked back at Violet, when he noticed she was already staring in his direction.

He immediately tried to act normal as he searched the menu and just tried to save himself from embarrassment.

“Go talk to them. You need to start making friends.” Rob said, motioning towards the three boys. “Dad, we literally just got here. And I can’t just go up and talk to them, they’ll think I’m weird.” Violet said.

“Hi, welcome to The Wreck! I’m Kiara and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but those three imbeciles are my friends. If you want I could introduce you! I know it can be hard to make friends sometimes.” Kiara offered.

Rob nudged his daughter’s arm, telling her to take the girl up on her offer. “Hi, I'm Violet and yeah! That would be great, thank you so much!” Violet replied. “Go. I’ll see you back at the house.” Rob said.

Violet smiled at him before standing up from the table and following Kiara to her friends.

“Oh my god, she’s coming over here. Wh-What do I do? What do I say?” JJ asked, panic setting in. “Dude, just be yourself. Since when have you had trouble talking to girls?” Pope said. “Hey guys this is Violet.” Kiara said.

Violet smiled sweetly at them as JJ tried to avoid her gaze. Not because he wasn’t being friendly but because he knew that if he looked at her, she’d see the redness in his cheeks.

“Hey, Violet. I’m John B. This is Pope and the weirdo right there is JJ.” John B said. “It’s nice to meet you guys.” She replied. “Here, sit down.” Pope offered. Violet sat down in the chair in between John B and JJ, Kiara taking the one across from her.

The five teens fell into a natural conversation, them asking why Violet moved here and her asking what living there was like. She soon learned about the different sides of the island, The Cut and Figure 8. Violet was advised to stay away from that side of the island because the Kooks weren’t so friendly to those who hung around with Pogues.

Violet was beginning to feel at home with the Pogues, causing her confidence to grow and her shyness to disappear.

“Do you guys wanna go surf? I heard that the waves were pretty good around this time of day.” Violet suggested. JJ swore he could feel his heart start speeding up immensely. “I wish but I have to get to work.” Pope said. “And I still have my shift here. But give me your number and we can hang out tomorrow!” Kiara added. “I know JJ is free.” John B spoke up.

JJ kicked his friend from under the table, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the others.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I could surf.” He stammered. “Great! I’m sure I can talk my dad into letting us borrow a couple boards if you don’t mind.” Violet said. “I would never mind using a board like that.” JJ replied with a small laugh. “Awesome! You can show me the best spots.” Violet told him.

Pope and Kiara retreated to work while John B left Violet and JJ alone. “My house isn’t far from here, we can walk there, get the boards and head to the beach.” She told him.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe I’m talking to you right now. Your dad is my hero.” JJ said, not being able to keep his thoughts to himself. “Really? You must be pretty good then.” Violet replied, her arm brushing against his. “Well, I don’t wanna brag, but John B and I are the best surfers on the island.” He told her.

The brunette gave him a smirk as they both walked up the porch of her house. “For now. Until I get there out there.” She said.

JJ felt like he was in a cartoon where Buggs Bunny’s heart burst out of his chest and his eyes were bulging out of his head.

“Dad! Can I borrow a couple boards?” Violet called, entering the house. “Take the ones on the van!” Rob called back, meeting his daughter in the entryway. “Who’s this?” He asked. “Oh, dad, this is JJ. I met him this morning at The Wreck.” Violet explained.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been watching you compete since I was a kid.” JJ said. “Well thank you, JJ. I take it you surf as well.” Rob said with a smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” JJ answered. “We’re gonna go surf for a bit.” Violet added. “You’ll have to tell me how good the waves are when you get back.” Rob said. “Take the van too. I’m doing some work around the house, I won’t need it.” He added.

Violet smiled sweetly up at her dad as she grabbed the keys off the table near the door. “Thanks, dad.” She said, grabbing JJ’s wrist and pulling back out the door. “See you later!” She called.

JJ felt as if his wrist was burning at the feeling of Violet touching him. Not in a bad way but just at the sheer action of her hand on his wrist.

He was knocked out of his daze by seeing keys flying in his direction. “You’re driving.” Violet told him. “Wait, you want me to drive?” He asked. “You know this island better than I do. Who better to give me the full tour?” She replied.

JJ smirked back at her before getting in the driverseat and her getting in the passenger seat.

After the two had been driving for a couple of minutes, Violet spoke up. “So, tell me about these so-called Kooks.” She started. Violet could see the look of distaste that JJ made as soon as she mentioned the words ‘Kooks.’

“They’re the rich kids on Figure 8. They hate us Pogues because we actually have to work to make a living. They’d like you though. You’re well off, your dad is a professional athlete, you’re really hot,” JJ started. Violet felt her face heat up when she heard JJ call her hot.

“But stay away from Rafe Cameron and Topper. They’re the worst of the worst.” He finished. “You think I’m hot?” Violet teased. “What? I-I, uh, did I say that outloud?” JJ questioned, looking over at her seeing the smile that graced her face. “Yeah, yeah you did.” She answered. “Well, this just got incredibly awkward.” JJ muttered. “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” Violet laughed.

JJ scoffed with a smile before returning his gaze back to the road. Both JJ and Violet couldn’t avoid the feeling of just how natural their conversation was. It was like they’ve known each other for years. She didn’t take his sarcastic remarks to heart and she dished them right back. He thought she was funny and Violet thought JJ was a breath of fresh air.

He wasn’t like the boys she’d known back home and for that she was grateful.

They pulled up to the beach and JJ could see the excitement radiating off of Violet as she hopped out of the vehicle.

He thought he should help the girl get the two surfboards off the top of the van but by the time he got out of the car, Violet had already gotten one down. “Damn, you’re full of surprises aren’t you?” He commented. “Oh you have no idea.” Violet said, sending him a wink.

JJ swallowed the lump in his throat, all of his confidence going totally out the window. Violet grabbed her board and took off the clothes that were over her swimsuit and started walking towards the beach. JJ on the other hand was stuck in his daydream.

“Are you coming?” Violet asked him. JJ cleared his throat before taking his shirt off and grabbing the extra board.

They both go into the water and paddled out to get the good waves, sitting on their boards waiting for a good swell to come.

The blonde looked over at the brunette girl, the water making her skin glisten under the sun and how the sun made her blue eyes stand out against her tan skin. He kept checking her out when he noticed a scar on her right thigh.

“Where’d you get that?” He asked her. Violet looked from him down to the scar he was gesturing to. “Oh, I got stung by a jellyfish when I was 12. Nothing too exciting.” Violet answered. “Getting stung by a jellyfish isn’t exciting?” JJ asked with a small laugh. “Not when you live in Hawaii.” The girl replied.

Violet broke the long session of eye contact when she felt like a good wave was coming. The two made a mental competition to see who could catch the wave first.

JJ thought he had it in the bag, he was used to the waves on the island but he was pleasantly surprised when Violet stood up on her board and flawlessly caught the wave.

The blonde watched in awe at how easily and smoothly Violet surfed the wave and he then felt something towards her that scared him. He was starting to like a girl he had just met hours before.

When Violet paddled back out to him, she noticed how his jaw was practically touching the board when he looked at her. “What?” Violet questioned. “That was amazing.” He said. “Thanks.” Violet replied, running a hand through her wet hair.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d replace me as the best surfer here.” JJ commented. “Maybe we can share the title.” Violet smiled at him.

JJ nodded his head, his smile matching hers. He quickly noticed that he’s been doing that a lot since getting to know Violet.

—

Violet and JJ had spent the entire day in the water, surfing, talking and just enjoying each other’s company.

“Hey, do you wanna come to a party at the Boneyard tonight? If you’re gonna be a Pogue this is your initiation.” JJ asked, as he helped her put the boards back on the van.

“If I go, will I officially be a Pogue?” Violet asked. “I’ve known you a total of 8 hours and I can already tell you’re Pogue material.” JJ answered.

Violet leaned against the car and looked up at him. “Then count me in.” She said.

“Really? Then I’ll pick you up at 8.” JJ replied.

“It’s a date.” Violet said casually as John B pulled up. “JJ! We gotta go get the keg!” He called out the window.

JJ was internally cursing out John B while Violet stifled a laugh. “I’ll see you tonight, Violet.” He told you. “I’m looking forwad to it.” She said.

Violet watched JJ for a moment as he was walking to John B’s car before getting in her own.

“How’d it go?” John B asked the blonde when he got in the car. “Dude, she’s amazing. Like, she’s funny, smart, she can surf like I’ve never seen and she’s hot as hell!” JJ replied.

“Well, Kie already likes her. Apparently they’ve been texting every time you two weren’t in the water.” John B. “God, JB, she’s perfect. I can’t mess this up.” JJ said. “Then Sarah and I will keep the tourons away from you all night so you won’t mess it up.” John J told his friend.

Violet arrived back at her house, a goofy smile attached to her face.

“How were the waves?” Rob asked his daughter. “Not as good as North Shore but they’ll do.” Violet answered. “Looks like the waves weren’t the only thing that made you happy.” Her dad commented.

Violet tucked her hair behind her ear as she put the surfboards away.

“Do you like JJ?” Rob asked. “Dad, I just met him. It’s too soon to say.” Violet told him. “Well, he seems like a good kid.” He said before walking back inside.

Violet was then alone with her thoughts until her phone dinged.

Maybe: JJ: hey, it’s JJ. Kie gave me your number, if that’s okay. anyways, i had fun today. i’ll see you tonight (:

Violet smiled at her phone screen before retreating inside.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #rafe cameron #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow #drew starkey

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supportivespaceforsurvivors · 3 years

Text

An explanation of recent events

Hi all. I am posting a timeline of the recent events that have ended up with me inviting some of the mods I trust from @advicetotraumasurvivors to this blog. It is incomplete; as of this posting (4pm CST, August 23, 2021), nobody has admitted any wrongdoing, but I know a lot of you aren't really sure what happened at all. I apologize in advance for the verb tense shift midway through. I unfortunately don't have the spoons to edit it.

Hayden does not plan to stay with the blog. Olive plans to stay at least for now. I will likely stay. I'm not sure about Henrie or Berry at the moment. Those are the only mods that currently have access to this blog. (Edit from Mod Henrie: I’ll be staying.)

The timeline will be under the cut as it is fairly long. All times are in Central Standard Time.

Around 5:30pm CST last night, April messaged the Discord telling us she was leaving the blog. She left both the Discord and the blog shortly thereafter. We got some anons asking about why she'd left and I directed those towards her @traumasurvivors blog because I didn't feel comfortable trying to speak for her, One of them felt my answers was dismissive. That anon ended up being a mod in the Discord who was triggered by my tone. We received more asks from them, one passive-aggressive and one outright guilt-trippy.

At 7:30pm CST Henrie made an announcement that everyone who participates in the blog is a volunteer. Several mods offered in the Discord to mediate since the mod who was upset didn't feel comfortable addressing the issue with me directly.

Around 9:00pm CST we started getting some positive messages to the blog. I started to think maybe the situation had blown over. I tried to answer one of the positive anons. Tumblr gave me an error code.

We discovered the upset mod had deleted all of our inbox messages.

At 9:30pm CST Berry noticed posts were disappearing from our blog. I had noticed some weren't showing up for me, but because Tumblr is a Hellsite I figured they were there and it was just a glitch. Even the pinned post got deleted.

I panicked and asked what if the Carrd got deleted. Unfortunately, whoever the mod was, saw that and changed the email and password to the Carrd.

At 9:36pm I started adding Henrie, Hayden, Berry, and Olive to this side blog. This ended up taking several hours because we were all disoriented and triggered pretty badly by then.

At 9:45 pm I noticed they deleted my mod tag. We kept trying to encourage them to stop. Henrie reblogged all the asks that were still there to their personal in case they got deleted.

At 9:55pm I left the server and asked Berry to invite me to the new one they said they'd make so the handful of us could discuss the situation while feeling a bit more safe. There's a gap of about 20 minutes in the timeline here but I'm not sure anything super important happened during it.

Olive rescues most of the info from the Carrd by 10:21pm. April offers to transcribe the pinned post that I managed to screenshot on my phone.

Hayden makes a post around this time saying we've moved URLs. The upset mod deletes it.

I ask April if she will write down the URLs of all of our followers on advicetotraumasurvivors and send asks to them one by one to let them know what's going on. An extremely inefficient method, but at this point I'm at a loss. Henrie starts sending the asks to our followers. April finishes transcribing the pinned post at about 10:30.

At this point I have taken my sleep med and am losing reading comprehension rapidly. I say I'm going to bed but end up not sleeping until something like 4am.

At 10:31 Olive discovers that the upset mod has password-protected the blog. Henrie copy pastes the only ask in the inbox. It came in after the others were deleted.

At 11pm Olive announces she has a download/export of the blog in progress to hopefully preserve some of the posts and information on it. I ask April to boost the new URL. Henrie asks Tumblr's customer service system about uploading the file to the new blog.

At 11:10 Berry notices the queue is being messed with. Several mods go back and forth with the saboteur mod changing how often the queue posts. I suggest that we reblog ask games to the new blog so people can get to know us better once this all dies down.

At 11:21 Hayden announces the blog title has been changed to DON'T TALK TO US. A few minutes later Olive says some extremely tasteless tags are being added to queued posts, including the r slur and the n word. We won't go to any more detail about any of the other things that were said because they were extremely triggering, but we are deeply sorry to any followers (and mods) that may have seen those tags.

11: 38pm: Henrie makes posts on both blogs saying it's not us typing these awful things and to block advicetotraumasurvivors.

11:40pm: We decide to delete all the posts on the blog and the whole queue. April starts mass deleting.

11:53pm: I screenshot all the asks in the drafts. We delete all the drafts. The upset mod continues to change the blog title to triggering and inflammatory things.

1am today (Monday): Henrie asks if it's okay to announce to the original server that we moved discords and blogs. I ask if we can avoid adding people to the new discord until we know who the mod is that's upset. We eventually agree to hold off on adding people into the new discord.

2:44am: April gets an anon apologizing for their poor/inflammatory actions on her traumasurvivors blog and posts a response separate from the ask. We wait, hoping that the anon will message April.

3am: We get a similar apology on the new blog. It gets screenshotted and sent the new Discord so everyone can see it. I delete the ask from the inbox with everyone's permission because it feels very guilt trippy to me.

3:23 April gets more anons blaming her for the situation spiraling out of control, presumably from the upset mod.

12:22pm: April has more anons when we all wake up. All of us in the new server agree that we're tired and just want the situation resolved. No one comes forward.

Edit from mod Henrie: This is a timeline of all of the “major events”, but it doesn’t convey how frantic we all were. We were all feverishly working on deleting triggering tags/deleting posts/trying to find out who was doing this/etc. in between each of these times. It was chaotic and messy and incredibly exhausting for everyone involved.

#ssfs.txt

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rainbowsky · 3 years

Text

More on the Fan Fic issue

I have a few more asks about the issue raised the other day, some of which are long and go into detail on the 'wars' that have been happening on Twitter and AO3.

Sorry for grouping these but I wanted to put it all under a cut because these are long, and also in case people don't want to dig into these issues (which would be understandable).

Anonymous 1 asked:

"I am very strongly of the opinion that the BJYX term is still a fandom umbrella term" I agree. Mainly because Bjyx is the most popular. Many antis always say bjyx, and have no idea the others. So sometimes it's easier just to say bjyx instead of explaining all three. I myself more like "who cares as long as they happy." So I enjoy Yizhan in all contexts. Many bxgs I know also like that, mostly ibxgs. I think deep down all bxgs (no matter which position they prefer) just want Yizhan to be happy

Not sure we can be so certain about that last part, Anon (I think for a lot of people GG and DD are just characters in a smutty story they have in their heads), but I agree about the term being popular regardless of the type of fans people are.

From what I can see the BJYX term seems to be used 80-90% umbrella, 10-20% dynamic in both international and c-social media (for every 10 times you see the term used, only one or two of those usages - probably less - are referring to a dynamic). This is my totally unscientific estimation, but I think even 10-20% dynamic is being generous. The number of people who are fixated on a sexual dynamic aren't nearly as large as they'd like to believe.

Anonymous 2 asked:

about the promptfests - i’ve been on twitter since early 2020 and what i’ve noticed is that this influx bjyx-only promptfests started gaining speed once lots of rational voices started leaving the fandom recently either because a) new interests have caught their attention or b) the toxicity of the popular bxg circles on twitter have become too much to handle.

gdgdbaby was usually the organizer of dynamic-inclusive events, and she’s received lots, and lots, and lots of backlash by bxg, sometimes even by accounts with thousands followers, for using bjyx as a catch-all term. and as her interest in yizhan has since waned—hopefully for reasons unrelated to fandom toxicity—many of the people who were attracted to the welcoming environment she created distanced themselves as well.

zsww/lsfy fans have become an outnumbered circle who try their best to create exclusive events to avoid the “is bjyx a catch-all term” discourse, but never seem to gain as much traction as gdgdbaby (who has a sizeable following) or those who host bjyx-only events (who also have sizeable followings).

meanwhile the dynamic war has only become more and more hostile and bjyx is clearly the more populated group… ao3 is simply a battlegrounds, if i may dramatize the situation a little for the sake of humor, and the promptfests are a reaction to this irritating t/b discourse that has made bxg twitter completely inhospitable for me…and lots of other fans too.

(i’ve also noticed a huge reinforcement as of recently where ppl will call gg laopo, a milf, an omega, etc even outside of rpf (i.e. posting pictures of him at events and saying he looks pregnant or he’s going into heat) and it’s just… uncomfortable.)

(also please note i have a biased account of all of this drama bc many of my friends were harassed over it, and anyone who disagrees with my take may feel free to interject.)

I took the liberty of adding paragraph breaks because they are pretty important for some readers, particularly ND readers like me.

It's sad to hear how fucked up everything has become, but I'm not even remotely surprised. Toxicity leads to toxicity, and the whole idea of dividing up a RP fandom by sex position was misguided from the outset - no matter why it was done or how good the intentions might have been.

And yes, like I said, these people aren't just framing things this way for fan fic. This is how they talk about IRL GGDD.

I had written a lengthy essay here about homophobia in the fandom but deleted it all. Perhaps I'll post it separately at some later point. Suffice it to say that this stuff creates a climate that's often hostile for queer people. So much of it is deeply homophobic, whether people are aware of it or not.

It's really sad to hear about gdgdbaby being mistreated in any way. Anyone who steps up and sticks their neck out to help organize and coordinate activities that benefit a broader group of people should be celebrated and supported, not run out of town by an angry mob.

I've read some of her stories and even have one or two on my rec list. And here's someone who is not only writing good works, but also supporting others to write more good works. Such a shame.

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hello Mr. RBS! I think I can chime in a bit about the fanfic topic as I’ve watched this all unravel on twitter (where a majority of authors/readers are). I apologize if this gets long but it’s been something that’s also been on my mind.

I want to preface this by saying that I’m not a fan of the distinctions of dynamics as, like you said, the supposed line between real life and fanfic is long gone, so I’m not trying to be biased against one group over another.

Short answer to the question of, “is this retaliation?” : I do believe it is. (From here onwards I’ll be using bjyx as the dynamic term just for the ease of simplicity.) To understand why, I’ll have to explain with a bit of background info. On twitter, I’d say that there’s a quite large divide between bjyx and zsww/lsfy. That itself isn’t really a problem because people are free to like what they like and associate with whoever.

However there is a big problem where bjyx people are not just bjyx but also anti-zsww/lsfy. To the point where I’ve seen people say that they feel physically ill when they accidentally read zsww. I don’t think this type of behavior should exist in any dynamic bc in the end GGDD are real people with a real relationship behind this content and it’s just a gross fetishization at that point.

With all this happening, zsww/lsfy people have gotten more outspoken on how GG is often portrayed in those types of scenarios, mainly the over-feminization of him, bc it’s not just done in the context of fanfic but regular discussion of GGDD at this point. This tension between the dynamics kind of boiled over when the pregnant xz fest was announced, as you can take a guess at how that went over with zsww/lsfy people. lol.

But around that same time, another zsww/lsfy event was announced (I’m not sure if it’s the one anon was talking about) but the creator of the event suddenly got a ton of backlash for excluding bjyx, with the reasoning that bjyx is technically a part of lsfy. But the event was done to highlight zsww/lsfy (as all specific events are) bc the community and content for these dynamics are much less than bjyx.

Which is how we come back to the starting point of, is all this recent bjyx stuff retaliatory. I believe so bc the events (preg fest, dark event) are very specific prompts that target exactly what zsww/lsfy people have been outspoken against.

As to the point anon made about trying to drown out the tags, keep in mind that zsww/lsfy content is very minimal compared to bjyx and has only just recently started to gain more traction. I think most people would love to just peacefully exist in their own circles but I don’t see this problem between dynamics disappearing anytime soon.

Like I said with the above Anon, I've added paragraph breaks for ND readers.

What a mess.

I have absolutely nothing useful to say here about the fandom on AO3 and how it's managed by community members, but I do think it's unfortunate that people choose to be war-like rather than make space for diverse voices, and I think it's a real shame that some people have been essentially run out of the fandom because of this garbage.

Thanks for giving some context for how/why the major shift in tone of fan fic lately. I had no idea any of this was going on.

I urge people to work hard to give space for all voices and perspectives, and not just the ones they favor. I'd also urge people to reflect on how their thoughts, behavior and actions in the fandom might affect queer people in the fandom.

As always, we have no control over what other people do, say or think. All we have any control over is how we respond to what other people do, say or think. Hopefully we'll chose the path of peace and try to avoid fan wars or fights that only ruin the experience for everyone.

I guess one thing I'd ask any of the Anons who have written me about this issue - or anyone who has thoughts about it - is, what can we as readers/fans who care about diversity of voices and perspectives do to support that here and on AO3, without getting involved in any kind of war?

#fan fiction #fandom reflections #top bottom #ask

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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years

Text

Do Your Worst

A/N: This is literally 8,640 words of self indulgent smut. Just want the Winter Soldier to beat the shit outta me, ya know? As far as tagging I just tagged whoever liked the post I made about finishing this chapter, if I missed you or you want added/removed just let me know!❤️

Warnings: Violence, bloodplay if you squint, knifeplay if you squint, choking, hitting, degredation, rough sex, violent sex, name calling, I think that's all of them??

Summary: Your purpose is to fight, to be used as a weapon. During a training session at the Red Room facility, you come face to face with the ominous man they call "The Weapon." Unexpected tension is developed during your match, that is later unleashed when you learn what the Winter Soldier's true mission is... To train you to be a weapon just like him.

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You kneel on all fours, your own blood and sweat dripping onto the floor in front of you. You don't even know where all the blood is coming from at this point. This fight has been going on for who knows how long. Your muscles scream and you feel your bones are begging you to surrender. You take in a deep shuddering breath when you see your opponent's large black boots shuffle out of your peripheral vision. You jump to your feet with all the coordination of a drunken grizzly. You glance quickly at the other girls watching your match, all of their faces blank while they observe you getting your ass handed to you. They sit in a sea of grey uniforms, everyone's hair all braided back the same way. The room you're in is set up like a small gymnasium, seats set up in rows on the sides with a large sparring area in the center. The design makes it easy for everyone in the room to see every detail of your pathetic attempt to fight off your enemy.

This is your first fight with the man they call "The Weapon" and he's kicking your ass. In your many years at the Red Room training facility, you've fought plenty of men and women here, beating most of them rather quickly. You were sent here very young after your incredible ability to heal rapidly was discovered. Basically, you're really good at taking a beating, making you nearly impossible to best in combat. You don't remember your life before your time here, not even your own parents. Your purpose is to fight, so that's all you remember doing. That's what brings you here, fighting the Winter Soldier.

You look back to him to see he's already coming at you again. A blur of black and silver, the only distinguishable feature are his furious blue eyes that peak out above a black mouth covering. You scan his body, looking for any sign of weakness, willing there to be one with every cell in your body. His stance is too wide, he's stalking towards you now as if he's almost frustrated. Your body reacts to the opening before your mind tells it to. Once he's about two feet from you, you launch forward into a somersault. Your torso lands between his legs, you quickly let your legs fly up, hooking the backs of your knees around the tops of his thighs. Using every ounce of strength you have left you push your torso off the ground to bring him slamming down with a thunderous thump.

You press your hips into his, then you throw your torso forward so you can straddle him. His left hand comes up to grasp your throat and your chest seizes up with fear. Your hands fly to his wrist, gripping the cold metal as if it will somehow get him to release. This is why they call him "The Weapon". His left arm is made entirely of metal, built exactly like a regular human arm, but it possesses superhuman strength and dexterity. The metal plates pinch the skin of your throat, causing you to panic slightly. No, you can't fucking panic, that's what they're watching for.

Your right hand flies to your thigh, quickly unclipping your knife from it's holster. He's too focused on squeezing the life out of you to notice your actions. Just as you start to see white stars dance in your vision you bring the knife to his throat. His grip on you loosens slightly, anger dancing in his piercing eyes. You see his right hand move to grab the knife, but you bring your foot up to trap his wrist under your boot, thankful for your flexibility. You press the blade against his throat.

"Yield." You choke out.

His eyes go wild, pieces of unkempt brown hair falling over his forehead and shoulders, adding to his feral appearance. His metal hand tightens around your throat again, he's challenging you. You sneer at him then apply more pressure with your knife, seeing his skin split slightly, a small trickle of blood seeps out onto your blade. Unfortunately, he seems completely unbothered by the action. There's no victory from this position, you have to find another way. You hike your right foot up then plant it on his chest, earning a deep grunt from him. You throw your body over his, freeing yourself from his grip, keeping your knife on his throat the whole time.

You quickly throw your legs over his shoulders so you can straddle his chest this time, your feet hook into his armpits as your knees cage his head. You flip your knife in your hand to bring the point down against his jugular. His hands fly to your thighs as you use them to grip the sides of his throat. His fingers dig into your skin, the pain of his fingertips bruising you only fuels you now. You feel his flesh hand leave your thigh, you read him like a book and beat him to his next move. Your free hand flies back and rips his own knife away from it's home on his thigh. You bring the knife up and throw it into the wall across from you, it sinks into the wood with a satisfying sound.

With a roar he uses his metal arm to push off the mat, flipping you both over so your back is pressed against the ground. He has your right leg hooked over his shoulder, metal hand around your throat again. You have somehow managed to keep your knife against his throat, holding onto it like it's your lifeline. You try to move your left leg to kick, then realize he's got you pinned. His hips are pressing harshly between your legs, in another context the position would look positively erotic. You hate yourself for the way the heat spreads through your body when he presses into you further. He only makes it worse by bringing his right arm up to yank your braids from the roots. You let out a cry, cursing yourself for how wantan the noise sounds. You look into his eyes, letting your knife push into his throat further.

You're both trembling with rage, furious with each other for not yielding. There's blood slowly pulsing out of his throat while your vision goes blurry, but neither of you are willing to admit defeat. A drop of blood falls from the handle of your knife to land on your lips. His eyes snap to your mouth, suddenly transfixed. That's it. That's the weakness you've been waiting for. You lick your lips slowly, welcoming the metallic taste. His eyebrows pinch together and he lets out a trembling breath, his eyes snap back to yours then and you feel something pulse against your center.

"Horny bastard." You whisper, so quiet only he can hear it.

His eyebrows furrow and his eyes light up with blind rage. His metal hand squeezes around your throat with malice, causing you to gasp and sputter. This is your window, don't fuck it up. His torso presses against the leg he has hooked on his shoulder, bringing the top of your thigh flush against your chest.

Perfect.

You bring your other leg up, plant your foot on the ground and kick off. With him practically laying on top of you, he isn't well grounded enough to fight off the leverage you have. You use the leg on his shoulder to twist his torso so that his back is pressed against the mat once again. You quickly scramble up his body and twist yourself rapidly, then throw your legs over his shoulders to trap his head between your thighs again. The back of his head is pressed hard against your core, you ignore the friction and the proximity of his mouth to your inner thighs. He's the horny bastard, not you. You suck air into your lungs, desperate for the oxygen to fill you again. Your legs are pressed against his torso, pinning him against the ground. If he rolls he'll only smother himself against the ground, and in the position he can't gain enough leverage to lift you off the ground.

You sit up, letting your thighs squeeze his throat even more, his silvery eyes are strained as he looks up at you. His hands are gripping at your thighs again, you feel his metal fingertips break your skin, but you pay no mind. You just bring your knife up to his face, in one swift movement you cut off his mask, exposing a pair of full lips and a sharp jaw line. You're shocked by how handsome he is, but you quickly shove the thought out of your mind. This is no time for any sort of admiration. You flip you knife around then bring the tip up to the soft spot under his chin, letting it puncture the skin slightly.

"Yield." You repeat harshly, voice hoarse from all the choking.

He glares at you with hate and disdain, obviously desperate to end your life. That's the one thing he can't do though. During these spars you are given one rule, you are not to kill your opponent. You can beat them within an inch of their life, but you cannot take it.

His flesh hand loosens on your thigh, and then he gives you three harsh pats. Signifying that he has admitted defeat. Neither of you moves an inch, eyes still locked. You're trapped by adrenaline and the carnal need to survive, both full of feral bloodlust. Your body will not release his until an instructor tells you to do so. You're both locked in place by each other, bodies trembling, covered in each other's and your own blood and sweat. His face settles back into his usual blank stare, but his eyes are clouded slightly, lips still quivering. For a moment he looks like he did when his blood trickled from his throat to your mouth, he looks starved, desperate, animalistic.

Sickening attraction shoots through your veins. Images of his hard body working against yours fill your mind, you can't help but wonder how brutal he would be in the bedroom. His body is designed to destroy others, you're filled with a dark and shameful desire to let him destroy your body however he pleases. It's just the adrenaline, that's the only reason your core pulses when you see that look in his eyes. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

"Release." A woman's harsh voice echoes behind you.

Slowly, like two machines being turned off, your bodies loosen their holds on each other. He slides out from between your thighs, using his hands to push you off like you're some hideous garment he can't wait to rid himself of. You slowly stand up, every part of your body crying out in pain as you do. You place your knife back in its holster. Despite the burn in your shoulders, you bring your hands back to hold each other behind your back, then turn stiffly to face your instructor.

She's a terrifying old woman, muscular and rigid. She keeps her silver hair in an immaculate bun. Her wrinkled face always pulled taught in a harsh grimace. She always looks like she's ready to sentence someone to death, which for all you know, might be true. She sits in her chair with one long leg crossed over the other, she's seated at a solitary stool that's placed in front of the rows of other girls. You don't know her name, and you never will. You have been instructed to refer to her as "Madame Widow".

"Ready for assessment, Madame Widow." You say, trying to keep your damaged voice as monotone as possible.

"And you, Soldier?" She asks your opponent pointedly.

He's standing beside you, a rigid mountain imposing fear on every young woman in the room. Every young woman except you, that is. You got him to yield. You push the pride deep down, it's not an emotion you're permitted to feel.

"Ready for assessment." He states. He doesn't need to refer to her as Madame Widow, since he's not a pupil of hers. He's simply a weapon used to make you and every girl here a formidable opponent for any enemy.

"Soldier, you were strong at the beginning." She starts, you feel his energy shift at her words. Shoulders drawing up as he takes a deep, tense breath.

"You had me convinced it would be a quick and easy victory. You had an opportunity to strangle her within the first thirty seconds but you missed it. This gave her all the information she needed about your fighting style." She glances down at her notepad, her stiletto shaped nails thrum against the paper.

"Then of course, you had her pinned, but you were… distracted." Her voice is dripping condescension.

Your heart falls to the floor, she knew. Of course she knew, it's her job to know. You quickly settle yourself. She will see it as a victory on your part, a weakness is a weakness. You have even been taught that as a woman, when you face a male opponent, their greatest weakness will always be their physical desire for you. You had harnessed that in the fight and used it to acquire a victory.

"Your distraction cost you the match, Soldier. Naturally, she spotted your desire for her immediately and used it to gain the leverage she needed to get you to admit defeat." She says, her tone cold and calculating.

You hear the metal plates of his arm scrape together and assume his balling up his hand into a fist. You don't dare look over, you're not allowed to look away from your instructor when she's addressing you. You want to see him though, you want to see the blood painting his thick neck where your knife pierced his skin, you want to see him ripping you apart with his eyes in all of their animalistic rage. The thought makes your chest burn with a dreadful desire, a desire that you know you have to kill.

"You." She says harshly. She angles her head back slightly so she can look down her nose at you.

"At the start, your fighting was pitiful. You were flustered, panicked, and emotional. You must never show that to an opponent, no matter how outmatched you may be." She chastises you, disgust evident in her voice.

"However, despite your haphazard style, you were terribly clever. Even when you were losing consciousness you kept your wits about you. You used leverage instead of strength to make your opponent submit more than once. Your ability to manipulate his desire for you was exemplary, and should be incorporated into your sparring more often." She closes her notepad with a harsh snap, straightens her jacket as she stands up with impeccable posture then strides to the front of the room.

"You two, clean yourselves at the medical station, the rest of you are dismissed." She says curtly, then exits the room, letting the heavy wooden door slam behind her. The girls all move hastily with their heads down, gathering their belongings silently, one by one ducking out of the room not daring to look at you or the Soldier beside you.

You turn slowly to limp towards the medical station at the other side of the room. It's required that you tend to any wounds inflicted upon you by yourself. It's supposed to teach you to be self-sufficient in the field, since most of your missions will be done as solo operations.

Once all the girls are gone, you place your hands on either side of the sink then slowly lift your hand to turn the faucet on, but before you can reach it your wrist is seized by a harsh metal grasp. Before you can react, he's got you twisted around, back pressed into the wall beside the sink. He bars you against the wall with his mechanical arm, he presses his mechanical forearm into your chest and you can't help but let out a whimper. He lets out a ragged breath through his nose, you look up into his eyes and your blood freezes. His eyes are an inferno of pure fury. His dark brows are pinched together, his upper lip is pulled up slightly exposing teeth smeared with blood. He has the appearance of a wolf that just got caught tearing out the throat of his prey.

"You listen to me." He snarls, his voice trembling.

You can't stop yourself from glancing down at his neck, desperate to see where you wounded him. You're always so morbidly curious about the damage you inflict on others, you hate yourself for it, but you can't get enough of making others bleed. He snaps you out of your trance by practically growling at you.

"You pathetic bitch. You're too thirsty for blood to even pay attention to the danger you're in." He spits, bringing his knife up to your throat with his other hand. You let your head fall back, without the prying eyes of your instructor and the other girls you can welcome the sharp metal against your skin. You let the veil slip while you revel in the sharp kiss against the soft skin of your throat. That familiar taboo longing fills your chest. You can only guess that he shares your same twisted desires. After the way he reacted to you tasting his blood, you're relatively confident he does.

You look up at him through your lashes, letting your mouth twist into a teasing smirk.

"Do it, I fucking want it." You spit the words at him, challenging him with your lewd implications.

He glares at you with furious eyes, then he lets a shaking breath fall from his lips.

"You're disgusting." He says with venom. Almost as soon as he's insulted you, he's released you. He turns and stalks towards the exit of the door, broad shoulders swaying in a menacing way as he does. Your hand slides up to feel where his knife had been pressed against your throat, already missing the exhilarating sting. Longing takes over your body and you try to shake it off, identifying it as a weakness immediately. He can want you, because you can use that against him. If you want him though, you're weak and vulnerable.

You shake your head and rip your hand away from your throat. You have to kill these feelings, you are not allowed to have such a weakness. There's no room for it, it will only cost you dearly in the end. You spin slowly to face the medical station once again, placing your hands back on the sides of the sink. You're shaking like a damn leaf.

A timid glance at your reflection shows that you're much more beat up than you thought. Your lip is split and caked in blood, your left cheekbone has an angry welt growing on it, and your neck looks like it's been through a meat grinder. Deep purple bruises are already blooming over the skin, the places where his fingers dug in have small patches of blood peaking through the skin. Your heart flutters at the way he's marked you, but it's short lived. The feeling is stuffed deep down inside you, forced to join any other weaknesses he might bring out of you.

"Fuckin' hell." You huff to yourself.

None of your wounds are big enough for any bandages, so you'll have to just clean them and let them be. Your overused muscles are producing most of the pain, you'll just have to stretch and rest well tonight. Thanks to your freakish ability to heal, you'll be back to normal by morning. You turn the cold water on so you can give your face an icey splash. The sensation clears your mind slightly and you realize just how much trouble you're in.

The Winter Soldier is only here temporarily, his mission is to train you and the other girls here then leave. In the few weeks that he's been here you've only seen him for brief moments, stalking around the facility like a ghost. He's an assassin, a weapon, nothing more. He's especially not supposed to be such a source of desire for somebody like you. You have a job to do, and it in no way includes wanting him to fuck your brains out. You blame it on the adrenaline, on natural physical responses. Any woman would be aroused by a man like that pressing himself between their legs. You're not any woman though, you're supposed to be a cold blooded assassin, you're supposed to be a vengeful weapon. You are not meant to have weaknesses like normal women. Your weaknesses aren't those of a normal woman though. Yours are much more sinister...

That Night

You toss around on your small bed, desperate for sleep that won't come. You skipped dinner and went straight to your room, wanting to avoid everyone, especially him. The longer the day has gone on, the more the soldier is creeping under your skin. The longer you have to reflect on your encounter, the longer the desire you felt wraps its skeletal fingers around your heart. Of all of the fights you've had, you've never been so evenly matched. Yes, you technically beat him, but you hate how close he got to beating you. You don't really have wit like the other girls, or a distracting amount of beauty, but you can fight. You have been the best in hand to hand combat for years and you absolutely hate that somebody came close to taking that title. You haven't lost a fight since you were a child.

You try to find comfort in the fact that he is a genetically engineered super soldier with a hunk of metal for an arm. You can't beat yourself up for having to fight as hard as you did, you could even find a little pride in it if you wanted to. The thing that you can't seem to escape is the heat that pools between your legs when you think about his metal hand around your throat, the sharp taste of his blood, the way he crushed your chest when he pushed you against the wall. He could have killed you so easily, he had his knife right there. With one swift flick of his powerful wrist he could have slit your throat and left you to die. The thought is positively exhilarating in the most horrible way. Your body erupts in goosebumps as you remember the way his rigid form trembled with rage. Your thighs press together when you think about him hovering above you, drenched in sweat as he bled into your mouth.

You're not going to fucking sleep. You huff and throw your blankets off, angrily turning on your light. Your pathetic little room has no comforting elements, it just looks like a shitty hotel room. No decorations, just one generic landscape painting on the wall. Your only furniture is your bed, your night stand, and a small rickety dresser for your uniforms. All of it is a plain dark wood, the walls a bland grey much like your blankets and everything else in your life. The style of the room is intentionally designed to look like a hotel room, it's a psychological thing. The intent is to take away any feeling of a home, you're supposed to live on the move, never settle, and never feel safe.

You quickly change out of your night clothes and throw on a clean uniform, a tight grey shirt with matching cargo pants. A glance at your watch tells you it's a little after midnight. You snatch your knife off the table and examine the blade. The metal is the same black as the handle, it's lines are sleek and deadly. Your eye is caught by a small amount of blood that remains on the edge of the blade. You wipe it on your pants, ignoring the irritating shiver that goes down your spine at the thought of making him bleed. You shove the knife into its holster then turn to check yourself in the pitiful mirror above your dresser.

Your body has already begun to recover, your bruises fading as if they're weeks old. Your busted lip is hardly noticeable and your muscles are no longer screaming. There's no longer a welt on your cheek and you look like you've had at least ten hours of restful sleep. As much as you detest your healing abilities for ruining any chance you've ever had at living a normal life, it is incredibly convenient. You had been ripped from your family because of it, never even given a chance to develop a bond to know or miss the individuals that gave you life. You suppose it's easier like this though. If you had known them, you'd be susceptible to the pain of living without them. Instead you're filled with rage towards those who stole you from them. You can't afford to feel the weight of mourning, you don't have time for it. Instead you're propelled forward by anger and hatred, mostly for yourself, but also for those that have forced you to live your life as a tool for their own purposes here at this God forsaken Red Room facility.

You tear yourself from the destructive train of thought as you turn to stalk out of your room. You close your door silently so you don't disturb the other girls on your hall. You chew the inside of your lip as you move down the halls of the barracks. The awful lighting casts a sickening yellow glow on the slate colored walls lined with plain white doors. You finally reach a large steel door at the end of the hall on the right. It has a poorly painted red mark on the door in the shape of a knife. You slide into the room quietly and let your shoulders drop once you're inside and hear the door close behind you. Of course it's empty at this hour, meaning you can release all of your rage without any judgement.

The knife room, set up much like an indoor shooting range. Every assassin here is trained in close hand to hand combat, making knife handling an essential skill. You stomp into one of the stalls, desperate to relieve your frustrations. You roll your shoulders back and draw in a shaking breath. You wind your arm back and throw the knife at the human shaped target across from you, imagining it's that bastard the Winter Soldier. The handle of the knife pings off the it's thigh then clatters onto the ground, the sight fills you with burning self hatred. You let out a frustrated groan then take off to pick up your knife. You hear something shift in the corner and immediately dive for your knife, quickly returning to your feet to turn towards the noise.

"You're too angry." Says a cold, deep voice.

The owner of the voice steps out of the dark corner he's been hiding in. Of course it's him.

You roll your eyes then walk back to your station.

"I wonder why that is." You say, you try to still your racing heart as you hear his heavy footsteps moving towards you.

"It makes you sloppy." You whip your head to face him where he's now stood behind you. His massive arms are crossed over each other, and you notice that he's wearing the same thing he wore at the fight. A strappy leather vest with heavy black pants to match and thick leather boots to tie it all together. Without his black mask to cover his mouth, his handsome features are on display. Except his beauty is shrouded by a scowl that makes his feature dark and menacing. Over all, he looks terrifying. His eyes are nearly the same cold silver as his arm. Your chest burns as his frozen gaze pierces through you, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and let a huff out through your nose.

"I didn't ask." You say, trying your best to sound disinterested.

In one beautiful, fluid motion he pulls his knife out and sends it flying at the target. The knife lands right in the throat of the man shaped target, the sound of the impact echoes gently off the walls.

"My mission is to improve your skills, so I don't need you to ask. I'm telling you something, so you should listen." He says, sauntering over to retrieve his weapon. His tone is that of an overworked teacher that's been reprimanding his student for making the same mistake over and over.

"Your mission is to improve everyone's skills, so I don't understand why you're-"

"Are you really that stupid?" He cuts you off, visibly irritated by your statement. He comes to stand directly across from you, not even a foot apart, much too close for your liking.

"I would have killed every one of those girls within the first five seconds of a match. There's a reason you were fighting me and not them. You have a weapon that none of them have, you are a weapon. My mission is to improve your skills. Your mutation makes you unique, it makes you valuable, they have asked me to train you." He says it slowly, like he's talking to someone hard of hearing. His patronization makes your blood boil and your fists clench.

"There are plenty of girls here that could have held their own in that fight. Yeah, I can take a beating more than any of them, but they can all fight like hell no different than me." You say, your voice sharp.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" He sneers down at you.

"You just said it yourself, you can take a beating. Yes, your fighting skills are questionable at best, but you can out fight anyone if you can exhaust them." He explains it like you're a stupid child, which only makes your rage burn hotter.

"Is that what happened with you?" You ask, poking at his defeat earlier.

He chuckles, his voice low and dark.

"Oh no." He says, moving even closer to you. You can feel his hot breath on your cheeks, the sensation makes your head swim.

"You just found a weakness, well done by the way. Except in doing so, you exposed your own weakness." His voice is absolutely sinful by the end of his sentence. You're so distracted by his seductive tone that you don't even notice his right arm reach up behind you, he grabs your hair by the roots and cranks your neck back, exposing your throat to him.

Normally, you would fight back, but you don't want to, you can't. You let out a pathetic little noise, making him let out another deep chuckle.

"You're pitiful." He says it almost affectionately, the gravely tone of his voice makes your legs turn to jelly.

"I could kill you right now, but you're not even afraid, you're probably getting wet thinking about my knife against your throat." He's growling again, like he did after the fight. You hate how right he is, your core is igniting with heat. You don't even want to think about how you must be absolutely soaking your underwear.

"What about you soldier, I think I remember you gettin' all hot and bothered when you finally got me underneath you." You tease, his advances give you the confidence to bring your hand up to ghost your fingers along the inside of his thigh.

He laughs in disbelief, eyebrows shooting up as his lips twist into a wolfish grin.

"Where the hell did they find you?" He says it like he's thinking out loud.

All you can do is moan pitifully when he tightens his grip on your hair, you look up at him and let your hands fly to his chest. His eyes have that animalistic look to them, like he wants to literally rip you to shreds. Your walls flutter at the idea and you take in a sharp breath, so desperate for him to drop the teasing act and just have his way with you.

"So fuckin' needy." He says as he lets his eyes flicker to your parted lips.

You let your own eyes drop to his throat, your mouth waters at the site of the large red line that your knife created. You did that, you marked him. The thought makes your stomach flip, darkness fills your chest and spurs on your twisted desires. You absentmindedly lick your lips at the sight, an action that he obviously catches.

"I knew it." He sighs out, his metal hand slides around to spank you harshly, his eyes still burning into yours. You moan against your will and let your nails dig into his vest. The impact of the metal makes your skin sting in a delightful way, and you only want more, so much more.

"You're a blood thirsty slut." He punctuates his words with another harsh swat, "-and you can take a hit." His voice is starting to sound shakey, like he's holding something back.

"Beg for me." He gives you another harsh swat.

You seal your lips. You can't beg for him, this isn't supposed to happen. You refuse to let this asshole create any weakness within you. This has to be a test, if he's truly supposed to train you, this has to be some sick experiment to see if you're as depraved as he thinks you are. He can't win, you didn't give him a victory earlier and you sure as hell won't give him one now. You rip your eyes away from him and glare at the floor, you take a trembling breath and force yourself to deny him.

"No." Your voice is a pathetic whisper, small and meek.

"Wrong answer bitch." He snaps with a menacing tone. He forces your body back, walking you into the wall behind you. He presses your body against it then moves his right thigh to spread your legs so you're straddling his thick, muscular leg. His right hand is still holding fast to your hair, but his left is starting to slowly trail up your side. He lets it trace over your breast before ghosting over your collar bone. Your eyes lock with his as soon as his cold metal fingers snake around your throat. Your breath completely stops, your body frozen under his ravenous gaze. You instantly buckle under the weight of your desire for him to destroy you. The dam finally breaks and you drown in the waves of lust, all it takes is one firm squeeze from his inhuman appendage and you're a goner.

"Fuck- please, please fucking use me." You gasp as he tightens his grip on your throat, you grind down against his thigh again, desperate for any form of friction against your aching center.

"You've got a filthy little mouth on you." He says, finally releasing your hair.

"Let's give it something to do." He brings his middle finger up to your lips as he relaxes his hold on your throat, you open your mouth instantly to welcome his thick finger inside.

"Suck, darlin'." His eyebrows furrow slightly when you slide your tongue over the pad of his finger, sucking him further into your mouth. This can't be happening, you can't let yourself be this weak.

He quickly pulls his hand out then cups your cheek, placing his thumb under your chin so he can angle your face up towards him.

"Will you be a good girl for me?" He asks, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way, the question makes you shiver and your mind is flooded with images of him defiling you. Ok, maybe you can be this weak.

You nod slowly, you feel adrenaline pump through your veins. Your heart is thundering in your chest and your cunt is absolutely aching with need.

"Use your words." He says harshly, "-you know what I want to hear."

"Yes sir." You breathe out as he slides his cold metal hand around your throat again. You sigh at the sensation and let your eyes flutter shut.

"Now, what do you need." He asks, sliding his thumb over your pulse.

"I need you to use me." You let your voice drop to a raspy tone as you repeat your request from moments ago, you open your eyes to see an almost disturbing look in his.

His fingers tighten around your throat and he pulls you closer to him until his lips brush against yours, the feeling makes your chest burn.

"Get on your back, you should be good at that." He huffs against your lips then rips himself away from you. He pulls you off of the wall by your throat and pushes you back into the middle of the room. You drop to your knees like it's second nature, you reach out to run your hands up his strong thighs and you steal a glance at the massive bulge in his pants.

"You don't fucking listen." He growls, he hikes his large right leg up and plants his boot in the middle of your chest, he sneers down at you while he kicks you back with force. You catch yourself on your elbows and look up at him helplessly. He sinks down to his knees so he's somewhat straddling you, but mostly caging you with his body. He grabs your jaw with his right hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"When I tell you to do something, you do that thing exactly or I will make you sorry you didn't fucking listen." He spits the words at you, eyes ablaze with fury.

"What if that's what I want?" You ask, testing the waters for how much patience he has for your attitude.

His grip tightens on your jaw, inevitably leaving bruises now.

"You want me to hurt you?" He glares down at you while he talks, he looks angry enough to snap your neck, but the lust raging in his eyes reveals his true desires.

"Do your worst." You fire back at him.

Then he's on you, lunging at you like a wild beast. He's pushing you into the ground by your throat, he wedges himself between your legs, pressing his hard length into your center.

"Sweetheart, my worst would kill you." He groans into your ear. His words pull another moan out of you, your hands claw at his back when he grinds down against you rather roughly.

"Hands and knees, now." He says then pushes off of you to kneel between your legs. A flame of defiance ignites inside you, it spreads and burns all of your common sense.

"Fucking make me." You say, the idea of him forcing you to your hands and knees sends a rush of exhilaration through you. Your moment of thrilling defiance is cut short by the feeling of the back of his right hand cracking across your face. Your head jerks to the side as his hand connects with your jaw. You let out an indignant cry, too shocked to do anything else. As soon as he's smacked you, his hand is latched back onto your jaw, he jerks your face towards him, forcing you to scramble to your knees while your hands cling to his wrist.

"You think you're cute, don't you?" You can feel him shaking with rage as he holds you in place. The sharp pain from his knuckles hitting your face makes your cunt clench, you have to be absolutely dripping at this point. Your entire core is throbbing, desperate to be filled by him.

"Answer me." He barks.

"I think -oh shit." You're cut short by the feeling of him running two metal fingers rubbing your clit through your pants. Your body responds instantly to his rough touch, hips bucking against his hand.

"What do you think?" He teases, pulling his fingers aware from where you need them most.

"I think you're doing too much talking, not enough fucking." You snap.

That does it, that pushes his last button. It all happens far too quickly for you to even process everything he does. You feel a sharp pain under your arms, then feel your back hit the hard cement wall. He rips your pants down your legs, bringing himself to his knees so he can rip each of your feet out of the pant legs. You're completely exposed to him now, the cold air hits your pussy and you shiver at the pleasant shock. You glance down at him as he slowly slides the knuckles of his right hand up the inside of your right leg. His cold eyes follow his hand's movement all the way up to where you're desperate for him.

He uses his knuckles to tease your clit, earning a hiss from you. The sound seems to snap him out of his lustful trance, his body shoots up to loom over you. He glares down at you as his hands move to undo his belt. Your mouth waters at the sight, eager to finally see him exposed.

"I'm gonna fuck you." He breathes, pulling his belt from the loops of his pants.

"I'm gonna fuck you like the whore you are, and it's gonna hurt. You're gonna keep that fucking mouth shut, you're gonna take it like a good girl, and you're not going to cum until I say so, do you understand?" He unbuttons his pants, pulls his zipper down, then he pulls out his painfully hard cock. His tip is already dripping with precum, you reach out to touch him, wanting to feel all that girth in your hand. To say he's well endowed would be an understatement, the soldier is fucking massive.

He snatches your wrist and throws it to the side.

"Do. You. Understand?" He says, his voice is strained and impatient.

"Yes sir, I understand." You say weakly, even you're growing tired of the teasing. You're so fucking desperate at this point you don't even have the energy to quip back at him. You're completely pliant now, nothing but putty in his rough and capable hands.

"Good girl. Now jump." He grabs you by the backs of your thighs, you oblige eagerly. You wrap your arms around his neck and jump off of the floor. He presses you against the wall, he uses his metal hand to hold you around your waist, the other to brace himself against the wall. You help him by wrapping your legs around his hips, pressing your dripping folds against his solid cock, trapping his length between your hot bodies.

"Fuck." He breathes, letting his head fall to your shoulder.

"Please, let me put it in." You beg, then press your lips into the side of his head.

"Since you asked so nicely." He huffs against your neck, his voice has lost most of its rough edge, he sounds much less stable now and much more desperate.

You reach down between your bodies and grab his length by the base, giving him one long stroke before sliding his tip along your folds, gathering your slick as you line him up at your entrance. He doesn't give you a single second to do anything else before he snaps his hips up, shoving himself into you. He was definitely right about it hurting, you bite into his leather clad shoulder to muffle your cry. He presses himself into you and you feel tears prick your eyes as he stretches you painfully. He brings his head away from your neck to rest his forehead against your own. Your eyes lock with suffocating intensity and your cunt immediately clenches around his cock, now completely inside of you. He hisses at the sensation, then he presses his lips against yours with bruising force.

You moan into the kiss, letting your fingers dig through his messy brown hair. He presses his tongue against your lips and you open wide for him. The way he's kissing only makes you want more of him, your chest fills with the shameful desire to be used by him. The way he moves against you is flawless, he's rough and precise, like he's already known your body for years. He bites your bottom lip then slowly pulls his hips back just to thrust himself back inside you.

"Shit!" You sob against his mouth, pulling his hair a little as the broken sound leaves your throat. He's stretching you out and filling you up, he's absolutely ruining you. The sharp pain of his cock opening you up is something you only want more of.

"You've got such a tight little cunt." He sighs pulling back again then sliding in at a torturous pace.

"Tell me again, what do you need?" He asks, voice catching when your walls flutter around him.

"I need you to use me, hurt me, fuck me. Please- shit- please fucking ruin me." Your voice is broken and full of lust, you look him dead in the eyes while you confess your needs to him. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as you beg. He's barely even started, and you're already a moaning mess for him.

With a growl and a wild look in his eyes he pulls out slowly one last time, then he starts ramming into you suddenly and relentlessly. Your jaw drops and you grab onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck completely, your head falls back against the wall and a moan rips out of your throat.

"You fucking whore, you're dripping. You like it when I hurt you? Does that make this pussy wet?" He says with a mocking tone.

"Yes sir." You cry, your thighs squeeze his hips, his words stoke a familiar flame inside you.

If at all possible, he snaps his hips into you even harder, the obscene sounds of his skin meeting yours fill the room, you can even hear how soaked you are as he pumps in and out of you.

"I knew this is what you wanted." He huffs, he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips.

"As soon as you licked my blood off of your lips, I knew you were a nasty little pain slut." He ends his sentence with a harsh moan.

Your back is being rubbed raw by the concrete of the wall, your cunt is being split open by his brutal pace, but you welcome all the pain. You fucking love it, it makes everything so much more thrilling. His thrusts halt for just a brief moment, just long enough for him to pull you off of the wall with a growl. He falls back onto the ground, landing so you're straddling him, your hands plant on either side of his head, knees aching from the impact. He throws his arms around your waist then he starts snapping his hips up, drilling himself into your pussy. The new angle allows him to rut into you so hard that the head of his dick pounds into your cervix with every brutal thrust. You sob into his shoulder, your arms give out and you collapse against his chest. You can feel his cock so fucking deep, this new position is more incredible than anything you've ever felt. You're fully sobbing now, hands gripping at him wherever they can't find purchase. You moan out broken sentences, begging for more and more of his addicting thrusts.

"How's that feel, bitch?" He says with a ragged voice. He brings his metal hand down against your ass, smacking it so hard you're certain he breaks the skin. It only makes you clench around him even tighter, the exhilarating sensation pushes more years from your eyes as you all but scream out.

"Good girl, fuckin' take it." He groans.

His words make your abs seize up, you feel your legs start to shake and your cunt start tighten, electricity settles in your lower belly and your walls start to flutter.

He smacks your ass again, so fucking hard.

"I didn't say you could cum yet." He sinks his teeth into your neck with a harsh groan. The sting only brings you closer to the edge.

"Please sir, please I'm so fucking close. Let me cum on your cock. Please please please." You sound absolutely pathetic, you feel drool drip out of your open mouth as he drills into you mercilessly.

"Look at you, you're such a fuckin' mess." He gives you a particularly rough thrust, absolutely nailing your cervix much harder than he has been. The delicious sting makes your entire body tremble.

"Please let me cum sir, I'll be a good girl I swear please just let me cum. I wanna be so fuckin' good for you, I'll do anything." You beg like you're pleading for your life, your body is so painfully close to release, but you don't dare reach down to play with your clit, you know better.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart." He moans against your neck. The gentle nature of the name he's just moaned contrasts harshly with the previous degrading terms, it strokes your ego in a delicious way.

"My clit, please, please rub my clit." Your voice is completely shredded, thankfully, he seems to finally give you what you want.

His flesh hand shoots down between your bodies, finding your clit immediately. The contact sends electric shocks through your cunt and down your legs. You bite onto his shoulder again to quiet your screaming.

"No." He growls, his free hand snatches you by your roots and rips your mouth from his shoulder, the sharp pain makes you cry out from the back of your throat.

"I better fuckin' hear it when you cum- fuck- do it now, be a good girl like you promised and let me feel you cum." That's all it takes, his fingers working at your clit as his rough voice grants you permission. You tremble violently against him as you finally let your orgasm rip through you. White hot pleasure shreds every nerve in your body. An inhuman scream leaves your throat as your walls contract around his dick. He just keeps fucking you through it, not stopping his destructive pace for even a second.

"Cum inside me." You moan out against the side of his head while your nails dig into his shoulders. His hips stutter slightly and he lets out a high pitched moan that only makes your walls squeeze tighter.

"Yeah? You want me to come inside your slutty little cunt?" He asks, voice laced with a desperate edge that makes your eyes roll back in your head.

"Please, I want you to ruin this cunt, I want you to ruin me." You beg, and he finally fucking breaks.

With a deep, ragged moan he buries himself inside you, stilling as he spills his load deep within your walls. You gasp as you feel his thick cock pulse inside you, painting your insides white with his hot cum.

"Fucking shit- good girl, such a good girl." He chants against your neck, nipping the skin between moans. You're both panting heavily, hands clinging to each other without any desire to let go. You lift your head slightly to gaze down at him. He stares up at you with lust blown pupils, the silvery blue of his irises nearly overtaken by the dark centers. Neither of you say a word, you just lay there and drink each other in. Whatever you've unlocked with each other tonight isn't something you could even begin to talk about. Your bodies twitch against each other, both of you riding out your aftershocks, coming down from your frantic highs. You let your forehead drop to meet his as a dopey smile spreads across your face.

His flesh hand comes up to cradle your face gently, the tenderness of it makes you jump slightly. He takes a deep breath in before uttering his next words with a deep, warning voice.

"Do you still want me to do my worst?"

@b-o-n-e-daddy @can-i-sin-right-now @confused-racoon @lostsoul23 @buckysbbygirl @perksofbeingabookworm @peace-love-hobbitness @buckyshenley16 @brownlee-22 @deardiarylovegale @upsettispagettii @supernaturalbaesduh @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @blowing-mikey @littlegasps

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #captain america #marvel smut #sebastian stan smut #wintersoldier #winter soldier smut #blood play #knife play #silence wench #marvel

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fkingsteverogers · 3 years

Text

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest. (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are.

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood.

“You have to talk about her sometime.”

“Who?”

“Whoever makes you frown like that.”

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor.

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!”

Day One; New York City:

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t.

“Just go, Stevie.”

Four Days; Eastern Europe:

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human.

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written.

You’d been good enough for Steve.

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City:

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.”

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich.

Two Days; Louisiana:

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.”

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.”

He didn’t, not really.

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply.

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

It makes Bucky physically sick with rage.

Day Four; New York City:

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business.

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place.

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--”

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on.

The nights had been quiet since he left.

Twelve Hours; New York City:

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches.

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug.

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head.

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..”

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City:

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about.

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall.

Thirty Minutes; New York City:

Bucky gets thrown through a wall.

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome.

Two Minutes; New York City:

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors.

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky.

Now; New York City:

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away.

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself.

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.”

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch.

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up.

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy.

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls.

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you. Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again.

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it.

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position.

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws x reader #tfatws imagine #I hope ya'll like this one as much as the other one!!#these idiots don't realize they're in love and I HATE it #I have all kinds of plans and I'm so excited for this to become a series #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #ls!reader #Sara writes

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winchesterandpie · 4 years

Text

Not Now, Not Ever (Geralt x reader)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 1458

Warnings: a dash of angst, but a happy ending. TW for some abandonment issues, just in case.

A/N: So, my brain has been on an angst track lately, and I’ve been hesitant to post the fics that I’ve written because they all turned into really similar stories, but I figured I’d go ahead with this one. I still haven’t seen the witcher, so I’m really sorry if I’m totally off on Geralt’s characterization! I think I kept the reader gender neutral! Gif is not mine, nor is the Witcher! Hope you enjoy!

“What do you know about feelings, Witcher?”

I regretted the words the moment they fell from my lips, clapping my hand over my mouth as I stared in wide-eyed horror at the silver-haired man in front of me. His lack of reaction only added to my guilt.

Afraid of causing more damage with grief-cruel words, I fled the bar, fled back to the inn, back to my room. It didn’t matter that I was grieving and lost, that didn’t justify the sharp words I hadn’t meant in the slightest.

You’ve pushed too far… The dark part of my mind whispered. You’ve pushed too far and now he’ll leave… just like everyone always leaves you… you’ll be alone, just like you deserve to be.

Maybe that’s a good thing… There won’t be anybody I can hurt.

I cried then, the tears I’d been holding back all day finally freed. And they came violently, running hot rivulets down my cheeks, dropping off my chin. The sobs were no kinder. Those clawed their way up my throat, tearing at my lungs as my shoulders heaved with the force of them.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a knock sounded quietly on the door.

“Go away, Jaskier.” I tried to sound as sullen as possible. Sullen was better than broken.

Whoever was at the door definitely didn’t go away, only knocked against the wood again, so either it wasn’t Jaskier or he was ignoring my request. Either way, I was going to have to answer it. I forced a mask of composure on and wiped away the tear tracks as best as I could. Hopefully, it would be enough that they wouldn’t ask questions.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I said when the knock sounded again. My legs wobbled a little beneath me as I moved across the room to the door, but they almost buckled completely when I saw that it was Geralt at my door.

“Geralt!” After my initial shock passed, I fixed my eyes on the floorboards. “You… you’re not... gone?”

“Why would I be gone?” The very notion seemed to confuse him.

“Because I said that horrible thing in the bar and… and how could you not hate me?” I didn’t dare look up now, continuing in a whisper. “I would hate me if I were you.”

“You’re not me,” was his simple reply. I almost looked at him then, but my composure was cracking, and I didn’t deserve to cry in front of the kind man who I had just stabbed emotionally where I knew it would hurt.

“O-oh.” Is that the best you can come up with? ‘Oh?’ Pathetic.

As I stood there, shame burning hotly across my cheeks, trying to find a way to excuse myself from the situation, his hand reached out to tentatively grasp my chin. Gently, he lifted my face, and as I met his honey gaze I saw nothing but worry and warmth in his eyes. There was none of the hate and the cold I’d expected.

The kindness was what broke me. The first tear leaked out on its own, and then it was like the bursting open of floodgates. I collapsed finally under the weight of everything - the grief at the loss of my parents, the shame and anger at myself for what I’d said to Geralt. It proved too much to bear. He caught me as I crumpled, strong arms pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I cried into his shirt. “I didn’t mean a word of it, I’m sorry.” I’m not sure how many times I repeated my apology, though I’m sure it was enough that he tired of hearing it.

For a long time, he said nothing, just holding me to his chest as I wept in his arms. His hand rubbing gentle circles across my back only made me sob more fiercely, and I was glad that he wasn’t speaking. I had enough guilt surging through me without kind words I didn’t deserve mixed into the fray.

It felt like ages passed that way before my tears were finally spent and I was left trembling and exhausted. And still Geralt didn’t let go. Instead, he lifted me in his arms and moved us both to sit on the bed, keeping me tucked against him.

I was afraid to move – afraid that if I did, he would come to his senses and leave. All the same, I knew that eventually the spell of this moment had to break. I sucked in a shaky breath, burning the scent and feel of Geralt into my memory. Steeling myself, I pulled back, rubbing the back of my hand across my face.

“I’ll… You can...” All hint of coherent thought fled, leaving me speechless as I stared determinedly at my knees. So much for keeping any of my dignity intact while giving him a graceful way to leave. My certainty that he would leave settled like a boulder in the pit of my stomach as I choked back a fresh sob. I made a valiant attempt to stand, to move away, to do literally anything that would make me feel less pathetic, but the instant I started to stand, the White Wolf gently pulled me back into his embrace.

“Hush now, it’s alright,” he murmured as he tucked my head under his chin.

“How can you even stand to look at me?” The question slipped out quietly, so quietly I wasn’t even sure he had heard. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to hear it.

“Pain is different for everyone. For some, like you and me, it means we try to push everyone away with words we don’t mean… We convince ourselves that we deserve to be alone.” He punctuated the words with kisses to the top of my head. “I’ve done it enough to recognize it in you now.”

“But that… that doesn’t… I still shouldn’t have said that. I’m--” I pulled away again, covering my face with my hands.

“No more apologies, dove.”

“Why not? How could I say that to you, no matter what I’m going through?”

Gentle hands circled around my wrists and tugged them away from my face before grasping my chin and starting to lift my gaze carefully to meet his.

“I don’t deserve your kindness, Geralt,” I said thickly, tearing my gaze from his once more. “I don’t deserve you.” All my life, everyone had, without fail, left eventually, and now I couldn’t believe - I didn’t dare hope - that he would stay. I suppose I thought my stubbornness a shield that would protect my heart when he left, even though bitter experience had taught me that nothing would. At best, it had kept others from seeing my pain.

“Oh, my sweetest love.” He all but whispered the words, leaning forward to press his lips to my temple tenderly. “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that.” His nose traced down the side of my face, peppering kisses the whole way.

“I…” I opened and closed my mouth several times, not really sure what to say. Geralt’s warm hand slid to cup my cheek, turning my head so that his forehead could rest against mine.

“I don’t care what you said, Y/N.” His eyes were as warm as molten honey as he held me transfixed by his gaze. “I am not going to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

A couple of fresh tears leaked out, swept away by the lightest brush of his thumb. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to trust his hold at last and relaxed against him with a shuddering breath. His arm only tightened reassuringly around me.

“You might have to remind me every once in a while,” I let out a watery chuckle, relieved that I wasn’t going to lose someone else.

Geralt didn’t say anything - I figured his quota of words must’ve been filled for the day - he just held me a moment longer before helping me change for bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he joined me, his arm quickly going around me and tugging me close to him. His free hand found mine, drawing it up to rest over his heart with his fingers intertwined with my own.

“I’ll always be here, dove. For as long as you’ll have me,” he finally said, the words filtering over my ears as I realized how tired I was.

“Guess you’re stuck with me forever,�� I hummed drowsily. For the first time that day, I had hope. Hope that tomorrow would be brighter, that everything would turn out alright in the end, as long as I had Geralt at my side.

“Forever it is, then.”

Thanks for reading!!

Forever tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach @thophil2941btw @legolaslovely

Tag list is OPEN, just shoot me a message or an ask if you’d like to be added! (Strikethrough means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!)

#Geralt x reader #Geralt of Rivia x reader #Geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher #reader insert #geralt x reader fluff #geralt fluff

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botwriter · 2 years

Text

I posted 73 times in 2021

23 posts created (32%)

50 posts reblogged (68%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.2 posts.

I added 32 tags in 2021

#blooming in adversity - 7 posts

#anonymous - 7 posts

#bia - 4 posts

#zelink hmc - 4 posts

#zelink au - 3 posts

#botw au - 2 posts

#zelink fanfiction - 2 posts

#pretty art - 1 posts

#pretty concept - 1 posts

#* - * - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i always forget how good of a song that is and then i hear it again and the entire borderlands 2 intro scene lives in my head rent free

My Top Posts in 2021

sorry for no update on bia recently; hopefully will come before the month is up 💕

28 notes • Posted 2021-04-13 04:20:56 GMT

here have a snippet of the howls moving castle au because fuck the police

With the festivities of the day coming to an end, she made her way back home amidst the crowds, keeping her hat pulled tight over her blonde braid and not even bothering to see if any of those soldiers were still around. Perhaps they’d found other mice somewhere else. But her thoughts were preoccupied; the tram ride back gave her a glimpse over the bridge of the clocktower at town square, and she thought of the feeling of her hands in the wizard’s and the sound of their boots clicking against the roof shingles. Magic had always seemed like something so strange and faraway; to have experienced any at all in her lifetime was already beyond expectation, but to have it taken away so quickly was cruel.

Wizards, she’d been taught, were tricksters and cunning, and Link the trickiest of all - the heart stealer. But if that really had been Link; whoever it had been; his smile was so kind. There was nothing malicious in his eyes like there had been with the soldiers. What was she to believe? Should she have been grateful for her homely looks, the demure plain dress she wore, and her plain face, so as not to be stolen away... or was that brief excitement what she felt she’d been missing all along?

29 notes • Posted 2021-02-25 05:02:56 GMT

I find it so funny that all these people on twt are bashing nintendo for selling skyward sword at the same price but the bottom line is people are gonna buy it... and we’re not really being ripped off... it’s an old game but it’s certainly not dated and imo it’s worth the price to be able to play it again on the switch. they can stay mad

34 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 22:41:04 GMT

skyward sword is the game that inspired me to write zelda fanfiction for the very first time.

back in the archives on fanfiction.net there is an unfinished Skyward Sword Rewrite that I occasionally throw a new chapter into and then run away from. I published it initially... I think a decade ago. It’s pretty bad, but I still get emails about it and I feel bad for never finishing it.

I’m not saying that the remake of SS is going to make me finish it. I’m just saying that SS taught me zelink, and it also taught me zelda, because it was the very first zelda game I ever played (alongside OOT, which I was playing at the same time).

The soundtrack is off the charts. The boss fights - even the mini boss fights - are fun, and each one is different. The world keeps evolving as you get further into the story. And there’s a healthy amount of angst; that sensation of you failed, now fix this, is hanging over you just like it is in BOTW, though maybe to a lesser extent. The big bads are also actually scary and actually speak and goad you (toe-boss aside). Also there’s actually dialogue options, so you can see just how sassy Nintendo gives Link the opportunity to be.

anyway I’m hype as fuck for SS on the switch.

39 notes • Posted 2021-02-18 01:20:35 GMT

brain: brain: howls moving castle zelink au me: what brain: what

70 notes • Posted 2021-02-23 04:02:43 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #neat

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gnarf · 3 years

Text

Gnarf’s 2020

and what a fucking year that was... Anyways, let’s talk about the good things, shall we?

I made it through 2020 alive and without going insane! Yay! So lets see what else I did. (This is a long post)

In the beginning of 2020 I said I won’t participate in many fests. Only three or something like that. Lets check how that went!

Fests Gnarf participated in: 9

@lockdownfest @lcdrarry @hd-wireless @hpfluff-fest @hd-hurtfest @hd-fan-fair @hd-erised @gameofdrarry in drarropoly @wireless-festive-minifest

Haha yup, three. Sounds legit. I also wandered off to try if I can art! No worries, I gave that up :D Mad respect to all Artists, arting is exhausting and the progress is too slow for me.

If you really want to check out my attempts, here’s what made its way onto AO3:

Dont Blink! for LCDrarry, it includes the Angels from Doctor Who and was a pain in the arse.

If you knew... was made for H/D Wireless and has the armiest arm i ever saw, very proud of that one. Its also the last thing I made.

Home Sweet Home was also made for H/D Wireless, and the first bigger art piece I tried my hand on.

A muffled groan which is rather explicit and I entirely forgot about making it :D it has a ficlet going with it too.

(I think theres other Art stuff here with the tag #gnarf draws or something)

I reached my yearly goal of writing 100k words once again!

Fics and Ficlets I wrote this year: 20(ish)

Better Side of the Bed (Lock Down Fest, T, 2k)

It was all Malfoy's fault. Harry could be at the Burrow right now, but instead he was trapped in Malfoy's tiny flat. All because that dick couldn't stop bothering him about a stupid life debt he didn't even care about.

Doing What's Best (G, ~800 words)

Lucius looked down at the little bundle currently sleeping in Narcissa's arms and felt terror shoot through his body. A little boy, his hair so white it was nearly invisible. Born only a few hours ago, taking his first breath in the light of the rising sun. Narcissa had whispered a welcome, her eyes wet, her smile bigger than ever. But they both knew, even though temporarily safe, he really wasn't. Draco was born into a world ruled by war. If only it'd end soon.

I better be hallucinating this (T, 3.8k)

After the war Draco Malfoy is sentenced to Azkaban for a really long sentence. Apparently aiding in Dumbledore's death overrules any argument Harry could put up for him. After the trial, as the days pass by, Harry is more and more outraged at the sentence. He can't stop obsessing over the fact that Draco Malfoy saved his life and aided him during the war and is very much capable of redemption. Not to mention that Malfoy has always been a delicate git and would never survive Azkaban. After a few weeks obsessing Harry decides that Malfoy indeed can't remain unjustly in Azkaban and starts to plot a way to break him out of jail and hide him in Grimmauld Place. When Hermione finds out she's not amused. Ron is horrified. Draco still thinks he's hallucinating.

Keep Holding On (Wireless, M. 33.333) A collab with @maesterchill who surprised me with lovely art for it!

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget. Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on the request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state. Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse. Making new allies, and losing old ones along the way, will hopefully be worth it in the end.

Age is just a number (Fluff Fest, T, 1.5k)

Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words: "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms."

There was still hope (Hurt Fest, M, 3.1k)

Draco winced as pain shot through his leg with every step. This secret, back-alley laboratory had been his last chance, last hope, to find the potion. But nobody had it in stock, and there was no time left to brew it himself. Panic was slowly overtaking his entire mind as he crept out of the store and back to the nearest alley to Apparate back home. He already felt off, and it was still early in the day. Of course this thestral-shit had to happen to him, of all people. As if life wasn't bad enough for him already.

Desire (E, 1.7k)

"Auror Potter, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here. What can I do for you?" "Stop the show, Malfoy. There's no one around, and I'm not here as an Auror." Draco watched Potter move closer until they were nearly nose to nose, only the small counter of his shop kept Potter at distance. Potter's eyes were dark with something Draco couldn't exactly name, his face was flushed and the air surrounding him felt somehow static. Draco felt the urge to lean further over his counter, to drink in his sight, to touch the man on the other side—but he didn't.

Drarropoly 2020 currently holds 7 ficlets and is in a Series. The highest rating is Mature and its 3.2k in total at this point.

Let's not wait for France (Fan Fair, T, 17.7k)

All Harry had wanted from his Eighth year at Hogwarts was a little peace and a little privacy but, from the moment that he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, it was obvious that nothing was ever going to be that easy. An accidental bond with Malfoy that resulted in them having to stay together at all times was the final straw. Things couldn't be worse. So much to a quiet year in Hogwarts.

Love letters for the oblivious (Mini Wireless, T, 716 words)

Draco had gotten the strangest letters all week long, which wasn't what anyone needed at Christmas. Especially not him. Either someone was taking the piss, or he had a very dumb and inefficient secret admirer. And Draco didn't know which would be worse.

Double-Booked (Mini Wireless, T, 2.1k)

Finally, peace and quiet, and— "Malfoy?!?" Or the one where Harry thought he could enjoy a quiet Christmas far from everyone, just to find out that the cabin he had booked already accommodated another guest.

The best Christmas he ever had (Mini WirelessT, 1.9k)

Christmas had never been less appealing to him than this year. That was until Arthur Weasley showed up at his door, dressed as Santa, inviting him to the Burrow.

Anon Fests to be added

Whoever made it to this point: yoooo! Friend! Lots of love to you! I also got tagged in many get to know me posts, plenty of love in my Inbox giving me love slaps left and right (honestly, im bruised, stop slapping me), amazing person awards, top 5 fics, and whatever you can think of.

To make up for not answering most of them because I’m a horrible person:

My favourite colour: purple My age: I’ll be 30 next year in April, I expect gifts, I don’t accept first borns My favourite trope: eight year My favourite animal: cat My favourite ice cream: Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough Here’s my writing Playlist, it’s the worst you’ll ever see, and yes, I use YouTube, I’m old.

Other things that happened in 2020 that made me happy:

I kicked out my mentally/emotionally abusive partner of 7 years in January

I kept my grandma alive through this *waves hand at world*

I was able to share my birthday cake with my family becaus I got to leave my first quarantine a few days before my birthday

I got to keep my job

I found a lot of lovely friends in this fandom, and got to keep them through this year

My cats are their usual little jerks and actually enjoyed me being at home due to the raging pandemic

I finally cut off my hair

I’m about to hit 3.5k followers here and I love you all

I’m also tagging everyone who sees this and wants to do something similiar! Show us what you did in 2020, the things you’re proud of, and the things you loved! Let’s spread some happy for the end of the year 💜🥰

#gnarf writes #gnarf draws #gnarf rambles #personal #gnarf's 2020

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per-the-jellicle-magician · 3 years

Note

Hello! I see you are very knowledgeable about Cats Warsaw and I would love to know if you have any information about the costume design. The choices made are very interesting and honestly I don't understand it but would love to know more about why they look the way they do!

Yes, I actually do know some stuff. Most of it is from the interview with the costume designer Dorota Kołodyńska, from Cats Warsaw book, with some of my own observations. So thank you for the question and let’s get started cuz it’s gonna be long

The very short answer as to why Cats Warsaw costumes look like they do is: ‘cuz London said so and the fashion world was what it was

The long answer is under the cut ‘cuz it got very long, and it has some pics

The long answer: despite it being a non-replica, and first full non-replica at that, all the creative decisions had to get a green light form Webber/Mackintosh/The really useful theatre company/whoever else in London. The main rule they gave was that it can't be similar to the og show, like at all. This is also why it takes place in the backyard of an abandoned film studio instead of a junkyard. And that “no similar things” rule combined with a different setting and a “desire to make Cats more ours” resulted in such a different look.

Here, for example are first projects for Jennyanydots and Tugger’s costumes

And here is the first project for Demeter (top) and I believe the final one for Grizabella (bottom)

The main inspiration for the costumes (and make up too) was actually what was then happening in the fashion world. That’s why there are so many different textures (feathers, pieces of fur, mesh tops etc), the asymmetry in where those pieces are located and the neon colours on some costumes. Wigs were made after the costumes were complete, and they were supposed to be “modern and timeless”.

The main inspiration for make-up (which was the last to be designed, after the costumes and most of the wigs were complete) was the then recent Dior show, prepared by Sergiusz Osmański who was make up designer for Cats Warsaw. There of course were other inspirations too, for example the inspiration for Macavity and his shiny pants evolved from Mad Max, through the Matrix, to anime. Also, I believe the actors had some input too, at least a tiny bit, since for example Misto’s famous facial hair was, and still is, his first actor’s day-to-day look.

Surprisingly (or not) choreography was also a major influence. Since there is a lot of modern dance mixed in, most leotards have wide legs, instead of fitted ones, as apparently is custom in modern dance. And since the characters are grouped into two camps: the singers and the dancers, there was more room for creativity. And by that I mean, the dancers’ costumes are usually much simpler out of necessity, while the singers, since they don’t have to move as much, could have much more elaborate costumes.

For example, Carbucketty and Alonzo’s costumes are very similar, but since Alonzo is a dancer and an acrobat he just gets a usual simple top-pants combo with some shoulder fur, while Carbucketty who is a singer wears overalls instead.

Carbucketty (left) and Alonzo (right), not the best quality, but it’s the best picture I have rn

Another example: Mistoffelees got top-pants combo with a vest to which his tail is fixed, while Skimble (who doesn’t really dance) wears a suit jacket and puffy pants with calf-high boots.

I’ll be using this picture of Misto till I die, you can pretty easily see all the parts of his costume (except for wig and make up). And this is the brown Skimble I’ll also be mentioning later, you can see his costume has much more details (like the watch chain and the watch) than Misto’s

There are some divisions between the characters, and it reflects in their costumes. As usual, some cats have owners and collars and are more put together, while others are strays and thus a little bit messier. Some are pure breads, some are not. Another divide was determined by gender, with toms being generally more on the brownish-greyish side with bigger shoulders (lots of fur there) and queens generally being slimmer and more colourful. This rule was mostly for the dancers’ costumes, but wasn’t that strictly enforced.

Another interesting thing, was that there was an intention for a yet another divide, this time between Munkustrap and Tugger. As in, they tried to make it clear that, and I quote: “brave Munkustrap is the leader of the wild, predatory, grey cats, and the Rum Tum Tugger, a type of youthful idol - the leader of young, cheerful, playful and colourful cats.” The designer saying that the clan is divided very strictly into those two groups, and from what I can see, yeah they somewhat succeeded in achieving that, but again, I think it ended up being less strict of a rule.

As for the pattens on the costumes, each cat has a unique patten designed by Mrs. Kołodyńska with some help from her graphic designer friend, which was then printed on fabric and pieced together.

Here is how some of the patterns looked like up close

Similarly, each cat has a unique wig and make up. And (and this is really important) if they play the same character, each actor has their own version of the costume. Sometimes those changes in costumes are tiny, for example the only changes between three Misto costumes that I can see are slightly different amounts of white in the pattern and the wigs (first Misto has this messy one that kinda makes it look like he has ears, while the other two have much neater, kinda curly wigs, with one of them having small curly ponytail added).

Since I don’t have any good enough pics of different Mistos, and it’s too late for me to look for any, here are both Tuggers instead, and as you can see the main differences are the patten on the top and the wigs

On the other side there is Skimble who in one version is more orange (here) and in the other more brown (the one earlier).

But the most differences has definitely Munkustrap with quite a different look for each of his four actors (and they differ in patterns, colour, wigs, make up and how see-through are the mesh tops). This is awesome, and it’s one of the things that really helped me determine the cast in the recording.

Here are make-up projects for one of the male kittens (left) and for one of the Munkustraps (right)

Here is another Munkustrap getting ready (you can see the differences in make up)

And here is the third one who is mix of the two others (his wig is also kinda a mix). And that’s just make up and wigs

And here I will end this general overview of Cats Warsaw costumes and why they look like that, mostly ‘cuz there isn’t that much more info on that topic. I plan on doing some more thorough break down of the costumes, possibly with each character getting their own post, but that’s for the, hopefully near, future.

If you got all the way to here, then I can’t thank you enough for reading it all, and I really hope that you like it, and again thank you so much for asking this, I’m always happy to talk about Cats Warsaw

If you (or anyone else reading this) would like to be tagged in the future in the costume breakdown posts, then please let me know, I’ll be happy to do it

#cats warsaw #cats the musical #cats warsaw costumes #munkustrap #alonzo cats #carbucketty #mistoffelees #rum tum tugger #cats the musical costumes #cats non replica

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shiningstarlight · 3 years

Text

Show your process

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES - When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag up to 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours.

Thank you for tagging me @essercipertuttienonperse, I always love to see what might have gone through someone’s mind while they were thinking of their work. I have to be honest, this thing took me around a week because I have low will to do things when they seem complicated sdvbsdo so I started doing it around 20th January to be able to finish it on time, and my main idea changed a bit throughout these days. I was tagged for this graphic! This is going to be LONG I am so sorry.

1. Planning

All I knew was that I wanted to make some sort of “story” of most of what Louis had achieved with Walls. I don’t think charting and numbers are the most important things, but they are still part of the process of releasing an album, mostly with a debut. So I just digged deep to find some old things about number ones on release day, I added the gold disc in Mexico, digged some more in the present and then put everything aside in a note. The hardest part was to try and do everything, because in my mind I wanted a png to be at the center, and I was trying to have stability for all the boxes around. The first thing I did was choose colors, that was easy because I took the cover and chose the ones of his jacket and jeans: (I have noticed I have lost my original psd lol love that for me, I’ll try to recreate what it looked like from the pics I sent to my friend. Sorry for the annoying writing but the whole thing has already been reposted with no credits and thankfully I had watermarked it sigh so I prefer to write down my url)

2. Editing (general)

Not gonna lie again, this took,,, a while. I usually enjoy making pngs on my own with the lasso tool unless it calls for desperate solutions and I have to remove the background more quickly, but I did this Louis png with it and it took a while, also considering that I had made a huuuge thing for it to be in a good quality svhosv and I started to arrange everything around it, with the boxes and such. I don’t think I used much coloring here, it’s just one psd coloring that I used for both the pic at the top left corner and the main png, the rest is just playing with black and white things and using the “screen/lighter colors” option for blending of the layers.

3. Editing (spotify box)

Very easy, just did a png (I had it stored in my folders because it’s the same one I used for my Spotify edit lmao but it fit here too, and used the “wave effect” option to wave the text I put inside.

4. Editing (gold disc)

I did not do much for this beside making the Walls album with this base and edit the disc so it was a gold one:

5. Editing (still) (AOTY)

I really wish I could show more of how this looked earlier before I finished it but no psd to help unfortunately :( still, for this I took a pic and made it black and white so that I could use the blending option “screen/lighter colors” (both gave me the same effect) and then added this overlay (I think I used lighter colors here because it only showed the white of the particles)

6. Final boxes

Not much more beside playing around with fonts and using pics from the Walls photoshoot, I just used the “lighter colors” blending option again to match with the rest, same with the last gif at the bottom. I just wanted a gif in the second part of the edit as well and I put that lmao but nothing more than lighter blending.

6. Final touches (music videos)

This was a last-minute decision, to include gifs instead of pics (editing six gifs in one graphic is hell and I think you won’t see me doing it again most likely svsovsd but who knows with me) but it was a fun ride. Louis’ videos are not really the best for what I wanted, because I wanted to use the “lighter colors” option again to match but,,, dark colors 9/10 sigh. However, I enjoy the final result a lot! I’ll leave the final thing underneath because I cut it, so you can see better what it looks like on its own. Last thing, to add the text I just used the text tool and made it go around so that I could fit each music video title. At this point I had also realized that I needed to split the graphic in two different ones because otherwise, with the dimensions I had used, tumblr was going to say “bye bye” for the final mbs... sad.

7. Posting

I usually breathe at least 40 times before posting anything because my inferiority complex is,,, something else. I hardly ever trust what I do and come up with, mostly for graphics because I understad it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, so that sometimes stops me from trying harder and stepping out of my comfort zone. I had never gone this huge with experimenting with things, so I am happy I did (and I plan on keep on doing it, hopefully). I am a firm believer that what really matters is what you, as an artist/content creator, think of your work, but it’s sometimes hard to think like that. However, I managed to post because I was not letting my insecurities throw away a whole week of work !!! I was so happy to make this because although to me numbers/awards are just 2/10 of music, I also understand these are important accomplishments for artists and deserve to be celebrated. This was a long post, I am so sorry for whoever reached the end sduivbsdi but there was a lot to say.

Thank you again for tagging me @essercipertuttienonperse! I loved reading about yours (check it here!!!! Amazing) and I think this is such an amazing idea to support each other and also see more of what goes through someome’s head, for decisions and such. I love that with any kind of art, so it’s amazing for me to be able not only to write about my creative process (at least one of the many) but also to read about others’.

I have a few people to tag but none of you is obliged of course, if you want to I’d be happy, but do what makes you more comfortable! Also, to me everything is art, drawings, graphics, gifs, edits... anything. Everything is 100% valid, never feel differently pls!!

I’d love to tag @finewalls for this beautiful work

@lauvamp for this stunning drawing

@dryourtearsaway for this amazing cover

@tomlinsun for this gorgeous graphic (I have been amazed ever since I saw this one really, of course I love all your drawings but this was calling me to include it)

And finally, @wuxien for this awesome graphic

I wish everyone a wonderful day, sorry again for the very long post <3

#mine #personal #aaaaa thank you for tagging me it took me SO LONG tf #but I was not in the right state of mind to take my time and edit this post #again you are not obliged to do that I just wanted to let you know your works are amazing :((#everything I see on this app amazes me truly #pls always remember everything you put out and create is amazing because YOU did it!!#💙💙💙#showyourprocess

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brain-deadx0 · 3 years

Text

Frozen Heart ch 6

Chapter one: Do you Wanna Build a Snowman

Chapter two: For the First Time in Forever

Chapter three: Love is...

Chapter four: ... an Open Door

Chapter five: Let it Go

Chapter Six: Reindeers are better than people

Warnings: Innuendos, remus isn’t too bad in this one but let me know to tag

Patton was thankful that whoever set the trap had used so many branches. He was able to get a decent fire going and he even managed to get some sleep in between stoking it. It wasn’t very restful but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was in the middle of dozing again when he heard what sounded like someone trudging through the snow towards him.

“Well at least I caught dinner.” He heard a voice mumble.

“Hello? Is someone up there?” He called.

The footsteps paused for a moment, “That’s not what dinner sounds like.” The voice said before the crunching of snow started again. A moment later a head appeared over the rim of the hole.

The man’s look of confusion quickly shifted into a smile, “Well you might not be dinner, but you sure are a snack.”

Patton… wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. He hoped it was a joke, but come on. He wasn’t that short.

“I’d rather you not eat me actually.” Patton told him with a nervous smile.

“Aw, but you look so tasty.” The man grinned as he sat crisscrossed next to the hole, “So what’s a guy like you doing in a hole like this?”

“I’m looking for my brother. You haven’t happened to see anyone else up here have you?”

“Nope. ‘Fraid the only one I’ve caught today was you. But if all the guys who come up here look like you, maybe I should be digging more holes.” The man shot him a wink.

Ok so he was joking.

“I’m Patton by the way.”

“Nice to meet you patty-cake, I’m Remus.” The mustachioed man told him before extending a hand.

Without thinking Patton reached to shake the offered hand before suddenly being pulled out of the hole.

“Oh. Thank you.” Patton told him as he moved to a sitting position from his new place on the ground, “Uh… sorry about your trap by the way.” He said when he looked back at the now empty hole.

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Remus shrugged, “Resetting them is the easy part. Now if you had refilled the hole then we’d have some problems. Besides it’s not like I marked the area. No one comes way out here unless they got lost on the way to the trading post. And that’s down the mountain a ways.”

“I didn’t know there was a trading post up here.”

“And I thought I lived under a rock.” Remus snorted, “That place is the closest thing to a tourist center there is up here. They even added a sauna a couple years ago. Probably coming in handy right about now with the freak snow storm.”

“Oh! Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to notice anything, uh, magical about the storm would you?” Patton asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Other than appearing out of nowhere during the wrong season?”

“Yeah… Arendelle kinda sorta got thrown into a magic winter.”

“Ooo do tell.” Remus leaned in.

Patton leaned back slightly at the sudden encroachment of his personal bubble, “Well…”

“So you pissed your brother off and both of you decided the best idea was to run into the mountains with no plan?” Remus asked when the apparent prince of the country finished.

“Well I don’t know about him, but I had a plan.”

“Which was?”

“Find Logan and bring him home.”

Now normally Remus was all for winging it, but even he knew to pick his battles. And the mountain in winter was not a battle to take lightly. Plus the prince was pretty cute so…

“Want me to help?”

The princes face lit up, “Really?”

“Sure. I know the mountain better than anyone and have plenty of supplies on my sled.” He motioned to the small sled he’d packed this morning when he first began to curse the snow, “Not to mention, I wouldn’t want you in anyone else’s hole.” He winked.

Patton giggled and Remus had the feeling that one went over his head as well, “No I suppose not.” Patton told him.

Remus stood and brushed the snow off his pants before helping Patton to his feet. “So, any ideas on how to find your ice making brother?” He asked as he moved to grab the pull rope.

“Well… um… there will probably be... snow..?” Patton said nervously.

“Well guess we’re on the right track.” Remus said as he looked around, “... Give me a minute.”

He walked over to the tallest nearby tree and started climbing.

Patton watched as the man scurried up the tree and disappeared into the branches, “...Remus?”

While Remus was doing… something… Patton took the opportunity to look around. The forest looked much different during the day. And with a thick layer of fresh snow it actually looked really pretty.

Patton screamed as something large fell out of the sky in front of him.

“Remus?! Are you ok?!” He asked when he recognized the something.

Remus sat up and shook the snow off of himself, “Whew, that was fun.” He beamed before standing up.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked again.

“Oh yeah. Jumping out of trees is a piece of cake. All the snow just means I can jump from higher.”

“What were you even doing up there?”

“Looking around. Just seeing what I can tree.” Remus grinned.

Patton lit up at the pun, “It’s always good to branch out.” He told him.

“Yep and I think I found the root of the problem. I saw something weird up on the north peak.”

“Really?” Patton asked hopefully, “What was it?”

“Not entirely sure what, but considering there’s a rouge prince with magic running around it probably has something to do with him.”

“Well then, the north peak is where we’re heading.” Patton told him, “It’s this way right?” He asked as he pointed north.

“Close.” Remus told him before moving Patton’s arm, “It’s that way.”

Patton looked up, where he was now pointing, to see the part of the mountain still below the cloud line. That… that was gonna be a long journey by foot.

…

The two of them had been walking for a while before Remus spoke, “So Patton, what’s civilization been up to?”

“Civilization?” The Prince asked in confusion.

“Yep. I get out plenty it’s the getting in that I don’t do.” Remus told him, “What’s going on in inner Arendelle?”

“Oh, well I’ve never really been outside of the castle before today so I don’t know all that much.” He admitted.

“Meh, I’m not choosy in information. None of it really effects anything up here anyway.” Remus told him, “What about in the castle?”

“Oh, well yesterday was really fun, until, you know, but the castle gates were opened for the first time since I was a little kid!” The prince was practically bouncing from his excitement, “There was a ball and I spent pretty much all of it with my new fiancé. We danced, and ate sweets, and I showed him around the castle, and we even went sock sliding which was really fun.”

“So how long have you known the guy?” Remus asked.

“We met at the ball.”

“I guess it’s always nice when those arranged marriages work out.”

“Oh it’s not an arranged marriage.” Patton told him.

That made Remus pause, “... It’s not?”

“Of course not.”

“I thought you said you met, like yesterday?”

“We did.”

“Oh. Guess I misheard earlier.”

“When?”

“Oh I thought you said he was your new fiancé or something.” Remus laughed.

“He is my fiancé.” Patton told him.

“Wait wait wait… so you knew this guy for a day, interacted with him for less than twenty four hours, and then decided to marry him?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t marry someone you just met like that!” Remus told him, “Didn’t your parents ever warn you about strangers?”

Patton eyed him for a moment before taking a step to the side, putting more space between them, “Yes they did…”

“Then why are you marrying one? One night stands are one thing but marriage?!”

“What do nightstands have to do with anything?” Patton asked in confusion, “Besides Roman isn’t a stranger.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his favorite food?”

“Cookies.”

“Best friends name?”

“Probably John.”

“Eye color?”

“Dreamy.” Patton sighed.

“Foot size?”

“Size doesn’t matter.”

Remus almost choaked in that one which only got a confused look from Patton. So he moved on. “Have you even had a meal with him yet? Like a full meal? What if you hate the way he eats? What if you hate what he eats? He could enjoy boiled sardine sandwiches and demand them every night?”

“Ew.” Patton shook his head, “Look it doesn’t matter. It’s true love.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Totally fine to marry someone you don’t even know the last name of.”

“Of course I know his last name it’s… Of-the-southern-isles…”

“Oh yeah that’s true.” Remus told him sarcastically, “That’s a place not a name.”

“Lots of royalty have the same last name as their country.” Patton told him.

“Let me guess? He told you he’s some prince from a faraway land?”

“He is a prince! He’s Prince Roman of the Southern Isles, thirteenth in-line for the throan.”

Remus froze, “... What?”

“Prince Roman of the Southern Isles.”

“... Meh.” Remus said before starting for the peak again, “Never heard of him. Still say you can’t marry someone you just met though.”

“You can if it’s true love.” Patton told him.

Remus rolled his eyes but let the subject drop. He couldn’t focus on an argument anymore anyway…

#frozen heart #brain dead writes #frozen au #sanders sides #fan fiction #ts Patton #ts Remus

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