#jet makes art n stuff

[jumped-for-the-yaoi]

creatures!!! keels over and dies

[jumped-for-the-yaoi]

PLEASE HOW IS HE LOSING TO A HOUSE THATS SO FUNNY

do vote for wemmbu though 🫶 uhhh i’ll draw a little creature of any ls member for anyone who votes for him thumbs up emoji

Lifesteal Gay Roleplay Tournament, Round 2, Side A, Match 3

you can submit propaganda in reblogs or asks! voter fraud is allowed!

[esote-rika]

not a mask, but a reflection | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: idk hurt/comfort?? flangst? something like that, I'm sorry I truly don't know how to categorize this Summary: The BAU ladies insist on a makeover for Spencer, so you decide to indulge them by promising to take him shopping. It doesn't go as either of you expected, but it allows a chance for the two of you to form a deeper bond. Content: reader’s outfit is described, reader is based on Blair Waldorf in background, and personality– so you're rich!! and fashionable!! And snarky, but in a ride or die sunshine x sunshine protector kind of way, early season 2 glasses!Spencer crushing on reader, implied autistic Spencer, brief mention of his bullying, lots of dialogue!!! especially about fashion advice (PSA to wear whatever you want!!) Word count: 2.8k A/N: I'm back on my Blair Waldorf-reader agenda. I'm mainly writing these because of my own crackship, but I tried very hard not to describe any specific appearance stuff for the reader (aside from what ur wearing) so it’s as immersive and universal as possible! Styling in film and TV fascinates me and I wanted to explore Spencer’s character through clothes. ALSO! I incorporate a Blair Waldorf quote into the conversation that goes “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” pls know I didn't come up with it, the Gossip Girl writers did. It's from S4E13 specifically. PART TWO

Saturdays are usually meant for curling up on his couch to read his favorite books, or marathon obscure foreign films. Alone, always alone, Spencer Reid has grown used to the feeling; accepted it, enjoyed it, even. He wouldn’t have survived all these years if he didn't appreciate his own company, after all. 

However, today is different. He’s expecting company, which is unusual enough, but he’s expecting you of all people. And it’s for such a silly thing too— a makeover. Something straight out of a cliche high school movie. It had started at work, during a case, a passing comment made by one of the people being interviewed. Something about looking like he’s playing dress up, spoken so softly he’d been willing to pretend to ignore it. 

But you heard it, had snapped at the man in annoyance about respect and propriety. At the jet, you had snapped at him about wearing clothes that fit better, and of course Morgan and JJ had to get involved, and Garcia squealed about a makeover over the phone. He hadn’t expected you to accept; when you did, he considered several ways to get out of it: pretend to have a date (implausible), pretend to get sick, just don’t show up. But then you said you’ll meet him at his apartment and his world seemed to come crashing down.

“I need to see what I'm working with before I dive headfirst into this,” was your reply when he protested. It makes sense, of course, but he's not happy about accepting you into his space. It's curated for him and his comfort, and he dreads the idea of casting your shrewd, critical gaze over his design choices. If he's less of a coward, he would admit that a small part of him desires your approval. Craves it, needs it, so much it makes his skin crawl.

So that’s why his Saturday morning is spent cleaning; straightening books, hiding the case files strewn about. He doesn’t want to give you any ammunition to tease him with. Having to undergo a makeover is embarrassing enough.

It reeks of bleach when he opens the door for you. The wrinkle of your nose has no business being so cute when it's obviously done to express disgust.

“What is that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone as he steps aside. 

You saunter in heels even though this is meant to be a casual get together. They click against his hardwood floors until you reach his rug, the thick fabric dulling out the noise. “Did you bleach your entire place?” 

His expression is sheepish as he closes the door, “I figured I'd clean.”

“You sure you're not hiding a murdered body in here?” you walk straight into the middle of his apartment and look around. He winces as he waits for your verdict.

“I’m not, I just - you’re so -”

“I’m so?”

“Particular.” I don’t want to disappoint you, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words escape. Having you come in for a makeover already isn’t doing anything for his confidence. In fact, it just confirms his suspicions. Something is wrong with him, despite all the attempts at propriety and flattery otherwise. The BAU sees it, you see it, and you’re here to fix it. He swallows the lump in his throat, and with it, his pride and the tiny hint of resentment. 

You are trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Maybe it’s his hopeless optimism, maybe it’s desperation to seem normal for once, but it’s enough to surrender to your knowledgeable hands. 

He lets his eyes take you in, allows himself a moment to linger on the details of your ensemble. The picture of coordination, as usual; shoes and bag the same shade of rich brown, the barrettes in your hair matching the pale blue trimming along the edges of the sundress you’re wearing. This is you dressed down, he knows, but somehow you manage to outdress him. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,” your eyes roll, before landing to one of the doors in his apartment, “Where’s your bedroom?”

He sputters, “My - uh, why?”

“I’m assuming that’s where you keep your clothes?” You look at him like he’s dumb, and he turns bright pink. “I told you, I can’t take you shopping before I see what you already own.”

He can’t believe he fully didn’t realize it meant letting you into his bedroom. But then again, his brain has the tendency to turn to mush when he’s speaking with you. “Right,” he nods, scrambling to his bedroom. All of his anxieties about his living room and the overwhelming amount of books seem distant now; you hadn’t even commented on them. Instead, this new one arises, bubbles in his stomach. Showing you his bedroom is so much more intimate. The space he sleeps in, where he’s most vulnerable.

A space no other woman has ever even seen. 

He feels your presence behind him, smells the distinct loveliness of the perfume you like to call your signature scent. Of course you don’t ask for permission. He’s found quickly that you’re used to taking and having what you want, used to the world yielding to you instead of the other way around. 

Your heels make sharp taps against the floor. Combined with your perfume, it’s already obvious that you’re making your mark in his room, his haven. He imagines the fragrance will linger when you leave, and it makes his ears burn with a longing that knocks the wind from his chest. The door remains open, and he’s thankful that he isn’t completely caged in his bedroom with you. 

“Here’s my, uh, where I keep my clothes.” he hastily opens his closet, relief flooding his body as he sees it’s not that messy. Everything is ironed and pressed, although some of his sweaters are haphazardly piled together. He hopes he won’t have to show you the mess that is his sock drawer. 

You step up beside him, bare arm brushing against his. Brows furrowed in concentration as you rifle through his clothes. He steps back to give you more room to work with, although it’s more for his sake than yours. Your proximity is making him a little dizzy. He finds himself slumping on his bed, watching your movements. You’re approaching the task at hand with the same meticulous acuity as you would in a crime scene. Focused. Detail oriented, even when doing something so insignificant.

He’s not sure what to expect. He’s bought his clothes based on what he sees other men wear, relying on his observation skills, and the clothing guidelines given by HR to deduce what is considered appropriate. His father wore dress shirts a lot, back when his family was still intact. Hotch and Morgan wear suits, but those have always felt too formal to use on a daily basis. He opts for cardigans and sweater vests to keep him warm instead, because they’re softer, less restrictive. They remind him of Diana, the things she would wear back when she could still teach. He hopes you don’t make him get rid of them.

“You wear a lot of light browns,” your voice lifts him out of his anxious stupor, “You have to give that up.” 

He frowns in confusion, “What’s wrong with wearing light brown?”

“You’re too pale, they make you look even more sickly. But if you must wear brown, lean into this shade instead,” you hold up a dark brown blazer that he actually really likes. He smiles, happy that it got your seal of approval. You turn to him, eyes narrowed, “And your dress shirts are too big, look at where the shoulder seam falls.” 

He blinks in surprise as your hand comes to touch an inch past the edge of his shoulder, pinching the fabric, “It should be up here. You’re too slim for an oversized look, it just swamps your frame. If you’re going to be wearing them, they have to fit you better.” 

He nods, feeling a little out of his depth, “How do you know all of this?”

“Years of consuming Cosmopolitan and Vogue.” You turn back to the closet, he frowns slightly. The words mean nothing to him, and he flinches when he hears you sigh.

“Fashion magazines?” you prompt, glancing back over your shoulder.

“Ah,” He nods, lips pursed, “I can't say those are on my reading lists.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you'd know not to wear,” You gesture at his entire ensemble, nose wrinkling once again, “This.”

It doesn’t really occur to him what the problem is as he looks down at his checked button down. “It’s a nice shirt.” he says, although he can see your point now; it’s too big. 

“Reid, you look like you’re about to start proselytizing about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” you say, stepping away from his wardrobe and stopping in front of him. 

Your teasing makes his cheeks burn. Or maybe it’s your sudden closeness, your hands at his buttons, “Um, what–” he’s stiff, memories rushing of being held down, clothes forcibly ripped—

“Relax,” you step back after undoing the top button. The annoyed scoff surprisingly gives him some comfort, reminds him it’s you, he’s here with you, “There, that’s better. Don’t button it up all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it makes you look like you’re cosplaying a minister.” He shifts under your gaze, feeling exposed, even though he’s fully dressed. But that’s exactly what you’re judging, after all, his clothes. There’s nowhere to hide. “Why are you so tense, Reid? It’s not going to make you look like a fool, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Why? Where does he even begin? The fact that he’s never had a woman in his room before, and it’s making him feel like he’s about to implode? His memories of being stripped naked for all the school to see, humiliated, fueling the irrational fear of letting go of his clothes, the things he’s comfortable wearing. And for what? In order to be fashionable? To seem normal, to be fixed? 

He settles for a half truth, the words mumbled and embarrassed, “I like my clothes.”

To his surprise, your eyes soften, “Okay. And?”

“I like how I dress.”

“You don’t want to change your style?”

He looks down and shakes his head, feeling a little silly. How can he explain it to someone like you, who probably would have been one of his tormentors when he was back in school? It’s sick, this desire to be close to you, to be accepted by you as though being in your orbit would lessen his eccentricity. He thought he’d left it behind in high school, had grown out of it, but it’s there, recognizable and refusing to let him rest. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this,” the bed dips as you sit beside him, “It was a silly thing the girls and I thought would be fun, but if it’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop and we could just, I dunno, go for ice cream instead.”

“No, I - I do, I just… don’t want to change completely.” It's almost pathetic how something as simple as clothes is making him spiral, “I like how I dress, even if you guys make fun of it. It’s comfortable. I get really cold hands, and the sweaters help, and - and the satchel is convenient even if you say it clashes with my outfits or whatever.”

Your hand rests on his forearm, and his rambling halts immediately.

“Then I won’t stop you from wearing grandpa-chic,” the lightness in your voice makes him smile, “This is why I wanted to see what you had. I wasn’t about to start from scratch, and there’s obviously a reason you gravitated towards these pieces. I wouldn’t force you into something you hate, that sort of defeats my fashion philosophy.”

“Your fashion philosophy?” He's smiling now as he listens to you.

“I believe that the whole point of fashion and clothing is to help reflect what you are on the inside, not mask it.” You reply, hand finding his own. He allows it, finding something warm and soothing in the touch of your hand, silencing the usual urge to pull away in fear of germs. “And, anyway, I think your clothes make you look really intellectual, so if you like them, you have the pieces in your closet already, it’s just a matter of styling them better.” 

You squeeze his hand, but he could have sworn you did it to his actual heart. 

He watches as you return to his closet again, rummaging through the clothes. You hold up a white button down and a navy blue cardigan, head tilted to the side, teeth worrying the plushness of your lower lip, “Like this; this is a nice combination, and it’ll work better with your complexion. Try it on.” they’re tossed over to him, landing on his lap.

You’re turning away from him, still going through his clothes—allowing him privacy. He appreciates that. He scrambles out of his current clothes, his skin prickling as he thinks about the fact that he’s in a room with a woman alone, getting undressed. No. You’re a friend and a coworker doing him a favor, he should get his head out of the gutter. Hurriedly, he puts the suggested ensemble on.

“Uh, it’s — you can turn around.”

He holds his breath as your eyes rove over his figure, still with the same sharpness he’s used to, but blunted by the small smile playing across your lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Navy’s a great color for you.” you have a stack of his shirts in your hand, all of them patterned and printed, “I’m sorry, but these… have to go. Or at least don’t wear them to work. The prints are ugly, no offense.”

He chuckles, taking the shirts from you, “Not wearing ugly prints to work anymore, got it.”

“Yeah, keep the funky patterns on your ties.” you reach up, brushing lint and dust off the cardigan, “Your shirts should remain plain, solid colors; you have a lot of nice sweater vests and cardigans, it’ll be easier to match them together if your shirts are in more basic colors.” 

Committing your words to memory is easy enough. Rules. He likes rules, but they need to make sense to him, otherwise their arbitrariness will simply frustrate him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

So far, you’re being so receptive to his questions, it might actually make him cry. It’s a new feeling, being the one who’s floundering. Not being the smartest, most knowledgeable person. How exciting, he decides, getting to learn in an area he’s never been able to fully understand on his own. He clarifies, “Why can’t I match the cardigans and sweaters to, uh, colorful shirts?” 

It’s a while before you answer, moving around to wind a tie across his neck. Your words are thoughtful when you speak, “It’s a visual balance. Too many colors and patterns can look heavy and distracting— which is okay, you know, but time and place is always something to consider when you’re dressing up. And you’re going to work, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and wear things that are more… sleek.” Your hands are deft as they tighten the tie, tucking it into the cardigan. “So now that I know what sorts of clothes you like to wear, it’s a matter of finding the right color combinations and cuts that fit your body. Here, see for yourself.”

You push him forward until he’s in front of his mirror, and indeed he does look… better. Still himself, still familiar, but the contrast of the navy cardigan against his pale skin somehow brings out more warmth from his cheeks and makes his hair seem less dull. Visual balance, you said. “Like art,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” your smile is proud, peeking from behind his shoulder, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be… and this is showing the world that you’re one attractive nerd.”

He laughs at that. There’s a lightness in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t have to change everything. “I think I get it.” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course you do, you’re a genius.” A slap on the back, one filled with warm intimacy, “Now, I did promise the team a makeover, so now that I know what sort of stuff you need, we can finally go shopping… and we need to do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks, but he’s smiling and so are you.

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Also, tagging everyone who expressed interest in Waldorf!Reader @mggslover @libraprincessfairy @lillaberry @lokisswiftie

[bamfkeeper]

Missions Suck.

RQ: 'Since you’re open to requests, I have some ideas that you’ll hopefully enjoy writing, this being the first. The idea is that Kurt is gone on a mission, of which is taking longer than expected, and as such the bamfs and yourself miss him a lot and are anxious without him. So, you and the bamfs organize a little surprise for Kurt when he returns, and of course, a lot of mischievous bamf antics too, along with a tidal wave of them crashing down in Kurt when he returns lol. Just fluffy bamf stuff, along with some romantic kisses and such to Kurt since the reader missed him. Also, take your time with writing anything; burnout is awful so take all the time you need with whatever you write 💙' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: None <3 .. WC: 3.1k

A/N: I tried to write more detail than my usual works, so I hope that shows ;; I love any scenario with the bamfs, I was really happy to write this one <3

It had been several days since Kurt and the team embarked on a significant mission, leaving you behind at the mansion with the mischievous bamfs. The waiting seemed interminable, each hour stretching into eternity as you anxiously anticipated their return. Initially, you had anticipated a lengthy mission, given that their destination was clear across the country. However, you had reasoned that the team's advanced jet would facilitate a relatively swift journey. Despite this logical assumption, their absence extended far beyond your expectations, each passing day amplifying your concern and restlessness.

As time wore on, you couldn't help but notice a parallel between your own growing unease and the increasingly erratic behavior of the bamfs. These impish creatures, usually a source of playful chaos, seemed to be mirroring your mounting anxiety. With each day that ticked by without word from Kurt and the team, the bamfs' antics escalated in both frequency and audacity. Their usual pranks and mischief-making took on a new intensity, as if they too were feeling the strain of the prolonged separation from their teleporting brethren.

You found yourself constantly torn between amusement at the bamfs' increasingly elaborate hijinks and genuine worry about the state of disarray they were leaving the mansion in. It was clear that their escalating troublemaking was a direct result of their own anxiety and boredom in Kurt's absence. As you attempted to maintain order and keep the bamfs in check, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something must have gone awry with the mission to cause such an extended delay.

Those mischievous little blue creatures hadn't intended to create additional work for you, but their overwhelming anxieties were proving difficult to manage. Their deep attachment to Kurt had left them feeling lost and restless, causing their typically playful behavior to escalate into something more chaotic. Even for someone as patient and understanding as you, their antics were beginning to push the boundaries of what you could handle.

Bamfs, by their very nature, were creatures of boundless energy and enthusiasm. Their penchant for play and their constant scampering about were endearing traits, but they also came with considerable drawbacks. Wherever the blue imps went, a trail of disarray and mess inevitably followed in their wake. You had gone to great lengths to alleviate their stress and channel their energies in more constructive ways.

Your efforts were nurturing, as that was all you could think to do - you'd introduced a wide array of activities designed to engage their curious minds and active bodies. From art projects that allowed them to express their creativity through painting, to an assortment of toys meant to captivate their attention, and even challenging puzzles to stimulate their intellect. However, the bamfs' short attention spans and seemingly insatiable need for novelty meant that these diversions were often short-lived.

They would either master the tasks too quickly, their natural aptitude for mischief allowing them to breeze through what you had hoped would occupy them for hours, or they would simply lose interest, their restless spirits already seeking the next source of excitement.

Kurt's continued absence was palpable, and its effects were evident in the demeanor of the bamfs. These small creatures were not only still visibly anxious but also profoundly sad. Their usually vibrant yellow eyes had taken on a somber appearance, wide and glossy with unshed tears. The depth of their distress was such that some of them appeared too melancholy even to find solace in sleep. As you gently guided them towards their resting places, their movements were slow and labored, a stark contrast to their usual energetic behavior. Their tails, typically held high and swaying with life, now dragged listlessly behind them, creating a poignant visual representation of their emotional state. Observing their profound sadness, you felt a deep ache in your heart. The sight of these usually cheerful creatures so utterly dejected hurt your heart terribly.

"It's going to be okay... I know you miss him terribly. He'll be back soon, I promise you that. Kurt wouldn't leave you little rascals behind for long," you hummed softly, your voice gentle and soothing as you tried to comfort them. You spoke in a calm, reassuring tone, hoping your words would help ease their distress. Deep down, you knew that mere words couldn't fully alleviate their sadness, and you could see the lingering sorrow etched on their faces. It was clear that your attempts at consolation weren't having the desired effect.

A wave of empathy washed over you as you witnessed their dejected state. Your heart ached seeing them so forlorn and melancholy. Unable to stand their sadness any longer, you reached out and gently petted one of them, your touch conveying the comfort that words couldn't. "It's alright, little ones... I know, I know. It's sad when Kurt goes away, isn't it? I understand how much you want to be with him right now. But you have to remember, they said the mission was far too dangerous for you to join. Kurt cares about your safety above all else."

As anticipated, the bamfs reacted unfavorably to the news. These diminutive creatures had a well-known tendency to respond negatively when faced with any form of denial or refusal. Their sensitivity to disappointment was particularly evident in this instance. Consequently, you experienced a pang of guilt when you observed some of them beginning to weep, clearly longing for Kurt's presence. The sound of their tiny, mournful cries intensified your feelings of remorse, prompting you to take immediate action to console them. "There, there... it's alright... everything will be okay," you murmured in a soothing tone, your voice barely above a whisper. You delicately stroked their small heads with a tender touch, your fingers moving in slow, comforting circles. While comforting them, you carefully tucked them into the soft, warm blankets, ensuring they were snugly enveloped in the cozy fabric.

Finally, the bamfs had already settled in, their small forms nestled comfortably on the bed. With a heavy sigh, you lowered yourself onto the mattress beside them, feeling the soft give of the bedding beneath you. As you lay there, your eyes gradually drifted closed, and you felt yourself slowly slipping into slumber, surrounded by the comforting presence of the bamfs.

The absence of Kurt was hard on all of you, a void that seemed to hang in the air around you all. You couldn't help but dwell on the fact that this particular mission he was on carried more risk than usual, a thought that gnawed at the edges of your mind and left you feeling uneasy. So many thoughts ran across your mind, so many things that could go wrong. You tried to ignore them. Despite your own worries, you made a conscious effort to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs. You didn't want to burden them with the full extent of your concerns, so you carefully downplayed the situation, offering reassuring words and gentle smiles whenever they looked to you for comfort.

As you drifted off to sleep, your subconscious mind continued to process the day's events and your lingering anxieties. Your slumber was punctuated by brief moments of restlessness, your dreams tinged with vague unease. Despite these occasional disturbances, you managed to make it through the night.

The subsequent days were filled with the same worry. Despite your best efforts to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs, they possessed an innate ability to perceive your growing anxiety regarding Kurt's return. Those little things had keen intuition, which allowed them to sense your inner turmoil, even as you attempted to mask it. In Kurt's absence, the bamfs looked to you for guidance, support, and reassurance. Their bright yellow eyes, brimming with innocence and need, gazed upon you with an intensity that both touched and burdened your heart.

As the weight of responsibility settled heavily upon your shoulders, you found yourself giving a deep, weary sigh. Slowly, you sat up from the comfort of the couch, your movements betraying the emotional exhaustion you felt. Turning to face the expectant bamfs, you addressed them with a voice tinged with regret and frustration. "I'm sorry, little ones... I still haven't received any word from him," you muttered, your tone conveying the disappointment and concern that had become all too familiar in recent days.

Even as you spoke those words, a part of you knew, with a mixture of resignation and hope, that you likely wouldn't hear from Kurt until the moment he stepped through the door, returning home once again.

You were leisurely preparing a meal for yourself in the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate as you chopped vegetables and stirred pots on the stove. Your mind had drifted into a zoned out, almost meditative state, focused solely on the rhythmic motions of cooking to distract from the anxieties you had felt the past few days. Suddenly, the sharp vibration of your phone on the counter jolted you back to full awareness, breaking through your culinary reverie. With a slight start, you reached out and grasped the device, your fingers wrapping around its familiar shape. As you lifted it to eye level, the screen illuminated, revealing a notification that made your heart beat faster. Your eyes quickly scanned the message preview, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you saw that it was from Kurt.

'On the way back, liebe...should be back by tonight. xo <3'

You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief and joy wash over you. The news you had been impatiently waiting for had finally arrived – he was okay, and he would be returning home soon! Your heart swelled with excitement and anticipation. Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you found yourself instinctively beginning to tidy up the house, eager to create a welcoming atmosphere for his arrival.

As you bustled about, your gaze fell upon the bamfs, those adorable little creatures currently engrossed in whatever was playing on the television. A warm smile spread across your face as you decided to share the wonderful news with them. "Kurt's coming home tonight," you announced, your voice brimming with happiness and barely contained excitement. You paused for a moment, an idea forming in your mind. "So... why don't we work together to make this place a bit neater to welcome him? I'm sure he'd appreciate coming back to a tidy home, don't you think?"

The bamfs, upon hearing the news of Kurt's imminent return, all simultaneously broke into the biggest, most infectious grins you had ever seen. Their eyes lit up with excitement, and without a moment's hesitation, they leapt to their feet, their previous TV-induced stupor completely forgotten. It was clear that they were not only ready but eager to help, their enthusiasm matching your own. The prospect of preparing a warm welcome for Kurt had energized them.

They were all pitching in, diligently sweeping floors, wiping surfaces, and tidying up various corners of the house. To an outsider, the home might have appeared to be in a state of disarray, but you understood that there was a method to the apparent madness. The organized chaos was actually a well-oiled system in motion, each participant playing their part in the grand scheme of cleaning.

As a thoughtful gesture, you decided to bake a special German treat for Kurt to enjoy upon his return, one of his favorites. The bamfs were eager to assist in any way they could, though their help often bordered on playful interference. They showed particular interest in the baking process, their eyes widening with excitement at the sight of the mixing bowl filled with tempting batter.

As you mixed the bowl, the bamfs began squabbling over who would get the coveted privilege of licking the mixer attachments. Their enthusiasm quickly escalated, and before long, two of them were engaged in a spirited tussle on the kitchen counter. Gentle nips and acrobatic tumbles came from the pair of brawling bamfs, it was an amusing spectacle that you couldn't help but find endearing, despite the potential mess.

"Hey, hey! That's quite enough of that..." you intervened, carefully separating the two squabbling bamfs. With a patient smile, you addressed them, "You can both have some. There's plenty to go around. Now, let's sit down and behave ourselves, shall we? We just cleaned up after all." You handed them each a spoon laden with leftover batter, hoping it would satisfy their sweet tooth and curb their exuberance.

As you watched them eagerly lick their spoons, you couldn't help but let out a small sigh. The love you felt for these energetic imps was undeniable, but you had to admit that their hyperactive nature was starting to wear on you. The thought of Kurt returning home and lending a hand in managing the lively bunch brought a sense of relief.

That evening seemed to stretch on endlessly, the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. You found yourself gathered on the couch with the blue babies, anxiously awaiting any sign of his return. The tv played something you only half paid attention to, your mind more focused on Kurt coming home than anything else. The air was thick with anticipation, and every small noise made you perk up in hope. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a familiar BAMF - a sound that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. In an instant, a cloud of dark, sulfurous smoke materialized in the room, dissipating to reveal that cheeky German standing before you.

Kurt Wagner, in all his blue-furred glory, had returned at last.

He looked utterly exhausted, his posture slightly slumped and his golden eyes a bit dimmer than usual, but otherwise, he appeared to be okay, no injuries that you could see. A wave of relief washed over you, and your heart swelled with joy at the sight of him. Without a moment's hesitation, you sat up quickly, your voice filled with excitement and relief as you exclaimed, "Kurt!"

The reaction from the bamfs was instantaneous and overwhelming. Like a tidal wave of blue fur and enthusiasm, they surged forward en masse, their tiny forms blurring together in their haste. With surprising speed and coordination, they converged on Kurt, tackling him with such force that he stumbled backward, barely managing to keep his footing. In seconds, he was completely engulfed by the swarm of miniature teleporters, each one vying for the best position to snuggle as close as possible.

They climbed over each other, chirping and cooing in delight, their little hands grasping at his costume and fur. It was a heartwarming yet slightly comical sight - the tall, lean figure of Nightcrawler almost completely obscured by a writhing mass of adoring bamfs, all competing fiercely for his attention and affection. You could see his tail wagging up from the pile, which made you laugh lightly, that was all you could see of your darling boyfriend.

"Okay, okay, my turn! I missed him too!" You exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and impatience, slowly but determinedly wiggling your way into the welcoming pile of bodies until you finally found him. As your eyes met his, a warm smile spread across his face, his sharp fangs peeking out endearingly from beneath his upper lip.

"Liebe...oh, how I've missed you..." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. In one swift motion, he enveloped you in his strong arms, pulling you close against his chest in a tight, all-encompassing embrace. You felt him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent all over again. The weariness in his movements was extremely noticeable; you could sense how utterly exhausted he was, yet there was an unmistakable joy radiating from him at finally being home.

You pulled back just enough to kiss him, your lips meeting his gently, lovingly, tenderly. The softness of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you both savored the precious moment of reconnection. Time seemed to stand still as you basked in the warmth of each other's embrace, your hearts beating in perfect synchronization. As the seconds ticked by, the initial gentleness of your kiss gradually transformed into something more intense and passionate. You felt a growing urgency in his touch, a desperate need to be closer to you after your time apart. His hands gripping your hips with increased fervor, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entrance, which you gladly granted.

As your tongues danced and explored, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of passion and desire. Just as you were losing yourself completely in the moment, a small, unexpected chirp pierced through the haze of your passion. One of the bamfs had inadvertently interrupted your intimate moment. The sudden sound startled you both, effectively breaking the spell that had enveloped you. Reluctantly, he pulled back, his eyes still clouded with desire but now tinged with a hint of embarrassment at getting a bit too carried away.

"Ach...apologies, liebling...I...I just missed you so much..." he murmured, his accent thicker than usual, betraying the depth of his emotions. His golden eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of love, longing, and a touch of sheepishness at his loss of control. Despite the interruption, the air between you still crackled with unresolved tension, a testament to the strength of your connection and the depth of your feelings for each other.

"It's alright, my love," you whispered soothingly, gently squeezing his hand. "You've had such a long and tiring journey. How about we get you to bed for a little while? All the bamfs and I are absolutely thrilled to have the chance to cuddle up with you again..." Your voice was filled with warmth and affection as you spoke. You leaned in and gave him a tender, lingering kiss on the cheek, then carefully helped him to his feet. Kurt didn't hesitate to agree, gratitude evident in his weary smile. The dark circles under his eyes were a clear testament to his exhaustion, hinting at the many sleepless nights he must have endured during his time away.

"Ja, okay..." he replied with a soft smile, his golden eyes twinkling with affection. Kurt eagerly followed you to bed, his tail swaying gently behind him as he walked. He was looking forward to getting some well-deserved rest after a long mission, he’d give you all the details later. The thought of being surrounded by the love of his life - you - and his beloved bamfs filled him with a warm, comforting feeling. As he settled into bed, he could already feel the stress of the day melting away, you curled beside him and the bamfs all around. He couldn’t be any more comfortable as sleep quickly took him.

"Sleep well..." you gave him a sweet, soft kiss on the forehead, letting him nuzzle into your chest and sleep.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #2

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns - Part 3

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4 PART 5

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.7K words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky scanned the briefing file. Intel breach. Corporate sabotage. Medium risk, low collateral. High-tech infiltration. One scientist needed extraction. Half the mission screamed you - cyber-forensic work, silent infiltration, backdoor escape route.

He frowned. “She’s not coming?”

Yelena leaned back in her chair, sipping bad coffee from a novelty mug that read ‘Crime, But Make It Cute.’

“She’s not coming.”

Bucky’s heart skipped. “Why?”

“She has the day off,” Ava answered, scrolling through her own tablet.

“But we need someone who can spoof an encrypted relay system on the move,” he said, voice flat but tight. “That’s her.”

“Relax, grandpa,” John muttered. “We’ve got it covered. Ava rewrote a protocol last night, and Bob is flying overwatch.”

Bucky looked back down at the tablet, annoyed. Not at the team. Not at the mission. At the fact that it felt wrong without you. And he hated how that felt.

“She asked for the day off two weeks ago,” Yelena added, tapping through something on her screen. “She deserves it.”

Alexei, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly grinned like he’d been waiting for someone to ask.

“Is big day,” he said, voice full of pride. “I set her up with very nice man. Name is Luka. Banker. Hair like lion. Very symmetrical face.”

Bucky looked up, slowly. “…You what?”

“Date!” Alexei beamed. “They go to brunch. Then art museum. Maybe share pretzel. Classic courtship!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky didn’t move.

“Wait,” John said, looking up from his file. “She’s on a date?”

“Yes!” Alexei slammed a celebratory hand on the table. “I make things happen!”

Yelena blinked. “With Luka? From your bowling team?”

“He does not just bowl! He reads books. Big hands. Gentle eyes.”

Ava smirked. “You sound like you’re in love with him yourself.”

“He is very huggable!”

Bucky barely heard any of it. He was still stuck on date.

Something cold settled under his ribs. He hadn’t known you were seeing someone. He hadn’t even thought to ask. You’d always been here, orbiting close. And now, without warning, you were… elsewhere. With someone. Laughing, maybe. Wearing something soft and light. Smiling the way you always did when you were teasing him - except it wasn’t him.

Alexei’s words filtered back in. “—and if it goes well, they go to second location. Maybe fondue. Is very romantic.”

Bucky pushed back from the table. “I’ll be on the jet,” he muttered.

Yelena watched him go, eyes narrowing. When the door slid shut behind him, she turned to the others. “Okay,” she said. “That man is not okay.”

Bob tilted his head. “Is this the part where he acknowledges his feelings and makes a healthy emotional decision?”

John scoffed. “More like he’ll sit alone in the cargo bay and think about how her laugh sounds.”

Alexei frowned. “But she deserves strong man with good face symmetry. Why is Barnes sad?”

Ava deadpanned, “Because he’s been in denial for months.”

Two hours later Bucky sat strapped in, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had offended him personally. Every passing city below looked like a blur of decisions he hadn’t made. He thought about the last time you had touched his shoulder. How you’d laughed at one of Bob’s ridiculous stories. How you always leaned in just slightly when you talked to him, like what he said mattered more than anyone else’s words.

And now you were giving that attention to someone else. Some Luka.

He didn’t even know what the guy looked like, but his brain was helpfully painting the worst: tall, perfect teeth, probably called you beautiful without tripping over the word like Bucky always did in his head.

He wasn’t mad at you. Not even close. But he was angry with himself.

He’d wasted time. So much time, thinking if he just stayed close, you’d know. That he wouldn’t need to say anything. That maybe feelings could transfer telepathically through awkward silences and missed glances.

You were out there living. And he was up here… sulking.

He hadn’t wanted to make a move. He’d told himself he wasn’t ready. And now it might be too late.

Meanwhile, at a café in Brooklyn, you stirred your coffee absently as Luka droned on about crypto trends and some vacation he’d taken in the Alps with his “boys.” His shirt was tailored, his teeth were indeed perfect, and he had zero opinions on whether or not one should put glitter in combat boots.

You smiled politely. But your mind wandered.

To the Tower.

To the mission briefing you could have been part of.

To a certain grumpy super soldier with eyes like storm clouds and the emotional range of a wounded wolf.

God, you missed him already.

The Tower was quieter than usual that night. Post-mission debriefs were filed. John had gone out. Yelena and Ava were holed up somewhere with wine and a true crime doc. Alexei was in the sauna, probably giving unsolicited dating advice to someone over speakerphone.

And you? You were back.

Bucky noticed the moment you walked in. Not because you announced it - you never did - but because the air shifted.

He was in the common room, nursing a drink and reading the same paragraph of a book for the fourth time when he heard the elevator ding and your familiar footsteps cross the floor.

Then your voice. “Hey.”

He looked up.

You were dressed casually - simple, comfortable, but still carried yourself like you had a secret no one else was allowed to know. Except this time, you looked… tired. Not physically. Just disappointed in a way that sat deep in the shoulders.

Bucky sat up a little straighter. “You’re back.”

You sank onto the opposite end of the couch, kicking your shoes off with a sigh. “Yeah. Just got in.”

He hesitated. Then, carefully: “How was the date?”

You groaned and dropped your head back dramatically. “So bad. So impressively bad.”

Bucky’s heart did something traitorous - thrilled a little too much at the words. He worked hard not to show it.

“He was… polite. I’ll give him that. But every time I tried to steer the conversation toward something fun or personal, he’d redirect it back to himself. Or his investments. Or this stupid vacation he took with a group of guys who all wore matching swim trunks and called themselves the Wolfpack.”

Bucky blinked. “The what?”

“Right?” You said, eyes wide. “It felt like a sitcom where the punchline never came.”

A beat passed. He couldn’t help it—he smiled. Just a little.

You caught it. Your expression softened. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… sounds like hell.”

“It was. But the pretzel was good.”

You shared a quiet moment. Bucky’s chest felt warm and strange. He didn’t speak much, but he listened, and for once, he didn’t feel like he was drowning in his own silence. Maybe it was the soft tone in your voice. Maybe it was the way you’d looked at him when you walked in, like you’d missed him too.

He almost leaned in, just a little, like he was going to say something real for once.

And then Bob practically exploded into the room, arms wide, face beaming like a golden retriever who’d just spotted his favorite human.

Bucky immediately sat back, shoulders going tense.

You blinked, then smiled, bright and open. “Hey, Bob.”

Bob crossed the room in three giant steps and flopped onto the couch between you with a whoomp, knocking Bucky’s knee in the process. “You’re back! I missed you! Did you see the picture of Waffles I texted you?”

“I did,” you said, laughing. “The little hat was a nice touch.”

“He wore it willingly!” Bob looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Did you have a fun day off?”

You paused. “It had its moments.”

Bob turned to Bucky, clueless and radiant. “Didn’t we miss her, Buck? I kept saying we needed her on the mission. She would’ve handled that alarm system in two minutes.”

Bucky blinked slowly. “Yeah. We missed her.”

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, and something quiet passed between you again. But Bob, entirely unaware, continued cheerfully.

“I was thinking maybe we could all go get pancakes tomorrow. Celebrate a mission well done and your return. I know a place. They have whipped cream. And seasonal syrups. And they let you mix them. Which is chaos, but good chaos.”

You laughed again, and Bucky felt the familiar ache settle back into his chest. Because Bob wasn’t competition. He was just kind. Bright and open and honest in a way Bucky hadn’t been in years. Maybe ever. And you looked so comfortable around him. So light.

Bucky couldn’t even be mad. Not at Bob. Not at you. Just at himself, for still sitting there, wanting something and saying nothing.

He stood up quietly, draining the rest of his drink.

“Where you going?” You asked, noticing.

“Gonna turn in,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Long day.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

He paused. Then looked at you - really looked at you. And for just a second, he let something show.

“Glad you’re back.”

And then he walked away.

Behind him, you watched him go. And for the first time since the date, you weren’t thinking about Luka at all.

Valentina slid a sleek folder across her desk. Inside was a badge, a keycard, a stack of onboarding documents, and a post-it with “Val we need a hot tub in the tower—seriously” scribbled in Yelena’s handwriting.

“I want you full-time, Agent. No more coming and going. A room and an official seat at the table. The team already treats you like you’re one of them. Might as well make it real.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your heart said yes immediately. But your brain, ever cautious, flipped through the mental index of what-ifs and escape routes.

“You sure you want to say no?” Val asked, arms folded, one brow arched.

You blinked. “Did I say no?”

“You hesitated.”

“I blinked.”

“Same thing in spy-speak.”

Then you thought about last night’s mission.

How Yelena had linked arms with you when you walked back into the jet, chattering about snack options. How Alexei had announced proudly that he’d protected “the two best sharpshooters in the world.” How Bob had quietly tucked your coat over your shoulders when you’d dozed off.

And how Bucky had looked at you before you parted ways. Like maybe he didn’t want to see you go.

You smiled softly.

“I’m in.”

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window – special chapter | ksj

special chapter title: don't say you love me pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: a special chapter depicting a trip to singapore that happened sometime in between chapter 5 and 6 warnings: chaotic. maybe even cacophonous. maybe some angst? maybe some fluff? inspired by jin's "don't say you love me" mv, jin POV with some reader POV sprinkled in drop date: May 17th, 2025, 11:00am pst word count: 3.9k please check out the full series here - -

The trip wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was meant to be a reunion with friends from elementary school that you and Jin decided to reach out and reconnect with. Loud, chaotic, full of half-drunken memories and spontaneous laughter between old friends. A trip born out of a group chat fantasy: “What if we all just disappeared to Singapore for a week?” Moonbyul had the idea. You were the first to actually look up flights to see if it could even be possible. It seemed like a cool idea, but also sounded pretty expensive. Jin was the one who booked the flights and hotel for you both. Everyone else just talked and said they booked their stuff too.

But life happened. One had a family emergency. Another got hit with a last-minute deadline. One had a commitment they forgot about. One just ghosted. And then it was just the two of you.

You told him the night before the flight, guilt-ridden and frustrated, saying you think it’d be a good idea to cancel the trip. Said it didn’t feel right anymore, not with everyone bailing. Said it wasn’t worth it. You didn’t even have the money to pay Jin back for everything. The camming makes money, but you really should save up for when you move out, not for a trip. It’s expensive living anywhere in this area.

But Jin still persisted, which you found hard to turn down.

“I’m paying. Just come. You need the break, and so do I.”

You nodded, going back to your room to finish packing. You sighed.  And then you both took off to Singapore, doing your best to enjoy this trip.

Now it’s day three, and something’s shifted. Jin can feel it. You smile at the right times. You laugh when you’re supposed to. But something’s... off.

You both are at the Singapore Art Museum (SAM). You're looking at a painting, blanking out. Something seems to be on your mind since you got to Singapore, but Seokjin can't pinpoint it out.

"Something wrong, Y/N?"

"Huh?" You go back to reality, turning to him. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just the jet lag."

"Then let's get your blood flowing and keep it moving, alright?" He playfully grabs your wrist and gently drags you along the hall.

You don’t pull away, but you don’t laugh either. Well, not the way you usually do. Not like before. He notes the delay in your steps, the way your fingers rest limp in his grip instead of curling around his like they used to when you were just being playful.

It’s not jet lag. He knows it.

As you walk through the wide, echoing corridor, surrounded by soft lights and experimental installations, Jin sneaks a glance at you. You’re here—physically—but your thoughts are clearly somewhere else.

And maybe he’s being dramatic, but he kind of misses you.

Not the version of you standing beside him, quiet and tense, but the you that used to shove your camera in his face mid-bite at a food market. The you that would elbow him in the ribs when he made a stupid pun. The you who, a few nights ago back home, rode him like you had something to prove, then passed out in his bed like you genuinely live there and not temporarily.

Maybe that’s the problem.

You’re not just friends anymore. You’re not dating either. You’re in this in-between place—sharing beds, sharing skin, but never talking about what that means. And now here you are, in a foreign country, staying in the same hotel room, eating at the same table, doing everything together like a couple… but you’re not.

And it’s eating at you.

He knows because you’ve stopped meeting his eyes when he offers to pay for something. Because you barely touched your laksa yesterday even though you’d been excited to try it for weeks. Because last night, you showered and pretended to sleep early before he even got out of the bathroom.

You don’t want to owe him.

He gets it. But it doesn’t make it easier to watch.

“So…” he says, voice light as he tugs you into another exhibit. “What’s your honest opinion of this one?”

You blink up at the installation in front of you—a large digital screen looping a surreal, color-shifting animation. “It’s… trippy,” you murmur.

He chuckles. “Very insightful. You’ve got a future in art critique.”

You give him a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Still, it’s something.

He lets go of your wrist and steps a bit closer to the piece, arms crossed. “You know, if our friends were here, they’d have made us pose in front of this thing and made it a whole bit. Probably pretended we were in a music video or something ridiculous.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. They would’ve.”

There’s a pause. A quiet kind of ache settles in the space between you.

By day four, Jin has stopped trying to make you laugh.

Not because he doesn't want to. But because every smile you offer him is painfully polite. Controlled. Pretty on the outside and hollow underneath. He knows the difference—he's known you long enough to see through the cracks.

You pay for your iced coffee before he gets the chance to tap his card. You walk beside him like everything’s fine, but it’s all surface.

And it’s eating at him.

You both have dinner at a tucked-away café on a quiet street corner. The food is warm and good and the ambience cozy, but you're barely touching your plate. You nod at his stories, sip your drink slowly, but your eyes drift past him to somewhere he can’t reach.

You walk slower on the way out. He doesn’t ask where you’re going, just follows. You wind up at a multilevel parking garage with a view of the skyline. The city glows in the night, sharp against the dark, and for a few minutes, neither of you say anything.

Then it breaks.

He doesn’t remember what sets it off. A comment, maybe. Something small. Something that hits a nerve.

“You’ve been acting weird this whole trip.”

You don’t look at him, but respond with an annoyed twinge in your words. “Have I?”

“You have. You’ve barely looked at me.”

You push off the ledge, finally turning toward him, brows furrowed. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Tired doesn’t make you shut me out.”

That’s when your face changes. Like something inside you snaps.

“Well this is your fault, Seokjin!”

The words slice through the quiet like a blade. Jin flinches. You keep going.

“I didn’t want you to pay this trip for me. I was supposed to pay—even though I barely have the damn money—I was still willing to go through with this. I wanted to hang out and see everyone. Our old friends. That’s what this was supposed to be.”

Your eyes are shining, your voice trembling.

“But it’s just us now. And instead of canceling, you threw money at it and acted like it was no big deal. And now I’m here…feeling like your stupid sugar baby.”

Jin’s mouth opens, then shuts. You don’t stop.

“You don’t even see it, do you? How humiliating it is to feel like I owe you. How fucking small it makes me feel.”

His heart is pounding. “Y/N… I didn’t mean for it to feel like that.”

You don’t even know, he thinks.

You don’t know that he booked this trip not just to get away, but because he couldn’t stand seeing you so burned out every day. He’d watched you stay up night after night, rereading the same job descriptions, rehearsing for interviews that went nowhere, rewriting resumes that got tossed aside without a second glance. He saw how it was breaking you down. The apartment had started to feel like a trap, quietly suffocating you. He knew you wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t admit it, but Jin saw it in the slump of your shoulders, the way you didn’t bother turning the lights on when you came home.

He paid for the flights because he wanted to see your smile again, your real one. The one where your nose crinkles and your eyes disappear and you forget for five seconds that the world has been unfair to you.

And maybe—just maybe—he hoped being away together like this would open a door. Maybe in another version of this trip, where you weren’t upset and pushing him away, he might’ve told you everything. That you mean more to him than you probably realize. That this isn’t just about friendship or sex or convenience. That he’s scared shitless of ruining what you already have, but even more scared of watching you drift away into someone else’s life someday.

“I know you didn’t,” you spit. “But it does feel like that.”

Your voice wobbles. “I’ve always been an independent person. I’ve always figured things out on my own. And now I’m living in your place. Now going on a trip you paid for. And no matter how many times you say it’s fine, it’s not fine for me.”

Jin steps forward instinctively, reaching for you. “Y/N, God, don’t do this—”

You shove him. “Just leave me alone, Seokjin’

It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the rejection using his full name stings more than a slap.

He grabs your wrists on instinct, not to restrain you—but to stop you from slipping further away.

“Y/N. Stop.” His voice drops. “Just—breathe. Please.”

But you’re shaking your head, furious tears welling.

“You don’t get it. You’ve always had your shit together, Jin. You’re successful, stable, rich, hot, loved. And I’m just… struggling. All the time. And being around you like this—it makes me feel pathetic.”

He stares at you. Words rise up in his throat, thick and real.

He wants to tell you he understands more than you think.

That his ex left him because she didn’t believe in him at the time.

That the world sees his achievements, but not the loneliness he carries like a second skin.

That when he looks at you, it’s not pity he feels. It’s awe. It’s what he’s felt ever since he met you in elementary school. The amusement he had bickering with you and being competitive against one another. And the budding feelings that he didn’t realize until he left.

He swallows hard. He could tell you all of that. He could tell you everything.

“Y/N, I—” His voice is raw.

But he chokes.

“…I just thought you needed a break,” he says instead. “That we both did.”

Your face crumples, just slightly.

You yank your wrists free.

“I’m going back to the hotel alone.”

“Y/N—”

“I need space. I’ll take a cab.”

And then you’re walking away.

Jin watches you go, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. His chest is hollow, chest tightening with every footstep that takes you further from him.

This is why he’s scared to feel.

This is why he’s terrified to hope.

Because even when he gives the best of himself, it never feels like enough.

Maybe he really is too much of a provider and not enough of a partner. Maybe no amount of success can fix what’s always been broken inside him.

Maybe—

He watches the cab door close behind you.

Maybe this is what being close to you means:

Knowing when to let you walk away.

Before the cab pulls away, Jin suddenly moves.

His legs act before his mind can catch up. He darts forward and yanks the door back open, sliding in beside you.

“You’re not going alone,” he says, out of breath but firm. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I’m not letting you go back by yourself in a country we barely know.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise—but you don’t push him out. You don’t say anything at all.

So he shuts the door behind him.

The driver nods and merges into the road, unaware of the hurricane churning inside the cab.

Silence fills the space between you. Not awkward, not hostile. Just heavy.

You glance at him—just once—and Jin feels it. The air shifts.

You don’t know what you were expecting when you lashed out at him. Maybe for him to get angry. Maybe for him to throw his hands up and let you spiral alone. But instead, he followed you. He always does. And now he’s here, quiet and steady beside you, while your chest aches from too many emotions you don’t know how to carry anymore.

You turn your face back to the window on your right, your fingers tightening slightly on your thigh.

Jin catches your reflection in the glass. He looks away toward the left, but the image of your expression—tired, vulnerable, guarded—sticks in his mind.

He gets it now. It wasn’t just about money. It wasn’t even about pride, really. You’ve always fought for your independence, and the fact that things still haven’t gone your way lately has made you feel like you’re failing. And him stepping in—offering help, offering ease—it must have felt like another reminder that you couldn’t stand on your own two feet. That he could always do the saving, but you couldn’t.

He swallows hard. His voice is gentle when it finally breaks the silence.

“I didn’t bring you here to make you feel small, Y/N.”

You stay quiet, but he continues.

“I just… I’ve been watching you fall apart back home. The way you pretend you’re okay when you’re not. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

You blink once, still looking out the window.

“I didn’t want to take something away from you,” he says, “I wanted to give you something. Peace. Air. A few days without expectations. And I’d do it again. Not because you owe me, and not because I want anything from you—but because I care about you.”

That lands between you. Heavy and real.

“I care about you so fucking much,” he admits softly, eyes flickering down to his hands, “that sometimes I don’t know what to do.”

You finally turn to face him.

Your voice is quiet. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

He breathes out a shaky laugh. “Because the last time I told someone how I felt about something, shit hit the fan?" He doesn't want to mention that someone. It's irrelevant and off-topic anyways. This is about you. "And this friendship… between us… it’s been good. Simple. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then you reach over and thread your fingers through his.

“Simple’s overrated,” you murmur. “And for the record… I care about you too. You’re one of the closest friends I got right now. A little too close if you ask me.”

Jin chuckles, squeezing your hand gently. The cab glides down the road, the glow of the city lights painting golden reflections across your faces.

Neither of you says anything more. You don’t need to.

By the time you reach the hotel, you’re still holding hands.

And for once, it feels like everything complicated between you two is starting to slowly make sense.

The morning sun filters through the hotel curtains, casting soft light over your sleeping face.

You're curled into the comforter, breath steady, no longer weighed down by yesterday's storm.

Jin watches you quietly, eyes tracing the slow rise and fall of your chest.

He never slept that well, even after you reached out for his hand last night. Even after that quiet, fragile peace settled between you. His body had been still, but his heart was loud. Because you said you cared. And that should’ve been enough. Should’ve felt like winning. But it’s never that simple with you. Not when he wants more. Always more.

You stir a little, your eyes fluttering open. “What?” you murmur sleepily.

He smiles softly. “Nothing. You snore.”

You shoot him a look through mussed hair, then throw a pillow at him.

It’s the start of a better day.

Later that afternoon, you arrive at Gardens by the Bay, surrounded by tourists and locals milling about for some kind of seasonal couples event. The air is humid but fresh, the sound of chirping birds mixing with the chatter around you.

The line at the ticket booth is long, but it moves fast. You both finally reach the front—and the person at the counter explains there’s a couple’s discount.

Jin doesn’t hesitate.

“We’re together,” he says, flashing his charming, public-friendly smile.

You turn to him, wide-eyed, half a breath away from denying it.

But his hand slides into yours, fingers intertwining.

It’s not just for show. He could’ve left it at the words. But he doesn’t. He holds you like he means it. Because he does.

Your hand twitches in his, caught between pulling away and holding tighter. You glance down, a little dazed.

“…Guess we’re a couple now,” you mutter under your breath.

He grins. “Just for the discount.”

He doesn’t let go.

You start with the OCBC Skyway, a narrow walkway suspended high between the Supertree structures, giving a sweeping view of the gardens and city skyline beyond.

The wind flutters against your clothes. You grip the railing with one hand, his with the other.

You’re still flustered, pretending like the height has you distracted, but he catches the way you glance down at your joined hands. Not pulling away.

“You afraid of heights?” he teases.

“I’m afraid of losing balance and accidentally launching both of us off this thing,” you mutter.

He laughs. “Noted. I’ll hold on tighter.”

He does.

Next stop: The Flower Dome

Cooler, calmer. A burst of color at every turn. Orchids, tulips, lavender, desert plants.

You take your time here, pausing at every odd flower, reading placards aloud with exaggerated voices. Jin pretends to be annoyed but listens to every word.

You’re cute when you talk to plants. He won’t say it out loud, but the way you squat beside a cactus and go, “He looks like a grumpy uncle,” nearly makes him choke on laughter.

He sneaks a few photos of you from behind when you’re not looking. Later, he’ll pretend he was testing the lighting.

And finally, The Cloud Forest.

Misty, cool, and otherworldly. The towering indoor waterfall roars from the center of the space, mist curling around the edges of your clothes.

You both stand in awe at the base of the mountain-like structure wrapped in plant life.

You glance at Jin. “It’s like something out of a fairytale.”

He tilts his head. “Yeah.”

But he’s not looking at the waterfall.

He’s looking at you.

You, cheeks flushed from humidity, hair a little frizzy at the ends. You, who cried in a parking garage last night and still let him stay beside you. You, who always pretends to be fine until the cracks show. He’d give you the world if you’d let him. He’d build a waterfall higher than this one just to see you smile.

“I think we should get married here,” he says suddenly.

You blink. “I—what?”

He smirks. “If we’re still single by the time we’re 42...let’s just do it. Save ourselves the trouble. This place is good for it too.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I mean it,” he grins, “We’d make a great tax bracket. And we get along, I think.”

You nudge his arm. “Wow... well..." You're kind of at a loss of words. Like what can you even say to some suggested marriage proposal?It's not that serious, that's for sure, right? "It's… kind of like a lavender marriage? We get with each other for the benefits and see other people if we're able to.”

His heart stutters. You’re joking, of course. You don’t see it. Not the way he does. Not the way he looks at you and sees late mornings, shared coffee mugs, and dancing in the kitchen. Not the way he wonders what your kids might look like. Or what your name would sound like with his.

“Sure,” he says with a tight smile. “Like a lavender marriage.”

You turn back to the waterfall, cheeks sore from smiling.

He watches you.

42 sounds too far away. But if it meant waking up next to you, even once, he’d wait.

He’s caught in the afterglow of your laughter, a little stunned that you actually found his marriage joke funny.

You turn to grin at him, nudging his shoulder. “You’re so silly sometimes, you know that? But... if I was stuck with you forever, it wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Jin raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Stuck with me? Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, “better stuck with you than some boring guy who doesn’t make me laugh or even make good food or have a good dick!”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “God, I can’t believe you’re saying this out in public!” “Nobody knows who we are here! Plus, did I lie?”

“Jeez, flattery will get you everywhere, huh?”

Before he can say more, like a sexual innuendo aimed towards you, you tug at his hand.

“But hey! Come on. I wanna show you something,”

He stumbles forward a little, caught off guard, but doesn’t resist. Never resists you.

Your palm is warm in his, fingers curled loosely around his.

You pull him toward a level near the top of the Cloud Mountain. The air gets cooler as you ascend in the elevator, and when the doors open, it feels like you’ve stepped onto a different planet.

Clouds of mist curl around your ankles. Vines dangle from high archways. There’s a little footbridge up ahead, overlooking the whole space.

You don’t say much—just lead him forward, step by step, until you reach the edge. From here, you can see nearly the whole Cloud Forest below, thick with cascading greenery, wet with dew and mist. People move far beneath you like tiny toy figures.

“It’s so nice and quiet up here,” you murmur, leaning forward just slightly. “I like it.”

Jin stands beside you, too aware of how close your shoulders are. He can smell the faint trace of your shampoo and something light and citrusy from the hotel lotion you complained about, but still wear.

You look peaceful. Maybe the most peaceful he’s seen you in weeks.

And suddenly, he’s not thinking about forty-two anymore. He’s not thinking about jokes or what-ifs. He’s just thinking: I wish this could be ours. Not just a moment. But a life. A forever. A reality where you weren’t only his friend, or his escape. A reality where your hand in his was normal, not borrowed. Where he didn’t have to play pretend with strangers at a ticket counter just to feel like you were his.

You turn to him with a faint smile, a quiet ease in your eyes. “Cool, right?”

He nods, swallowing. “Yeah.”

He wants to say: you’re the most beautiful thing here. He wants to say: I brought you here because I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d have the guts to tell you everything. He wants to say: if I gave you my heart, would you keep it safe this time?

Instead, he says, “We should take a photo.”

You blink, then grin. “Yeah. Definitely. Give the people what they want! Two people pretending to be a couple for the discount.”

He lifts his phone with a faint chuckle. You lean into his side, resting your head briefly on his shoulder, your hand still in his. The timer clicks down.

Three... two...

One day, he thinks, he’ll look at this photo and wonder why he didn’t just tell you the truth right then. Maybe he’ll say it next week. Or next year. Or maybe never. Because loving you quietly is safer than losing you loudly. And some things, he’s learned, are better left unsaid.

Click.

The photo snaps.

You pull away gently and keep walking toward the next part of the path, talking about the waterfalls again, something about how the plants are real and not artificial like you thought.

Jin grins and teases, “So what, I’m not real enough for you?”

You punch his arm lightly. “Shut up, go enjoy being a fake boyfriend for the day.”

He laughs. “Fake boyfriend, huh? I’m way too good at this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

He follows. He always does.

Because maybe he can’t have all of you.

But for now, this moment is enough.

And maybe… that’s love too.

a/n: I spent yesterday and today cooking this up and was debating to even drop it since it's just a mess. but enjoy! keep streaming jin's new album as well!!

[waywardxrhea]

Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...

content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.

“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage. 

“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.

“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you. 

“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend. 

On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.

So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”

“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…

“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes. 

As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you... 

“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”

“Correct,” he told you with a nod. 

“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added. 

“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”

“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.

“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party. 

“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in. 

“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped. 

“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said. 

“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show. 

“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink. 

You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby. 

While looking around, something caught your eye so you made your way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”

“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.

“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth. 

You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”

“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar. 

While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”

“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile. 

The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood. 

As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback. 

He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”

“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms. 

“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”

“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes. 

You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”

What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips. 

“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed. 

Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”

With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”

“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”

You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”

“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”

“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside. 

“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him. 

He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”

Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.” 

And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them. 

“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss. 

You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.

“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks. 

He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”

“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him. 

As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”

With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him. 

When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it. 

He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process. 

Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again. 

After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.” 

“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body. 

“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.

 And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?” 

“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground. 

With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively. 

“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”

“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”

“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously. 

“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty. 

“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come. 

a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!

and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!

[meruz]

hi!! im sure ppl have asked this b4, but i scoured your asks tag for an hour or so looking to see if you answered anything abt it and couldnt find anything, so i was just wondering if youve made any posts on your process for making n selling merch b4? and how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff (hopefully that makes sense, im not sure,,,)

hi! got a bunch of asks abt merch stuff lately im gonna put it under a cut.

preface: i don't know if i'm the best person to ask about all this stuff because I'm doing merch on a strictly hobby basis LOL. I have a fulltime job which takes care of the bulk of my finances, I don't really make big quantities of anything and my main priority at cons is to just make enough money to see my friends in different cities at minimal expense. i pretty much always get a refund when i file my con taxes because my profit after all the deductions is like fucking..nothing.. lmao. So if you ultimately lose money following my advice don't blame me. OK NOW lets get into it

my process for making merch: when I have an event scheduled that I want to make merch for I start by brainstorming a bunch of stuff I wanna make. for mgscon this is what I wrote down in my sketchbook lol

i made a legend to denote which ones are actually just reprints. it gets easier to plan out merch when you already have merch. out of the new merch ideas here i actually only made like 4 of them. and out of the reprints i only reprinted like three. i also came up with like 4-5 other merch ideas after writing out this list that i actually did do. LMAOO UM. my point here is that nothing rly goes as planned.

when i get a merch idea i start with thumbnails what i want it to look like (sometimes this is based off merch ive seen before so its very realized and sometimes its really vague bc im kind of pulling it out of my ass)

then BEFORE i go into making the final art I research how I'm going to make the merch. whether its printing/constructing it myself or looking for a manufacturer. There's a lot of different places that you can get custom merch made, i used to go shopping around at local printing shops but nowadays it's really common to do it all online. For both these jet tags and the washi tape I did some of my own research into manufacturers and also asked friends for their contacts/referrals/recommendations etc. most manufacturers either have their specs/template publicly available or will give them to you when you ask. so once I've locked into a manu and gotten the specs I'll start designing the final art.

then it's sending it off and waiting! easier said than done.

i will say this process is a lot lengthier for some types of merch than others LOL. for prints... I've been doing prints for like a million years and I plan out almost none of it. I draw everything at print resolution so a week before I have a con scheduled I'll simply go through all the files I've accumulated since my last con, squeeze whatever drawings I want into standard print sizes lol (ie. 8.5x11, 11x17, 4x6 etc), and print them at a local shop. takes like a couple hours max.

how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff?

I mean. honestly I don't know. selling fanart is the kind of thing that IP holders kind of just let slide as long as they don't think they're losing a substantial amt of money on it. there ARE a couple franchises people avoid because they've been known to send IP lawyers after fanartists... disney is the big one and they're known for being pretty petty abt it... that's why you don't really see people selling fanart of the disney princesses at cons. ive heard pokemon will also crack down if your project seems to be making a lot of money lol, part of why i think a lot of pokemon fanzines operate on a charity basis. I do feel like the pokemon company has bigger fish to fry than someones artist alley table though so i wouldn't sweat it too much.

it's also generally considered impolite/bad taste to sell fanart of small franchises. webcomics and indie games especially if they only have like 1-2 devs who rely on the income that game makes.

I'm not a lawyer so you shouldn't consider this legal advice BUT I will say... I don't think you should let IP law stop you from selling fanart lol. especially if it's low quantities/not mass produced and you're not making crazy amts of money I think you kind of have a leg to stand on. Besides, most cases it seems like the worst you'll get is a cease and desist.

you Will notice that when people start turning their artist alley endeavors into a real business they'll generally ease up on selling fanart (the case most prominent in my mind is omocat lol). but i love fanart and thats why i will never make money and thats a promise [snake saluting gif]

SORRY IDK IF ANY OF THIS WAS HELPFUL. I've been doing merch and cons for a long time (10+ years lmao, you can find record of this on this very blog) and i think im kind of old fashioned about it. i recognize the artist alley/merch scene is a lot more demanding now than it used to be but start small at local low-risk events, online sales etc and work your way up and remember to have fun and itll be ok i believe this wholeheartedly.

its literally just layers of acrylic like any other dinky charm. I'm sure pretty much any manu that does acrylic charms could do it but this specific charm/template i did order through a group order server. they're pretty well known! heres a link to their twitter

@wheatormeat sorry for taking a full month to answer this... anyways. This is tricky because I've actually been changing up my sticker manu everytime LOL IDK if I've found one I actually love.

these ones i ordered thru an alibaba manu because I was jumping on a friend's group order to save on shipping. it was ok. they arrived a liiiitle late and printed a lil dark but i think thats kind of my fault LOL I use dark colors i always need to lighten things before i get them printed and i think i just didnt lighten these enough. otherwise i rly love the quality!

i realized i never posted these online and also this is not a good picture (the lighting in my living room sucks rn) but i printed these tmnt stickers thru stickerninja they feel really solid but they needed kind of a lot of space for the cutline. but their customer service was very nice and helpful!

these ones i got printed at washimill and i was so impressed with how fine their cutline is... pricing and quality of the sticker itself is alright they feel a lil flimsy? idk. but i do like the printing. i kind of elected to go with them solely because i was already ordering washi tape. A LOT of my manufacturing decisions are made based on how much money i can save on shipping tbh.

and thats my sticker manu reviews dont forget to like comment subscribe idk if i have one im gonna stick with forever or anything im rly indecisive. ideally id like a manu based in the u.s...? because im based in the u.s. and international shipping is pricey. but idk if i keep ordering washi tape maybe ill keep using washimill. who knows...

[prankcall-from-hell]

Hello!

"People are creatures of greed. At times, that inner ugliness is visible. But that, too, is just another aspect of the beauty of humanity."

Hello, I'm Lammyo, Ralsei or Thes 🐑, I go by He/They/It pronouns ( <- Male pronouns preferred ) and I'm Bisexual ( Female preference ). ( Basically I'm just a goofy ahh stupid black boy )

This blog is used for my many interests and hyperfixations. I will add TWs in the title of a post if it's about a sensitive topic/subject, I also make art and stuffs.

Please be respectful to me and my mutuals. Do not go and harass/terrorize me or them over stupid things. I'm willing to hear people out but if you make me or another person upset, I'm going to call you out on it. Also if you don't like me, there's a block button for a reason. Please use it.

Basic DNI list, etc.

I am a teenager, so if we are going to interact, don't be too weird...

I suffer from AuDHD, Stress, Anxiety, & PTSD.

My Interests 🧠:

Danganronpa

Panty and Stocking With Garterbelt

9-1-1 Lone Star

9-1-1

Ikenfell

Tattletail

The Amazing Digital Circus

Battle For Dream Island ( and other object shows by JacknJellify )

Undertale

Deltarune

Scott Pilgrim

Amphibia

Beastars

Left 4 Dead & Left 4 Dead 2

Yuyu Hakusho

Pokémon

Dungeons and Dragons

Night in the Woods

Sally Face

Five Nights At Freddy's

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Parappa The Rapper

Um Jammer Lammy

The Walking Dead

The Walking Dead Games ( Telltale )

The Hunger Games franchise

Jet Set Radio

And other fandoms !!

Kins N' shit 💻:

Gonta Gokuhara , Shuichi Saihara, Kaito Momota, Kokichi Ouma, Kaede Akamatsu, Miu Iruma, Maki Harukawa, Ibuki Mioda, Himiko Yumeno, Korekiyo Shinguji, Rantaro Amami, Mondo Owada, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Chihiro Fujisaki, etc.

T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Marjan Marwani, & Paul Strickland

Maritte, Gilda, Ima, Petronella

Yusuke Urameshi, Hiei, & Kurama

Pomni, Kinger, Ragatha, Gangle, & Zooble

Needle, Firey, Leafy, Price Tag, Winner, Loser, & Cake

Asriel, Frisk, Chara, Napstablook, Mettaton, & Papyrus

Ralsei, Kris, Noelle, Dess, Tenna, & Jevil

Kim Pine, Young Neil, Scott Pilgrim, Roxy Richter, & Ramona Flowers

Marcy Wu & Anne Boonchuy

Michaelangelo, Leonardo, Donatello, & Raphael

Panty Anarchy, Stocking Anarchy, & Briefers Rock

Mae & Bea

Sal Fisher

Foxy, Bonnie, Freddy, Lolbit etc.

Katy Kat, Takoyama, & Cheap Cheap the Chicken

Lammy, Katy Kat, Rammy, & Ma-San

Katniss Everdeen, Rue, Peeta Mellark

Gum, Cube, Yo-Yo

Clementine, Violet, AJ

And other fictional characters !!

Tags💥:

#lam speaks - just talking

#lam rants/rambles - ranting and rambling about interests or things that bug me

#lam draws - I did art and slapped my name on it

#lam vents - venting out emotional feelings towards subjects or things about myself

#lammyo is a fucking idiot - shitposting ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

#lam's ideas - ideas or thoughts I come up with for fandoms ( aus, headcanons, etc. )

If you find an acc with the name prankcall_from_hell, then I guarantee you it's me lmao

(f)art splurgeeee !!!

( Top section has the newest, bottom has the oldest of arts )

Ma socials !!:

AO3

Pinterest

Bsky

Pixiv

Anyhoosies! Hopefully this gave more info about me and my page. My DMs are always open and I'm always welcome to communicating with y'all! I'll try to reply as fast as I can! Thanks for reading! :}

"Kill without being caught, and then survive the trial... Sounds eerily similar to the real world."

( amaguji graphics by @/spookynwurse; Last updated 6/18/25 )

[jumped-for-the-yaoi]

its tax duo tuesday pay your taxes

[aquilacalvitium]

New Introductory Post

Ayo waddup it's your friendly neighbourhood Queer, Depressed Asshole™

I'm trying to reclaim a bit of internet anonymity so I'm not going into detail.

Pronouns: They/It

Name: You can call me Aquila. I used to be Legacy, but recently changed my name to something I won't be putting here. Though it may show up in a future post or something idk.

Age: Older than I should be, not as young as I'd like to be but generally still quite young.

Notable Tags: [Aquila Thinks] for original posts, [Aquila answers] for answered asks, [Aquila rants] for when I need to blow off some steam, [Aquila's polls] for polls, [Aquila writes] for any stories (or sometimes special interest essays) I write, [Aquila's special interests] for posts about any of my special interests - past or present. [I think I'm funny] for when I make a post or addition to another post that makes me laugh or at least chuckle. [Aquila's dw thoughts] aquila thinks but specifically for Doctor Who because I have long-term DW brainrot. [Aquila reads dracula] it's a really fucking good book, what can I say?

All of these tags will be on this post so you can just tap 'em and explore 'em. Except for [Aquila rants].

Current projects: Jet is an original novel that's been in the works since around 2016/2017. It's slow going, but this story means the world to me so I WILL get it finished. Even if it takes a few years.

Reality Is Relative is a Cirque Du Soleil fanfiction focused on expanding the fictional world of Curiosistan from the show Kurios!

@poffins-n-puffs is a furry pokemon webcomic set in Unova. Pages are slow, but I hope to speed them up soon.

Side Blogs: @aquilas-designs - my art/furry blog. I'm quite active there and I think I'm a pretty good artist, all things considered. I also post all my fursuit stuff there.

@aquilacraft - My minecraft blog. I usually post about Hermitcraft but it's also for general minecraft.

@jointhephantomtomorrow - A sideblog created for my previous special interest which I just don't have the heart to delete. May revamp it for my latest special interest, idk.

@autisticpuppethorror - A sideblog for the Welcome Home ARG because it infected my brain BADLY.

[red-eldritch-warlock]

✦ Basic Oc info:

Name: Eberwolf Saskia

Class: The Warlock, Support class mercenary

Nicknames: Sorcerer, Mage, Wolf

Age: 25(?) [To be determined, rumoured to be immortal]

Height: 6’4

Birthplace: Graz, Austria

Gender/pronouns: Trans male, He/Him

Personality: socially awkward, solitary, reserved, neurotic, work oriented, cynical, easily flustered

Hobbies: palmistry, reading, collecting records, bookkeeping

Loadout: spellbook, sacrificial dagger, flintlock pistol

The lore(W.I.P)

Other stuff(W.I.P)

✦ Tags:

#Eldritch Invocations - Warlock post

#A gift from my patron- Warlock reblogs

#Whispers from the void - Answering asks

#Warlock antics - Rp starters

#Eldritch blast - Rp tag

#Eberwolf lore - lore tag

#Stag posting - mod posts

#Stag found this - mod reblogs

#Stag answers - mod asks

#Stags silly scribbles - Mod art / writings

Any sensitive topics will be tagged accordingly

!!Ooc and character description below the cut!!

✦ Blog info:

Warlock is an oc for team fortress two :)

I took inspiration from both dungeons and dragons warlocks and magic users, and @the-jack-class (specifically serpie and a bit of jasper) for this oc, and they deserve the credit(serpentine my belerpentine teehee)

I would like to keep this blog to be strictly 16+ with little NSFW. I have pretty bad anxiety, and receiving incredibly suggestive asks will most likely make that spike, and I don’t want to stress over my blog, this is for fun! Feel free to flirt and whatnot with Warlock, but anything i deem too far will get deleted or blocked based on severity.

i would prefer if minors did not interact, this blog may have sensitive topics discussed. or at the very least they do not interact with posts discussing said topics.

Mod is a self shipper, and is open to multishipping!

Mod uses he/him pronouns, and you can refer to me as Stag!!

Mod follows from @transfrogwithcoolsocks

Mod has insane social anxiety so i apologise if i come off as awkward or rude (i’m just a little guy)

Mod has the worst memory known to mankind, so if i send multiple asks it is because i forgot that i already sent one(i am sorrgy)

Any photos i use in posts will be found on Pinterest.

My other RP blogs are: @canineriot-fenrir @meet-the-trapper-tf2 @redhead-string-shredder @crutches-n-stitches @ultimate-exorcist-chyrche @darling-idol-hoshiko @dutch-bunny-rabbit @stupid-fishbait-moray @aussie-menace-dingo @kerosene-n-gasoline @lt-morse @hurricane-tsunemasu

✦ Rp info:

Rp will look like this:

[Actions and such go here]

“Talking will be like this”

✦ Physical description of Warlock:

Warlock is 6’4 with a lithe and lean physique, with toned arms and shoulders, slim waist and thighs and a generally lanky frame.

His hair is jet black and very curly, and is cut to shoulder length, usually tied back when fighting.

Warlock has fairly androgynous features, a sharp jaw, tired eyes, roman nose, sickly and pasty skin and bright violet eyes. He has some slightly unkempt stubble on his chin, and deep set eye bags. He also wears half moon glasses, and on occasion red tinted round shades.

His usual attire is a dark red velvet button up shirt with bell sleeves, a black leather corset, black flared jeans with a book holster on one thigh, heeled ankle boots and white satin gloves. He also wears a pocket watch necklace that has an octopus engraved onto it.

Mod is not the best with remembering to respond so I apologise if I forget about a thread or do not respond to an ask very quickly.

✦ Interact list:

Please do interact:

Tf2 Rp blogs

Rp blogs in general

Anons

Tf2 ocs

Other ocs(from any fandom!)

Nice people

Do not interact:

Basic DNI

Pedophiles

Transphobes/homophobes

Racists

Creeps

Hai friends :3 (sorry for the tags, i love y’all!!!)

@eagle-head-charge @wastelandtherapist @conductor-on-grn @sly-daffodils @red-demo-tf2 @rengineer @thenumberonerascal @averagebioweaponslover @meet-the-civilians @meet-the-net @tf2-nurse-is-dreaming

[colonel-v-palmer]

Access granted, welcome [USER]

“Heya love, this is Venus, it’s good to finally get back on tumblr! Christ i remember bein’ a kid on here-“

✦ Basic Oc info:

Name: Vega Palmer

Callsign: Venus

Rank: Colonel

Job/role: Sniper / Scout sniper

Nickname: Vee

Age: 37

Height: 6’3

Birthplace: London, England

Gender/pronouns: Trans male, He/Him,

Orientation: Gay and ambiamarous

Personality: intimidating, observant, perceptive, confident, easygoing, flirty, cocky, snarky, witty, charismatic,

Pinterest board

Voice claim

[Venus’ Personnel File]

Venus lore document(redacted version)

✦ Blog info:

I would like to keep this blog to be strictly 16+ with little NSFW. I have pretty bad anxiety, and receiving incredibly suggestive asks will most likely make that spike and I don’t want to stress over my blog, this is for fun! Feel free to do silly flirting with Venus, but anything i deem too far will get deleted or blocked based on severity.

i would prefer if minors did not interact, this blog may have sensitive topics discussed. or at the very least they do not interact with posts discussing said topics.

Mod is a basic white boy, and I don’t really know a lot about military and similar stuff, so i might get things wrong! I also haven’t played a lot of call of duty(i watch those no commentary playthroughs though, so i have a basic knowledge on some of the games)

This blog is open to shipping! Feel free to come up with some silly ship stuff for my boy!!

Mod uses he/him pronouns, and you can refer to me as Stag!!

Mod follows from @transfrogwithcoolsocks

Mod has insane social anxiety so i apologise if i come off as awkward or rude (i’m just a little guy)

Mod has the worst memory known to mankind, so if i send multiple asks it is because i forgot that i already sent one(i am sorrgy)

Any photos i use in posts will be found on Pinterest.

My other RP blogs are: @canineriot-fenrir @meet-the-trapper-tf2 @redhead-string-shredder @crutches-n-stitches @ultimate-exorcist-chyrche @darling-idol-hoshiko @dutch-bunny-rabbit @stupid-fishbait-moray @aussie-menace-dingo @kerosene-n-gasoline @lt-morse @hurricane-tsunemasu @sgt-smiler

✦ Tags:

#Venus posting - Venus post

#Stargazing - Venus reblogs

#Need something love? - Answering asks

#Venus’ little activities - Rp starters

#Mission status - Rp tag

#venus lore - lore tag

#SpookyPlanet - Venus and Ghost <3

#venus’ silly music collection - music tag

#Stag posting - mod posts

#Stag found this - mod reblogs

#Stag answers - mod asks

#Stags silly scribbles - Mod art / writings

#Stags little lore drops - Oc lore

#Stags spice tag - nsfw tag

Any sensitive topics will be tagged accordingly

✦ Rp info:

Rp will look like this:

[Venus gives (name) a wide grin and a nod, clearly on board with the mission proposal.]

“Talking will be like this”

Venus calls everyone love, and will absolutely tease anyone who gets even mildly flustered or embarrassed by it. You have been warned.

Venus prefers to be referred to with his callsign or last name, colonel makes him feel old.

✦ Physical description of Venus:

Venus is 6’3 and has an athletic and feminine physique, being more bottom heavy with muscular thighs and legs and wide hips with prominent hip dips. His arms and shoulders are toned and muscular, but fairly slim compared to other parts of him.

His hair jet black, cut to a buzzcut, slightly grown out and scruffy. His hair is naturally black, and was previously dyed dark red.

Scars/tattoos/piercings: Venus has multiple tattoos across his body, mostly on his arms, thighs and hips. He has large ear gauges and multiple ear piercings, and a few lip and nose piercings, including a stretched septum. Venus has a thick scar around the base of his neck, which he refuses to speak about, often covering it with a choker or throat mic. Venus has some scars across his body (bullets, general wear and tear), and some SH on his inner forearms, which are mostly healed.

His face is angular and feminine, with a sharp jaw wide and almond / upturned shaped rusty orange / brown eyes. He wears heavy makeup when not on deployment, usually a lot of dark eyeshadow and mascara, and on occasion black lipstick.

Clothes on base: Venus’ On base clothes consist of a black tank top, black low rise skinny jeans with a studded belt, platformed combat boots, fingerless gloves, silver jewellery and rings. He wears a black leather jacket or hoodie for colder weather, and black cargo shorts in warmer weather.

“Civvie” clothes: He normally dresses more nice when not on base, and in a trad goth style (yass king). Usually a black flared sleeve top with either a leather miniskirt or flared jeans and a corset, with multiple belts, silver jewellery (specifically some rosarys and an ankh pendant), ripped fishnet tights, lace stockings and platform boots, and a black trench coat over it all.

✦ Interact list:

Please do interact:

Call of duty/141 Rp blogs

Rp blogs in general

Anons

Call of duty/141 ocs

Other ocs(from any fandom!)

Nice people

Do not interact:

Basic DNI

Pedophiles

Transphobes/homophobes

Racists

Creeps

[differentcoloredcontacts]

What, in your opinion, is each Class 1b member's irks (like what gets on their nerves)

(I had to literally look up a word that represents someone's annoyance towards something but it's ok that's why I remain anonymous 🤫)

Sorry if this ask is a little late I was building a barbie shrine in minecraft <3

Annoying things/ things class B hates

Awase -

Walking into a room and then forgetting why you walked in there is the worst. When he walks into the main area only to start grumbling under his breath everyone already knows he forgot what he went in there for.

Sen -

Any type of minor injury that shouldn't hurt as bad as it does. Like how can he be stabbed during a sparing match and walk it off but hes almost in tears because he stubbed his toe?!

Kamakiri -

Everything annoys him. And I mean

e v e r y t h i n g. There was one time where he glared at a guy and when you asked him what was wrong he said they were 'breathing too loud.'

Kuroiro -

People that are quick to label other people based on their zodiac/blood type without actually getting to know them. Its one thing to go 'oh your a gemini thats cool' but its something else to go 'oh your a gemini? So your a two faced bitch then.'

Kendo -

People that do stupid stuff just to look cool. Like ppl who started to vape or drink or fail classes simply because its what everyone else is doing.

Kodai -

People who do nothing but talk about themselves. She wont confront them if theyre annoying her and everyone else in the room, she will just tune them out.

Komori -

She doesn't like lazy people. She can understand laying around for a day or two but how are you gonna spend your whole life eating chicken nuggets in your moms basement?

Shiozaki -

She really dislikes lies. Especially really stupid ones. She can kinda understand lieing your way out of trouble (we've all been there) but youre not Beyonces biological kid that she abandoned, stfu.

Shishida -

It annoys him how the times have changed. (In the bad ways lol) like modern architecture annoys him and he wants everyone to open doors for people like they did in the 90s (its rlly not that common anymore) (unless its just where I live idk)

Shoda -

The only thing that annoys him is people sneezing and not covering their nose with the inside of their elbow.

Pony -

Honestly nothing really annoys her. Shes the type that can vibe with pretty much anyone. If youre a villain or just mean she will hate you tho.

Tsubaraba -

He hates when he askes someone to repeat something and they just say 'Nevermind' it sucks and its an annoying waste of everyones time.

Tetsutetsu -

Those stupid reality shows that always have the dumbest people on them (toddlers and tiaras, biggest cheapskate, my strange addiction, ect.) He understands how ppl can like it but they annoy him so much.

Tokage -

People with zero self awareness. Like if you stop in the middle of the sidewalk to film a tiktok dance or something (causing multiple people to almost get hit by flailing arms) she has to hold back the urge to snap your phone.

Manga -

People that say stupid stuff like digital art isnt real art (it is) or ai art is real art (its not) or overall just stupid stuff like that.

Honenuki -

People who are out of touch with reality annoy him so much. Especially when theyre the rich out of touch type. "Wdym not everyone has a private jet?" Please stop talking.

Bondo -

People that are mean to strangers for no reason. He doesn't care if it is the worst day of your life it is no excuse to cuss out a waiter.

Monoma -

He hates when dumb people act smart. Like its okay if you just happened to be wrong about something you thought was correct but if you keep making up stuff to sound right then he hates you ngl.

Reiko -

People that shout over other people. Like please shut up and let the quiet ones speak.

Rin -

People that chew overly loud or talk with food in their mouth. He just finds it really gross and it is so easy to just swallow your food before talking.

Not proofread we die like men.

[soulfullofold]

continuing from previous post but uuuuuuuu not sure if this is remotely interesting to people but i'm taking a ceramics class rn and it's consumed my life completely

i'm out of university so i am auditing it. which has its own unique challenges of working full time + missing work for class + having to put in so many extra & odd hours in the studio to get assignments done. it's really nice to be in an academic setting again. I never actually took an art class in college...well...I took a 300lvl Art History class and tecchhhnically an ART class but focused on motion picture / film so not a proper studio art class with critique and studio hours. it's a nice new experience is my point. I was signed up for wheel throwing but they had to split the class into two sections so I got put in hand building instead (so that the actual students could take wheel LOL). it's fine; i really don't mind hand building. but we're starting from scratch scratch and i'm like. I just want to make weird sculptures not tiles but i understand and respect the progression of the class.

i'm pretty proud of what i'm making (even with the railroady assignments) and i really like our professor. she's really good about involving students in more complex things if they ask, and i love to ask. like please teach me how to make your own glaze and how to load / unload the kiln...

today i was sitting at my work desk just daydreaming about how to continue doing this after this class. i know ceramics is expensive as hell but it's also like. not That bad all things considered. like clay isn't too too bad, and you can recycle a lot of it from your tools and messed up projects. even if you have like. 1-2 glazes that you return to over and over again, it helps establish your identity as an artist so there's no need to have like a bajillion different options necessarily, as nice as it would be. even a wheel isn't required since you can hand build everything. a slab roller would be nice and so would a K I L N but you know how it is. studio membership is pretty expensive but at least i could have access to these things if needed. anyways i went on kilnshare and the nearest kiln to me is ~2 hours away. but i stalked the lady who ran the studio and learned all about her LOL (she shares prolifically on FB). And it's just....yeah i dunno. it would be cool to keep it up if I could.

But also I know I have a tendency to throw my entire self into whatever I do, no matter how mundane it is. So I'm like. Okay do we REALLY need to deep dive into all of this ceramics stuff and try and source a kiln and clay and build a studio (whaaaat)? I've literally been doing this for 3 or 4 weeks. What Gives. Cool The Jets. I did this with screen printing and block printing and embroidery to a lesser extent and it's just...I'm not in a place to afford RENT why am I like 👀 oh let's see if anyone is selling their used $5k kiln haa haa. Don't worry. I will definitely have a place for it and be able to literally power it with enough electricity.

I really enjoy sculpting and I think the ability to make Functional art is very very cool. And to produce it relatively easier (compared to a painting which is...a huge huge time sink for not a lot of replicable effort imo). I'm also happier experimenting with sculpture than I am with paint, I dunno. It's a different brain space to me.

The clay dust must be congealing in my brain. Clown Brain is a very accurate title; it's like clown lung but for my art-related decision making. I guess I'm just in the honeymoon stage with ceramics. I really am enjoying it very much, even if I do sometimes have to spend 14 hours straight in the studio to get projects done or come in multiple times per day or whatever. And it's literally just the most simple hand building projects that I just like to make crazy complicated for fun.

Yesterday and today I made 100 pinch pots :) Mugs are SOON since we learn handles tomorrow. mother of god it's all real. once my tiles are through the glaze firing, i will post them. also i found out someone's project blew up and took mine out with it in the bisque. i spent like 40 hrs on that thang. Great. but i'm trying to stay positive.

AND . sorry this is so rambly i'm just on little sleep and many thoughtless hours hunched over a banding wheel. and it has been nice, i think, to just make art i want to make again. (holds my hands out like spongebob about to be squished) I MEAN like . non arpg personal art. just like. yeah i want to draw a hill with a distant figure on it. no it's not an oc and no i don't have to score it for points and no i don't have to show or explain it to literally anyone. like i'm enjoying experimenting with subject matter that i like outside of twwm / esk after my fallout from exiting staff. also that is a whole other can of worms i am still processing so if you know me from that space, i am very sorry for the sudden change and for the little to no explanation for the sake of being professional but you can dm me and we can talk about it if you're curious. i don't hold any ill will for the game and i'm so happy that people are still enjoying it and their characters outside of me but man i have had experiences and many many thoughts.

okay that snuck in outta nowhere YAY sculpting YAY someone stop me from trying to randomly derail my life and create a pottery studio in the backyard i don't own

[kerosene-n-gasoline]

Access granted, welcome [USER]

[Short intro missing from database. Please try again later]

✦ Basic Oc info:

Name: Ashe Fletcher

Callsign: Kerosene

Rank: Corporal

Job/role: Pyrotechnics / explosions

Nicknames: Spitfire, Bonfire, Fireball, Pyro, Kiddo, Firecracker

Age: 23

Height: 5’5

Birthplace: London, England

Gender/pronouns: Trans male, He/Him, occasionally They/them

Personality: quiet, socially awkward, unsettling, destructive, stubborn, childish, curious, eerie, impulsive, Reckless

Pinterest board(scars tw)

Kerosene’s personnel file

Vague(?) voice claim (this, but far croakier and just generally horrible sounding if that makes sense :3)

Important information: Kerosene has heavily damaged vocal cords and lungs due to [INFORMATION REDACTED] and finds it painful to speak, instead he uses writing or non verbal prompts to communicate. Kerosene has also been diagnosed with autism and pyromania.

[Kerosene has been known to set fire to things without permission, and so far has burnt down 3 humvees, 2 jeeps and one warehouse. Please confiscate any flammable materials or firelighting equipment you see him carrying when he is not on deployment.]

✦ Blog info:

I would like to keep this blog to be strictly 16+ with minimal NSFW. I have pretty bad anxiety, and receiving incredibly suggestive asks will most likely make that spike and I don’t want to stress over my blog, this is for fun! Feel free to do (minimal) silly flirting with Kerosene, but anything i deem too far will get deleted or blocked based on severity.

i would prefer if minors did not interact, this blog may have sensitive topics discussed. or at the very least they do not interact with posts discussing said topics.

Mod is a basic white boy, and I don’t really know a lot about military and similar stuff, so i might get things wrong! I also haven’t played a lot of call of duty(i watch those no commentary playthroughs though, so i have a basic knowledge on some of the games)

Mod is a self shipper and ships Kerosene with multiple characters, if you are uncomfortable with that please let me know!

Mod uses he/him pronouns, and you can refer to me as Stag!!

Mod follows from @transfrogwithcoolsocks

Mod has insane social anxiety so i apologise if i come off as awkward or rude (i’m just a little guy)

Mod has the worst memory known to mankind, so if i send multiple asks it is because i forgot that i already sent one(i am sorrgy)

Any photos i use in posts will be found on Pinterest.

My other RP blogs are: @canineriot-fenrir , @meet-the-trapper-tf2 @redhead-string-shredder @crutches-n-stitches @ultimate-exorcist-chyrche @darling-idol-hoshiko @dutch-bunny-rabbit @Stupid-Fishbait-Moray @aussie-menace-dingo @colonel-v-palmer @lt-morse @hurricane-tsunemasu

✦ Tags:

#Kerosene posting - Kerosene post

#Fuel for the fire - Kerosene reblogs

#Smoke ‘em out - Answering asks

#Kerosene’s gremlin activities - Rp starters

#Mission status - Rp tag

#Stag posting - mod posts

#Stag found this - mod reblogs

#Stag answers - mod asks

#Stags silly scribbles - Mod art / writings

Any sensitive topics will be tagged accordingly

✦ Rp info:

Rp will look like this:

[Kerosene gives (name) an eager nod, and a thumbs up, a croaky and gritty hum being heard from the gas mask. He then begins to walk off with a big spring in his step, after waving goodbye to (name).]

“Talking will be like this”

I took inspiration for Kerosene from Pyro(tf2). if they come off as being too similar it is coincidental, I’m trying to differentiate them, and make sure Kerosene is his own character!

✦ Physical description of Kerosene:

Kerosene is 5’5, slightly chubby with some muscle. He’s got strong shoulders and arms, but a soft stomach and large bust.

His hair jet black, with a scruffy and badly cut buzzcut, presumably done by himself.

His entire body is [REDACTED] and is the reason they wear his gas mask. Kerosene has a few tattoos on his shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Kerosene wears a gas mask 24/7 and refuses to remove it around teammates. His usual attire is a slightly dirty tank top, dark red boiler suit, tan work boots, welding gloves and an oxygen and gasoline tanks on their back. He occasionally will wear a holster containing a blowtorch on their thigh.

His face is round and squishy, with a button nose and soft jaw, wide and curious looking amber eyes. (Apparently) Their eyebrows and eyelashes have been burned off completely.

Pre-accident kerosene!!

Mod is not the best with remembering to respond so I apologise if I forget about a thread or do not respond to an ask very quickly.

✦ Interact list:

Please do interact:

Call of duty/141 Rp blogs

Rp blogs in general

Anons

Call of duty/141 ocs

Other ocs(from any fandom!)

Nice people

Do not interact:

Basic DNI

Pedophiles

Transphobes/homophobes

Racists

Creeps