#but everyone else around you is suddenly weird

[growthhyp]

I want to transform into a muscular jock with high confidence and attitude. As I am obese and not courageous. I want to acquire a new lifestyle and memories

The Hair Wax

As you stroll towards the inviting embrace of the beach, the warm sun kissing your skin, you notice a hulking figure standing by the shoreline. His beard is like a wild forest, untamed and thick, obscuring his face features. His hair, a dark mane, cascading down his muscular back. Intrigued, you decide to approach him despite the uncanny vibe he exudes.

"Hey little man," he says, his voice like gravel over velvet, "you look like you could use some help." You feel a twinge of annoyance at his observation. True, you're not the most muscular or tall, but who is he to judge?

"What do you want?" you reply, crossing your arms over your slightly chubby belly.

The mysterious man holds out a canister, "This is hair wax, my friend. It's not just any hair wax. It's special. Go ahead, try it."

You're skeptical but can't resist the urge to engage. "Why would I need hair wax at the beach?"

The man, who introduces himself as Viktor, laughs heartily, "Ah, you're a smart one. But trust me, this isn't your ordinary beach day. Try it, young man. It's like nothing you've ever felt before."

With a shrug, you take the canister, curious about the claim. You scoop out a dollop with your fingers and spread it through your hair. It's sticky but smells faintly of the ocean, a scent that's both calming and invigorating. "It's... different," you admit.

Viktor's grin widens, revealing a set of teeth as gleaming as the sun reflecting off the waves. "Good, good," he says, patting you on the shoulder, a gesture that feels surprisingly warm and firm. "Remember, this isn't for everyone. But for you, it's perfect."

You nod, not really understanding what he means, but eager to get to the beach. "Thanks, I guess," you murmur before turning away. As you walk towards the shore, you can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, watching. You look back over your shoulder, but the spot where he stood is now empty. A slight shiver runs down your spine. Maybe he was just a weird beach vendor. You shake off the odd encounter and focus on the crashing waves ahead.

Setting up your towel and umbrella, you lay down to soak in some sun. You feel the sand warm beneath you and the gentle caress of the breeze. But then, something strange happens. Your head starts to itch, not just a little but an intense, overwhelming itch. You scratch vigorously, trying to ignore it. But it doesn't go away. It gets stronger.

Suddenly, you realize your belly is shrinking! Your skin tightens as the extra padding of fat vanishes. Your arms bulge as muscles grow beneath your skin. Your chest puffs up, pushing against your tank top. You see your biceps and triceps popping out, giving you a look that's both surprising and exhilarating. The neckline of your shirt stretches as your shoulders and traps balloon.

You stand up, feeling a strange power surging through you. Your legs, once average, are now thick pillars of power. Your calves bulge like rocks, making you feel like you could run for miles. And your feet... they're bigger! You look down to find them swelling in your flip flops, which now seem so tiny. You rip them off, feeling the sand under your now massive soles.

Panic sets in as you realize your shorts are getting tight, really tight. You try to pull them down, but they cling to your growing thighs like a second skin. And that bulge in the front... it's definitely not a disease. No, it's something else entirely. You look around, hoping nobody's noticed your sudden transformation. Your shoulders and lats bursting out from the sides, your back muscles rippling like waves under your skin.

You touch your jaw and feel it hardening, growing more defined. Your shoulders widen, making your posture more assertive. People are staring, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you're filled with a newfound confidence. You flex your arms and watch in awe as the veins pop out, your biceps and triceps swelling like they're fighting to escape their new, tightly wrapped home. You're not just a regular Joe anymore; you're becoming a beast!

You start to strut down the beach, feeling the power of an alpha male. Your voice drops to a commanding bass, making heads turn. You're no longer the shy guy hiding in the corner; you're the center of attention. You want to show off this new body, to make everyone see what you've become. The hair wax had done something to you, something incredible. You're not just stronger now; you're sexier, more dominant. You are an ALPHA.

___

Thank you @brains4brawn for providing the prompt for the video.

[lsunstreakerl]

honestly, any strange ship, a while ago you had commented about Sebastian being a "guilty" "ship" something strange or guilty in that sense

this did not end up being sebastian- I mean, he's kind of there. I also need just not try and estimate word counts because this ended up being 1.3k. HI HELLO: this is from the kink prompts so it is explicit in nature, as in people are fucking and getting fucked.

pairings: mark webber/max verstappen, max verstappen/marc márquez, implied mark webber/sebastian vettel, implied daniel ricciardo/max verstappen

relevant heads up: slight exhibitionist kink, semi-socially acceptable public sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, the slightest hint of a temperature kink, mild slut shaming

Max doesn't make a habit of feeling out of place at parties, considering how often he's at them, but this-

This is totally different to anything else he knows. They're in some huge remote cabin-style resort, a weeklong trip entirely paid by Redbull.

Everyone in attendance is either an insane talent in their respect area, or a revered alum, which is how Max has found himself on his knees, Mark Webber's cock down his throat, with Sebastian Vettel piping in with incredibly unhelpful instructions.

"Little bit more tongue, yes, like that- he loves that. Hates to admit it, but nothing gets him off faster- also you'll want to close your eyes when he comes, he likes to get it all over the face, nasty-"

"Shut up."

Mark's talking to Sebastian, but Max is the one who gets his hair pulled roughly, which really doesn't feel fair here- he's not mouthing off, and it's not his fault Mark and Seb still don't have their shit figured out.

He makes a muffled noise around Mark, who groans at the vibrations, and Max realizes with a twinge of annoyance that he actually has been listening to Seb- which is fucking stupid, if Seb wants to suck Mark's cock he can come do it himself, but Max is going to do it his way.

He doesn't give any kind of warning, just watches his teeth before suddenly taking Mark all the way to the base, breathing through his nose.

He's not as impressive as Da- some other Australians Max has gotten on his knees for before.

Mark chokes on an inhale, fingers clenching in Max's hair, and Max grins to himself, because he's not Sebastian Vettel, and no matter how badly Mark wants to dominate a blonde bratty European Redbull world champion, he's not going to find it in Max.

Max deliberately moans, low and long, and Mark's hips jerk before they snap frantically into his mouth.

"Fuck- fuck, Sebastian-"

Oh come on.

People who can't call Max by his name do not get to come on his face, so he doesn't let up, keeps Mark down his throat as he comes, and it's longer than Max expected for a guy in his late forties, honestly.

Seb just laughs from his chair, and Max shoots him a glare as he pulls off, already thinking of which drink he's going to wash down the taste with.

"Cunts."

They can be weird and off putting and miserable together, Max doesn't care. It wasn't even that good anyways, and now he's not going to be able to look Oscar in the eye for a few weeks.

He stalks into the kitchen, passes Coulthard in the hallway, hopes he doesn't look too much like he just sucked off a retired driver in one of the lounge rooms.

Not that it would be surprising- Max had been freaked out the first time he was here, but he gets it now- it's like the Olympic Village. Redbull takes their hot, talented athletes, sticks them in a resort for a week, and lets them fuck like rabbits in the hopes of avoiding sex related PR crisis for the rest of the year.

It works pretty well.

He's checking for gin, fingers dancing over bottle caps, when a hand wraps around his waist, and Max knows that hand.

"Marc!"

He spins around, and then he has an armful of excitable MotoGP rider, hips pressing Max's into the counter while he's busy getting his tongue in his mouth.

Marc tastes like vodka and fireball, and Max wants to drink it straight from his system, wants to-

He pulls back for a second, meeting Marc's eyes. Marc is down for anything- Max loves that about him. The MotoGP guys know how to party.

"Do you want to do body shots and fuck on the pool table?"

Marc yanks his head back down to continue making out, one arm scrabbling behind Max for a familiar clink of a few bottles.

He pulls back to reach for some limes, and then he's grinning at Max, with his trademark brilliant smile.

"Yes!"

------

"Fuck- Marc, please, you are going to kill me-"

Max isn't used to being the one with his dick inside someone, but he's flat on his back on the table, and Marc is tight and hot and wet, sinking down onto Max, one hand braced on his chest as he grins at him.

Max tosses his head back onto the table, and his fingers are digging into Marc's thighs, corded muscle straining under his palms.

His mouth still tastes like lime and liquor, and he's pretty sure his neck is crusted with salt, and he's trying so hard not buck his hips up-

"You are so cute when you're trying to be good."

Max shudders, hands gripping tighter, and Marc is practically purring at him, because the game is that Max can't come first, and he was going to lose from the fucking start. They both knew it.

"Marc- Marc I'm gonna come, please please can I-"

Marc just shakes his head, eyes crinkled at the corner as he changes his pace on the next slide down, tight and irresistible. Max can feel himself shaking, closer and closer to the edge, and he squeezes his eyes shut, one last time-

Marc's fingers come down to pinch his nipples, and they're dripping with ice water, cold and freezing.

Max comes with a scream, back arching off the table, the sound of Marc's laughter ringing in his ears.

He's still riding the wave when Marc gets off of him, and then Max is being manhandled, rolled onto his chest as Marc knocks his knees apart. Everything is hot and cold and sensitive, and he's glad Daniel stretched him out earlier, because Marc pushes two fingers into him off the bat, scissoring Max open as he groans into the table.

"Aw, you are all loose. Whore."

Marc spits into him, and Max keens, scratchy fabric of the pool table rough against his chest, and then Marc is pushing in, splitting him wide, an endless press.

It's unfair for a man that small to be this hung.

Max is overwhelmed, slurring into the table as Marc snaps his hips in, and it's too soon from his last orgasm- he feels raw and peeled open, which is exactly when Marc leans over him, chest pressed to his back, and shoves three fingers and an ice cube into Max's mouth.

He bucks back onto Marc's cock at the sensation, the heat of his fingers and the chill of the ice, and he realizes what's next a second too late, squirming as Marc brings his other hand to wrap around his still soft cock, fingers ice cold.

"Ohhhhh, please, please-"

Marc nips at his back, and Max can feel him smiling at he starts to jack his hand, and it's too much- he feels too full, he's too raw and overwhelmed, he's pretty sure people are watching them-

Marc aims deliberately for his prostate, and Max is wailing, tips over into his second orgasm brutally, shaking to pieces underneath Marc.

He doesn't stop- his rhythm picks up, chasing his own pleasure- Max is limp, lets Marc use him however he wants, and he can't tell if it's seconds or minutes later when Marc snaps in for a final time, hips pressed flush against his ass.

Max slumps down as Marc pulls out, and then there's fingers gently patting at his cheek.

"You are as always very fun, Verstappen."

Max blinks, tries to get his brain started back up.

"Yup."

Marc giggles, and then he's gently kissing Max for a moment- he tastes like lime again.

"Thank you, you are very sweet- for being a slut."

Max half chokes on a laugh, because, well-

He kind of is. He's laid out on the pool table at what is technically a company event, and just tonight he's given multiple blowjobs, been fucked twice, and he's just come back to back.

It's a good thing they have mandatory testing before they get here.

"Anytime, Márquez."

[theamarischapter]

He’s Not My Boyfriend!

CHAPTER 03; the hangout

previous: chapter 2

a/n: hey everyone!! it feels like it’s been forever lmfao. it’s been chaotic but the chapter is finally here! if anyone would like to join the tag list, please lmk :)

w/c: 2.9k

genre: strangers to frenemies to lovers, high school au, slow burn…ish (?), fake dating (for a day)

warnings: none!

summary: your friends trick you into hanging out with him (alone). you should’ve seen it coming, really…but it’s not the worst. it’s actually fun! well, until…

fic below the cut! enjoy <3

It starts with an innocuous text from Kai.

hyuka!! : hi ^ - ^  do u wanna go to the movies on saturday ur bf will be there… (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

you: shut up 🙄 i’m free who else is going

hyuka!! : soobin yunjin said maybe  and me ofc!! ( ^ω^ )

you: okay 😛  lmk what time and everything 

Of course, you think nothing of the interaction. Why would you? It’s your cousin inviting you to see a movie…and your friends said they’d be there. You made sure to ask them directly. Beomgyu will be there too, but whatever. It’s not like it matters. He’s just another person in the group, nothing more. Of course, you’ll get teased and everything but it’s no big deal—it’s been a while since you all hung out, anyway. 

The rest of the week passes in a blur of boring classes and repetitive homework. Everything is so normal and your friends have been talking non-stop about the movie you’re going to watch. Honestly, you’ve become quite interested in seeing it—you even decided to watch the trailer. When the weekend comes, you find yourself smiling at the thought of hanging out with your friends. It’s cold out, so you put on a few layers before stepping out into the chilly breeze. 

The movie theater is about ten minutes away from your home, and Kai texted you to meet out in front. You type out a text to let everyone know you’re on your way since you’re running late; it’s left unread—weird…they’ve been nonstop in the group chat all week, so why the silence now? The large building slowly comes into view, sitting beside the rest of your town’s constantly overcrowded mall. The car slows to a stop beside the curb and your eyes scan the area. You spot Beomgyu standing alone in front of the large glass doors, fingers moving anxiously over his phone—texting someone, maybe. A weird feeling begins to bubble in your chest, eyes narrowing down at your own phone—still nothing from your friends. You glance at the time, and you’re about eight minutes late. With a resigned sigh, you step out of the car, waving goodbye as your mother drives away.

“Hey, uh… Where is everyone?” You ask, standing in front of Beomgyu. He startles and his head whips up, meeting your gaze wide-eyed, as though surprised to see you. He looks around, lips parting, then closing, then parting again. What’s up with him?

“Everyone?” He repeats, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. It takes a moment, and then a flash of realization passes through his eyes. His lips press into a thin line before he scoffs, shaking his head. “Kai said it’d just be him and Soobin.” 

“Really? He told me he invited Yunjin and Chaewon, though—they both said they were coming…” Your words slow down as the realization hits you, too. It’s already ten minutes after you were all supposed to meet and only you and him are here? And your friends, who usually spam the group chat, are suddenly silent? You let out a long sigh, looking away from him. You’re an absolute idiot. How did you not see it coming? It’s so obvious now that you’re here, alone with Beomgyu in front of the movie theater. This is a setup. 

“What the hell.” He mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing at his buzzing phone screen. He senses your curiosity, the unasked question in your gaze, so he turns the phone to you. On it you see a message notification from Kai that says “have fun ( ˘ ³˘)♥.” Neither of you say anything. The wind nips at your cheeks, and for a second, the only sound is the hum of traffic in the distance. His phone buzzes again and he ignores it. He brings his phone back down into his pocket with a long, weary sigh. There’s an unspoken tension as if you’re both waiting for the other to do or say something, afraid of making the “wrong” move. You’re unsure why you suddenly feel the need to fiddle with your sleeve and avert your gaze—you were fine a few seconds ago! But, that was also when you’d assumed there’d be other people to make up for the awkward feelings and thoughts that always bubble up when he’s around. You shake your head, dismissing the unwanted thoughts. What’s the big deal, anyway? 

“Well, um. I mean- we already…” You stumble over the words, feeling indescribably unsure of yourself. There’s this unfamiliar, tight feeling in your chest that makes your throat tickle and your tongue feel heavy. You aren’t the most charismatic person in the world—you’ve had your fair share of awkward interactions—but talking to people isn’t that bad. And it’s Beomgyu of all people! Why are you struggling? “We already bought the tickets, so we might as well stay…if you want to—um, you don’t have to! It’s cold out and everything so-”

“No, it’s fine. Um, I’ll stay.” His response is quick, almost eager, and he immediately regrets it. He shifts his weight back and forth, clearing his throat. His mind races—does this make it seem like he wants to be here? Because he doesn’t. Not really. It’s just—

His gaze flickers to you, and you’re watching him expectantly. No judgment, no irritation, just quiet, kind patience. A gaze he remembers, the one that captivated him in middle school. He allows himself to relax, exhaling quietly.

“I don’t mind.” He says, steadier this time. He gestures toward the wide glass door behind him, offering you a polite smile as he holds it open for you. A tinge of warmth flows through your chest and the tension in your posture eases—just a little. See? He’s nice. You have nothing to worry about. It’s just a normal hangout with… a friend. Beomgyu seems a bit more at ease too, since you’re both on the same page. He’s really nice and, apparently, he's the kind of guy who insists on paying for your snacks, even when you argue you have your own money.

— °˖✧✿✧˖° —

Beomgyu can’t help but feel a bit annoyed. It was just the other day that he told Kai about his crush on Yeji, yet here he is, sitting beside you in the movie theater. Then again, there are worse people he could be stuck with. It’s just frustrating to have his feelings so blatantly ignored by his best friend. And then there’s also the fact that every negative thought about himself tends to resurface whenever you’re around, almost like a learned response. It happens before he can stop it—the automatic scan of your expression, the way his brain scrambles to pick apart your every shift in posture. He begins to gauge your unreadable expression and pull from it illusory ideas of dissatisfaction or ridicule. 

You don’t want to be here. You’d rather be with anyone else. You think he’s weird. A loser. Awkward. Someone you tolerate at best. You two don’t get along—

He should know better by now. He’s not that kid anymore. But still—

Are you bored? Are you fidgeting because of him? Are you regretting staying? His stomach knots.

Why does he care, anyway? Middle school was a long time ago, meaning he’s had plenty of time to let go of those bygone feelings. But, maybe, he forgot to let go of ingrained habits associated with you. Maybe deep down there’s a part of him that still holds you to an unattainable standard. The girl who was never in his league, who never took a second glance at him, who probably only ever knew him as her cousin’s best friend. He really needs to stop doing that all the time. In any case, you’re the one who offered to continue the hang-out, your here by your own choice. Because, in reality, you’re not some special celebrity. You’re just a normal, average teenage girl. Just his best friend's cousin whom he happened to end up alone with because some people love to be stubborn. He’ll get back at Kai for this…just wait.

The movie passes by in a blur of flashing images. The tension in his chest fades for the hour and a half that he sits completely captivated by the story being told on screen. Well, okay, he fell asleep like forty minutes in but whatever! The first half was really good…so he’s sure the rest was, too. 

You almost don’t want to wake him from his peaceful slumber. Even as the lights gradually come on, you sit unmoving beside him, eyes lingering on his plump lips and long eyelashes. Get it together, idiot. You nudge him gently. He shifts a little, taking a slow breath as his eyes flutter open. They connect with yours and it feels like the universe pauses for just a moment.

“The movie’s over.” You say quietly, glancing at your hand, which remains gently placed against his shoulder. Oops. You pull it away hastily, clearing your throat as you collect your garbage and stand. You refuse to spare him another glance, which he’s actually grateful for. You won’t see the reddening tips of his ears. He regrets falling asleep—what if you think he’s weird now? Or boring? Or rude, or something? The warmth of your palm lingers on his shoulder. He walks silently beside you as you exit the theater. 

The lively chatter of others fills the silence between you. Some say the movie was good, others found it boring. The exit gets closer and closer. Perhaps you two hadn’t made as much progress as friends as he initially thought. Should he bring up the movie? He was asleep for half of it, though. Are you two just going to part ways without speaking? He’s holding the door open for you now, noticing the way your gaze avoids his. Did he do something wrong? The quiet breeze whispers by, and he stops in his tracks when you suddenly stop. Finally, the tension is broken. 

“So…um.” You start, conversation eluding you. Seriously, this needs to stop. It’s Beomgyu. Beomgyu. There’s nothing to stress over. “Did you like the movie?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he replies stiffly, hands clenched in his pockets. His lips purse, a soft breath coming out through his nose. He just needs to be himself. His real self—the one he’s been working so hard to improve. “I mean, the part that I saw, at least.” He laughs softly.

You laugh in response, easing up again. Internally, Beomgyu celebrates this exceptional achievement, which boosts his ego and encourages him to do more. The Beomgyu from middle school would be shaking right about now. “I was so invested and then the next thing I knew I was the main character.”

“What time did you go to sleep yesterday?” You ask, an amused huff escaping your lips as you smile at him. He looks away from you, a smile pulling at his lips as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Well…I kinda lost track, but maybe 3 AM?” He replies, a touch of hesitance in his tone. You’re still smiling at him, shaking your head. 

“At least it’s the weekend.” You shrug, glancing over to the mall, which sits right beside the movie theater. There’s a lot that happens in your mind over the span of a few seconds. First, the impulsive thought to invite him to hang out a little longer. Then, the realization that you don’t need anything fueling your friends’ shipping. Then, dismissing that thought because you already watched the movie with him which is enough to have fueled the shipping anyways. And then your gaze connects with his, triggering your brain to give in to an unasked request in his eyes. Is that really all the convincing it took…? “Uh, do you wanna go get some ice cream or something? Since we’re by the mall already.”

His expression brightens a little, lips pulling into a pretty smile. He nods, his fingers mindlessly fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “Sure.”

— °˖✧✿✧˖° —

As you browse around the mall, you get to know him better, slowly making your way toward the food court. He's unexpectedly fun—goofy, even—and keeps you smiling the whole time. You’ve never really seen him break out of his shell like this, but it’s refreshing. Maybe your impression of him has been wrong all along—he’s not some awkward loser or intimidatingly reserved. In fact, he’s the exact opposite. He’s charming and kind, his presence exuding a natural warmth—now that he’s more comfortable with you. Since he bought your snacks for the movie, you make sure to pay for his ice cream, even though he tries to pay. You take a seat at an empty table in the food court, sitting across from each other. 

“Ice cream in the winter…” You murmur, letting out a small huff as you take a scoop from your cup. He raises an eyebrow, elbows resting on the table as he laughs softly. 

“It was your suggestion,” he teases. As he takes the first bite, he lets out an overexaggerated hum of delight. His eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. “It’s delicious.” 

You can’t help but laugh, unsure how to react to such an overblown reaction. You simply nod, deciding to go along with it. It’s a little annoying that it’s him who’s making you smile and laugh so much. Your friends are going to get the wrong idea, especially because you exchanged numbers on the walk to the food court. Either way, the hangout has been surprisingly nice—ignoring the fact that you were both tricked into being here. 

Tricked, but technically…not forced.

And, of course, when things are going well the universe has a way of interrupting. An unexpected face appears, displaying a bright smile and gentle gaze meant for Beomgyu. Her sweet voice rings out, interrupting the small moment you’d been having. It’s…Yeji. 

“Oh, Beomgyu! Hey! You two on a date?” She asks, her voice bubbly and naive. Her kind gaze shifts to you and, for just a moment, it almost feels like she’s sizing you up. Her gaze flickers down, then up, before settling back on Beomgyu.

A date? With you? Something about the thought makes his brain glitch, but he obliterates the thought in seconds. He promised himself to move on.

“What? No—no, not at all. It’s nothing like that.” Beomgyu replies hastily, shaking his head with wide eyes and a breathy laugh. His attention is fully on her now and for some reason…that bothers you.

More than that, however, is how quick that response was. You were going to say no, but it seems he was eager to make it very clear that you aren’t on a date, dating, or anything of the sort. Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you aren’t a little offended. Like, is the thought of dating you that bad? You thought things were going pretty well. Anyway, it’s not like it matters. It’s better if he isn’t into you; it saves you the guilt of rejecting him. Plus, it’s just Beomgyu…his opinion doesn’t matter. At all. 

They seem to be having a comfortable conversation, even if Beomgyu’s leg is incessantly bouncing beneath the table. It’s all a blur to you. You spend the time trying to make yourself invisible because you’d prefer not to feel like some sort of third wheel. You scroll through messages, check the weather, and type random words in your notes app. Your ice cream has begun to melt by the time Yeji is walking away with a pretty smile, waving gently and sparing you one final, subdued glare. You sit up, clearing your throat to gain his attention again—his gaze had followed her as she walked away. 

“Well, I think I should probably go now. Um, I have some homework to do. So…” You say quietly, forcing a smile as you take a deep breath. He tilts his head, sitting up straight as he scrutinizes your expression. His eyebrows pull together faintly, but he simply nods. 

“Alright. I’ll…walk you out to the front.” He replies softly, standing with you and tossing his empty ice cream cup into the nearby trash can. You don’t have the will to argue or refuse, so you decide to walk beside him silently. As you approach the curb, your mother’s car sits there waiting for you. 

“Um, do you want me to wait with you?” You ask, gaze avoiding his. There’s an inexplicable tightness in your chest. As dumb as it sounds, perhaps there’s a part of you deep down that thrives off of the idea of…whatever this is. It provides a sense of comfort—a guarantee of prospective romance. Not because it’s him, no, it would be the same with anyone! He shakes his head softly in response, smiling sweetly. 

“It’s okay. I’ll see you around?” There’s a beat of silence, his gaze still carefully analyzing your expression. It’s like he can intuitively sense that the energy has shifted, but doesn’t want to mention it outright. You force a smile, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah. See you, Beomgyu.” You wave goodbye, getting into the car. Faintly, hidden beneath his dark hair, the tips of his ears warm up—that’s the first time you’ve said his name today. He can’t help but think it sounds nice coming from you. That thought is quickly dismissed, though, replaced by thoughts of how pretty and nice Yeji is and how he can’t believe he had an actual conversation with her—and she was the one to initiate it! He feels a flutter in his chest, smiling to himself as he thinks everything over again.

Yet somehow, it’s not as fulfilling as he imagined. Something changed.

taglist: @whatblop, @innies-goth-gf <3

a/n: hope you enjoyed it!! i feel like this chapter took me literally forever. the story is finally picking up! a bunch of denial and complicated feelings lol. i’m gonna try and have longer chapters from here on out, so it might take me a little longer. comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! thx for your patience! (>_0) ♡

— °˖✧✿✧˖° —

upcoming: chapter 4 - the shipping gets worse the second you try to forget about his existence. beomgyu notices you avoiding him for some reason…and he has something to say about it.

[perfectsunlight]

[35] DAD

warnings: paternal absence

FLASHBACK

ivory had always known her life wasn’t exactly normal. but it wasn’t until she was six years old, sitting in her classroom with a crayon clutched in her tiny fingers, that she realized just how different it was.

the classroom was warm, sunlight spilling through the large windows, casting golden patches onto the wooden desks. outside, she could hear the distant shouts of kids playing during recess, the rhythmic thud of a basketball bouncing against pavement. the air smelled like glue and paper, the familiar scent of a classroom deep in an arts-and-crafts project.

at the front of the room, ms. kang clapped her hands together, a warm smile on her face. “alright, class! since parents’ day is coming up, we’re going to make special thank-you cards for our parents or guardians! you can draw your family and write a nice message to show them how much you love and appreciate them.”

excited chatter filled the room instantly. ivory watched as the other kids reached for their supplies—picking out their favorite colors, chattering about what their parents liked.

“my dad likes fishing!” one boy announced proudly, holding up a blue crayon. “my mom loves cooking! she always makes yummy food.” a girl said beside him, already scribbling on the card stock.

jane picked up a pink crayon, twirling it between her fingers. she knew what to draw—her and her mom. her small hands moved carefully, outlining a simple figure with dark hair and big eyes—her mom, of course. then, next to her, a smaller version of herself, holding her mother’s hand.

she was focused, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of her mouth, when a voice beside her made her pause.

“where’s your dad?”

ivory blinked, glancing up at the boy sitting next to her. minho. he was peering at her drawing, his own half-finished card lying on the table. a scribbly drawing of a man and a woman stood on his page, a big heart between them.

she looked back at her drawing.

where was her dad?

she suddenly felt self-conscious, staring at the blank space next to her mother. the realization hit her like a quiet wave—everyone else was drawing two parents. two figures holding hands. two sets of arms wrapping around them.

but she only had one.

the pink crayon in her hand felt heavier now. “i don’t have one,” she mumbled, unsure of why the words felt strange on her tongue.

minho frowned. “huh? what do you mean? everybody has a dad.” jane’s tiny fingers tightened around the crayon defensively. “well, i don’t,” she said, a little more firmly this time.

the dark haired boy gave her a puzzled look, like she had just told him she didn’t have a belly button. or that she was an alien. or that she had four arms instead of two. 

“that’s weird,” he muttered before going back to his drawing.

ivory sat frozen. her heart thudded loudly in her chest, a strange, uncomfortable feeling creeping in. she had never really thought about it before. she had her mom. that had always been enough.

but now, for the first time, she felt like she was missing something.

jieun could tell something was wrong the moment ivory climbed into the car.

the little girl was unusually quiet, her small hands folded in her lap, eyes staring at nothing in particular.

“you’re quiet today, sweetheart,” jieun said gently, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “did something happen at school?”

ivory hesitated, her grip tightening on the paper in her hands.

after a long moment, she finally asked, “grandma, why don’t i have a dad?”

the question was soft, hesitant, but it sliced through the air like a blade. jieun’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. she had been expecting this question for years, but somehow, she still wasn’t prepared.

“what made you ask that, love?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

the young girl looked down at the card in her hands, tracing the edges of the paper with her fingers. “we were making cards for parents’ day and minho said everybody has a dad.”

jieun inhaled sharply, glancing at the little girl’s reflection in the mirror. “oh, baby,” she murmured, her heart aching at the confusion on her granddaughter’s face. jane finally looked up and met her stare in the mirror’s reflection. 

“so do i have one?”

jieun took a slow breath before answering carefully.

“yes,” she said gently. “but he’s not here.”

ivory frowned. that wasn’t fair. if she had a dad, why wasn’t he around? why didn’t he wear ties or pick her up from school like her friends’ dads?  “where is he?” she couldn’t comprehend that perhaps her father was a man who actively made the decision to not be in her life. surely her dad must be more busy than her mom. or maybe he was some secret agent, or a spy? that would explain why he wasn’t around for her or jennie.

jieun’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until her knuckles turned white. she could feel ivory’s expectant gaze in the mirror, those big, searching eyes that reminded her so much of jennie when she was young—curious, determined, relentless.

how was she supposed to answer this? how could she explain something so heavy, so painful, to a child who still believed the world was fair?

there were so many things jieun could say. so many ways she could frame it. but in the end, she settled for the truth—at least, as much of it as her granddaughter needed to hear.

“that’s something for your mom to tell you,” she said, her voice soft. “but what i can tell you is this—your mother loves you more than anything in the world. more than anything.”

once they got home, ivory was quieter than usual. she didn’t run inside like she normally would, kicking off her shoes and shouting about her day. instead, she trailed behind jieun, clutching the card she had made in school, her tiny fingers wrinkling the edges.

jieun watched her carefully, noting the way her little shoulders were tense, the way her brows furrowed in deep thought. it broke her heart, but there was nothing she could do—this was something jennie had to handle.

“ivory, sweetheart,” jieun called gently as she set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “why don’t you go wash up before dinner?”

ivory hesitated but eventually nodded, dragging her feet as she shuffled toward the bathroom.

jieun exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the clock. jennie would be home very soon. she should give her a warning—prepare her for the conversation she was about to have.

and sure enough, just as jieun was finishing up setting the table, the front door clicked open. the idol stepped inside, looking exhausted from her long day, her coat hanging off one shoulder, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. she barely had time to kick off her heels before jieun greeted her with a knowing look.

jennie knew something was up. jane always came running the moment that door opened. she could feel the tension in the air, and she braced herself for whatever was coming next. her heart started to pound, sensing something she couldn’t quite place. she’d been so focused on her work, her schedule, and the whirlwind of the past few weeks, but in that moment, everything felt off. her maternal instincts were on overdrive, her fine tuned senses picking up on the usual lightness of home being significantly heavier. jennie dropped her bag by the door, peeling off her coat and hanging it up with mechanical precision, her thoughts already racing ahead to what might be waiting for her.

jieun’s gaze lingered on her, and for a split second, jennie could feel the weight of something unspoken. it was in the way her mother was holding herself, the subtle way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a napkin, a tiny indication that something was wrong.

“hey, where is she?” jennie asked, her voice casual but carrying a note of concern. she usually didn’t go a minute without seeing her daughter, especially when she was home. the house felt unusually quiet without her baby girl’s bright energy.

jieun sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she finally spoke. she knew jennie could feel something was off. after all, jieun was a mother herself. she knew that maternal intuition was a lifeline. “she’s in her room.” she replied gently. jennie nodded, instinctively heading toward the hallway. but before she could take a step, jieun called out softly, “but there’s something you need to know.”

the words hung in the air like a delicate thread, fragile and heavy. the mentioned woman turned back to look at her, confusion on her knitted brows. “what’s wrong? is everything okay?” 

“she asked about her father.”

jennie froze. and suddenly she was transported back in time to when she was her daughter’s age, asking about the absence of her own father. the weight of the words fell over jennie like a heavy blanket, the breath caught in her chest. she couldn’t speak for a moment, her mind frozen, replaying the question she herself had asked so many years ago. she had been just a girl, no older than ivory, when she asked her mother the same thing. 

where’s my dad?

jennie had never truly gotten an answer, just vague explanations that never quite felt like the truth. her father had left when she was still young, his absence an unwelcome shadow over her childhood. even now, that innocent question lingered like a scar, untouched and unhealed.

“jennie?” the voice of her own mother in front of her broke through her thoughts. “what’s wrong? is everything okay?”

the idol swallowed hard, but her throat felt tight, as if the words wouldn’t come. it took a long moment before she found her voice again, weak but steady. jennie’s gaze drifted toward the floor, her hands wringing nervously in front of her.

“she deserves answers. and i don’t know how to give them to her.”

the room felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in. she could feel the weight of it all—the guilt, the fear, the lingering shame of never having provided ivory with the answers she so desperately wanted.

jennie had promised herself, when she was pregnant, that she would never put her daughter through the same pain she had experienced growing up without a father. yet, here they were. her baby girl, just as confused as she had once been, asked the question she had always dreaded: why don’t i have a dad?

jennie had never told ivory the truth about her father—who he was, why he wasn’t around, or how he had made the choice to leave. in the beginning, it was easier to tell herself that jane didn’t need to know, that she would be enough. but as her daughter grew older, the cracks in that facade began to show. 

now, with that question hanging in the air between them, jennie didn’t know how to fix it.

she felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, trying to hold it together. she couldn’t break down now. not when ivory needed her the most.

the other woman in the room, watching her carefully, took a step closer. “it’s not your fault, jennie,” she said softly, almost as if reading her mind. “you can’t control everything, especially not him.”

“i know. but it doesn’t make it any easier.” she exhaled shakily, her thoughts spiraling. “she doesn’t deserve to feel abandoned. i promised myself she wouldn’t grow up like i did—feeling like something was missing. but i’ve failed her.”

“no, you haven’t.” the woman’s voice was firm, insistent. “you’ve done everything you can to protect her, to give her the life you didn’t have. you’re doing the best you can, my dear. don’t let that guilt take away from everything you’ve given her already.”

jennie looked up, meeting the woman’s eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to take a breath. it wasn’t all her fault. she couldn’t change the past, but she could shape the future for ivory. she could still be the mother ivory needed.

but the truth about her father... that was something jennie wasn’t sure she was ready to face. let alone tell her daughter.

the silence hung heavily in the room, and jennie couldn’t escape the crushing weight of the question that lingered in her life for a second time now.

she could feel the distance between her and ivory growing, a gap that no amount of love could fill. how was she supposed to bridge that gap when the one thing her daughter needed most—answers—was the one thing jennie could not give?

her body moved automatically to her daughter’s bedroom. her feet carried her down the familiar hallway, each step heavier than the last. she passed by the framed pictures on the walls—moments frozen in time, snapshots of happier times. her hand rested briefly on the doorframe of ivory’s room before she slowly pushed the door open.

ivory’s room was as it had always been—warm toned, cozy, with little pieces of her personality scattered throughout. the stuffed animals, the beanbag in the corner, the little gifts jennie had gotten her from her travels overseas. but tonight, it all seemed so distant, so out of place. jennie’s gaze settled on the bed, the unmade sheets, and the quiet stillness that filled the room. it was as though the walls were waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her, and took a deep breath. the scent of her daughter’s perfume still lingered in the air—familiar, comforting, yet so painfully absent. she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers lightly brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket. the weight of the silence in this room was deafening. it was like her life had been paused, suspended in time, and the only thing she could think about was the absence of the one person who had meant everything to her.

jennie’s mind flashed back to the past, to those late nights when she would sneak into ivory’s room just to watch her sleep, to feel the warmth of her daughter’s presence. she’d done everything in her power to protect ivory, to give her a life filled with love and opportunity. but now, it felt like everything was unraveling at once. and the worst part? 

she didn’t know how to fix it.

ivory’s bathroom was joined to her bedroom, and she saw the back of her daughter’s head as she finished washing her hands. turning around, jane’s eyes lit up slightly at the sight of her mother on her bed. 

jennie’s heart ached as she watched her daughter move about the room, the quiet swish of jane’s hands as she dried them on the towel, the soft thud of her footsteps as she stepped toward the bed. it was the kind of simple moment that felt monumental—like a scene frozen in time, the unspoken distance between them widening with every second that passed. she longed for the carefree days, when her daughter would run to her after a long day, when laughter filled the house, when nothing seemed impossible to mend.

but those days felt so far away now, slipping through her fingers like sand.

ivory stopped in front of the bed, her eyes still lighting up slightly, but it was a hesitant glow—a flicker of something that was there and then gone, as if even her daughter could sense the weight of the silence hanging between them.

"did grandma tell you?" ivory began, her voice unsure, quiet. as if she was trying to pull something from jennie, some kind of confirmation she was desperately searching for. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, a small, nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

jennie could feel the hesitation in the air. she could see the faint lines of worry across her child’s face, the tension in her shoulders. the question was hanging there, but it wasn’t just about what grandma had said—it was about something deeper. 

something that neither of them wanted to address, but had to.

jennie cleared her throat, trying to steady herself, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric of the sheets beneath her. “yes.” her voice was soft, coaxing, though it carried the underlying tremor of her own fears.

silently, jane pointed to the card face down on her nightstand, the one she had made at school. curious, her mother picked it up and flipped it over.

jennie felt the cool edge of the card as she picked it up, her heart heavy in her chest. the card was face down, like her daughter didn’t want to give anything away just yet. the idol’s hands were gentle as she flipped it over, her eyes scanning the simple design.

there were no elaborate drawings, no over-the-top doodles that usually came with children’s creations. instead, there was a single  message on the front, written carefully in six year old ivory’s handwriting.

for mom.

a lump formed in jennie’s throat as she traced the words with her fingers. the card wasn’t a father’s day card, and it wasn’t a “thank you” card. it was simply for her—just for jennie. 

not jennie kim, the idol. just jennie kim, the mother.

she could feel the weight of the unspoken words in the simplicity of the gesture. ivory hadn’t needed to say anything for jennie to understand. she had already said everything through this small act of defiance.

her eyes blurred slightly, emotion threatening to spill over. jane had already been through so much in her life, things a child shouldn’t have to carry. the absence of a father, the pressure of being constantly in the shadows of her mother’s career, and yet, here ivory was, still giving everything of herself. not asking for anything but her presence, her love.

the woman swallowed hard, taking a moment to compose herself. the tightness in her chest was unbearable, but it wasn’t just sadness—it was pride. pride in the person her child was becoming, even when things around them weren’t ideal. she reached down to slide her hand under the card, feeling the weight of it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

ivory watched her mother’s expression closely, her own face unreadable. the silence between them was thick, heavy, but there was something unspoken in it that made everything clearer. the words they couldn’t bring themselves to say floated between them, settling in the air like the softest promise.

“come here, valentine.” jennie whispered as she held her arms open.

ivory hesitated for only a moment before she climbed into her mother’s embrace. her small body nestled against jennie’s chest, the familiar scent of her mother's perfume grounding her in a way nothing else could. the card, the unspoken words, the weight of the world they both carried—it all seemed to melt away in the quiet of this simple moment.

jennie wrapped her arms around her young child tightly, pulling her close as though she could protect her from everything—the pain, the loneliness, the uncertainty that loomed so heavily over both of them. she rested her cheek against ivory’s downy hair, feeling the soft warmth and for a moment, she didn’t need to say anything.

“mom,” ivory’s voice was barely a whisper, the words soft but loaded with so much weight, so much vulnerability, that they seemed to linger in the air, suspended between them. jennie froze for a moment, the sound of her daughter’s voice cutting through the quiet of the room like a tender ache. she slowly turned her head, her breath catching in her chest. “yeah, baby?” her voice was thick with emotion, thick enough that it was hard to speak, hard to hold back the flood of feelings rising up in her throat. she reached down, her hand trembling slightly, and began to stroke ivory’s back in slow, soothing motions, as if her touch could somehow convey everything her heart felt.

“i love you.” the words were soft but simple, filled with a rawness that made jennie’s heart lurch. ivory’s words weren’t just a declaration; they were a plea, a balm, a promise all wrapped into one. they held the weight of everything that had been left unsaid, every silent worry and longing that had built up over the years.

jennie’s chest tightened, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. she felt the gravity of those words deep in her bones, and a rush of warmth flooded through her, radiating out from her daughter’s words. she wasn’t sure when it happened, when it became clear, but in that moment, all the world seemed to pause, and all that mattered was the love that passed between them, unspoken yet undeniable.

“i love you too,” jennie whispered, her voice shaky as she pressed her lips to the crown of her child’s head, as though sealing that promise with a kiss. her hand still rested gently on her daughter’s back, fingers splayed across the softness of her shirt, holding her as close as she possibly could. there was nothing else she needed to say, no more explanations or apologies.

ivory didn’t need anything else. she didn’t need a dad—she had her mom. and that was enough.

jennie felt her heart swell with emotion, the tightness in her chest both painful and comforting. she had been a single mother for so long, carrying the weight of both roles, trying to be enough for her child despite the challenges that came with it. 

and now, in this simple moment, she realized that she had succeeded.

for the first time in a long time, jennie felt at peace with the life they had built together, the one that had been their own, separate from the chaos of the world around them. she could face whatever came next, because in the end, she had her daughter.

and that was more than enough.

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CLOSED.

[yeyinde]

oh my god, i was just rewatching mandela catalogue when i remembered you were into horror. and adding to my brainrot, i just had the biggest (worst?) idea shoot straight into my head, and i thought:

what if— doppleganger/skinwalker au! for the 141?

a mix of horror and just that feeling of are you truly who you say you are? or is it just another trick in your mind when he touches you oh so carefully, saying sweet nothings but the look in his eyes says otherwise?

goddddd i love analog horror! i haven't seen the Mandela Catalogue, but i'm huge fan of LOCAL58 and Midwest Angelica so i'll def add it to my list!

i really love this idea!!! i could do something similar to the concept art for Toothsayer by Tanya Tagaq—a walrus with a brain floating above it's head, attached by these tentacle-things. you're the only one who can see it, though. this mass clinging to them like a leech. but then the thing— the brain, the mass—opens its eyes and stares at you.

but i've also been kinda wrapped up in the winter soldier au, so maybe a doppelganger version of that would be fun!

like, maybe they go missing in the mountains and you mourn them, visit their empty graves. but on the anniversary of their disappearance, you visit the mountain they went missing on, staying in a hunter's pass/cabin.

the forest is strange. it makes you uncomfortable. you close the curtains over the windows and pretend it's just to keep the chill from getting in, and not the prickle on the nape of your neck that sometimes rears when you know you're being stared at. odd things. unexplainable things, but you make excuses for them, anyway.

until there's a sound in the dead of night. a familiar smell on your pillow. you call out into the dark, but nothing answers you back. just the muted rustle of bushes in the opposite direction of the wind. another excuse: elk. moose. bear. you close the door but it has your voice now.

(you try not think about that. why did you think about that? the thought is foreign and wrong in your head, and you can't deny that it doesn't sound like your own. it chisels in like a pickaxe, something else whispering into the hole—)

there's a knock on the door next. something says not to answer it. leave it. hide. run—

you move to the sound like a moth to a flame, and pretend there's surprise when you see that it's him.

he doesn't speak for a long time, just stands there and stares. but when he finally does, you wish he hadn't because what he says is this:

"did you miss me?"

but it comes out like a cartoonish ransom note. cut up words from a magazine glued down on the page. strung together in sequence but they don't belong. something is missing.

did you. miss me. it's said in three different tones. terror. fear. anger. a recording spliced together.

and that—

that scares you to your core. chills you to the bone.

but it's him.

and when he says let me in—firmer this time, sounding more like himself now (excuses, excuses—he was missing for so long; he's thirsty, he needs to something to drink—)— you step to the side and let it (him him him) pass.

he's back, after all. he finally came home. grief and shock and the cold are all just getting to you. you just need to lay down, he wants you to lay down with him. tugs you toward the bedroom on fawnlegs, stumbling around the room like he forgot how to walk. come, he says. sleep, sleep—

everything will be fine in the morning.

(just ignore the way he walks. talks. and how he stares at you sometimes with a naked, primal hunger on his face like he's trying, with all his might, not to tear you apart—)

[quietwingsinthesky]

the apartmentverse urge to make the assassins weird immortals due to interacting with the apple who all survive to the modern day and have to Deal with mundane things like public transport…

[uselessnbee]

people who absolutely hate crossovers and crossover shipping and shipping characters who barely/never interacted but the fan is interested in what their dynamic could look like, who hate any non-canon shipping are boring as fuck and really annoying when they have the need to go in the comments of these posts and be like "that's so weird why do people do that?" or start ranting how much they hate it

because they can and it's fun, dumbass so stop ruining other people's fun just because you don't like it

if it's not for you that's all cool and fine it's not for everyone but you can just scroll away or block such things you don't have to spread your negativity in the comments where others are just trying to have fun with other people who have the same interests. stop it. you're being the weird one here.

let people have fun in the fandom that's what fandoms are for!!

[definitelynotnia]

normalise saying "I don't have enough information on this topic to have an opinion on it"

and then staying out of it completely rather than going along with wtv opinion u imprinted from three random posts/reels/tweets and having weird misinformed debates with full confidence

[eebie]

tavros my tavBro

[shot-messenger]

ough

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[charmedimsure]

WE'RE OKAY || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader summary: Things go wrong during the third game word count: 2.1k warnings: mingle game, character death, blood, squid game stuff A/N: this man is the only thing in my head rn. posted this before when tags weren't updating so reposting now. also this is only sorta proofread so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3 **this is sorta a p2 to "a welcome distraction" but can be read as standalone**

We will go hand in hand

And have fun jumping around

Round and round

The platform stops turning suddenly, and you grab onto Dae-ho to stop yourself from falling over.

"Eleven"

You and Dae-ho lock eyes for a split second before you both start looking around for more players. Together you were six, meaning you needed four more.

Gi-hun turns to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies.

"That makes us ten!" Jung-bae whimpers.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have eleven now!"

"To the green door over there! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

Before you know what's happening, Dae-ho grabs you and pulls you along after him. You rush after him into the room, pushing yourself against the wall to make room for everyone else to get inside. You look up at the man next to you before turning your head towards the beeping sound coming from the back of the room. The clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

You breathe out a sigh of relief that you made it in time, but jump and yelp when you hear the screams coming from outside the door, along with the gunshots. Looking towards the door, you watch Gi-hun's reactions as he watches the people outside. The sounds of gunshots are soon replaced with the sounds of the forklifts coming in with the coffins.

Your heart begins to race. If Dae-ho had not taken you back to his friends and added you to his team, you surely would be one of those bodies out there. You look up at Dae-ho to see him already looking down at you. He saved your life.

Dae-ho looks you over to make sure you're okay before you both look around at the others in the room with you. You smile a bit when you see the nice lady and her son with you, as well as players 120 and 095. You had watched them during the six-legged race and watching them cross the finish line had filled you with hope that you could do it too.

"You're alive thanks to me!" a voice yells from inside your room, making you and everyone else jump. You turn and see the creepy lady standing in the middle of the green room, looking you all over one by one. She speaks to Gi-hun, making everyone look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion. This lady doesn't seem to understand that it is not the time for this.

The eliminated players are announced and you are let out of the rooms. The floors are already covered in blood. Red is splattered all over the walls as a morbid reminder of what will happen to you if you lose.

Everyone steps onto the platform and it starts moving again as the music starts up. Looking around, you see that weird purple-haired guy and his friend dancing together. You don't know whether to smile that people can find happiness even in a moment like this, or to be horrified that they can dance in the blood of all those people.

The platform stops again and you are shot back into the game.

"Four"

Your team looks around at each other. Just as you're about to volunteer to find others, Young-il and Jung-bae separate, shouting about needing two more people.

The rest of you run towards an open room with a purple door, taking deep breaths. Gi-hun keeps the door open and looks outside to make sure that the others found another room in time. Right before time runs out, Dae-ho pulls Gi-hun into the room and closes the door, hearing the lock turn immediately after.

The room is tense with none of you knowing whether your friends made it in time. You look at Dae-ho, seeing the worry on his face, and gently take his hand. He looks towards you and squeezes your hand, not letting go even when the doors unlock and you are let out.

Dae-ho starts yelling for Young-il and Jung-bae before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see that both of them are alive.

Young-il turns to Jun-hee, asking her if she is alright.

"Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is seven, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

You all smile as you understand what he's saying, and Jun-hee holds her swelling stomach, a warm smile on her face.

The number for the next round is three, making it easy for your team to split up into two groups and get into rooms with time to spare. You nearly cry as the mother and son are reunited after the round ends, and Dae-ho pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

Your team grows after that, quietly adding the old lady and her son and players 120 and 095.

The platform starts to spin again as the next round starts.

"I hate this fucking song," you mumble under your breath.

The platform stops as the voice announces the next group size.

"Seven"

"Two men and five women! Go!" Gi-hun yells to the team.

"Which two men?" Jung-bae asks.

"I'm going with my mom!" Yong-sik says, holding onto his mother tightly.

Dae-ho holds up your joined hands. "I'm coming." You're dragged in the direction of the group as you run along. Dae-ho opens an orange door, but stops seeing that it's full.

The old man from before pushes Dae-ho out of the doorway before shutting the door. You keep Dae-ho from falling and instead pull him in the direction of an open room that player 120 found. As you run, you can hear the voice counting down. You make it with just a few seconds to spare.

You sigh in relief, but freeze once you turn around. Instead of two men and five women, the room contains two men and four women. Player 120 is standing near the door, ready to run outside when a man pushes her into the room and closes the door just in time for them to lock.

The crying eyes of player 095 look through the slot in the door.

"Young-mi!" Player 120 screams, running towards the door and desperately trying to open it.

The girl outside continues crying until a gunshot is heard and she slides down the door.

Player 120 screams as the woman cries with her son over their lost friend. Dae-ho pulls you close to him as player 120 starts screaming at the man who came in. As sad as his is to see the girl die, he's relieved that it wasn't you out there looking at him through the slot.

The doors unlock and you walk out silently. The others smile when they find you, but immediately notice the missing girl and frown. Without a word, you all step up onto the platform once more as the voice announces that this will be the last round and the music starts up again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae asks Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

You and Dae-ho look at each other. He tightens his grip on your hand, silently telling you that he will bring be with you. You nod at him and get ready to run.

"Two"

Everyone immediately starts running towards the doors in a mad sprint. You stay with Dae-ho, keeping your hands together so you don't get separated.

Dae-ho opens a red door, but you're pushed aside before you can get in with him. You look up as another man pushes inside the room and closes him and Dae-ho in.

Fear like you've never known before takes over your body. You're about to die. Dae-ho can be heard inside the room, screaming your name and trying to open the door, but the man keeps him from getting out. The voice starts to count down from ten. As you accept you're fate, a pair of hands grab you and drag you into a yellow room, throwing you in before throwing the lone person inside out and closing the door.

You gasp for air as you pull yourself off the floor, staying on your hands and knees as you try to get a grasp of what just happened. Someone had saved your life.

Turning to see who your savior is, your eyes grow wide when you read the '246' on his chest.

He kneels beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

You nod frantically. "Thanks to you."

The gunshots begin outside and you throw your arms around the man in front of you. You'd be one of them if it weren't for him.

"Thank you," you cry into his shoulder as he hugs you back.

"There was enough time. I watched you get pushed and I just had to do something," he says.

You want to say thank him a million times, but words won't come out as you just stay in each others arms.

Two rooms over, Dae-ho's knuckles are stained red with blood as he punches the door over and over. There's no way that you made it in time, he knows that. He turns and screams at the other player in his room for pushing you, attempting to hit him before his cries take over and he falls into the corner of the room, sobbing into his sleeve.

The doors are eventually unlocked and everyone makes their way out. Dae-ho walks out slowly, looking at the floor and feeling empty. He couldn't save you.

The others run over to him, but they all frown and let out a few gasps when they see that the other person coming out of his room isn't you.

Dae-ho finally looks up at his team, though they all look blurry from the tears in his eyes. He must look like a wreck, but he can't even bring himself to care about that.

Jung-bae walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Dae-ho breaks down again, sobbing into the shoulder of his fellow ex-marine. The area around them is silent except for Dae-ho's cries. That is until door opens behind them and a small gasp is heard in front of him. Dae-ho looks up at the woman holding her son and sees her looking past him.

"Dae-ho."

Dae-ho freezes when he hears the voice. He slowly turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up and believe that it's you. But there you, alive and standing in front of him. You look at each other for a few seconds before Dae-ho rushes towards you, throwing his arms around you as you do the same.

The man breaks down again as he hugs you. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."

You rub his back as he cries, quietly telling him that it's okay.

He pulls back and cups your face with his hands, making sure to look you over. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Dae-ho, it wasn't your fault," you reassure him. "And I'm okay. Everything is alright."

He nods, though tears continue to fall down his cheeks. "How did you find a room?"

You smile and look behind you at the man walking towards your group. "This man here picked me up off the floor and saved me at the last moment."

Player 246 just smiles. Dae-ho pulls you back into a hug as he thanks the man over and over for saving your life.

The other players start filtering out of the room. You break away from Dae-ho and pull him along with you towards the door.

As you're walking, he throws an arm around you and pulls you against him, placing a desperate kiss on your forehead that makes you blush. "I can't believe you're alive," he whispers against your skin.

You smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. "You said it yourself, we're going to get out of here. Together."

Dae-ho keeps you close to him as you walk, the others from your team patting you on the shoulder as they tell you they're happy you made it. Dae-ho keeps his eyes on you the whole time, determined to get the both of you out of here. Today.

~

Dae-ho tags: @gudfornuthin

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[mallowsweetmiri]

Bestfriend!Fred with no boundaries teaches you how to have sex

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

You weren't sure what had made you so insecure recently. Maybe it was the fact that you were the only virgin in your dorm now that Katie had gotten with Oliver. Or maybe it was the fact that you'd been too scared to do anything more than snog someone at a party. Either way, you were feeling the pressure to experience what the rest of your peers were currently indulging in. The only issue was that you were too scared to make a move on anyone due to your lack of experience, so really the whole situation was an unfortunate cycle of anxiety and naivety that kept you a virgin mary. And that's how you found yourself approaching your best friend Fred in the common room.

"Hi," you said meekly, dropping onto the couch next to him. He shut his book and slung his arm over the couch.

"Hello, darling," he purred, reaching his hand over to play with your hair. You sighed and pouted, earning a chuckle from the redhead. "What's bothering you, love." He knew right away that something was off. Of course he did.

"Well," you cleared your throat, "I was hoping you could help me with... a favor." You grinned shyly at him.

"Well," he drawled, offering you a teasing smile, "Tell me what I can do for you." You groaned as your head rolled onto the back of the couch. You were already regretting coming over here.

"I- ugh this is humiliating," you groaned and covered your face. You could hear him chuckle under his breath. "Stop laughing at me." You snapped, giving him an angry glare which only made him smile wider.

"I'm not laughing at you, Y/N," he said sincerely, putting his hands up in defense, "spit it out already."

"Okay, okay," you breathed, "so you know how I... well how I've never... done more than... y'know." You huffed trying to get him to understand without actually saying it out loud.

"How you're a complete and total virgin?" He smirked, earning a smack from you.

"Fred!" you scolded. He laughed and it almost broke through your utter embarrassment. "But, yes. How I'm a complete and total virgin." You covered your face with your hands again. You could hear him chuckle as he attempted to pry your fingers off your face.

"Love, you know I'm not judging you," he said, pulling your hands down. You let his hand rub gently across your cheek, and your body relaxed. He would never judge you, and that's exactly why you were here. "So what's up?" "Okay, well I want to.. y'know," you rolled your eyes causing him to laugh, "But I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing... and I need help." You huffed and looked up at Fred to gage his reaction. That smirk was still plastered on face but was now accompanied by a raised brow. "Oh? And so you want me to..." He dragged on, teasing you. You groaned again. He loved teasing you, and watching the blush spread across your cheeks only provoked him more.

"I want you to... teach me." You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he wouldn't reject you.

"I can teach you, darling," he purred, "what are best friends for?" You bit your lip, nervous and excited that he had actually agreed to this. It was weird, knowing the two of you were about to cross a line. At the same time though, you were closer to him than anyone else. This wouldn't change anything, you were sure of it.

"Okay," you breathed, "so what do I do first?" He chuckled and looked around the room. It wasn't too busy, most everyone either at dinner or studying for exams. George and Lee sat in the corner playing cards loudly.

"Well, we can't do anything here," he hummed, standing up. You looked up at him with your brows furrowed. "Come up with me?" He stuck his hand out for you. You hesitantly nodded and took his hand. As he led you up the winding stairs towards his dorm, you were suddenly overly aware. You could feel the nerves begin to course through your body the way they always did when a boy was leading you somewhere private. Fred seemed to sense this as he shut the door to his room behind you.

"You know we'll stop whenever you want to love," he hummed, stroking his thumb across yours. You nodded, the words stuck in your throat. "Are you nervous?" You nodded again, letting a chuckle fall through your lips.

"I- I'm nervous. That's why I've never done anything before," you admitted, the blush on your face burning even more as Fred stepped forward took your face into his hand.

"Just tell me if you don't like it, okay?" Fred asked, waiting for your consent.

"Okay," you whispered, nodded slightly as you looked up at him. You watched him wet his lips with his tongue.

"Can I kiss you?" He breathed. You nodded again and held your breath as he bent down to close the space between you. A involuntary gasp left your lips when he kissed you gently, his hand finding the small of your back. You tentatively kissed him back, melting into him as his thumb swiped against your cheek in the way it had so many times before. Except it was different this time. You were kissing your best friend and he was walking you back towards the bed. You gasped when your legs hit the edge, and Fred chuckled into your lips.

"I'm assuming you've gotten this far before?" He asked, pressing his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy from your kiss, and it was certainly a sight to see, his lips red and slick.

"Mhmm," you nodded. Although, you weren't sure if anyone had kissed you like this before.

"Good," he breathed, "I'm going to lay you on the bed now, okay?" You nodded eagerly, earning a slight chuckle from Fred. Your incoming blush was hidden when he came forward once again to take you into a kiss. This time it was deeper, and wetter. His hands found their way under you as he pushed you back onto the bed. You let out a noise as your head hit the pillow and he fell over you, connecting your lips again. He could feel your hesitancy in your actions as he kissed you, your hands staying by your sides.

"You can touch me," he smiled, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. You sucked in a breath.

"O-Okay," you fluttered, hesitantly running your finger over his collar bones.

"Good girl," he whispered as he came to kiss you for the third time. Your eyes reflexively rolled back into your head, a wave of something washing through your body. You had almost forgotten about the nerves, your body overwhelmed with feeling as your best friends hands explored down the sides of your body. His knee separated your legs in a way that almost bothered you, and that feeling was exacerbated as his thumb swiped across the front of your hip. You whined into the kiss to your complete embarrassment. Fred hummed to this.

"Did that feel good?" He asked, peppering a kiss on your jaw. You grasped his shirt collar.

"Yes? I think so," you quavered as he hummed into your neck.

"It's supposed to feel good, love. You don't have the be embarrassed," you could feel his smile against your skin, making you squirm with fluster. His hand slid up your leg to the edge of your leg.

"Do you like this?"

You nodded fervently.

"Use your words."

"Yes," you breathed out as his hand slid under your back, "I like it." It seemed that was all it took for Fred to start absolutely devouring you. You had certainly never been kissed like this before, and you wondered if everyone kissed like this or if it was just Freddie. He grunted into the kiss as he lifted your leg up slightly, pressing his hips into yours. This made you moan into his mouth, and you instantly cringed at the sound of yourself. He chuckled into the kiss and pressed his thumb back over your hip.

"Love, it's okay to make noise. In fact, I hope you'll be doing a lot more of that with this next bit," Fred reassured you, going back to peppering kisses on your neck. Were you the only one getting a bit carried away here?

"W-what's next?" you groaned in delight and his lips sucked in a nice spot.

"Have you ever been touched before?" He pulled back to look at your face.

"No," you muttered with a small shake of your head.

"Have you ever touched yourself before, darling?" He asked gently, his thumb continuing to swipe across your hip. You nodded and blushed crimson.

"Y-yes, but I've never," you shook your head.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" He asked so casually, as if this didn't make the heat rush down from your cheeks to your stomach. You weren't sure what you were expecting when Fred had agreed to teach you some new things, but you supposed this was a good start.

"Yes, please," you whispered. Fred smiled at your response, you had always been the polite type. He pushed himself off of you and began unbuttoning his shirt, towering over you as you laid sprawled on the bed. Your eyes caught on his large, freckled chest before you reckoned you should probably be doing the same. You stayed on your back as you began to clumsily unbutton your top. Your eyes stayed on Fred's fingers, his smirked dancing in the edges of your vision. You'd seen Fred shirtless countless times, but never from this angle. The way his fingers moved down his abdomen and closer to his... you were losing focus. He stripped his shirt off before coming over you to help you with yours. As he undid the last button, his eyes dropped to your breasts. His hand reach out gently to caress your waist as he lowered himself over you.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He breathed, waiting for your consent.

"Okay," You whispered, this time coming up yourself to initiate the kiss. You had never felt this want before building inside of you, wishing that his body would press into your own. His hands explored your body, touching new places and waiting for you to sigh in approval. First they crept up the sides of your waist, then under your breasts to cup and squeeze them, which you found out you liked. You made an embarrassing squeal as he lightly rolled your nipple, which only made him do it again. His hand then traced its way down your stomach and over the front of your skirt. He pulled away for a second which made you whine and nod your head. Fred chuckled lowly as he dropped his hand down even lower, until the tips of his fingers grazed the front of your panties. It already felt better than anytime you'd touched yourself. You felt like you were going to explode when he rubbed down the front of you with his palm. You moaned into the kiss, unable to restrain yourself from bucking your hips up. You could feel yourself start to gush as his hand ghosted over your wet panties. "Next step, princess," He said, pushing your panties to the side as he searched your face for any hesitancy. At this point, your body felt as though it needed him to touch you or you would die.

"Please, Freddie," you pleaded, your hands clenching the sheets beside you. He smiled slyly in satisfaction.

"You're so well behaved, Y/N," he praised teasingly, his finger running down your slit, "such a good student." You groaned at his teasing words as his fingers ran over your clit, a shock of pleasure rushing through your body. Your hands came up to grasp his arms as his fingers moved over your clit, again and again. His eyes stayed on your face, watching as each wave of pleasure washed over you. Your stomach was beginning to knot when he dipped his finger into your entrance, moving slowly and asking for permission.

“I’ve never done that before,” your voice came out in a whine as his fingers came back up to make circles over your clit. He let out a low chuckle that sounded more like a groan.

“Do you want me to show you what it feels like?” He asked, his supporting hand grabbing the back of your neck as he ran a long swipe over your slit, making your whole body shiver. You supposed you should be embarrassed, making these faces and noises in front of your best friend. But it felt too good to care and all you wanted was to feel his fingers inside of you.

“Y-yes, show me,” you stuttered coming up to kiss Fred again, needing more of him. He breathed into the kiss as his finger grazed over your clit and down to your entrance, pushing into you ever so slightly. You were so tight, and the fact that you’d never been touched here before made Fred pant at the thought.

“Just relax, darling.” He cooed, rubbing his thumb over the back of your neck that he still held tightly in his hand. “You’re doing such a good job.” He thrust his finger in slowly, causing you to clench around him. It felt good, unfamiliar, but good. As his finger moved in then out again, you were starting to realize why everyone was so obsessed with sex. The sight of Fred panting over you didn’t hurt either.

“Fred, I- I think,” was all you could manage before you felt the knot in your stomach suddenly pulsate. A loud whine left your lips as his thumb swiped over your clit another time, sending you over the edge.

“That’s it, cum for me Y/N,” Fred encouraged, holding your head as your back arched off the bed. Unwillingly, your body writhed with pleasure as waves of your orgasm rocked through your core. Fred’s fingers begin to slow down as he kissed in the crooked of your neck, you hips slowly rocking against his hand and the last bits of pleasure drained out from you. He gave you one last kiss before pulling his finger out of you, leaving you with an empty feeling. All you could do was pant as you laid there frozen with pleasure, red and sweaty from the experience. Fred smiled down at you cheekily as he wiped your damp hair out of your face.

“How do you feel, love?” He asked, continuing to brush down your messy hair with his hands. He knows how much you hate looking disorderly, but he had to admit, you looked damn good in this position.

“I mean, that was really good,” you chuckled, covering your face with your hands again and closing your legs up. Fred chuckled and fell beside you, starting to button up your top.

“Well that’s only the first part of your lessons, but I think that’s enough for today,” he hummed, leaning over to kiss your head as he finished the last button. You groaned and rolled over to face him. You couldn’t help but stare down his body, noticing his length bulging through his khakis.

“Aren’t I supposed to do something back?” You bit your lip, running your finger down his chest. Fred stopped your hand as you reached his waistline.

“You’re not supposed to do anything, Y/N,” Fred chimed, “but if you want to learn, I can teach you that, too.” He sent you a wink and a laugh as your cheeks blushed crimson again. You rolled onto your back and let out a chuckle.

“How much more is there to learn?” You thought aloud, still in a dream state from your first orgasm.

“Well on a scale of sex god to complete and total virgin, I’d say you’re still on the latter side of the spectrum,” Fred joked, earning another slap from you.

“Oh, shut up. Just help me learn, okay?” You asked sheepishly. Fred chuckled again and smoothed down your skirt.

“That can be arranged.”

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.