#online public forums

[nationallawreview]

Social Media’s Legal Dilemma: Curated Harmful Content

Walking the Line Between Immunity and Liability: How Social Media Platforms May Be Liable for Harmful Content Specifically Curated for Users As proliferation of harmful content online has increasingly become easier and more accessible through social media, review websites and other online public forums, businesses and politicians have pushed to reform and limit the sweeping protections afforded…

[valtsv]

had the thought "what if i made a secret sideblog for venting things i don't feel comfortable posting on main and made all the posts unrebloggable for extra security" then realized i was just reinventing journaling but worse. anyway i'm going to go write in my journal now.

[cescalr]

Oooh, definitely glee for the fandom asks! <3

Always with the hornets' nests with these ones, I see! Though i don't think there's a fandom out there that isn't in some way a hornets' nest once it gets large enough... hm. Alright. I'm just gonna be as honest as i can be about this, and tag accordingly.

Glee:

my favourite female character: augh. argh. ouph. so difficult. so hard. Since I'm working off of half-remembered show and half recently-rewatched show... its a tossup. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn. Probably Mercedes. She did nothing wrong ever in her entire life <3 well okay maybe except that one time she smashed kurt's car windows (but it was a banger song, though). Can't say Santana because of the Biphobia TM and other things like excessive use of bigotry-based insults, and Quinn. Oh god girl. Cheating is not cool! Funnily enough! So I find them really interesting but 'favourite' is hard to say. Mercedes. Mercedes for sure <3

my favourite male character: Blaine sam blaine sam blaine sam yes. I am imitating ripping petals off of flowers and coming to a conclusion based on which is the last name i said. So I guess that means Sam! But really this is a tie.

my favourite book/season/etc: Mannnnn idk. I don't like shows for seasons as-a-whole. Also i could not tell you what happened in any given season if you held a gun to my head. I'm not good at that. The only shows i know 'seasons' of are Buffy and Teen Wolf because i've watched them like 100000000000 times (exaggeration) for various reasons (mostly fanfiction research).

my favourite episode (if its a tv show): I can tell you my LEAST favourite episode (blame it on the alcohol, thank you Kurt king of biphobia! this is a persona foible it's not the worst episode in the show. by far. by far. it's kind of an average one. I'm just angry at it.) BUT er. Favourite? Idk. Genuinely some of the earlier Kurt-centric stuff was really well done (his convo with Burt... <3) and the Quinn giving birth accompanied by bohemian rhapsody was obviously iconic, but if I'll be honest I couldn't name any episodes of this show (other than That One previously stated, anyway). And yeah most of the time they were named after song titles and No i don't remember those song titles either. I'm just so bad at this. My memory is that of a goldfish's being haphazardly bounced around on a sieve.

my favourite cast member: it would be really funny if I said Demi Lovato [she counts!] but the truth is N/A: i don't know these people !!! They are strangers!! (i don't. follow celebrities. at all. I couldn't even name most of them. They're just people doing a job and their lives are irrelevant to me beyond their ability to perform that job well. I do not need to know where they live and what coffee they drink. Stalker shit tbh. I'm kind of a very private person myself, so rpf-adjacent stuff just... creeps me out. I've never watched a single cast interview in my lifetime and I'm not about to start!)

my favourite ship: Difficult to say! Grave and obvious lie. Blam. It's blam. Quintana is a close runner up though Santana really needs to stop dating people who cheat on the regular (I'll accept Quinn has grown enough not to do this by the time a Quintana coupling would be viable - and satisfying in terms of character arcs - narratively speaking).

a character I’d die defending: Blaine Anderson did something wrong for sure but like Kurt did it first so shrugs. Cancels out. Bad for each other! Case closed!

a character I just can’t sympathize with: genuinely don't remember if I had one of those the first time around because I was like 10 and just didn't pay attention if I didn't care, but Terri and her racist self take that 'prize' this time, alongside the obvious predator in the room [original choir teacher. Sandy? I forget his name immediately after hearing it. He doesn't deserve to be remembered]. Also JBI is just.... a yikes character all around. I mean, he's a blatant stereotype for one, in a the people who wrote this person don't like jews kind of way. Unfortunately common stereotype too, for the era, so not only is he that, he's also lazy. Just a one-note pervert who's the butt of various antisemitic 'jokes' you've heard from era-peer shows a million times over, tired and awful and a sour reminder of bigotry that continues to this day. Really regrettable character who's lack of redeeming qualities was probably purposeful. (I know Rachel and tina are also jewish, but this comes up very rarely and mostly only when santana needs to say something kind of fucked up, as is her modus operandi, for 'comic relief'. Tina's jewish-ness wasn't even canon for several seasons, because she didn't have a surname or a family or anything resembling complex character depth for several seasons. The one time I really remember Rachel's religion being important was when she was pressuring Kurt into believing in some kind of god, which??? don't do that. Bad example. Trying to guilt trip a friend into faith sucks. I take back what i said earlier Mercedes did that too. Boo. Girls try again that was a bad showing all around. Though i have no idea why Kurt went the acupuncture route as his 'secular' option but i think that has to do a lot with the writers doing literally no research ever once in their lives (you can tell they don't by the way they write the football segments of the show, which make no sense according to football fans who watch Glee, of which there are numerous because real life isn't like fiction where you can only like music or sports. Most of the kids in my school year were doing the most of everything ever if they were the 'popular' ones - we do that differently; popularity isn't really based on who know know; for some bizzare reason literally everyone knew who I was? Even people I'd never spoken to?? - but more about like... how much you can do, I guess. Overachievers, but I'm not saying that negatively; these people were generally - generally - very nice, and surprisingly chill for people who had no spare time whatsoever. I'm not entirely sure when they slept; A* across the board, at least one sport, at least one instrument, several extracurriculars, parties every weekend, dozens of friends and an s.o. . Eh? Way too much going on. Scary lifestyle! Impressive burnout rate, probably. Er. Tangent! Back to the scheduled programming).) There's uhhhh there's a lot of bad characters on the show, but i'd say Sandy and Terri and her equally but more loudly racist sister are truly completely irredeemable ones. Like they're not interesting or anything, they're just there to be narrative annoyances (which, in the case of Sandy specifically, is insane. Arrest that man!!! He has actively sexually assaulted minors!!!).

a character I grew to love: difficult to say because I tend to just make an opinion and stick to it. Also i don't remember who i liked at first and who i didn't, this show came out when i was eight. I didn't watch it until I was a little older than that, of course, but I frankly have spotty memory until my late teens, so! I'm not sure!! Quinn, probably. Pink-hair-era Quinn helped me understand her more, and seeing the moments of kindness hidden behind practical cruelty, when you understand her family and situation, makes things make a lot more sense. It takes a lot to get me to sympathise with a cheater, but I can see where Quinn was getting all turned around in her head about life because of her upbringing and socialisation, not to mention the profoundly negative impact cheerios had on her mentally and that the school's culture in general was not exactly a breeding ground for empathy and optimism.

my anti otp: can you tell (klaine). I don't dislike Kurt!!! Please let him have a fun chillaxed boyfriend in new york with his vogue friends. But also please stop attempting to control other people's diets thank you!! Thank you!! I'm of mixed feelings. Blaine and Kurt both did at least one bad, relationship-ending thing, and proved over and over again that they just weren't on the same wavelength in regards to life goals and ways of living it. They can't even share the same living space, which is kind of required for a functional marriage. I don't know, it just seems like they settled for their first proper, serious boyfriend even if that's not really the best match, and I... wish they'd just got to see more of life first, you know? They got married at like 20! Or something! I'm 23, I cannot imagine getting married at 20. That's a baby. Let them live first!

(same for Santana and Brittney, imo. I also don't really like them together because Santana and Brittney have very different ideas regarding monogamy, which is just never going to go down well in the long run. If your girl cheats on you like twenty times and tells you to your face its not cheating in her view of things, but you think it is, break up with her because you'll just make each other miserable. Brittney sort of seems incapable of feeling guilt but if she were, this kind of moral pressure would be Not Good, and obviously Santana isn't comfortable with the idea and doesn't have to be!! Just move on!!! Find other people!!!! Don't marry your first girlfriend if you've broken up like ten times this is simple!!!! Please!!!! But Klaine wins out over Brittana because - in my opinion, glee fandom please do not persecute me, I am known for this specific thing - I see... interactions that verge on abusive between Klaine that I don't see in Brittana. So. Oof? Ex; use of public perception to disguise attack; deliberately hurting Blaine in a stage-combat fencing match (you are not meant to make actual contact in these) and thus using Blaine's own dislike of making his difficulties common knowledge against him in order to 'punish' him. This is no good! Don't do this!!.[Also just to err vaguepost about a comment.... that is. not. what i would call passive aggressive. Physically attacking someone with a sword - no matter the type of sword, fencing foils hurt just as much, they're just not stab-you sharp... er, these days - is just straight-up aggressive.]).

Note that negative things stick in the mind better than positive ones; on a rewatch I may well alter my opinion!

But also I'm really, really stubborn. So it's not likely. Klaine.

[chaoticamelay]

people should block people more often!! idk why we make blocking into some kind of horrible action reserved only for horrible people. the block button is there for a reason. i block bigots obviously but i also block people who annoy me for reasons great or small, people who simply post stuff i don't want to see on my dash, and sometimes just because i'm hangry or in a lot of pain and their url is a bad colour combo or scratches a bad brain itch.

i run my life like a crotchety old woman who doesn't like being perceived irl and by G-d i will do it online too!! stop subjecting yourself to stuff on the internet that you wouldn't put up with offline. you don't always need to get along or agree on everything to be in community or build coalitions but curating your online experience lets you have more energy for doing what you love and sustaining the meaningful work in your community

[itwoodbeprefect]

am i gay? send tweet

[ragsy]

The peace of anonymity vs the joy of being known

[manyblinkinglights]

all the disposable public dive bars in vrchat have fucking BOUNCERS now, ppl with earnest piping little voices asking you to confirm your AGE?! before greenlisting you by username to let you use a door prefab to get in. what has the proliferation of api and moderation tools mcfricking wrought

[newkiqx]

It really does not show that? It only shows the comparative rise of first meeting online.

The survey adds to 100%, which means when one category goes up, another must go down.

Furthermore, online has not been split into categories, while offline has. Which could mean nothing, but intentionally or not, has the effect of inflating the grouped category (online) while deflating the split categories (offline). Visually you end up with a 10 to 1 ratio, when in reality it should have shown a 60/40 split at 2020. If you want to plot data unstacked, at least make sure the level of detail of the answers is the same. The way it's done here, to me, comes across as misleading.

I also want to point out the last data point is 2020, a year famously plagued by restrictions on social events

And lastly, as the description also acknowledges, this data only represents the first step in dating

tl;dr this graph does not have much relevant information on the state of society other than 'first meeting online is more common now'

[spilling-blood]

for the anon confession game i have this fantasy that you go on vacation and talk about it on your blog and you share that you are traveling near me and i catch this before you delete it and then i magically become way more brave and ask you to meet up with me then we hang out and i maybe kidnap you but only if you want to and only temporary i can't afford to support an entire kidnapping victim long term even in my fantasies and it seems rude to make you get a job in my country somehow sorry

Economy so bad it is knee capping would be kidnapper's consensual kidnapping fantasies damn.

Anon confession ask game

[alibrandi]

i cant believe people go on reddit and get feedback for their writing, i'd rather die

[dyellogin]

Eltingville Club, but... Gen Z

A dumb idea I laugh at, so I draw it out. It's not big on being a "fan" like OG E.C., just annoying internet extremely online users I've encountered as a Gen Z who has been on the internet for more than a decade.

BILL DICKEY

Username : @discardedmrtyr // Bill

Favorite shit : (anime harem), politics, reading, doing reviews, internet drama, leaked content (porn, mostly), shooter games, pepe reaction images.

Occupation : Substitute teacher while in college

Blackpilled anime enthusiast and notorious troll, Bill spends his days spreading hate online while using pepe reaction images because he’s upset how soyjacks are tainted with normies. He’s a vocal critic of all things progressive. He frequently targets minorities, celebrities, and content creators. Bill finds joy in provoking outrage. He’s loves shooter games. He's a Belle Delphine supporter on Onlyfans even when she hasn't uploaded anything. At work as a substitute teacher, Bill abuses his position to indoctrinate impressionable high school students. Off work and college, he gets very active on forums like Lolcow and Kiwifarm. He actively feeds drama with his leaked/stalking finds. In his spare spare time, Bill enjoys reading fanfics and making movies and books reviews that he keeps to himself.

JOSH LEVY

Username : @IHrtSeal // @SealLover123 // Seally // J-Chan

Favorite shit : seals, art, fan content, lost media, roleplay, Harry Potter, Steven Universe, Homestuck.

Occupation : NEET

Autistic Deviantart kid, Josh is similar to Chris Chan, where he has a tendency to fall into rage baits. Josh spends a significant amount of time online since his early childhood. He’s active on Deviantart, Twitter, Tumblr, Discord, etc. Josh customizes his profiles that fit into his aesthetic. His texts are roleplay-like, dramatic, with excessive emojis+emoticons like ♥️♥️♥️(>_<!!!). Josh has a strong interest in fan-content, mainly fanart, often commissions fetish arts from various artists, he commissioned Shadman once. Josh is also prone to harassing others over OOC and selfships. He treats the internet like a safe place diary where he publicize his suicidal ideations and meltdowns. He shows unwarranted sexual behaviors towards strangers online. He is a fan-writer. He writes a lot for character wiki pages and has proship tags in his AO3 works.

PETE DINUNZIO

Username : @VmP175 // @vAMPiro // Ambrose // Leech

Favorite shit : analogue horror, gamemaker games, obscure horror games, illegal/banned medias, true crime reality

Occupation : Cashier and weed dealer

Degenerate loser, Pete accesses the dark web and those Telegram groups daily. He mainly seeks porn of anorexic girls or girls with self-harm scars (prefers it fresh). Self-proclaimed sex icon, Pete would larp as big bad hot alpha men, thirst post on TikTok, showing his muscular body while wearing classic hot men horror masks. He only replies to mentally ill girls.

Dirt poor, with a shitty laptop that can only play roblox and low-quality gamemaker games (always pirates it). Pete is a skilled coder, and he attempts to create games independently. Very huge relation, very socially active. Doxx people online. He uses a lot of AAVE (the white kid with the baggy clothes who's talking like he’s black). Pete has parasocial relationships with content creators. He will defend his favorite creators even after they’re outed as a horrible person. Groomed by a creator he looks up to when he was a kid but feigning ignorance. He does a lot of edgy jokes.

JERRY STOKES

Username : @lv8ryu // リュウ // ryuuuu!

Website : Voidspeech.net // anon

Favorite shit : art, music, memes, brainrot content, cute girls, cute things

Occupation : University student

Leads a double life, Jerry going through University as a rich nepo baby while maintaining his sona online. Jerry fakes an Asian identity. He pretends to be Japanese, using Google Translate. Jerry has an art account with a decent following, where he focuses on his passion, keeping things vanilla and drama-free. He hates seeing reposts of free palestine, blm, etc. Jerry shares his art on Twitter and Newground, usually just girls or softcore porn. Jerry runs a website called Voidspeech, where he posts NSFW political edgy weekly webcomic (and remains anonymous). Pete finds out Jerry is behind the website and manages to get in contact with him. Jerry would send memes and brainrot content in the group chat. He rarely ever talks on group voice calls. Instead, he uses his customized soundboards to show reactions or just quote one of his brainrot content. Jerry would make shitty music he laughs at and forces his friends (especially Pete) to listen via Discord voice call. would say “I get lesbians!”

Bonus (concept design)

I didn't really like Pete's design, so I redesigned his outfit.

[scarefox]

Reminder to google your own name once in a while to make sure none of your private information are public.

Google is legally forced to remove your info from the search page if you tell them to (there are forms)

[pissvortex]

we have come to a point where i think we need to acknowledge that social media moderation as a concept is completely broken - rules are created by well meaning people for good reasons, but because of the infeasibility of human moderators actually giving each of these cases due diligence and making a decision that is widely agreed with, it’s largely just automated. it comes down to whoever hits the report button more and when. with social media as a whole being fractured into all of these individual corporate entities with no cohesive unifying operating procedures, there is probably no good solution to this other than moving away from social media platforms and focusing on smaller self-contained / community run online groups.

we’re probably already seeing this happening with the massive popularity of discord communities while social media companies flounder and shrivel up around us. as a matter of fact we have already seen this happen for most of the internet’s existence - they were called “Forums”. it’s pretty obvious that social media was only really good at facilitating the creation of these pockets of community anyways, but the nature of social media as a “platform” that must be as profitable as possible only ever forced these social clusters together in a way that drove engagement via arguments.

as hard as it is to imagine for people who grew up in a world where the default state of being online was competing for massive attention in full view of the entire public on these massive platforms, it’s probably going to be looked back on as a short-lived and failed experiment.

[kathaelipwse]

Written in the Pages || C.San

Pairing: Choi San × You (F!Reader)

Trope: Hidden Identity | Slow Burn | Actor!Idol!San x Writer!Reader | Fate & Coincidence Warnings: Slight Angst | Pining | Public Speculation | Idol Life Struggles | Teasing | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE | Rushed writing | Mention of existing companies & brands | ONLY A WORK OF FICTION

Word Count: 4008 words ; Reading time: 15-ish mins

Synopsis: You never expected your novel to take over the world—or for readers to realize that your male lead looked exactly like Choi San. The internet was on fire, and when Netflix proposed a live adaptation, you jokingly suggested his name. Except he agreed. Now, standing across from him on set, lines blurring between fiction and reality, you can’t help but wonder—was your love story already written in the pages?

Author’s Note: This idea spiraled out of control, and I regret nothing! 🖤 A mix of tension, slow-burn romance, and the classic “Are we acting, or is this real?” trope. Hope you love the chaos as much as I do! Request's are open!!

The world knew you as Y/N, a name whispered in hushed tones everywhere midst the readers who loved a fusion of dark and fluff romance, a dark promise on the lips of those who dared to delve into the depths of your narratives.

Your novels, especially "Shattered Heart," were not mere romances; they were intricate labyrinths of the human psyche, meticulously crafted explorations into the darkest corners where love bloomed amidst decay and obsession. Readers were ensnared, captivated by the twisted dance of Ravenna Skye and Lee Renji , their story a haunting melody of desire and destruction, a symphony of obsession played on the strings of broken hearts.

Ravenna, a woman sculpted from sharp edges and hidden scars, a survivor with eyes that held the ghosts of past traumas, captivated them. She was a paradox, both fragile and formidable, a woman who demanded submission and offered a dangerous kind of salvation, a siren luring them into the depths of a twisted devotion.

Renji, the predator cloaked in charm, a man whose love was a suffocating embrace, a possessive force that promised both ecstasy and ruin, became an obsession, a dark idol worshipped in the shadows of the internet. His description, however, was where the unease began to fester, a creeping dread that seeped into the collective consciousness.

Broad shoulders that hinted at a capacity for violence, a subtle tension that promised a storm, a devastatingly charming smile that masked predatory intent, a calculated allure that ensnared the unwary, sharp yet haunting features that held unspoken threats, a silent promise of pain. And hands… hands that could both caress and crush, leaving marks that were both tender and brutal, a physical manifestation of his dual nature.

"He's him," a post on a hidden forum whispered, a digital echo in the darkness, a chilling revelation that spread like a virus, followed by a meticulously compiled, chillingly detailed comparison of Renji's physical and psychological traits to those of Choi San, the idol whose public persona was a carefully curated mask, a facade that hid something far more complex, far more dangerous, a hidden darkness that resonated with the shadows within Renji.

Screenshots of San's piercing gaze, a look that seemed to penetrate the soul, were juxtaposed with passages from "Shattered Heart," highlighting Renji's possessive tendencies, the subtle manipulation, the psychological games, and the undercurrent of barely restrained rage, the silent promise of violence beneath the veneer of charm.

"Did she know?" the question slithered through the online shadows, a venomous serpent seeking its prey, a chilling accusation that hung in the digital air. "Is this a confession, a warning, or a twisted game of control, a psychological experiment played out on the public stage?"

The online world, usually a place of playful speculation, was now steeped in a chilling unease, a pervasive sense of dread that permeated every forum, every comment section. They dissected every word, every nuance, searching for hidden meanings in the darkness of your prose, seeking the truth behind the carefully crafted fiction.

The speculation escalated, reaching a fever pitch, a crescendo of online anxiety, when you, the enigmatic author, finally emerged from your self-imposed exile for an interview. The world watched, drawn in by your unsettling beauty, a fragile, yet strong with eyes that held the weight of untold secrets, a haunted allure that mirrored Ravenna's own, a dark elegance that hinted at a hidden strength, and a knowledge that seemed to transcend the ordinary, a silent understanding of the darkness that lurked within the human heart.

"Renji is a fiction," you stated, your voice a low, melodic whisper, a silken thread of sound that held a chilling undercurrent, a subtle tremor that hinted at hidden depths, yet a flicker of something dark and knowing in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the shadows that lurked beneath the surface, a recognition of the primal desires that fueled both love and obsession. "He is a reflection of the shadows that reside within us all, the desires we dare not speak, the darkness we try to deny, the monsters we keep chained within our souls."

But the universe, it seemed, had a taste for the macabre, a perverse fascination with the twisted narratives you wove, a dark curiosity that mirrored the obsession of your readers. TikTok became a breeding ground for fan edits, each one a disturbing exploration of Renji's obsession, a visual representation of the psychological torment, the subtle manipulation, and San's potential for darkness, a chilling reminder of the thin line between adoration and obsession, a stark warning of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of idealized love.

Livestreams were invaded by comments, their tone shifting from curiosity to dread, a growing sense of fear that the fictional world was bleeding into reality, that the darkness you crafted was seeping into their own. Even San's broadcasts were not immune, the playful banter replaced by an unsettling silence, a palpable tension that hung in the air.

He read a particularly unsettling comment aloud, his playful facade cracking, revealing a flicker of unease, a glimpse of the fear that was slowly consuming him. "San, you are Renji."

He scrolled through the images, his amusement turning to a cold unease, a creeping dread that settled in his bones, a chilling awareness of the darkness that lurked within the carefully constructed persona. He recognized the details, the subtle hints of darkness, the almost predatory intensity, the unsettling familiarity of Renji's possessiveness which he could possibly inact if needed.

A sense of dread washed over him, a feeling that Renji wasn't just a character, but a dark reflection of something within himself, a hidden darkness that he had never dared to acknowledge, a primal instinct that resonated with the twisted desires of the fictional character. The seed of doubt, planted by a thousand online whispers, began to bloom into a chilling realization, a terrifying echo of fear, a dark understanding that the line between fiction and reality was blurring, and that he was standing on the precipice of something dangerous.

The digital tremors from the online earthquake, a seismic shift in the perception of your work, had barely subsided when the call came. Netflix, drawn by the raw, visceral energy of "Shattered Heart," wanted to adapt it into a live-action series. A global project, they called it, promising to bring the dark romance to life with unflinching intensity, to translate the shadows you'd painted onto the screen. The news, usually a cause for celebration, hung heavy in the air, a dark promise of what was to come, a premonition of the chaos you were about to unleash.

During the initial casting discussions, amidst the hushed tones and the careful consideration of actors, a question was posed, a loaded inquiry that carried the weight of unspoken expectations: "Do you have anyone in mind for Renji?"

The name slipped from your lips, unbidden, a dark echo of the online whispers, a dangerous gamble that felt both reckless and inevitable: "Choi San."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken questions, disbelief, and a flicker of something akin to fear. San, the idol, the performer, the man whose face had become synonymous with Renji’s darkness, whose public persona was a carefully crafted enigma. It was a bold, almost reckless suggestion, a gamble that could shatter everything, or ignite a firestorm of obsession.

The news exploded, a digital wildfire that consumed the internet, spreading through forums and social media like a plague. Fan theories, already fervent, reached a fever pitch, spiraling into darker territories. The possibility of San embodying Renji, the predator, the obsessive lover, was both thrilling and terrifying, a dangerous dance on the edge of obsession, a blurred line between fantasy and reality.

You had expected a refusal. A polite, diplomatic decline. After all, he was a K-pop idol, not an actor. The role of Renji demanded a level of emotional complexity, a willingness to delve into the darkest corners of the human psyche, to explore the shadows of obsession and control, that seemed far removed from the polished perfection of idol life. You had imagined a carefully worded statement from his agency, citing scheduling conflicts or creative differences.

Instead, a meeting was scheduled. You found yourself face-to-face with him, in a sterile conference room, the tension palpable, a silent battleground where unspoken desires and hidden fears collided. And goddamn, the internet was right. He fit the role like a glove. The captivating charm, the underlying intensity, the almost predatory gaze—it was all there, a chilling echo of Renji, a reflection of the darkness you had conjured. Cute yet lethal, charming yet mysterious, an effortless embodiment of the shadows you had written, a dangerous mirror of your creation.

"I won't be playing Ravenna," you declared, your voice steady, though a tremor ran through you, a subtle vibration of unease that betrayed your carefully constructed composure. "I'm not an actress." The thought of stepping into Ravenna’s shoes, of embodying her pain, her resilience, her dangerous allure, was a daunting, almost terrifying prospect, a leap into the abyss of your own creation.

San leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours, a smirk playing on his lips, a playful yet dangerous glint in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. "Then who will? The fans won't settle for anyone else. They see you as Ravenna. They see us," he emphasized the "us," a subtle provocation, a dangerous acknowledgment of the connection the fans perceived. "They've already written the script in their heads, haven't they? They see the sparks."

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on you, the pressure from the fans and the intensity of his gaze. "I've never acted. It'll take too many retakes—I'll just waste everyone's time. You’re a professional. I’d just slow everything down." The vulnerability you rarely showed, the fear of inadequacy, crept into your voice, a crack in your carefully constructed facade.

"Then learn," he shrugged, his gaze unwavering, intense, a silent challenge that dared you to step into the darkness. "Life is about learning, isn't it? About facing the darkness, about embracing the shadows."

There was something in the way he said it, a dark resonance that hinted at a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface, a dangerous curiosity that mirrored your own. Something that made your pulse unsteady, that sent a strange, unsettling thrill through you, a forbidden excitement that you couldn't deny.

Against your better judgment, against the warnings echoing in your mind, you agreed. A contract was signed, not just for a series, but for something far more dangerous, a pact with the shadows, a dangerous game played on the edge of reality. The series, and this strange, intense connection with San, was about to begin, a dangerous dance into the darkness, a journey into the heart of your own creation.

Filming began, a whirlwind of controlled chaos, a meticulously crafted descent into the shadows. The set became a liminal space, a world between fiction and reality, where the shadows you had written took on flesh and blood, where the lines of reality began to blur and twist. And within that chaos, San moved with an unsettling grace, an effortless embodiment of Renji. The predatory charm, the simmering intensity, the way he could switch from playful to dangerous in a heartbeat—it was both captivating and terrifying, a dangerous dance on the edge of obsession, a performance that felt too real.

You, on the other hand, were thrown into the deep end, forced to confront the vulnerability you usually kept locked away, protected by the armor of your words. Acting was a different beast entirely, a raw exposure of emotions you typically channeled into your writing, a stripping away of the carefully constructed walls. The camera's unblinking eye felt like it was stripping away your carefully constructed defenses, exposing the raw emotions you usually poured into your characters, a terrifying intimacy.

But San became an unexpected anchor in that storm, a dark guide through the chaos, a constant presence that both comforted and unsettled you.

"You look like you're about to run," San observed during a break, his gaze studying your tense posture.

"I feel like I'm about to," you admitted, a wry smile playing on your lips. "This is… intense."

"Intense is what we do," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Embrace the chaos, Y/N. It's where the magic happens."

In the quiet moments between takes, a strange camaraderie blossomed, a silent understanding that transcended words, a shared language of unspoken desires. You were comfortable in shared silences, finding an odd peace in the chaos, a fragile truce amidst the emotional turmoil. There were moments of goofy laughter, shared jokes that eased the tension, light moments that felt like a momentary reprieve. And then there were the moments where the line between actor and character blurred, where the intensity in San's eyes felt too real, too personal, a dangerous reflection of Renji's obsession, a haunting echo of the character you had created.

And then came the confession scene.

Los Angeles. A rainy night, the city lights reflecting off the wet streets, creating an almost ethereal glow, a scene painted in shadows and whispers, a culmination of the unspoken tension.

The scene was simple, yet laden with emotional weight, a raw expression of vulnerability: Renji calling out, "Venna!"

You, as Ravenna, turned, rain plastering your hair to your face, your breath catching in your throat. San, as Renji, was a dark silhouette against the city lights, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart pound.

"Venna," he repeated, his voice a low, desperate plea. "Don't run."

You took a step back, fear and desire warring within you. "Renji…"

He closed the distance, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Tell me you feel it too. Tell me this isn't just me."

Your breath hitched. "I…"

He cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Tell me, Venna."

You closed your eyes, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air. "Yes."

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding down to your waist, his grip firm, possessive. "Then show me."

A kiss. A lingering touch that felt like a brand, a silent promise, a dangerous consummation.

--- "Cut."

The director's voice broke the spell, but the air remained charged, thick with unspoken desires, a tension that crackled between you and San.

"That was… intense," the director commented, a flicker of unease in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the raw emotion.

"Too intense?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze locked on San, seeking answers in his eyes.

"Perfect," San murmured, his voice low, his eyes never leaving yours, a dangerous intensity in their depths. "Perfectly real."

Why did it feel so real?

Why did San linger, his gaze intense, wanting to hold you again, kiss you again, erase the boundaries between fiction and reality, merge the characters with the actors?

And why did you feel the same, a dangerous pull towards the darkness he embodied, a forbidden desire that mirrored Ravenna’s?

The rest of filming became a tightrope walk, a precarious balance between fiction and reality, a dangerous game of emotions. The chemistry between you and San was undeniable, electric, but it was a dangerous electricity, charged with unspoken desires and hidden depths, a silent language spoken in stolen glances and lingering touches, a constant push and pull. The lines between Ravenna and Renji, between Y/N and San, began to blur, creating a tension that permeated every scene, a silent battleground of emotions, a dangerous dance of shadows and light.

The year passed in a blur of long days and sleepless nights, a constant dance between shadows and light, a journey into the heart of your own creation. Filming wrapped. The movie was released.

It shattered records.

The world was captivated by the dark romance, by the raw intensity of the characters, by the undeniable connection between the actors, a connection that seemed to transcend the screen, a forbidden intimacy that captivated millions.

You and San still texted, the digital connection a lifeline in the post-filming void, a fragile thread connecting you across the distance, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken. But distance grew between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings, the dangerous desires left behind in that rain-soaked confession scene, a silent pact to ignore the fire that burned between you, a dangerous denial.

Neither of you spoke about the ache in your chests, the lingering questions that haunted your thoughts, the ghosts of the characters you had played, the emotions that felt too real.

Until San finally confessed to his members.

The teasing? Relentless, a mix of playful and concerned, a chorus of unspoken questions and knowing glances, a silent interrogation.

Award season arrived, a whirlwind of flashing lights and red carpets, a stage for the unspoken drama, a spotlight on the tangled truths.

You walked the red carpet in a black gown laced with gold, a dress that mirrored Ravenna's dark elegance, a silent declaration of the character you had become, a dangerous echo of the woman you wrote. San, in a tailored suit that accentuated his sharp features, sat beside you at your table, the air between you thick with unspoken words, a silent battleground of desires, a dangerous tension.

Best Romance Film? Your movie.

The moment your name was called, a wave of emotion washed over you, a culmination of the journey you had taken, a dangerous acknowledgment of the emotions you had stirred. As you made your way to the stage, San's gaze followed you, a silent intensity that felt both supportive and possessive, a dark promise, a silent claim.

After the show, he found you in an empty hallway, the shadows of the night clinging to him, a predator stalking his prey, a desperate plea for honesty.

And then—

He pinned you against the wall, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the forcefulness of the action, a desperate plea for honesty, a raw confession.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low, rough with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher, a dangerous whisper in the darkness. "Tell me I was the only one who felt it. That it wasn't just acting. That the fire between us was real. That the shadows we danced in weren’t just fiction."

His words hung in the air, a dangerous question that shattered the fragile truce you had built. "Tell me," he had murmured, his voice raw, his eyes searching yours, "tell me it wasn't just acting."

You stared at him, the hallway suddenly shrinking, the silence deafening. The weight of his confession pressed down on you, a heavy truth you could no longer ignore. The fire between you, the connection that had sparked on set, it wasn't just for the cameras. It was a dangerous, consuming thing that had taken root in your soul.

"San…" you began, your voice trembling, the words caught in your throat.

He leaned closer, his hand tightening on your waist, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Was it real, Y/N? Was any of it real? Or were we just playing characters?"

The question echoed the doubts that had plagued you for months. The lines between Ravenna and Renji, between you and San, had blurred irrevocably. Was the passion, the intensity, just a performance? Or was it something more, something dangerous, something real, something that threatened to consume you both?

"I don't know," you finally whispered, the honesty a painful admission, a crack in the carefully constructed walls you'd built around yourself. "I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know where Ravenna ends and I begin."

A flicker of something—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe a hint of anger—crossed his face. He released you, stepping back, creating a distance that felt like a chasm, a tangible representation of the emotional distance between you.

"So, it was all just acting," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, a cold statement that cut through the tension.

"No!" you protested, reaching for him, your fingers brushing against his arm, desperate to bridge the gap. "It wasn't just acting. But… it's complicated, San. We're not Ravenna and Renji. This isn't a movie. We can't just follow a script."

He turned away, his jaw tight, his voice strained. "Isn't it? Because it felt pretty damn real to me. It felt like… like everything."

The tension between you was a palpable thing, a live wire stretched taut, threatening to snap, to ignite a fire that would consume you both. The unspoken hung heavy in the air, a dangerous mix of desire and fear, a silent battleground of emotions.

He turned back to you, his eyes searching yours, a raw vulnerability in his gaze. "Y/N," he said, his voice low, a desperate plea. "I need to know. Was it real for you too?"

You hesitated, the truth caught in your throat, a dangerous confession waiting to be unleashed. "San…"

"Tell me," he whispered, closing the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me you felt something. Tell me it wasn’t just me."

You closed your eyes, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. "It was real," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "It was too real."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle, yet firm. "Then tell me," he said, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of truth. "Tell me you feel something for me."

"I…" you started, but the words caught in your throat.

"Say it," he urged, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please."

And then, the dam broke. "I love you, San," you confessed, the words raw and honest, a dangerous admission of the feelings you had tried to deny. "I love you, and it terrifies me."

The following months were a torturous dance. You and San continued to text, the digital connection a fragile lifeline, but the easy camaraderie you had shared on set was gone, replaced by a careful distance, a guarded politeness, a silent acknowledgment of the dangerous emotions that simmered beneath the surface.

You attended every ATEEZ concert, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, watching him from the shadows, your heart aching with a longing you couldn't explain. You stayed in the same hotels, the close proximity a torment, a constant reminder of the unspoken desires that simmered beneath the surface.

Rumors spread like wildfire, fueled by your public appearances, your shared moments, the undeniable chemistry that radiated from you both. The fans, ever-observant, dissected every glance, every touch, weaving their own narratives, their own dangerous fantasies.

And then San made it official.

A single Instagram post.

The photo? You, working on your laptop, your face illuminated by the screen's glow, blurry but unmistakably you.

Caption: "Written in the pages. 🖤"

The internet? Broke.

The fans erupted, a chaotic mix of joy and disbelief, their theories finally confirmed.

The haters? Unbothered. Their voices, usually a deafening roar, were drowned out by the overwhelming tide of support.

Because you didn’t care what the world thought.

After all, your love was already written in the pages. Or was it? The question still lingered, a haunting echo in the quiet moments, a shadow that threatened to consume the light, a dangerous uncertainty that hung in the air.

--

[bubbleggum444]

— ❝UNEXPECTEƊ CᖇᑌSH?!❞

contents teen titan!damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis the young hero finds himself smitten over a girl he doesn't even know except through a screen. pt. 2

why on earth was damian—yes, damian wayne—watching a girl do her skincare routine on his laptop at three in the morning?

the answer was simple: he had just returned from patrolling, and his favorite youtuber had posted a new video. since she lived on a different continent, it was daytime for her, so there was nothing strange about her uploading at this hour.

that’s it. that’s his reasoning. that’s the explanation.

damian wasn’t exactly the most social person. he had the titans and his family, but he preferred to keep to himself. he was a bit of a loner, spending most of his time alone, away from others.

his life had become a repetitive cycle: wake up, train, interact briefly, save people, sleep. over time, it had started to feel monotonous, almost boring.

one day, while browsing online, damian stumbled upon the channel of a small youtuber with around 30k subscribers. she did makeup tutorials and vlogs, and something about her intrigued him. growing up under the strict care of his mother and grandfather, he had never indulged in things like tv or youtube. in their eyes, those were distractions from his training.

it wasn’t until one of his first missions with the titans that he truly understood how different his life was compared to theirs. when beast boy suggested a movie night, damian was stunned. a movie night? didn’t they need to get to bed early, wake up at the crack of dawn, and train with master shifu to become the next dragon warrior?!—

back to the present. damian sank into his chair, a bowl of chips in one hand and a coke in the other (another habit he picked up from beast boy). he clicked play, and your bright, welcoming smile appeared on the screen as the intro started.

wow. just wow.

you were stunning. bare-faced, wearing a warm, kind smile, and cute pins holding your hair back as you did your skincare routine and prepared your face for a new makeup look. where should he focus first? that cute mole on the side of your face, the one he had noticed right away in your first video? or the adorable eye bags, a clear sign of sleepless nights from working late (you mentioned it in your community forum after fans expressed concern for your health)? or perhaps the faint smile lines, suggesting you smiled often and were genuinely happy? (he hoped you were, anyway.)

damian’s eyes followed every movement, every change in your expression as you unboxed a new makeup product. the way your eyes lit up with excitement, the small gasps of joy as you showed the camera the cute items you had received.

god… he would send you a dozen makeup products, whatever you liked or wanted. if only you had a public wish list or your address was easy to find. he’d figure it out eventually.

there was no question about it—damian was smitten. but it left him feeling uneasy. how could he like someone he didn’t even know? sure, he’d studied your videos and analyzed your personality (okay, maybe overanalyzed), but that was it. he wasn’t the type to feel like this. he had never been one for crushes or infatuation—his focus was always on his duties as a young hero.

so why did he feel this way? why did watching you on his screen make his tiring day feel a little brighter? why did his heart race, almost like it was about to leap out of his chest? this was ridiculous, even to him.

why did he like you? was it the change you brought to his otherwise repetitive life? the comfort? he probably would never know the answer—and he was too afraid to even try to find out.

as the video ended, you blew a kiss to the camera. without thinking, damian’s hand moved to “catch” it. wait—huh? he stared at his hand, dumbfounded, before quickly lowering it back to his side. he opened the forgotten coke, took a sip, and tried to calm his nerves. wait—what?! he was trying to calm his nerves with a sugary drink at almost four in the morning...?

that was it. it was official. damian wayne had completely lost it. shutting the laptop, he went to bed immediately.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

[ghost-in-a-cup]

hey guys, maybe before you pirate LEARN SOME ETIQUETTE

why are these important? well, if you openly share the sites, they wil get shut down. corporations are willing to copyright strike anything. you are only going to make accessing these resources harder.

remember: LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS

if you want to share resources, don't post them on public forums like tumblr, twitter,instagram or any popular site. remember how zlibrary shut down? yall want that to happen to more sites? do you?

also like if they get shut down, people who can't access these otherwise because they don't have the means for it or its banned in their country are losing access.

Don't post links online. Only share in private conversations.

try and avoid linking the sites directly. a workaround is sharing the downloaded files via other file hosting sites similar to google drive and drop box

DON'T SHARE ON PUBLIC FORUMS. EVER. PLEASE

Use a VPN. i personally like proton vpn, it is a freemium model but the free version works fine.

These are just the basics, there are others but please keep these in mind.