#pulling 'fiction affects reality' out of their ass

[theoddest1]

Nahh, Val defenders are SCARY. I just saw the recent tea and lemme tell you. I’m an artist who does artist alley at huge cons over the USA and I’ve had people upset at me for having almost every Hazbin character as a keychain design except for Val because that mothafucker can go jump into an insect repellent buzzer for all I care. And I have had actual encounters IN PERSON of people who were upset I didn’t have the rapist man. I’d tell them I am too uncomfortable to draw him because guess what honey, I survived rape so of course he makes me uncomfortable. Also I’m the artist and I can draw whatever the fuck I want. And people would get upset saying they needed their husbando or tell me gee sucks for you but he’s a fictional character. Don’t care! I don’t care if he’s fictional, do you see how people treat awful men like him saying shit like they wished that Val had a contract with them? Don’t get me started on the ValAngel cosplayers who would pose in questionable manners, or the Val cosplayers who used their cosplay to excuse they heinous shit like touching people’s asses because they think they’re in character. And now with this print issue, it’s just going to get worse because people find the rapist man hot thanks to glorification of sexual assault. Also to the people comparing ValAngel to a consensual non-con kink, please seek help. Sorry babes I just had to get it out of my system because this is making me furious. Anyways, that’s my piping tea, and I love your blog.

Oh, sis, I just wanna start off saying that I am so sorry you have been dealing with this and that you're strong af for still being here and being you despite what horrors you faced. I wanna applaud you for your strength and keep up the good fight! I'd also like to apologize for taking so long to answer asks! After the latest drama, I have been getting so many more asks, and tbh I never thought my acc would get as much traction as it does nowadays! Glad you and every have been enjoying my posts and hope that I can better she'd light on Biv and her little posse!

Regarding your situation at cons, I am so sorry you had to deal with them obnoxious ass people. They say in one breath, "Oh, it's fiction!" But then, in the other, get pissed when said fiction is not available, that's how you know that they dgaf and only care about their "interests" over actual survivors concerns and critiques over the handling of SA. The fact that a lot of them do these sexual acts onto people proves the fiction DOES INDEED affect reality, unsurprisingly. Ima say it again, these mfers need to see Val get dogged on and made fun off lime a punching bag, and we'll see if they pull that same excuse.🫢🤭

[edenesth]

Midnight Fiction

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: One restless night, craving an escape from reality, you and Wooyoung lose yourselves to the captivating realms of your favourite fantasy worlds. Together, you traverse through the wonder of Narnia, the magic of Middle-earth, and the enchantment of Hogwarts.

A/N: Just a random little self-indulgent oneshot inspired by ILLIT's Midnight Fiction, song's been on repeat for me. These images have been flashing through my mind whenever I listen to it, so I'm taking this chance to experiment with writing The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter AUs.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Don't you just hate it when you're caught in that limbo of feeling too cold without a blanket and too hot with one? Don't you just hate it when you lie in bed for what feels like an eternity, teetering on the edge of slumber, only to snap awake again? Don't you just hate when your room begins to feel stifling from restlessness, leaving you searching for that elusive perfect spot on your bed?

Don't you just hate it when it feels like the whole world is asleep while you're wide awake? You do, don't you?

Fortunately for you, tonight, you weren't alone in this plight. The person lying beside you, your best friend, your soulmate, your better half—your everything—seemed to be stuck in the same predicament.

"Trouble sleeping, love?"

In an instant, the weight lifted as you turned to gaze at the love of your life, awake beside you. "Yes, Woo, but at least I'm not alone," you whispered, smiling. He smiled back, extending an arm towards you in invitation. You pouted, your heart brimming with affection for this man, and immediately shifted into his welcoming embrace, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He sighed contentedly, tightening his hold around you, and peppering your face with tender kisses. "Perhaps sleep isn't on the agenda tonight. What do you say we find another way to pass the time?" His playful grin met your curious gaze.

You chuckled softly. "And what mischief do you have in store, my dearest Mr. Jung?"

With a playful boop to your nose, he grinned. "Would you care to embark on an adventure with me, my lady? Somewhere far from this suffocating room, perhaps?"

Bursting into a fit of giggles at his playful imitation of old-fashioned speech, you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, you played along, "Oh, you present such an irresistible offer. How could I possibly refuse, my lord?"

He bit his lip, feeling his heart melt at how swiftly you caught on. Wooyoung had always been an exuberant individual, often overwhelming others with his energy and antics, but never with you. You were the sole person in the world who truly understood him. You shared the same interests and personalities, the only disparity being that you were a slightly calmer version of him.

If soulmates existed, he was certain you were at the other end of the red strings of fate binding him to you. You had to be.

Pressing his lips to yours once more, relishing the closeness, he pulled back slightly to catch his breath. "Well, come on then, love. Let's not waste any time. Adventure awaits us."

You squealed in delight as he leapt out of bed, swiftly yanking the sheets off you and exposing you to the cool air. With a playful tug on your leg, he pulled you into his arms as you steadied yourself against his chest, adjusting to the sudden movement after hours of lying still.

"I hope you're ready, my lady."

"You bet your ass I am, sire. Let's do this!"

"Seriously, Woo? This is the adventure you were referring to? A place far from our suffocating bedroom?" you asked incredulously as he swung open the doors to his absurdly large wardrobe in the spare room of your shared apartment. It was where your boyfriend housed his prized collection of branded apparel, insisting on keeping them separate from his everyday wear.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, flicking on the torchlight he'd brought with him and shining it upwards towards his face in the classic fashion of someone about to tell ghost stories. "Oh, come on, this could be fun. It'll be like seven minutes in heaven."

You snorted at his suggestion, watching as he crawled into the space, carefully shifting aside his hanging clothes. Crossing your arms teasingly, you quipped, "With a whole apartment at our disposal, why do we need to squeeze into a tiny space for some fun?"

Once settled inside, he extended a hand to you. "Don't pretend you're not thrilled about this. I see right through you. Come on, love," he urged, and your façade melted away like chocolate. With a grin as childlike as his, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to draw you into the cramped space.

Amidst endless giggles, you squeezed your way in beside him. When he finally managed to shut the doors, you turned to him eagerly. "Okay, so what now?"

"Now, let the magic begin," he whispered, leaning in for a soft kiss. You sighed contentedly, running a hand through his hair as you kissed him back. But before the romantic moment could fully unfold, true to his nature, Wooyoung reached around your waist and began to tickle you. You shrieked, pulling away to playfully slap him. "S-stop it, you menace! I sh-should've known!"

As you tried to push him away from you, you found yourself instinctively scooting back. But instead of feeling the familiar barrier of the wardrobe's end, you noticed an unusual expanse of space behind you. "W-wait, Woo! S-something's not right—" Before you could finish your sentence, a loud gasp escaped you as you felt a cold touch on your back.

What in the world.

Finally, your boyfriend ceased his actions, freezing in his spot with wide eyes. Following his gaze, you turned your head and felt your breath hitch at the unbelievable sight of a winter wonderland before your eyes.

Swiftly, he rolled off you and helped you up to your feet, clad in bedroom slippers, both of you taking tentative steps into the snow. Your gazes met in wide-eyed astonishment as the chill of this new world immediately embraced you. "Woo, could we be in...?" you began, while he hurriedly threw on an expensive coat before draping another snugly over your shoulders.

Ensuring you were sufficiently warm, he reached for your hand and led you forward. "Only one way to find out."

Your hearts raced as you ventured deeper into the breathtaking snow-covered forest. Glancing back, you felt relief upon seeing the back of Wooyoung's wardrobe still there. As he squeezed your hand, you followed his gaze, and your face lit up with recognition as you approached the lamppost before you.

Locking eyes with each other, you whispered in unison, "Narnia."

Squealing with excitement, the two of you began to jump around. Your boyfriend started rambling, "Oh my god, do you think we'll get to meet Mr. Tumnus? Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Beaver?"

You laughed and shook your head. "I don't know, but I really hope I get to see King Edmund, at least... or even Prince Caspian, if we're that far in the story already."

He scoffed. "Of course, you'd want to."

You playfully smacked his arm. "Hey! Don't pretend you're not also dying to meet the gorgeous High Queen Susan!"

Feeling a presence, you both turned to find a very unexpected character greeting you upon arrival. Standing before you in all his glory was Aslan, The Great Lion, the creator and one true king of the world of Narnia. Your boyfriend stilled, then pulled you down onto your knees beside him. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. I'm Wooyoung, son of Adam," he said, introducing himself, before introducing you as a daughter of Eve.

Aslan nodded in acknowledgement. "Welcome to Narnia; we have been expecting you," he began, catching you off guard.

"You have...?" you asked in disbelief.

The lion confirmed, "Yes, you are both here to fulfil the Golden Age prophecy."

Wooyoung sputtered, "W-we are...? Isn't the prophecy about two boys and two girls, with your help, ending the evil witch's rule?"

Aslan clarified, "That is correct, but you've left out one final thing; it includes two seers who can tell the future. With your help, we will defeat Jadis without a problem."

At that, you and your boyfriend exchanged a knowing smile. Of course, you were both the seers; you already knew how the story goes. Armed with this knowledge, you were equipped to guide them through their quest to defeat the White Witch even more seamlessly than before.

With a graceful motion, the lion lowered himself to the ground. "Now, if you'll both get on my back, we'll head back to the camp where everyone is preparing for battle." Excitement surged through you both, and without hesitation, you climbed aboard. As the journey commenced, you marvelled at the breathtaking scenery around you. With each passing moment, you noticed the snow melting away, a clear sign of Jadis' spell fading and the return of goodness, heralding Aslan's triumphant return.

As you and your boyfriend rode on the lion's back, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you both. It was surreal to realise that you were actually in the magical land you had both fantasised about since childhood. The realisation dawned on you that this wasn't just a dream—it was happening, right now.

Feelings of excitement, wonder, and disbelief mingled within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. But typical Wooyoung being Wooyoung, he couldn't resist his mischievous nature. Sitting behind you, he tightened his hold on your waist and whispered in your ear, "How do you think he'd react if we told him he's fictional?" Your jaws dropped, and you shot him a glare, elbowing him in the gut and causing him to groan. "Now, why would you do that?"

But it didn't take long before you both burst into giggles. Despite his knack for mischief, you couldn't help but be grateful for his presence. You couldn't envision exploring the magical world of Narnia with anyone else but Jung Wooyoung by your side.

As you reached the camp, embarrassment flooded you as all the creatures—centaurs, fauns, and more—stared at you and Wooyoung in your mismatched attire. You couldn't help but feel awkward in your pyjamas paired with your boyfriend's branded coat and bedroom slippers. Before you could dwell on it, everyone began kneeling in greeting as you passed by.

"Welcome, seers of Narnia," greeted the voices in unison as you arrived at the main tent where the four Pevensie siblings stood waiting, your hearts pounded with excitement and nerves. Here you were, finally meeting your childhood crushes. Clumsily, you introduced yourselves before watching the crowd disperse.

Blushing under Peter and Edmund's curious gazes, you were relieved when Susan stepped forward with a chuckle. "Come on, both of you. Let's get you into some proper clothes. We know how it feels; we've been in your shoes on our first day here," she reassured. Wooyoung chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, we know that."

Lucy's eyes widened in awe. "Of course, you're the seers. You must know everything. Tell us, how does it all work?"

Blinking rapidly with pursed lips, you and your boyfriend struggled to find a suitable response. After all, revealing that your knowledge came from books or movies wouldn't be appropriate. Breaking the fourth wall so easily could spoil the adventure and make you both seem uncool. It was best to keep the magic alive, even if it meant inventing some details on the spot.

"Uh, well... it's, uh, complicated," your boyfriend stammered, his mind scrambling for a creative explanation.

Peter cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with his youngest sister. "Not now, Lucy. They must be overwhelmed. We should let them get changed and settle down first."

Nodding in agreement, Edmund gestured to a smaller tent beside Aslan's. "Right this way, please. We've prepared your outfits."

You had to suppress a squeal; the brothers were even more attractive in person. Though this version of King Edmund was still a child and not the king you admired in the later movies, it was still him, and you couldn't help feeling bashful. As if to remind you of who you truly belonged to, Wooyoung slid his arm around your waist. "Come on, love. Let's get changed." It was then that all four siblings realised that unlike them, you were lovers.

Emerging from the tent with Susan and Lucy's help, you felt slightly awkward in the medieval-styled gown, uncertain how to manage its intricate design. Meanwhile, your boyfriend had finished much sooner, dressed in a simple outfit of pants and a tunic. His lively voice echoed from inside the tent as you dressed, likely engaging poor Peter and Edmund with his talkative nature.

As you stepped out, his voice trailed off as he took in the sight of you in the purple gown with your hair braided halfway and the rest left down. Though not extravagant, you knew he found it beautiful; his stunned expression told you that much.

Susan giggled at his reaction, while you blushed slightly. "Shall we have something to eat, and break the ice before we begin our training?" she suggested.

You raised a brow. "Training?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, preparations for the battle against the White Witch's army. I know you're both here as our seers, but it's wise to be ready to defend yourselves too."

Wooyoung nodded in understanding. "Right, well, we'll accept the food then. We'll need our strength for training."

Gathered around a small table on the field, you shared a simple meal, just enough to provide energy for training. Keeping a straight face was a challenge as your boyfriend animatedly spun a tale for the Pevensie siblings about how you both received visions of the future.

"Yeah, it's not something we control. Sometimes it comes in dreams, other times as random visions. It's tricky... a gift and a curse, really," he elaborated.

Struggling to suppress your amusement, you watched as the siblings listened in awe. Concealing your laughter behind a cough, you nudged Wooyoung in the side, giving him a glare and mouthing, "Enough!"

The mood turned serious as Lucy nervously inquired, "Have you seen how this will all end? Will we triumph over the evil witch?" You were aware of the obstacles lying ahead, including Aslan's sacrifice to save Edmund for his earlier betrayal, and the battle feeling like a lost cause. Despite these daunting prospects, you knew you had to offer reassurance to keep their spirits up.

Taking this as your cue to speak, you smiled and nodded at the youngest Pevensie sibling. "Yes, little one. You—no, we—will emerge victorious. The path to victory may be fraught with challenges, but we'll be here to help you every step of the way."

After the meal, the guys geared up to train their sword skills, while the girls prepared for archery practice. Just before joining the guys, Wooyoung pulled you close.

"Have I told you how much I adore the way you talk to children, love?" he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. "Now's not the time for this, Woo; they're waiting for us."

He grinned at the pink blush on your cheeks. "Fine, I'll go if you want me to so badly. By the way, you look beautiful," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek before darting off to join Peter and Edmund.

Turning around, you noticed Susan and Lucy snickering after witnessing the exchange, and you couldn't help but bite your lip bashfully. "Come. Off to training, we go."

After hours of practice, you discovered a potential talent in archery. Susan raised an impressed brow. "Huh, you seem quite skilled at this. We were worried for nothing; you'll do just fine on the battlefield."

You beamed. "I sure hope so."

As the girls continued their drills, your gaze kept drifting to the guys training across the river. Despite the presence of the handsome High King Peter and King Edmund, your attention remained fixed on your silly boyfriend who was earnestly attempting to wield his sword. He looked comical, but that was part of his charm.

"You're in love," Lucy's voice snapped you out of your reverie. Flustered, you nodded. "Why yes, little one. I am in love."

Susan smiled, joining the conversation. "So is he. You two look perfect together. Say, how did you meet?"

Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with Wooyoung. He had been at the next table when you were stood up by a blind date, rambling away loudly with a friend. Annoyed, you turned to him, asking, "Will you please lower your voice?! Not everyone is interested in your opinion on love at first sight!" Ironically, that was how he claimed to have fallen in love with you.

Chuckling at the memory, you decided not to share the full story with the girls. Given the temporal gap between your world and theirs, you reckoned they might not grasp the nuances of your relationship with Wooyoung. Instead, you offered a simplified version of how you met, emphasising the humour in the situation. They laughed with you, and soon the conversation shifted back to practice.

As the story progressed, you and your boyfriend grew closer to the Pevensie siblings, guiding them through every challenge just like rewatching the movie. Together, you avoided certain pitfalls and reassured them that everything would turn out well in the end.

On the night before the decisive battle, you would leave to stay with the girls to witness Aslan's sacrifice for Edmund. Wooyoung held you close, knowing that the next time you saw each other would be on the battlefield the following day. "Be careful, love," he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, returning the sentiment. "You too, Woo. You remember how the battle goes, right? Stick by Edmund's side and ensure Jadis doesn't harm him. Or better yet, get him out of that area. Just don't let her get the chance to stab him."

He grinned confidently. "You worry too much. I'll protect your precious King Edmund, don't you worry about a thing."

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. "I have to go now. I'll see you."

He couldn't resist capturing your lips in a loving kiss before letting you go. "Go, the girls need you," he urged softly.

As Susan and Lucy wept on your shoulders after witnessing Aslan's sacrifice, you held them tightly, offering whatever comfort you could. With tears clouding her voice, the younger sibling questioned, "How can things still be okay after this? He's gone... How can we possibly win the war without him?"

Gently stroking her tear-stained cheeks, you reassured her, "Trust me, he knows what he's doing. This will all work out in our favour. Just you wait and see, little one."

Susan regarded you with her typical scepticism. "Are you sure?"

Your nod was firm. "Absolutely."

Quietly, you watched as they clung to the lion after the enemies dispersed to prepare for battle. As dawn approached, you motioned for them to join you. "It's almost time. Come."

With furrowed brows, they approached cautiously. "Time for what...?"

Your smile was knowing as the ground trembled and the Stone Table shattered, leaving behind only a vacant space where Aslan had been. "For this," you declared, pointing to the now-empty surface.

Their eyes widened in disbelief as Aslan reappeared before them, alive and well. You watched with a sense of satisfaction as he explained his strategy, how he had fooled the White Witch.

Eager to reunite with your lover, you interjected, "Well, let's not waste any more time. We still have one final task: freeing our friends still trapped in Jadis' Castle."

Aslan nodded in agreement. "You're right, seer. We must act swiftly."

After rescuing Mr. Tumnus and the others, you hurried to the battlefield. Upon arrival, Aslan let out a loud roar as if to announce his presence. Spotting Peter engaged in a sword fight with the White Witch, you frantically scanned the area for the second youngest Pevensie and Wooyoung.

Time seemed to slow as the lion leapt down to save the high king from Jadis before ultimately defeating her. Alongside the girls, you raced down the hill to join them. Sharing Susan's concerned expression, you asked, "Where's Edmund and my—"

Peter noticed your worry, eyes rounding in realisation as he dashed off in a direction, with the rest of you following. Arriving just in time, you witnessed Ginarrbrik, the witch's manservant, poised to strike what appeared to be Edmund kneeling beside a fallen figure. Susan swiftly shot the dwarf down with an arrow, prompting you to rush forward.

To your horror, instead of finding the injured king as in the story, it was Wooyoung lying there, clutching his abdomen. Edmund explained, "I'm sorry. I should've listened to him when he told me to run. He shielded me when the witch attacked."

Turning to the youngest, you urgently requested, "Lucy! The cordial from Father Christmas, please!" She handed it over, and you watched anxiously as Wooyoung swallowed a drop. Slowly, colour returned to his face, and he opened his eyes. "Hey, love."

Tears of relief and anger filled your eyes as you hugged him tightly. "Don't 'hey' me! You scared me half to death, you idiot!"

He chuckled and hugged you back. "I thought you were more worried about him. But I saved him, didn't I?"

You tightened your grip on him. "Yes, but not like this, Jung Wooyoung."

"Must you really leave?" Queen Lucy's voice carried a hint of sadness as you and your boyfriend prepared to depart after the royal coronation. You struggled with how to explain to her that your departure signalled the end of this chapter of the story, though you dared not utter those words outright.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, clearly still reeling from Aslan's departure, made it even harder to say goodbye. You offered her a comforting smile and gently patted her head. "I'm sorry, Lu. But we really must go. Our journey isn't over yet."

"But where will you go?" the child's voice quivered with uncertainty.

Your boyfriend's grin was reassuring. "Ah, that's our secret. But rest assured, we won't forget you or the adventures we've shared."

After bidding farewell to all the characters from the first instalment of The Chronicles of Narnia, you and Wooyoung returned to the exact spot where you had entered the world. Hand in hand, your steps slowed as you approached the familiar lamppost that had greeted you upon your arrival.

"So, how was that for an adventure?" Wooyoung asked, breaking the silence as he pulled you close to him.

You melted into his embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "It was amazing."

He smirked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Really? But you didn't even get to steal King Edmund's heart."

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, stop it, you!"

He chuckled, his tone turning slightly more serious. "I guess it was fun being new characters in a story. But wouldn't it be nice to live the main characters' lives instead?"

You gently pulled away, taking his hand and leading him back towards his wardrobe. "I suppose it would be, Woo. Let's go."

Be careful what you wish for; that adage couldn't have been more accurate. As you ventured through the wardrobe with your boyfriend trailing behind, your eyes widened in astonishment when you emerged into a scene completely unlike your shared apartment. Taking in the surroundings, you recognised the breathtaking interior of Rivendell, or Imladris in Elven-Tongue, a place you had always dreamed of from the Lord of the Rings.

"Woo?" you called out, but he wasn't there.

Instead, you found yourself face to face with a mirror, and you gasped at your reflection. You recognised the Elvish features, reaching up to touch your pointed ears and the long hair cascading below your waist. The elegant gown confirmed your suspicions: you were Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar. But if you were Arwen, then that would mean your boyfriend was the Ranger of the North.

That fool... he jinxed it.

Unlike in Narnia, you weren't a new character here. Suddenly, you were hit with a surge of sorrow, as if you were experiencing Arwen's emotions firsthand. Her father's disapproval of her love for Aragorn, a mortal, echoed within you, reminding you of the struggles you faced with your own parents. The memories flooded in, replacing those of Arwen and Aragorn with moments between you and Wooyoung, making the situation feel eerily real. It brought back the times when your parents had opposed your relationship, insisting you deserved someone better.

You immediately realised the part of the story you were in. The War of the Ring raged on, and evil spread throughout Middle-earth. Your father, Lord Elrond, had been urging you to depart for the Undying Lands, a place of safety far from the conflict. However, the thought of leaving your lover, who was on a quest to fight evil and protect Frodo, the Ring-bearer, filled you with reluctance.

Just like in the story, you faced the dilemma of choosing between your immortal heritage and your love for a mortal. The parallels between your situation and that of Arwen and Aragorn were striking, and it sent shivers down your spine. You knew how it went in the tale; she eventually gave up her immortality to be with him. It was almost uncanny how similar it was to your reality, where you had fought fiercely to be with Wooyoung despite your parents' objections, which left you currently with a strained relationship with them.

Standing in the familiar area filled you with a sense of dread. This was the moment where Aragorn would soon depart for battle, and where he would tell Arwen to leave for the Undying Lands for her own good. But now, with Wooyoung by your side, you knew things would be different.

Despite the eerie familiarity of the scene, you felt a newfound determination. As if guided by some unseen force, you approached the spot where Aragorn and Arwen would have their fateful conversation. This time, though, you were ready to make a different choice.

As you approached Wooyoung, your heart raced with fear and urgency. "Woo! Why didn't you come to find me? Were you really going to leave like he did?" The dread you felt wasn't just Arwen's; it was yours too. You realised this when he let out a deep breath and met your gaze with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, maybe your parents had a point," he began, his words cutting through the air. "You are their daughter after all, and that will never change. I'm just another guy you're dating, and guys come and go. Perhaps it's not so rational for you to ruin your relationship with your parents just for an outsider like me. Besides, maybe you do deserve someone much better."

Your heart sank as his words washed over you, and you frowned in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?! We both know what Elrond said to Aragorn right before this scene. Don't tell me that silly little talk really had you doubting our reality?"

He sighed heavily, his expression pained. "But is he wrong, though? Maybe Arwen was a fool for staying... In the end, Aragorn dies of old age anyway, and she continues to live on in sorrow. What if our reality isn't that far off? Maybe it'll only end in pain?"

His words pierced your heart like a dagger, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The weight of his doubts and uncertainties pressed down on you, threatening to suffocate you. But deep down, you knew that despite the risks and the potential for pain, your love for him was worth fighting for.

Gathering yourself, you took a deep breath to steady your thoughts before speaking. "I understand you might be influenced by Aragorn's feelings, just as I am by Arwen's. But deep down, I know you don't truly mean what you're saying. Regardless, we both know how this story unfolds in the end. If you must go, then go. I'll see you soon. Have fun beating up the bad guys, Woo."

A hush fell between you both as he absorbed your words, his tough exterior crumbling. Regret clouded his features as he stepped closer, reaching for your hands. "Wait, you're right. I... I must have been too swept up in Aragorn's emotions. I'm so sorry, love."

You smiled, gently cupping his face. "You said it yourself, how nice it would be to live the lives of the main characters. Look at how it turned out, huh?" you teased, and he flushed with embarrassment. "God, I'm such an idiot."

You smirked. "You always have been."

He grinned. "Well, now that we're the main characters, perhaps we can reshape the story and make it our own. You've always dreamed of being in Rivendell. Let's use this opportunity to explore the place."

You scoffed, though a spark of excitement ignited within you at his suggestion. "But don't you have to leave for battle?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gurl, Sauron and his army of clowns can wait. Now, come on."

Hand intertwined with his, you dashed through the exquisite halls of Elrond's house. Your heart soared as you absorbed the surreal surroundings, the sight of Wooyoung's reassuring presence ahead of you filling you with joy. This was the very scenario you had dreamt of for so long – being in this fantastical place with the one you loved.

Your steps faltered as you reached what seemed to be the area where the Council of Elrond took place, where the Fellowship of the Ring was first formed.

"We're actually here, holy crap," Wooyoung muttered in amazement.

You couldn't help but giggle. "Is that cooler than the fact that you're Aragorn? Speaking of which, I'm so envious of you."

He raised a brow. "For what? You get to hang around here and look so beautiful all the time while I go out and fight evil."

You nodded. "Yeah, but you get to be with Legolas all the time."

He snorted in disbelief. "Unbelievable... I'm never letting you near him. First, King Edmund, and now the blonde elf."

You pouted. "Pfft, it's not like there's ever been anything between Arwen and Legolas. You have nothing to worry about. Plus, you'll have Éowyn falling at your feet later on. Let's hope you still remember me by then."

He sputtered at that. "In case you forgot, she got rejected anyway."

You scoffed. "Yes, but that was Aragorn. The same can't be said for you."

His jaw dropped. "What—hey! You're the only one for me, no matter the universe!" he insisted as you continued walking, grinning in satisfaction for catching him off guard as you moved on to the next location.

"Ah, this is where that iconic scene took place," your boyfriend remarked as you stepped onto the moonlit bridge, reminiscent of the moment when Arwen handed her necklace, the Evenstar, to Aragorn. It symbolises her love and defiance against her father, signifying her choice to give up her immortality to be with him.

Standing in the same spot as the characters in the movie, you watched as he retrieved the jewellery from his pocket. "Come, my lady. Would you like to recreate that scene?" he asked playfully, holding out the pendant.

Meeting his gaze, you took a deep breath before reciting your favourite line, "I would rather share one lifetime with you... than face all the ages of the world alone."

At that moment, the playfulness faded from his expression, and he sensed a deeper meaning behind your words, a reflection of your genuine emotions toward each other. Recalling a past conversation where you admitted that without him, you might have chosen not to love at all, he was deeply moved. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours, conveying his affection. Pulling back slightly, he grinned, "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me. Can you say that to me every once in a while?"

You chuckled, giving him a playful smack on the chest. "If that's what it takes to stop you from annoying me, then yes."

"Hey!" he protested, chasing after you as you ran off to explore other areas of Rivendell.

As you wandered, you recognised the next destination instantly—it was where Aragorn dreamed of his time with Arwen. With a grin, Wooyoung sauntered over and lay down on the futon, attempting to recreate the scene once again. You stood where the she-elf had stood, watching him pretend to wake up.

"I am asleep. This is a dream," he recited Aragorn's words, and you burst into a small giggle. Settling down beside him, you recited Arwen's line, "Then it is a good dream. Sleep," before leaning down to kiss him as she had.

Deep down, you both wished to stay in this fantasy forever, but you knew you had to part for the story to progress. He sighed as you pulled away. "As much as I'd love to keep staying here with you, the war isn't going to win itself. I'll see you at the end of the story."

You nodded, kissing him again. "See you, Woo." He winked as he got up from his spot. "Don't worry, I won't spare Éowyn a glance."

Laughing, you waved as you watched him go.

You anticipated what was to come next, knowing that it was the day when most of the elves in Rivendell would depart for Valinor, the Undying Lands. It was the moment when Elrond would once again attempt to persuade Arwen to go with them.

As you lay on the futon in your room, watching the white curtains flutter gently in the breeze, you prepared yourself for the inevitable. Just as your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, your father entered, speaking in Sindarin, the Elven language. Remarkably, you comprehended every word.

"It is time. The ships are departing for Valinor. Go now... before it is too late."

Oh boy, here we go.

You immediately sat up from your position to respond, "I have already made my choice." Elrond took a step closer to you. "He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" You gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your being that were Arwen's, as you answered, "There is still hope."

Because you knew there was.

As he continued his monologue, which you had already heard more than once and knew was coming, it still hurt. His words reminded you that no matter what, choosing to be with Aragorn—or in your case, Wooyoung—would only lead to pain. Tears streamed down your cheeks, his words echoing the sentiments you had heard from your parents when they desperately tried to separate you and your boyfriend, telling you he could not offer you much and that you would only end up regretting your decision.

"There is nothing for you here. Only death," he uttered, and your heart broke despite expecting those words. The words sounded eerily familiar to what you had heard in a different context, where Wooyoung would not be able to bring you everlasting happiness and his perceived incompetence would eventually disappoint you.

No, that's not true...

But you felt a new emotion when Elrond sat down beside you, looking down at you with so much pain in his eyes. You could see he was not ready to lose his daughter. It must have been cruel for him that his daughter was choosing to die and leave his side.

He wiped your tears away gently. "Do I not also have your love?"

For once, you empathised with his feelings and wondered if this was how your parents felt. You used to view Elrond as the bad guy for constantly trying to separate his daughter from the man she loved. Were your parents also like him? Were they afraid of losing you? Maybe they just didn't know your boyfriend well enough and didn't trust him yet to take care of you. You felt yourself crumbling under the weight of these thoughts.

"You have my love, father," you cried as he enveloped you in his arms. Perhaps you were a bad daughter, not for choosing to be with Wooyoung, but for failing to help your parents understand why you chose him.

If you couldn't ease your parents' worries in reality, perhaps you could do it here for your fictional father. You were certain Wooyoung would understand; none of this was real anyway. He was still yours, and you would always be his. Maybe, just maybe here, you could be a good daughter to Elrond.

Joining the rest of the elves and making your way towards the ship to Valinor, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at you. Despite your initial determination to stand firm in your decision to pick your boyfriend, you found yourself swept along with the crowd. Just like Arwen, you were heading towards the Undying Lands.

However, unlike her, you didn't have the vision of her child with Aragorn to sway your decision. You already knew how her story ended. Perhaps it was up to you to create a different ending.

Forgive me, Woo.

As the story reached its climax and the victory over Sauron marked the beginning of a new era for Middle-earth, everything seemed to pass in a blur. Finally, it was Aragorn's coronation in Minas Tirith, and Wooyoung turned around excitedly after Gandalf placed the crown on his head. Throughout the events, he had fun experiencing what the ranger did, but his thoughts were consumed by you. Maybe living the lives of the main characters was more burdensome than enjoyable.

After exchanging words with Legolas and anticipating your arrival, Wooyoung turned expectantly, only to find you missing. You did not appear the way Arwen did for Aragorn. The realisation dawned on him with dread—if you weren't there, it could only mean you must have left for Valinor. He approached Lord Elrond, whose expression remained unreadable, and asked, "Did she...?"

As your father bowed his head slightly and offered a pat on the shoulder, Wooyoung's heart sank like a stone. The weight of the realisation pressed down on him: you had chosen to leave. But why?

What had prompted you to go, despite your promise to reunite with him here? Had Elrond's words swayed you? Did they somehow make you see that perhaps your parents had been right all along? You had warned him not to let the emotions of his character overwhelm him, but had you succumbed to them yourself? These questions swirled in his mind, leaving him grasping for answers.

"She hoped you'd understand," Elrond said.

Your boyfriend offered a humourless smirk. "That I'd understand...? I suppose I do."

"Do you really? Tell me what you understand then," your voice chimed in from behind him, causing him to whirl around with wide eyes. There you stood, a mischievous grin lighting up your face. "Surprise, Jung Wooyoung. Did you think I wasn't going to come back to you?" you whispered, prompting him to cup your face tenderly. "You little minx," he muttered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

As you pulled away and embraced him, you caught sight of your father's gaze. The expression on Lord Elrond’s face as he let his daughter go was a mix of love, fear, and vulnerability. It was the look of a father releasing his child to pursue something he didn’t entirely approve of but knew would bring her happiness. He struggled to maintain his composure, torn between his paternal instincts and the desire to see you happy. That night, you eventually broke away from the group bound for Valinor and returned to Rivendell, much like Arwen did. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Wooyoung, and you knew you could never let him go—neither in your world nor in this one.

"You know, I was just thinking... being the main character really isn't all it's cracked up to be," your boyfriend mused as you both lay in the King's chambers.

With your head nestled on his chest, you nodded, "I agree. It made me feel way too much emotion. But... I do think it's time I talk to my parents about us. They're my parents, and you're the love of my life. I can't imagine life without either of you. Hopefully, they'll be as understanding as Elrond was."

He smiled, pulling you closer, "Yeah, maybe we should have made more effort before."

Cuddling closer to him, you continued, "Yes, maybe... but yeah, we've already played the roles of both new and main characters. Perhaps it'd be nice to simply exist in a story without importance just like extras."

He sighed, kissing your head, "That does sound nice... We'll just be spectators, enjoying our place in the universe."

Closing your eyes, you sensed a peculiar shift in your surroundings, almost like you were on a train. When you opened your eyes again, you furrowed your brows in confusion. You were still in Wooyoung's arms, but Middle-earth was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking your boyfriend awake, you felt his body tense beside you as he tightened his grip on you. With a gasp, he absorbed the new setting. Indeed, you were on a train, but not just any train...

The Hogwarts Express.

Locking eyes, you whispered in unison, "We're going to Hogwarts."

As if on cue, the lady pushing the trolley of sweets appeared, her voice chirping, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Before you could decline, Wooyoung swiftly released you and darted forward. "Ooh, yes! Two pumpkin pasties, please! I've always wanted to try them," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together eagerly.

You tugged at his shirt, glaring, and silently mouthed, "Do we even have any money?" He froze, realisation dawning, and reached into his pockets. With a sigh of relief, he produced some coins. Winking at you, he grinned, "Don't worry, love. I've got this."

As he finished the purchase, he lingered by the door, watching with wide eyes as the lady rolled her trolley to the next compartment. With his jaw dropped in awe, he turned to you, whispering excitedly, "Oh my god, it's Harry Potter! Holy crap, the Golden Trio is in the next compartment."

Rushing back to settle beside you, he handed you a pumpkin pasty and began talking animatedly while stuffing his face, his words muffled, "I recognised that look on him. We're in the fourth year."

You raised a brow, "Goblet of Fire."

He nodded eagerly, "Exactly. The Triwizard Tournament and, most importantly," you both said in unison, "the Yule Ball."

You pondered, "Hold on a second. If we're in the fourth year, then that would mean we've already been sorted. Which houses do you think we're in, Woo?"

He grinned, "Only one way to find out," as he reached for your suitcases from the rack above your seats.

With bated breath, you watched him work on opening them. "Let's hope we're in the same house. It would be funny if you ended up in Slytherin somehow," you remarked.

He scoffed, "No way, I'm a Gryffindor through and through. Wanna bet?"

You shook your head, "No, thank you."

He pouted, "I was going to ask for a kiss if I won the bet, darn it."

You chuckled, "Hurry up, you rascal."

As he opened the first suitcase, he grinned at you, revealing the red Gryffindor scarf along with his uniform. "I told you," he chuckled before moving on to the next one. "Keep your fingers crossed, love," he urged. And you did. When he finally opened them, you couldn't contain your joy at seeing the same scarf along with your robes.

Moments later, the two of you stood in awe at the unbelievable sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before your eyes. Your eyes welled with tears as you squeezed Wooyoung's hand. "We're here, Woo. We're really here," you whispered.

He nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "We are."

Before you could continue revelling in the moment, a nearby prefect rolled his eyes. "Move along, you two. You act like it's your first time here," he said with a shake of his head. Your boyfriend tugged you along as you blew a raspberry, muttering under your breath, "Because it is."

Entering the castle, you noticed a crowd gathering by the bridge, evidently anticipating something exciting. Gasping in excitement, you quickly pulled Wooyoung along. "We have to see this! It's the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students."

As the Beauxbatons arrived in their majestic flying carriage and the Durmstrang in their impressive underwater ship, your boyfriend's attention remained solely on you. Sensing his gaze, you turned to share a smile. "That's right, keep your eyes on me just like that. I better not catch you gawking at the Beauxbatons girls when they make their grand entrance later," you teased.

He laughed and drew you close, whispering in your ear, "Don't worry, you're prettier than all of them combined."

Blushing, you looked away. "Pssh, sweet talker," you responded with a playful roll of your eyes, unable to suppress your grin.

But as the girls from the foreign school made their entrance, dancing into the Great Hall later that evening, you couldn't stifle a snort at Wooyoung's reaction. Like Ron, he was clapping enthusiastically, clearly impressed by the display.

Pfft, all men do is lie.

Beside you, Hermione and Ginny exchanged judgemental stares, mirroring your own sentiments. It was hard to contain your amusement as you watched the boys.

When the guys from Durmstrang made their grand entrance, you found yourself staring dreamily ahead, just like Wooyoung had done with the Beauxbatons girls. Thankfully, your boyfriend didn't discriminate; he seemed just as entranced by the dashing and charismatic Viktor Krum as you were.

You burst into giggles when he finally met your gaze with wide eyes. It was his fanboying moment, and you couldn't blame him because you felt exactly the same. You still couldn't believe you were really here with him. Sure, you had already been to Narnia and Middle-earth, but the Wizarding World held a special place in both your hearts.

The next day, seated beside your boyfriend in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, you both observed with amusement as Mad-Eye Moody began his lesson. The students appeared bewildered by his aggressive demeanour and uncomfortable lecture on the three Unforgivable Curses.

Wooyoung leaned in to whisper in your ear, "What do you think would happen if we exposed him as Barty Crouch Jr right here?"

You turned to shush him with a glare. "We're just extras here, so please act like it and avoid drawing any attention to ourselves."

The rest of the class unfolded exactly as you had anticipated, with Harry growing increasingly suspicious of Moody as the professor continued to gulp down his Polyjuice potion. You and Wooyoung exchanged knowing grins, rooting for him.

After class, you both hurried excitedly to the Great Hall, where students interested in participating in the Triwizard Tournament were submitting their names. Settling on a bench, you watched in fascination as the blue flame flickered brightly, students from all three schools stepping forward to cast their papers into the fire.

Your hearts sank when you saw Cedric Diggory eagerly submitting his name. If only he knew the tragic fate that awaited him.

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" Wooyoung asked, his tone heavy with resignation.

You shook your head sadly. "I'm afraid not."

The sombre mood only lasted so long as the Weasley twins, Fred and George, appeared with their usual antics, brandishing their ageing potion in hopes of submitting their names to the Triwizard Tournament despite Hermione's reminder that only seventh-years could participate, you and your boyfriend couldn't contain your laughter. True to your expectations, the twins were ejected back from the goblet, sprouting white beards and sparking a playful fight that drew a crowd of onlookers egging them on.

However, the atmosphere shifted when Viktor Krum marched in with his headmaster trailing behind him. You and Wooyoung shared a giggle as the Durmstrang heartthrob locked eyes with Hermione.

Leaning in, you whispered in a hushed tone, "If not Harry, I still prefer Hermione with Viktor over Ron, to be honest."

Your boyfriend feigned offence, pressing a hand to his chest. "How could you? Hermione and Ron are the one true pair."

As the two of you engaged in your heated debate, time flew by and the next thing you knew, Dumbledore entered the hall with most of the students, announcing, "Now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the champion selection." Exchanging a knowing glance with your boyfriend, you both sighed in anticipation. "Oh dear, here we go."

As Dumbledore announced Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric as the champions of their respective schools, you held your breath, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Harry Potter, the boy who lived. "Excellent! We now have our three champions!" boomed Dumbledore, his voice reverberating through the hall before unveiling the Triwizard Cup.

You winced, murmuring under your breath, "Only one more to go."

Beside you, your boyfriend shook his head with a hint of amusement. "Man, if only they knew the Cup was turned into a Portkey, none of that drama would happen."

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "Yes, and then there would be no more story to tell now, would there?"

He snorted softly. "True."

As Harry's name was called out, disbelief swept through the Great Hall. You watched with a sinking feeling as even his friends began to stare at him accusatorily, wondering how he managed to enter his name into the Goblet of Fire when he was only a fourth year.

Your eyes landed on Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, knowing he was behind this sinister plot. Exchanging hopeless gazes with Wooyoung, you both understood that, at this moment, you were nothing more than spectators. There was no action you could take; you were simply here to witness events unfold.

Perhaps, as much as you wish otherwise, some things were simply meant to be. Your boyfriend covered your hand with his, offering comfort. "Since we can't change anything here, let's not stress about it and just enjoy the moment, hm?"

A smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "You're right, Woo."

"There he is—the poor thing."

You both were hanging out in the courtyard, enjoying the calm before the storm of the Triwizard Tournament's first task, when you spotted Harry passing through, looking visibly distressed. Your sympathy for him grew as you remembered the strained dynamics between him and his friends. Ron and the others firmly believed that Harry had somehow entered his name into the tournament and deliberately kept it from them. It was disheartening to see no one on his side, and you felt frustrated on his behalf.

As expected, Draco Malfoy, with his trademark smugness, decided to provoke him. "My father and I had a bet, you see," he said, dropping down from his perch on the tree. "I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in the tournament." His cronies followed suit as he continued, "He disagrees; he thinks you won't last five."

You and Wooyoung watched as Harry retaliated, standing up to the blonde Slytherin with fiery determination. "I don't care what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile and cruel, and you're pathetic."

Just as expected, Draco attempted to strike back, only to be swiftly turned into a ferret by Mad-Eye Moody, eliciting laughter from the crowd. It was perhaps the only time you agreed with Barty Crouch Jr's actions, the only moment he seemed remotely likeable.

However, the amusement was short-lived as Professor McGonagall appeared to play the role of the good cop, firmly instructing Moody to release the bully from his transfiguration punishment.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco's famous words echoed across the courtyard as he hurried away from the scene he caused. Though Wooyoung knew he shouldn't interfere, his irritated state got the best of him, prompting him to slyly stick out his foot and trip the Slytherin as he passed by the two of you.

"How dare you!" Draco hissed, glaring up at your boyfriend.

Gasping, you dragged Wooyoung away with you, shouting, "Sorry, he didn't mean it!"

From across the courtyard, you caught Harry's eye and saw him nod appreciatively at both of you. Wooyoung beamed, waving enthusiastically before watching him go.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you smacked him lightly on the arm. "You! I can't believe you did that," you chided.

Wooyoung stuck his tongue out playfully. "Well, it sure feels satisfying, doesn't it? Besides, Harry acknowledged us."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I suppose so."

The next day, you found yourselves seated among the crowd at the stands, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the first task: retrieving a golden egg guarded by a dragon. "Bets, place your bets!" Fred's voice rang out, followed closely by George's enthusiastic calls for wagers. "Bets taken, bets taken here!"

As the twins walked around, collecting bets on who would win first place, you sensed your boyfriend about to place a bet himself. With a disapproving click of your tongue, you shook your head. "It wouldn't be fair when you already know who wins!"

He shushed you with a grin. "All the more reason to place my bet! When else will I ever be this lucky, love?"

Resigned, you gave up and shook your head in mock exasperation.

As you watched the first three champions' attempts with bated breath, your nerves were on edge despite knowing they would emerge unscathed. Sensing your anxiety, Wooyoung took your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You already know how it ends."

With a sigh of defeat, you leaned into his side, seeking comfort in his warmth as he wrapped an arm around you. "You're right, I do know," you murmured softly.

Your thoughts drifted to Cedric, and a pang of sadness washed over you as you remembered his tragic fate. It was difficult to watch him knowing what awaited him, but you found solace in your boyfriend's reassuring presence.

When it was finally Harry's turn, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the task, despite knowing the outcome. Every moment felt tense and fraught with danger, and you held your breath until he emerged victorious, tied with Viktor for first place.

Reflecting on the experience, you realised that being part of the scene was far more stressful than reading about it or watching it in a movie, especially when you cared deeply for the people involved.

As the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement and everyone crowded around Harry that evening, who proudly displayed his golden egg containing a clue for the second task, you and Wooyoung hung back, observing from a distance. Amidst the cheering and clamour, you both knew what was coming next.

When Seamus tossed the egg back to Harry, urging him to reveal the clue, you exchanged knowing glances. As he held the egg aloft and asked the crowd if they wanted him to open it, the room erupted in enthusiastic agreement. But you and your boyfriend were prepared. With a shared understanding, you plugged your ears, bracing yourselves for the inevitable shrieking noise.

Oh, you're all going to regret that.

As expected, the piercing screech from the golden egg sent everyone in the common room to their knees, hands clamped over their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Amidst the chaos, Harry quickly shut the egg, bringing a momentary relief from the ear-splitting sound.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Ron's abrupt entrance, punctuated by his exclamation, broke the tension in the room, casting a palpable awkwardness between him and Harry. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken tension, until one of the twins intervened.

"Alright, everyone, go back to your... knitting," Fred declared, breaking the spell of discomfort. "This is going to be uncomfortable enough without all you nosey sods listening in."

The crowd dispersed, giving the two friends the privacy they needed to reconcile. As Ron and Harry finally made amends, you and Wooyoung shared a smile, feeling genuinely happy for Harry. For now, at least, things were looking up. And the best part of it all was yet to come—the Yule Ball.

You and Wooyoung exchanged eager glances as McGonagall began the dance lesson to prepare everyone in Gryffindor for the ball. Dancing had always been a fun pastime for the two of you, but now, being able to do it alongside your favourite characters and in your favourite fantasy world filled you with excitement.

As the professor made poor Ron demonstrate a dance with her, eliciting stifled laughter from the onlookers, she finally called out, "Everyone, come together! Boys, on your feet!" The girls eagerly stood up, ready to dance, while the boys groaned, leaving Neville and your boyfriend as the only ones rising from their seats.

"Wow, you're really lucky," Hermione remarked from beside you as Wooyoung made his way towards you. Unlike the others who struggled to find partners, you didn't have to worry. "He's hardly ever far from your side. You both seem genuinely in love."

You nodded, offering a shy smile, "Thank you, I believe so too."

As he pulled you into his arms and started dancing alongside Neville and Ginny, Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "So, what did Hermione say to you?" You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He pouted, drawing his forehead close to yours. "Please, I really would like to know," he pleaded.

You chuckled, giving in to his curiosity. "She said I was lucky to have you, and that we seemed really in love." His playful grin shifted into a sincere one. "Well, she's right about that," he admitted warmly.

You smirked, teasing him further. "To be fair, when is Hermione Granger ever wrong?"

He shrugged, conceding the point. "Hmm, I guess you're right."

The following days were filled with hilarity as you witnessed Harry and Ron's struggles to find dates for the ball. The ginger's dramatic theatrics, particularly after embarrassing himself while trying to ask Fleur Delacour, provided endless entertainment. Meanwhile, poor Harry faced rejection from Cho Chang, who had already accepted Cedric's invitation.

From your corner of the couch, you and Wooyoung snickered at their misfortunes. Eventually, they settled on asking Padma and Parvati Patil. Before you knew it, you were also preparing for the ball. Like magic, you and your boyfriend found your dream outfits in your dorm wardrobe, ready to make a grand entrance at the event.

While your boyfriend had shown you his outfit for the event, you opted to surprise him later in the evening. Inspired by Hermione's iconic entrance, you planned to arrive early and make your own grand appearance without overshadowing her.

Wooyoung waited patiently outside the Great Hall, his heart quickening at the sight of the beautifully decorated winter-themed hall. "Hey, isn't that your girl?" Cedric nudged him, directing his attention to the staircase. Following the Hufflepuff's gesture, his breath caught as he watched you descend, momentarily capturing the crowd's attention with your shy smile.

With graceful steps, you made your way down in an off-shoulder black floor-length dress, adorned with delicate gold patterns that exuded elegance and regality. Unlike others, you chose to leave your hair down, adding a touch of effortless charm to your appearance. Despite having seen you in numerous stunning gowns from Narnia and Middle-earth, you never failed to leave him awestruck with your beauty. Perhaps he was biased, but to him, you were the most captivating presence in the room. And being his favourite colour, black only enhanced your allure in his eyes.

He whispered, "I'm the luckiest man alive, I swear," and you giggled. "Stop it, you," you playfully chided as you fixed his slightly crooked bow. As you did, he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and continued, "I mean it. You're the most beautiful girl here."

You nodded, leaning in to peck his lips before replying, "And you're the most handsome boy here." His cheeky grin widened, and he responded smugly, "I know."

Pulling you gently towards the hall, he said, "Let's go eat before all the dancing starts."

The night passed in a whirlwind of dancing, with Wooyoung holding you close throughout, growing protective whenever he sensed other guys eyeing you. As the event gradually wound down, you found yourselves still on the dance floor, swaying together.

Slowly, a sense of drowsiness began to wash over you. Maybe it was time to return to reality. You knew what would come next in the story, and with the impending challenges and heartaches, you weren't sure you wanted to witness it firsthand. Perhaps it was best to leave the Wizarding World on a high note, with fond memories.

You exchanged smiles with Neville and Ginny, who were also enjoying the moment nearby. Then, you sighed and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling his reassuring embrace. "Woo?" you murmured.

He kissed your cheek softly. "Yes, love?"

Tightening your hold around his shoulders, you snuggled into the crook of his neck. "I'm tired... I think I'm ready to go home."

He smiled, his heart growing warm at the thought of home as he leaned his head against yours. "Me too. I guess that's enough adventure for now."

Living out his fantasies had been incredible, but perhaps he, too, was starting to feel a bit homesick and ready to return home.

He gently stroked your hair as his eyelids grew heavy. Sometimes, the allure of escaping into fantasy worlds was irresistible, offering a temporary reprieve from the challenges of reality. But as the quiet settled around, Wooyoung knew that no matter how enchanting these worlds might be, they were only temporary escapes.

The surroundings gradually quieted, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the comforting familiarity of your shared bedroom. You were nestled in his arms, peacefully asleep, and he had never felt more relieved. Drawing the covers snugly around you, he felt a deep sense of contentment settle within him.

"Home. We're home," he whispered, finally allowing himself to drift off into a restful sleep, grateful to be back where he truly belonged with you by his side.

This is as good as a compilation of some of my favourite parts from these film series. I know this might not be for everyone, but I wrote this mainly just to fulfil my own fantasies hehe.🙈

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Are you also a fan of these AUs? Let me know in the comments! <3

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[rulerzreachf4n7]

I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

[fyodior]

made just for you

pairing: shibusawa x fem reader

notes: this is quite the wild ride and very nasty. if you arent a fan of dark content that is totally fine, pls dont harass me or anyone else!! this is fiction and has no reflection of reality. enjoy :) ALL CREDIT FOR THIS IDEA GOES TO KAL @hnnnnnnnmscorner im just the circus monkey that types the words

cw: stepdad x stepdaughter, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, mating press, immature reader, semi-public sex, age gap, READER IS ABOVE AGE 18. DARK CONTENT. (N)SFW, 18+ ONLY!!

The two red lines staring back at you felt like a knife in your chest.

This cannot be happening.

This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to happen.

Pregnant by your own dad.

Step­-dad. But it was just semantics at this point.

Professor Tatsuhiko Shibusawa had been married to your mother for as long as you remember. You had always found him very handsome, with his long, flowing white hair and sharp features. He had a very elegant and refined presence, yet somehow was the person you felt most comfortable with. Shibusawa was the one you ran to for every scraped knee and hurt feelings when you were little, to failed tests and first heartbreaks as you got older. He was very, very protective of you around boys, but that’s just how dads were.

You also were not strangers to physical affection. It wasn’t uncommon for your mom to find you curled up next to Shibu on the couch, watch him gently brush and braid your hair, or hold your hand on walks. There was always some distance – that is, until you turned eighteen. The way he eyed you as you blew out all eighteen candles on the pink-frosted cake went completely unnoticed. Where he would prefer you to be licking that frosting off of instead of your fork, no one had to know.

But it was gradual -- it started out as light touches that slowly became less innocent. Accidentally brushing his hand against your ass in the hallway, moved to running his fingertips up and down your bare thigh next to him at the dinner table, moved to random hugs from behind so he could rub himself against you. Your mother stayed none the wiser.

The first time you kissed was actually of your own doing. "Shibusawa had picked you up from the party after you'd drank too much, the vodka crans effecting your ability to walk or even think. He had picked you up bridal style to carry you inside, finding it the most convenient in your state. But as he stepped through the doorway, you grabbed his face and pressed a messy, wet kiss to his lips. And instead of pulling back and shutting it down like he should have, he carried you to your room and allowed you to make out with him for as long as you could stay awake. He had never gotten such a hard-on just from kissing.

The first time you fucked was truly just the stars aligning. Shibusawa had been up past midnight grading papers at the kitchen table, and you had come down for a glass of water. You just happened to need help reaching the glasses in the cabinet, and Shibu just happened to be right there. He could see your hard nipples and lines of your panties underneath the oversized t-shirt you wore, and he just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. One minute you were pouring water into the glass from the sink faucet, and the next you were bent over the counter, panties yanked to the side as he shoved his cock deep inside your pussy. He had to keep a hand clapped over your mouth so you wouldn’t moan so loud your mother would find out her husband was fucking her daughter.

Within a couple of months, there was no surface in your house that the two of you hadn’t fucked on – including your parents’ bed. There were no words that could ever describe how hot it was watching you ride him backwards, seeing your ass bounce up and down on his cock right in the spot where his wife had been laying an hour prior.

Sometimes it was fun to take risks, see how far you could push the limits. Like when you decided to sit on Dad’s lap under a blanket during family movie night because you were cold, but instead you kept his cock buried inside you the whole time.

It was the perfect relationship -- he spoiled you rotten, getting anything you wanted with just a pout and a please, Daddy?, and you were all his. All his.

He bought you any pretty dress or skirt you wanted, but only if you would take it off for him at home. He took you to every fancy restaurant, but only if you would bend over for him in the bathroom. He’d give you anything you asked for if you cockwarmed him in his office at the university while he prepared his lectures.

The thing about Shibusawa though, is that he loved – no, insisted on always coming inside you. For him, half the pleasure came from stuffing you full with his cum and watching it drip out of you.

You didn't know that such a habit would lead you here, standing in front of Shibusawa’s office for what felt like an eternity, trying to gather up the courage just to open the door. 

You stared at the ground, studying the hardwood floor and the tops of your shoes, eventually resorting to counting the grains in the wood. When you decided it was finally time to give up, you spun around on your heels and rushed towards the exit, but you were cut off before you could escape. A short man with broad shoulders and a sweater vest called your name from behind you, making you stop in your tracks.

“Hello! Aren’t you Professor Shibusawa’s daughter?” he asked. You cringed at how loud he was speaking, almost positive it was audible from Shibu’s office.

Stepdaughter, you thought to yourself, but it was never really that important of a distinction. 

“Yes I am! Nice to meet you!” you exclaimed in the sweetest voice and biggest grin you could muster.

“So great to finally see you in person!” he drawled. “My, aren’t you a pretty girl.”

“She is, isn’t she?” A familiar monotone voice said from somewhere behind you. Your heart dropped.

You turned towards Shibu’s office to see him leaning slightly out the door, hooded eyes laser-focused on you. There was no escaping this now.

“Hi, Daddy!” You hoped the fear radiating from you wasn’t audible.

The man chuckled, muttering something like, sweet girl before continuing his way down the hall. You almost wished he would come back, distract Shibusawa with something that wasn’t the secret burning hot inside of you.

“What a nice surprise. Come on in, darling,” he said, voice sultry as always.

He opened the door further and stepped out of the way, ushering you inside. There was somehow a tension in the room, like he could sense that you were hiding something. He closed and locked the door before sitting back in his leather chair, clasping his hands together. His gaze hadn’t left you the entire time.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

You didn’t know what to do or say, feet seemingly glued to the ground and lips sealed shut. It was best to just rip the band-aid off, you assured yourself.

“I-I, um-” Your brain seemed to be skipping like a scratched record.

“You what, honey?” Shibu prompted, eyebrows raised.

His limited patience was wearing thin, you knew this. He was only being this forgiving because it was you. And yet, you still just couldn’t speak. It felt impossible to say, something that should never be spoken. But it had to be.

Shibusawa sighed before uncrossing his legs and patting his lap lightly. “Here, come sit. Tell me about whatever is causing you so much distress.”

You nodded and made your way over to him, fingertips tugging anxiously at the hem of your skirt. The skirt he bought for you. You hadn’t meant to wear it on purpose today, but you could tell he had noticed it.

He grabbed your waist to aid you in settling onto his lap, and you hated how comforting the position was. Before you knew it, you had your arms wrapped around his neck and leaned in close to his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. He smiled to himself as his hands rested on your hips.

“Are you going to talk to me, darling? You know you can confide in me about anything.” His deep voice felt almost hypnotizing, like he was lulling you to sleep.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled yourself back from Shibu’s chest so that you were at his eye level.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” you whispered. His smile returned.

“Of course I promise, sweetheart. I could never be angry with you.” He used a slim finger to push the hair out of your eyes and tuck it behind your ear.

“O-okay.” Your voice quivered with fear, but you knew he wouldn’t drop the subject.

“I’m pregnant.”

As soon as you said it you buried yourself back under his chin, squeezing your eyes shut so that tears wouldn’t start pouring out. Shibusawa’s momentary silence was absolutely deafening, and you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow you whole. The rage that you thought would ensue never came. Instead, he brought his hand up to the back of your head and pet your hair.

“Really?” he asked. The emotion in his voice was impossible to read. You just nodded against his chest. “Look at me, please.”

You leaned back, doing as you were told. Grabbing your phone from where you had set it on his desk, you pulled up a photo of the three positive tests. He held the phone in his hand and stared at the picture for a long time. Somehow, his face was not contorted in anger but was very calm. He seemed peaceful. This triggered the tears to start flowing, and he used his thumb to wipe them away.

“I am not upset with you, my love. In fact, quite the opposite.”

This time it was you in shock. “Really?”

“Of course. Pregnancy is such a beautiful thing, truly,” Shibu said in his typical dream-like voice. “Especially in you.”

You gasped as he gripped your hips tight and pulled you in even closer, groaning under his breath. 

“Can’t believe you’re going to be so full of my baby, so big and round,” he whispered, lips trailing up your throat. The moan that fell from your mouth was completely involuntary.

“W-what am I gonna tell mom?” your small voice quivered. “Can’t tell her Daddy got me knocked up.” You could feel him shiver.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy will deal with it. I’ll make sure our baby is safe.”

Our baby. You had cursed and loathed this pregnancy, up until then. Until he said those two words. Our. Baby.

Fuck.

You could feel his erection growing underneath you, and you hated how much you still wanted it, even after all of this. One of his hands snaked up your abdomen and slowly came to grasp your breast but you flinched at the pain. Shibusawa pulled back to look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Your tits are already quite sensitive, are they?” he laughed.

You averted your eyes and your cheeks burned, too humiliated to make eye contact with him. All you could do was nod.

“Hurts,” you mumbled.

Shibusawa damn near growled at your response, and you could tell he was doing his very best not to go feral. The way he locked his jaw and strained his neck was obvious. The way you could feel his fully hard cock already beginning to leak was even more obvious.  

“I’m sorry, beautiful, Daddy didn’t mean to hurt you. Have you had any other symptoms?” Though he was bursting at the seams, his voice was as calm and cool as ever. You nodded just a bit.

“Been feeling a little sick, like I wanna throw up.”

He tsked, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Just really didn’t want you to be mad at me.” Your words were almost inaudible. 

Shibusawa just shook his head, muttering a quiet oh, honey. 

“Would you like to know what would make Daddy even happier?” he asked, words gentle.

You smiled and nodded fervently, and Shibu chuckled at the reaction. Your eagerness to please him never failed to rile him up. It was nearly impossible not to take advantage of it.

“I would be very, very happy if you helped Daddy relieve himself.” The hard-on in his dress pants was getting painful.

“Yes, of course,” you replied a little too desperately. “How can I help?”

“Just stay right where you are, darling,” Shibusawa said with a smile. “Can you lift up just a bit though?” 

You did as you were told so that he could deftly unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down far enough to free his needy cock. Wordlessly, he bunched your skirt up around your hips and pulled your panties to the side before guiding you down to sit on his cock.

The way gravity made you take all of him all at once made you whine and moan at the same time, overwhelmed by the searing pain but immense pleasure of being completely filled by your lover. No matter how many times he fucked you, his huge cock always felt like it was tearing you in two. 

You buried your face in his shoulder and he held you close to his chest as he let you adjust, whimpering as the burn slowly subsided.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” he cooed, petting your hair. 

It was taking everything in him not to thrust up into you, but he knew your whines would be heard well beyond the thin walls of his office. 

“Do you think you can move?” Shibu asked. The way his voice cracked went completely unnoticed by you. 

“Just a sec,” you replied, slightly wiggling your ass to help the tight muscles relax. 

The grip Shibusawa had on the arm of his desk chair almost tore through the taut leather. You could take a lot, but were far too fragile for what he was holding himself back from. 

“‘K, I’m ready.” 

He typically would’ve encouraged more time for adjustment but he was only human. He gripped the soft fat of your ass to help you raise off his lap before allowing you to fall back down. You whined as you were stuffed full once again, clenching hard around him. His chest vibrated as he swallowed groans and you leaned into it, soothed by the sound. 

As you got used to him, you wrapped your arms around Shibusawa’s shoulders for leverage and slowly started lifting yourself, bracing your legs hard tightly around his thighs. Pulling nearly all the way off until just the swollen red tip was left inside you, and soon found a rhythm. You could feel the burning stretch of your hole as you pushed past the thickest part of his length. Shibusawa couldn’t help but throw his head back and groan as you bounced on his cock, the mix of precum and slick filling the room with filthy, wet sounds. 

“You feel so fucking good for me, princess, so tight and wet. You are perfect,” he growled, voice deep and gravelly. 

“J-just wanna be good for you, Daddy,” you whined. Each word was punctuated by either a high-pitched moan or gasp as he angled his hips to hit all the right spots.

He used one hand to support your ass while the other pulled your top off and unhooked your bra, throwing both unceremoniously to the floor. Catching one of your pert nipples in his mouth, he sucked hard, this time causing you to cry out in pain.

“Ow- ow!” you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes. Though you were not very far along, your breasts had already become incredibly sore and sensitive, the lightest brush of clothing making you hiss. This didn’t deter him. 

You didn’t stop or pull away from him, though. The last thing you ever wanted to do was disappoint Shibu, and you knew he’d be disappointed.

Releasing your nipple from his mouth, he pressed soft kisses all over your breast, using his hand to palm the soft fat. 

“Fuck, I cannot wait for your tits to swell up just like your womb, so full of milk and so fucking sensitive.” 

The words of praise clouded your mind and you couldn’t help but whimper, your pussy nearly gushing slick. Shibu’s cock throbbed inside you as he noticed the ring of creamy white you were leaving around the base of him, thickening with every bounce.

“Fucking yourself on me so good, baby girl, like you were made just for this.”  

Words were lost on you as you threw your head back and moaned, eyes screwed shut.

“Made just for you, Daddy,” you whined.

Shibusawa felt the tightening in his gut and knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer.

“Want me cum in your pussy? Put another baby in there?” he said right into your ear. You nodded fervently, and he smirked.

He allowed himself to do what he had been desperately waiting for, and began thrusting up hard into you, his toned core and thigh muscles allowing for strength and precision. The skin-on-skin noises that came from him fucking into you as you rode him could undoubtedly be heard from outside his office, but Shibusawa truly couldn’t care less. The only thing he could think about was stuffing you with his cum. 

In one swift motion, he stood up and slammed you down onto his desk, on top of all his students’ papers. He didn’t want all of his cum to leak out of you immediately. He folded you in half easily into a mating press, your skirt pushed all the way to your ribs at this point. He fucked you hard, happy to have back the control as you laid there like a ragdoll, jostled around. 

“Can you come for me, baby?” he asked, words almost lost over the loud sounds of sex. 

You thought you cried out a yes, but honestly weren’t sure at that point. He stuck his thumb into your mouth, instructing you to suck on it, which you did gladly. Yanking it out, he began massaging your clit expertly, knowing exactly which patterns to make you scream. 

“I-I’m g-on-” you tried, but words were impossible.

“Cum for Daddy, baby.”

Happy to do as you were told, you threw your head back and moaned frantically as your orgasm sent shockwaves throughout you. You thought you felt the trickle of fluid pour out of you, but didn’t have the energy to think anything of it.

Shibusawa fucked you brutally chasing his own high, long white hair disheveled as it shook with him. It didn’t take long for him to cum, pinning his pelvis against your ass to force every last drop into your pussy, brushing against your cervix. 

You both stayed in place for a bit, wordless as you tried to catch your breath. But far too soon, Shibusawa had to pull out, and watched as your hole struggled to hold in all of his cum. 

As he stood up to adjust himself back into his pants, he noticed a large wet spot on the fabric. He smirked before helping you sit up, limbs like jelly.

“Made quite the mess on me, didn’t you?” he asked, smirk only growing. 

Your cheeks burned hot in embarrassment at the realization. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean to squirt.” Your words were muffled by your hands as you covered your face. 

Shibusawa only chuckled as he buttoned his dress pants. He handed your top back to you and helped you stand up but kicked the bra under his desk, and you were too fucked out to notice. 

Tucking your messy hair behind your ears, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before hugging you close.

“Did I do a good job?” you asked, voice meek.

“Such a good job, princess.” You leaned back to look at him, smiling. “Now Daddy needs to get back to work, but as soon as I arrive home, we can discuss more about the baby.”

The baby. 

You came into his office terrified, humiliated, and expecting a doomed future, but now you knew you were getting to carry the child of the man of your dreams.

“Step-dad” be damned.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {12}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, media being the usual pain in the ass - this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven* || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || under construction

Barcelona was as beautiful as I remembered and the weather was stunning when Pierre returned to the pit after finishing the second free practice session. Tensions were high between him and Esteban when we entered the Alpine space but Pierre gave me a kiss and told me not to worry. That was like asking me not to breathe.

I would always worry about the people I cared for. 

“Mama, I’m hungry.”

“Okay, sweetheart, just wait here a second and then we’ll go out.”

Pierre was just climbing out of his seat and in a heated discussion with the technicians about the car's braking when I reached him. “No, it’s not good, I’m telling you.”

He wasn’t even looking my way but his arm opened for me before I reached him and I stepped into the hug to hear the technician apologise and promise to double check the data again. 

“I’m going to take Addie to lunch, there’s a place I haven’t been to in years, they do amazing Caribbean food. Do you want me to bring you anything?” 

He shook his head and brushed his hair back out of his eyes when it flopped over his face. “I would love some, but I don’t think it fits into the pre-race nutrition plan.” He pulled me closer so no one could overhear us. “There’s nothing to stop me from tasting it on your tongue when you get back though.”

“You are a dirty man, Gasly. You look so sweet but some of the things that come out of your mouth…” 

“You love it.” His smirk was hidden by the curtain of my hair but I knew it was there nonetheless and I couldn’t deny it. He knew how his words affected me when we were in the throes of passion.

I rose on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the lips as I answered, “You know I do. I’ll come find you when I get back.”

“Okay, be safe.”

I found Addie drawing on a copy of the race schedule Otmar had given her and promised her we would drop it in the driver’s room for Pierre on the way out. It may have looked like a bunch of scribbles to me but she had an entire story that went along with it to somehow put it into context. Even if he didn’t understand the picture he would still be happy to receive the gift.

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far but an old ache began in my bad hip along the way and Addie had to slow her pace so I could keep up. 

“Mama, hurry up!” she said, tugging my hand. 

“I can’t, sweetheart.”

“Get hurt?” she asked inquisitively as she watched my slight limp.

“A long time ago.”

She frowned with concern and slowed down. “Need besos?”

I chuckled at her kindness and stopped so I could kiss the top of her head.

“Not me, you, mama.”

“But it worked, I’m feeling much better now.”

She grinned at the news that wasn’t quite true. I was feeling better but my hip wasn’t. Thankfully we had reached the restaurant that looked unusually busy.

“Crap,” I muttered to myself thinking the queue would be huge but the group of people milling about were there for another reason.

“Bri,” Lewis called out over the crowd and their heads turned my way. “Can you please let my friend through?” 

They parted for him like Moses and the Red Sea and felt their stares burning a hole in my back as we walked into the restaurant. Addie rushed to his side first and he picked her up to pop her on his hip so he could keep signing items with one hand. The perks of being an uncle to his own nieces and nephews meant he was totally at ease carrying the extra weight around. 

“Still coming here,” I noted when I was safely inside and he had thanked the crowd for their support and apologised that he didn’t have time to sign more autographs. “Shouldn’t you be at the practice session?”

“Came straight here from it. The gearbox was acting up so we boxed it before the practice timed out and I was starving.”

My walking had obviously slowed us down more than I thought if he had got here as quick as he did. I only hoped I got back before Pierre was off to the next pre-race weekend event the PR team had planned.

“Do you still have the pepperpot or have you expanded your palate?” I asked, knowing the answer already as we walked up to the counter to order. 

“I like what I like,” he said with a laugh.

“Can I please get one vegetable pepperpot, one chicken with rice and one fried sweet plantains?” I ordered for us while Lewis took Addie to the drinks fridge and grabbed two waters and a juice box. 

The older gentleman who owned the restaurant rang up the cash register and looked at me for a moment before his eyes widened. “I recognise you now,” he spoke in the local dialect with a wide grin. “It’s been a while since you last came here with Mr Hamilton, we missed your pretty face.”

“Thank you.” I blushed at the compliment and handed over more than enough cash to cover the food. “I am long overdue for your delicious food and I promise I won’t be away so long next time.” 

“Good, good, it’s sad to see Mr Hamilton eat here alone each year.”

I took the change and dropped it into the tip jar beside the counter and sat down at the table Addie had chosen. 

“What’s this you’re wearing now?” Lewis asked her, tapping the Alpine hat she had hung on the back of her chair. 

“Pee-year gave it to me,” she said with a grin.

“Correction, you stole it from him,” I pointed out to Lewis’ amusement. “He didn’t even get half a carrot for it.”

Lewis pierced the straw into the juice box and held it just out of her reach. “How about you wear a Mercedes hat and I’ll give you this?”

“Resorting to bribery?” I teased but it didn’t work anyway as Addie shook her head adamantly and grabbed her hat with a stern, “I like this one.”

“She must really like Gasly if she’ll sacrifice her juice box for his hat,” Lewis commented. “What about you?”

“Oh, I would definitely sacrifice a juice box for his hat too.”

He laughed and sat back in his chair to stretch his long legs out under the table. “I’ve been in F1 for seventeen years now, known you since you were a pimply teen running round the paddock.”

“I didn’t have pimples!”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Tell that to my ego.”

“Okay, you were the only teen in the world who never had pimples, is that better?”

“I appreciate the lie.” 

He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Are you two serious or is this just a summer thing? I’m only asking because it’s great having you back and it would suck if you left again. No one else eats anything remotely hot aside from you.”

The platters of food arrived at that moment and the aroma of spices that filled the air was mouthwatering. Addie didn’t even wait for me to dish up some food on a plate for her before she grabbed a slice of crispy plantain and yelped when it was hot. 

“That’s for dessert, but only if you eat some of this first,” I said as I wiped the grease from her fingers and handed over a small plate of chicken and rice. 

When I finally settled in with my own food dished up I found Lewis still waiting for an answer and I reluctantly put my fork back down. “Why is everyone so interested in my love life?”

“So it’s love huh?” he said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes and stuffed a forkful of food into my mouth so I didn’t have to entertain him with an answer. The silence was all he needed though and he stabbed at the chunky cut vegetable on his plate with a quiet laugh. “I'm happy for you, Bri.”

“I’m happy too.”

“Me too,” Addie chimed in before looking longingly at Lewis’ food until he pushed his plate closer so she could get a spoonful. 

Lewis ate faster than us, constantly checking his watch before he sighed and said, “sorry ladies, I have to get back for this panel.”

“Go,” I waved him off, “she’ll still be eating for another 20 minutes at this rate.”

He swiped a sweet plantain from the plate and I couldn’t help ribbing him for the deep fried treat, “Are you allowed that much sugar and fat, Sir?”

He grinned and popped it in his mouth as he shook his head. “I won’t tell if you don’t. I’ll see you two round the paddock, stay out of trouble.”

I pretended to zip my lips before remarking to his receding figure, “I never go looking for it, it just finds me.”

His deep laugh echoed back before he disappeared out the door and the few people that had hung around the restaurant soon went with him. 

My leg was aching more with the pain radiating from my hip when we started on our own way back so we took it slow and window shopped along the way. 

“Pretty necklace,” Addie gushed as she pressed her nose to the display window of a jewellery store. “So shiny.”

I looked over at the diamond pendant she was eying up and shook my head before a gold chain in the next display caught my eye. “Come on my little magpie,” I said as I walked to the door and was greeted by a middle aged woman. “Can I have a look at the cross necklace?”

She was happy to unlock the display and bring out the piece, an 18k gold crucifix on a long figaro chain. I draped it over my hand and took a closer look at the detailing on the piece before holding it up to Addie. “Do you think this will suit Pierre?” I was already going to buy the item but I was glad she gave an eager nod. “I’ll take this please, and can it be gift wrapped?”

“Certainly, it won’t be a moment,” the saleswoman said as she took the necklace behind the counter and started packaging it up. While waiting, I felt my phone vibrate and saw dad had sent me three messages in quick succession.

From Dad: I love you my darling daughter but when you’re in the paddock there are always fires to be put out. From Dad: Where are you? From Dad: Brianna Valentina Vowles To Dad: 🏃🏽‍♀️🔥🔥🔥 From Dad: What the hell is that meant to be? To Dad: That’s me, running from the flames. What’s happened? From Dad: Image attached

The picture loaded and I rolled my eyes as I saw it was taken by one of Lewis’ fans while we were in the restaurant. Lewis was holding Addie while we spoke and the caption implied I was making my way ‘round the paddock in more ways than one.

From Dad: There’s no doubt they will bring this up in the interview about to start. From Dad: <link to live feed>

I opened the link and it showed an F1 interview panel with half of the drivers, the other half in the wings of the stage waiting for their turn next as was usual with so many people to interview and never enough time. 

“Excuse me,” the saleswoman said quietly as she presented the gift wrapped box and opened her hand towards the eftpos machine. I barely spared her a glance as I quickly swiped my card and paid for the jewellery while keeping one eye on my phone screen. “Thank you, have a lovely day.”

“You too,” I said distractedly as I shoved the box into my handbag and took Addie’s hand to rush back to the paddock. 

Most of the guys were on their phones until their attention was pulled away as the interviews got started but the camera kept panning back to Pierre and Lewis who were sitting beside each other. They were talking too low for the stage microphone to pick up but Lewis shook his head at whatever Pierre said and the tension that had been brimming eased. 

“Lewis,” the male interviewer drew his attention away from Pierre and a microphone was handed over to him, “Good to see you, you’re looking well.”

“Thanks man, you too.”

“I know you guys take your pre-race diets pretty seriously in the lead up to make sure the weight in the car is optimum. I guess that’s why it was surprising to hear that you stepped out of the paddock for a date with Brianna Vowles who, for those of you who haven’t been following this, has been romantically linked to Pierre Gasly just last week.” The camera zoomed in on Lewis and Pierre as the crowd waited for a response.

Lewis held the microphone away and whispered to Pierre before replying. “Romantically linked? Is that what you call it?” He shared a laugh with Pierre and tilted the microphone over to him. “What do you have to say about that?”

“I mean it’s a little old-fashioned for me,” he said with a chuckle. “I call her my girlfriend.”

“I know I’m probably going to get an earful from the team about going to Jerk Hut but if you tried their food you’d know it’s worth a slap on the wrist,” Lewis joked and pointed knowingly to a loud cheer that went up in one corner of the crowd. “They know it too. And getting to catch up with Bri was a bonus. Ask anyone in F1 who’s been here for more than half a decade and they’ll have a story to tell about her, all good ones I assure you.

“So, Pierre,” Lewis paused as he clapped his fellow driver on the shoulder, “you should know there’s a lot of us who consider her like a little sister, and I don’t need to tell you what happens if you break her heart.”

Pierre crossed his finger over his heart and promised in front of thousands of fans, “no heartbreaking here.”

We had just reached the Paddock Pass entrance and I scanned my card before stepping into one of the many tents set up for shade so I could quickly text my dad and we could both rest our legs after the fast pace Addie had set trying to get back to see Pierre and Poppa Otty.

To Dad: Put the fire extinguisher away, old man, they had it under control. From Dad: Ok, he’s more mature than I gave him credit for. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Pierre too. To Dad: It’s team dinner tonight, why don’t you come with us? From Dad: I’ll give Otmar a call now.

I closed the chat with dad and opened the one with Pierre.

To Pierre: Where are you? From Pierre: Just finished the panel, heading back to the pit now. Did you see the interview? Where are you? To Pierre: I did. I’m sorry you got blindsided by that but I got a gift for you. I’m five minutes away. From Pierre: I don’t need gifts when I have you. To Pierre: Keep saying sweet things like that and I’ll give you something else too babe. From Pierre: Merde. Now I need another ice bath.

I snorted aloud and pulled my cap down lower over my face as a few people turned to the sound. If only they knew how dirty my boyfriend could be, then they would be flushing too.

Click here for chapter thirteen.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife

[blackswan446]

worth it - three.

→ pairing: yan!knj x reader

→ wc: 679 (😰)

→ cws: heavy descriptions of gore and murder, heavy descriptions of cutting (not as sh)

→ notes: im just pulling all this stuff out of my ass this story has NO set plot and i don't even know how it's gonna end #lol after writing: AAAJGSFGJ ITS SO SHORT IM GONNA CRY

--

collapsing onto the ground, namjoon struggled to catch his breath as his back touched the cool, grimy metal of the dumpster. even though it was a fit guy, who made time to work on his physique and be healthy, the heinous act he had just committed really took the wind out of him. it was worth it, though, every last second of it, and as he set down the bat, now covered in a thick coat of blood and flesh, he took a slow, deep breath.

he observed the scene in front of him, taking in every detail of the guy's limp form. he laid there, in a sticky pool of crimson growing quickly below, crumpled up with his limbs sticking out in directions unattainable without a broken bone. every inch of his skin and body was covered in gashes, from which ruby red liquid flowed like water. a gaping hole sat on the back of his skull, clumpy brain matter spilling from it, leaking out onto the asphalt. his hands, the same disgusting hands that had been used against you, were broken and bleeding, fingernails cracked and broken from his earlier attempt to claw at the ground, away from his assailant.

he was dead, alright. and as the light of the moon casted a ghostly glow onto his battered corpse, namjoon felt a sick sense of pride in his actions. despite this feeling, he still felt weirdly...unfulfilled. like he could do more for you, more to devote himself to you as your guardian angel and dedicated lover. although his entire reason for doing all of this, for the gifts, and for the entire obsession, started because he fell victim to his own curiosity, he had grown an intense adoration for you. the more he learned about you, the harder he fell. so he felt obligated to do more to prove himself, he wanted to do more for you.

pondering what else he could possibly do to further intertwine you and him forever, his mind wondered to the small switchblade in his pocket. he had brought it just in case he needed something a bit more to use on the...thing...that he had dealt with just moments before (spoiler alert: the bat was more than enough).

maybe he could make it useful now. he had heard plenty of fiction plots in which someone carves their lover's name into their skin...why not make it reality? sure, it would hurt like hell, but if you're giving someone a beautiful rose, you're bound to get pricked by its thorns. and the pain of his skin splitting beneath the steel is nothing more than a drop of ink in the ocean of passion namjoon held in his heart.

he didn't think twice before taking the dainty blade from his back pants pocket and rolling up the left sleeve of his long black shirt. the click of the blade filled the silence around him, the shiny metal glinting in the moonlight like a diamond, glittering in the damp, dusky alleyway. taking a deep breath and pressing the cool blade to his clear, unmarked wrist, namjoon didn't have to pray for the courage to press down.

biting back an array of curses and complaints as a thick drop of blood rolled down his wrist, he slowly carved out the lines and swoops of your first initial. combined with the darkness of the sky and his own warm lifeblood staining more and more of his wrist as it flowed freely from his new, red oblation. he didn't care about the pain, or the blood, or the scars it would leave. this is what he wanted, no, what he needed to do.

continuing the excruciating yet addictive action, over and over until he was left with a scarlet mess and beautiful testimony of his affection. with every cut he made into his clean, porcelain skin, he became more and more enslaved to your very being. through his eyes, you were his divinity, and he the humble worshipper, who was fully prepared to do anything in your honor.

anything.

--

taglist: @teugiie

[gagfadget]

So this post is kind of a sequel to this post. I wanted to go more in depth as to why I said that but also talk about why I feel like ther term anti and proshipper are both fundamentally broken. Again, I’m speaking from the experience of being an ex-proshipper. I’m neither of the two. I think both sides are bad and reductive. I’ve been on both sides and I’ve seen the toxicity of both sides. Do NOT call me anti and do NOT call me a proshipper.

Anyways even when I still considered myself to be part of that group, the trend with them calling conservatives and right-wingers “antis” started to come about. At first it wasn’t like that. On a surface level an anti was someone who was just an opposite of a proshipper, someone who harassed people in fandoms over ships or characters that they deemed problematic and harmful. Over time I started to notice proshippers calling people antis over minor disagreements and eventually they started calling actual bigots antis. By that point I started to become frustrated because this word that had a set definition already and actually did have a lot of right wing anti-sjw types in it, started to expand and expand until it became almost like an umbrella term for anything that was of the left.

Is an anti someone that harasses people over ships?

Is an anti a conservative/right winger/puritan?

Is an anti someone who doesn’t like proshippers?

Is an anti someone who doesn’t like a certain ship or character?

Is an anti someone who disagrees with a proshipper during a discussion?

And this isn’t stuff that I just pulled out of my ass, these are all different groups of people that ive seen proshippers call antis. If it’s all of the above then you’re grouping in actual dangerous political groups or people who want those groups to thrive with someone like me. Which is fucked up because conservatives/ right wingers/ puritans wants to eradicate me. That’s why I tell proshippers to not call me that (they do it anyways) because the term anti is too broad and encompasses too many things, just like the term proshipper.

Proship started off as “people who don’t harass others over ships and believe that fiction doesn’t affect reality in a 1:1 way.”

But now? I’ve seen proshippers say that proshipping is pro freedom of expression, pro-free speech, anti harassment, anti censorship, anti racism, pro lgbtq+ etc. Basically it is everything that is left leaning and everything that I also stand for. BUT. I’ve had them come to me over and over and tell me that it doesn’t matter that I’m left leaning, that I’m black, that I’m queer, that Im against harassment or hate speech or pro free speech or whatever. The mere fact that I think that shipping drama shouldn’t come up in discussions about real world topics and that complaining about “antis” when a post is talking about trans issues is tone deaf, was enough for them to label me an anti and much MUCH worse.

Things that are actually bad and actually dangerous are sharing the same label with things that aren’t. In the eyes of proshippers Iam on the same level as a person who wants me dead and has killed, tortured and attacked my people for decades and decades. When people genuinely believe that, it creates an all or nothing mentality. You’re either a proshipper or you’re a person who is a fascist or at the very least, supports fascism and im not using fascist randomly, it’s because I was called a fascist and a nazi for the same post that I mentioned above.

That “either your for us or against us” mentality is how you get absolutely insane coo coo takes like this

Where people insinuate that being a proshipper/supporting proshippers is somehow intrinsic to being queer and that setting up boundaries for them to not interact with you is seen as you forgetting your own people’s history…

Mind you, the proshipping community is mostly made up of white people and there is a racism problem in it that I’ve had to witness, ended up taking part in and was the victim of MULTIPLE times. And some of it is because they will slap the anti label onto anyone.

You know what happens when you’re labeled an anti by a proshipper? They show no sympathy towards you because they believe that antis are/ support oppressors. When you are labeled as an anti they don’t take the time to differentiate if you are Anti: Genuine Bigot Flavored™️ or Anti: Minor Disagreement Flavored™️. They just come at you as if you are actively trying to take away their rights.

This causes someone to go through harassment and this includes racist harassment.

And when a person who had to endure harassment from them says “hey I got fucking harassed, dog pilled and got slurs spammed in my inbox by y’all only for saying that I don’t like proshippers” they counteract it by saying “Woah! Sorry you went through that but those weren’t proshippers. We don’t stand for that, only antis harass people. So those were really antis!”

I’ve seen this happen and said over and over and over and it’s even been said to me after I was harassed.

Telling people that they have to let proshippers engage with them even if it is triggering to do or else you are an anti (everything they deem as oppressive) is almost cult-like.

TL;DR

“Anti” is a label that encompasses too many things which include acts of actual oppression with benign disagreements on ships and characters and because of this, it often groups in oppressors with the groups they seek out to oppress.

[anti-rq-raccoon]

proshippers are fucking insane like stop pulling studies out of your ass and claiming all antis are groomers and get a fucking life my god

i don't care if this comes off as rude I'm sick of being nice to people who say disgusting things and act like its okay because its not real. guess what dumbass, FICTION AFFECTS REALITY. there are so many cases where people who consumed "dark media" (and I say that with "this" because its not dark media, its weird kinks) in fact, I found multiple articles about dark medias affect on mental health. literally just look up "dark romance problematic" and you'll find a TON of reasons why normalizing/romanticizing this stuff it bad.

[queerasaurus-rexx]

i truly dislike the proship/antiship discourse, as i think forcing people to shove their opinions on complex issues in fiction into column a or column b is reductive and completely ignores the context regarding ship dynamics.

age gaps, for example, often get the context pulled out. an age gap between two people in their twenties is like

worlds different from a twenty-year-old dating a fifty-year-old, but anti ship discourse tends to treat both scenarios with the same weight.

and that's not even getting into the paedophilia discourse (which, funnily-not-funnily enough, tends to heavily target queer ships. i wonder why that is.)

the real paedos are on twitter. ao3 doesn't have a direct messaging function (grooming is much easier on sites with a dm feature), and most folks who post porn online are not intending for children to be exposed to it.

and if you really cared about these issues, why are you on tumblr telling an artist who barely gets reblogged to kill themselves for their art and not

you know

yelling at real paedophiles on twitter? yelling at the people on instagram who openly admit they are attracted to real life children and talk about sharing actual child porn?

i do not like art and fic about adults assaulting minors. but i would much prefer using my energy to protect living and breathing children than getting uppity at an author who wrote a ship like that.

on the flipside, however, i think proshippers also tend to let a lot of shit slide that they really shouldn't.

like, racism.

objectively both sides are bad for that, but like, proshippers tend to take their 'fiction doesn't affect reality' argument to mean stuff like slave x master shit about actual chattel slavery is fine. (i have SEEN this shit with my own eyes, do NOT tell this doesn't happen)

this is what i mean when i say both sides have issues with context.

it's ok to admit a ship is in poor taste and probably shouldn't be a thing. it will not kill you. you do not have to defend a gross ship because you support other ships like it.

context. matters.

and do not get me started on those toxic ass enemies to lovers ships that are really just abuse. you've got people like e.l james openly admitting she thinks abuse is a love story, and colleen hoover writing actual, physical assault as romantic. like, she doesn't even have the bdsm excuse (which doesn't really even fly with fifty shades, but you know).

you want a moment where fiction actually affects reality, check the correlation between the release of fifty shades of grey and the increase of its target demographic entering abusive relationships.

sometimes fiction does affect reality, though that fiction tends to need a huge boom in popularity and have a target demographic of people who are still figuring their shit out.

anyway i can't wait for the torrent of hatemail from both sides.

my inbox is open, though that doesn't guarantee i'm gonna read it.

[realbigpodcastslut]

yeah clearly fiction can't affect reality at all [conveniently hides all the propaganda in fiction ever] anyway to act as though it doesn't affect reality is the stupidest take ever and I wish all proshippers a very grow a fucking brain

Omg this is the funniest ask like babe of course some fiction has propaganda, don't understand me wrong. But also... fiction can critize (gasp). It's almost as if fiction has... multiple purposes? Like art?

I mean, look at Starship Troopers, for example. Literal satire.

Anyways, if can't distinguish the difference between propaganda and criticism and exploration, you should stop being purposefully dense, pull your head out of your ass, and grow a brain. Fuckwit.

[internalanguish]

Hey, bud. I have a degree directly connected to literary analysis and I promise you proship content/fanfiction does not make anyone in real life "more comfortable" with age gaps in real life. There's not an ounce of proof for that theory antis pulled out of their asses.

Fiction does not affect reality. People who commit atrocious acts with real life minors would have done so without fiction. Y'all sound like conservatives blaming videogames for violence and school shootings.

No. Get fr. Antis are the only idiots here.

I think you are misunderstanding the point I was trying to make. Consuming certain media does make some people more comfortable with age gap relationships, but those people are the victims. For example, girls who grew up watching Pretty Little Liars, which shows a relationship with a teenage girl and her teacher in a favorable light, are more receptive to advances from older men once they become teenagers. In this way fiction does in fact in fact affect reality. I am not saying that the adults who should know better will see this and start dating children. I see know I should have been more specific.

[dubhdove156]

Rant/Vent Post:

My twin sister and exception attempted suicide the other day. The last few days have been incredibly stressful, and for the first few nights, no one was sure if she'd pull through. Currently, she's getting more stable and verbally coherent, but she's lost the use of her legs. Clinicians aren't sure yet if that'll ever return.

I have some thoughts on all of this that I can't really share socially or with family right now, so I'm just going to put them here.

First off, the way she attempted was... dramatic. Like, movie main-character dramatic. It wasn't a cry for help, that's already come and gone. This was a genuine attempt and I'm not looking to invalidate that. But she texted everyone highly emotional goodbyes, posted on all of her social media, and the method used just pointed to wanting to go out with a bang for a finale.

On that note, I've made observations my entire life about the people around me that Main Character Syndrome™️ is out of control, not only with this generation, but with generations prior. I also deal with it.

My sister is maybe the biggest weeb I've ever known; she watches anime like it's crack or heroin. It's gotten to the point that she's expressed to me that it's difficult to think of scenarios that aren't in anime format. In other words, her schema and worldview have been almost totally shaped by anime. She's been an anime fan since we were 4ish years old. It's consumed her world.

I think that maybe this was a chunk of why this happened. Not all of the reason, maybe not even a good chunk, but a contributing factor at the very least.

Think of it this way: someone who reads a lot of romance novels and watches a lot of romance movies is shocked by the hard truths of intimate relationships, they're poorly adapted to the reality of relationships, and they've created unrealistic expectations that cannot and never will be met. They'll be left with a void that some author's daydream put there of a world that doesn't exist. Someone who grows up watching DBZ, action movies, badass protagonists, playing video games where the player character is next to immortal, might have their worldview shattered when they can't John Wick their way out of a situation that they started and wind up in the hospital or worse.

In saying this, I'm not saying that anime is the devil. What I'm curious about is to what extent the media we consume affects our worldview, and how much of it is healthy. Media in the form of fiction has been a part of our collective history since we originated. I'm not saying it's inherently negative -- hero stories go as far back as Odysseus and Gilgamesh. It's ingrained in us. But I can't help but shake the feeling that something, culture maybe, shifted at some point (idek how many generations ago) that has led us to this point that I see at least some narcissism in everyone, but especially in the younger generations. It's difficult to find people my own age who aren't competitive; where it feels like this room isn't big enough for the both of us. This is become endemic to our species. We're evidently killing ourselves when reality doesn't and can't meet the expectations set on us by TV shows, movies, video games, animes, etc.

Idk it's just a thought I had.

Side note: recently, while trying to improve my condition, I've become a major fan of media in which the protagonist is just... a dude. Shows where there are multiple protaganists and any might die or fail at any moment. I've especially gotten into playing the Soulsbourne series because it checks me. I've become a major fan of ego-checks, and think we could all use a good ass kick in whatever department we're too proud of ourselves in. This world needs a major dose of humility.

[saltysheiths]

whether or not you like/support sha/adin doesn’t matter.

what matters is that despite everything the “bad” ant1s have done; all the harassment, abuse, actual physical violence, death threats to staff, trying to get them fired/ruin their careers, suicide baiting and threatening other fans, defacing artists’ hard work, sending shippers (often young ones, those who are csa survivors, or both) into panic attacks and cheering each other on, you still call yourself an ant1. you still associate with that toxicity. it sucks, but the name “ant1″ is literally synonymous with “the exact thing ruining this fucking fandom”. they terrorize both the fans and the staff and give us a bad reputation as an entire fandom. they take their “dislike” of a ship way too far. they’ve abused innocent people for two fucking years over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS AND YOU STILL CALL YOURSELF ONE OF THEM. THERE ARE NO “GOOD” AND “BAD” ANT1S. THERE ARE ANT1S.

if you simply dislike a ship, that’s fine. you’re allowed. but as soon as you call yourself an ant1, you support them, whether you think you do or not. they think they have a large portion of the fandom at their backs because of people who just call themselves ant1s but don’t actively turn the fandom into a shithole. it sucks, but they’ve tainted the name forever and clinging to it while chanting “not all ant1s” is not helping the matter at all.

I seriously hate that there are decent people lumped in with all of this who just want to dislike ships in peace and not interact with shippers. but as soon as those people call themselves ant1s, they indirectly back the people who sent those death threats. there are other ways to tell people you don’t like a certain ship. they fuel the fire they supposedly don’t support.

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

Hate to say it because we are talking about real life here and an awful REAL tragedy that took the lives of 4 innocent young women and a child... but I kinda understand why there is not a show about OTMA and even sympathize with hypothetical producers' lack of interest in making it, and no, it is not just about HBO yawning at the lack of sex in their lives, because I doubt they would be respectful enough NOT to pull an inaccurate pre marital sex scene out of their asses (Or many) to keep a good portion of the audience invested, or worse, an inaccurate sexual assault scene that won't even be handled with sensitivity and be there for the cheap shock value.

I think the real reason there is not a show about OTMA is that it would inevitably have an anticlimactic ending (Unless you are deep into tragedies, which most people are not). I would enjoy it, and so would many history and Romanov enthusiasts, but if you are part of the general audience who watches the show for escapism from the sometimes boring reality and entertainment, what is the point of getting invested in these characters if they all die in the end? No matter how you structure the show and order the scenes (Showing the murders at the beginning, not showing it and hoping to keep it a secret from at least some of the audience, etc), the audience will feel either cheated or get little joy out of watching these girls' character development, hearing them talking about their dreams and so on. There is no "What will happen to them?" "Who will they become?" It can work with other doomed characters such as Anne Boleyn because she had a bit more agency and choices that led her to her fate even though she was also a victim, but OTMA died a lot younger, the war, the revolution, the "plot" (So to speak, we are talking about a hypothetical tv show after all) happened around them, they didn't affect it (And by that I mean in the big scheme of things, I know they saved lives as nurses and that Tatiana was very proactive helping refugees, which would be amazing to watch on TV), they were sheltered girls learning, developing, helping as they could, and loving their parents, brother and each other. They died sheltered. If this was a hero's journey, they died in the ordinary world. Their imprisonment was harsh, yes, but what did it lead to? Nothing, their story sadly ends there.

A TV show producer would use Olga and Tatiana's skills learnt during the war as set up for something in the future, but history doesn't let him.

He or she may want to develop Anastasia's fun loving personality further, but history doesn't let him.

He or she may want to use Maria's romantic personality to write the love story of the century, he or she may want to explore her bravery further, but history doesn't let him.

He or she may even want to explore how a chronically ill boy would find a new place in the world now that the fate chosen for him since birth is no longer available, but history doesn't let him.

People can criticize the legend of Anastasia surviving all they want. It was incredibly harmful to her heartbroken and grieving relatives back when they were still alive because it gave them false hope and reopened wounds, but it is pretty much harmless today as long as it remains on the "fiction" section, and it became popular for a reason, which is that it makes for a better story.

All I am saying is that real life's plot sucks sometimes and that the only way I can see an OTMA show working is if it is a mini series or they put a BIG "this is FICTION" disclaimer before making one or more of the girls (or children) survive.

FAKE TV SHOW MEME - the romanov grand duchesses

1913. The tsarevich Alexei, child heir to the throne of Russia, hovers on the brink of death. The royal family can do nothing but wait and hope that their friend, controversial mystic Rasputin, can once again save Alexei from the symptoms of haemophilia. 

The royal family consists of father Tsar Nicholas II, mother Alix, hated by the Russian populace for her German heritage, and their daughters: Olga, stately and dutiful; Tatiana, reserved and religious; Maria, beautiful and shy, and Anastasia, untameable and vivacious. Raised in the grand palaces and opulence of the Golden Era, the Romanov children are kept grounded and sheltered by their parents and a close knit group of tutors and advisors.

As Russia goes to war and the Romanov sisters enter adolesence, their lives are increasingly influenced by the political instability that begins to penetrate the isolated world of the grand duchesses and those closest to them.

They are the imperial family, all at once the embodiment of Russia and so distant from the struggles of an increasingly impoverished and restless people. Five children - four powerful girls all overshadowed by the heir they all waited for, who brought with him the sickness that would be the last chapter in the history of the Romaov line.

[kookieswan]

Try Your Best, Love.

Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 821

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, some angst, but with a fluffy ending.

Warnings: MC is sad and cries a bit 🥲

Notes: Requested by @parkdatjimin ❤️ I really enjoyed writing it since it hits close to home lol. I hope you like it love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting close to the end of your college career, you had elected to take Creative Writing as one of your general education classes because why not? Your boyfriend, Jimin, had mentioned what an interesting class it was, and it sounded more than exciting to you. You remember reading some of his stuff and being blown away.

That didn’t stop the class from turning into a nightmare though. The first part of the semester went well, good even, but things took a nose dive when the second half started. Your grades quickly dropped from As and Bs to Bs and Cs. It seemed like nothing you could do would please your professor, like he had done a 180 and suddenly hated everything your wrote. He probably didn’t in reality, but it felt that way nonetheless.

So you decided, as one last hurrah, that you would work your ass off on your final piece of writing, a ten page piece of fiction, a topic of your choice. And you did, you wrote and wrote and reviewed and wrote some more. Checked for errors and spelling mistakes and grammar issues, the whole spiel. Jimin lingered around when you did, always trying to sneak a peek at whatever you had written up. He’d been encouraging either way, rubbing your shoulders, getting you coffee, or just sitting silently by your side as he did his own class work. It helped you in the end to wrap up everything in the story just right.

It was perfect. It is perfect…?

You had thought so. Most of your friends had read it and loved it. Jimin had sat down with you the night before it was due, giddy to look it over since you decided to keep it a secret from him. Mostly because it was loosely tied to how you met and fell in love, just with different names and more of a fantasy twist. It was something to be proud of, a new feat for you to look back on and reminisce about.

And then you got a C on it.

Jimin was right there with you when you checked your grade, readily sitting beside you to congratulate you on the A he thought you’d be getting. His face had fallen just as quickly as yours had, confused as to how something as lovely as that story had been to harshly critiqued.

“I was so proud of how it turned out Min… I worked on it for weeks.” You’re sitting in the couch in the living room, hunched over as you stare at the blinding light of the laptop. You managed to pull a B for your final grade, but that C… Jimin shifts from beside you, wrapping a arm around your shoulders delicately, as if not to break your already cracking façade.

“I know love. It was amazing, it is amazing, I was so immersed the whole time I was reading it. Don’t let if negatively affect you too much, hm? It’s a beautiful story and you tried your best, even more than your best.” He brings you in closer, arms wrapped around your body as he kissed the side of your head. You lay against his chest quietly, hands coming up to play with one of his. A few tears leave your eyes, a small hiccup resonating through the room.

“Shhh baby, don’t cry. Just because he didn’t like it doesn’t mean it isn’t a good story. I don’t think I’ve ever read something I was so invested in. And all of your friends, they loved it too, right? Fuck, I bet we could get it published!” He’s leaving small chaste kisses against your neck now, poking at your sides a bit. A wet giggle rips through your lips, effectively stopping the tears.

“Oh yeah? You think I could be the next best storyteller?” He hums, the vibrations flowing from his chest and into your back comfortingly. He noses along your neck a bit more before leaving a gentle kiss on the back of your ear.

“You can be anything you want love. A chef, an astronaut, a damn anthropologist if you want to be. No matter what path you take, I’ll always be there to cheer you on, for the good and the bad.“ Your eyes get teary, but for a completely different reason this time. He’s right, you really had tried your best and are completely satisfied with how the story turned out, grade be damned. Turning around in his arms, you lean up and leave a peck on his lips.

“I love you so much Jimin. You mean the world to me baby.” His eyes crinkle cutely as a big grin takes over his face, his arms wrapping tighter around you. He leaves another kiss against your heated skin, this time placed against your forehead before he whispers quietly.

“I love you too, and I’ll always support you. Never forget that.“

[servicetopkaradanvers]

I'm not sure if this is exactly the right place to say this, but I don't know if there is. And you're a smart person and critical thinker who has talked about this before. If this is totally weird, you can just delete it ofc. I've never properly watched Supergirl but I started reading fanfic around the time my mental health got real bad so it was a comfort thing I didn't bring too much thought to. I really identify with Lena and in the past, part of me has understood her actions-

and I know that they're wrong. The anti-alien rhetoric is obviously an allegory for racism or homophobia. She's violated people's basic human rights. And I'm scared that I'm a bad person because sometimes, I kind of get it. Which is insane because i'm a lesbian enby of color, i mean i get targeted by most of the -ist/ism actions. And I'm also too tired to think about things critically all the time. Supercorp was my comfort fic, content thing-

I knew it was problematic (the whole James thing makes me sick to my stomach, scared and sad) but I didn't know that Lena as a character was written that way. The metaphors never really clicked in my head because I never thought about it, but now I feel absolutely horrible about myself because I like and identify with Lena. I'm not really sure how to move on from here- I'm just tired. I wish there could be just one thing, one piece of media that wasn't prejudiced (granted sg is not the place to go if you want decent rep and the like) and all of those things I said earlier. Its just me somehow trying to justify how I felt and empathized with something I shouldn't have. So yeah, sorry that was really long. I hope you have a lovely day- sorry for the spam

FIRST of all, you’re fine, babe! Both in sending me this and in enjoying The Bad Media. That’s my thesis here: You’re fine. With this in mind, let’s unpack this big ol suitcase:

We’re living in a fandom moment where more than ever before, we’re thinking about the ideas we consume in fiction and how they may or may not affect us. This is a net positive! Fiction is not reality, but it undeniably impacts it, so for this and many other reasons, we should always think critically about what resonates with us and why. Does this mean dissecting every facet of something to find all the ways it might fall in line with oppressive power structures? Absolutely not.

You, as an individual, do not owe anyone an explanation for why you enjoy anything. Period. How you relate to a given character or why you like them is nobody's business but your own.

Supergirl, as a piece of media, is singularly awful in its lackluster lipservice to progressivism while simultaneously refusing to deliver any progressive themes. Socially and politically, it is a useless liberal wet dream. Kara is an immigrant from a dead culture working as the muscle for a secret FBI offshoot with zero accountability for all of the other aliens in diaspora she has rounded up and dumped into a cell without trial. Alex is allegedly a lesbian, but the key points of her endgame relationship are constantly deemed not important enough to get screen time, which is made even more absurd when examined from the angle that this series is marketed directly toward LGBT people. An embarrassing percentage of villains on this show are women of color, which is particularly loud when there are only 2 women in the main cast who aren't white. And "main" is extremely generous, given that Kelly is just there to Give Advice Good and everything M'gann says and does is as dry as toast.

My point here is that the whole show is rotted to its roots, and whatever quietly libertarian or even fascism-enabling bullshit they push onto Lena in a given week is par for the crusty, shitty course. Kara deciding that she's ok with the alien detection device because "there are bad aliens" is a lovely (read: awful) microcosm of why this show sucks so fucking hard. "People are entitled to their opinions" is for debates on whether pineapple goes on pizza, not for whether we should casually out, endanger, and disenfranchise our [insert minority metaphor here] because some of them are mean.

But what I would love for this fandom to wrap its head around, and what I hope you understand, anon, is that just because it happens on the show, doesn't mean we have to give a rat's ass about it. What the hell is The Canon, anyway? Especially in the case for Supergirl, which can't even get its own continuity right. Especially for an IP that has been rebooted dozens of times before and will be rebooted again in the future. We can just decide that Lena realized the horrible injustices she enabled through her position of power. We can even decide that they just didn't happen at all! This is all fake. It's not set in stone. Who came up with it, anyway? A network with a list of buzzwords they want included and a couple of D-tier showrunners cranking down caffeine to meet an absurdly tight deadline. It's not special. I can guarantee that you care about it infinitely more than they do, and you haven't even watched the damn show.

On a more personal level, people who are hurt, depressed, or traumatized have always and will always look for themselves in fiction. Myself included! And despite what lofty platitudes there may be on the matter, suffering does not make us kind. It does not make us better. Sometimes it's just suffering. Often it pulls us further from who we are meant to be. Often it just makes us "worse."

Trauma has made Lena emotionally brittle. A lifetime of manipulation and abuse has taught her to compartmentalize herself and lock her feelings behind a maze of doors. When she does let love in, she accepts it so wild and vulnerable that she can't see the red flags behind the rosy lenses. She latches so hard onto people she deems virtuous that she holds them to a standard none could fulfill. Her pain has to go somewhere, so it oozes out of her, into Non Nocere, into the post-reveal rift. She's a powder keg, and Kara spent 4 years shoveling more gunpowder onto the pile while holding the match between her teeth.

And despite these fatal flaws that make perfect sense through the eyes of Lena's trauma, she is so full of love. Like Kara, her suffering did not make her kind. She is kind in spite of her suffering. These are the characters we are drawn to when we're hurting. Lena’s trauma is an inextricable part of her, but it is not all of her, and neither are her mistakes.

There truly is not and never will be a piece of media that is absolutely innocent of the harmful structures thrust upon us by society, because we ourselves also participate in that society whether we are critical of it or not, whether we strive to change it or not. I'm flawed. You're flawed. Bettering ourselves is not a journey toward an ultimate destination of perfection. It is a garden we nurture in an endless labor of love because the joy that comes from seeing it flourish and change vastly outweighs the work we put into it and the weeds popping up around its unkempt edges. This is a lesson Lena herself could probably stand to internalize. Probably with lots and lots of therapy. Lots. And lots.

So, to circle back to the start of this? You're fine. You recognized the logic in a traumatized character's mistakes because our own gravest errors more often than not stem from the ways we have been harmed in the past. It's what makes Lena (or, at the very least, the many adaptations of Lena that exist in this fandom) a good character. She is, to her core, characterized proof that a crumbling foundation and poisonous soil do not define us. Which is why watching her heal and grow and learn a healthier kind of love is so, so wonderful.

In closing, I think it's worth mentioning that being critical of media does not mean that we stop enjoying the parts of it we like. There is a lot of gold to be pulled from the steaming pile of shit that is CW Supergirl, and that's why we're all here in the first place. So I really hope you can continue to enjoy it in whatever way makes you smile <3