#that's why you ask for feedback. especially in this space like... people will give it

[northern-passage]

i've been thinking a lot about the word "representation" and what it means and how it's changed over the last few years, particularly when it comes to the writing/publishing landscape but also in movies and tv shows… and i really don't like it anymore. to be clear, of course i think it's important to have diversity in your work, i'm not saying i hate the concept of representation. but i do really dislike the way it's used now, and i really just hate the word itself

in a broader sense it's just become a marketing tool. i'm not impressed by any publisher or author who just describes their book by listing all of the minorities/identities the characters represent as if that should be enough. it feels very gross, very exploitative and disingenuous. it also really bothers me because it's always marginalized identities- which i understand Why, but it feels very othering to me (and again. Very exploitative as an advertisement). you would never list out "cishet able-bodied white man" as a character description to pat yourself on the back over. so why do it to everyone else? why insinuate that one is the "default" and the other one is "special"? (and when i say this i'm mainly talking about advertisements/marketing. i understand why people would specify about characters in descriptions with the plot, but i don't like to see an ad that's just "this book has gay people!" with nothing else)

which then leads me to my other point, which is that a lot of people treat "representation" as if it's "too hard." like "oh i don't know enough to write about that, i don't have that experience, etc" which is a fair way to feel! however… it's weird that people only say this about writing trans characters or characters of color. i'm writing a story right now with a character who is really into motorcycles. i personally do not know that much about motorcycles, so i researched what parts are what & what different kinds of models there are & what basic bike care looks like. i guarantee Most people will have to google something at some point in their writing process. so what's the problem? it also, again, feels very othering when authors treat certain groups of people as "impossible" to write, "too hard" to understand. they are just.. people. you write them as a person. and then you figure out the rest later.

and i think part of the refusal or fear to write something outside of your experience is because of the way representation is treated as So Special. these characters are So Special that they aren't allowed to be anything other than "representation." they're Not allowed to be characters with complex emotions and interesting motivations, they have to just be Trans or Gay or Disabled or whatever. they're not allowed to be people. which means, at the end of the day, we loop right back around to where we were at the start….

there is bad representation. there are depictions of certain marginalized people that are harmful and that are damaging, i'm not trying to minimize that or argue against it at all, in fact we should all be mindful of that while writing and reading. but i also think it's possible to swing too far in the opposite direction as well and put certain groups of people on a pedestal and not allow them to do anything at all but be Perfect Representation, if that makes sense.

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[abswhore]

Just a friend.

Summary: You both had agreed to see each other as just friends, but your feelings developed into something deeper.

Pairing: college!fwb!abby Anderson x reader

A/N: hello thank you for taking time to read ! , this is my first post I’m really excited so please give me feedback, also like and comment! They is just a test run sort of thing to see how it goes it’ll be maybe 3 parts to this !

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“I’ll be fine here, go!” You assumed Dina and Nora as you stood at the bar, they had dragged you out of your dorm for a night out but you wasn’t quite feeling it tonight.

You watched as your friends made their way through the pool of people, smiling at them as they danced with each other. You sipped on your drink as you watch not bothering to join them.

A voice from beside you caught your attention, prompting you to look over. And There stood Abby Anderson, the university's star soccer player. "You don’t dance?" she asked.

“No, I’m a horrible dancer.” When you turned to her, you noticed she was leaning in closer, allowing you to take in every detail of her face. She was captivating.

"I'm Abby," she said as she introduced herself. You chuckled softly and nodded, replying, "I know.”

"You know me, but I don't think I know you," she remarked, leaving you wishing you hadn't mentioned that you were familiar with her. "Just joking," she added.

“ I hope I didn’t come off as a stalker I think we share friends.” You added “im y/n.”

"I'm not opposed to having a stalker, especially if they look you," she said, her tone playful and soft. You could feel your cheeks burning as you went quiet, letting the loud music fill the space around you.

Abby sensed the sudden quietness and quickly found a way to redirect the conversation. “So these mutual friends with share, who are they?”

You mentioned the names of several people, and she instantly recognized the group when you said the first name, Ellie Williams.

“Why don't you ever come us when we hang out?" she asked, sipping her drink while keeping her gaze fixed on you.

"I'm usually tied up with work or school," you replied.

"That's too bad; I'd love to see you more often," she teased. "How about we study together sometime?"

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice dipping into a flirtatious tone as your eyes locked. You nodded in response.

"That sounds great," you murmured, just loud enough for her to catch over the booming music, your gaze drifting to her lips.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Abby pushed you against the icy metal of the car door, and as your lips moved perfectly in sync with hers, you realized you had left Dina and Nora behind without a word. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess; one moment you were exchanging flirtatious glances with Abby, and the next, she was pulling you out of the club, almost dragging you along.

The drive to Abby's, which should have taken just ten minutes, seemed to stretch on endlessly as you exchanged messy kisses at every red light. When you finally reached her apartment complex, you both rushed to get inside. You pressed kisses along her neck while she clumsily fumbled with her keys, eager to let you into her home.

You moaned, "Where's your room?" as she finally opened the door, nudging you inside and pressing her hips against your back.

"no room, I wanna fuck you right here on this counter." She murmured in your ear while her hands moved around you, quickly unbuttoning your jeans pulling them down from behind as she moved towards the counter lifting you up placing you on top.

Abby whispered, "pretty," as she slid your panties aside. You gasped loudly when she traced her tongue over your clit, then gently pulled it into her mouth. Your back arched off the counter, and you found yourself gripping a handful of her hair.

The sound of your moans echoed throughout the room as you sensed your hips starting to tense, signaling that your climax was near. “Not yet,” Abby said, rising up and pressing her lips against yours in a messy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself.

You spread your legs wider, feeling her fingers at your entrance as you lock eyes with her. Abby thrusts into you, her two fingers stretching you, and you can't help but cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders.

Abby urged you, her breath warm against your lips, "look at me while I fuck you." As she quickened her rhythm, you matched her movements with your own. "Please, don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice filled with urgency and longing.

The moans grew louder as you reached your peak, your back lifted off the counter. Grasping Abby’s arm feeling your walls tighten around her fingers. Not holding back Abby thruster fasted into you as your body shook, your hand flying to cover your mouth as your chest moved up and down heavily.

Abby smirked as she brought her fingers, coated in your juices , up to your lips, gently tapping your jaw to signal you to open your mouth. As you complied, she slid her fingers inside, slowly pulling them while you savored your own taste.

Abby let out a soft moan as you pulled her into a kiss, and you swiftly hopped down from the counter, shifting your attention to the other woman above you, tugging at her pants. "it's your turn," you whispered, biting your lip in anticipation.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[jiminrings]

fail-safe; intermission 02.

wordcount: 2k

glimpse: you leave for the night, but hopefully for good in the future.

alternatively, jungkook offers you reprieve.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

You’ve come to loathe your childhood home.

You’ve come to loathe your room and most especially your bed. You’ve come to hate the people who inhabit it in one way or another, whether it is to guard the door to it or sleep on it.

You detest the floor space that makes everyone who enters it regard it as cozy as if it’s an embrace that’s waiting solely for them. You despise the way it smells, the mix of what lived-in comes off as a scent seeming like an invitation for just about everyone.

The start and end to everything that has caused you immense pain in your life had something to do with your home. From the evident patriarch that’s missing in all your family photos, to how the outside doesn’t seem lavish compared to the facades of your classmates’ houses, to even the visitor that has been hellbent since day one to treat it as his very own — everything that has given you grief comes from the same place you’ve sworn up and down gave you nothing but comfort.

You don’t know where to place all your rage; you can’t even start unpacking everything you hold inside because there’s no space in a house so little to even tolerate you. It houses everything from a past (you’re not so sure of the tense) lover to offspring of said lover, but what your home can’t do is bear you–

Which is why you find yourself driving up to the big city, crashing into a room you know the most outside of your own space in your own house, just to stay for the night. It’s maintained to the state of when you’ve last been in it, the sight of the city below you reminding you that even for just a second, you could pretend that it’s your own home.

It’s your own space in the big city where there isn’t a brother whose loyalties don’t lie with you. It’s your own home wherein you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s intruding on everyone else in there because out of all of them, you’re the one who’s the least-adjusted when it comes to family. You’re above everyone, even if it’s just pretend, and in your few moments of peace, it comes. The click on the door comes, and you freeze up instantly.

What you didn’t expect is for the owner of it to actually come home.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, immediately straightening up your form on his couch. You didn’t even dare to put up your feet on his coffee table but with the way you react, he’d almost think you defiled it in ways he can’t even imagine. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find any vacant hotels that could take me in such a short notice.”

There’s no confusion in Jungkook’s face. Surprise, sure, because he’s not used to anyone else having his key except for you, and when his eyes did settle to the light, his shock immediately dissipated. There’s no hostility. No arrogance, and no hint on his face telling you that you were unwelcome.

If anything, he looks warm.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You can crash anytime you’d like,” he laughs loudly once he figures that your startled expression looks amusing, the sound of his keys hitting the bowl snapping you out of your daze. “God knows you’ve saved my ass and let me crash in your house far too many times.”

Jungkook takes off his coat and hands you his own house slippers, sliding them from underneath your feet that you’re adamant to not put up anywhere else besides the floor.

You’re relieved for the most part, the guilt that you feel in your stomach creeping into your chest because Jungkook looks relaxed. Nonchalant, even, to know that you dropped into his home without even asking. It’s the total opposite of what you’ve felt seeing Yoongi do the same to you, the lone difference being Jungkook actually wanting you to be here.

“That’s because I’m your manager. That’s literally my work,” you sigh breathlessly, accepting the meal that he gives you sheepishly. You’d have to share with him because he wasn’t expecting anyone, but oddly enough, Jungkook’s more apologetic than you are because he didn’t check on you during your break. Your talent’s sorry because he didn’t anticipate you coming to him, and it’s a situation you’re completely unused to.

You’re not used to being on the receiving end of apologies.

“No, that’s beyond your work. A friend would do that. A manager would rat me out to the CEO and give me an ultimatum,” Jungkook corrects you, flipping his hair that’s grown out since his last project. The break the both of you are in on is literally the first throughout your whole careers, and the sudden reunion reminds you of the fact that he is correct.

Jungkook sees the knot in between your eyebrows, the same one that always appeared whenever you had to chew someone out for messing up something on his agenda, the chuckle that leaves him making you look up attentively.

“You could use a drink. You look like you need it,” he stands up to pour you a glass of his favorite liquor in his favorite glass, the worn-out milk cup freebie of his cereal being the perfect container whenever he wanted to get tipsy but not drunk. “How was going home?”

“It felt bad,” you admit with no shame. It’s Jungkook, and even if he has more stuff going on in his life success-wise than you do, you don’t feel a need to prove yourself. “I had to leave early.”

“And how was seeing Yoongi?” he raises a brow, still adept to the stories about him whenever you both took a load off busy schedules with drinking.

“Even worse,” you grumble, shuddering at the remembrance of a memory that’s still fresh in your mind. “I had to leave early because he was on my bed again, but this time, sleeping with his ex-wife and his son.”

Jungkook gasps softly, lips parting open in shock. “The same guy who fucked his high school sweetheart in your room?”

“Get this,” you chuckle with no real humor to it, looking down on your cup with a hatred that he could recognize. He doesn’t see it everyday, most especially not from you either, but Jungkook knows that look — that anger that could only come from someone who had to endure so much. “High school sweetheart and mother of his child and ex-wife? Just the same person.”

You’re not sure if it’s pity you should expect from Jungkook. You don’t expect any grand reaction because he should be desensitized to points like these (he’s done his fair share of dramas, both melodramatic and straight-up cheesy), but what you certainly don’t expect is for him to launch himself at you. To comfort you.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles to your shoulder, large hand cupping repeatedly against your back.

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper, pulling away to wipe at the tears at the corners of your eyes before they get on Jungkook. You turn your head away, pretending that the city you look down on is Yoongi, and that the tears that pool onto your cheeks aren’t there at all. “It must be Yoongi’s birthright to go sleep in my room like he owns it.”

Your sarcasm can’t carry over not because you sniffled, but because Jungkook is perhaps the most observant person in the world after you. “But that’s not the worst, Jungkook.”

He’s nervous for a second before it turns into annoyance, the look of genuine concern filling his face. He has his hand on your forearm, trying to get you to look at him so when you do lie, he could catch it. “Do you need me to rough him up for you?”

“I have no right,” you mutter to yourself more than you do for him, kissing your teeth at the frustration that whatever it is to do, you can’t seem to pick yourself up now. “I can get angry at him for sleeping on my bed with no permission. I can even get angry at him for lots of things. For giving me this, this false hope that we’ll ever amount to something,” you shakily exhale, looking down on your hands that are far from Hyewon’s that have held him and their child. “But the one thing — the one thing I can’t get angry at Yoongi for is him sleeping with his family.”

You have no right. Absolutely no semblance, no fraction of anything that could ever lead you to the conclusion that you have a say on how Yoongi loves his family, even if he’s divorced Hyewon whom he’ll forever keep the porch light on for.

He can leave town and take his share, but Hyewon can always come home — that’ll never change because she was once someone whom he loved the most (probably still), and the mother to Haneul. The porch light is on and the windows are cracked open in the event that she wants to come home to them, be it their home in New York or Los Angeles, be it the home you grew up in.

“What can I do about that, Jungkook? I can’t fault him for that. That’s his family. I don’t play any part in it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” he soothes you, fingertips lightly scratching at your scalp. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Stop lying,” you cry to your hands even if Jungkook’s chest is right in front of you, the best he could do (the best that you allow because you’re not used to anyone going out of their way for you) only letting you cry the way you know how.

“I’m saying the truth,” he hums, unconsciously swaying you back in forth as you sit on the floor together. “People take so much from you, do you know that? Weren’t you the one that had to hustle and get a practical job because your brother was gambling on passion alone?” he tilts his head, wiping at your tears. “Weren’t you the one who had to carry all the hurt when it came to Yoongi?”

Jungkook even comes to a conclusion.

“I’m guilty of it too. I give you such a hard time.”

“Stop it,” you nudge him, effectively snapping out of your crying state when you hear Jungkook going into a train he shouldn’t even board in the first place. “That’s different. It’s literally my job to go through a hard time so you don’t.”

“But still. I feel like I don’t pay you enough for it,” he frowns, the immediate laugh that bursts from your lips making him smile.

“The agency does, but okay,” you roll your eyes. “Besides, the bonus you gave me enabled me to buy a new car.”

“Eh,” he shrugs exaggeratedly in faux arrogance, the smile on his face cheeky enough that it makes you throw your head back in amusement. “It is a nice car, isn’t it?”

Jungkook does it so quick, it being your reprieve, you don’t even notice that it’s the first long stretch of silence you’re under without thinking about anything but yourself; how you breathe, how you feel your fingers move, and even how steady your heart feels.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you smile softly, turning to him as he does the same. “For letting me crash and making things a little lighter for me. Even if it isn’t your job.”

“We’ve known each other for years,” he reasons. “You’re there and I’m there, even we’re not on the clock.”

There’s weight behind his smile, the inkling that pops up into your brain making you chuckle to yourself as you straighten up once again.

“I’ll get out of your hair in a few hours. I need to beat the traffic on the way back.”

“You’re still going back? This has got to be torture.”

You shrug carelessly, sighing heavily. “Three more days. My mom’s been blowing up my phone telling me she wants the family complete so she wouldn’t look stupid in front of everyone for this big family reunion,” you nod to yourself, building up whatever dignity and resolve you have left. “I think I can endure that much for her.”

Jungkook’s mind is as set as yours is to go home.

“You don’t have to endure it alone,” he offers, eyes wide and honest.

“What?”

“I’m an actor. Award-winning,” he adds, the smile that lingers on his face giving you more than just reprieve. “Even better than that, I’m also a good friend and an excellent debt-payer.”

“Jungkook,” you say his name as warning, partly in disbelief, and partly to convince yourself that he’s not thinking what you’re thinking.

“You’re a decent actress too. Just follow my lead,” he shrugs, shoving you lightly.

“You’re ridiculous,” you gasp, shaking your head adamantly. “Seriously, you don’t want to play any part in this chaos-…”

“I’ve been in worse settings,” he counters. “Stop taking shit, Y/N. Pretty woman like you doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.”

“Jungkook.”

He knows he already has you partly convinced when you let him get another word in.

“You and me, dating, driving back home. You can pretend you’re alright and unaffected with everything,” Jungkook grins. “We act it out enough, it’ll eventually come true.”

[krokusplays]

A Rising Dawn - Chapter 6

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature (will change for chapter 7)

Chapter Length: 3.5k

Fic Status: Ongoing (6/8)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut in chapter 7, set before the events of 3.0

Author’s Notes: Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback on the fic and last chapter especially! It makes my day to see that you're enjoying the fic so much <3

Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city’s borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

You made it a habit to establish this physical contact with Mydei whenever you met. Reaching for his hand, holding it to your face - something about it was so tender and soothing, even if it was only you who initiated it - and allowing yourself to feel.

Naturally, encounters on the street or at the store did not allow for such things. Neither did it give you the chance to do it at your own pace and for how long you wanted nor were you comfortable with people - crowds - around you.

You couldn’t imagine Mydei took pleasure in that either.

Though, the store did grant you some opportunities. At least whenever you took care of his order, it allowed you to brush his hands when handing him his fruits or taking his payments.

Little steps, little successes for you. For with each of these moments you felt the trembling ceasing, your hesitation fading. And the feeling left behind - once the anxiety has vanished - engulfed your heart in a warmth and tingling sensation that made you forget about the rocky road to get here.

It also made you look forward to any future meeting with him.

How did it get to this point?

It felt like you both missed an important conversation about what was going on. But then, you really didn’t know either and were just seeing - trying - where this was leading you to.

Maybe… Mydei had no clue either.

You shook your head as you made your way to the training grounds. It’s been a few days. Mydei has been occupied with his duties and although you have seen him from afar in the city, he wasn’t lingering, wasn’t wasting time, so you didn’t approach him.

You gave him time and space just as he was and…

… you knew he would approach you eventually once time permitted.

You smiled to yourself. That was why you were on your way to the training grounds now after all. In the Early Hour today he had approached the store, buying pomegranates and letting you know he’d be available if you were free after work.

How eagerly you had agreed…

The kids haven’t approached you today, they attended another class organized by Lady Tribios, so that gave you ample time.

Mydei was waiting for you already when the training grounds came into view. He stood in the middle of the small fighting area, arms crossed in front of his chest as he gazed into the distance, contemplating, lost in thought. Kephale’s light in the beginnings of the Parting Hour flooded the training grounds dimmer than before, though still as bright as the sun. It caught the tips of his hair and reflected off the accessories he wore until you believed Kephale himself made him shine.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

You adjusted the basket hanging from your elbow and approached him. He acknowledged and greeted you with a nod and watched as you placed the basket on the wall, the same spot as usual as you noticed yourself in that moment.

Huh… Coming here really has become a habit at this point.

“How was your mission, Mydei?” you asked once you stepped onto the training field and retrieved a training sword from the shelves at its sidelines.

“More Titankin have attempted to get closer to the city,” he replied and got a sword like you. A silent agreement to continue your training. “We’ve got rid of them for now. But until we know why their numbers have increased in such proximity to the city guards and patrols have been increased.”

“Is Okhema in danger?”

“Mmph,” he huffed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Your question clearly amused him.

“There are still two demigods in the city. And I will not leave either.”

There were implications there. Hidden within his words. Yet, you couldn’t decipher them or didn’t want to be hopeful when you still had no idea whatever it was between the two of you.

Still, he was right. Lady Aglaea and Tribios were still in the city. There was no safer place in Amphoreus than Okhema.

You took your place in front of him, a safe distance between you, and raised your sword, your stance like he has shown you before.

Mydei didn’t take a stance. Instead he turned the sword in his hand - you tried not to stare at the way his fingers moved around the hilt - and looked at you as if contemplating something.

“Ready for the next step?”

“Huh?” you looked at him in question, the tension in your body slackening for a moment.

A moment long enough that you almost didn’t manage to react on time.

A whirl of colors and the dull sound of wood clashing and you felt yourself being pushed backwards. You slid over the ground as if it was polished stone.

Only when you came to a halt and the blood rushing in your ears calmed down did you get a moment to assess whatever just happened.

Mydei stood where you’ve stood before, but the distance between you remained the same. And only when you saw how he lowered the sword - a smirk playing at the corners of his lips - and you spotted the trail you left behind in the granular ground as you were sliding backwards, did you register that Mydei has pushed you backwards.

That was hardly all his strength - didn’t come close - but he still never used enough pressure to push you back like this.

Alright, you got the message.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the spark of pride igniting within you. Him wanting to use more of his strength, push you further in your training must mean you have been improving. You have gotten better and the realization of it brought a wave of determination with it.

You adjusted your stance again.

“I’m ready.”

———————

You have improved.

As your swords clashed he didn’t deny that. Your arms still shook from the impact - sometimes holding back didn’t come easy and rendered his blows still too strong - and you were still defending rather than attempting to push back, but beyond that he could see the improvements, even if you perhaps didn’t register them yet yourself.

Your stance remained more balanced, the tension in your body more controlled. The reason you managed to remain on your feet before the match began when he had pushed you back.

Not enough progress to truly keep up with him - aside from that Deliverer no one could - but even such small steps could make the difference between life and death in a real battle.

Your weapons clashed again as you managed to block another blow from him, but the sound you let out - strained and through clenched teeth - didn’t escape him. He took you in. Exhaustion was written all over you. Your gaze, your posture, the strength behind your movements…

“Giving up?” he asked. Taunted you.

“No, I can do this.”

His lips curved upwards into a smile. Content. Proud. But he saw right through you. Your arms trembled, beads of sweat formed on your skin, and with each passing moments your sword rested heavier in your hands.

He indulged you for a while longer. Pushed you beyond your limits. But as he watched how you took a step back to evade his range after blocking another blow, he decided to end it.

You couldn’t raise the sword anymore, you attempted to avoid clashing with him. You stood no chance to last another attack from him. Regardless of how much strength he allowed himself to use.

He provoked you. Forced you to block his next swing. And kept the pressure up. He didn’t allow you to break off to the side or jump a step back. Unless you lost the grip on your sword or gave up you were stuck.

He won.

However, he had to commend your attempt. You didn’t yield. Tenacity he has found in you before but that never failed to impress.

He didn’t say any of it out loud.

When you didn’t allow yourself to give up, Mydei put more pressure on his sword. But instead of pushing down he pushed you back. Like before. Made you slide backwards over the ground. Just this time he followed you. The contact between your swords never vanished. Never faltered.

Only when your back met the small wall you usually sat on did the surprise and strain cause you to loosen the pressure on your sword.

It fell to the ground with a dull sound.

And left you with Mydei holding his wooden sword to your neck, his free hand bracing himself on top of the wall behind you as he stood in front of you.

Caging you between the wall and his body. Trapping you.

Something in the air shifted around you. As if Oronyx halted time themselves, drowning out everything that happened outside of you and him and made everything in front of him so much clearer. Vivid. Tangible.

You were close.

Too close.

He caught the hint of citrus from your hair, recognized all the shades of color in your eyes, noticed the faint flush of your cheeks…

He should pull back. Retreat and give you space.

So, why couldn’t he bring himself to do it? Why were his eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted as your breath left you too quickly? Why was he so intrigued - captivated - by the sudden proximity? By you?

This was not like the embrace you’ve shared before. This wasn’t his heart seeking this warmth and comfort that calmed the itching in his veins. Something else tugged at his soul. Made him yearn for the contact. Something deeper. Hungrier.

It shouldn’t take all his willpower to pull away.

But, when he finally did and pushed himself off the wall, you caught the collar of his clothes. And tugged.

Not enough to throw off his balance but it caught him off guard enough that he had to brace himself on the wall again.

He caught your eyes. Caught the fire within them, overshadowing the hesitation and the nervousness that usually accompanied your movements when you found yourself in these situations with him.

Neither of you broke that eye contact. Your hold on his clothes didn’t relent. He didn’t pull back to put that distance between you either.

And before he realized it, he gave in. Mydei followed that cry of his soul. That instinct. This yearning rooted so deeply within his soul. Unfamiliar. Yet it burned and set his very soul ablaze.

And cupped your cheeks with his hands.

———————

The gauntlets felt cool on your heated skin.

This was new. It’s always been you who took a hold of his hand, always. Never him. Never both hands.

The feel and sight of the metal so close to you was daunting and it sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, you didn’t flinch. Your body didn’t recoil, you didn’t want to move away. And despite how intimidating the gesture - and he himself - could be, the touch on your skin was gentle. He hovered over your skin more than applying any actual pressure.

You realized you could withdraw at any moment.

But, you didn’t.

You wanted this. Wanted him. Right here and now with you and you yearned to know if this would feel as nice - as warm and safe - as being wrapped up in his arms had felt.

His breath fanned over your face. First like a faint breeze, then clearer. Warm. Inviting.

You met each other halfway. You couldn’t tell who pulled or leaned in closer, but within a heartbeat your lips found each other.

The kiss stunned you, the contact washing over you like a flood clearing your mind and soul from everything that wasn’t him. There was no fear, no panic, not even a lingering hesitation.

Just incredible warmth.

Mydei’s lips were soft. So much softer and warmer than you had anticipated. They molded against yours with such gentle pressure, as if afraid to hurt you, as if not daring to reach for more and it made your heart swell inside your chest.

Your hand reached up to gently clasp it over his. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To keep the contact, to not give up on that warm, comforting feeling of his lips on yours, of his hands cradling your face…

Neither of you truly knew what was happening or what you were doing. To anyone else the way you kissed and held each other may have been considered clumsy, uncertain, but that lightheaded feeling spreading through you, clouding your mind and cradling your soul in such pleasant emotions, felt so good.

And so right.

His hair brushed your face as he tilted his head, following an instinct that let him kiss you more, kiss you longer. Deeper. The pressure firmer than before now, but it lost none of its gentle touch. And it made you exhale harder through your nose as you let yourself fall into him.

When you both pulled back, you couldn’t tell whether the moment had lasted mere seconds or if the hour of the day has changed already.

But as you looked at him - at the slightly swollen lips, the faintest hue of red on his cheeks, these gorgeous eyes burning brighter than Kephale’s light - and took in that lingering warmth and joy within you, you had to admit it to yourself…

You wanted more of it.

———————

If Mydei imagined it before that you haven’t tried to avoid physical contact with him there was no doubt about it ever since that day on the training grounds and the affection you’ve shared.

Something had shifted between the two of you.

Something that he neither disliked nor really questioned either. He embraced it. Sought it out. And gave in to the comfort he found in your presence.

The way it stilled the itching in his veins, how elated it made him feel after being engulfed by your warmth and proximity…

Kremnoan he might be - strong, glorious, and proud - but in this instance he allowed himself to be weak. If this was what it meant to be weak - seeking refuge and comfort within another person - he would turn his back on ancient traditions and welcome a new dawn instead without doubts.

The hesitation - uncertainty - to fully embrace and accept all this came from another source. And as he watched a small group of young Kremnoan men stroll through the lively streets of Okhema below his spot on the roofs it became all the more apparent.

So much to do. To consider.

He observed how these men engaged in friendly bantering, examining weapons at the shop, he caught words such as “warriors never back down” and “one day we’ll battle those Titankin until we meet our glorious ends”… He gritted his teeth.

But he also saw people holding hands in the streets, saw them engaging in embraces and kisses - some lingered, some remained fleeting - and to think that he could have that very same thing, stirred something within him.

The part of him that he kept concealed by never-ending duties and responsibilities - as a Chrysos Heir, as the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos - longed for it. Looked forward to your next encounter. It was the sense of normality he yearned for. The change he craved for his people.

If only he knew where the Flame-Chase journey would lead him.

If only he knew where fate would lead his people.

And yet, when he caught sight of you out of his peripheral vision as you found your way on top of the roofs, he couldn’t deny how some of the tension lifted off his soul like a leaf in the wind.

He didn’t turn his body to you as you approached him with slow steps but a look to the side showed him your small smile, the soft curve of your brows…

You looked relaxed. Playing with the kids after work today hasn’t taken a toll on you. Many would consider dealing with a group of small kids an exhaustive task. Demanding. Straining. Yet, you carried that responsibility on your shoulders with ease and even if no one ever asked it of you.

He admired that about you. Even before he’s ever spoken to you.

You slipped your hand around his arm and into his own hand when you came to stand next to him. He felt the faint pressure of your fingers slide over his palm and in-between his own - armored - fingers, linking your hands together. Before you - slowly but with no hesitation - leaned against his arm that wasn’t covered by fabric and armor.

Having you seek him out like this, leaning into this immortal body that didn’t know anything but the brutality of death and the agony of rebirth was so… intimate.

Despite it all, his body - or was it more than that? - gave you something that made you push past all that you knew about him. And all that has held you back before.

His hand clasped yours a bit tighter. Reassuringly. Letting you know how alright he was with this without speaking a single word.

He liked it this way.

“I got something, I need to tell you,” you said. He looked at you but you didn’t look up. You kept your hold on his arm, your cheek leaning against his skin, but your gaze was unfocused, directed at nothing in particular.

“What is it?” he asked as you didn’t continue.

A frown appeared on your face but you took a deep breath before continuing. You still avoided meeting his eyes, however.

“I want to spend the Curtain-Fall Hour with you. At least… I wanna try.”

He looked at you. Blinked. The words echoed in his head and the implications of it grabbed a hold of his mind. He’s heard you. No doubt about the meaning of your words either.

But…

“Are you sure of that?” he asked and he realized he probably could’ve phrased it in a more delicate way given the subject but he was caught off guard. Puzzled.

He recalled how it felt to hug you, to feel your lips against his own… but he also remembered how panicked you’ve been before when he had grabbed your wrist.

Still, you have changed. You never flinched or recoiled from his touch before. Even now, as you clung to his arm, there was no trembling, no hesitation to lean into him…

Mydei looked down at you as he awaited your reply and his eyes softened when he saw how you grabbed the crystal around your neck and held it against your heart.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I trust you,” you took a deep breath before a smile appeared on your lips again. You looked up at him before you closed your eyes and leaned further into his side. “I want this.”

Mydei didn’t know what to say to that. Though, he was afraid if you leaned closer to his chest you would realize how his heart thumped just a bit harder at your words.

He found no lie in your words, no uncertainty in your voice. You, who had every reason to stay away from others. You wanted to indulge further in whatever it was between the two of you. Because you trusted him.

That he wouldn’t hurt you. That he wouldn’t harm you.

That he would - that he could - provide comfort and security with his touch.

It was baffling, unfathomable to him knowing who he was. And yet, something deep within him stirred at the realization of it. Something warm. Something that clouded his mind and left him in a strange haze. One that he should deem dangerous but he couldn’t fight the sense of mirth it brought with it.

He looked down at you.

Your body felt warm against his arm and your hair grazed his skin like… He had nothing to compare your touch to, he had to acknowledge, and yet, is this what a gentle caress felt like?

Whatever it was - your touch, how you leaned into him, how your so much smaller hand felt in his - he enjoyed it. Reveled in it.

And… craved more of it.

He wondered what it would feel like to have you in his arms again like on that balcony. He wanted to know if your touch would soothe him again or if the touch of your lips would captivate him again. Make him yearn for it. For more. For you.

Never something he’s wanted or yearned for. Never something that captivated him among all the bloodshed and agony of death and rebirth on the battlefield all these years.

He’s never wanted an heir either. Still didn’t. And probably never would.

Intimacy has always been a concept out of his reach. Much like anything romantic.

But now…

He took a glimpse at you. Your gentle smile, how you leaned into him, your cheek against his upper arm, fully embracing and welcoming his touch…

Yes, he wanted to give a try to be more… intimate with you too.

[pazziiiiiiii]

Hey guys! Sorry this took so long I worked quite hard on this. I’m still gonna keep the angst going despite the ending but yeah I hope you guys enjoy please give me feedback! ily!!

Part 3

Azzi let it go when Paige said, “My dad said something to me. That’s why I’ve been off.”

She didn’t press, even though Paige could tell she wanted to. The look on her face had been clear—quiet, worried, hurt. But Paige had only said enough to stop the questions, not enough to explain. And she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Some things felt too big to say out loud.

Because what her dad said didn’t just stay in the past.

It followed her.

“Of course you wanna visit Azzi. Why don’t you just go live with her and ask her to be your girlfriend? You better not ask her, or you can stay there forever.”

He meant it. Every word. His voice still echoed in her head, louder than anything else. And the worst part? She had stayed. She chose to be here. With Azzi.

That wasn’t something she could explain—not when she didn’t even fully understand it herself.

⸻

Things got weird after that.

Not openly. Just… in the little ways. She kept her distance. Didn’t laugh as loud. Didn’t sit as close on the couch during movies. Didn’t sleep as soundly.

Azzi noticed. Paige could feel her noticing.

But she didn’t bring it up again. She just adjusted. She always did. And Paige hated how that made her feel. Guilty. Grateful. Something else she didn’t have words for.

So when Azzi said, “There’s a party—just a few people. My mom said it’s fine,” Paige said yes.

Not because she wanted to go.

Because she didn’t want to be the reason Azzi stopped asking her to.

⸻

The music pulsed under Paige’s skin the second they stepped into the basement. It wasn’t packed—maybe ten people total, spaced out, talking over red solo cups and snack bowls. Still, Paige hovered near the edge of it all, already uncomfortable.

Azzi moved through the room like she belonged there. Laughing. Nodding along to the beat. She knew almost everyone and pulled Paige into a couple of small circles at first, introducing her, making it seem normal.

It wasn’t.

Paige couldn’t stop watching her. Not because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t help it.

Especially when that tall dude in the red hoodie showed up. Devon, or Darren, or something like that. Paige didn’t care. She just saw the way he smiled at Azzi like he knew her. Like he’d thought about her before this moment.

And Azzi smiled back.

Paige stood across the room with a cup she hadn’t touched, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

She told herself to let it go. Azzi could talk to whoever she wanted. Laugh at his jokes. Let him lean in close. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t her business.

But then his hand brushed Azzi’s waist, and Paige was moving.

“Everything good over here?” she asked, sliding into the small circle, voice sharp.

Azzi looked startled. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Red Hoodie laughed. “We’re just catching up.”

“Didn’t look like just catching up.”

Azzi turned. “Paige.”

“She looked uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t.”

“You sure?”

Azzi blinked like she couldn’t believe this was happening. “Yes.”

The guy took a step back, clearly picking up on the tension. “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

When he walked away, Azzi rounded on her. “What was that?”

“He was too close.”

Azzi folded her arms. “And?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“That’s not your call.”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi stepped in closer, her voice low. “You can’t pick and choose when to care, Paige.”

“I always care.”

“Then why do you act like you don’t half the time?”

Paige looked at her. The room around them faded into noise. Just Azzi. Hurt. Angry. Confused.

“Forget it,” Paige muttered and turned, walking away before she did something worse.

⸻

The gym was dark when she got there. Cold. Empty.

Perfect.

She didn’t bother turning on the lights at first—just picked up a ball and started shooting. Slow at first, then faster. Every missed shot made her push harder. Her body ached, but she kept going.

Drive. Pull-up. Crossover. Three. Again.

Sweat clung to her skin, burning her eyes. She ignored it.

Her phone buzzed in her bag—over and over. She didn’t check it.

Azzi could wait.

Everyone could wait.

This was the only place that felt quiet.

The only place where her dad’s voice didn’t echo. Where Azzi’s face didn’t float in her mind.

Where she didn’t have to feel anything except tired.

Eventually, her legs gave out.

She didn’t remember falling. Just the cold of the floor against her cheek. The silence in her ears. Her chest tightening.

She blinked. Everything swam.

⸻

“Paige.”

It was far away at first. Then closer. Then sharper.

“Paige.”

She squinted. Azzi.

Kneeling next to her, eyes wide, breath quick.

“What the hell are you doing?” Azzi asked, voice shaking.

“I’m fine,” Paige muttered, sitting up slowly.

“You passed out.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I just needed a break.”

Azzi stared at her like she was crazy. “You haven’t answered your phone in hours. I thought something happened to you.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit this isn’t nothing.”

Paige looked away.

Azzi grabbed her bag and shoved a water bottle into her hands. “Drink.”

Paige didn’t move.

“Drink it, Paige.”

She did, slowly. Her hands trembled around the plastic.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Azzi asked, quieter now.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Paige looked at her. “I don’t need saving.”

“I’m not trying to save you. I’m trying to be there.”

Paige flinched. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Azzi pulled back like she’d been slapped.

They sat in silence for a long time.

“You can’t keep pushing me away and pretending it doesn’t matter,” Azzi finally said.

Paige stood up slowly. “I’m going back.”

She didn’t wait for Azzi to follow.

⸻

The ride home was silent.

The Fudd’s was asleep when they got in. A single light was on in the kitchen. Azzi didn’t say anything as she grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

She set it outside Paige’s room (the guest room she only started staying in two nights ago that she hates) and knocked once.

The door didn’t open.

⸻

The next morning was tense.

Paige came downstairs late. Her head throbbed. Her limbs felt heavy. Azzi sat at the island, scrolling her phone, barely touching her food.

Katie glanced between them when she walked in. “Y’all good?”

“Yeah,” they said, too fast, too flat.

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

She left the room, but her eyes said we’re not done here.

Azzi didn’t look at Paige. Paige didn’t try to talk.

She knew she should. Knew she’d crossed a line—again.

But she also knew the line wasn’t just about Azzi.

It was about her dad.

His voice.

His threat.

The weight of choosing to stay.

Paige finished two bites of toast and left the kitchen.

⸻

She ended up back at the court later that day. Not to train this time. Just to sit. Think.

She didn’t even notice Azzi had followed until she heard footsteps behind her.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Azzi said.

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi sat down on the bleachers beside her.

“I didn’t tell my mom what happened last night.”

“Thanks.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you at the party.”

Paige shook her head. “You were right.”

Azzi studied her face. “You don’t talk to me anymore.”

“I do.”

“Not about what matters.”

Paige swallowed hard.

Azzi waited.

Paige stared at the court. “I told you my dad said something.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t tell you what.”

Azzi didn’t push. She just nodded, waiting again.

Paige kept her eyes forward. “It was about you.”

Azzi didn’t speak.

“He said if I asked you to be my girlfriend, I could just stay here forever.”

Azzi blinked.

“That I might as well live here. With you.”

The words felt like knives in her throat.

“He was yelling,” Paige added, quieter. “Like I’d already done something wrong.”

Azzi’s voice was soft. “And did you?”

Paige shook her head. “No.”

They sat with that for a long moment. The sun was starting to set, long shadows stretching across the gym floor.

“You’re scared,” Azzi said.

Paige didn’t deny it.

Azzi leaned back against the bleachers, voice low. “I wish you’d just let me help.”

“I don’t know how.”

Azzi looked at her, like she wanted to say more. But she didn’t.

They sat there, inches apart, with miles of silence between them.

[visualtaehyun]

Hi, have you seen all the drama that happened recently? I mean them scolding fans?

I have, now. :<

I've listened to their twt space (excerpts translated here), read P'Zee's tweet (translation here), read P'Aof's tweet, retraced how exactly this escalated from P'Nat, aka Phuwanet, replying to an anti to people literally leaving the fandom and pointing fingers 🤡

I haven't had to block and report this many people on twt since May 31 last year - and I still remember that date very clearly!! because it was the exact. same. bullshit! Back then one of their stylists, BM, caught a lot of flak for styling choices that weren't even his choices but there's been countless fans who just dislike his styling choices to begin with. I still have New's IG story from that night saved (back then he was even more afraid to hurt fans' feelings by speaking up than he still is now) wherein he also asked fans to calm down, trust him in his choices, and that he'll always speak up if he's not okay with something. I also still remember my rant from that night - a lot of unpleasant behavior I'd noticed in the fandom back then, znn addressed in their twt space last night even! Which tells me all I need to know, really, in how little twt fans have changed within this year, despite znn speaking up numerous times (I was gonna link a tiktok live New did a while ago where he also addressed fans about their comments/behavior but I can't remember or find it anymore now that he's done so many tiktok lives slskdls).

Now, P'Nat also got criticized by netizens for New's look during the Baby Bright x Beautrium event the other day - which, again, wasn't even done by him but by P'Fae, another makeup artist of znn's. From a professional and the company's standpoint, I do see how it's not a good look to 1) reply to an incisively worded comment 2) by an anti 3) with a non-company account 4) while also tagging the artist that's being talked about. But this entire thing got blown completely out of proportion. After znn did their space trying to explain why some things are the way they are and how much of it is truly their own choices or only happens in conversation with their team, it seems like large parts of their fandoms were upset afterwards 🫠 Because "znn are here trying to protect the culprit while the culprit hasn't even apologized for inciting a fan war" and "the company only ever extends kindness, attention, and gratitude to their team and staff but never to fans and consumers" and "stuff like this keeps happening and Khun Aof keeps apologizing and promising change yet nothing changes" and "congrats, Phuwanet, for causing countless fans to leave the fandom" 🤡

The sheer amount of mean-spirited and outright hateful comments under P'Nat's last tweet about the matter or in quote twts are baffling yet not at all shocking. 😞 It honestly took me a while to collect myself after reading all these awful comments directed at him and P'Aof.

For one, it keeps breaking my heart that people as lovely and sweet as Nong New and P'Zee could have fanclubs who actually think it's in any way okay to speak to other human beings like that. Unfortunately, those exact people are the ones that'll never listen to znn when they ask folks to speak kindly when giving feedback.

And the other thing that bugs me is how netizens seem to think they get a say in everything but especially regarding znn's style, hair, and makeup, completely undermining 1) the stylists' skills and 2) znn's own choices. Listen I'm a baker by profession and there's literally nothing that makes my blood boil as much as customers devaluing my colleagues' and my work or acting like their uninformed feedback is helpful. So I fully understand how annoying it must be for their stylists, MUAs, etc. to constantly get tagged on social media with """"feedback"""" by fans, antis, random strangers, etc. I'm so tired of every-person-online-ever acting like they're a critic. So so tired.

Anon, I realize your wording succinctly describes the content of znn's twt space and don't wanna put words in your mouth 🙏 but for anyone who's just learning all of this or randomly came across this znn post without much or any of the context, I do wanna say that 'scolding' couldn't be further from how lightly znn put everything, how they emphasized that they're not talking about the entirety of their fandoms, how their twt space felt as warm and welcoming as ever, and that they really wanted to do this twt space despite being advised against doing so by dmd.

I am sad that some longtime fanclubs feel the need to get some distance now but it's also felt like a long time coming, considering how unhappy with and critical of dmd as a company some fans continue to be. I for one am really glad znn spoke up and that they addressed a lot of things that bother them in their fandoms. And I'll always share the boys' sentiment of wanting their fandoms to be a space that's happy and comfortable and positive and uplifting.

This got very long and I'm very tired and I am, for once, gonna put this in main tags because I'm mostly talking to myself on this site anyway when it comes to znn 💀

Peace and love, y'all

[mandalhoerian]

Hey. So, I want to preface this by saying I know I’m just a random user on this platform. I don’t think of myself as someone particularly important, and I’m not trying to be a big deal. I’m just here to write, share what I love, and enjoy fandom like everyone else.

And honestly? I’ve had such a great experience. I’ve got wonderful mutuals that interact with me even though I'm awkward, people who support my work in ways that genuinely mean the world to me, and fandom space(s) that’s been so welcoming. I don’t take that for granted. I really don’t. It's why I'm able to write so much, I want to give back.

Which is exactly why I hesitated to make this post. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, or like I’m complaining for no reason. But I also think this is something worth talking about, because — despite all the wonderful interactions I’ve had — sometimes, there are moments that leave me feeling bad. Not because of outright hate, not because of drama, but because of things like this.

I got an ask recently that seems polite enough. But it left me feeling kind of awful. I don't want to put this user on blast so this isn't a direct answer to their ask and their handle is blurred.

I get why it might seem harmless that even I questioned why it made me feel bad. They’re nice. They say they like my writing. They even acknowledge that I can ignore them if I want. So why am I feeling weird?

They tell me my writing is their favorite among all the stuff they’ve read. And at first, that might seem flattering, right? Nevermind the content-ification of "good stuff" and them deserving equal amount of praise if not more. But here’s the thing — if they actually loved my writing that much, wouldn’t they have supported it in some way?

I checked. They’ve never commented, or reblogged anything I’ve written. Sure, they left a like on fiab. But there’s zero trace of them engaging with my work before this ask. No interaction, no nothing, not even a quick “hey, this was great” in the replies if they couldn't be bothered by reblogging.

So when they say my writing is their favorite, it doesn’t actually feel like praise. It feels like bait. Like they’re just buttering me up so I’ll be more likely to say yes to their request.

They phrase this whole thing in a way that makes it feel like I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi and I'm their only hope.

“I can’t very well ask anyone I know to be my proofreader.”

Why not? Why me specifically? Why someone they’ve never spoken to before instead of a beta reader, a writing group, or literally anyone else?

This is the kind of wording that makes it really hard to say no without feeling like you’re being mean. Like, if I refuse, am I leaving them stranded? Am I crushing their last hope for feedback? The way it’s framed puts all the emotional weight onto me, a total stranger, instead of acknowledging that asking someone to do work for you is already a big request.

And then there’s the way they say:

“You don’t have to read them all—just some (read also: ANY) feedback to let me know if it’s even worth reading would be super awesome.”

This one really got under my skin.

First, the self-deprecation. The whole “if it’s even worth reading” thing. I get it. We all have insecurities about our writing. I just discovered I used the word "shift" like 32 times in my recent work, and "something" even more and I'm twiddling my thumbs about how uncreative I was. English isn't even my first language and I feel lacking every single day.

But the way they phrase it turns it into another pressure point for me. Like, suddenly, I’m not just reading for fun — I’m being tested. I’m the one who has to decide if their writing has value. That’s a LOT to put on someone, especially a stranger.

And second, that little “read also: ANY” bit. It’s a cutesy way of saying “I’m desperate, please read anything,” but it also comes across as pushy. It makes it sound like any amount of effort I give will be acceptable, but what they’re actually doing is making sure I don’t just say no outright. It’s a way of leaving the door open so that even if I don’t want to read all of it, I might still feel pressured into at least glancing at it.

It’s a really subtle way of making it hard to say no while making it seem like they’re being easygoing about it. And I don’t like that.

At the end of the day, the biggest reason this made me feel awful is that it made me feel used.

This person didn’t interact with my work. Didn’t support me in any way. Didn’t talk to me. I don't know them. They didn’t exist in my space until they wanted something from me. Like my writing was good enough to get something from me but not good enough to actually support. And it just sucked the joy out of my day. It leads me to believe they haven't even read the thing and just look at the notes and go, "this user right here".

And listen. I am not against helping people with their writing. I love talking about writing. I love giving feedback. I read a lot, I do my best to reblog and gush about what I like, but it's a bit time consuming since I want to do it long and be thorough. But there’s a huge difference between building a relationship with someone — engaging with their work, supporting each other — and just cold messaging a stranger with a request that only benefits you.

It’s uncomfortable. It puts me in an awkward position where saying no feels rude, even though I never invited this interaction in the first place.

I’m not posting this to be mean. I’m not even mad. I’m just upset.

Because this happens a lot. Writers get messages like this all the time, and it’s exhausting. It makes us feel like we only exist as a resource, not as people. Like our time and energy don’t matter as much as someone else’s desire for validation. And that’s a really shitty feeling.

So if you’re someone who loves a writer’s work and you genuinely want to connect with them? Start by engaging. Reblog their work. Leave a comment. Be a presence in their space. Show them that you care about their writing before asking them to care about yours if that's your goal in the long run.

Because trust me — when you support a writer, when you show up and really engage, you don’t even have to ask for connections or advice or feedback. It happens naturally. Because at that point, it’s not just asking for something. It’s a conversation. A relationship. A real, meaningful exchange.

But if you skip all of that and just go straight to “Hey, I don’t know you, but do this for me” you’re not just making it awkward. You’re making someone feel unseen. And I promise, no writer wants to feel like that.

And to the person who sent this ask, I’m not angry at you. I don’t think you meant harm. But I do need you to understand that this didn’t come across the way you probably intended. I don’t know you. You’ve never interacted with me before this.

On top of all this, proofreading and beta-reading, no matter how hand-wavy, take time. Thought. Effort. And they’re not things you just ask a stranger to do out of nowhere. Writers — especially fic writers who do this for free — are not here to be an on-demand editing service. Beta-reading is not a casual favor. It’s a commitment. It’s work. And when you ask someone you’ve never even interacted with before to do it, without offering anything in return — not even the time you're asking for them to invest in you — it doesn’t feel like a friendly request. It feels like being used.

And that’s what made your message hard to stomach. You didn’t support my work at all — but you still felt comfortable asking me to invest my time and energy into your writing. That’s what makes it feel transactional. That’s what makes it discouraging.

If you’re looking for a beta-reader, there are better ways to go about it. There are writing communities, Discord servers, and fandom spaces specifically for finding people who are open to that kind of exchange. But cold-messaging a stranger — especially without having ever interacted with them — isn’t the way to do it.

Use “Read More” for Long Posts

That said, I really do hope you have a good experience on this site and find your footing as a writer. Since you mentioned being new to Tumblr fics, I want to give you some quick advice to make things easier for both you and your readers. Not the feedback you were looking for or wanted, but one I want to give you anyway. Tumblr has its own rhythm when it comes to fanfiction, and while it’s different from AO3, once you get used to it, it’s a great place to share your work.

Tagging: Always tag the fandom (e.g. #[fandom name] fanfic, [character name] x reader) and the main characters/ships so people searching can find it.

If your fic is over 500 words, Tumblr etiquette is to add a Read More break after a couple paragraphs for "preview". This helps people scroll their dashboards without being overwhelmed by a huge block of text and makes your post look cleaner.

Tagging & Content Warnings Matter

Make sure to tag properly, and/or put the warnings in your author's note before the fic itself. Some people track specific tags, and good tagging helps your fic reach the right audience. A few key things to keep in mind:

Warnings: If your fic has sensitive topics (violence, major character death, explicit content, etc.), use tw [topic] or cw [topic] (e.g., #tw blood or #cw angst). If you don't want to tag, put it in your author's note/warning list. Some readers rely on these.

Break up long paragraphs. Huge text blocks are hard on the eyes, especially on mobile.

Avoid Over-Tagging: Tumblr hides posts from search results if they have too many tags. Keep it to 10-15 relevant ones.

Make Your Fic Posts Easy to Read

Unlike AO3, Tumblr doesn't have a built-in formatting system for fics, so readability matters. Some quick tips:

Use bold or italics for emphasis, but don’t overdo it. If you want to make the text look pretty, you can use small text.

If your fic has multiple parts, consider making a masterlist post and linking previous chapters in new updates.

Having graphics really works to get people's attention. You might want to use banners and dividers, there are accounts out there that are dedicated to making/providing resources for these.

Likes are nice, but reblogs are what actually share your fic with others. If you enjoy someone’s work, reblogging it with tags or even a short comment is the best way to support them.

Engagement is Key — Fandom Thrives on Interaction

One of the biggest differences things about Tumblr is that reblogs are the lifeblood of fic visibility. And on Tumblr & AO3, there is no algorithm you can rely on.

If you want engagement on your own fics, start by engaging with others — reblog stories you like, leave nice comments in the tags, and interact with writers. Fandom is built on mutual enthusiasm.

[roamingwildflower13]

Consistency

One of those things that comes naturally when you are in a relationship, specifically a long term one, is consistency. Patterns of behaviour that become second nature, habitual. 

Domestic behaviours such as who cooks, who washes up, who cleans, what you do in an evening together, who plans your trips, who drives (especially abroad). Who pushes the grocery cart, who decides the meals, or where to eat, who carries the shopping bags and puts the food away. Almost a harmony. 

(I’m listing this and Jimin really has got himself a walking green flag, and vice Versa)

With Jimin and Jungkook this also manifests itself in things related to their careers, such as them staying back together at rehearsal, waiting for one another at shoots etc, watching each other practice, giving feedback and reassurance, and seeking each other out. It shows itself in the documentary too, when JK goes to Jimin’s house to cook, despite having been performing that day, Jimin hovering watching him, same as kn the show in Connecticut, in Jeju, in Japan.

Small but consistent behaviours that show how in sync they are. 

We all know about their inside jokes, their habits, how many memes they know that others don’t – how glaringly obvious this was in ‘Are You Sure’ in Jeju with Tae beside them. How ‘Are You Sure’ showed this in all its glorious detail. This is why the show is beautiful and why it matters, it’s them as they are (their own words).

It also shows itself in how attentive they are to one another. How every time they ate a meal, they would look to the other to see if they were enjoying it. How Jimin asked JK multiple times if he was happy, stating ‘that’s all that matters’. When Jimin was sick in Connecticut, Jungkook gave him space to sleep in, gave him his medicine (significant because yes, although the staff fetched the medicine, meaning JK stayed with Jimin the whole time, he was the one who gave it to him, whereas the staff could have actually done that, as they have in the past when the members are sick, and that is a whole different topic), and built him a stone tower (and yes, it was for Jimin though never explicitly said, it is a very significant and meaningful practice, especially for Buddhists, and his mom’s family are Buddhists. JK said he wasn’t religious himself, but he dropped to his knees to pray for one dear poorly person). 

Going back to food, it made me sigh out loud in one moment in episode 2 when Jimin is eating the snacks they got from the grocery store and whips his head to one side – JK doesn’t even look at him before asking him ‘is it good’. He just knows, like a sense. Similar in Jeju when they are eating in the Japanese restaurant and JK has a good food meltdown, Jimin soothes him by grabbing his hand. 

It is in moments like those, where their intuition wins out, that I don’t know how people cannot see it. To me, these little moments mean so much more than the loud ones, because they truly show how domesticated these two are, and that comes from a much deeper place than many realise or want to admit. 

I want to briefly touch upon the aesthetics of the first two episodes of the show in Connecticut, because to me, this is what makes these two episodes stand out. The way it is shot, the color grading, the vibe and energy. The way when they ride the motorcycle, Jimin wearing a loose fit tee and shorts, the rain, the 90s of it all, its very domestic. It is obvious they both know how to ride a motorcycle, there is no unease there. Jimin making reference to JK enjoying riding motorbikes recently (something he seems to know despite them not ‘hanging out’….strange that). The way they walk around the grocery store that morning, Jimin rubbing his tummy and pouting because he is hungry, JK giving in immediately. All they went for was a sponge to clean a dirty pan (remembered in the middle of a cuddle session, its giving married). 

(look at this edit if you can, and how beautiful the show truly is.)

The aesthetics and vibe of them just being together, dressed so casually and bare faced. The fact that before they leave their NY hotel, they both packed (or in Jimin’s case, shoved) stuff in a REI duffel and threw it in the Jeep. They don’t do any wild activities, just gentle ones – shopping, kayaking, a boat ride and hike – meals together (and Jimin, ever the millennial, researching the menu before they are there.) Cooking together (again, JK not hesitating to cook whatever Jimin asks for, them eating pasta out of the pan together like lady and the tramp). It’s all so wonderfully chill and intimate, and as a viewer, I feel their joy and ease just watching them. 

This trip was so far removed from the chaos of other BTS travel shows, such as ‘in the soop’ and especially ‘Bon Voyage’. There is a gentleness overriding the trip, again, it really is them just spending some much-needed time together. This wasn’t them catching up having not truly seen each other, they ease into it so naturally, there is no catch up involved (the awkwardness was the cameras, and no you can’t change my mind) even with how the show is edited. They didn’t even hug hello….

(and I know that we didn’t see all of their time spent together on camera, but to contextualise the show and the why of it all, I do feel the edit should have been more explicit as to why they were doing this. Instead, we got ‘long time no see’ which in Jikook language means not a lot, based on past scenarios ((the documentary)), and a different version of the restaurant scene in JK’s documentary, where, despite apparently not seeing each other, and Jimin just turning up, saying it took him an hour to get there, no greeting, no bro hug, no how are you? He just sits). 

Back to the point - the show is so inherently intimate without trying, it is just them being their natural selves (as much as possible, given the cameras), as they are, enjoying their time together. Napping on boats, eating good food, camping, going grocery shopping, cooking and chilling with a beer. Simple daily life, doing things most of us take for granted. Being Together. 

Their intimacy screams from the way they cuddle on the boat, to JK knowing what spice level Jimin likes when making a sauce, as I said above when Jimin rubs his tummy and says he is hungry and JK melds. To Jimin choosing what activity to do in Jeju specifically with JK in mind. JK ordering food Jimin likes when he has yet to come into the restaurant. They way they got out the pool at the same time, showered together, then sat glued together chatting (what is personal space?) and watching their phones – then deciding when to go to bed, together, all in sync. JK pre planning to cook a meal in Jeju, again with Jimin in mind. Jimin complimenting JK on his cooking, shirtless and all, because why not? Them brushing their teeth together, doing their skin care together, picking up snacks the other may like. Jimin singing JKs songs constantly in support of his music (which was in the timeline of filming). I could go on. 

But to end, these habits, these patterns of behaviour, and the consistency of these over years and years, show a heck of a lot without saying a word. 

Fin

[creatingblackcharacters]

What do you think makes y'all not say anything?

Often if I don't say something, it's because I'm not in that particular fandom and don't want to give any engagement to that person because I find it incredibly distasteful. Either that or it's not the original artist posting the image and I can't find them.

Why do you think your peers are comfortable with what they're doing?

I'm not sure, but usually if it's someone I know or is inside my space I point it out and give constructive feedback. I wonder if it's purposeful ignorance, sort of like how people pretend to be bad at chores to get away with it?

Why is it so safe to be antiblack in these fan spaces?

I think people feel comfortable being anti Black when creators and artists don't shut that shit down.

If it's just ignorance, why is educating oneself not a priority when it is offered?

Probably because people don't want to face the fact their behavior isn't okay. It reminds me of a toddler who doesn't want to admit they broke something so they blame it on the pets.

Does it not bother you?

It bothers me immensely! But I don't often see these things, usually only finding them when scrolling Google images or on Pinterest whenever I'm looking for references. In which case I don't know who the artist is and feel too disappointed in humanity to go searching for them.

What is the boundary to where you feel you would be bothered enough to speak up?

If it's someone within my space, someone I know through mutuals, common friends, or someone I have interacted with prior I would confront them. Based on that interaction I'll either help or give up on them.

I also feel like it depends on the severity, if it's something a little more subtle I'm more likely to privately DM and say "hey, you should probably fix [x]"

But if it's an egregious error such as skin lightening or white-washing features I'm more likely to comment publicly and encourage my friends to speak up as well.

Am I asking the wrong questions?

I think you're asking the right questions, but I think a lot of people also don't want to answer them truthfully. Or with their names attached (I can't help but feel uneasy about my name being attached but I know it's an opportunity for me to grow if my viewpoint is inappropriate or inaccurate)

What questions should I be asking, and what exactly do you think the answers would be to those questions?

I think the question that is missing is, "Why are creators allowing their fans and fan spaces to be anti-Black and not protecting their own fans?"

In my opinion, creators have to protect their minority groups in their fan spaces. If you let one nazi in a bar, it'll become a nazi bar, y'know?

I don't think creators are fully at fault for everything their fan spaces do, but I do think they have a responsibility to shut down shit and point out that they don't stand for that.

If people who have the power and strength speak up and make it cringey and shameful to be anti-Black, then people will follow suit. I think people who white wash are super cringe. Like what are you??? Afraid of melanin? Go get skin cancer, stinky. /Silly

Genuine question- why do you need to be in a fandom to call out racism if you see it there?

What happens when it's the creator who is also racist, especially when they are comfortable with the fan base that is on the same page? What will be the creator's motivation to change if their fan base is okay with their behavior in exchange for their content?

I agree about the creators, yes. More questions to consider: If the creator allows Nazis into their bar, yes it's a Nazi bar. But if the other patrons know Nazis attend this bar uncalled out, and still go to it knowing full well that they're not the ones in danger if they say nothing... What makes them not a participating Nazi? Because they have power too, more than they think, and aren't using it!

Also you shouldn't joke about cancer 😅

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Giving Them The Silent Treatment

Requested: hi hi! I've been loving succession, I think Tom and Kendall are my favorite characters <3 Could I request a preference for the siblings (+ Tom or Greg if you're comfortable, totally understand if you don't wanna add them) making it up to their S/O after an argument? Maybe their S/O has given them the silent treatment and they wanna fix things?? Or something like that, it's totally up to you <3 - @meltingsandwhich

A/N: Shai!!!! I love this idea!!!! Thank you for requesting!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Connor would want to rip his hair out. The thought of you being angry and hurt enough to give him the silent treatment kills him. Forgotten and ignored as a child, the silent treatment doesn't sit well with him. It reminds him too much of his father, ripping open old wounds. He gives you the space you need, but eventually it becomes too much. He has to talk to you and he needs you to talk to him, to acknowledge him. He apologizes profusely, desperately, the people pleaser in him coming to life. You're still upset, but you realize immediately what you've done. You did what Logan has been doing to him his entire life. You apologize, too, putting into words why you were so upset. Your relationship isn't perfect, especially after a fight, but you know you cannot do that to him again. You have to talk it out, you have to address things, you have to break the cycle. Connor is more than happy to do so, hating the long stretch of silence.

Kendall, I think, would be just as petty at first. When you stare at him, mouth closed, anger radiating out of you, he realizes what you're doing and tries to beat you at your own game. He can only last a few minutes before his own insecurities devour him. Why aren't you talking to him? Is it over? Did one fight murder your whole relationship? He can't listen to the quiet anymore, finding any way to fill it. He screams and yells and begs, but you're stubborn. One too many times he has broken his promise to you, he has broken your heart. As far as you're concerned he deserves to suffer. You want him to. Not forever, not forever, but in this moment? It's all you want. He kicks furniture and makes a mess, yelling, angry, hurt. You can't keep it in anymore and you stat yelling, crying, telling him all your pain. Everything he's put you through. He promises to do better, to be better, that this will never happen again. You're not sure if you believe him. You're not sure you'll ever believe him again.

Shiv sorta pretends nothing happened. She asks you if you want to order in for dinner after a few days of not speaking. You can't believe it. It makes you even angrier, causing you to give her the silent treatment. By not speaking, you're forcing her to address it. You just stare at her as she goes through the drawer of menus. What? Are you seriously still mad? This frustrates her, causing her to become defensive. You're being irrational. You're being insecure. Funny, you say, you're starting to sound like your father. That hits hard. The fights you have are volatile and downright cruel. Afterwards you have to nurse your wounds, you take a few days, before going to one another. There isn't necessarily an apology spoken from either of you, but it's as close as you're going to get. You go back to normal after that. You're sure one of your fights will be the downfall of your relationship one day, but that day isn't this one. You know Shiv doesn't mean it, and neither do you, it's just the kind of thing you were raised to do: go for the throat.

Roman feels incredibly anxious when you give him the silent treatment. He can't stand it. He tries to fill the silence with jokes, but it doesn't work. His one defense mechanism isn't working nor is it appropriate. When is it ever? You break him down with your blank stare. He feels jittery and nervous and nauseous. Finally, he asks you what's wrong. Is this about our fight? Fuckin- seriously? He can't believe you're still upset. Of course I am, you say. He senses your frustration and he braces for the worst, flinching when you step closer. You explain to him, yet again, that though you're upset, you would never dare hurt him. He kinda wishes you would, at least then it would be all over and you wouldn't have to talk about it. You don't care that it makes him uncomfortable, you don't care if he squirms the whole time, you are going to address what's wrong in your relationship. He's not sure where to start, relying on you. You make up by talking it out in a serious manner, so that he understands.

Bonus! Tom is a big gift giver after an argument. Though he didn't grow up with money, he's quickly learned that if you throw enough of it at a problem, it'll go away. He knows you typically get quiet after a fight so he lets you be. In the morning he'll have something expensive and thoughtless wrapped up in a bow. You've learned that there's typically a double meaning to what he gets you and it often leaves you more hurt than you already were. You don't want something that cost a lot of money, you don't want something wrapped in a bow, presented to you like it's a million fucking dollars, you want him to change. You want to stop having the same arguments over and over again because, though he promises you he'll be better, he never is. That's what you want. You know if you said this though, it would fly right over his head. He doesn't want to change. He likes himself just the way he is. That's what you can't stand, that's why you go silent.

Bonus! Greg is pretty much oblivious to your silent treatment. He thinks, after your fight, which is less of a fight and more like a tense conversation when it comes to Greg, that everything is cool. Everything is going to go back to normal. He comes home after work talking about how Rome punched him in the arm and he thinks he's getting somewhere with Mencken when you ignore him. Sore throat? Are you coming down with something? No Greg, you say, frustrated, you're still mad at him. Oh. He didn't think you would be. He thought you got all you needed out when you were talking to him. You have to explain that the conversation you were having was actually a fight, that he participated in it, and he said some pretty hurtful things. Oh. He apologizes, but there's always a "but" in there with an excuse. That's what you're talking about. He's learned from the best at Waystar how not to take accountability.

[hypo-critic-art]

hey your art is so cool and pretty!!! I was wondering if you could give me some art tips ? :3

hello and thank you!! :]

i feel honoured to be asked something like that, i’m still learning myself and i have a long way until i feel satisfied with my art expression but here are some tips:

- observe the reality - my art teacher always said that the first step to becoming a good artists is to become a good observer. notice how the light reflects off of surfaces, how it affects their colour, how do different textures look, notice how a fabric crumples and why is a shirt you wear straight in some places while in others it’s not, see the shape of the eyes, how differently do they look from the side compared from the front, how many heads fit into average human body, see how tree branches grow from the tree- everything you see is a learning and observing opportunity. not only does it help you establish how things look before you start drawing, but also, it helps you appreciate neat little details in nature, in human bodies, even in objects of everyday use! world is beautiful!

- learn to understand the basics before developing your style - it helped me greatly to first battle the anatomy and nail the proportions, learn how to shade, know where to push my pencil hard or gently glide it on a paper before focusing on my style. but hey that’s just me!! i know equally big amount of people who say that getting to learn realism first ruined their style, others including myself feel more stable in their art getting to learn the realism first, so do as you feel is right but be aware of basic weight, proportions, muscles when drawing people for example

- references - references, references, and references again. i rarely draw without seeing something visual in front of me. it’s good to have couple of reference pictures (poses, clothing, images of background) in front of you and have fun figuring out how to combine them to reach your desired image. it’s a good practice and the search for reference images itself can give you more ideas for future drawings.

- you can make the most badass art using basic art supplies - that’s it!! don’t be discouraged when seeing others using expensive markets, watercolours, graphic tablets. some masters create using kids wax pencils, cheap charcoal or with just their finger on a free drawing app. though as you notice your progress in art, it can be good to upgrade your materials!! when i started painting i used the cheapest acrylic there is, now that i’ve started art school and professors recommended some brands of more pricey paints to me, and i genuinely felt that it made a difference and using them is much smoother than using a cheaper paint. but for the start - school-grade art supplies are a-ok to begin with!

- get a feedback - this is what probably helped me get better in art the most other than studying, drawing, practicing by myself - a feedback! whenever it’s your high school art teacher, your friends, art spaces on the internet (just be safe!!! especially if you’re a minor) the feedback is necessary, and often it’s the constructive criticism that helped me the most. not bashing or hate - constructive criticism. things like "it’s really great but the eyes may be too far from one another, look at the reference photo" or "i like it but something about the shadows seems off" you know? knowing there’s something i can improve and figuring out how to improve is great for your progress.

- have fun - don’t stress it! art should be an enjoyable hobby! if you don’t like what you’ve made - close your sketchbook, flip your canvas, take a walk, drink something, look at it later. sometimes there will be mistakes that are too late to be fixed, but sometimes it’s awesome to figure out how to fix them and know how to not do the mistake again! you’re learning! don’t be too hard on yourself, art is not a competition, art should be fun way to express yourself and your ideas :]

i hope it’s not too difficult to understand, i am not very good at explaining things so this is the best i can offer right now

thanks once again for the ask!!

[shiocreator]

bored so posting about my oc x canons because I yearn to yell. @soratsuart cuz ik you like them nabdjsnsn

Beware the text block under the read more

scarlette x idia is so funny to me cuz they're the same kind of person. Scarlette even tried her best to be a shut in during this period of her life before in the twst auing gets isekaied, (only thing keeping her going outside a lot was her mom dragging her around outta the house) and in regular stuff when she's an adult she actively needs a character arc of not being a shut in workaholic type.

Anxious, anti-social, definitely traumatized in their own ways... fun!

I think there's something neat about how scarlette would have gone down a more idia like path in twst if it wasn't for grim and the adeuce duo typically dragging her out, she's not a social butterfly by any means at ALL but she's learned how to get by and force herself to just Talk even if she hates it and is getting drained constantly and frequently scared

Idia probably clicked her as the "shy quiet girl whos nice" or smthn character archetype thing, (her first appearance and just glancing at her as an outsider perspective showcasing an accidental guise akin to that especially during books prologue-2 most definitely), before getting blasted with her full personality having far more depth in it, including being downright Scary and deranged. Maybe even thinking she's abit extroverted cuz she's always talking to people so surely! ...no she hates it and is outright jealous of his set up and says it out loud when told about him being a shut in who sends his tablet to classes whenever plausible

No one really expected her to say that his set up "sounds so good to have...." and when asking her why she thinks it sounds good, "so I can stay away from people easier"

SO LIKE. suffice to say the utter moment they've befriended each other she's just. Around a LOT. She hides there often as she can, probably deems it a safe space. She listens to idia genuinely with interest cuz she likes seeing and hearing him excited about a thing and would get him candy and stuff in return

I had an idea for a sort of card vignette for her, and it basically boiled down to several people tryna make her do things for them (Azul tryna get her on shift, Sam popping up to try and also get her on shift, Crowley doing Crowley things, Ace tryna get her to save him from Riddle etc etc stuff like that), and getting so overwhelmed actively freaking out in a breakdown running away to Ignihyde, and asking Idia if she can stay for awhile and hide, cuz she just wants things to be normal and people would find her at Ramshackle, trusting idia to not try and hurt her, and worried about her let's her stick around and helps things just be normal for awhile

Which I think says a lot about how Scarlette definitely would trust this man personally

And on idias side I think he would. Be scared of her a Lot at first cuz I can genuinely see her tryna make an effort in befriending him, which is scary when she's putting on a fake cheerful persona (aka acting like her friend Karra when she befriended her) cuz she thinks it's what's needed

But after that ruse fails and he learns she genuinely wants to be his friend and just didn't know How to go about that, he can't even try to start thinking of assumptions she just saw him as a charity case before she's apologizing so much and saying outright "I know you hate me now ill leave you alone as best as I can I'm sorry" and just. Frying his brain. The reaction he never expected . Anxiety and outright putting words into his mouth that he must hate her now. Surprise surprise gamer boy she's similar to you in the absolute WORST WAYS in her own unique flavor

So overall after THAT sorta hurdle I think he'd genuinely enjoy her company, vuz she's genuinely nice (it's still terrifying but he can deal since she aggressively drills in on how she's not tryna have any angles here), listens and gives her own feedback to add to the conversation, sometimes gifts him either fanart she made of something he mentioned liking before or sweets (muffins she baked at heartslabyul typically) too, plus she genuinely thinks he's cool and doesn't find him creepy, if anything she will infact bluntly comment on how pretty she finds him.

They would definitely bond over techy roboty stuff I feel, scarlette has basic knowledge of how to take things apart and only doesnt go further cuz she doesn't wanna break anything. So Idia should teach her how to build computers and properly take stuff apart. She would remember it all due to being very interested in stuff like that and I think he'd like her more for it after

he also would successfully turn her into an anime fan I think. Or smthn. Her mom absolutely had a whole set of old anime like sailor moon or smthn so she herself is AWARE of animes abit due to that but prob never looked much into some unless she enjoyed the art. She's someone who appreciates good art and animation he could get her to watch even a romance involved thing without gagging if she likes the art enough

He is scared of and respects her ability to play games like overcooked with 4 controllers all by herself as a "relaxing downtime game" . He doesn't entirely get it but holy fuck (/joke)

If Scarlette and Idia were friends before book 6 he would infact be surprised he's surprised she did this shit at all actually. You know. Ride a broom with pomefiore to a secret government esk facility. Why would he expect her to be Normal and Not Reckless.

"Didn't you say you were sick of everyone dragging you into trouble!? You did this on your own this time!?" "Yeah well I want my cat back"

book 6 she is not okay (long story shorts, he was attacked by grim, has had barely any sleep for awhile, has literally been soaking up blot since book 1 or damn maybe even the prologue, and soaked up abit of thunder spear magic cuz she was holding the base of it to help steady it 3 times, prob banged up from shit, absolutely tired and out of it by the end of the overblot) suffice to say she is ill and Idia and Ortho are gonna lose it in the book 6 prologue after learning she can just soak up blot and magic . She gets an ignihyde fit after this with a lot of anti blot magic in it for her to wear . She gets a LOT of dorm uniforms tailored to wear especially after this

Etc etc I like them a lot and idia deeply wants to know What Is WRONG With Her while also genuinely caring about her enough to try and get abit better for her not wanting to make her think he dislikes her, while she generally thinks of him pretty positively and accidentally ends up helping him go outside occasionally just out of begging him to go with her somewhere out in society cuz someone else is dragging her out

Now getting into any romance is a fucking nightmare cuz idia is Not that brave and Scarlettes dense as fuck and when she's not dense she is Scared and Avoidant due to assuming anyone who she crushes on will infact Hate Her due to childhood rejection trauma hahsbGV. So as you can imagine I have fun with that ♡ (ghost bride is a very fun event for me when it comes to scarlette.)

[cadmium-free]

I’ve been thinking a lot about critique, especially in the context of the art school, and where it succeeds and where it fails the artist.

So much of the critique we are taught to give, expect, and receive happens when something is finished. You present a fully rendered piece of work in front of the classroom for judgment. You’ve been taught never to just say, I like it, It conveys its message, It’s lovely, because that’s not “actionable” feedback. And instead the piece is combed over for flaws, because pointing out a flaw is “actionable”.

But it’s not actually always very helpful, is it? It demoralizes the uncertain learner. And the piece is finished, so any critiques may never be applied. There is no guarantee in the modern conception of the art school that you ever work on another assignment that you can apply the critique. Did you learn anything, other than to be terrified of flaws? What was subjective and objective? Did you learn to hone your own critical eye to your own art, or simply to fear that you’re missing something?

I think, so often, of the students crying in the halls after, during critique. And of all the people who hate critiques. Critique is such a beautiful part of the art making process, but most of us do not understand how to apply it, when to apply it, why to apply it, or what it really is.

Critique of the final work is useful. I think in some ways, that critique is most valuable to the viewer, to understand what they’re looking at, why and how the art works or does not, to ask questions. All critique has its place. But critique during the process of making, that’s the most powerful critique as an artist. It’s also the critique the fewest people have access to. You have to be in the classroom or the confidence of an artist to be allowed into the incredibly intimate and vulnerable critique space. It’s this extreme show of trust. It’s this precious thing, opportunity, skill, that I think the art school squanders by prioritizing the end of project group critique.

Really, there is nothing more valuable than learning how to talk about your work unfinished, and, as an artist, learning how to ask questions about your work in progress. Not simply putting your work out there for judgment, but to ask questions about all the things you’re puzzling over. Learning to present the uncertainty, wondering where your piece is going to go next. You might forge this relationship with some trusted friends. People with taste, eyes, instinct you trust.

Maybe this post is just a love letter to the in progress critique. Maybe I want people to be free to just say, I like it, It conveys its message, It’s lovely, because sometimes you need to hear that before you really dig in. Maybe I want people to learn to critique positively, focusing on what is working now and trying to figure out together how to highlight that and improve on it to show off your strengths. I don’t know. I’m stewing in my thoughts. I’m sad for the students crying in the halls. But I’m in love with every person who I trust to critique my work, that gently mould the goopy raw bits of my heart I give them to pick at.

[cannicullistic]

Borderline Plural Demographic.

It's the new plural & cluster b inclusive server, with a mission goal to fight stigma, create a safe space for your people, and bring people together!

This is an initial post on the generic guidelines of our server, our mission statement (aka what we stand for) and proposing to our demographic about us.

Guidelines to the Discord Server & Tumblr Community:

Respect everyone who comes in, and out, of our server. We welcome good faith identities such as 'lesboys' or others you may be familiar with, Anti-Contact Paraphilia's, Proshippers & related. We do not welcome TransID or ill faith labels like transHarm or anti labels.

Please note that NSFW Content in general is bannable within our server, however we do not have control over what a user makes their profile picture, status, bio and such. We can only ask them to change server side stuff if they have the ability to on discord. Otherwise if its something like a spam bot, we also ban them on sight.

We are an endogenic, plural, non-traumagenic centric community that welcomes anyone outside of plurality & cluster B to join. We even allow singlets who are willing to learn!

We do not want members here who are 14 and younger, or 31 and older. Our server and community range from 15-30 for security reasons. If we find out you're not in this range, we reserve the right to remove you instantly from the community, no questions asked.

Drama is bannable. Period. If you bring up something with a user that occured over 3-4 months ago, we typically take this information with a grain of salt because we believe after 3-4 months, a person can make a good change for themselves and seek out help, actively get better and improve their behaviour. Do not witch hunt any of our users, it's not acceptable at all.

As this is a shared space between minors and adults, we kindly ask that adults and minors refrain from DMing no matter the situation. If a minor requires help from a vent for example, an adult may not offer to DM, this is a red flag to us and we will question the adult in a ticket, asking why they'd want to be in a private space with a minor where we don't know what they could be saying or planning. We do not say this to think adults cant be trusted with minors.. it's just that we cannot and will not risk anyone being put in harms way like this. Just simply don't DM people of the opposite age group, only keep to your own please.

Respect everyone's role and boundaries. For some you may need to do a bit of extra diving to see them in a users account and or bio, this isn't too hard to do, and saves people from being upset!

Please use common sense when joining our server, and have some level of emotional maturity. We stand by the idea as well that systems are held accountable for their entire system, be advised.

Stigmatizing, stereotyping, giving negative feedback of and discrediting disorders (especially Cluster B disorders) are a punishable offense and will NOT be taken lightly. Also, this is a server that is pro-recovery for all disorders and against censoring food. We also are pro-emotional permanence and allow IRL's and DA's. However, we don't condone constant feeding of delusions unless it is a comfort (or identity) situation for someone.

Lastly; Creating a safe space for Cluster B disorders can be hard on even staff who may have these or other disorders, so how can you the user help us out? By fighting stigma, stereotypes, and supporting those with these disorders by actively reaching out and providing helpful links like our server and our resources!

Our Mission statement

Our mission statement is to create a community that is stigma & stereotype free for especially Cluster B disorders, along with validating the experiences they, and plurals, have. It's the best of both worlds!

discord permalink: https://discord.gg/8PTCt9v5zj

We invite you to take us on as a new community for you to join - feel free to ask questions under posts related to the server or community, and also open tickets within the discord! Remember, you are seen, you are loved, and you are unique. <3

[dipplinduo]

Hey there! I'm actually a big fan of your work , and as a rookie writer myself, I wanted to know if you have some motivation advises (Comparison gives me so much writer blocks and I don't even post)

I love how I received and chose to answer this ask after having a lack of motivation streak that I only broke quite literally a few hours ago xD

I think it's interesting you're bringing up comparison - it honestly might be at the root of what you're specifically experiencing so I'm gonna focus my response on that. I could be off, but it sounds like seeing what other people are doing feels intimidating and puts a lot of pressure on you. So if it isn't "perfect" or "up to par" with what others seem to be doing, it's not good enough to post.

This is my personal take:

I saw a post (wish I could link it but can't remember where it was) that really resonated with me not too long ago. It talked about how we've been conditioned as a society in a way to see a lot of the arts as something to perfect; if you want to sing, you should focus on learning how to become a good singer. If you are a dancer, you should focus on learning forms to become a better dancer.

The post goes on to make the point that this is not why the arts were founded in the first place.

We as humans began to sing because we enjoyed singing. We danced because we liked to dance. We paint, write, and draw because - at each art's purest and most rudimentary form - it is the power and experience of personal expression. The benefit wasn't to be perfect, it was to enjoy the creative outlet in itself.

This is what has always connected me to writing. This is why I'm okay with posting the way I do, and why I don't mind light humor about my typos and all that. Because at the end of the day, you're writing because you enjoy it. You're writing to express and share with others. And you're doing it all for free. Your willingness to give the gift of your creativity out to the world is beautiful in itself.

This next part might sound a lot easier said than done, but again, this is all just my personal route that goes in conjunction with this philosophy:

See other writers/creators as your peers. Think of it like a potluck - everyone's bringing their own food, and everyone has different ideas. But it's cool because now you have mashed potatoes along with your favorite food, and someone else brought ice cream. No one dish is going to "win" - it's the culmination of everyone's efforts that fills plates up and make the event (fandom) enjoyable and connective.

Recognize the way in which your fic is uniquely yours. What's the touch you want to have? Things you enjoy that you want to feel yourself as you create, and perhaps share with others? Romance, humor, fun, peace, angst? Maybe certain situations for characters, or a moment you want to see with your favorite ship? The more you get in touch with what you want to portray, the more credit you'll be able to rightfully give your own work.

Engage with creators/commenters that are additive to your personal enjoyment and creativity. Going with the whole "this is all for fun, and is basically everyone's hobby over life and death" thing - the people you surround yourself with, or even the content you consume, can directly affect your experience in writing for a fandom. I personally get a lot out of talking about my ideas with others and through inviting and responding to feedback from people that engage with my work. If you like engaging with someone else's work, go ahead! See what stands out to you as inspiring, and let that be your takeaway to mull on (as you're essentially learning more about yourself and what you find entertaining or engaging).

I'm gonna get off my soapbox now (lol), but I also wanted to add one more thing:

There unfortunately is a competitive culture in a lot of recreational spaces, and especially with the arts and over the internet lol. There are people who like to overly criticize because it makes them feel better about themselves/their own work, there are people who may choose to dislike you or your work simply because they view you as competition, etc.

These kinds of choices some (not the majority of people!) may choose to make hold no actual reflection of your character or what you're writing. It is someone else's reflection being projected onto you. You may not be able to control what they do, but you can control how you respond. And my advice on that?

It's your free time. Don't give the haters a platform, just disengage & tune into the folks that uplift & encourage you instead. B)