#you're just getting upset over the author's original intent

[rattlingmycage]

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[prince-liest]

On Alastor calling Vox “lover”, i thought it was the complete reverse - that he said it with only malicious intent in the wire play fic (to satisfy his own itch to hurt vox), and in the latest one it’s just “i’m being sarcastic” (but i don’t feel well and i need a stepping stone at this very moment tho i’ll never admit it) but i guess i misunderstood? tho i suppose this only shows how well u write alastor’s character because he is not easy to decipher

Alastor is a character that lies a lot, both to himself about his feelings and to others, and his narration is pretty unreliable! I do try to insert, like, the hints, context, and behaviors that point to what his true feelings actually are, but a lot of it is through implication and so there's a lot of room for different interpretation in how I write him!

That said, you're not the first person to think he was being genuinely malicious and nothing but in the wireplay fic, so... death of the author and all that, but if you are interested in my take on how it was originally intended:

Alastor is so incredibly fucking fond of Vox in that scene in S6E66, Now Rerunning: The Hentai Episode! He says some absolutely heinous shit, but his tone is fond, and warm, and condescending, and it is very, very obvious to him that Vox enjoys being humiliated and at Alastor's whims. He compliments Vox's distress, he makes a little winking joke about the "rut" comment because they both know that was Alastor just the other day, and he unequivocally denies any implication that he's rejecting Vox's love.

He's a total narcissist on a power trip, and Vox being so into his little menacing routine that he drops the I think I'm in love with you is basically heroin to Alastor's ego. But he's also just been growing increasingly fond of Vox over the course of their relationship - there's a reason that the very next installment is one where Alastor is in fact really fucking upset to have been ghosted, even though a lot of the cause of that ghosting is that neither of them are open communicators that do things like properly check in a la, "Hey, we just did a really undernegotiated scene where I mocked your very sincere emotions, where are we on that?" because they've been flying by the seat of their pants and expect mutual understanding where there isn't necessarily enough of it and getting away with it. Until that point, at least.

So he says "lover" because he's making fun of Vox, yes, but he's making fun of Vox because he enjoys and is genuinely fond of Vox when he's pathetic and obsessive, and also because he knows that Vox enjoys it, too. Safe, sane, and consensual? No. But not genuinely malicious in intent, either!

He doesn't want to hurt Vox for the sadistic hell of it (to quote Alastor himself: "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already!"), he wants to hurt Vox because the fact that Vox is so in love that he will let him (and ask for more) is acutely and inordinately pleasing to Alastor. A lot of his dialogue echoes that: he tells Vox to ask for it, then tells him to beg, then makes fun of him for not asking Alastor to stop.

And afterward: Well, he's not very good at actually being reassuring, but he makes a few genuine efforts at it, to the extent that his own ego will allow him to. If he didn't actually give a shit, he very much would have dumped Vox on the floor after having his fun and just left. But he cares enough to make sure Vox is at least remotely alright, and he's even fond enough to suffer through some skin-to-skin until his squick meter taps him out.

In contrast, in Network 0666: No Signal, Alastor is once again mocking Vox for claiming to love him - but he's doing it while struggling his way through a panic attack that has sent him spiraling under the assumption that Vox's alleged "love" is just possessiveness that led him to try to leash Alastor to his own power. He says "lover" and immediately follows it by describing the ways in which he thinks Vox is a traitor who is bastardizing the very word. He's not, at that moment, even using it as a weapon against Vox - why would it hurt Vox, after all, if he doesn't really love Alastor - but rather as a way of mocking himself for actually falling for the ruse. He doesn't genuinely break out of it until he reaches to touch the chain again and finds that it's been gone since Vox reached out to help him.

Anyway, I hope that helped or at least was an interesting read! Alastor is a very unreliable narrator and it makes him a great deal of fun.

[creationsabyss]

My thoughts on the Aventurine drama

I've been inactive for a while, I was (still am) busy in real life but coming back online to post and seeing discourse about a newly crowned favorite character is disheartening. Even more so, that people are harassing other writers over a drama I feel is overblown.

I have thoughts regarding it but I'm unsure if my opinion would be appreciated. But if you'd like to peacefully talk it out with me, I'd be happy to lend an ear. I'd like to hear both sides, as meager as my opinion may be.

Oh boy, here we go.

Aventurine is a character, a fictional being born to entertain the players. He is not real. He can not be offended by what you create of him. There is no point getting upset on the behalf of a character and prioritizing fiction over a person who does actually exist.

If we do want to condemn slavery fics, why not also cancel slave reader fics? Or ones that include things such as dead dove (including yanderes in general) fics because those topics are equally terrible to condone and write about from that point of view. Or how about other characters that have similar topics in their lore. Should those also be canceled too?

*There are also folks who make problematic pieces to help cope with their own trauma. Does that mean they should be canceled too? (On that note: making a piece that holds problematic content does not always mean the person condones it in real life. Fiction is fiction for a reason.)

In the end, I think everyone can have their own opinions, but I would like to say that your opinions do not justify terrible actions. Just because you disagree with something does not justify you bullying someone into deleting one of their works, whether it is art or writing or anything else, I do not think that is justifiable. Harassing someone or calling people to harass them is not right either.

*If you did disagree with it, why not message the author about it instead of making accusatory posts? Even when done with good intentions, all it does is cause harm when it's practically inviting people to go harass someone over a fanfiction. A very mild fanfiction at that.

If you disagree with a piece, cool. That's your opinion. Just don't interact with it then. Block that creator or that tag or whatever it is that led you there. Or if you're curious, ask that creator.

Also, to reiterate, in my opinion, fiction is still just fiction. Especially when it's a fanfiction about a fictional character. Yes, his canon lore exists, but people can use that basis in fanfiction, something that will inherently warp canon because we are not the original writers and can not capture him in the exact way he was created. In case that doesn't make sense: Fanfiction does not have to comply with the original lore. Also since some of you seem to be forgetting: fiction does not mirror real life.

If you are truly that concerned over sensitive topics like that, directing that energy towards projects that involve such topics in real life would be much better than attacking people on the internet.

[secretariatess]

Artificial Cont.

Next installment of the @inklings-challenge.

When the human authorities arrived,they took away the surveillance androids away to review any information we may have captured. They sat me in a metal walled room with a metal table and two metal metal chairs. On the table was a computer facing the human's side. I had to focus on connecting to the computer in order to share all the data I had of that time period for the human to scan and assess.

It was a silent process. I was not programmed to converse, and the researcher was not inclined to speak. He was too intent in scouring the footage for anything I may have missed- for any clues that would lead to the identity of the culprit.

He was getting a little fatigued from his work after a long time, and someone else came to replace him. His replacement leaned over the table, fists on the table as he watched the screen before saying anything.

"So not a thing," the replacement remarked.

There were a couple of taps as the original researcher showed him his lack of notes.

"Fitting," said the replacement, "as they're suspecting this to be another Scourge hit."

The name Scourge brought up a database in my memory. A criminal of New Boston, the Scourge graffitied walls everywhere he went, stole androids of all kinds, and was possibly involved with multiple disappearances of humans. Given that his crimes occurred all over New Boston, he was also either a hopper or multiple people.

"Are they saying this is confirmation of his arrival in this district?" asked the original.

"You know them," said the replacement. "They'll hold off admitting it for as long as they can. Don't want to admit they've been duped just like every other district. They want to be the ones to catch him. The ones to outsmart him."

The original gave a hollow laugh. "I've sat here for hours trying to find something and don't even have a hint of a suspect . . . and since you're here, no one else does either. The guy's, like, magic."

"Impossible," was the replacement's only reply. He shooed the original out of his chair and began the exact same thing the original did. The original called out some form of farewell as the door closed behind him.

"Chances are the dolt didn't properly check what he was looking at," the replacement muttered. "Maybe I should check your memory to see if he was sleeping."

"He was not sleeping," I said automatically.

"Shut up, 1121," the replacement snapped. "I didn't ask you to speak."

Humans often got upset at things doing as they were programmed.

The replacement was more vocal than the original, but he did not appreciate any response from me when one of his questions triggered me to do so. He spent a lot more time scouring my memories than the original, even cursing me when I had looked away from the spot that later got graffitied. A third later replaced him, but few words were exchanged between them. After all three determined I had nothing to offer, I was sent to the charging ports.

I headed up to the floor of the charging ports- pods to snugly fit one android each. There was a lock that connected to the back of the head where it charged and restored functions that were running too hot. Androids were shut off during the whole process. We only came back online when a human undocked us, and we were unable to say how long we had been shut off. Only certain androids were programmed with that kind of understanding of time.

As I headed to the nearest available pod, my path was blocked by another surveillance android. I could tell that she was unscrewed somewhere by her appearance. The pink hair of surveillance androids was too messy, her expression was not approved programming, and she also conversed.

"I had dreams," she told me. "When I was shut off- I had dreams."

She was malfunctioning. It happened from time to time. I reported it to the developers, as she likely did not report herself. Malfunctioning androids rarely did.

"Do you have dreams?" she asked me.

I did not respond. It was not in my programming to answer that question. That was a question for humans. I only stepped around her when the developers had sent the check that the report was received and I was not required to continue observing her.

They would arrive shortly to remove her from the charging ports and do maintenance. If that did not fix her, she would be pulled from the surveillance android crew. I did not know what would happen to her after that. We were not informed about that.

I stepped into a pod and locked in, shutting down.

[moonstruckme]

hi!! as one of my favourite authors, i want to ask you what i should do in this situation - please dont be offended or take it the wrong way :)

i submitted a request to one of my other favourite authors a few months ago and they haven't written it - not saying they have to ! i totally understand that sometimes a request just doesnt inspire you or you just dont want to write it which is totally valid! accepting fanfiction requests is not an obligation and it should never feel like that! but i am in a bit of a pickle. i hate sending the same request to multiple authors, but in this case, if i dont know if they are ever going to write it/they have chosen not to write it, is it alright to send it to another author? it just seems disloyal, in a way, to send the exact same request to multiple authors so at least someone will accept and i dont want to do it! i dont want the author i originally sent the request to to see it on someone else's blog and feel bad about it but i also want to know if it would be okay? because maybe they personally dont like the request or maybe there was a tumblr glitch and it didnt get sent (in which case i dont want to spam request)- idk! but if it were you who i sent a request to and then you rejected/did not write it for a few months how would you feel if you saw the same request on someone else's blog?

feel free to ignore this if you wish to !! i love you and i love your works so please take care of yourself and stay hydrated 🤎🤎

Hi! It's really considerate of you to ask babe, it's a complicated issue!

So on one hand, there's always the possiblity that they're fully planning to write it and just haven't yet. I think one option is to just message the author/send something to their inbox asking in a very no-pressure way whether they know the request you're talking about and would be okay with you submitting it somewhere else. Because personally, I would be a bit upset if I saw something that I was planning to write being written by another author (even if I might suspect the situation you're describing has taken place, I have no way of knowing you didn't just submit those requests at the same time, you know?)

Also, and this is just my own philosophy on this, but when I've submitted requests to authors and they haven't been answered, I just sort of take that as me having placed a bet and it not panning out. (Which is definitely not the best way to describe it, I just can't seem to articulate what I'm trying to say atm) I typically let that one go, usually because in my case I've submitted that specific request to that specific author for a reason and I wouldn't really want someone else to write it anyway, but that's just me. I hope that doesn't come across as patronizing or like "get over it" in any way, I just wanted to add my perspective as a requestor as well as a writer.

Overall, I'd say the safest bet is to just make all writers involved as aware of the issue as you can, because in my experience, writing a request that someone else has gotten makes me feel like I've accidentally betrayed that other author. Maybe messaging the author you sent the request to to ask if you can submit somewhere else, and, whether they respond or not, just briefly disclosing in your new request like "I submitted this months ago to x use/another author but they haven't responded, so I get if you're not comfortable with this" might work?

I realize I've given you a lot of hoops to jump through and obviously you're your own person so do what you want! You seem like you're going into it with great intentions and I'm sure that'll come across whatever you choose to do :)

[kleincantwrite]

Stuck - Dainsleif - Part #1

Modern AU - You and Dainsleif get stuck in an elevator together

Synopsis: It's always been hard to tell what dainsleif is really thinking. His emotions seem to always ebb and flow, he's sometimes blunt, other times passionate. His erratic behaviour never interfered with you, however in contrast to the cold, blunt Dainsleif you see in the workplace, you see a more.... interesting side of him.

Content warnings: None (?)

Rating: SFW

Authors note: I picture Dain to be somewhat bipolar, coming off as cold and blunt, but in reality, he just doesn't know how to act. Autism impact part 1

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It's a late night at the office, and as you finish up your work for the evening, you notice a light on in the staff room across from your desk. Getting ready to head home, you go to collect your personal belongings. Your heels clacking on the tile floor, it's cold in the office, the heating having been broken for a while. The lack of carpet or any real decor adding to the chill. Approaching the light of the staff room, you open the door fully, announcing your arrival. You hear a soft gasp, shocking you. Looking into the room, you see the source of the sound, your co worker, Dainsleif.

"Do you always have to sneak around?" He suddenly speaks after a moment of awkward silence. His eyes dart around, squinting at you. He's probably been here since early morning, he's absolutely tired by now, and it shows. "I didn't know you were here, sorry." You respond, not sure how to act, being very tired yourself. You walk over to the lockers that line the walls, something Dainsleif had actually requested, rather than just using regular cupboards. You were sure Dainsleif had requested lockers for his own privacy rather than worrying about the privacy of his co workers. Dainsleif is a very private man, very rarely showing any real emotion to others, aside from a small smile every now and again when it's a good day.

Opening your locker, you put in the combination and pull the metal door open, reaching for your belongings. "You're going home?" You can feel him glaring at you as he asks. You turn around after grabbing your bag and your personal phone, shutting the locker as you face him. "That's the plan. Are you planning to stay for much longer?" You question, not really wanting to walk out to your car by yourself. Late nights in the city tend to bring out some... interesting people. "Why are you asking?" Dainsleif asks suspiciously, eyebrows dropping as he crosses his arms and stands up straight. You always seemed to upset him, even if it really wasn't your intention. He's always been somewhat lenient with some of your ruder coworkers, despite having the reputation to get them fired with a few words to your boss. However, when it came to you, he always seemed to have it out for you. Always judging you silently, questioning everything you do, observing you quietly while you work. It was unusual, but you were used to him acting this way. Although it was upsetting, the fact that you couldn't befriend him like you had originally planned, you still held him in high respects. "I just wanted to know if you had keys to lock up once you're ready to head out." You say, trying to clear yourself from his suspicion. He just glares, turning away from you, walking towards the door and turning the light off. You hurry after him, confused as to what he was doing, before coming to the realisation that he was leaving.

"Well? Are you coming?" He stands at the door to the office, watching you stand in the staff room doorway. Shocked by his question, you fumble with the staff room door handle, before he sighs and walks over to you, taking your key out of your hands gently, but forcefully, as he turns the key in the lock. Holding your keys back out to you, he gives you a judgemental look. "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today. I'm a bit shaky." He furrows his brows at this statement, looking angry at you. Afraid that he was going to scold you, you look away, but he simply turns away and walks towards the door, once again stopping and turning to wait for you.

"Hurry. It's late and I would much rather be at home than here." He says coldly. After locking the office door, the two of you walk towards the elevator. Working on the sixth floor of an office building certainly wasn't something you had pictured yourself doing when you were younger, but it paid your bills, and allowed you just enough time to enjoy your hobbies. You walked quietly beside Dainsleif, awkwardness creeping in between the two of you. Surprisingly, you could tell that he was feeling it too, hearing him clear his throat. Stopping at the elevator, you reach out to press the down button, before he reaches out quickly to press it before you do, glaring at you as he moves away to wait for the elevator. So childish. You think to yourself. It was kind of cute, watching him do something so out of character, to get competitive over pushing the elevator button before you could.

The elevator chimes as it arrives at your floor. The doors open, and you step in, feeling the cold metal of the elevator already. Realising you forgot your coat in the staff room, dreading having to walk from your car to the building tomorrow morning, in the freezing cold. You let out a shiver, teeth chattering, as Dainsleif almost snaps his neck to look at you, glaring. "You left your coat?" He asks, with that cold, deadpan voice. "Yeah, I must've left it at my desk, or in the staff room or something." You shuffle your feet around, worried for the second time tonight that a scolding was incoming. Instead, he does something unexpected and totally out of character. He grabs your arm gently and pulls you into him, wrapping his coat around you. You almost want to push against him, wanting to question him, but instead you decide to just enjoy the warmth. You shuffle further into him, holding him by wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt him stiffen up slightly, but he didn't push you away. You were always impressed by his hips, he has always had an excellent waistline. What are you thinking? Imagining your co workers' body in such a way? Flustering yourself, you hide your face in his chest. He doesn't move his body at all, but he raises his arm to run his hands through your hair stiffly. This is so gentle, so unusual, it feels wrong to be so close to him after all of the glares he shoots you, after all of the blunt, borderline cruel 'advice' he gives you in the workplace.

"Are you still cold?" He asks stiffly. "Not anymore. You're warm." The last part slips out, but it seems to work in your favour as he pulls you closer. You look at the elevator display, it shows you're nearing the second floor. That is, until the screen flashes with an error, and the elevator comes to a buckling halt, shaking you around, jarring your body slightly. Dainsleif takes a step back, almost letting you fall, before you steady yourself on the side of the elevator. "What was that? Is the elevator broken? Did it stop?" Question after question, you look at him, awaiting an answer, expecting him to know.

"No clue." he says bluntly. Panic starts to set in as your brain goes over all of the things that could go wrong right now. It's so late that you don't think the elevator repair people would even be awake, let alone in the building. You would call emergency services, but your phone buzzes, turning off. It's out of battery. Just your luck, being stuck in an elevator late at night with someone that does'nt like you. Just your luck. Dainsleif takes a step towards you, pulling you to his side before pulling his phone out and dialling a number. Thank god his phone is working. You haven't said a word, too upset with the situation to really even think about what to say. "We're stuck in an elevator." You hear him say, his voice muffled due to your head being buried into his coat. He rattles off the address, giving some short, brief details, before letting them know his phone was low on power. You hear the operator say something, and he says something before hanging up.

"Are they going to get us out?" You ask, not really expecting a proper answer. "yes." He says briefly, before nudging you away from him, and the cold hitting you like a train. You look at him, feeling somewhat dejected, as he pulls his coat off and throws it at you. "Put it on. It'll be harder on the emergency services if they have to pull your frozen body out of the elevator." he chuckles a little bit. He actually chuckles. He actually made an attempt at a joke towards you? "Do you hate me, Dainsleif?" You're not sure why you ask, but you feel as though you need to. He looks at you pointedly, but it soon changes to confusion. A look you're not used to seeing on him at all. "Why do you ask?" He says, not giving you an answer. "You always look so upset with me, and you're really mean to me in the office." You say, not really sure with yourself, uncertain as to why you even said anything in the first place. "Mean?" He looks taken aback, his eyes widening ever so slightly, staring at you with those stunning eyes. You look down at your feet, before wrapping the coat further around yourself, feeling like a kid being reprimanded by someone. Not getting an answer from you, Dainsleif clears his throat, also looking away awkwardly. "I don't hate you. I just know how to seperate work from personal time." He says, eyes softening, just a bit, but still talking to you in that cold, blunt tone. You feel somewhat comforted by his words, despite how unfeeling they seem.

He steps towards you, looking at you. "Do you hate me?" He asks, with a gentler tone. "No". You answer right away. You don't even have to think about it, because you already knew what your answer would be even from the beginning. You quite liked dainsleif, when he wasn't glaring at you or huffing about some problem he apparently has with the work environment. He was very beautiful. Not handsome, but beautiful. Pretty, even. His face had such soft features, his eyes were so full of life, curiosity, emotion. His hair was always styled perfectly, occasionally with a hairpin or two to keep it out of his face. His lips are a soft pink, they never look chapped. He's the definition of perfect. If there was one person in the world that could have a running chance at being the most beautiful person, it would be him, by far. You notice he hasn't said anything, and you've been staring at his face for a while now. Has he moved closer? You think so. Your toes are almost touching, and he's leaning towards you, reaching his hand up. Whoa whoa whoa, what? Is he going to kiss you? Why? For what reason? All of a sudden? What should you do? What are you supposed to do in this situation? This is so out of nowhere that-

You feel his hands graze your hips, and his lips connect with yours. You almost pull away, almost. But you don't. Have you wanted him to kiss you? this badly? You put your hands on his shoulders, pulling him into you just a bit more, before he disconnects from the kiss, leaving your lips feeling cold from the sudden loss of the warmth of his body. He's still holding you in his arms, studying your expression before moving away, pulling away from you completely. "My apologies, I completely misread the situation." He says, looking somewhat embarrassed. Again, a side to him you'd never even dreamt of seeing. He's always been so... erratic? Especially with the way he shows his emotions. You quickly apologise, explaining you weren't upset or offended. Both of you feeling awkward, the two of you stand in silence, shifting your feet every couple of moments, until he finally speaks up "Would you mind if I were to kiss you again?"

______________________________________________________________

Part 2 will literally just be pure smut, I'll write it later because I'm so, so tired right now T-T

[ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing]

So...I have a question, (if you have the time!) because I'm not new to Fandom at all, but I'm not particularly vocal other than commenting. Like I don't respond to other commenters comments, you know? But is it acceptable (as not the author of the fic in question) to call out a commenter who's comment was solely a "hey will there be more of this?" variety? Or would that make the author feel like I'm then stepping out of bounds or starting a fight deal? Bc I think that comment is really not nice, especially when they don't say anything about the story that is posted! But I also know there's alot of etiquette around commenting and I don't want to upset the author even more you know?

Hello!

I think in this case it very much depends. I'm no expert myself but as someone who has gotten a fair bit of comments on continuing things, I think it depends a lot.

Someone asking me if I'm going to continue something—normally in question form or with a compliment attached—doesn't bother me personally. Now, I can't say what other authors may think but in that case, I assume good intentions.

My problem lies with people who are demanding things—or trying to guilt me into continuing something. Some of my fics are finished, some are not. There is normally a reason that I've not continued with something (as evidenced by my own personal ratio of finished to unfinished fics) and a request to finish it isn't a problem but I don't owe anyone anything.

When I originally joined fandom back in 2010, I loved it because of how community-based it was. I like sharing ideas and hearing ideas and bonding over something that was a big part of my life and I feel like we've lost that.

It's like the Tiktok of fandom to write nowadays. Your goal is to pump out as much content as fast as possible to become a BNF and if you do manage to get there, you aren't touchable (which is very not true as evidenced by the loss we've felt in the fandom in the last two years). I think more than anything it would probably be isolating, though I can really only speculate.

I've kind of found the friends and discord servers that allow me to feel the community that I thought was lost and that enabled me to be able to continue with what I do in a way that worked and felt good for me, but I feel as though for every one of me there's got to be so many people that we've lost who aren't able to find that connection.

So all of this is probably a bit off from your original question, please excuse my tangent but with that said this is what I think;

If you believe in someone, if you believe in what they do, your intentions are good and you feel as though they are being stepped on, by all means step in. If they were on the street you'd have said someone should do something. Just because we are behind screens doesn't change my opinion on that but also, be kind. I think that sometimes people don't understand the etiquette and your words matter.

If someone just doesn't understand something, getting angry won't change their mind and neither will unkind words. Trust me I've been there, where you are just tired of the bad and you snap at one person and more often than not I've regretted it. But that doesn't mean it's not a teaching moment. Stepping in to say something isn't cool—or to assure an author that what someone is doing isn't cool has always been something I've advocated for.

Because as fandom has gotten bigger—and by nature more diverse—you're finding more and more people either don't understand the etiquette or they don't respect it.

So if an author asks for critique. go ahead and give it.

But don't just randomly comment something negative on something provided to you for free. Don't create a place where authors are afraid to post because they might get a comment about 'xyz'.

God knows if you check on my first fic and my last fic there's a huge difference. In only three years, I'm miles ahead of where I was. But what if someone had posted a ton of negative shit and I'd walked away?

That's 82 fics gone from the Star Wars tag.

So if someone asks for you to just walk away when you don't like something, do that.

If someone wants to interact with the fandom, interact with them.

Bring back what made fandom such a big draw and you'll find that it will only get bigger. Whether people know it or not there are more people excited for it than against it. Let's start acting like it.

[basiliskinmybed]

hi, you don’t need to post a response to this. just read it at least please. sorry this is long, i’m not going to send you hate or a bunch of angry messages like you might be getting, i just want to share my opinion with you. i thought it was interesting that you mentioned KBS (the fanfic, not sure if the author wants it in this conversation or not so i’m abbreviating the name). the cultish behavior that harry disapproved of in the story also included spreading negativity about the work of authors who really didn’t ask for it in a community that also did not really ask for it. i think that is where people were upset with you, because it opened a conversation of mocking what other people like under the guise of criticism/personal preferences. sort of similar to the people sharing hate in that story’s discord server under the guise of trolling or that it’s okay because they are just opinions. i know this wasn’t your intention, and i’m very sure you just meant your original post as a little bit of fun to talk about something that has been sitting on your mind for some time. these are just your opinions and you can have them, but i think it was just the way that you went about it which irritated people. although not your intention, it did come across a bit mean-spirited and inconsiderate, and it did seem like you shaded something that is very well-liked in this little fandom. this will draw criticism towards yourself and your opinion just from the very nature of the conversation as it is quite negative to discuss things you dislike, and tagging the main ship tags opens that dialogue to many who likely don’t want to see that. many people here seem to have come from fandoms where drama was non-stop over silly things like this, just topics that spiral out of control until people’s feelings get hurt and nasty things get said that aren’t necessary. it’s actually really stupid and very juvenile but unfortunately that’s what it is, and i think that’s why people didn’t want you to start a conversation like that so publicly.. it invites people to spread negativity about things that others find enjoyable and people argue about it. especially leading up to tom’s birthday which is supposed to be a fun time in the fandom, full of amazing creative content from everyone.. a conversation like this circling might make people insecure over what they planned to post. so sorry again about this being so long, you might completely disagree with me and that’s okay. i just wanted to explain to you without it needing to be public necessarily or make you feel like you’re being ganged up on. i really hope you don’t let this situation heavily affect your view on the fandom or the ship itself, i know it’s selfish of me to wish but you might find some that do agree with your opinions, meaning that it’s not like everyone hates you (and unfortunately, there is no community that is forever positive without arguments). i hope you have a nice rest of your week and that this situation doesn’t give you further anxieties or troubles <3 take care!

Hi. So, about KBS, if i recall it correctly, that discord service in the story was talking shit behind the auhors' back and harry, they were talking about how pathetic he's, i remember how that made him frustrated and sad. i didn't do that, there was nothing against anyone. not everyone may like my attitude in the original post, but i didn't intend to do harm or wasn't even serious while making it. however, they attacked me, called me slurs, sended many anon hates. that's why i thought my situation was similar to the story, because i'm overwhelmed by the pressure like him. someone even said, '"...and the author has more talent in their little finger than you will ever have in your sad little life, going by all the insecurity, bitterness, and discourtesy that you're spewing here." don't you think they took it too far for no reason? for nothing? and now they're gonna say i'm playing the victim like it's all my fault and deserve all of it. lovely. i'm human too, if they only thought it as much as they think "what would author feel?" just because i said their work is not for me. thank you for being kind though, i appreciate that and see your points. and lastly, i don't think there's a single thing in this world that would make me hate tomarrymort, let alone for something petty like this. :)

[thequibblah]

I LOVE UR FIC COME TOGETHER SO MUCH any tips for new fanfic writers?

yes!! definitely!! myriad thoughts on writing here

i said this to someone else earlier — start small. try things like the 30 day drabble challenge (those still exist, don't they?) or inktober, where you have a small-scale prompt that you can turn into a quick little idea. you'll want to exercise your writing muscles in a smaller playground before you hop to something big — not because you're not capable, but because you'll have a stronger grasp of your own characterisation by the time you're writing something with bigger stakes!

especially when starting out, it's good to have friends you can share your writing with, people who'll look things over and tell you what they think. now, this comes with a lot of caveats. people on the internet don't owe you their time, and be conscious and careful when asking for favours. BUT, one way i remember doing this in ye olde days was just showing up in someone's comments every now and then to support them, and eventually those people became mutuals and did end up reading what i wrote. be patient — you can't rush this, and no one likes to feel like you're only using them to improve yourself. also try and seek out spaces where you can connect with betas — e.g. discords for the fandom

let ideas marinate. i can think of so many fic concepts that i started in my teen years that i definitely jumped the gun on, in hindsight.

if you're new to writing as a whole, it takes a lot of time to hone the countless skills it takes to tell a compelling story. but that should by no means put you off! the point is, be kind to yourself — things aren't going to be perfect the first go-around, and there's just no way to avoid that

get used to criticism. i know, easier said than done, but hand in hand with searching for friends to hype you up is being able to tell when those friends have feedback that is not personal and is entirely well-intentioned. it's okay to feel upset when something you write is (in your opinion) taken the wrong way — god knows i do it now! but there will always be people who, for right or wrong reasons, don't like your writing. and that's fine. the real deal is parsing out the criticism that does ring sincere, and figuring out how to make use of it. it's true that most people on the internet don't owe you anything — but at the same time, most people on the internet aren't going out of their way to put you down.

hone your internal writing instinct by reading, reading, reading. read other people's fic and try and consider the following: 1. how would my headcanon differ? if so, how would my characters react differently? fic is different from original writing in that you are not the sole and final authority on these characters, which is a great learning (and sharpening) opportunity. you don't have to tell anyone how you disagree with them unless asked (in fact i would recommend that you don't, lol —from someone who is uninterested in hearing about how her james is not english enough). but this is how you figure out how your iteration of these characters would act in any given situation 2. how would my story decisions differ? again, don't tell anyone this, but it's beyond useful to look at any media from a craft perspective. you can do this with published books and even movies and tv — develop an instinct for when, say, pacing flags, or a plot is stretched too long, or something comes out of nowhere. is there a reason a book left you unsatisfied? try and put it into words, and then try and come up with a solution to get around that problem. the better your answers to the above questions, the better your instinct for what criticism is warranted and useful, and what you're better off going with your gut on

don't self-deprecate. i know this is often a personality thing, but. seriously. don't do it. there's a difference between humility and putting yourself down, and fandom spaces are hard enough to start out in without you devaluing your own effort. you are your own best advocate first and foremost, and the sooner you can quash down impostor syndrome to remind yourself of that, the better you'll feel!

conversely: collect your compliments. not to get all corporate america on everyone, but have you guys heard of the piece of advice that you should file away every work-related compliment so you have reminders that you’re like, actually valued or w/e? (grim, but anyway) that is so so useful for writing — keep a folder of screenshots of things that have made you feel warm and happy inside, because you will absolutely have days where you need the reminder that people do like your writing!

hope this helps!!!

[arthemis-forge]

Forbidden (Part I) F.W

Chapter One. “The boy of the train.”

Paring: Fred Weasley x OC/ Draco Malfoy x OC

Summary: Lyra Nightstar is the first-born child of Adonis and Hecate Nightstar. One of the oldest and most powerful pureblood families in the magical world. Betrothed since birth to Draco Malfoy in order to preserve the status of both families as well to protect their bloodlines. She is raised under a series of very extreme concepts and values. What will happen the day that her fiancé and family find out that she does not share these ideas and that she has fallen in love with a certain redhead blood traitor?

Settings: None 

Author’s note: 

Hello!

This is my first job in a very long time. I hope you like it.

Another thing, English is not my native language, so if you find any narrative error, it would be very helpful if you let me know to edit the work. It should be noted that some events from the original Harry Potter saga may be modified for the purpose of this story.

Without more to say I hope you enjoy the story!

Since the first moment I saw him I thought that he was the one. However, the day that I meet him I wasn’t that sure. For many years I lied to myself and burry the feeling that was blooming deep down in my heart.

True love it wasn’t a thing that I could permit to myself. Not when I was living in a racist pureblood family that would kill me first before seeing me marrying to a mudblood or blood traitor. And it’s not that I didn’t believed it wasn’t worth the sacrifice. But I couldn’t be that selfish. How could I have the audacity to put Fred or any of his family member in danger just because I loved him?

It was easier to stay with Draco…

September 1, 1991

I wasn´t able to sleep the night before.  I couldn't stop thinking about the moment when I would step on that train.

Even mom was a bit upset with me when she found out that I wasn’t able to sleep all night.

—Ly this is unbelievable!  Look at those eyebags babe… —

She said with an annoyed and worried voice while she was closing the door behind her.

—I’m sorry mom I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited for today…—

I confessed as I get up from my bed. Mom usually was love and caring woman, but in situations like this she could be a bit troublesome.

—Good morning little witch!  How are you feeling today? —

Dad exclaimed as he made his way into my dorm.

—Lyra hasn't behaved very well today. She didn't sleep all night long. Also, ly’s trunk is over there, love—

She smiled at him while she pointed to my trunk which was placed on my desk. Seconds later she hugged dad to steal him a soft and tender kiss.

In moments like this I wonder If I could be as happy as them with my fiancé Draco.

Time flew by. Even though we got up early and leave everything organized, it wasn’t enough for us. Luckily, we made it to platform 9 3/4 on time and we managed to catch up with the Malfoy family.

As we approach them, I could see in my dad's eyes that he was a bit worried.

—Good morning, Lucius. We are very sorry for not arriving on time. I hope you and your lovely family haven’t spent a long time waiting for us. —

He said with some fear in his eyes.

—Oh, don’t worry Adonis. We also just arrived a few minutes ago. Isn't it Narcissa? —

He asked to his wife while she nod with her head.

—Are you alright? I was so worried you wouldn’t made it on time —

I head a voice. It was Draco who was talking to me.

—Yes, don’t worry. It just that I forgot to bring Rhiannon with me. So, we had to go back for her…—

I said with a quietly voice as I pointed to my white snowy owl. Who was resting peacefully in her cage.

He only limited himself to smile at me with his flushed cheeks.

—Come on, let's go now. Let’s find a nice place to stay —

He took me by the hand waiting for our parents to help us with our things to finally board the train, however Lucius interrupted him.

—Draco don't forget that once you get on that train Lyra it's your responsibility. Take care and guide her. Don't let her hang out with the wrong people. Do as I told you. —

He said with a threatening tone of voice.

— Please take care of her for me. She is my greatest pride and treasure—

Dad confesses while he bent down to give me a forehead kiss. Seconds later I was hugged at the same time by my mom and dad.

—I will. I promise you Mr. Nightstar. —

Draco answered him with a firm voice full of pride.

And with that last, Draco and I left on our way to the train.

I must admit that I was very nervous, but the warmth of his hand gave me the peace and confidence that I needed.

We spent a few minutes touring the train, observing the cabins. It took a little longer than we expected but finally we found one booth who was still empty. Apparently, Draco preferred that we were alone instead that we shared it with anyone else. It wasn't something that bothered me but like dad said. He was the one who would guide me and see for me.

We were tired so we didn't talk much we fell asleep in a matter of minutes once we snuggled up and shared the sheet that Narcissa gave us to share on the way to school.

A few hours passed and hunger invaded me. I had heard from my parents that on the train I would always find a lady with a trolley full of sweets. So, without thinking twice I got up from the couch.

I tried to wake Draco to see if I could bring him something, but he was even more tired than me. So, I took my money and left with the intentions of still bringing him something. Maybe some green apple flavored sugar quills.

With some care I closed the cabin door and turned in search of a trolley. Luckily for me, 7 booths ahead was the lady who was solling the sweets.

But just before I walked away, I was stopped by a girl with tousled brown hair and deep brown eyes.

—Sorry for bothering you. I am Hermione Granger. My friend Neville just missed his frog. In case you get to see it please let us know. We are next to your cabin. —

She smiled as she greeted me with a somewhat friendly voice.

—Sure, Granger. I will let you know if I see it. See you later—

I smiled back and once I said goodbye, I began to look at the floor in search of that frog. I was so involved in that search that I did not notice that someone was also coming in my direction.

It didn't take long for me to bump into him and fall to the floor. A small groan left my lips as my purse was opened dropping all my coins.

—Oh dear… I'm so sorry, pretty. —

Said a voice of an older boy.

Once I looked up, I found myself with the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in my life. They were dark brown. The boy himself was red-haired and his face was covered in freckles.

It was the first time I had seen a boy who was not Draco or someone of my family. The more I looked at him my heart raced. At this moment I had lost the feeling of space and time.

—Hey? you're okay? — he asked me while he help me to collect the coins in my purse.

—This is a lot of money for someone as young as your little one. Be careful next time. Keep it well, someone can steal it from you—

He smiled and laughed at me. Seconds later he ruffled my hair with his warm hand and walked away as if nothing had happened.

What was that? I wonder as I walked while I steal could hear that soft cute laugh that came from his lips.

The worst thing is that the boy behaved in a very nice way without caring about my clumsiness and I didn't even have the courage to thank him for helping me.

Something dazed finally made it to the candy cart.

—Good evening, can you give me two of the green apple sugar quills, a package of lemon drops and a chocolate frog please. —

That last one for the redhead that I forgot to apologize with.

—Of course, beautiful. 5 galleons. —

The woman replied as she was placing everything in a small paper bag.

—Thank you very much, have a good night. —

I handed her the coins and headed to the cabin where probably Draco was still sleeping.

My heart was still pounding as I opened the door.

—Oh, here you are, Ly. I was just going to get up to look for you. —

He said while he yawns. He looked fresh and relaxed.

 —I went for some sweets. I brought you some green apple sugar quills. Like the ones you always buy at Honey Dukes ... —

I answer shilly.

—Thank you very much, Ly. —

The blond boy smiled, embarrassed but somewhat excited about the detail.

—By the way, why does your face looks so red? Did something happen? Are you okay? —

[dreaminae]

We All Need The One Friend.

( Author's Note: My original intention was to write a less angsty version of Spelivia season 3, however with the hiatus things changed. In the next chapter, I jumped to episode 6. It will have the same basis as 'Teenage Love', but including my plotline changes. Anyhow, thanks for reading. Feel free to comment if you have any questions.)

Chapter 4

"You can't avoid that boy forever, Liv. Why not just call things off?" Kia asked curiously. "Even if you can't be with Spence, you should not drag out your dead-end relationship with Asher."

"It's not a dead-end relationship." Liv huffed from her end of the phone, before consuming a spoonful of her fruit cup. "We aren't connecting the same as we did before. That's all."

"Because you ditch his every attempt to spend time alone with you." Kia sassed. "Or do you not remember inviting me to the movies two nights ago as the third wheel on your date."

"What do you want me to do, Ke?" Liv scoffed repeatedly. Her hand slid to the side of her bowl where her blue water bottle stood. The blue pigment concealed the colorless liquor that the bottle contained daily. Sighing at the thought of what breaking up with Asher might lead to, Liv dragged the bottle off the countertop. Bringing the straw to her lips, she downed a small gulp of alcohol.

Her throat burned, but her anxiety lessened from the feeling of the booze numbing her insides. She could hear Kia calling her name repeatedly, but focused on her silent voice playing her head.

"It's not a pill. It's not a pill." She allowed the words to echo through her mind as she had multiple times over the last month and a half.

Breaking from her guilty conscience, Liv responded to Kia. "Sorry, bad signal."

"Girl, you need a new phone." Kia laughed, unaware of what took place in the last few moments on Liv's end of the line. "Anyway, just do what I said."

"I can't break up with Asher." Olivia rationalized. "If I do, I might mess things up between Spencer and Layla. He might get the wrong idea. Then Layla will want to know what's going on." Olivia predicted cautiously. "Nope. Things are better this way."

"Not for you." Kia scowled. "How long are you going to put Layla's happiness before your own."

"I'm not." Layla lied partly. "Layla makes Spencer happy. And if he is happy, then so am I."

The sound of the doorbell cut into the phone conversation.

"Hold on, Ke. Someone is knocking." Liv urged, strolling from the kitchen to the front door.

"Stall this conversation all you want. You and I both know who Spencer wants, and it isn't Layla." Kia snorted. "Not anymore."

"Layla!" Liv shouted, surprised to see the topic of her conversation standing at her front door. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Friday." Layla shrugged, walking into the Baker residence without another word. "We haven't spent much time together since school started. I thought we could hang out today." 

Olivia blinked in a flustered motion, confused by Layla's sudden presence. She'd made a mission out of avoiding the young producer. A close friendship wasn't in the market for the two of them in Olivia's personal opinion.

Every time she spoke to Layla, Olivia felt a ping of jealously over losing Spencer to her. It wasn't like last year either.

Watching Spencer kiss Layla that night in Vegas felt like a knife through the heart to Liv. Forced to see him with Layla every day was emotionally draining. But Liv knew she had no right to be upset.

Spencer told her how he felt, and Liv pushed him away. She ran away from him, sending him back to Layla on a silver platter. She should not resent them for what her actions caused, yet she did. And she hated herself too.

Olivia hated herself for pushing them away since summer ended. She hated herself for pushing them together. She hated herself for being too weak to go for what she wanted. She hated herself for turning to alcohol in times of stress, instead of being strong enough to face her problems. She hated that she let things get this far out of hand.

"Kia, I've gotta go." Liv bid her friend goodbye.

"Think about what I've been saying." Kia encouraged hopefully. "You should be happy too."

She hung up before Liv could argue that she was happy.

"Kia? Spencer's ex-girlfriend Kia?" Layla questioned curiously, wondering when the two girls became so close.

"Yeah, we hung out a lot over summer." Liv detailed vaguely, leaving Spencer out of the picture. "Mostly helping out with volunteer activities around Crenshaw. Plus, she's into that activist stuff that I cover for my podcast." Olivia added, barely scratching the surface with her friendship with Kia.

Truth is, Kia helped Liv a lot over the summer. They related through Liv's PTSD -- caused by the shooting -- because, growing up in Crenshaw, Kia had experience in dealing with the aftershock of shootings. Furthermore, she and Kia shared similar journalistic hobbies that opened Olivia's eyes to what she might want to do after high school. On top of that, Kia was the only person that Olivia confided in about her feelings for Spencer. Olivia trusted Kia, and with everything going on, Liv wasn't handing out trust varily easy these days.

"That's cool. We should all hang out together sometime." Layla spoke, breaking Olivia from her thoughts.

"Yeah, that sounds like fun." Liv shrugged, sensing that offer wouldn't remain on the table for very long. "Umm, so what are you doing here? Not that you can't drop by," Liv fumbled over her wording. "It's just, I thought you'd be busy at the studio."

"Coop and Spencer are in a weird state right now, and I don't want things to get awkward between Coop and me." Layla clarified to Liv.

"Right, so you're hiding out until things blow over?" Liv giggled, rounding the kitchen counter to grab her bottle from beside the area where Layla sat.

"Basically." Layla agreed. "Anyway, it's not like you're busy, right?"

"Asher wanted to have 'us weekend'," Liv answered as an excuse to keep Layla from coming up with any plans. "We haven't had much alone time since he came back."

"Alone time sounds nice." Layla agreed once more, in a similar position with Spencer. Other than their occasional late-night sleepovers, Layla couldn't remember the last time she and Spencer spent time by themselves.

"Yeah, I guess." Olivia sighed, knowing she was the cause of the lack of connection in her relationship.

At the thought of relationships, she couldn't help, but to ask her next question. "What about Spencer?"

Concern for Spencer was second nature to Liv at this point. But Olivia also wondered why Layla was at her house if she desired alone time with Spencer. Surely, Spencer was in the need of comfort if he was fighting with his closest, childhood friend.

Layla couldn't help but to fall quiet for a second in reaction to Olivia's constant concern for Spencer. Liv barely acknowledged her problems with Asher, yet found Spencer's problems of complete interest.

"He went to his family cabin for the weekend." Layla finally allowed herself to respond. "He's going to clear out the last of the boxes, and to clear his head, I suppose," Layla added, unable to give Olivia a full report.

After all, Spencer failed to give Layla a full description of the thoughts rumbling inside his mind. "I offered to go with him, but he insisted that he wanted to be alone, so..." Layla dragged out, unsure what to do.

Liv rolled her eyes at the mention that Spencer insisted upon being alone. He is always prepared to help others, but never asks for help when he needs it. He and Liv were alike in that way. Which was fine, because they had one another to hello out when they were too stupid to ask for it.

"This is the first time Spencer is going to the cabin since his dad died," Olivia stated matter of factly. "He shouldn't be there alone."

Layla cleared her throat, reading into Liv's firm tone. It was evident that despite Layla's position as Spencer's girlfriend, Olivia felt that she comprehended what Spencer needed better than Layla did.

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, smoking

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 1 Part 3

Part 2

I stopped breathing. My voice was strangled. "You're Will?"

Liam nodded. He had a massive smile on his face. "I hope you understand. I can hardly use my real name or photos on a dating app."

I made some sort of noise in agreement, but my thoughts were reeling. There's no Will. Will is Liam. Liam fucking Cross. Will lied to me. No, Liam lied to me. He told me he was a personal trainer. Whose photos were the ones he had online? Did he steal them? Who the fuck is this guy?

I was breathing again, but now my breath was ragged.

"Hey, it's ok, come and sit." Liam put his arm around my shoulders and guided me back to the table.

"Don't touch me." I spat out venomously.

He backed off immediately. Not looking at him, I walked the rest of the way myself. Sitting down, I crossed my arms and said, "why would you do that? Why would you lie like that?"

"Lie?" Liam sounded shocked. "I used a fake name and photo, and I apologise for that. I can't..." he paused for so long that I almost looked at him. "I can't exactly date in the usual way."

"How often do you do this?"

"I met another girl about a year ago in London. We went out a few times, but it didn't work out."

"Who were the photos of? Do they know you do this?"

"He is a friend from school. He knows."

I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. I needed a fucking cigarette. I reached into my bag and pulled out my emergency stash. I hadn't smoked in 3 weeks. Damn him.

I lit up and took a long drag. It didn't taste the best, but then the nicotine made it worthwhile. I finally looked at Liam.

"I thought you quit," he said.

"I have," I said tartly.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

I debated whether or not I should be as angry as I felt. On the one hand, the explanation made sense. I mean, if he had told me when we first started talking that he was really Liam Cross, I would have thought he had a few kangaroos lose in the top paddock. On the other hand, I felt like a fool. Is it that easy to fool me? I didn't even notice that he never sent me any pictures of himself. I didn't send him any either, but social media wasn't a big part of my life. I could easily go months without taking pictures of myself.

I went back and forth, arguing both sides until I stubbed my cigarette into the plastic ashtray and couldn't draw it out anymore.

"I get why you did what you did. But it's a bit of a shock."

Liam looked relieved. A curl had fallen onto his forehead, making him look like a lost puppy. Well, maybe a lost wolf cub. A wild and untamed wolf cub.

"I have some questions, though," I continued. Liam smiled and waved his hand in a go-ahead gesture. "So, other than your name and job, what else isn't true?"

"I was as honest as I could be. I am a guy who would rather stay home and read or watch movies or play video games than go out. I am looking for a serious relationship. I want a woman to come home to, but one who understands how busy my life is. I want a family, someone to take care of. All those things are true." He spoke with confidence like he had been thinking about what he wanted for a long time, but it sounded like a laundry list to me.

Liam moved his chair closer and went to take my hand. I pulled away.

"I'm sorry I upset you. It was not my intention to deceive you. I know what I want, and I know what kind of woman I want. In the circles I work in, there aren't many women like that. I wanted someone unconnected to the Hollywood world, someone who doesn't want to be famous. I didn't know how else to find someone like that."

I looked at Liam. I was held transfixed by his gaze. His blue eyes were so clear and sincere. I tore my eyes away.

When he spoke again, Liam's voice was small. "I am really sorry. I... Fuck." Running his fingers through his hair, he said, "I don't know what to say. Lana. I'm still the same person."

"But you're not." I shook my head. "It's not just that you lied online; I get that. But why did you lie here? You could have said, 'Hi, Lana. I know you thought you were meeting Will, but Will is actually me. I did that because I'm famous.' Instead, you played along with the charade and made me feel like a bloody dickhead."

Liam was quiet. He dropped his head. "Is that it then? Is this over before it has a chance to get started?"

I shrugged. My leg was bouncing. I tried to stop it, but it started again. I crossed my legs.

"Do you want me to go?" Liam asked.

"Do you want to go?"

"No." Liam leaned towards me, his hands close to my knee. "But I will if you want me to." He let the back of his index finger brush against my bare skin. It was the lightest of touches, but it thrilled me.

Feeling tongue-tied, I shook my head.

We sat like that for a while. Liam's finger continued to rub against my knee like he was trying to calm a skittish horse. The anger in me stilled under his touch. I didn't want it to. I wanted to stay angry. He was so gentle I couldn't help it.

Eventually, I gave a small smile. "Say something," I said, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Liam's face creased as a warm smile spread across his lips. "I'm happy you're here to meet you finally." He put his hand out, palm up on my knee. I put my hand in his, and it was immediately swallowed by his much larger hand. He sighed, seemingly relieved and said, "to touch you."

"Say something else." I implored. My fingers caressed his palm. I traced the lines I could feel and the rough callouses that formed below his fingers.

Liam became serious. No, not serious, something else. He looked at my hair and reached with his other hand to brush it behind my ear. "Your hair is redder than I thought it would be."

"Is that bad?" I asked unsurely. Being a redhead was hit and miss. Some guys seemed to love it, and others ran a million miles. We had a reputation, after all.

He shook his head, "it's beautiful." His eyes kept searching my face, and I turned my head to look away, feeling heat rise to my cheeks under his gaze. He put his hand under my chin and gently guided my face back.

"Don't look away. I want to look at you." My cheeks were on fire now, and I felt warmth spread all through my body.

Liam's hand moved down to my neck. His index finger caressed my ear lobe as he cupped my neck and all coherent thoughts fell away. Gently he put his thumb under my chin and lifted it stretching my neck. My whole body was aflame now. My lips parted as I gasped.

"I want to kiss you." Liam's voice was hoarse and wanton, yet firm. He wasn't asking to kiss me. He just told me what he wanted. I broke out in goose flesh and shivered. Yes, this is what I needed. I needed a man who knows what he wants. I didn't trust myself to speak clearly, so I licked my lips and closed my eyes.

Liam groaned. His hand left mine and held the back of my head, his fingers sliding through my hair. I felt his warm breath on my lips, smelling faintly of beer, earthy, almost like freshly cut grass. I could feel myself quivering in anticipation.

Then his lips met mine, so softly, I thought I had imagined it. Then he kissed me again, his lips firm but still so soft. He pulled me closer, and I reached out and grasped his shoulders.

His lips parted, opening mine as they did. Liam's tongue gently licked at my bottom lip. My tongue met his, and I moaned. I wanted more. I kissed him back with more ferocity than was probably necessary. I couldn't help it. Spurred on by my kiss, his hand turned into a fist in my hair. His lips moved against mine harder and faster.

My thoughts were gone. I could process nothing but the duel sensations of pleasure from his mouth and the ache from my stretched throat and pulled hair. It drove me wild, and instinct took over. I wrapped my arms around Liam, trying to get closer to him. My chest met his, and I felt his hard body against my soft breasts. I wanted to feel his whole body against mine, his hardness against my softness.

Then he slowed, his kisses become softer and longer, his tongue withdrew into his mouth, and I felt the loss if it. The loss of his heat against my body made me feel cold. Liam let my hair go and slowly sat back.

I opened my eyes, blinking several times as I adjusted to the light. I looked at Liam, his eyes were bright, and I watched as he suppressed a grin. Then I watched, fascinated as he moved in his chair and tried to hide the hand that moved between his legs as he adjusted himself. I had to look away. I laughed because otherwise, I think I would have died.

"What's so funny?" Liam asked though he sounded amused.

"Not funny, I just can't help it." His eyebrow popped up. "I just enjoyed that."

"Back to being direct, are you?"

I shrugged.

The twitchy lip was back. "Maybe not." I wanted to crawl under the table. "Do you still want to go to dinner?"

I nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Apparently, it's not far from here, on the harbour. It's a seafood place. I remember you telling me you like seafood."

I nodded vigorously. "That sounds perfect."

As we walked to the restaurant, Liam held my hand. We didn't say much, but it wasn't awkward. Sometimes I would look at him and catch him doing the same. I would look away first, giggling as I did. Liam would chuckle and squeeze my hand.

I was disgusted with myself for acting like a schoolgirl. I was a grown woman with a marriage under my belt. Yet, even as I wondered why I was acting like a 16-year-old, I knew the answer. Liam was gorgeous, successful and wanted me.

I looked at him, and again he caught me. This time I forced myself not to look away. I returned his gaze and studied his face.

Turning his body to face me, Liam's eyes drifted down my body, lingering on my breasts. He slowly smiled. I felt naked, like he knew what I looked like without clothes.

Liam took a step towards me, forcing me to take a step back. Again he came closer, and again I retreated until I felt my back against the wall behind me. Liam's arms came up, and he put his hands on the wall beside my head. As I searched his face, I saw a naked hunger. I swallowed hard.

I wanted to look away, to say we should keep walking, but I also wanted to stay there trapped by Liam's arms. Up close, his arms were so big, and they looked like they could break me without much effort. He pressed his whole body against me, and one of his legs slipped between mine. My bones became jelly, like I would slide down the wall if his firm body weren't holding me together.

I put my hands on his wrists and felt my way up to his shoulders. Every muscle in his arms was tight, and I could feel each in turn as I moved my hands. I shuddered as my hands reached his triceps, and he flexed for me. My hips buck against his leg in an involuntary move, and I felt the sweet friction between my own. Liam made a noise from deep in his throat and took a step back so quickly I almost fell.

"We should get going, or we will lose our reservation," Liam said coldly and started walking. I was confused and struck immobile for a moment, then had to take a few jogging steps to catch up to him. This time he didn't take my hand. I didn't look at him for the rest of the way.

"I believe this is the place," Liam announced. It was beautiful, right on the harbour with the Harbour Bridge's views to one side and the Opera House on the other. The water was dark and reflected the bridge's lights, twinkling like it was another sky.

I finally looked at Liam. He was smiling again. He put his arm out and made a slight bow, indicating I should go first. I was still confused about earlier. He was so hot and then so cold, I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't want to make a scene, so I went in, but I also didn't want him to think he could get away with it.

The maître de greeted Liam by name and ushered us both upstairs and to a private balcony overlooking the harbour. We sat and were given a quick rundown of the evening's menu. It was a degustation, so the menu was set, and there would be eight dishes. The sommelier followed quickly behind, giving drink recommendations. Liam asked for paired wines, and I agreed. Eventually, we were left alone.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Liam said. "You make me forget where I am." He smiled. His mischievous look made him seem almost boyish.

"Why does it matter where you are?" I asked harshly.

"I don't want photos out there of me kissing you in an alleyway."

"I see." I did see. My heart sank. I knew it was too good to be true.

"What's wrong?" Liam was frowning.

"Nothing. I mean, it would be terrible if anyone knew you were kissing me," I said. I was probably a little too sarcastic.

"You know what I mean, Lana."

"Yes, I do." I stood. "This was a mistake. I should have left after your first lie."

Liam grabbed my wrist and stood up. "I don't think you do understand. A photo of you showing up with me means they will start hunting you down, find out who you are, search your social media, look into everything. They will probably publish your name, age, occupation. Dig up every bit of dirt they can. Are you ready for that?" I had to admit I was not. "All of this happening while we are still getting to know each other. It's a nightmare you don't want."

"You're right," I said softly. "I don't think I'll ever want that."

He let go of me and sighed. We both stood there for a few moments. Eventually, he spoke, "I don't want to put you in a situation where you're uncomfortable. You were right, and I shouldn't have lied about who I was. I want to honest with you about what being in a relationship with me means. Part of that is being very private about the relationship until you're ready to go public. It also means not telling friends or family who you don't trust to keep quiet."

"You know that this isn't normal right?" Liam nodded. "Ok, just so we are clear, dating you would be like dating a married man? No one can know."

"A married man?" Liam looked startled. "No, not like that. This isn't about me or to protect myself but to protect yourself. I'm not ashamed to be seen with you. You need to decide when you want the public to know about us. I already have almost no privacy, but I won't make that decision for someone else."

"Lots of celebrities date someone not famous, and no one talks about them."

"Yes, they do. At first anyway, the longer they're together, the less they get talked about if they are smart with publicity. Don't you read magazines, follow Twitter gossip, Instagram or anything?"

"Not really. I mean, if there is a tv show or something I like, I'll follow updates on filming and interviews with the actors, but that's usually it."

"Things can get vicious online with gossip."

"Are you trying to scare me off?" I said, a bit pissed. "Because it's working."

"No. I want you to know what can happen."

I started to sit back down. Liam pushed my chair in as I sat.

"If we were to date, would I have to do anything? Like, can't I just be in the background?" I scrunched my nose up, "I don't have to be all on Instagram selling diets or anything, do I?"

Liam chortled. "No, nothing like that."

"Good." I think people would laugh at my big thighs if I tried to do that anyway.

"And that is why I like you." Liam took my hand and lifted it to his lips, his whiskers tickling as he pressed a kiss to my palm. I shivered.

Our first course arrived then with some wine. It was a beautifully sliced tuna sashimi with orange and ginger. It melted in my mouth and exploded with fantastic citrus flavour. I'm sure I moaned aloud. I just hoped it wasn't a When Harry Met Sally level of noise. The white wine with it was also delicious, slightly dry, but easy to drink.

"My god!"

"Good, huh?" Liam asked.

"Sho gud," I said after I had already put more in my mouth. Liam laughed, and I quickly finished chewing and took another drink. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I'm enjoying watching you enjoy it."

"Buckle up then champion because if the next seven courses are anything like that, you're going have the time of your life." I don't think I could have said anything more cringe-inducing. Hiding my face with my hands, my cheeks felt hot. But Liam laughed and took my hands away. His face was warm, so I laughed as well.

The next seven courses were amazing, scampi tails, lobster and beef, beautiful salads with roe and sorbet for dessert. It was astonishing, something I had rarely experienced before. None of the ingredients were new to me, but I've never had food prepared with such exquisite care and attention to detail. Little edible flowers and streaks of sauces were laid out on the plates, making the food a feast for the eyes.

The wine was impressive. We had five glasses all up, each one a flavour to compliment the food. I know I was a little inebriated by the end.

Liam wasn't sober either. The wait staff seemed to take it in stride, carefully clearing away our plates while avoiding Liam's flailing arms as he told me stories. Liam liked to talk with his hands when he was drunk, evidently.

As the night went on and the alcohol flowed, we both became much more relaxed and open. Our conversations flowed as they had on the phone over the last couple of months. He told me stories about his family and growing up in London. He mainly talked about his two brothers. I told him more about my older brother, David and the horrible things he did to me as we grew up. We compared notes to see whose siblings were the worst.

When the bill arrived, Liam paid. He insisted, saying he asked me out so he should pay.

"Don't you mean begged me to out with you?" I asked, teasing.

Liam pretended to be offended but conceded immediately, "I suppose asking nearly every day for a month is begging. I'm glad I did." He put his arm on the back of my chair and leaned in close, our noses nearly touching. "Did you enjoy dinner?"

I felt heady being so close to him. Either it was him or the wine. I closed my eyes as his nose nudged mine. I heard someone coming up the stairs, and I pulled away.

The waiter returned Liam's card and offered to call us a taxi.

While we waited in the restaurant's foyer, I thanked Liam for a great night and kissed him on the cheek. His rough face pricked my lips, making them tingle.

I ran my finger along his jaw, feeling his short, sharp beard and his smooth skin on impulse. I smiled as I went.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked, his voice playful.

I shrugged, "I don't know. I've just had the urge to do that since I first saw you."

"Do you like it? The hair, I mean." I nodded. "Then I'll keep it as long as I can." Liam took me in his arms. "You feel nice," he said, voice a little slurred. I blushed. I felt like I had spent most of the night blushing. Liam kept picking strands of hair off my face and putting them behind my ear. I looked up into his eyes as he played with my hair.

"Come back to my place, Sweetheart?" Liam asked. I laughed and raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed with me. "I don't want tonight to end yet. I've waited so long to meet you."

Andy's face appeared like an apparition. For a moment, Liam was Andy, and I was standing in his arms again. He had been taller than Liam but not as muscular, hair not as dark, skin not as pale. But then Liam said my name, and Andy vanished. I had definitely had too much to drink, or was it the old guilt resurfacing?

I shook my head as if it would erase the thoughts. I put a smile on my face and pretended to think it over, "Mr Cross, you're very bold."

"Indeed, Miss Walker." Liam grinned, playing along. Mrs Walker, I thought but didn't say.

"Very well, Mr Cross, I shall accompany you back to your home."

"Very good, Miss Walker." Liam lifted my chin and placed a light kiss on my lips.

Part 3

[imagine-loki]

Glow

TITLE: Glow

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: imagine that you liked Loki long ago. But he had rejected you once, so you’ve moved on. One day, he appears at your doorstep. He was a lot mellower than you remembered, like dark, burdensome things had happened to him, but was still the good man at heart you knew all those years ago. 

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I had every intention of this being light-hearted, and then I started writing and went very dark, very fast. End in fluff, though? Mentions of death, disease, depression, language, and heartbreak. Loosely builds on my past Imagine One-Shot: Taking Turns. 

=

It had been strange to die.

To really die, not that subtle fakery he had done a thousand times before to put a temporary stop to his problems. There would be no getting up from these wounds. From the twisted neck and its haunting crunch, and the inevitable darkness that had smothered him a moment after, blanketing him in warmth. It truly was strange to die.

But if he died, why was he here?

Loki groaned as he shifted on the evening dew-dampened grass. His limbs all felt tumescent and clumsy. It wasn’t exactly a surprise–he had fought off an undead army, his demon of a sister, the Titan’s ranks. He deserved to feel stiff, but it wasn’t exactly helping him get on his feet.

Red-rimmed, baggy eyes were drawn to the great oak tree up ahead. He knew the sight well. He had spent many a day kissing her in secret under that tree, whenever he could get away from his brother and she could slip away from Stark’s lab, undetected. That was the place where she had told him, brown eyes rounded and shy as she stared at him through her lashes, that she was in love with him. Coincidentally, that was the same place where he told her he didn’t feel the same.

Let it never be said that Loki ever had the good sense to do something that might actually be good for him.

Her face popped into his mind, clear as the day he left her behind. The Titan. His plan. This world seemed like it was another era, altogether. Was she even alive?

“Fuck.”

His feet had brought him to her door. He hadn’t planned on it, but something in his subconscious had told him that this was as good a place as any to lay low. If she was alive, she would help him, regardless of the utter monster he had been to her. If she wasn’t… well, at least it was a place to stay, wasn’t it?

Loki’s fist pounded on the door with such force that the whole thing was shaking in its foundations. It was late, he knew, but she was never a deep sleeper. It was always so easy to nudge her awake, maybe with a kiss on the neck and have her focus her sleepy, warm attention on him. He tired of the trying to convince himself that she had to still live. He would’ve known if she didn’t, wouldn’t he? Something in the faulty machinery that rattled in his chest must still be connected to that damned awkward smile and–

“Loki…?” Her voice was breathless, as if it were impossible for the man staring out onto the street to be the same that broke her heart. And yet… “Loki.”

He pulled a breath, dressing himself in courage before turning towards the voice. The woman leaning against the doorframe looked like a spectre of who he used to know. Where her frame had been strong and wide-hipped and sturdy enough to take his full strikes on the sparring mats, this person looked… deathly? Defeated?

“Rebecca,” he whispered, taking a single step forward, trying not to overwhelm her.

“No. Thor said you died before… he swore that he saw you… You’re dead.” Her voice thickened with tears she dared not shed.

He chuckled mirthlessly. “You know I have the hardest time getting that stuff to stick.” When she didn’t smile, he cleared his throat and pushed the tangled mess of his hair back in a nervous fidget. “I don’t know how I’m here, either. I was just with Thor in the ship and I know I died, I just… I don’t know.”

“I’m going to call Thor,” she mumbled, walking backwards, eyes weary of his form.

Loki rushed to follow her. She gave out a strangled shriek when he closed his fingers around her wrist and wrenched her cell phone out of her grasp. “No one can know. Not until I understand what’s going on. Rebecca, please.” She was trembling and so he loosened his grip on her hands in favor for her face. His thumbs trailed softly over her now-prominent cheekbones. He hated not seeing the rounded cheeks, often flushed red at his touch. “Please.”

Rebecca’s face had fallen from her surprise, and now she just looked lost. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

He frowned, confused. “What?”

“I’m dying. That’s why you’re here. You’re here to take me away and you couldn’t have fucking chosen anyone else to look like?! Loki was my…,” Rebecca trailed off, breaking down into a heart-shattering sob.

“Darling, no.” He gathered her into his embrace, winding his arms around her shoulders to hold her safe. “No, no, no. I know it’s confusing, darling. I know. You are perfectly safe with me. You know that.”

“Where were you? I needed you! For years, I needed you and you weren’t there!” Loki grit his teeth to keep his own sob from choking through. Instead, he let the tears stream quietly, offering nothing but mumbled assurances that she was fine and that he was sorry. Gods above, he was so sorry.

Eventually, he had calmed her enough to put her to bed. While she sniffed in her sleep, he scrolled through the news on her computer, trying his hardest to catch up. It had been so many years. A mere instant had plummeted him more than five years into the future. Five years that, if the glimpse of the street outside had been any indication, had been more than just rough. They had won the war against Thanos, but the number of battles they had lost in between had been costly. Too costly.

When Loki startled awake, he was surprised to see Becca watching him from the armchair across. She was molded into a ball, with her knees up to her chest. It reminded him of the first time they had kissed. He had unfurled her from that very same position and then toyed with her from a few months. He had been but a bratty child then. He couldn’t truly say that he was any different now, but at least now he had the sense to self-contemplate.

“You cut your hair,” he remarked and immediately slapped himself internally. He was truly useless around her.

Rebecca subconsciously ruffled her brown curls. “Yeah. I got sick. Kept it short, after.”

“I like it…,” he trailed off, awkwardly. “Is that why you're–” He broke off when her eyes flickered up, dangerously, daring him to make light of her situation, as he often used to. It had always been gentle teasing, though in rare occasion he would strike just across the line and have to deal with the fallout. “W-why you’re so thin?”

Silence stretched for a long time. It crept up his spine and injected itself into his veins, letting him know he had made a mistake.

“Why are you here, Loki?”

“The truth?”

Rebecca scoffed. “Are you capable of it, Liesmith?”

The jab hurt, but was in no way unjustified. “I was brought back to this world, to this time… you were my only thought. Just you. And I prayed that you were alive because I am not strong enough to live through the heartbreak of losing you, twice.”

“You left me, Loki. You broke my heart and then you went off to gallivant with Thor. In my darkest days, I pleaded for you. And now…”

“And now…?”

“And now I’m just upset because I can see you’re not doing any better than me. Shit, why am I such a fucking bleeding heart–” The tears were back, and as she protected herself in her bubble from him, she pound her fist to the side of her head. This was new behavior and worrisome, to say the least. It had been a hard decade. 

“Becca.” He let her name fall quietly from his lips before he made an effort to move. He had shed his armor, opting for some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Every muscle, ligament, and bone ached, and they screamed in protest when he sunk to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his. She struggled against him, but her strength just wasn’t there anymore. “Darling girl, please.”

In another life he would have raised his voice, shook her out of her stupor and sharply admonished her until she was agreeable; pliant. She never did like confrontation and she would have given him her very lungs if it had aided him–she would have given a perfect stranger her lungs, too.

There had always been an unbreakable brightness within her. That was what had attracted him to her, early on. She was bright where he was dark; all accepting and loving where he was brash and scornful and self-loathing. Hindsight was crystal clear, and all it told him was that he should have been so much better to her. He should have offered her the world when he had the chance. All he could do now was repent and take care of her, for a change.

“I’m going to get you some food and some coffee and then I am going to–I’m not sure. Whatever will make you happiest, I suppose. OK, pet?” He offered her a small smile, thumbs stroking the back of her hands until she stopped fidgeting and offered a nod. “Good.” He nodded and rose, reluctantly releasing her to head to the kitchen.

“What happened to you?” That was a loaded question. “You’re different.”

He stopped and faced her. After a moment, he shrugged. “Just life, Rebecca.”

“That’s not everything, is it?”

“No. Then again, you didn’t just get sick, either, did you?” His charged blue gaze pinned her down until she shook her head, seemingly against her will. “Let me get you coffee and, um, we'll… take turns?”

Becca laughed, despite herself, rolling her eyes at the god. That was a turn of phrase she had not thought of in an eternity. “I hate you. I really do,” she riposted, though there was no fire behind the words.

“I daresay you have every right.”

With a crooked half-grin, he pointed behind himself and turned once more towards the kitchen. Before he had crossed, the wind was knocked out of him as arms twisted round his stomach and squeezed painfully. Against his back, Rebecca breathed disjointedly, dampening his shirt with tears.

“I love you, Loki.”

Those words had echoed in his chest for nearly a decade. They had etched themselves against every rib and membrane in his chest, taunting him every time he failed; every time he fell. He had not been worthy of receiving them back then. Nor did Loki think he was worthy of receiving them now, but he felt a compulsion to hold fast to the phrase that he had not felt then. Twisting in her arms, he looked down on those same rounded, shy brown eyes looking up through her lashes. Only this time, they were painfully guarded, protective. He could see only a flicker of her light, and he wanted to set it ablaze, once more. For her own good, more than his own.

He grinned through the sting of tears, brushing her short curls back with delicate strokes. “And I love you, Rebecca. Across time, space, and reality, it seems.”

The walls around her had not vanished, but they seemed to wobble under his attentions. “Please don’t leave again. I don't–”

“I won’t. I promise you on my honor, whatever little I have, I will not leave your side until you demand I leave–” Her lips on his cut him short and the surprised gasp he gave died muffled beneath their kiss.

When she pulled back, both were panting. “I just waited eleven years for you to say what you mumbled in your sleep every single night for months. If anything, I’m liable to stick you in another ice block.” He let out a surprised bark of laughter before reconnecting their lips.

“I don’t deserve you.” Loki wrapped himself around her, resting his chin on her crown. 

“You don’t, but you can earn me back, I bet.”

He smiled against her temple before pressing a kiss there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Being here does most of the job. Coffee might seal the deal.” She smirked, an expression he knew was meant to tease. “If you figure out how to work my coffeemaker, that is.” Becca pecked his lips and brushed past him into the kitchen, pointing at the multi-dialed monstrosity of a coffeemaker.

The light in her eyes was starting to glow once more.

[uchiha-sensei]

So,,, initially I made a separate post because I thought I was above starting drama in the internet, much more in the supernatural fandom lmao, but people keep liking this post on my blog (even when it’s buried deep over other unrelated stuff), and I assume it’s because of my tags (thanks for the support?!) so now I have decided I shouldn’t let biphobia (and disrespect) get comfortable in whichever fandom, so here it goes.

Here are my tags:

Here is OP’s unfortunate and entitled “rebuttal”:

And here is what I have to say about that, copy pasting directly from the post I @/OP in, but they didn’t have the face to answer yet:

@autisticandroids thought I wouldn't see this just because you decided to delete it huh? At least you came to your senses over your behavior. But that won't stop me to reply to this, because honestly this is not only rude as you say, is downright offensive.

First of all, I hope YOU know tumblr etiquette, because is actually polite to write stuff on the tags, specially unsolicited opinions. Because then you can express yourself and not clog the post or directly @ the author. But apparently you weren't informed of that, so hope this helps :)

Secondly, how dare you? I don't have any responsibility whatsoever to go over to your blog and play Sherlock Holmes to find if you explained yourself over a terrible written post. I also Do Not have to go "talk to you on your asks" or whatever it is your implying. You made a post, it got mildly popular, I saw it and I have the right to write whatever the fuck I want about it, specially when I'm being considerate enough of your bs to not do it for everybody else to see.

You acting all childish and affronted over it is not my problem. And in fact if a hidden justified critic upsets you so much is because you know there's something there.  

But THEN you had to go and accuse me of ??? What??? Being honest?? KNOWING full well other people would see it bc you're OP and bc apparently you get asks or whatever... could you get more immature?

You accuse me of not going to your asks but then you publicize this shit acting as if I committed a crime, instead of acting on what you said and come talk to me on my DMs.... like, the hypocrisy.

And finally, because what I'm most furious about here is not even the audacity of this person to act this entitled and obnoxious, but the fact that they still act like they are right about their original bs alsmjajsbs

Like, full offense buddy, but whatever you say regarding your "arguments" over Dean being gay you cannot deny even making that post is feeding AND normalizing the common demon in every fandom that is bi erasure. Because pretending his other sides that are not objectively gay are internalized homophobia or result of abuse is biphobic. It has been done by a thousand people before you and will be done by a thousand more after. If you can't accept this, that's your problem to deal with, but don't fucking come at me, a Bisexual myself, act like a prick because you absolutely have no right to do so.

-

So, I guess what I have to say with this whole thing to my fellow bi cousins and symphatetizers to anti-biphobia is that you shouldn’t let people get away with being like this. I had no intention to be this impolite or theatrical to anyone when I wrote those tags, but here we are. Btw, I heard from a friend some people actually came for OP regarding this stuff I wrote alalfjdbbhfbd Yall, thanks for standing up for us bisexuals <3

ok i know i am SCALDING here but one thing i must say is that while bi dean people are very valid and i support them i do not believe it. dean winchester has never made a meaningful romantic connection with a woman in his life. the closest he ever came was cassie and honestly? i think that fell apart because he fucked it up because he is Not Into Women. 

this man is a compulsive bedframe notcher, he’s a list making maniac, he fucks women ONLY so that he can recite their names in the mirror to prove to himself that he’s a real man and that he’s straight. why the fuck do you think his only meaningful emotional connections to women are women who are sexually off limits? he’s FINE with charlie because she’s gay. he’s fine with all the various mother figures. amara is, well, god’s sister, they’re not gonna like….. end up together so it’s something he can imagine but never has to actually handle. his fucking ULTIMATE FANTASY in michael’s mind palace is to chill forever with a woman who he can never fuck because she has a boyfriend, but who he gets to flirt with anyway. she fucking READS HIS MIND and tells him he’s not interested in her he just likes to flirt. 

plus there’s all this stuff like, he starts trying to have sex when he gets defensive. like in lazarus rising when he’s DESPERATELY trying to hide how traumatized he is he aggressively performs being a lecherous asshole in front of sam and bobby in order to prove to them he’s normal!

and there’s the whole lisa thing…… like. dean is gay. i truly in my heart believe that dean is gay.