#it feels bad to dismiss it entirely which is probably their intention

[slingerapen]

Are scammers using the palestinian genocide to ask for donations in peoples inboxes?

#it feels bad to dismiss it entirely which is probably their intention #but 1. new blog 2. a large part of their ask was ended by a quote. 3. theres some scummy people in the world #palestine

[comicaurora]

I really dislike the posts that are like "IF YOU DON'T RB UR A BAD PERSON AND HATE ME" or whatever THAT'S manipulation. But for the posts that are like "hey if you like my art/other ppl's art it's good to reblog!!!" Those are like. Imagine if it's an irl small little business that relies entirely on people coming in and knowing about you, and someone comes to your shop and likes your stuff, maybe buys from you maybe doesn't whatever whatever; you'd probably encourage them to come back again or subscribe for updates if they really liked it, and you would ALSO probably ask them to tell their friends about you, because that's a part of their livelihood. Obviously phrasing is important and again the guilt tripping is shitty, but most people aren't ACTUALLY demanding anything from people coming by, and with the twitter exodus, a lot of the twitter artists DO have art as their livelihood and NEED discoverability/popularity. They don't have a platform that's self-sufficient yet. It's not guilt tripping to ask for validation and shareability, and maybe I'M being a little presumptuous on your intent here but I'm actually mildly shocked you as a creator dependent on views would be critical of that sentiment and not acknowledge the nuance.

You know, I knew tumblr did this, and I still chose to post a short and snappy opinion on the "how dare you say we piss on the poor" website.

Not everything I say is caveated for every possible read on the subject. "Likes are worthless and if you don't reblog everyone will think you're a dick" is a take I find frustrating and weirdly entitled. My statement says nothing about the actual value of reblogs or the softer-touch takes about how a reblog can help out an artist. It says exactly what it says: I am baffled by people who are given praise and validation for their work and dismiss it as worthless unless accompanied by active advertisement. We are in agreement about which posts are a problem and which ones aren't.

As an online creator I understand the value of attention. I am very lucky to have built up a sizeable audience across various platforms over the last ten years, and for the first three of those years my audience was quite small and cozy. I never, ever expected so many people to like my work, and I am still shocked and grateful when people tell me they enjoy it. I've never even done "like-comment-subscribe it helps the algorithm" calls to action, and I have never pressured or guilted my audience into giving me attention, because I think an audience acquired through guilt and pressure and weird manipulation tactics is not an audience that's actually getting something out of my art.

So when I see these "welcome newcomers, reminder that if you only like without reblogging you're personally killing artists" it makes me feel like I'm seeing someone open a birthday present and immediately throw it in the trash because they wanted the more expensive model.

Reblog if you want, like what you like, don't do anything you don't want to do. I'm done talking about this.

#asks #not aurora

[supanuts]

(2/2)

And the clearest example is how he’s aware of Way’s feelings for him, has been for a while, but not only is he very dismissive of them (picture their hallway conversation when Way is clearly emotional and upset and for the first time actually addresses the elephant in the room (which takes a lot of courage), only for Babe to be all ‘yeah I know – ugh did you have to actually say it out loud?? - but, like…Charlie! Now let me caress your shoulder while I reassure you we’re still best buds!’ or the way he reacts like it’s all a bit tiresome whenever someone else brings it up) - Babe makes a conscious choice to NOT discuss it with Way, and more importantly to NOT draw any boundaries tween them. At best he’s just being extremely careless with Way’s feelings, especially when he jokes about them being bfs, but at worst, one could argue that his flirtatiousness is in fact an intentional manipulation of said feelings in order to keep Way where he wants him, which is at his beck and call. Babe doesn’t care to look any deeper because there’s nothing in it for him – as long as he has Way by his side, adoring him, he’s satisfied. Any awkward niggling thoughts about how actually this probably isn’t a healthy dynamic and this guy needs to get a life outside of me and in retrospect it’s a little strange that I know literally nothing about him get pushed aside in order to maintain that status quo.

Now, unlike half the characters in this show, I’m capable of self-reflection: I know that I could extend some of the sympathy I have for Way due to his shitty past (and present) to Babe, and speculate that Babe’s selfishness, his need to keep Way with him even if it’s detrimental to Way’s wellbeing, is merely a consequence of his own shitty past, his fear of being alone; that his inability to deal with this situation is a result of his own emotional maladjustment at Tony’s hands. That’s all very likely to be true. BUT! Babe has the whole internet ready to kill for him, so sorry but he doesn’t need me to do the same! What can I say - I feel obligated to stick up for the underdog, no matter how much of a fucked up wrong’un said underdog might be! (Of course there’s also the entirely plausible possibility that all this is just the fault of shoddy writing - as long as characters keep repeating that this really is a deep and wholesome and 100% reciprocated friendship then we the audience are duty-bound to believe it!)

In conclusion (if you got this far - apologies!): Way is a pathetic but tragic character who didn’t deserve the hand he was dealt (but does deserve lifelong therapy), whose motivations are much more complex and heart-wrenching than many seem able/willing to recognise/acknowledge. Babe is selfish and a shitty friend, but that is perhaps understandable given his experiences. SA (and mind-fucking your friend) is NEVER excusable, no matter how awful your life or how bad your daddy issues; neither is it EVER the fault of the victim. All of these things can be true at the same time, and it wouldn’t hurt to remember that.

Your Honour, I rest my case!

P. S. Internet, please don't be mad at me! Everyone's of course entitled to their own opinion (variety is the spice of life and all that!) and the remaining eps might totally destroy this interpretation, but at the end of the day, it's just a show, and I'm just a socially anxious contrarian overthinker with a penchant for well-acted morally dubious pretty boys!

i think i tend to be more positive/look for the more favourable explanation and so my opinion on the hallway conversation (which: hurty) is that babe is extreeeemely unprepared to talk about feelings. which is funny because his friendship with way reads as very intense to me, and they’re pretty dramatic with their words too? but it’s clear babe has no experience in this area, both talking about it and feeling it, and it shows precisely in how careless he is with way’s feelings. and again, the jokes about being bfs babe i will hunt you down you cannot be this dense! please! but also i don’t think he would see anything unhealthy in how powerful way’s attachment to him is because i think, up until charlie showed up, they both acted like that with each other. (my poor way…)

don’t apologise! this has taken me five million hours to reply to but it has been worth every. second. and honestly while as i’ve just said i don’t totally agree with your interpretation of babe and his actions and feelings towards way i do think you make great points and can see why you’re interpreting something in a different way than i do. also i love to read what people are thinking. meta is my favourite thing in the world, so unless it’s something horrifying to me i am going to enjoy it lol

#pit babe #pit babe the series #asks #anon #way anon

[lawlietscaramels]

recently learned that there is an actual theory(??) in the fandom, so for the hopefully last time, here's a talk on my 'ryuzaki vs L' post. hopefully it should be clearer.

I didn't realise at the time of posting nor of getting the ask, but there's this theory in the fandom called the "Ryuzaki theory". It basically says, "how L acts when he's working is entirely made up."

I don't agree with that at all, but I think my title and the fact that I said Ryuzaki/L probably confused a lot of people into thinking I was contributing to this theory. I was not. (I haven't even read the manga; to me, anime L will always be the real L, the 'base L'. So, I don't think of that "typically pretty" guy who sits on the floor as L.)

I'm not sure if I specified this properly when talking about it before, but my intention was "L doesn't show all of his emotions/hobbies/personal life etc to the Task Force/in front of others." This is NOT stuff like how he sits and his fingers and his sweets. All of those things are intrinsically L.

This is additional, outside of canon, outside of work stuff. Like my headcanons (that he takes naps at sunset, that he's anemic and eats half-raw meat because he gets cravings for iron, that he is not serious 100% of the time when he's not working - that one is kind of in canon, like "a world without Light would be dark"). Again, the purpose of the post was basically to say my headcanons and how they differ from how L acts in canon. (It's also the kind of stuff in 90% of the fanfic I read – canon L isn't soft and loving, but most L x whoever things don't portray him as apathetic – because in a situation where he had a significant other, he probably wouldn't be apathetic. The Task Force, the Kira case is not a safe or suitable place for him to express his interests.)

That's the stuff I was trying to talk about in my post. I formatted it terribly, I know. But having heard of the theory I think that is the reason that the work was called ableist, not because of the specific content. I'm sorry about letting it get misinterpreted like that.

Anyway probably nobody will read that but I just. RRRHHH I feel so guilty and can't stop thinking about it, even if I know my intent wasn't to dismiss L's traits, I still feel bad for appearing that way. and also because I learned about the Ryuzaki theory just recently and obviously haven't addressed that so. yeah. I won't add tags because I don't really want non followers who have no idea what's going on to see this. but I feel guilty and like people hate me. which you guys probably don't. but maybe this will Quit the Anxiety because at the moment I can't think about L without my thoughts eventually turning to this. and I really love him so much and to be completely frank a large reason of that is because we have the same flavour of autism. and the idea that people think I want to remove or ignore his autistic traits?? yeah anyway. ramble ramble.

[unityrain24]

Concerning Frigga

I've seen a few posts & fics comparing Frigga to Odin and saying she too was an awful parent with awful intentions. But I really don't think this was the case? I mean, obviously she did some wrong things that fucked Loki up, but I don't think they are all entirely her fault. It is my belief that she was being emotionally abused/manipulated by Odin.

I think the biggest and most obvious example of this is from a deleted scene from the first Thor film (2011) [and before you call it invalid because it was deleted, they deleted a lot of scenes showing both Frigga's and Loki's characterization to make it more about Thor. There was nothing in the scene that was contradictory to the film, nor was it to far-fetched to have a good reason to be scrapped. Therefor, i view it as canon]. But anyways, within the scene, Frigga confronts Odin on Thor's banishment. She is very obviously distraught at the loss of her son, and angry at Odin's choice (obviously)(also, i mean, she wasn't even there for it). However, Odin just dismisses her for her emotions, says that his lack of emotion made him superior in the situation, and that he has his reasons for it and she is crazy for questioning him. Very obviously mental/emotional manipulation/abuse.

There are more subtle examples at other times, however.

In Thor: The Dark World (2013), there is a scene in which Frigga mentions that Odin "Never was a good liar" [I couldn't find a clip of the scene that included it, as it was sort of a transition, but the segment starts at 40:46 in the movie, and she says it at 41:09]. She says this despite Odin lying about Hela's existence to like, everyone ever (and was pretty successful at his cover-up), and also lying to Loki about his true heritage (and that cover-up was pretty successful for several centuries). Odin seems to be pretty good at lying. By Odin letting Frigga believe he is a bad liar (at least at smaller things), it lets him have her twisted around his fingers even more.

In addition, Frigga defends Odin's awful actions, notable in the first Thor film, in a scene where Frigga and Loki are conversing while Odin is in the Odinsleep. Frigga admits to wanting to have told Loki of his Jotünn heritage from the beginning, but Odin forbade it. When Loki asks for more information, Frigga says it's because Odin loved him and didn't want him to feel different. Pretty bullshit reasoning, but it looks like Frigga legitimately, honestly believes the words (words that were most likely told to her by Odin, probably in 'conversation' much like in the deleted scene previously mentioned). In this scene, she also defends Odin's decision to banish Thor, saying Odin always has a reason for everything (much like what Odin had yelled at her about in his chastisement in the same previous deleted scene).

While some may attribute this to her honestly agreeing with Odin and being a reflection on her beliefs & morals (and therefore being a horrible person as well), this probably isn't the case given what we have seen of her. It is actually quite common for victims to defend their abuser's actions. In this article by Dr. Sirota (a psychiatrist with over 25 years of mental health experience), she explains many, many reasons as to why this is (including the "crazy-making" tactic Odin was showed utilizing in that first scene mentioned).

Not to mention, in actual norse mythology/Asatro, Frigga (actually called Frigg) is deemed the goddess of marriage, amongst other things. If this aspect of her carries over into her MCU version, she may even feel pressured to stay with Odin- after all, what is the goddess of marriage with a failing marriage? So she either doesn't/can't recognize Odin's flaws and corruption, or is in denial about them due to this.

I really don't think Frigga was truly a bad parent (in the sense that she didnt care/didnt try), nor a bad person at heart. It is made very apparent on multiple occasions that Frigga truly loves Loki. While it is mainly shown in scenes in which she is directly talking to Loki, it is also shown even when Loki is not present, confirming that it is not a ruse. She even went out of her way and defied Odin's wishes to visit him (which is a big testament to her love for Loki, considering how much she falls in line with Odin the rest of the time). While she definitely has her flaws (there are hints to racism/excusing racism, as that is pretty normal in Asgard, apparently), I cannot help but wonder how much of that is also Odin's fault?(actually likely just the. culture of asgard's fualt) (btw not trying to excuse racism, racism is very obviously bad)

But anyways in the end, I think Frigga was a good parent to the best of her abilities given her situation and own problems, and it sort of makes me sad to see people talking about how awful she was :( Let's just shit on Odin

#Thor 2011 #thor 1 #thor #thor movies #marvel #mcu #loki #mcu loki #frigga #odin #odin was a shit parent obviously #odin's a+ parenting #(sarcastic obviously) #frigga (marvel) #frigga loved loki #tw abuse #cw abuse #mental abuse #emotional abuse #manipulation #tw: abuse #cw: abuse #odin was a shit #odinsleep #deleted scenes #character analysis #theory #marvel theory #sorry for all the parentheses i think i might be neurodivergent #concerning frigga

[hazzzyrider]

what do you do when your sexting with someone and they send a pic of themselves and you realize you're not attracted to them at all 🧍 totally just asking for a friend

hi and thanks for asking! i just want to start off by saying any advice i give should be taken with some salt because i am just a voice on the internet, my attraction doesn't entirely start or end with appearances and i don't know anything about your friend's experiences. but i do think what they are experiencing is valid and it's something i've felt multiple times in the past with different people.

to summarize, it sounds to me like your friend (we'll call them F) found someone they were happy/attracted to enough for sexting with. but later on, discovering their picture reduced that attraction and now they are lost on what they should do next. i'm going on a further limb to guess they had a certain image of this person in mind when they were sexting and those expectations were maybe not met.

if i were in those shoes, i would probably ask myself two things:

a) what would i like my relationship with them to be like here on out?

b) what does this mean for my future/current relationships with people?

if F would like to stop sexting and be something else, that's fine! maybe try talking about it honestly, explain you don't feel as into it anymore and maybe try something else (being friends is an option, not an obligation).

if F would like to ghost this sext partner and leave the scene, that's possible but i wouldn't advise it. it's the internet and leaving someone on read isn't infrequent. but if your intention is to be nice about it, i'd encourage talking first.

if F would like to try this more and see where this goes, that's fine too! just because one part of a person makes you feel less attracted to them does not mean you have to stop feeling attracted to them.

speaking from experience, i've probably been in most relationships (lovers, friends, dates, etc.) with people i'm not entirely attracted to. and personally, i don't think seeking a perfect 24/7 1-to-1 attraction is healthy as a goal (this is very different to avoiding relationships with people who are obviously very harmful to you). i've dated people who were bad at sex, made friends whose beliefs don't align with mine and did art with colleagues whose styles i disliked. but that doesn't mean you can't allow yourself to continue having fun and trying things out. it's why "loving someone warts and all" is a term which exists. you don't dismiss the wart, you acknowledge it, allow yourself to learn about it and maybe see if anything changes.

if F feels like it, i'd like to encourage them to give themselves the same chance to do so. because i think it sounded to me like the sexting didn't start with appearance and something else was keeping that attraction going. and imo it could be very important for F to acknowledge, learn and nurture that part of themselves.

but if it turns out all of F's sexting so far was only fun because of the expectations they had of how the other person looked, then i think that's a great opportunity too. to maybe reflect on how such a simple picture in their head was able to decide so easily whether they should give connecting with someone else a chance. (and maybe consider if that's something beneficial/detrimental to them and if they would like to keep happening to them in the future with others).

and whichever way F decides to take this, i wish them luck and hope they have a better time sexting with people.

#asks #this was a really interesting one to find in my inbox lol #hope this wasn't too long for an answer! i got really into it #and for anyone else who sees this as advice for themselves. please don't apply it in general to all of your life without some nuance. #or maybe try sending me another ask too if you feel like you want to ask something specific anon or i didn't touch on.

[protagonistheavy]

I have distaste towards obnoxious/"clickbait" thumbnails and video titles as much as the next guy, but I certainly dont think significantly less of anyone who produces content using these sort of........ "manipulative tactics."

Which has to be said in quotes because at the end of the day, these creators are just trying to get you to notice their video in a sea of videos lol. Titles with ALL CAPS in the middle and generous use of ?!?! and an arrow pointing at a circled Thing in the thumbnail, the reason those are so frequent on youtube is because they fundamentally work to get more clicks -- they are effective at getting someone's attention. And I really just dont think someone is outright evil just for trying to bring attention to their videos -- especially when covering subjects that plenty of other people will also be making videos about. They just want to stand out.

But some attitudes towards these "tactics" seem to express real hatred for people who do this, as if they're doing something sneaky or wrong by... making their thumbnail bright and noticeable. I guess I want to ask, what SHOULD these people do...? And by "people" i mostly mean those middling content creators, youtubers that are happy to get ~20k views on something. Are they really supposed to hold onto some sort of pride and NOT do the thing that clearly gets other videos tons of engagement?

I guess another thing I wonder is if there are some folks who just have an instinctive disgust to being aware that they're being, like, advertised to. Like it seems that it actually grosses people out, to see clickbaity thumbnails, or it offends them to have had their eyes pulled away "unfairly" or something. There are entire extensions designed to swap out thumbnails with less obnoxious ones, and change the titles to more basic descriptions... and I guess I wonder, doesn't that feel almost a little insulting to the artist intent? I mean don't get me wrong, first and foremost, power to the user -- I love that people can control this about their internet experience. I'd probably use that extension too if I used youtube on desktop more often. But I can't shake this feeling that it's sort of dismissive of the artist to go out of your way to ignore what is, realistically, the front cover of a book, even if it's a shitty-looking cover. Someone designed that thumbnail, someone chose that title for the video, and I guess I sort of have a weird appreciation for the folks that can make a catchy and effective thumbnail while toeing the line of not being too annoying. I suppose I also feel a bit bad for those smaller content creators, who are stuck in a place of either accepting less engagement on their videos, or getting ridiculed online for just trying to get noticed.

And I stress that this post is about clickbait-like videos, not actual clickbait. I'm talking about thumnails with big arrows, circles, text, etc on the thumbnail, but ultimately actually do talk about the subject matter it shows -- compared to actual clickbait, that just uses that imagery to trick you into clicking a video that has nothing to do with the material. obviously the latter is just bad lol, Im more curious about these not-clickbait videos and why people have such a visceral response to them.

[merrybrides]

Is a Cellphone Ruining Your Relationship?

Whether you’ve been in one romantic relationship in your entire life or several, you’ve probably experienced your share of relationship drama. After all, no two people are perfect, nor is any one single relationship—and it’s normal to fight once in a while. But while you might put your best foot forward in many areas of your relationship, one area that you may be lacking in has to do with an unsuspecting device: your smartphone.

It’s a habit known as “phubbing,” and it describes the act of essentially snubbing, or ignoring, your partner and instead focusing solely on your phone. Phubbing is incredibly detrimental to relationships, as those who are being phubbed may feel as if they are not being valued, heard, or understood.

While it might not feel like it, phubbing is basically the same thing as sitting on a couch and talking to one person who is not your significant other without ever breaking focus to include your partner in your conversation. Rude, right?

Phubbing isn’t usually intentional, but rather an impulse behavior and a symptom of mobile and often internet and/or social media addiction. Loss of control is a commonly reported feeling of both the person phubbing and of the person who is being phubbed, however it has been shown to cause conflict in relationships and, in turn, a decrease in marital satisfaction. As human beings we have a natural desire to feel connected to others, so when the person we are trying to engage with is paying more attention to their phone than us, this can cause us to question our significance in that person's life.

It’s clear that phubbing is no good for your relationship, but just how bad is it? Here, experts share some of the specific ways your relationship could be negatively affected by phubbing.

It sends a message of a lack of respect.

When one partner is phubbing the other, it signals that your time together is not valued. There might be times you have planned a date together and, while you both are at the dinner table engaging in a very exciting conversation, your phone goes off causing an interrupt in the conversation. Now your partner feels alone, dismissed, and as if what was being discussed was not valuable enough to need your full attention.

To avoid this, we suggest discussing your expectations and creating a signal so that you can let your partner know when you want their attention and active engagement. This can be either verbal such as ‘let’s put the phones away for a few, ‘or a non-verbal gesture. Whatever is agreed upon by you and your partner should signal that it is time to disengage with the phone and be present in the conversation.

It creates a lack of meaningful conversations.

In order for you and your partner to be able to have deep and meaningful conversations, it’s vital that you are both present—not just physically, but emotionally as well. If, at any point, your partner feels like you are not really in the moment, they will feel disconnected and suppress their thoughts, feelings, and emotions as they feel that whatever they are sharing is not as important to you.

It can hurt your partner’s mental health.

Your simple social media scrolling might be making your partner feel inadequate, or not enough, which may, in turn, impact their mental wellbeing. Phubbed people feel excluded, unimportant, and ostracized, as sustained exclusion can lead to individuals questioning their self-esteem and sense of belonging, ultimately messing with their mental state. When you make your partner a priority over your smartphone, they feel important, which can boost their self-esteem.

Bottom line: It’s true that we’re living in a technology- and media-saturated world that is demanding our attention around the clock. But how we choose to respond to this demand is up to us—and whether or not we are willing to watch relationships crumble in the midst of it all is too. We recommend making a plan with your partner as to how phones will be managed. Perhaps, think of moments when you know you want to spend quality time and phones must be put away. At times, when there are scheduled calls during moments you are sharing quality time with your partner, inform your partner of this in advance, this way; your partner feels considered and valued.

#relationships #marriage #dating #cellphones #smartphones #relationship advice

[cappuccinosyscourse]

cracks knuckles

okay so copyright infringement is kind of messy because a lot of litigation related to copyright law is entirely up to how the judge feels that day (/half joking)

but in general, lawsuits work like this (this is abbreviated and humorous bc Law Scary sometimes and i am actively trying to simplify):

1. Bad Thing happens that causes damages to plaintiff (the one suing) because of action or inaction of the defendant (the one being sued)

2. plaintiff files a complaint against defendant

3. defendant gets served papers (often by a process server but not always, side tangent process servers have AMAZING stories if you can ever talk to one they are so funny)

4. defendant has a limited amount of time to file either a document called an "answer" to the complaint OR file a motion to dismiss the case

5. case may be dismissed if a motion to dismiss was filed and the case was a pointless dumpster fire, if not, here comes The Discovery

6. discovery is the fun part because here is where ALL the facts come out to play. both sides can file requests for productions of documents/info (which fun fact can include things that you absolutely would not expect such as medical records), subpoena people and business involved to get even more info, depose parties (not fun and is kind of like an interview but with intense stress), and even let the lawyers argue in front of the judge about whether or not info is relevant to the case and the opposing counsel is being a whiny baby or not

7. someone may file for a summary judgment which is basically saying "hey court can u give out a judgment before trial based on these facts that we all agree on" and if that's granted everyone celebrates and goes home

8. also many courts require u to like. try again to settle ur dispute before the big day so there may be mediation involved. if the mediation and summary judgment didn't work then everyone gets to go to court (yay!!)

9. ideally if u are the plaintiff u will be awarded a judgment. however the judgment is just a piece of paper tbfh. my business law professor literally brought us a copy of one that he put in a picture frame lol

10. what i mean by "just a piece of paper" is that if the defendant declares bankruptcy and has no liquid assets or anything they can give the plaintiff then u may just be SOL depending on ur specific situation but hey at least u got ur paper!!!

anyway onto ur specific little copyright anon person, there have to be DAMAGES for someone to sue u. granted damages do not have to be financial and can be things like an intentional infliction of emotional distress case (more than just "hurt feelings", there's criteria that determines if something is IIED such as the action being outrageous and one that could be expected to severely impact the plaintiff's mental health)

if there were damages of some kind yeah that's the start, but also there are some cases where damages matter a lot less (such as if u are involved in a defamation case but everything u said was 100% factual and proven, the damages that person suffers as a result of their own words or actions is not ur problem as much anymore)

anyway onto copyright infringement

i did not see the screenshot in question but there are two scenarios here:

1. the screenshot was of a conversational message sent to u or someone else or posted somewhere

2. the screenshot was of something protected by ip law (like a logo or an essay or art)

in scenario 1 it kind of depends on the jurisdiction but generally the "truth will set u free" and it is probably not illegal to share

in scenario 2 yes you have probably committed copyright infringement UNLESS what u did falls under fair use. fair use doctrine is widely and wildly misunderstood and also very complicated but here is a VERY generalized version:

1. thing is used for educational purposes (very likely as this is a syscourse blog)

2. thing is being criticized (also likely here)

3. thing is being used in news reporting (for instance think about protests and how many signs r present in news reels, those r protected by copyright law and news stations can't exactly go ask every single person w/ a sign whether or not they r allowed to use the footage they have of the protest)

4. thing is being used in a parody ("u can't steal work but u can make fun of it", basically)

5. thing is otherwise just being commented upon (also likely here)

those are not ALWAYS considered fair use but are generally accepted as such in most cases, again it depends on how the judge feels about it.

fair use is determined by four (4) factors

1. purpose and character of ur use of the material (was it transformative in some way or did u just copy paste and claim as ur own)

2. nature of the copyrighted material (was it published already? does the author have any rights over its appearance? was the work fictional or strictly academic? etc)

3. amount and substantiality of what u took (did u take the most important part? did u take a LOT of it or just a little or somewhere in between?)

4. effect of use on the market (is what u did going to severely damage the author's prospects in some way and/or are u hijacking a market like that one photograph case that i cant currently remember the name of?)

so yeah. what u did is probably not going to land u in any hot water, and even if it did, they would be kind of not smart to try and serve u considering how much MONEY AND EFFORT goes into litigation and finding where u are to even serve u in the first place. also due to The Sick, the courts are backed up so bad. i am talking like two or three YEARS.

sorry this was long!!

sources: us copyright law, a music industry course i took that focused heavily on ip law, a business law course i took, and the (unfortunately for him) many many hours i have spent bothering my law professor (a still-practicing attorney) about random questions

if a legal professional sees this and i got any of this wrong or a bit to the left please absolutely correct it u are the experts and i am still in the middle of applying to law school + it is late and i am sleepy

Thank you for taking the time to type all of this out. The screenshot was just a little blurb on a post about endogenics and the witchcraft community. When I made the post I cropped the sections I wanted to highlight, and captioned it with "very important note on this post by this person" and then I said for ppl to follow them for informed posts about the topic.

Incredibly weird tbh and just made me laugh but this ask is very informative

[luminouslumity]

THOUGHTS ON: THE COSMERE SERIES

So I said last year about how I was going to be reading the Cosmere books for the first time, one book/series at a time, and I've finally done just that!

So I started with Elantris and it was... eh. Yeah, I can see why this one isn't really talked about much. I didn't even hate it, tbh, but I still found it to be pretty boring overall. I know it was Branderson's first book, though, so I'm willing to cut him some slack here. Hopefully I'll enjoy the sequel more, whenever it comes out.

Next was the original Mistborn trilogy, which I've actually been wanting to read for awhile now! I can certainly see why it's Branderson's most popular work and I myself really liked it, too! Kelsier is probably my favorite character since I love how many layers there are to him. Elend is a close second, and considering what happens to the latter... Yeah...

Speaking of villains, I still can't tell if we're meant to pity Rashek or not due to things like this:

It's calling him "a good man" is what has me thrown off. I know his actions were at least in part due to Ruin's influence, but still! As for Ruin himself, again, I love Chessmaster characters! I do however think I would've preferred it if the Hero of Ages did turn into a tyrant, just because I've always loved this sort of trope, but I'm not too bothered about the twist, either.

So since I finished Era 1, I decided to read Era 2 while I was still on Scadrial, and as someone who's not too fond of Westerns in general, I thought the Wax and Wayne series was okay. I was feeling so bad for Wax throughout it, though! And I'm also really looking forward to the inevitable big crossover that's been teased at this entire time after getting a taste of it in a main book.

And now we come to my favorite of the Cosmere books, Warbreaker! And it's just fun! Really, really fun! Of the PoV storylines, I think I liked Vivenna's arc the most and how determined she was to rescue her sister, but Siri's was still a close second. Favorite character in general, though, Bluefingers. I repeat, I love a good Chessmaster! But more than that, I really liked how sympathetic he was, just trying to free his people, but he and his supporters ended up taking things way too far! Which brings to what is really my only big complaint with the book, and that's how abruptly it seemed to end, especially where the conflict with the Pahn Kahl is concerned, so for better or worse, I really hope their fate gets explored in Nightblood. Which reminds me, I loved the chaotic sword, too!

White Sand was next and it was another story I found to just be alright, both the graphic novel as well as the prose version.

Now comes The Stormlight Archive, another I've been wanting to read for awhile now, though I know it won't be completed for a few years now. I actually read the audiobook to the Prime version of TWoK first, so it was fun to compare it with the official release and I really hope we get more Sanderson Curiosities in the future! All that said, I'm really enjoying the story so far and how grand everything feels, but oof, did these scenes make me cringe:

On one hand, I totally get scolding Kaladin for just automatically assuming the worst of everyone who's a lighteyes and being fed up with his cynicism. At the same time, though, I also really hate how dismissive Shallan comes across in this chapter. At first, I thought that was the intention, but then we get this:

This isn't even the first time I've felt like anger towards oppression was being dismissed in one way or another, btw (again, Warbreaker, my beloved), these are just the moments that stood out to me the most. It'd be one thing if it were just condemning extremists, but when you have scenes like Shallan's talk with Kaladin and... Yeah... Again, I totally get the intention, I just wish the scenes had played out better, because I actually do like Shallan otherwise.

Anyway, I ended up reading Arcanum Unbounded afterwards, as well as Dawnshard, and I liked them just fine. Secret History is probably my favorite of the short stories, and I really hope Nalthis gets a short story eventually. I also received Aether of Night literally yesterday (thank you, 17th Shard!) and it was interesting seeing the similarities between this and other Branderson works, such as Ruin and Decay.

If I had to rank them from favorite to least favorite, it would probably be Warbreaker, The Final Empire, Wax and Wayne, The Stormlight Archive, White Sand, and finally, Elantris.

So yeah, great stories by someone who seems like an overall great guy, I just question some of the writing choices.

#brandon sanderson #branderson #cosmere #the cosmere #fantasy #elantris #mistborn #the final empire #wax and wayne #warbreaker #white sand #white sand prose #the stormlight archive #the way of kings prime #arcanum unbounded #aether of night #thoughts

[caliginouscreature]

For the ask game:

1. When did you start identifying as otherkin? In hindsight, how many of your quirks/behaviors/interests connect to your identity?

Specifically as “otherkin/fictionkin” about 1-2 months ago, but I’ve casually considered myself as on the “alterhuman” spectrum since at least 2017!  Before recently, I usually thought of myself specifically as “otherhearted”, and I may still be such, but I realized that I had gotten a not-fully-correct impression about how it is defined and experienced due to very poor documentation (esp. how pretty much all folks who blog about otherheartedness always compare it to otherkinity, which isn’t useful to people who are new and unsure about what their feelings count as).

And umm... several, to be honest!  It depends on the kintype, but they tend to overlap a little.  I will admit, there’s a lot of it that I connect specifically with my neurodivergence and traumas, but I don’t necessarily think, at least at the moment, that that’d make me exclusively “copinglink” instead, as psychological nonhumanity is really complicated and really lacks documentation compared to more spiritual-leaning nonhumanity (and someone saying “even forming a coping mechanism subconsciously without intention doesn’t count as actual ’kin”, seems to entirely dismiss the “imprinting” theory for psychological kin, but that’s another issue)... Looking back on certain specific feelings and thoughts and realizing they connect to my kintypes has been really wild and kind of funny, like... oh... most <10 year olds DON’T consider mass mind control and threats of enforced cannibalism in their daydreams about being a ruler-type figure do they... or specifically consider their classmates “inferiors” deserving of violent punishment for behaving towards me in certain ways...

Wanting to lurk in, perch on, and guard(?) fancy and old buildings is something very cool and special to me... I want to haunt some ruins so bad... I looooved being able to make people leave during the mask mandate!  It was super gratifying to see them get all huffy and just... leave because they’d get in trouble otherwise!  I really like being able to enforce a specific rule about access to something or somewhere, without exception or vagueness, and get away with it/be backed up on it...

There’s also my weird “judgmental” thing... lately been putting it together with my monsterkin and (Flora) angelkin feelings, but to be honest it could probably apply to most of them, even ones I’m more questioning on... left a job recently where most of my coworkers weren’t nice to me, and specifically felt like “they would have failed a faerie politeness test”...  I’m a very frustrated creature... not always fun to think “looks like SOMEone needs the torture town!!” or “well, NOW I kind of want to smite you 🙄 or for your failure to resonate with me to warp you out of time and space. sigh...” about someone, especially when you’re not very strong and don’t actually have any magic powers...

I could go on and on, but then this post would get extremely long and full of anecdotes I could expand on later, so I guess “in hindsight” is just a whole lot!

#ask games #polykin #monsterkin #darkkin #sincere deceit kin #sindec kin #off fangame kin #off spinoff kin #floraverse kin #alterhuman #fictionkind #fictionkin #otherkind #otherkin #I really could go on and on and on. my nonhuman feelings go WAY back and I'm glad I'm happier/better off with them now than as a kid! #oh geez I forgot to mention my interests RIP.... there's a lot there too though I just forgot while typing all what I already typed #but those ARE relevant too

[fatuispolaris]

haereses asked: " what do you think they were thinking about when they died? " || random (chaotic) dialogue starters

another deal gone bad. how unfortunate. childe supposed it wasn't pierro's wisest decision to send the likes of himself along with the doctor on a diplomatic mission, but then again... pierro wasn't the type to make mistakes. this conclusion was intentional, everything else a formal pretense. just another example for those bold enough to try and double-cross the fatui.

childe stepped over one of the bodies, grimacing a bit when avoiding it meant his entire boot happened to step in a puddle of blood. he didn't mind the mess, but such a concentration did feel a little gross on the boots. he smeared it on the fallen treasure hoarder's back, considering dottore's words. he personally wasn't one to dwell much on what the weak might be thinking.

❝ knowing these types, it was probably just some generic cowardly sniveling. probably some regrets and apologies made to the archons for operating without morals in hopes of some type of atonement, ❞ he said, dismissive and cold of the newly deceased. he found it hard for himself to feel sympathy for them, especially when considering their transgressions, which he viewed as a direct affront to the tsaritsa herself.

❝ do you think you can salvage anything from this mess for your experiments? ❞

#haereses #( answered. )

[butmakeitgayblog]

I love the cruel intentions au so much and I don’t even like the movie. I absolutely reread the snippets when I have a bad day just to glean some confidence from those messy bitches. That make me feel like I’m too nice sometimes.

I like the movie but only because it really is so fucked up. Like on levels I hadn't even really considered when I was younger but now as an adult I am horrified

Anyway speaking of messy bitches let's see Clarke be really messy shall we (angsty and be prepared to possibly not like Clarke for a lil bit but meh)

//////////

Sometimes it feels crazy having this thing on your finger.

Particularly in the moments when you're going about your day and forget all about it, until a twist of your hand catches the light and sets off a riot of color.

If it were on anyone else's hand you'd probably dismiss it. Call it tacky and nouveau.

Certainly would never admit how bad you'd want it for your own.

You'd honestly never thought of yourself as a big diamond person. Size wise at least, respectively. Apart from never having really thought you'd end up married to begin with, just the idea of carrying a goddamn boulder this size around om your finger had been laughable once upon a time.

But you do have to admit.

Lexa'd truly outdone herself.

And what's worse, you find yourself showing it off fucking everywhere. You're horrified that you might actually be becoming one of those girls you absolutely cannot stand.

But you just... can't seem to stop yourself.

Secretly, you don't want to.

Not when Lexa looks so stoically pleased with herself each time you get a chance to shove it under an admirer's nose.

You figure she's earned that much.

Because the diamond is flawless, and the setting is disgustingly divine, and your heart still goes a little gay and pounds with the knowledge of just how long Lexa must've searched for it. How many stores you knew she must've shut down to search in peace until she'd found the only ring her pretentious ass would feel proud to slip on your finger.

It's not about the pomp of it or the carat count for her, that you know without doubt. And it certainly wasn't the price tag, shockingly, having figured out it'd set her back when you'd snooped. It'd barely been more than what you'd paid to redo the bathroom of your condo-- because you love that woman with your entire heart but there still wasn't a prayer's chance in hell you were about to share a sink with her. And besides, the job was basically chump change compared what she spends on clothes alone, so actually--

You're losing your focus.

The point has always been, she knows you. And you really do have to hand it to your wife.

She really doesn't half-ass one single thing.

So you don't bother yourself with breaking the habit of delicately tracing your neck in a way that draws attention to the rock.

"You really are a cunt for managing to marry someone richer than you who actually has good taste, you know that, right?"

You chuckle as you swallow a mouthful of champagne and thankfully don't choke.

"Intimately."

"Spoiled as shit and a fucking nightmare on good days, you of all people land the heir to the Woods empire, and you didn't even have to suck any old man balls."

"Not recently at least. You're eloquent tonight," you note absently with a tilt of your head and another sip.

"I'm bored of this fucking city," she sighs and gestures around the bustle of the room with her own champagne flute. "It's nothing but vapid East Coast socialites with more money than class, and I'm tired of having to pretend to be awed by them."

"Nothing shocks them anymore," you agree with a hum, and you suppose you feel a bit sorry for her. You know since you've settled down with the girl of your dreams she's kind of been flying mostly solo at these things.

Which is sad, because if there were ever actually a person you'd considered a friend, it probably would have had to been Raven.

But you shrug and sit back. Let your gaze wonder over her. Let your lips fall into a smirk when she stares back just as dangerously.

Sometimes you wonder why you never tested the boundaries of your questionable friendship during your single years, because she really is quite stunning.

You don't feel bad for appreciating her.

You're married.

Not dead.

Maybe it's time to shake off the dust on you're wingman credentials.

"You need to get laid," you decide.

"Getting laid has never been the issue."

"Oh right. Wasn't fucking vapid socialites on your Princeton application?"

"Eat me."

"Tempting," you smirk with a flit of your brow, a habit you'd picked up from the woman somewhere off schmoozing. "But alas, this mouth belongs to another. You'll have to find different hieress to make a buffet of, I'm afraid."

She rolls her eyes and lets her gaze wander the ballroom stuffed with the better part of the northern hemisphere's elite.

And just as you're toying with the notion of ordering a fresh drink, the sharpness of your friend's smile catches your attention.

"Or," she drawls in a dulcet purr, "I suppose I could just try my hand at stealing yours."

Your face screws up in confusion before you can stop yourself as you try to recall exactly how much this silly bitch has had to drink.

"Yeah, good luck with that. Have you seen this cleavage tonight?" you ask and eye her while waiting for the punchline to drop.

But she grins on with evil satisfaction, rests her chin on her knuckles and keeps her eyes locked somewhere beyond you.

"I don't know, Clarke. She certainly seems to be keeping her options open to me," Raven says with a delicate tip of her glass. "Perhaps I should throw my hat in the ring. Now wouldn't that be hilarious? If I were the one to steal her away?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you finally snap beneath your breath to warn her she's nearing a personal line.

As though that's ever stopped either of you.

"She looks cozy."

You turn at the simple lift of Raven's chin, following her eyeline up and over your shoulder.

"Though I suppose that makes sense. As if I could get in the middle of those two. Mah! Don't know what I was thinking," you hear Raven say through an amused noise, something akin to a pop of laughter.

You remember why you've never actually considered her a friend.

Because you ignore her and watch your wife toss her head back in a song of throaty laughter. The kind that usually makes your every nerve ending feel on fire.

But you can't hear it from this distance, and it's not being directed at you.

All it does is make you feel sick.

"You know, I was shocked when they broke up," Raven continues through the fog of something dark coiling low in your belly.

Something you haven't felt in years.

You grit your teeth and force the words out as calmly as you can manage. "Is that so?"

She hums and you can practically hear the thrill in it.

"We all were," Raven breaths as though divulging a heavy confession that is undoubtedly at odds with an unseen gleam in her eyes. "Tragic, really. I mean they always seemed so in love, those two. She really couldn't get enough of lil Cos."

You tighten your fists in your lap at the familiar nickname to hopefully ebb the urge to slap her.

Because that's entirely bullshit.

But also... entirely not.

Because you remember that year and a half when they'd dated, and you remember how happy Lexa had seemed. You remember their secret smiles, and how she'd been the one Lexa had paraded back and forth to her bed. How the noises at night had sounded downright obscene. And you remember how softly she had spoken of her the few times your parentals had actually asked.

How it was like you hadn't even existed from the very second they'd kissed.

But you also remember how cold Lexa had been when Costia had ended things, when she had said they were moving in two different directions. When she'd said they just wanted fundamentally different things out of life and that she needed things Lexa couldn't give.

You also remember how Lexa had chosen to rebound by discreetly fucking everything in a skirt that lived on the upper Eastside.

You'd hated Costia from the start but you're old enough now to know that wasn't her fault.

Except sitting there watching her shuffle a step closer to your wife, lay a hand on your wife, smile and bat her lashes at your fucking wife... had you forgetting exactly why that was.

And on top of all the reasons you'd hated her to begin with, she'd broken Lexa's secretly delicate heart. And a transgression like that was simply unforgivable, so, logically, now you hate her more.

So all things considered you really can't seem to comprehend why Lexa is nodding and taking her hand to lead her out onto the edge of the dancefloor.

"You have to admit, they make a beautiful couple."

"Shut the fuck up, Raven."

"Oh c'mon," you hear her chuckle behind you through the din of clinking glasses and shoes on hardwood floors. "Don't kill the messenger. I thought you knew."

"Knew what, exactly?"

"Why everyone was so astonished when you actually managed to get her to marry you, of course."

You wheel around and stare at her with a razor-edged glare.

"I mean... besides the obvious," she shrugs at your wordless question, but her words drip with scandal. "Everyone always thought they'd find their way back to each other in the end. I mean they had talked quite a lot about getting married eventually. Everyone assumed they just needed some time to grow up. Get a few indiscretions out of their systems... Surely you knew that."

You're initially proud of yourself for tempering any sort of response, opting to remain perfectly still despite her obvious glee.

But somehow you realize too late that saying nothing is apparently worse than saying anything at all.

Christ, being in love has made you go soft.

"Oh, dear," she simpers when you don't move an inch. Gives you a pitying smile and reaches out to pat your hand as she rises from her seat. "Apparently not."

And you're glad she's out of swinging distance, because, no... no you had not.

"Well," she breathes and scoops up the shawl that'd been draped across the back of her chair. "I'm sure I'm just being silly. Anyway, it's been lovely catching up, Clarke, but you know? I think maybe you're right. I will go look for my own heiress tonight. Leave you two lovebirds to your wedded bliss. Oh, and tell Lexa she did a beautiful job for me, won't you? Whenever she, um... remembers where she left you."

Your jaw tightens as you accept the bump of her cheek against yours because what the hell else are you supposed to do.

Because anything else would only give that bitch all the more ammo for next time.

You sit there in silence and blot out the tinkling sounds of the festivities around you. And you hate that after all these years, Raven finally managed to find your weak spot. Hate it only slightly more than actually having one to begin with.

Your body feels numb and your eyes strangely burn when you turn around and look back out at the dancefloor.

You watch Lexa's smirk dissolve into another laugh when she gives her ex an elegant dip.

There are so many things you love about yourself.

Things to take pride in and feel exalted over the rest. Things some may find offputting or attributes to be fixed, you like the darker parts of yourself that you choose not to restrain.

But in the moment, watching her nod and lean closer in some hushed conversation, one hand wrapped up tight in another that is distinctly not your own, while the other sits low on Costia's back... all you can feel are the ugliest pieces of you bubbling up to the surface.

The room suddenly feels too hot and, Jesus...

No. Fuck this. You're definitely not about to cry here of all places.

Because while you might be having a lot of... blegh, feelings at the moment, Clarke Griffin-Wo--...

You don't lose your control in public.

You're up out of your seat with little in the way of a plan. Toss back the remnants of your lukewarm champagne and hand it off to a passing waiter, only to grab a fresh one from the next bowtie-clad person you fly past. It does nothing to cool you off when you down half of it in one go as you very calmly make your way up to the pair seemingly lost in their own world.

"Hello."

You paint on the best approximation of a smile you can manage and want to knock the answering one off hers when Lexa's head snaps around at the clipped sound of your greeting.

As though she's surprised to see you here.

It makes the blood in your veins boil.

"Oh, there you are, darling," she has the audacity to say as though she's positively been looking for you everywhere.

But you're not looking at her.

You're looking at the face you hadn't seen in six blissful years. And it's not hard for your mind to kick up all the loathing from your questionably shared past.

She's still unfairly beautiful, older and somehow more gorgeous for it, and in another lifetime you know damn good and well you would've asked for the skincare routine with a smile.

But in the moment, looking at her annoyingly perfect skin and cheekbones that could end your life just makes you feel...

Destructive.

There's an awkward lull as you glance between the pair with wide, burning eyes.

Lexa frowns and tilts her head toward her dance partner. "Darling, you remember Costia--"

"Oh right!" you burst out as though it's all just come together and ignore her when Lexa's eyes immediately narrow. "I thought you looked familiar. How ridiculous of me, of course. And here I was thinking Lex was dancing with some random stranger."

Lexa stiffens as Costia chuckles and godammit you hate how lyrical it sounds compared to your own. "Don't worry, it's been awhile."

"Hm. Too long," you smile with a sharp glance at your wife. "And yet somehow not long enough."

"Clarke--"

"So, how have you been, dear CC? It's been some time since you've graced us with your presence."

You relish in the pleasure that curls through you when every drop of Costia's warm welcome falls away.

You can tell she's barely containing an eyeroll which, honestly you wish she would try you with one right now. "Actually, I was just telling Lexa about how I only got back into town yesterday. I've been traveling."

"Ah, yes, I seem to recall hearing something about that."

"But of course, when I heard about Lex's little event tonight," she grins and looks at your wife, "I simply couldn't keep myself away."

Oh.

Oh this bitch is testing the very last shred of your patience.

"Yes, I know the feeling," you say through a sneering laugh, lifting the hand holding your drink in a way that shows off your ring. "Good thing I don't have to, hm?"

"Cos was just telling me--"

"That sounds so lovely for you, though," you cut in over whatever Lexa has to say because just the sound of that name rolling off your wife's tongue has you irrationally ready to fuck someone up. "The traveling, I mean, of course. Some people thrive on that kind of lifestyle, I suppose. The routeless, listless kind of running from one obscurity to next. Others of us prefer to lay down roots, though. You know, build a life. Stability. Loyalty. I'm sure you can fathom that in theory, yes?"

"Clarke."

She says it with a snap like a whip and, yeah, you've decided you've had just about enough of this too.

"Well I can see when I'm intruding, so I'll leave you both to it. But it has been a treat seeing you, CC," you say with a brilliant smile before knocking back the last half of your drink and shoving the empty glass into Lexa's hand. "Have fun, ladies."

You're gone before either of them can utter a another word.

The fact she doesn't follow only makes you feel worse.

/////////

Ten more minutes.

That's what you've been telling yourself for last forty-five.

Ten more fucking minutes then you're gone for good.

Because it's a little after midnight and you've already embarrassingly cried twice, each between bouts of treading grooves into the seven thousand dollar wood grain of your bedroom floor.

And frankly, you're over it at this point.

Over feeling like a child. Over feeling like some idiot wife waiting for their spouse to come home. Over playing through one sickening mental image of the evening after the next.

A part of you knows you potentially overreacted and you'll eventually apologize for that through a mediator you're sure, but for now, you're more than happy to stew in a pool of self-righteous rage.

It'd been hours since you'd stormed out and slammed the door of your waiting limo. Since you'd slammed the door of your condo as well and the one to your bedroom just for good measure. Been hours since you'd left her there staring stiff-jawed after you with little more than a silent dare.

And she still wasn't home.

And you're still stupidly waiting.

And pissed off and fed up and so goddamn sick to your stomach.

You hate yourself for how pathetic you were.

Are.

And you rest your head in your hands and wonder if... you wonder if this was how your mom used to feel--

You suck in a gasp tangled with a growl and shoot off the foot of your bed before you can even finish the thought.

Because you'd rather burn the world down with Lexa smack dab in the middle of it before ever letting yourself be as pathetic that bitch.

The quiet spurs on your movements as you throw your personal walk-in closet open and grab the same piece of luggage you'd initially used to move in. You toss it on your bed and snatch up a few things at random because fuck Lexa and fuck Abby and fuck Costia's entire fucking face, and--

"Jesusfuck!"

You clutch a balled up fistfuls of underwear to your chest and pant through your startle when you turn around and see green eyes staring back.

She leans silently in the doorway, arms crossed and resting her weight on her shoulder, and she looks so ethereal in the soft glow of the rooms dimmed lamplight that it makes you physically ache.

You stand frozen as her gaze pulls away from your own, drops to the clothes still clutched to your chest. Slide to the luggage laying open in disarray on your bed, then back to you again.

"Going somewhere?"

You scoff at her lazy tone and find your rage all over again as you storm back over to the bed.

"What are you doing, Clarke?"

"You're a smart girl. I think you can figure it out."

You can practically hear her jaw grind from across the room.

"I'm surprised you're even here right now," you continue to push in your anger, shooting her a snark laced smile when her eyes follow your every move.

"... We live here."

"Oh, I'm aware. But you seemed to be having such a wonderful time, darling," you sneer just to twist the knife. "I'm astounded you managed to drag yourself away."

She stays silent as you pick through your closet because you're intent on leaving with only the pieces you came with.

It's not until you've got most of your blouses collected and laid out on the bed that you hear the click of her heels step up behind you.

"You embarrassed me tonight, Clarke."

You whip around so fast you damn near loose your balance, but still manage to yank back when she almost reaches out to steady you.

"That's fucking rich coming from you right now, Lex," you laugh and shake your head. You stare at her for a quiet moment and feel sick with the weight that settles in your stomach at her silence.

You move to step around her but she doesn't let you get far. Steps in front of you to cut you off and bring herself closer.

"You embarrassed me."

"Aww. Well, I'm sure Costia was right there to lick the wounds."

Your stare unimpressed when her head rears back, when her mouth drops open in apparent shock.

"I'm not--... Tonight was important to me, and you weren't there," she seethes barely above a growl and you chose to ignore the wet sheen that suddenly coats her eyes. "I hadn't even given my speech yet when you left. Do you have any idea how it felt to stand in front three hundred people and thank my wife for always being there for me, and not have you be there?"

"You're good at riffing, I'm sure you managed."

"Why are you acting like this?" she says again it tears at you, the way she's almost pleading.

"Are you fucking joking, Lexa?" You practically shove past her on your way to your dresser. "You looked like you barely even remembered I existed when I walked up. You were all over her tonight."

"I wasn't!" she grinds back in a yelp. "I haven't seen her in years. We were catching up!"

"Oh right, my mistake. I'm constantly fawning over every ex I 'catch up' with."

She releases a strangled noise and follows hot on your trail when you double back toward the bed.

"I wasn't fawning over her, Clarke. She was just telling me what she's been doing. I haven't seen her in six years and, in case you've forgotten, she was my friend long before we started dating."

"You don't have friends, Lex. You have people you know, people you date, and people you've fucked."

"And you have any room to talk?" she snaps and there's a sick feeling of satisfaction that goes along with it because she can't even argue that fact. "God, Clarke. Have you forgotten exactly who you were before we got together? How you act now? Since the day we met it's like it's been your personal vendetta to drive me insane, and now you're going to hold it against me because I maybe flirted with someone?"

You slam down the folded shirt in your hands and send her a glare, because there's no fucking way she's that dense.

"Not someone. Your ex."

"I just wanted--"

"Then go!" you finally explode as the remaining clothes tumble from your arms and you round on her. "Jesus Christ, then just go. You have my blessing, okay? If that's what you needed, if that's what you wanted, what are you waiting for? Go, Lex! Go fuck her till sunup for all I care, but at least have the decency to not expect me to just be sitting here waiting like--"

Your chest is heaving when you cut yourself off and you feel sick at the way she blanches. But the ugliest pieces of you want her to hurt as much as you do and she's quiet so long you feel your legs shake.

"What?" she finally breathes and it sounds so small and lost. "Clarke... What are you talking about?"

You don't think you've ever heard that voice out of her.

"Apparently you actually do think I'm an idiot, but you can't possibly have thought I was that dumb when you married me," you angrily push on anyway and struggle to keep your lips from trembling. "And, ya know, it's on me. It really is, because I had forgotten--... But then seeing you two together tonight, it was like six years ago all over again. Watching you two, it was like... fuck. I have been such an idiot. Of course."

"Clarke, I don't-- Cos and I broke up--"

"You two didn't break up," you remind her and want to be sick as every insecure thought tumbles out. "She broke up with you. But what if she hadn't?... Where would we be? Where would I even fit in your life, because tonight it sure as shit didn't seem like anywhere."

You sniffle and feel horrified with yourself when she just stares at you, and all you want to do is jackknife out of the window.

If they... actually opened.

"All I've thought about is what would have happened if she hadn't broken up with you," you admit when the silence gets too heavy and wrap your arms around yourself, shielding yourself from her in a way you haven't needed to in years. "You never even noticed me until after she ended things. If she hadn't broken up with you, we never would've made that stupid bet, and you never would've wanted me. And seeing you together reminded me how happy you were with her. That I only got you because she was too stupid to see what was right in front of her, and I just- I can't be... I can't be the woman who knows she's her wife's second choice."

The quiet of your bedroom is so loud you can hear your own heartbeat and still, you can't make yourself look at her.

Because you know whatever must be waiting there, etched in that breathtaking face, holds everything it would take to kill you.

Goddamn, being in love with her really has made you soft.

She doesn't even sigh when she passes you. Either ignores or misses the way you flinch when she ghosts her fingers along your arm. You hear her sit heavily on the end of the bed and the following rustle and thunk as she unceremoniously shoves all your things off the side.

"Sit with me," she commands in words so soft they barely break the silence.

"Lex--"

"I know you're angry, but I'm still your wife... We at least owe each other this."

You toe the edge of rug beneath your feet but give in and lower yourself a few inches away from her.

Her hands sit motionless in her lap as she stares out across the bedroom, and you glance to her in time to see her bite the full swell of her lips.

"I like rules," she starts quietly. "Not other people's, but my own. I've always made rules for myself because they keep me on track. They keep me going and keep me sane... but most importantly, they keep me safe."

You let your eyes wander over her and still, after all these years together, the sight of her always takes your breath away.

"When my dad died, I made a rule for myself. Or... more of a promise, I guess... I swore that I'd never let myself love anything as much as I had loved him. Not as a memorial or anything as foolish as that," she cuts in with a tiny shake of her head when you move to speak. "But because I never wanted anything to be able to break me like that did... I never wanted anything or anyone to have that kind of power over me ever again. I swore to never need, or love anyone the way I loved him because I knew I wouldn't survive it a second time."

Her throat bobs in a thick swallow and you don't bother stopping yourself from shifting closer despite yourself. Despite your lingering anger, you ache to reach out for her because somehow you know she's giving you parts of herself she never intended to.

"I was basically a kid when Cos and I dated," Lexa exhales with a tiny shrug. "And as much as I cared for her, I always kept that promise while we were together. Easily, actually. I had no delusions of what she meant to me, and while, yes, I did want to be with her, part of it was because she only ever had half my heart. I loved being with her because I knew she could never break me... Honestly, that's why I was more pissed than heartbroken when she dumped me... But still, I survived losing her."

Your heart races when she squares her shoulders and turns to you, eyes bright and alive as they take in every inch of your face. You swallow when she tentatively reaches out and takes your hand. Move with her when she tugs you closer.

She's near trembling when she laces your fingers together and her next words hold such intensity her body seems barely able to contain it.

"Clarke, I wouldn't survive losing you."

It lands like a suckerpunch.

It always does when she says such things in that perfectly Lexa-way. In the that way that somehow settles in your chest with a warmth beyond the words themselves. And where some would need more, would need promises and slavish bumblings of devotion, she manages to fit all that and more into those simple little words.

And, yeah, you'll still be a little pissed about it later because it never fails to take every last bit of wind out of your sails, but part of why you love her is because she means exactly what she says.

Even more the things you know she doesn't feel strong enough to say.

"I'm sorry," you hush and lean into her, nuzzle her neck as she wraps an arm around your waist. "I shouldn't have acted that way, and I'm sorry, baby."

"I'm sorry for making you feel the way I did," she says into her hair where she's buried her nose to breathe you in. "I didn't realize, but I should've. If it were the other way around, I would've been angry too."

You pull back and look at her, reach out and tuck a flyaway back. "Yeah?"

She snorts and gives you a look that you can practically hear say, 'Don't play stupid'.

Fair enough.

"I'm still sorry I acted like an ass."

"Just say something to me next time," she soothes with a grin. "Or at the very least have the decency to drag me to the an empty room and fuck me before you leave."

You bark out a laugh because she really has always been a better planner of such things and you guess hindsight is twenty-twenty... or something like that.

But the point is you feel stupid, but mostly stupidly loved because even when you're awful, she's always somehow gentle with you.

"What happened after I left?" you can't help but ask because apparently you're a glutton for punishment.

"I asked her to leave."

Your brows shoot up at that. "You did?"

"Of course," she hums and brushes her nose against yours. "She kinda treated my wife like shit... She was antagonizing you. I didn't appreciate it, and so I told her I thought it'd be best if she left."

You sigh and shake your head.

"Couldn't have told me that sooner?"

"Our torrid drama aside, you're always kind of fun to fuck with."

"Fuck you," you laugh and press your smile to her cheek because for every bit as bad as you are, she's such a pain in your ass sometimes. "I love you, ya know."

"I had a feeling," she says with a haughty smirk and kisses your lips so softly you ache. It's barely a few pecks between speaking, but you feel them all over. Her kisses always make you feel alive. "Now I'm gonna go wash my face. I'll be back in a minute. And when I am, I expect you to be naked."

"Why?" you chuckle as you chase her lips when she pulls away but let her go when she stands.

"While I'm glad we've found a resolution to our problem, Mrs. Woods," she says sternly and fuck that voice is all business, all sharp edges and teeth, and you know exactly what it means, "the fact is, you were quite the little cunt this evening, weren't you."

And you know there's probably something genuinely wrong with you because her talking that way shouldn't turn you on the way it does.

Because Lexa's not much for taking charge. Prefers to be supple and dripping around your fingers at any given moment. But she knows, always knows, exactly when you need her to take control.

To remind you exactly who each of you belong to.

"I mean really, darling. Throwing a tantrum. Missing my speech. Ridiculously pretending to move out."

Your stomach flips at the darkness in her derisive laugh and you love how she makes you feel like she owns you.

"So. I'm going to go wash my face," Lexa cooes and slowly unzips her dress, letting it pool at her feet in front of you. She bends down, rests her hands on the swell of your thighs and you damn near moan at the feel of champagne sweetened breathe. "And when I get back, I expect you wet and ready for me. Because I'm going to fuck you with my mouth until you beg me to stop... And if you do well, I will consider letting you use the strap."

She traces a finger under slacked hang of your jaw and smiles wickedly when she gives your nose a solid tap.

"So I suggest you do as I say."

/////////

#kismetcanbiteme #cruel intentions au #cruel intentions snippet #morning 🥴

[jimlingss]

I really enjoyed reading your fic fall in hatred with jin and liked the concept of a couple on the verge of a divorce. I thought I’d make a request for an angsty marriage/divorce au with another member like jk but it ends fluffy🥺

Whether you take this request or not, I wanted to say that you’re a great writer and I always love reading your stories 💜

↳ Honeymoon Horrors

3.7k || 55% Angst, 45% Fluff || Min Yoongi || Divorce!AU

It was great when it started.   Cloud nine had descended down and made its home above both your heads. You were practically floating, swooning, living a romance that Nicholas Sparks would’ve envied. You felt like you were on a permanent high as if weed and cocaine was permanently stuck in your system. You had reached enlightenment and you were permanently euphoric. How could you not be?   You had met your soulmate after all.   But as the years passed, it came tumbling down. Cloud nine started to rain. You swooned so hard that you struck your head against the edge of the kitchen counter. Instead of floating, you were getting dragged down to hell and the high you felt turned into a crash. Most importantly, you became enraged.   And you’re still mad now.   When you watch your wedding videos, all you can do is throw popcorn at the screen and scream at the grinning bitch that she’s making the worst mistake of her life.    Life’s full of plot twists, isn’t it?   And you can only chuckle at that realization now. Because what was meant to be the honeymoon you never had, a replacement honeymoon of sorts, is turning out to be a nightmare.   “Hey. Can you move?”   You rip off your headphones. “Excuse me?”   “You’re taking up all of the space.” Yoongi stares at you lazily. “This is supposed to be my armrest.”   “No. This is mine. That’s yours.”   “No. Yours is next to the window. This one is supposed to be mine. If you’re that uncomfortable, you should’ve just given me the window seat.”   You scoff and shove his arm off the armrest with your own. The half-offended, half-amused expression on Yoongi’s face is utterly stupid. It’s as if he’s judging you for being childish when he was the one who started this. You wish you could punch him square in the nose. “If you want me to move, then why don’t you move your legs? You’re taking up all the leg room!”   “You’re only out of space because you had to put your purse under the seat.”   “Where else am I supposed to put my purse?!”   “Do you see me carrying a purse?”   Suddenly, there’s a clearing of the throat. A female flight attendant is standing at the aisle and leaning over while wearing a perfectly, cordial smile. “Is there a problem over here?”   Your eyes narrow into the nosy bitch sitting across the aisle who probably tattled. You saw her looking in the corner of her eye from the very start.    “No. Not at all.”   Yoongi smiles easily. “We’re fine.”   There’s an urge to roll your eyes.    In all honesty, you underestimated Yoongi. While your divorce was well on its way and heading off like a bullet train, you had forgotten how petty he was. Exactly like you. Maybe that’s why for a period of time, you suited one another so well.   With the deposit already given on what was supposed to be the honeymoon extravaganza you never had and the plans already made long ago, you were set on going no matter what. Except he was also set on going. The asshole couldn’t give up and neither were you willing to give in.   So here you were. With your worst nemesis.    “Can you repeat that?”   “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no possible way we can get you two rooms.” The receptionist looks up from her computer screen. “You originally booked the presidential suite, correct?”   “Yes, but we changed it into two regular rooms a while ago,” Yoongi says. His brows are cinched together and he’s gripping onto the itinerary tightly.   The girl behind the front desk looks at her computer again and clicks twice but probably at nothing. “I’m so sorry. It looks like it didn’t register into our system. Is there anything else I can do for you?”   This is dreadful. As if things couldn’t get worse, they got much much worse.   “Great.” You haul in your luggage, no thanks to him. “This is just great.”   “Yeah, keep complaining,” Yoongi grumbles, “See how much that helps.”   “Shut up.”   On the top floor, the room is quiet and open. There’s a love seat in front of a flat screen television, a dining room and an open kitchen and bar. The large glass windows fully face the sandy, blue beach and allows light to pour into the enormous space. There are two chairs outside the private terrace and a jacuzzi too. But as beautiful as the place is, you feel bitter.    It should’ve been great.    It would’ve been great if you were alone.   And to make matters worse, it seems like the resort hadn’t gotten the news that your relationship with Yoongi was essentially decimated. Not when there was a scattered rose petal path leading up to the king-sized bed which also had two folded doves on it with the word ‘congratulations’ spelled out in more petals. There’s also a note: I hope you enjoy yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Min. And neither of you miss the mountainous stack of condoms on the nightstand.   Yoongi’s pale. “Christ.”   The knock on the door breaks the thick tension.   Yoongi opens the door, and he immediately steps back as two enthusiastic employees enter while wheeling in a silver cart. “Aloha, welcome to Hawaii! Are you the newlyweds?”   “Umm…”    The two of you are well past that period. To be exact, you married nearly two years ago, but you don’t know how to break it to them. Yoongi’s never been good with words either.   “Enjoying your honeymoon, aren’t you? Congratulations!” The older man is excited as if he was the one who got married. “We bought you a bottle of our best champagne to celebrate and hope you have an everlasting marriage!”   The girl beside the man pops the cork and pours the champagne, and you realize it would be more painless to go along with it.   “Thanks,” you mumble, taking your flute of champagne and nearly downing the entire thing in one go. Yoongi holds his and raises a brow at you.   “We also have a red velvet cake.” He shows you on the busy cart. “And our freshest chocolate strawberries just made earlier by our finest chef. I think you’ll enjoy this chocolate as well.”   “Thank you.” Yoongi offers a faint smile. “This is really nice.”   “Of course, of course! Anything for our newlyweds!” There’s a small bowl of almonds next to the chocolates and two raw oysters served on a plate. It’s odd with the ensemble, but then the man leans closer as if revealing a secret and puts a hand by his mouth. “It is said almonds, chocolate and oysters are aphrodisiacs.”   You choke on your champagne, sputtering.   The girl grins. Yoongi’s wide-eyed.   He collects himself quicker than you do. “Thank you.”   Luckily the friendly, borderline-overbearing staff leave the both of you to it and you’re put out of your misery. For only a moment.   “Are you going to finish that bottle of champagne by yourself?” Yoongi asks across the room and you turn your head to see his cocked brow. Of course, he’s unpacking. The asshole doesn’t know how to relax and always has to make you look bad.   You scoff. “I’m about to open the red wine too.”   “Never thought I’d see you be reduced to a drunk so quickly.”   “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’re always judging and nitpicking me.”   “I was making a comment.”   “Yeah and no one asked you to,” you mumble into the glass.   Yoongi eyes you. “You don’t have to get so upset, Y/N.”   “Are you serious?” Your posture straightens, legs lifted off the chair you propped them on and feet shifted onto the ground. “I was sitting here minding my own business. Why don’t you mind your own business.”   “I just thought you didn’t want to be sloppy when dinner hasn’t even started yet.”   “I know how to control my pacing.”   Yoongi snorts.   Your tongue rolls inside your cheek. “Excuse me?”   “What?”   “You look like you want to say something.”   “No. Not at all.”   You place the flute down onto the table. “Say it, Yoongi.”    “I thought you said I should mind my own business.”   “You’re such a condescending asshole, you know that?”   Yoongi stops folding his shirt and shuts the drawer. His expression is impassive and it irritates you more. “Pot meets kettle.”   “For someone who’s supposedly quiet, you fucking never know how to shut up.”   “Can’t you just calm down, Y/N? Unlike what you think, I’m not trying to get on your nerves. I’m trying to enjoy this trip.”   “Why are you acting like I’m the only one getting upset and that I’m the crazy one,” you spit, and he opens his mouth as if to say you are being crazy. But you don’t let him— “Don’t you dare say it. Fuck you, Yoongi. You don’t think I’m trying to enjoy this too? You think I wanted it to be like this?!”   “Maybe if you weren’t trying to pick a fight with me every goddamn second, you would have a good time, woman.”   “You’re the one who’s always trying to pick a fight with me!”   He sighs, body language dismissive to what you’re saying. “Stop being so upset—”   “Well too bad, I am upset! So just let me be!” You stand on your feet, teeth gritted and fist clenched. You’re practically screaming across the suite but there aren’t any close enough neighbours to complain. “You’re always telling me what I should and shouldn’t feel! This is exactly why we’re getting a divorce!”   With the last word said, you stomp away and the bathroom door slams shut. It’s the only place you can be alone, but even then, the four walls are frosted glass.   …   You’re not sure who brought up divorce first. It’s not like it matters. But one thing you do know is that it came up in an argument. A jab where someone’s sole intention was to hurt. And the other person stubbornly retaliated with ‘fine, have it your way’.   You remember calling your lawyer and him calling his. The process continued and continued and as it did, so did your arguments as the two of you realized no one was going to stop it. It became more painful the more time that went on. Clearly, it meant he was serious about it. Clearly, he didn’t care if he was happy to sign divorce papers. So you made yourself not care too.   And it continued to snowball like that.   Before you knew it, you were telling your families that the divorce was happening, much to their distress. Before you knew it, here you were.   By the time you get out of the bathroom, Yoongi’s gone.   He probably left for some peace and quiet. After all, it’s volatile when you’re together. It’s not like you want it to be that way, it just became that way. What sucks the most is that you know he’s right. You’re part to blame for the recent argument. You got too worked up unnecessarily. You’re constantly on the defensive as if he’s out to attack you. And once it’s quiet, you hate that you shouted.   But he has his own part to blame too. Yoongi knows how to get under your skin. He knew he was egging you on and he didn’t stop. So it escalated and escalated.   You end up wandering the resort by yourself. You enjoy the sunset on the beach and when the dinner buffet is open, you sit alone with your plate, staring out into the empty abyss of the ocean shrouded in darkness. All around you, there are families and lovers, jovial music that’s inviting.   Yet you feel isolated in the crowd.   You try to move around, preoccupy yourself.    But the last thing you expect is to see Yoongi. Across the bar. With a pretty, young girl on his arm. A sun-kissed blonde, to be specific. Wearing a crop top with booty shorts.    Yoongi’s nursing a whisky on the rocks, his usual drink, as she grasps onto his bicep. The swell of her breasts are practically pushed onto him. She says something and he smiles.   At the same time, something boils in the pit of your stomach. It’s pure, unadulterated rage.   Before you know it, you’ve turned on your heel and beelined to the hotel lobby bar. You call yourself hard liquor and down the drink as you seethe. The image of him and that Barbie doll is seared into your mind, flashing beneath your eyelids each time you blink.   The liquid burns and tears pool into your eyes, but you hold them back.   The bar is busy, filled of guests constantly ordering, so no one notices that you keep downing bitter drinks until there’s a tap on your shoulder—   “Aloha.” A concerned employee looms over you. “Is everything alright?”   That’s when you realize you’ve been drinking by yourself for three full hours. The table’s crowded with glasses and the ones on the edge are a centimeter away from falling over.   You end up waving him away and stumbling back to the room.   The world is teetering and you try to lean onto the wall for balance. It’s a miracle that you pressed the right number on the elevator when everything was swirling together. Or at least, you’re pretty sure this is the right floor.   You pound on the door. “Yoongiiiiii! Yoongiii! Open up!”   When there’s no response, you mutter ‘asshole’. Then your eye peels open and you realize you’ve been knocking against the door of the ice and vending machine room. You turn on your heel and careen to the next door.   “Yooongiiii!” you whine his name in exasperation, cheek pressed against the smooth surface.   You only have to call out twice before the door’s suddenly swinging open and you’re falling into the arms of your (soon-to-be ex-) husband. “‘Bout time. Was waiting foreverrr!”   “Fuck.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches at the smell of alcohol and he grabs a hold of your shoulders, pulling you away from him, nose scrunched at your smell. He keeps you at a safe distance as if you were nervous middle-schoolers at your first dance. You hate it. Why can’t he just hug you? “God, how much did you drink, Y/N?”   “Dunno. Lost my key card.”   “What?”   The door swings shut.   “Are you banging a chick in our room?” you slur, trying to keep your eyes open to look at him. He was already changed into his soft pajamas, a blue checkered print that made him look so much cuter. It’s unfair. “Am I interrupting?”   His brows cinch together, lips turning down. Yoongi’s visibly confused. “Ban—”   “Saw you talkin’ to that pretty girl at the bar,” you huff, wobbling back and forth.   He’s dumbfounded. “Who?”   “Don’t play stupid!” You poke his chest with your finger. “That lil girl who looks like a model!”   Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice and you add in frustration, “I’ll leave if you are, so just tell me already.”   “No, I’m not sleeping with anyone, Y/N.” Yoongi fixes his arm around your waist to keep you balanced and he sighs, reaching down to help you take off your shoes. “So much for knowing how to pace yourself, Y/N,” he mumbles with a faint smile on his lips instead of the annoyance you’re used to.   Yoongi loops your arm around his neck and begins to guide you towards the bed. But you stop, making your legs deadweight and you turn to him, staring into his eyes so deep, it’s like you’re looking into his soul. It’s pretty.   “What?” he asks, almost uncomfortable by your intense gawking.    “Do you not love me anymore?”   “What?”   “Just tell me, goddammit. Do you have no feelings towards me no more?” You pound your chest with your free hand. Yoongi plops you onto the love seat when he sees that you have no plans of making it to the bed. “Did everything mean nothin’ to you?”   He remains silent.   You angrily shout— “Answer me!”   Yoongi flinches. “God, Y/N. You don’t need to scream, I’m right next to you.” He sighs and drags a hand over his face. “If it meant nothing to me, do you think I’d be taking care of you right now? Now sit here and wait.”   With his dictatorial command wielded with his low voice, you pout but obey.    Yoongi returns a minute later with your pajamas in one hand and a cool glass of water in the other. “Drink this. And all of it.”   You nurse the glass of water with two hands and get a sip in. But your pout persists and before you know it, you’re bursting into tears. Yoongi all but freezes.   “’m sorry,” you sob, “I didn’t wanna fight.”   “Y/N.”   “I don’t mean to be so mad! I’m sorry.”   Yoongi kneels in front of you with a long sigh. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he coaxes and tugs the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the beads of teardrops trekking down your cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean it.”   “Really?”   “Yes. If anything….I’m sorry too,” Yoongi mumbles solemnly and before you can react, he’s already moved on. “Now drink your water.”   You cry into your glass, but you down the entire thing like he said and your crying stops by the end.   “Arms up,” Yoongi commands and you listen to him. He peels off your shirt in one single swoop and tosses it aside. He helps you put on your pajama top without blinking an eye and pulls the hem of your leggings to replace those as well. Yoongi even takes a damp washcloth to wipe your face and you watch him the entire time. His lashes are long, and Yoongi’s so nice and reliable. “Let's get you to bed, alright?”   You nod, and he guides you to it, having cleared the rose petals earlier. “So you didn’t sleep with her?”   “No.”   “Why not? She was hot!”   “I wasn’t interested.”   “Really?”   “Really,” Yoongi assures as he sets you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He moves to pull the sheets and struggles with how tucked in they are. In the meanwhile, you get the greatest idea you’ve ever had—   “Then fuck me instead before you fuck her.”   “What?”   Yoongi’s entire body goes rigid and he whips his head towards you with eyes that nearly bulge out of their sockets. You pout at him. “I wanna suck your dick and feel it in me, Yoongi. I miss it. When we used to have sex. It was so good.”   “Oh, you are so drunk.” He chuckles, a sound that sounds so nice you wish you can hear it forever and ever. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up tomorrow, Y/N.”   Yoongi pulls the sheet and is about to get you tucked in. But you steal the opportunity when he gets close and you loop your arms around his neck. “No, I’m not.” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Remember when you used to spit in my mouth? And you liked it sooo much.” You giggle when you notice his ears becoming hot and red. “You still like it now, don’t you, you nasty freak!”   You smack him on the shoulder in the midst of your bubbling laughter and he winces.    “Ow!”   “Imagine if I got pregnant from it too!” you add in your hysterics.   “Let’s not.”   “I always thought our kids would be so cute. Especially if they got your cheeks.” You reach and tug on Yoongi’s cheeks while giggling. He lets you have your fun, staying still and letting you squish his face together. And in your drunken state, you don’t realize how tender his eyes become.   “We’re getting a divorce, Y/N.”   You frown. “Why on earth would we do that?”   “Because,” he murmurs.   “Let’s not,” you slur. “Can’t we cancel it?”   It goes quiet with Yoongi gazing into your eyes. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”   “Yeah.” You grow sheepish. “Aren’t you supposed to get a divorce if you hate each other?”   “That’s how it works generally.” Yoongi stands and gently presses on your shoulder to lay you down. The pillows feel soft underneath your head and he starts to tug the covers up to your chin.   “But I don’t hate you. I care a loooooot about you.” You sulk. “Otherwise, why’d I get jealous when I saw you at the bar?”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “So you’re admitting you were jealous?”   “Wouldn’t you get jealous if you saw me with someone else?”   Yoongi thinks about it. “Maybe.”   “Maybe?”   He finally admits, “Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed.”   You hum contently, lids becoming uncontrollably heavier. You want to stay up. It’s so much fun talking to Yoongi. It feels like forever since you talked to him like this. But you’re so tired. And comfortable. You want him to cuddle and spoon you to sleep. Yoongi cuddles are the best.   “Yooongiiii.”   You call out to him with your eyes closed.   “Yeah?”   “I think—” You go dead quiet and after three seconds, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then your mouth moves again. “—I loooove you.” A beat later, your two arms suddenly raises up into the air. Hands measuring about a ruler stick length. “This much.”   He snorts and turns off the lamp. “Go to sleep, Y/N.”   …   When you wake up the next morning, your head is absolutely pounding.   For the first time, you detest how much light the damn room lets in. You also curse aging and having to suffer hangovers when five years ago, you were perfectly unscathed the next day after drinking.   Luckily, there’s advil on the bedside with a tall glass of water and you down the entire thing after taking a pill. You’re not so sure where these came from, but your answer is across the room.   Yoongi, realizing you’re awake, has an amused smile on his face and his brow cocked. More importantly, his eyes have somehow softened.   You groan, remembering last night. Every detail. Every word. Like a film that could be played back. It’s mortifying and even without your obvious reaction, Yoongi’s been with you long enough to know how superb your memory is even after being wasted. He knows you know.   And the worst part?    You meant it all.

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi reader insert #yoongi x reader #Anonymous #omeone tell me why two of my Yoongi drabbles are so FUCKING LONG. it's practically a oneshot ;_;

[oumaheroes]

Congrats on 100+ followers, you deserve it! I love your blog and writing! For the writing-promp, how about some outsider pov fruk?

Reflections

Word Count: 1690

Characters: England, France - FrUK, America, Canada

----

‘It’ll be fun!’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘Yes it will,’ America insists, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. England’s face through the webcam is decidedly unimpressed.

‘I don’t like house parties,’ he says, but America can hear slight resignation already there in his voice and so pushes again to seal the deal.

‘Please? Come on man, it’ll be great. Right after the G20 meeting in Texas too so there’s no work to worry about; just stay one more day for it. And hey, if you don’t like it you can leave.’

England raises an eyebrow, ‘You invited me to stay withyou.’

America shrugs, unbothered, ‘Then don’t! Or, do- whatever. It’s up to you.’

England sighs and looks conflicted. America seizes the opportunity and goes in for the kill, ‘Everyone else will be there too; you don’t wanna get FOMO.’

‘I don’t get FOMO,’ England snaps, looking affronted, and America instantly knows he’s won, ‘But fine, if it means that much to you, I’ll come.’

America tries to school his face into something that doesn’t look too triumphant, ‘Awesome! Kay, so it’ll be casual, no need to dress up or be all fancy or anything.’

‘Yes yes,’ England waves a hand dismissively and shifts in his chair, ‘I know how a house party works. I do go to some, you know.’

‘Cool cool cool, just making sure.’ America can’t really picture England at the sort of house party he is thinking of, people lounging about on furniture and playing silly drinking games. But it must happen, he supposes- he’s seen England drunk in pubs before and he’s boisterous so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him in an even more casual setting.

Suddenly, America notes the darkness of England’s surroundings and checks the clock in the bottom corner of his screen, ‘Hey, it’s getting pretty late for you over there, isn’t it? I should let you go.’

England glances at his wrist, entirely ignoring the PC he’s using, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Okay, likely I’ll see you next month then.’

‘No backsies, you said yes,’ America reminds him.

England rolls his eyes, ‘I meant that I won’t see you until then, I already said I was coming; I’ll come.’

‘Good!’ America moves his mouse to end the call, ‘See you there, old man. Try to be fun.’

‘What is that supposed to-‘

‘Bye!’

----

Canada glances about the room and nods, ‘It’s not bad.’

America reels back, ‘Not bad? Dude-‘ he gestures to the living room they’re in the doorway of and then to the pool outside, both places spilling over with nations chatting and enjoying themselves under the beat of the music, ‘-it’s more than not bad!’

It really was, in his humble opinion, probably one of his best in recent years. Nearly everyone had turned up who said they were going to and there had been a steady flow of conversation and dancing all night. America had scoped the place out every now and again, making rounds through the house to make sure there were no stragglers sitting somewhere on their own but there wasn’t a need for it- things had run smoothly without him needing to intervene and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is why he liked house parties, more than any other type of ‘function’. House parties had a more relaxed vibe, where no one felt the need to impress or do themselves up too much (unless you were one of the older ones, that is; it seemed that no matter what you told them they’d still arrive a bit more formally dressed than everyone else, as if they had some sort of inbuilt compulsion).

Things going so well was probably helped, too, by the fact that America had only invited friends and family. One, because inviting the entire world and putting them in one place anywhere would always result in some form of argument, but also because this was his house and he didn’t want it to get trashed, (regardless of what England had groused when he first arrived and had seen the condition of the place).

Canada shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, ‘I’ve been to better.’

America frowns, disappointed, before jostling his arm playfully when he notices the small, guilty shift of Canada’s eye, ‘Stop messing with me.’

Canada grins behind his cup and nudges him back, ‘Well, no one’s dead yet. That’s always good.’

‘Amen to that,’ America raises his glass in a toast which Canada meets and downs the rest of his drink, ‘Want a refill?’

‘Sure.’

‘Come on then, I ain’t your servant.’

Canada gives him a flat look but wordlessly follows America out of the living room and through to the kitchen. Australia’s there with Mexico, digging about in the lower cupboards for something and Denmark is showing Japan a video on his phone that’s making Japan’s eyes go almost unnaturally wide.

‘Alfred mate, what happened to those Tim Tams you promised me?’ Australia stands up from his crouch on the floor and looks at America reproachfully, ‘I feel swindled.’

America opens his mouth to speak but Canada cuts in first, ‘I hid them.’

America turns to him in confusion, ‘Why?’

‘Zea asked me to, seeing as they couldn’t come. Something about what you did to them at Christmas?’

Australia throws up his hands and scoffs, ‘Jesus fuck, when will they get over that. Where are did you put them? Come on, don’t be a dick, I promised Mexico some.’

Mexico shrugs delicately, ‘I don’t really care, to be honest. I just heard they were bad and wanted to see how bad.’

Australia looks down at her scandalised, ‘Who told you that?!’

She readjusts to sit properly on the floor, ‘People.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I’ll get them.’ Canada’s job has been carried out to the minimum requirement and America knows that he’s happy that he can now take himself out of the silly argument New Zealand and Australia have slyly pulled him into. He goes out of the kitchen, leaving his empty cup behind, and America follows him curiously through the hallway in the direction of the study.

‘What did Australia do to Zea at Christmas?’ America has missed out on England’s most recent yearly family function; he’d wanted to go surfing with Hawaii instead.

‘Don’t ask,’ Canada says tiredly, the air of an older sibling who had seen far too much. America is offended Canada hasn’t told him already. He opens his mouth to say as much when Canada goes to open the slightly ajar study door before stopping abruptly in the doorway, causing America to almost crash into him.

‘Hey, what-‘ Canada hurriedly squeezes America’s arm and tugs him sharply away in a warning for quiet, catching his eye before glancing into the room meaningfully. America peers around him into the study, wondering what he’s seen.

At first, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at; it looks empty. The main study light is off, leaving the room lit only by one table lamp by the sofa that casts a warm, buttery glow about the place, softening the corners with shadows. He looks to Canada for help and Canada tilts his head in the direction of the French doors, eyebrows raised.

America follows his gaze and understands. The darkness outside has turned the glass to mirrors, reflecting the front of the old sofa that America could previously only see the back of. On it are England and France, curled up together with France’s head on England’s chest and England propped against the armrest, one knee brought up high for him to rest an elbow on. He has his other hand in France’s hair and is gently running his fingers through it, long languid strokes that feel entirely too intimate for America to process.

It’s a strange thing for him to see. He has accidentally caught England and France doing other things throughout his life but intimacy isn’t really something they display. They argue. They bicker. They fight and scream and laugh, sometimes, but they do not do this in front of other people, this gentleness. Neither of the two are what anyone could ever consider gentle, even France, for all his intentional touches and flirtations -the soft ghost of his hand on a shoulder or resting warm around a waist- are not this, not personal. France is very free with his physical affections but they are shallow things, meaningless and ordinary. There is something removed and detached about how he moves amongst crowds, gathering himself close about someone to brush against them as he stands that speaks of friendliness yes, but not closeness. Nothing special to note.

But here, curled on a sofa and unaware they are being watched, there are no guards up or cold pretences between them, just a natural, domestic openness that America finds oddly normal, for how little he has seen glimpses of it. England and France together are many things, have experienced every extreme and mundane state possible for two people to experience, and this side of them is just another shade, as hard as it is to find.

France tips his head back more and opens his eyes, crinkling their corners as he murmurs something low under the muted music that causes England’s lips to twitch into a rare, open smile. They could be anyone then, just two people on a sofa, young and mellow, and for a split-second America can’t see them as anything else. The warm mood hides their identity and blurs their age- familiar strangers tucked away on their own.

America jumps, startled, when Canada nudges him, an elbow into his side and he turns to find his brother gesturing with his head back into the hallway.

He agrees. America knows both England and France would be mortified to be caught like this, boneless and out of character around the person they often so openly despise, so it’s best to leave them as they are undisturbed.

Australia can wait, America will squeeze the truth out of Canada about Christmas and maybe take Zea’s side just for fun.

----

AN:

Sorry for the wait anon, but I hope you see this and I hope that you like! Thanks for the ask and for your kind words, this was a lovely prompt and I really liked thinking about how I could do this justice ;u;

<3

#fruk #aph england #aph france #aph america #aph canada #hws england #hws france #hws america #hws canada #aph #hws #heroes answers #my writing #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction

[miraculouscontent]

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Lukagaminette #relationship: Kagami Tsurugi & Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain Cheng #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 2000 #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette