#I was never a romance writer before

[topazshadowwolf]

Okay, going to bed now. But I stayed up because I needed to do some writing. It was a need. A writing itch. Update: HNBD chapter 6 is about 75-80% done with 2nd draft writing. Have to finish one part and write another part that I felt needed to be added. For GoopTales: Dust's interview is written, and Cross' interview part will be entering editing in the next few days. I did start on the next part as my writing mood was still striking me. As an FYI, there will be some mild FuzzyNight... maybe some medium? I don't think I'll add Hot, and sorry, I don't write Spicy, so that's definitely not going to be in there.

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Something something Agent Haldwell being from Jennifer’s movie something something probably her love interest something something they probably had weird “you’re coming with me little missy” kind of banter written by weird male writers something something Jennifer changing the misogynistic script something something drowning him in his own piss

[bi-dykes]

“What do you mean there’s still so much biphobia in fan spaces? Bisexuals are like some of the most popular characters!”

Yeah, and they either get treated like this:

Or like this:

“Biphobia isn’t real” neither are your braincells

[saltiestbread]

It have been five day i still can't stop reading the same beastnoch fics over and over agine like help??? I can't stop thinking about them??? But also don't??? I am so happy but i get zero work done apart from drawing breastnoch art and I have been sleep at 3 am for the past 5 day because i read them and tell my self just one more?????? I do not think that is healthy in anyway???????

[deancasforcutie]

meta writers/GA with even basic media literacy/Jeremy "she's not your romance she's your Kryptonite" Carver/Jensen "[delivered-this-quote]" Ackles when the bitter™ assclowns still don't get the point of Dean and Amara

[mejomonster]

I finished final fantasy vii rebirth and. Some mixed opinions.

The main good points: as a Sequel to original FF7? Its good. The women are all written well (which was a concern considering Kairi and Lunafreya in past games), and everyone was in character just fleshed out more (with 2 slight exceptions). What the game did best was accomplish an open world game, world spanning adventure, stick fairly well to some main highlights from original ff7 (which is what people wanted for ages) and with new stuff thats fun if you like the world, very little wasting of player time (so much better than ff7 remake). It did open world well, pacing well, side quests and mini games well, characters well, combat well, and overall gave the feel of what square enix was maybe Hoping and Wishing to successfully accomplish in a mainline game for years but either hasnt been able to achieve on a technical level or fumbled in the past. (So no time wasting dungeons like ff7 remake, fleshed out open world with stuff you enjoy doing so more than ff15, open world so more than ff13, and combat that feels like things theyve learned and improved on well). How it feels to play? Great, fast paced, no dead time, all enjoyable game you came to play. (With the exception maybe of Cait Siths box mandatory mini game and the aerith in ancient temple magic platforms thing but they both werent too difficult to push through if you dont enjoy them).

The bad? Mostly... if you treat Rebirth as a SEQUEL to original ff7, these arent major issues. They just annoy me as a player of the original ff7 game. Because i know plenty of people will ONLY play ff7 Remake and Rebirth etc, and never know the original characterizations. So 2 characters were slightly unlike their original ff7 selves, and instead more like their Advent Children (and general non ff7 appearances) selves: aerith and sephiroth. Sephiroth's character being NOT like ff7 originals is more irritating personally. Because yeah... i get it. As a sequel to original ff7, this Remake/Rebirth Sephiroth might be from the future (so he is Advent Children esque version of himself), hes had time post losing his way to really get all mysterious and hyperfocus on cloud and be a looming vague pest. But the thing is... in the original ff7 the reason we learn hes used to be a SOLDIER war hero, is so the cast and you are confused why he kills Shinra people. Then you and the casy figure: well cloud remembers sephiroth finding out hes a monster cause of shinra, justifiable for sephiroth to hate shinra. Unflrtunately Sephiroth also decided to hate ALL HUMANS. Then you later find out maybe Jenovas controlling Sephiroth/one with him etc. But the key here is you find out at some point in original ff7 that sephiroths goal is mainly Destroy World because Hes not Human. Rebirth... does not clarify this very important and very BASIC point ever. Maybe it assumes its so basic that as a ff7 fan you should know.. but plenty of new players wont. Rebirth clarifies yes sephiroth may be Jenovas kid... but the whole MOM, im an ancient like Jenova! Oh Jenova isnt an ancient oh well fuck humans anyway! Either way fuck humans ill kill them all! None of those Very basic sephiroth motives are clarified much. I felt Rebirth did good explaining the Gi and the black materia. But to make Sephiroths motives so vague, why he wants to end the world SO VAGUE, why hes in clouds head (the black robes are everywhere but the game HINTS theure sephiroth clones but never actually spells it out eevn though its a BASIC KEY DETAIL). Now... because Rebirth is a sequel, it makes sense... if hes Advent Children Sephiroth he already knows he isnt an ancient, knows hes Jenovas kid, knows he wants to fuck with Cloud specifically now and the world generally but not necessarily so singlemindedly desperate to just kill all humans. So yes, Sephiroth is in character for his future self... but i feel like even with him less SINGLE MINDED and freshly with Jenova, clarifying some basics of his Original old timeline motives... would be helpful to new fans. So it annoyed me. I think the biggest Not Good writing decision in Rebirth was to never fucking clarify Sephiroths original basic goal: im not human like mom, hate humans, kill world. I suspect the writers either thought players KNEW so hinted instead of being on the nose (but to new players theyll just be CONFUSED), or they plan to explain those basic things in game 3. Which seems stupid to me and shouldve been explained earlier.

And Aerith. As a sequel? She remembered the other timeline which explained some moments she was calmer than original ff7. She forgot, then toward the end of Rebirth she seems to have remembered the other timeline again and that she needs to die and X happens etc. So her being calmer based on the plot they wrote for Rebirth? Makes sense. However... i deeply miss her Original FF7 personality where as an Ancient she freaks out a bit LIKE sephiroth, paralleling him, that shes not human, a freak, that it all rests on her as only one ancient left. Their overwhelm parallels each other. Aerith is more scared in original ff7 of being the only ancient, of what it means, of finding out more. That fear is slightly there in Rebirth but WAY LESS. its only a little in cosmo canyon and almost gone in the Ancient Temple. In ff7 expanded universe theyve changed her character over time to a calmer wiser goddess type like in Advent Children, and so yes in Rebirth when she remembers the alrernate timeline it makes sense she'd be calmer like her future self. However... i miss original ff7 aerith. I miss her initial shock, loneliness, fear of the weight on her shoulders, not being sure what to do. Her and Sephiroth, because of Rebirth writing them to know more, act more like their future selves and so. While it is in character and logical to the Rebirth plot. Its also sad to me that anyone who only plays Remake and Rebirth simply wont see what they were like WHEN these revelations were brand new shocks to them, forcing them to react and grow and fear. I dont think Aerith is written bad, i just think because this game is in reality is a Sequel im just personally mourning that it didnt have that as much of the original Aerith's personality who was afraid and discovering. Mostly her Rebirth personality is similar to original ff7s. But in some high tension moments shes way calmer and wiser than in the original. I miss getting to see some of that before to after character growth.

Oh and. The aerith dies scene. Does it make sense in context of Rebirth written as a sequel? Sure. Is it impactful? Not as much as the original. In Rebirth, theres a scene where Cloud is losing control and listening to Sephiroth and attacks Tifa, causing Tifa to fall into mako. That scene is high stakes and emotional and lands WELL. Later in Rebirth, when Aerith actually dies, Cloud has not lost control and isnt the one who killed her. Its fine, as a sequel to ff7 i get the choice to make him able to stop himself from hurting her. But it does make the scene less impactful: now cloud will NOT be blaming himself for her death, will not be struggling with the guilt and fear, and will not be as terrified of losing control again. Since he wasnt the one who attacked her. And since he saw her ghost/something post death, hes not even sad or grieving her. He thinks shes fine. These 2 things will result in a WILDLY DIFFERENT cloud moving forward than the original ff7 one who very much was distraught and horrified he did that. So like... as a sequel its fine these changes were made. But death wise... i wouldve prefered like, cloud drops her from up high qhile struggling with whispers, or doesnt get to her in time and sephiroth stabs her when shes too far away. The way Rebirth did it, cloud was near her, she gets stabbed anyway. It seemed to me almost like the writing was trying to vaguely or softly kill her, like somehow making it vague would make it hurt less. Yeah it did hurt less... but id rather if a character i love dies that its a Worthy Scene for them to die in. A strong meaningful scene that makes me cry, that felt like the loss it is. The Rebirth scene... couldve done its plot as intended and just make Cloud farther away or something and it wouldve been better to me. Maybe the writing point was Cloud thinks its fine, and its still not, and he cant even feel distaught because he cant tell if she died or if things are fine? Thats the only angle i can see where maybe the death scene did what the writers wanted? Anyway. Aeriths moms death made me sob, Aeriths death did not. It is what it is. I feel like Tifa, crying in my heart off screen, the game acting like Cloud like its fine and it looks fine to him but im confused like Tifa aa to why hes (the game) treating it that way. Lol.

Overall? Um 4/5. 8/10? Really solid square enix game, Amazing as far as final fantasy 7 SEQUELS go. It has one main weak spot in treating Sephiroth fully mysterious when a few clarifying details could help the game stand on its own Better (and make Sephiroth a stronger enemy character instead of a vaguer one). The other weak spots are more my personal preference and mourning the parts of ff7 original i miss and had wished were in this, but as this is a Sequel in a parallel timeline i dont feel the parts effect Rebirth on its own merit. It IS the best Square Enix game ive played in ages, at least since Final Fantasy X or XII. I thought it was better than FF13, FF15, definitely better than ff7 remake (i hate time wasting dungeons and bad pacing its a dealbreaker), and than kh3 (although kh3 was quite good for a kh sequel). I get to play FF16 next, which will hopefully be as good as Rebirth or better! Since its also on the PS5 and clearly from Rebirth, the square enix main team can do excellent combat, open world, level design, mini games, side quests, and good pacing now. So i'll just have to see if ff16's story is better. And i am guessing it hopefully will be, since Rebirth as an ff7 sequel has some weirdness to its plot quite typical of ff7 extended universe stories like Crisis Core and Dirge of Cerberus. Whereas ff16 is a brand new plot, so they have nothing preventing them from a tight excellent written story except themselves. I am curious how BIG ff16s world will be though. Because ff7 Rebirths world was MASSIVE and very full of stuff, tons of mini games, cool stuff to find or do or little character side quests. If ff16 also takes me 60 hours to beat the main story its gonna be thw longest final fantasy main title ive ever played.

Rebirth is very replayable if you enjoyed it. I will probably replay ff7 original soon.

[homosociallyyours]

9, 19, 29?

Thank you Jinny!!

9. What genre is your favourite to write? Hmmm, a good question that I'm not sure of the answer for? I suppose I could say romance, because that's definitely most in line with what I typically write. Fluff and flirtation are definitely my bread and butter.

19. Do you edit your works? I try not to edit as I go, but honestly it's very hard for me to avoid so I kinda just let it happen? Then I almost always read through it aloud to myself before it goes to a beta, and that usually lets me catch a few things like repeated words or odd structural issues. Then after my beta (@louandhazaf !! thank you!!) reads it I typically accept changes and read it once more before publishing. BUT if I'm in a hurry it's only gonna get my read through changes. With shorter stories I don't feel like I need quite as much editing, but with longer fic I have to be careful not to let myself go on tangents and stray from the plot, lest the pacing get messed up.

29. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what kind? I prefer quiet, actually! Or I guess the high pitched electrical whine of tinnitus? Anyway, no music. Unless I'm specifically writing song fic, in which case I'm listening to the specific song in question. Boring, I know, but I'm way too lyrics oriented to be able to listen to music as a background thing for the most part.

[vulpinesaint]

i need to write more fanfiction this whole comments thing is awesome

[non-un-topo]

At the crossroads between wondering if it's worth it to basically completely rewrite all my WIPs or just take a break from writing for the rest of the summer

[eachmostremembering]

thoughts

[lesbiancarat]

i finished watching mr. bad (c-drama) the other day, and it made me really excited for exclusive fairytale to come out 🥺 tbh I'm not a huge fan of modern dramas/realistic fiction in general so i was mostly looking forward to it bc of jun, but watching mr. bad is making me look forward to the story itself if that makes sense ;-;

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures and I hope they all know about the impact they have on fandoms. like… they’re the ones bringing these ships to lives, they’re one of the few people who saw the potential between two characters whose dynamics, whether or not they interact in canon, were overlooked by most fans, and they created something beautiful out of these potential dynamics. like??? hello???? that is pure genius.

not to mention how they’re the lifelines for other people who enjoy these ships but didn’t have any fics to consume until these tireless writers spent hours or days or weeks or months or years writing about these characters and their relationships, and just shared the worlds they created with their audiences for free.

or how they singlehandedly introduced the ships to new people who would’ve otherwise never thought about these ships before.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who have little to no canon screentime together.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who aren’t lovers in canon, characters who don’t indicate any clear hint of romance in canon.

how they see what most fans don’t and how they create such beautiful worlds for these characters are simply insane.

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures.

shoutout to every fanfic writer who writes for rare pair ships.

[cherry-c0sm0s]

Everyday I wish I could just show people the way I see the world.

The world I see is so beautiful,

I want to share that with anyone, everyone!

But it seems like no one else can see the beauty I see,

Instead they mumble and grumble and groan…

But don’t you see?

The chance of you existing and being here to read this is so small

we don’t even have a name for a number like that

Breathe in, listen to the sounds of the birds chirping

feel the life that echoes around you, never ceasing

And the stars, how can you not want to cry when you look at them?

don’t you stare at the moon, too?

We are made of stardust, we can breathe, we can

create

And isn’t that what we are meant to do?

move through this life and cry and laugh and scream and dance and

create

create

create

purpose // ak

[bighitfics]

jungkook fics i can read all night all day seven days a week.

(a recommendation you didn’t know you needed) ₊⊹ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Vows Of Betrayal ౨ৎ by @tljunglebook

— contract marriage au, enemies to lovers, romance, smut, angst.

(I will never not scream about this! this is my current favourite read! the enemies to lovers really hits in this one! AND THE SMUT SCENES ARE SO GOOD THEY MADE ME PREGNANT SO I RECOMMEND!) 😩💳

Inevitable ౨ৎ by @ahundredtimesover

— exes to lovers, second chance, parents au, angst.

(this happens to be the cutest story I’ve ever read, the longing and angst is so good!) 🥺🫶🏼

Dextrocardia ౨ৎ by @jeonstudios

— enemies to lovers, fake marriage, cop au, angst.

(this story should be arrested for being so damn good! i love how intense the enemies phase is before they start softening towards each other, the way the author managed to portray the patriarchal issues through this story is incredible, i never thought i’d say this but im an anti of jungkook in this story 😤😡 he better apologise with crocodile tears otherwise he can say goodbye to y/n.

You’re Still Mine ౨ৎ by @wattpadauthour

— workaholic husband jungkook, marriage in trouble trope, second chance.

(THIS STORY IS GONNA BE MY FOREVER FAVOURITE FOR A LONG LONG TIME! NO MATTER HOW MANY STORIES I READ I WILL ALWAYS GO BACK TO RE-READ! LIKE READ IT RIGHTAWAY IF YOU HAVENT! 😤)

Four-Seven-Eight ౨ৎ by @jiminrings

— marriage in crisis, angst, more angst, fluff.

(the heartache you’re gonna feel while reading this is no joke, i really felt sad for the y/n here (and cried a river) AND I LOVE IT WHEN BOOKS MAKE ME CRY LIKE THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMMOROW 😻💋 you know its gonna be worth it)

Time After Time ౨ৎ by @hiseyestell

— doctor au, she fell first but he fell harder (but much later), fluff.

(by far the most realistic fanfic I’ve read, jungkook is so cold that you wanna smack him in his stupid head, the female oc is so smitten with him its adorable but sad at the same time) ☹️

His Clumsy Secretary ౨ৎ by @hwangguemfictions

— grumpy x sunshine, he fell first and harder, office romance, major angst.

(this fanfic is criminally good! especially the bgm, the dialogues, the way he’s just so endeared with her, this is a big smash!) 🤰🏻🫦

The Deepest Marks Of Essence ౨ৎ by @lleldey

— tribe leader jungkook, yandere au, smut, angst.

(my favourite writer for a reason! 🫴🏼 i can never stop obsessing over yer unique storylines and writing, she’s my new favourite tbh and this story will convince you as well) 🤭💕

Marrying The Vicount ౨ৎ by @taevjim

— rich man x poor girl, regency era au, smut, filthy fluff.

(my two worlds colliding fr! this author wrote it so beautifully 😍🤌🏻 jungkook as a vicount tho (im already crying between my legs) this is like a fever dream come true, this is so effing good that i think no words are fair enough, maybe you should take a look yourself! (i swear this is worth the read!!!!)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always. 

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing. 

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side. 

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow. 

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking. 

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips. 

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.” 

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late. 

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you. 

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you. 

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit. 

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep. 

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed. 

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form. 

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut. 

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed. 

Barely an hour passed before you woke. 

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain. 

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath. 

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times. 

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.” 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug. 

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you. 

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.” 

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.” 

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door. 

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine. 

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer. 

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back. 

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.” 

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips. 

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen. 

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.  

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks. 

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features. 

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly. 

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin. 

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone. 

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core. 

“To what, huh?” 

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth. 

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you. 

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks. 

“I want you to fuck me, please!” 

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra. 

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well. 

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off. 

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle. 

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff. 

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch. 

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy. 

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit. 

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch. 

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.” 

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess. 

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper. 

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity. 

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him. 

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him. 

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you. 

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up. 

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic. 

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free. 

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal. 

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?” 

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.” 

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.  

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh. 

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.” 

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…” 

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times. 

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach. 

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets. 

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately. 

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside. 

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him. 

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open. 

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him. 

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach. 

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up. 

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable. 

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth. 

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below. 

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit. 

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own. 

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace. 

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back. 

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half. 

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.” 

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own. 

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table. 

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south. 

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[creatingblackcharacters]

��Romance Will Not Solve Racism”- Interracial/Biracial/Blended Black and White Relationships and Families

I broke this lesson on white/Black interracial relationships and identity off from my multicultural lesson because this is one that demands its own talk. People think that the existence of interracial relationships, biracial children, and blended families means that we are “moving forward as a society”. While admittedly it’s no longer illegal- and the fight that went into it for the right was very important- it doesn’t mean that the world is “getting past racism”. Far from it, if I’m being very direct.

Tokenism

“It’s a given that they’re not racist, they’re in a relationship with a Black person.”

Some of the most antiblack racist people I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing are the ones that think they ‘could never be racist’ because they draw “Black” characters, reblog “Black” posts, or “enjoy” Black characters. What I need you all to understand, going into your creation, is the proximity to Blackness does not mean antiracism. In reality, they are usually just tokenizing Black characters and people.

Tokenism: “the practice of making only a perfunctory or symbolic effort to do a particular thing, especially by recruiting a small number of people from underrepresented groups in order to give the appearance of sexual or racial equality and equity within a specific societal system (workforce, school, university, movie, tv-show etc.)”

In other words, the token Black friend/partner/child/favorite character is the person that white people will point to, to suggest that they are not racist because there is someone Black that they can stand to be around. They value them as pawns, not as people.

This can and often does apply in these scenarios. A white partner that might be nice to their Black partner may switch up one day if said Black partner doesn’t act the way they want (‘you’re not like other Black people’), revealing a side they hadn’t before. Many white spouses have rejected their spouses’ Black biracial children or treated them less in comparison to their own white children. It has been noted that white foster families will adopt Black children for the money (because they’re ‘cheaper’) or performance value, since people don’t adopt Black children as much (one family even murdered all of them in a murder-suicide).

Meanwhile, the whole time, they ‘seemed so nice!’ Racism can come from ‘nice’ people. So moving forward this is something we need to keep in mind. If anything, you need to be even more aware of this when writing, as these characters supposedly have a close relationship.

“What are you mixed with?”- Colorism

It’s also not coincidence that many of the acceptable, “beautiful” Black biracial people are the Zendayas of the world. Light skin, looser textured hair. These are the Black biracial people that are brought to the forefront, but they are not representative of every Black biracial person!

Now, this is one of my biggest pet peeves, both in character design and in life, so say it with me:

BEING BIRACIAL DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN LIGHT SKINNED, AND BEING LIGHT SKINNED DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN BIRACIAL!

I want to bite everyone that thinks this lmao. People will see lighter-skinned Black people and ask “what are you mixed with?” It infuriates me, the idea that we are somehow more beautiful for that proximity to whiteness. The idea that being Black alone is not enough to be beautiful, there must be something else in you that makes it that way.

(I’ve also known some unattractive light skinned and mixed people so… It’s just not true.)

This belief easily permeates society, and that includes artists and writers who want a specific look for their characters. Every mixed child is NOT going to be light skinned!!! LET IT GO!!! “I want my character to have long, thinner textured hair, but I want her to have a natural ‘tan’ (their brown skin) so by being mixed, I can have that! How beautiful!” No. It’s very racist. If your goal is to obtain Eurocentric beauty standards for your character, but to ‘claim diversity and benefits’ in their Blackness, that is very much racist. Y’all gotta catch yourselves on that one!

"Passing"

I want to reiterate a point, that you’ve likely walked past many a Black biracial person and just assumed they were Black. Blackness is not just a skin color, but a measure of social standing as well. We have been socialized to think of Blackness as less than, so once someone has been perceived as Black, someone’s perspective will be affected by antiblackness, regardless of their complete background.

But, when it comes to being biracial with whiteness, there’s also the concept of “passing”, where you might have assumed they were white!

Now, this is a controversial, and U.S. American-centric, view that I’m about to express. People will disagree with me, and that’s fine. Colorism does offer privilege to light skin. But I am of the opinion that if you have to ‘pass’ as white, you are not White. White people don’t have to pass. They just are. No matter what other marginality they are, that whiteness is the one thing they can lean on. If you can have that whiteness and the privilege that comes with it revoked by sheer awareness of the Blackness in your genetics, you are not White, because white people can never have that happen to them. So you might be able to get away with whiteness, as long as no one knows!

It’s why things like the One Drop Rule, the Paper Bag and Pencil Test, and terms like quadroons, octoroons, creoles, mulattos and such exist.

Strong dependence on the Mammy stereotype in this movie aside, one of the main plot lines of Imitation of Life is a Black woman, Annie, and her mixed daughter Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane is beautiful, but most importantly she can pass as white (the actress is Jewish). But Sarah Jane struggles with the reality that her society treats her better when she’s ‘white’ but will immediately and violently turn their back on her when she’s revealed to be half-Black. She hides and rejects her Blackness to protect herself from the pain, but rejecting her Blackness means rejecting her beloved mother, and everything she’d done for her. Annie dies of illness and heartbreak, having accepted that this is the choice she’s made.

(also, Trouble of the World by Mahalia Jackson is one of my favorites)

Fetishization vs Reality of Black biracial children

Again: people like to place a lot on the existence of Black biracial babies. They think the existence of a Black biracial child means that race simply isn’t a factor. They’ll seek the ‘beauty’ of mixed children, plus the performance points of ‘non-racism’ because they exist. Imagine your own parent- whom you’re supposed to love and trust- treating you as violently as the world outside; treating you like those puppies people get at Christmas where it was fun as a concept but ready to toss by Easter because they’re no longer titillating. Black biracial children are not toys, and they are not symbols: they are human beings!

If you plan on writing a white parent to a Black child (biracial or not) that is a GOOD parent, then they need to be aware of their child’s specific needs! There are still things that will apply to your Black child character that are different from a white one that your white parent character needs to know. Otherwise, your Black and Black biracial viewers will notice that this kid would not realistically be safe, healthy, or happy.

This includes learning to do their hair, or where to take them to get it done; recognizing when some conversations just aren’t ones they can have on their own, when they are treating their Black child like their life experience and day to day needs are that of a white child’s. I recognize that every story isn’t going to center racism, but if your story does want to acknowledge it, this also includes learning how to catch when their child is being discriminated against by their own white family members (just because THEY as a parent are okay, doesn’t mean their families are), in school or in other social spaces. That child might be in danger, but if their white parent does not recognize that, they will not protect them!

Antiblack racism from white parents has been spoken about often amongst Black children. Children of color in general adopted by white parents can speak on it. The rapper Logic has rapped often about his white mother calling him slurs. You can tell when a Black biracial child’s hair is not being done properly because their white parent does not care to learn, and is trying to physically force whiteness upon them via assimilation. It can actually be incredibly damaging for a Black biracial child to have a white parent that does not know how to take care of a child that will face the world far differently than them.

This can include feeling excluded from certain parts of your identity, just because you aren’t “enough”. One example multiculturally is the pressure to assimilate. For example, some Latino families not teaching their children Spanish, or Kenyan families not teaching their culture, to assimilate in (white) American culture.

Very often, white people no longer in a relationship with their Black partner will isolate their Black biracial child from their Black family, thus cutting off access to half of their heritage. Thus, many Black biracial kids find themselves confused about that line. Ideally, their parents will be healthy enough to have those conversations and strengthen their self-identity, regardless of their relationship with one another.

So when you’re writing your character, they should not be telling them that ‘we don’t see race’, or any other things that imply that the Blackness within them is somehow shameful or doesn’t need to be acknowledged.

How to actually treat a Black partner

Any Black person (with any self-respect, let me clarify) will not want to be with someone that’s racist. This doesn’t mean that their white partner will be perfect immediately, but they should still come in with some decency.

I personally do not find it romantic teaching someone how to treat me like a human being. I’m passionate about these topics and education on them, but there’s still a distance between you and I, reader. You are a person I don’t know, that could either learn from what I teach (which is good!) or decide to… Well, stay racist, and be treated as such 🤣 But I would never give my heart to someone that I’m unsure of. It’s far safer to be with someone that has already done much of the work on their own, or at least has put the effort in and will continue to do so.

Black viewers do not want to spend time watching a white person realizing they’re a human. Partners are supposed to be a space of respite and security. How can you be safe and comfortable if someone’s always throwing microaggressions at you (unintentional or not), refusing to or incapable of understanding your perspective when it counts, only understands your experience on a surface level, or is determined to ‘make it not matter’… and then call it love?

Like if a white character is giggly because ‘omg they’re listening to “Black” music they’ve never heard before’ or ‘eating “Black” food’ because of their Black partner, that’s… god I’d close the book immediately. We’re not a different species. That’s not romantic, it’s just weird. You can have a new experience without treating it like your white character is going to the zoo and reading the exhibits.

Your white characters should be learning and applying constantly- consent to touch hair and body, learning what not to say or when it’s not their space to speak on a topic, learning about how the world treats their partner so that they can understand. This includes their own friends and family- why would a Black partner want to be with someone that doesn’t defend them from racist family members?

Your white character may not always get it right, and that’s fine*. But one thing I’ve discussed in a prior ask is that the bar for knowing if your relationship with a white person is a safe one (at least, at that moment) is if you can correct them. If you can tell your white person that they have done something wrong, something racist, or that there’s something they should know to continue this relationship, and they react well? Okay. That’s an opportunity for writing character AND relationship growth!

*There’s levels to this; obviously there’s some things you can’t (or shouldn’t) come back from

Depicting this may be hard for someone that… that hasn’t had that conversation. I have been able to write that sort of scene. But if you’ve never had that conversation, you won’t know how it goes. I have to be honest with you… This is where it would be good to have Black friends that feel comfortable enough to have these conversations with you. I mean, you shouldn’t go make friends just because you want to use them for creation. That would be disrespectful. But if this is something that you want to write, I would highly suggest that you grow familiar with microaggressions and acts of antiblack racism, so that you can understand WHY they are a problem. Can’t really apologize and “not do something again” if you don’t know what that something is.

Fetishization of Black Partners

The Jezebel and the BBC stereotypes come into play often via the idea that a Black partner is something wildly exotic and can be used for sexual experimentation. ‘Wanting to know about big Black dick’ or ‘if all Black girls squirt’ is objectifying. You can write us in your sex scenes- many of us do enjoy sex and can even be kinky! But watch that you’re being respectful, from your descriptions to your dialogue. We’re not raging sex beasts and sex toys for your fantasies. We deserve care and our needs met as well.

There’s also this thing where white girls will date a Black man to ‘spite daddy', and when they’re done rebelling, that Black man is left in the dust, maybe even accused as an aggressor to excuse her ‘leaving’ her own (he manipulated her, tempted her away from the right path). We may side eye you if you have a white character ‘fake dating’ a Black person or ‘friends with benefits’- not because these tropes are racist, but often can be written that way if you’re not paying attention.

One controversial example is that of Rege Jean-Page’s character in Bridgerton. There’s a scene where his love interest essentially forces him to come inside her during sex. Now, there are people do enjoy consensual-noncon. The issue is that 1) some Black viewers who watched felt disturbed at the imagery of a Black man being forced to breed, especially given that historical context, and that it wasn’t treated as seriously, and 2) this scene if he had been the one forcing her would never have been received as well, especially with a Black male lead- it would not have been received as ‘spicy CNC’.

Interracial relationships- specifically with a white woman and a Black man- may also be looked upon with worry by Black family members. There is a history of Black men (and their surrounding Black community) being lynched for ‘defiling white women’. It’s not unusual for us to worry that we will not be safe in a white partner’s homes or lives, and will be asked to leave our information, who we’re with, and what part of town we’re in or going to. Get Out was a fantastic example of this; of how the only reason Chris escaped was because a friend of his knew where he was and came to get him. Otherwise, he would have been body snatched. So your ‘fake dating’ interracial AU might seem silly and fun to you, but a Black reader might look at it and go ‘wow, I would never put myself in this situation or deal with this sort of treatment without extra planning’.

As a side: the gigantic Black/Brown man in chains and a tiny white man holding those chains as symbolism for BDSM or 'possession'… Yeah that’s usually just racist beast and slavery imagery recycled. Please. I beg. I’ve almost never seen the opposite in fan art, and we all know why. There’s got to be something else we can use.

Black Parent, White Child

This is one that I almost never see talked about! Partially because our society deems any child of a Black person also Black, but there are blended families where there will be an existing child- and that child might be white! But we don’t see white kids adopted by Black families as much as we do the reverse, and there’s a reason for that!

There’s a difference in the dynamic! White parents with Black children are often seen as ‘saving’ them. I was once friends with a nice, older white (also racist, as it turned out) neighbor of mine, and people would often look at me like I was some poor, piteous negro child when we went to the store. But if my 50+ year old father were to walk around with a preteen white girl, people would react far more defensively.

Think about this: toddlers have tantrums, right? The world is ending in a heartbeat, that’s just where they are mentally. You’re ready to leave the store, they aren’t: boom. Tantrum.

A white toddler falling out into a tantrum and getting hauled off by a Black parent could very well get that parent arrested or killed if someone, misunderstanding due to their pre-existing biases, calls the cops for ‘kidnapping’. And that white toddler might not know that, but that’s the amount of power that they hold over that Black stepparent as a BABY.

There was a Black Twitter thread that discussed what Black people would do if a crying white child came up to them and looked lost, and part of the discussion was that people were genuinely afraid to be seen with this child, because someone might assume that THEY made the kid cry, and it would get them hurt. Has nothing to do with not liking white kids, but the fact that we live in a world with a literal hair trigger on us- the last thing we need is to be seen as a threat to a white child.

Viewers will be affected by this bias as well. White parental characters to Black child characters will be given more grace and understanding versus the opposite.

A good example (of parental figures/mentors) is from Across the Spiderverse, with Peter and Miles vs Jessica and Gwen. Both mentors were a part of the Spider Society, both were in the wrong about how they treated Miles (damn near the whole Society did, which is another message on how we treat Black and Brown kids there!), and with how they treated their respective mentees. But Peter is treated with far more grace, despite his actions symbolizing that disappointment that Black kids often experience from white adult mentors that we’re supposed to trust, than Jessica Drew, who treated Gwen like the business mentor she was. Jessica was not motherly (remember that Mammy stereotype?) to Gwen because it wasn’t her job to be. But people were furious at her not ‘treating Gwen better’, for ‘putting her own child in danger’ and ‘not considering how Miguel would react’. But they were not as angry at, or offered more potential forgiveness, to Peter, who failed at the very same things with Miles.

Writing a Black Parent

Okay, so yes, there is ‘Black parenting’. To be honest, you’re not going to be able (and shouldn’t attempt) to write that, because it is a very specific experience that you’ll only know if you were brought up in it. Bringing up Jessica Drew again, another perspective to consider is that people thought she was a ‘bad mentor’, but as far as how my Black childhood went, she was quite gentle and firm.

Black parents are still humans, and parenting is still parenting. Be normal about it. All you need to do is keep in mind that we’re offering all of these characters and their relationship dynamics the understanding and writing they deserve.

If you’re writing a healthy relationship, there needs to be a sense of trust and respect between everyone involved, and that can reveal itself even in small interactions. If you’re writing a complex or negative parental relationship, that’s fine, but you’ll have to avoid certain overarching stereotypes of Black parenting styles (The ‘ghetto welfare queen with six kids’, the ‘absent thuggish father’, the ‘overaggressive woman that beats her kids’, the ‘Strong Black Mother who don’t need no man’). Make sure they’re a complex or bad parent because they suck, not because they’re what you think of when you think of Black parents.

Conclusion

There’s no free passes from antiblack racism just because you’re close to Black people; there’s no ‘invite to the cookout’ just because you don’t say slurs. This applies to your writing as well. It is not a given that your white character is in the clear just because they have a Black partner, children, or friends. If anything, they’ll need to be putting in extra work to maintain that intimacy. These are different forms of love, but all love takes effort, and it certainly won’t hold if they’re not being considerate of their loved one’s identity. By incorporating this level of thought into your writing- however subtly- it will show your Black viewers that you as the writer are aware, that you actually thought about us in these more intimate settings. Because as you and your white characters need to know, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!