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is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

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i just want to say that during the airing of only friends i do not care about morals or ethics do not come to me about what’s right or wrong when neo’s tiddies are literally in my face

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Cher, baby, just let him fuck you. That would be way more relaxing than 500 sit-ups and you would get an orgasm out of it.

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❝Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors and smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other. And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more". To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it. — T.S.

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it really do be like that [x]

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crush

I had several people request a scene where Alan finds out about Gaipa’s former crush on Jim, so here you go! Also, I refuse to call him “Uncle” Jim. Sorry, but I just can’t. That is a twenty-eight year old man.

“It’s just dinner,” Gaipa said as Alan tossed yet another shirt into the growing pile at his feet. “Why are you freaking out so much about what to wear?”

Alan turned to glare at him. Gaipa was already dressed in his usual flannel and cargo pants and yet somehow still managed to look put-together and presentable. Alan, on the other hand, was having a hard time finding an outfit that perfectly struck the balance between “nice enough to make your ex jealous” and “casual enough to look like you hadn’t even tried.”

“That’s easy for you to say! You’re not the one being dragged to dinner with your ex-boyfriend and the man he cheated on you with.”

He expected Gaipa to remind him that Wen hadn’t actually cheated at all, but instead, he said nothing. His carefully blank face immediately set off alarm bells. “Gaipa, if you tell me you used to date Jim ten minutes before I have to sit across from him at a dinner table, I swear to god…”

“We didn’t date,” Gaipa said with a heavy sigh, walking over to Alan’s closet and pulling out a light blue button-down shirt that he then held up for Alan to slip on. Reluctantly, Alan did. “I just maybe might have had a teeny-tiny crush on him. That’s all.”

“Gaipa!” Alan cried, but Gaipa was apparently done indulging his petulance.

“Turn around,” he said, spinning him. Then he started buttoning Alan’s shirt up as if he knew Alan was now too distraught to dress himself.

“Does he know?” Alan asked. 

“Does who know what?” Gaipa asked without looking up from Alan’s shirt.

“Does Jim know that you used to have a crush on him?” Gaipa’s silence was all the answer he needed. “Gaipa!”

“Of course he knows!” Gaipa cried, finishing his work on the buttons and then smoothing the shirt down. He glanced up at Alan and somehow managed to look both annoyed and amused. “You’ve seen what I look like when I have a crush. I get all moony-eyed. I can’t control it. ”

Alan did know what he looked like when he had a crush and the fact that Jim hadn’t taken full advantage of it was baffling to him. Gaipa had gotten Alan into bed with barely a flutter of his eyelashes. Jim had to be inhuman to resist him. Inhuman or just very in love with Wen. 

“But look on the bright side,” Gaipa continued, running his hands up Alan’s chest to wrap them around his neck. “Tonight, he gets to see me make those eyes at you. Won’t that be fun?” 

Alan did like that idea. He liked that idea a lot. “You promise?” he pouted.

“I’ll even make my eyes extra moony for you,” Gaipa agreed and then stepped back to assess Alan’s outfit. He frowned, cocking his head as if something wasn’t quite right, and then quickly made a few adjustments. He rolled Alan’s sleeves up to his elbows, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and—despite Alan’s squawk of protest—ran a hand through his hair until it was artfully disheveled. He stepped back again and grinned. “Perfect! You look good.”

Alan turned around to stare at himself in the mirror and was surprised to find that Gaipa was right: he did look good. But not so good that Wen would think he had stressed over it all afternoon—that was the important part. Gaipa wrapped his arms around Alan’s waist from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine,” he murmured into Alan’s neck. “We’ll tell them we’re dating, they will lie and say that’s wonderful news even though we all know it’s awkward news at best, and then we’ll go home. It’ll get better. It’s not going to be like this forever. I promise.”

“Fine,” Alan sighed, meeting Gaipa’s eyes in the mirror.

“And if you’re a good boy,” Gaipa whispered in his ear, “I’ll give you a treat when we get home.”

Alan shivered at the promise in his words and suddenly an idea came to him. “Or,” he said, turning around and backing Gaipa towards the bed. “We could make them wait a little bit longer.”

“Alan,” Gaipa whined, but he let Alan push him down onto the mattress and didn’t argue when he crawled on top of him. “I just got you dressed.”

“All of my clothes can stay on then,” Alan said, reaching for the zipper on Gaipa’s pants. Gaipa raised his hips so that Alan could push them down and when Alan took him into his mouth, he did so knowing that this was something Jim had never done. Something Jim would never do. And that made everything else a little easier to bear.

When they finally arrived for dinner thirty minutes late, Gaipa had a hickey on his neck and a blush on his cheeks that Wen noticed immediately judging by the way his eyebrows shot into the air. Alan left Jim's house that night feeling very, very satisfied.

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Midnight Series: Moonlight Chicken พระจันทร์มันไก่ | Moonlight Chicken (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kaipa/Alan Anantachai Lertwongsa Characters: Alan Anantachai Lertwongsa, Kaipa (Moonlight Chicken TV) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content Summary:

“Do you think your mom planned this?” Alan asked a few months after they had started dating. They were in Gaipa’s bed—the same one they had made love in the first time—and Gaipa was laying on his bare chest, playing with his hands.

“What do you mean?” Gaipa asked, tracing the lines on his palm.

“I mean, do you think your mom somehow knew that you and me would be good together? Did she plan for this to happen?”

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Magnus to Alec

Dear Alec,

Before anything else, I just want to mention once again that you are by far the handsomest man I have ever met, with the most beautiful blue eyes, and what I love most about you, among so, so many other features, is that you are a man of incalculable understanding, patience, and forgiveness.

Yes, this is our vacation. Yes, you and the kids are lounging on the soft white sands of St Barths, as is good and right. Yes, I have had to dash to London on urgent business involving Blackthorns. Yes, I have been receiving your many supportive texts, accompanied by your many photos in which you look angry while holding umbrella drinks.

No, I will not be back today. You must imagine me saying this with the heaviest of sighs and the most forlorn look. I need one more day. Blackthorn Hall is haunted—which I could have told anyone who had bothered to ask, I’ve never known a more obviously haunted place in my life—and none of the little Blackthorns (who I suppose are no longer quite as little as all that) have had to deal with this kind of ghostiness before.

So again, let me commend you for your forbearance in this time of trial. That is not sarcasm, just formal! I really mean it!

Love you, Alec. See you tomorrow night. The next morning at the absolute latest -

To the Greatest Man Who Has Ever Or Will Ever Live,

It will be tomorrow morning. I was meaning to depart tonight, but it is now very, very late, and I have had no small amount of wine, and these are not the conditions by which I would feel quite safe opening a Portal. It will not do me any good to return to St Barth if I show up on top of the Gustavia Lighthouse.

So since I cannot yet sleep, but must, let me quickly fill you in.

The Blackthorns are fixing up Blackthorn Hall—fancy that—and while I understand they are now properly adults, they are still young enough to use a hundred year old Ouija board they found hidden in the walls. Didn’t have a planchette? Not a problem, we will just make one out of scrap without reference to the wood or the ley-lines or any of the— Sorry. I couldn’t help it, it’s such the Shadowhunter stereotype. Leap before you look. In fact, just leap. Leap whenever and wherever.

As it turns out (spoiler alert!) the spirit of the house—at least the restless one—means no apparent harm and is just your standard everyday “ghost looking for its missing bauble to move on” situation, as you’ll see. But I was more alarmed for it being the house in Chiswick. Many generations of Lightwoods lived in it over many years, and there always seemed a dark shadow over the place. In the mid-19th it was the home of, I’m sorry to say, a very bad Lightwood, definitely one of the worst Lightwoods, and after that, well, its fall from grace was precipitous. I cannot say from what time period this ghost might date, but given its reaction to the name “Blackthorn”, I had my worries.

Anyway, by the time I got to the house, Julian and Emma had managed to cause the Ouija board to, you know, magically shatter into a dozen pieces. I magicked it back—note for future reference, easier to magically repair something that was magically broken in the first place rather than with, say, a hammer—and produced a makeshift but actually calibrated and warded planchette. And burned their planchette in a fire. Outside.

It was quick enough at that point to contact the presence in the house, who was indistinct, probably from being alone for the past hundred-odd years. Let me tell you, Alec love, I was worried then. I was worried that this ghost was someone I knew. Someone I cared about, once. It probably isn’t—most of them would have no reason to be ghosts at all, much less ghosts stuck here—but once the thought occurred to me, I couldn’t put it aside. I tried to ask but you know how ghosts are. “I do not now know you,” it said. Great. But did you know me when you were alive? Just “I do not now know you.”

Anyway the thing was peaceful enough. We finally got around to the topic of why he is a ghost—we got enough of a spoken voice to know the voice is male, at least. He spoke aloud, and firmly. I am bound here by a silver band, he said.

Whether this silver band is a ring, a bracelet, a handcuff, the concept of “the ties that bind,” or a group of robot musicians, I have no idea. But it’s normal enough for a ghost to be bound by an object and to be looking for the thing that binds them. I honestly didn’t get a negative vibe from the guy. I’m… let’s say ninety percent sure that it’s not the aforementioned Bad Lightwood, at least. I told Julian and Emma there was no harm in their keeping an eye out for a silver band during their cleanup of the house, but not to worry themselves sick over it. This felt like wise advice at the time, although we had all had quite a bit of wine at that point.

The wine was in fact drunk continually throughout the evening, as there are some salvageable bottles from the cellar—rather amazingly, although I don’t know, maybe Shadowhunters have wine preservation runes somewhere near the back of the Gray Book. And drinking red wine while talking to a ghost just seemed, I don’t know, the right pairing? But of course now I have a splitting headache from a combination of sulfites and light necromancy. I am going to put myself to long-overdue sleep, and then tomorrow at six in the morning your time please tell le garçon I would like waiting for me a café allongé, very hot and a sidecar, very cold. I will then entertain the children for the rest of the day while you, my love, my all, take a nap and join us whenever you please.

With all my love, all my kissin’, you don’t know what you been missin’,

M.

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Magnus bane, 24/7.

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Jace bringing condoms to hell and Clary creating the birth control rune?

King and queen of safe sex.

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I don’t care what anyone says, THIS IS EXACTLY HOW Simon said the above words when he walked into malec having sex and I WILL NOT BE TAKING ANY CRITICISM.

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Max: bapak, look, I know cat's language.

Max: *sits in front of Chairman Meow* meow meeow mew.

Magnus:

Magnus: Blueberry, you are doing good, but I'm afraid you've done several mistakes. You wanted to say "how are you?", right?

Max: *nods*

Magnus: but what you really said is "I want to eat". You need to emphasise the second "meow" by lengthening "e". Like this, "meow meeeow mew". Got it?

Max: yes, bapak.

Chairman Meow: meow.

Alec: yes, Chairman, this is mew.

Magnus: Alexander! Don't say bad words in front of Max! "Meow" said in such tone means the word that is not for child's ears!

Alec:

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Head canon that Max lies about his age the same way Magnus does

Observe:

Max, who just turned 18: Hey guys today’s my first official demon summoning that I’m being paid for. If anyone asks I’m 318 years old.

Alec: Max no-

Magnus: That’s my blueberry!

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A concept to consider: Lightwood-Bane Father's Day. Rafe trying to coach Max to use his fledgling magic to make Magnus and Alec something nice. Family movie, sat on the couches together. Probably ice cream

Yessss this is adorable 🥺🥺🥺 Max and Rafe trying to do something amazing but bebe can’t control his magic and it goes out of hand 😂 and then Magnus and Alec hear a commotion and run into the room all like ‘what’s going on?!’ and find Max and Rafe standing in the middle of a mess all like ‘:D happy Father’s Day!!’

And then later they end up cuddling on the couch with lots of blankets and watch a movie 🥰🥰🥰 and they definitely eat ice cream. Or marshmallows. 😁😁

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This poster is winning all the awards!