#at the very least i like my lines in the end

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[yaniluvs]

“nerds don't date , right?”

[ 정인 ] ✷ ‎. . flirting with the chic nerd turns into something else ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , forced proximity , classmates to lovers , uni au , fake dating , skz ensemble . 32OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. suggestive , as of now . ┆ 📹 ⋮ a y.jg mini series .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ happy jeongin day! <3 thought this fic will end up too long (no surprise there..) so instead i'm turning into another series. ik i update all my series very slowly BUT listen, i will post freq. for this since it's a mini series !! this is pretty fast-paced, for the first chapter though. the upcoming ones may be slow-paced and not rush tho hehe. comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the autumn air was crisp, golden leaves swirling across the university courtyard as students hurried to their morning classes. the faint scent of coffee and fallen leaves lingered in the air, mixing with the distant hum of chatter and footsteps against cobblestone paths. it was the kind of morning that made people pause for a second, taking in the poetry of the season—well, people who weren’t already running late.

you weren't late, but you sure weren’t in a rush either. the café near the library had just handed over your classic hot cocoa, still warm against your palms, and the world felt like it was moving at a slow, dreamy pace.

that was, until a familiar figure cut through the crowd like a scene straight out of a high-fashion editorial.

yang jeongin.

jeongin, the so-called nerd, of at least your year. the one with the perfect grades, the sharp jawline, and the ever-present black glasses perched on his nose. the one people assumed spent all his time buried in textbooks, immune to the chaos of university life. except, he wasn’t just a nerd—he was a walking contradiction.

because if jeongin was just a nerd, why was he stepping onto campus dressed like he belonged on a runway?

today, it was a black oversized blazer with a fitted turtleneck, silver rings glinting against his slender fingers as he adjusted the leather strap of his bag. his glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of quiet arrogance, like he knew he looked good but didn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

his dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just stepped out of bed looking effortlessly perfect. and the way he walked—like the world was just a backdrop, and he was the main character—made people stare without even realizing they were doing it.

jeongin definitely had an idgaf attitude, you had thought when you first shared a class. not towards his studies—no, he was practically married to academic excellence—but towards people.

he didn’t care for the unnecessary drama, the loud parties, or the fleeting conversations about nothing. he had a small, trusted circle and didn’t entertain anyone outside of it.

which was exactly why you found it so fun to mess with him.

“morning, topper,” you called out, stepping in line with him as he made his way toward the lecture hall. “where’s the rest of your nerd squad?”

jeongin barely spared you a glance. “not a nerd,” he replied smoothly.

“yeah?” you sipped your cocoa, unfazed. “you literally corrected our professor’s math last week.”

“he was wrong,” the guy shrugged.

“yeah, but who does that?”

“a person who values accuracy,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching slightly.

you simply grinned, as you walked alongside him. your friend group always teased you for hanging around jeongin, saying you were probably the only person brave enough to bother the university’s golden boy.

he wasn’t mean, exactly, but he had a way of making people feel like they weren’t worth his time.

which was true regardless.

still, you had made it your personal mission to crack his icy exterior.

“so,” you continued, “you ever been on a date, topper?”

he slowed his pace. it was so brief that most people wouldn’t have noticed, but you caught the slight hesitation before he turned to you, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

“what?”

“a date. you know—dressing up, awkward small talk, trying to impress someone so they don’t ghost you after?” you clarified, voice laced with amusement.

jeongin adjusted his glasses, looking unimpressed. “i know what a date is.”

“great! so, have you been on one?”

for a second, he just stared at you, dark eyes unreadable behind his lenses. then, in a tone so nonchalant it almost sounded careless, he said, “no.”

you almost choked on your drink. “wait, seriously?”

he continued walking, unfazed. “yeah. why? is that surprising?”

“duh?” you huffed, catching up. “you’re, like, weirdly hot for a nerd. i thought people would be throwing themselves at you.”

he scoffed. “that’s the problem. i don’t care about people throwing themselves at me.”

you tilted your head. “then what do you care about?”

he continued walking, completely nonchalant as he gazed up. the morning sun caught the silver of his rings as he slipped his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly.

“why?” he mused, voice smooth as ever. “you wanna change that?”

you blinked. for the first time, you were the one caught off guard.

because jeongin wasn’t looking at you with his usual passive expression. no, there was something in his gaze—something sharp, something challenging, something that almost looked like interest.

and you, for the first time in your life, had no idea what to say.

flirting with a nerd shouldn’t be this hard.

the crisp morning air suddenly felt warmer.

you were not the type to get flustered easily, but the way jeongin had just looked at you—head tilted, hands in his pockets, voice smooth as hell—all the while walking straight ahead as if he hadn't just lowkey flirted with you—wasn’t fair.

it wasn’t nerdy. it wasn’t normal. it wasn’t jeongin.

since when did nerds flirt back?

you narrowed your eyes, stepping closer to mask your sudden loss of composure. “that sounded like a challenge.”

“maybe it is.”

you blinked. okay. this was new territory. you were used to jeongin rolling his eyes at you, shutting down your playful jabs with a bored look. not this. not him flipping the script so effortlessly.

but two could play that game.

“well, topper,” you hummed, leaning in slightly, “if you want me to take you on a date, you should just say so.”

his smirk didn’t waver, but you caught the quick flicker of his eyes—the way they darted to your lips before meeting your gaze again. he adjusted his glasses, his fingers briefly brushing against the silver rings.

“i don’t recall saying that,” he mused.

you grinned. “you didn’t deny it, though.”

jeongin exhaled through his nose, amused, before turning back toward the lecture hall. “come on. we’re already late.”

you watched him walk ahead, your heartbeat a little too loud in your ears.

what the hell just happened?

— inside the lecture hall

the class was already half-full when you and jeongin entered, the air buzzing with lazy morning energy. some students were half-asleep, slumped over their desks, while others were whispering about weekend plans.

the professor hadn’t arrived yet, but the massive whiteboard was already filled with equations from an earlier class—long, intimidating numbers that you barely had the mental energy to comprehend.

you spotted your some of your friends near the middle rows. felix, ryujin, and yeji were sitting together, with an empty seat next to the blonde. across the hall, the nerd's own 'gang'—jisung, hyunjin, seungmin, aeri and yunah—was all huddled near the front.

as you slid into the seat next to felix, he raised an eyebrow. “you were talking to jeongin again?”

“yeah?”

he leaned in, lowering his voice. “bae. people actually think he hates, like, everyone.”

you scoffed, unbothered. “well, i’m built different.”

ryujin, who was casually scrolling on her phone, smirked. “or maybe you just like hot twi— nerds.”

“he's not tw—”

yeji cut you off, nudging the other two. “what’s the bet again?”

felix only grinned. “y/n would either break jeongin’s cold exterior or completely embarrass herself trying.”

“so far, it’s leaning toward the second one.”

you groaned, shoving felix’s arm. “so i'm as valuable as a bet now?”

meanwhile, across the room, jeongin was already in his seat, casually flipping through his notes. jisung nudged him with an exaggerated smirk.

“was y/n hitting on you again?”

jeongin adjusted his glasses. “probably.”

seungmin, looking unimpressed, leaned back in his chair. “and you just let her?”

jeongin shrugged. “she's entertaining.”

aeri cackled. “you so have a crush.”

“i don’t.”

“right, right.” jisung rolled his eyes. “that’s why you’re smirking to yourself like a roblox character right now?”

jeongin’s smirk immediately disappeared. “shut up.”

— after class, the campus café

after suffering through an hour of math (or thriving through it, if you were jeongin), you found yourself at the campus café, sipping on some watermelon juice you had gotten. the café was a cozy little spot near the library, filled with the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of coffee cups. the warm lighting made the wooden interior glow, and the air smelled like cinnamon and espresso.

you were sitting with felix and ryujin when jeongin entered.

of course, he looked annoyingly good again.

and of course, he had changed his attire after class.

noon's outfit: a fitted cream turtleneck under a tailored charcoal gray coat, paired with black trousers and sleek leather boots. his silver rings caught the light as he pushed his glasses up, scanning the menu like he wasn’t aware half the café was stealing glances at him.

you sighed dramatically. “does he ever look bad?”

felix smirked. “that’s what you’re worried about?”

“no, i’m worried about myself, because apparently, i’m developing a thing for well-dressed nerds.”

ryujin raised an eyebrow. “oh? so you admit it?”

at that moment, jeongin’s gaze flickered over to you. your eyes met. and instead of just nodding or ignoring you like usual, he did something that nearly made you drop your drink.

he smiled.

not a smirk. not a teasing glance. a smile. dimples and all.

you blinked, stunned.

felix leaned in, whispering, “oh. you’re so done for.”

and for the second time today, you really had nothing to say.

the art of losing (to a nerd).

jeongin had smiled at you.

not a smirk, not an i’m-better-than-you glance, but an actual smile. dimples, soft eyes, the whole deal.

you were losing your mind.

“i—what—he—” you sputtered, gripping your juice like it held the answers to the universe. “did he just smile at me?”

felix sipped his iced coffee with an amused look. “yup.”

ryujin smirked, barely glancing up from her phone. “congratulations. you’re officially the first person outside of his nerd cult to get that privilege.”

“oh lord.”

across the café, jeongin had already turned back to the counter, unfazed. he ordered his usual—black coffee, no sugar—before casually making his way to a corner booth. he moved so effortlessly, extremely nonchalant.

you, however, were still stuck on that smile.

what did it mean? was he just being polite? was he messing with you? did he—

felix snapped his fingers in front of your face. “hello? earth to y/n? you’re staring.”

you blinked. “i am not.”

ryujin raised an eyebrow. “you totally are.”

felix leaned in, grinning. “wait. wait. are you blushing?”

“no.”

“you’re so done for,”

“first stage of denial: over.”

“i hate the both of you.”

. . .

a few days later, you were at the campus library, attempting to study. spoiler: it wasn’t going well.

the problem?

a nerd sitting across from you.

it wasn’t planned. you had been minding your own business, laptop open, notes spread out, when jeongin had materialized in front of you, dropping his books onto the table with an air of casual dominance.

“reserved seats don’t exist,” he had said when you had gaped at him.

so now, here you were. stuck at the same table, trying (and failing) to ignore each other.

you tapped your pen against your notebook, sneaking a glance at him. he was focused, dark eyes scanning the textbook like it was the most interesting thing in the world. his glasses slid down slightly, and he absentmindedly pushed them back up with a knuckle.

how was it possible for a nerd to look so effortlessly cool?

“you’re staring.”

you flinched. “observing.”

jeongin didn’t even look up. “creeping.”

you huffed, crossing your arms. “you are so full of yourself.”

a smirk. “you’re the one staring, not me.”

you scowled, ready to retort, when an idea hit them. a terrible, wonderful idea.

you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “you know,” you mused, “if you ever need a break from all that.. nerding, i can take you on a date.”

jeongin finally looked up, raising a brow. “are you seriously flirting with me in the library?”

“why? is it working?”

a pause. then—

jeongin leaned in too.

too close. close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne—something woody, expensive, unfairly attractive.

“you tell me,” he murmured.

your brain short-circuited.

felix was right. you were so done for.

. . .

you had two rules in life.

1. never get involved in unnecessary drama. 2. never—ever—fall for a nerd.

unfortunately, han jisung existed solely to ruin both of those.

the set-up (aka jisung's dumb idea)

"so, uh… i kind of need a favor."

jisung plopped down beside you in the campus café, grinning like he hadn’t just uttered the most dangerous words in existence.

you, munching on a cookie, didn’t bother looking up from the textbook you were pretending to read simultaneously. "no."

"you don’t even know what i’m asking."

"i know it’s stupid."

jisung pouted. "wow. no faith in me at all?"

you finally sighed, setting the cookie down. "fine. what’s the favor?"

jisung clapped his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "so, jeongin has this family thing coming up, right?"

"okay… and?"

jisung leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal a government secret. "his parents keep nagging him about dating."

"and why is that my problem?"

jisung grinned. "because you’re fake-dating him now!"

silence.

you stared. "i’m what?"

"you heard me."

at that exact moment, jeongin—who had just arrived at the café (wow magic) —froze mid-step. he turned to jisung with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"what are you doing? no!"

jisung pouted. "come on, dude. your mom keeps asking about your nonexistent girlfriend, and y/n is perfect for this!"

you smirked, propping your chin on your hand. "perfect, hm?"

jeongin shot you a flat look. "don’t."

jisung, ignoring him, continued excitedly, "think about it! y/n’s hot, pretty, you two already bicker like an old married couple, and—"

jeongin cut him off. "i’d rather die."

"well, damn," you muttered, feigning offense. "you could at least pretend to be a little enthusiastic about fake-dating me."

jeongin turned to you, unimpressed. "i’d rather explain quantum mechanics to a toddler than date you."

you grinned. "you know quantum mechanics?"

"that’s not the point."

jisung threw his hands up. "guys! focus! jeongin, do you want your mom setting you up with random girls?"

jeongin clenched his jaw. he hated when his mom did that. every family event ended with some aunt introducing him to their neighbor’s niece, followed by exhausting small talk and forced compliments.

his eyes flickered to you, watching him with that stupidly smug smile. you probably weren’t taking this seriously, right?

good.

because he wasn’t doing it.

"no," he finally said. "not happening."

jisung groaned. "dude. it’s one dinner."

"still no."

you leaned in, resting your elbow on the table. "you’re really against the idea of dating me?"

jeongin exhaled, looking you dead in the eye. "fake or not, i wouldn’t date you if you were the last person on earth."

you grinned. "good. that means i can flirt all i want, and you totally won’t get attached, right?"

"oh yeah? wanna bet on it?"

"oh you're on, yang. i'll flirt with you as much as i want for-"

he cuts you off, "-one month. a whole week of me buying you snacks and lunch on the line. if you win."

"hmm, scared much? why not make it three months and i'll actually leave you alone after it all?"

"oh this is fun." jisung only stared between the two.

"bet."

jisung clapped his hands together. "so it's settled! you two are fake-dating!"

"i never agreed to this," jeongin muttered.

you simply took another bite of your cookie. "too late, topper. we have a date to plan."

jeongin swore under his breath.

this was going to be a disaster.

. . .

the night of the dinner came faster than jeongin would’ve liked.

you, unfortunately, were thriving.

"so, babe," you teased, nudging him as you walked toward the fancy restaurant where his family was waiting. "are we holding hands or what?"

jeongin shot you a glare. "no."

you pouted dramatically. "you’re so bad at this."

"i don’t want to be good at this."

you sighed. "fine. but i am calling you ‘babe’ in front of your parents."

jeongin stopped walking. "don’t."

you smirked. "babe."

jeongin groaned, rubbing his temples.

this was hell.

so, the second you stepped in, jeongin’s mom beamed.

"iyennie! you made it!"

you nearly choked. iyennie?

jeongin shot you a look that screamed, say a word and you die.

you, of course, took mental notes for future bullying.

his mother, looking as happy as ever, turned to you, eyes lighting up. "and this must be your girlfriend!"

you smiled sweetly, reaching for jeongin’s arm. "yes, ma’am! i’ve heard so much about you."

jeongin stiffened. his actual nightmare was happening.

his mom clapped her hands together. "oh, she’s adorable! and so polite!"

jeongin shot you a glare.

y/n, in response, squeezed his arm.

. . .

the dinner had barely started, and jeongin already wanted to disappear.

his mom was in full hosting mode, greeting everyone at the long, beautifully decorated table like she was running a royal banquet. his dad, more relaxed but equally nosy, sat at the head of the table, eyeing jeongin and you like you two were the most interesting thing in the world.

and then, of course, there were the relatives.

the visiting relatives.

which jeongin had not been informed about.

"aunt nae is here?" he whispered to his mom in horror as they took their seats.

"of course! she and minji wanted to see you, and they had to meet your girlfriend," his mom whispered back, beaming.

jeongin shot a look at you, who was way too comfortable in this situation, greeting his relatives like you'd been part of the family for years.

he exhaled sharply. this is fine. one dinner.

you turned to him, grinning. "jeonginnie, babe, scoot closer."

jeongin flinched. "what the hell did you just call me?"

"jeonginnie," you repeated, full of amusement, before turning to his mom. "it’s my nickname for him. cute, right?"

his mom melted. "oh, that’s adorable!"

jeongin clenched his jaw, gripping his fork like it was his last lifeline.

you were having the time of your life.

"so, y/n," jeongin’s dad started, leaning back in his chair. "tell us about yourself. what are you studying?"

you smiled, setting your chopsticks down. "music and literature."

jeongin’s mom clasped her hands together. "oh! a creative soul!"

jeongin muttered under his breath, "more like a chaotic soul."

you kicked him under the table. he barely held in a grunt.

one of jeongin’s aunts, a well-dressed woman in her late fifties, eyed you curiously. "and how did you two meet?"

before jeongin could stop you, you smoothly responded, "in the library. he was too shy to talk to me at first, so i had to make the first move. such a baby, right?"

jeongin nearly choked on his water. "that’s not—"

"oh, my," one of the older relatives gushed. "that��s so cute!"

"it really was," you continued, ignoring jeongin’s silent death glare. "he kept glancing at me over his books. adorable. my little nerd."

jeongin took a slow, deep breath. "lying is a sin, you know."

you turned to him with a sickeningly sweet smile. "so is being grumpy at your loving girlfriend, babe."

jeongin gritted his teeth. "i hate you."

"no, you don’t."

the rest of the table ate this up.

minji, his cousin, sighed dreamily. "you two are so cute together."

jeongin gave you a sharp look that screamed, look what you’ve done.

you only smirked.

and so, the dinner continued, filled with stories, laughter, and jeongin’s silent suffering.

until his father, casually sipping his drink, said, "we should invite y/n to the family trip next month."

silence.

jeongin’s brain short-circuited.

"excuse me?"

his dad smiled. "the family trip! your mom and i were just talking about it the other day. since y/n is part of the family now, she should come!"

jeongin nearly passed out.

you, on the other hand, simply blinked. "family trip?"

"oh, yes!" his mom clapped her hands together. "a whole week at the beach! we go every year, but this time, you’ll be joining us!"

jeongin stared at them in horror. "no, she won’t."

"of course, she will," his dad said firmly.

"we’ve only been dating for a few months!" jeongin protested.

his mom tilted her head. "so?"

"so?! that’s too soon for a family trip!"

you, who had been silent, leaned in slightly. "i mean, i do like the beach."

jeongin whipped his head toward them. "are you kidding me?"

you smirked. "what? i think it could be fun, babe."

jeongin clenched his fists. "i hate you." (keep counting guys !!)

"no, you don’t."

the table broke into excited chatter about the trip, completely ignoring jeongin’s very obvious distress.

this wasn’t happening.

this couldn’t be happening.

but it was.

and you were enjoying every second of it.

. . .

the evening air was crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside the restaurant. the soft glow of the streetlights cast elongated shadows on the pavement, flickering with the occasional movement of people walking past. somewhere down the street, a car honked, followed by the muffled laughter of a group of university students spilling out of a nearby café.

none of that mattered to jeongin.

because he was currently standing outside the restaurant, rubbing his face aggressively while you stood beside him, grinning like you had just won the lottery.

as soon as you had left the restaurant, he had dragged you to the side, glaring.

"you just had to play along?"

you shrugged. "what was i supposed to do? say no and make it obvious?"

"yes!"

you smirked, tapping your chin. "hmm… too boring."

jeongin groaned, rubbing his temples. "this was supposed to be one night."

"well," you said cheerfully, "looks like we’re fake-dating for a month now. hope you’re ready, iyennie. oh, and this doesn't mean our bet is off the line now."

jeongin groaned louder.

this was hell.

"you're enjoying this," he accused, voice flat, eyes burning into them.

you smoothed the skirt of your blue, satin dress, pretending to think. "maybe a bit."

jeongin shot you a glare.

okay, a full-blown murderous glare.

you, still entirely unbothered, placed a hand on your hip. "i don’t see why you’re mad. i mean, a free vacation? beachside views? quality time with your loving girlfriend?" you batted your lashes. "i’d say that’s a win."

jeongin exhaled through his nose. "a win would be me never having to fake-date you in the first place."

you gasped dramatically. "that hurts, iyennie."

jeongin physically recoiled. "don’t call me that."

"aww, but it’s cute." you tilted your head, smirking. "just like you."

jeongin’s entire body tensed. "i hate you." (what did i tell you?)

"no, you don’t."

"besides, you could've asked any other girl for this whole.. fake dating agenda, you know. but you didn't, so i think that's very contradictory to your complains right now."

"you think i had a choice when jisung practically threatened me there in the first place?"

"please, you could reject it if you really wanted to. that man would forget about it if minho appeared randomly."

jeongin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "this was supposed to be one night. one dinner. one stupid meal, and then i could go back to my normal, peaceful life."

"peaceful? dude, you have two research papers due, a physics exam next week, and you literally stress-buy sweaters. what part of that is peaceful?"

"shut up," he muttered.

"aww, did i strike a nerve?"

jeongin clenched his jaw. "let’s just go."

"go where?"

jeongin pointed to his car. "i drove you here, remember? which means, unfortunately, i have to drop you home, too."

"aww, you care about my safety, now? such a great boyfriend."

"no, darling, i just don’t want my mom thinking i abandoned you on the side of the road."

you gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. "cold, iyennie. cold."

jeongin ignored her and walked to his car.

jeongin’s car was clean. of course it was.

dark leather seats, faint traces of cologne and fresh laundry lingering in the air, a neatly placed water bottle in the cup holder, and absolutely no mess in sight. it was exactly what you had expected from someone like jeongin—controlled, neat, meticulous.

you, on the other hand, sprawled in the passenger seat like you had all the time in the world, kicking off your heels with a sigh.

"ugh, finally," you said, stretching your legs. "i swear, those things were invented by a man."

jeongin side-eyed them as he started the car. "you chose to wear them."

"yeah, because i actually put effort into my appearance, especially because i was meeting my boyfriend's family, you know. not to mention, i also had to match someone's peak of fashion sense."

you looked him up and down, eyes dragging over his outfit. "speaking of, i gotta admit, you looked kind of good tonight, nerd."

jeongin, dressed in a perfectly fitted black button-up (with the sleeves slightly rolled, because of course), navy slacks, and a silver watch that sat just right on his wrist, kept his eyes on the road. "kind of?"

"mhm. but don’t let it go to your head."

jeongin clicked his tongue. "too late."

you laughed, leaning against the window. "so, when were you going to tell me you had a whole extended family coming to dinner?"

jeongin let out a deep sigh. "i didn’t know."

"mm-hmm."

"i didn’t. if i had known, i would’ve never agreed to this in the first place."

"bet your mom planned it on purpose,"

jeongin’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. "oh, she definitely did."

silence filled the car, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound between them. the city lights flickered past, casting patterns of gold and silver against the windshield. the streets, alive with late-night chatter and the occasional honk, blurred into the background.

you shifted, turning to face him. "so, what’s the plan?"

jeongin frowned. "what plan?"

"you know, the fake-dating plan? we need a strategy."

jeongin blinked. "we don’t need a strategy. we just—" he exhaled. "we just survive the trip, act normal, and then break up after."

you gasped. "break up? so soon?"

jeongin shot you a look. "we are not actually dating, idiot."

"but think of the drama!" you grinned. "we could stage a messy breakup—throw some fake tears in, maybe have a whole 'it’s not you, it’s me' moment—"

"no."

you pouted. "boring."

jeongin rolled his eyes. "you are the most insufferable person i’ve ever met."

"and yet, here you are, fake dating me. out of every girl in town."

jeongin groaned. "i hate my life."

you smirked, playing with the edge of your dress. "no, you don’t."

. . .

when you finally pulled up in front of the women's uni dorm building, jeongin parked and rested his head against the seat, exhausted.

"alright, we’re here. get out."

you gasped. "no goodnight kiss?"

"out."

you laughed, wearing your heels back and stepping out. before closing the door, you leaned down slightly, peering inside. "sweet dreams, iyennie. don’t miss me too much."

jeongin glared. "i will actually block your number."

you winked. "you wish you could."

and with that, you shut the door and disappeared into the building, leaving jeongin staring after you, questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[cheshireliam]

Kagari Amagase 1st Birthday Campaign: Story

His POV Story

"I Want The Princess"

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

I stood on the battlefield, washed off the blood and headed to my secondary residence.  

…

The instant I stepped inside, I collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

Like always, I felt lightheaded and couldn’t think straight.

However, the book laying on my desk caught my eye.

The cover of the book was decorated with a rose motif, a flower rare in Kogyoku. 

I crawled closer to the book and reached for it.

When I opened the cover, a piece of paper with text written in the Princess’ penmanship fell out and landed on my face.  

Those were various detailed annotations about the book’s contents. 

A pure desire to enjoy the book came right to me.

(My birthday…)

(It was my first time.)

…

Nobleman: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari. I wish you a joyful and prosperous year ahead.

Kagari: Oh. 

This year too, there was a snaking line of people outside the castle for my birthday. 

I received countless birthday greetings, but I didn't know the appropriate response to them. 

(Everything is different from when I was still part of the royal family. There are so many things I don’t understand.)

Back in the day, my birthdays were simple, ending with a congratulatory speech from the King. 

My older brother had countless people celebrating his birthday and even had a banquet held for him, but that wasn't the case for me — his younger brother. 

No one ever doubted it because the difference between me and my older brother, who possessed remarkable capabilities that made everyone around have high expectations for him, was like night and day.

(But… thinking about it now, I wish I’d at least gotten one dorayaki.)

(... Hm?)

At the very end of the line — a familiar figure was standing under a cherry blossom tree in the distance. 

My body moved on its own before I even realised it. 

Kagari: You’re wide open, Princess. 

The Princess reacted exaggeratingly in surprise. I put a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the shade.

Emma: Mmph…! 

I pinned her struggling body against a tree trunk before closing the distance between us to avoid drawing the attention of the people nearby.

(She’s still as weak as ever, like she could die any moment.) 

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I took my hand off her mouth and she nodded.

Emma: … What are you doing here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: You called me here.

(Maybe.)

Her fidgeting near the line must mean she wants to see me, right? 

Kagari: If you were planning to join the line, don’t bother.

Kagari: It won’t end until nightfall.

Emma: That long…?

Kagari: There’s a banquet tonight. That’ll go on till dawn. 

Kagari: So, why are you here?

The Princess’ eyes darted around awkwardly.

It was suspicious behaviour, she looked very uneasy, as though she was hiding something she wanted to say.

Emma: … Um… there were so many people gathered, and I got curious…

She hid the bag she was holding behind her back.

Given today’s occasion and the Princess’ personality, the answer is obvious.

(She’s hesitant to celebrate my birthday.) 

(Is this really something to agonise about?)

(... I don’t really get it, but this is fine.)

(It doesn't matter whether I receive birthday greetings or not…)

(But spending my birthday with her might actually be more enjoyable.)

(I’ll take her along for the customary inspection.)

…

Dressed as one of the Yasha’s subordinates, the Princess pointed an imitation sword at the assassins. 

I couldn’t help but be secretly impressed as I watched from atop a roof.

(She’s gotten more used to things compared to when she first arrived in Kogyoku.)

(Even though it’s only an imitation sword, she’s learnt how to point one at others.) 

(With that amount of guts, she’ll have no problem surviving in Kogyoku. Full marks for her.) 

(Also… the clothes my subordinates wear really suit her.)

I stared absentmindedly at her exposed nape, where her hair was tied up in a single knot.)

(I remember Matias saying something about this before.)

(“The nape, usually hidden by her hair, is the most valuable”.)

At that time, I thought he was purely spouting weird nonsense, but I understand now. 

(It’s so slender, I feel like biting it— wait, what? Why do I want to bite it?

(No idea. I’ll ask Matias next time.)

(If this is something that requires some brains, I’ll ask Azel.) 

While I was lost in thought, the assassin placed their hands on the hilt of their swords. 

Before they could unsheath their swords ever so slightly, I jumped down and swung my sheathed sword. 

The impact was solid, and all the assassins’ eyes rolled back as they fell unconscious. 

Had I drawn my sword, their heads would have flown off their shoulders. 

(Weak.)

Kagari: That was easy. I hoped they’d at least be good enough for me to draw my sword.

As I turned around feeling disappointed, the Princess was in the midst of sheathing the imitation sword.

Before the blade fully went into the scabbard, I moved closer and held her slender hand. 

Kagari: Princess, you need to adjust the angle of your stance. 

Emma: I see…

Kagari: Also, never hunch your back on a battlefield.

Emma: I never noticed I was doing that.

Kagari: Exactly. Even though you’re dressed like one of my subordinates, you’re weak.

Emma: … I’m sorry. 

Cat: Nyaa… 

While I was guiding her for future use, I heard a meowing sound coming from next to my feet. 

It was the stray cat I had an undesirable, yet inseparable relationship with. 

Kagari: Ah, give me a minute.

I folded a piece of paper with instructions on how to deal with the men lying on the ground and handed it to the cat. 

It gave a delighted meow as it took the paper in its mouth and scurried off. 

Emma: What was that…?

Kagari: Calico No.1.

Kagari: It often roams the streets. So if you ever need to contact me, you can count on it for that.

Emma: So instead of a carrier pigeon… you have a carrier cat.

Kagari: Yeah. 

(This guy’s more temperamental than a pigeon, though.)

Emma: About the piece of paper you gave it earlier on…

Kagari: I summoned my subordinates. It’s a hassle to clean up this mess. 

I stood up and looked down at the amateurish assassins lying on the ground. 

The Princess looked eager for an explanation, almost to the point she was getting restless. 

(They’re no more significant than random passersby, but…) 

Kagari: This is a “gift” I receive on my birthday every year, amidst the celebrations. 

Kagari: I was looking forward to a more challenging opponent, but I got disappointed this year too.

The Princess frowned at my blunt response.

(Is she angry?)

(Weird. It doesn't even concern her.)

(Maybe this is something “strange” to the Princess?)

(When you come from a different place, what’s common and what’s not changes. That's interesting.)

(What’s common knowledge to me, might not be so common to her.) 

…

Night fell as usual, and it was time for the banquet.

Savouring the enjoyable time we had together, I parted ways with the Princess. 

Soon after, the ever so hardworking Calico No.1 came with a letter in its mouth.

…

I went to the cherry blossom tree where I sometimes admired the flowers with the Princess, and the sender of that letter looked clearly pleased to see me. 

Feeling comforted by her reaction, I sat down next to her under the tree. 

Emma: Has the banquet ended?

Kagari: Not yet.

Emma: You managed to slip away.

Kagari: Your summon is more important.

Cat: Nyaa 

(Is it asking for a reward?)

I gently petted the cat that had been nuzzling itself against my leg and it left like it was never there. 

Heartless cat. 

(Right now, the Princess is more important than Calico No.1.)

Kagari: You changed your clothes.

Emma: Yes, I wanted to meet you as my usual self.

Emma: If I’m going to celebrate your birthday, I want to do it as the version of me you met in Kogyoku.  

Kagari: … 

(Is this what she meant when she said she “wanted some of my time after the banquet”?)

Emma: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari.

The Princess, who had been hesitant about wishing me a happy birthday this morning, presented me with a cherry blossom-patterned package.

I accepted the package, unwrapped it, and took out what was insides

Kagari: A book? 

Emma: It’s a storybook from Rhodolite. 

(It’s my first time receiving a book as a birthday gift. I’m feeling uneasy.)

Kogyoku’s Yasha was thought by others to only wield swords and never read books. 

But in truth, I don’t dislike reading. 

Emma: You’ve taught me many wonderful things about Kogyoku. 

Emma: It’s thrilling to discover new things about the world that I’ve never known before, so…

Emma: I chose this book because I want you to experience that thrill too. It’s one of my favourites. 

Emma: … And, if possible, I thought it might help convey Rhodolite’s charm too…

Kagari: The book is set in Rhodolite?

Emma: That’s right! It’s a collection of heartwarming short stories.

Emma: It’s the perfect remedy for when you’re feeling worn out.

Kagari: I almost forgot you’re a book merchant.

(I thought it’s just like any other book, but this one’s carefully chosen by the Princess.)

Knowing the amount of thought put into the gift made it much more significant. 

Kagari: You’re probably the only one who’d think of giving me a book. 

(I’ve decided. I’ll make this a family heirloom.)

I stared at the cover, flipped through the pages, and briefly scanned through the text. 

It doesn't seem like I’ll be running into any trouble if I end up with too much free time for a while. 

Emma: … I’m relieved I could properly celebrate your birthday. 

I looked up when she suddenly spoke.

The Princess heaved a sigh of relief, like she had been holding her breath for a while. 

Kagari: You’re overthinking it. I’d never find it bothersome to be celebrated. 

Emma: But your detached reaction to all the greetings and gifts made me rather worried that you would. 

Kagari: … Did I come off that way?

(I didn't realise. No wonder the Princess hesitated.)

I closed the book and lowered my gaze. 

Kagari: It’s not that I dislike being celebrated, or that I’m uninterested in birthdays.

Kagari: It’s just… I still don’t know what I should be feeling when I’m being celebrated.

Kagari: It’s been a recent problem for me.

Never had I ever imagined that not having extravagant birthday celebrations like my older brother did would someday become a source of my troubles. 

(Receiving a celebration particularly from her is complicated.)

(... I feel restless, and it’s hard to even look her in the eyes.)

(Is this the correct feeling I should be getting? What kind of emotion is this?) 

As I sat there in silence, full of uncertainty, a gentle breeze blew. 

Petals from the cherry blossom tree that was in bloom all year round danced in the air and fluttered down. 

The Princess, whose attention had been constantly focused on the Yasha until now, suddenly turned her gaze toward the cherry blossoms.

Emma: It’s beautiful. 

(…)

The restlessness turned into something murky. 

(... Not going to look at me anymore?)

(You’re so heartless.)

I grabbed a fistful of the Princess’ skirt. 

It was a spontaneous gesture. 

Emma: Prince Kagari?

(Why must I lose her to some cherry blossoms?)

Kagari: You’ve been thinking about my birthday all day long, and now you’re completely mesmerised by cherry blossoms? 

Emma: Of course I’m still thinking about your birthday. 

Emma: I just think that it looks as though the cherry blossoms are celebrating too… 

Kagari: Just you celebrating it is enough. Don’t look away. 

For some reason, the Princess reacted to my vent with a gentle smile. 

Kagari: … What are you smiling about?

Emma: It’s nothing. 

(I’m curious… but this doesn't feel so bad.)

I felt my facial expression soften, and the Princess turned her gaze to the cherry blossoms once again.

My grip on the fabric of her skirt tightened. 

Emma: … I planned to only give you your gift, but we ended up talking for quite a while.

Emma: Shouldn’t you return to the banquet soon, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: …

(I don't want to.)

(I want her to celebrate my birthday, more than the banquet.) 

(But somehow, even though they’re all celebrations, something feels different.)

I retraced the day’s events, recalling each and every one of the Princess’ words and trying to pinpoint the cause of my restlessness. 

(If there is a difference… it’d be that everyone else’s celebrations are nothing more than mere formalities.)

(You could say they have ulterior motives, wanting to gain the Yasha’s favour and protection.)

(But the Princess’ celebration doesn't have any of that.) 

(... This is the first time I’m receiving a sincere birthday celebration.)

Kagari: Princess, don’t you want to keep the Yasha all to yourself?

Emma: I think I’ve already monopolised you enough. 

(It’s not enough.)

(... I want more)

Kagari: … Stay here.

Emma: Then… I’ll take you up on the offer.

Emma: Can I continue celebrating your birthday for a little while longer? 

Kagari: Yeah. 

Hearing the word “celebrate” from her lips made me restless again. 

(Could this restless feeling be… bashfulness?) 

(... Am I actually feeling bashful because she’s celebrating my birthday?) 

(That’s a first. I learned something new today.)

Kagari: If you want to celebrate, do it. I can’t guarantee I’ll make it to my next birthday.

Emma: … I don't like such jokes.

Kagari: I’m not joking. But rest assured that I want you to celebrate my birthday over and over again.

(It’d be nice if there’ll be a “next”.) 

(... I want to feel bashful again. I want to experience this feeling even more.)

(I want to get to know this restlessness better.)

(When I’m with her… my emotions come alive.)

…

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by darkness.

(... Did I fall asleep?)

As I regained consciousness, I realised I was holding a book in my arms.

I heard a faint sound of gentle breathing coming from next to me.

I shifted my gaze in its direction to see Calico No.1 laying there with its belly facing up, looking completely defenseless.

(It's getting better at hiding its presence and becoming more shameless too.)

(Who exactly does that remind me of?)

Careful not to wake Calico No.1, I picked up the book and opened it while laying down. 

Even though I had already finished it and remembered its contents, my eyes didn't stop following the text.

The stories were set in a peaceful country called Rhodolite. 

The Princess, born in that kind of country, was honest, straightforward, and her existence dazzling bright. 

(That makes sense.)

On my birthday — when I received those empty, soulless birthday greetings from the crowd, the Princess looked like she couldn't stand it any longer and took my hand.

Under the cherry blossom tree, her smile was like a flower in full bloom and she celebrated the Yasha’s birthday genuinely from the heart.

(She has a beautiful heart.)

(And yet, she unhesitatingly held these hands of mine that have been stained with blood of the people I’ve killed and even gave me her blessings.)

(Ah…)

(... I want the Princess).

(But I don't understand why I want her.)

(Will I understand it if she becomes mine, just like this book?)

I sat up and closed the book.

Although the battle was over and my body was supposedly back to its usual state, my head started feeling fuzzy again. 

That sensation worsened when an image of the Princess’ face emerged in my mind. 

Despite knowing my symptoms were worsening, my hands refused to let go of the book. 

I couldn’t peel my eyes off it.

It was as though I was clinging onto it.

(I want to see her.)

(I want to see the Princess.)

[treatbuckywkisses]

The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!! 

     Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.      You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good 

     Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER 

     But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.  baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

     Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

     “You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

     There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

     You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY����😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

      The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app) 

     The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

[drdemonprince]

Even very progressive, kinky people think about "protecting children" the wrong way imo. I wish kinky people wouldn't insist on telling minors to disengage from the scene completely until they're older. The line between "educating" and "participating" in kink is too blurry to be useful.

I'm so grateful I found other people with my fetish online as a kid. I clung to the snippets and articles I found as early as middle school. It probably changed the trajectory of my life. I didn't have to go through the pain of trying to make vanilla marriages work like so many people do because I had a clearer idea of what I was and I knew there were other people out there who wanted the same. Researching and exploring my fetish as a child was hugely beneficial for my wellbeing.

unfortunately, kink communities feel very much beholden to the law and to maintaining social respectability, and so they replicate a lot of the same unhelpful attitudes towards sex and it's separation from regular life, especially as doing so pertains to kids. you see people on here claiming to be personally victimized or put at risk when a person under 18 follows them for example, as if it is the child in that dynamic that is responsible for anything that has happened, or people will simplistically claim that no one who is not of legal age can or should ever participate in kinky activities -- when that's just not realistic to how the budding sexualities of kinky young people who are sexually active will play out. people are reasonably very afraid of being accused of grooming or praying upon minors, and so they have to protect themselves and their spaces against the appearance of such things, but what this means in practice is that young people who are curious about kink or who are already sexually active are even more isolated from helpful resources and adults that could potentially assist them if they got themselves into a dangerous situation. and if anything it delays them developing negotiation and safety skills with regard to their sexual practice. it sucks.

I know that I was certainly heavily engaged in the kink community online as a young teenager, and that consuming blogs and media about my various fetishes was enriching and positive for me. if I hadn't had that outlet, I might have been even more likely to seek out the power dynamics that I craved through imbalanced relationships with actual people. furthermore I wouldn't have even had any knowledge that the desires I was experiencing were fetishes, and could be satisfied in a relatively safe way. I would have just felt all the same longings and lacked any framework for how to meet them or negotiate them. that already ended up being a problem for me -- for many years I got into abusive relationships to satisfy my need for control rather than seeking out control within a consensual kinky relationship-- but I'm really thankful that I at least realized there were fetishes that I had, even if it took me years to believe that I could speak about them to anyone or seek them out intentionally.

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Ohohoho, I see more stp related character ask games. In which case, thoughts on Hunted? Could always use more Hunted content out here

(Ooooo Hunted!!! The silliest of fellas)

(And as I’m writing this my appreciation for him just skyrockets ten fold. He makes me. Let’s just say. Feral.)

(Ask is here!!! vvvvvv Sorry that it looks like this, I’m on IPad🗿)

(Also the reply is getting too long (again), sooo gonna put a cut somewhere here…)

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

Probably how reliable he is in general. I feel like he’s probably the voice that is the most loyal to Quiet alongside Hero. He just really doesn’t seem like the type of character to have any hidden agenda underneath his actions. He’s just, when he thinks of something, he’d just do it instinctively. I love how he just focuses on the now and what’s happening around him, and doesn’t rely on what he sees only. He’s a really simple guy and all he really wants is safety. And I really like that about him. (The contrast between him and Oppy is glaring here)

And also despite the fact that instinct is a big part that makes him “him”, he’s not completely feral and still holds that humanity inside of him. I think he’s pretty darn neat.

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

It’s how little he had appeared 😭😭😭

He needs more chapter 3 appearances aside from his own

Both him and Skeptic need more chapters actually.

(And honestly I don’t have much “””bad””” stuff to say about him. He’s just overall a very likeable character to me)

FAVORITE LINE

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?” (You’ll see this line again)

“The Look. We’ve all used it.”

“Looking at her makes me sad.”

BROtp

Gotta say Hunted and Witch. Hunted pairs well with many other voices and vessels, but the thought of two semi-feral characters interacting with each other is kind of adorable to me. Just. Similar brain wave signals. Vrrrrrrrr. Y’know.

Witch would just sniff Hunted and be like “hmmm he doesn’t smell like a liar to me” and she would just be chilling with him with half an eye closed and half of it open. Just in case. And Hunted just sees her as someone who’s gotten hurt. And had to fight back like a scared animal. So I think he would empathise with her. Idk.

Stubborn and Hunted is a good one too. I could imagine Stubborn and Hunted just sparring with each other whenever they could. The battle always ends in a stalemate though, since Hunted just dodges Stubborn’s attacks most of the time. And by the time Hunted is tired dodging Stubborn is tired as well. But knowing Stubborn he would try to throw a punch at him anyway. And then failing cause they have bodies now. Stubborn takes it as a challenge and is thrilled to see what other stuff Hunted could do. Unstoppable force vs Immovable object.

And the mental thought of Stubborn throwing Hunted like a Pokeball and be like “Hunted I choose you” is just so funny to me. And. Just. Hunted riding on Stubborn’s shoulder. So cute.

OTP

He honestly pairs well with a lot of them tbh, so I don’t think I can choose an exact one.

NOtp

I have none hehe

RANDOM HEADCANON

He would sometimes bite the other voices to show affection. If he is feeling really bite-y that day he would just find something to chew on just so he won’t accidentally hurt the others.

Also, the current smaller form you see of him is not his full form. That’s just him holding back his more feral side, and hence why he looks so tiny. He’s way taller and stronger than he looks.

(Sneak peak of his feral form!!!)

A more antsy head canon I’ve got for him is that a part of him always have this urge to consume the other voices since they are technically parts of the same guy. He feels really guilty about feeling this way. When that feeling is too strong he would lock himself away from the flock until it passes.

UNPOPULAR OPINION

(This is becoming less of an unpopular opinion and more of a ramble as I’m writing this, but I’m just gonna keep this here because I think this is pretty interesting)

I feel like he would take an integral role in helping the other voices in fighting against their nature, since he is so used to doing that himself. Many of the fics I’ve read where the voices are starting to become more complex and more than their nature often doesn’t mention Hunted at all. He would definitely take a role in helping the voices manage their own urges in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone, knowing how he empathises with Den despite everything she has done to them.

He shines the most when he is paired with Oppy regarding this. Oppy embraces his own nature, and often times to his own detriment. Hunted wouldn’t trust him, but he would still protect and look after him anyway since he is still a part of the flock. If Oppy ever shows an ounce of genuine interest in fighting against his urge to betray people for his own benefit, Hunted would be one of the first ones to help and encourage him.

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?”

Nature vs Nurture baby!!!!

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

Butcher Vanity, specifically him in Den where he goes completely feral

And also Kaibutsu/怪物. It can be a shared song between Hunted and Oppy, but mostly Hunted.

FAVOURITE PICTURE OF THEM

(I love it when I just draw him like a fu@king creature)

(He’s so derpy-looking here)

[aquarius-johnny]

Promise? Promise. | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | word count: 3.9k | deadly sins series | master list navi warnings: nonidol!jaehyun, tatted!reader, afab!reader, pet names (baby, my girl), needy jaehyun, use of sex toys, phone sex, sharing explicit photos, video sex, smut, a little fluffy summary: jaehyun so desperately wants you, only to remember you’re far away from him, so he settles for some long distance phone sex. | deadly sin: lust a/n: part of the deadly sins series. read part two: the sweetest hello cr. border by @dollywons, seven deadly sins prompts by @joelsmochi

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

Never in your wildest dreams, you’d be sending suggestive photos of yourself to a man you’ve never met, in person at least, that lives on the opposite side of the world from you. Everything that you’re doing goes against your best judgement, but you did not care. 

You tilt your head to the right, then the left, then the right again while analyzing the lingerie set you bought earlier that day. Eyes scanning the way the lace perfectly lays against your skin, the color complimenting your undertone, and how the cut flatters your body oh so well before turning to the side, slightly twisting your body to admire your ass. You give yourself an approving nod, taking pride in the set you chose yourself. 

Your text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and a smile pulls your lips after seeing who it’s from. 

jaehyun: i missed you today jaehyun: think we can talk tonight?

Your thumb hovers over your phone’s keyboard, thinking about what you should reply. Thinking on your feet, you snap a quick picture posing suggestively for the shot — you angle your mirror to face your bed, positioning yourself in view of your reflection. Your knees slightly part against your mattress and you lean forward a bit, ensuring your phone covers your face as you take a couple of photos. You reopen your messaging app, sending the best photo you took.

you: sure, feel free to call me when you can

Within seconds, you receive a new text. 

jaehyun: is that new?  you: yeah, i bought it today. you: what do you think? jaehyun: i might need a few more angles to come up with a solid opinion jaehyun: one thing is for sure though jaehyun: i want you jaehyun: so fucking badly

You giggle at his multiple messages sent back to back. You quickly shoot a couple more photos, multiple shots in semi compromising positions you remember Jaehyun saying he really enjoyed. Feeling confident in yourself, you choose your best photos once more, sending four more photos for him to add to his spank bank.

you: i really like it you: i think it’s very pretty jaehyun: i need to call you jaehyun: now jaehyun: please

Before you could reply, your phone screen lights up with Jaehyun’s contact information and cute little pouty photo he took and sent you when you took a little too long calling him one night.

“You’re a little impatient, aren’t you?” You giggle softly, hearing a door lock on his end of the line. 

You feel him smile over the phone, his voice slightly echoing on his end. “I can’t help it.” 

“Where are you?” You ask as you trace your finger against the waistband of your underwear. “Doesn’t sound like you’re home.”

“I’m not.” His voice lingers with a hint of urgency, his breathing slightly rattled and you hear the echoes of his belt buckle being undone. “I’m in a restroom. I have to be quick, my friends are waiting.” 

“Hm, you’re gonna use me to get you off and then leave me?” Your bottom lip juts out, letting out a small whimper that always sends Jaehyun into a frenzy.

“No, of course not baby,” he breathes, “Those pictures, fuck, I — I promise to call you when I get home. I want to see you. I need to see you. But right now, I need to hear you, please.” His begging ignites something in the pit of your stomach, aroused by the breathy sounds he makes. 

You slide your fingers under the fabric covering your core. “Promise?” 

“I promise,” his voice low and raspy, before he inhales sharply. “Think you can touch yourself for me?”

You smile against your phone. “Already am,” you let out. “I’m really wet,” you softly giggle, tracing circles around your sweet nub. 

A low groan escapes Jaehyun's lips. The sound of his hand slicking up and down his shaft is very prominent, the sound so enticing you let out a small moan. 

“Should I stick a finger inside?” You wonder aloud, waiting patiently for his directions. 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun growls, “please do.” He pumps his erection faster, aroused by the thoughts of your fingers dipping in and out of you.

“I wish they were yours,” you pout, your dainty fingers gently moving against your wet velvety walls. 

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Jaehyun sighs, throwing his head back against the wall he’s pressed against. He twists his tip before returning to pumping himself. “Until then, fuck yourself with your fingers baby. Tell me how good it feels.” His voice is so low and raspy, you find it incredibly hot how needy and desperate he is to touch himself while thinking of you. 

“It feels so good, Jaehyun.” You groan, penetrating your finger deeper inside of you. “I’m so wet and it’s so warm.” 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun grunts. “Faster. Fuck yourself faster.”

His breathing turns rapid and you hear him sharply inhale. Your eyes shut, taking in the lewd noises you’re making that’s mixed with the sounds Jaehyun lets out every time his imagination gets the best of him. You do as he says, before opting out to rub circles on your clit knowing it’ll make you release faster. 

“Jaehyun,” you whimper. “Harder.” 

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the groan he so desperately wants to let out. He loves the way you call out for him as you touch yourself. He does as you say, tightening his grip around his cock, pumping his hand all the way down to the base of his shaft as he imagines bottoming out inside of you. 

You press down onto your clit, picking up the pace ever so slightly to reach your high. A string of breathy mumbles leave your lips, imagining how good Jaehyun would feel inside of you. Your walls begin to pulse and your back begins to arch. Your hand doesn’t falter and Jaehyun’s sounds help you chase ecstasy. As your pace increases, so does his. His pathetic whimpers are music to your ears.

“God, Jaehyun,” you gasp. “I’m gonna come!” 

“Shit, me too,” he croaks. 

A jolt of pleasure runs through your body; your thighs tremble and your toes curl. “I’m coming,” you cry out, rubbing yourself until you ride out your high. 

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, instead, you hear him groan and gasp into the phone. Strings of white ropes spurt out of his tip and onto his long fingers. Both your bodies go limp — you sink into your mattress and he leans into the restroom wall to hold him up. 

“Damn,” he laughs, causing you to let out a giggle as well. “Hold on, I gotta clean myself up.”

He places his phone on the counter as he tears a bunch of toilet paper from its dispenser to wipe his release off his fingers and his tip. You hear a rush of water indicating hand washing on his end. 

Soon enough, you’re greeted by Jaehyun once again. “You’re not going out tonight, right?” He asks you, unlocking the restroom door. A wave of chatter fills your phone, clearly telling you that he’s going back to his friends. 

“That depends if you’re going to call me later,” you mumble, trying to steady your breathing.

Jaehyun chuckles and all you can imagine is his dimpled smile. “I made a promise, right?” He lets out, sharply inhaling. 

“You did.”

“So I intend on keeping that promise.” Your heart swells with excitement, a small smile tugs the corners of your lips. “I’ll be home soon.”

You give him a tired hum before hearing his name get called by who you can assume are his friends. “When I call later, make sure you have those gifts I sent you, okay baby?”

Your heart flutters, excited to use the sex toys Jaehyun sent you a couple of weeks back. “Okay,” you happily mumble. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “It’s really hard not to,” he smiles. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

And Jaehyun did just that. For the next two hours or so, he texted you with a ton of updates. He even sent you pictures of him and his friends as they walked the streets, eating their favorite street foods and making you slightly envious.

jaehyun: i’m heading home now jaehyun: i’ll call you when i’m inside jaehyun: i hope you have didn’t change out of that set, i can’t wait to see it

You smile at your phone, sending a picture of your point of view as you sit on your bed, back against your headboard. In front of you, you see a small vibrator and a custom dildo — custom to the size and shape of Jaehyun’s cock. Your lace underwear peaks from the edge of the picture, your focus are your legs and feet; looking silky and soft as your overhead light accentuates the smooth texture of your skin. 

A few minutes later, your phone rings — this time, Jaehyun requesting a video call. 

“Hey,” you answer with a smile, Jaehyun already smiling at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he replies. “How was your day?”

The one thing you appreciate about Jaehyun is the fact that he never forgets to ask about your day. Sure, things between the two of you were sexually tense, but you find him to be one of the sweetest people you’ve been sexually involved with. It always feels like he truly cares about what you have to say, making you feel more like an actual friend to him and not simply someone to help him get off.

“Oh the usual — stressful day at work, so I decided to go shopping afterwards to make myself feel better.”

“Did it work?” Jaehyun chuckles. He places his phone against a water bottle in his room before taking his shirt off then proceeding to pick up the phone again. Pushing his hair back with his long fingers, he shakes his head and it falls back into place. 

“Yeah,” you grin. “I think what I bought is pretty.”

“It is.” Jaehyun licks his lips, his eyes wandering from your eyes down to the lace holding your breasts perfectly in place. “A very pretty girl in very pretty lingerie.” 

Your cheeks rush with heat, shyly smiling at his comment. “How was your day?” You ask, changing the subject quickly. 

“Oh the usual —“ he teases you, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he smiles. “Work was brutal, back to back meetings make my brain turn into mush.” You give him a sympathetic pout as he speaks. “Wished I could’ve come home to you, but you’re so far away.” 

Your brows lift in surprise. You move to lay on your stomach, phone propped in front of you, making sure to angle it in a perfect view of your ass for the man you’re talking to. “I’m sorry I’m so far away,” you sigh, resting your chin against the palm of your hand. “Wish I was there with you.” 

A toothy smile creeps onto Jaehyun’s face as he hears your words. “Maybe one day?” 

You eagerly nod, smiling like a teenager in love. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” you giggle at his neediness. “How was hanging out with your friends, by the way?”

“The same old stuff,” he shrugs. “They did wonder why I went to the restroom after looking at my phone.” His ears flush a crimson red, thinking back on the memory. 

“What did you say?” 

He lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, I really wanted to tell them why, but I decided not to and just told them I needed to use the restroom.” Jaehyun sits at his work desk in his room, propping his phone on a stack of books ensuring you could see his body. “Not sure if they believed me, but that’s okay. I’ll let their imagination run wild.”

He leans into the backing of his rolling computer chair, looking relaxed in his position. He twisted his chair casually, your eyes catching his well defined body and how good he looked in those grey sweatpants he had on. He wasn’t doing much to excite you, in fact, he was just sitting there telling you about his day and you find the sight of it arousing. 

“By the way,” he lets out, catching your attention. “You were absolutely amazing in the restroom earlier and those pictures, fuck — they look so good. I’d give anything to hear your moans in person.” 

You blush at his compliments, biting down on your bottom lip before hiding your embarrassment. Jaehyun laughs at you, enjoying the sight of you crumbling at his words. He continues to twist his chair, letting out an amused laugh. 

“Can I see what you’re wearing?” A smile never leaves his face, but you see him quickly squeeze his length through his sweatpants. 

You sit on your knees, your screen filled with your body and that perfect little smile you had as you showed off your beautiful set. 

“Turn around,” Jaehyun exhales, eyes locked in on your body. 

You do as he says, showing him how nicely your underwear wraps around your ass cheeks. You bend over to give him a better view in hopes that he’ll think of you in this position as he jerks himself off. 

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. He shifts in his seat, shamelessly squeezing his length a lot harder this time. “You have a tattoo?” He questions, pausing his movements and moving closer to his phone to get a better view. 

You nod your head, pointing to the little text you have on your lower back. 

“What does it say?” Jaehyun asks, eyes wide at the sight of your small tramp stamp. 

The typewriter font tattoo in the middle of your lower back had been seen only by a handful of people and within those handful of people, only one of them was a partner who was also surprised at the sight of it. Jaehyun would be the second partner to see this tattoo. “It says, unforgettable.” You share, slightly embarrassed at the spur of the moment tattoo you decided to get a few years back. 

“Wow,” Jaehyun lets out, giving you a smirk. “That’s so hot. Any other tattoos you have?” 

You fall back onto your stomach, looking at your propped up phone screen that’s leaning on a bunch of pillows stacked on each other. 

“Yeah, I have one on my inner lip.”

Confused for a second, Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak only for you to pull down your bottom lip, showing him the small text against the inside flesh of your bottom lip reading ‘kiss me.’ 

“Woah,” he breathily lets out. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter. When did you get that?”

“Like a year ago?” 

“I met you a year ago, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked,” you laugh at him as he has a stupidly cute grin on his face. 

“Can you turn around again? I wanna see your back tattoo.” 

You do as he asks, this time moving a little closer to the camera. You sit on your knees, slightly twisting your body to see him admiring your body before a notification of a screenshot pops up on your screen. And another one. And another one. He massages his cock through his pants as he imagines how intoxicating it would be to see you in person. 

“Jaehyun,” you whine, going back to the position you were in earlier. “You’ve been playing with yourself this whole time and haven’t even shown me it. I didn’t even get a picture in the restroom earlier,” you pout. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, smiling at your whines. “I’m so sorry, baby, I forgot to show you what you did to me. Want me to show you, now?” 

You nod your head, excited. 

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he coos, pulling his sweats down to his knees before sitting back down. His cock springs up, hitting against his abs and you eye his tip ending right above his belly button. 

“So,” you smile. “In hopes of seeing you one day,” you sigh happily, grabbing the dildo beside you and placing it between you and the camera. “I’ve been practicing giving head with this beautiful thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jaehyun croaks. “C-Can you show me?” He mumbles as he strokes his long length, already hard from the sight of you. 

You nod, holding your custom dildo at the base with your hand. Your dainty fingers slowly begin to delicately caress its shaft before you let a pool of spit from your lips fall onto the tip of the silicone toy, using your hand to spread your saliva. Jaehyun spits in his hand before following your actions, spreading the saliva against his own shaft. His eyes never leave the sight of you. 

He watches as your lips slowly part upon contact with the tip of your toy. Your head bobs up and down the silicone shaft, your hand spreading the wetness. All Jaehyun could do was watch and imagine — imagine your lips were kissing his reddened tip and your hands moving up and down, sending chills through his body. All he could do was imagine his fingers buried into your hair, guiding you as he bucks his hips up, forcing himself down your throat inch by inch. Sloppy noises heard on your end earns you a low groan from Jaehyun, his free hand running through the root of his hair, his eyes softening at the sight of you and imagining you were there with him. He silently thanked himself for getting you a replica of his own cock so you could use it during occasions like this. 

“Put it in.” He sharply intakes a breath. 

Using the back of your hand to wipe the drool off your lips, you begin to back up from the camera. You push the thin laced fabric aside, exposing your aroused hole. 

“Take it off,” Jaehyun commands, slowly pumping his rigid length, veins popping out angrily. “I wanna see that pretty pussy.” 

His explicit words cause a flush against your skin, exciting your core. You begin to remove your underwear, flicking it aside as it reaches your ankle. You plant your feet against your mattress, thighs wide open as you show your soaking heat to the camera. 

Jaehyun’s jaw drops, his hair a disheveled mess with strands stuck against his glistening forehead. “So fucking pretty,” he mumbles. His hand twists against his cock, squeezing and stroking his hardened length, slowly. 

Grabbing your dildo, you press the silicone tip against your clit before pressing it into you, slowly at first forcing out a satisfied groan from your lips. You begin to bury the toy into your soaking cunt, biting down on your bottom lip, enjoying how your toy filled you up perfectly. 

Jaehyun’s left speechless, enjoying the sight in front of him. He tightens the grip around his length, matching your pace with his. 

Your dildo slides into you ease, watching you fuck yourself through the mirror angled perfectly towards your bed. With your free hand, you grab your tiny vibrator, and place it against your sensitive nub. Jolts of pleasure run through your body and for a quick moment, you forget Jaehyun is watching you. His eyes glued to his phone screen, watching you hungrily, intimately, desperately.

“I wanna be inside of you,” he begs. “Fuck!” 

You smirk at his words. You pump the dildo inside of you, your soft walls swallowing it whole. Your moans gradually get louder, your breathing gets heavier, and sweat beads begin to form against your forehead.

You sit on your knees, your pussy still clenching your dildo as it pushes it deeper as you change your position. Holding it at the base, you ride it while it stays in place during your movements. You place your vibrator against your clit once more. 

“God, Jaehyun, I wish I could ride you,” you whine. Your hips move against your silicone toy while steady vibrations stimulate your pretty little bud, sending nothing but pleasure throughout your body. 

Jaehyun watches your hips grind, a hint of jealousy from a toy. A frustrated growl escapes and he bucks his hips into his hand, imagining he was bucking it into you as you ride him. 

“Faster,” you mutter, frantically grinding your hips. “I want you to come with me.” 

Jaehyun’s lips part slightly before his jaw falls open. Clenching his throbbing cock, he roughly jerks himself letting his imagination run rampant with thoughts of you and only you. 

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You cry out, a feverish tingle runs through your entire body. “I-I’m com-ing!” Your voice hitches as you gasp in pleasure. 

Jaehyun releases as you call out his name. His velvety white ropes splatter against his abdomen and a liquid mess leaks from his tip onto his fingers. His face flushes a bright pink, clearly exhausted by his movements. He lets out an amused laugh, carefully wiping away his release with the tissues he had on his desk. His forehead glistens with sweat and his hair clings onto his skin before he pushes his hair back right before pulling his sweatpants up. 

You slowly pull your dildo out of you, putting it aside to clean off for next time. Grabbing your underwear, you slide them back on. “Was that okay?” You ask Jaehyun who is illuminated by his computer screen. He frantically types something, eyes scanning the words in front of him. 

“It was perfect.” He smiles at your words, quickly peaking at you before returning to what he was doing. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask, curiously, throwing your blanket over you. 

“I’m looking for flights,” he quickly responds, his fingers aggressively tapping the keys on his computer’s keyboard. 

“Flights?” Grabbing your phone, you rest your head on your pillow. “Where are you planning on going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he smirks. “I’m looking for a flight to get your ass here.” 

You laugh at his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you let out, pulling the blanket higher up your body. 

“There’s a flight next month. Send me a picture of your information, I’ll book it for you.” 

“Wait, woah, hold on.” You nervously chuckle. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Jaehyun, baby, I can’t just leave — not next month, anyway.”

He pauses, eyes back on his computer screen. He taps and clicks away. “Hm, there’s a flight 3 months from now. Is that enough time to get everything sorted out?” 

“You’re dead serious?” You ask, flustered at the thought of seeing him in person.

“I’ve got everything covered for when you get here,” he smiles. “3 weeks, tops.” 

You sit up in bed, your blanket sliding down your skin as you’re in deep thought. 

“I want to see you,” Jaehyun looks at you through the phone screen, his eyes soft and full of hope that you’ll agree. 

“This is a very expensive booty call,” you lightly chuckle. 

Jaehyun gives you an exaggerated pout. “C’mon, you know it’s not like that. We’ve been talking for over a year. Don’t you think we owe this to ourselves and finally meet in person?” He pauses, scanning your reaction. “Please? I just wanna see my girl.” 

Your heart swells with happiness as you hear your nickname that he’s given you. 

“Fine, I’ll send you my info,” you sigh in defeat, although your smile indicates a tinge of excitement. “After all,” you pause. “I did make a promise.”

[namtanlovesfilm]

off's BD gathering 2025

hi hi! so I thought I'd gather my personal thoughts as well as the important talking points off talked about during the gathering!

first of all, I was super surprised to be able to get a seat to the gathering this year. last year I didn't get a seat at all & I was super sad so this year felt unreal, hence why I didn't talk about it online until it happened by fear of jinxing it (I tend to have random bad luck sometimes so now I keept cards close to my chest lol).

I didn't know at all how the gathering would go since it was my first one, but it was pretty casual & quite short which was good bc I was there on 4 hours of sleep due to the excitement for this event (I can never sleep before any off/offgun event I go to lol)

I ended up sat next to a quite famous twitter account & she was super nice, she first talked to me in english but by the end she saw that I was laughing at the jokes, etc. and asked me if I spoke thai so I said yes and it led to a funny moment lol. her & the woman on my left both complimented my thai so that's always pleasant 🥹

now the man of the hour, p'off! I loved his denim look today with the eyes all over his shirt, and obviously I won't bore you by repeating how amazing he is & how much I love him. he offered every fan a red enveloppe after the gathering which was so fucking sweet, imagine doing that for the 700 people who came!

his mom, sibling & niece and nephew niring & akin came to support him and it was super sweet! of course his ride or dies, gun, tay, new and arm came to celebrate his birthday as well! now onto the contents of the gathering:

burnout syndrome:

p'off revealed that burnout syndrome has started its workshops already!!! that's so exciting!!! I really didn't have hope to get this show in 2025 but maybe there's hope this time around!!!

he talked about dewgun's chemistry and when asked about offdew, he seemed to not want to push it further. I didn'tg understand 100% of what he said so let's wait for other translations but he DID mention the idea of a offgundew three-way ship!!! soooooo... let's see 👀

off talked in length about him getting fit, and mentionned again that p'nuchie kinda bullies him ngl 😭 like she legit called him and said "if you don't get a six pack for this project, you better quit. you're old, people are gonna get bored if you don't change" which... idk how to feel about ngl hahaha

not really burnout syndrome related but off talked briefly about not me & how challenging the workshops for it were, mentioning the workshops for burnout that are apparently also difficult. he says he will bring something new & better to his acting for this role.

break up service:

sadly off said that he has no idea when the show will air but it should be soonish? I feel like the show is gonna get pushed by gmmtv giving priorities to other shows first :((((( me who was thinking we'd get the show in 2 to 3 weeks lol... I need off on my screen asap!

fans:

speaking of break up service & his ship with jorin, off said he is very glad that babiis never harass or treat his female co-stars badly. he mentioned mild, pat and jorin, and how all three were glad to not be bullied by the fandom lol... thank goodness babiis are healthy & supportive for the most part 💚

before that, out of nowhere, off went on a tangent talking about certain toxic fans and how much he doesn't like them and is glad babiis are kind & supportive. he said he used to be more aggressive with fans in the past if they crossed a line, but babiis have behaved better since then so he's appreciative for his healthy fandom. (this was really out of nowhere & I LOVED off mentioning that. I love how straight forward & how unwilling to walk on eggshells he is. a KING.)

offtay:

before tay even showed up, off mentioned tay at least 4 times in random convos lol. you can tell he LOVES and is obsessed with his bestie, it's so cute!

tay hugged off after saying he loves him, something that they both recognized they never say bc while they know they love each other, off gets shy & doesn't like to say it out loud lol

oh also tay started his birthday wish to off by calling him "nong off" and ngl... that did something to me 🥵

offgun:

gun was, as always, very quiet & shy lol. off did say that he loved him while confessing his love to every friend present there, and... it was giving awkward idiots in a romcom lol (basically off was explaining how he doesn't say I love you to his friends and pointed to each of them while saying "I love you" but stumbled on his words when he got to gun diosuhgzqsijdiezo)

tay called gun off's "thirak" (darling) and tried to get gun to confess his love for off but gun had the definition of a gay panic and kept flailing his hands to refuse the mic, I was dead lmaoooooo

offnew:

offnew's chaotic energy is really slowly becoming my all time fave lmao, new called off old & they kept whispering to each other while tay did his speech, it was so funny!

offarm:

arm literally called off his brother and his family, sooooo... yeah. that's all. I adore them. besties for life ;_;

personal life:

off apologized a lot about not uploading a lot on social media these days. he said he is addicted to staying home and watching cartoons (anime), specifically attack on titans lol. he says he's gonna get back to posting more very soon.

off said his biggest dream as a kid was to have a house with a pool. now that he's building his house, he feels like his dream is coming to life 💚

he said he's not someone who loses sleep over things. he knows that he'll be better to solve a stressful problem the next day after getting some sleep rather than not sleeping & being too tired to solve the problem bc of it (I'm very jealous of him I could NEVER. once again I slept 4 hours bc I was so excited to see him lol.)

he also said his goal for 2025 is to travel to the US, either for a trip or for work. he talked specifically about new york & miami (I was cringing internally bc I'd rather not he goes to the US rn lol, but NYC do be that bitch imo)

alice said off is trying to get better at english for his interfans but he refused to speak on stage bc he was too shy hahaha (but he spoke english to me tho 🥹)

off also said he almost never smiles with teeth (except when a client requests it) bc he thinks he looks weird & is insecure about his smile ;_; (first time I heard this omg I felt so bad his smile with teeth is literally my fave!!!)

off also talked about how straightforward he is, and how that used to cause him problems in the past and how gmmtv crew asked him to tone it down lol. but alice rightfully said that that's what we love about him, he doesn't have a filter & that's why we stan! it's so rare to get an honest celebrity these days lol

events:

off talked about the babii 24/7 concert, and especially the part when he cried. he said it was mostly due to tiredness, bc he was doing so much at the time (and yes at the time of the concert he'd been working & traveling non-stop for over 2 months while grieving his dad's super recent passing...)

he also talked about going to paris for the fashion week, and how big of an achievement it was. he said it was crazy to meet pharrell williams, his idol since he was young, and he was happy to hang out with baifern even if it was short. he also said he was so shocked that the crowd in front of the venue was waiting for him and calling his name 🥹 he said he stayed under the rain to sign the autographs and was soaked, but it was an amazing experience. he also said he wishes tay had been with him so they could explore the city together ;_; (as previously said he mentionned tay a LOT)

he talked about the recent fanmeet in rome, and how certain fans flew from all over the world to meet him there. he compared rome to ayutthaya due to their ancient monuments (which made me chuckle but actually the comparison is not that far off I guess HAHAHA)

he talked about the pebaca concert and said we should all dress up to come to the concert (not sure what that fully entails lol). he also said he can't say too much but there will be some special thing there (which he said is best bc he said he can't carry a show with his poor singing and dancing, and... sir we disagree. at least about the singing lol.)

anyways that's it! it was an amazing experience & I always feel so grateful to be able to partake in fandom experiences here in bkk 🥹 this is the kind of shit I always dreamed about when living in paris & I legit never thought it'd be possible to be this close to my favorite guy ;_; happy birthday to him again & I can't wait for this upcoming year of loving him more & more 💚

[cod-indulgences]

currently feeling ugh with my body again.. could you write small boobs chubby reader (it me) receiving some love with any of the men pls? 🥺🥺

Kyle Garrick x female!reader, insecure!reader, body image issues, low self esteem, small breasts!reader, chubby!reader, tits man Kyle Garrick, angst, fluff, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, fingering

anon you and others sent me similar asks. this is me too, writing this felt very cathartic and I love you for sending this in. I hope it helps you!.......it's also over 3K

You wouldn't call yourself shy, just....practical. No need to draw more attention to your assets, or lack thereof.

Being fat was sexy, if you were a specific kind of fat. Men didn't come running for apron bellies or thick thighs, if there weren't big, lush tits to balance them out. And even while your flesh had expanded, growing around you like Saturn's rings, your breasts had stayed small. Clothes were a nightmare, and you got in the habit early of wearing crop tops instead of actual bras, wanting to avoid the discomfort of underwrire digging into your belly when you had to bend and move.

And then you met Gaz.

Your crush was inevitable and all-encompassing. He shone like the sun to you, even with that dumb hat, and you were left sighing over him in private. It stayed private though, because one of the first things you'd heard him proudly announce was that he was a tits guy- and your heart had sunk to your shoes. You'd known those sort of men, glancing past you for a woman with cleavage, with the sort of breasts that filled lingerie and bounced enticingly.

So when he started flirting with you- unmistakable flirting, innuendoes slipped in with coffee and invitations to dinner, compliments on your hair and clothes- you decided to take what you could get, as long as you could get it. It might just be a way to fill time for him, but you were so pathetically gone on this man that even the scraps handed out until someone with proper curves came through felt like a feast.

So you accepted the compliments and dinner invitations, kissed Gaz in your doorway and pushed aside the creeping discomfort as his hands curved around your back, your belly bumped up against him before your tits did. You could take this much. Even when the kisses got heated, his tongue slipping against yours and drawing lines down your neck, you kept your clothes on, a barrier to hold off the inevitable let down. You could handle him eventually finding someone better, you couldn't handle his face twisted up in disappointment at the sight of your body.

So when you got bold after a couple drinks and sat in his lap, let his hands rise up and cup your tits through your shirt, you didn't expect the shuddering moan Gaz released into your shoulder, the little "fuck, baby" and how it went straight through to your core. His hand squeezed and you whined a little, nipple perking up as he thumbed across it.

"Gaz- Gaz, wait, shit," you stutter, and he licks across your throat, his mouth lingering at the neckline of your shirt.

He squeezes again, and you moan a little yourself. It's like nothing you've ever felt touching yourself, or the handful of boys you'd slept with, ages ago.

"So sexy, so fucking hot," he says, and it's like cold water down your back.

"Gaz, wait- no, stop!" You push at his shoulders and he goes back, frowning when you climb off his lap. This is worse than disappointment. "I don't- don't fucking lie to me!" You feel too hot, shame burning your cheeks. "Don't give me that shit! I thought you at least liked me enough to not- to not do this-" You try not to let any tears fall. You don't want to cry.

He's just sitting here, staring at you like he's confused. "What? What are you talking about? What lies?" He says, and it's too much.

"The fucking- the sexy shit! Like this- like I'm something you want- just, I'd rather you leave, ok? Just go, and we can pretend it never happened." You sit on the far end of your couch, arms wrapped around yourself. You don't want to look at him, and when he stands up, your mouth trembles. Don't cry. Don't cry.

You expect him to go to the door. Instead he crouches in front of you, and takes your hands in his. You don't stop him.

"Baby," he says, and oh fuck that hurts. "Why do you think I'm lying?" He looks so fucking sad. Big dark eyes and his cheeks are still flushed, and he'd been smiling at you when you took his hand and brought it to your chest.

You can't look him in the eye while you lay it all out. "I know I'm not- not what you want. Or like. And you're my friend and I l-like you, a lot, but you can't do this. You can't say this shit and pretend it's true when I'm the one you're saying it to. I know better. People like me don't get to be sexy." His hand cups your cheek, and brushes away the release that managed to slip out. "So you can go, and I'm sorry it went this way, but I can't sit here while you're wishing I had the curves I know you want."

Gaz doesn't leave, or move away, and when you dare to glance at him you get shocked to see his eyes are wet. His other hand let's go of yours to cup your other cheek, and he leans in to kiss your forehead. "If I ever," he says, and kisses your eyelid, "meet any of the fuckers who told you things like that," your other eyelid, oh, your heart, "I'm going to kill them." He kisses your lips, soft, and you whimper at the tenderness of it.

"You, just as you are, are so sexy to me- no, stop," and he holds your face to look at him instead of away. "I don't know who started you thinking I want tits more than you-"

"You did!" You burst out. "You say it all the time, talking with the soldiers, about how you love a nice set of tits on a woman, how the breasts are the best part, whatever else, it's practically a catchphrase." The words are bitter in your mouth. "And I'm not just the fat girl, I'm the bad kind of fat, without anything good to balance out the bad. That's just how I am, and I thought I would be okay with the dates and the flirting, because I knew it wouldn't last anyway. But I'm not, and I'm sorry I wasted your time, and just....I just..."

He looks surprised, and then upset again. "No, baby, no. I'm sorry. I didn't know it would- sound like that. Look, okay yes, I love breasts, always will, but don't you get it's not about them being big for me? I don't care what size. I just," he laughs, a little incredulous, "I like tits. Big or small, whatever, they're all fucking awesome!"

You yank his hands away and he falls back on his ass, surprised. "Not like me! Not when the little ones are on top of, of all this!" You grab your stomach and shake it, flesh bouncing, a reminder of just what you carry. "I haven't been little anywhere it matters since I was fucking twelve."

Now he's standing up, looming over you. "Okay, first of all- you think I'm that fucking shallow? That all I want in a woman is how she looks? Fuck you." You swallow, suddenly ashamed. "And two, if you think you're that unattractive, you need to open your eyes. If you'd put your weight down on me properly instead of hovering like I was gonna break, you'd have known just how sexy I find you." He cups his hand over his groin, and you stutter, too close to eye level where his fingers outline a thick, heavy shape. You had been hovering, uneasy at sitting fully on his lap, when he'd sucked on your neck and touched your chest. Gaz boxes you in, hands on the back of the couch, and puts his face up close to yours. "If you tell me to go because you don't like me, then I'll go. But I'm not leaving just because you think I'm going to be fucking disappointed at seeing more of the body I've been jerking off over for fucking weeks."

His mouth crashes into yours, and you moan, all tangled up with emotions, shame and desire, the embers of lust fanned when he sucks on your tongue. He's big and strong around you, the smell of his skin and soap filling your nose, and when Gaz encourages you to turn and lay flat you obey. He settles over you, his hips wedged between yours, and you both moan together when he hitches up a little and rubs up against you. Two layers of pants mean you can't feel much, but it's enough, and he does it again as you mouth shakily at his cheek, sucking on his earlobe. It's messy and a little high strung, and your eyes are still teary when Gaz lifts his hand to your chest and waits until you swallow hard and nod. His fingertips are gentle, tracing the curve of your breast until they find your nipple again, and you fight down the wave of shame as you see how his whole hand covers you. Barely enough for a handful, that just can't be what he wants, you're not enough- but he's looking at you with such dark, hot eyes, and when you whine a little as his fingers start to play with your nipple, you see his pupils dilate. Fuck.

"No bra?" He murmurs, and pinches just a little through the fabric of your top, just enough to make you squirm under him.

"No," you gasp, "just a shirt and a- a crop top thing, I never wear them," and he moans a little, a soft fuck that he breathes out before suddenly getting his mouth onto your other breast.

You squeak, it's hot and wet, his tongue working your nipple through the thin fabric, and your thighs open up a little more as he grinds against you. He's just- he's enthusiastic, pinching and sucking, pressed up against your body from head to hip. There's a warm liquid lust pooling in your belly, and your chest heaves as you gasp for breath. You can feel him now, no hovering, hot and hard up between your legs.

Suddenly your clothes are too much after all. You push his shoulders, and as Gaz sits back tug at his shirt, yanking the collar up over his head until he starts helping. He's gorgeous, full pecs with little dark nipples that perk up under your fingers, the muscles of his abdomen flexing when you gently trace along his iliac crest, a little shivering twitch going through the flesh. His cock is bulging out his pants, and you picture it sheathed inside you and feel your pussy gush a little.

Gaz sets his hands at the hem of your shirt, and you clench at the heat in his eyes. You're trying, you're dizzy with arousal and so turned on you can't speak, but there's still fear there. But he's so, so sweet, and you want it so bad, and nod helplessly for him to draw the fabric up and away.

Your bra-top comes away with the shirt, and you don't even have time to cover yourself before Gaz has your hands in his, fingers intertwined, and he's fucking moaning over you. "Baby, fuck, if you knew how fucking luscious you look," and he's diving back into you, eating the moans that slip from your lips as he gets both hands on your tits.

Small, too small, but he gropes and squeezes them, letting the flesh fill his palms, tugging your nipples between his fingers. He releases your mouth and goes down again to suck fully on one nipple, and you shout, the sensation of hot-wet suction so much more intense without fabric in the way.

"Fuck, baby, yes- just like that, c'mon," he mumbles around your tit, and you realize you're grinding against his cock. Your pussy clenches and you moan, trying to lift your hips up, aching for something you can't get while you're both still half-dressed. Gaz's skin is silky smooth against yours, sweating, and you squirm a hand between your bodies to pull at the button of his jeans. Two fingers slip in and you manage to rub the base of his cock, feeling the heavy flesh and the heat, and he swears again and grinds up harder.

You're going to leave a wet spot, you realize, and the Gaz dares to oh-so-gently bite down, teeth scraping your nipple, and you feel your body turn to jelly.

It's so good, so hot, like nothing you've ever had. Forget body image or shame, you're reduced to broken moans and begging, you're fucking begging, and Gaz works your pants open blindly to shove a hand down. His fingers scrape past your pubic hair and then he's suddenly there, everything hot-wet-slick, your clit bumping against the heel of his hand as he slips a fingertip against your hole. Then two fingers, sliding in, and he groans so hard against your breast that you can feel the vibrations in your heartbeat.

"So wet, baby, so wet, all for me? All this from these sweet little tits getting the love they deserve?" He grinds his palm in and starts fucking you on his fingers. You can hear the wet sloppy sounds, and it only makes you clench, whining. Your other nipple aches where he's been plucking at it, and when he moves his mouth there instead, you shout and clamp down. "Fuuuuck, fuck baby do that again-" He bites this nipple, and you obey and let your pussy contract on his fingers, perfect and not enough.

You blearily look down and see your chest, Gaz's dark head pillowed on you, his lips sucking at the peak of your tit. Your other breast is littered with little red marks from his facial hair, your nipple swollen and red, and it's so erotic and sensual you can't breathe. Suddenly your tits are sexy, plump little things with sensitive nipples and soft round bottoms, your belly and sides tingling as Gaz drags his fingers over your flesh, groping, yanking at your pants to give himself room to get a handful of your ass. Your hips jerk up, and your moaning climbs in pitch as the instinct takes over, chasing a high that is so close it hurts- truly hurts, your clit throbbing and pussy squeezing where his fingers keep pumping in and out of you.

Gaz lifts his head, holding your nipple in his teeth as he tugs, and his big hot eyes hold your gaze as your mouth drops open on a moan that doesn't end, spiraling up and up as your nipples ache and pussy squeezes, a long hard clench, before it finally breaks into an orgasm that leaves you shaking and limp, sobbing in relief, the new gush of slick around Gaz's fingers dripping over his hand and wrist.

Your voice comes back in stops and starts. "Fuck- fuck, Gaz, oh God, please, I can't- can't-" because he's still fucking you, sitting up to stare at his hand between your legs, pants and panties shoved down your thighs, and you're aware of the bounce of your flesh. The old fear tries to crawl back up, but Gaz is working is cock out of his pants, and you gape at him. He's huge, thick and heavy, so hard he's wet at the tip. When his hand slows you shove at your clothes, trying to get the twisted fabric out of the way.

"You don't have to," he starts, but you kick a leg free and hook it over his hip, pushing his jeans down with your heel.

"I want to," you gasp, and help him guide the tip of his cock to your hole.

Your mind is a little more clear now, and you take the chance to memorize Gaz's face as he slides into you, how his eyes close and mouth falls open, the soft moaning sounds. He's a stretch, and you're slick as sin, you make it work. He hitches up your hips, and you breathe deeply to relax your muscles, and suddenly he's there, all the way in, an ache in your cunt and your clit as thin flesh rearranges around him. Gaz drops his head to your shoulder, braced on one elbow, and his free hand comes up again to cup your breast, squeezing and lifting the nipple up for a kiss.

You get a kiss too, hot and sweet, and moan into his mouth when he finally starts moving.

You're sore and sensitive, whining at each bump of your clit against his groin, as he picks up speed and starts really fucking you- the couch creaks and your thighs open as wide as they can under the onslaught- he's so big, almost too big, and you gasp and tell him this, making him whine in return.

"So big," you say again, and feel his hips stutter. "Gaz, fuck-"

"Say it again," he moans, and you yelp as he sucks again on your nipple, harder, pinching the other and tugging until your back arches.

"Fuck! Fuck, Gaz, you're too big, fucking my- my little cunt-" he grunts and slams in harder, fuck, "god, please, please don't stop, I'm gonna come again!"

Gaz fucks his cock into you like a machine, wet squelches echoing as your pussy clamps down, trying to hold him in, your clit rubbing against his groin and pubic hair, and you come again as he opens his jaw and sucks your whole breast into his mouth- hot-tight-wet, his tongue slurping over your skin, your nipple pulled so tight against the roof of his mouth and your other swollen and pinched under his fingers. You feel the distant gush of your pussy on his cock, the way it's suddenly so much wetter, sloppier, and Gaz shouts into your chest as he slams his hips in and stills, his cock pumping you full of come, grinding up into your dripping cunt to get as deep as possible.

He's heavy on you, but not too much, and as he slows and you both catch your breath you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging. There's a fragile feeling in your chest, under the sweat and aches and tingling skin, and your wordless begging for kisses against his head brings him up to you. He's as gentle as you are, slow and sweet, and the fragility firms, settles.

Gaz chuckles a little against your mouth, and when you hum a question at him, he answers, "I had a whole plan for you. Seduction and shit, take you to a proper fancy place to eat. Get you in an actual bed, especially." You start to laugh as well, seeing the picture you make- you're naked except for socks and your pants and underwear hanging off one ankle, Gaz with his jeans rucked down his thighs and a wet spot on the crotch. Your breasts are swollen and tingling along with your pussy as he gently pulls out, and you wince a little, feeling the aches in your hips and back.

"Not quite what you expected, then?" You tease, but there's a little old shiver down your back.

Bless him, Gaz just lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. "Better than," he says, and holds your eyes with his. "I promise."

It's a heavy moment, and your eyes blink back tears, feeling sweet, precious, so stupid with your previous outbursts in the face of such affection in his eyes- and then your stomach grumbles, and you both burst into giggles. You grin at him. "Is that offer for a fancy dinner on the table still?"

Gaz winks. "Only if I get to have you for dessert after."

[bunnwich]

I just found out a Prince of Egypt Musical exists, and one of the addition songs— 'footprints on the sand'— really gives me Leona vibes

(Spotify link to the song)

https://open.spotify.com/track/40PqpFQdrylghRZgY36W8G?si=wATkespmQyar931PNnNc8A&context=spotify%3Aalbum%3A7MOGTYjo3ifwHDBf0EBE71

(Genius lyrics)

https://genius.com/Original-west-end-cast-of-the-prince-of-egypt-footprints-on-the-sand-lyrics

So since you're— at least in my view— one of the Leona experts, I was wondering what your thoughts would be on it!

Not that it fits perfectly; no song ever really fits 100%, after all. But I think it has strong Leona vibes

Leona VS The Weight of Insignificance

(Ahhh sorry I am just getting around to this.;-; BTW DFGHJK I’m flattered that you consider me a Leona expert??)

So this is pretty cool because I didn't realize there was a Prince of Egypt Musical? I’m a big fan of the animated movie and of musicals so I’ll have to listen to the rest someday!

So, I think in general the theme of “Footprints in The Sand” is about the idea of “trying to leave a mark” in life, but feeling like it won't matter in the long run and also exploring the insignificance that we all feel as people.

That being said, I can see why this song made you think of Leona! It brought up some feelings about what being second-born in a royal lineage means and how that can make someone feel insignificant just in concept. The spare heir if you will. 

It's interesting because it also made me think about how Leona has such complicated feelings about his title too?

Like on the one hand, he feels like he's “forever in the shadow of Falena” but at the same time, I DO think a small part of him secretly enjoys the mobility of not having the reasonability of king and therefore the first few lines of the song before it fades into him sounding more melancholic made me think of this.

(AND ALSO since we’ve seen how he would handle being king in his Chapter 7 Dream OOF.) My thoughts on that: X

The second son– My father's wrong (THIS LINE TOO) It's got to be the easiest role on Earth Just play around Just play along Enjoy the bounty of my birth So what's today's amusement For this second son? Which one shall I choose from so many kinds of fun?

I think it leads back to the age-old conclusion about Leona’s character (that his dream really hammered home), is that being king is NOT what he truly wants and it more comes to feeling worthy as a person as if he has to “justify” his own existence of feeling useless. It’s more about the kind of attention he craves. To be useful, respected, adored. 

The song mentions the fear of not leaving behind a legacy and feeling the weight of your own insignificance as a person. I can see how both the characters of Moses and Leona both struggle with “finding their purpose” and not being able to see their own worth like others who care about them do. 

It made me think of the song (also in Prince of Egypt) “Through Heaven's Eyes” which I feel actually continues this theme. The idea that even if you can’t see your OWN value that everyone—has their own innate value as people—and that in itself is meaningful.

A single thread in a tapestry Though its color brightly shines Can never see its purpose In the pattern of the grand design And the stone that sits on the very top Of the mountains mighty face Does it think it's more important Than the stones that form the base?

For Leona—the people he acts as a mentor to like—Ruggie, Epel and Savanaclaw as a whole—have a pretty high opinion of him despite his flaws. And the fact that he can’t always see that and appreciate that value that he unconsciously and consciously brings to them reflects this. He has and will leave an impact even if it's not as “important” as a king. And he could do even more good if he actually tried to do so.

I think it’s a lesson we all struggle with TBH, the whole: seeing our inherent value as people and it’s def why I think Leona is a more relatable character than he first appears in twst. :3

Thank you for sharing with me though! I love finding stuff like this! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!💚

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message for Klance: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message for Bechloe: Beca and Chloe from Pitch Perfect (mainly Beca but Bechloe was the ship they baited the most)

Additional propaganda Klance: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

Here is my really boring and incredibly dry argument for #KLANCESWEEP:

There are countless examples of the Voltron showrunners queerbaiting when it comes to Klance. I will leave that argument and discussion to others. Instead, I would like to focus on why/how I believe Klance is the more significant instance of queerbaiting, despite Johnlock's queerbaiting being markedly more famous.

Queerbaiting is when a shows teases/hints at a character(s) being queer, but then never actually follows through on making the character LGBTQ+. Queerbaiting is, above all, a marketing technique; the show dangles the possibility of a queer romance in order to "bait"  a queer/ally audience into watching, and then continues to dangle or drag out the possibility of a same-sex romance in order to keep their audience hooked and continuously profited off. Queerbaiting takes advantage of peoples' hope and optimism, and that's why the betrayal stings so deeply once the queerbaiting is realized.

I argue that one of the major components of queerbaiting is that the show/writers must never explicitly confirm that there will NOT be queer romance. Queerbaiting is only sustained so long as the illusion of possibility persists.

Now, there are plenty of nuances to this.

If a showrunner comes out and explicitly states that there will be no queer representation in the show, this statement alone does not absolve the show of any queerbaiting it previously did. But, it DOES blur the lines for what can reasonably be defined as "actual" versus "willful" queerbaiting and subtext in the show going forward.

okay let me drop the pseudo-academic tone and just put it bluntly. what i'm trying to say is that, if a showrunner explicitly says "NO GAY ROMANCE," but the show's audience continues to insist and read for gay subtext anyway, and then the audience feels betrayed when the show ends with no queer romance --- at a certain point, wouldn't you argue that it's the fans that are actually baiting themselves, and not the show itself? this is what i mean by "willful" subtext.

As early as 2010 (this article/interview was posted the day of the first episode), the Sherlock showrunners explicitly stated that there would be no romantic relationship between Sherlock and Watson. Between 2010 and 2016, the showrunners repeatedly stated in multiple interviews that Johnlock would never happen.

I am 100% aware that I was drinking nothing but Kool-Aid while Voltron aired. I absolutely baited myself with desperate hope each season. But, in my weak defense, the flames of my Klance delusions were very much flamed by the promises made by the Voltron showrunners, who repeatedly floated the promise of queer representation in the show and spoke about Klance in the same breath. Klancers didn't bait themselves out of thin air; they desperately clung to the rope the Voltron writers threw us, and we were pulled in: hook, line, and sinker.

-

TLDR:

Queerbaiting involves willful deception and deliberate misinformation on the part of a showrunner/show.

If a showrunner encourages a queer ship, or makes vague promises of queer representation, then it reasonable for the show's audience to assume that a queer romance will happen. When a queer romance does not happen, this is clear-cut queerbaiting.

But if a showrunner explicitly states that a show will not have a major queer romance, then the show's audience should reasonably assume that the show will not have the queer ship they favor. If shippers continue to insist that their ship will come to fruition, and continue to pin their hopes on their ship, then the lines between who is actually baiting whom become very blurred.

Johnlock fans knew going into the show that John and Sherlock would never have an explicitly queer relationship. Fans continued to read for subtext, and maintained hope. The lines of queerbaiting become blurred, as it was not entirely clear if the show was actually baiting its shippers, or if fans were the ones baiting themselves.

In contrast, Klance fans were repeatedly encouraged by the showrunners, Netflix's marketing, and to some extent the VAs that Klance was possible (and that queer representation would firmly happen), and so Klance shippers were repeatedly strung along each season, up until the final season when Lance and Allura started dating and the Klance ship was torpedoed once and for all. (Do not talk to me about post-canon Klance, I am willfully defiant.) This is a firmly clear-cut case of queerbaiting.

In summary, Klance is the more textbook case of queerbaiting. It matches all the elements of queerbaiting: there was the willful deception by the showrunners, which encouraged Klance shippers specifically to hang onto the show, allowing Voltron to profit off its Klance audience. It's true that Klance shippers also continuously baited and deluded ourselves; but in our defense, we were following the example and promises set by the show itself.

Additional propaganda Bechloe: Ok for a little propaganda, since you may have forgotten pitch perfect, I want you all to know I first saw it as a 16-17 year old at gay youth group and can you imagine my fucking surprise and bafflement when they werent lesbians. Like basically thru the whole movie I was like “fun lesbian film nothing out of place just waiting for them to actually be gay” I know this was mostly the youth group organizers fault but I still think pitch perfect should have to answer for their crimes

I could talk so much about this but I want to point specifically to this promo for pitch perfect 3:

Bechloe - Pitch Perfect 3 Promo

Bechloe is REAL!

YouTube

and they then proceeded to give chloe an absolutely godawful love interest and like really overdid it (they also tried to give beca one too but anna kendrick was having NONE of that)

IIRC, Beca and Chloe were supposed to be lesbians but Universal vetoed it and made them give Beca a male love interest. Whether that changes things is up to you.

Even more Klance propaganda under the cut:

@klanced pretty well summarizes why Voltron was *more* queerbaity, but I think we should also consider what it means to be *worse.*

Make no mistake, the Sherlock team was.... for lack of a better term.... almost gaslight-y in their press, by disregarding the subtext that they themselves had written. But they were consistent. And their messages as showrunners did bear through, even as they were being cruel. Most importantly, Sherlock never needed the people they were baiting, so they could act aloof. That distance was horrible, but nothing like Voltron.

The relationship between Voltron and its fans was toxic, parasitic. Voltron couldn't have stayed around for that long without dragging its queer-baited audience behind it. It was a Netflix show, and those are always so close to the hangman's axe. It was the online fervor that sustained it.

And so, they had to appease the fans, pay the piper. But they had their own ideas for how the story would bear out, and each creator wanted something differently. In the end, they consistently used marketing tactics to imply something that could have been possible, if not for distinct creative voices that instead weakened the queer stories until they were watery piss.

Anyway, this was rambling. Vote Voltron for dangling queer alignment and ambiguity. Vote Voltron for pretending to be an ally. Vote Voltron for the stupid fucking LGBTQ banner that has Lance on it. Johnlock hurt, in a distant way, but Klance was worse.

I actually said this earlier on a different post, but I'll say it here too:

Its completely reasonable to think Klance was originally planned. Their interactions in the early seasons seemed a little too romantically coded to be something completely made up by fans. Thats why Klance was so popular, because it seemed all too possible.

However, when Dreamworks forced the creative team to change the story in order to keep Shiro alive instead of permanently killing him off like they originally planned, their entire story got fucked over. Seasons 3 and 4 were too far into production to stop and completely redo them, it would have been too expensive, even though it was the logical course of action. Instead, the producers had to make serious last minute changes to the story in order to keep Shiro in the picture. As a result, Shiro and Keith's switched places in the show, and Keith was almost completely written out of seasons 4-6 because Shiro was never supposed to be there. Any and all possible plans for any sort of development between Keith and Lance were thrown out the window because Keith wasn't there.

But as previously said, Voltron wouldn't have survived until the end without the rabid and feral online Klance fandom. The writing was very rapidly going to shit because there wasn't enough time to properly rewrite seasons 3 and 4 in order to meet Dreamworks' demands, and every season that followed suffered because of the decisions made for seasons 3 and 4. Everything was being improvised, and the storyboards for season 8 weren't finished until MARCH 2018 because of how behind schedule they were.

(I feel like the creative team don't get enough credit. Sure the show was a MASSIVE flop but their working conditions were less then ideal. Its impressive they got anything done on time due to the constantly changing ideas.)

The VLD producers knew that the Klance fandom was the only thing keeping the show alive, and continued to use Klance as bait until the very end. The VLD producers willingly enabled the notoriously toxic and violent Klance fandom with thumbnails and HotTopic merch, and allowed it to reach a point that the lives of their cast and crew were being threatenedby the rabid Klance fandom, just to get the ratings they needed to stay afloat.

THATS the disgusting part of all this. Whether Klance was originally planned as endgame or not, the producers used its popularity to keeping their already declining show running at the expense of the safety of their cast and crew.

I know next to nothing about BBC's Sherlock and Johnlock and whatever, but what the VLD producers did was sinister. Putting their creative team through both production and online HELL for some ratings, and it blew up in the most humiliating way possible. They did alllllll that, just to get one of the worst endings to an animated series of all time. Literally everyone hates them for what Voltron became, putting the lives of their creative team in danger was for nothing.

And obviously the producers can't completely blamed for the show's outcome, Dreamworks ruined their original plans. But continuing to use Klance as a marketing tactic while your fans are getting out of control and your creative team is being put in danger is just appalling. It was in their power to tell the Klance fandom Klance wasn't endgame, and that probably would have quelled the fire, but instead, with every season, they threw more and more gasoline into the dumpster fire.

So if you haven't already, vote Klance in this poll.

(I'm linking my source for all this info here. Its a video essay that I totally recommend watching. Super duper interesting.)

[satellite-evans]

closure

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.

The email subject line is simple.

Just wanted you to know.

For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.

And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.

Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.

I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.

I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.

I hope you’re happy. I really do.

- Carlos.

The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.

It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.

You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.

Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.

The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.

And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.

You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.

It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.

Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.

You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.

But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.

But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.

The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.

It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.

And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.

Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.

Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.

Acceptance.

Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.

It was over.

So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.

"I don’t need your closure."

[nowayimbored]

Restless Man

Summary: After 13 years of no contact, Sam comes knocking at your door when you least expect him.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

WC: 2,200

The leaves crunched beneath your shoulders, flattening the grass underneath. The wind jostled the trees above you, leaves floating down, down, down, until they slowly landed around you. The sun was slowly setting, golden hour quickly approaching. The autumn air was crisp and had a bit of a bite to it, but you didn’t mind. Watching the sky change colors, from blue to orange, pink, purple, and red was your favorite thing. 

Sam Winchester was your second favorite thing. You met a long time ago, almost another lifetime it seemed like. He had crashed into your life like a comet, but you had to admit he had perfect timing. You had just lost both of your parents in a car accident. Sam could commiserate with you, his brother had… well, he didn’t say. He just said he was ‘gone’, leading you to believe he was dead, or maybe missing. But he never looked for him. You tried not to dwell on it too much, as Sam never spoke much about him unless he was borderline blackout drunk. 

Sam became your best friend quickly, moving into your spare bedroom soon after you met. Things were mostly platonic, however there was a few times where the lines got a little blurry. You didn’t mind, though, you quite enjoyed it actually. In that year together, you two had grown very close. He would tell you stories that seemed farfetched, but he always retold them soberingly genuine. Stories of monsters, of a huge road trip he was on with his brother, of the end of the world…almost. They just about felt real.

You told your own stories, which were definitely very real. You told him of your family, your past, all of your wishes and hopes for your future. That was the best year of your life. It was so easy, so natural, with Sam. 

The morning he left was like any other that the two of you shared, or so it seemed. Sam would typically run a mile or two right as the sun was rising before hitting the shower, which would be just about the time you’d be getting up. That fateful morning, though, it was quieter. There was no hum of the water pipes, no bare feet padding down the stairs toward the kitchen. At first you thought he had taken a longer run than normal, but in the middle of making breakfast for the two of you, you saw the note.

‘Hey,

I don’t even know how to start this. I’ve been sitting here, staring at the page, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels right. Maybe because there isn’t a right way to say this.  I have to go. And I can’t tell you why. Not because I don’t trust you—I do. More than anyone. But because if I say too much, it could put you in danger. And that’s the last thing I’d ever want.  This past year, you’ve been my rock. You reminded me that there’s more to life than just living out on the road, more than just loss. You gave me something I haven’t had in a long time—peace. And walking away from that? From you? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I need you to know this isn’t about you. It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. I don’t know if or when I’ll be back. I wish I could promise you something—anything—but all I can say is that if there was any other way, I’d take it.  Please take care of yourself. Be safe. Be happy. You deserve that, shorty.

—Sam’

The note. 

You still have the note; you carry it in your bag.

Breakfast was never finished that day. Actually, breakfast was never the same. What used to be your favorite meal of the day was quickly pushed off to the wayside, your eggs slightly less sunny-side up without Sam. To this day, laying on your back in the park on 7th, you still haven’t eaten breakfast. 

It’s been 13 years.

Not much has changed for you in all of the passed time. You still wonder about Sam. After all, they say that if you love something, set it free. Except you kind of felt cheated. 

You didn’t set him free. 

You wished that you had told Sam your feelings before he left. Lord knows you tried; it seems like you called and texted him thousands of times. Not a single message was answered. Voicemail after voicemail was left, the box never giving a ‘full’ warning. All this time later, you wonder if he listened to them before he deleted them. You kept calling, until one day instead of his comforting voice before the beep, you heard a cold robotic voice chant ‘The number you have dialed is not in service. Sorry.” 

Hell, you didn’t even know if you felt the same way after all this time or if it was just the past you were stuck in. Maybe you were stuck on a last-ditch hope that he would come back. 

Maybe that’s why you never moved. 

Darkness was starting to draw closer, the last rays of sunlight nearly snubbed out. Sighing, you slowly sat up, brushing dried leaves from your hair. You felt a few flecks of water splash on your forehead, looking up, grey clouds were looming threateningly. 

You gathered your things, including the umpteenth letter you’d written to Sam but weren’t ever able to send. Fully standing up now, you started on your way home. Thankfully, the walk wasn’t too far. You cut across the corner of the park, making a beeline for the sidewalk as the rain began to fall harder. You started running, the sprinkles soon turning into a cold downpour.

By the time you reached your front porch, you were shaking and drenched by the ice-cold shower. You unlocked your door, slammed it shut to seemingly show the rain who’s boss, relocked it, and kicked your shoes off in one swift motion. 

You raced upstairs to take a warm shower, wash off all of the cold. After your shower, you threw on your favorite pair of sweatpants and a shirt of Sam’s that you found under his bed after he left. It was just one of those nights. You meandered downstairs, toward the kitchen to find something for dinner and a glass of wine.

A faint knock at the door interrupted your path.

You turned and looked at the clock on the wall. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Damn it, it was broken, stuck on 2:22. You made a mental note to replace the batteries on your way to the door. You unlocked and opened the door, but nobody was there. You looked to the left, then to the right, before shutting the door. Damn neighborhood kids.

You padded off toward your kitchen again, this time after your junk drawer. A louder knock interrupted you once again. A second time, you headed toward the door, a bit faster this time. You opened the door just a crack and peeked out.

Oh. My. God.

You threw open the door, revealing a wet Sam Winchester. “Sam?” you questioned, before wrapping the lumbering man in a bear hug. You didn’t need an answer to your question, you knew it was him. You clung to his wet Carhartt jacket, the tears flowing off of your cheeks and onto his already damp flannel.

He was older, his grey was starting to show. His hair was longer, but it still had the beautiful shine that was so uniquely…him. He looked war-torn and half beat. He was still the same, though. He smelled the same. The perfect mix of leather, old books, pine, gunpowder and cheap soap. Sam. Your Sam.

“Hey, shorty,” he smiled, hugging you just as tight back and kissing the top of your head. You couldn’t hold back your tears, and neither could he. “Sam…13 years…you…” you managed to stutter out as sobs racked your body. “I know, I’m sorry, I know,” he kept repeating, like his own personal mantra. You took a few deep breaths to compose yourself, then broke the hug to invite him in. 

“You came back?” you questioned. “Of course, I thought about you every day,” he replied. You beamed at him, tears welling up in your eyes again. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” he exclaimed, wiping away your tears before wiping away his own. You couldn’t help but give a short giggle. 13 years out the window, everything was just like it always had been with him. 

He followed you to your kitchen table, taking a seat as you gestured. You grabbed the bottle of your favorite whiskey down from the shelf above your fridge. “You still drink Bearproof?” he chortled. You rolled your eyes, “Of course! Apparently you still don’t have good taste.” He smiled and shook his head, accepting the short glass filled with ice you offered him. You sat down across from him at the table and reached over to fill his glass with the amber liquid. 

You took a pull from the bottle after filling your own, just something to calm your nerves you told yourself. On the surface, you looked calm, but underneath you felt like you were shaking like a leaf on a twig. You two sat in silence for a while, while it wasn’t awkward, it was heavy. The both of you would sneak glances at each other in between sips of your drinks, pretending to be oblivious to the other’s wandering eyes. Finally, you had had enough.

You topped off each of your glasses for the third or fourth time, it was starting to get hard keeping track. “Sam, riddle me this: why come back after all this time? What if I had moved, or found someone, or…” you trailed off. He dragged his finger around the rim of the glass, seemingly lost in thought. “All these years, I kept tabs on you—” “What?!” you interrupted. “All these years? I called you Sam, thousands of times. I tried tracking you down, I filed a missing person’s report for fucks sake! I wrote you letter after letter after goddamn letter I couldn’t send!”

He remained stoic, his finger still carefully tracing the rim. He sighed, catching you with his puppy dog eyes. “Look, I wish I could tell you the truth, but you won’t believe me.” “Try me,” you retorted. He sighed again and finished off his drink, automatically you refilled it. Sam took the bottle from you and topped up your glass. “You’re gonna need this.” 

Sam told you a story like you had never heard before. By the time he had finished, the bottle of whiskey was gone and instead a bottle of vodka took its place. You took a few minutes, maybe more, to digest everything he told you. It seemed hard to believe, but Sam wasn’t the type to lie.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you managed to croak out, “I’m sorry about your brother. He seemed like a great man. And…thank you for your sacrifice…for saving the world.” He huffed cynically, “Yeah, sure.” You took a pull from the bottle of vodka before handing it to Sam, who happily accepted. 

The short-lived conversation died off once again, this time leading to peaceful silence. You glanced at the clock, out of habit, but it was still stuck at 2:22. That’s what you needed to do! You slowly got up, joints creaking, head slightly spinning, “Ooh, it always catches up to you when you stand.” 

Sam smiled and stood as well, offering you his hand. You gladly took it, relishing his calloused skin against your soft palm. You staggered over to the junk drawer, stabilizing yourself against the countertop. Sam tottered over and placed his hands on your hips to help support your swaying frame. 

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks. Your mind cleared of all thoughts except for what you’d like to do to him. 

What did you come over here for again?

You closed the drawer quickly, the only thing stopping it from slamming being that the cabinets were soft-closing. You spun around to face Sam, not caring if he saw your blush. “Sam, I have to tell you something.” He raised his eyebrow quizzically. “You…you heard all of my voicemails, didn’t you? Saw all of my texts?” He grinned, then looked down at his socks. “Yeah, yeah. I did.” You nodded once, trying to clear the embarrassment from your brain like an etch-a-sketch. No luck.

“Cool. Yeah, uh, cool. Um… about that…” you trailed off. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way after so long. I know we had a few drunken nights of fun way back when, but we’re different people now.” Different people? What did he mean by that? You thought about asking him, but staring at his face, you could only think of one thing. 

Fuck it.You slammed your lips into his, desperate and wanting. He kissed you back with just as much wanton. Everything felt perfect. No, everything was perfect as long as Sam was back.

[kaisentine]

oliver aiku won’t leave you alone.

and no, you aren’t exagerating it.

one time, he transferred money in your bank account with a message attached to it ( actually, he sent multiple because it only had a character limit of 5 and his message was “please talk 2 me”—at least he had manners . . . ) because you weren’t responding to his calls nor his texts . . . nor the letter he tried to send you through a freaking bird?!?! anyway, you didn’t respond to any of his attempts because they were very much avoidable by ghosting or ignoring.

in public, however, it’s not as easy. you aren’t able to turn into a ghost unless you wanna be one of those white sheet ghosts for halloween or something—spoiler: you don’t.

okay, maybe you do.

no matter how long you hide behind your friend, he is just not going away. “is he gone?” you ask in a hushed whisper like how a child asks their parents if they’re there yet during a long roadtrip. they turn their head to face you, “nope, he’s not even looking for chocolate anymore . . .” they say and your curiosity gets the best of you and you take just a little peek from their back.

yeah, he isn’t looking for chocolate anymore. but that man isn’t that much of a chocolate fan anyway—unless he’s buying it for another person? well, at least maybe he was because he is no longer browsing the lanes of confectionary, he’s discreetly browsing other people instead. to anyone, they’d probably think of him as a weirdo for checking people out and you’re probably anyone too because he’s just . . . weird.

you’ve been here for half an hour and he’s been here for 20 minutes of those 30. knowing him, he just picks out anything and shoves it in the cashiers’ face and then walks out of there—he isn’t careless about the quality of chocolate, though, he just doesn’t care what brand it is—being the absolute gentleman he is!

“can you just pick a box, please.” you plead with your friend because they were the reason why you went in the first place. maybe it’s your friend who is the lunatic here because how can one take that long to buy a box of chocolate? they sigh and roll their eyes but oblige, grabbing whatever was on the shelves.

now this, this was a horror game. waiting for your guys’ turn in the line was like hiding from a monster in which you don’t know where it is ( you refuse to turn your head ) and your heart is racing. “hey,” the voice you hate to hear calls from behind you and you slowly turn around to face whatever creature is here to torment you. “aiku, hi.” you feel your heart stop at the eye contact which you immediately end.

“you haven’t been responding to me,” he continues with an eyebrow raised.

“what?”

“you know . . . my calls, my texts, the letter, not even the money.”

sticky note. aiku might . . . become one of my favorites omfg CAN THIS MAN LEAVE ME ALONE PLZZZ zorry for not finishing this i just wanted to do smth for aiku ha . . . ha ( KAISER I STILL LOVE U MY GLORIOUS KING )

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

hello - i will say this in english so everyone can understand. i was at the match today and a lot of ugly words were being said. fans above the barcelona bench where i was sat with my friend were taunting the players the entire game. and not in a way i would consider acceptable. i do not know that anything was said that would warrant further punishment but enough that it would annoy the players especially since they are in such a rough patch

also, we could hear Pere pretty clearly throughout and his instructions were poor to say the least. very little in the way of on the fly tactical adjustments and mostly just yelling at a player for not doing something right. at some point if the team isnt clicking he has to step up and take responsibility but the man on the touch line today did not seem like the sort of man who would

thanks for sharing your match report, anon! 🙏 the fans were especially bad and i could hear some of the cursing over the tv broadcast. and it is completely unacceptable that fans were throwing objects at the players. that's just wrong! and that's another reason why pina was so upset and caro was so angry. but the other thing i noticed is that both the opposition and their fans really got under the skin of our players, and they couldn't block it out. it is sad when our players are not enjoying their football.

and we really need pere to take ownership of the mistakes and stop making excuses or pretending everything is okay! 😤

source: esport3 on twitter

"they didn't want to play football, and we already knew it, and that's that. if you don't want to play, and you enter the match to throw punches and simply fuck over the other team, then it's hard. it's never easy to play outside of home and they did it well, and then when the first goal went in, then of course, that's how the game ended."

la afición estuvo especialmente mal hoy. y nunca hay excusa para lanzar cosas a las jugadoras. eso es muy peligroso la verdad. pero qué esperas de los seguidores de un equipo como el espanyol? es lo que hay 🙄

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog january 2k25

books

ling ma, severance - first book of the year an unfortunate dud! the most notable thing about this book is that it’s a pandemic story published in 2018, but this is also true of carmen maria machado’s “inventory” which is a much better story at like 15% of the length. by chance literally the day after i started reading this brandon taylor sent out a newsletter talking about first person narration devoid of interiority, which allowed me to be like, yes, that! that’s what’s so fucking annoying about this! a first person narrative that feels like a list of stuff that happened, instead of a glimpse into someone else’s consciousness. and i knooooow people would say that’s the poiiiint because the book is reeeeally about late capitalist anomie or whatever, which would also be used to explain the fact that the narrator has no personality or emotional life, like she’s just so disaffected and detached and blah blah blah, but the theoretical justification for this mode doesn’t have any bearing on the visceral fact that i just at no point cared about anyone in this story, because it’s impossible to care about a narrator who doesn’t care about anything or act like a human being (a species that famously cares about things lol). might also be impossible to care about a narrator with a trust fund… open to having my mind changed on this one though. other complaints: prose clunky, nobody else in this book has a personality either, palpably convinced of its own interest and importance in a way that feels very Litfic Does Genre Trope Without Wondering If Any Genre Writers Have Thought About This At All Ever (zombies as capitalist metaphor is like... even i know that and i hate zombie shit!) the pandemic stuff closest to being interesting but the page count is unforgivably focused on 1 million backstory flashback chapters totally divorced from the present day because god forbid someone who wants to tell an immigrant narrative figure out a way to somehow integrate this into the actual plot of their book or otherwise develop a character through scene and action… truly this reads like someone was trying to write an autobiographical novel and realized they couldn’t make it interesting/saleable so they chucked a pandemic narrative at it to capitalize on the twenty-first century genre turn. i don’t know if that’s what happened… but that is how poorly the disparate threads are woven together.

miranda popkey, topics of conversation - really liked this! like it more the more i sit with it. i had it already and it happens to get mentioned in that taylor newsletter i mentioned as being a different kind of first-person narrator, so i read it figuring at least it wouldn’t annoy me in the same way as severance. i was a little skeptical at first for two reasons: (1) the book is told through a series of conversations across a long span of years, which i was worried was a cheat to avoid having a plot; (2) early on lots of women and sex and power stuff, which is dangerous territory re: potential to irritate me. but it won me over on the second point quickly by undercutting what it had seemed to be doing in a refreshing way near the end of the first chapter, and by the end i was ready to concede point (1) because it had done a very good job of telling a story beneath the story it was telling; more than once i was kind of rolling my eyes like, okay, but, really?, only to find a little while later the book addressing precisely what had been my concern, which made me feel like i had been pleasantly tricked. the prose is unshowy but very self-assured with a good ear, and a few lines/passages burrowed under my skin. the narrator is self-critical without being self-indulgent… idk, it threaded a number of needles very well. impressed and pleased.

myriam gurba, mean - another one i started out wobbly on and wound up liking a lot. in this case, the cover/what i’d heard led me to expect a different, darker, tone than i found, and i wasn’t sure i was on board; funnily enough, at one point i thought, disparagingly, “eh, kinda zine-y,” and then something clicked and i remembered wait, i like zine-y, and that let me recalibrate and get sucked in. mean is a memoir, more or less, opening with a description of a rape-murder in gurba’s hometown and then switching gears to become a coming-of-age story in vignettes, with the reason for the opening scene eventually coming clear in a way that made me really admire what the book was doing formally as a way to talk about sexual assault; i was also reminded of the absolutely true diary of a part-time indian, a book i loved, both for its form and for, to some extent, its tone, or its willingness to combine a light touch and a sense of humor with some dark-ass material (although mean is not YA and goes much darker in both content and expression) & often incisive racial commentary. gurba is a really playful, funny, curious writer, and while i think she could have killed a few darlings, by the end her voice had really won me over. she is not opposed to pushing hard on the bounds of good taste, and i would say that most of the time i was with her because she was either honestly capturing the sociopathic awfulness of teenagers, including her own teenage self (people who self-righteously respond “well i actually never laughed at XYZ in high school…” this book is not for you and also you are annoying, and i say this as someone known in high school as a bit of a PC scold myself!), or else, for example, making jokes about her own sexual assault or other issues, and then there were some times where, like… ok maybe an illustrative example is that i saw a goodreads review that was like “i was loving this book until she used touretted as a verb, my condition is not a cute joke,” and i was like, on the one hand, i get it, but on the other hand, the prison rape joke didn’t phase you? the holocaust joke? (holocaust joke distinct from the chapter about how reading the diary of anne frank made her horny btw.) so… on that score tolerance will reasonably vary lol. given that a fair amount of the back half of the book is in fact about the aftermath of sexual assault, i really admired how the book refused any kind of redemptive arc, landing on a brutal note, but also avoided feeling oppressively downbeat by virtue of the ferocity of its own telling, which stands as its own proof of survival.

elaine castillo, how to read now: essays - not for me. none of the ideas here felt new if you’ve ever spent more than five minutes considering the relationship between art, race, & politics, and i didn’t feel like they were ever explored at a depth beyond (or… even equal to?) that which i would find on a random tuesday scrolling my tumblr dash. elegance of expression can be its own justification but stylistically this book mostly just convinced me that books are not blogs and should not sound like the internet; the lack of discipline which can be a feature in internet writing (not always! but can be) is always a bug in print (or, at least, i haven’t encountered the book to convince me otherwise). i was excited that the title of the first essay was “reading teaches empathy and other fictions” but then instead of unpacking the cultural ideology that associates any kind of moral education with leisure pursuits at all it was mostly about how the white straight male story is granted universality but others are not, which… you perhaps see what i mean about how this will not be revelatory for those of us enrolled in the continuing ed program at supernatural dot edu slash tumblr dot html. there’s a weird essay about going to new zealand and being like “wow imagine if native relationships were this good in the US?” which i found weirdly uncomfortable to read from an american who by her own admission is not well-versed in that region’s history. she opens an essay by being like “i know it’s basically boring to talk about how you hate joan didion” and then spends 45 pages doing that (including what i think is a misread of at least the tone of didion’s comment that writing is the act of a bully - i’m not a didionhead and would never defend her famously terrible politics, but a) she is i think pretty clearly being both hyperbolic and self-deprecating b) castillo takes this as the chance to be like “well i write to be vulnerable and connect,” which… perhaps this is self-indulgent self-deprecation on my own part but i have an instinctive and strong aversion to writers hyping up their own reasons for writing, lol c) this is objectively not a stance exclusive to white ladies bc zadie smith once said essentially the same thing except i think she used the word sociopathic lol)... and then in the end notes of that chapter she drops a casual rec for the “excellent” show our flag means death which… girl, be serious… you’re gonna write 300 pages about the dangers of reading without context and then simp for the slaveholder RPF show with no commentary whatsoever? it’s fine to like that show btw i might watch it myself one of these days but it’s just deranged to drop this without qualifiers in a book allegedly against the act of eliding historical reality for the sake of aesthetic pleasure and comforting fantasy! she also does two things that are unfortunately guaranteed to make me, personally, insane (characterizing damon lindelof’s HBO watchmen as an important statement on race in america and being kinda wrong about the odyssey) which i will address below the cut at the bottom of this post because i understand that my own need to talk about them is the result of my bad personality and also this is long enough already.

movies

no - this is a 2012 movie about the plebiscite vote that ended the pinochet reign, starring gael garcia bernal as the young ad guy the leftists rope in to helping them make the best use of their allotted 15 minutes of TV time. i really loved this, for a few reasons. first, an interestingly and well-made movie; the director is the guy who did spencer, which i hated, and i don’t know if it’s a matter of directing in spanish or what but it felt like two totally different worlds. second, some extremely funny and perhaps broadly relevant commentary on the purity-strategy tension in leftist spaces; i particularly loved the scene where our protagonist unveils the logo and the leftists are like, “oh, and the different colors of the rainbow represent the factions of the leftist coalition coming together, right?” and he’s like “uh huh. yeah. totes.” third, there’s a matter-of-factness to the way the movie depicts living in a military dictatorship — depicts oppression, depicts military violence against civilians — that felt refreshing and, ummm…. very un-American. perhaps very latin american. but certainly very un-American. something really fucked up happens and it feels bad and then you go home and play trains with your kid and you maybe don’t expect that everyone is spending 8 hours a day wringing your hands about How Is Anyone To Live Now. fortuitous timing for me personally maybe to watch this on new year’s day 2025. also gael garcia bernal is always the only guy in the scene wearing jeans and rides his skateboard everywhere. strong rec.

the shop around the corner - the philadelphia story baby jimmy stewart pilled me so bad that when i learned this both starred baby jimmy stewart and was directed by ernst lubitsch i was like, wow i GOTTA see that. two coworkers hate each other while falling for the anonymous correspondents that are, of course, each other all along… this does a couple things that mitigate the screwball romcom gender politics problem, my favorite of which is introducing the female lead in a scene that highlights her smarts and competence, which is important in a love story about a meeting of the minds. has superb production design, lighting so good even i was like “wow the lighting,” a great ensemble cast given a good amount to do in a way that makes the whole movie feel really suffused with tenderness and care even amidst all the screwball prickliness, and most importantly some incredibly funny jokes.

one way or another (todo modo) - this is a really weird italian 70s thriller whose plot is largely incomprehensible if you are not conversant in italian party politics of the 70s, which i am not, but it was still worth watching for the unbelievable Catholicism Is So Fucked Up vibes… the whole movie takes place in a catholic spirituality retreat packed with power-players, largely underground in the spookiest ass rooms imaginable… there’s a ruthless priest and a million political freaks… and then people start dying… kinda conclave meets and then there were none meets glass onion? tbh sassier and bitchier and more honest about institutional catholicism than conclave!

a complete unknown - most of the non-singing parts of this movie are Fine, I Guess, If You Like Biopics; some are pretty bad (why does this movie hate alan lomax so much… to say nothing of the women, through no fault of the two actresses doing their damned best…). the cast is reliably good, i was worried at first timmy was going to be giving SNL sketch the whole time but something shifted and he won me over and i thought he was good and especially that he was very funny in the too-rare moments the movie found itself a sense of humor, mostly on the topic of bob dylan being a weird freak pathological liar with no social skills or interest in developing them (valid and should have taken up way more of the runtime than it did!!!). lots of people have complained about how much of this movie is just watching bob dylan write down lines while playing his guitar but i actually think this is even worse than people are saying because what it does is almost entirely obscure dylan’s voracious cultural appetite and eclectic influences, which is a huge part of what makes him the artist of he is, and which he himself is the first to own (chronicles volume 1 — of 1 lmao — is in my memory almost entirely dylan talking about what he was reading and listening to and watching as a young person). however the reality is that none of this really matters to the viewing experience of the movie because the movie smartly understands it’s not going to be better at making a movie than bob dylan is at making songs, so it just never makes you wait very long before the next time bob dylan is playing a bob dylan song, and if you are a certain kind of person for whom the music of bob dylan has a certain kind of effect — which i am — what happens is that the opening notes of one of the best songs in american music history starts up and all cares over “screenwriting” and “gender” and such things fall away and you just sit there in a haze so grateful to live in a world where bob dylan gave us “girl from north country.” also, credit where credit is due: the movie looks very good, in a very standard hollywood way but well that’s a dying art it seems. i liked all the lens flares in the night scenes! they were pretty and evocative without being distracting!

juror #2 - i love watching a movie about people talking about a process while i wash dishes. bonus points for this one because of my wrongful convictions thing — i found it genuinely a relief to watch a courtroom drama in which we know the whole time that the logic of the court seems persuasive to many people but is wholly wrong. nicholas hoult!

jay and silent bob reboot - this is an objectively pretty bad and at times genuinely offensive movie that made me laugh so, so much. im sorry

presence - i was absolutely never not going to love a soderbergh ghost story; i like that it’s less a horror movie and more a family drama from the perspective of the ghost, and i like that steven soderbergh, who i first started feeling interested in because of how unusually willing he is (among our A-tier dude directors) to view women as potential protagonists, made a movie largely about a sad lonely teenage girl. camera work on the ghost POV very cool and for me very effective. a tight 85 minutes! they shot it in 11 days! i love you steven!

nosferatu - already said this was a miss for me, and the more i think about it the more i feel reasonably sure that it would have been even if i were not so dracula-pilled… idk. i agree with my anon who called it cold. there’s a fundamental distance between the storyteller and the story that, again, was part of what i enjoyed about the lighthouse, but just doesn’t work for me with a more traditional, more visceral (in multiple senses) tale. similarly to the line about how there can’t be an anti war war movie, because you can’t portray combat without glorifying it, i sorta feel like maybe you can’t tell a story where you want credit for giving your abused and disbelieved female protagonist agency and also have multiple scenes that are like, “ok now do the crazy possessed horror chick thing” lol. i also thought it looked kinda bad in parts and really muddy in all the moonlight scenes but i did see one review on lbxd that was basically like “this movie only looks good in IMAX bc regular theaters can’t get the blacks deep enough” so… maybe that’s true. on the bright side: nicholas hoult!

music

kendrick lamar, gnx - this thing happens to me often with music where anything presented as A Big Deal i have a hard time listening to because i keep being like no it’s not the right time… this is why for example i have never listened to a mitski album and also why until now i had never heard kendrick outside of his features with taylor (bad, not his fault) and the lonely island (p. good) and, ofc, not like us. but “squabble up” came up at the singles jukebox and i got really into one of the slant-rhyme runs near the end and the general personality of his flow so i decided to check out the album and would you believe? kendrick lamar, good at rapping. i like how this album is like kind of about having a god complex and sort of knowing you’re being crazy but also what if actually you kind of mean it? (people get mad if you say this kind of thing so don’t tell anyone but it’s actually similar to the pose i enjoy taylor striking on some of the wilder moments on TTPD, lol.)

girl pusher, gaslight gatekeep girlpusher - 20 minutes of very of-the-moment hardcore-adjacent punk, mostly too hardcore for me (literally, i don’t like music that’s all screamy) but the 3 songs that aren’t are real bangers.

ghoulies, shafted by the algorithm - 20 minutes of bright synthy punk where i have no idea what anyone is saying, kind of like matt and kim with less abrasive vocals? (remember matt & kim??? no? bc i’m old? well ok). not an album i’ll return you but i liked the vibe enough to chuck the whole thing onto my 2k25 rolling faves list and have been enjoying the occasional 2-minute infusions of pep!

underscores, wallsocket (director’s cut) - really impressed by this one, and also really enjoyed it. i keep seeing people call underscores hyperpop but either their earlier work (which i haven’t heard) is very different or i just don’t actually know what hyperpop is (very possible). to me it’s giving aughts indie, maybe a little emo but like the bright eyes kind, it’s giving saddle creek but made by a kesha fan. (does anyone else feel like we’re really in a post-kesha era in a way that is not being appreciated…) catchy, inventive, varied but cohesive, angry and funny, political & personal in the lyrics, sometimes at the same time. there’s a song called “johnny johnny johnny” which is an incredible banger about being groomed by an internet predator in middle school that really blew me away; would also rec “cops and robbers” just because it slaps. but even the quiet songs are good!

rosie gray, louder, please - flawless and sometimes even kind of interesting (although never that interesting) dance-infused pop (pop-infused dance? i think the first one but i’m no expert). pretty, fun, sometimes endearingly unsubtle — there’s a song literally called “party people” and another one where the refrain is “the best things in life are free,” also one called “switch” that rhymes “positions” with “submission.” dumb but thoughtfully and expensively so (or so it sounds, which is what counts). the way that people talk about feeling when they watch influencers swanning poolside in ibiza or whatever, that’s what listening to this album makes me feel like. vicarious luxury and all i need is a pair of headphones. another one where i don’t anticipate returning to the album as an album much but i rarely hit skip when a track shuffles my way.

zora, BELLAdonna - yoooooo this album FUCKS, like, SEVERELY!!!!!! saw someone rec this saying it was framed as a black trans revenge fantasy, which, i’ll be honest, turned out to have absolutely no bearing my listening experience whatsoever, but i am dutifully repeating because maybe you, too, will be intrigued enough to listen, and then discover that this album has BOPS. i am not really up to the task of describing this one — rap/hip-hop forward but with glimpses of both r&b and a pop (maybe even hyperpop?) sensibility, obviously broad in its influences (there are at least two likely refs to bodak yellow lol) while sounding like the clear work of a distinct voice, retro and futuristic by turns or sometimes at the same time. sounds really really cool and really really fun. sick flow, sick beats, a song called “sick sex”... strong strong overall rec here, this album rules.

single of the year so far is "IT girl" by jade (from little mix!!!) btw. if you care. really delivering on always low-key being the most interesting of the quartet in what she's put out so far, not all of it is my thing but she has a Vision and IT girl is a certified bop... really curious about where she goes next.

okay so petty grudge-holding below the cut:

first, the watchmen thing. to start with, she drops in the intro that she admires HBO watchmen, and like, did this alone make me read the entire book less generously than i otherwise might have? entirely possible. that is me owning my positionality as a reader. anyway. mostly here i just want to say that she specifically discusses the fucking 1922 movie about a black hero saving a grateful white crowd that made me the joker and drops that the name of the hero is “historically accurate” because he’s named for the first black marshal in oklahoma or whatever, which, ok. cute, i guess, if i didn’t hate this. what i hate, and what is not historically accurate, is: the existence of a film in 1922 (7 years after birth of a nation!!!!!) with a portrayal of american race relations that looks anything at all like the one in this movie. i mean it’s just crazy. and i find it first of all just inane because if you’re capable of writing this scene and thinking it feels plausible, you by definition do not have a good handle on the history of antiblack racism in america or how deeply it has resided at the core of american popular culture (among other things), and second of all genuinely kind of offensive because of the smash cut to Real Historical Atrocity that follows, underscoring the alleged “realism” of the scene. and it is insane to me to praise this scene for its “historically accurate” detail in a book, again, largely about the importance of bringing an understanding of historical context to your reading. it makes the author look a little bit like she only means that for stuff she already happens to know about or saw someone else talk about online. lol.

also the essay starts out being like “another day another jkr twitter meltdown” which does not help with the sense that these essays were blog posts that did not get sufficiently cleaned up for publication (is that true? idk. it’s how it reads though!). and it’s called “the limits of white fantasy” (but then is largely about how HBO watchmen is good lmao) and has a thing like “well rightwing types can appropriate symbols from harry potter and the hunger games and wherever else because those authors never cared about oppression they were just interested in its trappings.” first of all, leave my girl suzanne collins, cashing her checks blissfully offline, out of this. but second of all i actually think this is a substantively wrong diagnosis. jkr very, very, very obviously and sincerely cares about oppression. she is just catastrophically wrong about who is oppressing whom! but it’s extremely clear she thinks of herself as an actual victim of the actual injustice (in her head) of the woke trans mob or whatever. ditto antivaxxers using hunger games cues or whatever. they sincerely believe their rights are being infringed upon. sometimes people are actually wrong! sometimes people care a lot about morality and justice and are wrong about what those things are! i think this is in general harder for people to contend with than the idea that anyone engaging in such wack behavior just “doesn’t care”... but it is true. writing this out makes me think i undersold the insight potential value-add of naomi klein’s doppelganger, because she’s actually really good about recognizing that while these movements involve a lot of sociopath grifters at the top, the footsoldiers are people responding to ways they do in fact feel victimized (and sometimes actually are, e.g. i literally can’t remember if klein talks about this or not although i think probably yes but a lot of people in the alt-wellness/medicine space got there as a result of terrible experiences with healthcare that failed to address their physical and emotional needs).

ok also AND one last thing about this essay, she really gives the impression that she thinks damon lindelof is like the first person ever in history to politicize the figure of the vigilante/superhero… lmao? she praises the show for being about how actually community is necessary and justice can’t be done solo, which, first of all, just gonna throw this out there, there are ways to tell that story without being like truly the most police brutality apologia nonsense i have ever seen, and secondly, this is literally thematically expressed quite poignantly in alan moore & dave gibbons’ comic limited series watchmen in the scene where the guy acting as a lone vigilante who has taken the fate of humanity into his own hands nukes a bunch of new yorkers coming together to try to mediate some conflict. do i think that you need to have read watchmen to write an essay — not a BLOG POST on your DUMB BLOG, an ESSAY in a BOOK — about the politics HBO watchmen? i mean, maybe? is that so crazy? she says making hooded justice black is a radical reimagining of a comics character which is so funny because it makes hooded justice sound like he’s fucking superman or something and not a probable nazi who dressed up as a kinky klansman as part of watchmen’s commentary on the politics of superheroes lmao. like hooded justice is already a radical reimagining of the superhero mythos… because he sucks… and i guess in my heart no i don’t think i’m just being a weird watchmen stan (lmao) to say, “you actually can’t get a meaningful read on the politics of HBO watchmen without taking into account that the actual intervention being performed with this character is ‘what if this nazi was actually a sympathetic black man.’” do you see how that feels different? (also not for nothing but wrt the idea of HBO HJ being inspired by the movie about a black hero, again, in the comics HJ through his klan-ish costuming is already inspired by american iconography of heroism — arguably one he also saw in a silent movie that actually existed by the name of birth of a nation lmao!!!!! — which is part of the indictment of american hero iconography… i mean whatever. it’s so fucking stupid. btw her big takeaway from this character’s arc is that justice has to happen in community which is also funny because like you know who had a really strong sense of community? the klan.) do you see how it feels maybe extra different in a show whose ultimate thesis is something like “what if nuclear weapons were good if we gave them to a black lady cop who loves doing police brutality so so much”?

and… ok one LAST-last thing… in her informal endnotes, she cites “the watchmen universe” created by moore & gibbons, which… idk man. on the one hand i’m like, ok but it actually is mostly irrelevant to my textual beefs here that watchmen was in fact not intended to be a “universe” as we now use that term in the IP era and that the extent to which it has become one has been expressly at the disapproval of moore largely because of the fact that DC fucked him over so bad with this that it literally changed comics contracts going forward lmao. but on the other hand, if you like claim to care about the social context in which art was created, isn’t it not the best look to do not a single google and uncover the most famous example of the abominable labor practices of the comics industry? i acknowledge i could be indulging in pettiness at this point.

OKAY so that’s all on watchmen i think. the odyssey thing is smaller and less of a big deal, more just goofy. so she talks about the cyclops sequence and highlights how in recounting this story to the phaeacians odysseus is identifying certain arbitrary marks of “civilization” such as cultivating fields, and how he ignores the arguably very “civilized” acts we see polyphemus the cyclops commit, such as tending his sheep and making cheese. this is all fine and unobjectionable, even true, although i will say that, first, she presents this like these are insights she is bringing to her close reading of the text but i really struggle to imagine the person in the past several decades who would disagree with the fundamental thesis “the stories and myths and texts of ancient cultures served in part to delineate and reinforce their own social norms”; and second, she opens the essay with an epigraph from toni morrison talking about how she always admired how homer could make you feel sad for the man-eating cyclops, but then she doesn’t bring this quote up at all and talks about polyphemus’s sheep and cheese as though recognizing in them the marks of humanity is, again, a novel way to read the text? idk maybe i am just misreading her tone bc by this point i was very tired of how impressive she seemed to find herself but i found it odd because she’s like “see polyphemus is actually complicated but odysseus doesn’t see that” and i’m like well yeah that’s like what morrison was talking about… i have no idea how this would have scanned in ancient greece bc i’m not a classicist but neither are you so… anyway. i couldn't figure out her attitude on the odyssey (or this chunk of it) as a text, i guess.

so she takes us through the whole incident, including a cutesy reading of “nobody is blinding me” as like a metaphor for how power operates by making it impossible to name it, which, sure. have fun. and she closes on odysseus’s final boast along the lines of “if anyone asks tell them it was odysseus of ithaca son of laertes who blinded you.” and then she goes into this whole thing about how like… this is odysseus wielding his privilege basically, that he’s doing this because he’s so secure in his name and the power that grants him. she says, “It’s his confidence in his own context that is Odysseus’s greatest strength, his greatest privilege, and his greatest cruelty.” which… i guess kinda makes sense… if you ignore the part where namedropping himself is literally what GETS HIS ASS CURSED? he drops his name and instantly polyphemus is like “grandpa end that motherfucker” and boom, odysseus’s men are doomed to death and he is cursed to ten years at sea. like… it is literally not his greatest strength!!! it is the thing that gets his ass beat!!!! and notice that observing this, the BASIC LITERAL PLOT OF THE TEXT, does not require morally defending odysseus, or claiming homer was woke, or whatever. it is very obviously the case that the text does not think odysseus’s thing about his name is bad and he is being punished for it to learn lmao. i actually literally pulled my old fagles translation off the shelf to find what bernard knox had to say about this, if anything, in the intro, and he reads it as an expression (one of several) of the same heroic code you see achilles living by in the iliad, which includes the idea that you must take credit for your shit — even in this situation in which doing so puts yourself and your ship at great risk. this is not a particularly sympathetic reading to most modern readers! but it is one that takes into account the fact that this is the inciting incident for LITERALLY THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THE POEM!!! like it is crazy to quote that line and end the story there as if odysseus just walks away unbothered! the point of that interaction is not that he’s acting like a vanderbilt trying to get a table at a fancy restaurant, and it is not incidental what happens next because what happens next is THE ENTIRE STORY! and, like… it’s also not incidental because the fact of the matter is the world of homer is simply not a world where your name protects you, or achilles and agammemnon would not be hanging out in the fucking underworld. i’m thinking here about knox’s comment on the iliad that it was written in a century where athens spent more years at war than not, and how crucial understanding that is for understanding the world these stories were created in… i mean on the one hand whatever but on the other hand the essay collection is literally about the idea of reading things in context… so like… whatever. you could take the events in the text and then discuss their influence on 3000 years of western art and how that trickles down into values or whatever, i guess… but she didn’t do that so like :/

also then she says “he may be traveling, but he’s not a migrant,” which i just found goofy because i’m not really convinced the concept of A Migrant as she seems to want us to read it makes a ton of sense to superimpose onto the mediterranean 3000 years ago. (i feel like A Migrant requires the concept of… nations? borders? etc.?) happy to be corrected on this by any classicists who follow me.

also her didion essay is not as good a takedown as either didion's own takedown of woody allen or barbara harrison's takedown of didion. lol.

anyway. ok. that’s my grudges off my chest lmao.