#or until it’s a culture that’s not main stream

[scuderia-hamilton]

seeing people on my dash STILL not understanding why that whole trophy breaking situation was such a big deal makes my blood boil. people took their time and explained it to y’all, fucking spelled it out, but still haha so fun, so cunt. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

[sailorrhansol]

Chat, is that Rizz? | j.ww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to  get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

- PERMANENT TAG LIST:

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[alexistalkscomics]

Why Is The Jewish “Representation” In Agatha All Along So Problematic???

When it was first confirmed that Joe Locke was going to have a role in Agatha All Along, most fans quickly came to the conclusion that he would be portraying Billy Kaplan AKA Wiccan which unfortunately ended up being correct.

The problem with that casting you ask?

Joe Locke isn’t Jewish and he is playing one of Marvel’s most prominent Jewish characters. Whilst many goyim (non-Jewish people) often inaccurately perceive Jewishness to solely be a religious identity which is a massive oversimplification of what it means to be a Jew, Jewish people are actually an ethnoreligious community which means that we’re our own distinct ethnic group and culture that have a traditional religion that is intrinsically tied to our identity and culture regardless of individual Jewish people’s levels of observance.

And because we are an ethnoreligious group, that makes the casting of Joe Locke, who is not ethnically or religiously Jewish, inherently problematic to say the least, especially when placed into the wider context of Jewish representation in the MCU.

Marvel Studios has previously been criticised for the way that it’s approached adaptations of Jewish characters for the MCU with the two main examples being casting Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff, who is Romani and Jewish in the comics, and Oscar Isaac as the Ashkenazi Jewish Marc Spector in the Moon Knight streaming series and in both cases, the heritage of the characters were either downplayed or just outright erased. So for anyone who understands the issue, it should be clear that the MCU has a poor track record when it comes to representing Jewish characters and that Agatha All Along’s adaptation of Billy Maximoff/Kaplan is just another addition to the list of disrespectful adaptations of Jewish characters.

What is the specific problem with how Billy has been adapted in the MCU?

Well, in order to answer that question, the answer has to effectively be split into two parts:

In the most recent episode of Agatha All Along, we finally learn the backstory of Billy (who had previously only been referred as “Teen” due to a spell that prevented his identity from being found out) and as part of that, we are shown a flashback to the day of Billy KAPLAN’s (the capitalisation will make sense in a bit), Bar Mitzvah, a sacred Jewish ritual that marks the transition into adulthood and the responsibilities that comes with being a Jewish adult. In this flashback, Billy (who if you’ve payed attention, is being played by a non-Jew) is shown wearing traditional religious garments and handling what is potentially an actual Torah scroll.

Within Judaism and Jewish culture in general, handling a Torah and then reading from it is seen as both a great honour and responsibility for any Jew who is called for an Aliyah so seeing a non-Jewish actor who has no experience as a Jewish person and in interviews, has mocked fans who criticised his role in the show, wearing my culture and religion as a costume to advance his career just felt wrong to me. I love Marvel and I take great pride in superhero comics being an art form that was created by Jewish immigrants so seeing one of the biggest franchises in history cast a non-Jewish actor to appropriate Jewish culture just felt disgusting to me. At least with Moon Knight, all we got was the smallest references to his Jewish heritage rather than being subjected to seeing the christian Oscar Isaac partake in sacred closed rituals.

And now, moving onto the second part of the answer to the above question, after we see Billy reading from the Torah and are then shown the party following the ceremony, we learn that the flashback takes place concurrently with the final episode of WandaVision. Because of that, the party has to end early so that guest can evacuate and soon, Billy and his parents are in a car accident where Billy dies…

…until his body is quickly revived after the soul of Wanda and Vision’s artificially constructed son, Billy MAXIMOFF possesses and takes control of Billy Kaplan’s body whilst erasing everything that made Billy Kaplan who he was. The reason why this is especially problematic is because of the great importance of the soul within Judiaism. According to Jewish laws, one of the most important things that distinguishes Jewish people from goyim is a Jewish soul and in Agatha All Along, one of the main protagonist who is an adaption of a Jewish character who was created by a Jewish writer is reimagined as a non-Jewish soul that hijacks the corpse of a Jewish teenager to use as a meat puppet. It becomes even worse when later on in the episode, “Billy” is shown rejecting his identity as Billy Kaplan which effectively takes the undertones of ethnic erasure and cultural appropriation of Joe Locke’s casting and makes it an essential part of the characterisation for this incarnation of Billy.

In Conclusion?

In the Marvel Comics, Billy Kaplan is a proud queer Jewish man who was partially based on the lived experiences of his creator who is also a gay Jewish man. Becuase of that, he holds a special place in the hearts of many fans who see a piece of ourselves in him and we deserved to see the really Billy Kaplan be brought to life in a way that would honour the source material that we love and introduce mainstream audiences to a really cool and fascinating Jewish superhero who can open up so many possibilities for the more supernatural side of the Marvel Universe to be explored in further MCU instalments.

But instead, we got the bare minimum of Jewish representation followed by the complete erasure of that “representation” with the ultimate end product being a show riddled with the underlying rot of antisemitism.

[bonefall]

Hey, what makes a character a 'plot device but not a character'? And how do you not do that? I'm trying to do it on purpose but also I need to still make them interesting because it's on purpose, yknow?

A good skill to pick up is to learn to criticise criticism itself. A "plot device" is simply a thing that moves the plot along, it's a neutral literary analysis term! Usually, when people are angry that "a character has been used as a plot device," it doesn't mean they hate plot devices. It means they're gesturing at something deeper.

Runningwind and Bumble are equally plot devices in their deaths. They are both killed by the antagonist to escalate political tension. Runningwind is rarely "accused" of just being a plot device, and yet, we're talking about Bumble for the same thing.

So, why?

Well, Runningwind is just a background character, but in life, he was a part of the community. He was characterized as impatient but responsible. Yet, he wasn't SO important that he died with a bunch of unresolved plot threads.

He is mostly an extension of the entity of ThunderClan. His killing by Tigerstar, and the fear and paranoia that settles on the group after this, feel like a progression of the story insteas of something forced.

Bumble, on the other hand...

Is hated immediately by Gray Wing, when she's established as Turtle Tail's friend. Bumble's abuse at Tom the Wifebeater's hands invites even MORE investment. The rejection is shocking and upsetting. There's a story there about our main characters being imperfect; jealous, bigoted, and judgemental.

But, she is simply killed off. Everything they set up for this character is gone with little personalized fanfare. It's not a tragedy with a lesson about cruelty, or something anyone regrets.

It's just... plot. Gray Wing whinging that no one will like his shitty brother now that his body count is 2.

More than that, in the discussion of women in particular, "Fridging" was coined to give a name to the way women characters often don't get their stories told at all. There is a CULTURAL trend of female characters facing disproportionate violence, for the sake of advancing male plots.

Bumble has a lot going for her. Petal had a lot going for her. Turtle Tail had a lot going for her. Bright Stream had a lot going for her. When they died, they took their potential with them.

It's not always wrong to kill off a character of high potential, mind you. In Gurren Lagann, Kamina's death is sudden and shocking, leaving a massive hole in the hearts of the cast that never heals. Grappling with that loss, but also letting his memory fuel them, is a major theme of that story.

All that to say... there's no formula for avoiding it. You've gotta identify what the deeper issue is, in your specific narrative.

I can't say for certain what that will look like for your story, but here's some things I keep in mind;

When you make characters who exist to die, make sure they're people before you axe them.

Ask yourself; what about them does the cast miss?

If they just miss them because they were (pre-existing relationship), go back to the drawing board.

Fluttering Bird as an example. Who was she? Dead sister. Why do they miss her? Dead sister. No traits until after her death.

Runningwind was short-tempered and helpful. Kamina was a valuable leader who made people believe in a brighter future. Swiftpaw was fiesty and desperate to prove himself. The better characterized, the more profound the loss usually is.

If this is a female character who is dying just to serve the plot, be aware of cultural bias and tropes. How is the gender ratio looking in your cast? Is this happening disproportionately with your girls?

Note how Quiet Rain's litter had both a boy and a girl, but the girl was chosen to be "weaker" and wither away.

And how most of the time in DOTC, whenever a man had to be upset, a girl would get killed for it.

If you ever feel like the character on the chopping block is NOT a full character, ask yourself why it needs to be a character at all. You don't need to spend narrative time building out someone when a literal object of high value might suffice.

"My sister died when I swore to protect her and I can't face my family" = Old. Tired. Ive seen this.

"I lost my heirloom sword when I swore to protect it and I can't face my family." = Fascinating. Why was the sword so valuable? Will they really not take you back? How did you lose it?

When you do kill off "high value" characters, try to make sure you're not leaving too many plot threads hanging. Or at least make a point of how they will never get closure.

[colorful-white-ideas]

Is Bill Skarsgård only in remakes ?

This will be long. Really long.

After the relase of The crow 2024 , a lot of comments have surfaced saying that Bill only do remakes and nothing else. That he is where he is because of nepotism and that he only plays dark characters.

How about we review his trayectory according to his imdb page ? Lets see his eldest credit, how long it took him to position himself in america ( his big break) how many remakes has he done and what genres he explored.

If we go all the way down we will see that his career started in Sweden. His first credit come from the 2000's movie Järngänget where he worked with his brother Alex. Bill was 9 years old aprox. Since then he worked ocationally until his teenage years ,when he took the job more seriously , in consecuense he started to gain fame for himself in scandinavia, even nominations for some roles. Like with simple simon (I rymden finns inga känslor)

In The crown jewels ( Kronjuvelna) we have Alicia Vikander and Bill skarsgard sharing the screen, both are swedish, and later both participated in the 2012 american adaptation of Anna Karenina (Leon tolstoi novel) sadly for Bill ,being Stellan Skarsgård son did not help his small role from being cut out of the movie. Alicia is the one who gets her big break from this by playing Kitty.

Role: Captain Makhotin

But things don't end there, he may have not done it in american movies yet but he did land the role of the vampire / upir Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Grove (series), another adaptation from a book with the same name, on netflix ( small streaming plataform in the early 2010's) he did a total of 3 seasons.

In 2016 he gets another small role but in the Divergent series , in 2017 Atomic blond ( as Merkel). Now it's in 2017 at 27 years old when his first remake and big break comes: IT (pennywise) . But first lest define briefly what is a remake?

wikipedia says: A remake is a film, television series, video game, song or similar form of entertainment that is based upon and retells the story of an earlier production in the same medium—e.g., a "new version of an existing film".A remake tells the same story as the original but uses a different set of casts, and may use actors from the original, alter the theme, or change the flow and setting of the story. A similar but not synonymous term is reimagining, which indicates a greater discrepancy between, for example, a movie and the movie it is based on

It is a novel by stephen king ,the first adaptation was for tv miniseries of 2 episodes in 1990 with Tim curry as Pennywise. In 2017 another adaptation is released and here is where we open the main debate: The 2017 movie was a remake or another adaptation? I guess is matter of perspective, while is true that the first popular reference we have about the subject is the 90'series , the new production based his storyline and character design in the book... So if you are more familiar with the book you'll call it an adaptation but if you have never read it then it'll be a remake "with differences".

The contrast beetween both vertions of IT is too big to consider the latter ( 2017) a re-do/ remake of the miniseries. You can notice that just by the approach Bill and Tim took on Pennywise. Tim's version was more human, a psycopath like in John Wayne Gacy-esque type. Bill's was a monster, not one trace of humanity in his character, it was out of this world and enjoyed playin/ torturing its meals cause it tasted better basically.

My own take is that IT CHAPTER 1 AND 2 are not remakes of It (1990). But due to pop culture they are considered as such.

Between the IT- MANIA he was in the following productions: Battlecreek , deadpool 2 ( short role), Villians, Assasination nation and Castle rock ( series). He also participated in shortfilms like: A stone Appears, Alteration and Do you like the taste of beer?

Is in castle rock where he plays another creepy role as the kid .For battle creek he is an artistic vulnerable depressed dude. In assassination he plays a misogynistic teen asshole. And with Villains we see him explore his comic side.

This is what I would like to call the transition period, besides Deadpool and castle rock, all the projects previously mentioned are in some way small projects , that he for some reason decided to take on ,maybe for scheduling reasons cause by the end of 2019 IT CHAPTER 2 was premiering.

2020- 2022

The pandemic hit and changed things, he losses momentum. The whole industry was shaken actually. Movies that were supposed to be released in cinemas went to streaming, projects were cancelled and others got delayed.

For example Bill was set to work in The northman with his brother Alex again , he was already in Eggers radar, but due covid he had to drop out: Here

He left that project because something else was scheduled: Clark. (netflix nordic) a series he helped to produce too.

From this time we got Nine Days, The devil all the time (one of his best works and one of his most underrated film. He plays Willard a traumatized ww2 veteran), Soulmates (a series - one ep. He plays a uptight gay man who finds love while vacationing in Mexico), Naked Singularity ( he's an lawyer with adhd and a weird obsesion with ears) , Eternals ( KRO) ,Barbarian (horror movie where he is just a good guy who's in the wrong place at the wrong time )

By this time he was still under the shadow of " pennywise" but he had built a reputation for himself, he was a good actor before the critic and public that followed his work. Not as popular as Alex ,for example , but he was known by now.

2023 -24

After the pandemic we enter the period I woud like to call : COMEBACK.

The projects we find here are more "commercial" because these are action films, which is not bad , it was about time, most of his films usually dont get too much of exposure or are small projects. If someone said Bill Skarsgård automatically people thought in the clown 🤡 and not in Kro, mickey, willard or Clark for example. So we see here some sort of rebrandig he's now a killing machine, a cartoonish villain and anti hero.

John wick 4.

This offer came to him thanks to a previous work he did in Atomic blonde. Chad stahlesky let him choose what character play ( here) , and he went for the bad guy. A cartonish kinda old school villain , with funny accent and great suits: The marquis de Gramont.

Now, a very common observation people do is that roles are offered to him and his just takes them. That he is like a passive actor who only plays what he's tell to play, but since Pennywise he has always talked about how much he gets involved in the making of a character. The marquis was not the exception. That annoying accent was , for example, his idea. here more about it

This participation was a breath of fresh air, and brought new eyes to him. New fans arrived, people saw more of his work and he stepped a bit away from the IT shadow. Later was confirmmed that his next project would be BOY KILLS WORLD a pure gory action film with some comedic touch for which Bill prepared hard.

Moritz Mohr: Bill is a terrific actor. The only thing we weren't sure at that point was, "Can he deliver on the action?" He basically just promised, "No, I'm gonna put in the work, I'm gonna get ripped, I'm gonna train, and I'm going to learn the choreography." Which is a huge commitment, because it's just months and months of training and rehearsing, and I'm so glad that he did it. He overdelivered sometimes, he was really committed to it, and I'm very lucky that he was, because I think the results are just phenomenal.

In BKW we see Bill has good comedic timing, as if that wasn't clear with previous projects like Villains , but here he delivers comedy without talking. Conclusion : he can also be funny.

So far we are very into 2024 and NO MORE REMAKES in sight for him besides IT and we have talked about how many movies- series ? Almost 20 since his first big job in America (Hemlock G.)

The recent fame of " remake actor " comes from the next two jobs he landed. The crow 🐦‍⬛ and Nosferatu. 🦇

The crow 🐦‍⬛: How Bill got the script on his hands? it was given to him because he is known for remakes, because of his lastname , because no one else wanted to do it ? Luckily for us , Empire magazine tell us the following:

The project was conceived to be a separate work from the 1994 movie the crow, the source of inspiration was THE CROW graphic novel of J.O Barr. Again, by this and more interviews around we see Bill as an actor who played and active part in bringing a unique version of eric. From the physique ( something he kept from filming BKW) to the aura he's nothing like Brandon lee's Eric Draven.

The big differences between the 2024 and 1994 version, are confirmmed now after its release with heavy critics of people claiming it to be a "bad remake cause it looks nothing like the original " Here I ask rethorically , so is Bill a remakes actor or not?

Remakes are in full force lately, examples are whatever Disney has been doing lately, the ghostbusters, robocop , etc. Movies that go frame by frame , super close to their media source.

The same way Dune 2022 is not considered a remake of the 80's movie , The crow 2024 shouldn't be considered one either. Not even IT. Because, primarily, the source material is not the previous movie or series, but a book or a novel. So the best term to use is , I believe, adaptation or reimagining.

But what about Nosferatu?

I'm glad you asked random tumblr reader. I'm almost finishing and this is where I want to suggest that this upcoming film is actually the first remake Bill Skarsgård has done.

Robert Eggers ( director of this new remake ) shares with anOther magazine, that he planned to film Nosferatu after The witch , that's how he met Bill , who was 25 by then ( at 25-26 he was also auditioning for IT) . Eggers recalls Bill's audition being excellent for Hutter . Unfortunatelly the project fell but they stayed in contact and planned to one day work together , Bill was later set to work in the northman , we already know how that played out.

As we see here Bill was the one trying to get the opportunity to work with the director, having another role in mind ,until Eggers proposses to him the opportunity to be Count Orlok thanks to the work he did as Bob Gray in IT chapter 2.

Eggers knew about his capacities as an actor to embody darkness while having a youthful and pretty exterior that's why he tought of him as the right choice for the project.

Once again we read an interview that highlights the joint work of the director and Bill on the character, from the psyque to the make up. He was very proactive, long conversations, audio tapes, isolation, voice coach , etc. All of which finally paid off

Bill Skarsgård has proven his desire to become a versatile actor, just by reading his imdb page we see a variety of works forming his resumee , but he has a particular preference for dark, scary , creepy roles. In this review since the Hemlock grove days he has played a total of 7 obscure characters ( from antagonist to conflicted ones). This alone is not bad, and they aren't that many either. Every actor have a genre they prefer , characters they feell more pulled to work with. Bill is a goth king and I respect that.

His career itself also proves to be the result of organic growth, although he was lucky to be part of one of the most successful and respected acting families in sweden , that alone couldn't have granted him is current success. He started in America with a small show that most people haven't heard of till this day, and was in his late 20's when he got his first big opportunity. He sent emails, he sent tapes, he auditioned, he gave his word promising to deliver a good job. He works his ass off for what he wants. He doesn't seem to be the classic textbook nepobaby.

That's why I think that considering him just a remake actor is unfair and narrow minded. Said statement reduces a still growing career full of exploration to just opportunistics cashagrab roles ... and this guy is far from being that. Also because not everything that shares a tittle or character's names is a remake. It dependes on what the creators are having in mind for the new work.

That's so , after reading the most recent AnOther magazine interview , that I came to the conclusionI expressed before: Nosferatu is his first remake . Both Bill and Robert Eggers have always in mind the 1922 movie as source of reference and they worked Count Orlok and the story around that.

He's still a rising star, and has a lot more ahead, im confident the general public will see what directors and fans have seen in him: A good mfucking actor who wants to leave a mark but in his own terms. Taking risks , exploring, chosing roles that may not look right for him but always improving himself to expand his potential and keep taking on new and more promising challenges.

Its intersting how everything connects , IT oppened the door of Nosferatu. After all the issues that came to him at the right time , and I can bet my left arm he will deliver !

*Im sorry if this was too long it took me 2 days finishing it ,i'll go to sleep now .

[tiramissu09]

Morning Glow

synopsis: you (y/n) wake up before your husband on a Sunday morning and study him, wondering how you both even got together.

song choices to listen to while reading: 

Body by Summer Walker

Orbit by JONGHYUN from SHINee

Natural by G-Soul

warning(s)/story notes: gender neutral y/n, nostalgia, hints of last night’s activities (iykyk), silent serenading, naked imagery, a little nod to the JJK lore, POC y/n

MINORS DON’T INTERACT

author note: My first fanfic, y’all! I feel like, instead of using janitor ai (don’t use it, it’s hella addictive and made me burn through my money), I could use my imagination and potential to write something for my main beloved, Nanami Kento. I love this man and in my head, we are living together in Malaysia, having the time of our lives, haha. Also, I thought I was going to do a quick drabble, but I got into my feels, haha. 

Please, please give me feedback and critique so I can improve on my writing. Thank you and enjoy!!! <3

The chirping birds started to grow louder and more annoying outside the large French windows with the soft, peaching-colored morning light streaming in, faint flapping of the pale curtains echoing with shared breaths. You groan softly against your white silk pillow along with your blurry vision, from your deep slumber, as you rub your eyes and look around, dazed. You felt the light breeze of the open ajar window on your bare leg, out of the fluffy blanket, contrasting with the deep warmth soaked into the mattress from the sleep. 

Your eyes move around, to anchor yourself into reality, until they settle down at a large, ivory back which had light red scratches along with crescent moon shaped indents littered over his rugged muscles, rippling with each soft breath. His messy golden blonde hair that you loved to run your fingers in, slightly swaying with the early dawn breeze, along the warm yellow sunlight, giving him that morning glow that made him look…like a god, a figment of your imagination. 

Last night’s memories were reeling in like a blurry movie, reminiscing on your stomach with your head and facing his back, as you remember his sweet deep chocolate eyes, his slightly pink blush on his face, and…my god, those large, veiny hands all over your body, rough but gentle on your soft skin. 

Sighing softly, not wanting to wake him up yet, go down this deep spiral with your fingers itching to touch him….how did you even meet this man? Was it at the office Christmas party where he was wearing that ridiculous, fluorescent green elf costume as your white-haired boss had made me for a pay raise? Or when you both bumped into each other in the hallway before math class during senior year, your nose bleeding as you bumped into his chest too hard and he assisted you to the nurse’s office?.....no,no…..oh my god! How could you forget?

It was that night…..that night where you all were freshman in high school and it was the camp site trip that you all had to go to as a bonding activity for all the new students which you were part of. You remember you were really nervous as a tiny, little 13 year old. You were new to Tokyo and Japan, overall, not looking like the others and the culture so vastly different from yours which made it difficult to fit in, your family or teachers help you with. This was nicely added with you going through puberty, the whole nine yards of acne and changing body, made you more quiet and shy to talk to others. 

In your ensemble of light washed jeans, your oversized purple flannel shirt and black Converse high tops, you were sitting on the wooden benches near the camp-fire under the starry, twilight sky, shivering slightly from the cold, autumn night in the forest near Kyoto. You were alone, with everyone talking to each other excitedly, with some others playing games and singing karaoke, and watching all the kids with a small smile on your face. 

Then, you felt a warm blanket around your body, causing you to have goosebumps all over your skin. You looked up with wide eyes from the brushing of their fingers on your neck to the warm presence behind your back, surprised and making you jolt up, but a soft hand pushed you down to sit back. “Sorry, did I scare you?” His soft and low voice, almost purring, caused you to shiver more but you held back your reaction as you turned your head completely around, wanting to know who it was. You caught those soft, brown eyes, reminding you of that deep brown honey under the sunlight, making you feel more awake than any other coffee.

You quickly get out of your reverie and stutter out as you brush your hair back, looking away. “No! Not a-at all…just got surprised.”,offering him a smile as you try to not to fluster even more. You notice his blonde hair, straightened to the T and his bangs covering his eyes which you didn’t like but didn’t say that out loud, and his black shirt with a band name you never heard of with his black skinny ripped jeans. 

You clear your throat as you look into his eyes, “H-hi, my name is f/n l/n….what’s your…name?” You were fidgeting with the soft, baby blue wool blanket with your fingers, as you both sat next to each other with your knee brushing against his, ever so slightly. He grins a little more as he had a deadpan face before, making your heart and insides all melted and mushy inside, showing his pearly whites. He says in that voice that you could just listen to all the time. “Kento….Nanami Kento…but you can call me Ken.”

You memorize that name, as it was tattooed to your naive heart, as you nod slowly and say quietly. “Nice to meet you…Ken.” You both sat there in silence with all the loud commotion around you both. You didn’t know what to say as the tense silence was swallowing you up and you quickly ask and at the same time, looking at the bright scarlet camp fire, “You should go hang out to your friends…”, peeking to the side to look at his face longer, but looking away when he caught your eyes and your face becoming hot with each passing second. 

He sighed loudly as he stretched his legs out and watched the white-haired hyper kid screaming happily at the black-haired boy who looked so done with him, but had a small smile. After some moments of more silence, Kento spoke with a small smile and turned to face you, “You looked….lonely….like me and…”, now looking away as you caught some peach-colored blush on his cheeks. “You looked like you were glowing…like the fire.” 

You remember how you became quiet, flustered and frozen by the compliment and you remembered you thanked him meekly which was so cute and how you hit yourself internally for how dumb it was. However, the rest of that night, you both started to talk more freely and understood that you both had a lot in common, in terms of family background and not really fitting in due to your particular tastes. 

Despite being amicable acquaintances all through high school and losing contact when entering university, once you both reunited, it felt right. You both were meant to be together and glowing in each other’s arms and affection. 

You were shaken out of your deep thoughts as you felt the bed rustling lightly. You looked up and saw his face turned to you now. You were slightly surprised by the sudden appearance of his handsome and rugged face, but you quickly smiled widely, “Good morning, honey.” Snuggling closer to him and him taking you in his buff arms, making you all so warmer, he murmured in your messy hair, his morning voice low and reverberating through your body, “What were you thinking about so hard, darling? You laugh softly as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and your arms around his shoulders, and whisper muffled against his warm skin that smelled like sandalwood and musk, that was so unique to him, “I was just thinking…..how you were glowing…..like the sun.”

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

hiii ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

name: mithi - not really, just family nickname

she/her

16 years old

ethnically & ancestrally indian (live in bangalore, karnataka)

technically american (born in michigan)

lesbian

questioning demi/gray-aromantic

11th grader in cbse science stream (subjects: physics, chemistry, biology, psychology, english)

intj

libra sun, gemini moon, cancer rising

mental: unstable, go through depressive phases, gritted-tooth optimist, mayhaps depressed & have ocd (but prolly just another lazy kid wrongly self-diagnosing)

physical: brown skin, black hair, v dark brown eyes, 5'6/168cm, glasses-wearing girlie

mostly post & reblog stuff related to marauders, lgbtq+, literature, feminism, girlhood, desi culture, mental health & other general stuff & a couple other fandoms (pls stick by if i seem ur cup of tea)

dni: sexists, homophobes, racists, transphobes, ableists, anti-choice-ers, anti-palestine supporters, any bigots really

rules: don't be any of the above mentioned, don't be creepy, don't send sexual stuff for the love of god i'm a minor!

fun fact!: i was born exactly at 11:11 p.m.

studyblr sideblog: @academicgremlinhehe to keep my procrastination in check

mental health/vent/ranting sideblog: @thyhonesteheorte cuz i'm too scared to be especially depressing on main

feel free to check me out on :

blog - like an actual site, not this beauty chaos

ao3 - solely marauders content

that odd melancholy feeling - current ongoing marylily fic on ao3

wattpad - same content as ao3

that odd melancholy feeling - on wattpad

pinterest - may not be visible until i turn 16

life goals :

become an academic weapon once again - summoning pre 9th grade me

plan a - iiser bs-ms course with major in biology or/& physics; plan b - bsc psychology/biotechnology + masters neuropsychology/neuroscience/astronomy/evolutionary biology abroad

phd astrobiology/neuroscience/neuropsychology/evolutionary biology abroad

multiple degrees?? yes pls to being disgustingly over-educated

work in research + part time writer

independence

travel the world

peace

tagging system! :

#mithi's own - all original posts

#she communicates oh my! - answering asks, communicating with other users, tag games

#poetic lil mithi - original poetry

#mithi's marauders - all posts relating to my marauders fanfiction

#wishful necromancy - all posts relating to the marauders fandom hehe get it?

#slightly less beloveds - posts about fandoms apart from the marauders

#musings from thy truly - journal extracts, vents, stuff that should be in my journal but i was too lazy to write with my hand, shit posts, life updates, literally anything that isn't studying or poetry or fandom-related

#mithistudies - studyblr posts made until 10th october 2024

current read! : jane eyre

current watch! : dickinson, lord of the rings: rings of power

current obsessions! : hurt/comfort wolfstar fics, cheese, dreaming of an academic comeback, blasting dramatic music

hobbies! : sketching, chess, photography, writing (poetry, lyrics, fanfic, novel, etc), recording vlogs, crafts, listening to music, reading, watching movies & shows, piano, and many many more!!

music! : gracie abrams, lorde, olivia rodrigo, chappell roan, cavetown, clairo, hozier, mitski, tv girl, beach bunny, girl in red, lana del rey, wallows, alex g, and many many more!!

books! : solitaire, heartstopper, pjo, hoo, toa, soc, p&p, wuthering heights, jane eyre, great gatsby, sherlock holmes, agggtm, and many many more!!

shows! : heartstopper, atypical, lotr: rings of power, pjo, young royals, dickinson, sherlock, s&b, and many many more!!

movies! : lady bird, p&p (2005), the perks of being a wallflower, dating amber, little women (2019), lotr & hobbit trilogies, thg, dead poets society, and many many more!!

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 16 - Struggling

Summary: Corroded Coffin gets an unconventional gig that might make them some good cash.

Word Count: 901

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Modern!Corroded Coffin, Older!Corrded Coffin, memes, friendship, bickering and banter, pop culture/social media reference (link at the end of the fic)

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request. And @dr-aculaaa and @br0ck-eddie because I'm sorry yall are gonna get a kick out of this one.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"I hate this."

"My shoes are too tight."

"We look ridiculous."

"I think," Eddie raised his voice so he could stop his friends bitching. "I think we look like a band that's about to be $500 richer."

"So we're just gonna be a band with $500?" Gareth asked, sneakily giving Jeff a high-five as Eddie grumbled at the joke.

Success was hard. Fame was hard. Even harder still when you needed money for things like rent and gas and food.

Not like those things were free when they were still in Hawkins, it was just harder now.

And they were a bunch of 20-somethings up against the whole world, and not just a handful of mediocre bands in their neck of the woods in middle-of-nowhere Indiana.

They were too young to have made it big on Youtube--not that they hadn't tried when they were still in high school--and too old to really understand how to make it big on tiktok.

They'd tried the flossing and the dances...it was just not them.

So random gigs it was; struggling to make ends meet, struggling to make it big.

Until they found something that was an unexpected money maker.

Who knew a comment on a video of them harmonizing with some vocal warm ups would lead to this.

Polished shoes, matching pants that they all had thanks to serving jobs, matching vests they got at some department store closing sale, and the piece de resistance that they actually paid a pretty penny for..straw hats.

Yes, their badass metal band moonlit as a barbershop quartet.

Weddings, anniversary parties, and birthday parties for half-awake octogenarians were their bread and butter. Cash in hand, maybe a little cake, it was great.

They got the loudest applause when they did songs like Let Me Call You Sweetheart and Down By The Old Mill Stream, ones they'd all thankfully learned in 8th grade choir. But sometimes happy couples requested something special, and so they began to spend just as much time practicing their a cappella covers as they did their original songs.

They all knew that they needed to put their pride behind them if they wanted to keep the lights on.

"It'll happen for us one day," they all agreed. "Just gotta wait for that first big opportunity and then we take it."

And of course, that opportunity presented itself as a Battle of the Bands at the Illinois State Fair.

It would be great for them. Big crowd, lots of cameras, and great exposure even if they didn't win.

They just needed the entry fee.

Which is why they were currently standing amidst a veritable sea of people backstage at yet another competition...ready to prove their place as the best barbershop quartet in the county.

So they could prove they were the best band in the state.

"What if we picked the wrong song?" Gareth stopped biting at his fingernails to ask. "I'm sure everyone else is going with something more traditional."

"Which means the judges will have heard those songs a million times before," Eddie argued.

"Originality is not a big part of the score Ed," Jeff reminded him. He thought it over for a second. "I don't think anyone's even gonna recognize our song."

"Then you don't have to sing and we'll just be a trio Jeffrey."

"Listen, I think it's gonna work," Dave interjected in a moment of uncharacteristic positivity. "And we're gonna win."

"That's the spirit," Eddie grinned and clapped his friend on the back.

"Or else we're gonna have to fake our deaths and change our names because we'll be the laughing stock of the metal community."

So much for a vote of confidence.

"The Four Horseman?" one of the event coordinators called to the groups backstage. "You guys are up."

The four of them tensed up.

"Alright, it's now or never," Eddie nodded, swallowing down a sudden bout of nerves.

They all popped their straw hats onto their heads and followed the coordinator out onto the stage. The four of them hummed together to harmonize and then Eddie stepped forward to introduce them.

He stammered through their introduction, almost as if he'd never been on stage before, and he kicked himself.

He was a performer, goddamn it. This was his destiny, their destiny.

And destiny was riding on this moment.

"We're the Four Horseman...and we're guys, so we--"

"Keep a little dirt under the pillow for the dirtman."

Jeff and Gareth fell into song with him, with Dave providing the bass.

"Dim-ba-dim-dim, dim-ba-dim dim."

"In case he comes to town."

The judges all looked a little shocked, but then they glanced around and smiled at each other.

"Keep a little dirt under my pillow for the dirtman."

"Dim-ba-dim-dim, bang bang dim."

"So he won't take me down."

By this verse the four of them had really gotten into the groove of their performance, singing and skatting and harmonizing beautifully. They even threw a little sway into their bodies, knowing that it wouldn't do to stand as still as statues for such a lively tune.

And by the end all four of them ended in sync--

"That's where he keeps his dirt bop-bah-dah-bop."

--and they earned themselves a standing ovation. Not just from the judges but also thunderous applause from the other quartets in the wings of the stage as well.

And $500.

Who knew that tiktok thing would work out after all...

[ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress]

Any headcanons you have about Ghost Writer?

So, sorry it took forever to reply! Here’s a couple I had saved;

Ghostwriter did serve his time while in Walker’s prison after the Christmas truce episode. Surprisedly, he managed to get out early after convincing the warden on starting a book club with some of the good behavior inmates to prevent a potential boredom spurred prison riot. Even after getting out, Ghostwriter still hosts the book club for the prison on a biweekly basis along with his usual one he hosts at his library.

In his past life, he was a librarian, ghostwriter/copyeditor and archivist in the same library that is now is his lair. He died in the 1980s.

Ghostwriter died after being hit by a car on his way to work. it’s basically an isekai situation for him when he discovered his new powers and believes to be the main character/narrator in his own story. Until you know the real main character shows up lol.

I think his name was originally Stephen (Pronounced as “Steven”) Woolf Ellison, he will get annoyed if you pronounced his name wrong. His name is a combination reference to his favorite writers Virginia Woolf, Stephen King and Harlan Ellison.

Loves all genres but has a soft spot for science fiction, horror, thriller, and any thing that evokes a stream-of-consciousness prose style in the reader.

I see him and Danny making amends on their last encounter by Danny visiting his library and begging him to let him read a book that he originally had but got stolen/destroyed by Dash and he could not a find a new copy anywhere else. GW has a heart for kids that got bullied obviously and for ones that go the extra mile in being dedicated to their studies. He allowed him to use the book on two conditions, Danny read the book in the library until he finished it and that GW could edit/review it afterwards. And his form of payback was giving Danny the most scathing constructive criticism he had in his life for a book report.

Has pretty much memorized all the books in his lair and always accepting new additions but he’s super selective in the condition and content bc he’s a snob about literature. His skills in typing would make Technus jealous given his ghostly ability allows him to type faster than a normal human and even ghost.

His lair is also connected to a theater that belongs to an oc of mine known as the Director. Their lairs became connected due to their love for the arts and culture behind the creative arts. It has helped significantly in getting more people to visit their area to learn and enjoy that stuff ever since (Just be careful, the Director has the ability to make anyone he wants sing and perform if he thinks you can, think music meister but more well meaning).

He now hates oranges ever since the Christmas Truce incident. If you wanna befriend him, bring him a muffin or pear instead.

Only reason he goes by Ghostwriter than his original name is because he thought it was a requirement for ghosts to come up with a new name for themselves similar to a pen name.

[jessicas-pi]

the sheevery ends and the shenanakins begin????

This is one of my oldest fics--I believe I wrote the part I'm gonna share here about two years before I even got an AO3 account! It's sort of an introduction story to the Problem Children AU, a fix-it where the Clone Wars ended, the Jedi saved the galaxy, and the fight for clone rights was won in a frankly ridiculous way...

---

To literally everyone’s surprise, though, the thing that truly reached the people was not an Amidalan speech. It was not a dramatic act of heroism and humanity. It was not the work of a thousand voices crying out for justice. It was a single pen on flimsi. It was a young woman with flights of fancy and a fluttering heart.

It was a book.

And not just any book. A really, genuinely, honestly trashy flimsiback penny-store romance novel, full of purple prose and gratuitous descriptions of fancy outfits.

And it was about the Jedi.

More specifically, it was a romance between a “Twi’lek Knight of ethereal beauty” and a “bold yet caring clone commander”, also starring a blatant Dooku expy as the villain and a ridiculous portrayal of the Jedi life and culture. It was called Remember the Midsummer Night, and it was a smash hit.

The Author’s Note was what really hit home with the people: it told the story of the author’s experience in the war. She claimed she owed her life to a Jedi and a clone “working together in perfect synchronization, like a droid-destroying dance”, and that it inspired her to write a story based on the experience. She followed it with a plea to fellow victims and survivors, to remember what sacrifices the clones made, and to honor them as they should be honored—as people, not cannon fodder.

(Regardless, ever since that book came out, Aayla Secura has been using a “You Will Die By My Hand If You Even Think About Mentioning That Accursed Novel” glare on giggling initiates and Skywalkers, a compilation video of Bly being flustered called Proof Clones Aren't Emotionless Meat Droids appeared on the Holonet, and of course Anakin memorized long passages of the book to quote them at inappropriate moments. What was he supposed to do, not recite the main character’s five-page inner monologue about how handsome her clone commander was in the middle of a council meeting?! Puh-lease.)

And it didn’t stop there. There had always been holofilms and novels featuring fanciful depictions of Jedi, but from the moment Remember the Midsummer Night hit the shelves, “Jedi Romance” became its own genre. The copycat books that followed the original publication were progressively worse. Publicly, the Jedi refused to comment on the stories, but privately…

Well, the Jedi Council meetings (which had begun to feel rather long and empty after the chaos of the war ended) became the Jedi trashy book club.

(Most members of the council weren’t aware Master Windu could laugh until Yoda read aloud a particularly painful passage from Heart of a Hero in the way only Yoda could and Master Windu fell out of his chair, tears streaming down his face, clutching his sides. To be fair, the rest of the council were in similar positions.)

(Anakin loved being on the council.)

[phocidine]

I just want to lend a perspective to this situation for people who are lucky enough to not have gone through something like this before.

I used to be a huge fan of the Yogscast. The Yogscast went through a shitstorm in 2019 because 3 separate pedophilic content creators were removed from their company.

The Yogscast did not handle these situations well at all.

The most talked about case, Sjin, had allegations against him since at least 2012. Thats seven years of no action against him, but not seven years of no action at all.

Infamously, Lewis Brindley, another content creator and one of the main managers of the company, brought up the allegations during a stream in 2016 and literally said “fuck you” to the people speaking about them, while implying that Sjin sexting teenaged fans was “not serious” and “just being flirty”.

Sjin was never technically publicly kicked from the Yogscast, either. He mysteriously made an announcement he was leaving and for awhile it was unclear whether his leave had anything to do with his allegations at all. On top of this, Yogscast promotional material continued to feature Sjin for another year.

I stupidly went back to the Yogscast fandom in 2020, believing all the problems were fixed. It was my comfort pandemic media for most of the year until I just couldn’t take the toxicity anymore.

That community went completely rancid after Sjin’s departure. He left, but his fans didn’t, and they were given so much ammunition from the Yogscast’s past and continuing failure to properly handle Sjin’s disgusting actions.

It’s easy to victim blame when just a few years ago the manager of the company did it for you. It’s easy to say it’s not a problem and everyone’s overreacting when clearly nobody thought it mattered for 7 years and Sjin is still present in the most recent highlight reel. It’s easy to claim the Yogscast was forced to make Sjin leave due to over-sensitive feminazis and cancel culture when other Yogscast streamers are constantly giggling about how they’re gonna get cancelled and some are making jokes about how they can’t talk about Redacted anymore.

The Qsmp team may be handling this situation with Forever quietly, but they reacted fast and made it perfectly clear where they stand on this issue. They’ve done a very good job so far. I think we’re all allowed to find some relief in that.

[shyvioletcat]

A/N: So my dear friend @mariamuses​ came up with a wonderful prompt (this one right here) that really took hold of my imagination and wouldn’t let go. I’ve been working on it for a while but finally got around to getting it done. @rowaelinprompts​ another one for the list. 

CW: A whole lot of banter, swearing and smut.

~~~~~

If Rowan Whitethorn was the main character in a novel, Aelin would most definitely be the antagonist in his tragic story. 

Their relationship hadn’t started smoothly, they had metaphorically been at each other’s throat from the moment they met. They were authors, both of them employed but the same publisher, and essentially rivals in every way. Rowan was an author of epic fantasy, the gritty you have to be fully awake to keep track of kind. Aelin wrote for the fantasy genre as well but her books were more of the romantic kind. There was a stigma attached to that and people like Rowan-holier-than-thou Whitethorn tended to look down their noses at such things. She wrote romantic fantasy, he wrote science fiction. They were at polar opposites on the literary scale.

The introduction had occurred in their publisher’s office. Aelin had gone in to renew her contract and Rowan had been in the office signing his first. They shared a manager and Fenrys had been very excited to introduce them. She had offered a charming smile and her hand, which to his credit Rowan had taken in a brief handshake. After that Rowan had barely given her a second glance. 

Aelin supposed that Rowan was just shy, and she tried over and over again to be friendly and get his attention. There were more than enough opportunities for it—the two of them were the shining stars of the fantasy world. They were always in on the big meetings together to organise release dates and press circuits. To keep the money flowing in smoothly the company usually alternated half yearly.

And it was unfortunate for him that there was very little in life that gave her as much joy as pissing him off did. He wasn’t all bad, their wits matched when they engaged in their battles of wills and he was devastatingly handsome. Maybe she was no better than the kid on the school yard picking on the person they liked because they didn’t know how to deal with their own feelings. Somewhere along the line, between the insane amount of grumpiness and quiet composure, Aelin had decided that she liked him. Like liked him. But that didn’t matter. Aelin could ignore all that for pure fun riling up Rowan Whitethorn gave her. It wasn’t entirely satisfying, but it was enough to keep her going. 

Today Rowan had to suffer through hours of it. The two of them were at a comic and pop culture convention; meeting, greeting and signing things for fans and for monetary gain. Seated next to each other it was all too easy to slip a comment over the few feet of desk between them. Or flick little bits of paper over that she took the time to roll into teeny tiny balls for a singular purpose amid the stream of fans. In fact one such fan had just left the signing table when a piece of Aelin’s ammunition hit Rowan’s cheek. That quietly enthusiastic book buyer was the last for that round and they would have about fifteen minutes until the next lot came through. 

He didn’t even flinch, he just sighed and clicked his pen, brushing the paper away with a casual hand. 

“Your fans are so much more boring than mine,” Aelin said, chin resting in her palm. 

“What?” Rowan asked flatly.

“Well, mine tend to go all out in their costuming,” Aelin replied. “Your’s

just put on a themed t-shirt and call it a day.” 

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s far more practical,” Rowan countered as he leant back in his chair. “They don’t have to worry about being the weird ones on public transport or having their boobs fall out of their tops.”

Aelin grinned. “Have you been paying special attention to the boobs on display?” 

Rowan didn’t answer but the blush on his was answer enough. 

“Well, well, well. It seems that my books have given you something to care about,” Aelin added.

“Stop it, I have not been looking… it's just a general observation,” Rowan insisted. 

“You’re welcome by the way.” Another ball of paper hit his face. 

This time Rowan sighed. “Aelin.” 

“Rowan.” Her voice was sickly sweet. 

He looked over at her and Aelin’s stomach flipped. He was too handsome today, all made up for the public. He’d shaved, and his hair was kept from falling into his eyes with just the right amount of product. It was such an unusual colour and not for the first time Aelin wished she could touch it. 

So caught up in her thoughts Aelin totally missed that Rowan had actually said something to her. 

“Hmm? Sorry I am just thinking about the poor unfortunate souls that have been ensnared by your sub par writing.” 

A familiar challenge flashed in his eyes and Aelin knew her little game was succeeding. 

“I was just saying it’s nice that your fans have so much fun with your work,” Rowan said.

“Wait, Mr Whitethorn, was that a compliment?” Aelin’s hand was on her chest like she might be about to swoon. 

He shook his head. “That was a compliment for your fans, not you. I’ll refrain from making a comment about their tastes in literature.”

Oh, he was ready to play now, Aelin thought to herself. 

“Insulting the fans is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” Aelin said, twirling her gold ink pen between her fingers. “They are our livelihood after all. I’m sure, despite how you feel about me, you wouldn’t wish for me to be destitute. You’re not that cruel.”

Rowan glanced down at his watch, probably checking for when the next lot of fans would start flooding through. “Of course not, a little humility wouldn’t go astray though.”

Aelin tipped back her head and laughed, when she was done she found Rowan looking at her, an odd look on his face. Not odd enough to dissuade her from her next comment. “You won’t have luck there.”

She could have sworn the corner of his mouth quirked up the smallest amount for the tiniest fraction of a second. “Why am I not surprised?”

Any further response was interrupted by an attendant letting them know it would only be a few minutes before the next round of signings would begin. Aelin smiled and nodded and waited for the blushing young person to turn around before she went through her pre-fan-meeting brush up. She fluffed out her loose hair, readjusted the straps of her dress. One of the knots at her shoulder was coming undone so she gave that a quick pull to tighten it. After that she took out the small mirror from her pocket to check her face. Everything seemed fine except for a loose eyelash. There were signs of commotion starting as the fans from the start of the line so Aelin snapped her mirror shut. Blatant vanity wasn’t good for her image, or something like that, according to her publicist. She’d have to get rid of the eyelash blindly. 

Aelin swept at her cheek, assuming it was gone, and put on her most charming of smiles giving those at the front of the line a quick wave. They tittered with excitement, copies of her books in their hands. Rowan’s fans, on the other hand, were far more subdued, but a few of them up the front were vibrating with nervousness. When they did sneak a glance in Rowan’s general direction Aelin gave them a smile and even a sly wink. Three of them blushed. 

“You missed it.” Rowan’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Hmm?” Aelin angled her chair so she faced him better. 

“Your eyelash, it’s still there.” 

She was surprised he’d been paying enough attention to her to notice the whole lash situation. Aelin swiped at her face again, fingertips dabbing along her cheek bone. 

“You’re completely missing it,” Rowan said. He scooted his chair over, nearly close enough that their knees touched, then he beckoned her with a hand. Aelin lent it, her breath catching as Rowan’s fingers touched her cheek. It was over in less than three seconds, and yet those few seconds without air were enough to make her completely breathless. He left his finger raised in front of her face and she spotted the offending eyelash on the tip of his finger. “Make a wish.” 

Aelin cocked her head, fighting a smile. This was straight out of one of her books, her debut novel in fact. The heroine and the soon to be love interest share a quiet moment amongst all the trials and danger that would eventually bring them together. It was sweet, and a turning point for those characters. There was no way Rowan would understand the significance of what he was doing. And that same peaceful outcome was highly unlikely in this situation. 

Playing along anyway, Aelin sucked in a breath to blow away the eyelash. Her wish wouldn’t be polite to voice in public, or to the man that it included. But when Aelin’s breath passed her lips she kept the vision of her and him very clear in her mind. Of her body pressed against the wall, Rowan’s hands holding her up by her thighs as her hands tugged at his hair, mussing it out of one perfection into another, and the heated kisses being pressed over every inch of uncovered skin. That scene right there—one she had thought of countless times, that was her wish. 

“What did you wish for?” Rowan asked, none the wiser over her depraved thoughts. 

Aelin tsked at him, shaking her head like she was annoyed at such a foolish question. “Rule one, you never say what you wish for out loud. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

He didn’t push it, instead he fiddled with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. That left Rowan’s tattoos on display—a design Aelin had traced over with her eyes numerous times. Something in the Old Language and she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about learning just so she could understand what is said. 

Footsteps and voices drew away Aelin’s attention and she turned to face the oncoming influx of fans. It was time to smile and put on a show. These were people who made her so successful, she owed them something. 

“Hi, how are you today?” Aelin said to the fan who rushed up, a shiny new book in their hand. “Shall I sign that for you?” 

That was essentially the same script Aelin used fan after fan. There were some variations when questions were exchanged. The fan in front of her at the moment had broken down in tears and Aelin had reached out to touch her hand, it only made her cry harder. Eventually the fan gathered herself enough to give a teary but very sincere thank you. Aelin grinned, giving a small wave, before movement in the corner of her eye redirected her attention. She peered over to Rowan’s desk, seeing that he was making a tally. 

“What are you doing?” She asked before she could stop herself. 

Rowan didn’t look at her, just clicked away the nib of his pen. “That’s going to tell me how many of your fans cried.” 

Aelin left out a short laugh. “You’ve been counting?”

“Had to find something to entertain myself,” Rowan replied. “She’s number eight, just for your information.”

“Maybe I should keep track of all your fans who flirt with you, I might need an entire notebook. Makes me think it’s not actually your writing that’s intrigued them. Whoever decided to put your photo on the back cover should get a cut of the money.” 

Rowan didn’t get a chance to reply because a pretty young woman wearing a t-shirt dedicated to one of his prominent characters approached his table. She gave him big starry eyes, her voice probably an octave higher than it needed it to be. To say Rowan was smiling might have been an exaggeration, but his face was pleasant. Aelin had her own fan to deal with so she missed whatever happened next in the interaction. When she glanced back at Rowan after sending that one away, he was still talking to the same woman. His elbows rested on the table as he looked up at her, smiling now. A real ‘you could see his teeth’ smile. 

Aelin’s gut twisted with jealousy. Not only was this woman flirting with him, but Rowan was flirting back. It would never be that way with her, he loathed her, hated her, the villain in his story. Any amiability they had at these things were short lived. By tomorrow the ice would reform under the cover of night and they would go back to the way they were.

Finally the fangirl left, throwing one last dazzling smile over her shoulder. Thankfully for Aelin’s own sanity, Rowan didn’t notice, he was too busy getting his desk back in order. 

“You know we don’t get paid to flirt with the fans, right? There’s no extra bonus for that,” Aelin threw at him, her voice sharper than it should have been. 

“She was flirting with me, I wasn’t flirting with her,” Rowan defended. 

“Yeah sure,” Aelin said, breaking up the conversation with another signing. “From where I sat, that looked a lot like flirting, so much so I ..would call it such.” 

Rowan sent off another of his fans with a signature before he turned to her. His green eyes pinned her in place, the unexpected intensity stunning her to utter stillness.

“Trust me, Aelin,” He gave a quick glance as he nodded for the next fan to come forward. “If I was flirting, you would know.”

Clearing her throat, Aelin took the book form yet another fan and signed her name. And she did, again and again. She hated that Rowan had got the upper hand on her, that he had been the one to ruffle her feathers. That was her job. She could feel the smugness radiating off him and in between smiles and fleeting hellos, Aelin was scrambling for a come back. 

When Aelin saw a small group of Rowan’s manly fans snigger at her fans and the adorable commitment they had taken to their love of her books, it came to her. 

“If you flirt as bad as you write…” Aelin muttered during a slight lull in signing, letting the comment fade out into the realm of interpretation. “You’re probably one of those male writers who creates one dimensional women whose ovaries tingle at the sight of a handsome man or boobs that move counter clockwise when they walk.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Rowan asked, conscious of his language as a particularly young fan walked up with his parent. 

“Female characters, Rowan. In particular, yours,” Aelin offered. 

Rowan’s laugh was humourless. “There’s only one way to find out for sure, Aelin.”

She ignored the way her name sounded coming from those full lips. “Never.” 

Aelin had declared numerous times that she had not read his books, she had sworn she never would. So she didn’t know for sure how Rowan wrote his female characters, regardless she wasn’t going to abandon her new line of attack. 

“I’ll start passing judgement on your faerie porn,” Rowan said to her, making the person who had just handed over a book snort.

Aelin signed her page viciously. Yes, her books were full of faeries, yes they had a lot of sex. There was nothing to be ashamed of about writing, reading and enjoying such things. The condescension and superiority that people held around romantic fantasy screamed of misogyny. As a predominantly female author community it wasn't at all surprising that the genre was looked down on. And faerie porn wasn’t necessarily a bad term, not when it was used lightly and lovingly, and by the right people. Rowan Whitethorn, with his know it all scientist and boring spaceships, was not one of those people. 

“A length as long as a forearm,” Rowan added. “Have you actually measured your forearm?”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she did look at her forearm, even subtly shifting it over so she could compare it to her body. She had never specifically compared a dick to a forearm but maybe she was prone to a little exaggeration. It was romance, it was fantasy, an extra few inches was a given. 

“Oh, please,” Aelin was glad that the end of the line was sight. “A huge penis is far more believable than a poorly contrived experiment gone wrong.”

“It’s science fiction,” Rowan said. 

“It’s fantasy,” Aelin shot right back. 

For a moment they just looked at each other, the challenge rising. If he wanted to play the euphemism game she would play. She was an expert. She had at least five alternatives for clit in her back pocket. 

“Feeling a little inadequate?” Aelin all but mocked in a sympathising and sweet voice. “I hear it's not size that matters.” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not talking about this.” 

If that wasn’t just an invitation. 

Work prevented her from answering right away, interrupted by what she was here to do. This was going to pay for another fancy bookcase in her home office and maybe some books to fill it. 

“I would bet you wouldn’t even know where to find that bundle of nerves,” she taunted. “And if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do.”

In turn, Rowan was delayed by his own work, but she could see the tightness working in his jaw as he withheld his answer. She wondered what he was spending his money on. 

When he was done he lent an elbow on his table and once again Aelin found herself rooted in place by his stare. Not to use a cliche but it was the very definition of a heated stare. She was starting to contemplate whether or not Rowan really hated her, because when his eyes took a casual perusal over her she was most definitely having second thoughts. 

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was low and rough. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was unfair that he could so easily start unravelling her with just a few words.

A very bright Hi snapped Aelin out of her trance and she went back to her job. She was distracted through that signing, barely remembering who had offered up the book or what they looked like, because she couldn't shake the distinct feeling that Rowan had just been flirting with her.

Maybe she could get him to do it again. 

“That one spot is a thing of complicated wonder, not everyone has the skills,” Aelin said, she was a free woman now with her line ending. Rowan had a few more to go. “I would begin to wonder if the women in your books even have one.”

Rowan actually muttered a curse under his breath and gallantly recovered by the time one of his few remaining fans came up to the table. 

When he had a moment he replied. “At least I keep the growling to a minimum.”

“Don’t mock the growling, my readers love the growling,” Aelin defended. “It’s a crowd pleaser.”

The last few of Rowan’s fans handed their books over and he gave them his full attention. It wasn’t until they were gone that he faced her. “Is that how you write, Aelin? Cheap cliches and tropes please the populace?”

“Excuse me?” Aelin said, playfulness morphing into anger. How dare he insult her or her writing like that.

“Can’t handle when the tables are turned, Galathynius?” Rowan was entirely too smug for her to handle. 

Aelin wanted to storm off, but she still had a few more minutes to wait here in case there were any late comers. All she could do is glare, eyes narrowing at Rowan who was busy looking at something on his phone and dream of all the painful ways she could use that pen on him. Maybe she’d start with stabbing him in the hand, slow down his writing a bit. Noise drew her attention away and she saw a few more people walking over. Regardless, she took the opportunity to fire another non violent shot. 

“I don’t know why I expected anything else, Sci-fi is such a boys club. I wouldn't expect you to think for yourself and think outside the preconceived sexist ideas against female authors. Romance, no matter the sub genre, is valid and worthy just as much as any other form of writing.”

Rowan looked mildly shocked, then affronted. “I never—“

A throat clearing had Rowan stopping, he looked down awkwardly and then to the fan who handed him a book. He stumbled over his introduction but recovered quickly and slipped on that charming mask. That’s all it was, a mask. He was a bastard, a pious, narrow minded bastard. It was very unfortunate Aelin was obsessed with him.

Rowan had a pair of women fawning over him and suddenly Aelin was filled with longing for that to be her. Not gushing over his work, because she hadn’t read it wouldn’t know where to start. But to be able to appreciate him in public. Not bottling it all up to the point that she felt like she was going to explode. 

Despite the fan in front of him, Rowan said, “You really think I’m one of those assholes that degrades their female characters to pandering damsels with no depth or purpose other than wives or the murdered?”

With no real evidence, Aelin just shrugged but a fan came to his defence. “He actually gave a really great interview talking about the depiction of women in media.”

“On how to do it wrong,” Aelin muttered, but each word was clear.

Rowan’s pen snapped down on the table but that was the only sign of his irritation as he thanked and said goodbye to the fan that had gallantly come to his defence. What Aelin had done was highly unprofessional and she just hoped the fan wouldn’t take to social media about it. She didn’t like her chances. 

The last of the stragglers came through and Aelin signed her last book, sending the fan off with a genuine smile and an enthusiastic wave, just waiting for the official declaration for this to be over. 

“Okay, you guys are done,” the attendant that was directing them around said, giving Aelin’s table a definitive ending of signing knock. 

“Thanks for that,” Aelin said brightly, thanking the gods this was over and she’d have some space to breathe. She went to offer some lighthearted celebratory banter but Rowan was already gone. He must have dashed out as soon as the attendant came over, his chair was still spinning. 

Aelin followed, eager to be out of the public eye. She’d messed up, and she should apologise, even if it meant swallowing her pride and admitting she was wrong. That left a very sour taste in her mouth and she sighed. She could do this, sorry wasn’t a hard word to say. 

Walking down the deserted hallway towards the VIP rooms, Rowan was easy to spot. This part of the convention centre was closed off from the public, only guests and workers were allowed back here. He turned a corner, right to where their dressing rooms were. With the need for solitude Aelin almost passed Rowan’s door to her own but she needed to do the right thing.

She hesitated at his door. Maybe. Aelin stepped back and raised her fist. Yes. 

Her knuckles were about to hit the cheap laminate when the door opened. Rowan was looking at his phone so nearly bowled her over. It took her touching his chest for him to notice her blocking the way. His eyes started on her hand and tracked up her arm to her face within a matter of seconds. He was most definitely disappointed to see her. 

“Hellas take me, what?” He snapped, taking a step back into his room. 

“Hello to you, too,” Aelin said sardonically, matching his mood. “I didn’t realise my mere presence was so offensive. Can’t say it’s unexpected.”

Rowan cursed under his breath before looking right at her. “How else do you expect me to react after you’ve spent gods know how long assuming the worst about me and my work? You’re judging me on my books which you haven’t even read.” He paused like he was considering his words. “I’ve read yours, all of them. And I will happily admit to everyone that they’re good, but you can’t afford me the same courtesy. I don’t understand why you have this gods-damned vendetta against me.’

For a long moment Aelin just stood there stunned, just processing the words he’d said. Then in her shocked state, it was her stubbornness that won out. “Nice of you to let me know you degraded yourself to the level of reading faerie porn, I hope it wasn’t above your reading level.”

She shouldn’t have said it, because Rowan got mad, unexpectedly mad. This wasn’t the playful banter induced irritation that Aelin liked to rile out of him. This was real anger, so fierce and sudden it left Aelin feeling flustered and way out of her depth. 

Rowan let out a short bitter laugh. “You know what, Aelin? I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of this.”

“Just admit—” Aelin had to clear her throat. “Just admit your institutionalised misogyny and distaste for my books. That should excuse you like every other man who can’t admit they’re wrong, you absolute asshat.”

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve your contempt, I’ve never claimed to laud my writing prowess over you.” He was fuming now. “If you want to talk about people admitting you were wrong, you might want to start with yourself.”

Aelin scoffed. “I think you’re threatened, and like any threatened animal you’re lashing out. Just like your writing, your words now won’t be enough.”

Rowan actually took a step back and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You know what, I’ve had enough of your princess act. You’re a fantastic author but thanks to nepotism you’ve had to work nowhere near as hard as I have. Daddy’s money supported you, you can’t deny it. I wasn’t allowed that kind of time or freedom to hone my craft.”

Anger stoked, Aelin wouldn’t, couldn’t back down. “How dare you. How dare you insinuate once again my writing is so inferior to yours just because I don’t fit the idea of the tortured author. Although it's a relief to finally and openly admit your halfassery in your own work.”

“I never—” Rowan snapped. “You know what, fuck you!” 

The swearing took Aelin by surprise, flustered her and apparently scrambled her brain because she had no control or coherency over the words that flew from her mouth of their own accord. “No, you fuck me!” 

If Aelin had possessed lesser restraint she would have clamped a hand over her mouth to try and cram those damning words back in. Instead she just stood there dumbstruck, Rowan did too. Then his whole demeanour changed. The shock morphed into confident determination, like he was piecing together a riddle and had come to a sudden realisation. His green eyes locked onto her’s, taking the steps he needed so that he was leaning a hand on the doorway, close enough that Aelin had to look up at him. 

For a moment the only sound Aelin heard was the beating of her heart on her own ears. Then Rowan lent in just that fraction closer. 

“Do you want me to?” He asked, whisper soft but rough in a way that made Aelin’s gut twist. 

“I—“ her throat was so dry that her voice scratched it and caught there.

A smirk tilted Rowan’s lips, and he became handsome in a dangerous way. “Is this the truth of it, Aelin? You want to fuck me so bad that tease and taunt just to ease your frustrations? How’s that going for you?”

Aelin swallowed, hoping her voice would return with some amount of confidence so that she could admit to the contrary convincingly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Whitethorn.” 

Rowan stood a little taller. “That’s not a no.”

Oh gods.

Thoughts floundering, Aelin was looking for something to rescue her from the situation she had marched herself into. Now Rowan had called her out, and somehow he was able to see through the lies she tossed his way. 

“Have we argued enough that you’ll go back to your dressing room and smile at yourself in the mirror as you come up with clever little insults for our next round?” Rowan asked, reaching out and sweeping her hair over the knot of her dress that sat on her shoulder. “Or should we keep going and see what happens next?”

The gesture had almost been sweet, innocent, but then his thumb dragged down the side of her neck. 

“You’re teasing.” Aelin hated how breathless her voice sounded. 

His featherlight touch ceased, his hand withdrawing to a safer distance. “Am I?”

Mala burn her, what was happening right now? All of Aelin’s wit had deserted her; she stood there, no retort or scathing remark to put Rowan back in his place. The only thought that was rattling around in her empty head was that maybe Rowan wanted this too. It made her senses come alive, all too keenly focused on the man in front of her. Aelin could scent the fresh edge of his cologne, her eyes roved over him without shame or reserve. The brief touch he had given her wasn’t enough, and without her permission she found herself arching ever so slightly towards him in the wish for more. She wanted to feel his hands on her body— wanted to taste him.

“Well, Aelin. What’s it going to be?” Rowan no longer lent on the doorway, standing straight he just looked at her expectantly. 

The next move was her’s to decide. 

He’d outplayed her, Aelin hated it.

“You’re a bastard,” she half mumbled, all her usual arrogance nowhere to be found, she tried to save some face by putting a hand on her hip. An abrasive and hostile stance.

Rowan wasn’t discouraged. “We’ll see if I can change your mind about that.”

Aelin felt her face scrunch in confusion. “What is that suppose—oop!”

Rowan yanked Aelin into his dressing room by the brave arm on her hip, far enough that he could close the door and then press her into it. When she had time to catch her breath, Aelin found her hands bunched in the front of his pristine button up shirt. Their chests heaved in unison, neither of them making the move to take it further. 

“Rowan,” was the only word Aelin could manage, the only thing in her head. 

In response to his name he bowed closer, their mouths almost touching. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Rowan asked. “I need you to say it before I give you what you want.”

Aelin couldn’t say it, it was like the final barrier in admitting she was wrong. So instead she went to close the distance herself, but to her gut sinking disappointment Rowan drew back. 

“I’ve read your books, Aelin. I know you know how to use words,” Rowan made sure his know-it-all tone came through.

She was stuck, trapped and wanting so badly. And from the satisfied smile on his face, Rowan knew it. 

“Yes,” she predicted the insistence that would come from Rowan’s mouth and clarified. “Yes, kiss me.”

Surprisingly he sighed in relief. “Thank the gods.” 

Aelin gasped as Rowan closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to her mouth, then moaning as he didn’t hold back. That small sound was enough to snap just a little bit more of Rowan’s restraint and he crowded her fully against the door, pressing their bodies together. It felt close to heaven having his hard body on her’s like this with how perfectly they aligned. When Rowan’s hands dragged from her back down to her waist Aelin arched into him, bringing them that much closer. He held her against him with strong and insistent hands. 

“Is this all you wanted, princess?” Rowan asked, blessing her lips with another heady kiss. “Or did you really mean what you said?”

Aelin had two choices. She could hold to her stubbornness and pride, twist the door handle somewhere behind her and flee. Or… she could stay and have Rowan do exactly what she had told him to do. 

“Rowan I—“ she got distracted when Rowan kissed down her neck. “I want you to.”

“Want me to what, exactly?”

This was Rowan’s revenge. For every insult and teasing word that Aelin had thrown at him for years, he was dragging this out. Pulling drawn out confirmations and pleas just to see her squirm. He was going to make her say the words just for spite. It just made Aelin want it—him—more.

“Fuck me, Rowan,” Aelin said, a hand im Rowan’s hair to bring his lips closer. “I want it.”

He growled, something right out of her books, a sound low in his throat that had the blood in Aelin’s veins heating. Rowan abandoned his words, and let his actions speak now. He hooked a hand under her knee, spreading her legs wide enough that he could press between them. Once again, all Aelin could do was gasp as she felt the length of him press into her core, grinding against her. She still had a hand fisted in Rowan’s shirt and she gripped and twisted it tighter, moaning as her hips began rolling in time with his. 

Rowan was kissing her like he could swallow the sounds. It felt divine, and tortuous and not enough. She might have voiced it aloud because the next moment Rowan had a hold of her other thigh and was carrying her across the room. Aelin just looked at him, a little stunned by the brazen act as she was settled on a flat, hard surface. 

“You alright there?” Rowan asked with a kiss to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. 

“Uh-huh,” Aelin nodded. “Just… unexpected.” 

“We’ll add it to the list for today,” was all Rowan said before he was kissing her again. 

With Aelin now seated on a steady surface, the bench below the mounted mirror, it gave Rowan’s hands newer freedoms. They started on her ass and then roamed back to her waist. Aelin could thank her dress for that attention. It had a flat panel that cinched in her waist above the skirt. The waist piece was cut to scoop under her breasts, almost like a corset, the top of the dress tying in knots at her shoulders. What that did was create a perfect path for Rowan’s hands to follow. 

Aelin looked into Rowan’s green eyes as she felt his hands move higher, stopping at the seams at the underside of her breasts. His eyes darkened as he took care in running his thumb along the line of the layered fabric, but it was enough sensation to fill her with a new wave of need. Her fingers went to the buttons of Rowan’s shirt, swiftly undoing it to, exploring the fevered skin beneath. 

With her bare hands on his skin Rowan leaned closer, drawn to her, and he tipped her face with his chin so that he could kiss her. His tongue ran along her bottom lip, asking for permission. Aelin gave it willingly, her tongue doing the same. She wanted more, she wanted everything. 

Just as eager, Rowan’s hands skimmed over Aelin’s breasts, heavy and nearly aching beneath the fabric. She wanted to protest at the lack of attention he paid them, she might have if Rowan’s tongue not flicked at the roof of her mouth at just that moment. But then his fingers stopped at the knots at her shoulders. 

“These have been distracting me all day,” Rowan said in between one kiss and the next. “Can I?”

The way Rowan asked for permission despite the frenzy of lust they found themselves was touching, but Aelin wasn’t going to bother to start a conversation about it and nodded. She could feel one of the knot’s loosening under Rowan’s fingers. It would have been easier to just slip it over her shoulder but what he’d said made her let him be. And if he kept kissing her like this along with that distraction, who was she to complain?

The pull of fabric on her skin disappeared entirely and Aelin knew he’d accomplished his task. Rowan let the fabric fall and when his hand met utterly bare skin he groaned, hand splaying on her collarbone. 

“I knew it,” he hissed onto the skin of her neck, his hand travelling lower in time with his kisses. 

“Huh?” Aelin managed, focus zoning on what his hand was doing. 

Rowan’s body shuddered as he cupped her bare breast, delicately catching the peak of it between his forefinger and thumb. “That it was just your dress holding these up.” His idle hand went to her ass and he squeezed. “Are you wearing anything under this thing?”

Aelin kissed just under Rowan’s ear so he could hear her whisper. “Why don’t you find out.”

In truth, Aelin did have underwear on but right now she was regretting not wearing something a little nicer. All it was was a beigey coloured thong, made for all day comfort. Not for an unexpected hookup with her authorial enemy. Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, his hand had travelled down her body and under the hem of her skirt. His fingers were tracing patterns over her thigh, inches away from finding out for himself what was hidden under her dress. All the while he pinched and rolled her nipple between his fingers, keeping her on edge. Finally his finger traced over the soft cotton of her underwear, starting on her hip and following it along the crease of her thigh. Her hips jolted forward when a finger skimmed over her clit, then lower.

Rowan groaned, resting their foreheads together as a knuckle dragging back and forth over her folds. “You’re soaked.”

The touching started to become the best kind of agonising, and Aelin was losing her patience. “Get on with it.”

“Aelin, that’s not you get what you want,” Rowan taunted, but his words didn’t match his actions. 

Not in the slightest as he pulled her underwear to the side and pushed a thumb on her clit. 

“Gods,” Aelin breathed, clinging to the man in front of her like a lifeline. “More.”

Rowan rubbed a slow circle around her clit and kissed her. What he was doing was driving her insane. Every touch was bliss, because Rowan gods-damned Whitethorn knew exactly what he was doing. He kept her right on the edge, playing with her to the point of just ready to break. Aelin reached for his belt, her hands weren’t gentle as he tugged the buckle loose and moved onto the fly of his pants. She could feel his hard cock straining against the dark denim. That broke the last of Aelin’s resolve—she was tired of playing. 

They both seemed to snap into a frenzy, Aelin yanking his shirt off his shoulder as Rowan attacked the other knot that held up the deep V of her neckline. Her chest was fully exposed now and the skirt of her dress was bunched at her waist. As Aelin looped her fingers into the belt loops of Rowan’s pants he pulled something from his pocket and slammed it on the bench beside her. They both worked to push his jeans down, Aelin making sure that his briefs went with them. 

He was glorious, her fantasies about him didn’t do him justice. There was a male kind of pride on his face when Aelin looked up at him with what might have been awe. She was going to wipe that look off his smug face. 

“Should I measure it,” she said, moving her arm towards his dick, forearm extended. But just when his appendage and her’s were about to line up she ran her fingers down the length of him, right down to cup his balls. 

Rowan bowed forward, keeping a grip on her hip and the other slammed down on the bench. Eyes down, he watched as Aelin worked him, his breath catching with every twist and pull. The sight of this man under her thrall was intoxicating—the tension in every muscle, pleasure rippling across his features. The fact she had been able to elicit this kind of reaction from him made Aelin moan as her core pulsed with need. 

“Stop, stop,” Rowan panted, putting a hand on her wrist. “Just… wait.”

“Oh?” Aelin said and released him. 

Rowan’s answer wasn’t verbal, instead his fingers traced a swirl on the inside of her knee. He didn’t linger there, only went higher and higher until he had hold of the waistband of her underwear and pulled them off. Aelin lifted her hips to help rid herself of them, scooting to the edge of the counter. Closer to Rowan. 

She went to reach for him again, but Rowan grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of her palm before guiding it to rest behind her. Aelin had thought this was it. That Rowan would surge forward and fill her until she was screaming. She tried not to look too disappointed as a chaste kiss was pressed to her lips then her cheek. When those patient kisses reached her neck they changed, they were heavier, more insistent, full of heat as his teeth scraped across her skin. Aelin was so focused on the feeling of his lips, she didn’t know what his hands were up to until a finger softly teased her clit. 

Want rushed through her, pooling where Rowan’s hand began to tease with purpose. Aelin moaned, one arm kept her upright, the hand of the other dove into Rowan’s hair. That hold, with her elbow over his shoulder blade, became her anchor and the rhythm of Rowan stoking picked up. She was shuddering and gasping, lost in the feel of Rowan’s touch. When he slipped a finger into her, Aelin almost came undone. 

“That’s it,” Rowan whispered against her ear, nipping at it. “Don’t hold out on me now.”

“Oh gods,” Aelin gasped as the finger inside her crooked just right. “Rowan.”

“I’m right here.” He pressed and circled down on the apex of her thighs. “And I want you to come.”

It was a command that Aelin was powerless to ignore. Her core tightened and then the tension broke, she rolled her hips through the waves of pleasure taking over her body. All throughout Rowan whispered praises, kissed the flushed skin of her neck, rocked his fingers in a perfect motion to draw out her orgasm. Aelin felt boneless once she had caught her breath and she knew she must look a little dazed as she stared up into green eyes that were full of indecent intent and entirely self-satisfied.

“Does that answer your snide remarks about me not knowing how to please that bundle of nerves?” Rowan teased. 

“I’m going to have to admit I was wrong,” Aelin said. “It won’t happen again.”

That made him laugh, a short, pleasant sound that skittered across her skin. That sensation only intensified when Rowan angled her chin up to look at him. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he declared and Aelin couldn’t help her eyes dropping to his cock that still jutted out of his jean. Hard and ready for her. The denim was quickly shed from the rest of his body. 

“I thought we’d never get there,” Aelin quipped and she inwardly kicked herself. Rowan had just rocked her world and was potentially going to do it again, and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. 

Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, he just kissed her and picked something up from the bench beside her. When there was a crinkle of foil Aelin opened her eyes to see a condom caught in between Rowan’s fingers and his wallet unfolded by her thigh. Surprised at the preparedness, and honestly just the consideration of it, Aelin’s stupid mouth ran her into trouble again.

“Hoping to seduce one of your fans back here?” She said and instantly regretted it. 

“You’re such a smartass,” Rowan said, mirth dancing in his words. “You’ll be thanking me for always being prepared soon enough.”

“Awful sure of your—“

Rowan cut her off with a fierce kiss, his hands pulling Aelin’s hips closer and nudging the head of his cock at her entrance. Anticipation hung in the air as Rowan waited, whatever for Aelin didn’t know. His eyes took in her face before he lent in, lips hot on her neck. Aelin shuddered, ready to beg if he didn’t do something, and soon. Rowan saved her that profound embarrassment. 

He kissed over her pulse point, tongue flicking. It was then he pushed in, pulling Aelin closer, and filling her with a single delicious stroke. Aelin threw her head back, moaning loudly in relief. Rowan felt utterly perfect inside her, even more so when he started to move. The thick length of him drove in and out, feeling good but from this angle it wasn’t enough. Aelin started grinding forward to meet him, their gasps and moans filling the room. 

“Aelin,” Rowan groaned as she kissed her way up his neck. “I need more.”

Aelin met his lips. “Then take it.” 

The only warning she received were Rowan’s hands tightening on her thighs, and then they were moving across the room. Aelin held on, a slightly delirious laugh escaping her as he carried her so effortlessly. Then she was lowered onto the couch, her bare back meeting the soft cushions. Aelin’s dress was still bunched around her waist but she couldn’t care less. Not when Rowan was looking at her like she was the centre of his world. And she supposed that in this moment he might be. He was braced over her, surveying her with unfiltered desire. 

“You’re beautiful,” his voice was nearly reverent.

“I know,” Aelin said, her irreverence equaled the esteem of his sentiments. 

He laughed, something that seemed out of place considering the situation they were in. “The correct response is ‘thank you’. We’ll have to work on those manners of yours.”

Aelin keened as Rowan thrust into her, a lazy and thorough pace. He took the care to slip a thumb between them, exposing her clit, allowing friction to hit it with every thrust of his hips. Under Rowan’s ministrations it didn’t take long for the hot coil low in Aelin’s stomach to tighten again, craving the release she knew Rowan was going to give her. He bowed, putting his mouth on her breast, pressing an opened mouth kisses in time with the bouncing from the sharp thrusts. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth Aelin cried out, her core fluttering. This was euphoric, Aelin would crave this every day for the rest of her life. 

“You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question but still Aelin answered. “Gods, yes.”

Rowan kissed her mouth again, licking in and teasing her tongue with his. Then he angled her hips upward, grinding on her clit more earnestly. He was on his way to outdoing every other man she had been with. He would ruin her and she’d thank him for it.

“Prove me right,” Rowan breathed onto mouth. “Tell me this is why you teased me.”

“It is,” Aelin said, a moan catching her words. “Gods, please don’t stop now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rowan promised. 

Rowan gave her a hard thrust, followed by a steady drag of his hip and Aelin broke. Moaning his name like a prayer she allowed the pleasure to consume her wholly. She had little sense beside the feeling of Rowan driving into her over and over, heightening the peak of her orgasm. He didn’t last long after that, cursing as he came inside with hurried but thorough jerks of his hips. 

Aelin ran her hands over Rowan’s sweaty skin as they caught their breaths. He graced her skin with lazy kisses like he wasn’t quite done with her yet. Eventually he did pull away and out, walking across the room to dispose of the condom. Aelin fixed her dress and retied the knots on her shoulder. Without a mirror they must look a mess, but Aelin didn’t care. All her focus was going to the man who was dressing in front of her. 

“So, should we talk about it?” Rowan asked, picking his shirt off the floor. 

“I… what is there to talk about?” Aelin hedged. 

Rowan gave her a smile like he could read every one of her insecurities. “Maybe about how I’d very much like to do it again.”

“You would?”

Rowan left his shirt on the back of the chair and prowled over to her. She thought he might kiss her or pin her back on the couch, but Aelin was pleasantly surprised as he instead sat next to her and pulled her into his lap. 

“Why don’t we just admit that I like you and you like me, and we’ll go from there?” Rowan said, sweetly brushing hair out of her face. 

Aelin nodded enthusiastically, smiling as their lips touched. “Yeah, lets do that.”

They made out like teenagers, and it was just starting to get interesting when there was a knock on the door. They froze where they were, Rowan’s hand in her breast and Aelin’s mouth on his neck.

“Yes?” Rowan’s voice was strained.

“You have a panel starting in five minutes, Mr Whitethorn,” someone said through the door. 

“Thank you,” Rowan called back. “I’ll be right there.”

They both started laughing and Aelin stood. “They’ll be knocking on my door next and I won’t be there.” 

“Well, we have places to be,” he reminded, probably to them both. 

Aelin went over to the mirror and tidied herself up. She was flushed and she could only hope it would fade in the next five minutes, otherwise she’d be blaming the lack of airflow in the convention centre. Rowan came to stand behind her, sweeping a hand through his hair to make it neater and less like Aelin had been tugging her fingers through it. She turned, fixing his collar and kissing him once. 

There was a lot unsaid between them, but right now they had a job to do. Aelin wanted nothing more than to stay shut in here and have their own kind of fun.

“Come on,” Aelin said. “Once this is done, I’ll show some more things you’re right about.”

~~~~~

Fenrys checked his watch. The panel had started five minutes late apparently thanks to his two star authors. It was highly unusual for Rowan to be late, he tended to be early if anything. Aelin tended to be 50/50 on the matter. She was likely to appear just at the right moment after she’d worked everyone into a tizzy. It was quite a feat to be the manager of two authors who were such polar opposites. 

The host introduced them, and they both walked out on stage. Aelin gave the crowd a wave as they cheered, while Rowan just nodded politely. Unsurprising reactions from the two of them. What did surprise him was Rowan pulling out Aelin’s chair and tucking her in before he took his own seat. And there was the smile Aelin aimed at him. That was weird. Really weird. 

“What was that?”

Fenrys turned to see Lysandra who had appeared next to him. As Aelin’s publicist it wasn’t uncommon for her to be at these things, especially with how much of a firecracker her charge tended to be. 

“They were nice to each other,” Fenrys said lowly as the questions started. 

“Weird,” Lysandra concurred.

“Yeah.”

For a while they just watched the panel unfold and the host led the conversation. Aelin and Rowan did their job well, and for that Fenrys was grateful. It sure as hell made his job easier. 

“Aelin wasn’t in her dressing room, I wasn’t even sure she was going to turn up,” Lysandra muttered.

“Weird,” Fenrys said this time.

Lysandra hummed her agreement. 

The sound of Aelin’s bright laughter drew Fenrys attention and his mouth popped open when he realised she had been laughing at something Rowan had said. This was just progressively getting more confusing. 

“What… he’s not funny,” Fenrys whispered. “I would know, and Aelin knows. What the hell is happening?”

“What changed?” Lysandra added. “This morning she was ready to rip his throat out.”

Fenrys turned his attention back to the stage, just watching for further signs that his two authors who were self professed enemies were… friendlier. Giggling made him look away to a couple of fangirls just in front of them. 

“Look at them, they’re totally fucking,” one of them said.

The other tried to keep a lid on her laughter. “I swear he’s got a hickey.”

Fenrys’ eyes went wide and he turned to find Lysandra looking at him with a mirrored expression. 

“Nooooo,” Lysandra hissed. “When?”

“I…” Fenrys was too shocked and his brain scrambled for an answer. Then it hit him, loud and clear. “Right now!”

His voice was slightly too loud and drew some curious looks, he gave them an apologetic smile. 

“What?” The publicist demanded. 

“I saw them arguing,” Fenrys explained, recalling what he’d seen a little earlier. He’d been heading to Rowan’s dressing room to have a chat about his next publication date when he saw Aelin at his door, getting into another one of their spats. “I heard them arguing and I left them to it. I really left them to it. Because I came back later and heard some noises and thought maybe he was blowing off steam with one of the fangirls but, hey. Guess not.”

“Wow, good for them,” Lysandra said through quiet laughter.

A few moments of silence went by as Fenrys digested this turn of events and the complications it might pose for him. All and all it would be good, certainly a lot less tension in the room. 

“Did you know that Aelin hasn’t read his books?” Fenrys said, watching as Rowan sent Aelin a secretive smile that wasn’t all that secret in a room of one hundred people. 

Lysandra nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah, I keep telling her to. Maybe now she will.”

~~~~~

After the panel Aelin snuck away from Rowan and went to the booth that their publisher had set up. All his books were there and she bought every single one of them. With the animosity between the two of them well and truly burnt away to nothing this was the first task on Aelin’s list. She had avoided Rowan’s work out of stubbornness and spite, but now she was curious to see what he’s written. 

With a pile of books in her arms, Aelin returned to Rowan’s dressing room. He was seated on the couch looking at his phone and he looked up at the noise of the door snapping shut.

“What have you got there?” He asked, setting his phone aside. 

“I thought you could give me a private signing,” Aelin said. “The front page of each, please.”

“Is that so?” 

Aelin nodded, bottom lip tucked under her teeth. There was a small table beside the couch and she put the books there, pulling her gold pen out of her pocket. With it between two fingers she waved it in front of him, standing so she was between Rowan’s knees. 

“No matter what, keep signing,” Aelin told him, pressing the pen into his hand and then kissing him deeply. “No matter what.”

Rowan was breathing hard and Aelin’s hands raked down his chest and stopped at the waist of his jeans. 

“Grab a book, get started.” She popped the top button of his jeans only after he’d picked up the first book. “Now we can get started.” 

Rowan did well, despite the distraction. Every book was signed, but by the last one his signature was nearly illegible. Her mouth had been entertaining him while he signed and now while Aelin sat beside him so innocently inspecting his work it was very hard to ignore the very proud distraction for her. 

She tutted, determinedly glancing towards Rowan’s eyes. “Now you’ll have to start all over again.” 

Rowan was having none of that. The gold pen was tossed across the room and strong hands hauled her into his lap. Aelin laughed but that was quickly silenced by a growl and demand in her ear. “Later.”

When those hands began to wander, Aelin readily agreed. “Later.”

Maybe later she’d even tell him her wish had come true. 

~~~~~

Well... I think this might be my first official smutty oneshot. I hope it wasn’t half bad.

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash​ // @literary-licorice​ // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine​ // @highqueenofelfhame​ // @3am-reading​ // @soup-that-is-too-hawt​ // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore​ // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca​ // @sleep-and-books​ // @alifletcher2012​ // @westofmoon​ // @sleeping-and-books​ // @ttakeitbacknoww​ // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses​ // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen​ // @velarian-trash​ // @queenofxhearts​ // @heroesofterrasen​ // @highladyofstoriesandmusic​ // @empire-of-wildfire​ // @camerooonchiu​ // @crackedship​ // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books​ // @yourwhisperingshadows​ // @thesirenwashere​ // @tswaney17​ // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ // @cat5313​ // @judelovescardan​ // @flowerspringsea​ // @chaoticskyy​ // @the-regal-warrior​ // @fanfictrash3000​ // @blueeyes425​ // @starseternalnighttriumphant​ // @bamchickawowow​ // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda​ // @flora-and-fae​ // @thereaderandfangirl​ // @illyrian-bookworm​ // @chemicha​ // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd​ // @that-odd-puzzle-piece​ // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ // @girl-who-reads-the-books​ // @hizqueen4life​ // @the-third-me​ // @1islessthan3books​ // @bestmelle​ // @cursebreaker29​ // @b00kworm​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @aesthetics-11​ // @maastrash​ // @mynewdreamwasyou​ // @the-last-apprentice​ // @charincharge​ // @firestarsandseneschals​ // @scarznstars​ // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships​ // @df3ndyr​ // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems​ // @larisssss​ // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7​ // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10​ // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77​ // @jesstargaryenqueen​ // @anntheintrovert​ // @starbornvalkyrie​ // @loudphantomdragon​ // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @maddymelv // @sierrareads​ // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @pullnpeeltwizzlers​ // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @elriel4life​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis​ // @swankii-art-teacher​ // @grandma-noob-lord​ // @vanzetanze​ // @highlady-brittney​ // @story-scribbler​ // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren​ // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @whimsicallyreading​ // @goddess-aelin​ // @littleboxofthunder​ // @empress-ofbloodshed​ // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae​ // @charlizeed​ // @feysand-loml​ // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ // @alyx801​ // @amandaswallowtail​ // @louiseleblancdiggory​ // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr​ // @thegreyj​ // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream​ // @magnifique1807​

[redstringraven]

probably not important to anyone but me, but i'm becoming increasingly convinced that traximus is a 1w2 like leo. which delights me for a number of reasons.

firstly, in that it shows off the whole comparison of the core types to colors. there may be an infinite variations of the color 'red', but they are still variations OF red. you might not see the immediate similarities between leo and traximus at first glance; i think most folks are likely to group raph and traximus together (which DOES make sense, of course, given they spend more time directly interacting in-series). but leo and traximus both have a powerful sense of justice and service. they both have a temper. they both want to do what's right, they have an ability to organize, and others are willing and eager to follow them. and they both go through a period of severe, consuming depression that warps their sense of motivation and purpose. i'm simplifying this a lot because this is more a stream of consciousness post than one of my giant analysis posts or whatever; if it feels vague, that might be why and i apologize jkfldsg.

secondly, leo was the one who 'got through to traximus'. he was IN his own "season 4" headspace when we meet him below the gladiator arena, all doom and gloom. "mister sunshine", i believe is how raph refers to him. that is until leo spared his life and then extended a hand to help him back to his feet (cue me vibrating through the floor for reasons that only make sense to me due to comic that only exists in my head right now). this turn-around happened a lot 'faster' than leo's s4 arc buuuuut that's the life of a minor character compared to a main character. still, i'm happy to work with scraps. it's part of my brand.

thirdly, i like how you may at first think traximus is more of an 8 like raph is--maybe because the anger he has is more on his sleeve than leo's or he spends more time with raph overall. but traximus's "visible" anger and confrontation makes sense for him, as the thing he's angry about is not only active and worsening, but he's also an adult. he's had more time to know that this anger he has isn't "bad"--that he should be mad about this, actually, and he can turn that anger into something productive. he doesn't go out of his way to hide it or identify it as anything else (there's also obviously cultural/nurturing differences here, as well). leo, still a teenager, is likely still prone to labeling his anger as 'less bad' things ("i'm just trying to get it right" or "i'm not mad, i'm just trying to understand"). he's also grown up hearing how master splinter talks about raph's anger, and likely feels a stronger need to hide or disguise his own.

note to self: trax and leo should have a conversation at some point. because i said so. i think it'd be good for both of them, but especially a little enlightening and maybe even further healing for leo.

but ye, this has been me chattering about something i've been thinking about that makes me happy. i just think it's neat. and i like that the fact raph and traximus get along so well kind of gives us a taste of what his interactions with leo--when the pressure's off or it's just the two of them chilling--may be like.

[clairedaring]

/surprise leap out from your screen! Hahahha!

Yo Claire, first! I gotta say, I didn't expect to read BL meta essays when I followed your blog, but now that it's part of my dashboard, I like it! I'm not familiar with BL culture and stuff (the only BL stuff I really like is this Japanese manga named The Summer Hikaru Died, and even then I'm more sucked in by it being of the horror genre with interesting philosophical explorations), so these essays are so interesting to read!

And another thing! This post about the highest-grossing GDH movies mentioned The Medium (which I liked!), and that reminded me: I need Thai horror recommendations!

I don't know if you're into it, but maybe some of your friends do? And they can give me some good stuff? It's been so long since I've watched Thai horror—I grew up with that shit, man. I figured that someone who watches a lot of Thai media probably knows quite some newer Thai horror films I can watch on a weekend or something. Thanks!

(P.S. I realize I still have so many thoughts about สาธุ. I'm rewatching it when I have the time and realized there are still more details I forgot from the first viewing. A lot of them is embodied by the actors so well! I hope to find the time to write some essays/rambles about those things these days! Honestly... this is the only thing I can contribute to the สาธุ/The Believers tag 🫡🥲)

Hiiii Lyn! You are always welcome in my humble inbox.

You cannot imagine my happiness knowing you will soon fill he สาธุ/The Believers tag with insightful metas/essays. No pressure though but I am now indeed impatiently waiting for more สาธุ posts.

Aw, I'm so happy to hear that you've enjoyed the BL metas I've put on your dash even though queer love series are not usually ones you would watch because they're mostly romance based. ಥ_ಥ

Okay now onto the main part of my answer. Even though romance and comedy are indeed my favorite genres of series, as an enthusiast and follower of Thai actors and their works, it is inevitable to come across horror works (films or series) starring my favorite actors. Even though I'm not the biggest fan of horor (i'm a huge scaredycat), the genre has never stopped me from watching works of my favorite actors before -> I've definitely watched more horror media than I wanted to (┬┬﹏┬┬). I'll separate my recommendations into two part: one for series and one for films.

Thai Horror Anthology Series Recommendations

1. Girl From Nowhere Season 1 & 2 (2018 -2021)

Synopsis: A mysterious, clever girl named Nanno transfers to different schools, exposing the lies and misdeeds of the students and faculty at every turn.

Thoughts: although it would qualify more as thriller than a horror, girl from nowhere offers sharp commentaries about violence, sexual assault, bullying and various social issues. The series is more like an anthology with each episodes presenting a different story. The way my jaw dropped when I found out that the storylines in the episodes are inspired by actual real news reports/stories. Watching both seasons, you may feel that S1 is less budgeted than S2 which is true because S1 wasn't funded by Netflix Thailand. After picking S1 for streaming, Netflix decided to invest in a S2 for GFN and the cinematography for S2 is just immaculate.

2. After Dark (2020)

Synopsis: When the night falls, humans are more of a threat. Composed of 4 interlinked horror stories:

"Blind Date": Pink, a dating app addict, meets Q, a mysterious handsome guy. They establish a deep connection that ends up with Pink having a strange pregnancy which haunts her until the end.

“Requiem of the Adolescent”: Lada, a nurse hired with a vast amount of money to take care of Her Serene Highness Srisaang. Her terrors awake when her patient abnormally gets better.

“Death Channel”: Off and Boat, a successful youtuber and an idol team up to create a paranormal activity channel that has been sponsored by an anonymous user, they never know what is waiting.

"Into the Hole”: Chai, a charismatic person is a one-night stand expert in hopes to record a sex tape to earn a dime. Then he meets Dao, a charming woman. His mischievous behavior continues, but this time it would not be as easy as before.

Thoughts: it's gory, gross, raw, rough and scary as hell. some of the most visually traumatic series i've ever watched. incredible acting performances.

3. Angkhan Khlumpong The Series (2021)

Sypnosis: It is made based on ghost stories that people called and shared on the "Angkhan Khlumpong" radio program.

Thoughts: Episode 5 'Imaginary Friend' is scary as hell. All the episodes are quite scary in general. The stories rely a lot on jumpscares but Thailand is really good at making scary ghosts, the makeup team is always going all the way.

Note: Netflix Thailand is producing the sequel series Terror Tuesday: Extreme (2024), which comes out in 10 days (August 20). Netflix Thailand has never really disappointed with their budget so I'm pretty sure it'll be spooky.

Thai Horror Films Recommendations

1. Hoon Payon (2023)

Synopsis: Tham searches for his brother Te in order to deliver the news of their parents' passing. Te is ordained as a monk at a temple on Don Sing Tham Island. On arrival, Tham meets Jes, the grandson of the former abbot. Jes makes hoon payon, enchanted effigies of the dead. Tham learns of a rumour that Te vanished after murdering the abbot. Tham doesn't buy the story nor does he respect the villagers' strange reverence for the sculpture of Pho Pu Sing Tham. Though his appearance is unsettling to Tham, Pho Pu Sing Tham is said to protect them. Soon, a girl goes missing, a wild predator roams the island, a vengeful ghost is rampant and worse yet, the figure of Pho Pu Sing Tham is destroyed. The enraged villagers prepare to curse and hunt down the unknown culprit.

Thoughts: I watched this for Up Poompat who plays Te and I was genuinely shocked by his performance. Not scary enough as old Thai movies but still very thrilling.

2. Shutter (2004)

Synopsis: Tun, a young photographer, and his girlfriend, Jane, were driving home after drinking with friends, when suddenly they crash into a girl that was walking in the street. Panicking, Tun tells his girlfriend to run away. The next day, Tun discovers mysterious shadows in his photographs, and his girlfriend start seeing strange things in his house.

Thoughts: This is a classic Thai horror film and arguably the best horror film Tong Banjong (the director of The Medium) has ever directed. Director Tong's forte is really horror so please don't mind that the next 3 recommended films are all from him. They are truly THE classic horror films of Thailand.

3. Alone (2007)

Synopsis: Conjoined twins Ploy and Pim are very close until Pim meets a boy named Wee, causing her to decide to separate from Ploy. The surgery is performed but Ploy does not survive. Years later, Pim and Wee are living together in South Korea when Pim suddenly has to return home to take care of her mother after she has a seizure. While back home, Pim is haunted by a ghost from her past.

Thoughts: I really don't know what Director Tong is lacing in his horror films but they're always keeping me on the edge of my seat and most of the time my hands glued to my eyes 😭

4. Phobia (2008)

Synopsis: A horror movie anthology containing 4 stories-Loneliness: a woman confined to her apartment starts to receive texts from a stranger, Deadly Charm: a group of high school delinquents get cursed by a student that they bullied, The Man in the Middle: Four friends go on a camping/rafting trip that turns out far differently then they had planned, The Last Flight: A flight attendant has to accompany the body of a princess, the wife of her lover.

Thoughts: Another horror classic from GTH studio. I can't remember the details to all these stories but I can assure you when I was closing my eyes through half of this film because of how scared I was. I wanna say it's because I was young when I watched it but I'm sure I'd still be keeping my eyes close shut if I watch it again.

5. Phobia 2 (2009)

Synopsis: A horror omnibus consisting of five stories - Novice: a teenager takes refuge at a Buddhist sanctuary after committing a crime, Ward: a biker has to stay overnight in a hospital room with a strange man after an accident, Backpackers: a Japanese couple hitchhikes across Thailand until; they accept a ride from the wrong person, Salvage: karma visits woman who has successful business fixing up cars that were involved in fatal accidents, In The End: the movie crew working on a horror sequel experience a night of real fear.

Thoughts: They're all scary but I think the scariest segment is 'In The End'. I would say this is one of those rare occasions where the sequel outdid its predecessor Phobia.

6. Sick Nurses (2007)

Synopsis: A group of sexy nurses who harvest organs are haunted by the vengeful spirit of one of their dead patients.

Thoughts: this is more slasher than horror but i remember watching this when i was younger and i was scared as heck. I don't even dare to search up the trailer to embed here.

Bonus: 'not purely horror, only has creepy elements but deserves a honorable mention on this list because it's super underrated' film

Malila: The Farewell Flower (2017) dir. Nuchy Anucha Boonyawatana

Synopsis: Former lovers Shane and Pich reunite and try to heal the wounds of their past. Shane is haunted by the tragic death of his daughter, while Pich suffers a grave illness. As death approaches, Pich dedicates his remaining time to making Bai Sri, a ceremonial ornament. Meanwhile, Shane decides to become a Buddhist monk until one night at a graveyard, he encounters his lover in another form.

Thoughts: not horror but i think this film is the first that pops into my head while watching The Medium. Similar feels in their portrayal of Thai rural village lifestyle and Buddhism being a big part of both stories.

You may notice that most of these horror films from GTH Studio share similar directors, screenwriters or other creative staffs with The Medium. And that's because GDH 559 is basically the successsor of GTH Studio (which got dissolved in 2015). I've always a big fan of GDH films and I do try to watch as much GDH/GTH works as possible, but horror is really not my forte so I can only offer you these humble recommendations. I hope you'll enjoy at least one among the ones in this list.

[weaselandfriends]

in your opinion do there exist any ambitious fiction writers active today with interesting/good prose? other than you ofc :). re: your recent post i'm trying to think of plausibly ""great"" recent novels and there's i guess. the pale king (dfw [dead] 2011), middle c (gass [dead] 2013), against the day (pynchon [dead, for all we know] 2006). i think in the past few years the only long-form fiction i've been reading is yours which is yknow a deeply embarrassing thing to admit

by the way speaking of dfw have you noticed how modern cannibals (bavitz 2017) is like westward the course of empire takes its way (dfw [dead] 1989) in that theyre both antimetafictional(??) road trip stories written about (in response to? in the margins of...) another metafictional work (homestuck [hussie 2016], lost in the funhouse [barth (dead[!]) 1968]) and then the author of said other metafiction shows up as a character at the end of the road trip. which i think is a neat connection but maybe doesn't mean anything. oh i suppose dfw is namedropped in modern cannibals as well ("David Foster Wallace killed himself, you should consider it too" :/) anyways i don't think i ever bought into the whole new sincerity thing, i think it's basically fine to just dick around with cute formal experiments forever, masturbate fearlessly to death as you say, as the main character of デデデデdestruction says, i forget her name. idk if you'd agree. you seem to write a lot of characters who try to pose an alternative and then end up not getting what they want.

It's a dire state, I'd say. Anything past the 2666 cutoff that I'd even entertain as possibly of interest was written by an ancient author at the end of their career, like the late works of Pynchon or McCarthy (or Pale King, as you mentioned). Authors who became big at a time when literature still had cultural reach and simply persisted into a time when it no longer did.

Even ignoring the question of great prose, what works since 2666 have even been culturally notable, penetrating a broader cultural awareness and enduring even the brief span of time since their publication until now? The Road? Knausgaard's Struggle? Are there any other candidates? Even if we extend this question to just pop culture, after publishers went all in on the YA model, the stream of books that reached phenomenon level dried up in the early 10s after Twilight and Hunger Games. Has anything been written in the past decade to suggest literature isn't a culturally moribund art form in the anglosphere?

It's a meme that people always think art is worse today than it used to be, but with film, no matter how many slop Marvel movies there are, you can point to great, ambitious, culturally-penetrating films that came out recently: Parasite, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Oppenheimer, etc. Video games? AAA might be in a death spiral (and even there, you get stuff like Mario Odyssey or God of War) but there's some new adored indie game every year. Music? It might vary genre to genre, but there are songs coming out today, artists active today, that will be remembered 30 years from now. Can you really say that about any book from the past 10 years? How many books written in the past 10 years do you think the average person could even name? Maybe I'm overly pessimistic. Do keep in mind I'm someone who mostly reads literature written by dead people. My perspective might be skewed.

If I did have to point to anyone writing recently who might be worth reading - and I wouldn't call either of these authors great, just worth reading - I'd point to Marlon James (Brief History of Seven Killings) and Ottessa Moshfegh (My Year of Rest and Relaxation). These are mild endorsements.

There's more interesting stuff being written online, authors who show promise. Nostalgebraist is the first I'd point to, a lot of sharp ideas and with every work he seems to be figuring out his game more and more. He also has some impressive prose passages, which are usually missing from even the ambitious and thematically interesting web fiction I've read. Almost Nowhere was particularly good, I wrote an essay on it somewhere in this blog. I've been really impressed by Farnham's Questing Beast in terms of prose. Most of the other webfic I'd recommend would be more for its ideas and thematic ambition than its prose. For instance, I love Alexander Wales' Worth the Candle (unfortunately stubbed recently for an actual publication), but I would describe its prose as Sandersonian.

Regarding Westward, I've actually only read DFW's long fiction - Broom, Infinite Jest, and Pale King. Long fiction is certainly my interest, I'm not overly fond of short stories, especially not in the contemporary milieu of disposable entertainment and brief, gimmicky, unambitious literary fiction.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 13 - Take It Easier

Citron: Is this not a private theater?

Izumi: There aren’t a whole lot of theater companies that have their own theaters.

Izumi: And there’s even fewer companies that have their own theaters at the time of their debut.

Sakuya: When I do guest performances at other theater companies, they’re always jealous when I tell them we’ve got our own theater.

Izumi: I mean, it isn’t easy to prepare a rehearsal space for every single rehearsal.

Izumi: I’m guessing the competition for rehearsal spaces and theaters is going to be even fiercer now with the number of new theater companies created because of the Fleur Award…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Ah, it’s almost time for it to start, right?

???: …Ahem, thank you so much for coming to the debut performance of “Indulgence In Working Overtime Gang”.

Mameda: I’m the supervisor, Mameda. And I’d like to say a few words before the show begins.

Mameda: First of all, I’m sure many of you thought the name of our troupe was a bit strange…

Mameda: Our troupe was created by myself and the other members. We used to do theater when we were in school, but we eventually started working as office workers.

Mameda: We watched the New Fleur Award Board of Directors press conference during a drinking party after working overtime. It was in the heat of the moment after watching it that we were able to create this troupe.

Mameda: Our motto is “Let’s take it easy and enjoy theater,” so some of us are more experienced and some of us are just beginners.

Mameda: We’re a mish-mash of people who came together simply because we want to do theater.

Mameda: For those of you who are frequent theater-goers, there might be some pretty cringe-worthy parts of our performance.

Mameda: We hope you’ll enjoy this performance as something you could watch while having a few drinks.

Mameda: Now then, please sit tight until the show starts.

Sakuya: …A mish-mash of people, huh? Kinda reminds me of MANKAI.

Izumi: Right? We had a mix of veterans and beginners at first, too.

Citron: I feel a sense of anonymity with them!

Izumi: I think you mean affinity.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Maybe it was just because of the greeting from the supervisor, but there was a really warm atmosphere throughout the theater.

Izumi: There really was. I could tell some of them were beginners, but they all seemed like they were having a great time.

Citron: And the story depicting a realistic toxic work environment so comically was very interesting!

Sakuya: They really made the most of the company’s motif and strengths, given that there’s so many office workers in the troupe!

Izumi: It was really easy to watch and there was a lot to study from it. If they ever do any streams, let’s invite the other guys to watch.

Sakuya: Yeah!

Announcer: “And next, we bring you on-site news from the International Arts Festival.”

Citron: --.

News Anchor: “The whole city it excited to be hosting the International Arts Festival again this year.”

News Anchor: “Every year, notable figures representing the theater and film worlds of various countries, as well as celebrities from other countries, are invited to this event, which garners lots of attention.”

Izumi: The International Arts Festival, huh? Is the Kingdom of Zahra also participating?

Citron: This is the first time we have received an invitation, but we are still considering whether we will participate or not. This is an important time for the troupe, so I want to focus on that.

Citron: I am perhaps not a very good Minister of Arts and Culture.

Sakuya: When we performed in the Kingdom of Zahra, the people there were really happy thanks to you, Citron-san.

Sakuya: Because you’ve come to love our country…

Sakuya: And because you introduced it in such a friendly manner, everyone accepted us in the end.

Izumi: In a way, it’s like you’re building bridges to other countries through theater, Citron-kun.

Citron: I thank the both of you.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

• • •

3939-Sakuya

I always get hungry after seeing a play. Getting to talk about what you thought of it over a delicious meal is just another one of the fun parts of seeing a performance!

#MANKAICompany #SpringTroupe #AdultGroupRecommendedIzakaya