#space telenovela

[enterthedisneyverse]

I watched the first two episodes of the Acolyte and I have thoughts.

This is the first Star Wars movie where the weebness of the inspiration was actually distracting. We all know that a lot of the Jedi mannerisms came from Japanese culture and Lucas watching too much Kurosawa, but the first planet being named Ueda was annoying. That’s an actual city in Japan. It took me out of the story completely and all I could notice were the Japanese elements.

Lee Jungjae has obviously worked his ass off learning English and I love it. Seeing the improvement from doing Squid Games press to now is incredible.

The big plot twist reveal in episode 1 was the most k-drama/telenovela thing ever. I imagine Jungjae was pumped and then saw the script and was like “…an evil twin? Really?”

I’ll have to keep watching to see if it holds its own, but right now, it feels a little weak…

[verbalpowers]

Me, watching the Star Wars prequels in an attempt to turn my brain off in the doldrums of Depressed Educator Summer: could all of the Skywalker drama have been avoided if Padme just had a reverse harem of eloquently slutty Jedi? Is monogamy the real villain here?

Further thoughts: Star Wars works better as the saga of three distinct dysfunctional triads and was possibly the genesis of my propensity for the ot3

[winepresswrath]

I do think when Lestat meets Daniel the old man should entrance him with his crusty Bella Swan vibes. They should have a fun flirty energy where whenever Daniel says something provocative and meanspirited Lestat turns it into a sex thing and the conversation devolves into blatantly flirtatious homoerotic mind games so Armand can cry about it. this will make armand/daniel so much more satisfying I promise.

[aroace-cat-lady]

YES. WATCH HIM GET JEALOUS AND DESTROYED.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

anyway thinking about diane rick and morty

[laxxarian]

Okay, instead of Clockwork disliking the Speedsters, he's actually loving them cuz they made his work so fun and interesting, I mean, he knows everything and he also knows that the Speedsters would fix it sooner or later and the timeline would be alright.

And the plus side of it all, is that he gets to see it in his cog mirror shaped portal thing directly with popcorn in hand.

The dramas, the angst, the comedy, the romance and things. Its just a full blown telenovela to him.

So when the day came where he finally found a smidge of time to go on a vacation, he brought Danny with him, so much for the boy's confusion in Clockwork's sudden invitation to drag him along to Gotham then to space of all place.

Turns out, Clockwork just needed the 'human' Danny for a sec and trolled around in the watchtower that he got a human hostage while Danny was just confused as hell as to what's happening.

Danny: Clockwork??? Hello??? What's happening?!?

Clockwork and his cryptid speech: Unnatural of a fog, the forest has changed. This time, the flow of the clock is mine.

Danny:.... WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??!?

And then the JL just thinking that the human is in distress from being a hostage by this entity while Clockwork just wants to have fun.

And this is why the Observants wants to keep Clockwork at bay because of his trolling tendencies.

[motelroomjesus]

So true, op. I've been into Thai bl/ql for I think close to a decade or more than that since I was watching Love Sick as it aired, and the change in fandom space and behavior, especially among interfans, is crazy. It's especially jarring if ur new to thai bl or coming back after a break. It's similar to the way kpop fans have moved for ages. Every actor is scrutinized and put under a microscope and every interaction is closely observed and lashings are given as fans see fit. Just recent examples, like Ohm and Nanon ending their ship and fans acting actually insane over it, the recent Tay and Gun kiss that happened and subsequent "fallout" with fans, MaxTul when Max hard launched his gf or the reactions from wanjaais when Mew and Tul soft launched and then officially announced their relationship. Simply insane behavior.

And yeah, it's not even just directed at actors. The fighting among fans is so much. It's even worse when they use real issues like queer baiting and actual politics as fandom war fodder.

My primary platform is usually twitter (cesspool by itself) but I've noticed the toxicity is nearly the same across platforms. Right now the only relatively chill place seems to be tumblr, which is insane.

I think where I’m at right now with Thai BL is that the fandom as a whole has gotten so immensely mean-spirited and calculating that I find myself missing the fandom environment back during lockdown. So many of my friends from that time have since moved on and most of them point not to the actors or the series but to the malicious attitude of fans.

This whole place needs to lighten the fuck up.

We’re the Gay Hallmark fandom for fucking out loud.

[lxvvie]

Throuples Shit with Alejandro Thee Stallion and Rodolfo Parra:

You and Rudy were the ones who broke the ice and asked Alejandro out. Or, rather, you told Alejandro that you three were a thing now. Alejo didn't complain much. It's not like you would've let him and he's a stubborn bastard when he wants to be.

Alejandro is in the doghouse more often than not because he's a consummate workaholic and if you let him, he will stay up all night and work.

Rudy is the one who balances you three out. Mostly. And then you learned that even he can get unhinged. And Rudy gets unhinged. Usually, this happens because of something the men did. Or maybe it's because that one shipment he's been waiting for FOREVER has been delayed. Again. Or the kitchen is dirty. Stuff like that. Alejandro's Rudy senses will go off and he'll calmly escort you away.

Rudy will also tell you how Alejandro actually used to be the more high-strung out of the two of them. Now that you can believe because some of those high-strung tendencies are still there.

Alejo's death glare is something to behold but have you ever seen Rudy's? Especially when you and Alejo are teaming up against him? And he knows he's right? Oh, it's death glares and the silent treatment for the rest of the day lmao.

You three have different covers to sleep under because Rudy gets cold easily, Alejandro usually sleeps under the sheets because comforters get a bit restrictive for him, and you're just... you. You'll also be forgiven for checking up on Alejo when he sleeps because he doesn't make a sound nor does he move. Rudy's the one who lightly snores and sleeps with a pillow over his head. The varying levels of bedhead are laugh-worthy.

Ironically enough, it's harder for Rudy to fall asleep than it is for Alejo. Give him a pillow and some space and he's knocked the hell out.

Most of the disagreements are between you and Rudy. Sometimes they'll center around Rudy not taking care of himself. Or which telenovela you binge-watched was better. Or how hot Valeria is. For the most part, Alejo sits on the sideline and lets you two battle it out. He'll chuckle when you're getting the best of Rudy, though.

When the going gets tough and things in Los Vaqueros start hitting close to home, you'll be sent to a safe house. They can't risk it. And yeah, you can argue them down but they'll still send you off.

Sex is equal parts fun and primal. Good stress relief. Alejo is the one who edges you. With his dick. Rudy is the one who'll slow-dick you to heaven and back. Rest assured, you'll also enjoy your fair share of laughter during foreplay with these two. Absolutely.

[mojo-chojoo]

i want spanish telenovela level of drama please i want gricko and frosty who are like are they gonna get together or not yet and then they meet this ex and frosty realizes he could get way more jealous than he knew becaue this guy doesnt know what personal space is

frosty is not jealous of the guy now, i mean gricko seems to not care about the guy at all but all grickos been talkin about is this guy and venting about him since they met him and frost is actually amazed he is feeling this way and feels a bit embarrassed because what, is he a teenager? but he also doesnt like the way the ex acts like he knows everything about gricko or how deeply (ahem) he got to know him

i want frosty to be posessive evn though he doesnt look like the guy who would be and he probably wouldnt step inbetween unless gricko actually needs help but i can see he would subtly and unconsciously hold gricko with his tail from behind

[isokoin]

hi bub! i'd love to see miguel hc's about how he'd be for domestic stuff around the house. cooking/baking together, spending time together, cute things like that :D

miguel o'hara domestic headcanons

一 pairing; miguel o'hara x male reader

note: hi love, thank you for suggesting this. some soft content is a nice switch-up to what i usually put out. i hope you enjoy! ‹𝟹

🗯️ when you're cooking, miguel loves to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. he nuzzles his face into the back of your nape and places soft kisses on your skin.

🗯️ if you ask him to taste test, he takes a few more bites than he's meant to. one time you asked him to watch over your soup and when you came back he finished a bowl of it already. needless to say, you were quite pissed and every time you asked for his help, you'd take 30 second intervals to make sure the food isn't gone.

🗯️ miguel LOVES to clean. this man dislikes having a disorganized place to work, let alone live in. ask him to dust the shelves? got it. you point to the trash? it's already taken out. you don't even need to ask him, he just does it. this also stems from his love for you, as acts of service are one of the ways he shows love.

🗯️ ever since you started dating, there hasn't been a day where you've done groceries by yourselves. the both of you ALWAYS do it together and have agreed that it's more fun that way. of course, he pushes the cart and you're looking through the grocery list. you don't trust him to do it because he ends up getting the wrong item, especially since he does not read labels... get this man out of the kitchen!

🗯️ adding on, he carries the grocery bags in for you. he does this thing where he challenges himself as to how many he can hold. so far, his record is 20. how does that work? you don't know. he finds a way to do it and it impresses you, which is what he wants to do.

🗯️ miguel is more of a baker than you are. when you mention that you want to bake, he becomes a different person who actually reads labels and does everything with perfection.

🗯️ one time you playfully threw flour on him and he took it too far by dumping the rest on your head. it was pretty funny, but he spent more than an hour trying to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

🗯️ he keeps up with his telenovela's and always asks you to watch it with him. he even saves it for when you're home to watch it and its the sweetest thing ever. how you could you ever say no?

🗯️ miguel loves being little spoon. never thinking that he was the type to before you started dating, you're now glad he's able to feel safe around you to do so.

🗯️ he reads and loves reading to you. sometimes he randomly comes up to you and reads a line, expecting you to understand what he means. without context, its quite confusing. but you nod your head and agree with him, which he then replies with "right?! i knew you'd agree!" and walk away. you blink a few times to process what just happened and then go about your day like normal, but its such a common occurrence you've gotten used to it. its like a routine and you feel incomplete without him doing it.

🗯️ simply being in each other's presence is enough for both of you. you can do two different things while existing in the same space and the comfort of one another is what you cherish the most.

[janewaypiamber]

It does have a telenovela/ soap opera feel. It was an interesting choice by director Cliff Bole.

This has the most telenovela feel.

[vonev]

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware? 

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained. 

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it. 

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch. 

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die. 

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.  

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely. 

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again. 

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life. 

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle. 

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all. 

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk. 

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration. 

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car. 

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love? 

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag. 

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now. 

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.” 

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

SOTUS Review: Engineering the Bridge To BL

I'm not exactly a sucker for teen dramas. Miss me with Gossip Girl and Pretty Little Liars. Even less soapy shows like The OC or Dawson's Creek that I checked out because of their critical status in the genre were not shows that I felt compelled to finish after watching a few episodes. However, teen dramas were a rare space in media where queer characters were allowed to exist as secondary or tertiary characters, so in my young gayhood I searched amongst less popular shows for gay storylines like in Canada's Degrassi. I binge-watched Australia's Dance Acadamy until they killed off the gay character and sought out lists about groundbreaking shows from before my time like My So-Called Life.

The latter is not simply exceptional for its gay representation but for aiming higher than its teen soap peers for realist complexity in its characters. Later, shows like Freaks and Geeks and the UK's Skins would take up that torch, then Friday Night Lights, which had the genius to bring in the institution of American football culture in the South of the the US to ground its commentary on American racial and economic politics. Norway's Skam arrived in 2015 using the "Russ Bus" tradition for similar purposes--and used the strength of its writing to depict a globally celebrated queer story the same year as SOTUS. These elevated coming-of-age teen dramas I count among my favorite series ever in any genre.

I bring up all this TV history because I found no review yet that adequately conveys SOTUS's equivalent storytelling goals and prowess, nor do they fully indicate that SOTUS is one of the most compelling BLs to this day. Historically important, they read, but mediocre production values, primarily for straight women and homophobic, with a hazing setting that might be triggering for viewers, all implying its a relic of a less enlightened time in BL history that later shows will improve upon. While I'd recommend reading them to learn more about the history of the series that I'm less interested in covering here, these are not exactly rave reviews. What a surprise to begin the series and witness right out of the gate precision, complexity, and depth to its queer depictions that's equal to any Thai BL that followed in its groundbreaking wake.

The series manages to engineer (wah wah) bridges to blend the naturalistic elements of those other elevated teen drama precedents with the tropes and styles that populated Thai BL novels (like the pink milk from 2Moons2) and will define Thai BL series in the years to come. In Thailand, the series Love Sick came first in its BL focus, but, as lovely as Love Sick is, it sprawls across flatter characters in its focus and fails to celebrate the breadth of queerness in some harmful ways. On the other hand, SOTUS, in pacing, casting, characterization, and theme development, links BL to a plot-driven Western style and decidedly queer perspective. There's a reason it was the show to begin the more intense global interest in BL series.

Below the cut, you'll find my review about the qualities that made SOTUS so outstanding to me.

SOTUS initially struck me with the tightness of its dialogues and cuts, especially compared to many other Thai BLs that I've seen, which have a bawdy theatrical spaciousness in their tempo, more in line with broad comedy or soap opera, telenovela, and Thai lakorn. Not so in SOTUS. It gives time enough for its actors to emote but orients toward storytelling precision. Plot-forward Thai BL comparables I've seen so far might be Not Me or Moonlight Chicken. Unlike those series, SOTUS won't be any cinematography nerd's dream, clearly limited by its budget in this matter, but it works hard to keep the limits of a small budget from distracting. The cheaply licensed scoring music, for example, is surprisingly effective, its repeated pulsing dread adding to the momentum ignited by the SOTUS initiation of the freshman at Thai universities.

Senior year of high school, I selected universities for application based on my fear of hazing. No fraternities near campus for me. The gendered organization and reputation for homophobic cruelty were existential threats to me as a closeted teenager. For many gay men, including myself, frat houses and initiation ceremonies were also sites of homoerotic fantasy. Thus is the duality of gay experience.

The Thai hazing context differs from the US (no gender segregation, for example), but the series mines the same psychological tension between danger and eroticism with its controversial use of the real-life SOTUS hazing induction system--the abbreviation stands for Seniority, Order, Tradition, Unity, and Spirit--to ground its queer romance. The actual implementation of it at Thai universities has more issues than the show depicts and, while the series' hazing is a form of bullying that can trigger some, the mildness of the abuse depicted ought to be stated, especially when compared to American ideas about hazing abuse and queer media's depictions of homophobic violence. SOTUS portrays shouted verbal instructions and physical endurance trials as the means of degradation, with no physical violence and reprimands with consequences when its believed seniors have disrespected their charges or put them at risk.

Rather than a critique of the SOTUS system itself, the system provides the organizational hub for the series' broader societal commentary, and itts treatment elevates the show to the likes of Friday Night Lights or Skam. Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice title was taken from a line in Fanny Bruney's Cecilia about the two faults being both the cause of miseries and the reason for their termination. The series treats the SOTUS system and everything else within in the same manner: with complexity rather than binary keep-it-or-leave-it moralism. The S.O.T.U.S. values parallel the confines of a deeply imperfect society that when seen as strictly authoritarian pass down rules and pain from the elder generation to the the next. However, when viewed and practiced as the series encourages by the end of its story through a more nuanced understanding of the Asian filial philosophies at play, the values of seniority, order, tradition, unity, and spirit also invite compassion and affinity flowing in both directions across the generations.

The slowly emerging slight but significant age-gap romance between righteous freshman Kongpob and head 'hazer' Arthit is the central device for this exploration, but every element and scene, from the side couples to the food orders, develop our sense as viewers of the social order that the show wants to address. And the scenes move like well-lubricated assembly-line machinery toward their final purpose. It's obsession-inducing.

Despite the machinery of SOTUS's pacing, it delicately fashions its character and an environment gently permeated by homophobia and misogyny. Celebratory moments occurred to highlight themes without drawing attention to themselves, heterosexual coupling and marriages, for example, or a classmate coming out. Slurs surfaced casually, too, and old-fashioned masculinities were performed not as major plot points, spectacles of violence, or lessons for characters to immediately learn from, but to illustrate how inherited ignorance and constraints bear down almost invisibly on the characters. No one was demonized or ostracized for their ignorance, not because the writers view their actions positively but because they view their ignorance as a product of systematic failings, failings each generation can and will attempt to improve upon as they inherit the reigns. No one generation will make it all perfectly right. They are only human.

You can feel that humanity in the way the characters are written. All of the characters are distinguishable and interesting. They're written well and performed with heart. We have actual girls just chilling and being friends in a BL series, which was historically novel. Ingenues and horny girls and shy lesbians. The guys are recognizable guys, which is another feature Thai BL does exceptionally well. There are some dorks, some bros. The best friend in the freshman group is shy with strangers but open with his friends and fierce on the basketball court. I've known people like these. They are characters that are broad enough to recognize from a distance (or less screen time) but not simple stereotypes.

Then, on top of this you have the casual trans, gay, and nonbinary inclusion of bit parts and side characters that, to this day, only Thailand is doing in its shows to this extent. Its just impressive to see that their BL industry started off from the get-go at this level. But in SOTUS its not simply casual inclusion, either. These characters, unlike comparable characters in Love Sick, delineate moments of queer kindness that blur the understood hierarchical order of the initiation system and the heteronormative order holding our romantic leads back. In subtle ways they offer queer guidance and a model to Kong on his journey.

Then there's Kongpob and Arthit at the queer center of it all. Ugh! These two characters! These two performances! In Singto's watery sphynx-like eyes, in Krist's clinched jaw, in the electrified space between their bodies that the characters must restrain themselves against crossing, these are the heights of longing the romance genre can reach at its peak. There's an inner pain in these characters. That pain is old-school romance and its old-school queer pain.

I've read complaints about the physical intimacy in this show that I realize after watching the series are ignoring the characterizations of repression and inexperience that impact every interaction between Art and Kong, even their kisses. They aren't on the het timeline, instead having their first kiss and relationship in college, which is why SOTUS aligns with the teen drama genre so well despite its university setting. The greenness of their physical affection (we see it grow more competent and comfortable as the show progresses), however, belies an emotional chemistry that's intense, erotic, and intimate. Many more explicit BL scenes feel tame compared to Arthit grabbing Kong's shirt in rage or whispering in his ear in front of a waiting taxi.

I'm looking forward to SOTUS S and its Our Skyy episode to see more about KongArt's partnership, because their characters resist the seme/uke categorization of the BL genre they emerge from (which are also basically the stereotypes of top and bottom that gay men placed on themselves lol). Their ages and behaviors are reversed from the expected, first off. Kong, the younger, pursues, making him technically the seme and Arthit the uke, character definitions that also indicate sexual preferences of top and bottom. This wasn't unheard of in BL texts from what I've read, but less typical. Then there's the matter of Arthit being the one who initiates physical affection, partly due to Kong's regard for his challenges with internalized homophobia. Apparently, even the pronouns used between the pair are an intimate negotiation rather than an accepted order, returning us to the more complex ways the S.O.T.U.S. acronym can be enacted.

Plus, Kong's played by Singto with impressive power and confidence that's still soft-spoken, slippery, sibilant. To my trained eyes, its a character with mannerism and speech that are legibly gay. Not so legible that all his peers will notice, but he's clockable for queer eyes and worrisome for those afraid of deviation from the norm. For me, this is Thailand's biggest BL breakthrough (and its persisted down this path*) because, for many in the LGBT+ community, challenges begin well before anything to do with sexual attraction.

Gender deviance is the key issue. I was teased by a classmate at 8, well before I had a sexuality, that when I walk I move my hips like a f*gg*t. Don't worry. He wasn't totally wrong. I have a killer strut and I own it now. His antagonism wasn't about who I liked; it was my swish, my non-masculine behaviors. The hatred of gender deviance (and its misogynistic reasoning) is the underlying bogeyman for much of homophobia. Even plenty of men who are perfectly happy to have sex with men, at least where I live in the US, take issue with effeminacy. (Try finding the most overt lesbians on tv outside of OITNB, too!) That applies to audiovisual media, too. Unless comedic, consumers have tended to be more excited about queerness when the bodies and expressions appear in-line with gender expectations. The power of Thai BL and Singto's performance of Kong is how it opened space in the market and audience's minds to take queer affects seriously in young adult romance.

It's no surprise, then, that Kong forges friendships with the characters who are overtly LGBT during the series. The associations made between Kong and the fullness of the LGBT spectrum provides a more complex context for the show's choice to include him expressing the BL trope of 'only gay for you.' While it's a harmful concept broadly, the show seems to be using it subversively. How much more regressive it would've felt coming from Arthit! With Kong and all of his queer associations, it plays as the words of a gay romantic. With the diversity of coming-outs and identity-naming we now have in BL, Kong's moon-eyed statement made on the night his boyfriend comes out for him holds less of a harmful influence on the whole.

Context is just as important to the oft-critiqued scene where Kong says that he'll make Arthit his wife. Based on what I'd read and how impactful and problematic people felt it was, I thought the statement had been a romantic declaration late in the series. Imagine my surprise when it occurred in the first episode as an attempt by Kong to disrupt the patriarchal power of the seniors. Rather than illustrating the show's belief about gay relationships being the same as straight relationships, the scene points to the patriarchal assumptions the series intends by its end to disrupt. The exchange gets reenacted when the freshman decide to act it out at the faculty beach outing for everyone. The seniors interrupt, and the freshman fear they're about to be punished for disrespecting their elders only to find out they're being invited to finally celebrate their inclusion into the faculty. It's denied fruition as a tool to dis-empower and a true testament of Art and Kong's relationship.

It's at the beach where the freshman are given their gears, one of the many examples of how the series used symbols with significantly more depth than the copy-cats that tried to make bank by using the exact same motifs later. The proceeding BL engineers owe not a debt but an apology to SOTUS. The engineering faculty fit perfectly with the show's questions about systems and how individuals fit into them. We have these gears, which could simply be cogs in a machine that forces you to fit in and lose your humanity, but SOTUS envisions the gear as a heart, something unique, attempting to find its place and fit its grooves within a greater purpose. Its a symbol of authentic belonging.

The pink drink, which could've simply served--and has served in other series since--to be a symbol of pink gay girly tastes, is more fully used to emphasize Arthit's stubborn desire for familiarity, his inexperience (in trying other drinks), and a certain childishness in his preference for sweetness, a childishness that humanizes him to his freshman paramor. A trade even occurs with the drink, shifting all these meanings onto Kongpob as he begins to face his own prideful assumptions about his own righteousness.

Beyond all the English teacher symbolism and queer value, though, SOTUS is just the kind of well-told romance that will make you swoon. Despite a low budget and simple plot, its performances, editing, and most of all its script mesmerize. People shouldn't watch it as a history lesson. Its too entertaining to be relegated to that. Labeling it as simply historically important doesn't do it justice.

SOTUS stands tall among teen dramas, a literary work in a genre that doesn't require those heights; SOTUS stands tall among queer media peers, paving new lanes for queer storytelling and performances to walk down; and SOTUS stands tall among its BL peers. Clearly many of the greats in Thai BL, like 1000 Stars, Bad Buddy, and Until We Meet Again, aim to evoke their predecessor, more out of love and awe than an apology (as has been suggested by others). The ways they differ seem to be additions and diversification of queer narratives rather than a critique. SOTUS is simply one of those Great Stories. It inspires binging, revisits, investigations, and, most importantly, the biggest feels. Watch it now if you haven't. Watch it again if you have. Its not a piece of history. Its the kind of story that doesn't get old.

*Thank goodness for LITBC bringing Korea some overtly gay characters. Japan's got a few options--KENJI!--but not enough for my liking yet. I haven't seen enough of the other country's output to make a judgment.

Tagging @dropthedemiurge for being the biggest supporter of my new-found SOTUS obsession and @respectthepetty for the petty watch that got me over my lack of motivation to watch this series! Petty was half-joking but also so right about the kink undertones to this relationship!!!

There are certainly more versed BL history experts so feel free to let me know about any mistakes I made with my history! I'm just a broad and casual tv history and queer fiction and history fan tryna share my new-found BL joy.

[faceless1bastard]

Rise of Red, Teen Villains Minecraft Headcanons

Uliana

Fighter of the crew

Most monsters killed

The embodiment of "fuck around and find out"

Highest death count rages every time

Has been killed by every mob in the game at least once

She has probably died in every way possible, at least once

Hades laughs at her. She would go kill him (in game), but neither of them knows where the heck Hades is (Morgie turned off commands because it's boring to play with them, so no teleportation for them)

Purposefully lead an invasion on a village for fun (more than once)

She saddled a pig and named her Bridget

The least organized

Maleficent

The only one who understands enchanting

Gives the best enchants to Hades

Lowest death count

But when she dies, she rages more than Uliana. One time Uliana punched her off a cliff when she was on shift. Uliana has never heard that many curses and insults used in such way, in her whole life. Girl was so shocked she forgot to feel offended. Hades laughed so hard, he started hyperventilating, and at some point Morgie thought he died. Hook was a little bit terrified, and Morgie confused. After the outburst, she logged off and wasn't answering calls or messages from anybody for the rest of the day.

Also the only ones who bother to do potions

The most organized

She definitely planned a playdate with Hades where they go gather materials for potions

Sometimes goes on adventures with Hook

Hades

Expert on the netherworld. Never got lost there

Miner of the crew

Spends most of the time either in the nether or in a cave

When in a cave, he will get back when he runs out of picaxes, food, or inventory space (Hades doesn't use torches; he just sets the brightness on max), but then he doesn't know the way back and digs his way out. Of course, when he reaches the top, he doesn't know where he is anyway, and Hook needs to go get him.

Gives all the diamonds and netherite to Maleficent, which annoys the rest because they have to literally beg her to give them some, and she is having too much fun with that power. Hook once asked him to give him some diamonds. He just looked at him for 5 seconds then turned around and to gave it all to Maleficent.

Of course his favorite enchant is fire

Doesn't have patience for building

The most laid back. Takes the game casually. Mostly.

Morgie

The builder of the crew

Built rooms for everyone

Actually, the one who made the server set the death count and convinced everyone to play

Up to date with version updates

The "Umm actually ☝🤓" guy when it comes to minecraft

Most of his deaths are from falls

Hades ''hired'' him to build his dark imperium in the nether (part of the diamonds is going to him)

He also has built a ship for Hook

There was one time where someone set a fire to one of his builds (was it an accident or not?. We might never know). The creation was saved but sustained serious damage. He gathered them all and did a full Danganronpa trial (it ended ugly and personal; the culprit wasn't found)

Hook

In his Dora the Explorer era

Decides directions for their adventures

Brings Morgie building materials from different biomes. He also

Never got lost, except in the nether. That place confuses him

Loves making maps

Was so excited when he found a parrot

They barely see him because he is always out of the base

Because of that he isn't involved in most of the drama happening, and instead he enjoys the show. Sometimes when it gets really intense, he goes afk, gets popcorn, and just listens as if he watched an Indian telenovela

Fascinated by all the biomes

Has boats made from every type of wood

All

None of them understands redstone

There were no play session where they didn't start screaming and arguing at some point.

[charliemwrites]

Your SpecGru fic has been in my TBR pile since it came out. Keep working through other stuff, knowing I will get there.

Then, a couple of hours ago, I saw the ask someone sent you of scruffy!Bernthal as Captain Daddy and just about clawed my way out of my own skin.

Needless to say, I have since then *inhaled* the entire series, and you can happily add my name to the pile of those voting for Bernthal/Castle as Cpt. Specifically, why the hell not do a crossover and have him actually be Frank Castle.

Can you not see him across the breakfast table from you? Worried about the spaced-out look you're getting as you struggle to avoid eye contact with any of the 141 that first morning. Gaz in particular seems desperate to catch gaze.

"You with me, babygirl?"

By the end of the week things are better- well, for you at least.

Ghost is pacing like a caged animal watching you and Captain run drills in the shootout house. The same ones that you'd begged Ghost to do with you--you were supposed to be battle buddies after all--but he'd refused every single time. Had said you needed more time on the range before you can learn tandem combat tactics.

You and your Captain move seamlessly in unison, like you'd be doing this your entire career, never even having to look at each other to know what comes next.

That evening, Captain is the first to shower and makes it back to the common room even before 141 is done cleaning. Man-spreads in the corner of the sofa everyone knows is Ghost's and puts on your favorite show (The Great British Bakeoff? A telenovela?... doesn't matter. It'll be something he knows 141 loathes).

"Come're, babygirl," he murmurs, grabbing your hips and tucking you into his side. You stretch your legs out, taking up the rest of the couch (where Johnny used to always sit).

When Nova comes in fresh from her own shower, she pushes your knees apart before flopping unceremoniously between them on her back, head resting on your stomach. A tired hand reaches up and waves a small bottle in the air; you smile and take it from her. Squeezing a few drops on your fingertips, you begin to gently work it into her braids.

"Best damn girls in the world," Captain says with possessive pride as his arm snakes under yours, thick forearm resting between your breasts so his hand can gently lay over your throat. Thumb tucking under your chin, he tilts your head back and to the side enough to lay a frankly obscene kiss on your mouth.

Price quietly stands and leaves the room.

HELLOOOOO?!?! You just - I’m just - how - holy hell???? This has been driving me to distraction all DAY. I’ve read it three times. The inclusion of gifs? Impeccable. I’m just, phew blown away. I still have no idea what to say and absolutely zero intelligent addition because I’m just 👁️👄👁️

W O W

[muppeddie]

it's not that i hate buck's loft for any reason whatsoever it's just that eddie's house has a little frog sponge holder and little jars on the windows with animals on them and the kitchen rags that match the oven and those fun megnets on the fridge they play around with sometimes and there is a calendar with their schedules written with a bullpen under take out menus they order from when shifts drag a bit too much and buck doesn't feel like cooking and there is a gaming console in the living room because eddie plays videogames too and the couch is a pretty color and its got all those nice decorative pillows and there are pictures framed of them all around the house and a nice rug and enough space between rooms for chris' clutches to fit and a little dinner table for breakfast where they eat with colorful bowls and eddie made that all on his own a home to share with the people he loves where he hosts cookouts for the 118 and buck cooks dinner and chris chats with his friends and they watch telenovelas together and they love and they care and they stick together