#they still might not have audiences wide enough though

[freepassbound]

50,51,54,59

50: What do you expect from a friend or partner?

My first reaction is that there are some very different aspects to those two things - though also, since I would want a partner to be a friend (indeed, a best friend), there is some overlap as well.

My second reaction is that 'expect' is a bit of a loaded word? What can any of us expect from one another? Everyone will be in different places and be able to give different things and different levels at different times.

So what can anyone expect?

Kindness, and love, however they can offer it in that moment.

51: What question could you ask to find out the most about a person?

Anon, I'm afraid you've come barking up the wrong tree for a useful answer to this question. 😅

I'm on the spectrum with significant social anxiety - I can barely ask people for directions to the men's room!

However, I will share an anecdote, and then have a go myself:

The first (and thus far only) lady I dated asked, as her first question on the dating site, what my biggest kink was. Which (given that I somehow actually managed to answer, and answer honestly) was certainly very informative - and revealing - about me! 😅

In the event that I were going to ask (and able to ask) someone a single question to find out the most about them...

I think I would I would ask what they thought the best and worst class they'd ever taken was, and why. I don't know that an answer would tell me the most about them... but I think it would tell me some things that would be very illuminating about them.

54: Can humans really understand the complete nature of the universe, space and time?

I can only concur with J.B.S. Haldane:

"My own suspicion is that the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose."

But what a great joy it is in trying to understand!

59: What do you think the next era of music will be like?

Well, I don't know that I'm the best person to answer this question, given that I know as much about trends in modern music as I do about the cyclical valuation of the Algerian dinar (which is to say: absolutely bupkis). 😂

But... from what knowledge I have acquired, it seems there are two basic possibilities - one pessimistic, one optimistic (though in fact they may not be mutually exclusive).

The pessimistic outlook is that popular music will essentially come under the control of algorithmic generation (currently more commonly known as "AI"). Beats and hooks and everything else will be thoroughly analyzed for their ability to draw and hold a listener's attention, and computer programs will generate 'music' designed to maximize listenership - probably for 15-30 second chunks (all the better to sync with viral social media videos). Songs themselves will continue to get shorter in length (something that's already been happening) as a result.

Some artists will fight against this trend - a few, already too big to fail, will succeed; most will experience brief success by putting out unique, personal music - but, with streaming not providing sufficient royalties to live on while also creating a fanbase too diffuse to make touring feasible, won't be able to maintain it.

(Like I said, it's a pessimistic outlook)

The optimistic outlook is the idea that the diversification of popular music - already ongoing with genres like reggaeton and Afrobeats - will continue and expand, and the fusion of genres will create entirely new types of music, adding incredibly to the richness of music globally.

[writingwithcolor]

What Makes an Ethnic Villain "Ethnic" or "Villainous?" How Do You Offset it?

anonymous asked:

Hello WWC! I have a question about the antagonist of my story. She is (currently) Japanese, and I want to make sure I’m writing her in a way that doesn’t associates [sic] her being Asian with being villainous.  The story is set in modern day USA, this character is effectively immortal. She was a samurai who lost loved ones due to failure in combat, and this becomes her character[sic] motivation (portrayed sympathetically to the audience). This story explores many different time periods and how women have shown valor throughout history. The age of the samurai (and the real and legendary female warriors from it) have interested me the most, which is why I want her to be from this period.  The outfit she wears while fighting is based on samurai armor, and she wears modern and traditional Japanese fashion depending on the occasion. She acts pretty similar to modern day people, though more cynical and obsessed with her loss. She’s been able to adapt with the times but still highly values and cherishes her past.  She is the only Asian main character, but I plan to make a supportive Japanese side character. She’s a history teacher who knows about the villain and gives the protagonists information to help them, but isn’t involved in the main plot otherwise.  Are the way I’m writing this villain and the inclusion of a non-antagonist Japanese character enough to prevent a harmful reading of the story, or is there more I should do?

Why Does Your Villain Exist?

This makes me feel old because David Anders plays a villain with this kind of backstory in the series Heroes starring Masi Oka. 

I think you want to think about what you mean when you say: 

Villainous (In what way? To whom? To what end?)

Harmful (What tropes, narratives and implications are present?)

I’m relatively infamous in the mod circle for not caring too much about dimensions of “harm”. The concept is relative and varies widely between people and cultures. I don’t see much value in framing motivations around “What is less harmful?” I think for me, what matters more is: 

“What is more true?” 

“Are characteristics viewed as intrinsic to background, or the product of experiences and personal autonomy?”

“Will your portrayal resonate with a large audience?”

“What will resonate with the members of the audience who share the backgrounds your characters have?” 

This post offers additional questions you could ask yourself instead of “is this okay/not okay/harmful.” 

You could write a story where your antagonist is sly, sadistic, violent and cold-blooded. It may not be an interpretation that will make many Japanese from combat backgrounds feel seen or heard, but it’s not without precedent. These tropes have been weaponized against people of Japanese descent (Like Nikkei Japanese interned during World War II), but Japan also brutalized a good chunk of Asia during World War II. See Herge’s Tintin and The Blue Lotus for an example of a comic that accurately showcases the brutality of Japan’s colonization of Manchuria, but also is racist in terms of how Japanese characters are portrayed (CW: genocide, war, imperialism, racism).

You could also write a story where your character’s grief gives way to despair, and fuels their combat such that they are seen as calculating, frigid and deeply driven by revenge/ violence. This might make sense. It’s also been done to death for Japanese female warriors, though (See “Lady Snowblood” by Kazuo Koike and Kazuo Kamimura here, CW: sexual assault, violence, murder and a host of other dark things you’d expect in a revenge story). 

You could further write a story where your antagonist is not necessarily villainous, but the perceived harm comes from fetishizing/ exoticizing elements in how her appearance is presented or how she is sexualized, which is a common problem for Japanese female characters. 

My vote always goes to the most interesting story or character. I don’t see any benefit to writing from a defensive position. This is where I'll point out that, culturally, I can't picture a Japanese character viewing immortality as anything other than a curse. Many cultures in Japan are largely defined by transience and the understanding that many things naturally decay, die, and change form.

There are a lot of ways you could conceivably cause harm, but I’d rather hear about what the point of this character is given the dilemma of their position. 

What is her purpose for the plot? 

How is she designed to make the reader feel? 

What literary devices are relevant to her portrayal?

(Arbitrarily, you can always add more than 1 extra Japanese character. I think you might put less pressure on yourself with this character’s portrayal if you have more Japanese characters to practice with in general.) 

- Marika. 

When Off-Setting: Aim for Average

Seconding the above with regards to this villainess’s story and your motivations for this character, but regardless of her story I think it’s also important to look specifically at how the Japanese teacher character provides contrast. 

I agree with the choice to make her a regular person and not a superhero. Otherwise, your one Asian character is aggressively Asian-themed in a stereotypical Cool Japan way (particularly if her villain suit is samurai-themed & she wears wafu clothing every so often). Adding a chill person who happens to be Japanese and doesn’t have some kind of ninja or kitsune motif will be a breath of fresh air (well, more like a sigh of relief) for Japanese readers. 

A note on characterization—while our standard advice for “offset” characters is to give your offset character the opposite of the personality trait you’re trying to balance, in this case you might want to avoid opposites. You have a villainess who is a cold, tough “don’t need no man” type. Making the teacher mild-mannered, helpful, and accomodating would balance out the villainess’s traits, but you’ll end up swinging to the other side of the pendulum towards the Submissive Asian stereotype depending on execution. If avoiding stereotypes is a concern, I suggest picking something outside of that spectrum of gentleness to violence and making her really boring or really weird or really nerdy or a jock gym teacher or…something. You’re the author.

Similarly, while the villainess is very traditionally Japanese in her motifs and backstory, don’t make the teacher go aggressively in either direction—give her a nice balance of modern vs. traditional, Japanese vs. Western sensibilities as far as her looks, dress, interests, values, etc. Because at the end of the day, that’s most modern Japanese people. 

Sometimes, the most difficult representation of a character of color is making a character who is really average, typical, modern, and boring. 

- Rina

[howtofightwrite]

In writing a fighting scene how many sentences need to be it is always said it needs to have a variety of how long? Technical jargon better be ditched, or sometimes needs to be written? Is there any advice on how to do this, I still trying to get an idea of how to write fighting scenes? from tournaments, corridor battles (narrow and wide), room battles, field battles, war battles, or even hit-and-run battles?

So, there are multiple questions here, but some of these are going to be kind of quick.

How many sentences do you need? Enough, but no more. You need to be able to communicate to the reader what's happening in the fight. Or, at least, be able to communicate what your PoV character experiences from the fight. The more you add to it, the longer it will take your average reader to read the scene, and (to an extent) the slower they will perceive the fight.

This creates an awkward situation for a writer. If you have some, “really cool visual,” but you can't convey that quickly and efficiently, it might need to go. Especially if it's the kind of thing you'd see in a film, or comic, but that your character wouldn't be directly aware of. For example, a character isn't going to know that a blade narrowly missed their head, shaving off several locks of hair in the process, because they're probably not looking in the direction of their hair when it happens, and they're probably not going to feel it. In attempting to completely articulate that moment, you're going to slow down the fight.

Now, there is an application for this. The better a character's reflexes (really, the faster they are at processing information, which isn't technically reflexes), the more ability they'll have to actually perceive these kinds of moments as they happen, and the slow the fight will be, for them.

Technical jargon is characterization. A character who doesn't know how to fight, and has no prior aptitude for violence, probably won't have a particularly extensive vocabulary for violence. So, if that's you PoV for a fight, they don't know what they're seeing, and they might not have a vocabulary that extends much beyond hitting, punching, and kicking. This applies both to the attacks they can (intentionally) make, and what they can see and understand when other characters are attacking.

A character who is a combat veteran, with extensive training will have a much wider range of options open to them, and also a much greater capacity to accurately articulate the violence they see. They're likely to use and recognize things like stances, parries, restraints, holds, and throws.

This can lead to a specific situation that's counter-intuitive (at least in comparison to what I said at the beginning), but also very real. An inexperienced fighter, can find themselves quickly losing to a skilled opponent without really being able to understand what just happened to them. In this specific case, accurately communicating the details to the audience can be to the detriment.

So, this is all for limited narration. If you're using omniscient narration, then you'll need to make decisions on how to describe the combat. This is one situation where it's really difficult to avoid characterizing your narrator. Though, this should help make that characterization a conscious choice, rather than an accident.

Beyond that, asking about the different venues, that's a little to vague to really give any coherent answer beyond simply pointing to the earlier paragraphs. For example, when you're looking at armies clashing in a massive battle, the PoV is still the most important factor to assessing how it should be written. A general, commanding the troops from a hill behind the front lines is going to be far more interested in the overall strategic state of the battle. They'll be directing troops, trying to get orders through, watching the enemy, and trying to anticipate what they'll do. A soldier down in the melee will have a radically different experience. They may not even have the tactical background to fully appreciate the way the battle is progressing, beyond simply that there are still people trying to kill them, and they're preemptively returning the favor.

At a grander scale, a footsoldier in a war might not even have the frame of reference to really understand the state of the world beyond the scope of their orders and the battles they find themselves in. They may know who they are fighting, but, not really understand why. And, if they encounter enemy forces unexpectedly, they may have no idea what that really means for the war as a whole, where a general or commander would likely be able to understand and explain how that happened. In fact, a diplomat or spy, with extensive experience from before the war, may have entirely different understandings for how and why the enemy is maneuvering than even a general would.

Again, violence, whether it's on a personal, or a mass scale, is a venue for characterization. Who your characters are will dictate how they perceive, understand, and interact with the world around them. There isn't one way that a fight in a corridor will occur, because there isn't one kind of person who will walk into a corridor with violent intent.

If it sounds like I'm thinking of Glen Cook's Black Company novels, I am. I'm also thinking of Sandy Mitchell's Caiaphas Cain novels, and a few other stray examples.

Ultimately, this is all about characterization of your narrator, regardless whether that narrator is also a character in the story or not.

-Starke

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[cheekyvank]

ok i’ve had time to process. (relatively incoherent) thoughts/spoilers under the cut

Ok the first thing I noticed is Phil is fucking radiant. Like I knew that but experiencing it in person is a whole different thing. I genuinely could not keep my eyes off him, even in times when Dan was yapping, like I actually might have missed a couple things cause I just couldn’t stop staring at Phil. His hair was a bit mussed up and it made him look even prettier somehow.

The second thing I noticed is Phil really is the funniest man alive lmao. I knew this too but again, experiencing it irl is just so much. His timing is perfect and the parts that were improvised were so so good. I love him so much. King of comedy.

Third thing was Dan is so big. I don’t mean tall (though that too) but just big. Big personality, big movements, big ideas, big voice. Which again, I knew, but irl it’s just so much more and once again I am soooo hopelessly endeared by him. Danny boy I love you so much with your crazy movements and your huge expressions and your loud ass voice, please don’t ever change. You really are something special.

Also, they’re really fucking good at this. I didn’t noticed any major flubs (ie forgetting lines) but even the couple times where you could tell they got a bit tongue tied or something they played it off so smoothly. The whole thing was so fucking good, and having spoilers honestly didn’t make it any less so. And the song fucking slays they better record that shit (and make a music video… please I beg…)

other tidbits:

-no amount of spoilers prepares you for the dioramas irl. it was So Much and so funny. at one point phil made the dolls 69 and dan said no they said kissing on the mouth and turned them around to be kissing on the mouth instead of the . uh

-dan bent his doll over the breakfast bar and phil made his doll do the uh. motions. but his doll wasn’t close enough or at the right angle to dan’s to look like fucking so from where i was at it was honestly closer to looking like phil had his face in dan’s ass 💀

-conspiracies were toilet, sleepless night with phil, bus, and wedding (i do think people were shouting for vegas louder but they did wedding anyway)

-when dan got tangled in the lights he said ‘help me dad’ and continued to walk around and make it worse while phil kind of chased him around. dan literally could’ve just picked his foot up and he would’ve been out but he just kept doing it until phil got him out and made to spank him with them to which dan said something like ‘i asked you to help me i didn’t think you were gonna whip me’ or something

-at one point dan said something about getting down on our level and he got down on the floor and did something but I was too distracted staring at phil (lmao) and didn’t realize until everyone was laughing rip

-dan was doing absolutely crazy things with his body the whole time. especially that super wide stance squat he does. Phil kept asking what he’s doing and at one point seemed genuinely concerned that he was going to rip his pants which like. i was also genuinely concerned about idk how those things are still intact

-lawyer dan banned the gays, wrote erotic fiction about cheese curds, and went to jail for being horny. we killed him

-doctor phil - I can’t remember the first question AT ALL lmao but he liked to help old ladies piss and had a secret collection of Milphs. when they were on the screen the second time every answer had ‘and cum’ added to them lmao. So he helped old ladies piss and cum and had a secret collection of milphs and cum. we also killed him

-when they ran around the venue they went down an enclosed stairwell and a fan was in there and they had to plaster themself to the wall as dan and phil and the camera guy ran past lmao

-the silicone 6 pack was not as weird irl as it looked to me in pictures

-sister daniel’s shorts were invisible from the audience. once i looked closely i could see them but at first i genuinely thought she had her tiny underwear back and i nearly fell out of my seat.

-when they talked about people invading their privacy and bothering their families and stuff someone shouted ‘i’m so sorry phil!’ like they were personally responsible for all of it lmao it was very cute

-they slayed the song so severely. like it fucking slaps. honestly they can both sing pretty well and they both did so good with the dance too. so fucking good

-the ukulele broke before dan even smashed it. it just fell apart midair LMAO it was so funny

[gremlinmodetweeker]

riffing off socially awkward deeply anxious König, do you think he would do better digitally? chatting with someone he met online or someone who streams an obscure game? you have a lovely relationship with him and then before you meet in person he's like so. i'm. very. awkward. as a real person. i might not. talk a lot. you'll be carrying the conversation, don't take it personally. you have a captive audience for ANY topic. anything. you want. and why is it going to be a/b/o's spn origins

Okay yes this absolutely. I can totally write something for that. I hope this story suffices!

Now, I have no idea what you mean by the omegaverse, but I could try making an omegaverse!König if you’d like. I do not understand by spn omegaverse origins. Please feel free to either respond here or ask in my inbox. It should be open??? Tell me if it isn’t.

Anyways, onto the story! More below the cut.

König Prefers Quiet Time

König is a voracious reader, so he’s rather verbose and eloquent when online. His messages are witty, insightful, yet practical and grounded. He’s quick to become your best online friend. After all, he’s so well-spoken! He writes beautiful paragraphs that are easy and amusing to read. It’s rare to find such a delightful person online.

And he’s so quick to win over your heart. Whenever he can be, he there’s for you. He’ll take pictures and videos of sights on deployment or jot down little stories to tell you when he can. Sometimes he can drop off the face of the earth, but he’ll be back online soon enough and messaging you about how his latest mission went and what he did (within reason, can’t give away secrets).

Every time he comes back online, you know you’re in for a good time. Whether it’s him complaining about teammates, or having to argue about directions with a local, he’s got fantastic (yet terribly awkward) stories about his days. He always says he’s so shy and hates social situations, and sure he sometimes sounds a bit strange when he recounts the stories, but they're so fun that you don't really take in how it would look from an outside perspective. Sure, he sounds a bit dorky in these stories, but still so eloquent! He’s got this little way of describing things with abstract metaphors that make you smile and wish you were there by his side.

It took a lot to convince him to have a relationship with you. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s that you ask to meet up in person. He tells you that he’s happy to meet you, but then why does he suddenly have more missions? He’s so punctual, but he missed his flight? When he goes on about having a stubbed toe, you have to put your foot down. You want to see him, and that’s final.

Begrudgingly, he books a vacation with you.

When you go to pick him up from the airport, the first thing that stands out about him is how tall he is. Then how big. You didn’t think they made people in that size. This guy has Shaquille O’Neil running for his money. Like, how? And then you realize that he’s crouching down to make himself look smaller. It’s insanity. At the very least, he’s easy to pick out in a crowd, what with his hood and all. You do worry about him fitting in the car, though.

So you go up to him, and then he sees you and he looks nothing but elated. It’s a beautiful moment between you two. In that hectic airport, with people calling in many languages and bags squeaking and the cars outside honking and revving their engines, it’s perfectly silent and beautiful. It’s a wonderful moment that you think you’ll cherish until you die.

The next moment is where it all falls apart.

He accidentally drops his bag and it spills everywhere. He scrambles to pick it up and he keeps looking around with wide eyes of terror so you take pity on the poor lad and lean down to help. He then promptly stands up and cracks the crown of his head against your nose and now your nose is bleeding and oh no he dropped his bag again and now he’s apologizing and then he’s rushing to the bathroom and you’re left with the realization that you fell in love with an absolute mess. 

By the time he’s back, your nose has stopped bleeding and you’re packing his belongings back into his pack. He tries to silently offer you tissues, so you take them and wipe your nose tenderly, but when you make a joke about it he doesn’t say anything. Odd, but maybe he’s just a bit frazzled.

You’re driving back home when he finally says his first words to you besides ‘hi’, ‘sorry’ and ‘oh no’.

“Thank you,” he says as he stares at the road ahead.

“What, for the drive?” you laugh, “it’s no problem! I mean, it’s not too bad. It’s about an hour’s drive, but I’m fine with that!”

König says nothing, just nods as you speak. You’re starting to worry that you picked up the wrong person. Where was the confident and friendly man you spoke to online? Where was his friendly joking? At least you now understand his awkward and amusing stories he told you, because even though you love him, you can’t help but feel terribly awkward. If he���s this bad with you, you can only imagine how bad it is with others.

You were prepared for someone who was going to talk your ear off, but you felt like you just picked up a skinwalker instead. Was he even blinking? You can’t tell. He looks shell-shocked as he gazes off into the distance.

“So, um, how was the flight?” you ask with a wide smile.

“Gut.”

Anything more? No? Nothing more. Well, that’s helpful.

“Did they give you anything to eat on the flight? Are you hungry?” you ask, hoping to pry more than a couple words out of him.

“I ate,” he says quietly.

You nod and bite your lip. So this is what it was going to be like?

You take him into your home. For the entire night he refuses to take a step outside.

By the time noon rolls around the next day, you decide to take the initiative and knock on his door.

“Hey, König?” you call.

You get a hum from behind the door.

“Can I come in?” you ask nervously.

There’s a pause, then a hiss and a curse, then the door opens.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you squeeze by him, but he doesn't move to let you in any easier.

König sits delicately on the edge of the bed while you sit on a stool across from him. You look at each other for a few moments before you crack.

“Am I… Am I not what you thought I’d be?” you ask nervously.

König tilts his head as he narrows his eyebrows.

“I mean, just…” you sigh, “you talked so much online, but you’ve barely said a word since I picked you up from the airport. Are you okay? Is there something wrong?”

You hesitate for a moment, before you tack on, “Is there something wrong with us?”

König’s eyes slowly widen before he shakes his head quickly, the fabric swinging like a dog shaking after a dip in a lake.

“Nein, you are…” he gestures towards you with one hand, “you are perfect. It’s just… Ah…”

You brace yourself.

“I am not good at talking,” he admits.

You deflate. That’s it? He’s not good at talking?

“But you’re fine online,” you point out.

“Ja, but this is… It is different,” he sighs, “I am not good at talking to people in person. It is.. Scary. I do not like to talk much.”

You nod as you listen carefully.

“So…” you rub your thumb over your kneecap, “would you like me to do most of the talking for us? Would that make things easier for you?”

König nodded quickly.

You laugh as you feel your shoulders relax.

“Great. I think I can do that.”

From then on, the visit is wonderful. Now that you know that König just isn’t great at talking in person, it’s a delight to talk to him. Sometimes you think you talk at him, but you realize pretty quickly that he’s listening attentively to everything you say. He’s a delight to speak to. If you ever lose your train of thought, he’s quick to help you get it back so he can listen to you further.

You realize pretty quickly that he worries too much. When you take him out to places, he’s nervous and flighty. The louder and more chaotic, the worse his social anxiety gets. As such, you find yourself going to more quiet areas. You chill and relax in quiet cafes, go to the aquarium at night, even play some games at a board game cafe in the middle of the day, when there’s nobody else there.

He’s a friendly man, all things considered. You also quickly learn the basis of his awkward stories.

You’re at a grocery store when you see it in action.

“Oh my God you’re so tall!” a woman looks up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

König barely turns to acknowledge her, but he gives her a curt nod.

“Can you, like, help me with something?” she asks eagerly.

König looks down at you, then back to the woman.

“What is it?” his voice is sharply cold, and you can see the woman wince.

“Well, um, there’s this thing on the top shelves, and I was hoping you could get it for me?” she says, a bit nervously.

“What is it?” he’s somehow worse than last time.

“Um, uh, I can show it to you?” she offers meekly.

“I need to know what it is,” König practically tears her head off with how brutal he sounds.

You grab his hand and squeeze slightly, but it seems like it’s all going downhill too quickly.

“It’s-”

König turns to face her abruptly and she’s stumbling back before scurrying off. König watches her go, then turns to you.

“Why did she go?” he asks innocently. You can hardly believe him.

“König…” you start slowly, “is that how you usually speak to strangers?”

He thinks for a moment, then nods.

“König I think I know why you think people hate you.”

König’s eyebrows raise up for a moment, “You do?”

You nod, and give him a brief explanation. You can see his brain doing somersaults in his head, practically melting out his ears as his entire world view is shattered before him. Before he can respond properly, the woman is coming back with security in tow.

It’s no wonder König has so many interesting awkward stories.

[seravphs]

confectionery

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU

Suna becomes a regular at your maid cafe - a regular thorn in your side, that is. 

wc — 1.4k

tags — fluff, reader works at a maid cafe 

next: omakase | shoujo series masterlist

“Yes, master,” you practically bite out the words.

Suna raises an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you missing something?”

Ugh. This man is insufferable. With a pained smile, you wince through the last part of your mandatory response to orders. “Nya! One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait coming right up!” 

In the back room, you drop to your knees, cradling your head in your hands now that you're safely hidden from the eyes of your customers. 

You have to do it. 

You have to kill this man. 

There’s no way you can keep serving him these ridiculous orders. You’re going to die of embarrassment. If it’s him or you, you’re going to choose yourself. 

Working at a maid cafe only started because of your best friend. She convinced you to do it with her, only to quit a few weeks in. You had stayed, against your better judgement. 

“Please,” you remember her begging, tugging on your hand beseechingly. “The pay is so good! Just think about it - 20 dollars an hour?”

To a high schooler, that was a crazy amount of money. Both of you gasped when you saw the flyer, imagining everything you could do with that kind of cash. 

“But if I saw someone I knew, I’d die of embarrassment,” you remind her. Sometimes it feels like it falls to you to be the rational one of the pair of you. She dreams and you keep her grounded. 

“No one will see! Who comes to this part of town anyways?”

Rintarou Suna does, as you find out one day when you’re taking out the trash. 

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, making you yelp. You spin around, ready to scream for your manager. You can never be too careful as a young girl flouncing around these streets in a maid dress. 

“I thought it was you,” he says, wide-eyed and clearly stunned. 

You drop the trash in the bin and sprint away from him, only to hear the distinct sounds of footsteps after you. You’ve seen Suna play for your school’s volleyball team. There’s no way you’re out running him. 

Luckily, the cafe is just ahead. 

It might be embarrassing for you to be caught in your black and white frilly lace and poufs of tulle, but it’s just as embarrassing for Suna to be caught entering. He’s one of the star athletes on your school’s incredibly strong volleyball team - he can get any girl he wants. Why would he come in here?

Suna crashes through the open door a split second later, interrupting your monologue. 

“Hi,” he says, not even breathing hard. “Table for one, please. Oh, and I want her.”

You should’ve known that thinking rationally would never apply to men who have no social awareness. Suna simply does not care. More than anything, that lack of interest is what makes him such an unmanageable beast.

“What do you want?” You whisper furiously, under your breath. It’s still not low enough for your manager to ignore, though, and she shoots you a reprimanding look over the counter. “Master,” you tack on to the end of your sentence. 

“I think I’ll start with a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait,” he says with a smile. “With the add on.”

You stare him down. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If you share my parfait with me, I’ll tell you.” 

“One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait. That’s all?”

Sharing dessert with Suna in an inappropriately adorable cafe feels much too close to a date for your liking. The parfait is a frothy work of art. It’s a monstrosity of a confectionery, starting with a base of hand crumbled crackers. Each layer alternates between warm biscuit, sweet cream, or fruity jam, all topped with a swirl of whipped frosting and slices of fruit.

To be honest, you didn’t think it would be to Suna’s taste. You hate to judge by appearance, but Suna doesn’t strike you as someone who would like dessert. He’s not a bad boy exactly, not in the conventional sense, but he’s not the target audience for this cafe, either. His nonchalance and blank expression makes him feel unapproachably cool. 

The underclassmen look up to him. You see them crowd outside your classroom during break, waiting for the chance to talk to him. Part of the legend is his style. He rolls into class looking effortlessly tousled, his jacket hanging askew on his shoulders. He only has one piercing in his left ear. You heard a rumor that he let Osamu pierce it for him at an away game, only to get benched by Captain Kita as punishment. 

Suna wears mostly black. He blasts rap on the way to school in his headphones. He likes sneakers and he’ll wait on a queue for hours at a pop-up just to snag his dream pair. When he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. He wears rings that his younger sister makes for him. Sometimes he comes to school with colorful butterfly clips in his hair to hold his bangs back if he hasn’t gotten a haircut in time. You know that’s his sister’s work, too. 

You hadn’t realized you knew so much about Suna. You hadn’t realized you were looking. 

His spoon clinks against yours gently. 

“You can eat, you know.”

Mechanically, your spoon starts to move. As soon as the tartness of the berry hits your tongue, it’s immediately followed by the sweetness of the cream. Your eyes widen. Despite working here for a while now, you’ve never had one of the desserts. It’s surprisingly good. 

“Right?” Suna chuckles. 

Because he’s usually quiet, eating and talking with Suna feels strange at first. You’re not used to having his undivided attention on you. The ice breaks as soon as you notice the way his hair is sticking up in the back, like a duck’s tail. When you point out his messy head, he shrugs and makes no move to fix it. 

“Brushing my hair is a pain,” he says. 

It makes you giggle. It might be lazy, but it’s strangely charming. Before you know it, Suna’s drawn you in with his insouciant smiles and effortless ability to lead a conversation. It’s not that he’s naturally charismatic, but something about the way he listens and responds has you preening under his attention. 

You’re almost upset when he calls for the check. He seems to notice.

“I’ll be back!” He calls as he leaves. 

“Don’t-“ 

He’s already gone. 

You realized he never told you why he came. 

Most teenage boys would be embarrassed to make a maid cafe their normal hang out spot, but Suna comes on the dot every single day. Your coworkers have taken to referring to a table in your section as Suna’s table. He always orders the Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, and he always makes you draw a little chocolate heart on it. 

You love your coworkers, you really do. You don’t think you would’ve worked here as long as you have if they didn’t feel like family to you, but sometimes older sisters can be annoying. 

Case in point: Shizuka, one of the older maids, just ruined a con you’ve been running on Suna for a long time. 

“You’re not doing it right,” Shizuka scolds you. “You forgot the ‘nya!’”

You flinch. 

Suna’s eyes widen. “Oh? Tell me more.” 

“When you order a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, we’re supposed to go ‘Nya! Of course, master!’” 

Suna pins you underneath an uncompromising stare. “Do you know how many of these I’ve ordered? You owe me a lot of ‘Nyas.’”

“Suna,” you say pleadingly, your face burning with mortification. 

He relents, a little. Something about your expression makes him melt, his eyes softening a minuscule amount. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. “Fine,” he smiles. “You can just start now.”

The minute you finish your humiliating speech, you vow revenge on Suna, but he just laughs. It’s too easy to get used to him. If you don’t actively remind yourself that he is your classmate, that you don’t actually know him that well, and that you first spoke to him just this week, it would all be too easy to feel like you’re friends. 

That’s why you have to draw a line in the sand before he can get even closer. You’re scared to find out how this ends. You’d rather cut him out of your life now. This is probably a game for Suna, but for you it’s something else.

It’s hard to remember all of that when he waits until the end of your shift to walk you home. He’s standing by the door, making small talk with your manager, who adores him. 

“Ready to go?” 

When you nod, he grabs your bag from you. The way he acts is so straightforward. You wouldn’t describe Suna as confident, but rather flexible. He takes everything that happens as it comes, and never lets it break his stride. Things are easy for him because he chooses to let them be. When he walks, his hand bumps yours once, twice. 

It’s easy. The hands. The act of being with him. 

It’s not a long walk home, but you wish it was. Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for you to work up the courage to tell him what you need to say. Thankfully, he breaks the silence first. 

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s up?” 

“You need to stop coming,” you tell him, hating the words even as they come out of your mouth. 

He stops, forcing you to stop with him. “Why? Are you actually mad?” 

You wish you could say yes, but you can’t. You shake your head, praying Suna can just take the hint and leave you alone. 

He blinks at you. “Then no can do, ma’am.” 

“Why do you even come?” You hope his answer can push you to take the step you need, but it only cements him further in your heart. 

He smiles at you in a way you’ve come to associate with Suna, sweet and uncomplicated. “I just like cute things.” 

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: smut.

Warnings: smut.

***

She rested her back against the door, delicately, to nudge it to a close, reaching behind her to turn the key in the lock and listen for a ‘click’ sound. She kept her eyes glued to Matty’s chest. It was easy to get lost in the way that his tattoos, framed on either side by his loosely draped, unbuttoned shirt, glistened it with sweat. His taut muscles came in and out of focus every time that he took a drag on his cigarette. She didn’t want to disturb him. She knew he must be tired. Besides, he looked so tranquil. Zoned out, almost perfectly still, if it weren’t for his smoking. But they’ve been together long enough for her to know that, despite the deceptively calm demeanor, his mind was racing right now. Matty had a certain wind-down ritual that helped him to process the utter madness of the show and bring him back down to reality as he prepared to leave the venue behind, shed the layers that he’d wrapped and twisted around himself for the sake of the performance, and return to himself every night. Most of it occurred in silence. It made sense. Things were often loud inside his head, ears still buzzing with the cheering crowds and the music, the quiet helped to balance things out.

But what about the audience? The thing about participating in a show like that is that you don’t get to bear witness to it without it leaving its mark on you, as well. Nobody has ever walked into a live show (certainly not a 1975 show) and walked out the same person. It might be the case that he’s the one who has to fling himself head first into the madness, sing his heart out, create the energy that would sustain the entire venue for the whole night, but, if he did his job right, that usually meant that the audience would be transformed by his presence, too. And, tonight, she felt it in her bones.

She meandered over to his backpack, which sat in his makeup chair, and prepared his joint for him, delivering it to him where he sat in the leather couch, the last of his cigarette still in between his lips. She stood in the space between his wide spread knees, slowly taking the cigarette butt from his mouth. He hummed, a noise she knew him well enough to know that he intended as a ‘thank you,’ and loosened his lips, letting her handle the rest. She fished the lighter out of his limp hand and lit the joint for him. He smoked, eyes droopy, looking up at her as he accepted her help.

She ran her freshly sharpened nails through his hair, smiling down at him. “You look perfect.” She whispered as if sharing a secret only meant for his ears. “You were perfect tonight.”

The joint slowly dangled from the corner of his mouth as he smiled. “Yeah? I was, wasn’t I?”

“Did you have fun? You looked like you were having fun. I’m sure you felt how well it was all going.” This new haircut made running her hands through his hair much smoother, free of resistance. He liked that he could feel her nails scratching at his scalp.

“Mhm.” He blinked his long, pretty lashes at her. Lazily, his hand reached over and pulled the joint out of his mouth so he could speak more fully. “Great crowd. That’s always a good time.”

“Yeah. People have definitely missed you.” She mused.

“We’ve missed them.”

She giggled, a bit too much, perhaps. “Yeah, mhm. Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He brought the joint back to his lips.

“It’s just….you were really feeling yourself up there, weren’t you? It’s kinda hot, actually.”

He grinned mischievously, “no idea what you’re even talking about.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I bet you don’t.” Her hands took hold of his face, leaning down to kiss him, the taste of weed on his lips. “Bet your hips do, though.” She whispered, sitting down on one of his thighs and reaching for another kiss, her hands wrapped around his neck this time. “Your hands….your shoulders…”

His eyes stared into hers with desire, “I’m completely innocent. No clue what you’re on about.” He spoke softly.

“Oh, yeah?” Her lips moved past his, down to his jawline, where she began to place a string of kisses. “Let me remind you, then.” Her lips ghosted over his skin as they slid down to his neck, kissing, licking his salty sweat, biting and sucking on his skin.

Matty’s jaw fell slack, he quickly removed the remainder of his joint from his mouth, moaning as his eyes closed.

When she was satisfied that she’d left, what would no doubt remain a visible hickey on his neck for days to come, her lips moved lower, and lower, gradually kissing down his chest, lingering at his tattoos every once in a while, grazing his nipples with her teeth until she felt his hips buck up, listening to him moan out her name desperately.

The remaining scent of his cologne mixed with smoke, sweat, and her desire for him was a heady cocktail. She needed him badly. As she kissed just under his belly button, Matty’s waist was no longer touching the couch. He whined and gasped for her. “Please- please, baby, oh- please?”

Silent, with a confident smile on her face, she unbuckled his belt, watching him relax at the slight relief of pressure that the loosened waistline of his pants had give him. She moved off of him, crouching down on the floor between his legs.

With considerable difficulty, Matty’s eyes peer open. He made a vague unintelligible noise.

“What was that, honey?” She looked up at him.

“Knees. Your knees.” He mumbled.

She chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

Her hands effortlessly pulled down his pants, and then his underwear. But Matty was nothing if not stubborn. She watched him toss the end of the joint to the floor, and she instantly stepped on it to put it out while his extended arm reached for the other end of the couch, grabbing a throw pillow.

“For your knees.”

She set the pillow underneath her, the instant difference that it made to her comfort warmed her heart. “This is why you deserve what I’m about to do for you.” She whispered before wrapped her hand around the base of his hardened cock, taking him in her mouth bit by bit.

Matty moaned, his head falling backwards. “OH- my.…fuckkkk.”

She couldn’t help but smile around him. The filthy sounds she’d coaxed out of him were a huge boost to her ego. Especially after a night like tonight when he’d strained his vocals performing for thousands of people. Listening to his muted, hoarse moaning and whining was better than a thousand songs.

His stomach muscles tightened, he bit his lower lip, swallowing a scream when he felt her tongue swirl around his sensitive tip. He reached his hand forth and stroked her cheek as she hollowed out her mouth sucking on him with a mission to push him to get louder and louder.

“Fuckin Christ!” She felt his hand shake against her cheek, eventually falling away from her face as he went limp. “B-baby that’s- p- per-fect. Oh! Angel, please- ummm. W-wait. C-could I-“ though his own cries of pleasure interrupted him, the veins of his neck bulging as he strained against the couch, she knew what he was asking for, and she nodded.

“Please- want- to feel you. Need it.”

She helped pull his condom out of his pocket and watched impatiently as he fiddled with, and opened the packet.

“Ready?” She asked him, but she might as well have been asking herself. After all, this is the moment that had plagued her thoughts since he’d walked on to the stage nearly two hours ago.

He kept his hand in hers after helping her off the floor and onto his lap, squeezing his fingers around hers every time that he felt her clench around him.

“You feel s-so good.” He whispered, kissing her forehead.

The burning desire that had emboldened her so far was now too overpowering. She was seconds away from falling apart, no longer able to think of just the right thing to say to drive him crazy, she chanted his name, over and over, as she rocked her hips into his, moaning and crying out when she felt him hit just the right spot.

“Matty, I- I’m so-“

Silently, he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her. “That feel good, my love? Do I make you feel so good?”

“Mhm….Yeah.” She nodded, reaching desperately for his face, she kissed him with a little too much force, the slight edge to her touch, tipping him over.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, honey. You close? You wanna cum for me?”

She nodded, planing her hands on the sides of his chest and thrusting into him to a persistent, unyielding rhythm. She began to moan and mumbled, but her body had already told him what her lips had failed to expressed. He knew what she meant to say. “Go on, my love, let go.”

Her release quickly brought about his own, feeling her cunt squeeze and gush around him was all he needed to bust. She felt his legs shake underneath her, his head buried in the cleavage of her chest as he moaned and repeatedly told her how much he loved her, the strong arms that held her tightly to him, loosening every so slightly as his body surrendered to pleasure.

They remained still, breathing together, their bodies resting against one another. His lips lazily kissing he skin, her fingers playing with his buzzed hair and scratching his head. A feeling that she knew relaxed him. She felt his smile spreading slowly against the skin of her chest, his lashes tickled her as his eyes closed.

“I love you.” He mumbled, sleepily. “I love you, so, so much.”

[shadowsandshapes]

[Spicy] You, Me, The Couch and Him (Dabi/F!Reader)

◇ summary: If that ratty old couch at the LOV headquarters could talk, you and Dabi would have a lot of explaining to do. Little did you know, you hadn’t been as candid as you would have hoped. Leaving the door ajar was definitely a mistake… ◇ rated: Mature ◇ contains: Voyeurism (Spoiler: it’s Shigaraki), Rough Unprotected Sex, Intense Eye Contact Is Sexy, Praise, Breeding (if you squint), Denial Play, Impact Play, Slight Name-calling and Swearing ♡ (:  ◇ wc: [1.6K] (Ao3)

Minors DNI 🔪

Your breaths run ragged as your foreheads touch. Dabi fully leans into you – his blue eyes staring into yours – blown wide with a desire so intense it feels as if it’s setting your blood ablaze. The hunger he feels for you in this moment, for your body and entire being, is nothing short of overwhelming. With every roll of your hips – every push and pull of his hands on your ass – you groan in unison. Pure, unfiltered ecstasy. It’s a slow, deliberate grind that has you weak in the knees. If you hadn’t been straddling his lap on the old ratty couch in the LOV headquarters, you’re not sure you would have been able to hold on this long. 

Dabi was rough at first. Slamming his cock into you like he had something to prove. Maybe he did. You didn’t complain, though, eagerly screaming his name with each thrust like it was your goddamn job to do so. Your neck marked by his ravenous teeth. Thighs scratched and slapped raw. You held on, riding his cock until he was just as fucked stupid as you were. Which is how you ended up in this position, slowly grinding yourself down on his cock. His seed dripped down onto your bare thighs, staining the top of his pants where your cunt grinded against him. You were both exhausted – but not satisfied. Not even in the slightest. He was still hard – and you both wanted more.

Dabi’s hand was in your hair, keeping your head steady as he stared into your eyes. You just might buckle under his gaze – feeling his cock twitch whenever you moaned his name. Something about hearing you crave for him so unabashedly was driving him crazy. 

“That’s right, baby, just like that,” he groaned out, breath fanning against your lips. “Fuck. You’re makin’ me feel s’good right now…”

Maybe it was the praise or the sublimely horny look he was giving you, but you doubled your efforts, gripping onto his shoulders for more leverage. Any moment now, one of the others could return from their missions – you needed to cum again, sooner rather than later. “Ah–Dabi –” you moaned out his name, feeling your heart race when his eyes rolled back at the sound of your desperate, groaning voice. “The o-oh fuck me, the others,” you warned, seeing Dabi’s eyes flicker towards the door behind you, then right back to your blissful little face. 

A wild grin spread across his features – like the very idea of getting caught turned him on even more. You wouldn’t be surprised if it did and – judging by the way his fingers dug into the soft skin of your abused thighs – you might be right. 

“If you’re still –” Dabi groaned out, pounding up into you with renewed vigor – your cries of pleasure coaxing a prideful chuckle from his lips before he continued: “– if you’re still thinking about other guys, then I haven’t fucked you hard enough.” This was hardly the point you were trying to make, but the sensation of his girthy cock slamming against your cervix made it difficult to argue. His fingers curled around your chin, pinching your cheeks as he forced your gaze on him. Once again, you were met with those intense, lust-blown eyes. “Just look at me, just like that –” he cooed, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip and watching with adoration as you sucked it into your mouth. “That’s my good fucking girl,” he said, shoving the digit up against you eager tongue as his hips pistoned in tandem with yours.

You looked so good riding his cock – too good to inform you that you had an audience. Dabi’s eyes landed on the door once more – it was ajar and he didn’t need to be able to see beyond the darkness to know someone was watching. Who, he wondered, would make such an effort to conceal themselves to watch two people fuck on a ratty old sofa? It didn’t matter, of course. Not really. Not when you were trying so hard to make him cum inside of you. 

If they wanted a show – Dabi would give it to them.

“Fuck – you’re gonna take my cum, yeah?” He asked, raising his voice ever so slightly so your biggest fan would be sure to catch on. Dabi’s hands came down hard on your thighs, sheathing himself within your cunt as far as he could go. “C’mon, answer me, baby – tell me you want it.” He needed this. You had to say it. Even as his previous loads clung to your glistening skin – the sound of your voice begging for more was addicting. 

Your head drooped, coming to rest against his again as you whined at the lack of friction. His  cock was pulsing – on the verge of releasing all of its seed and you craved it like a bitch in heat. Dabi could be so cruel, denying you at the very last moment. “Please, Dabi – stop being a jerk –” you whispered. Dabi’s flat palm smacked against you ass, making you jolt and arch your back. Your breath hitched. The stinging pain only served to make you writhe against him more, desperate to reach your peak. 

“Louder. And be nice –” Or else. You felt the hand on your ass heat up – not intensely, but enough to be a clear warning. Dabi wanted you to beg at the top of your lungs. For his sake, as well as to fuck with the person behind the door. The crack in the doorway widened just a smidge, like whomever was watching wanted a better view of the grand finale. Dabi spotted two fingers gingerly retreating from the opening – he recognized those crusty digits everywhere. Shigaraki. Oh, this was hilarious. He turned his attention back to you – drinking in the flushed look on your face as you stubbornly resisted his demands. He smacked you again – marveling at the borderline pornographic moan you let out in response. “C’mon, bitch. Tell me you want it. Scream it.”

You whined – a noise so gratifying, Dabi nearly lost himself then and there. You felt him shiver and tense up. It felt so good. You were barely holding it together, your inner walls flexing and contracting around his thick cock. Sensing you were hanging on by a thread – Dabi saw an opportunity. He bucked his hips – hitting a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. You gripped onto his shoulder and cried out, finally breaking. “For fuck’s sake, Dabi – fuck me, cum in me, make me your goddamn bitch, please!”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Within the blink of an eye, you were on your back – the old sofa, groaning and creaking under Dabi’s erratic thrusts. His arms pinned you to the cushions – keeping you from sliding off as your body shook beneath him. You could feel his breath on your neck – teeth occasionally grazing against the already bruised skin. Every mark a reminder of who you belonged to. Dabi’s breathing deepened. As did yours. You were so close – licking one of your fingers and shoving it between your bodies to play with your clit. It didn’t take much longer for you to finish. You spasmed, squeezing your thighs around Dabi’s hips – he cursed as your insides tightened around him. 

“Look at the door,” he whispered and without thinking, you did – locking eyes with Shigaraki as he fucked you through your orgasm. You screamed – in shock or ecstasy – it didn’t matter. Your voice shattering was enough to push Dabi over the edge. With a few deep thrusts, he buried his pulsing cock within your velvety walls – making sure to drain his balls in the deepest parts of you. Nothing quite like being watched to get his seed flowing. His teeth dug into your shoulder, muffling his satisfied moan against your skin and giving you one last parting gift. 

Shigaraki watched your head bop back – satisfied and exhausted. The way your eyes looked when you came was burned into his memory – and the sound of your moans still had his cock standing at attention. He awkwardly hid it behind his hands as he opened the door completely.

“You two need to stop fucking in public areas,” he complained half-heartedly, which made Dabi chuckle. You smacked him in the shoulder. He didn’t even flinch. 

Dabi leaned back, eyes drifting down as he pulled his cock from your insides. The sight of his cum sticking to your bodies was almost enough to reignite his desire. Thick, white gunk connecting the two of you forever. For now, though, he was satisfied enough to tap out. “What? You saying you didn’t enjoy the show, crusty?” he said, tucking himself back into his pants and pulling you up into his lap. You felt like sinking through the floor – but Dabi’s confidence made the situation a little more bearable.

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, hands fumbling in front of his aching erection. “Shut the hell up. Final warning – stop it, or I’m disintegrating you and the couch. It’s unsanitary.”

“No, not the couch,” you protested sarcastically. “We love this thing!”

Dabi’s eyes landed on Shigaraki but his lips found their home on your tender little neck, giving it a little nip. “Couldn’t look away, could you, boss?” he asked, seeing the other man dissolve into a sputtering puddle in response. 

“Shut it, Dabi.” Was all Shigaraki could muster before storming off into his own private room. You heard the door slamming at the end of the hall. He no doubt had some urgent matters to attend to. You couldn't say you didn't find the thought hilarious.

“Did you know he was there this entire time?” you asked, nestling your back into Dabi’s chest. He hummed against your skin affirmatively, reaching his arms to coil around you. “You’re an ass, you know that…”

“Yeah I know, babe, it’s why we get along so well.”

True.

[Masterlist]

[kwlsn]

the apple of my eye . . .

r ⁿ o . . .

A big chunk of crystal-clear ice slowly melted into Rin's glass — distorting the image of a lady in red heels, sensing his gaze on her like a predator for tonight.

Some people may call it an obsession, but Rindou wasn't obsessed with you — he was reclaiming what his.

"It's been a while, cheater."

"Sugar, y'know it's not true."

He waved his hand, telling everyone to leave him alone as a group of girls at the corner caught your eyes — making Sanzu and his men have to drag them out by their hair when they wouldn't budge.

Rindou hooked his arm around your knees, pulling you close to him as you rested your head against his chest, taking the upper three buttons off as your freshly manicured nails made a trail along his tatted chest.

"Thirty-thousand for this? My baby is either dumb and got scammed or trying to squeeze my money off."

He wrapped his hand around yours, pressing a kiss on your wrist as his eyes made contact with yours — trying to get an answer out of you.

Even though you moved out of his house, Rindou still let you have three of his cards to pamper yourself — each of them was for different occasions and as long as you didn't return them to him, he knew you were still his.

He believed you were playing around this whole time, still feeling upset when a stranger tried to make a move on him a year ago and he didn't brush her off.

You kept your lips tightly sewn, avoiding the older man's sharp eyes as his grip got tighter around your waist — pushing you to the limit as you straddled his hips, pressing your lips against his.

"You taste like alcohol, sugar."

"The guy I made out with is a heavy drinker."

Jealousy was a word Rindou never experienced before because he felt secure with your relationship with him — but your little game was his last straw and being nice to you was out of the topic now.

"Get on your knees now, whore."

He watched you climb off his lap, sitting in front of him like a good girl he taught you to be — feeling proud of himself for succeeding in molding you into his little doll.

Spreading his legs wide, you kept your hands close to you and unbuckled his belt with your mouth — taking it off slowly as you could see Rin was already getting impatient that his veins were visible around his neck and forehead.

Pushing down his boxer, you looked at his size in silence — always having many thoughts on how he would fit it inside you today when you knew that he would never give you time to adapt with it.

Shaking those thoughts off your head, you took his tip inside your mouth gently — feeling how heavy it was on your tongue, swirling it gently around his head before pushing it deeper into the back of your throat.

"Good girl."

He groaned, slipping his fingers between your hair and turning it into a makeshift ponytail — biting on his lower lip as your lipstick left a stain on his base (not that he was complaining though).

The combination of your tongue and moan was enough to drive him crazy, pushing him to his limit and giving him more high than any drug Sanzu could get for him — you were his only addiction and if you ran away again like before, Rindou might have to imprison you inside his expensive penthouse like what Mikey did to his wife.

One last buck against your mouth and he let out a thick string of cum filling up your mouth as you swallowed them without a complaint, looking at him with a pair of doe-like eyes that melted his heart the first time he met you.

"C'mere, sugar."

He took off your clothes and threw your expensive pair of underwear to the audience on the dance floor, watching them going wild and trying to grab one of the pair.

If there was something Rindou always enjoyed whenever he was with you, it was having people watching him pounding you hard — filling you up to the brim, making sure you kept everything to warm you up inside.

Rindou gripped your waist as he watched how you tried your best to fit it in as his tip was already making out with your cervix and yet, it was barely halfway inside.

"Need help? Here, lemme."

He placed both of your hands under your thighs spreading them open as he slammed his hips hard into your — a wide grin tugging on his lips, watching people taking pictures and videos of how your bare pussy was currently bullied by his thick cock.

Looking at him with red cheeks, you glanced at his hand and then your currently lonely clit — wanting him to pay it some attention as he let out a chuckle.

"You're really a whore, hm? Mine only, of course."

As if it was a threat, Rindou pinched your puffed up clit between his fingers — rubbing and rolling it with his hand as he could feel you were so close, wall pulsing and clenching on his cock, begging for it to fill you up, breed you and have every see you getting claimed by the one and only Haitani Rindou.

"I-I'm cummi—"

As if it was a cue, your raw pussy finally gave up and covered Rin's table with your sweet nectar — giving him a little bit of taste how much you had missed his voice, his touch, his cock.

As Rin noticed how tired you were, he asked one of his men to bring in a blanket — covering your shivering body with it before telling the rest to kill everyone who watched him fucking you.

After all, you were the apple of his eyes — you were his only and belonged to no one but him.

[gremlins-hotel]

Post headcanons abt Arthur and his first baby you coward, you fool. The audience arrived, we are here, yet you stay silent upon the stage.

(Just joking ofc, tho id give you a kidney if you gave us some hcs abt their early days <3)

I know it's not a headcanon, but I hope this will still be satisfactory. A moment between a new father and his first son, to whom Arthur wishes the world.

“You coddle him,” came Rhys’ voice, blunt and teasing.

Arthur waved his brother’s words away. They were meaningless like wayward flecks of spume against the broad side of a ship in the face of the treasure held tight to his chest. Sleepless nights, tears, and the terror of the unknowing life. He had watched his son like a hawk for years, and the boy now grew blessedly stronger. Each time little Alfred grabbed his finger, the babe’s grip was vicelike, and Arthur knew the little chubby squish of pain was worth all his toils.

Alfred burbled up at Arthur, seeing his father’s watchful eyes glimmer, a mostly toothless smile scrunching his small face with joy.

Heart squeezing and eyes wide, Arthur knew he would endure it all again as long as that babe was laughing. Hugging the heavy bundle tighter to his chest, Arthur bounced the boy gently as he fiddled with a pocket of his coat. Life was difficult when one-handed, but he hated putting Alfred down. The troubles a baby could get into with any degree of autonomy he did not wish to imagine, not after famine and disease and blood. Alfred seemed determined to bind the world with his gums if his father allowed him, in any case, and to grab it without hesitation. There were dangers on the floor that the boy approached fearlessly. That determination. It was a good thing to have, Arthur knew, but woeful for life still so seemingly fragile.

A faint jingle answering his seeking fingers told the man he’d found his quarry. Arthur whisked the trinket from his pocket in a closed fist, the toy’s chain hanging from between two fingers. The near-sterling silver rings tinkled prettily against one another as he shook his fist above Alfred’s head. Curiosity lit the deep skies held in his son’s face like stars and Arthur couldn’t keep the soft smile from turning the corners of his mouth, shaking the chain again. Skies and stars indeed, for he had never observed someone to watch the heavens so closely at such a young age. Silently he praised the boy’s curiosity; one day it might have its questions answered if Arthur had anything to say about it. He would give that lad the sky and the seas.

Short, squishy fingers reached up for the chain, seeking the noisemaker with excitement. Arthur raised it away from his baby’s reach and took delight in seeing him try again. So he played the cat-and-mouse, jerking the prize just inches from Alfred’s grasp when he waved his hands skyward. Alfred laughed uproariously each time the toy made its metallic clinking and at seeing the smile on his father’s face. Arthur opened his fingers to reveal the rest of the shining silver toy and raised it to his mouth. One end was a sweet little whistle, which he blew quietly in the face of the babe. A high, windy note spiraled out into the air between them and Alfred laughed again, his entire face bright and bold. It made the boy redouble his efforts.

Arthur finally acquiesced, lowering his hand enough for those ferocious fingers to grip the tiny silver rings and tug. Once more Alfred’s burgeoning strength shot a bolt of pride through the man’s chest. With reluctant fingers he allowed the toy to drop into his son’s happy hands. Little curved talons, blunt by youth, curled around the moon-bright metal like a hunting bird content with its catch. The babe brought the whistle end to his soft mouth and immediately made to teethe on the silver. Tiny puffs of breath made the whistle sing and stutter, and Alfred’s eye glimmered happily, gazing up at Arthur as though he’d hung the heavens. Quickly he slobbered on the toy, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel enraptured by his son, drool or not.

Having forgotten the watching eyes beside him, it was Rhys’ voice that broke his reverie. “You ordered the coral, after all? No measure too small.”

Arthur blinked, looking up and away, then back to the toy in his son’s burbling mouth. The opposite end of the whistle had a stub of red, red coral from lands far away, polished to a beautiful shine. It was worth it to him. Anything to keep winding spirits and the fey away from his boy who had already suffered enough. No measure too small.

“Someday he will not need it, I hope.”

[selenacosmic]

*peeks into the ask box*

H-Hello 👉👈

Are the requests open? I forgot how to send requests since it's been so long.

If yes, I do have a request 👉👈

Soo, what if the Warlords have taken gaming as their profession when they live in the modern world? What if they are streaming while playing a game and MC walks in, giving him a hug and kiss on his cheek from behind and says "Food is ready", all the while not knowing they were on live stream. The live chat would be sending a lot of messages (nice, mean and funny) when the MC comes in, such as "Is that your girlfriend?", "Show her! Introduce her!", "She should be in streams too!", "I bet she plays better than you do!", etc.

What would the Warlords reaction to MC walking in during their important streaming and gaming time be? And how would they calm the chat down? Would they make time for MC by ending the stream? Or would they continue while being embarrassed?

......Such a long request. I'm sorry! I'll go back to hibernation now! Love you! 💖

*runs away*

Hi Mai! I actually really like this request! Thank you for the request!

MC interrupts the warlords streaming.

Oda forces.

Nobunaga Oda.

Nobunaga wouldn’t be too worried about the chat in his stream, he would only smirk and make sure they all know he is lucky to have you. There are two options for him which is continue playing while ignoring the questions, since he doesn’t feel like answering any of them, or just end the stream and go spend time with you.

Nobunaga will naturally pick the second one, he had enough playing these modern games to entertain people.

Hideyoshi Toyotomi.

Hideyoshi will be smiling widely at the kiss and tell you he will be right there with you. He will scold anyone who makes mean comments but will gladly answer questions about your relationship, though he will be quick about because he wants to end the stream.

Ieyasu Tokugawa.

Ieyasu might be caught off guard, he won’t answer the chat for a while until he has calmed down. He will tell everyone in the chat to not annoy him with questions, as he didn’t want to expose you to a whole public.

Ieyasu won’t be embarrassed, but he will be blushing because of the kiss.

Mitsuhide Akechi.

Mitsuhide will smirk and watch the chat go wild with amusement, he won’t seem that affected but in reality he is more than pleased to brag about having you as his partner. He will purposely ignore some questions and only give a few informations about you, before abruptly ending the live stream just cause chaos among his audience.

Mitsunari Ishida.

Mitsunari will happily smile and inform you he will be going to eat with you soon, he tries reading a few questions but gets overwhelmed at how fast the chat is going, so he easily gets lost and mixes up some questions. Still, he will prefer to end the live stream and deal with it later.

Masamune Date.

Masamune will proudly smile, specially when all the questions in the chat start popping up. He won’t answer any specific question, but will briefly tell the audience that you are his lover, the best there is. He will pull you slightly and give you a much deeper kiss without caring for the chat.

Keiji.

Keiji will be eager to end the stream then and there, but will get annoyed at some of the comments he receives in chat, he will still keep his playful facade, but will add a hint of sarcasm for every nasty or inconvenient comment he receives.

Ranmaru.

Ranmaru will get embarrassed and become a blushing mess, being teased by everyone in the chat. He will try calming down since he felt shy with everyone having watched you kiss him. Now he couldn’t concentrate on the game he was previously playing. He will have to end the live, a bit flustered.

Uesugi-Takeda alliance.

Kenshin Uesugi.

Kenshin will smile and feel happy at the hug and kiss, but then he will remember that many people are watching it live. A frown will immediately form on his face and he will try to avoid answering any questions about you, not liking that others were now interested in you. He was jealous and wanted to protect you from the public. Kenshin decided to end the live stream, not wanting to deal with the public right now.

Shingen takeda.

Shingen will be full aware that many people are watching and won’t mind the kisses and hugs. He will even give you many kisses back just to flex to everyone that he has an angel as his lover. As for the questions? He will brag about how much of a goddess you are and that he adores you. Though he will ban any mean comments right away

Yukimura Sanada.

Yukimura will become as red as a tomato, telling you that he is streaming, though that would be too late. The chat would be teasing him for having a lover with his personality, though Yukimura won’t really take it to heart, he will just get a bit annoyed and ban some of the people being rude. He will continue to play a bit despite his red cheeks.

Yoshimoto Imagawa.

Yoshimoto will also be aware of the fact that everyone is watching and won’t mind, gracefully smiling at you and reading the many comments in the chat. He won’t really bother answering questions but he will make sure people know that you are his lover. The live stream will end with him leaving a lot of people curious and questions unanswered.

Sasuke.

While Sasuke has a monotone voice and a straight face all the time, a smile will naturally appear on his face at your kisses. The chat will be more surprised that someone was able to make Sasuke smile so naturally. He will answer only the most normal questions and ignore others. He will keep playing for a bit and change subjects eventually to distract his public.

Kanetsugu.

Kanetsugu was about to scold you to be careful, since a lot of people were watching and you might not want the public attention, but that was too late. He saw all the many questions in chat, instead he will scold anyone who makes too personal questions or weird ones. He will be torn between telling the public that you were his lover or try and preserve your privacy.

He eventually decides to briefly tell everyone you are his lover but that your privacy should be respected before ending the stream.

[utilitycaster]

I listened to the WBN Fireside on my way to work and there were two things Brennan said, one of which stood out to me as something I really agree with and one of which I really disagree with so I figured I'd make this post (the disagreement one) first and then the agreement one.

The latest episode of WBN had a scene that the characters were not present for nor viewing in any way. It was recorded without their knowledge, though they did listen to it when the episode came out, and on the Fireside Brennan said that such scenes should be used quite sparingly, given the nature of actual play, but (and I apologize, I haven't relistened and the transcripts aren't out) because the antagonists aren't present where the PCs are, it's useful at times to have a scene to keep them in the narrative for the audience.

I firmly disagree. I think that while it's true that actual play has a limited POV (if the characters don't see it, you don't see it), I have, in a lot of actual play fandom, never once seen a situation when it added to the story. Granted, WBN is ongoing, so I may eat my words here, but I am doubtful for a number of reasons.

Speaking as one small fraction of the audience, I am in possession of narrative object permanence. I do not in fact assume that when the PCs are in one part of the world, the rest of it grinds to a halt. In fact, something that skilled GMs do (including, frankly, Brennan himself most of the time) is quietly advance the plans of people who are offscreen. This is also not abnormal for the genre. Lord of the Rings has multiple POVs at different times, but never that of an antagonist; we learn of this through rumors, espionage, and Gandalf's retellings. Sprawling epics like A Song of Ice and Fire or the Stormlight Archives or the Wheel of Time make use of a wide range of third person limited viewpoints as well, not all aligned, but we don't see every move by every faction (and frankly, as a fan of that kind of book...I still think most of them could leave a bit more on the cutting room floor). Limited third person POV is not a weakness of Actual Play; I'd argue it is both a strength and a requirement. The story is driven by the player characters, and they cannot act on something they do not see.*

I'd also add that in this very specific situation, the audience saw the subject of the cutscene, The Man in Black, literally three episodes ago, which was a day ago in-game. He was brought up extensively in the discussion two episodes ago. If someone forgot? That's on them. We have not gone months and months without him making an appearance. I do think it's possible for villains to be poorly developed because they do not cross the paths of the characters enough (this is, as many of the people reading this likely know, a blog that loves to dunk on the cardboard-like nature of Otohan Thull's virtually nonexistent personality and motivations) but The Man in Black is sufficiently a banger of an antagonist as to not be so easily forgotten.

Finally, and this might just be me, but because I know how Actual Play and D&D work, I must admit the second I realized this was a no-PC cut scene I found it pretty hard to pay attention. In fact, it did the opposite of what was intended. Instead of eagerly awaiting news of how The Man in Black was waging war, filtered through whatever information Suvi, Eursulon, and Ame could obtain, I was zoning out while he talked. I think part of why I like Actual Play is that it usually leaves me, even with 4 hour episodes, wanting more. Cut scenes leave me wishing the cut scene hadn't happened.

*brief tangent: this doesn't, in my opinion, apply to the scenes in Downfall that the viewer sees but which weren't captured in the Occultus Thalamus. The story of Downfall is ultimately a story about the gods - they are the PCs - and the dramatic irony enhances the story-within-a-story aspect. It's important to the audience understanding of the gods to see the whole thing, and it's a valid choice that Bells Hells only see what occurred while the avatars were physically in Aeor. It does, however, apply to contemporaneous happenings in Worlds Beyond Number.

**This also doesn't apply to long DM monologues in the presence of players. The C3 solstice scene has been compared to a cut scene, but actually it's important that Bells Hells sees it. If one of the Wizard, Witch, or Wild One had managed to find a way to, even at a low level, scry or similarly learn of the Man in Black's doings? I wouldn't have minded it. I adore the Hakea vision scene. It's specifically that I'm in fact here to see what the characters see.

[hades-in-bloom]

‘Till Death Do Us Part, Pt. 2 | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon disappeared on his wedding day—until he was finally found.

contents & warnings: am cursed with fluff, assumed older Leon, assumed age gap (could be none though), mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death, reader could be any gender, Leon behaving like an ass because he can’t handle feelings, kisses, no mentions of y/n

author’s note: I had no idea how it would end until it ended; proceed at your own risk.

all works in this blog are intended for 18+ audience

comments are appreciated <3

xoxo

***

Leon spat blood and attempted to turn his head around, mildly squinting because of the palpable pain in the back of his skull. Shit, he grunted. Shit, shit, shit. The man cursed through the pain in his broken ribs and the soreness of the bruises that seemed to cover every inch of his body.

Who knew a quick work trip from New York to Washington, D.C., the day before your betrothal would be a nasty idea?

“You knew, you overworked dumbass,” Leon muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and hoarse. Everything that happened to him was precisely what Kennedy should have expected after the mission brief that Hunnigan delivered last night.

While he was getting out from under the wreckage of the D.S.O. helicopter, you must have been worried sick, all glammed up and dressed in your beautiful wedding gown. You didn’t let Leon take a peak at it before the ceremony, and now he regretted it—after all, he has never been too superstitious; will he even make it home tonight? At this moment, the man had no presumption if the ceremony would happen. Right now, he ran thin against the chances of making it out alive from his trouble.

Leon quickly searched for other survivors of the incident, but he found only corpses instead. Again. That seemed to be his thing—to be the last man standing; however, this peculiarity of his character has never brought as much peace to Leon as others would like it to.

It could bring peace to you, though, as by the end of this night, you might still have a fiancé to marry if he gets lucky.

Leon took time to bandage his right leg with pieces of his shirt as it bled heavily, almost dripping onto the ground. If he loses too much blood, he will collapse right there—and then you will haunt him in the afterlife, as you promised some time ago. Not that he didn't want to spend eternity with you, but it was way too soon for his liking.

Leon wasn't sure how long did it take to reach the highway, walking through the woodlands.

He passed out as soon as one of the cars slowed down next to him, answering the man's heavy gesturing from the roadside.

***

Your phone rang in the middle of the night, but you were wide awake.

“Yes, Ingrid?” you replied, audibly drenched and tired and lacking sleep for the past few days. You—or anyone—haven't heard back from Leon in a week, and you started losing your mind. You didn't want to prepare yourself for the worst; you really didn't.

“He's in a hospital in Delaware,” Hunnigan kept her tone professional, although it wasn't enough to hide her excitement. You covered your mouth with your hand, suddenly feeling dizzy. “He's badly hurt but alive. I'll send a D.S.O. ‘copter to pick you up—you are his emergency contact, after all.” You could hear Ingrid smiling. “Over and out.”

Hunnigan has already hung up—and you still couldn't breathe.

***

You rushed up the stairs to the second floor, not caring about using the slowest elevator on Earth—at least, that's how you perceived the hospital’s one; for the past week waiting on Leon to get back home, you had no patience left.

He briefly flinched in a hospital bed when you burst into his ward. You were so mad at him before—and suddenly you weren't, looking at how he's devouring a local chocolate pudding, a spoon still in his mouth when his eyes trained on you.

You felt a wave of relief washing over your body, and you finally felt it—he was alive. Despite all the odds, he came back to you.

“You bastard,” you whined anyway, keeping a weird distance. You might have been afraid of squeezing him too hard so the numerous droppers he was connected to would fall off.

Leon finally took a spoon out from between his lips, the lower one visibly split after the accident.

“Do I know you?” he tilted his head, watching you. You blinked in silence; only Kennedy’s heart rate monitor was beeping, its frequency increasing. After what you both went through, did he actually come back to you?

You didn't have time to say a word when one of the nurses walked into the room. She was in her sixties, looking at you like a proud aunt would.

“Oh, isn't it the lovely lady you've been telling me about,” she chirped, looking at Leon.

This was when you noticed a loving smirk growing on his face.

You took a deep breath, taking a step towards your dear fiancé.

“You are so lucky that you were dying a good second ago, Kennedy,” you groaned when he caught your wrist, almost desperately kissing you after you were pulled closer. You had no idea where his strength for this movement was coming from—but you could still feel a taste of a hospital-provided chocolate pudding on his lips.

***

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

Hi!!! May I ask jance 22 kiss please?❤️

hi anon! tysm for your ask, the prompt is in a rush of adrenaline. i've also posted this fic on ao3 here!

Nace stepping up next to Jan in Novi Val is inevitable. They’ve messed around with each other a little throughout the gig, but they’re conscious that they’re being recorded and that they intend to release a concert film, so they’ve tried to tone it down. It’s ridiculous, but Jan has missed glancing across to catch Nace’s eye and reel him in with a look alone, has missed sidling up to him and making a witty comment just to make him laugh. Now, though, with the end of the concert so near, Jan feels unable to think of anything funny to say. He just leans heavily into Nace, who wraps an arm round him and pulls him in tight. They take in the ocean of their audience together, the glittering of their phone torches lighting up the hall in rainbow colours, the towering tiers of fans above their heads.

“We made it,” Nace says, barely audible over the roar of thousands of people singing their music. His voice sounds hoarse, as though he might cry, and Jan lets go of his guitar to slip his arm around Nace’s back in return. Sometimes he wishes he could stop playing for Novi Val, as Jure and Nace do, so he could stay pressed into Nace’s side like this for the whole song.

“We did,” Jan agrees, and as touching as the moment is, he’s still running high on the adrenaline of the past hour on stage, and he’s smiling so widely at Nace that he must look deranged. He wants to pull Nace towards him and kiss him senseless. He leans up so that he can speak directly into Nace’s ear. “We’re so lucky to have you.” 

Nace pulls him closer, his cheeks dimpling. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he answers. “Have I ever told you just how mesmerising you are when you play? And do you even know how gorgeous you look tonight?”

Jan can’t help but blush, though Nace has said these words to him before. “Do you know how proud I am of you,” he counters, “for what you’re wearing? Have you finally realised how hot you are?”

Nace just laughs, and Jan can’t tear his eyes away. “Endless compliments tonight, huh?” he jokes.

“For you, always.”

They’re interrupted by Jure on Nace’s other side, and he’s grinning at them too. He sings raucously at them both, throwing his hands in the air, before spinning off to face the other half of the audience, where Kris is standing. Nace remains at Jan’s side for a while longer, but Jan soon has to resume playing and he reluctantly steps out of Nace’s embrace so as to be able to concentrate again.

When Novi Val ends, they rush backstage to change into their Eurovision outfits before they play Carpe Diem. Kiki takes Jan’s guitar at the edge of the stage and Mark meets them at the bottom of the stairs with his camera in his hand. They only have a three minute clip prepared for the screen above the stage and Jan knows the crowd will get restless if they have to wait too long, but he doesn’t care. As soon as he gets to the green room, he launches himself towards Nace, who’s already taken off his shoes and half undone his trousers, and kisses him hard, despite the presence of their three bandmates and Mark. Nace staggers a few steps backwards but wraps his arms around Jan to bring him closer and kisses him fiercely back. Jan opens his mouth to Nace, desperately taking advantage of their few moments of peace. This kind of display in front of their bandmates is unusual, but Jan doesn’t care. When the gig finishes, they’ll be immediately surrounded by all the crew and the staff in the arena, Mark will be filming, and they’ll have to go straight into a press conference and be professional. Even at the afterparty, there will be enough strangers and press present that they’ll have to be careful around each other, though Jan knows he’ll be desperate to have Nace under his hands again. 

Someone tugs on the back of Jan’s shirt and says wryly, “can you stop trying to eat each other’s faces and actually get ready? You’ve only got two more minutes.”

Nace breaks the kiss reluctantly, but doesn’t let go of Jan, who’s still holding Nace’s face between his hands. Jan savours the weight of Nace’s arms around him for a few more moments, the sight of his flushed cheeks, the heaviness of his breathing, and then he tears himself away and begins to get changed.

“You’ve ruined a good shot we could have put in the concert film,” Mark chides Jan as he leans down to take off his shoes. 

“Worth it,” Jan mutters under his breath, and Mark playfully swats at his arm in retaliation.

When their allotted time is up, Mark impatiently ushers them out of the green room though Bojan’s shirt is half unbuttoned and Nace is still shrugging on his jacket. Jan just has time to pull Nace in for one more bruising kiss before they head back on stage for the encore.

[noona-clock]

Fourever 🍀 Welcome to the Show

Genre: Bookstore!AU, Fluff

Pairing: Dowoon x You

Words: 1,659

Welcome to the Show 🍀 Happy 🍀 The Power of Love 🍀 Get the Hell Out 🍀 Sad Ending 🍀 Let Me Love You 🍀 Didn't Know

I'm so moved by the stage That I won't be alone any longer Among all of the possibilities Thank you for choosing me The future that you're welcoming with me might be risky But there might also be tear-filled impassion

Dowoon let out a shaky exhale as he anxiously tapped one drumstick against his thigh. His gaze flitted around, and seeing all of the familiar bookshelves and cozy chairs actually did a lot to calm his nerves. The only other thing that could help would be seeing you, but if he so much as peeked around the curtain next to the small stage in the back of the bookstore, he would see everyone else in the audience, too. And that would most decidedly not help.

It had taken him years to get to this point, and chickening out now would disappoint not only himself but you, too. You wouldn't tell him you were disappointed, but he knew you would be deep down.

Suddenly (or maybe not so suddenly), the urge to see you was almost overwhelming. He knew you were out in the audience, probably not even ten feet away from him at this very moment -- the bookstore wasn't a huge place, after all. All he really wanted was to say 'thank you.' Up until tonight, Dowoon had been too scared to even think about drumming in front of other people, but you had gently pushed him to share his talent. He didn't have to ever go on stage again, not even at the bookstore's Open Mic night; just once would be enough.

And, eventually, Dowoon had fallen so deeply for you that he agreed. The smile on your lips and the squeal his acquiescence had elicited from you had warmed his heart and quelled his nerves.

So, if he could only see you for just a minute right now, just to say 'thank you for believing in me' and wrap you in a quick but tight embrace, he knew he would be able to get up on that stage without a care in the world.

Even so, if you won't let go of my hand If so (If so) Then let's go (Let's go) Welcome to the show I promise you this much I'm going to give my all So, the look in your eyes won't be shaken I'll be standing and looking towards you

Alas, just as Dowoon was reaching into his pocket to send you a text, the emcee for the Open Mic night (the manager of the bookstore) announced the next act -- Dowoon's band.

Technically, it wasn't his band. It was a local band he'd joined a couple of months ago after their drummer moved away. But still.

"And some of you may recognize the drummer," the manager said, her grin apparent in her voice. "He's been working here at The Pagemaster for almost four years -- our very own Dowoon!"

Dowoon's stomach dropped down to his feet. His cheeks almost instantly flamed. He should've known this was coming since his manager, Hanna, had been delighted when she'd heard the news.

But, still? Had it been necessary to point him out like that?!

Somehow, Dowoon followed his bandmates out onto the small stage, though he kept his eyes glued to his shoes rather than look out in the audience. When he sat down behind his drum set, though, he kind of had no choice but to face the audience, so he swiftly found you -- the only person in this bookstore right now (and maybe in the world?) around whom he didn't feel nervous. His anchor, his rock, his home.

A wide, radiant grin appeared on your lips the second your gazes met, and Dowoon imagined the feeling of your hand in his. He imagined you standing right in front of him, blocking out every other person so it seemed as if he were only playing to you.

As the band's frontman was introducing their first song, you discreetly formed a heart with your fingers and mouthed 'I believe in you.'

Honestly, that was all he needed. As soon as the guitarist turned around to give Dowoon the signal, he lifted his drumsticks into the air and counted them off to begin.

Let's go.

I know your decision was not easy It's my part to make you not regret it If you're willing to go to the end together Still holding onto your hand Even on the day that the curtains come down So that we can say to each other That I was happy because it was you

You were so proud of Dowoon that you almost started crying tears of joy. But you could still see the anxiety on his face, and if he saw you crying, it certainly wouldn't help things.

So, to distract your mind, you began thinking of how you and Dowoon met all those months ago...

You had just moved to town not even a week before you walked through the doors of The Pagemaster, a locally-owned bookstore about a five-minute walk from your new place. The stress of moving and unpacking had gotten to you, and you'd decided to notch out some time to unwind with a new book -- escapism and retail therapy. What better ways to cope, am I right?

It hadn't been one of those meet-cutes where you'd seen Dowoon across the room and were pulled by the Universe to go speak with him. You had interacted with him on that first visit, yes, but things had happened gradually. In fact, it had taken you about two months to realize you were visiting The Pagemaster at least once a week not fully to buy or browse new books, but more to see a certain dark-haired, soft-spoken employee.

And then, on your first date a few weeks later, Dowoon had mentioned that he played the drums.

"Wait, how did I not know this already?" you'd gasped, your brow furrowed. "Are you playing at Open Mic Night next weekend?"

Dowoon had immediately shaken his head and murmured, "No, it's just a hobby."

"So? Open Mic Night isn't just for professionals. Actually, that's the whole point! You should sign up and play something!" you'd assured him, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on his arm.

"Nah... I don't think so."

It had taken a bit of delicate prodding to find out Dowoon had just been scared to play in front of people. A classic case of Stage Fright!

So, you'd made it your mission to find a local band in need of a drummer so he wouldn't have to be on the stage by himself.

And now here you were! Many, many dates later, and you were finally watching your boyfriend play drums at Open Mic Night. You were doing your best to catch his eye as often as possible so you could smile encouragingly and quietly clap for him -- he had been nervous for at least a week, and you didn't want him to regret doing this. Even if he never did it again, you wanted him to be glad he'd done it at least once.

Honestly, though, you would absolutely be disappointed if he decided to never drum again after tonight because boy did he look cute doing it!

I promise you this much I'm going to give my all So, the look in your eyes won't be shaken I'll be standing and looking towards you

At first, when Dowoon had seen you stand from your chair and politely squeeze by the people sitting in your row, he'd panicked. The final song was almost over, but he had a drum solo near the end, and he didn't think he'd be able to get through it if you weren't in the audience!

But then he realized you were simply making your way to the side of the stage so you could be there to greet him when the band's set was done.

Thank goodness.

Your closeness gave Dowoon that extra boost of courage, and when his drum solo came around, he really gave it all he had. He clamped his eyes shut so he could just feel the music.

And when the bookstore filled with applause before he was even finished, his eyes flew open and landed on you. He could see from here that there were tears in your eyes, but you were smiling so widely and clapping so enthusiastically that he knew they were tears of joy. Or maybe... pride?

He was certainly proud of himself for overcoming his stage fright, and if he was being honest, if the roles were reversed, he would probably be overflowing with emotion, too.

The applause was still going strong as the band's frontman thanked everyone and then turned to leave the stage. Dowoon swiftly stood, slid his drumsticks into his back pocket, and practically leaped over his cymbal stand to get to you.

"You were amazing!" you whisper-shouted the second he reached you, flinging your arms around his neck.

A shy smile tugged at Dowoon's lips as he hugged you back. He could hear you sniffling above the noise of the crowd and his manager introducing the next act, so he discreetly reached up to take your arm and began to lead you back to the corner of the store where the cozy mystery section was.

"You were so so amazing," you repeated softly once Dowoon had turned to face you again.

He lifted his hands to delicate cradle your face, using one of his thumbs to wipe away a stray tear.

"I'm so proud of you," you whispered as you moved to press your forehead to his.

"I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for you," he reminded you. "So... thank you."

You let out a soft chuckle before kissing him chastely. "You're welcome."

Dowoon searched your face -- your absolutely beautiful, beaming, slightly tear-stained face -- and maybe it was the adrenaline rush from performing on stage or maybe it was your overwhelming emotions transferring to him or maybe... it was just his true, honest feelings coming to the surface, but he felt the words bubbling up and couldn't do anything to stop them.

"I love you."

Your eyebrows raised slightly, but that was the only indication you gave that he'd surprised you. You didn't hesitate even for a second before saying "I love you, too."

He pulled you into his arms then, wrapping them firmly around you as he buried his face in your sweetly scented hair.

No matter what happened from here on out -- if he never performed in front of people ever again or if he joined the band in earnest and became a full-blow musician. If he quit working at The Pagemaster tomorrow or if he worked here for the rest of his life. Dowoon wasn't worried or anxious or afraid about any of it because he knew you would be by his side, and he would be by yours.

Welcome to the show.

[qilingxiong]

having actually gone and watched A Balloon's Landing (2024), i think its most widely criticized point of being queerbait isn't entirely warranted (although not NOT understandable). while the first half of the movie definitely seems like it's building up to that in a lot of scenes, once you're through, it makes more sense why the leads' dynamic didn't turn into a more explicit, fully gay romance. one character really isn't in the headspace for that throughout the film, and due to a certain plot point with the other, there just doesn't end up being room for that kind of relationship. i do think there are some interactions between the characters they could've committed to regardless, but it's alright enough as is.

if you approach the film as a pre-slash story, it works quite well, and the ending very much leaves room for a properly romantic relationship to unfold afterward. i don't think whether or not the main relationship is queer is a question. to me it absolutely reads as such, terrance lau and fandy fan knew what they were doing with their performances and their chemistry is fantastic (even on very low rated reviews, i saw people leave stars for their acting). on that front, i have few notes.

but where the movie made a mistake, and where i think the queerbaiting accusations all come from, is that the film wasn't marketed as a pre-slash story. based on the trailer, posters, and promo stills, audiences were encouraged to believe the movie would focus on an explicitly gay BL relationship and its development. the fact that fandy fan is a known BL actor probably helped this. for audiences who went into the film expecting that kind of story, and then didn't get it, i understand why they would feel betrayed. there's a lot of good moments, but the leads don't kiss, and even though some scenes in the first part of the movie feel very much like a BL premise it all abandons that eventually.

and hey, it's not like fans can't make feasts out of a solid bromance dynamic. we know this. it's just that people were expecting more than bromance (especially from a taiwanese film), as opposed to just having those kinds of moments between characters be a treat, like we might in a mainland drama, and that's what was irritating.

A Balloon's Landing: queerbaiting it is not, but misleading it still is.