#this was originally gonna be cliche

[radiantinvocation]

You... accidentally became the beasts of deceits spouse???

One moment, you're agreeing to take part in his play as the 'bride' the next you're his actual spouse?

I can imagine that the idea came up when you were getting too cuddly with your friend, Pure Vanilla Cookie. He got oh so jealous that his favorite puppet was showering love and affection to the one who stole his soul jam.

So, like the most brilliant cookie that he is, he organized a wedding act. Where you will exchange rings at the altar. Real rings, may he add! Everyone is invited! His minions, gingerbrave and co. Even dear old Pure Vanilla. Oh yeah, did he forget to mention? Shadow Milk himself will play the part of the groom!

Anddd just to step up his game, you two will sign a 'fake' wedding certificate. All while, dear Silly Vanilly gets to play the part of the wedding officiant that will 'unify' your 'vows'.

You won't be made aware of any of the ceremony being real. That's the fun part! You will only stare at Shadow Milk in confusion as he takes the whole ceremony seriously.

[yet-another-wlw-shipper]

Sleeping arrangements 2/? (Yeri x Kyung, Friendly Rivalry)

Author notes:

A missing scene from episode 12. Unbeta'd.

Previous chapter here

****

Kyung's mother had already gone to bed when the girls arrived. After a shower, the girls were ready for bed. Yeri started arranging her clothes in the shape of a pillow.

"What are you doing? Are you gonna sleep on the floor?"

"Where else would I sleep? And I'm kinda used to it by now."

"I can't let you sleep on the cold floor. My bed is big enough for two. You'll sleep better here."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna intrude."

"Nonsense. We're both girls. Come here!"

Yeri finally did as she was told and climbed into bed.

"I'll turn off the light. Are you comfortable?"

Yeri just nodded, and after a click, darkness surrounded them.

"Good night, Yeri!"

"Good night!"

----

Kyung was glad that Yeri didn't have to sleep in the jjimjilbang, but having someone in the same bed felt strange.

We're both girls, and this isn't much different from a regular sleepover, right?

She couldn't sleep and started going over everything that had happened since they had gone to the club. First an older woman had accompanied her, and she hadn't felt bad, she had even been flattered. Then everything with Yeri. What was that supposed to mean? For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about Yeri. Her sweet smile, her teasing, her ruined dress, her…

She turned to face Yeri, and the streetlights shone enough light through her thin curtains for her to make out Yeri's features. She looked so beautiful in her sleep that she almost wanted to caress her face.

What are you thinking? Stop it and stop acting so weird!

She quickly turned to stare at the ceiling.

But somehow the fact that Yeri was no more than an arm's length away from her made her anxious, uncomfortable, and nervous. She had this one sure way to deal with stress, but she certainly wasn't going to use it HERE! The mere thought filled her with dread.

As she finally began to relax and fall asleep, something touched her and she let out a small yelp. Then she realized that Yeri had moved in her sleep and her arm was around her. Their faces were so close that she could smell Yeri's strawberry-scented toothpaste. Kyung's heart was beating fast. It was probably due to the shock of an unexpected touch, she thought. But you can't rule out the other reason, the one her conscious mind still refused to accept.

[darabeatha]

/ I can't believe my first 'oc' servant (and i put it on quotes bc its not like i invented the d.evil, and i also mean in general bc I literally can't remember when was the last time I had something close to an oc) is the frigging d.evil

[campingwithmonsters]

Considering what I’ve just posted is pretty vague, I wanna talk a little more about their deal. So here’s the basic gist and the beginning:

A lot of Tags of Whistlegrimm’s cast have always been mishmashes of different fairy tales. In Duck Duck Goose, I mostly stuck with one’s most are familiar with. But in Blind Man’s Bluff, my plan is to branch out a little more and include some universal representation.

Case in point, Robin, Nightingale, and Snow’s first idea came from a Native American folktale called “The Robin and The Bear”, which tells the story of a persistent robin trying to ignite a fire for a freezing tribe against a bear who keeps blowing the fire out at each turn until the Robin’s fire overpower’s the bears ability to blow out— in turn, this is how the robin got it’s red chest. The choices of how I could apply this to already existent fairy tale characters were not hard picks. The robin as Robin Hood, of course, and the bear being represented as Snow White, considering the cold winter the story took place during. Nightingale is the fire the robin continued to ignite.

Considering this disdain the robin and the bear kept against each other, Robin and Snowie were depicted as strong enemies who wanted nothing more than the other dead for reasons we may never get the full picture of. But what starts their story? How do they get forced upon each other to create the rest of the plot?

These two are ruthless, and despite what anyone may assume, are both generally unlikable people. Not the ripest of the bunch for sure, and it’s almost like these two are trying to eliminate the other to be the least likable person in Whistlegrimm! Which is… props to them? But is trying to kill the other over their differences really optimal?

The plot will be sure to say otherwise.

Against their hatred for one another and how often they find themselves going at each other’s throats, their wandering battles enter some pretty risky territory… that of royal territory, of course. You know, where you’d typically see the king. Well, they make an awful mistake that day. One of the tenders of the garden catches wind of the scene and runs in to attempt to disperse the two or otherwise figure out what the issue is and why bring it here at the kingdom. But in the process, the two are so focused on getting the upper hand that neither suspect the oncoming patron, and when they do catch up, it’s already too late to react when both attack so mercilessly and the unsuspected incomer gets mutilated in the crossfire, and dies on the scene.

Now in shock, the two realize what’s happened, and there’s no time to react before they are immediately pinned by the guards and presented to the king for their tyranny.

Lord Whimsical Whistlegrimm (yes, that is indeed his name) is skeptical of why this would be necessary. Upon allowing the two to argue, he’s quick to decipher that the death was not warranted by either, and was completely by mistake, actually aiming for the other. Lord takes some interest in this strange set of circumstances, and orders the two be locked away until he knows what his next course of action is. When presented to the warden, he makes a special request that they be in the same cellar.

Robin, Nightingale, and Snow are all pretty helpless. Their desires to kill the other seem futile as they’ll likely be beheaded for their crime anyway. They can’t bring each other to fight the other at this moment, and when Lord returns, he has… a proposition. These two are curious and he wants to see if they really value their own lives as much as they hate the other’s. Lord informs them of a concoction they can create— one they need a plethora of ingredients for that are scattered around Whistlegrimm’s Wonderlands, that is spoken to raise the dead— to revive the innocent gardener they mistakenly slayed. And if they can create the tincture, their punishments will be severely lowered if not retconned.

But considering in Whistlegrimm that actual magic is rare and a risky practice, the two are skeptical of the authenticity. But who are they to question the king? If it means living a little longer— maybe so they can actually succeed in outliving the other— who are they to refuse? They take the offering that’s given, but not without a special catch. The king provides a little bit of magic for each— magic in the form of a durable red string that wrings around the necks of the trio. If they want to be at each other’s throats so bad, than so be it. The string will only remove when their end of the deal is confirmed— and they have to be together to do it. If they get careless and one of them perishes during the journey… they’ll have to carry the weight for the rest of their lives, figuratively and literally.

Lord is asked about what his prediction will be about this. Can he be so sure they won’t come back empty handed or come back at all? Ah, Lord cannot confirm either… he almost feels bad.

So off these two go to erase their debt. But it’s not going to be simple considering the predisposed hatred they have. Protecting each other is not going to be fun when all this time they’ve known each other they’ve been actively trying to end each other. But… if this means fixing their mistakes to the kingdom, they only have one way to go— onward!

[persianflaw]

UGH i have a snippet of this snowed-in fic that i'm working on that i want to share, but i don't want to post it publicly yet bc it's still got several placeholder phrases and it feels too unfinished. and @bbjkrss-blog is already asleep bc he is an old man *shakes fist*

[whenthegoldrays]

toying with the idea of having the inciting incident where Seon-hwa jumps through the portal and changes her whole life on a dime be based on a lie, or at least an excuse. “I was in danger, I couldn’t stay there anymore!” girl they were just trying to set you up. but too bad, because she had already made up her mind to go and was just looking for the slightest provocation

[footprint-in-the-snow]

i think you can tell who was a pop punk fan before they got into the 1975 based on how they react to that new song on tiktok

[kianamaiart]

Hey hey! You’ve probably been asked this a lot but what made you want to start creating I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl?

Also I drew Akia in my style!

Hope you’re having a great day btw ! :0)

First of all this is so rad!!! I loooove how you drew her

And what made me want to make I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl... It was a lot of things! (im assuming you mean the pilot in general)

The idea started off as a stupid doodle/character design practice. It wasn't gonna be anything more than that. I just felt like drawing a cute character with a gun really hahaha.

It's not a particularly original premise and I didn't plan to do anything more with her (as I do with most of my ocs/designs). But I actually did really like this one and couldn't help but think of little ideas and scenarios with her. Things started ramping up in my brain more when I realized I could attach a personal story and personal experiences to it to make it feel less cliche. That's when I started designing the other characters and coming up with bios and stuff

And then that was gonna be it again. I'd maybe do a comic here and there but there was a combination of things that happened that led to me jumping in and making a pilot.

First of all, I had a two month hiatus coming up so I had so much time. I also decided to step down from my directors position to be a board artist again in the coming season. So I really wanted to get some storyboarding practice in and what better way to do that than with this character I ended up really liking? I also don't have a portfolio and I'd been wanting to make something that's very me rather than my work from an existing show.

I'd offhandedly mentioned to my editor at disney that I wanted to do a board for these characters and she told me she'd help me make an animatic if it ever came to that. I couldn't pass up that opportunity! Now, since it was gonna be an animatic and I didn't want it to just be my scratch, I reached out to a bunch of VA friends to see if they'd be interested and they were!

Then other than having that support, just seeing my friends work on their own personal projects has been really inspiring and made me want to also do my own thing! Me and my friend group had just made a whole video game for our friend as a bday present which was so creatively fulfilling and made me realize like "oh my god we're artists we can literally just make stuff".

In the past I'd been so afraid to share my original work and for similar fears I've never wanted to showrun despite having the opportunity to pitch. While it's flattering to be wanted there was this pressure that felt like "oh you HAVE to make something, you're wasting your talent otherwise." (lol this is ironically the thesis of idwtbamg). And as a qpoc, i'd felt this extra layer of pressure to have to make something perfect on all fronts because if i fail in any capacity, i'm failing my community. it'd just be another another reason for people to say "ah queer media and work centering poc just can't succeed." then on the other end, i can only do and write what i know and feared that other people in my community wouldn't resonate with it or would feel like it's inaccurate to their own experiences.

but that's an exhausting way to feel and i've finally decided for myself that i'm just gonna tell stories that are authentic to me and it will reach whoever it needs to reach~ this realization was kind of the final step i needed to push myself to go all in. and now we're here!

[iskeai-needs-more-dykes]

ok i just finished season one. its very good and solid so far and i have high hopes !! if it goes downhill i will be so disappointed but the author seems to have a lot of care and love for this story so i have lots of faith <3

[cinturongazo]

just got the weirdest anon for saying i didnt like happy gilmore

2 notes

⛺golferswantbeer Follow

just say you hate to see a narrative of unconventionally attractive men becoming valuable in classic aesthetically cisheteronormative elite fields. and you claim to be a communist, fucking liberal

0 notes

🐣chucklarryshipper Follow

girls don't want minimum wage girls want fun jokes and a chill hang out with a beer and to control the universe with a click and to organize a fake wedding so we can be each other's trophy husbands with tax benefits

4018 notes

🐱‍🚀c0medyangster 👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒 Follow

i kinda wish adam sandler didn't do so many comedy movies, i want a comedy movie that's just vaguely humourous but has substance, i can't handle jokes constantly being thrown at me

🦂shinel1kead1am0nd Follow

op uncut gems???

🐱‍🚀c0medyangster 👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒 Follow

too boring 😕 i want something more positive

5848 notes

😈clicnc-dom Follow

what if i were to hypnotize you so you don't remember me and i made you mine more than 50 times

10 notes

Based on your likes!

🐸laughingboss 🟢🔵Follow

need a hot chick with some banging long skater shorts that can handle a good fart joke

832 notes

🐸laughingboss 🟢🔵Follow

why do all the female sandlerheads dress like adam and not the multiple hot, empowered women he dates? dont they want to be empowered too?

💝dykesandler Follow

keep posting like that you'll see how many sandlergirls will fuck you

1420 notes

💝dykesandler Follow

look at what my butch found in the thrift store. you're not gonna hear from us for like a week lmao 🥴

1369 notes

👻elevatedsandlerhead Follow

i'm not an actual elevated sandlerhead appreciator i just post smut

80 notes

Since you were looking for #hubiehalloween

👻elevatedsandlerhead Follow

His to Control - Hubie x f reader

minors dni 🔞 - Content warnings below:

Read more

593 notes

🐱‍👤c1nephil3 🟢🔵👒👒👒👒👒👒Follow

Grown Ups 2 is a cheap, empty, corporate attempt to resuscitate the glory of Growns Ups (2010). The use of CGI instead of the practical effects awaited dearly by the public are a sign that anyone who enjoyed this movie is clearly not a connoisseur of the essence of the sandlerverse. too many callbacks to the original and what made it great instead of focusing on a real movie, too many forced references to the sandlerverse. characters weren't simpathetic or deep, a cliche of what hollywood expects us to laugh at. comedies should be deep and have your laugh coming from the depths of the abdomen until you're struggling to breathe. instead i struggled to not YAWN. Pathetic sequel, marks the death of cinema.

letterboxd - imdb - rotten tomatoes

8 notes

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝐻𝒾… 𝐼'𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒩𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓎…. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝐿𝑒𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝑒𝒹𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 🍬 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓈? 🍭

👾fartylicious Follow

pixels, it's a nostalgia feast

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝒾 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓍 𝒿𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓈 🍭 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 🤢

🦚peeandcock Follow

how did you get through little nicky then

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝒾 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓎, 𝒾 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓅𝒾��𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 🥺

42 notes

👹butchverse Follow

now why is he butch here

🧡adamsapphler Follow

would watch jack and jill if this was jack and jill. who said that

3984 notes

Based on your likes!

[tanadrin]

could you elaborate, why do you believe that people online continue to talk about the flint water crisis as if it were still active? Is it just ignorance of the solution or are there ongoing health issues?

i mean i think people do that bc "everything is fucked and nothing ever gets better" is a genre of post that tickles the limbic system, and in the attention economy of the internet, anything that tickles the limbic system tends to do well, bc it produces engagement. outrage, and outrage-adjacent things, and cliches like "why is no one talking about [major news article everyone is talking about]" and "don't get excited about apparently-good-thing X, here's why it's actually just as bad as [completely different thing it is in no way just as bad as]" and all that other stuff.

and because negativity and outrage--even negativity with no underlying substance--makes a bigger splash than positive stuff with real underlying substance, continuing to repeat "flint doesn't have clean water" (a crisis that did genuinely drag on for a very long time!) has more salience than the news that flint's water problem was fixed (something that took a long time when it finally was properly tackled and didn't generate a single large headline).

there's kind of a similar dynamic in climate news actually, where genuine improvements in areas like energy storage and clean energy rollout and new nuclear permitting don't make a dent in people's narrative that everything is fucked and we're making no progress because IPCC forecasts about what would happen if we hit 4 degrees of warming are genuinely very bad and scary (and, thankfully, no longer on the table!), whereas the boring policy details of stuff in the Inflation Reduction Act, or China's continuing expansion of EV manufacturing are, well... boring. although climate news is different in other ways--like, the planet will continue to warm until carbon emissions are net negative, so even as we make progress on that issue the crisis continues. it's not all good news. but there is good news there, which just gets much less traction online bc of the dynamics of how news works on the internet.

needless to say, though, i think if you want to have an accurate understanding of the world you need to internally mentally check your own tendency to succumb to engagement bait like this. worst case scenario you fall into a doom loop, which i think is pretty unhealthy just in general. but if you notice somebody post something compelling, and you click on their username, and it turns out that all they post is about how the world is fucked, and nothing good ever happens, and we're all gonna die, i think you should be suspicious of them and their motives. not because doomposting is inherently manipulative or deceptive--a lot of people genuinely are doomers! but that doesn't mean they're not responding to the limbic incentives of social media, either. after all, if you too express nothing but pessimism and outrage, then the people addicted to pessimism and outrage will applaud you for being Very Serious and give you lots of engagement and attention, and you will react accordingly.

and also, you know. some people do just lie on the internet for attention. that is absolutely a thing that happens. i am not inclined to bend over backwards to try to reconstruct a generous framing of those lies where maybe people somehow are under the mistaken impression that there is some ongoing sub-problem affecting flint that they have mistaken for being isomorphic to the original crisis. some of them are just liars!

[toournextadventure]

a cold reunion

Summary: Astrid hasn't visited her mother's old house in a while. She wonders if someone new has moved in by now. Maybe it'll be a "ghost," like her mother claims used to live there. Ha. She would be so lucky.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: mentions of death, Tim Burton style tones Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Reader A/N: I know absolutely nothing about this movie, only the original, so I'm just gonna have some fun with it

Being a Deetz was one of the most irritating parts of life. At least, it was in Astrid’s opinion. Even without her own uncommon interests, she was held to the standards of her mother. Because her mother was weird, everyone assumed she was too. Which she was, but it wasn’t fair she couldn’t make that statement for herself.

She used to have a friend. You had been new to town and hadn’t known anything about her mother. It led to a wonderful friendship. Her favourite classes were the ones you had together, and eventually, she invited you over outside of school. Everyone thought you were crazy to agree, but you never faltered.

Even her mother and grandmother liked you, saying you were a “good kid.” Astrid knew better, you were trouble. Always in detention or being scolded by teachers in the hallways. You were anything but a good kid when it came to following the rules. But she wouldn’t deny, you definitely sweet talked your way into her mother’s and grandmother’s good graces.

You had done the same to her, pulling her in until she didn’t want to leave. The first kiss had been under the bleachers at a football game; disgustingly cliche. You had tasted of the cigarettes you stole from your mom. A disgusting taste, but it was good on you.

But as soon as she really started to like you - a little more than like, she would admit - you disappeared. You hadn’t been at school that morning, and when she went to your mom’s work, she had said she didn’t know where you were. Said it was no surprise you left; you could do better than this town.

That had been two years ago. Your mom had left town not long after your disappearance. Everyone assumed she had done something to you; a suspicion that came from the simple fact that your mom was, as the town called it, “trailer trash.” She was a nice person, Astrid had always liked her. She didn’t blame the woman for leaving.

Even Astrid had left for college once school was over. What else was she going to do, stay put? No, she wanted to get started somewhere else. Somewhere she wouldn’t be saddled with the name Deetz like it was some kind of curse. She loved her mother more than she would ever care to admit. But she wanted to do something for herself.

It was winter break before she came back home.

“Leaving already?” Her mother called from the porch when she grabbed her bike and started walking it to the street. “You haven’t even been here for three hours.”

“I’m going to check on the house,” Astrid said with a shrug. “I heard the owners moved out.”

“They did, thank god,” her grandmother said. “They did that house no justice.”

Bold coming from you, Astrid thought but kept her mouth shut.

“Don’t stay out too late,” her mother said.

“Lydia dear, when you were her age, you were almost marrying a ghost,” her grandmother said. “Consider it karma.”

“Mom,” her mother sighed.

Astrid had already hopped on her bike and started down the street. The path to the old house was well-worn; everyone knew it. The old owners had tried their best to convince everyone the house wasn’t haunted, but most of the town didn’t believe it. At least none of the school kids. They had jumped at the opportunity to have a haunted house in town whether it was real or not.

You had always liked that old house. No one had ever fully convinced you that ghosts had lived there, but you liked the thrill of it. I don’t think they’re real, but what if? You had asked one night after sneaking in through her window. We should check it out one day. After you disappeared, she had avoided the house like the plague.

But Astrid knew the path by heart. Snow had been plowed from the streets, and the dutiful citizens had shoveled the bridge. When she approached said bridge, she slowed until she could get off the bike, walking it across instead of riding. Her mother had made it clear that under no circumstances was she to ride or drive over the bridge. It was a silly rule; she followed it anyway.

The house was more run down than usual. It shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did. After all, it wasn’t like she had really ever lived in the house anyway. But it was still part of everything she had known growing up. To see it practically falling apart was… well, it was nothing short of devastating.

Without taking her eyes off of the house, she propped her bike up by its kickstand and slowly made her way to the front door. Step by step, each stair creaked under her weight. The house was a little creepy. Maybe it would be best if she just didn’t go in. After all, the door was practically falling off the hinge, if she actually knocked it would-

-the door swung inwards.

And you were standing there in the doorway with your eyes wide. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked quietly.

You exhaled harshly, shoulders sagging with the movement.

“Want some tea?”

—---

Astrid looked as beautiful as the day you had left. Well, no, you hadn’t exactly left but… no, that was something you would face later. For the moment, you were going to enjoy seeing her again. It hadn’t been long, but she had grown into her own. Beautiful as always, too.

And way too quiet for your liking.

“Chamomile okay?” You asked when the kettle was near screaming.

She nodded once, not removing her eyes from you. It was unsettling; you had used to love it. Astrid wasn’t like normal girls, and not in the “too cool for school” kind of way. It was more of an “I’ll be me whether anyone likes it or not” kind of way. If she wanted to be weird and goth then she would and no one could stop her!

But you didn’t like how she was looking at you.

You placed the teabag in the mug and slid it in front of her. The kettle was only seconds away from screaming when you pulled it off the stove. No need to burst anyone’s eardrums. There was no point in being careful with the scalding water as you poured it into her mug.

“You disappeared,” Astrid said while you were mid-pour.

“About that,” you hummed.

“Does your mom know?” She continued. “That you’re right back where you started?”

Your mom. Momma. She had been left all alone after… how had she fared? Were the townspeople nice to her? They had better be, or you would personally bring hell to every single one of them.

“What does she think happened to me?” You asked as you turned around and placed the kettle back on the stove. You didn’t turn back around.

“What everyone else thinks,” Astrid said, “that you ran off.”

“Was she okay?”

“Honestly?” She asked. “She said she was glad you got out of this little town. Said you were too good for it anyway.”

Well that… that almost hurt worse than knowing she never knew the truth. Your momma hadn’t been perfect, but she had done the best with what she had. Time and time again, she had told you in her drunken stupor that you were destined for great things. You had always taken it to heart.

You need to tell her.

“Hey, Astrid?” You asked with a weak voice.

She hummed for you to continue.

“Remember in school when we would say we didn’t believe in ghosts?”

“Yeah, why?”

With a sigh, you turned to look over your shoulder. Astrid’s head was tilted slightly in that way you always found cute. It didn’t click just yet. She just kept looking at you, waiting for you to continue. You raised your brows at her. She was almost there, you could tell by the slight crinkle in her nose, and- ah, there it was.

“You’re joking,” she said.

You gave her your best tight-lipped “white person” smile but otherwise didn’t answer.

“You saw one?” She asked.

Oh. Oh, no, she didn’t get it.

“Well, yes,” you said, turning your full body so you could lean back against the stove and look at her, “but that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are-” there it is “-oh.”

There was something in her eyes when realisation dawned. Her eyes, while a gorgeous dark brown, were usually so bright. So happy, even when she was trying to act like she didn’t care about the world around her. But this was different. Any brightness dimmed to practically nothing.

“How?” She asked.

You shrugged and looked away. “The football team pushed me off the bridge.”

It wasn’t a fond memory, that was for sure. The icy layer covering the river had been rather sharp. But even that hadn’t compared to the pain of inhaling freezing water deep into your lungs. From what you could remember, it was slow. A memory you didn’t enjoy having, but maybe one day it would go away.

“You were murdered?” Astrid asked incredulously; horrifically.

“I mean listen, it’s not too bad,” you attempted to play it off. “It got me out of taking winter finals, which we both know I would’ve failed.”

“But it’s-”

“-I know, Astrid,” you interrupted.

You liked Astrid. You would even go so far as to say you loved her, mostly probably. Were you young? Sure. A little stupid and naive? Absolutely. High school sweethearts? You would say so, yeah. But she instigated a little too much, and she wanted to know everything, but this just wasn’t really something you wanted to indulge her in. Not yet, anyway.

Astrid was quiet for a moment. The gears were turning in her head, you could practically smell the smoke coming off them. What was she thinking, you wondered. Was she dwelling on the fact that you had died, cold and slow and alone? You certainly hoped not, it wouldn’t change anything. You were dead, you were now a ghost, and long-distance relationships weren’t that hard any more thanks to technology, so you could both still make it work!

If she wanted, of course.

“I thought my mom said her ghosts were stuck in the house for, like, a century or something,” she said instead.

You laughed. That was much easier to answer. “I told their caseworker I’d take their place. You know, let them rest in peace, or whatever,” you waved your hands vaguely.

“Caseworker?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So you’re why the previous owners left?” She asked.

“Guilty as charged.” You wiggled your fingers in her direction and smiled.

For the first time all day, she smiled back. God, you missed her smile.

“If you really are a ghost,” she said with a tilt of her head, “how can you pick things up?”

“Ooh, we’re getting to the fun questions,” you said with a smile.

The look on Astrid’s face was perfect. Curious, distrusting. The best mix of emotions; you loved when she was uncertain. It was a more genuine look for her, instead of trying to act like she knew everything and always knew what to expect. Always made her look super cute, honestly.

You walked over to where she was sitting at the run-down table. She turned to keep facing you until you were standing directly in front of her. It was going to be a risk, but one you were very much willing to take. Worst case, you stay stuck in the stupid house forever. No different from your current predicament.

“Took me a few months to really get the hang of it,” you said. Her eyes sparkled again. “You just focus on what you want to touch,” she blushed, “and voila.”

Her blush vanished when you picked up the mug beside her. What you really wanted to do was touch her. Gods, you wanted to know if you could still feel her warmth, the softness of her skin. But it wasn’t time. No, she was probably still worried about the fact that you had… well, you know. Died.

“It took you months to figure out how to do that?” She asked with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” you huffed, placing the mug back on the table. “It wasn’t like I had much to work with.”

“Why didn’t you ask my mom’s old friends how to do it?” Astrid asked before leaning back against the table. “I’m sure they would’ve helped you.”

“Never actually had the pleasure of meeting them,” you said with a shrug. “I only got to meet the other guy.”

“The other guy?” She asked, looking away in thought for a moment before looking back at you. “Oh, you mean Beetlegeu-”

-you slapped your hand over her mouth before she could continue.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered.

She nodded once, and you pulled your hand away.

“Was he really that awful?” She asked, matching your tone.

“He was that annoying,” you grumbled. “God, I swore the guy would never shut up.”

Astrid did her little crooked smile and laugh. The one that you would always try your best to force out of her during class to get her in trouble. Wait, that sounded bad. You didn’t want her to get in trouble, you just would have enjoyed her presence in detention. With you.

“So what else did you take two years to learn?” Astrid asked. She leaned forward until she was so close you could smell her shampoo. “Anything exciting?”

Wait. Wait, this could be your chance. You might be able to do something about it, this could be your shot. Two years in limbo, sitting in a run down house that did nothing but remind you of Astrid with everything you saw. It was her family’s house. You couldn’t leave her even if you had wanted to.

“Well,” you said, “there is something I’ve been wanting to test out.” You looked up to meet her eyes. “May I?”

“Let’s see what you got, ghosty,” she said.

You nodded to yourself and focused. Focused on her body, more specifically her face. Her stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, smiling face. Day after day, you had been thinking of her, and you had hoped time and time again that somehow she would come back to the house.

One deep inhale, hold your breath. Your hands were shaking so badly you would have dropped everything had you been holding something in the first place. And yet, Astrid didn’t budge when you lifted your hands and placed them on either side of her face. Exhale.

Her body was absent of warmth. Astrid had never been an exceptionally warm individual to begin with but this was… different. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you couldn’t feel her. Sure, you could touch things, but you couldn’t feel any of it. It wasn’t something you could describe, except calling it surreal.

“May I?” You asked again.

You could feel her breath on your lips even as she nodded. It was all you needed to pull her into a kiss. There was still no warmth, but there was a… a comfort in it. In feeling her lips against yours again after so long. To feel her breath mix with yours, replacing everything you didn’t need but you so desperately craved.

Her hands attempted to settle on your hips but fell straight through. In turn, you felt her shoulders sag as she placed her hands on your knees instead. That was… not a nice feeling. Maybe you could learn to focus enough to let her feel you back. That was possible, right? Surely it was.

You pulled away slowly. If you could have stayed kissing her for the rest of your century in that hellhole, you would have. But unfortunately, Astrid still had to breathe, and you had to give her the space to do it. Earlier you had questioned if you had really loved her or if it was a puppy love?

Oh no. It was the real deal.

“You can’t leave at all?” Astrid asked. “Not even for an hour or so?”

“You mean the haunted house isn’t romantic?” You teased.

“What do you even do in here all day every day?” She asked.

Once again, she reached out to touch you. Somewhere, anyway. You looked down at where she was attempting to hold your hand. Maybe if you could focus really hard, it would work. As far as you knew, you couldn’t materialise. At least, you didn’t think you could. But if you really concentrated.

Her fingers slipped between yours and, for the first time in two years, you felt her squeeze your hand. Physical touch. Real physical touch.

“I, ah,” you stammered, looking down at where she was still holding your hand. “It’s in my contract to scare people.”

“Contract?” She asked. Your arm moved as she pulled you closer. Okay, maybe physical touch was a bit unfamiliar to you after so long, you would need to get used to it again.

“My caseworker says I have a quota to meet,” you said, finally looking back up to meet her eyes. “So many people each quarter, you know?”

“So you need people to scare?” She asked. “On a regular basis.”

There was a sparkle in her eye. Something dangerous; scandalous.

“You have something in mind?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

Her smile was vicious. And attractive.

—---

The house looked beautiful in the daylight. The paint was fresh, the inside was cosy, and when nighttime fell? Rumour had it the ghosts came out to play. That was why most people rented out the house; their own private haunting for a night. The listing said if you could survive the night, the stay was free. So far, no one had lasted long enough to even give it a good shot.

And as you stood at the end of the bed watching the young couple sprint down the stairs screaming, you knew they wouldn’t be the winners either.

You walked over to the window and watched as they threw their singular bag into their car and peeled out of the dirt driveway. It hadn’t even been any fun, they hadn’t given you any time to actually scare them. Hell, all you had done was stand at the bed! You hadn’t made any faces, hadn’t pulled any jumpscares, you had simply stood there.

Were you really that scary?

“Gone already?” Astrid asked in a sleepy voice as she walked to stand beside you at the window.

“Didn’t even stay long enough for me to have any fun,” you pouted.

“Well, you’ve hit your quota,” she said. She grabbed your arm and pulled it over her shoulder before tucking closer to your body. After a few months, you were finally starting to feel a bit of warmth from her.

At least, you thought you did.

“Your mom is coming by in the morning?” You asked.

She hummed her confirmation.

“Maybe I can try to scare her, then,” you said.

Astrid pulled you away from the window and started walking you toward your shared bedroom. Not that you really needed the sleep, but it was nice to be able to lay next to her. It was exhausting to keep a more physical form, but for her? You would do it all day every day.

“Good luck scaring her,” Astrid said as she pulled you onto the bed. “She practically grew up with ghosts.”

“I’ll scare your grandmother then,” you said softly, but she didn’t move.

Astrid was already asleep in your arms, just like you had always imagined. Maybe being dead really wasn’t as awful as everyone had always made it seem. After all, it got you your dream girl.

[prince-jjae]

heh, so for kinktober or just a regular fic atp. Can u do toxic relationship w/ yeonjun. Like reader and yeonjun are in a situationship and yeonjun says that him and reader can’t have any strings attached if they’re just gonna have sex. But like reader rlly doesn’t care so they just keep having one night stands with random people at the club. And one day, yeonjun catches her and gets jealous and BOOM raw sex. But then angst bc reader says he doesn’t love her so they’re free to hit on whoever they want. So they argue and reader never sees yeonjun again. BUT LIKE IF U DON’T WANNA MAKE THIS ANGST THEN U CAN MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING :3 heh, my brain is going brr brr rn. Ok ty! 💕

Escapism.

mdni, nsfw!!

pairings: choi yeonjun/reader

genre: smut, angst. hurt/no comfort??

warnings: fwb?yeonjun, meandom!yeonjun, mentions of beomgyu, mentions of club bathroom sex (Dont!), name calling (slut, whore, etc), unprotected sex (Dont! pt2), gender neutral reader but they have feminine anatomy, jealousy, anger, kinda dubcon if you think too hard about it, player!reader, if i forgot any lmk!

jjae's comments: this is.... insane. I sat down to write this thinking itd be like.. 1k? around the same length of my other fics? but no... welcome to 3k words of pure smut and sadness. i made yeonjun a lot more pathetic in this fic than i think the ask originally intended, but i hope it still reads well!! enjoy!

“No strings attached.” he had said. No strings attached. If that's what he wanted, then why was Yeonjun acting this way? He hadn't the faintest idea, but the sight of you dragging a puppy-looking guy to the bathroom with your finger hooked into the front of his jeans made his chest cave in.

He thought this was a good idea, months ago. Back when you were only focused on him with your puppy-crush. Maybe it was the power he held over you back then that convinced him to do this. The strength he had over your every move made his head too foggy with desire to see the fatal error of his ways. Back then you seemed like just a nerdy college student, out of place and quiet. Just his type. He was glad the work of approaching you had been done for him, smirking at the board with your name scrawled next to his. ‘Just how cliche would this get?’ He wondered at the time. It was practically fate. He spent weeks breaking through your cold and bitter exterior, dead-set on tasting the sweet softness that he knew you kept well-hidden. It was the thrill of the chase. The promise of something forbidden, off-limits. Sure, he could give any excuse he wanted, but getting into your bed with you was always his goal. You were a sweet poison, he soon found. You were the sweetest of nectars, yet shockingly deadly. He was in bed with you, his plush lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. He drank in the quiet whimper you let out when his teeth scraped at you with the sharp promise of his canines marring your soft skin. 

“No strings attached.” He had whispered to you huskily, and you dumbly nodded along, eager to please so he would keep going. So he would consume you like the fire you knew he was. He said it more for his own sake than yours, he thought. He knew from the first time he had you under him, obscene sounds coming from where your hips collided, mouth spilling rivulets of drool around his fingers which pressed and prodded at your tongue, that he was thoroughly fucked. 

But now, after months of being your.. What was the right word for it? Was this a situationship? Was he your friend-with-benefits? You two had never talked about it. Hell, you hardly did anything more than moan into each other's mouths and skin. Neither of you were next to one another by the time the sunshine graced your apartment windows. He knew better, now. If he was going to continue drinking in your poison by the mouthful, he needed to be careful. Precise, even. 

Yeonjun sighed, watching you go as he swirled the drink in his hand. You didn’t know he was there. You didn’t even see the text he had sent you 2 hours prior on your phone, you were too busy scanning the crowd. He had texted you the second he walked through the doors into the club he knew you frequented. He was perhaps a little desperate to see you, but he would never tell you as much. Hell, it was hard to even admit it to himself. He craved you like he craved air. 

But you didn't care. You didn't even react to the buzzing in your pocket, sharp eyes intent on finding your next victim. This club was your web, and you were a black widow. He hadn’t known it when he stumbled into your trap all those months ago, but you were vicious. You took control of him like a possession, the thrum of your power over him was buzzing under his skin constantly. Your kiss was a brand, ruining him for anyone or anything else. 

The great player, Choi Yeonjun, reduced to a simpering, desperate boy. How far he had fallen in pursuit of you.

He recognized the man you had picked - your victim for the night - as Choi Beomgyu. He was a friend of Yeonjun’s, actually. They bickered a lot, but they got along well enough. He recalls mentioning you to him before.. Had Beomgyu sought you out because of him? The thought made his stomach churn. Jealousy cut through him like a searing hot knife, the jagged edge catching his anger in just the right way. His eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door, sipping away at his drink the entire time you occupied it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what you were doing in there, but he needed to see it. He needed to know that you were really doing this. 

He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Rationally, realistically, this was none of his fucking business. He was the one who suggested you two wouldn’t be exclusive. Why should he be upset now that his own words were haunting him. Was it because he never expected to get this attached? Or was it the realisation that you didn’t feel the same? It was obvious that you didn’t care for him the way he cared for you. He could live with that, he thought. He could live with you not loving him back, but seeing you sneak off with someone new right before his very eyes? This was an anger he was unfamiliar with. He was never on the receiving end of this. Perhaps this was karma, finally catching up to him and providing him the pain he usually dished out freely. Perhaps he deserved this.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, makeup smudged and clothes wrinkled, his heart plummeted to the floor. He glanced behind you, watching Beomgyu walk out with a dazed look in his eyes, shirt halfway undone and hair a mess. You loved pulling on his hair when he gave you head, He thought. The memory of him being the one between your thighs finally snapped the cord in him. 

He slammed his drink down onto the table next to him, ignoring the way the other patrons flinched at the loud crack the glass made against the worn wood. He was already halfway across the floor. You didn’t even notice him until he was on you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the club with the shadow of his rage hanging over him like a cloud. He barely registered you tugging at his arm, trying to get him to let you go, trying to ask him what was going on. Your questions fell on deaf ears. He was on a mission as he dragged you to his apartment for the first time, only a few minutes walk away from the club.

He was going to prove he was better. No one else could have you the way he could. 

Yeonjun liked to believe that he was a gentle lover. That he could be mean when it was required or requested of him, but for the most part, he was a giver. Full of plush words and promises that usually held no actual weight. A phrase echoed in his mind at that, something about truth being singular, and lies being words, words, words. In that case, Yeonjun guessed he was a liar of a lover. It tracked, if he really thought about it. Like now, when he had you pressed into the door the second you two were beyond the threshold, kissing you like a man starved. His hands were possessive, gripping onto your flesh wherever he could. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove- actually, scratch that. He did know. He wanted to erase every memory of Beomgyu’s touch, He wanted to burn it away with his own until only his touch remained on your skin. 

You weren't sure where this animalistic side of Yeonjun came from, but you hardly had it in you to complain. You should probably push him away, demand answers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. The knowledge of this made yeonjun grin against your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft junction between the column of your throat and your shoulder, pulling a pleasured scream from your lips. He practically growled against the skin, fingers trailing down to push aside the skimpy shorts you wore. 

“You let him finish inside?” He grit out, fingers sliding easily through your soaked core. The sound of Beomgyu’s cum leaking onto Yeonjun’s hardwood floor should have made you embarrassed, but instead of shame burning through you, only lust remained. You shivered, nodding at Yeonjun like a bobblehead, mind swirling in the wake of his rough handling of you. He just laughed, but the chuckle he released was devoid of humour. He was angry. You let him fill you? Did you let anyone else do the same?

“Dirty fucking thing.” He spat at you before hauling you up, legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, flinging you unceremoniously onto the covers. You were still bouncing on the mattress from the sheer force he used to toss you onto it when he descended on you. He was all tongue, teeth and rage as he practically tore your clothes off of you. He hardly gave you any space to breathe, let alone think. Your mind was a useless puddle of mush as he manhandled you, adjusting your body the way he wanted. By the time you could gather the mental presence it took to move your eyes downward, His breath was already fanning hotly at your still-sore cunt. Your eyes widened comically, but he only laughed at you before diving in and eating you with the crazed frenzy of a man who had never eaten before in his life. He had to clean you, had to rid you of any evidence of his friend. You had to become pure again, only for him to defile you himself, make you his the way you had made him yours. He had to show you, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Surely, you'd understand, right? You understood him. He was sure of it.

Your hands instantly tangled in his silky locks, tugging harshly enough to pull a hiss from his lips the second his tongue made contact. You squealed, body still sensitive from your previous orgasm with Beomgyu, but Yeonjun didn’t care. He wasn't doing this for pleasure, he was doing this to make a point. To make you his. He ate you with fervor, a mix of your arousal, Beomgyu’s release and Yeonjun’s drool making his face a fucking sopping mess. It dripped onto the sheets below, but he paid it no mind, allowing you to rock your hips desperately on his tongue and nose as he worked you up again. You were sobbing, fat tears streaming down your face and clumping your pretty lashes together. All he could think about while you bumped your swollen clit against his nose was how badly he wanted to ruin you once he was done. Your wails and pleas fell on deaf ears. He had no plans on slowing down, giving you any breaks. You had teased him enough, he thought, parading around with Beomgyu’s cum still stuffed inside you. He was intent on replacing it with his own. When you finally came, sobbing out his name into the silent, cold air of his apartment, you collapsed, boneless onto the sheets. Your hand clasped at your naked chest, sweat cooling your skin as you scrambled to catch your breath. You couldn't remember a single time when Yeonjun behaved like this, did things like this, ate you like this. Sure, he loved having you on his tongue, but he was always so sweet, drawing out every little hum and movement out for your pleasure. This shift in his demeanour left you confused, for sure, but you found it so hot that you couldn't stop to ask any questions. Your eyes flew open again, desperately clawing at his arms when he shifted your body again. He lifted you with ease, flipping you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing. 

“Can't- jjunnie, please!” You cried, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he shoved your face into. He just sneered down at you, dragging his drooling cock through your soaked folds. He had no mercy for you, not anymore. He leaned down, smirking at the way your breath stuttered when the head of his cock caught your entrance. The feeling of his hot breath on your skin paled in comparison to the mean words he spat into your ear. 

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, slut.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel any shame at his words. In fact, you revelled in them, pushing your hips back against him. It caught him by surprise, and you were so wet that he sunk into you with ease with that simple movement alone. A punched out groan fell from his pouty lips, one of his hands gripping your hip in a bruising hold. You were sure his fingertips would leave bruises for you to press on by tomorrow morning. 

“God- You’re so fucking desperate, arent you? Just got your pussy stuffed with cum and you're already begging for more?” He laughed, the sound mean and cruel in your ears as he set a brutal pace. You were so slick that the sounds that reverberated in yeonjuns bedroom was fucking obscene. You felt filthy, dirty, used- and you loved it. You weren’t sure how, but Yeonjun could tell. You knew he could. Maybe it was the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fat cock, spearing into you with no mercy that gave you away. It didn’t matter, though. You hardly had the mental presence to care about anything beyond the way he stretched you out so so well. “Look at you, fucking pathetic. So eager for dick. Do I not give you enough? Huh? Do I need to stuff you full every hour of the day for you to be satiated?” 

All you could do was claw at his sheets, nodding pathetically along to his words. He scoffed, reaching up to grab your chin and forcing your mouth open. “Speak, whore.” 

You scrambled for words, but the syllables fell through your fingers like grains of sand. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, reminiscent of a fish out of water, before you finally managed out something akin to verbal language.

“Need- please- more- jjunnie-!” Your voice quickly dissolved into a chorus of pornographic ah, ah, ah-’s, and it sent a thrill through Yeonjun’s body. He was doing this to you. In this moment, right here in his bedroom, you were his. He shoved his fingers into your still open mouth, keeping your head thrown back as his hips ploughed into your sopping heat from behind. His thrusts were so intense they were punishing, sure to leave you sore and wobbly on your feet for days. Thinking about you stumbling around, needing his help to walk only made him growl and fuck you harder. He was far too drunk on you, on your moans, on your pussy. He couldn’t help himself.

“Need-? Getting fucked so good you cant speak, huh? Don’t worry, baby.” He grinned, but the smile was sharp and cheshire. It held no warmth for you, not that you could care or open your eyes long enough to even see it. You could feel it in his words, though, in the way he nibbled at your earlobe before shoving you down into the pillows again. “Daddy’s got you.”

He was entirely right, really. You were fucked positively stupid on his dick. You couldn’t deny that. In fact, you wouldn't. “Daddy-” you whined, voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of Yeonjun’s cock sinking into you and his hips snapping against the plush of your ass. “‘s fucking good- fuck!”

Yeonjun let out a breathless laugh before he pulled out of you. You hardly had time to whine at the loss, the aching empty feeling he left you with, before you were being moved again. Now you were on your back, and before you could even get your vision to focus on him, Yeonjun was already balls-deep in you again. With your head thrown back in bliss, throat bared for him, he couldn’t help but sneak down and leave angry, splotchy hickeys along your soft skin. 

“That’s right, baby- fuck… take it. Take it. Gonna fill you up better than he did- fuck!” His hips were beginning to stutter, but his mouth kept running. He was dissolving into horny babble, but he had the presence of mind to sneak his hand down, fingers drawing rough circles on your clit that had you spasming underneath him. 

He had slept with you enough times to know your tells, to know when you were going to finish. The way your head fell back, eyebrows drawn up, pretty lips making that pretty ‘o’ shape- the way you fluttered around him wildly, trying to milk him dry- you were close. He knew it. Just a few more thrusts, a slight change in angle and-

God, you were so beautiful when he had you like this, crying his name again, nails clawing uselessly against his back and leaving angry marks that he loved. 

“That’s it, baby- shit. Take it, slut. Fucking take it-!” He gripped your hips firmly in both hands, using them to move you on him. It made his thrusts hit deeper, and- God, were you squirting? If anything, the revelation only made him rougher with you despite your protests that you couldn’t take it, that you needed him to slow down. He wouldn’t, though. You knew he wouldn't. He only grabbed you harder, cock slamming into your cervix in a way that made you wince before he finally filled you, pressed as deeply into you as he could manage. He pressed into you over and over, as if trying to force his seed even deeper into you. As if he could fuck it right into your little womb. 

After a few more mean thrusts, you began to squirm and whine in his grip. Only then did he snap out of his jealousy-filled rage, looking into your eyes with his own so wide and pretty. There he was, that was closer to the Yeonjun you remembered. You smiled lazily at him, lifting your arms to him. With no prompting, he fell into your embrace. He peppered kisses along any skin he could reach, sighing happily into your skin when your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. You chuckled, but made no move to push him away. That was all he needed for hope to bloom in his chest again. You understood him, right? You knew what he was trying to do, what he needed. He needed you. He needed you more than air. He looked at you expectantly, hoping that you would say what he did not have the courage to. 

But you didn’t say anything. 

You didn’t say anything when he cleaned you up. You didn’t say anything when he carefully brought you to the bath he drew for you. You didn't say anything when he gently scrubbed your body. You didn’t say anything when he helped you back into your clothes. 

You only opened your mouth to deny him when he suggested you sleep over. He didn’t know his heart could shatter so easily with just a few words. He supposed he had this coming. Yes, he was right, earlier. This was karma for all his previous misdeeds. You were karma, and you were cruel.

“No strings attached, remember?”

[happypotato48]

Recent GMMTV BL Shows, Passion vs Commercialization 

Yee fucking Haw bitches I'm very bored and in need of something to write and as person who have complicated relationship with GMMTV and still can’t decide what to do with it, I'm gonna start talking mad shit and ramble for a bit of which recent shows feels like they have passion behind them and which recent show feels more like products to keep the BL engine rolling. this post gonna be unhinged, unkind and unbothered so if those are not you jam then.... Suck to be you!5555

Let start with a show that just finished airing, The Heart Killers. well well, Khun Phi Jojo kha i see what you were trying to do (mostly) despite this show lacks of good writing, or coherent plots and abysmally bad editing. i can tell that there are passions behind the screen of this mess of a show. most of the actors ate their roles and the casting are pitch perfecto. this show is in the middle on the Passion vs Commercialization line. there was effort and soul behind the wheels, but sadly the car was in a horrible shape and drive by a person who really seems to be running out of idea and is only here to churn out rushed products to be consume by ravenous hungry BL fans.

Next is Perfect 10 Liners a show by New Siwaj my soon to be senior and my trash fav?? director. as a We Are defender i have this weird and very fuck up relationship with this man cause omg this show is hot garbage 80% of the time. the first 8 EPs ForceBook arc was dumb, cliche and irritating to watch. then there PerthSanta next arc that was also kinda the same for the first half then somehow got kinda good at the end. and now with the current juniorMark with started off with a really interesting plot of the queer guy who is dealing with internalized homophobia finding a space in this BL bubble. this show feels like a souless cash grab BL made to fills the air time but somehow by the the virture of being so goddanm long some good ideas are leaking out of this stinky hole.

And now to the hardest one to talk about for me, Ossan's Love Thailand. I really want to love this show y'all, it's EarthMix in Oassan's Love ffs but so far, all i can think about this show is how much mid it is. the jokes are uneven some landed really well some were just straight up not funny. the biggest sin of this show is how much wasted potentially it is, it fails to capture the spirit of the original but it still inoffensive enough for me to not hate it. the passion and the love for the original are there but because of GMMTV unwillingness to commit, this show fallshort of being a great passion project and is kinda a modicare product of a show.

Ok i'm saving best for last, it's ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat time! omg this show is so swoony and i can feel the passion for romance from behind the screen 50 kilos aways. this show has a better cinematography than most usually GMMTV shows and because of that the quietness and the atmosphere made room for the characters and the story to breath. the writings are great and the performances are good all around. i still have some doubt of whether or not the show would land in it themes of idol culture but even if it doesn't i still think this show passion for romance should be greatly appreciated. also, Jun is the best bitch boy third wheel and no matter what other people said i liked that we had a semi love triangle (i'm a trash rebel baby.)

[heroicn0nsense]

I guess I'm about to get real vulnerable on main here, but I saw some kinda "BookTok" disk horse cross my BlueSky feed, and it's got me thinking in a way I really can only discuss without a character limit. But it feels kind of relative to an over all trans creative experience. Maybe more specifically for us masc people, but. You know. Maybe the threads are different but the weave a similar picture. Anyway, this is kinda what my tumblr blog has become, and so here goes. Please note I also use 'queer' as an all encompassing term, as to me it is the most inclusive word I can use despite its dubious origins and history. Sorry if that upsets anyone.

The funniest thing about this whole conversation popping up was the fact that I had just been lamenting about finding the concept of 'romantasy' fun but what I'd give to find or read something with a transmasc protagonist paired with an opposite partner of any gender. Something my masc bisexual ass would love to see. Mostly because I see and support so many ones that are sapphic in nature, but hardly see any masculine. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places but Anyway. Just so happened that in the next hour I saw what I was looking for cross my Bsky feed, but with the author show casing the really nasty and negative comments he received on his concept. things like but not limited to:

"of course the transmasc character is a twink bottom" "just a girl who got a mastectomy" And other just Internalized Misogyny and Heteronormative things that affect a good portion of us transmasculine guys.

And idk, man it really struck a nerve with me.

If only because first and foremost, the author is writing something he wanted to see. Filling a niche and void he wanted to see realized, and like so many other authors' works, in a way that feels personal to him. And to attack it in such a way was pretty vile.

Queer stories and creations in of themselves are personal stories, because we write from our own experiences, and put them in our original works whether subtly or not so subtly. It's there, and you can't separate the queer experience from a queer work because by its very nature its queer. But also like, that experience isn't the same for everyone. And we shouldn't expect it to be. So, no, not every work is going to be what you want or associate with. But we should be uplifting all of it so that someone with an idea or concept that does speak to you will have the confidence to bring it to the table. And yeah. Unfortunately, that sometimes means that cliches are gonna happen. That twink ass transmasc might end up being a bottom 75% of the time.

But it also like, led me to associate my own struggle of accepting my own body and transness and some of my own preferences in the bedroom.

I'm not saying that all writers, artists, or creators are using their method of making art to explore their own hang ups with their gender and bodies, navigating this absolutely messy and strange world of norms and expectations while simultaneously seeming to want to turn them on their head. Gender is complex. Being trans is complex. And it gets weird, and sometimes we need outlets to work our way through it.

But also, most of us transmasc people have vaginas. It's just a fact of life. We've got a big ol' gaping axe wound of an organ sitting between our legs and for a lot of us, it still feels good to stick something in it, and we shouldn't be ashamed of that at all. And hell, a lot of us are short, considering our genetics are wired that way and no amount of HRT is going to change the fact some of us aren't going to get past 5'5". But sometimes, especially with what is expected to be masculine by gender norms, and the physical form of a cis male body, it can sometimes be really hard to reconcile that.

I know it was for me. To the point where I often struggled with my sexuality and my relationship with intimacy about it for a long time.

I made my character Akihiro while I was, and still am parsing through a lot of my own dysphoric issues, and paving my own way to acceptance. And that's made him a deeply personal character to me. And he has grown and changed as I project a lot of those issues on to him and his development. Akihiro has been an exploration of myself as much as he is an an original character that I role play. But not so much in the ways of personality, but more in the ways of the challenges with which he is presented and has to navigate himself.

Akihiro is a trans man in a world that is accepting of it. Society has progressed past these petty and arbitrary standards. But he becomes a cyborg at a time where the question is instead what it means to be human, and so...The aspect of depersonalization, dysphoria, and depersonalization he experiences at the hands of transhumanism is not so different than what I have and do experience in my own transition.

Akihiro wasn't always trans. That was honestly a pretty recent development and one that I did struggle with making. And I realized I was struggling with it because of those same dysphoric issues. And I just needed to let them go.

It was reflected in another recent development; the way that I had Akihiro handle his genitals when he was presented with the option to upgrade from none to a functioning set. And he chose to go with what he had been born with, the genitals he had when his body was mangled. He went with a vagina. Because he wanted to embrace the body he had taken for granted before he lost it, and not some idealized version of himself he could have obtained at any point prior.

And yeah. He 'bottoms' the majority of the time for his boyfriend because he enjoys it. But it doesn't stop him from topping him either, nor enjoying that. Nor had it stopped him previously from being intimate with other men and women. And that's his preference as a character.

And who are we to say it wasn't the same for this author? Where he is putting his feelings and acceptance of his own body and desires onto paper? And that is being met with such vitriol because it's not someone else's idea of what is masculine, or whatever. I don't know. Maybe they weren't. Maybe they did just wanna write some twink ass boy getting dicked down and like, that's fine too. Why do we have to be so mad about that?

And maybe this was just a lot of words to say that I think we get so wrapped up in words and labels for things that it completely erases the nuances of our own experiences and it turns right back around to being so queerphobic and limiting. And we don't give ourselves, much less other people, the grace to create the things they want to, and from a place of their own experience and desire. It's harmful.

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker

sigh

a/n: this is extremely low effort but in my defense im pretty sure i was drugged on halloween. *ahem* originally this was SUPPOSED to be low effort but clearly i got way too into it. anyways. i’ve been working a lot lately which is why i don’t have many works out rn! i work weekdays from 8 in the MORNING so it’s a lot going on but i use what little free time i have yk? ntm i have MULTIPLE projects im also working on 4 a different site so it’s a lot. i don’t think anyone’s gonna read this but im working on being a vtuber so its lots of prep lmfao! and with that, my weekends are mostly spent sleeping or with friends, but i really enjoy my work. ill be going back 2 school eventually so i need 2 figure out how the hell im gonna make that work, but i will. amen. pray 4 me y’all. oh also reqs r still being worked on i promise. just gotta get this fucking schedule under wraps.  anyways. this came 2 me on a random sunday (betraying the lord as usual) and i decided. lets write porn. i wanna do something silly bc my friends have been panicking abt climate change and its rubbing off on me. amen! quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults.

summary: who out of the tokyo debunker boys will pass nnn? who will fail? cliche i know but let me have this

cw: jerking off i guess. mc mentioned but no physical appearance described. MINORS DNI!!!!!!! Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (before you ask vagastrom and jabberwock r already written jus not posted yet)

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL TY FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Frostheim:

Jin Kamurai: Pass

Pretty touch and go with this guy. He’s never heard of it before, so when it’s a sudden trend around campus, he’s not visibly piqued, but he is… interested. Outwardly, he’d think it’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. Inwardly? He’d want to do it to prove something to himself. Of course, on the rare occasion he has an odd dream… well, he prioritizes his own pleasure over some pathetic game. 

He finally wakes up from a rather interesting he just had after lounging around and avoiding his work. You’re supposed to be coming soon to drop off some documents. Maybe that’s why you were in his dream. Hmph… What, he dreams of his… servants, now? Rolling over proves to be a challenge when his half-hard cock jumps at the slightest shift of his sheets. Now this? Well, he won’t hesitate to take care of it. A simple pillow will do the trick. In mere moments he’s humping into a large pillow, burying his face in one end and thrusting his hardening clothed cock in the other end. The friction more than satisfies his needs. He’s so focused on it that his vision swims, most of his body going slack except for his arms squeezing the pillow taut to his chest and his hips insistently searching deeper, warmer, and wishing for wetter, tighter. When it’s all over, and his focused expression melts into a slack-jawed, bleary-eyed one, he knows he’d much rather stay here, in his sheets. His warm, sticky release, however, will eventually turn uncomfortably cold, and he knew you were on your way. 

Tohma Ishibashi: Pass

He’s participating because he knows Jin is participating. That’s really all there is to it. He’s not interested in any clout or anything, just thinks it’s funny. He doesn’t do this too frequently, but often enough to keep his rocks off, you know? Sometimes, though, he doesn’t really get any free time for months cleaning up after Jin, so… It’s those times that are more interesting. 

He tries rather hard to go slow for the sake of savoring it, but fails miserably - it’s been months, after all. His uniform is much too hot to be doing this in, but god forbid he waits another minute. A sweaty collar and cum-stained slacks could be washed, anyway. Despite starting with slow strokes, before he knows it, his hand is wrapped around his dick, rubbing furiously like there’s no tomorrow. His other hand claws into the bedsheets beneath him, pulling them every which way. His face contorts into a number of different expressions: his jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed harshly, or his jaw slack with his tongue lolling out and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, or even his lips pressed tight together to stifle moans with his eyes screwed shut just as well. Regardless, he’s enjoying himself and desperately trying to keep a hold of himself. Finally, when the wave of pleasure comes, he presses his face into his pillow, knowing it’s hopeless to attempt to keep quiet. He spills more than he intends every single time, and when he collapses on himself, feels his dampened body melt into his equally dampened sheets. His hair is disheveled, his uniform is sloppy, and his monocle slips off his face. Fuck. He’d have some washing to do. 

Lucas Errant: Pass

Do you think this guy masturbates? Like genuinely? I don’t doubt it but I think if he was challenged to go a month without it he’d manage fine. I think, at best, he does it when he’s so fucking exhausted from studying that he can’t focus. 

Like, he’s studying one night. An itch makes itself known, but it’s easily suppressed. He smoothly focuses on his work. The itch rises again. He ignores it again. His leg begins to twitch. He ignores it even more. His leg starts bouncing without him realizing it. He presses a hand down on his knee, purposely avoiding touching his thighs, and attempts once again to focus on his work. The itch spreads, reaching from his groin to his legs, slowly crawling up his back. He still stifles it and forces his eyes to absorb the words on the paper of the book in front of him. The itch reaches his neck, creeping up his spine to his face. Suddenly, he’s flushed, and he realizes that, despite his best efforts, here he sits: half-hard, not absorbing the information in the book, his breathing heavy and his vision swimming. Damn! He allows himself the slightest freedom, knowing that will lead him to the gates of release whether he wants that or not. When he’s covered in his own sticky release a few minutes later, clarity hits him at last. He bites his lip and suppresses a groan as he stuffs himself back into his pants, shaking his head to rid himself of the cloudy orgasmic feeling. Finally, back to work. 

That being said, November is a cinch… unless this happens. 

Kaito Fuji: Fail

I don’t need to explain myself I think lol! Horniest virgin on the face of the earth. Yes, he fails, to thoughts of you, at that! I’m even willing to bet the one time he tries, he fails accidentally via wet dream. Sucker! It’s surprising, though… When he puts his mind to it, he really can keep his hands off himself… for less than a month. 

It’s late at night and he’s not studying, rather rolling around in his bed, back and forth, trying to resist the insistence of his cock, pressing into the mattress at full mast. He huffs face first into his pillow, feeling his cock strain against his underwear. He could stand this for a little longer. Just a little longer… November just started, sure, but if he beat his record of one week, that’d be accomplishment enough for him. He has to resist the urge to whine as he rolls over again, his cock pressing and pressing and pressing against all things within reach. He rips the covers off of him, frustrated, feeling warm from the heat of his arousal anyway. He could get through this, right? His fingers grip his shirt collar, bunching it into his fist. His other hand gripped his phone, as though using it to ground himself. He shifted the screen to his face. Maybe he’d be able to find something to take his mind off of things. He opens WickChat and scrolls, searching for a distraction. However, the gods must be against him, because all he can do is open his chat with you, and pretend you’d sent him nudes. He tosses his phone back onto his bed, clenching his hand into another fist before it could drift any further towards his groin. He bites furiously on his fingernails, burying his face into his pillows. His cock continued to beg for attention. 

a/n: well, i hope u enjoyed! im so tired and i have work in 6 hours. goodnight lmfao!

note that i appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs!! im not open for reqs atm, but please feel free to just hop in 2 give little random thirsts or something, i don't mind!