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i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.
i want to brainwash you into loving me forever, i want to transport you to somewhere the culture’s clever, confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.
Eddie Munson is signed to a big-name label, one that monitors every move their artists make. The label practically runs half of LA, with so many artists under contract that Eddie’s not really sure how they can even keep track, let alone micro-manage every single one of them. But somehow they do it.
Eddie’s in the hard rock and metal division. Very rarely does he have to cross paths with artists outside of his genre. It’s not really an issue. It’s not like he’s going to collaborate with some bubblegum pink pop princess.
But then the label decides that they need to cross-market some of their artists. They’ve got lots of big names and Eddie’s on tour for his fourth studio album. He’s established, already done a world tour that was so successful the label had wanted to send him back out almost immediately, but he’d pushed back, asking for some time to write. So it’s been two years, but he’s written some of his best songs to date and the arenas are selling out.
Eddie’s so successful that the label decides that they’re going to pair him with some new up-and-coming singer-songwriter duo. The label wants at least one song, but hopes are high that Eddie will take them out as an opener for the last leg of the tour. Eddie’s given their EP a listen; he can’t really imagine that his demographic will ever overlap with theirs, but if this it what the label wants, then who is he to deny them?
It’s a sunny afternoon in LA when Eddie meets Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley at his favorite coffee shop downtown. It’s a safe place for celebrities, with a hidden back entrance and tinted windows, so he’s fairly certain they won’t be caught out together. Eddie’s ordered some lavender honey oat milk latte, something he would never admit to liking in a million years, but it tastes so good he makes the trip here at least three times a week. He’s sitting in a secluded corner, far enough from the windows that he won’t feel nervous, and he’s still got his sunglasses on, just in case.
He spots Robin and Steve almost immediately. They’re hard to miss, both beautiful and sun-kissed, smiling wide as they bicker before they both stop to look around the space.
“Hi!” Robin exclaims when she spots him, rushing over to his table. She grabs his hand between both of hers before he’s even had the chance to offer it to her and pumps it up and down a few times, like they’re shaking hands.
“Rob,” Steve mutters, placing a hand on her shoulder. Then, he turns his blinding smile on Eddie. Eddie had never believed in that whole ‘heart skipping a beat’ thing before but… he feels something happening in that region. “Sorry about her, she’s, like, a huge fan.” He offers his own hand to Eddie and they shake, the brush of skin on skin leaving Eddie just a little breathless, before Steve pulls out a chair and drops into it.
“Ugh, don’t make me sound like some creepy stalker, dingus.” Robin puts her hand on her hips. “What do you want?”
“Uh,” Steve squints at the menu before glancing down at the cup Eddie’s got between his hands. “What’d you get?” He directs the question at Eddie. Eddie tells him, only a little sheepish about it, and Steve smiles again. Eddie’s skin starts to feel itchy, too tight at his collarbones. “That sounds good. I’ll have that,” he tells Robin and she turns to head toward the counter, mumbling about having to order girly drinks.
Once they’re alone, Eddie slides his sunglasses off his face and up into his hair. He clears his throat before looking up into Steve’s face. Their eyes meet and something… happens. Something electric, something pulled taut between them. Eddie feels it and he’s pretty sure Steve does, too, judging by the way his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them, quick and nervous. Eddie can’t stop staring. Neither can Steve.
Robin comes back with her hands full and glances between them. “Everything alright?” She asks slowly, cautiously, and their gazes finally snap away from each other, a blush rising in Steve’s cheeks.
Steve looks back into Eddie’s eyes like he just can’t help himself. Like he wouldn’t want to look anywhere else. “Yeah,” he says smiling. “Everything’s great.”
~*~
Eddie agrees to take them out on tour with him. The minute he saw Steve Harrington in the flesh, he knew he’d be taking them, but Robin turns out to be pretty cool too. He warns them that his fans can be pretty intense, that he can’t imagine they’ll be all that pleased with the kind of music the duo plays, but Robin and Steve assure him that they’re really just looking for some tour experience more than anything else. They’ll figure out the songwriting on the road, collaborate in a way that will bridge the gap between their style and Eddie’s.
When he gets home later that night, after a detour back to the label’s offices, Eddie can’t help but insta-stalk. He looks up Robin’s page first, upholding the pretense of ‘market research’ even in the privacy of his own mind. Most of her pictures include Steve and so it’s easy to be led away to Steve’s profile. It’s a natural progression. Totally normal.
Steve is… extremely cute. That’s usually not a word that Eddie would apply to someone he’s interested in—he tends to prefer the leather and chains variety much more than the sugary sweet type—but for some reason Eddie’s left breathless this time. He scrolls down Steve’s page, sees a picture of him with a herd of kids climbing on his back, another of him and Robin in matching sailor costumes. He hits the follow button without giving it too much thought and then slides back to his own page. Eddie is notoriously private, Instagram page consisting of only professional and promotional shots of him on tour with his band or in the studio recording. It’s not that Eddie is hiding anything, but he knows enough to know that the more you open up, the more that can be taken from you. He knows enough to know that the metal community can be somewhat closed-minded about some things, so he prefers to hide his personal life away, to keep some things precious and secret.
He wonders what Steve would think of his page, if he were to scroll through it. He wonders what it would be like to be open and honest about his personal life, about loving someone. What it would be like to not have to worry about losing fans, losing sales, losing bookings. To not worry about what the public would think of him.
He sighs and places his phone face down on his bedside table before turning out the light and drifting off to sleep.
~*~
Steve and Robin have been on tour with Eddie for two months and Eddie is almost positive that he’s falling in love with Steve. It was one thing to listen to Steve sing on their EP. It’s something totally different to watch Steve perform, to see his fingers slide up and down his guitar, the notes and his voice melancholy sweet. Eddie thinks almost anyone would fall in love with Steve if they’d just pay attention.
They haven’t done anything. Nothing has happened. But the green rooms and the tour busses have been full of lingering looks and soft brushes of skin. He’s pretty sure that Robin is close to saying something, clearly irritated by their pining. But Eddie’s still unsure. He knows it’s a lot, being on tour and in close quarters for the first time. It’s complicated and he doesn’t want to jeopardize Steve’s first big break. He doesn’t want to distract him. It’s easy to get caught up on tour, to mistake proximity for real feelings. It had happened to Eddie before; he didn’t want it to happen to Steve now.
Because this is a big deal, for Robin and Steve. Eddie had been unsure about taking them on, but, surprisingly, Eddie’s fans had embraced the duo. Their songwriting methods had complimented each other in a way Eddie hasn’t experienced since he first started writing with Gareth and the three of them had written five songs together already. Eddie would pull them both onstage halfway through his set to perform at least two of them and then again for one during the encore. The crowd went wild every time.
It’s the last night of tour when the space between them finally snaps in two. It’s the encore, they’re playing Eddie’s favorite of the five songs they’ve written together. They’ve made it through the complicated bridge, the final chorus, and now they’re closing out the last verse. The energy between Steve and Eddie practically crackles, almost visible under the harsh arena lights. Adrenaline is pumping, making Eddie feel invincible, and he can tell that Steve feels it too by the way he smiles across the stage at him. The final notes ring out and Eddie can’t help himself. He grabs for the strap of Steve’s guitar and pulls. Steve falls into Eddie’s chest, laughing, eyebrows raised, and Eddie can’t even think. His lips crash into Steve’s and it’s magical. Better than Eddie ever even dreamed it would be.
There’s a roaring in his ears as Eddie pulls back, reluctant. Steve’s eyes are still closed and he tries to follow Eddie’s mouth with his own, but Eddie laughs and gives him a little shake. Eddie glances around and realizes that the roaring he’d heard was the crowd going absolutely wild, screaming and cheering and clapping. Eddie looks back at Steve, who’s looking just a little dazed, blush on his cheeks and dopey smile on his lips. Robin’s screaming into her microphone, jumping up and down, egging the crowd on. Steve looks around the arena, still smiling, before looking back at Eddie and mouthing something in his direction. It’s too loud, Eddie can’t hear him over the crowd, so he shakes his head just a little. Steve tries again but Eddie still can’t hear him, so he raises his microphone to his lips.
“Finally,” Steve practically shouts, voice ringing out across the cavernous space. “Thought you’d never take the hint.”
All Eddie can do is laugh and pull Steve in for another kiss as the crowd continues cheering.
@grtwdsmwhr gave me “i want to brainwash you into loving me forever” and this is what I came up with i guess
#i wrote this so quick on my phone so pls pls pls forgive me for everything!!!!!!#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie fanfiction#steddie fanfic#stranger things fanfic#steddie ficlet#steddie blurb#taylor swift inspired Steddie
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hi friend! i have had a dream of creating a publication of some kind that uplifts artists/writers in my area. i have been so lost at what i want to or should be doing, so i think this might be a good time to strike!! i'm reaching out to the student magazines at local colleges to see if they have any advice, but i wanted to see if you had any advice to offer as someone who might not have had something so significant (like a school) backing you and your litmag! Thank you so much for everything!!
hello anon, and thanks for your patience!! [full disclosure this was completed last week but in my drafts im sorry!!]
the first piece i have is to read: read mags that print a variety of types of work, those that are established and upstarts and everyone in between. this isn't only to get a sense of what the literary landscape is like rn, but also to find patterns: what do these sites have in common? how about their submission guidelines, norms, expectations?
^ in regard to the above, i also *strongly* recommend you submit and go through the publication process in at least a few mags before starting your own. maybe you have already! in any case, think about what kinds of editorial support/communication/practice you've liked and disliked. what kind of editor are you/do you want to be? if you're not sure yet, consider joining the reading team at a magazine, or editing a folio or guest issue! going from no experience to EIC is not a great plan, in no small part because you learn who and what you are as an editor, and who and what you want to edit, as you gain more experience. joining an established publication in some capacity is something i recommend to *everyone* interested in starting a lit mag. that is, i do not recommend attempting to start a publication if you have no experience on a masthead already.
presuming that you do have this experience, you're going to have some new considerations for your new publication in addition to those you're familiar with:
probably-familiar things to consider:
who is my demographic (do I have any restrictions on who submits?)
what are my values? (this is what you put in your about/mission statement/submission guidelines. for example, I don't submit to magazines who do not make their antizionism/pro-palestine stance clear)
who are my coworkers (do I want to run this thing on my own, or get multiple editors on with me? do I want to just make a quick squarespace site or have a designer onboard?)
what genres, lengths, and other specifications do I want for submissions (docx vs pdf vs rtf? how much do you actually have time to read? what do you feel confident in your ability to assess?)
where can people find us? (social media? twitter/x is still a home base for a huge portion of publications, despite everything. ig has a fair few. tumblr hasn't been very successful in lit mag world - but maybe you'll change that? there's a fair but niche showing on bsky and mastodon. facebook, as with everything else, is for boomers with shit politics.)
probably-unfamiliar things to consider:
what's your title? is a domain available for that title? how are you paying for the domain?
how about website hosting? (squarespace, weebly, google sites, wordpress, something else? is your site accessible? do you need to make extra access considerations, e.g. if publishing visual art?)
do you pay? how much? (without institutional backing, the money will either come from your pocket or donations, or both. if you want to pay but are broke, you could set up a fundraiser - but no promises on people following through.)
what submissions platform will you use? (email? manywor(l)ds does this, and we like it. submittable? pricy, but streamlined. moksha/oleda/duotrope? i mean....you do you but i find them weird)
how often will you be open for submissions? will you solicit any, or be all-slush? (I take a 90/10 approach in favor of slush, personally. slushpile 4 lyfe xoxo)
do you charge fees? (hint: DON'T)
where are you listed? (chillsubs, duotrope, the submission grinder, and other sites aggregate lit mag opportunities. you should get yourself here!)
how often do you want to publish? how many pieces per issue? (consider how much time you actually have. this is all unpaid work, too.)
(if you have an editorial staff beyond yourself) how often are you meeting? how are decisions being made? how are you handling conflicts of interest?
there are also things that become relevant as you begin your mag: like, keeping track of published pieces eligible/nominated for prizes, making editorial friends/comrades (CRUCIAL), managing harassment and spam in the submission process, and other issues you'll encounter just in the daily practice of operating a magazine. remember, more than anything, that you're part of a community - or more accurately, an archipelago of communities and subcultures. this is why participation is so important, and imo necessary, as a pre- and continuous co-requisite to 'having' a lit mag. you're there to fill a niche, not pick out and publish All the Good Writing Ever. This will help you let go of great pieces that 'don't quite work' or just 'aren't a fit' (editors are serious when we say we reject a fuckton of amazing pieces every issue) and let go of submissions you yourself receive rejections for.
anyway, i hope this helps give you a few places to start. in short, focus on community, reciprocity, and building slow&steady experience and expertise (as well as your own editorial styles/techniques) vs. launching into developing your own thing right away!
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Day 349
So a long while ago, I bought a Hidden Object game called Season of Mystery. I had bought it for one reason, it was published by Square Enix, and I wanted to know what a hidden object game published by them was like, it helped that it was under 2 dollars.
Which was a good thing, because I didn’t check when that game was made (2010). If you’re not familiar with the Hidden Object game genre, it is, what the genre says on the tin, you find hidden objects. Often today, these type of games are mystery games with a story plot and have a lot in common with point and click adventure games. I like these kinds of games because I grew up on them, and I can finish them in a day. I can’t promise the narrative is always good, but most of the time it’s not awful. I would actually recommend them to people who have never played video games and are my mother’s demographic.
So why am I talking about a game that was made in 2010? Because I forgot Hidden Object games when they were first designed were very different and objectively harder than the Hidden Object games made today. Now to be clear, I am considered old in some circles; I was a child of the 90s.
And as a child of the 90s, I grew up on Highlight magazines, back when getting a magazine subscription was still very popular. It was a very popular children’s magazine that my mother had a subscription for. It was great! It had stories, puzzles, little arts and crafts and it would keep me out of her hair for like an hour… maybe…
It was very hard to use books to keep me busy because I would burn through them so quickly as a child.
Anyways, one of the consistent pages in a Highlights magazine was a page called Hidden Pictures, and like Hidden Objects, you had to find the object. Now, you can actually look this up, Highlights still exist, and they actually now sell books just full of these Hidden Pictures. The way Hidden Pictures worked was that the artist drew a scene, and then hid within it, more drawings disguised as other things.
Another similar thing to this are the I Spy books which make a scene out of a lot of little objects and then you can go look for all those objects.
Both of these inspired the Hidden Object genre, and the first games that came out were designed like that. They were often pictures that were imposed, stretched or hidden into a main scene and that was because they were probably very heavily influenced by those types of puzzles. It was also boosted by the fact that the first Hidden Object games could take stock images and put them into the game itself since it was just hiding an image within an image. This made developing them cheaper in the long run.
The fact that the games were designed like old fashion page puzzles using realistic images made the older Hidden Object games much harder to find things in. I forgot that, that was the reason why I had a harder time with old Hidden Object games.
At some point, probably because the market for Hidden Object games was becoming very saturated by mid-2010, the developers of those types of games began to draw everything by hand. It sounds counter intuitive because that would have raised production costs, but it made the games more visually appealing. I suppose since they had to draw it all out themselves, they decided they might as well make scenes that visually made sense. So objects no longer were being hidden, pretending to be another object, but rather the scenes were designed more like I Spy books and just full of a lot of things. Like a pantry full of food, or a junk drawer.
But yea, that’s a weird change to Hidden Object games that had passed through my brain while trying to play (and giving up) on a very old Hidden Object game.
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What can Magical Girl Shoujo and Action Hero Shounen manga/anime tell us about perceptions of womanhood and manhood? And how different priorities for genders get expressed in media
Let’s imagine a typical Magical Girl Shoujo anime. It usually starts with a normal girl, on the cusp of puberty or a teenager, who suddenly discovers some magical artifact or innate part of herself that connects her to a magical destiny. There is usually no choice in the matter; she is (along with some select friends) the only one who can do the magical move that prevents demons/aliens/enemies from destroying her home (or even the whole earth). Her status as a magical hero is not one that’s earned, but rather a responsibility thrust upon her.
Meanwhile Action Hero Shounen tends to be about a boy, also often on the cusp of puberty or a teenager, who goes on a deliberate journey to attain a particular status or power. In some cases he may get one advantageous power at the start, but it’s usually up to him to make it useful and achieve his dream. His story often involves trials, tournaments, and intense battles that slowly ramp up until he becomes the most powerful (or achieves whatever status he dreamed of). That status is one that is earned, not given.
Do these differences sound familiar? If so, you may know about the theory of Precarious Manhood (Vandello & Bosson 2013 has great coverage on the subject). The theory suggests that womanhood is secured (or forced) naturally as a girl grows up; she just is a woman, and that status is generally not called into question on a regular basis. Meanwhile manhood is something that must be earned and can be easily lost; a man must continually “prove” his masculinity to maintain that he is a man. We see this reflected in the two genres I described: The Magical Girl just is the hero, while the Action Hero must become the hero. These genres are targeted towards the demographic of their main characters, kids and teens, and they reflect the values, struggles, and anxieties those demographics carry.
The Magical Girl genre focuses on a lot of girls' fears about growing up—there’s a sense of power that comes with it, but it comes at a cost. The conflicts in these shows often aren’t centrally the monsters or battles, but rather interpersonal dramas and work-life balance. To a teenage girl, having a friend group falling out can feel catastrophic, reflected in how a Magical Girl may cause a literal catastrophe unless she can get everyone to work together to defeat an enemy. Another huge conflict is balancing saving the earth and maintaining friendships, romance, work, and grades. Lots of girls get pulled in many directions at this age, and if one is expected or needs to help out around the home she has yet another responsibility on her plate that makes time management a relevant issue.
Within the Action Hero genre the fears and issues are of a different variety. There’s a focus on continual growth, best friends, and achieving milestones. Conflicts generally come down to power struggles, though there’s often an emotional component as well. The deciding factor is often willpower, or how much effort (regardless of the danger to his own safety) a boy is willing to put in to beat an enemy. At this age friendships are often built on sports, games, and competition, and there’s many anxieties about being “manly” enough (or sometimes just not wanting to be feminine because of the mockery that entails).
The differences in the genres clearly reflect gender norms/anxieties regarding femininity and masculinity for their demographic… and also enforce them. Girls are taught that their job is not to reach out and take power, but instead to play a careful balancing game with whatever power/responsibilities they are given (though it's notable that in these magical stories, they happen to be given huge power to work with). Boys are taught that they must wear themselves out, constantly putting themselves in danger and forcing their limits if they want to feel like they have worth or to "be a man".
What would challenging or reversing these expectations be like? Hmm…
Sailor Moon, with Action Hero Conventions
Usagi is just a normal clumsy girl, but one day she sees a cat being harassed by some kids on the way to school. She saves the cat, discovers her name is Luna, and that she’s actually from another planet! There is a secret elite task force, known as the Sailor Scouts, who fight against aliens trying to take over the earth. Luna says that she came to Earth to look for a human who she could train to defeat the evil Queen Beryl, which will also earn the human the right to be the next ruler of the moon. Though Usagi finds it strange and a little scary, when some of Queen Beryl’s minions come down to earth and endanger her friends, she decides to begin her quest to become a Sailor Scout! She’ll have to learn to be more coordinated and pass the Sailor Scout exam first, then battle with other Sailor Scouts to convince them to join her party, but eventually she’ll build up the power and strength to take on Queen Beryl and to become the Queen of the Moon!
Hunter x Hunter, with Magical Girl Conventions
Gon is just a normal boy who loves nature. As he is walking through the woods one day, he meets a mysterious tall man, Kite. Kite says he recognizes him; he knew Gon’s father and knows that Gon has inherited something important: The blood of a Hunter, AKA someone fated to be a guardian of the island he lives on. He has also inherited a special move: “Rock”, a magical punch that can break through anything. There are a few other Hunters Gon must find, add to his party, and work together with to defeat the Phantom Troupe, an evil group with great powers who are trying to invade his peaceful island. Gon is excited to be a Hunter like his father, but right now he lives with his aunt who hates Hunters, so he has to sneak around when protecting his island so she doesn't find out! It’s hard to balance being a normal kid and protecting his island, but with his new friends he hopes to do it all!
These are obviously simplifications of the plots of Sailor Moon and HxH, but it’s an interesting thought experiment. How would girls feel about a plot where a girl has to build up her powers and train? How would boys feel about a plot where the power/rank is almost never in question, but relationships and balancing responsibilities is? If you know any anime/manga that fit or challenge these patterns, I’d love to know your examples.
#tokyo mew mew#naruto#sailor moon#bishoujo senshi sailor moon#hunter x hunter#hxh#anime#manga#bnha#my hero academia#mew mew power#magical girl#I know I'm simplifying but I'm painting broad strokes#I do think this is a pattern#Also sorry for the terrible naming#I know Magical Girl Shoujo = Magical Girl Girl#but i wanted to make clear this is both about a genre/demographic#and a particular type of story within that genre/dem#Please feel free to add on if you have examples or other thoughts
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Gender & Boys Love: Who Watches BL Dramas in Thailand?
ok i just watched THE MOST FASCINATING LECTURE on the history and transformation of BL in Asia, a+ would recommend checking it out if you’re interested. there were tons of amazing points about queerness and gender and transformative works that i want to shout about but i am not super articulate at the moment and i don’t have the time so! i’m gonna talk about some demographic information that was shared instead!!
(The above was included in a presentation by Dr. Tom Baudinette, a BL acafan. check him out on twitter, he’s super cool!)
what’s interesting to me here is that yes, as has been historically the stereotypical narrative for BL as a genre, the majority of BL viewers in Thailand are women — but a very significant minority are men! this is also something a lot of us knew anecdotally but it’s really cool to have concrete numbers. surprise! a lot of men, particularly queer men, really like bl dramas! in fact, there might be a higher percentage of men watching BL dramas than men reading fic on AO3!
let me talk about that last bit more. as some of you may or may not know, i myself am a bit of an acafan and have published some data science research about learning and comment culture in fanfiction communities. five years ago (oh god, was it really that long??) i did a fanfiction community survey that included a few basic demographic questions. here’s the gender distribution from that survey:
Only 4% of the people who responded to the survey were men. That’s... not a lot.
A couple disclaimers: this survey is 5 years old, and just from my anecdotal experiences I think the percentage of nonbinary and genderqueer users has probably increased since then. the transgederification beam really cracked a lot of eggs during the pandemic (myself included).
Also, over 88% of the survey takers used both AO3 *and* tumblr, so this isn’t necessarily a perfect snapshot of all of AO3 so much as the AO3-and-tumblr crowd. When you look at a survey done in 2018 on Reddit, they found that 63% of the survey takers were female and 29% were male, with 8% responding with various other gender options. The AO3-and-Reddit crowd is, understandably, gonna be a little different, but I suspect the AO3-and-tumblr crowd miiiiight’ve outnumbered them in 2017. Who knows.
Aside from the reddit one, pretty much every other survey done on AO3 that I’ve seen puts the percentage of men somewhere between 3% and 7%. If you’re one of those men, hello!! Who knows how many of you there truly are, but I suspect there are probably fewer than the 21% Nielsen Media Group found in Thailand’s BL drama viewership.
now, i know this is kind of comparing apples to oranges, since there’s a lot of differences between the bl community in thailand and the AO3 community. sure, they’re both largely centered around romantic content about men loving men, but there are a lot of cultural differences and nuances et cetera. ALSO, to be clear, i am not saying that having more queer men in a community makes it more or less “acceptable” to create content about queer men. i just think this comparison is interesting because it forces us to reconsider some preconceptions or biases about what kinds of people produce and consume BL or M/M content, and why.
There is a LOT of nuance in this topic that I don’t have time for — if you’re interested, go watch that lecture I linked above. In general, I would just caution people to think critically about the preconceptions we might have about BL fans in east and southeast Asia and avoid moralizing about BL without taking into account the nuanced history of the genre within Asian queer communities. 😊
thanks for reading! theo out 🎤
#took a break from freaking out about kinnporsche and catching up on plus & minus to write this fuckin dissertation#ok but seriously though this lecture covers over 20 years of BL research and all the speakers were SO SO GOOD please go watch it 🙏🥺#thai drama#lgbt drama#lgbtq#thai bl#bl drama
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BOYS RUN THE RIOT
✰ Genre: slice of life, drama, coming-of-age, psychological
✰ Demographic: seinen
✰ Editions: spanish, english, french
Ryo is a trans boy who has not told anyone, he is not even able to tell his best friend with whom he is in love. The protagonist has to carry the pressure of pretending to be someone he isn't every day, with the confusion and the fear of not being accepted, which even causes anxiety. But Ryo finds a safe place in fashion, as it helps him express himself and feel himself.
Jin is the new guy at school and he has a rude air, which no one seems to like very much. By chance Jin finds Ryo at one of his favorite stores and drags him along in their plan to create a clothing brand together.
It is a story about freedom, diversity, inclusion, finding your identity and breaking molds and expectations.
Although it may seem like a simple plot, it is not at all. To begin with, Ryo's mind is in constant chaos, he experiences anxiety and depression because he doesn't feel normal or that he fits in with society, he is not comfortable with his physique or his body, which makes him leave us with very intense scenes and makes us worry about his well-being and mental health.
Fashion here is a clear example that clothing helps us express ourselves as we really are and is even used to launch messages of criticism and freedom, which is what inspires the protagonist when making his t-shirt designs. Through his designs and graffiti, he tells his story and that of others, giving strength not only to himself, but to those who need it. It could even be a bit of a metaphor about a person's identity.
BRTR is also a clear example of real life, young boys with a goal that at times see it further than others. They realize that creating a brand is not an easy task and they are going to be disappointed more than once. And that reminds me of the ending. An ending that I've seen a bit criticized for being open-ended (Spoiler alert) and it does not make it clear to you if the boys achieve their goal of the brand succeeding or if it simply remains a high school hobby. From my point of view it is an ideal ending, which perfectly represents the topic of the uncertain future that we overthink so much in adolescence and sometimes in adulthood, not knowing what to do with your life, if you will succeed, if not, if you will what do you want, etc. Well, many of us, like the protagonists of this story, don't know and we cannot know what will happen, we simply live day to day with insecurities. I don't know if that was the mangaka's intention, but I really liked it.
✰ Some details that I found very cool and interesting are:
That the manga is full of characters that are a very good example of how to be a good ally, there are also LGBTQ characters and terms that are also defined, so if you want to learn a little more about the subject and inform yourself while you have fun reading a good story, this is your manga.
Another thing is that Keito Gaku to create BRTR contacted fashion experts and people who created their own brands, so that the experience of reading the manga would be more realistic.
And finally, the entire team that translated and edited the manga in the USA was made up entirely of Trans people.
✰KEITO GAKU,
the author of Boys Run The Riot, and Ryo, the protagonist, have quite a bit in common. They are both transgender boys. And it is that Ryo could be said that in many aspects and situations the reflection of the student Keito Gaku, since many of Keito's experiences can be found in the protagonist. For example, none of them liked to wear the uniform, it was a continual reminder of something they were not, so they always wore T-shirts or sweaters and tracksuit pants. Both were interested in basketball, a detail, which may not have much importance, is that the protagonist was asked to join the women's basketball team, but for Ryo that was a problem. Although for Keito it was also, he decided to play in the basketball team.
Gaku never came out of the closet during high school and he basically didn't need to. His closest circle of friends realized that he was trans because he felt uncomfortable with some things and also because of how he wore the uniform, so they began to treat him as him. Well, and despite the fact that he did not come out of the closet, he lived through situations very similar to Ryo's (let's not forget that the manga is full of personal experiences), his colleagues realized that he was not someone "normative", so there were people who he treated him normal, others rejected him and some, although they did not understand him, wanted to learn and improve as people, but he never suffered massive harassment for it. According to Gaku, the LGBT community is already very present on a day-to-day basis and it is no longer so common to be bullied for belonging to it, but people still have to empathize more. He speaks from personal experiences.
His dream since he was a child was to be a mangaka, although later with basketball he put it aside and it was not until he was 20 years old that he drew again. Gaku created up to four manga before officially debuting with the oneshot Bright, with which at the age of 22 he won Tetsuya Chiba's 77th Rookie Award in 2019. A year later, in January 2020, he would go to work on his first serialized manga, Boys Run the Riot, published in Weekly Young Magazine. He is currently working on another manga and is looking for assistants. I am curious to know if this one is also about transgender people, since for Gaku that is like his label and what has led him to gain popularity. By the way, a curiosity is that Keito Gaku whenever possible ensures that his team of assistants belongs to the LGBT community, especially looking for trans people, to give them visibility and support.
If you decide to read the manga at the end of the first volume you will find a very interesting short interview about the author.
✰BRIGHT
it was the oneshot with which Gaku debuted, and the truth is that to be such a short story it is very deep. We are reintroduced to a boy of heart and mind who was born in the body of a girl. This is the case of Maki, a trans boy who was not being accepted at his school, but finds refuge in the bar where he works part-time, where gender has no importance, and finally feels like himself. Until one day a classmate of his happens to visit the bar...
You can read the oneshot here, along with the rest of the winners of the 77th Tetsuya Chiba Award, completely free and legal, the only thing is that you have to know Japanese.
Despite being very short, it is a brilliant and interesting read, since in just one chapter you empathize with the situation of the protagonist. You see another perspective of life that a transgender person can lead, in this case because of the people around them. Since unlike in Boys Run the Riot, in Brigth Maki suffers more bullying at school for trying to be who he really is and it is terrible what he has to suffer, in addition to what he already carries with him. Although the way in which the protagonists feel about themselves is practically the same, both have hundreds of problems with their body and mind and the way in which the author narrates and draws it with so much reality that it makes for an unforgettable experience.
✰ Give support and love to the mangaka because I think he has a bright future and should not be missed.
#boys run the riot#keito gaku#manga#bright#manga recommendation#seinen#lgbtq#trans#transgender#japan
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In Focus: The Mummy
Dominic Corry responds on behalf of Letterboxd to an impassioned plea to bump up the average rating of the 1999 version of The Mummy—and asks: where is the next great action adventure coming from?
We recently received the following email regarding the Stephen Sommers blockbuster The Mummy:
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to you on behalf of the nation, if not the entire globe, who frankly deserve better than this after months of suffering with the Covid pandemic.
I was recently made aware that the rating of The Mummy on your platform only stands at 3.3 stars out of five. … This, as I’m sure you’re aware, is simply unacceptable. The Mummy is, as a statement of fact, the greatest film ever made. It is simply fallacious that anyone should claim otherwise, or that the rating should fail to reflect this. This oversight cannot be allowed to stand.
I have my suspicions that this rating has been falsely allocated due to people with personal axes to grind against The Mummy, most likely other directors who are simply jealous that their own artistic oeuvres will never attain the zenith of perfection, nor indeed come close to approaching the quality or the cultural influence of The Mummy. There is, quite frankly, no other explanation. The Mummy is, objectively speaking, a five-star film (… I would argue that it in fact transcends the rating sytem used by us mere mortals). It would only be proper, as a matter of urgency, to remove all fake ratings (i.e. any ratings [below] five stars) and allow The Mummy’s rating to stand, as it should, at five stars, or perhaps to replace the rating altogether with a simple banner which reads “the greatest film of all time, objectively speaking”. I look forward to this grievous error being remedied.
Best, Anwen
Which of course: no, we would never do that. But the vigor Anwen expresses in her letter impressed us (we checked: she’s real, though is mostly a Letterboxd lurker due to a busy day-job in television production, “so finding time to watch anything that isn’t The Mummy is, frankly, impossible… not that there’s ever any need to watch anything else, of course.”).
So Letterboxd put me, Stephen Sommers fan, on the job of paying homage to the last great old-school action-adventure blockbuster, a film that straddles the end of one cinematic era and the beginning of the next one. And also to ask: where’s the next great action adventure coming from?
Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz and John Hannah in ‘The Mummy’ (1999).
When you delve into the Letterboxd reviews of The Mummy, it quickly becomes clear how widely beloved the film is, 3.3 average notwithstanding. Of more concern to the less youthful among us is how quaintly it is perceived, as if it harkens back to the dawn of cinema or something. “God, I miss good old-fashioned adventure movies,” bemoans Holly-Beth. “I have so many fond memories of watching this on TV with my family countless times growing up,” recalls Jess. “A childhood classic,” notes Simon.
As alarming as it is to see such wistful nostalgia for what was a cutting-edge, special-effects-laden contemporary popcorn hit, it has been twenty-one years since the film was released, so anyone currently in their early 30s would’ve encountered the film at just the right age for it to imprint deeply in their hearts. This has helped make it a Raiders of the Lost Ark for a specific Letterboxd demographic.
Sommers took plenty of inspiration from the Indiana Jones series for his take on The Mummy (the original 1932 film, also with a 3.3 average, is famously sedate), but for ten-year-olds in 1999, it may have been their only exposure to such pulpy derring-do. And when you consider that popcorn cinema would soon be taken over by interconnected on-screen universes populated by spandex-clad superheroes, the idea that The Mummy is an old-fashioned movie is easier to comprehend.
However, for all its throwbackiness, beholding The Mummy from the perspective of 2020 reveals it to have more to say about the future of cinema than the past. 1999 was a big year for movies, often considered one of the all-time best, but the legacy of The Mummy ties it most directly to two of that year’s other biggest hits: Star Wars: Episode One—The Phantom Menace and The Matrix. These three blockbusters represented a turning point for the biggest technological advancement to hit the cinematic art-form since the introduction of sound: computer-generated imagery, aka CGI. The technique had been widely used from 1989’s The Abyss onwards, and took significant leaps forward with movies such as Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), Jurassic Park (1993) and Starship Troopers (1997), but the three 1999 films mentioned above signified a move into the era when blockbusters began to be defined by their CGI.
A year before The Mummy, Sommers had creatively utilised CGI in his criminally underrated sci-fi action thriller Deep Rising (another film that deserves a higher average Letterboxd rating, just sayin’), and he took this approach to the next level with The Mummy. While some of the CGI in The Mummy doesn’t hold up as well as the technopunk visuals presented in The Matrix, The Mummy showed how effective the technique could be in an historical setting—the expansiveness of ancient Egypt depicted in the movie is magnificent, and the iconic rendering of Imhotep’s face in the sand storm proved to be an enduringly creepy image. Not to mention those scuttling scarab beetles.
George Lucas wanted to test the boundaries of the technique with his insanely anticipated new Star Wars film after dipping his toe in the digital water with the special editions of the original trilogy. Beyond set expansions and environments, a bunch of big creatures and cool spaceships, his biggest gambit was Jar Jar Binks, a major character rendered entirely through CGI. And we all know how that turned out.
A CGI-enhanced Arnold Vosloo as Imhotep.
Sommers arguably presented a much more effective CGI character in the slowly regenerating resurrected Imhotep. Jar Jar’s design was “bigger” than the actor playing him on set, Ahmed Best. Which is to say, Jar Jar took up more space on screen than Best. But with the zombie-ish Imhotep, Sommers (ably assisted by Industrial Light & Magic, who also worked on the Star Wars films) used CGI to create negative space, an effect impossible to achieve with practical make-up—large parts of the character were missing. It was an indelible visual concept that has been recreated many times since, but Sommers pioneered its usage here, and it contributed greatly to the popcorn horror threat posed by the character.
Sommers, generally an unfairly overlooked master of fun popcorn spectacle (G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is good, guys), deserves more credit for how he creatively utilized CGI to elevate the storytelling in The Mummy. But CGI isn’t the main reason the film works—it’s a spry, light-on-its-feet adventure that presents an iconic horror property in an entertaining and adventurous new light. And it happens to feature a ridiculously attractive cast all captured just as their pulchritudinous powers were peaking.
Meme-worthy: “My sexual orientation is the cast of ‘The Mummy’ (1999).”
A rising star at the time, Brendan Fraser was mostly known for comedic performances, and although he’d proven himself very capable with his shirt off in George of the Jungle (1997), he wasn’t necessarily at the top of anyone’s list for action-hero roles. But he is superlatively charming as dashing American adventurer Rick O’Connell. His fizzy chemistry with Weisz, playing the brilliant-but-clumsy Egyptologist Evie Carnahan, makes the film a legitimate romantic caper. The role proved to be a breakout for Weisz, then perhaps best known for playing opposite Keanu Reeves in the trouble-plagued action flop Chain Reaction, or for her supporting role in the Liv Tyler vehicle Stealing Beauty.
“90s Brendan Fraser is what Chris Pratt wishes he was,” argues Holly-Beth. “Please come back to us, Brendaddy. We need you.” begs Joshhh. “I’d like to thank Rachel Weisz for playing an integral role in my sexual awakening,” offers Sree.
Then there’s Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bey, a member of the Medjai, a sect dedicated to preventing Imhotep’s tomb from being discovered, and Patricia Velásquez as Anck-su-namun, Imhotep’s cursed lover. Both stupidly good-looking. Heck, Imhotep himself (South African Arnold Vosloo, coming across as Billy Zane’s more rugged brother), is one of the hottest horror villains in the history of cinema.
“Remember when studio movies were sexy?” laments Colin McLaughlin. We do Colin, we do.
Sommers directed a somewhat bloated sequel, The Mummy Returns, in 2001, which featured the cinematic debut of one Dwayne Johnson. His character got a spin-off movie the following year (The Scorpion King), which generated a bunch of DTV sequels of its own, and is now the subject of a Johnson-produced reboot. Brendan Fraser came back for a third film in 2008, the Rob Cohen-directed The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. Weisz declined to participate, and was replaced by Maria Bello.
Despite all the follow-ups, and the enduring love for the first Sommers film, there has been a sadly significant dearth of movies along these lines in the two decades since it was released. The less said about 2017 reboot The Mummy (which was supposed to kick-off a new Universal Monster shared cinematic universe, and took a contemporary, action-heavy approach to the property), the better.
The Rock in ‘The Mummy Returns’ (2001).
For a long time, adventure films were Hollywood’s bread and butter, but they’re surprisingly thin on the ground these days. So it makes a certain amount of sense that nostalgia for the 1999 The Mummy continues to grow. You could argue that many of the superhero films that dominate multiplexes count as adventure movies, but nobody really sees them that way—they are their own genre.
There are, however, a couple of films on the horizon that could help bring back old-school cinematic adventure. One is the long-planned—and finally actually shot—adaptation of the Uncharted video-game franchise, starring Tom Holland. The games borrow a lot from the Indiana Jones films, and it’ll be interesting to see how much that manifests in the adaptation.
Then there’s Letterboxd favorite David Lowery’s forever-upcoming medieval adventure drama The Green Knight, starring Dev Patel and Alicia Vikander (who herself recently rebooted another video-game icon, Lara Croft). Plus they are still threatening to make another Indiana Jones movie, even if it no longer looks like Steven Spielberg will direct it.
While these are all exciting projects—and notwithstanding the current crisis in the multiplexes—it can’t help but feel like we may never again get a movie quite like The Mummy, with its unlikely combination of eye-popping CGI, old-fashioned adventure tropes and a once-in-a-lifetime ensemble of overflowing hotness. Long may love for it reign on Letterboxd—let’s see if we can’t get that average rating up, the old fashioned way. For Anwen.
Related content
How I Letterboxd with The Mummy fan Eve (“The first film I went out and bought memorabilia for… it was a Mummy action figure that included canopic jars”)
The Mummy (Universal) Collection
Every film featuring the Mummy (not mummies in general)
Follow Dom on Letterboxd
#the mummy#brendan fraser#stephen sommers#action adventure#fantasy adventure#action adventure film#the green knight#david lowery#dominic corry#letterboxd
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I saw a post recently about RL Stein's choice to not include certain real-life horrors in Goosebumps, and someone commented that it was odd he didn't do that for his Fear Street books.
I didn't want to derail the post or get on the commenter's case, but I wanted to explore the question a bit.
The most shallow answer is that they're two separate series-- both of them horror anthology series aimed at kids that are often loosely connected, if at all, so by all rights they would be easier to market as a single series, except for the target demographic. Goosebumps was for younger readers, with campy things like bigfoot and neon green monster blood, and explicit avoidance of things like child abuse and divorce. Meanwhile Fear Street was for more for an older market, happy to tackle subjects like overdose and pretty grisly deaths. Aside from the name, the series were differentiated by pretty significant differences in the cover design, going for darker colors and less cartoonish aesthetic.
And the thing is, it was pretty typical (especially in the 90s and early 2000s) for authors to use a different penname for various target audiences, especially if they wrote children's books and/or romance*. You don't want somebody to zip through your bibliography expecting more of the same and finding something that they Do Not Want.
These days I see a lot fewer authors using multiple pennames, and at least on my end that's a practicality thing. For every penname I use, I have to commission and print a new set of business cards and maintain a new social media presence, and that's way too exhausting. I think it might have been more feasible when most of your marketing was done through publishing houses or an agent, but these days that only really happens if you're already a well-established author selling hundreds of thousands of copies per year, or have a similar in with the company publishing you. In other words, don't count on it.
There's a little less of a risk with people stumbling onto the wrong genre these days, too, because any site where you order a book will show you the cover and a blurb, which should make the genre fairly clear, as well as some category tags and reviews. Before the Internet, that wasn't always the case, especially for non-big name authors.
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someday // l.t.y.
summary: several years after high school, when you and your peers have all established careers, you get invited to your graduating class reunion.
pairing: lee taeyong x gn!reader
word count: 2.4k
genre: exes!au, angst, some closure.
a/n: mentions of alcohol, UNEDITED
You knew this day would come, but not this soon.
It feels like it came fast when in reality it’s been almost seven years since you graduated from high school. It took a handful of odd jobs after receiving your bachelor’s degree, but you were able to land a position as an accountant. With your hard work, you’ve slowly climbed up the ladder to where you now serve as the finance director of the firm you work for. Your salary is handsome, as per your standards, and you were recently able to afford a nice apartment. It was only after your move that you visited your parents on the other side of the city where they handed you the envelope in your hands. It was an invitation to your high school reunion.
That's how, fast forward a week later, you found yourself standing in front of your old high school gymnasium. You see people walking towards the entrance and feel stupid because most of them seem to be going with another person, maybe a friend they would keep in touch with or a significant other. Maybe you should have coaxed one of your co-workers and bribed them with drinks or something afterward. Too late now, you thought, as you sighed and made your way to the entrance. Upon arrival, the first thing you notice is the reasonably large group of people scattered throughout the room. It’s dark and the only light sources are the few disco ball lamps projecting multicolored circles throughout the perimeter of the room. You squint to try to make out people when seconds later, your thoughts are interrupted by a shrill, “Y/N!” You turn your head towards the sound and find an adult Jisoo approaching you. Jisoo was one of your closest friends you kept in touch with for a while but lost contact with a couple of years into college. “Jisoo, is that you? Oh my god, it’s been ages! How are you?” you hugged her, and she began to share how shortly after graduating college, she applied for a job as a photographer at a fashion agency, but she ended up landing a job as a model. Long story short, Jisoo was now a thriving model. “I’m so happy for you!” you gush with sincerity and she gets shy, combing her fingers through her hair. She tells you that she may have just landed her big break, about to fill you in on details when an oh-so-familiar voice cuts her off. “Hey guys,” you turn around and your eyes meet Lee Taeyong.
Taeyong and Y/N: the “dream team” as they used to call you back in high school. You shared a long and valuable relationship with him, dating almost throughout all of high school. That's why when people heard that you split up, they were more shocked than they would have liked to admit. it was a rather nasty breakup that was not mutual at first; he had gotten into his dream university located across the country while you chose to stay in your home city for college. You didn't want to stop him from achieving his dreams of becoming a pediatric dietitian; you would have hated yourself for acting that selfish. Therefore, you thought things could work via long-distance and they did for a while, but the harsh realities like not being able to hold each other in your hard times set in faster than you wanted to admit. Your schedules were becoming increasingly incompatible, and it became difficult for either one of you to grasp onto the relationship. You both watched as it slowly slipped away from your hands. Taeyong was the one to pull the trigger, and with heavy hearts, the two of you officially parted ways.
You have not contacted each other since then. Now, the two of you stand face to face, and you see an emotion in his eyes that you don’t recognize. Perhaps it’s because you successfully managed to forget the negative memories from all the ones you still have of him. Or maybe you just forgot how to read him. “Uh, Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” he awkwardly rubs his hands together as he slowly shifts his gaze around the room. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to come, but I decided to come just for the fun of it. Bit of a last-minute decision, actually.” Jisoo could sense the tension in the air and playfully scoffed, “really? Y/N, I thought you weren’t the type of person to make last-minute decisions. You used to grill me for doing that all the time.” You notice the surprise looming on Taeyong's face; he must’ve been taken aback by your statement too. You turn away from his careful gaze before coldly replying, “people change over time, I guess.”
After Jisoo finds someone else to catch up with, you quickly excuse yourself to the bar to grab a glass of punch because there is no way in hell that you want to be left alone with Taeyong right now. The walk over to the bar is a little difficult, mainly due to the lack of light, but you manage to make it without bumping into anyone else. as you pour your punch in a cup, someone clears their throat in front of you. “Johnny Suh!” you gasp, a smile forming on your face. Johnny and you used to be neighbors in high school but right after graduation, he and his family moved to Chicago. You were very sad at the departure of one of your only friends, so you were beyond thrilled to see him again. You shuffle around the table to give him a hug that he gladly reciprocated. “I thought I saw you walk in. how are you, Y/N?”
“I’ve been well. Busy, but well. When did you get back?” He tells you that he recently got a job at an accounting firm, right here in the city. When you ask him where he says the name of your firm. “No way! I work there, too!” Johnny lights up at this, you talk about the work-life, how the people are, and share your experiences.
You fail to notice that across the room, a pair of eyes have been following you ever since you left them alone a few moments ago. Taeyong watches, with a pained gaze, as you reciprocate what is obvious flirtatious behavior from Johnny. Truthfully, when Johnny moved away, Taeyong remembers being a little happy on the inside, because he wouldn’t have to hear you talk about him so much. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Johnny harbored a small crush on you. When he brought it up, you used to throw your head back in laughter, before pinching his cheeks and calling him cute. That same feeling begs to ignite again, but his head is quicker than his heart, as it forces him to look down at the thin silver band wrapped around the ring finger of his right hand. You’ve moved on, he hears, and he tucks his hand into his pocket. Someone walks over to him and captures his attention, pushing the thoughts of you and what could have been to the back of his head.
Johnny gets a call from someone, so he excuses himself from your company, leaving you standing amidst the terrible background music and a half-full cup of punch in your hand. You figure you can go grab some fresh air right about now, so you meander off to the door, before stepping out onto the concrete outside. The cool summer breeze is comfortable against your arms but out of habit you fold them together, the cup of punch firmly held in your palm. You close your eyes and exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Care if I join you?” Taeyong’s voice rings, shattering the silence you developed briefly. Opening your eyes, you clear your throat before saying, “be my guest.” Taeyong stands next to you, and once he’s in the light you’re able to get a better look at him. The last time you saw Taeyong, his hair was much shorter and cleanly trimmed. He had innocence in his eyes that twinkled with every step. The version of him standing next to you was definitely more mature; there’s a shadow of smile lines and crow’s feet on the side of his face you see, his hair has grown out quite a bit and you can make out the sharpness of his cheekbone and jaw naturally contouring his face.
“Some things never change, right?” He says out of the blue and you cough to offset the growing embarrassment you feel. He’s referring to how you used to zone out into your thoughts when you stared at him, usually from the side. He would always be able to pick up on it, teasing you relentlessly. “Have you been well?” “Did you move back here?” The both of you asked at the same time to one another, awkwardly laughing off the collision of your questions before you said, “you first.” Taeyong nodded, “I moved back here almost a year ago actually. I was transferred to a small hospital and they knew I was from here, so they figured it was easier to send someone who had a feel for the demographic.” You bit your lip, and he continued, “I didn’t realize how much I missed this city. It was only after I moved back that I felt like this is where home was all along. How about you, did you ever leave?” You shook your head, “I had all my opportunities here, so I never felt the need to go anywhere. I have been perfectly happy and I never felt better,” and as you speak, you notice Taeyong pull his hand out of his pocket to scratch his ear and light reflects the ring resting nicely on his ring finger. You try not to let your eyes widen too much, but you can’t help it if your heart shatters in your chest. “You’re engaged.” Taeyong winced at the change in your tone; he wanted to avoid this topic. “Uh, yeah. Yes, I am.” You attempt to play it off, looking away from his analyzing gaze. “Who’s the lucky person?” Taeyong looks outward with a certain fondness as he recalls details of his significant other. He says they met in one of his classes, saying they “were the best friend he never had”. You listened on as your walls started to break.
“I proposed shortly after I found out I was transferred here. They moved here with me, actually.” You nodded, recognizing all too well this feeling growing in you. It was reminiscent of how you felt when you broke up with him, but this was much more intense. You painfully exhaled and you knew he could sense it. “Happy for you. I really am,” you managed to say without letting your voice crack. Taeyong was always very straightforward with you, and it didn’t surprise you when he said, “Y/N, I was in the darkest place when we broke up. They helped me get out of that. I know it was not an easy decision to make, which is why I want you to know that you will always have a place in my heart. We spent so many years together, it’s natural that you and I will always be something special.” You turn the other way, and this time, you can’t stop the tears from falling. You couldn’t face him anymore because you don’t want to reveal to him that a big part of you still wanted him. Seeing that ring on his finger and hearing him gush about his partner reaffirmed all that. Now, all you wanted to do was to get out of there. “I’ll be honest, sometimes it still feels like I haven’t gotten over you. Even if I did. Know that I will always love you and that you’ll always have a piece of me.” Taeyong says, and a small whimper leaves you. “I’m a mess, Taeyong,” you croak. “I built this strong wall and convinced myself that I was okay. Tonight you’ve proved me wrong. I tried time and time again to find someone else to introduce into my life but no one comes close.” You finally wipe your eyes and turn back to face Taeyong to find silent tears trailing down his face. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight if I’m being honest. I needed to get this off my chest. I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.”
You breathe, the final bit of teardrops sitting at your waterline. “Thank you, Taeyong. For everything, but especially the memories. I know I can’t fall out of love with you overnight, and I certainly will not ask you to do anything selfish. You know that I just want you to be happy, and if they make you happy, that’s all that matters.” Taeyong wants to reach out to wipe your tears, but he’s afraid he’ll cross a line he set for himself. “Would you still want to be friends? For old times’ sake,” Taeyong asks, hoping you’ll say yes. You feel conflicted but you say, “you’re going to need to give me time, Taeyong. I need to sort things out in terms of relationships, and right now, I don’t think I can take being your friend. That’s going to lead to me wishing terrible things on you two, and I don’t want to jeopardize a relationship that is strong enough as it is. Please, don’t force me to befriend you when I’m broken.” Taeyong is hurt, but the rational voice in his head is telling him that you are doing the right thing. “It’s getting late,” you muster the courage to say, “I should head out but I’m glad you got the closure you needed.” Taeyong offered to walk you to your car, and you don’t know if you can take any more heartbreak, but you let him walk you anyway. The tears are gone for now, but they’ll come back. Taeyong hesitates, “Do you want to meet up for lunch or something anytime soon?” You unlock your door and open it before turning to him. There’s a glint of hope in his eye, and you smile meekly, “maybe but not soon, Taeyong. When I’m ready. I hope you can understand.” He nods almost instantly, and you’re grateful for his reaction. “I’ll see you someday,” you tell him and he nods, waving to you as you start your car and leave, whispering under his breath “someday.”
a/n: AHHH my first ever long scenario. this was much easier to do than a series lol but I’m nervous! I would appreciate any and all feedback you guys have for me, and thank you for reading it!
#lee taeyong#taeyong#nct 127 taeyong#superm taeyong#nct u taeyong#taeyong lee#taeyong angst#taeyong au#taeyong aus#nct 127 angst#nct u angst#nct taeyong#nct angst#superm angst#kpop writing#nct au#nct 127 au#superm au#kpop angst#kpop aus#kpop au#nct scenarios#sweetdejun#gn!reader#kpop x reader#taeyong x reader
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~♡ Shio, Shoyu, Miso ♡~ [1/?]
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Female (she/her) Reader
Warnings: None
Words: 1.9K
Genre: y’all already know it’s just gonna be fluff
A/N: so i made a lil thing sorta based off this cute thing i saw on reddit. idk what i’m doing pls don’t ask.
reblogs are greatly appreciated as they are the main way to get my works around so please consider doing so if you like it! enjoy!
When you had first met Megumi, you honestly didn’t think much of him.
Now, that’s not to say you didn’t find him attractive, but a cute guy around your age coming into the shop with a few of his friends just really wasn’t something very noteworthy in your life. You had only been helping your parents around your family owned ramen shop for about a year or so, but that was long enough to know that the general demographic was people who wanted a tasty, warm meal without having to blow too much money. Needless to say, teenagers fit that demographic fairly well.
Your shop was well known in the area, but it was by no means fancy. In fact the building was a tad bit run down, you didn’t even have any decorations or anything hanging up on the walls and the entirety of it only seated maybe thirty people, so it was clear people didn’t frequent the place because of the ambiance. No, the reason you always seemed to have a steady stream of customers was that the food was simply so good that despite the lack of an enticing atmosphere or even many food options, people couldn’t help but be drawn to it. That mashed together with your friendly family and the decent prices made for a perfect little neighborhood place to eat. So again, when a group of three slightly noisy teenagers sat themselves down at one of the bar tables on the far side of the seating area, you didn’t really have any reason to bat an eye.
“Hey welcome guys!” You put on your usual cheery customer service voice as you filled their glasses with ice water, trying not to lean into any of their personal spaces. “Your options are salt, soy, or miso ramen, with or without beef and or pork. Do you need some time to think about it or do you think you’re ready to order now?”
Like you said, there weren’t many options.
“Oh, can I get soy?! Or maybe- hm, maybe I’ll have miso…”
“You’re tasteless, miso is the worst kind.”
“I bet you’ve never even tried it, Kugisaki!”
“They’re going to need a minute to think. That bit’s hard for them.”
The taller boy with dark hair and an apparently permanent scowl on his face groaned out in annoyance, his eyes only meeting yours for a moment before he turned to yell at the other two to lower their voices. You nodded with a smile, leaving them to decide and chuckling to yourself as you moved on to ask the customers at the other tables if they were doing ok.
“Ok! Excuse me- er....crap, what was her name again Fushiguro?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know, usually you remember to ask the important stuff like that!”
The not-so-subtle arguing was enough to catch your attention as you made your way back over to the trio, your smile being a bit more genuine this time around in response to their odd yet funny dynamic.
“It’s (Y/N), sorry about that guys! So, what can I get for ya?”
The three of them listed off their orders and after you repeated them back for confirmation, you gave them a quick thumbs up before going back to the kitchen to put their orders in with your dad. Within a moment of your absence, Itadori was turning to Fushiguro with that excited puppy look that adorned his face almost 24/7.
“She’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”
Fushiguro’s eye twitched, but luckily Kugisaki was quick to butt in with an argument of ‘How come you’re only asking him what he thinks, huh?!’. It was a simple question, but what annoyed him was the added use of ‘kind of’. Itadori was extremely simple, so the thought that he only thought you were ‘kind of’ pretty irritated him because how could Fushiguro be here doing a double take just to get a better look at your features every time you spoke to them while Itadori just barely took note of it? It was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t disagree. He could tell you definitely had a slight air of putting on a cheery showiness for the sake of good customer service, but either way, you were...cute, and he was insistent on leaving it at that without bothering to admit to it out loud.
“I hope you both know you’re paying for yourselves.” He interrupted, hoping their argument had moved on from their waitress so that he wouldn’t be asked about his thoughts on you again.
“Eh?! Since when were you so cheap!”
“Ok guys!”
The three of them jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, simultaneously turning to see you holding up a tray with three steaming bowls of ramen sat atop of it.
“Soy with beef, soy with pork..” You listed off while setting the bowls in front of the copper haired girl and the smiley boy respectively, “And miso with no topping.” You finished, eyes flicking up to meet the dark haired boys as you placed the final bowl in front of him. It was only for a moment, but you could have sworn your saw a speckle of pink dust his cheeks before he looked away from you with a short “Thanks.”.
“Mhm, no problem.” You hummed out, scanning your eyes around the restaurant to see if you were immediately needed elsewhere before deciding to continue and indulge your interest in the three, or more specifically, your interest in the cute boy with the black hair. “So... you guys are from that traditional religious high school, right?”
The pink haired one’s eyes lit up as he struggled to finish the noodles he was halfway through slurping up so that he could speak.
“Yeah, yeah! I guess our uniforms are a giveaway..”
You laughed, leaning your back against the empty seat that sat next to them at the bar. As if you needed any further confirmation, you could tell he was the energetic extrovert of the group.
“Yeah, you don’t really see many of them around. Though I’ve heard it’s kind of a hard school to get into.”
“Pfft, maybe for normal people, it was no sweat for us.” There was that copper haired girl again with a confident look on her face as she too stopped eating to interject, though you hardly took what she said in a bad way as she didn’t seem to mean any harm from it.
“That so? Guess I’ll have to call you guys next time I’m having trouble with my classes, I swear I can barely manage the workload I get.”
“Haha I feel that, I actually started school elsewhere but I just transferred a few months ago! Oh- I’m Itadori by the way! This is Kugisaki, and Fushiguro’s the sulking rude one!”
“Hey.” Fushiguro finally stopped his eavesdropping to join in, sending a glare Itadori’s way, but he just seemed to brush it off as if he’d been under his friends' scrutiny plenty of times before. After a moment though he turned back to you, though as much as he wanted to say something to you, he didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t like Itadori or Kugisaki who could just strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, but while he turned over his conversational options in his head, you pushed away from where you had previously been leaning and gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that easily brought his attention away from his thoughts.
“No no you’re good- Sorry, I should be leavin’ you guys to eat anyway. Just call me over when you’re ready to pay or if you need anything, alright?” You spoke, your words being directed more towards who you now knew as ‘Fushiguro’, however it was his two friends who responded with an affirmation before going back to their meals.
Once again you were off to tend to other tables and do the other tidbits of your job, though this time your head was filled with questions galore. Did Jujutsu Tech students come into town often, or was this some special outing? What grades were the three of them in? And most importantly, you wondered if they would ever be coming back? You weren’t one to get flustered or form crushes easily, but you had to admit you were a bit taken by Fushiguro. He was cute, sure, but he had a cool, mature air about him that could make anyone be left wanting to know more about him, especially because most of the conversation you did have was with his friends and not him. However once again your mental flow was interrupted by Itadori waving you over, barely waiting for you to make your way by their side to start speaking while the three of them handed over their respective payments.
“That was crazy good, (Y/N), we’ll have to come by some time again if that’s ok!”
“It’s not like she’s the one making it, Itadori.”
“You realize that a restaurant’s whole goal is to get people to come back, right? Of course it’s ‘ok’..”
Despite Fushiguro’s matter-of-fact statement, his eyes still shifted to yours as if he secretly wanted to know if you wanted them to come back as well and the smile you gave him in return only solidified the fact that he wanted to return either way. Though of course he boiled that down to ‘The service was good and so was the food’, but part of him knew that was bullshit.
“I’d love to see you guys around again!” You said, collecting up their empty bowls as you spoke. “I work most weekends and some days after class so you should try to stop in while I’m here.”
“Hell yeah!” Itadori exclaimed as the three of them got up from their seats one after the other, Kugisaki and Itadori saying their goodbye’s as they pardoned their way through the tables and other customers to leave, though Fushiguro stayed behind for a moment, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke.
“...Sorry about them, it’s practically like wrangling preschoolers whenever we aren’t on du- er, in class.”
He knew the apology wasn’t necessary and that you didn’t seem all that bothered by either of his friends’ lively personalities, but he found himself feeling a bit...left out in the fact that he had yet to really speak to you. Why he even felt compelled to speak to you in the first place was a mystery, but he figured that was one question that didn’t really need an answer for right now.
“Oh, it’s no problem.” You laughed, giving another smile as you tried your hardest to not act as fidgety as you were feeling on the inside. “I mean- I’ve got friends like that too so I-“
“Excuse me?”
A polite voice cut you off halfway through your sentence and you turned to see an older woman waving you over, clearly not wanting to be rude but wanting your attention nevertheless.
“Sorry-“
“You’re fine!” You sputtered out, maybe a bit too excited as you slowly backed away from him, “I’ll see you around if you guys stop by again, huh, Fushiguro?”
His eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised by that hopeful tone to your voice before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a bit of slightly shameful excitement tugging at his heart.
“Yeah, we’ll- I’ll see you around.”
#im still soft for megumi#can you tell i dont outline or Ever Know Where I'm Going With My Words#haha a.d.d. gang wya#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#also dont ask me when the next part will be#because I Never Know
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~♡ Shio, Shoyu, Miso ♡~ [1/3]
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! (She/Her) Reader
Warnings: None
Words: 1.9K
Genre: Fluff
PART 2 | PART 3
When you had first met Megumi, you honestly didn’t think much of him.
Now, that’s not to say you didn’t find him attractive, but a cute guy around your age coming into the shop with a few of his friends just really wasn’t something very noteworthy in your life. You had only been helping your parents around your family owned ramen shop for about a year or so, but that was long enough to know that the general demographic was people who wanted a tasty, warm meal without having to blow too much money. Needless to say, teenagers fit that demographic fairly well.
Your shop was well known in the area, but it was by no means fancy. In fact the building was a tad bit run down, you didn’t even have any decorations or anything hanging up on the walls and the entirety of it only seated maybe thirty people, so it was clear people didn’t frequent the place because of the ambiance. No, the reason you always seemed to have a steady stream of customers was that the food was simply so good that despite the lack of an enticing atmosphere or even many food options, people couldn’t help but be drawn to it. That mashed together with your friendly family and the decent prices made for a perfect little neighborhood place to eat. So again, when a group of three slightly noisy teenagers sat themselves down at one of the bar tables on the far side of the seating area, you didn’t really have any reason to bat an eye.
“Hey welcome guys!” You put on your usual cheery customer service voice as you filled their glasses with ice water, trying not to lean into any of their personal spaces. “Your options are salt, soy, or miso ramen, with or without beef and or pork. Do you need some time to think about it or do you think you’re ready to order now?”
Like you said, there weren’t many options.
“Oh, can I get soy?! Or maybe- hm, maybe I’ll have miso…”
“You’re tasteless, miso is the worst kind.”
“I bet you’ve never even tried it, Kugisaki!”
“They’re going to need a minute to think. That bit’s hard for them.”
The taller boy with dark hair and an apparently permanent scowl on his face groaned out in annoyance, his eyes only meeting yours for a moment before he turned to yell at the other two to lower their voices. You nodded with a smile, leaving them to decide and chuckling to yourself as you moved on to ask the customers at the other tables if they were doing ok.
“Ok! Excuse me- er….crap, what was her name again Fushiguro?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know, usually you remember to ask the important stuff like that!”
The not-so-subtle arguing was enough to catch your attention as you made your way back over to the trio, your smile being a bit more genuine this time around in response to their odd yet funny dynamic.
“It’s (Y/N), sorry about that guys! So, what can I get for ya?”
The three of them listed off their orders and after you repeated them back for confirmation, you gave them a quick thumbs up before going back to the kitchen to put their orders in with your dad. Within a moment of your absence, Itadori was turning to Fushiguro with that excited puppy look that adorned his face almost 24/7.
“She’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”
Fushiguro’s eye twitched, but luckily Kugisaki was quick to butt in with an argument of ‘How come you’re only asking him what he thinks, huh?!’. It was a simple question, but what annoyed him was the added use of ‘kind of’. Itadori was extremely simple, so the thought that he only thought you were ‘kind of’ pretty irritated him because how could Fushiguro be here doing a double take just to get a better look at your features every time you spoke to them while Itadori just barely took note of it? It was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t disagree. He could tell you definitely had a slight air of putting on a cheery showiness for the sake of good customer service, but either way, you were…cute, and he was insistent on leaving it at that without bothering to admit to it out loud.
“I hope you both know you’re paying for yourselves.” He interrupted, hoping their argument had moved on from their waitress so that he wouldn’t be asked about his thoughts on you again.
“Eh?! Since when were you so cheap!”
“Ok guys!”
The three of them jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, simultaneously turning to see you holding up a tray with three steaming bowls of ramen sat atop of it.
“Soy with beef, soy with pork..” You listed off while setting the bowls in front of the copper haired girl and the smiley boy respectively, “And miso with no topping.” You finished, eyes flicking up to meet the dark haired boys as you placed the final bowl in front of him. It was only for a moment, but you could have sworn your saw a speckle of pink dust his cheeks before he looked away from you with a short “Thanks.”.
“Mhm, no problem.” You hummed out, scanning your eyes around the restaurant to see if you were immediately needed elsewhere before deciding to continue and indulge your interest in the three, or more specifically, your interest in the cute boy with the black hair. “So… you guys are from that traditional religious high school, right?”
The pink haired one’s eyes lit up as he struggled to finish the noodles he was halfway through slurping up so that he could speak.
“Yeah, yeah! I guess our uniforms are a giveaway..”
You laughed, leaning your back against the empty seat that sat next to them at the bar. As if you needed any further confirmation, you could tell he was the energetic extrovert of the group.
“Yeah, you don’t really see many of them around. Though I’ve heard it’s kind of a hard school to get into.”
“Pfft, maybe for normal people, it was no sweat for us.” There was that copper haired girl again with a confident look on her face as she too stopped eating to interject, though you hardly took what she said in a bad way as she didn’t seem to mean any harm from it.
“That so? Guess I’ll have to call you guys next time I’m having trouble with my classes, I swear I can barely manage the workload I get.”
“Haha I feel that, I actually started school elsewhere but I just transferred a few months ago! Oh- I’m Itadori by the way! This is Kugisaki, and Fushiguro’s the sulking rude one!”
“Hey.” Fushiguro finally stopped his eavesdropping to join in, sending a glare Itadori’s way, but he just seemed to brush it off as if he’d been under his friends’ scrutiny plenty of times before. After a moment though he turned back to you, though as much as he wanted to say something to you, he didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t like Itadori or Kugisaki who could just strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, but while he turned over his conversational options in his head, you pushed away from where you had previously been leaning and gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that easily brought his attention away from his thoughts.
“No no you’re good- Sorry, I should be leavin’ you guys to eat anyway. Just call me over when you’re ready to pay or if you need anything, alright?” You spoke, your words being directed more towards who you now knew as ‘Fushiguro’, however it was his two friends who responded with an affirmation before going back to their meals.
Once again you were off to tend to other tables and do the other tidbits of your job, though this time your head was filled with questions galore. Did Jujutsu Tech students come into town often, or was this some special outing? What grades were the three of them in? And most importantly, you wondered if they would ever be coming back? You weren’t one to get flustered or form crushes easily, but you had to admit you were a bit taken by Fushiguro. He was cute, sure, but he had a cool, mature air about him that could make anyone be left wanting to know more about him, especially because most of the conversation you did have was with his friends and not him. However once again your mental flow was interrupted by Itadori waving you over, barely waiting for you to make your way by their side to start speaking while the three of them handed over their respective payments.
“That was crazy good, (Y/N), we’ll have to come by some time again if that’s ok!”
“It’s not like she’s the one making it, Itadori.”
“You realize that a restaurant’s whole goal is to get people to come back, right? Of course it’s ‘ok’..”
Despite Fushiguro’s matter-of-fact statement, his eyes still shifted to yours as if he secretly wanted to know if you wanted them to come back as well and the smile you gave him in return only solidified the fact that he wanted to return either way. Though of course he boiled that down to ‘The service was good and so was the food’, but part of him knew that was bullshit.
“I’d love to see you guys around again!” You said, collecting up their empty bowls as you spoke. “I work most weekends and some days after class so you should try to stop in while I’m here.”
“Hell yeah!” Itadori exclaimed as the three of them got up from their seats one after the other, Kugisaki and Itadori saying their goodbye’s as they pardoned their way through the tables and other customers to leave, though Fushiguro stayed behind for a moment, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke.
“…Sorry about them, it’s practically like wrangling preschoolers whenever we aren’t on du- er, in class.”
He knew the apology wasn’t necessary and that you didn’t seem all that bothered by either of his friends’ lively personalities, but he found himself feeling a bit…left out in the fact that he had yet to really speak to you. Why he even felt compelled to speak to you in the first place was a mystery, but he figured that was one question that didn’t really need an answer for right now.
“Oh, it’s no problem.” You laughed, giving another smile as you tried your hardest to not act as fidgety as you were feeling on the inside. “I mean- I’ve got friends like that too so I-“
“Excuse me?”
A polite voice cut you off halfway through your sentence and you turned to see an older woman waving you over, clearly not wanting to be rude but wanting your attention nevertheless.
“Sorry-“
“You’re fine!” You sputtered out, maybe a bit too excited as you slowly backed away from him, “I’ll see you around if you guys stop by again, huh, Fushiguro?”
His eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised by that hopeful tone to your voice before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a bit of slightly shameful excitement tugging at his heart.
“Yeah, we’ll- I’ll see you around.”
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Operation: Sunset
(Cheesey operation title aside, here’s my Take Action Masterpost)
OK! So @krysmcscience has a fabulous contact list located here, and @yashahimewasamistake has some great example messages located here. I wanted to help out and do my part by adding some more Copypaste messages, and other people to contact about this trainwreck of a show once I started sending out my own complaints.
Please note that this post will change as I edit it to add more, so keep checking back. Also please share this because with all the outside links I’m posting I doubt this is going to show up in the anti tag.
Hulu: Now this one is not as easy for everyone because Hulu is a paid service, and it also doesn’t have just a simple email address to send a letter out to, and I am avoiding any form of contact that would require me having to call and talk to someone on the phone.
I DO however have a hulu account, so I used my account to create a Community Help Center topic located here: https://community.hulu.com/s/question/0D53h000018m7FaCAI/can-the-age-rating-for-yashahime-please-be-changed If you have an account please feel free to log in and back me up, maybe it will actually draw the attention of moderators there.
Disney: I emailed both addresses provided on Krysm’s post with the following message, please feel free to use it if you would like to do the same:
Title: In regards to children's programming on Hulu portraying a child-grooming relationship
There is a children's show called Yashahime being aired on Hulu currently that portrays a romantic relationship between an adult man, and a young girl who he's known since she was 8 years old. In the most recent episode it was revealed that this young girl gave birth to the man's children at approximately 14 years of age. Considering that this is the age range for the target demographic many find this to be in very poor taste. We are asking that at the very least the age rating for this show be changed, or that the program be pulled from Hulu's lineup. Thank you very much for your consideration. ~A Concerned Citizen
Crunchyroll: This is an interesting route because on one hand anyone can actually make a free Crunchyroll account to contact them about this show, however on the other hand, I feel like Crunchyroll as a whole would be less concerned about the themes of pedophilia and grooming featured in the show because the app is not really intended for kids to use.
HOWEVER, they cannot afford to turn a blind eye to people who report triggering content. A request for a Content Warning to be put on the show is not asking much.
Yashahime contains clear and distressing themes of pedophilia and grooming. The latest episode featured an approximately 14-year-old girl giving birth to babies fathered by the adult man she's known since she was 8. Now I'm not new to anime, I know that there are many genres with different age demographics and as such different levels of graphic content. However, most of the time the rating, target demographic, and any content warnings that are given in the description can help people navigate what content they are looking to be exposed to. There is absolutely no warning or indication that Yashahime should contain such triggering content. Please put a content warning on this show!
Note: Crunchyroll is also a great place to drag the show in terms of reviews as it’s one of the main review sources Google pulls from when you do a search for the show. Ya’ll have NOT disappointed, and the first almost 3 pages of recent reviews are ALL doing the lords work, it’s hilarious, and if you haven’t seen it yet I recommend it. I’ll get more into review-bombing later in this post.
Sunrise/Funimation/Viz: Krym didn’t link a contact form for Viz Media. I’m not gonna lie, at the end of the day I don’t really know if Viz and Funimation are basically the same entity, but I went ahead and contacted Viz too just to be thorough: https://www.viz.com/company-contact
I sent this same message to all three companies.
This show that has been heavily marketed for children, and has main characters that are 14-years-old, features a pedophilic relationship as romantic? Sesshomaru knew Rin since she was 8-years-old, and she gave birth to his children at approximately 14-years-old, THE SAME AGE AS THE MAIN PROTAGONISTS AND MARKET DEMOGRAPHIC! How is this appropriate content for children? How are we supposed to teach our children that inappropriate attention from adults is wrong if their favorite shows feature it as good? Yashahime needs a new age-rating and a content warning.
~Review Bombing~
When you Google Yashahime there are 3 main sources that Google lists when showing review scores, Crunchyroll, MyAnimeList, and IMBD. Making accounts for these platforms is free, and I encourage anyone who had a few extra minutes on their hands to roll up and help us tank this show’s ratings.
https://www.crunchyroll.com/yashahime-princess-half-demon/reviews/newest/page1
https://myanimelist.net/anime/41911/Hanyou_no_Yashahime__Sengoku_Otogizoushi/reviews
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt12287748/reviews?ref_=tt_ql_3
~Brand Advertisers~
This section is still going to be under heavy construction, but the idea is a similar one to what brought about the YouTube Adpocolypse. Now let me just be clear that while I disagree with how YouTube handled this situation (and is still handling it) it did shed light on a lot of terrible content on YouTube that was flying under the radar, so as a plan of action I think it’s entirely valid.
Basically the idea is to contact any brands we see being advertised during Yashahime on Hulu and Crunchyroll. This phase of Operation: Sunset is going to be much easier to pull off on Twitter, so I have not yet started it (getting a Twitter account and blocking the horde of shippers over there so they leave it alone and don't get all my tweets removed is the next phase in my plan).
PLEASE MESSAGE ME, OR POST HERE WITH ANY BRANDS YOU HAVE SEEN RUNNING ADS ON YASHAHIME!
Basic idea of a DM or tweet to a brand being:
Hey @[Insert Brand] do you really want your advertisements running on a children’s show that has heavy themes of child grooming?
-or-
@[Insert Brand] Did you know your ads are being run on Yashahime on @[Insert Platform], a children's show that features a grooming relationship?
Brands seen advertised so far:
Lexus
Progressive
Campbell’s
Eharmony
~
OK! That’s all I’ve got for tonight, stay tuned friends.
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DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 2):
What does DTeamblr look like, what does it have to do with MCYT history, and why does it look like a rainbow?
I’ll make an educated guess here and say y'all enjoyed my last post (totally unrelated to the way I gained almost 50 followers overnight). Anyhow, thank you so much for the overwhelming support! I’m so glad a lot of you felt you could relate to my deep-dive into the leading personality type on DTeam Tumblr. It took me so many hours to write and research, and as a math major and honors student, it’s no easy feat, so I’m so grateful for the attention it got!
Today we’re discussing the general demographics of DTeam Tumblr and why they might look the way they do. Number 8 will blow your mind! So make sure to keep reading and hit that little grey heart and arrow at the bottom if you like it, so more people get to see it! Thanks for your support! Now, let’s jump straight into the post!
Your Daily Dose of Data
From the 449 responses we received, these are some pie charts displaying the gender, age, and sexuality of all respondents.
Image Description: Female (52.8%), Non-Binary (37.4%), Male (9.8%)
Image Description: 16-17 (37%), 13-15 (31.4%), 18 and over (29.4%), 12 and under (2.2%)
Image Description: Bisexual/Pansexual (54.1%), Homosexual (16%), Asexual (14.7%), Other (7.8%), Heterosexual (7.3%)
Mmhm, delicious! Y'all ready to dig into these stats? Because I don’t know about you, but they certainly don’t strike me as what the general population looks like!
Welcome to Tumblr, the Only Community Where Straight Men are the Minority
So these statistics certainly didn’t take me by surprise. Mostly because the DNF Shipper Survey I took some time ago revealed a similar trend. Not to mention, Tumblr is probably the QUEEREST internet community on the planet.
Funny enough, the survey revealed a shocking number of ZERO heterosexual males respondents. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back. ZERO straight males were recorded out of 449 respondents for this survey!
Now, this isn’t surprising for the Tumblr community by itself, but I can say I’m somewhat surprised in terms of the MCYT Tumblr community. (Obviously, the survey specified DTeam Tumblr, but there is a big overlap between both communities, so I will be using them interchengably when it seems relevant.)
Let’s break this down. The survey reveals the largest age population is 16-17, though it’s not by a great margin in comparison to 13-15 and 18 and older, which doesn’t surprise me either. Some of the major critics of the DTeam Fandom and other MCYT Fandoms love to claim the fanbase’s majority age range lies with children and pre-teens. While it’s an undeniable fact children are drawn to Minecraft, it’s also a misconception to paint it as solely a community for younger viewers.
In the MCYT Tumblr and DTeam Tumblr communities, specifically, we see this is not the case. Only 1/3 of the respondents of this survey are under the age of 16 (you could attribute part of it to the fact younger people might be less inclined to participate in this survey, but it is still a notable difference). I can’t say these age ranges are similar in other parts of the community like DTeam Twitter, Tik Tok, or Reddit, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say Tumblr lies toward the older of the bunch, with Reddit being the oldest and Tik Tok being the youngest (I do hope to perform this survey on some of the other communities, so please stay until the end if you want to help with that).
One of the likely explanations to why the ages for DTeam Tumblr look this way is the fact a big chunk of the community has likely been watching MCYT for a long time (even with breaks in between). I, myself, used to watch channels like PopularMMOs, Aphmau, and PrestonPlayz as a kid, and I presume many of you are familiar with them as well. With the resurgence of MCYT in the past year, it likely drew a lot of the older viewers in addition to the new ones.
But enough about age. What I really want to highlight on this post is the attraction of queer individuals to DTeam Tumblr and MCYT as a whole.
Why is the current MCYT Fandom so queer in comparison to the previous generations?
This is a huge open-ended question and considering I can only capture so much of the DTeam and MCYT community, the rest of this post should be taken solely as a theoretical analysis as opposed to fact.
With that out of the way, let’s start by discussing the shift MCYT has undergone over the years (I promise this will circle back to the question of queerness in the MCYT fandom, but we need some background before we can come up with a decent theory).
When Minecraft was first released, it proved to be a monumental change in the gaming industry. This simple little indie game took the world by storm. It was so vastly different from what the general population generally viewed gaming as (first-person shooters, story-driven games, action games, etc.) Not to mention, it didn’t exactly solely appeal to only a small margin of gamers, those being white cis males.
The gaming industry has notoriously been known in the past for its heteronormative community and general prejudice toward minorities. Though it has gone through a significant change over the decades, we certainly can’t say it’s fully gone.
Yet for whatever reason, the recent MCYT has taken the interest of so many queer people in comparison to other gaming YouTube communities. Why? Why are queer people so drawn to this community? And, more precisely, why does it feel so different than the old MCYT? Lastly, how does this relate to the conclusion about the leading personalities of this fandom we made in the last post?
The Niche Communities of MCYT Over the Years
MCYT has always been a huge, over-saturated genre of YouTube with content appealing to a variety of audiences. It’s dominated gaming content for years, and I think we can all safely say it’s never been bigger than it is today.
So why is it that just now it feels like the queerness of the fandom is popping off? Why now as opposed to say five years ago when MCYT was at another one of it’s strongest stages?
It seems like the community has made a tremendous shift in relation to breaking gender norms and LGBTQ+ subjects, not only in the fans but within the creators themselves. Was flirting and calling a pretty-boy streamer pet names as normal in the past as it is today? Were straight gamer guys putting on dresses and a full-face of make-up as supported back then? Were “marriages” and “pregnancies” within Minecraft boys an everyday occurrence like they are now? How is it that MCYT has dominated a Twitch dating show where flirting with the gay host and among straight contestants themselves is just another bit of entertainment? Where is this all coming from?
Recently, I watched a 2 hour documentary depicting all of the stages of Minecraft YouTube and how it has changed over the years. If you haven’t seen it and you have some time to spare, I HIGHLY recommend it! It’s very informative, and it honestly gave me such a strong sense of nostalgia that makes me choke up every time I think about it. I’ll link it below.
The documentary does a great job at exploring the different niche communities that dominated MCYT since it first took off. Some of such communities include the basic Let’s Players, the team-based Let’s Play channels like How2Minecraft, the roleplay story-centric ones like Aphmau and Samgladiator, the tutorial, building and technical side like Mumbo and Grian, the PVP-centric Bedwars or Hypixel channels, the Machinima community, the comedy side like ExplosiveTNT, the parody music videos, and so many more. All of the mentioned communities have dominated Minecraft at one point or another, many of them still having a rippling effect and/or a loyal community today. All of these communities have certain aspects that define them, some of which parallel the current overtaking content in the present.
How can we compare MyStreet to the Dream SMP?
Taking Aphmau as an example, her MyStreet series had a TREMENDOUS success a few years ago, racking in millions of views and bringing in a lot of money that eventually allowed her to hire voice actors and increase the production of mentioned episodes. The roleplay series was so successful it ran for six seasons!
Now, let’s compare that to the Dream SMP. It seems like a big comparison to be making considering they appear so different at first glance. For once, Aphmau is just one channel whose audience caters toward girls and younger people who enjoy romance. The series is set-up in an episodic-format that resembles more of a TV series than actual Minecraft videos.
Meanwhile, the Dream SMP is a collection of content creators with a mix of improvised storylines and the occasional regular video that resembles more of a Let’s Play series than a RP series.
You could say the only true comparisons to draw out of these two are the popularity they had/have and the profit they brought to their respective creators.
However, there’s two other key similarities that you’ll find not only within these two specific examples, but many other channels and communities as well. Story and characters.
MyStreet’s story aspect is fairly obvious seeing as it’s a episodic series that focuses on a fictional story. The Dream SMP’s story aspect isn’t as clear, but it’s evident there is a story playing out in the foreground and background, whether intentional or unintentional, or improvised or not.
Character is where some of you might start to question me. It’s obvious MyStreet has characters. I mean, it is a fictional story, after all. But the Dream SMP? Light, they’re obviously people!
Well, my answer to that is yes and no--sort of. The Dream SMP’s story heavily relies on roleplay, bits as you might call them. Events that aren’t necessarily planned out as a fictional plot like the typical MyStreet episode is, but they aren’t exactly real. Schlatt is obviously not a villain in real life, he just likes to impersonate as one for the narrative. Wilbur isn’t crazy, but it’s a way to spice up the heroic story surrounding Tommy and him.
It’s video-game improv. Except the actors behind the content just so happen to be real people playing off the personalities and “brands” they have obtained.
Brands. It all boils down to this. In the entertainment business, without a clear vision of your project and a clear way to brand what your consumer intakes, your project will likely not find a lot of success.
There’s a reason why Tommy plays off his loudness, using an overexaggerated laugh that although may not be completely fake, it is likely not the laugh he uses everyday. Or why BadBoyHalo is this supposed innocent muffin who doesn’t understand the crafting table meme and other references that are fairly easy to google and find the meaning of. Or why Sapnap is this chaotic being who loves starting pet wars and we love to paint as an arsonist in the Dream SMP. While all of these personality traits may be a part of their true selves, they’re played up for the camera--for the story. They act as the personas that define their characters in the narrative.
They have a clear brand and vision that appeals to the audience and makes them tune in on the daily to see how they all come together. It’s like roleplaying a more extreme version of yourself, one that brings home the money.
Story and characters run across every entertainment outlet. They define their brand. Aphmau has her characters and series. Hermitcraft has a set of memorable personalities and episodic videos that formulate its own story that is less like a narrative and more of a history of the server. ExplodingTNT has his recurring cast and comedic sketches. Most of these niche communities have a form of story and character defining them. It’s how they achieve a clear sense of branding and cater to a specific audience.
Queer Theory in MCYT
Having said all that, why does the MCYT of today draw in so many queer viewers?
Let’s think about this. In my last post, I ended by mentioning DTeam Tumblr is a sort of safe haven for INFP and INxx types who might be placed in the “other” category by society. INFPs, specially, are predisposed for escapism--one common form of it being fiction and entertainment. Not to mention, INFPs are feeling types who, as introverts, seek a personable connection. It’s why it’s so easy for them to obsess over book characters or fall in love with content creators.
Now, let’s imagine a whole community of LGBTQ+ INFP and INxx types. Actually, scratch that, we don’t even have to imagine it.
It’s what our community looks like today.
And why are so many so drawn to the DTeam and Dream SMP of all things? It’s a personable storyline that essentially forms a direct tie to the viewer. Unlike pre-recorded fictional TV series you tune into on your device, the Dream SMP is a whole load of chaos that blurs the lines between reality and fiction where fans can directly connect to creators and get to know them as people through a storyline that features sub-textual queer themes and non-conforming behaviors.
The MCYT content creator community of today is more non-conforming than ever before, and knowing this whole fact, knowing that many of them might place themselves in the “other” category or at the very least aren’t afraid to break the norms and be seen in that light, is a comfort in itself for LGBTQ+ INFP types. Once again, it’s a safe space that helps you escape from the troubles of real life, one you relate to.
Okay. So although this does answer why the fans look like they do, what about the creators themselves? Are we really supposed to believe this all came through naturally? That a bunch of straight guys suddenly decided wearing dresses was something they wanted to do?
I don’t mean to sound cynical here, and I’m in no way trying to insinuate creators have solely some sort of corrupt ulterior motive. Things are never as simple as they look. However, the truth is, a part of it lies on the attention it’s gotten.
I’ve talked a lot about DreamNotFound and the way Dream uses it as a marketing ploy. I stand by my point. However, he’s not the only one who does this in the MCYT community. Why did Finn suddenly go from wearing a dress to cross-dressing as a girl for a whole week? Why are so many creators suddenly deciding wearing dresses is fun? Why does every freaking straight MCYT actively want to flirt with George nowadays?
Let’s just let Techno’s favorite word answer this for us: clout.
It gets attention from one of the largest historically underserved minority community in the entertainment business. We might not be able to see gay flirting in every Netflix TV show or guys not minding dresses and getting fake marriages, but you are certainly going to get at least one of those in every Dream SMP stream and video you tune into. It gets attention. It brings home the money. And do I blame them? Not really.
Interestingly enough, there’s a lot of analytical posts on the MCYT Tumblr community that discuss the dangers of these tactics and why gay jokes and the way queer subtext is treated by MCYT creators is harmful. Despite this, it still attracts such a huge community of queers. So why exactly would queer people actively watch something that’s offensive or harmful to us?
I have a lot more to say about this topic and the morality behind Dream’s tactics, but I’m out of breath for today, so I’ll talk about it in my next post. What better way to start the conversation about the DNF and Karlnap questions of the survey than a good ol’ discussion on the morality of queerbaiting and the likes?
If you got this far, I’d appreciate it if you liked and reblogged this post if you enjoyed it and/or learned something new! Also, important news, I would really like to perform a similar study on the DTeam Twitter Community to measure the differences in demographics across platforms. I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys could go like, retweet and share the link I posted on my Twitter about it (tweet will be linked in the reblog below) so it reaches more of the DTeam Twitter community!
However, if you filled out the survey yourself here or you associate more with DTeam Tumblr than DTeam Twitter please DO NOT fill out the survey again! I’m trying to make sure it reaches the audience that mains on Twitter, but I need a little help with that since I don’t have as big of an influence on Twitter than on here for obvious reasons.
Anyhow, thank you so much for all your support! I really appreciate y’all and make sure to hit the follow if you want to lookout for the next demographics post! <3
(Pssst, I’m releasing a MCYT DNF superpower AU longfic next month... You should totally go check out the post on that if you’re interested in it...)
#dteam#dteamblr#dream smp#dttblr#mcyt#dreamwastaken#dnf#mcyttblr#georgenotfound#dreamnotfound#dttwt#dream team#dteamblr demographics survey
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F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho
Genre: Married Life AU, Romance
Warnings: Smut and Language
Word Count: 11K
Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.
Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.
For: @hwngjn
There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.
Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.
Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.
I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.
Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.
“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”
I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”
Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.
For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.
I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”
“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”
“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”
As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.
“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.
“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.
“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”
His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”
“Why? Are you expecting someone?”
I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.
Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.
“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”
“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”
“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.
“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”
“Put the vase down and pay attention.”
Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”
“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”
I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”
I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”
Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”
Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”
Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.
He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”
I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.
The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”
A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.
“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”
I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”
“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”
“Oh?”
“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”
“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.
“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”
“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.
Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”
I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”
Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”
A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”
“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”
I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”
Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”
“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”
Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”
I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”
He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”
I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”
“Why not? You’re my manager!”
“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”
Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”
“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”
“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”
“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”
Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.
“You’re lucky that I love you.”
Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”
“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”
“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”
“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”
I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”
“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.
“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”
“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.
“Fine.”
My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.
“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”
“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.
“Did I say that?”
“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.
“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”
“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”
“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”
I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.
“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”
“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”
Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”
I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”
“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”
I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”
“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”
I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”
“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”
“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.
To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends
“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?
I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”
“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”
“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”
“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”
Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”
“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.
“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.
“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”
“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”
It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.
Minho: Call me.
“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”
“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”
He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”
“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”
“Really? Are you having fun?”
I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”
I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.
“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.
“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”
“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..
Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”
I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”
“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.
“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”
“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”
A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”
Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”
I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.
“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.
I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.
Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.
“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”
I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”
“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”
“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”
“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.
“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”
“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”
I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”
“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”
“Welcome to the 21st century.”
“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”
“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”
“Please feel free to elaborate.”
“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”
Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”
“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”
“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.
I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”
“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”
I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.
Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”
My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”
“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”
The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”
“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”
Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”
I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”
Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”
“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”
Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”
Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”
“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”
“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”
“It’s about Minho.”
“Lee Minho?”
I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”
Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”
“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”
I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”
They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”
“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”
Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”
Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”
The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”
“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”
Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”
“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”
“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.
“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”
“Intervene?”
I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”
Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”
Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.
“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.
Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”
I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.
“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”
“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”
He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”
Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”
I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.
“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.
“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”
Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”
“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”
“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”
Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.
“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.
“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”
“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.
“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”
“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”
“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”
“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”
“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”
“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.
“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”
Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”
“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”
I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.
I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”
He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”
From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”
I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.
But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”
I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”
“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”
“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...
“Who wants coffee!”
I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”
Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.
Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.
In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”
“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.
“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”
“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.
“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”
It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.
Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.
“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.
“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”
Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”
“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”
“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”
“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”
I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.
I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.
“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.
He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.
Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”
“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.
“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”
“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”
Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”
“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”
“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”
“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.
“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”
I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”
“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”
“It’s a high school setting?”
“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”
I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”
“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”
“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”
“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”
“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.
There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”
Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”
My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”
I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”
“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.
“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”
“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”
Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”
I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”
“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”
Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”
I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.
However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.
“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”
Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”
Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.
I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.
Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.
I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”
“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.
I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:
From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.
“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.
“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.
“Why?” Minho growled.
“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”
“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.
“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”
“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.
I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”
“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”
“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”
He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”
“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”
“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.
“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.
“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.
“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.
“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.
More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.
His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”
I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.
I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.
“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.
The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”
I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.
“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”
“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.
Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.
“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”
“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.
“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”
“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.
However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”
Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.
I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.
But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.
I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.
I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”
Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”
“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”
“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”
I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”
“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”
I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”
“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”
He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.
I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”
“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.
“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”
“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”
“What are you saying?”
“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”
“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”
The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”
I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”
“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”
“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.
I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.
The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”
I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”
“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”
“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”
Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”
“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”
“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”
“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.
“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”
My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”
“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”
“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”
“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”
I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”
“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”
I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”
My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”
“Are you going to tell on me?”
“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.
Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.
“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.
Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”
Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”
I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”
“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.
“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”
Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”
Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”
“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”
“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.
“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”
“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”
Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”
I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”
Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”
Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”
“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.
“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”
Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”
“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”
“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.
“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”
“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”
Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”
In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.
And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”
I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”
Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”
I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”
#stray kids#skz#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids requests#stray kids imagines#stray kids oneshot#stray kids scenarios#skz oneshot#stray kids lee know#skz lee know#lee minho#lee know fanfic#lee know smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids minho#stray kids minho fanfic
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21 tips for writing humor
This was not written by me. It was written and uploaded to deviantart Jan 13, 2017 by DesdemonaDeBlake.
All credit goes to her. I just copied and pasted it here.
There are many theories as to the nature, science, and reason for humor. It's an element of human behavior that seems objective in the skill that is required to execute it successfully, and yet just as subjective for how unpredictably it can hit every individual audience member. Today, I'm going to talk about the various forms that humor takes, and give you some tips for making your humorous story a success. To start with, lets look at what I will call the “five scales of comedy”. (Please note that the following is not intended as definitive list of the only sources and scales of humor in the world, only the ones that I have been able to identify within my own life, time, limited understanding, and culture. Also note that I will use the word “Humor” instead of the word “Comedy,” simply because I do not want this discussion on genres to be confused for the type of story that is opposite of Tragedy.)
The Five Scales of Comedy
A story or other source of humor can usually be found along the lines of five different scales. These are: High Humor vs Low Humor, Sweet Humor vs Acidic Humor, Distanced Humor vs Close Humor, Predatory Humor vs Reflective Humor, and Clever vs Ridiculous Humor. These scales stand apart from the sub-genres of humor (dark, slapstick, dry, etc...), and have to do with how the humor affects the audience. Note that there is no “best” type of humor; there is only humor that works in different ways and which impacts different sorts of people. So wherever you find your story in the scales, know that there is no need to change it unless you want to. Also, the names of the scales are just that—names. Just because your story falls into the category of “low” humor, doesn't mean that it is any less valuable than “high” humor.
Range 1: High Humor
Within the range of High vs Low humor, what we are discussing is the how large an audience we are trying to reach. High humor involves jokes and comical situations that are only understood by a very select group of people. An example might be a comedy series that focuses its humor on the experience of working in a corporate office (like … The Office), or perhaps political commentary. These are only funny to those people who have shared the experience or the political knowledge of the person generating the humor. Basically, the higher the humor, the more the entire set-up begins to resemble an inside joke. This type of humor is excellent for gaining the interest of select demographics who you may want to address. For example, if you only want to talk to nerds (I say non-insultingly because I am one and am proud of it), you might have lots of references to science fiction and fantasy.
Range 1: Low Humor
On the opposite side of the range, you have Low Humor. Low Humor deals with topics, jokes, and situations that are more universal to the human experience. An easy example of this is a fart joke. Everyone in the world farts, and most people are in touch enough with their inner child to think that it is funny if the joke is skillfully set up. Again, there is nothing wrong with low humor; and in certain situations it is even preferable. The lower your humor, the larger your potential audience can be. Other examples of low humor might be family life, slapstick, and situational comedy based on everyday experience. Shows like Spongebob Squarepants, for example, involve such a low degree of comedy that people of all ages, demographics, and locations across the world are able to find delight in it.
Range 2: Sweet Humor
The next range of humor, Sweet vs Acidic, deals with the intensity of the humor itself. Sweet Humor involves jokes, situations, and characters that require less pain and cynicism to appreciate. For example, a story that involves simple characters bumbling around, making mistakes, overcoming, and becoming better people for it would generally fall into the range of Sweet. We don't laugh at their misfortune (or if we do, its lighthearted and with limited consequences, like slipping on a banana peel), we laugh because their situations are joyfully amusing.
An example of this are the sort of jokes and humor found in Youtube “Lets Plays,” like those of Markiplier and Jacksepticeye. We don't laugh because of anything bad happening to these people (or the characters that they play); we laugh because they are eccentric, silly, and joyful in a way that also makes us feel joyful. This form of humor can be tremendously encouraging and uplifting to the types of readers who enjoy it.
Range 2: Acidic Humor
On the other hand, we have Acidic humor. Much like with food, most people have strong preferences and limits to how acidic (spicy, sour, or bitter) they like their humor. Acidic humor deals with laughing at topics that are increasingly serious or even tragic, such as death, illness, social injustice, etc... A popular example of acidic humor is South Park. Those of us who enjoy acidic humor will find ourselves laughing at topics that would otherwise likely bring us to tears. The power of acidic humor is that it helps its appreciators to cope with the difficult truths of life, and also to acknowledge problems that we are otherwise tempted to ignore because they are too hard to think about.
An example of an issue addressed in South Park is the elderly, their treatment, and our fear that we will face the same. Sure, when we watch an episode we laugh when the younger characters mistreat and abuse the elderly in the community. However, a conscientious viewer will then begin the chew on the issue, once the episode is over. We'll look at our own actions, and begin to wonder if our treatment of the elderly is just as bad. Because of the acidic humor, these difficult truths come to the forefront of our minds, we gain the courage to actually think about them, and we can even bring them up in discussion with others. This discussion can then lead to people changing the world for the better.
Range 3: Distanced Humor
This range has to deal with the necessary emotional distance we need in order to be able to appreciate a certain level of humor. Even with lighthearted humor like slapstick, which has very low acidity, the audience needs to be distanced in order to laugh. For example, if I watch Bugs Bunny wallop Elmer Fudd on the head with a mallet, it's generally pretty damn funny. I know that these characters are both flat cartoons with limited depth to their character, and that as non-beings they don't really feel pain. Therefore, I don't have empathy to Elmer's pain (because it is really non-existent), and I can laugh. However, if the show were to show me Elmer's life, how he's been a vegan but famine has caused him to need to find meat to feed his family, and how he struggles to even shoot at a rabbit because it makes him feel like he's betraying himself; then I'm not going to laugh if Bugs hit him with a hammer. I'm too close, and need emotional distance in order for my empathy to not get in the way of my humor.
Range 3: Close Humor
We do not need distance in order to find something funny. With close humor, the jokes and situations actually rely on how well we know the characters and how much we empathize with them. An example of Close Humor is Scrubs. In the show actually find ourselves within the mind of the protagonist, JD, and seeing the entire world through his eyes. He tells us about his insecurities, his genuine pain, his fears, and we actually really care about him as a character. Yet, we find humor in his minor misfortunes and even in his silly victories. The closeness of our perspective amplifies the events that happen in his life in a way that distanced humor cannot achieve. For example, when he stutters and says something embarrassing in front of someone he idolizes, we find ourselves giggling. If Elmer Fudd were to stutter in front of someone he idolized, we wouldn't laugh nearly so hard because we can't possibly understand the stakes of the moment or why meeting this person is so important to him. We need to be close to a character for Close Humor to work.
Range 4: Predatory Humor
With the range of Predatory Humor vs Reflective humor, we are discussing who will be the “butt” or target of the joke. (Note that a joke does not necessarily need a butt, as we will discuss later.) While often used in a negative way, in order to bully and shame others, predatory humor is not a bad thing in and of itself. Predatory humor can be used to tackle and harm negative constructs and ideas in our society. For example, Fairly Odd Parents used to frequently attack neglectful and abusive parenting. Note that the while Timmy's (the protagonist of the show) Parents were frequently the butt of jokes, they were also not the real target (just like parents in general were not the target). The targets were their selfish and non-reflective actions that had damaging effects on their son. We can use predatory humor to attack ideas, and point out the evils that are so often overlooked in society. The trick is to always keep vigilance of your own mind, actions, and motives to makes sure that you do not become a bully who targets the people themselves. Because even if someone acts in an evil way, bullying them will never cause that to change.
Range 4: Reflective Humor
On the other side of this range we have Reflective Humor, which serves to make fun of itself. Again using South Park as an example, the creators would often make their own beliefs and ideals the target of their ridicule. For example, it's fairly clear that the show speaks in favor of LGBT rights and for their being accepted as equals in society. However, they also go as far as to mock people who are so over-enthusiastic and pro-LGBT (to the point of hypocrisy). Another example is when the show begins to teach a moral lesson, the writers will often make fun of themselves through the character of Kyle for being so preachy. The effect of the show making fun of itself is two-fold. First, those of us whose beliefs South Park mocks feel like the show is being fair. Thus, we continue to listen to and respect the views of the creators, even if we don't always agree. Second, we trust the messages of a story more when it has the integrity to point out its own failings. Note that unlike with other scales, Reflective and Predatory Humor can actually be interwoven so that a joke or story makes fun of itself just as much as its target.
Range 5: Clever Humor
The last range of humor that we'll discuss is that of Clever vs Ridiculous. This range is fairly self-explanatory, but the core of its nature is what sort of punchline is delivered at the end of a humorous situation. Clever humor takes the audience expectation and amplifies or twists it to an unexpected place. You can see this in the work of comedians such as Louis CK and Demetri Martin. Martin, for example, has a humorous bit about doorways that say “Exit Only.” The joke then involves his compulsive desire to tell store workers that they underestimate the potential of those doors by about 50%. The delivery of the punchline is true and logical, but it such a way that it humorously exceeds audience expectation.
Range 5: Ridiculous Humor
Opposite of Clever Humor, we have ridiculous humor. This is when the punchline of a humorous situation is so absurd that we can't help but laugh. And example of this is the Spongebob Squarepants episode where he and Squidward get lost while delivering a pizza. They become lost in the wilderness and spend the episode becoming more and more so. Then, right at the end, Spongebob exclaims that they are saved because he's found a big beautiful boulder, the likes of which the pioneers used to ride for miles. And, to make matters even more ridiculous, the boulder works—driving just like a car. We find humor because the punchline is simply so grandiosely absurd that we can't help but enjoy it. Note that both Clever and Ridiculous humor require a great amount of skill and thought to pull off successfully, it's just a matter of your preference and your target audience.
The Five Sources of Humor
Once we identify what type of humor we are employing by using the scales, the next thing to consider is what makes our stories funny. This is something of a challenge, because we don't generally put much thought into why humor makes us feel the way it does. The humor either hits or misses, and we laugh or we don't. Making matters even more complicated is that there are so many theories as to why and how humor works—with everyone from Aristotle to Freud interjecting an opinion. But if we look at the particular sorts of things that make people laugh, we can improve how we use humor in our stories.
Source 1: Misfortune
Whether a cartoon character is slipping on a banana peel, or a character in a romantic comedy finds themselves in an embarrassing situation, the misfortune of others seems to be the most popular form of humor. This is why slapstick and funny home videos have been so prevalent in modern humor. Plato and Aristotle seemed to believe that this was because such humor made the audience feel superior to the characters being ridiculed (Superiority Theory). This seems especially true when we see unlikable characters (like the villain in a children's cartoon) experience misfortune in a comical way.
Though Superiority Theory has its place, I would assert that there is an alternative way that people enjoy misfortune. Perhaps the experience of slipping on a banana peel or being in an embarrassing situation is funny because of our own memories of experiencing the same thing or something similar. Freud and others theorized that humor was a release of energy (Relief Theory). Maybe our camaraderie with the character, mixed with emotional distance from the scene we are watching, creates a safe space to release our own stored feelings of pain or embarrassment. Thus laughter really does become a healing force.
Source 2: Absurdity
In his essay “The Myth of Sisyphus”, Albert Camus defines and explains the absurd.
“It's absurd” means “It's impossible” but also “It's contradictory.” If I see a man armed with only a sword attack a group of machine guns, I shall consider his act to be absurd. But it is so solely by virtue of the disproportion between his interaction and the reality he will encounter. […] Likewise we shall deem a verdict absurd when we contrast it with the verdict the facts apparently dictated. (29)
Though Camus is not talking about humor (rather the existentialist question), I think that the absurd is a source of humor. Audiences are often entertained by the absurdity of a situation. And by looking at Camus' explanation, we can hypothesize that this form of humor comes from the disproportionate contrast of action and situation. An example of this might be one of the last battle-scenes in Braveheart. In this scene, victory looks unlikely, the dramatic tension is high, and it seems to be the most serious moment imaginable. Then, upon being signaled, the protagonist's soldiers pull up their kilts and reveal their bare asses to the enemy. It's so unexpected and so absurd, that many people cannot help but to keel over laughing.
This scene is completely disproportionate to what we would expect to see in this dramatic a moment. The action does not suit the situation, but in a strange way it also kind of does—with the action juxtaposing itself against the situation. Perhaps, just like with misfortune, absurd humor creates a needed release of energy, connected to our own sense of existentialist absurdism. The absurd could then serve to release our feelings of despair in a positive light. The show, Rick and Morty, seems to be built on this connection between absurd humor blended with existentialism and nihilism. Of course, this is just a theory. What you'll want to focus on when writing absurd humor is the relationship of your characters' actions to the situations that they find themselves in. Are they lost in the desert? Have them climb a boulder and ride it home. The stronger the contrast between action and situation, the higher you'll make the potential for absurdity.
Source 3: Wit
Wit is the essence of Clever Humor; its the pithy intelligence that makes us laugh because of all the thought put into a situation. When we hear a witty joke or are part of a witty situation, we find ourselves moving in a forward humorous momentum, instead of the backwards and diagonal momentum of the absurd. But we don't stop at the expected location. For example my mother called me a few months ago, asking me if I was going to wish my brother a happy birthday. The expected response for this sort of set-up/situation is to answer “Yes” or “No”. But I went forward and beyond “No” by asking why she wanted me to congratulate my brother for being one year closer to death (I have an acidic sense of humor sometimes). This reply was much more thoughtful than what my mother expected, and pointlessly taken beyond the realm of reason. Therefore, she found it funny.
Perhaps there is an element of the absurd in any given amount of witty humor. It's as if we are taking extra steps to be as intelligent and rational as possible—ending with us standing somewhere close to the absurd. Using Camus' illustration of absurdity, the soldier with a sword wouldn't necessarily attack the machine guns, but instead go home, refusing to sacrifice his life to be a metaphor. You can see this sort of humor in Youtube series such as How it Should Have Ended. In this series, animators take a closer look at popular movies and then make efforts to enforce logic in worlds and characters that didn't have them. This includes having Severus Snape use his time-travel gizmo to go back in time and kill Voldemort before he became a problem—an action that is so logical that it erases the need for any of the Harry Potter stories to even happen. So when you create witty humor, look to take things beyond the realm of expectation—aiming for the absurdly reasonable.
Source 4: Anti-humor
Anti-humor is when something is so unfunny that it becomes funny, sort of like puns. As we find delight in the absurd and the unexpected, humor and jokes can begin to feel predictable. We begin to look for the solution in jokes, and we're usually smart enough to begin to be able to predict it. In this case, the expected becomes surprising. An example is the classic: “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side.” If you haven't heard it before, this anti-humor joke is actually kind of funny. A great example of this are the great collection anti-jokes found online.
You can take anti-jokes to the next level using extremely acidic humor. This is where you take serious, grievous, or tragic topics and use them as the punchline for your joke. For example, a joke about a fatal illness is not funny because the person making the joke finds that topic amusing (otherwise that person needs some counseling). A joke about fatal illness can be funny to some people for the exact opposite reason—because of how dark and unfunny it is. Again, I believe this ties into a release of negative energy while in a safe space, and the processing of difficult emotions. If you plan to use the extreme form of anti-humor, please note that many people have very legitimate reasons for not enjoying it. So be careful, and give your audience some sort of forewarning so that you do not spring something so emotionally charged on them without their consent.
Source 5: Familiarity and Value
When I was taking university writing classes, I had an extremely eccentric professor who had all sorts of mannerisms that were unique to him. In the moments when he was particularly eccentric and acting out of his true nature (which he was quite comfortable with), I would find myself laughing, even if the situation wasn't funny. I think others can relate to this, as we all love to talk about fun people that we used to know, and find ourselves laughing even when what we are remembering isn't particularly funny. We laugh because those people acting happily out of their own nature gave us joy, and so anything they do creates a laughter that feels akin to humor.
This mirth through familiarity can be accomplished in stories as well. In Bob's Burgers, for example, we really don't even begin to understand the humor until we develop an attachment and feelings for each individual character. Sure the situations are mildly amusing, but true laughter and humor doesn't begin until we know the characters, their likes, their dislikes, and who they are deep down inside. Once we know that, we laugh as each character acts out of their nature. When we see Louise (one of the protagonists) act with mischievous intent, we laugh even before we know what she's doing because we are happy that she is about to act out of who she really is. Note that this is a rather difficult sort of humor to pull off because you have to create a relationship between the characters and the audience before the humor will be possible.
General Tips for Humor
Tip 1: Create a patterned and uniform blend of humor for your story.
When you choose what sort of humor you plan to use in your story, the best way of maintaining audience enjoyment is to keep it constant. Just like when we watch a stand-up comedian, we begin to develop a taste and sense of expectation for whatever we are watching or reading. Over time, your audience will begin to really appreciate the flavor of your humor, and that appreciation will make your jokes increasingly funny (so long as they are creative and continue to be intelligently crafted). The pattern will also make all of your jokes seem, feel, and become purposeful. Your audience will enjoy this much more than if you seem like you are desperately trying to milk the humor from anything you can get your hands on (you perv).
I recommend you begin by analyzing the origins of humor in your story's world. Is the world simply absurd, with unseen gods of chaos just dropping coconuts on people's heads for pure amusement? Does the humor come from a specific character? A group of funny people living in a serious world that they must learn to cope with through humor? A funny narrator with a unique perspective on life? Once you figure out the origins, determine where your humor will fit on the scales (it doesn't have to be on any extreme, you can stay in the middle of the scales and still be hilarious); and then figure out the source.
Tip 2: Create a genuine story with genuine characters, in order for humor to gain the most power.
If we value stories in terms of how much people enjoy and remember them, the best humor stories are those with good plots and characters. This may seem counter-intuitive when your intent is to make your audience laugh, but think of it this way. If an audience wants just concentrated jokes, they will read a joke-book. Your audience is choosing to dredge through the murky waters of story in order to find the humor with more difficulty because they want a blend of story and humor.
An example of this is the movie,“Austin Powers.” Many people, myself included, watched these movies before we ever watched the James Bond movies that they were making fun of. And we enjoyed them greatly, and laughed the entire way through. Why? Because the characters and story, ridiculous as they were, were good enough that we actually invested our interest and emotions into them. As an added bonus, the story has become timeless and respected in its own right. Even if we face a future where nobody knows who James Bond is, the Austin Powers movies will be able to stand on their own merit because they are more than just jokes.
Tip 3: Be careful about dating yourself.
Speaking of parody and humor losing its ability to be funny, let's talk about references that date our stories. Humor at the expense of popular culture (movies, politicians, celebrities) is a fun ploy of high-humor. It's especially useful for nighttime comedy shows that will be lost to time anyways, within a couple years. When you are writing a novel, however, you are trying to create something that will last a bit longer than that. Additionally, novels take a lot longer to write than an episode of a late night comedy show. This means that by the time you publish and people begin to discover your book, they may not know who the vapid pop star you're making fun of is. Your humor will be lost to time, and your book quite possibly forgotten. Of course, I'm not telling you that you can't use this sort of humor, just that you should be aware of the risks it holds.
Tip 4: Mark every line that is supposed to be funny, and make sure that it is.
Nothing detracts from a story or from a spirit of jovial humor so much as an obvious joke that falls flat. It's like watching an acrobatics show. If the acrobat falls on their face too many times you'll either be embarrassed for them or you'll empathize and start worrying for their safety. Either way, you won't find the situation amusing. In your own personal copy of the manuscript, mark every joke for analysis of whether it actually succeeds and whether it serves to empower the story. Then, ask your editors, test-readers, and writing partner to circle every point that they genuinely found funny. Be sure to pick test-readers who fall into the niche you are writing for, as well as those who do not. If nobody but you marked a specific joke, then you need to either get feedback for how to make it funnier, or else cut it.
Tip 5: Write within your own expertise and authority.
This does not mean that you can't laugh at things, and poke fun at things that are outside your realm of expertise, so long as you have done your research. But consider the power of an insider making a joke about something that you are a part of vs an outsider doing the same. It would be like the difference between me calling most writers narcissists (as I am one, and know that it is pretty true in most instances) and a politician making a joke and calling writers narcissists. I mean, what right does that asshole have to judge us, even if it is true? The point is that your jokes gain power when you can tell them with the confidence of an insider. Not only that, but your audience who is a part of the group at the butt of the joke, will be much more gracious and feel far less attacked when the joke comes from one of their own.
Tip 6: Humor is personal
Humor is something that is highly individual to specific groups and people. For example, I do not understand, nor am I really able to appreciate most British or Spanish comedies. This is not because they aren't funny; they are just as valid and hilarious as every form of comedy that I do enjoy. The reason is simply that because of either how I was raised, my life experiences or because of who I am by nature, I can't enjoy them any more than I can enjoy olives on my pizza (seriously, I hate them). It doesn't matter how artfully these types of humor are composed, there is simply no effect akin to joy, amusement, or laughter when I come across them. In other words, the problem is me and not them.
All this is to make three points. First, it may be more difficult to find test-readers and worthwhile criticism for humorous work. Even if I'm really good at critiquing stories, I will not be able to give you any helpful feedback if your humor doesn't match with mine. And that isn't your fault any more than it's my fault. It's just a difference in taste. Second, humor is as personal and close to the heart as any other story or craft. When you create a joke, you are channeling whatever emotions and mixes of experiences have led you to the type of humor you have. So recognize the emotional bond between yourself and your humor.
The third piece of advice is for those on the other end of the spectrum, those experiencing the humor of others and perhaps trying to give advice. Please recognize that others' sense of humor is just as valid as yours. Whether their sense of humor is simple, complex, dry, witty, dark, acidic, sweet, or anything in between, it is their sense of humor and not yours. Be careful in how you voice any attempts at criticism, as there are few ways to break your friends' trust and confidence as completely as when you tell them, “That's not funny.” You might as well be telling them that their heart sucks, and they are a sucky person.
Instead, acknowledge the differences in people's humor, value it even if that humor makes you uncomfortable, and voice your criticisms accordingly. Try: “This joke wasn't successful with me, and might be perceived as racist/bullying/insensitive to some readers; so seek other feedback to see if it's just me.” You will voicing just as honest an opinion, without formulating a direct attack against the person who has trusted you with something so delicate to them.
Weekly Recommended Watching: Doraleous and Associates by Hank and Jed. (A free animated fantasy Youtube series that manages to successfully mesh several humor types with an over-arching plot. Examine how even there are plot elements that are serious and even sad, the series maintains its humor through well-balanced distance and wit. And if this form of humor does not amuse you, that is perfectly valid and your own unique sense of humor is still a valuable thing.)
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il un a visage gentil (prof!gwilym lee x prof! gn reader)
genre: fluff
summary: who knew the attractive english lit professor also happened to speak french? not his new coworker, that’s for sure.
words: 1.7k
warnings: reader embarassing herself a lil bit, that’s it :)
a/n: hi!! first of all, no pronouns are used as this is from readers pov, so anyone can read. second of all, so i typically don’t write for gwil, but i had this idea in french the other day when my french teacher (sweet old french man who deserves better LMAODSJO) was going over some assignment that for some reason had il un a visage gentil in it LOLOL. that being said, i obvi don’t speak fluent french and this is all fictional! love u, hope u enjoy!!
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“Hello everyone, and welcome to your first day. I’m Dr Gwilym Lee, and I am the head of the English Literature Department here at Oxford University. Feel free to call me Gwil, it’s what all my students do.”
I slanted my eyes from my position at the door, gripping the frame just a tad tighter than I had been before hearing his voice. I continued to listen to the doctor talk as I made my way behind the last row of seats in the lecture room, trying not to make any noise. My heels were thankfully mute against the carpet, not drawing any attention towards me, the professor keeping complete focus on his students.
“One of the first things I wanted to kind of, um, touch on, is that I will be quite flexible. I understand that you have lives, as do I. As long as I can see an honest effort being put into my class, I will hold no repercussions for late work or being physically late to class.”
With that, he looked up to where I had just sat down, quirking a brow. The eye contact was momentary, only lasting what seemed to be a second, if that.
I cleared my throat, looking to my feet.
“We at the english department are quite proud of our status, ranking 4th in english programs overall in the UK. Now I won’t continue to bore you with the statistics, but-“
I made a scan of the room, seeing how only 1 or 2 pupils were actually listening, the rest either slumped over looking at their phones, or pretending to take notes on a laptop while really watching netflix. (More than one student was watching gossip girl, oddly enough.)
Considering it was only 5 minutes into the hour long lecture, I was confused, as he was holding my attention, at least, quite well.
After about 30 minutes, I realized that my own “first day lecture” was in 15 minutes, which assured that I most definitely had to leave. I was saddened by this (even though I had only even planned on staying in Gwil’s room for a small while.
I sighed quietly, picking myself up from the surprisingly comfortable seats and making my way towards the door. Just as I was about to go, I felt eyes boring holes into the back of my head. I turned, realizing Gwilym to be the perp. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, quickly walking out and down the hallway to my own room.
I made it in, hurrying down the many stairs, past where a few students were waiting.
“Hi, everyone, I’ll just be a few moments, just waiting for the rest of your new classmates to arrive.”
I smiled briefly, before slamming my office door audibly, chest heaving with my back against the shaded window. I closed my eyes, unaware of why I had been so panicked by the brief interaction, not to mention the butterflies it hatched in my stomach.
After giving myself some time to decompress, I exhaled, smoothing out the skirt of my dress and rotating. I placed a hand on the handle, preparing myself for the fresh faced freshman.
As I opened the door, I heard half a knock, before whoever was behind the door (poor soul) essentially fell on top of me.
Expecting to see a red faced pupil who had just made a very interesting first impression, I looked up, suddenly becoming the one with a warm and itchy wave of embarrassment making its way up my neck.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” He stood up, reaching out a hand. I hesitated before reaching forward and gripping tightly, allowing him to tug me up.
“It’s alright, Gwil, really.”
He opened his mouth (not that I was paying any mind to his lips), presumably to ask my name. Before he got the chance, I beat him to it, blurting out my full title, unfortunately in a quite awkward way.
The students that had gathered had mostly turned their attention elsewhere by now, only a few of them still watching the live disaster that was my interaction with the incredibly attractive man in front of me.
He spoke up as I tried to maneuver my way around him to the podium positioned in the front of the room where my laptop was waiting.
“Well, I had assumed you were a student who was trying to sneak off early, but I stand corrected, then.” He looked around my slowly filling space, a slight amusement hiding in his gaze.
“Yes, sorry, I had caught you at a bad time, I was hoping to introduce myself, you know, trying to make a good impression. Feels like the first day of school all over again.” I laughed, bringing a hand up to brush away a stray strand that had somehow managed to escape my bun.
“It’s alright, don’t stress about it. And trust me, I get it. New jobs are scary.”
I huffed, looking out at the sea of judgmental young people that I now would have to face after that fiasco. Lovely.
“You could say that again.”
We sat in a comfortable silence for a short amount of time, the clock striking 2:30 being what woke me from my trance.
“That’s my queue.” I gave a small wave as he walked off, a smile spreading across his face at the motion.
I turned to my teaching assistant, fully believing he was out of earshot.
“Il un a visage gentil, eh?”
She only laughed, nodding her head and plugging in my macbook, allowing the screen to come alive with a flurry of colors in my powerpoint.
“Hi guys! Or should I say bonjour!” I paused, receiving a few chuckles in the crowd.
“I’m sorry for getting us started so late, I had a small mishap. I’m Dr Y/n Y/l/n, and I am your professor this year in the French undergraduate course, where you will have the opportunity to study medieval literature, modern day linguistics, and much more, which I will get into later on.
We here at Oxford have the single largest French department in Britain, which we have come to have extreme pride in. We also have a french cultural center, where you will find a large selection of programmes and literature to choose from. If you haven’t yet checked it out yet,” I briefly looked up, seeing Gwilym still stood at the top of the stairs. He gave me another small smile, crossing his arms.
“Sorry, lost my place. Where was I?”
-
After class, I walked up to where the tall man had now moved to the side, allowing students to flood right by him.
“Gwil, hi!”
“Hi to yourself.”
I blushed, the feeling of fuzzy-ness once again flooding my entire system at just the brief statement. Odd. Extremely odd.
“That was very nice, I have a feeling this class will be quite popular in the coming years.”
I smiled and nodded my head. “Thank you, I appreciate it, truly. Although, I must say that I can tell everyone is racing to get a spot in Professor Gwilym Lee’s class 100% percent.”
He cocked his head, slimming his eyes.
“Really, you think so?”
We continued to walk down the long hallway, neither of us quite aware of where we happened to be going.
“Oh for sure, I can imagine you’re especially popular with a certain demographic, too.”
His confusion seemed to only grow, stormy blue eyes seemingly lost.
“What do you mean by that, exactly?” His voice slightly raised an octave at the end, earning a chuckle from me.
“Look, all I’m saying is that with looks like that, I bet your roster was full in seconds.”
I paused, the flow of conversation stopping as I came to terms with what I had just accidentally said. Out loud. In front of my new coworker, who happens to be incredibly gorgeous. A wonderful first day I’m having.
We resumed walking, a blanket of complete silence falling upon us all the way until we reached the entrance to the facility.
The chilly December air hit my face immediately, as well as droplets of rain that were falling so hard it felt like small bullets were grazing my nose, which I could barely feel after just a few moments outside.
“Here.” Gwil muttered, pulling out a bright red umbrella and using it to shield us both from the angry pellets sent from above.
“Ah, thank you.”
“Of course.”
Then it was quiet again between us both, minus the sounds of chattering students and the rain hitting and then sliding off of our cover, coming in contact with the ground with a final splat.
“You know,” Gwilym began, always the one to break the silence.
I hummed, turning my head in his direction.
“I speak a little bit of French, as well. And I think you also have a nice face.” He nudged my elbow and laughed, while I closed my eyes and sighed, hanging my head.
“So there really isn’t any other way I could possibly embarrass myself right now, is there?”
He only shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, now that I think of it, there might be one more thing I can think of?”
“What would that be?”
“Saying no to a cup of coffee?”
It was like I froze over completely, my mind suddenly growing blank when I needed it mostt.
“With me?” I asked, the question more aimed towards myself, a miniscule act of reassurance and affirmation.
Gwilym smiled brightly as he shook his head, and I swear, I had never seen anything more amazing.
“Yes, Y/n, with you.”
I stuttered, embarrassed for what seemed like the millionth time that day, specifically at my lack of verbal skills.
“Yes, yes of course, that sounds amazing.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
He offered me an arm which I gladly took, and we started walking to the quaint campus cafe just across the street from our building.
It was the same cafe where (not that we knew it yet) the both of us would make many late night coffee runs together during midterms week, the stressful time growing to become one of our favorites as it was now filled with giggles and caffeine.
Usually it would end up with one of us, that one of us usually being me, leaving a ring of coffee on the other’s ungraded assignments. Or even better, spilling an entire drink on the paper, only a “sorry!” written in Gwil’s rushed handwriting at the top of the curiously scented paper as explanation.
But as I said, we didn’t know that yet.
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kinda gross but whatevs, like and rb if u did indeed enjoy it. mwah, go eat some protein, take an electronics break and drink some water. love u
xx hj
#prof!gwil#professor!gwilym#gwilym lee#gwilym lee x reader#gwilym imagine#gwilym x reader#gwilym!brian#gwilym lee fanfic#gwilym lee fluff#gwilym lee x you#gwilym lee x yn#gwilym lee x y/n#gwilym lee x fem reader#gwilym lee x gn reader
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