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celestialtinkerbell · 2 years

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.˳⁺⁎˚Aphrodite (1388)˚⁎⁺˳ .

When I was on Twitter, I followed this user named @taisoleil and I remember she had this cool concept of combining tarot with astrology to read for people. She called it tarotstrology. I'll be using this to interpret the Aphrodite Asteroid.

My paid services are still open, if you'd like to book, then click here 🌌

First House

Natives with this placement have a beauty that's uncommitted to any societal standards. Their charm isn't based off of their physical features like their face or body, it's an energy that's unconditionally magnetizing. They're able to pull off anything in terms of style, charm, desirability, and appeal, even if they substantially have a change in their appearance or aesthetic, both intentional or unintentional, their allure still has a powerful grip on most people if not all. These individuals could be prone to an ambiguous lifestyle which makes sense due to Aphrodite's origin starting with the death of Uranus. They may not have fixated tastes at all and every person that they have met may have uncommon perceptions of them. Very complex personalities that are quite difficult to summarize because they aren't meant to be tied down to just one category. This is going to sound weird, but maybe when people mention those who have these placements in conversations, they won't need to specify any characteristics due to your iconic ambiguity, your identity and presence just holds that much weight.

Second House

These individuals are very lucky when it comes to money, they can't stay consistent when it comes to saving it though. However, that's the power in this placement, they naturally have an abundant mindset about not just money but in other facets of their life. Money comes and goes, people come and go, but when it comes to a moment that could be very treasurable for them, they will not just let that go. Charm isn't only just used for attracting people, these Natives have a charm that effortlessly attracts new opportunities. Their mistakes could lowkey not be mistakes at all, but intuitively made decisions that lead them their lavish desires, and it doesn't have to necessarily mean something extravagantly materialistic, luxury is what you make it to be. People with this placement could also have a gift for giving things meaning, but also the curse of making people more than what they are. This placement could also indicate someone that doesn't stick with just one job, they could continuously change their career until they find one that meets their needs while also giving them the recognition that they deserve for their work and talents.

Third House

Natives with this placement are highly intelligent and pragmatic, but most importantly, they are crafty. They're keenly persuasive with others by utilizing what they know, regardless if it's with good or bad intentions. This placement could also indicate someone that doesn't ever plan on losing an argument or a debate. This could be a self sabotaging mechanism because of the obsession with winning, but also the foundation to what makes you guys stand so firmly with having a mind of your own. These individuals are talented at networking and assuming leadership roles when it comes to speech, even if they aren't the designated star of a stage, they stand out with anything that relates to vocal expression, especially activism. I'm getting that you guys could "steal the show" often, if you have siblings, then you could be child that gets the most attention. When it comes to auditioning for roles related to theater or singing, you're more likely to be the main attraction.

Fourth House

Those who have this placement are very opulent, therefore, attract a lot of people that only want them for what they could add to their life. This could be many scenarios, like maybe others could see you as the perfect person to make a home and raise children with or this could also look like people depending on you as their entire support system and expecting you to take care of them and only them. This placement could evoke jealousy in other people for what you have naturally. Aphrodite in the 4H can either make having children a strong want of yours or could make you push the thought of having children, away. However, the way that you nurture people is very healing, moreover, babies and children could be more receptive to your care. Natives with this placement could also be given a purpose to break generational curses by being the first to not partake in traditions that were passed down in their lineage.

Fifth House

I'm hearing "hypervigilance". Maybe people with this placement could not be fond of social gatherings or crowds of people that they don't know because it tends to always result in someone offending them or overstepping their boundaries. Romance and sex could be a muse for what these Natives create. A lot of you could be into writing eroticas or making erotic art that have a high potential for generating a lot of wealth. I'm seeing a push and pull, where if you're not being a heartbreaking Casanova, then it's you being heartbroken by your romantic interest(s). I feel like this placement could indicate being pulled into love triangles or situations where someone feels strongly for you, but you don't feel the same way about them. You could be always searching for a new hobby to take interest in or not tied to the same methods of where to seek fun, which could be reckless at times because I'm seeing that you guys could maybe bargain and take risks a lot to experience something for the thrill. Aphrodite in the 5H, could also increase the probability of having twins for children or raising a large family.

Sixth House

Natives with Aphrodite in the 6th house could want absolute control over their daily endeavors and could be deemed as very picky. I feel like these individuals are the type to prefer their own home cooked meals, from scratch, with careful precision on where they get their ingredients from. They prioritize having a stable and comfortable lifestyle and could attract the best of the best when it comes to finding the right person to service their needs. Luxury is again, subjective, but I feel that these individuals are able to obtain high quality things and refuse to settle for anything less. A dirty bathroom could be one of their top pet peeves. The way that they live and how they carry themselves could provoke a lot of envy in others or the way that Natives with Aphrodite in the 6th house, pride themselves could be offensive to others. It may look like you're being a snob, but you guys are just very comfortable with what you're familiar with and are particular about how you're being catered to. The roles can also sometimes be reversed, you could be offended by people who suggest that you make a certain change in the way that you do stuff.

Seventh House

In your close relationships, you could be showered with love, affection, and attention. Natives with this placement could be viewed as very dreamy and euphoric by their romantic interests, but there's this distance here that makes them feel like you're unobtainable. I think of this placement as the painting that illustrates the birth of Aphrodite, where she's standing on a clam shell in the middle of the ocean with people surrounding her. You're the center of attention in your love interests' lives, it's almost as if you steal them in a way from their own personal endeavors as you powerfully draw them in while they simultaneously could go to extreme lengths trying to intimately reach you. This could look like people maybe resorting to manipulative tactics in order to keep you or trying to match your energy by being the one that stands out the most among your suitors as if it's an actual battle that they seek to win. Jealousy could be prominent in both roles, even if you aren't remotely interested in a person but see them withdrawing their devotion to you to give to someone else.

Eighth House

The eighth house rules over shared resources in marriage, this placement reminds me of the notorious girdle that Hephaesteous crafted for his wife, Aphrodite. The girdle had a variety of magical attributes, from immensely increasing the wearers attraction to making people fall in love with each other and even with couples who fell out of love with each other. Seduction is truly an art form for the Natives with this placement. They have very vixen-like auras, high potential of becoming sex symbols, but also prone to being sexualized unwarranted. Sex for them is not just sex, it's a very mystical exchange. These individuals are treated like deities in sexual encounters. Like offerings, they could gift you something that meets your desires and in return whether it be adoration or literal materialistic things, and in return, you help them heal through sex. There could be a lot of drama surrounding your intimate life and your belongings. Makeup sex could be a high for you and others could feel entitled to who, what, when, where, and how much you have sex.

Ninth House

Aphrodite in the 9th house could indicate successfully charming others to reform their mindset about a philosophy or religion and to let go of traditionalism. These individuals are likely to become major figures that people seek for insight and direction to understanding what their own beliefs are or the epitome of a religion. However, this placement seems exhausting for these Natives because they could be heavily projected on or put on a very high pedestal that they didn't ask for. This could also indicate attracting people with cult-like behavior. They may abhor closed practices, closed minded people, or closed marriages. They could also be prone to polytheism. Natives with this placement could be highly drawn to traveling to places where there's a lot of water. Although they love to help, and being a teacher is a natural gift of theirs, freedom is what they value the most. Could be drawn to pacifism, and obsessed with tropes relating to love overcoming everything.

Tenth House

People with the Aphrodite 10H placement could be involved in a bunch of public scandals, especially with romantic partners, but are loved enough by the majority to maneuver around them. One thing about Aphrodite is that she's like an original because she's one of the oldest of the Olympians. Therefore, individuals with this placement could inherit a lot of star power or easily attain a strong and good reputation. Although you're adored by many, your privacy could be invaded a lot by others and you could find yourself in situations where the people close to you are spreading your secrets and plotting on your downfall. You could even have scenarios with "friends" trying to humiliate you to knock you down a peg, but it doesn't keep you down for long. I honestly see a lot of people seething when it comes to your accolades and the more success that you build for yourself. You could also be admired by your beauty and your social media pages could be very aeshetically pleasing to the eyes.

Eleventh House

Natives with these placements take friendships very seriously and are loyal to a fault. You could be the glue in your friend groups and are able to mediate any conflicts within them to keep the peace. You're so supportive, tender, and you're an excitement to be around, however, I feel like people with this placement could often be third wheels and deal with friends who neglect them so that they can focus on their romantic relationships. You could also be caught in the middle of a lot of disputes, especially regarding politics. I feel like because of how you much you genuinely invest in your connections, you could have a bunch of supporters or a huge following. You guys could be great and blogging or should look into doing podcasts, if you don't already, because people love to hear your point of view and reasoning. You're passionate about what you speak up about but also, there's actions behind your words that really draws in the trust of many people.

Twelfth House

This placement reminds me a lot of the malice Aphrodite had towards Psyche. You could have experienced a lot of heartbreaking betrayal relating to cheating or people trying to cheat you out of what's yours. You could even deal with a bunch of one-sided competition. This, to me, is similar to Aphrodite in the 1st house, there's a divine beauty that these Natives carry that's not seen with the naked eye, but is quietly yet heavily admired unlike the 1H placement. These individuals flourish in their own solitude and benefit more when they worship themselves instead of worshipping others but they could often restrain from this by choosing stay humble. Despite their humility, they could have a significant amount of secret admirers that create artistic tributes for them. People could also be prone to fantasizing about you a lot.

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allmyocsarebritish · 6 days

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Kiss, maime, kill - ch 1: the devil of delusion

Pairing: Alastor X killer! fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader is a serial killer, convinced she is in the right, descriptions of murder, it goes without saying but I really don't condone this, Al's surname in this is Altruist cause it's even more ironic, but yes I know that's not canon

Word count: 1.1k

1927

Louisiana, New Orleans

You wouldn't consider yourself a crazed murderer. Murderer, yes, but crazed? Certainly not. Any and all lives you took were but a waste of space, and, as fucked up as your morals may have been, they were there, and that was all that mattered. You weren't an equal opportunity killer, there was always a means to an end, and, what started with clearing your once impoverished family's debt, became playing the hero in so many stories that one may believe you had grown some sort of bloodlust.

But you hadn't. You wouldn't.

That was what you told yourself as you wiped your bloodstained hands on your jacket, the ebony fabric clinging to your torso, drenched in the vital liquid. An adrenaline rush was only natural after such a heinous act, and revelling in the sinful delight was part of moralistic killing. Right?

*graphic content warning*

The corpse of your seventh victim was still bleeding from both the spinal chord and the liver; a painful death with no means of escape, though the man had long since taken his final breath. Experience had taught you a lot, from how to efficiently off those of which you targeted, to the best methods of disposal. Butcher's knife still clutched firmly in your hand, knuckles turning white with the tension, you began to hack at the joints and muscle connections, making for an effective burial.

Thankfully, this time you had thought ahead, and chased your prey into it's final destination before the hunt truly began. It made the cleaning process substantially more efficient. The small copse you had chosen as a final resting place for this man was carpeted in a thick layer of grass, something that would mask the grave. You took your shovel and began to dig.

Further, further, further. Deep was still too shallow. The thrill of the hunt ebbed away to a new kind of rush: not being caught. The familiar tingle engulfed you as your hands began to tremble and a sadistic smile etched its way onto your features. You continued digging.

Never one to recklessly abandon evidence, you shrugged off your jacket, used it to wipe down your knife, and dropped it in the tomb. A shame really, you had always favoured that one. Nevertheless, you began to fill the hole. 8ft or so, should you have had to hazard a guess. The strain on your muscles caused by the ruthless exercise was beginning to take a toll, and thus your pace slowed in covering your tracks. The exhaustion was rather overwhelming, albeit so much less than when you first started. Each kill became easier, and thus more enjoyable. Though of course, you still only committed these crimes for the good of your community. Right?

A gentle pat on the soil and you were finished; such a stark juxtaposition to the merciless way in which you took the life of the man below the Earth. That would teach him not to...

Well, you couldn't exactly remember what this one had done, but it didn't matter anyway. It had to have been bad enough to warrant death, you were sure of it.

Shovel and butcher's knife in hand, you made your way out of the copse, ducking behind trees in order to remain in the shadows - something that what was either to be the biggest mistake or blessing in your entire existence.

Your mind was filled with sadistic delight, as you twirled your weapon between your fingers, humming a gleeful tune. Pride coarsed through your veins, the adrenaline rush slowly wearing off. But it was okay; you could always kill again. There were plenty of bad people in the world. yourself included

SNAP

You whipped around, panic and thrill creating a pounding in your head. Nothing. Of course, you were in a forest: there was bound to be animals nearby. Still slightly shaken, and feeling more alive with each passing second, you continued on your way, albeit at a much faster pace.

SNAP

There it was again. Now you were convinced this was no animal. Footsteps were drawing nearer and nearer, shattering twigs and debris in their wake. The soft thudding rang sharp in your ears and sent the earth trembling beneath your feet. This was it; you had been caught.

SNAP

A final deep breath before you succumbed to your fate. You dropped the knife, and raised a palm, although keeping hold of the shovel with your dominant hand. Just in case. Turning around slowly, you weren't met with the sight of cops, nor police, nor any kind of law enforcement. No, instead you were met with a slender figure, clad in classy, dark attire, glasses perched on his delicate, upturned nose. His hair was sleek and brunette, shade deepened by the low light of nighttime. His heavy lidded eyes, framed with dark circles, held an aura of mystery and suspense, something that excited you and drew you in, locked in the gaze of this stranger. (This is so cliché I'm sorry)

"Are you some kind of detective?" Your voice was shakier than it should have been and you strengthened your grip on the shovel.

The stranger simply chuckled and couched down, picking up your knife and inspecting it closely. "Quite the opposite, my dear. In fact, I am one of you." His charismatic voice held a transatlantic accent, familiar to you for reasons you could not decipher.

"A killer?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A hunter." His smile grew, a sadistic gleam in his eyes reflected by the moonlight. He held out a hand to you, still gripping your knife with the other. "Alastor. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure."

"Y/N. Wait, Alastor? As in Alastor Altruist? The radio host?" That's where you knew him from. His voice was much smoother in person, without the overlay of static.

"The very fellow." His pride at your recognition was not remotely disguised.

"So, are you going to kill- uh, hunt me?" You stuttered awkwardly, cringing at your lack of social skills.

Alastor laughed again, truly a charming sound, despite the obvious malice it was masking. "Of course not, dearest! Where would the fun be in that? I want you to join me."

Your blood ran cold at his request, yet any fear or doubts that may have sprang in your mind was overshadowed by the thrill of adventure. Sadistic adventure.

"On what conditions?"

"What a cautious one you are! And rightfully so. I want to form a partnership."

"Why?" You were incredibly skeptical now; why the fuck did he want to ally with you?

"Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!" He dragged his hands down his face in a dramatic manner, causing you to suppress a laugh. "So, my dear. Do we have a deal?"

You thrust your hand into his waiting palm.

"Deal."

Ty @passifaggressifnahjustaggressif for help with the banner

Part 2!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor imagine #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor

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mrs-monaghan · 1 year

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Hi, it's KY here :)

How is everyone feeling about the Taennie news? Knetz have fully accepted the truth and moved on, I suggest I-fans need to do the same. (Jennie is known for having dating news come out regularly, so it's not a big deal for BP fans. For Armys, the sane ones, we've known for a while now haven't we? It's not a shock anymore.)

I read the comments on my previous ask and don't worry! I will not be sharing anything sensitive whatsoever. I find it funny when other shippers say things like "How is it possible that K-fans can keep things to themselves?" I don't think I've seen anyone else address this yet so let me tell you why.

K-Jikookers are mostly queer. Yes, you read that right. Unlike other shippers, who are straight women that self-insert as one of the members (like they do with TK) we support them as a couple. This means that we don't want to date either of them, and we don't self-imagine as their partner - we know that they're unavailable because they're exclusive to each other. You get me? And we know first hand how terrible it is to be queer in a conservative society. There are actually very few real romantic shippers in Korea, (again, KM is the only romantic ship that has a substantial fanbase) simply because it is so hard to accept two men dating. This is why you will see K-Jikookers on Twitter all being close friends/meeting up in person, because they are kindred spirits. I think it might be hard for westerners to really understand. How do I emphasize this more? The older generation in Korea, anyone older than 30+, is deeply homophobic, to the point where they see anything LGBT as western influence and pervasion. Being American, I know it's hard to grasp that level of homophobia - it's not hate comments about your sexuality or people refusing to sell you a cake for a gay wedding. It's social death, rejection, parents disowning their children, getting fired from your job. I'm not kidding. Do you think us, as queer fans who love and support KM, will willingly out them?

We would never, ever, ever do that, because we know the repercussions. Some Jikookers like to fantasize about their coming out, and I want you to understand: the K-side is terrified of that day. Yes, we all think it will happen in due time, but we are very very scared. You think the hate that JM is getting now is bad? You think people sending food to JK's apartment is bad? Nope. You haven't seen anything yet. You understand what I mean, right? Their coming out will not be a cute post. It will be a carefully orchestrated move complete with a legal and PR team. If/when they are out, their lives will be in immediate danger. I truly believe they will leave the country for a bit, maybe even months, maybe a year. There will not be any public sightings, fan meets, concerts. KM know this very well too. I'm sure there's already a plan in place for it.

And anyone searching for KM evidence on K-Jikookers social media, I would say don't bother. It's almost impossible. The white day photo leak was a massive mistake, and I know exactly who leaked it because they were removed from all group chats immediately. K-Jikookers were very very angry with them (and also cussing out foreigners...please, we all need to keep our mouths shut and keep stuff within our own circles.)

-KY

KY has spoken. We appreciate your services and await your next drop in.

I too, the Jikookers that I know, I have never seen them self insert themselves. Those are y/n idiots who do this shit. Not even in private spaces do I see this happening. We support them as a couple, despite how hot we may find them. We understand and believe they only have eyes for eo.

We appreciate the commercial break KY. Now back to the headline

TAENNIE IS REAL!!!!!

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #jimin and jungkook #taennie is real #taennie #jikook is real

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waitmyturtles · 9 months

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Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: I Told Sunset About You (ITSAY) Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, in a long post, I work my way through Nadao Bangkok’s cinematic motherlode: ITSAY. Thanks to everyone for your patience with this post: I did major due diligence with it, with the absolutely TREMENDOUS help of @telomeke, @lurkingshan, @wen-kexing-apologist, and @bengiyo to ensure I had facts and analysis correct. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to these dear friends for holding me down and offering your sharp eyes.]

To dive into a topic as complicated, as beautiful, as reflective, as impactful as a macro-analysis of I Told Sunset About You is to take on...a lot. As I’ve discussed with @lurkingshan, from a filmmaking perspective, as so many of us who have watched ITSAY know -- it occupies the top spot of Thai BLs by way of pure cinematic quality. (If you follow my late-night liveblogs, you’ll know that this was the first show -- not even Bad Buddy did this to me -- where I needed to stop multitasking, to just sit and watch the episodes. No drama has done that for me in the years since I became a multitasking mom.)

As with 2gether and Still 2gether last week, this watch of ITSAY is a definite milestone on the OGMMTVC list, and I really thank @shortpplfedup, @bengiyo, @wen-kexing-apologist, @lurkingshan, @telomeke, and others in advance for what we’ve talked about in direct conversation regarding ITSAY, its many influential tentacles, and the influences that the show itself may have come from.

I’d like to touch upon a couple of frames to structure this piece, but the caveat here is that by no way will I consider myself an ITSAY expert, because there’s a tremendous fandom that knows much more about the Nadao Bangkok studio, about PP Krit and Billkin Putthipong, about the director and screenwriter, Boss Naruebet, and much more. I will have a substantial postscript to capture loose notes and learnings that didn’t make it into the main analysis.

Inspired in part by direct conversations with @telomeke and @lurkingshan, I’d like to dive into the following:

1) From a question that @lurkingshan posed to me: what shows from the start of the OGMMTVC watchlist -- and, more broadly, what art out there -- do I think spoke to ITSAY and its development, 2) The important story of Chinese migration to locations like Phuket, Penang (in Malaysia), and other locations on the Malay Peninsula, and how Chinese and Thai-Malay-Chinese-Peranakan cultures flavored ITSAY’s storytelling, 3) A discussion of internal and external homophobia on Teh’s experience, and how his conversation with Hoon encapsulated our understanding of homophobia, filial piety, and socioeconomic pressures in Teh’s particular life, timeline, and culture,

and more, I’m sure. Let’s boogie.

I warned some folks prior to this review that my thoughts on what may have spoken to ITSAY may turn some people off, so I offer this as a flare to y’all in advance. Acknowledging that episodes three and four of ITSAY were as emotional as anything I had ever seen in Asian BLs, Teh was just such a PERFECTLY written character. (The ITSAY supporting documentary episodes state that the show was in part inspired by Billkin’s and PP’s personal lives, and I know there’s fanon that the show was meant to deeply depict their personal stories with each other. I don’t have primary source material to point to regarding this, so I’ll leave it alone, with the understanding that there are interpretations of the show that read between the lines to bring that lens in. I acknowledge the existence of the theories, but will not dive into that here.)

So, in regards to Teh, as I chatted with @lurkingshan as I was watching the series, I just kept thinking to myself... hello, Fuse.

CHAOS BOYS! (Fire Boys? No, no, chaos boys, ha.)

This is where I think my analytical read might get a little controversial with folks, because to compare Make It Right to ITSAY -- from a LOOKS perspective, CERTAINLY from a storyline and narrative structure perspective -- no, it’s not there, not by a long shot.

But when I wonder about what ENERGIES and inspirations opened the door for Boss Narubet to WRITE the way that he wrote, and to DIRECT the way that he directed, Teh’s ENTIRE EMOTIONAL PROCESS AND BREAKDOWNS, his back-and-forth, his hesitations -- I saw chaos, and when I think of chaos, I think of Fuse.

I think of Fuse, and how Fuse was held back, particularly in Make It Right 2, regarding Fuse’s CULTURAL AND SOCIAL ASSUMPTION that he couldn’t break up with his girlfriend, all while being in a nascent give-and-take, back-and-forth relationship with Tee. And how that ASSUMPTION held BACK the full expression of commitment, honesty, and trust that Fuse and Tee ended up having at the end of MIR2. Fuse was being rather unsophisticated while he was struggling with this, and he was bringing Tee along, frustratingly, for that ride.

Something that you said to me also really resonated, @bengiyo, in conversation with @lurkingshan, about comparing TeeFuse and TehOh, in that Fuse and Teh weren’t necessarily SPARKLING or GIFTED presences. As you two both pointed out to me: Teh had to work much, much harder than Oh-aew for the talents that Teh achieved, and somehow, chaotically, he managed to lose his grip on those talents and achievements as he gave up his hard-earned opportunities for the sake of the overall-better-off Oh-aew. MESSY, BRO.

Besides MIR/MIR2, there’s somewhere else where I saw chaos. @bengiyo, you pointed out to me that you felt that you saw more of Thai queer cinema in ITSAY than in BL. I don’t think ITSAY *doesn’t* speak to BL and vice versa (I don’t think there’s anyone who thinks that, considering what Nadao Bangkok achieved with this show), but when I think of chaos -- and of the structures of storytelling that allowed us to get such an in-depth experience of Teh -- I also think of 2019′s Dew the Movie, and to a different extent, the before-its-time show in 2019′s He’s Coming To Me.

ITSAY, Dew, and HCTM have:

a) multiple chaotic leads (including actual ghosts and dudes who see ghosts), b) overarching cultural backgrounds rooted in extremely specific Asian cultures and/or practices and/or time periods, and c) interplays of emotional revelations vis à vis those specific cultural backgrounds.

- Fuse introduced to us, way back in 2016 and 2017, an internal holding back of an emotional engagement with Tee that was rooted in internal homophobia by way of his negotiation with what Fuse’s girlfriend expected of him, and what HE expected of HIMSELF regarding HAVING a girlfriend, while falling in love with a young man.

- Dew featured two young men in chaos, in 1990s rural Thailand, one of whom (Dew) who had previously lived in a different city where, likely, his sexual orientation would not have been met with such dystopic scrutiny as it did in the movie. The movie made clear that Dew wanted a solid relationship with Phop, but with both Dew’s and Phop’s families and cultural expectations holding them back, they both met untimely and unfortunate ends that hammered, in extremes, the perils, in cinema, of being gay and out in an incredibly restrictive and old-fashioned Asian society.

- HCTM featured a young man (Thun) who could see ghosts, along with the ghost that he ends up falling in love with (Med). The revelation of Thun’s being able to see Med is deeply connected to Thun’s Thai-Chinese Buddhist practices, and how his family has engaged with spirituality over the course of his life. While the structure of the show has often been described as having a happy ending, I argue the opposite -- that the ending is left open-ended, as it so often is in some of P’Aof Noppharnach’s shows, with the assumed understanding on behalf of an Asian audience that Med will one day be reborn and will leave Thun’s side (unless he’s reborn into another person that knows Thun) (hello, Until We Meet Again).

So what do all of these shows/movies -- ITSAY, Make It Right/MIR2, Dew, and HCTM -- have in common?

ITSAY, Dew, and HCTM have the common background of an old-fashioned culture serving as a MAJOR anchor to their stories. Their stories are leveraged by the micro-level, individual-level interplay between their main characters and old-fashioned worlds, complete with old-fashioned notions, assumptions, and expectations. ITSAY, Dew, and HCTM negotiate boundaries with these cultural guardrails, and we see -- Teh at the end of episode 4, Thun on the rooftop in episode 5, Dew talking to his mother -- what those expectations and boundaries have done internally to our dear young men.

Make It Right’s Fuse, way back in 2016, internalized this slightly differently, without us seeing as deeply the WORLD in which he grew up. The directors and screenwriters New Siwaj and Cheewin Thanamin gave us a guy in school with a girlfriend. FUSE’S world, that we see, is a school world, so apropos for that time of Thai BLs, complete with very heterosexual expectations for a young man WITH a girlfriend. And Fuse struggles with his push-and-pull throughout the two seasons.

What I love about the OGMMTVC project is that by having watched these projects before ITSAY, I can somewhat predict what the journey of chaos, by way of internal revelation, will be for these characters.

However.

What ITSAY DESTROYED for me, as compared to these dramas and movies, was the high level of acting that Billkin leveraged to get Teh to the emotional levels that he reached. Teh, episode 4, and Thun, episode 5 = handshakes.

This is where ITSAY’s structure just brings ITSAY to the top of the cinematic list and runs away from everything else. I posted in my liveblogging that the ending of episode 3 blew me away with a subversion of the four-act structure of screenwriting. @bengiyo corrected me to say that it was, instead, a rare example of Thai BLs achieving a successful five-act structure.

Just -- fuck.

You combine this UTTERLY FUCKING BRILLIANT STORYTELLING STRUCTURE, NARRATIVE STRUCTURING PAR FUCKING EXCELLENCE, ALONG WITH BILLKIN’S PORTRAYAL OF TEH IN HEAT AND CHAOS, and I’m eating, fam. Five-star Michelin tasting menu-level.

But before I start that meal, there’s even more that ITSAY did to really hammer in what I’m referencing by way of the anchors of old-fashioned culture to this story, which, clearly, Boss and Nadao Bangkok value, in the show’s indirect commentary on Chinese culture and migration in Thailand, and what it meant for Teh and Oh-aew to grow up in Phuket and prepare to leave for Bangkok. (If you haven’t watched ITSAY, I highly recommend that you plan on watching the supplementary documentary material, because those docs give a ton of insight into the Thai-Malay-Chinese background of the show. As a SE Asian homey, those revelations gave me the wonderful warm and familiar vibes.)

Dear @telomeke (I don’t know what I’d do without you, friend!) helped me to understand, back in my HCTM days, that I inherently know more about Chinese migration, immigration, and culture into Southeast Asia than I previously gave myself credit for as a part-Malaysian, because many of the migratory patterns and cultural assimilations are similar between Thailand and Malaysia. I appreciated that confirmation, and had my inspector’s hat on during my watch and rewatch of ITSAY.

I’ve spoken with @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm about the impact of migration and diasporic existence, in that, I think, oftentimes, immigrants to another country often hold a more conservative view of the cultures they bring with them -- in order to hold onto the tenets of those cultures, and to keep those tenets from getting influenced or maybe even watered down by the new environment in which immigrants are living. (My example to Shan and NBW was that I find that South Asian immigrants are often MORE conservative than my relatives in my homelands -- so as to keep a tight grip on assimilation, or, say, moral/ethical weakening by way of Western culture.)

I think the background of Phuket and EVERYTHING it lent to the show...

- Teh’s mom selling Hokkien mee at a stall storefront and the boys eating it in Teh’s old-fashioned house, - The old-fashioned o-aew dessert shop, selling a Hokkien Chinese dessert, which is often preceded by a shot of the “Phuket Old Town” sign, - Teh’s mom’s traditional Chinese-Peranakan outfits, particularly when she’s celebrating Teh and Hoon’s successes, - The tight streets and alleys,

...all of it, visually and culturally, reminded us that the boys live in a world that was DEEPLY INFLUENCED by the way back when. I posit that Teh’s mom is the encapsulation of this kind of old-fashioned culture, from the architectural style of her Hokkien mee stall, to the clothes she wears, to the heavy decorations and rugs and furniture of her old-fashioned house -- to her old-fashioned notions of filial piety that both her sons will be successful and will help to take care of her as she ages. I posit that this old-fashioned mindset also likely led Teh to believe that Teh’s mom would not accept him for liking men, which I will delve into more in a bit.

I mentioned cultural assimilation earlier: I brought up Penang, Malaysia, earlier, because I’ve spent time in Penang -- and Penang was referenced by Boss in the ITSAY documentaries as being similar to Phuket by way of cultural structure. @telomeke educated me on the tin-trade-influenced links from Phuket to the Malaysian towns of Penang and Kuala Lumpur, all towns that experienced heavy immigration from China and feature the strong presence of Chinese-Malay-Peranakan cultures in their social fabrics. The Peranakan population developed when the first Chinese immigrants to these regions began marrying the local ethnic Thai and Malay residents, creating a brand-new culture, complete with unique foods, clothing, architecture, and much more.

Having not been to Phuket yet, I believe Boss. As well, I want to note -- very important to me as a part-Malaysian -- that Boss referenced Teh’s nickname as the Malay word for tea. @telomeke noted for me this distinction as one that’s notable for how ITSAY differentiates the culture within the show -- again, a culture that’s influenced by Chinese and Malay migratory history -- against the backdrop of Bangkok, where tea is not “teh,” but rather is called “cha,” the Thai word for tea. [The most famous “teh” drink of Malaysia is teh tarik, a sweet, creamy, and strong tea drink that you see everywhere in Malaysia. While o-aew is a distinctly Chinese-style dessert, teh tarik comes from Indian immigrants to Malaysia (and is usually drunk with roti canai, another Indian import to Malaysia)].

In other words: we are talking a TREMENDOUS, a TREMENDOUS amount of references to cultural mixing, development, and assimilation here, all INTENTIONALLY placed by Boss Narubet and his screenwriting team -- and all of this serving as a reflection against what Teh and Oh-aew will experience as being “different” in their futures in Bangkok, where this Thai-Chinese-Malay cultural differential will make them different when they get to college. (Not having seen I Promised You The Moon yet, I wonder if IPYTM sets up Teh and Oh-aew as potential country mice, à la Ji Hyun and Joon Pyo in The Eighth Sense.)

One more pertinent note of cultural intermixing by way of the historical Thai-Chinese-Malay linkages. @bengiyo was surprised that I didn’t initially exclaim at the presence of hijab- and songkok-clad Muslim women and men eating at Teh’s mom’s Hokkien mee stall; Teh and Oh-aew’s friend, Phillip, is also shown with his Muslim parents. It’s funny, @bengiyo, as I said to you: because I was watching ITSAY with such a trained eye towards spotting the Thai-Chinese-Malay cultural mixing, seeing Muslims on screen did NOT ring a bell of differentials because -- I expect to see them there, in those kinds of spaces, anyway. (In fact, seeing Muslims on Thai television is rare, which I will get into more in the postscript.)

So we have: MANY CULTURES MIXING OVER MANY GENERATIONS. Migratory patterns intertwining. Indications of physical and emotional movement. And even though, and even DESPITE, these cultures mixing, we ALSO HAVE an OVERARCHING message of old-fashioned customs and ways of living that dominate the lives of the children in the show -- ESPECIALLY Teh. Teh and Oh-aew -- literally, their NAMES reference places ELSEWHERE than Phuket and Thailand. Phuket’s old-fashioned roots. Teh’s mom SELLS a dish that comes from somewhere else (the Hokkien Chinese population mostly hails from Fujian, China, as its origin).

What happens with migration and immigration? Cultures collide and combine -- social mores and expectations change -- one’s standards of HOW TO LIVE ONE’S LIFE changes.

Teh and Oh-aew, during the entire series, are facing a moment in time where THEIR lives, THEIR cultures, THEIR micro-interactions WITH THEIR cultures, ARE GOING TO CHANGE, definitively, by way of their burgeoning same-sex relationship. Teh and Oh-aew are already different in Thailand by way of their cultural backgrounds, as I’ve established -- and now, with a potential public revelation of their relationship, will they be even more different. And their families -- especially Teh’s mom, but Oh-aew’s family as well -- are going to collide with the very PRESENT present vis à vis their boys and their love.

As this happens with migration and immigration, CHANGE WILL HAPPEN vis à vis Teh and Oh-aew’s queer revelations as well.

Boss focused on the aspects of Phuket that were anchors to the culture that Teh and Oh-aew were raised in -- an immigrant culture, a migrant culture from China, that has had a long hold over many, many towns and societies in Thailand. We didn’t see the modern 7-11s that we know are there in Phuket, serving the tourists of these towns.

And, just like the physical dystopia of Dew, and even vis à vis the spiritual practices built into He’s Coming To Me, the slice of Old Town Phuket that we SAW as that anchor was a HEAVY PRESENCE in Teh’s life -- it was PERFECTLY matched with the old-fashioned, conservative ANGER and DISAPPOINTMENT that we saw in Teh’s mom in episode 4, when Teh shares that he dropped out of university for Oh-aew. That anchor, to me, was meant to SMASH into, FEED into Teh’s overwhelming emotionality at his queer revelation, and at the revelation that serving his mother via filial piety would be automatically made more difficult, thus maximizing the impact of his internalized homophobia and his fear of recognizing his love and attraction for Oh-aew.

COUPLE THAT with the previous hints -- and then the SMASHING WRECKING BALL -- of the visual depths of Oh-aew’s own realizations earlier in episode 4, his own internally different place, the way he reveals himself to the world vis à vis the fast Instagram post of him wearing the red bra. And how Teh reacts to it. And how it sets off such an unreal chain of emotional unraveling for Teh, the SECOND of that episode, even before he goes to Bangkok to drop out.

WHOA.

THIS, TO ME WAS FUCKING STUNNING

and very important to me to see as a South/Southeast Asian. WHEW.

And, good lord. How Hoon comes in at the end for Teh. Hoon, the eldest son, the one who has very quietly borne the financial responsibility that his mom, Teh’s mom, too, has placed on Hoon’s shoulders, naturally, through generations of family custom. (Super duper thanks to @lurkingshan for talking me through this in detail with me.)

And Hoon gives his family, his little bro, Teh, comfort. How Hoon says, listen. Mom’s gonna be mad if and when you tell her about Oh-aew and your feelings for me. But guess what? She’s gonna come around. You’re a crybaby, Teh, but I’m here for you.

Hoon knows that Teh’s mom will come around -- because Hoon is also a part of the next generation of change, much like his Thai-Malay-Chinese-Peranakan community before him -- as he brings his Japanese girlfriend home to his mother and brother. (THANK YOU, @wen-kexing-apologist, for pointing this out!)

Teh’s mom, too, will move. She will move from her old-fashioned mindset, to migrate to a new mindset, where she will accept her son. Teh needed to hear that, to know that that movement would be possible.

Just like the movement of the many swirling cultures around Teh and Oh-aew, the hustle of Bangkok before them, nipping at their lives like the ocean to the beach.

What ITSAY captured for me was a cinematic moment of movement on so many levels. It was a pulsating reflection of change. It was meant and designed to insidiously shock viewers out of complacency. Like a beanstalk climbing from the ground, the movement begot movement to these two young men beginning to address and empty themselves of the homophobia that kept them back, Teh especially.

GAH, THEIR MOVING PHYSICALITY, IT NEVER STOPPED -- the end of episode 2 on the boat, the end of episode 3 in Teh’s room, GAWD -- Teh’s ABSOLUTE HORMONAL DRUNKENNESS, Oh-aew’s STARE AFTER STARE AFTER STARE, Oh-aew’s SILENT DEVASTATION AT THE END OF EPISODE 3, the way Teh would nod and FLOP his head uncontrollably in desire, the nuzzles, the sniffs, the uncontrolled reaches -- GAH. It gives me the shivers.

It was a lot.

ITSAY was just -- y’all know it. It was fantastic. While HCTM was before its time, I feel that ITSAY was RIGHT ON TIME. It brought so many elements of this GORGEOUS, HISTORIC, culturally Southeast Asian experience into the intersection of the queer lens, as well as the *migratory* lens of the Southeast Asian region specifically. It showed us, from a micro-perspective, the very tremendous macro-level implications and pressures of filial piety, of internalized homophobia, of the huge socioeconomic expectations that families have on Asian students to succeed in education, and so much more. IT WAS *DEFINITIVELY INTERSECTIONAL*, MORE SO THAN ANY BL BEFORE ITS TIME.

Yet again, for me, just like Bad Buddy, just like Until We Meet Again, I have another show in my arsenal that makes me proud to be an Asian watching these shows -- and in ITSAY, I feel particularly proud that a slice of my own personal culture, as an Malaysian, made it in there, intentionally. I will FOREVER, and ever, be grateful to ITSAY for that.

-------

I’d like to offer this postscript as a means of making some quick points that @telomeke, @bengiyo, @lurkingshan, and @wen-kexing-apologist shared with me as I was writing this review -- and I thank them all deeply for reading drafts of this post before publication.

1) I was previously unaware of the history and current state of Islamic culture in Thailand until ITSAY and Be My Favorite included women wearing hijabs in their shows. This is an important slice of culture for me to know about, as I’m part-Malaysian, where Islam is the dominant religion. @telomeke shared with me that the majority Muslim population in Thailand is in southern Thailand (although, of course, Muslims live across Thailand), and that there have historically been separatist efforts in those southern provinces that have often led to violence.

There are many reasons why discrimination of Muslims exist in Thailand, as it does around the world, including references to the separatist efforts in the southern provinces. As well, ethnic Thais can trace their heritage back to various towns and communities within China, thus possibly making northern Thailand, with its proximity to China, potentially more lauded in Thai culture, and contributing even more to a perception that southern Thailand, with its Muslim population, as potentially “less desirable.” (And I want to take a second to note @telomeke‘s excellent point to me that “Chinese” as a catch-all word is often incomplete, as Han Chinese make up a sizable portion of Thailand’s population, but as we see in ITSAY, the Hokkien Chinese population also flourishes in certain parts of the country, and there are populations of Teochew and Hakka Chinese as well, as there are in Malaysia.)

All of this combined -- the geographic proximities to China, the places where various populations have settled, from the places that various populations of Thais track their heritages, plus global and/or popular misconceptions and stereotypes of “other” communities -- can contribute to discrimination of Muslims in Thailand. Of course, that is not a universal statement, as we do see Muslims beginning to show up in Thai drama art, which is heartening. To me, it strikes me as more realistic for the region to see Muslims on screen, but I don’t know Thailand well enough to say that for sure (that’s my Malaysian-side talking). I really want to thank @telomeke for taking me on SUCH a deep dive with insight into this part of Thai culture that I think is very necessary and fascinating. (Politics in Thailand is quite complicated at the moment, but at this very second, Thailand’s current Parliament speaker, from the Move Forward party, is Thai Muslim, with a Malay Muslim name -- Wan Muhamed Noor Matha. Very cool, but this is going to change soon, as Move Forward will make way for another political party to take control of the government.)

2) If you know me well enough, I cannot leave food well enough alone in our wonderful dramas (exhibit A: Moonlight Chicken and khao man gai, exhibit B: coffee/kopi in The Promise, lol), and I want to make sure that we were all aware back in 2020, and/or make you aware now, that Hokkien mee is a VERY regional dish, with styles unique to each town in which it is famous. @telomeke, I know you feel differently, but Hokkien mee from Kuala Lumpur (KL), Malaysia is my.... it’s my heaven, my soul, my heart, HA!

Here’s some linkies to get you educated. And also! Oh-aew prefers his Hokkien mee with rice vermicelli noodles, instead of the usual, thicker egg noodles. You know what I like to do if I see that a stall has the two styles of noodles available: I like to get them mixed together. Hokkien mee, Hokkien prawn mee noodle soup, curry laksa -- I like the best of both worlds of noodles in my bowl. YUM.

Phuket Hokkien mee KL Hokkien mee Penang Hokkien mee (this one is the prawn noodle soup, not the fried noodles -- omfg so good) Singapore Hokkien mee (note the lighter color -- and the m’fing mix of thick and thin noodles, hell yeah!)

(If you made it this far in the ITSAY review, I have an easter egg for you. Guess what the Malay name is for rice vermicelli noodles? Bee hoon or mee hoon.

Hoon and Teh, two Malay names: thin noodles and tea. What Teh’s mom serves at her stall, and what Teh and Oh-aew represent, symbolically, by names and their noodle preferences, as a pairing. AND! @telomeke gave me one more easter egg! Teh O is a popular way to order tea in Malaysia and Singapore. It’s black tea with sugar, no milk. Another pairing reference. ITSAY never stopped with all the layered references!)

[WHEW! What a ride. Thanks to all y’all who held me down during my losing-it liveblogging of ITSAY. More to come when I get to Last Twilight in Phuket and I Promised You The Moon.

Next week, I’ll release my review of YYY into the wild -- listen, honestly. Yes, chaos, confusion, all of it. But I am not writing this show totally off. There was definitely stuff in it to chew on. And: POPPY RATCHAPONG. And Pee Peerawich. The acting was actually stacked on this show. There’s stuff! More soon.

And I also finished Manner of Death, so that review will drop in two weeks. I LOVE MAXTUL. UNABASHEDLY. Yes, I know I’m years late, yes, I know Tul is retired, sobs. Let me live my 2021 dreams! These guys are so good together, and MoD was fuckin’ great.

I have so much good stuff on the way: I’m fully in my ATOTS rewatch, and I’ve added 55:15 Never Too Late, very specifically its BL storyline. I may not give 55:15 a full review because I’ll fast-watch the rest of it, but: Khao, come to me, boo-boo! I have an INSANE August ahead of me as I’ll be moving in a month (GAH), but hopefully this schedule won’t fall back too much.

Status of the listy! Hit me up if you have feedback!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 7) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 11) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 13) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 14) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (not a BL or an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 15) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 16) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) 17) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 18) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 19) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review coming) 20) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) (review coming) 21) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 22) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (watching) 23) Lovely Writer (2021) 24) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) 25) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 26) Not Me (2021-2022) 27) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 28) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) 29) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch 30) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)] 31) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 32) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist 33) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 34) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 35) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 36) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 37) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]

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catbeeisafraid · 9 days

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on aziraphale

um- hi, spoilers- other people may already be saying this but I don’t think that this has been said just yet- not substantially, I’m not sure what I’m saying I have been standing for 7 hours this is life now.

I was thinking about Aziraphale and his attitude towards Crowley and something began to occur to me about their relationship that I don’t really see being recognized, I was reading a thread about the rejection and how people thought Crowley had taken it; most replies consisted of “Oh he’s hurt but knows Az loves him and is waiting it out” which is probably perfectly reasonable but I felt there was something that was not being addressed.

Aziraphale likes Crowley, he probably loves him, (though I really do not think he has the maturity to have recognized that, considering the “I’ll forgive you” thing) he at the very very least likes him and his company and feels that he is good intentioned, but he is unbelievably prejudiced against him for being a demon. He’s ok with being friends because he feels that Crowley is abnormally good (which isn’t untrue) (and because they both like earth which is- the only reason they interact for like 20,000 years) but he won’t accept that part of him- Crowley is not fond of angels like at all but he does not hate Aziraphale for being one- it is just what he is and that’s fine- it’s not a thing that needs to be fixed or changed- it makes him, him. For Aziraphale their difference is a flaw, a mistake- and regardless of how many times he watches heaven be indifferent and even cruel to people and earth (which he loves) he manages to convince himself that heaven is still good and this new horror is just a little misunderstanding- hell is what’s bad. I think his desire to change Crowley had to be hurtful- for literally all of time Crowley has been helping him, saving him, and generally putting all of the work into a relationship that Azirophale; A- avoids, B- reams, or C- eventually caves to because Crowleys appeal must mean that he’s good even though he’s fallen which is like sooooooo dreaaddfuyllllllyyy unfortunateeeee…

I find it so frustrating, I absolutely understand it and why but I think or at least hope that it will be something that he needs to develop on in season three; this will probably not happen but I’d like to see the dynamic reverse in the sense that presumably after realizing “oh yeah, Gabriel dissented from Armageddon literally once and was almost factory reset, what might that mean for me?” And end up having to be the one who puts effort into fixing their relationship because he kind of like pushed it off a cliff and then accidentally set it on fire- this, is very unlikely though because I thought of it so oh well. I’m very interested in hearing what other people think also

Additionally I do not think that anyone else’s theory’s are Incorrect or stupid just that Aziraphale is and has been very hypocritical and prejudiced against Crowley which i wanted to address and hope is addressed if not simply an area of growth.

thank you- that all probably made no sense at all but I tried to get my thoughts across-

End

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens season three #good omens season two #good omens season 3 speculation #aziraphale #good omens spoilers #unpopular opinion maybe #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #anthony j crowley

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xiaolumi-love · 1 year

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what trajectory are you on right now?

a timeless pick a pile reading for where you're heading right now. remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

1-2-3

»————..✞..————»

pile one.

pile one, you have an optimism right now that is commendable, however you may need to check yourself. your pride seems to be getting in the way of your potential to have purity of heart, and you are likely mistreating those around you, and being hurt in the process. your passion is nothing to be sorry for, however remember it is important to address your behaviour as something to always be improved upon, something to always execute with the utmost of kindness and care. there is likely abuse within your relationships right now, or it's heading towards that direction. remember that communication is key, and that everyone's feelings and perspectives are just as important as each other's. just because you may have been mistreated in the past doesn't mean you need to seek validation from external sources all the time. sometimes people can't provide that validation that you need, and that's not their fault. sometimes they need to take care of themselves too. so you need to take care of yourself and learn to validate yourself. practice the art of self-soothing. it's not easy at first, and it takes time and practice for it to work well, but you are just as capable as anyone. you have the right inner strength to overcome anything. believe in yourself, because even if no one does, i do. the universe does. you will get there.

»————..✞..————»

pile two.

oh wow. i see, pile two, that you are going through a lot right now. you are likely letting go of something you once found very important. a relationship. you are on the road to handling it maturely, with compromise, peace, and resolution. however you may need to check that the other party isn't expressing martyrdom, or that they're not rushing you and being stubborn. you however are on the path to being efficient and effective with your actions. you are reaching a finality that will grant you release, and you are moving on. this separation will serve you and though you are in a lot of pain right now, it's clear you will become even brighter and better for it. the universe doesn't make mistakes, only grants us lessons. remember to allow yourself to feel, and then let go, though i suspect you're doing a good job of that already. the universe is always proud of you and cheering you on. you're reclaiming your power, and you deserve to be proud of yourself for that.

»————..✞..————»

pile three.

your cards are seemingly conflicting, pile three. you are on the path to a breakthrough and have limitless possibilities ahead in terms of creative ideas, and are seeking reconciliation and/or overcoming grief. however you are also keeping secrets, which can never end well. devastation will be around the corner if you continue down that road. you're hopeful for happiness and fulfillment, and that is wonderful, however your blind faith isn't serving you. you could try practicing self-reflection. try talking out what's going on with you, and you'll likely feel a lot better afterwards. faith is better held when there's substantiality to it, when there's a certain amount of effort to support your belief. you're vulnerable right now, and there's nothing wrong with that, but make sure you're expressing your faith in a way that benefits and serves you. your mind is in the right place for plenty of creative thinking to blossom, and you will indubitably have the potential to grow in ways you could never imagine should you choose to accept the challenge. the universe knows you can do it, if only you try and never give up trying varying approaches. you've got this.

»————..✞..————»

thank you for reading! wishing everyone a good day/night. do not steal/repost. remember reblogs do me more good than likes! for commissions, see my pinned!

-- alice the witch 💜

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captainschaos · 2 years

Text

Tango is a phoenix. A creature of fire and death, the symbol of all that refuses to perish. Everyone knows this. In the past, when Tango lost a life it was laughed off, brushed to the side as no big deal. He dies constantly, right? He's used to it at this point. Well, he may be used to it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hate it. On Hermitcraft, while all the other hermits only feel a momentary shock of pain before the respawn clears their slate, reworking their troubled particles to avoid death, Tango feels it all. Lost lives mean lost lives for him, not just a restart- he dies, feeling all the ripping, tearing, screeching pain that comes with that. And to a certain extent, yes, he's used to it. He knows the pain, he knows how to grit his teeth and stand back up, get back to work and back to life. But it still hurts. And not only does he have to hurt for it, but he still gets dragged to an infuriating respawn point like everyone else, his ashes blown to whatever inconvenient location his bed was left at, or even worse, main spawn. Death is a pet peeve that brings the utmost frustration for Tango. There is nothing that makes him more angry than to think, "Another stupid mistake, another stupid death."

So when he dies for the first time on Double Life, he ought to be aggravated like usual. If this was any other time, he would punch a fist into the ground and push himself to his feet with gritted teeth, fire smoldering as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end like an angry dog. But he did this to someone else, and all he can think to be is sorry. This is a hardcore server, where everyone feels the pain of death the same as him. And another of his stupid mistakes, usually just an annoyance for him, dragged someone else through that. And worse of all, he's sure whoever it is will say, "Oh, it's alright Tango, if I'd known I was bound to you I would have seen it coming! You always are one to die easily, huh? Death must be practically a joke to you, at this point."

But when he turns around to find Jimmy Solidarity getting to his feet behind him, Jimmy is angry.

If he was anyone else, Tango would probably be a little defensive. He hadn't meant to, it was just a dumb accident (because of course it was). But Tango knows what anger means. It means you care. And to have someone care that he died, even if it means Jimmy, his soulmate, speaks with a raised voice and a frown overlaying a disbelieving laugh-

It makes Tango smile.

"What happened Tango?!"

Jimmy is a canary. A creature of death and faded song, the universal symbol of warnings with a price. Everyone knows this. Having played in these games before, Jimmy knows what his role is. He falls first so everyone finally starts taking things seriously. He's done it so many times before, right? He's used to it at this point. Well, he may be used to it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't dread it. On every server, he gets laughed at constantly, told how everyone's expecting him to trip at the worst possible time and be out before anyone else has even gotten started. And as a canary, he feels it coming to a certain extent. There's a tingling in his feathers, almost a magnetic property to certain deadly omens. He knows what his role is, he's learned to expect his own death. But it still hurts. The way his life is almost a toy to others, not really anything of substantial value on its own. Even Scott, his husband from another life, had gone off to Cleo in anticipation of his early demise. Even he hadn't really believed Jimmy would get far past the starting line. But that's just what he's come to expect. To accept. Death is an expectation of the utmost embarrassment for Jimmy. There's nothing that makes him feel more resigned than to think, "Another little mistake, another little death."

So when he dies for the first time on Double Life, he ought to take it quietly like usual. If this was any other time, he'd groan in embarrassment and anticipation of the teasing, heave a sigh, and pull himself to his feet, a defensive, dismissive laugh readied on the tip of his tongue to try and defend his dignity. But someone else did this to him, and all he can think to be is angry. He usually feels a bit defensive after dying, but this time around he won't let anyone get away with regarding his life as a joke. Whoever it is who did this, he's all too ready to hear, "Oh, I hope that's alright Jimmy, I'm sure you knew you'd die first anyways. Not like we ought to expect anything else from our trusty old canary, huh?" and this time he's not going to have it.

But when he turns around to find Tango Tek standing behind him, Tango is sorry.

If he was anyone else, Jimmy would probably be expecting that. Tango hadn't meant to quicken his fated canary’s end, it was just an accident, he's sure. But Jimmy knows what those shuffling feet, the rubbing of the back of the neck mean. It means you wish you hadn't done that. It means you care. And to have someone care that he died, even if it means Tango, his soulmate, flinches a bit and laughs an embarrassed laugh Jimmy knows all too well in response to his short words-

It makes Jimmy smile.

[I have one of these for each week! This is 1/5]

[next]

#double life smp #double life smp spoilers #tangotek #solidaritygaming #rancher duo #I think I've seen used for them enough to tag?#anyways THEM #I'm obsessed. I'm mega on board with canary jimmy and my tango design is a phoenix. I'm obsessed #everyone talk to me about phoenix tango pleaspleaepleasepleaspleapslplease #captain's words

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octoberclidan · 1 year

Text

Everything's Fine

Pairing: Sam, Dean, Cas x reader (platonic)

Summary: Reader (she/her) lives in the bunker with team free will, and helps them with hunts and apocalypses. The day before they're due to go off on a hunt, reader feels sick but tries to ignore it. She can't get out of bed the next morning so the hunt is cancelled and the boys spend the day looking after her.

Note: this was written by myself for myself; there are probably mistakes. My first language is English but I'm not American, so it may sound weird in places if you happen to be American reading it. If you do happen to come across this and spend time reading it, I hope you enjoy it somewhat!

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was sitting in the bunker's library, trying to absorb as much as she could on rugarus before the next day. Sam and Dean had hunted them before, but it was going to be a first time for [Y/N]. She had her head propped up with one hand while the other turned the pages of one of the library's old books. She found herself re-reading the same paragraph multiple times, her brain not taking in the information on the page. She'd felt a little bit off since she woke up that morning; tired, foggy, a little bit of a headache. None of the team really got sick, it wasn't something they had to deal with. On the rare occasion that one of them would catch something, Cas would just heal them within a few seconds and they'd be good to go. [Y/N] would have asked Cas to have a look at her, but he had lost a substantial amount of grace during an incident the week beforehand and was still recovering. He would probably be able to fix a cold or even the flu, but it would take a lot out of him and it wasn't like [Y/N] was dying.

"Earth to [Y/N]?" She felt a tap on her shoulder and groggily turned to look up, it was Dean. "I called your name like three times, you okay?" He glanced down at the page she was reading. "I'm pretty sure that's the same page you were on when I was here 30 minutes ago.. what's up?" [Y/N] just shook her head and closed the book.

"Everything's fine, I'm just tired Dean, I think I'll take this to bed and try have an early night. What time are we leaving at in the morning?"

"As early as possible, it's a long drive. Aim to be out at the car for 6:30 yeah?"

[Y/N] nodded and yawned, grabbing the book and making her way to her room. Dean watched her leave, and noticed that she was dragging her feet. She definitely seemed off to him, but maybe she was just tired.

***

"Is [Y/N] coming on the hunt or is she staying here with Cas?" Asked Sam the next morning. He and dean had already loaded up the car with what they'd need on the hunt, all they were waiting for now was [Y/N]. However, none of them had seen her that morning, usually she would be up early helping the boys get ready.

"She said she was, I told her to be at the car for 6:30, haven't you seen her today?"

"I haven't seen her since yesterday"

"I haven't seen her either" Cas mentioned as he walked into the garage.

The three of them shared a look before leaving the garage and making their way straight to [Y/N]'s room. Dean knocked on the door. "[Y/N] you ready to go? It's 6:45". No answer, he knocked again. "[Y/N] you in there? Open up". The three of them stood outside her door waiting for a response, but they were only met by silence. Dean pushed the door open to darkness. Flicking on the lights, his eyes were drawn to the bed where there was a pile of blankets and pillows. He walked over to the bed and knelt down beside it, pulling the blankets back slightly to reveal [Y/N] fast asleep.

He put the back of his hand against her forehead and was shocked by how hot is was. He gently shook her shoulder in an attempt to wake her up. "[Y/N], Sweetheart, wake up". She mumbled something and pulled the cover back over her head. Dean turned to look at Sam and Cas who both wore worried expressions on their faces. Dean pulled the covers back off her face and she whined, trying weakly to pull them out of Dean's grasp. Cas made his way over and placed his fingers on her forehead.

"It's the flu. I can heal her but it will make my own recovery extend."

[Y/N] shook her head. "No, I'm okay". Her voice was quiet, and hearing it broke Dean's heart.

"You do have a fever of 103° [Y/N], you should not be under any covers. If you won't let me heal you, we need to cool you down" Cas stated.

"Sam, can you run an ice bath? Cas can you get her a glass of water, with ice?" Dean was worried, he was rarely sick and he hadn't had to look after anyone sick since Sam was a lot smaller. Sam and Cas both left the room, and Dean moved from his kneeling position to the sit on the end of the bed. He pulled the covers the rest of the way off [Y/N], revealing that she had put on the warmest, fluffiest pyjamas she owned. Dean couldn't help but smile at the tough, highly trained hunter wearing soft, lilac pyjamas. [Y/N] began shivering, trying to pull the covers back but Dean wouldn't let her. He reached over and started rubbing her shoulder.

"I'm c-cold D-dean" she sniffled.

"I know you feel cold Sweetheart, but you're actually too hot, you have a fever. Let us get you cooled down and then you can get back into bed and rest, okay?"

"N-no, I want my b-blanket b-back"

"[Y/N] you have a high fever, come on, can you try sit up for me? I got to get you to the bath".

[Y/N] gave Dean a slight glare, the best she could muster up to show she wasn't pleased with being taken from the warmth, but Dean just ignored her and helped her sit up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he slipped his arms under her knees and shoulders, scooping her up and making his way to the bathroom.

"Hey, bath is ready. How you feeling?" Sam asked, walking over to her and Dean and feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. [Y/N] just groaned in response. "Let's get you out of these pyjamas and into the bath. You wearing anything under them [Y/N]?" [Y/N] nodded, she was wearing a light pair of shorts and a t-shirt underneath. She had been feeling cold the previous night and had decided the fluffy pyjamas weren't going to be enough. Dean placed her down gently on her feet on the tiled floor. Between Sam and Dean, they kept her standing up while removing the fluffy pyjamas, along with the fluffy socks. Once her bare feet touched the cold tile floor, her shivering intensified. Together they helped her into the ice bath, her shivering knocking some of the ice out onto the floor.

"G-get me out-t of this-s n-now"

"Shh [Y/N], I know this sucks but can you please try stick it out for five minutes?" Sam cooed, stroking her hair. Cas walked in with the water and handed it to Dean. "Her sheets are damp with sweat, I'll change them". Dean nodded and held the glass of water up to [Y/N]'s lips.

"Drink". Too weak to argue, [Y/N] took a sip. Although the cold water was freezing as it ran down her throat, she hadn't realised how dehydrated she was, and it did feel good. "I'll get you some clean clothes, try take a few more sips of this before I get back". Dean passed the glass to Sam and headed out of the bathroom. After a few more sips of the water, Sam was satisfied that she had cooled down enough to come out. He grabbed a large towel and carefully helped her step out of the tub. He wrapped her in the towel and began rubbing her arms to help her warm up a little bit.

Dean came back in at that point with a bundle of clothes. He left them on the counter and patted them. "They're not fluffy, can't have you getting too hot again, but I warmed these up in the dryer quickly for you so you won't be freezing. You okay to get changed on your own or do you need help?" Dean asked.

"I can do it, thank you, both of you." She smiled up at Sam who was still rubbing her arms over the towel, before smiling at Dean too. The two boys left her to some privacy to get out of the wet clothes and into the dry ones Dean had brought. She was surprised to see a pair of Dean's pyjama bottoms and one of Sam's old t-shirts, along with some of her own underwear that Dean must have found in her drawer. The boys always complained when she stole their clothes, but they knew how comfortable she found them.

Slowly, she made her way back towards her room. She had to admit that even though the ice bath was horrible, she did feel slightly better now. When she got back to her room, her bed had new sheets and Cas was standing there with another glass of water. "You should drink some more. How are you feeling? Your temperature seems to be lower now" He tilted his head at her while he handed her the glass.

"I feel a bit better Cas, thank you for changing my bed, I appreciate it" she smiled at him. She placed the glass on her bedside table and moved to get into her bed. "What happened with the hunt? Are Sam and Dean gone?"

"I passed it off the Jody, we're staying put until you're better" Dean pushed off the doorframe where [Y/N] hadn't noticed him standing. He knelt down beside her and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I can stay with you for a bit until you fall asleep, how does that sound? Or if you'd prefer to be alone you can call for me or Sam or Cas if you need something?"

"I don't want to get you sick too" [Y/N] sniffed.

"I can stay with you, you can't get me sick". Cas offered.

"Sam is fixing you up something to eat, so how about you stay awake and eat and drink what you can, then Cas can stay with you for a bit and keep an eye on you?". [Y/N] nodded at Dean's suggestion. He nodded back and stood up, leaned down to kiss her forehead and turned to pat Cas on the shoulder before leaving the room.

***

[Y/N] had eaten what she could and soon fell back to sleep in her clean bed. Cas sat at the desk in her room reading through a few books. He stayed long after she'd fallen asleep; he stayed the rest of the day and all throughout the night. Sam and Dean each came in periodically throughout the day to check up on her, bring her more water, and check if she needed help getting to the bathroom.

The next morning Sam came into the room carrying a plate of breakfast and smiled to see [Y/N] sitting up in bed chatting to Cas about a movie she wanted to see. She looked tired, but definitely looked a lot healthier. "Feeling better?" He asked, setting down the plate in front of her.

"Yes, much. Not 100%, but definitely better". She smiled at him.

"Good, 'cause I was thinking today would be a good day for a movie day, what do you think? I can bring my TV in here and we can watch whatever you want".

"Yeah, I'd like that"

"Cool, Dean is already out getting some snacks. He'll be back soon and then the four of us can start our marathon."

"How did Jody get on with the hunt?" Asked [Y/N]. She felt guilty about having to cancel and send someone else out into danger.

"Wasn't even a rugaru in the end, just your regular psychopath. She's already home" Sam smiled at her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Everything's fine".

The end

#dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester #castiel #sam winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural fic #sick reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #platonic #comfort #dean winchester comfort #sam winchester comfort #team free will

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lucyandthepen · 9 months

Text

last eden - ii . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, i think! word count: 9k

A/N: i have not properly proofread this as i finished kinda editing at like 2am in what felt like a fever dream so if you see any mistakes, shoot me a quick message!

Going home is a traumatic experience, to say the least. You don’t actually get to leave the venue right away because, try as you might, you can’t escape the iron grip of the security guard who’s all but glued you down to the ground. You can’t do anything except watch the van speed off while a bunch of fans try (in vain) to follow it. You might have tried to follow it, too, except you already know you’re swimming in boiling water with the current viewing public (plus a couple of really miffed guards) and you might have gotten trampled on anyway.

You end up spending the next three and a half hours down at the police station. At first, you’re worried that they’re going to take your picture or something, but since you don’t have any kind of criminal record — well, until now — you end up waiting the entire time just to hear the chief of police grumble about how it’s too early for this kind of mess and why do all of these girls do all these crazy things for boys that don’t even know them. You don’t say much for the ten minutes it takes him to write your report and lecture you about how strong, young people should do something more substantial with their time and try to pick up skills that will help the community and sharpen one’s mind in pursuit of wisdom, which is really just a roundabout way of saying stop jumping idols. You leave the station with a heavy heart and a new strike against the justice system.

The bus stop is a no-go for you; it’s surely packed with fans who’ve no doubt spent the rest of the morning skipping class, eating breakfast, and probably talking about how outrageous you had been. The subway probably isn’t an option, too, so you end up taking a cab all the way back to your place, except you don’t actually have enough money to pay for the entire fare, so you’re forced to alight four streets away instead. You walk for about twenty minutes before realizing your body is crying in outrage for food; you hadn’t fed yourself at all this morning, save for the ten or so sips of water you had in the back of the M! Countdown studio.

With less than 10,000 won in your pocket, you end up just going into the nearest 7-11 and buying a triangle gimbap to avoid passing out completely on the street. You eat it just as slowly as you walk, partly because you want to savor it, but mostly because you want to avoid having to look Heehyeon in the eye.

Heehyeon. She probably knows everything. No, scratch that — you know she knows. She spends so much time on the internet that you’re sure she’d have her mind fused with a robot if she had enough money. Plus, she’d specifically told you not to do anything dumb, so of course she’d have kept an eye out for the actual dumb thing you really did.

When you arrive at your apartment, you linger behind the door. For some reason, you think about knocking, even though it’s your place and you have a key. You feel unfamiliar and unwelcome — pretty much the effects of ostracising yourself from the general public with just one dumb decision. Even though you decide there’s nothing for it except to face it head on, you try as much as possible to be silent when entering, hoping that Heehyeon has decided to skip out on all things digital today and just take a really long nap.

Of course, with the trajectory of your luck today, it’s no surprise that she’s sitting at the table with her laptop open and a half-eaten apple in her grasp, her free fingers scrolling quickly through what you assume to be the longest comments section ever. Her expression is tired — not sleepy tired but about-to-give-up tired. She doesn’t even have to look up for you to assume a guilty expression while you linger by the doorframe that separates the small kitchen from your living room.

“So what’d you get?” She asks, tone flat.

“A really long lecture and a couple of scratches on my forearm,” you try to sound light, but your attempt only causes the mood to darken a little more. “I didn’t have to pay a fine, or anything…”

Heehyeon glances up at you. You can tell she’s deciding whether or not to comfort you or chew your head off. Luckily, she’s intelligent enough to create a third option under the correct assumption that choosing either of the first two approaches would only end in tears for everyone.

“There’s still some pizza on the counter.”

It’s silent as you extract a slice from the box; the sound of the chair scraping against the floor raises the tiny hairs on your arm and the back of your neck at how loud it is. You don’t eat yet, though; you watch Heehyeon click click click click away, chewing on your bottom lip. It feels like a time for confession, but you’re not even sure where to begin. Before you can open your mouth to really say anything, she beats you to the punch.

“For future reference, when I say ‘don’t do something stupid,’ I mean—”

“Yeah,” you swallow hard. “You mean ‘don’t try to rip someone’s arm off in an attempt to get them to remember you.’ I know.”

“Okay, good. I’m just checking because this isn’t like back then in Greece where police didn’t exist.” She peers over her screen at you, expression unreadable.

“Rome was a better time, though.“ It had been a simpler time. No one had to wear socks with sneakers. You didn’t need an 8 to 5 job. Most importantly, Mark was in love with you. Your lower lip trembles at the memory.

“You all died in a natural disaster,” she reminds you. “But yeah.”

You two lock eyes properly for the first time, and something bubbles up in your chest. You’re not sure what gives you away; maybe it’s your flushed cheeks, or maybe it's the shaky inhale, or even the dangerous flutter of your eyelashes, perhaps. Whatever it is, Heehyeon has her laptop monitor down and is reaching over to clasp your hand in hers just before you burst into tears.

She doesn’t say anything, knows that words won’t really work right now. She just lets you cry it out, and you spend what feels like an hour shifting between weak hiccups, broken sobs, and unholy wails. You only really slow down when you feel like your throat is on fire already, and you have to sluggishly reach into your bag and dig out the water from earlier. Heehyeon’s thumb skates across the back of your hand idly as you try to make up for all the fluids you’ve lost; you even end up sloshing a good amount of the water down your front.

The passing of ten or so minutes sees you in a better state by a fraction; your eyes are puffy and your lips are swollen, but at least your lungs are processing a better amount of air now, and your nose, albeit being congested, has stopped running so much. It’s at this time that you find you still know some words, so you manage to blubber them out to your roommate.

“H-he looked at me like I wasn’t e-even human,” you choke out. “His f-f-face was so — I’d never seen him like th-that. He was mad — no, he h-hated me!”

“_____________, stop it.” She says firmly, and you’re not sure if she means stop saying that he hated you or if she means that you should stop crying, which is what you’re already threatening to resume. “You and I both know that your approach won’t win any congeniality awards this year, but he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t even know y— okay, I’m sorry, I just meant —“

She’s torn between exasperation and pity as another sob resurfaces, and it takes her at least fifty I’m sorry’s and one trip to the fridge to get you another bottle of water to settle you back into silence. At this point, you’re cried out; your entire being is begging for sleep and you can no longer breathe through your nose.

“But you’re r— right.” You hiccup defeatedly. “He doesn’t even know me. I don’t know how to even get close to him. I just want to give up.”

Heehyeon lapses into silence, and a small voice in the back of your mind tells you she’s biting her tongue. She knows you won’t give up, but you can see she wants to support this decision. A part of you resents that, but in this state, you can’t help but feel like she would be right. Not trying would be a lot easier than trying.

“This just… means that you have to go down a different route. Try another less aggressive, less crazy way.”

“Everyone there must have thought I was crazy,” you groan. When she chooses not to say anything, she only confirms it. “What are they saying? Now, in the comments — what are they saying about me?”

“Nothing out of what would be ordinary.” She tries to spare you, her hand already pressed hard on her laptop, but you manage to move it away from her and turn it to face you instead. For a moment, Heehyeon looks like she wants to stand up and leave you in case you throw a fit, but she remembers she owns half the place, and the result of this is her half-standing before stopping and sitting back down again; she knots her fingers together nervously as you skim down the page she has open. The text isn’t surprising, but it’s not like the knowledge of that soothes your tattered spirit anyway.

NCT’S Mark ATTACKED BY SASAENG FAN

After NCT’s M! Countdown pre-recording today, Mark of NCT experienced a distressing event. As the idol group was about to leave CJ E&M Ent. Building, an unknown sasaeng fan broke through security and tried to abduct him. Area management was quick to apprehend her, and she has been taken to the appropriate authorities. Staff members quickly confirmed with us that Mark is safe and uninjured. His members are currently with him.

NCT will appear on M! Countdown for their special comeback stage tonight at 6PM to perform their newest title track, Favorite (Vampire).

TOP COMMENTS

[+1113, - 17] Ah seriously… it’s 2021 and sasaengs are still like this? Stop wasting your time on your oppas like this and study for your exams… stupid.

[+743, -122] NCT is really this popular. While I don’t condone any sasaeng activity, you can’t deny this is the result of being this famous…

[+556, -98] I was there when this happened. Really, it was crazy. She really looked like she was going to rip his arm off. I thought for sure he would die. So embarrassing…

[+89, -77] Desperate f***s. Haha. Does she really think Mark will fall in love with her like that? Ah,, really. It’s kind of funny. Dumb b****.

[+179, -2] The security should really be tighter. ㅠㅠ Mark-ah, don’t be discouraged!

Your insides have disappeared; there’s this dry hollowness in your stomach that allows you to push the laptop away without a word. Your pizza is still on your plate, but the crust is stale now and the most prominent topping on it is your tears. It’s a good thing that you’re not that hungry anymore.

“They… can’t be expected to understand,” Heehyeon tries carefully. You don’t say anything in response because you know she’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel much better. It also doesn’t make you feel much worse because, really, how much further down can your heart go? “I know you don’t really want to hear this right now, but I think it would be better if you just stayed low.”

“I know that.”

“Okay. I’m just — you know. I’m just saying.” You can tell she’s run out of comfort to offer; she’s no longer sure what to expect from you now that you’ve hit the top three on the checklist of what she had prepared for, which was (1) cry, (2) hate yourself, and (3) look at netizen comments that never promised anything good. You know that she’s willing to play it by ear and try to help, but you’re too tired. You had been up at the crack of dawn for virtually nothing, and you just wanted to crawl in the dark hole you called a room, sleep for ten years, and eventually die.

Except even that wouldn’t be an escape for you. Not really. Just another fresh start into a harder life.

When you stand, Heehyeon does too, and she holds out her hands carefully like she’s worried you’re going to keel over. You both know she doesn’t have the strength to actually carry you, though, so you bear with the sluggish, lead-like feeling your limbs seem to be constrained by and trudge into your room.

“I’ll turn up the air conditioning,” she says, breaking the silence. “I know you don’t like getting sticky when you sleep.”

You open your mouth, but nothing but a pitiful sound comes out. She waves it away, knowing what you mean. You’re thankful she’s this sensible at the best of times.

“For what it’s worth, __________, I—” she checks your expression again, just in case, before she continues. “I’m sorry this happened to you. But if there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you’ve never failed to make it work. I believe in you, even if you don’t really believe in yourself right now.”

Another sad noise escapes you, and Heehyeon nods in understanding, giving your arm a little squeeze before leaving to tamper with the temperature controls.

You should have noticed how dark the sky was today.

You should have, but you don’t because you have too much on your mind today — too many things to do. The main street is a fifteen minute walk from your house, and you have to be home by noon. There’s simply no time to take note of the weather.

You have to be more careful of where you step these days. The town had never fully recovered from the quake of 62, and the cracks in the pavement had deepened when the rainy season had started up; shallow, murky puddles now pepper the road, and you weave around them while trying to avoid any human collisions.

Everyone around you is wearing thicker, heavier clothes now. The turn of the season is near. It’s probably why the sun isn’t beating down on you, even if it’s close to its high. You tuck your limbs closer in as you cross the road, watching your feet to ensure you don’t slip on the rocks when you hop on them. There’s about a ten-inch interval between each one, and you have to make sure you land on just the right spot where your foot can fit. One misstep means a sandal drenched in sewage.

For some reason, Via dell’Abbondanza isn’t as crowded when you arrive there. For a main street, it’s a little too quiet. You can hear the harmony of sighs coming from the different stalls lined up on either side of the road. Not much good business today, then, you think.

You make a point to jingle your relatively small coin purse as you approach one stall. A flurry of limbs reveals the merchant’s son just standing up, trying his best to look attentive. He’s about your age. You’ve only seen him a few times as a child, and even fewer times as you grew up; when you left the merchant’s side of town to get married, you’d forgotten him, along with every other boy and girl that lived in that area. You’re sure you know his name, but you can’t quite place it; you know his father more, as he’s usually who greets you with fresh produce every week.

You express your mild surprise at seeing him by saying, “You’re father’s not well today?”

“Gout’s acting up again,” he answers. The lives of the somewhat rich weren’t always fabulous, you guessed, but you had never stayed long enough to really find out. “It’s just me today. What can I get you?”

“I’ve got a list.” Your eyes sweep over the goods, spread out before you, and you absently hand it over along with the sack. Tanned hands move swiftly, making sure to fit all the produce your tiny pouch can handle. “Do you have anything sweet?”

“I’ve got some fresh apples,” he offers, hand hovering over a bright red pile of fruit.

“Maybe something a little more special.”

He pauses for a moment before abandoning your sack, only half-filled with produce, to go to the back of the stall. Two minutes of rummaging results in him extracting a tiny bag from a box and spilling its contents onto his palm. Even in the grim light, they shine like gold pieces — small, round things rolling around in his hand. You lean forward to take a closer look.

“What are they?”

“Honey drops. Some men from India came with them last week. They say the Greeks love it.” His fingers curl in a little. “What do you need something special for?”

“It’s for my son. We’re celebrating his birthday today.”

The merchant’s son doesn’t say anything anymore; he turns his palm sideways and lets the honey drops fall into your pack. You stand in silence as he finishes off your list, tying the sack neatly up with the rope again. When you’re digging around for the money, though, he speaks.

“You were very young when you got married.” It’s not what you’d have expected, but you nod in response all the same. “Your father… he was upset. My father said he didn’t see your father for at least a month here. He let your brother manage the goods.”

“He was more upset that he didn’t get the dowry he was expecting out of me,” you say, tone rather clipped.

“So, it’s true, then? You ran away with a farmer. That’s what people say.”

“People still talk about it?” You frown. “It’s been years. I love him. I don’t regret it.”

“I never said — I’m sorry if you felt like I was criticizing. I’m not. I just didn’t—” he sighs. “I just think it must be nice.”

“To be gossiped about?”

“No. To marry for love.”

A dull silence follows, and you’re not sure how to react to his words. Instead, you ask, “How much?”

“Just twenty denarii.”

“And the honey drops?”

“You just take them,” he shakes his head. “For your son. Think of it as a gift for him.”

You offer him a small smile before counting out the silver pieces carefully. He cups his palm under your hand, skin brushing briefly against yours as you tip the money to him. Something like electricity runs up your arm and hits the back of your neck, and you both draw back sharply, looking sheepish.

“Thank you. Give your father my best,” you say, rubbing your neck.

“I will. Have a good day.”

Even though it’s noon when you get back, you can’t find the sun; the wind that blows against the back of your neck is hot and dry, though. Your son’s face is flushed when he runs to the door to meet you, but at least he doesn’t look uncomfortable; his eyes are wide with excitement. At the age of three — well, four today — he’s got too much energy trapped inside his tiny form, and he constantly tries to release it by running the perimeter of your tiny home. As you sit at the table, he resumes his crusade, sometimes standing on his tiptoes by the window and yelling “Domitian is our savior!” You’ve never figured out where he’d learned that, but you know it always tires him out a little faster, so you just let him be.

Around what feels like his hundredth time around the house, he sticks his head out of the window again. Instead of screaming the same praise for the emperor, he ends up saying, “Papa’s home!” Your head snaps up, and, sure enough, there’s a playful little knock on the door not a minute later. Your son almost trips over his chubby legs as he goes to open the door, revealing your husband, sun-kissed skin covered in a sheen of sweat and a wide grin across his face. More noise ensues as your son lets out a happy squeal at being swept up in his father’s arms and carried over to the table, limbs flailing fruitlessly. His arm collides with the side of your face gently when your husband leans down to press his lips to your forehead, and you let out a surprised laugh at the contact.

“I didn’t think they’d really let you come home early,” you say as your husband sets your squirming son down on a stool before taking his own seat. He starts unpacking the rest of the produce you’d left inside the sack.

“I said I couldn’t miss this special occasion,” he chuckles. “Besides, it looked like it was going to rain, anyway. What’s this?”

He rolls a honey drop between his calloused fingers. Your son stops making a fuss on his own and turns his attention to the sweet, eyes widening.

“Gold?” He whispers. Your husband bursts out laughing.

“Son, if we ever had this much gold, I could give your mother the life she truly deserved.”

“Stop it,” you smile, shaking your head. “You two are all I could ever ask for. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Frankly, I think that’s me, but let’s agree to disagree.” He flashes you another grin you can’t help but mirror. Your son reaches over and tries to grab the drop when you’re not watching, but your husband is smart enough to hide it in a fist and put it back in the sack where it can’t be reached. “Let’s save that for later. Should we pray first?”

The meal is filled with small talk. You tell your husband about the merchant’s gout. He tells you about one of the men who work with him on the field who had been caught and punished for stealing a bit of barley. You make him promise never to do that, and he pretends to be hurt by your lack of faith in him before making the promise, coupled with a kiss to your palm. Your son finishes his food quickly and goes to the window to yell one more time before asking the both of you if the emperor had greeted him a happy birthday. You assure him of it.

The food and the running around (at least, in your child’s case) quickly makes you sleepy, but your son insists that you both sing him a birthday song before you take him in for a nap. You don’t have that gift, so you let your husband lead, opting to clap along instead. Two minutes later, your son is yawning so widely you can see the back of his throat, and you pick him up to bring him to bed.

“What about the gold drops?” He asks sleepily.

“They’ll still be there when you wake up,” you promise. He concedes and lets you cart him off.

You’d only just seen your son off to sleep when you feel it — the first wave of something. It��s mild at first, but it’s quickly followed by a second, longer one. You stumble out of the room to find that your husband is also standing up, brow furrowed.

“An earthquake?” You ask.

“It could be,” he mutters. “But it—“

The third one is accompanied by a terrifying sound; it’s a deep rumble that passes through the earth under your feet and resonates in your chest. Instinctively, you run forward, and your husband wraps you in his arms. You both look out the window.

No one is on the street now, but you can see a few heads also peeking out of their windows. All their eyes seem to follow the same line, and you quickly direct your own gaze to what they’re so focused on. When you see it, you let out a weak gasp. Your husband’s hold on you grows tighter.

The thick outline of the volcano is different today; more than just its normal conical shape, you see a thick cloud of thick, gray smoke rising up from its tip. The cloud is moving fast — too fast to be something you could shrug off. Your husband seems to think the same thing, because he lets go of you quickly but keeps a hold on your arm, towing you towards the room where your son rested.

He can barely get out the words “we have to leave” before he’s interrupted by the sound of an explosion. You don’t see it, but you feel it instantly; the air grows alarmingly hotter, almost burning your skin. A new smell enters the hot wind; it’s sharp and unpleasant, sticking to the back of your throat.

There’s another tell-tale rumble in the floor, and your son screams in confusion as he sits up in bed. You land by his side, holding him close to you. You say it’s fine, but it’s not.

Another explosion. It’s much louder this time, maybe because people are screaming outside. You’re screaming too, face pressed into your son’s hair. It’s much too hot now. Too hot, like the air is setting you aflame completely.

The last two things you feel are your son’s tears dripping onto your knee and your husband’s form pressed firmly against you. It’s his body that catches most of the impact when the last explosion sounds off and you’re completely engulfed in ash.

When you come back into consciousness, you notice that your shirt is sticking to your back. Despite Heehyeon turning down the temperature, you’d still sweat through the nightmare. She’d been kind enough to leave you a glass of water by your bedside. You throw her a silent thank you as you throw your head back and gulp it down. You drink almost desperately, as if you’re trying to wash the last of the ashes out of your throat.

You ask your boss if you can leave work early when Heehyeon texts you that you have an “urgent package” a few days later. You’re pretty sure it’s for the fansign event. She lets you take the rest of the day off, but she can’t hide her exasperation.

“NCT models for Nature Republic,” she says pointedly. “You get to see them all day.”

“It’s not the same thing as seeing them in person,” you defend yourself.

“You go to a fan sign to see how pretty they are. What’s the difference?”

You feel like telling her that the difference is that in a fan sign, the love of your life is a real, three-dimensional person you can talk to and not a life-sized standee at the front of the shop, but you don’t really want to argue. She had just given you the day off, anyway.

“Just remember you’re working double shifts this Monday.” She says this like it’s a punishment, even though weekdays mean later opening times and less customers. “Sejeong has already covered for you twice this week. It’s a good thing she’s okay that you’re such a big NCT fan.”

There are two big boxes by your door when you get home, your face still flushed from running up the stairs; one has already been ripped open, and a big chunk of what was inside has already been extracted. You can hear the sound of ripping plastic and the regular sigh coming from the kitchen, and you enter it to find your roommate with a cutter in her hand and at least twenty NCT albums spread out across the table. She’s in the process of opening one of them, peeling off the cling wrap and shaking out the papers inside.

“You know you don’t even have to open them, right?” You say slowly. “They don’t stick the ticket inside. They do the draws on the websites, so all you need is the receipt.”

“I know; you told me that,” Heehyeon leans back, tossing the free Genie streaming pass to the side. “I’m looking at the photocards.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“They’re all the same. You shouldn’t have bought it in bulk.”

“I had to,” you frown. “They say it’s better to get a whole range of entries instead of sparse numbers.”

“Well, you also got a whole range of Kim Doyoung photo cards.” To prove her point, she tosses a photo card in your direction. “Oh, and one Taeil card. So far.”

“No Mark?”

“No; it’s what I’ve been looking for.” You think she’s acting really considerate and touching for you until she says, “They’re the ones that make the most money often. Him and Jaehyun”

“You can’t sell my photocards.”

“Why not? You have at least ten Doyoungs right now. What are you going to do with them; make a Kim Doyoung photocard fort?”

You ignore her, taking an album instead and peeling off the wrapping. You leaf through the first few pages, but it’s the Chinese version, and you can’t read it, so you just skip to where all the extra goods have been stuck. When you turn the photo card over, you sigh. It’s just Jaehyun.

You don’t even get through the entire stack that Heehyeon has laid out on the kitchen table before you give up. Obviously, the photo cards aren’t urgent, so you just let her collect them with the Genie passes and move on to the boxes again. You nearly break a nail trying to rip open the other box, but it’s worth it; you manage to get your hands on the receipt, wedged between two albums, and the list of lottery entries for the fansign has been stapled to it.

Heehyeon has given up too, and she stands by the doorway as you scan the numbers. “So how many entries do you get?”

“Depends on how many albums you buy.”

“Well, how many albums did you buy?”

“A hundred and fifty,” you respond, not batting an eyelash.

“You crazy bitch,” she sighs heavily. “We could be living in a better apartment if you hadn’t thrown all your money at NCT.”

“At Mark,” you correct her. You may be a crazy bitch, but you’re also pretty loyal. “Our apartment is great now, anyway.”

“So if you do get a fan sign pass, what’s the plan?”

It sounds like a test or something, like there’s only one right answer to the question. There really is only one right answer, and you let her hear it. “The plan is not to attack anyone.”

“Good. I approve of this plan. But I’d sleep better knowing that I could actually make sure you stuck to it.” Her expression says what she doesn’t verbalize. Unlike last time.

“I’d be lucky to get one fan sign pass, let alone two.”

“Maybe you should let me take the one fan sign pass instead. I’ll give Mark your love.”

You make a motion to throw an album at her, but she doesn’t budge, knowing fully well that you won’t attack her with anything that expensive. She just sticks out her tongue in reply.

The announcement comes up later than expected; Heehyeon’s laptop is out on the kitchen table again after a quick argument about who should clean up the albums (apparently, since they’re yours, you are also responsible in some way; you’d played rock, paper, scissors with her, and had promptly lost). You put up a SuaSua page that autorefreshes the Synnara website while you eat dinner. Heehyeon tells you about how someone at her office had stuck a ripped bag of popcorn into the pantry’s microwave and had caused the butter to explode and leak out of the appliance, leading to the entire floor smelling like burnt popcorn. You ask her if that “someone” was her, and she starts talking about how the weather today was unusually hot.

Synarra’s website crashes for a good ten minutes, showing only a white page with a proxy error, and you realize they must be adding the announcement already. You grab the laptop and yank it towards you while Heehyeon inhales the rest of her rice quickly before moving her chair closer to yours and sticking her head closer to the monitor. A chipped gray nail drags down the screen, leaving a long fingerprint streak, and she says the numbers out loud as you check the list.

“98?”

“No.”

“121?”

“Nope.”

“How about 145?”

She loses almost all of her saliva trying to carefully read out the numbers, but there’s such a short list drawn from a slew of album sales that you’re slowly losing hope. Only about a hundred people will be able to enter the fan sign. You glance back at the boxes by the door, wondering if they’re enough. You’d thought so at first — 150 albums were a lot — but now you’re unsure. Heehyeon says something you don’t catch.

“What?” You ask dumbly.

“I said, do you have 322?”

“Oh-“ You check the first page of the list. Nothing. You’re holding your breath when you flip the page, your eyes more carefully counting the numbers. 317. 318. 319. God, please don’t let it stop there. 320. 321. “Yes, I—”

The paper is snatched out from your grasp before you can complete your poor word choice. Heehyeon’s jaw falls steadily lower as she counts the same numbers and arrives at the magic one.

“You crazy bitch,” she says for the second time today, but it’s less accusing now; in fact, it’s more of an awed whisper. “It actually worked.”

“You’re sure it says 322?”

You both take turns checking, but there’s no denying it. Your number is there. You’re going to the fan sign.

“This is crazy,” Heehyeon murmurs, and she sounds like she really thinks it’s the single most astonishing thing she’s ever seen in all of her lives. “I’d already written out my comforting in-case-you-didn’t-win speech.”

You don’t say anything in response; your mind is much too far away, focused on a week from now, on a day you would see Mark again. It wouldn’t be like M! Countdown. You’d be calmer. You’d be able to explain yourself. Maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to set things right. It’s a gamble, facing him again, but at this point, you feel like fate is finally starting to take your side, and you’re too high from running with it to think about all the cracks in the road.

Heehyeon takes you to CGV Apgujeong on the Saturday of the fansign a week later. There are a number of fans on the orange subway to Apgujeong station, and you panic momentarily in the fear that some of them might recognize you as That Sasaeng from Hell, but they don’t even pay attention; they’re too busy talking to each other, flipping through their albums and showing each other which gifts they want to give to the members. One of them has a goodie basket, and you tilt your head to read the card attached to it.

Mark oppa, please eat these snacks and gain some strength. Czennies are always with you!

It hits you again that the fan demographic for this group isn’t exactly the work a full time job kind, so they have to call him oppa. When you point this out to Heehyeon, all she does is give you a patronizing look and ask if you’re just jealous that you’re not the only one who can lovingly call him that. You ignore her for the rest of the train ride until she tries to make it up to you by dragging you into a coffee shop and buying you a churro.

Even though there are only 100 winners, the crowd at the building is at least five times larger. It’s M! Countdown all over again with the line, except only a select few can really go inside, and the others are just hanging around with their cameras to see if they’ll be able to get a glimpse of NCT. No one bothers you, and you start to realize that maybe less people had seen you in full during The Incident; maybe at that time, you had just looked like a very aggressive blur of pink. It also helps that Heehyeon is chatting to you loudly while dipping and re-dipping her churro into her chocolate so that you can keep your mind off of your building anxiety.

Of course, that dam breaks the moment security says only people with the winning albums can go through the door. Instinctively, you cling onto Heehyeon, and you realize you actually do want her in there with you. She’s the one that has to extract herself from your hold.

“Go on, _____________.”

“I’m terrified,” you admit, fiddling with the sticker on the album that says 322.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just remember what we talked about.” She leans in closer to whisper. “Keep your cool. Explain yourself. Say sorry for the other day, and give him the thing.”

You make a face. Right. The thing. While fans had brought their little dolls and gift baskets and toys, you had a letter — a stupid, handwritten letter that you tried to explain yourself with in the vaguest way possible (to avoid looking even more like a lunatic than you probably already do) while also begging for forgiveness for your attitude. You aren’t very good with words, so Heehyeon had stood behind you coaching you through what to say. All in all, the letter’s a mess, but at least you’re not going in empty-handed.

The elevator’s the only way to the theater where the fan sign is going to be held, so they let you in by batches. When it’s your turn, you get stuck between the wall and another fan the wrong way, the handle bar of the elevator digging into your stomach. You spend what feels like ten whole minutes like two uncomfortable inches away from Mark’s huge face on the poster that runs along the three walls of the elevator before you arrive at the fifth floor of the building and everyone trickles out of the cramped space. At this point, you’re absolutely nauseated, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the whole handle-punching-you thing in the elevator, or if it’s because you’re growing more and more nervous at the prospect of seeing Mark again.

The auditorium is full when you’re ushered to your seat, and you get to stay near the back, which is elevated so that you can see everything, albeit from a distance. Three long tables have been stuck together on the little stage they have set up in front of the theater screen curtains, and there are nine chairs set up in a row behind them. The sea of fans in front of you houses a good number of pink dots, and you remember what those Jaehyun fans at the M! Countdown pre-recording had said about how you could pick out a Mark fan by the color of their shirt. You’re not one of them this time, though; Heehyeon had told you not to draw any kind of attention to yourself, and a violently fuschia shirt was the antithesis to that advice. You content yourself with miserably counting how many people are wearing pink.

You’re in the 20 or so range when a loud cheer erupts from the crowd, and you start; you had been so busy counting that you hadn’t noticed that the staff and security had taken their place around the stage, soon followed by the NCT members themselves. They enter in a line, waving at the crowd enthusiastically. Johnny, who is leading the line and takes the farthest seat from the starting point, is throwing out a flurry of finger hearts that the crowd goes wild over. When they’re at their places, they do their greetings before taking their seats, and the fans quiet down to listen to Mark, who is starting off the opening ment and talking about how he’s really happy about this comeback.

You lean forward in your seat, your eyes trained on only him. Mark looks different today from when you last saw (some would say attacked) him. Today, there are no traces of make-up on his face, no hair products in place. His skin looks dewy and bright, and he’s wearing glasses, perched just on the edge of his nose. They move when he scrunches his nose as he laughs, and he has to push them back to keep them from falling when he leans forward to look at the other members down the line. The white shirt he has on is a little too big for him, but it looks comfortable. Seeing him on stage for a performance is different, you realize. He looks so… at home like this. So normal. So happy.

It makes your heart ache even more.

There’s nothing to do but wait for your turn, and it’s a long time until then. The process goes on a per-row basis to avoid a messy and overcrowded stage, and you watch as fans enter the line one after another, stopping to chat with each member. Some of them have obviously done this before — at least, enough times to be comfortably chatting and laughing with members who remember them. Others are a little more starstruck, and they come off the stage crying, their tears spilling over on their albums — more specifically, Johnny’s face, since they usually have the books open to his photo.

The more people that go up, the more unsure you are of this whole scenario. You wish you could be the kind of fan that they would remember fondly, but most of the members hadn’t even seen you properly when you’d run up to Mark. Probably the only person that would remember you apart from him would be Doyoung, and your only interaction with him had been him trying to pry you off his friend. Chances are, you’re going to end up like the other kind of fan that just broke down during the course of the fan sign, but maybe not for the same reasons.

When the row in front of you is led to the stage, you start feeling sick. You think it’s because you’ve been sitting too long, but, deep down, you know it’s you fears eating away at your insides, and this is only confirmed when you’re advised to stand, and you actually raise a hand to your mouth, pressing two fingers against your lips tightly just in case your churro decided to make a reappearance.

The walk to the stage is horrendously long, and even though you know the other fans are too busy leafing through their signed albums, you feel like you’re under scrutiny. The staff make sure you go up one by one to avoid some kind of traffic jam, and when it’s your turn, you feel your knees go weak. You’re not sure what you look like, but you can’t look that great. The staff at the front of the line asks you to hand over your album and follow the other fans, who’ve had to kneel in front of the idols. You’re inwardly thankful, because there’s almost no strength left in your calves.

The first member in line is Taeil, and he greets you quietly and without fuss. The staff member hands him your album, and he asks for your name. You barely manage to choke it out, and it’s embarrassing when he has to ask for it again. It’s worse with Yuta, who’s so intimidatingly attractive that you actually feel the need to scoot backwards onto your knees. He even asks you to spell out your name because your voice has gone too small.

“You seem so nervous,” he laughs. “Is this your first fan sign?”

“Um,” you answer unintelligibly. “Sorry?”

“No, no. I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing. But don’t be nervous in front of us. We like seeing our fans happy.”

“Yes. I’m… happy.”

He spares you an amused glance as he’s finishing up his signature. You don’t know what’s so funny, unless you look paper-white and that somehow sets his funny bone off. Luckily, Taeyong isn’t the excessively talkative type — at least, not the kind that makes you feel like you’re under a lamplight in an interrogation room — and the only thing Haechan asks you is if he should call you “noona,” to which you also smartly reply with “uh.” You can’t remember when his birthday is; all you can think about is trying to keep consciousness. He just writes “noona” next to your name, anyway.

When you get to Jaehyun, you truly feel like you’re going to throw up. Mark is right beside him, talking to another fan animatedly. You hear him say something about ghost pepper noodles. He can’t take spicy food, you remember. Your head is light, and the room is spinning, and is that a halo around Mark’s head?

“You must like Mark, huh?”

When you look back at Jaehyun, it looks like a bright light is shining behind his head as well. He only spares you a quick glance, his entire body leaned forward to sign your album carefully. You lick your lips, unsurprised to find them bone dry.

“I — sorry,” you say quietly, and he laughs easily, signing across his torso in the picture. You briefly consider that these people have a weird sense of humor.

“No; it’s fine. Mark has so many fans, doesn’t he? It’s because he’s really talented and humble.”

“You’re… talented and humble too,” you mutter carefully. He chuckles again.

“Thank you. What did you say your name was again?”

“______________.”

He scrawls it messily above his signature before tilting his head back to look at the overall effect of his handwriting vandalizing his own photo. The last stroke of your name just touches his forehead in the picture. “_____________, I hope you continue to love and support Mark and NCT, then.”

Jaehyun pushes your album to the side towards Mark, but your hands are already outstretched to receive it. There’s this long, awkward pause where you’re just cupping thin air and he’s just staring at your hands, and you want to apologize again, except you’re not sure what to apologize for. He just bursts out laughing again, and takes your hand in his to shake it so you don’t look foolish. There must be a lot of static in the air, because the moment your palms make contact, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if you’ve been weakly electrocuted.

He must feel it too because he draws back quickly, and his eyes, previously crinkled with laughter, are now wide and alert. On you. Your stomach drops as an unmistakable expression of recognition reforms his features. His jaw drops.

“Hold on—“

You’re screwed. He must recognize you from The Incident. You open your mouth, but you don’t even know what to say, and before you even have a chance to form a word, the girl beside you inches closer to kneel in front of Jaehyun; the staff behind him is motioning for you to move faster. All you can do is shoot him one last pleading look before you move in front of Mark, and he’s still staring at you, a little dumbfounded, as you side-crawl further away.

Mark is talking to Doyoung, unaware of the hold-up you’ve caused. They’re sharing a joke, and Mark’s laughter rings in your ears. You actually feel yourself drowning out all the noise around you and focusing on the sound of it. All you can hear is that laugh, coupled by the erratic beat of your heart that feels like it’s about to rip through your chest.

It happens again — that slow-motion, tunnel vision thing you’d felt right before you’d rushed towards him last week. You think it’s nerves at first, but you quickly realize it’s your body warning you of an impending disaster.

He turns to face you, his eyes a little glassy and unfocused from laughing. He doesn’t recognize you for a moment, slim fingers already reaching out for your album and uncapping his pen. It’s only for a split second, really, but you lock eyes in that small span of time. The realization seeps through his gaze as his memory feeds him the information you fear the most.

Mark drops his pen at the same time that he pushes his chair back; the movement is so sharp and violent that the table he’s sharing with Doyoung and Johnny scrapes forward, hitting your chest — not too hard, but enough to knock a little wind out of you. The members look up in alarm at the noise, and it’s only aggravated by Mark’s loud voice hitting all four corners of the auditorium.

“It’s you—!”

Doyoung is the second to recognize you, and he stands up, looking still disoriented but mostly angry, and he jabs his index finger in your direction as if he wants everyone to know you’re the one Mark is referring to.

You don’t know what to do; you put your hands forward, but this just seems to cause an even larger riot. Staff are by your side in a second, and this burly guy grabs you by the elbow and hoists you up. A vague memory of him as the same guy who’d grabbed Mark after the pre-recording pings in the back of your mind, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You go up without resistance, but your gaze is still fixed on Mark, who is now just staring back at you in alarm, half his body hidden behind another security guard who’s shielding him, as if he thinks you’re just going to propel yourself forward and strangle the life out of someone.

Everyone at the table is standing now; even the fans are on their feet, looking livid. Suddenly, everything in your field of vision swims, and you feel the tears spilling over your cheeks, leaving hot, wet streaks of make-up that can’t look attractive.

“Mark,” your voice comes out weakly. “Mark, please. Please — just listen—”

Even if he were to really listen, you don’t have time; you’re already being dragged away by the staff, and they take you through the fire exit to avoid a bigger scene. This entire time, you’re looking back at the table, and you’re trying to call out Mark’s name, but he’s refusing to look your way now, shakily taking his seat as the staff realigns the tables. The only time you stop yelling is when the fire exit’s door slams shut.

It doesn’t take long for you to sober down, and you try telling the staff you weren’t planning on doing anything weird, but they aren’t taking any chances. Two big guys keep your arms practically pinned to your sides as they escort you to the first floor, where building security had called up the police again. You at least feel a little lucky that they don’t parade you out up front where everyone can see you.

You desperately want to call Heehyeon, but they’ve confiscated your phone and your wallet, so you just sit in the back of the police car, trying not to scream. You hadn’t even done anything, but he’d panicked anyway. You’d already spent your time regretting The Incident, but this, by far, was its worse effect. If you ever showed up in front of him again, you’d probably be given a real restraining order.

No one talks to you at the police station; they’re so busy trying to deal with other cases of misdemeanor here and there that they actually just let you sit by the door for twenty minutes. You could leave, but you don’t; you’re not taking any more chances right now. Eventually, you’re led into a temporary holding cell next to a shoplifter, and you’re suddenly glad they’ve confiscated your valuables.

It’s quiet, save for the footsteps of the shoplifter that’s pacing agitatedly. She keeps forgetting she doesn’t have a watch and actually checks her bare wrist every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone. You let out a long sigh and press your back against the wall for a second before you realize you don’t know what’s been near it, and you shoot up straight again, your features morphing to express disgust. Your cellmate snickers.

Heehyeon must know something’s wrong already. By now, everyone’s left the auditorium, and it won’t take a public service announcement for her to catch wind of something bad happening in the fan sign. She’d have to ask security about you, then wait for a cab to get to the police station. If she’s as smart as you think she is, she should be outside trying to bail you out of your overnight stay.

Your spirit lifts for the first time since the fan sign as you see the officer that apprehended you come back into the holding areas. He stops in front of your cell, gesturing for you come forward before getting the keys to unlock the cell.

“You’re letting me go?” You confirm, watching him struggle with the keys.

“Your friend paid your bail,” he drawls out the word friend, like he’s disgusted by the idea that Heehyeon is paying for your release. “He’s signing the papers outside.”

He?

You’re nothing short of confused when you exit the holding area, and your eyes immediately scan the police station for Heehyeon. There’s no sign of her though.

The only person you recognize is NCT’s Jaehyun, standing taller than almost everyone in the room, grinning and gesturing for you to come over.

92 notes · View notes

queer-ragnelle · 4 months

Note

I am so sorry if you have answered this before, I was just wondering if you knew of a good way to get into Arthurian literature? Like… what to read first and what definitely not to read first?

Everything I can find when I search for a good list or order talks about modern retellings, but I am not sure how to get into the older ones. They are a bit hard to approach, so I am worrying that I may be going about it wrong.

I’ve just been slowly collecting different tellings from old book stores over the years, but there is so much that I am not sure where to begin..

hi there! no need to apologize, it's all very overwhelming and confusing. i've answered this question before, but have since added more literature, so i'll go in depth. :^) determining where to start really depends on what you're looking to get out of your reading experience.

lots of people recommend le morte d'arthur by sir thomas malory for an overall understanding of the basic premise without having to read the long and scary vulgate cycle. but as i said in this ask, it's not my favorite text, as it truncates the story so much it can cause confusion. yet it's the "shortest" (ie 1,000 pages lol) recounting of events from arthur's conception through his death, as well as incorporating the often-excluded story from the prose tristan, and adding character-defining elements we've all come to accept as part of the "canon" such as gareth beaumains's humble beginnings as a kitchen boy. (in the vulgate, his story is largely the same as the elder bros he tags along with. in fact, @lefresne and i discovered each of us had a transcription/translation of the vulgate which referenced two different manuscripts of the same story, but had swapped the names guerrehet/gaheriet [gareth/gaheris] and confused the hell out of us bc we had varied accounts of the same scene and were both right! scribes mistake? point is there's not a substantial differentiation between them until the post vulgate and le morte d'arthur, so reading that will give you needed context/depth!)

on the other hand, le morte d'arthur doesn't include some even later additions to the "canon" that are now famous and get incorporated into many retellings, such as sir gawain and the green knight and the wedding of sir gawain and dame ragnelle. (are these a deal breaker to comprehend a retelling? not necessarily. but despite gawain's track record with many ladies, if an author writes in a wife for him, on god, they always choose ragnelle. so that poem is a must<3)

so it's really your own judgment call! no matter what, you'll likely need to read more than one book for fuller context to understand the common "fandom" talking points and frequently adapted stories. in any case, i've just made an FAQ where you can go and figure out what stories will suit your needs. i hope this helps. have a nice day!

#arthurian legend #arthuriana #arthurian legends #arthurian mythology #reading recommendations #reading reccs #ask #anonymous

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merlwybs-wife · 7 months

Text

LFRP: Mjara Phovent (Marsnek Miret)

Basic Stuff —

Name: Mjara Phovent (Marsnek Miret)

Age: 58

Birthday: November 17th // 17th sun of the 6th astral moon

Race: Viera -> Veena

Gender: Genderqueer (he/they)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship Status: Widowed

Carrd Link

Physical Appearance —

Hair: Purple, layered with fringe; slightly asymmetrical, swooped to one side.

Eyes: Gold

Height: 5′10″

Build: Lissome; Svelte

Distinguishing Marks: Strikingly feminine figure; wider-set hips, narrow shoulders.

Personal —

Hobbies: Fashion, Sewing, Embroidery, Dancing

Languages: Common/Eorzean

Residence: Ishgard

Birthplace: ??

Religion: Why do you ask? He worships Halone, of course. Like any proper Ishgardian. Halone be praised.

Patron Deity: Rhalgr

Fears: “I am afforded my secrets, dear.”

Tropes: femme fatale, black widow, caged bird

Relationships —

Children: He couldn't even keep a plant alive, let alone a child.

Parents: Status unknown.

Siblings: Older brother- status unknown.

Other Relatives: None he is aware of.

Pets: None. If he could manage it, he'd love a bird-- but settles for visiting a large aviary in a botanical garden.

Traits —

Extroverted / In Between/ Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm/ In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

vivacious. charming. enigmatic. Mjara prides himself on his artistry and intellect, a man of entertainment and hedonism. He wields his wit like a dagger, and isn't afraid to twist salt into any wound he deems proper to leave.

Hooks —

Black Widow: Though there is no substantial evidence to prove the true nature of the late viscount Etienne Phovent's death, it is an unquestionable "fact" within Ishgard that Mjara had a heavy-handed role in the matter.

Jewel of the Crown: Those who might have a finger on the pulse of the underbelly of Ishgard might have heard the Viera's name floated around amongst a particular criminal syndicate, The Crown. again, it seems any amount of proof is lost to the wind.

Burlesque Beauty: Though it would hardly be seen as an infamous act outside of Ishgard, many know Mjara's preferred moniker, Marsnek Miret, of which he dons for his touring, avant-garde burlesque performances outside of Ishgard. he's known to give a private show for interested parties, including some of his peerage-- whatever truly transpires there is something of scandal.

Something Wicked. Those who might be any sensitive to aether would perhaps realize something about Mjara is... not quite right. it's subtle, make no mistake, but undoubtedly curious to those who catch it. (note that this does not apply to void-affiliated characters. i will privately disclose what his aether reads as to such players)

Seeking —

Ishgardian nobles who may have known Mjara prior to his husband's passing.

Ishgardian nobles who would enjoy some criminal ties, such as information brokering. (Or would otherwise rather have a more "pleasant" and "less suspicious" liaison between themselves and a criminal syndicate)

Ishgardian criminals, preferably those who might be interested in playing a role in The Crown.

Those who might be willing to form a connection with him outside of Ishgard, primarily Ul'dah.

NOT SEEKING a romantic relationship, but would be fine with a friends with benefits type thing.

General OOC —

I’m Scully, a 30 year old AFAB agender individual (she/they) who has been writing for… idk 18 years or so.

Please only inquire about RP if you are 21+

Themes I enjoy: occult, horror, drama, romance, criminal, dark, slice of life, & more

I’m in PST, generally available from 9am/10am - 6pm, after which I get too tired to start RP in-game.

Due to my health, I prefer discord RP atm.

My DMs are open! No need to ask.

Reblogs/Boosts appreciated!

#marsnek #mjara #crystal rp #mateus rp #ffxiv rp

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shewrites444 · 1 year

Text

brother's best friend [xavier plympton x reader smut]

inspired from ahs 1984. written all by me, enjoy ^_^

word count - 3.4k

[summary: the reader and xavier have had some unaddressed sexual tension that's been going on for months now, but it's all unleashed when chet, her older brother, invites the gang over for a sleepover.]

[warnings: only thing i can say is small age gap and risky sex in terms of exactly what the title says. nothing in particular, just smut.]

the bedroom was dimly lit by a pink-tinted lamp, half the bedsheets sprawled across the floor and the other half caught on the ends of the firm mattress. xavier plympton yawned, reaching across the sleeping, hungover girl to grab his watch and checking the time, wondering when he'd have to fully wake up for his aerobics class at 7.

5:58 am. great, just in time.

he sighed lightly, pulling himself out of the bed and walking into the apartment bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom, grabbing his toothbrush and lightly running the faucet.

the same routine followed him nearly every weekend, and no matter how much of a flirt xavier bragged he was, this 80's hookup culture was getting old. sure, a good fuck was never something he'd pass up, but he wanted something more.

he craved a feeling of romantic validation, and one that led him to feel the unexplainable, yet most passionate feeling of them all: love. he hadn't felt love in any shape or form for years now, and he almost felt as if moving to LA may have been a mistake for not only his career, but his romantic life. that is, until he met her.

chet clancy's sister was smoking hot, and she didn't even know it. having the hots for his best friend's sister was probably not the best idea, but he'd never make a move anyway, so he figured it didn't really matter. she was years younger than him, fresh out of high school, while he could basically be considered a senior in college. while their age gap wasn't drastically different, he still knew that she was young and that chet was her only brother and sibling, so the whole little crush seemed to be thrown out the window with those two substantial and critical points.

nevertheless, xavier continued to fall harder for the girl. every time he came over to hang out with chet, he always made sure to greet her, and flirt with her, which he could visibly see she enjoyed, no matter how shy she pretended she was. he always made sure to do so when chet was either on the phone, in the bathroom, or doing something else to distract himself. xavier knew she wouldn't tell, which made his motives a whole lot easier.

he would envision his almost weekly hookups as the young girl, craving to touch her soft skin and linger his fingers through her thick hair, all the way to her perky breasts, and down to her bare cunt, which was already soaked for him and ready for a good dicking. he would get a heat in his pants just thinking about her and he didn't only want her for what he predicted would be the best sex of his life; he wanted her because he cared about her, and he always had, the minute their eyes locked so many months ago.

after all, not only was she utterly stunning in the looks department, but she was also fiercely intelligent for her age. she was accepted into columbia university, which was an extremely prestigious honor for anyone her age, and in LA. while there were thousands of smart young people in the city, she stood out from the crowd, and not only to xavier. plenty of guys had the hots for her, but she didn't really seem to notice, or care.

snapping himself out of his alternate reality with the girl, xavier began to toss his clothes on the white tile bathroom floor and walk towards the shower, starting the water up and beginning to wash off, preparing himself for his first class of the day.

after what felt like three hours instead of one, xavier grabbed a washcloth and dried his damp forehead, searching the aerobics room to find out where his friends went. montana, chet, and ray always attended his morning and evening classes, making sure they displayed their full support in his new career. he found it generous, and he intended to repay the group by inviting them to come counsel with him at camp redwood the following month, which was a newly opening camp, where he'd be making a lot of money within just a week of simply bossing around annoying little middle schoolers.

he greeted a few of the men and women that attended his class, before making his way out of the room to see the three standing by the living space talking, with a particular girl sitting aside her brother, dressed in a yellow bodysuit with tight white leggings underneath. he felt his stomach squirm at the sight, but he took a heavy breath in an attempt to keep his cool, walking towards his friends in a calm manner.

"thanks for coming once again, guys." he smirked, patting ray on the shoulder. he glanced to her, chuckling. "thought you weren't one for aerobics, doll. shouldn't you be spending some time planning your future at columbia, hm?"

[y/n] clancy looked up at xavier, her hands resting on her closed thighs as she shrugged softly, looking to chet with a soft smile. "what can i say, chet convinced me to come."

"she needs to get the hell out of the house for once in her life, so i figured this was a good opportunity." chet smiled, looking up to his friend. "and, i wanted us all to be together, so i could maybe invite you guys over for the night? my parents aren't home, and i have a fuckton of alcohol, and cocaine."

the group giggled with excitement, and montana raised her hand, motioning the attention towards herself.

"can i bring this chick named brooke? brooke thompson. met her a few days ago in this very lobby after one of her classes. she's new to the city, maybe we can get her some friends that aren't lame." she suggested with a smirk, chet instantly nodding with enthusiasm.

"hell yeah, i won't pass up having a new chick in the group. maybe this one will actually want to bone." he winked, causing [y/n] to gag in disgust.

"gross. so much for your newly found respect for women, chet." she rolled her eyes, earning a few laughs from the group. "well, you guys can have fun with that tonight. you know i need to finish my essay, chet, so don't be obnoxiously loud. even though i got accepted, they want another one for whatever reason i've got to decipher."

xavier raised his hand, "i object, [y/n]! you're gonna have fun for once in your life, and hang out with the cool kids tonight. can't stay cooped up in your room all summer. at least take a few shots and call it a night. loosen up, girl."

[y/n] stood up, grabbing her purse and rolling her eyes with a small smile on her face. "fine." she laughed lightly, nudging her brother's shoulder. "let's go home so i can sit in silence for a few hours before chaos erupts in our house."

"it'll be fun, [y/n]." ray smiled reassuringly, giving her a quick wink, which xavier immediately caught onto. he could feel the jealously boiling in his veins, but he chose to ignore it, and figured he'd one up the boy later in the night anyway.

a few hours passed before there was a knock at the front door, which chet opened to see montana and the new girl, brooke. she was fairly attractive, dressed in a pair of cotton pajamas, pattered with geometric shapes and a pink tint behind them, with her brown hair curled at the bottom, and a small sleeping bag in her right hand. [y/n] glanced at her from the kitchen table, quickly looking back down at her paper, trying to edit a few more of her sentences before montana raised the voice level from one to one thousand in a matter of minutes.

"you must be brooke." chet smiled, letting the girls in. "it's nice to meet you, glad you're staying over with us."

she gave him a smile, an obvious red tint to her cheeks as she nonchalantly admired the fit brunette boy.

"glad i have the honor of doing so." she giggled, walking in and shutting the wooden door behind her.

[y/n] was used to girls drooling all over her brother, so it was nothing new to her if this new girl did the same. she simply ignored it and closed her notebook, walking back to her bedroom to change into her pajamas, since this was a sleepover, after all.

she shut the door and locked it, slipping off her shorts and shirt, squatting down to grab a matching pajama set of shorts and a shirt, that was a plain purple. she set it on her bed and began to unclip her cotton bra, when she heard a light knock on her window. her eyebrow raised and she slowly walked over, peaking through the white curtains to see no other than xavier plympton. her eyes widened and she quickly pulled the curtains closed, startled by his behavior and the fact he just saw her in nothing but a cheap bra and panties, so not even the cute kind of undergarments..

"open up, [y/n]!" xavier yelled, loud enough for her to hear through the window. "i know you're in there!"

she was flabbergasted and completely embarrassed, but unlocked the window anyway, sliding it up for him to come through. she closed it after, leaning down to seal it shut, and move the curtains back to their original place.

xavier watched her ass jiggle with each step, licking his lips and grinning, crossing his lean arms. "i wasn't trying to scare you, [y/n]. i'm truly sorry, i didn't mean to come in on you half naked. but, would you want me to take that bra off for you, though?"

[y/n] turned to him with a rose-colored face, walking past him to grab her pajama shorts and slipping them on, shaking her head in a bit of annoyance, still deeply embarrassed by the situation unfolding before her. "x-xavier, what the hell?" she stuttered, unclipping her bra from behind, but facing the opposite way of the blonde, tossing it on the nightstand with frustration. "i don't know why you can't just come through the front door like a normal person, or at least through chet's windo-"

she suddenly gasped, feeling his warm palms slide across her waist and up to her breasts, her nipples already erect from just his presence in the room. as his fingers rubbed across the hard buds, she nearly melted at his touch, her ass pressed lightly against his forming erection.

"already?" he grinned, tugging at her left nipple, making her let out a moan. "i didn't expect you to give yourself away so easily, [y/n]. and not to your brother's best friend, either. how shallow." he teased, knowing it would get a fit out of her.

she pulled herself away in protest, clearly offended by his accusations. she grabbed the shirt and quickly slipped it on, looking up the blonde and rolling her brown eyes. "wow, xavier. fuck you."

"oh sweetheart, i will." he stuck his tongue out at the girl with a playful and flirtatious expression before winking, watching her eyes widen as he walked back to the window, opening it and climbing through. "and i'll use the front door now, too. thanks for the suggestion, doll."

she rolled her eyes, plumping down on the bed and wondering what the fuck just happened. xavier plympton, chet's best friend for months now, just felt her up, and literally said he was going to fuck her.

it's not like she wasn't excited about it, because she definitely was. the blonde was always attractive to her, even though he could act like a complete dick sometimes, and because of his personality, he honestly could simply be fucking with her. she knew it was wrong to do something like that anyway, considering how much it could hurt chet, and potentially damage both relationships.

she tried to snap those thoughts out of head, though, and simply focus on having fun for the night, without trying to get laid by the time the sun came up.

montana was already wasted within the first hour, and chet's eyes were as red as a tomato, his pupils extremely dilated from the amount of coke he snorted, which now caused the house to reek of drugs.

brooke didn't seem to be a fan of that type of scene, but she did have a few drinks, which appeared to have a negative effect on her, and make her already passed out on the couch by one in the morning. chet, on the other hand, seemed to like the new girl, so he was aside her, trying to pull her into his large arms, even though she was barely half awake.

xavier was completely sober, which was probably the strangest thing [y/n] witnessed all night. he was the last one up besides herself, and ray, who was on the sofa, nearly passed out after downing almost an entire bottle of tequila. the blonde boy got up to turn up the record player, basically muffling out any noise that was from the back rooms, one of those being [y/n]'s bedroom.

he glanced at her from the dining room table, motioning his head in the direction of her bedroom, which was down the small hallway. she slowly stood up, already feeling a pool in her underwear, which she figured she probably should have changed into something sexier, now that she knew xavier apparently was keeping his promise.

she walked behind him, nervously squeezing her sweating palms into a fist. she had sex several times before with ex-boyfriends, but never someone that older than her, and much more experienced than her. oh, and that close of a friend to her fucking brother.

xavier shut the door behind her, then before she could even speak, he slammed his lips against her own, which she greedily returned, feeling a rush of dominance within her as she led him to the bed.

"someone's a little feisty tonight, hmm?" xavier smirked, laying his back against the bed as he watched her pull off her shirt, exposing her small but perky breasts, nipples already swollen and hard for him. "i thought i was the one who said i would fuck you, kitten."

[y/n] grinned, shaking her head and pulling her shorts and underwear down at the same time, before climbing on top of the fully clothed boy. "oh, you are, but i'd like something first."

"and what is that, babe?" he asked, a smirk painted across his handsome face, watching as the girl straddled his heated body.

without an answer, [y/n] moved her entrance to his face, the blonde responding to her actions by digging his fingers into her ass cheeks, slamming her down on his mouth, as he began to tongue-fuck the hell out of her.

"h-holy shit!" she exclaimed, taken back by how rough he was being from the start. she put her hands against the tan wall, moaning loudly as she grinded her hips, her pussy dripping at his touch as he swirled her juices around with his tongue, which was moving around inside of her like a sex god.

his skills were far beyond her past experiences, and she knew she'd cum if he kept going any longer, even though he had only been underneath her for a minute or two. [y/n] pulled herself up, the boy asserting his dominance by pulling himself up and pinning her down, then lifting his arms to pull his shirt off, exposing his lightly toned abdomen that looked as if it was crafted by the greek gods.

he then stepped off the bed to pull his tented shorts and boxers down, exposing his wide, long length, which took [y/n] back by surprise. it looked like he was going to split her in half with how big he was, but she was so horny and so ready to take him inside her, she didn't give a single fuck what he did to her.

"i'll admit, your dominance turns me on, babe, but you know i'll always have the upper hand." xavier began, moving back onto the bed. he took her legs, quickly flipping her over, pushing her knees up so her ass was in the air, pointing directly at his length. "i'm going to fuck you so hard, baby girl. you have no clue how long i've wanted you to take my dick in that pretty pussy of yours."

[y/n] felt him rub his length against her juices, attempting to wet himself before he slid inside of her. she grinned, turning her head to try to make eye contact with him the best she could. "you have no clue how long i've wanted that big dick of yours in my pussy. you make my pussy drool, daddy."

"fuck baby, your words make me melt.." xavier rolled his head back in pleasure, a smile on his pink-tinted lips as he pushed inside of her, balls deep, earning a loud moan from the girl. "can you take daddy's big dick, hm?"

"l-like this, yes.." [y/n] buried her head into the pillow, closing her eyes as he sunk into her tight walls.

xavier grabbed her waist, pulling her up into a sitting position, his cock shoved deep inside of her, making the girl gasp in pleasure, and a bit of pain. he laid himself down, watching her knees plant against the mattress to get her herself situated.

"how about like this? let me do the work baby, and tell me to to stop if i'm hurting you." he said gently, beginning to buck his hips, watching [y/n]'s ass bounce as he pushed himself inside of her.

with every thrust, she was moaning louder and louder, earning a few grunts from the boy behind her, who was yanking her hair back with one hand, and the other reaching over to play with her over-stimulated clit. she was overridden with pleasure, both hands on her breasts and she played with her own nipples, beginning to move her own hips as they both bounced onto each other, the pressure of his massive length hitting her in the stomach, making her eventually squeal with immense pleasure, cumming all over xavier's cock.

"fuck yeah, baby, ride out your high.." xavier praised, looking up at the girl now, watching as sweat rolled down her bare back. "you look so beautiful when you cum all over my cock."

xavier could feel her cum, and was also watching it drip through her ass cheeks, sending him over the edge and he let go of her clit and thick hair, slamming her down on his length and immediately cumming inside of her, filling the girl with his warm seed for several seconds, before letting go and letting her pull out, his white fluids, mixed with her own, leaking from her throbbing pussy.

"oh my god..." [y/n] panted, looking over to xavier as sweat rolled down his forehead. "you weren't lying when you said you'd fuck me hard.."

he turned on his side to face the naked girl, reaching over to kiss her softly. "i wouldn't be lying either if i said i was head over heels for you, babe. you make my dick hard, but you also make my stomach turn every time i see you. i've got the hots for you, [y/n], and it's not just in the bedroom."

she smiled, pulling his sweaty skin into a tight hug, pecking his cheek. "i feel the same way, xavier. but you know we can't just tell chet about how we feel, he'd never forgive either of us. you're his best friend, and i'm his little sister, who's also going away for college in two months." she frowned at the sudden reality, looking up to the blonde-headed boy.

"i know, i know." xavier said, moving one hand to brush through his hair. "it's all so complicated in more ways than one. i don't want you to be a hookup, babe. i want you as my girl, officially."

she pulled away from the embrace, moving to rest her hands underneath her pillow, her tits squeezing together, nipples still hard as a rock. "i want that too, but i don't want this to have to end after the summer.."

xavier leaned down to kiss her shoulder, then trailed down to her nipples, licking the right one, causing her to breath heavily through her nostrils. he looked back up to her, smiling.

"who ever said it has to?" he moved his hand to her still moist entrance, his digits sinking down into her lips, as his thumb rubbed her swollen clit. "but nevermind that for now, let's just have fun and quit worrying about the things we can't control."

she smirked, nodding and turning to lay on her back, feeling xavier sink his fingers into her, their lips crashing together once again.

#xavier plympton #ahs fandom #ahs 1984 #xavier plympton smut #michael langdon #american horror story #american horror 1984 #ahs

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