#writing is the product of feelings

[elleldoe]

Writing is more than just stringing words together.

My writing is my blood, sweat, and tears. It's my desires, my interests, my fears. It's my dwindling sanity. It's sleepless nights, fueled by the need to get the words out. It's my heart pounding in my chest because of too much caffeine. It's typos because my shaky fingers miss the keys. It's doubt, uncertainty, as I give myself over to the process, wondering if I'll manage to live up to my own expectations. It's guilt, devastation, when I feel like I can't. It's strength, perseverance, when I continue regardless. It's accomplishment, pride, a rush, when I'm satisfied with the result. It's change because, just like the words, I, too, have changed, a part of me now inextricably tied to what I have created, forever left behind on the page, by the time I'm done.

[milkamel]

AU idea: PV never regains memories, ancients don't reunite and the beasts are freed. Soul jam's powers are weak so SMilk aims to forcefully make PV remember and takes him to the spire (Little does SM know he'll get attached to this little compassionate Healer)

More details about this AU (currently called Slumbering Truth AU): Basically it starts off with Smilk being terrible and basically doing what he was doing in the 8th episode, trying to make PV remember and playing with his mind for his entertainment. He knows who PV used to be but PV knows nothing about him or his own past. He's confused as to why would this powerful cookie need him but decides to submit in exchange for the village being safe.

At first Healer is uncomfortable and nervous but gradually despite Smilk's intimidating look decides to play along his games and get to know him better. Smilk is surprised by the other's behavior (and unexpected wits and trickery) and what started with the urge to break PV down slowly became an urge to keep the other close since the other's intentions to know him were genuine and comforting and SMilk hated the thought of losing that (not that he'd admit that. he needs that Healer to see him suffer, right?).

Now he doesn't want Healer to remember, he doesn't snap at that cookie as much, he wants him to stay in this blissful lie because if PV knew the truth then he'd definitely leave Smilk and lock him again. If Healer knew the truth he'd turn against him instantly, Smilk was sure. For the first time in a long time, Smilk felt like he found someone to who he was connected and he wasn't going to let anything ruin that.

(It's a wip so I might change some stuff along the way)

[erraticprocrastinator]

A reminder to all my lovely fellow writers: progress is progress, even when it isn't. Writing four thousand words in a session is progress. Writing a hundred words in a session is progress. Removing an entire scene because it doesn't flow well is progress. Rethinking your plan for the plot in order to get unstuck is progress. Development looks different for every writer and every story.

[tsuchinokoroyale]

The reviews are in!!!

“Hedonistic beefcake. Fattest ass with the most eager tight hole. Will make you cum 10/10” - a white guy

[fallofthecelestial]

Okay. Since we're going over all the takes on Mr. X at this point.. What if his powers really don't have a backside. What if (the state of) his normal life is the backside.

What if his normal life is akin to that of heroes where he has to pretend to be something he's not and follow rules that the people who control his life came up with to further their own goals. What if he can only be free of other people's beliefs and expectations when he's a hero.

What if in reality he truly is like everyone else. The other heroes. The ordinary people. All those who work themselves to the bone, who are tired and overworked and sick of all the exploitation...

What if when he's in the form of the number one hero.. when he becomes the most sought after product on the hero market..

Is when he gains the freedom to truly be himself

[katsukikitten]

Both you and bakugou growing up on a youth reform farm, tolerating one another because of your friends until he gets jealous and calls you a buckle bunny cause you're wearing a buckle of a man ten years your senior who he used to idolize and Bakugou is jealous it isn't his.

And now the two of you hate each other's guts and it carries into your adult lives blah blah horses

[mapsthewanderer]

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☘︎ CALEB’S GIRL TOY

Synopsis: You don’t know his name. He doesn’t want to know yours. What you do know is that he’s chosen you—not for who you are, but for who you resemble. And you said yes. This is a fantasy you were never meant to be part of, but you’re already playing the part. He’s charming, commanding, impossibly hot—and somewhere beneath the control, something cracks. But not for you. Because you were never supposed to matter. Just a stand-in. Just a girl toy—for Caleb.

Details: 3000 words of unhinged dom energy. 18+ stuff. Notinoti stuff. No s*x, but plenty sexy time heeeh. Expect sexual tension, humiliation, control, and the kind of mouthwatering, mind-warping power play only Colonel Caleb can deliver. Submissive reader POV, nonMC fem. And yes—he’s broken. Of course he is. You’re welcome. (Just a lil drabble pilot from a series I might be working on. If you like the vibe I’ll continue with more chapters)

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Borrowed Skin | Pilot

════ ⊹════ ⊹════ ⊹═════

You met him online.

No fireworks, no grand declarations. Just a message one night when you were bored and a little drunk on wine, clicking through profiles with a kind of casual hunger. His username was stupid—smug. His first message, cocky. But clever. You remember the way he phrased it like he already knew you’d answer.

C_You_Naked: ever had someone make you stand at attention through a screen?

You answered.

And now you’re weeks deep. A few messages turned into entire nights on your phone. You’ve talked about everything and nothing. Laughed until your ribs hurt. Dared each other, teased each other. You’ve exchanged photos. A few video calls. You know what his voice sounds like at 2AM when he’s tired and laughing under his breath. You know what his collarbones look like in dim lighting. You know what his belt looks like coiled in his lap.

And you know what his fingers look like wrapped around a his cock.

One night, while you were getting ready for bed—face washed, silk shorts clinging to freshly lotioned skin, the quiet hum of your room settling around you—your phone buzzed.

A message from him.

He’d sent another picture.

Not to scare you—just to tease. Playful, but with that unmistakable undercurrent he always carried.

It was a picture of something made of black leather, sleek and straight, with a short strap attached at the end—more like a flattened tongue than a proper whip. Elegant. Mean-looking. Strange. Beautiful, in the way sharp things can be. “Interrogation tool” he’d captioned it.

Followed by a winking emoji that somehow felt more like a smirk.

You’d answered with a flushed, blushing emoji. Half-shy, half-inviting. You weren’t fooling either of you.

C_You_Naked: you’re sure? you don’t even know what this thing does yet. might not be able to walk after.

The next image that came through was almost artistic—his gloved hands holding the leather, the tool curled obediently across his palm. His fingers gripped it lightly, like he was offering it. Or warning you.

Either way, it made your breath catch.

C_You_Naked: pretty little toy for a pretty little girl.

You hesitated only a second.

YOU: yes.

C_You_Naked: mm. don’t say i didn’t warn you. if you flinch, I’ll stop. if you cry, I might not.

You laughed. Flushed. Wrote something flirty back.

YOU: you’re awful.

C_You_Naked: nah. i’m careful. awful comes later. when you’re begging me not to stop.

But he never crossed the line. Not really. Every time the conversation dipped into darker waters, he checked in. Asked how you felt. Teased you, yes, but never cruelly. He’d joke and then soften it, say something stupid to make you laugh. It kept the knife edge from cutting too deep.

But he made you ache.

He’s hot—insanely so. That much is undeniable. Tall, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth that looks like it was made to sin. His hair falls in dark bangs often slipping into his eyes—eyes that feel too sharp, too steady. Like they don’t just see you, but see through you.

And his voice… the kind that hums in your chest before it ever reaches your ears. It moves like silk—teasing, amused—until it turns.

But you don’t know his name. And he doesn’t want to know yours.

You were allowed his phone number—for convenience, he’d said, like it wasn’t a privilege. And you’re allowed to call him C through text. Or Colonel—when he wants to hear it sharp between your teeth on a call.

And now, C is in your city. Like a storm that changed its path just to find you.

C: in town for a few days. want to see you. want you on your knees.

Your breath stuttered. You stared too long, the glow of the screen washing over your face—then your fingers moved, answering before your thoughts could catch up.

YOU: send me the address.

——————————————————————————

Now it’s late, and you’re walking through the city night. Heels clicking against the pavement. The cold nips at your bare legs, sharp as teeth, but you don’t mind. You shaved. Wore perfume. Lined your lips. Every move tonight was made for him.

The hotel looms sleek and modern—expensive without being flashy. You step through the doors like you belong, head high. Your coat clings to your body, and you can feel a few eyes on you. You don’t meet them. You don’t care.

You text C.

YOU: I’m here.

With your heart hammering, you wait. You nod at the receptionist, casual. Just a girl in heels and a trench coat, standing a little too confidently to be lost.

Your phone buzzes.

C: 891. if you’re nervous, turn around. if you’re brave, knock twice. if you’re mine tonight, don’t say a word when you come in. just kneel.

Your breath leaves you in a single, shaky exhale and you walk toward the elevator, and you hold your breath.

It’s not nerves exactly. Not fear. You know what this is. You’re not naive. You’ve read between every line of his messages, caught the cold steel beneath the velvet. C isn’t here for love. Not for sweet talk or second dates.

He wants you. As in—what you can give him.

And you’ve decided you’re willing.

The elevator dings softly when it arrives. You step in alone. A low hum fills the small space. Chrome walls, sterile lighting. You watch yourself in the mirror paneling—lips slightly parted, pupils too wide, coat pulled tight across your chest. You smooth your skirt with trembling fingers. Cross one leg behind the other, then uncross. Breathe.

A small hiss as the doors close.

Eighth floor.

You ride up in silence. If there’s any soft lounge music playing in the elevator, you don’t hear it—all you can hear is the thudding of your pulse behind your ribs, loud and steady, like a warning you’re far too gone to heed.

When you step into the hallway, the carpet hushes your footsteps. Everything smells expensive—leather, pine, the soft hush of wealth. You keep your chin lifted. Count off the numbers on the doors.

885.

887.

889… 891.

You stop. Stand before it. The hallway is still, thick with quiet like something is holding its breath with you.

You reach into your bag. Pull out your compact. Your fingers are steady as you apply a thin coat of fresh lipstick. Deep red. The color you know he likes. You press your lips together once. Twice. Inhale. Exhale.

This is your last chance to walk away.

You knock.

Twice.

The door clicks open.

And you step inside.

The suite hits you first with its size, then its silence. It’s enormous—vaulted ceilings, sleek marble floors half-shadowed in warm, low lighting. And then the scent hits you, soft but distinct—his cologne. Sandalwood, clean and grounded, edged with something cooler, metallic. Underneath it all, a crisp sweetness lingers—bright, almost edible. Like something ripe just out of reach. It curls in your lungs and makes your stomach flutter.

To your right, the bathroom door is cracked open. Through it, you can see a freestanding tub near glass walls that stretch from floor to ceiling. A nighttime view of the city glitters beyond like a galaxy laid out just for you.

In the main room, a bed dominates the space—massive, wide, decadently made with dark gray sheets that gleam faintly in the low light.

And there—angled slightly away, a leather chair facing the window, not quite straight—

Him. C. The Colonel.

You stop. Just for a second.

From this view, all you see are the long lines of his legs, one draped lazily over the other. A glass glints in a gloved hand, catching the low light like polished onyx. The liquid inside is clear—water? Vodka? You can’t tell. He’s just posture and silhouette for now—pristine white uniform trousers, boots still on, black wool coat worn like armor over his shoulders.

A mystery with perfect posture. And too many secrets.

The Colonel still hasn’t turned.

“You made it,” he says, voice curling through the room like smoke. Amused.

The glass lifts in salute—graceful, effortless.

“Wardrobe’s on your left.”

And still—he doesn’t look at you.

You move before your mind can catch up. The coat slips from your shoulders like it was always meant to fall. Fingers tipped in red polish reach to unbuckle your heels—instinct, habit—

“Keep the shoes on,” C murmurs. A pause. Then, “…please.”

It’s the please that gets you.

Heels stay on. Black. Pointed. Slim.

Sharp—like the woman you thought you’d be tonight.

But as you pass the mirror near the wardrobe, something shifts. You pause. Not to fix, but to submit. To recognize what’s about to happen.

Yes. This is you. Just sharper now, softer now.

Ready to be unmade.

You nod once.

Then you walk.

Each step toward the chair sounds impossibly loud, your heels striking the floor with measured rhythm. And just before you reach him—

C rises.

And stops dead.

Staring like you’ve just knocked the air from his lungs—like something sharp hit behind the ribs and lodged there. His gaze catches on your face and stays. Mouth parted. Breath stalled. The glass in his hand lowers, forgotten.

Movement gives him away. Too fast. Too eager. Like some invisible thread yanked him forward before thought could even form

Shit.

You can see it hit him. The recognition. The mistake.

You really do look like her.

C steps closer. There’s no performance in it now. Just raw momentum.

Gloved fingers lift to your cheek. They don’t tremble—but they hover there, suspended like a question he’s afraid to ask. Then, slowly, they make contact. Leather dragging soft and firm along your skin, brushing the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, lingering at the delicate dip of your collarbone.

Breath slips from his nose—quiet, controlled, but not untouched by something trembling. His mouth parts slightly. What escapes is clean: minted from mouthwash, sharp and close. Beneath it, that same cologne—wood and heat and something colder, metallic—richer now, more human.

It lingers until you shiver.

Your gaze drops, instinctively following the path of his hand as it brushes your lower lip with the backs of his fingers—and that’s when you meet his eyes.

And then you see them.

Violet.

Dark.

Fractured.

They roam your face with the kind of desperation that isn’t lust—it’s hunger. A different kind. Deeper. Older. One that gnaws.

His gaze shakes as it searches yours, like he’s looking for something he knows isn’t there. Like if he stares long enough, hard enough, maybe he can conjure it.

Tears nearly push to the surface. Not yours.

His.

You see them, right there—almost—behind the violet. Not falling. But glinting, trembling at the edges of something he’s not ready to admit.

His lips press into a line.

And his eyes stay starving.

But it’s not for you.

It’s for her.

For who you resemble. For what he remembers. For something he wants, just for a night—even if it isn’t real.

Then his jaw flexes—a flicker of tension, the snap-back. The mask tightens.

Something shifts behind the Colonel’s eyes as he pulls himself from whatever memory he’d let wash over him. Like a door, quietly but firmly, shutting.

“We’re gonna have so much fun…” C lingers on the word like it tastes different on his tongue. “Just… try not to make me regret it too soon, alright?”

Then he turns away.

The coat shifts with the movement, long silhouette stirring like smoke in low light. He lifts his glass—whatever’s inside catches the light, cold enough that condensation beads along the surface. A low sip follows, and the corner of his mouth curls like he already knows what you’ll do next.

Deliberately, he coughs. Soft. Controlled. A quiet break in the silence, sharp enough to test your nerves. To see if you flinch. You don’t.

The Colonel watches you now.

Fully.

From the sharp points of your heels to the delicate curve of your collarbone, his gaze drags. One glove, then the next, peeled from his hands with unhurried precision. Each finger released like a countdown. He sets them aside on the arm of the chair—neatly—like it’s all part of a ritual he’s practiced a hundred times. A job. A rite. A claiming.

“You look like you’ll do,” he says, voice low, amused. Almost thoughtful. “But… Let’s just get something straight.”

C steps closer, hands bare now, warm and very real.

“I’m not here for your heart.” A pause. His head tilts, smile lazy. “Got too many feelings in my life already. Don’t need yours cluttering things up.”

Fingers brush your hip. “What I want tonight is simple. Your body. Your obedience.” The voice isn’t teasing anymore. The warmth from the messages, the charm in the calls—none of it followed him into this room. These aren’t requests. They’re facts, spoken like law.

He shrugs—one shoulder, lazy—and lifts a hand, gesturing toward the door like he’s dismissing an unnecessary thought.

“Everything else? Leave it there.”

The space between you shortens like it’s folding in on itself. A hand rises and he takes your chin between his fingers. He tilts your face up, and you feel it in your spine—the way the world stills in his grip.

Glittering irises find yours. Violet. Unblinking.

“When I say kneel,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing the curve of your lower lip, “you kneel.”

“When I say open your mouth, you don’t ask why.”

He leans in, breath warm against your cheek, lips brushing close—not a kiss, just proximity.

“And when I say spit on my cock…” C smiles like he’s letting the words sink in bone-deep.

“…you make it pretty.”

His grip lingers on your chin for just a second more. Then releases.

And it doesn’t feel like a threat. The way he says it—it’s not cruel. It’s honest. And the honesty might just be the cruelest part.

“Can you do that for me?” The question hangs between you like a blade. “If not… walk out. Now.”

Fingers laced behind his back, shoulders settling with that soldier’s ease, the Colonel turns his head and smiles at the door.

You say nothing.

You drop to your knees.

And the silence stretches.

One brow lifts, just a touch. His expression unreadable, save for the flicker of something close to amusement—or maybe disappointment. Like he’s letting you stew in the choice you almost missed.

“Hmm… Still not kneeling properly,” he murmurs—voice low, vibrating through your skin.

Boots shift against the marble as he steps in closer, circling you once, slow. He stops just behind you—breath brushes the crown of your head. Instinct tugs at your spine—you shift slightly, lowering your shoulders, parting your knees just a fraction more. A silent offering. A quieter shape.

“But look at that… you’re finally catching on.”

Fingers brush your hair back from your shoulder, almost tender, baring the curve of your neck.

“Took you long enough. Don’t get bratty on me now—I’m not in the mood to train tonight.”

His mouth finds the hollow where your neck meets your shoulder. Pressed right over your pulse like a warning.

“Oh—… Is that it?” His lips graze your ear. “You want me to train you?” He breathes in, slow. Almost amused. Almost not. “Tsk… You want that position, you earn it.”

A beat. Then lower—final:

“Or you can crawl back out that door and spend the rest of the night wondering what it would’ve felt like to be owned.”

And with the last word still warm on your skin, his teeth catch your earlobe—just enough to sting, just enough to steal your breath. A hand rises, steady, firm, cradling the back of your neck like a claim. A reminder. You’re his. For tonight. For this.

The marble floor bites into your knees, polished and cold. You stay still—breathing, waiting, head bowed not in hesitation, but in silent acceptance. Of the terms. Of him.

Behind you, The Colonel moves. You feel the weight of his gaze on your back, and then the soft shift of fabric as he lowers himself again—his boots echo faintly as they reposition. He crouches beside you, leveling his head with yours, shoulder brushing your upper arm. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

“We’ve talked this through,” he murmurs. “But just to be sure… aside from moans, screams—” a pause, his lips ghosting your cheek, “this is the only word you’re allowed to speak.”

A thumb drags along your jaw, tipping your face toward him.

“Say it.”

You breathe in. The room feels heavier now.

“Your out,” he says softly. “You say it, everything stops. No questions. No guilt.”

He waits.

Still crouched beside you. Still watching like a man reading a confession in the shape of your inhale. His stare doesn’t soften—it sharpens. Measuring. Testing. Waiting for proof.

You meet his gaze. Your breath shakes.

“Apple,” you whisper, just to feel it pass your lips. It tastes strange. Foreign. Like a weapon you don’t expect to use—but have to know you carry.

His smile comes slow. Not kind. Not cruel. Just pleased.

Then he tilts his head, one brow barely lifted. Casual. But his eyes gleam.

“And if you need something from me?” he asks, voice almost lazy. “What do you call me?”

Your stomach tightens. It’s a trap. You know it. You feel it sink its teeth into the silence before your brain can catch up.

He watches you. Waits.

Say it, his eyes seem to dare. Try.

Your lips part. The shape of C touches your tongue—

You stop.

Try again—Co——but you freeze. The rest dies there.

Jaw tightens. Lips press together. Teeth catch the soft swell of your bottom lip, biting down—gentle, deliberate. A silent I understand.

The gleam in his eyes turns to something molten.

You passed.

“Good girl.”

The praise slips over your skin like warm silk—earned, edged, and entirely his. Teeth flash—he bites your cheek. Cruel enough to make your skin sing, your blood flash hot. His lips follow the sting, brushing the mark like he’s sealing it.

“Mmh,” he hums, “would’ve been embarrassing if you messed that up.”

A soft chuckle follows—almost fond, but edged in pride and heat.

“Glad you’re not stupid,” he coos. “I’d hate to break something pretty just because it couldn’t follow orders.”

He straightens—slow, towering. One hand smooths down the front of his uniform, crisping the line that didn’t need adjusting, but he does it anyway. The shift in energy cracks through the air like static, dominance slipping back over him like a second skin.

Gloves, once forgotten on the armchair, are pulled back on with quiet ceremony. Each finger drawn in, leather creaking softly as if savoring the return. From beneath his uniform jacket, he draws it out. Sleek. Black. Cruel-looking in its elegance. The infamous “interrogation tool.”

It rests in his hand like it belongs there.

“Now…” The word drops like a stone into your stomach, his tone coiling low and thick. “Let’s see if my toy knows how to behave.”

——————————————————————————

I’ll show you what you look like from the inside

And I’ll see you when the wrath comes around

Tonight, you have the answer

——————————————————————————

[imababblekat]

Simon sees you sitting curled up in a chair, eyes peering lost at the sketchbook and computer before. He knows that look. It’s a look you often get when the team finally gets some time off, but you brain is stuck in this void of being unable to commit to any hobbies you once enjoyed. You told him about it once, it was offhandedly and you hadn’t delved much into it with due to still being fairly new and not wanting to bother the apparent cold stone lieutenant. Simon paid attention though, and this detail about yourself had been added to his mentail folder of his teammates.

A deep breath huffed out your nose, head drooping into your folded arms, when your ears picked up on the sound of light footsteps entering the kitchen area you resided.

“The usual?”, came Simons gruff voice, large hands reaching into the cabinet for your and his mugs.

“The usual.”, you mumbled in reply, staring at your phone and resisting the urge to start doom scrolling.

It was a battle you lost as you reached out to open an app and scroll mindlessly through its feed, the light clinking of Simon making you both tea behind you. You’re not sure how long he had taken, too lost in the endless information of peoples lives and other nonsensical things scrolling past your dulled eyes, not registering a thing you watched or read. At some point though, your phone had been snatched from your hands, replaced by a warm cup of your favorite tea, Simon pulling out the chair beside you to sit with his own.

You couldn’t even bother the smallest fuss at the large soldier for taking your phone, simpling taking a sip and then blindly staring into the liquid void.

“That bad today?”

You nod with a groan, putting your cup down to splay your hands out at the objects you once enjoyed before you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought maybe I was bogged down by knowing I had chores to take care of, but even after finishing those I still can’t get myself to do any of my hobbies!”

Simon sipped his tea, dark eyes glancing up at your downtrodden expression. You thought nothing of his silence, having known him for a while now that his silence was him listening. If he truly wasn’t interested, he would have left, hell he wouldn’t have even bothered to make you a drink.

“I just. . .”, you hold your head in your hands, “I don’t feel myself. I finally get a break, and I can’t do anything I wanted to do. What’s the point of having hobbies if every time I try one of them, I immediately become disinterested?”

The Brit beside you stares down into his own mug now, thinking on your words, a silence filling in besides the muffled sound of Johnny bellowing songs in the shower upstairs. Before, he wouldn’t give two shits about something like this, leaving you to figure it out or not all on your own. Of course, being apart of the 141 it was only a matter of time before you became apart of this oddly dangerous family of sorts, and Simon found himself caring for you just as much as he did for the other three, even if he ever expressed it.

“Maybe doing nothin’, is what you’re suppos’d do.”

You quirked a brow at him.

“You? Telling me to do nothing?”

Simon rolled his eyes, sitting back against the creaking old dinning chair.

“Yeah, shocker I know, but trust me, after years of doing this shit, sometimes you jus’ gotta kick ya feet up and do fuck all.”

You look back to your tea before taking another sip, thinking on his words. He had a point though. As frustrating as it was, wanting to engage in activities that would normally bring you joy, it was only natural to not always be motivated to do them, especially with the grueling type of work you all did.

“Welp,” you shrug, closing your lap top shut and throwing your sketchbook atop it, “guess I’m doing fuck all today.”

A light, deep chuckle came from Simon, him always finding it kind of funny when outlandish vocabulary came from your lips. You never came off as the type to say such words, but then again you also didn’t exactly fit into the picture of the intimidating guys you were so close to.

“Good. Relax, ya earned it.”

You smile up at Simon, your eyes crinkling in the corners something that brought him some warmth.

“We earned it, Simon.”

[muffinlance]

Everyone in house sick, baby awake screaming every half hour last night, brain no good for Serious Face writing, SEND AVATAR WRITING PROMPTS PLZ

k lov you bye

[funkily]

i feel like Manic is a word often used to describe e1 fwhip (for good reason) but i feel like we need to explore this more . his egos already pretty big, you know as soon as he gets a manic episode he feels like a god . someone notices hes chattier and, like . smiling and theyre like alright . should probably keep an eye on that

[shroomerr]

Wham bam bam! Couple of Agent stuff!! I was initially just going to post the two images but then it felt a bit empty, so I decided to doodle an interaction between Agent and Mysterion.

More process drawings under the cut for those interested!!

[willosword]

EVE STOP ENABLING HIM THIS IS A GOOD THING TO THINK ABOUT

[slavictwinkjesus]

currently trying to decide who jayvik would main in smash bros

[tacosaysroar]

Adelaide accidentally broke something tonight that belonged to my grandmother. We both cried a little. I have other more sentimental items of hers — this was just a tiny bud vase — but I’m upset because this item got destroyed out of simple carelessness. She was overloading a surface instead of putting things back where they belonged or throwing them away and so the vase got knocked over. I told her it was just a thing and it was an accident — she already feels bad — and I’ll be over it tomorrow, but tonight I’m privately (she says publicly to the internet) sad and annoyed.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[arminthada]

Compilation post of my favorite Nadao actors (Nonkul Chanon, JJ Krissanapoom, Tor Thanapob) & Bright Rapheephong giving some interview answers on why they decided to star in queer/LGBTQ+ coded series/roles, some of their takes on being in BL (Y)/Queer series.

note: if you find this post familiar, it's because i've posted this on Reddit before. reposting here for archival purposes

TOR THANAPOB

Tor Thanapob interview in April 2023 when being asked about starring in Midnight Museum (a queer-coded GMMTV series) - (translation by infinitygraph_)

Tor: I think nowadays we should stop talking about gender. It doesn't mean that I have to act with women all the time or I can't act with men at all. I feel that I have proved to everyone that, work is work, and everything is about art. Even my team who are staying with me all the time has all kind of sexualities. It's not strange if someday we want to try telling story of other sexualities that we feel that we might be able to help them telling. If you ask me if today I am like that, today I might not, but I have a chance to understand them more, so I want to do it. Q: Is it because of the spoiler that [Midnight Museum] might be a series Y (BL)? Tor: Nothing to do with it. I tell you, sincerely, it has nothing to do with the spoiler. I just want to say that you don't have to overthink about it because nothing is fixed. Actors are actors. These days there are some award shows don't divide genders into categories anymore. I think this is a great step. Actresses also don't have to act with men all the time, they can act with women. And they both being the main characters Right. Because not all the main characters from every project have to come with the word 'love'. Even if there's 'love', there're many kinds of love. It's up to the audience what kind of feeling they have. Do they feel the same as me or they even feel more than I do? Q: So that means these days you can accept the work without any limit about what you are, which genders... Everything is about the story/script-writing? Tor: Right. I admit that I was afraid before. I wasn't afraid about my image, I was afraid that I would tell the story without understanding it, because I didn't have any experience at all. But at some point I found the chance to be more open-minded, brave to act it out all the way, such as Midnight Museum...

Tor's Vogue Interview in February 2024 on Spare Me Your Mercy as another important milestone as an actor (all translation by saltymarbles on twitter)

Tor: As for Euthanasia, I’ve been interested in it just from its name. If we were to go back in time to the period of the Prime Ministerial elections last year, there was some talk regarding the laws about euthanasia. As such, I know the meaning of it but if I had to explain it, I wouldn’t dare to because I don’t know that deeply about it. Tor: Up to the day that this drama happens, the owner of this project told me he wanted to set this question before anything changed in society: ‘Actually, are humans capable of choosing their death?’. Tor: This question shot through the core of my brain and immediately, i was like: ‘I need to tell this story’. And the role that he hoped to give me also served that function too. It’s a character which sets up the question of ‘what is right?’.(t/n: "this question" likely refers to a more philosophical kind of question regarding morality which asks what does being ‘correct’ mean — what is ‘objective morality’ (if it exists)) Tor: Do the people who are really suffering have the right to ask to leave? (t/n: "leave" is just a polite way of saying die (Thai people usually don’t use directly use the word die when talking about humans, usually use a more polite way like how we say ‘passed away’ or ‘xyz has left us’) Tor: Thus I decided to play along with knowing that the timeline of Euthanasia will remain with one in a hundred (people), so I like shades of the polar opposite. If the first story is navy blue, the other will be red — not close at all.

NONKUL CHANON

Nonkul's response to the question “If you have a chance, would you consider playing in a BL series? If accepted, who do you to co-act with?” in a Facebook Q&A video in 2021

Nonkul: If that series is an interesting storyline for me, I am always open to any kind of genre. I never categorized BL series as an BL series, I just think of it as a series with another plot as part of my work. It is a normal series that can have any of the plots which I will categorize as Romantic Comedy, Drama or whatever. Thus, when I choose the BL series I want to work with, the love preference of the character does not affect my decision. If the plot of the series is interesting, of course I’m gonna do it for sure. Every work that I chose, I personally think it at least enjoyable for me. Of course, if in the future, there are BL series with plots that I find interesting, that I enjoyed the script. “Like, wow, that’s my type!”, I will definitely selected it to be my future project. A good written series is a good series. This is what I believe as an actor. For BL Series, I think I can work with everyone. I don’t think I have anyone in particular. One thing! I desire the character of that person/actor? to be close to the character in the series. At that point I will be satisfied. Sometimes, I as an actor have a chance to work with people who don't have a lot of acting experience. I will still discover something new from him as well. And there is a BL novel which I really like! [Nonkul explains the plot of his favorite BL Novel ‘Peremo’] I would prefer to choose the “heroine” role because it will be a new experience for me as an actor because it will be a new experience for me as an actor. Because basically I only play as a hero role for the main character or support character in my work, but a “heroine” role in a BL series is the only chance for me to play a character more feminine. So it is a new experience for me. [Nonkul continues raving about 'Peremo’]. But if you think that you can make [an adaptation of Peremo], please do not forget me, Nonkul! Pleaseeeeeeee, I will do my best, I promise!!! However, I’m not only fixated on this novel. I’m also open for many more BL series if there is an interesting plot.

Nonkul's response to being ask if he's worried about filming NC scenes in IFYLITA (translation by saltymarbles)

Nonkul: I have to say when I had finished reading [the novel] and it’s made me want to act (in this series). I am probably worried more about the CG because if it’s a fantasy story with time travel, if the CG isn’t good, people will feel that it’s ‘off’. Because CG is something we don’t know anything about until we see the final product. One of the reasons that I accepted this role is because for some series, when I’ve read (the script/novel) for homework, I don’t accept them because there are some scenes that are forced in just for the sake of fan service. And I’m not really into that. If it’s a natural NC scene, then I’m not bothered. I’m a person who places a lot of importance on the story in series making sense. So to me, if an NC scene is reasonable, I won’t be bothered by it. But if it seems forced, I’m not into it. It’s important to show human-ness.

Two clips of Nonkul being asked what he thinks about doing NC scenes in IFYLITA (Clip 1 and Clip 2). Nonkul said that he places great importance on the character's actions. If an NC scene is reasonable he wouldn't mind but would if it's not reasonable. For Nonkul, understanding character is very important, especially for himself as an actor. Nonkul also said previously he had rejected some BL series offers because he can feel when NC scenes are put in just for fan service, which is also a reason why Nonkul accepted to play Jom in IFYLITA is because the love scenes are natural and make sense.

JJ KRISSANAPOOM aka JAYLERR

JJ's interview in February 2024 on Spare Me Your Mercy and his chemistry with Tor (translation by saltymarbles)

JJ: The pilot of ‘Euthanasia’ has been received well since the novel has many fans already who are excited about it. JJ & Tor are similarly excited and are committed to doing their best. The chemistry between Tor & JJ need not be questioned according to JJ since they are already close with each other. The series is in the phase of pre-production currently.

One of my favorite fictional characters of ALL TIME (not just in Thai or BL series) has got to be Tangmo from Great Men Academy (2019) (the series that a lot of BL audience refused to admit it's a queer series). The character Tangmo (played by Jaylerr) was questioned by the press about his gay crush on the protagonist: "Do you think being gay affect your chance of winning the competition?" to which his reply was a stellar "Well then let me ask you something, Does being gay make my good deeds meaningless?"

This isn't the first time JJ has played a queer role, JJ has played a gay character in TWO seasons of the LGBTQ+ series Diary of Tootsies (2016 and 2017). JJ plays Gus, the love interest of the main character.

So even though many BL fans consider Spare Me Your Mercy to be JJ's "first" BL series (which I don't agree with this strict interpretation of BL series), it is definitely not his first QL (Queer Love) series nor queer-adjacent roles as shown through out his filmography.

It is also noteworthy that even during the airing of these series, JJ was already in a public relationship with his fellow actress girlfriend Thanaerng (who has also played sapphic roles). You can see that the real life relationship of JJ or Thanaerng do not influence how/what projects they take on because work is just work :D

BRIGHT RAPHEEPHONG (all translation by saltymarbles on twitter)

Bright at Mono29 Lineup event

Bright: I think that, as I’ve previously said, BL series are just like other ordinary series or movies. Like IFYLITA can be changed to be said to be more like a period drama. I feel that BL is just about two people loving each other, not about whether it’s about male-male or female-male. This series is a period drama and it’s a romantic comedy and the other series is an action drama.

Bright's Interview with LIPS Magazine

Q: What if one day, we’re sucked in by the ship? Bright: I think fans in this day and age don’t need actors to do fan service to that extent. For myself, I’ve never intended for it to be the foundation (of his work). I think it’s a matter of being partners and working together. As such, it’s somewhat good in every aspect because it’s not forcing it. But in some moments, there may some actions that may just be the result of being friends. So even if fans ship, it’s cute to me. (smiles) Q: Do you feel a sense of “newness” stepping into a full-fledged BL? Bright: I feel that BL series are another branch of acting. I don’t think of it as being a specific form of male to male communication. It’s just another type of series just like action dramas, comedy etc, it’s just another kind of role that we can play.

Bright's Interview with Praew Magazine

Q: How is it working with Nonkul? Bright: Nonkul is a person who already does a good job at his work. He does his homework and he is also good at delivering and receiving emotions when on set. It isn’t just Nonkul who is great but the other characters in this series too, this includes P’Tee, the director. We can always talk about ideas which made the work even better. If asked whether entering the scenes with Nonkul made me shy, I would say that BL series are just another branch (of acting), it is just another role. I don't think that when acting with another man, that there’s a need to feel anything. I feel that it’s just another form of work. Another thing is that our workshops were very complete. When we work together I know what level and extent I can go to, what I should do and also trying my best in how I should feel. Thus, I felt at ease working together.

Bright’s Interview with NineEntertain

Q: Are you happy to do “ship” activities like this? Bright: I feel that if there’s an opportunity with regards to being an actor, I don’t want to be stuck in ships like this. I accepted this role with the status of an actor and I want to accept various roles too. It doesn’t always need to be BL or a specific kind of series. I will have another series next year which is ordinary boy-girl relationship and not a BL series. I feel that BL series are just another category of series — not like BL series are just BL series. It’s another category like action, romcom, or drama. It’s just another category. Q: There is still the possibility of coming to act as per usual. (unclear of what the interviewer said) Bright: I feel that with every work opportunity, it’s more about the script and storyline of the work that I were to accept. For example, I accepted the role of Khun Yai in IFYLITA as i felt that it was a script that was suitable for me. I didn’t think of it as “oh it’s a BL series, I need to accept it” because to be honest, I have been contacted for various BL series but because [IFYLITA] storyline is really good, I wanted to try acting in it. Q: What is the difficulty of acting in BL as an actor? Bright: I feel like there isn’t any difference compared to regular series. I feel that when two men love each other or kiss, I don’t think of it as (me and) a man, I think of it more as each of the characters or persons. Q: Does that affect the trend of being a ship? Bright: Hmm… Actually I am not able to answer that because I feel like it depends on people’s perspectives. Because some people may prefer that (an actor) has a (onscreen) gf/bf but some people may be upset about it. I feel like the trend depends on the people’s perspectives as people have different ways of thinking (about it). I think that I am open to listening to all different opinions on this. I feel that working (in this industry), you should be able to explore different things and you should not be fixed in one thing. We need to continue moving onto the next thing. I feel that Non has his own work and I also have my own work, and other actors too have their own upcoming work. It doesn’t mean that coming to act in IFYLITA means that you stay in IFYLITA forever. Q: Some may feel that it’s sad their their ship is coming to an end and that they are gonna work with different people. Bright: Actually, there are still some upcoming pair events but as I’ve said earlier, everyone needs to continue to do their own duties as an actor. Q: What if people change their minds about shipping your ship in the future? Bright: I think it’s a normal thing. I feel that when someone (likes us), they also like our work. I feel like our fanclub likes both Yai and Jom, and they also like Bright and Non. They like the characters and that Bright and Non play these characters and they so they like us at this point. I feel like people who came to like us are also fans of other people. I feel that they are a source of encouragement for me when they like me but I am also glad if they meet someone new or support another person. I feel happy when they come to meet me and if they’re happy when they meet other (celebs), it’s a good thing for them. If there’s a new person, an older person, a regular person or a person they just met that they are happy to meet, I feel that it’s nothing to be stressed about. Let’s say a fan comes and likes me and is following my work and there’s someone new who enters and they like their work, I am glad for them to go support that other person because that person can bring happiness to the fan.

Wow, I really got carried away with this compilation but as a fan who's followed Nonkul, JJ and Tor since their Nadao days, watching them star in queer-coded series/roles like Bangrak Soi 9/1, Hormones, Diary of Tootsies, Great Men Academy... (or in Bright's case a gay character in lakorn Rivalry), I'm just so proud that they have been able to receive "BL" series script offers that they would like to take on.

I've never sat well with the difference in the treatment of the press to "BL actors" and "non-BL actors". I wish there weren't such a distinction because it feels like the notion itself holds a lot of prejudices baggage with it, to both "BL" and "non-BL" actors. To quote a friend on Reddit, "I believe most actors would feel more fulfilled if they knew their fans loved/respected them as individual artists, instead of only seeing them as one part of a unit whose value is lower when 'separated' from their official partner."